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valdomarx · 4 years

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Untouchable

Octoberfest day 31: cursed

“Fuck! Geralt! Help!”

Geralt rolls his eyes as Jaskier comes skidding to a halt in front of him. He dreads to imagine what trouble he’s gotten himself into now.

“Something terrible has happened! I had an, umm, unfortunate encounter with a sorcerer.” He blushes, pink creeping over his cheeks. “And he put some horrible curse on me and portaled away, the bastard.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. “Hmm.”

“And now I can’t touch anyone. Look!” Jaskier holds out a hand to stop a passerby. He goes to shake the confused man’s hand, but the moment their skin makes contact Jaskier gives a yelp of pain and leaps back.

That reaction isn’t feigned, Geralt is sure, even as the man gives them both an odd look and leaves.

“When you touch someone, does it hurt badly?”

Jaskier’s bottom lip wobbles. “It really does.”

He sighs. A lack of touch might be a mere annoyance for him, but he knows it’s more than that for Jaskier. “I’ve heard of a mage who specialises in lifting curses. But he’s all the way in Kovir, and that’s no small journey.”

Jaskier turns big, pleading eyes on him. “Please, Geralt, I’ll do anything. You have to help me.”

As if he could ever refuse him anything. “Alright,” he grumbles. “We’ll head to Kovir.”

At first, Jaskier appears as bright as ever. Yet as the days pass, more and more often he chews his lip in a nervous habit, and he rubs his fingers together when people come too close. He smells of anxiety and restlessness.

Each evening, once the dinner has been eaten and the sun has set, they lay out their bedrolls by the embers of the fire. The scent of anxiety is replaced by one of loneliness and Jaskier will curl in on himself, like he’s trying to make himself smaller. It’s sad, how much lesser Jaskier seems to feel without touch.

Geralt is used to being shunned, to going months without a friendly clap on the shoulder or shake of the hand. But Jaskier isn’t, and the curse is taking a toll on him. Geralt wishes he could help, that he could provide some comfort, but he knows right now all he can cause Jaskier is pain.

They need coin for their journey, so Geralt takes jobs along the way. He’s on a contract to clear a nest of nekkers and he has, for some unknown reason, allowed Jaskier to accompany him. Jaskier had wheedled and pleaded and in the end Geralt had found himself unable to say no.

It should be fine. A nekker nest is an easy job, and as agile and springy as the creatures are, they’ve no stamina and they’re easy to kill.

That must be why he allows his concentration to slip when he’s approaching the nest, his eyes darting to the side to check Jaskier is safe behind a rock. The momentary slip lets one of the foul little things bounce up to him and sink its teeth into his gauntlet, more of an annoyance than a real threat. He shakes it off with one hand and uses the other to cut more of the creatures down with his silver blade. His gauntlet goes flying, but no matter, he can collect that later.

He rounds on the last few of the creatures who are nickering angrily. As he circles them he sees Jaskier peeking his head over the rock and then creeping closer, trying to get a better look.

Fuck. He kills two of the nekkers quickly, but the last three have picked up on Jaskier’s scent and are eyeing him with interest. Geralt sees two leaning back on their hind legs, preparing to leap at Jaskier and cut him to shreds with their sharp claws.

He has a split second to make a decision: Grab Jaskier and risk hurting him himself, or leave him where he is and watch the creatures go for his chest. It’s no choice at all really, so Geralt sends up a quiet word of apology and grabs Jaskier firmly around the neck with his ungloved hand and shoves him out of the way.

The last two creatures leap into the air, but with their target gone they’re easy prey. Geralt cuts them down with minimal effort and turns, expecting to see Jaskier writhing on the ground in pain.

He’s not though. He’s sat in the mud with a puzzled expression on his face.

“That didn’t hurt,” he says, seemingly mystified. “Well, being thrown to the ground was not the most delightful experience, but when you touched me - it didn’t hurt.”

That is strange. Geralt had been sure he’d triggered the curse.

Jaskier gets to his feet and regards Geralt quizzically. Very carefully, he reaches out and touches his fingertip to Geralt’s bare hand. He doesn’t flinch back or gasp in pain. Instead, he takes Geralt’s entire hand in his own, and a beautiful smile blooms over his face.

“I can touch you! But how?”

Geralt stares down at their joined hands, unsure why he feels unsteady. “Witchers are immune to magic?” he guesses. “I suppose that could be -”

He’s interrupted by Jaskier throwing his arms around him and hugging him close, happy little sounds of joy and relief spilling from him. “Oh, Geralt, thank the gods, I was losing my mind.” He snuggles deeper against Geralt, rubbing his face into his neck and hanging on tight.

“Oh. Well.” It seems the only thing for Geralt to do is to hug him back, so he puts his arms around his shoulders and draws him in.

Jaskier keeps touching him all the rest of the day. Whenever he bumps their shoulders or grabs Geralt’s hand, he breaks out into a wide, goofy smile, like it’s novel and fun every time.

Perhaps the curse has worn off? The next traveller who passes them by, Jaskier finds an excuse to stop him and shake his hand. But the moment their hands touch, Jaskier yelps in pain.

He’s still cursed then. But he can touch Geralt. Strange.

And Geralt can’t help but indulge him, even though he knows Jaskier is touching him because he’s the only option, not because he really wants to. He reminds himself that Jaskier would surely rather be off with some pretty lady, not grasping at a crotchety witcher for comfort.

But still, every time Jaskier brushes their hands together and smiles, he feels a little wobbly inside.

That night, he watches as once again Jaskier curls in on himself, small and sad by the fire. The further north they travel, the colder the weather grows, and the more distressed Jaskier becomes.

“Hey.” He keeps his voice soft, and Jaskier turns to look at him with big, wide eyes. “Join me?” He lifts a corner of his bedroll and waves him over; an offer, not a command.

Jaskier immediately scurries over and burrows into him, all hands and hot breath and happy murmurs. He settles into Geralt’s chest with a contented sigh, and Geralt wraps his arms carefully around him.

This, at least, he can do. Jaskier will find someone else to warm him soon enough, but for now, he has Geralt.

Geralt is on his way back from a job when the sound of raised voices makes him quicken his step. Outside the inn where he’d left Jaskier, he spots a distinctive bright blue doublet in the midst of a gang of angry-looking locals. They’re poking at him and taunting, and Jaskier is gasping in pain.

“Look at this precious little thing,” one of them sneers. “So delicate he can’t even bear to be touched by us lowly folks.”

The man reaches out and grasps Jaskier firmly around the wrist, and Jaskier screams, raw and excruciating. The sound reaches into Geralt’s chest and twists painfully, and he breaks into a sprint.

The next thing he knows, the man is on the ground before him, sobbing as Geralt twists his arm to the point of breaking. The others have fallen back, trying to hide behind each other, and Jaskier stands off to one side cradling his wrist.

“You don’t touch him,” Geralt growls, and the man before him pales even further. “Understood?”

The man nods frantically, babbling apologies, and as much as he’s tempted to break a few bones to drive home his point, he knows Jaskier wouldn’t want that. He drops the man’s arm and snarls, “Go.” He and his friends beat a hasty retreat, leaving the street empty but for him and Jaskier.

“Jask,” he says, and it breaks his heart to see Jaskier so pale, a tear running down his cheek. “Are you alright?” He’s wracked with guilt - he should have been here to protect him.

Jaskier smiles sadly. “I’m fine. My own fault, really.” He reaches out as if to touch Geralt’s hand before faltering, unsure.

He’s clearly in need of comfort, so Geralt pushes his own uncertainties aside and steps closer. He brings up one hand to wipe away the tears from Jaskier’s cheek, and cradles his face as gently as he can. “It’s okay,” he says in the tone he uses to reassure Roach when she’s frightened. “I’ve got you.”

Jaskier blinks up at him with watery eyes, but his smile is more genuine now. “Yeah,” he sighs softly. “Yeah, you do.”

Jaskier still insists on performing as they travel, and as much as the thought of him among all those grasping hands sets Geralt’s teeth on edge, he does understand. For all the times that he’s been injured and insisting on continuing to work, it would be hypocritical of him to deny that to Jaskier.

He sways carefully around the tavern as he plays, and to a stranger he’d seem relaxed and at ease but Geralt knows him well enough to see the anxiety in his rigid movements. Each time a hand reaches out toward him he flinches, though normally he’d be luxuriating in the attention.

Each flinch has Geralt’s grasp on his mug of ale tightening, until the wood is groaning beneath his hand and he has to shake it loose lest he crack the mug and send ale flowing over the table.

Jaskier can take care of himself. He’ll be fine.

He certainly does seem fine, and by the end of the evening he’s caught the attention of a pretty girl with voluminous curls spilling out from the dainty handkerchief tied around her head. When Jaskier is done with his performance she buys him a drink, and she leans over the table to giggle as they speak in low voices.

Geralt watches from his corner table and scowls. He tells himself his foul mood comes from concern for Jaskier, from worry that this woman might hurt him unintentionally. He almost has himself convinced it’s true.

There’s no point skulking in the shadows all night, he knows, so he finishes his ale and heads upstairs to their room. As he lays down, the bed feels strangely empty without Jaskier’s bustle and scent and colour. Wondering when he became so damn soft, he slips into a meditation.

It’s not long before he’s revived by the sound of Jaskier creeping into the room and hurriedly undressing.

Geralt rubs his eyes, dispelling the lingering wooziness. “I thought you’d spend the night celebrating,” he says, trying to keep his voice light. “With that nice young lady.”

In the low light, he sees Jaskier shrug. “It got rather awkward when she kept trying to touch me and I kept having to run away.”

“Too bad.”

“Yeah.” He settles into bed next to Geralt. “It’s just -” Geralt can smell the mixture of exhilaration, arousal, and frustration on him. “It’s frustrating. Wanting something and not being able to have it.”

“Hmm.” Geralt knows that feeling all too well.

“I’m -” Jaskier turns his head away a fraction, and Geralt can see a blush spreading over his cheeks. “I’m not used to going so long without… you know. It’s making me antsy.” He rubs the palm of one hand against his crotch, shifting awkwardly in the bed.

“Hmm.” He inhales again, and the scent of arousal is sharper, more prominent. He rolls onto his side, tentatively places a hand on Jaskier’s thigh. “I could help,” he offers. “If you want.”

He’s expecting to be told no. He’s expecting Jaskier might even push him away, disgusted. He’s not expecting the way Jaskier sucks in a breath, the way the scent of arousal blooms, the way Jaskier squims beneath his hand.

“You’d do that for me?” Jaskier’s voice is breathy.

I’d do anything for you, he thinks but doesn’t say. Instead he places his hand on top of Jaskier’s and guides it to the fastenings of his trousers. Jaskier unlaces himself in a clumsy rush which Geralt can’t help but find endearing, and then he’s working his cock free, rubbing gentle strokes with their two joined hands.

It’s nice like this, where Geralt can let Jaskier guide him, show him what he likes. His fingers tease along the soft skin on the underside of his cock, the delicious slick at the head. As he strokes, Jaskier shakes in his arms, gasping and writhing. When he comes, it’s with a soft, gentle sigh of contentment that Geralt wants to bottle and keep forever.

Jaskier makes a tokenistic effort to wipe himself down with a shirt and collapses back into bed. “Should I…” He chews his bottom lip. “Would you like me to return the favour?”

Geralt’s cock is pressing against his trousers like iron, and Jaskier must be able to feel it. But he didn’t do this with the expectation of recompense. He just wants Jaskier to feel good.

“No, it’s okay,” he says softly.

“Oh,” Jaskier sounds disappointed, almost. “Okay.”

They fall asleep like that, curled up close together, but a feeling of uncertainty hanging between them.

In the weeks after that, Jaskier takes to touching Geralt even more. They sleep close together every night, and they find pleasure in each other when they need to. Geralt makes his peace with this unspoken arrangement: he is a hand to Jaskier when he needs it, and Jaskier returns the favour as a politeness.

The first time Jaskier kisses him while they rut together, his heart is fit to burst out of his chest. Trading favours is one thing, but the surge of love and heat and affection that erupts in his chest when Jaskier brings their lips together can’t be denied. He could kiss Jaskier every single night and never tire of it, he thinks. Late at night, as they move together, Geralt feels himself falling.

It’s not everything he wants, but it’s enough.

It has to be enough, because soon they’ll make it to Kovir, and then they can lift the curse, and then Jaskier won’t need him at all any more.

Geralt catches himself wishing that the curse won’t be lifted, and then he’s disgusted at himself for being so selfish.

Kovir is beautiful. Sharp, snow-dusted mountains dart up into the sky, and great rivers flow with fresh water through green, lush lands. The city of Pont Vanis is breathtaking, with spire towers reaching up toward the heavens and rich mosaics of glasswork covering every surface. Each new corner seems to hold some elegant delight of artistry, and Jaskier grabs his hand to pull him along each new street to behold some fresh wonder.

But they are not here for gawping, Geralt tells himself, and he steers them toward the address of the mage he’s heard is an expert in curses.

Once inside, the Koviri mage stares at the pair of them.

“A curse, you say?” He raises an eyebrow.

Geralt stands protectively behind Jaskier, ready to leap to his defense should the mage prove troublesome.

“Yes. Whenever anyone touches me, I feel horrendous pain.” Jaskier grimaces. “Except for Geralt. For some reason, he can touch me and it’s fine.”

The mage nods. “I see. Did you perchance anger a magic user?”

“Ahh.” Jaskier looks at his feet. “Well. There was a mage whose acquaintance I made. He seemed… less than happy when I declined his offer of companionship.”

The Koviri mage shudders. “What monsters southerners can be. Cursing someone because they rejected you, what hideous behaviour.”

Geralt is warming up to this mage already.

“Let me see what I can do.” The mage closes his eyes and reaches out his hands, holding them a few inches from Jaskier’s chest.

He opens his eyes again and squints curiously. “Strange. I can’t feel any curse upon you.”

He reaches out, and pokes Jaskier in the chest. Geralt leaps forward, ready to defend his bard from this onslaught, but he’s stopped in his tracks by Jaskier’s voice.

“Huh.” He sounds perplexed, not pained. “That’s odd. That didn’t hurt at all.”

They reason perhaps it’s because the mage is a magic user too, so they bring in the mage’s servant. He touches Jaskier’s hand and again he’s fine. Then they try the washerwoman next door. That’s fine too.

The mage shrugs and smiles. “It seems that the curse has worn off. Some weaker enchantments only last a matter of days.”

Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “You mean… all this time, I’ve been fine? I could have been touching anyone?”

The mage hums, eyes sparkling. “So it appears.” He looks at Geralt, and his gaze is penetrating. “Perhaps it has not been such a loss for you though, hmm? There are many paths to knowledge.”

They stagger out into the weak Koviri sunshine and Geralt is consumed with guilt and relief and worry. Surely Jaskier will hate him now. Hate him and leave him, now they’re no longer tied together.

“Jaskier-” he begins, just as Jaskier turns to him to say, “Geralt-”

They stare at each other a beat too long.

Geralt’s shoulders slump. Let the end come if it must. “Go on,” he says, bracing himself.

“Thank you.” Jaskier is giving him that soft, quiet smile that he loves. “For taking care of me.”

That doesn’t make any sense.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I should have known better. I understand if you want to leave.”

Jaskier shakes his head and takes his hand. “Come on.” He leads Geralt toward one of Kovir’s elegant public parks. “Let’s walk.”

They stroll beneath a series of wooden archways, woven thick with roses. The sunlight peeks through in dappled spots on the springy grass.

“I don’t regret it,” Jaskier says. “These last weeks. I don’t blame you. You’ve done nothing but try to help me.”

“But you could have been with anyone.” Geralt’s stomach twists at the thought he’s been keeping Jaskier against his will. “You could have touched anyone. Kissed anyone. Found anyone else to bring you pleasure.”

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier stops and tenderly brushes a stray hair from Geralt’s face. “I didn’t want anyone else.”

Geralt barely dares to breath. Hope rages within him, frothing and exuberant. “You mean-”

“I didn’t want anyone else then, and I don’t want anyone else now.” He leans in and presses the softest kiss to the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “I always just wanted you.”

His heart feels like it could beat out of his chest. “So you’ll stay with me? Even now?”

Jaskier strokes one finger down his cheek, and his entire world narrows to the joining of their bodies. “Always,” Jaskier promises. “There’s no one I’d rather be with.”

#obsessed with touch... me... hahaha. it's fine i'm fine.#geraskier #the witcher #my writing #octoberfest #we did it folks!! 31 fics in 31 days!!#i enjoyed writing this one especially

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vina-writes · 3 years

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Ten Favorite Drarry Fic Recs

I’ve reached a bit of a follower milestone, and I thought, why not celebrate? I’m happy! This is an incredible feeling that I honestly can’t fully articulate in writing. Knowing someone enjoyed my work and presence enough that they’d want to be notified if I posted again just makes me squeal and want to hug everyone from joy!! Thank you to anyone who has ever left me kudos, a comment, a tag, a note, an emoji, a tag emoji!! I am endlessly grateful to you all for this support and kindness.

Now, since it’s party time, I’ve compiled a personal list of my ten favorite Drarry fics to share the love. This is by no means a stamp of quality (as there are thousands of brilliant fics out there) and neither is it a guarantee that these are everyone’s cup of tea. But they are certainly my cup of tea— my whole buffet honestly.

I chose fics that made me feel deeply. Fics that made me cry, laugh, throw my phone, squeal and wiggle and dance at the end. These (mostly) weren’t fics which answered deep philosophical questions. They were fics which instead showed me love and adventure, joys and betrayals, misunderstandings and occasionally unbelievable (but appreciated) levels of smut (you know who you are). These are stories I read to be entertained, entranced, delighted, and happy. These are stories that made me feel in love.

In honor of that (and of my Canva addiction) I’ve made little banners for each. I hope they do some justice to these works. I’ve tried to capture the feeling of each fic in just one image. Without further ado, read on to find out exactly what my guilty pleasure (as if Drarry isn’t enough) is:

The Songbirds of Avebury Manor by Tessa Crowley [E, 18k]

Summary: Harry Potter presents as alpha at fifteen, and it is supposed to change his life for the better. Instead, it leads him to a beautiful noble omega he cannot have, a political plot he cannot escape, and a threat on his life.

This story. Oh my stars, this story. What can I even say to properly express how I feel about it? This is the Romeo and Juliet, the Pride and Prejudice, the Hades and Persephone of Drarry. Reading this made me feel like an unwedded Victorian lass waiting for her Prince Charming. It’s a wonderful Historical AU that throws around power dynamics and questions of who is worthy of love, freedom, and respect despite them. This is a brilliant portrait of deep romantic love. Harry’s dedication to Draco is all-encompassing, beautiful, intense, intimate— earth shattering, really. The way they fall in love despite class and situation made me want to cry and write poetry. This is a true fairytale romance.

The Pirate and the Prince by @nerdherderette, maniacani [E, 49k]

Summary: Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

The moment I started this story I knew it was going to be an instant favorite. It’s swashbuckling, debonair yet disheveled, dangerous, fun, adventurous— everything you could desire from a romance on the high seas! Though they come from very different backgrounds, this Draco and Harry are a power couple to the core. Their romance is once again beautiful, intense, and dedicated, but this time it’s mixed with a healthy dose of self-exploration and mutual acceptance. But apart from romance this fic holds delicious secrecy and identity issues, an astounding knowledge of sailing ships, plenty of piratey shenanigans, some heart-wrenching found family dynamics, a cursing parrot, and a glorious angst with a happy ending finale!

Soup-pocalypse and the Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats [E, 104k]

Summary: Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

What can I say about Soup-pocalypse? It will lure you in with tales of Veelas and romance, and then it will kidnap you and throw you in cooking class and therapy. You’ll come out wondering what just happened and how two days have passed. There will, of course, be Veelas and romance aplenty, but it will be a caring romance, a familial romance, a supportive and kind and nurturing romance. This story feels like family, good cooking, sunny days, the deep heartbreak of change, and through all of it, the truth of a real and solid partnership. This is the humorous yet angst-ridden tale of two idiots learning to love as adults, and then in turn learning to face the world together.

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakickass [M, 20k]

Summary: When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

Right then. On to the angstiest story I’ve ever read and truly enjoyed. Not just enjoyed, adored! Worshipped! Come back to time and again whenever I needed a good cry! Here is the beauty of it: this fic is deeply painful and heartbreaking, yet it steers clear of emotions like disgust and discomfort. Never once was it disturbing— only sorrowful, in the purest and most heart-wrenching way. Yet despite the pain strung throughout the majority of it, this fic left me feeling relieved and rejuvenated, the way one feels after crying their heart out over something simple. It’s an emotional release that does not leave you broken.

On the Last Day of Our World by Sansa [E, 84k]

Summary: During a detention, Harry and Draco get locked in a strange room together overnight. When they escape the next morning, they discover they are alone. Love, angst and adventure abound as they struggle to survive in an empty world.

Truly one of my favorite takes on canon divergence. Truly. This is an exploration of isolation and the joys and comforts that come with it. It is the power couple Drarry to rule them all— a Draco and Harry so strongly connected, in love, and attuned to one another that the world could fall at their feet. This story leaves you on the edge of your seat until the very bitter end— one of those where the second things are briefly peaceful the world goes up in a new set of flames. Those of you who daydream about a partnership that needs no others, two souls who are each other’s family, friend, and future, and would gladly abandon everything to spend eternity alone together: this is for you.

The Arc of the Pendulum by brummel [E, 30k]

Summary: After his father casts a mysterious curse on Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy is forced to try to make things right.

Yes. YES. YES!!! The Beauty and the Beast take you didn’t know you needed! Still canon-compliant to an extent, this is realistic and raw and incredible. Draco makes the choice to help Harry here, and the vulnerability of their interactions while Harry struggles with the curse is everything you could hope it to be. There’s a distinct fairytale atmosphere in this fic— both of them confined together, finding support and comfort in one another while struggling through the effects of the curse, and falling in love along the way. I could write sonnets about the ending using my tears for ink, but they shan’t be revealed here.

Picking Up Pieces by Tessa Crowley [E, 43k]

Summary of Part One: Fifteen years after the War, Draco is a social recluse and award winning author. Harry is an auror who works too hard, ensuring his old war wounds never heal. They meet at a masque ball, unaware of each other's identities. In another situation, it would have been love at first sight. But for them, it would never be so simple.

Picking Up Pieces deserves no introduction, but if you haven’t read it yet, please find a blanket, and cup of tea, and a quiet place to read, cry, and recover. I sobbed my little heart out through the entire second half— the tears were really never ending. How does it end up on a reclist by a fluff lover like me? The answer is similar to Antidote— though this story broke me apart, it was never twisted nor ugly, never disturbing. It was an incredibly touching tale of redemption, forgiveness, human nature, and recompense. The writing does put you through the emotional wringer, but it leaves you relieved and whole. I would lay down my life for this Draco. He truly needs to be protected and loved at all costs. Even though I’m usually careful when recommending heavy stories, I would encourage everyone to read this— it made me feel new, it made me feel like I’d spent an hour crying in the shower, but most of all, it really did make me happy.

Two Trees by LakeWitch [E, 36k]

Summary (shortened): In his Eighth year at Hogwarts, part of Draco Malfoy's probation is to see a Mind Healer once a week. Another part, unfortunately, is having to take Muggle Studies.

It wouldn't be so bad, really, if it weren't for the mandatory outing—a 'field trip'—booked at a Muggle lakeside retreat for the better part of five days. [...] Draco is determined to get it all over with as painlessly as possible. He'll keep his head down, and stay out of everyone's way. That is, until Pansy tells him—at the very last moment—that she's schemed to have Draco stay in the same room with Potter for the whole trip.

Just the two of them... in one room.

This is the comfort fic of all comfort fics. It feels like camping, like sitting by a lake in the sun, like marshmallows over a fire and sparks against a starry sky, and cool, feather-soft hotel sheets. Draco is dealing with several different anxieties here, but the brilliant setting and easy plot turn them into a cathartic read. This is a fic about young love and the ability to build bonds on trips. It made me remember my first crushes and the feeling of getting breakfast in a hotel lobby. There’s cuddling, there’s love, there’s some highly emo Draco (both warranted and unwarranted), and there’s a truckload of nature. Go read it!

Your Place Or Mine? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark [E, 26k]

Summary: "This person is so much harder to hate. And I’m supposed to hate Malfoy. How the fuck else am I supposed to limit this to just sex?"

At first I was like, “Damn, Harry,” but then I was all, “Damn Harry!” but then I went, “DAMN Harry!” (interspersed with a lot of whistling and cursing). I could have slapped him, and you will want to. This is another Draco that deserves endless love and hot chocolate, with a Harry that deserves a good smack. I think about this fic weekly, and not just because it’s endlessly hot— although it is scorching hot, like how do you even write something that hot type of hot. Draco’s pining and Harry’s stupidity makes for the angstiest yet most satisfying friends-with-benefits-but-really-there’s-more combination, and the climax (pun intended) and resulting spill of emotions is everything anyone could hope for. Ten out of ten.

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken [T, 19k]

Summary (shortened): Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship...

This thing of beauty is exactly as hilarious as it sounds. However, it is so much more than the endless laughs (although there are many). It is sweet, tender, touching, and filled with glorious pining and misunderstandings. Inside you’ll find extravagant (the word was literally invented for Cibee’s Draco) outfits, confusing customs, a blanket that brought me to tears, one badass house-elf, one very confused beloved, absolutely no fornication (wink), and one hopelessly smitten pureblood. Be warned, this fic is actually three “What the fuck, Draco?”s in a trenchcoat. I read it when I want to laugh, facepalm, and submerge myself in the adorable stupidity that is Draco Malfoy in love. It is well worth your time and is sure to bring a smile to your face.

With this final fic we conclude my list on a happy note! It’s long, it’s tedious, and I had a spanking good time writing it. I hope these bring some joy or happy tears to your day.

Love, Vina

#vina recs #oh my look a new tag!#long post #drarry #drarry fic rec

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writethehousedown · 4 years

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We've Got Time To Kill, Baby (Kyara) - Zyan

A/N: day two is here! And I decided to go to the Hurt/Comfort route. Don’t worry, it does have a happy ending. Ish. Sideblog is @dollalpaca !

Summary: With their senior year comes the typical question of ‘what are you doing to study afterwards?’ and Kiara is starting to feel stressed out as months pass and she doesn’t have an answer.

TW - anxiety and general self loathing.

When she was in fifth year, Kiara rarely saw the seniors stay through the entire evening, or just appear sometimes - legend had it not even the teachers cared whether you came or not, and sometimes not even them bothered to give classes, unless they were the assigned tutors for the internships.

She hoped and prayed that would be their case, not only because she wanted to spend more time with her friends outside school hours and live her last year to the fullest, but due to the fact that Kiara had no clue whatsoever of what to study after High School, and it was starting to stress her out. Everyone else seemed to have their shit figured out; Priyanka was going to be a primary school teacher, Tynomi would study law, Juice had already begun training for the physical education admission exam, and of course Kyne would go on to be a mechanical engineer - she had the brains for that, she’d be great at it.

As far as options went, Kiara was completely blank - she had no drive for anything, well, she did have a couple hobbies, but none of them were carreers she could pursue in college and excel at. And it’s not like she could take a year off to find out what she could do, in this time and economy? That wasn’t an option. She had to study something, even if it was just a teaching career, she couldn’t waste her time.

Her anxiety looms at the back of her mind everytime another teacher asks what are they going to follow once class ends, sometimes reminiscing when they were barely twelve, trying to get used to High School life, running around the hallways and playing football and voleyball, sometimes breaking windows and fluorescent lights with their games.

Though Kiara remembers those times with fondness, she’d rather not be reminded of it shortly after almost snapping at her own teacher because she has no idea what she’ll do and she’d prefer if he just did his job and taught them about geography.

The bell echoes through the hallways, indicating the start of their second recess and the end of another dreadful class of Spanish. Kiara somehow managed to not bang her head open against the desk everytime the teacher spoke - it’s not that the class it’s boring, it’s just so that she’s painfully mysoginistic and thinks she’s funny when she’s not.

“What did she say about an essay? I zoned out,” Kiara asks, turning to see Rita, who, unsusprisingly so, has all the class written down in her agenda. Rita cocks a brow, and without saying anything lets Kiara take a photo of everything she wrote down. “Thanks, love,” she says, blowing a kiss on her direction.

“Sometimes I think you befriended me just because I let you copy my homework without saying anything,” Rita teases, packing her stuff back into her bag. Kiara gasps, faux offended.

“Hey! You’re more than just an escape goat for when I don’t do homework,” Kiara protests, “with that reasoning, I’m only dating Kyne because she does my math tests for free.”

“The fuck you mean free? I’ve been telling you since last year to pay me in cash or I’ll break up with you,” Kyne butts in the conversation, perching herself against Kiara and Rita’s shared desk with a brow cocked. Kiara rolls her eyes with a sly smile.

“If I take you out for dinner on Friday instead of having you come over and order take out like we always do, will you forget my debts?” She inquires, fluttering her eyelashes and giving her a sneaky smile, knowing fully well she can get away with anything when she looks at Kyne like this. And sure enough, Kyne’s annoyed expression soon is replaced with a grin, accepting the proposal - only if she gets to choose where they’re going.

Rita, knowing she’s third-wheeling, rises from her seat and goes up to Scarlett - who, despite being well over 30°C, brought their set of mate - and strikes up a conversation with them and Priyanka.

Kyne quickly sits where Rita was just moments ago, scooting the chair closer and easily lacing her fingers with Kiara’s, but before they can continue their conversation, Boa and Starzy burst into the room with huge smiles, annoucing loudly that their biology teacher isn’t coming, so they can go home early. There’s a collective sigh of relief, because they had a presentation today and no one actually finished their presentations - well, except for the know-it-alls of the class, that is.

“Anyone wanna go to the park and drink mate?” Scarlett exclaims as they’re leaving, their pink flask poking out from their backpack as she trottes up to meet the girls. It takes about a second for everyone to agree, and even less time to convince the doorman to let them go.

It’s as easy as that - no one cares about what they do anymore, if admittedly half of them are eighteen already, they should know how to take care of themselves. That’s a lie as big as a house, but hey, they get to leave and come to school whenever they feel like it, so they’re not complaining.

It’s barely 5 p.m., and the sun is still shining up in the sky. April is suppossed to be the start of Autumn, but when has Autumn ever existed in the north of Argentina? Perhaps it’s global warming, perhaps it’s that Pachamama just doesn’t want them to get a break from the heat - whatever it is, they find themselves sitting on the grass under a large tree, and sooner than later they sent off the boys to buy something to drink (either alcohol or juice, they’re not complaining) because they’ll be damned if all they have to drink is Scarlett’s scorching hot mates.

“You all are just fucking cowards,” Scarlett says, pulling out their set and preparing themselves another mate.

“Just because you’ve burnt your tongue so many times you’ve lost all ability to feel anything, doesn’t mean we wanna go that same route,” Ilona deadpans, though just a minute later she’s asking Scarlett to prepare her one too.

The conversation flows easily between them, and from time to time they cheer the boys on their improvised game of football (though they do wonder where did they get the ball from on the first place) before laughing when one of them falls to the ground - which is fairly often.

“Sometimes I find it hard to believe that one of these airheads is applying for med school along with me,” Rita comments, sipping on the mate when it’s her turn.

“Wait, what?” Kiara says, turning to look at Rita. “Which one of these dumbasses is applying to med school with you?” She asks, baffled, and Rita proceeds to explain how Samuel had approached her during summer to ask where is she applying for med school, and when he found out they were aiming for the same college, he had decided they had to study together once the applications opened.

Kiara blinks repeatedly, once, twice, until she’s just blankly staring at Rita for a second longer than intended. Before it gets uncomfortable, she makes a quirky joke about being sorry for whoever ends up being Samuel’s patient if he manages to get into med school, and she sighs in relief when they giggle and move on.

It’s not that she doesn’t trust them enough to tell them about the anxiety that bubbles up in her stomach when she thinks about the future, the fear and guilt that consumes her at the thought of being a burden to her parents while she figures out what to do with her life, being one more mouth to feed in such difficult times — it’s just that, she doesn’t want to bother anyone with her feelings, so she keeps it all in, hoping it’ll eventually go away.

They spend almost all evening long together, and Kiara is thankful that they don’t bring up the future again.

***

The sun is setting when they say goodbye, and Kyne insists to walk her home - it’s not unusual for her to do so, if she practically lives in her house, anyway, but as they walk with their hands intertwined, Kiara feels a different air surrounding them. Like a heavy tension.

“Kiki?”

“Hm?”

Kyne comes to a stop, inevitably stopping Kiara too, and gives her a look Kiara is all too familiar with, making her shiver immediately - oh no.

“You’ve been acting weird lately, is everything okay?” She asks softly, tentatively, and Kiara’s heart sinks. Oh no. This isn’t happening.

She knows that technically she can confide Kyne with everything, that she’ll help her as much as she can with anything she needs, because that’s what couples do. But Kyne has always known how her future will be, at which college she’ll go and all she has to do to achieve her dreams. Between the two of them, she’s the one with more clarity, so getting her to understand her problems would take a lot of words and emotions Kiara isn’t quite ready to unveil.

So she plasters on a smile and nods curtly.

“Everything’s great. I’m good,” she lies through gritted teeth, but Kyne can clearly see through her facade, cocking a skeptical brow as soon as the words leave Kiara’s mouth.

Kyne squeezes her hand, coming closer to her. “You’re a terrible liar,” she says, smiling gently. “If we buy bizcochos on our way to your house, and we eat them on your garden, would that cheer you up?” She offers, making Kiara smile. It’s such a silly, tiny thing, but Kyne knows it always cheers her up, so she accepts, and they roam around the town to get to the only bakery that bakes tasty bizcochos, in Kiara’s opinion.

They barely speak, because Kyne knows to not push Kiara to speak when she doesn’t want to, and right now there’s not much Kiara can say without getting choked up.

It’s significantly darker when they arrive to Kiara’s house, and, naturally, her parents haven’t arrived yet from their jobs, and her little siblings are fighting for the remote - Kyne says hi to Marisa and Alan before they sneak off to Kiara’s room to get changed from their sweaty uniforms.

They settle on Kiara’s little garden, her mother’s pride and joy when Kiara was a child, when life was easier and she wasn’t so self-conscious about the economical crisis going on and money wasn’t as tight. Sometimes, just sitting there and eating any type of snack brings her memories of planting all kinds of flowers with her mother once spring arrived - carrying with it warmer days, flowers in bloom and the need to use mosquito repelent almost all day long.

She’d do everything to go back to those days.

It seems that her yearning shows through her expression, because Kyne silently takes her hand again, stroking the back as she nibbles on her bizcocho, her gaze absent-mindlessly wandering around. Kiara gives a heavy sigh before she speaks.

“I have no idea what I’ll do with my life,” she admits in a whisper, Kyne turns to see her almost immediately, giving her hand another squeeze, prompting her to go on. “Everyone has their shit figured out when it comes to their future, and I just— I don’t know yet. I don’t know what I’ll study, if I’ll study, if I’m just going to get a dead-end retail job to independize myself; I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll ever know. And it’s starting to stress me out.” Kiara rubs her eyelids with her free hand, sighing in exasperation.

“Not everyone has their shit figured out, Kiki, that’s not true,” Kyne says after a moment of silence, and Kiara rolls her eyes slightly, but Kyne continues before she can say anything. “Really, who has anything figured out? We’re seventeen, living in a thirld world country with an economical crisis that never really leaves. It’s a lot of pressure.”

Kiara lets a half-hearted laugh at Kyne’s comment; of course she always knows what to say, how to read her between the lines.

“But you do have your shit figured out, you’ve said you’ll be an engineer since we were thirteen. Haven’t you already applied for the scholarship at UNSTA?” She asks, trying to prove a point, but Kyne chews on her lower lip and looks away briefly.

“No, not really. I don’t even know if I’ll be an engineer anymore.”

Oh.

Kiara frowns slightly, tilting her head to give Kyne a better look. “You don’t?” She says softly, wondering if she heard wrong. But Kyne nods slowly, much to Kiara’s surprise.

“I just… I don’t feel like my heart’s in it, you know? And my dad always says I shouldn’t study something that doesn’t make me happy, because I’ll either do nothing with it or end up dropping out,” she explains, and now it’s Kiara the one that squeezes her hand as a comforting gesture.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve—” she stops mid-sentence when Kyne turns to look at her, a brow slightly cocked. “Oh,” she muses when it hits her why she kept this to herself. She didn’t want to bother anyone.

Just like Kiara didn’t want to bother anyone with her own feelings.

She blinks repeatedly, before she manages to say something. “I guess we’re on the same boat.”

“Yeah.” Kyne shifts slightly, until she’s facing Kiara. “And, y’know, we could, like, work together to get on a different boat. A nicer one,” she proposes, smiling gently. Kiara returns the smile, breathing in deeply.

“I think we can, yeah,” she breathes out, fidgetting with Kyne’s fingers, chuckling bitterly. “God, we’re seventeen, we should be worrying about what party are we gonna crash this weekend, not— not what if we fail in life once High School is over,” Kiara grumbles, and Kyne giggles shortly. “We’re such idiots, too - I should’ve probably told you sooner, it would’ve made things easier.”

Kyne clicks her tongue, scooting herself closer and planting a chaste kiss on Kiara’s lips.

“Yes, probably, but you know us; we’re the bests at being uncapable to talk about emotions and keeping things a secret. No wonder why it took so long forus to get actually together,” she jokes, making Kiara laugh shortly. Her gaze becomes softer, lacing her fingers with Kiara’s as she sighs. “I still want you to promise me you’ll tell me when something is bothering you, yeah? You can always tell me anything,” Kyne says earnestly, and Kiara wonders what did she do to deserve such an amazing girlfriend.

“I promise,” she says, “For example, now I feel like these are enough feelings for one day, and I’ll much rather prefer if we went back to eating bizcochos before I cry.” Her upbeat tone makes Kyne laugh, but she still pulls her closer and steals a quick kiss from her, resting her arms on her waist.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

tags: argentina hs au, hurt/comfort

#rpdr fanfiction #kyara #kyne #kiara #rita baga #scarlett bobo #ilona verley #we've got time to kill baby #zyan #argentina hs au #hurt/comfort #back to school 2020 #day 2: desk #submission

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killherfreakout · 5 years

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tessellate

an Elu AU where Lucas has a crush on his best friend Eliott, and he finds comfort in the stars. [ao3]

CHAPTER ONE: I tripped over the moon about you

a/n: *potential tw: anxiety attack (during oct 10 - dimanche) stay safe!

Lucas loves Eliott. There’s no doubt about that. He loves Eliott because he is a great friend, his best friend even (Yann doesn’t have to know). The two have known each other since they were young teens; they met when Lucas was 13 and Eliott 14. Although their friendship is of only a few years, it feels as if they have spent a lifetime at each other’s side - like they were destined to be close in their past lives and future ones, too.

OCT 1 - VENDREDI 21:33

It’s the second week of autumn and the air feels crisp, almost cold enough to make their breath visible. Lucas and his friends are at a house party like most Friday nights. He is outside on the porch of a classmate’s house leaning against a post supporting the roof above their heads.

“There you are,” says a voice from the tall boy coming through the patio door.

“Here I am,” Lucas replies, corners of his mouth involuntarily turning up in the presence of Eliott. He hands his friend the joint he’s holding after taking a hit himself.

Eliott raises his eyebrows in a thank you gesture, locking eyes with Lucas as he brings the rolled paper to his lips.

Lucas’ knees weaken at the sight, flicking his gaze down to the space between Eliott’s lips. He watches as they close around the joint then part until a cloud obstructs his view.

He takes it back from Eliott, pinching the paper between his thumb and forefinger and repeats the action. He thinks it’s the closest he will ever be to knowing what Eliott’s lips feel like on his. Wait, why would he think about that? He must be more drunk and/or higher than he thought.

“Lucas, you coming?” Yann yells from across the backyard, where his friends seem to have traveled to sometime after Eliott arrived. One could tell him ten years had passed and he’d believe it.

He spots Arthur and Basile setting up a game of beer pong he promised to participate in earlier that night. It breaks him out of his trance and he nods in Yann’s direction, signaling to Eliott he has to go.

Arthur and Basile somehow beat Yann and Lucas in a best-of-three match. The losing team were ordered to bring snacks from the kitchen, so Yann and Lucas made their way inside.

In their journey Lucas gets roped into hanging out with Chloé, the first year he has been kind of seeing the past two weeks. ‘Seeing’ meaning flirting with and kissing for the first time last Friday.

Lucas has always been good with girls, he knows exactly what to do to get their attention and have them wrapped around his finger in no time. But he isn’t a player by any means; he just tends to lose interest and lets them down easy before things get too serious.

Lucas is busy talking up the brunette in the kitchen when he sees Eliott walk in the patio door. He’s laughing at one of his friend’s jokes, taking a swig of his drink and almost spitting out its contents from laughing. Lucas is so focused on the sweet sound of his laughter filling the house and Eliott’s crinkled eyes in the glow of the party lights that he realizes he missed everything Chloé just said. His stomach fills with an uneasy feeling he can’t quite explain and immediately swallows the guilt that follows. Here he was being distracted by his friend and not paying attention to the pretty girl right in front of his face.

This is not the first time Lucas has felt this uneasiness in his stomach regarding Eliott. They have been friends for years and tell each other everything; Lucas feels most comfortable and most like himself when Eliott is around. But those unexplainable moments still occur every once in a while.

The first time he felt like this was when the first and second year classes went on a trip to the coast for a beach clean up project. They were on a charter bus to go back to Paris after a long day of walking the shore under the spring sun. He promised Eliott they would sit next to each other since Yann wanted Lucas to sit by him on the way there. When they got on the bus and walked to their seats toward the back, their hands brushed as Lucas’ arm swung back and Eliott’s swung forward. And then not even ten minutes later, Eliott was asleep on his shoulder for the entire three-hour ride home. The look on Eliott’s face as he woke up to the bus coming to a halt is what made his stomach flip. Lucas laid in bed that night trying to understand why he felt like that, all to no avail.

That moment on the bus flashed back in his mind when he was trying to regain focus on Chloé making advances on him. He shakes the memory out of his mind, blaming it on the alcohol and weed he’s consumed tonight, and uses every fiber of his being to give his full attention to Chloé. He looks at her from over the brim of his cup of cheap beer, her green eyes sparkling under the soft orange light of the kitchen. Lucas leans in closer to hear her better because now people are chanting and shouting at someone doing a kegstand in the living room.

Lucas set his now empty cup on the counter and downs his third shot of the night before coming close to her ear to ask, “Do you want to go somewhere.. not as.. loud?”

The girl’s lips perk up in a blushing smile as she nods. Lucas takes her hand and she follows him down the hallway to one of the empty guest rooms.

Once inside the room, Lucas makes the first move to put his lips on hers. Chloé brings up her hands to clasp them around Lucas’ neck and he proceeds to kiss her deeper. She starts to plant soft kisses on his cheek then his jaw then one on his neck before Lucas pulls away to shrug his hoodie off. This is how it’s supposed to go, right? She continues down his neck as Lucas begins to unbutton the flowery blouse she has on.

He’s on the last button when the door bursts open. It’s another handsy couple wanting to do exactly what he and Chloé are doing; there’s a guy backpedaling into the room with a girl attached to his lips. Chloé comes up for air from Lucas’ neck to see who dares to interrupt them right now.

Lucas clears his throat and wipes the leftover lip gloss off his lips when the couple stops kissing to look at them. The intruding girl blushes and the guy turns around and - oh shit. It’s Eliott, of all people, with his hair even messier than usual (if that is even possible) and his lips bright red and puffy.

Fuck. Not again. A familiar but uncomfortable feeling strikes again - Lucas’ stomach flips for the second or third time that night and he lets out a shaky breath. Eliott turns away from the girl, who he thinks is named Marie, and looks at Lucas’ hoodie on the floor then at Chloé clutching her blouse shut. He smirks at Lucas as if to say, atta boy, Luc. It’s unnerving and Lucas doesn’t like it one bit.

Lucas backs away from Chloé and swallows, everyone standing there looking at each other in an awkward silence. Lucas picks up his hoodie and heads straight out of the house.

The following realization hits him at the same time the crisp autumn air does: he is relieved that his makeout session with Chloé was cut short, and he wishes he was the one attached to Eliott’s lips barging into the supposedly empty room.

OCT 2 - SAMEDI 10:04

Lucas wakes up with a headache the next morning as the events of last night come rushing back. Lip gloss, shots, hoodie, door, and.. Eliott. Eliott’s laugh. Eliott’s lips letting out the smoke. Eliott’s red and puffy lips. Eliott smirking when he sees him with Chloé. Eliott’s lips, again. Fuck.

He turns over in his bed to grab his phone and, as expected, there are a million texts in the gang group chat from last night.

Lucas rolls his eyes and types out a reply that is only half true.

Lucas contemplates the right way to tell them, no because I don’t actually like girls and I might have a crush on my friend who is a guy haha. So he settles on:

OCT 4 - LUNDI 08:20

Lucas is chatting with the guys in the courtyard at school when he sees Eliott for the first time since the guest room incident.

“Salut,” Eliott greets the whole group then turns to Lucas, “why did you leave so suddenly on Friday? That girl seemed kinda pissed that you left,” he laughs humorlessly at the last part.

Yann and Arthur look at Lucas quizzically, wondering the same thing. Lucas has a constant stomach ache, but this time he knows what it is: anxiety and nerves.

“Oh, I uh..” was jealous of the girl you were making out with, “Felt sick and needed some fresh air. Then I just went home,” Lucas answers, internally cursing at himself. The statement was also half true.

“Oh okay,” he pauses, “Marie was glad you left though,” Eliott nudges.

The nudge from Eliott cuts deeper than Lucas expected. The bell rings and everyone goes their separate ways to class.

15:11

Lucas remembers he made plans with Eliott to study for French Lit when he walks out of his last class. He dreads it, both studying and being alone with Eliott.

He walks to the library where he said they would meet and sees Eliott waiting for him at a table reading his notes, his fingers grazing his bottom lip like he always does when he’s focused or nervous. Lucas exhales deeply and pulls out a chair across from him, a bright smile blooms on Eliott’s face as he looks up. Shit. The pit in his stomach stays the entire afternoon he studies with Eliott.

It subsides when Eliott comes back from the restroom and he notices Lucas gave up on actually studying.

“What are you reading?” Eliott asks as he takes the empty seat across from Lucas.

“Oh, um, just early astronomical theories. Like, before gravity was discovered and they still thought the Earth was the center of the solar system. It’s actually really interesting--” Lucas replies with a smile that is almost audible before he stops.

“You know what, nevermind. It’s stupid. Yann and Arthur basically fall asleep whenever I even start to talk about it,” he adds with a sad smile, tucking his head down.

“Hey,” Eliott says firmly, reaching across the table to rest a hand on his. “If you like it, it’s not stupid.”

Lucas looks up to see Eliott’s gaze fixed on Lucas, burning its way through his skin. He’s never had anyone look at him with such intensity and such care. Lucas hardly ever feels like anyone notices or takes any interest in what he cares about or likes. Sure, he has the gang and the girls, but all of their conversations seem to revolve around who is hooking up with who and when the next party is.

But with Eliott he feels like more than a default option, more than second or third best. It’s comforting and fucking terrifying at the same time.

“I guess,” Lucas shrugs, shifting his hand out of Eliott’s grasp to pick up the book laying flat on the table. “Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with my fascination with the universe,” flicking his eyes back at Eliott for a moment.

“Whatever you say,” Eliott indulges him.

The ping that comes from Eliott’s phone pops the bubble they occupy.

“Shit, I totally forgot, Sofiane wanted me to help him with this fundraiser for the youth center. But text me if you want to hang and talk about the universe some more.”

Lucas looks up to Eliott standing with his backpack on one shoulder, which would normally make him feel small, but he doesn’t.

“Okay, I will,” chuckles Lucas before turning back to the book that sparked the conversation.

“See you tomorrow, Luc,” Eliott says over his shoulder as he walks to the bus stop.

“Yeah, bye, Eli..ott,” Lucas says, the last part a little too quiet and a little too late. After the events of Friday night, Lucas feels like he is not allowed to use that nickname, feels like he lost the privilege to say it or something.

OCT 5 - MARDI 14:17

Lucas spots Eliott down the hall talking to one of his teachers and Eliott smiles at him. Lucas is looking right at him but doesn’t do anything to respond and looks away. He looks back at Eliott to see him looking at the floor, a little upset. Shit. Why didn’t he just smile back? He’s still his best friend, why is he acting so weird? Lucas kicks himself and that stomach ache is back.

OCT 7 - JEUDI 11:46

Lucas manages to get through the past two days without seeing Eliott at school and, to be honest, he is a bit relieved. He knows that he will just act weird whenever he’s around Eliott again so he’s glad he didn’t have to make it weirder between them.

He couldn’t avoid Chloé though. The universe couldn’t afford him such a luxury; not like they ever do. Chloé taps Lucas’ shoulder, forcing him to turn around and look at her, the sparkle in her eyes missing.

“Hey, Lucas, it’s been a while..” Chloé starts, trying to give him a chance to explain himself for leaving her on Friday, blouse open and all.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I felt sick that night and I’ve been super busy with the bac and stuff,” he explains, and it works, seeing as her face brightened up. He knew the bac thing would work, Chloé is in the year below and has that to look forward to next year.

“Oh, that’s okay.. So, do you want to see a movie this weekend or something? There’s this film festival they hold every October on Saturday and I hear it’s really cool,” Chloé suggests excitedly.

The words come out of his mouth before he can think, “Sure, sounds great.”

“Awesome! I’ll see you then,” Chloé adds, giving him a quick kiss on the lips before leaving him in the hallway.

OCT 8 - VENDREDI 14:42

Lucas makes his way over to the bus stop and can’t wait to just chill at the coloc after the week he’s had. So much has happened and so much has changed in the last seven days. From constant nauseousness, a new girlfriend, and, oh yeah, having feelings for a guy, who happens to be his best friend. On top of that, Lucas hasn’t even hung out with the gang since last Friday and a few days at lunch.

His stomach starts to grumble because he skipped lunch to help Daphné and the girls with the foyer. On his way to the bus stop, Lucas decides to get a snack from the vending machine outside.

He thought he could skate by without another uncomfortable situation, but the universe had other plans. Eliott is standing in front of the vending machine, putting coins in and pushing buttons to get his snack. Eliott turns around to sit on the bench near the curb when he bumps into Lucas.

“Sorry,” Eliott exclaims before realizing who he has collided with. A small smile graced his lips.

It’s like he read Lucas’ mind, Eliott sits and hands him one of the chocolate bars he just purchased, almost as a peace offering - for the collision and for the unspoken weirdness between them lately.

Lucas accepts the chocolate and joins him on the bench. They tear open their bars and start to chew them in silence until Eliott asks what he’s been wanting to for a week now.

“Is everything okay? You’ve been distant and quiet lately.”

Lucas can feel Eliott’s worried and kind eyes on him, waiting for an answer. He makes up another excuse for his behavior, which seems to be second nature these days.

“Yeah I’ve been busy with studying for the bac while trying to find a part time job to pick up the rent that my dad isn’t paying. And I haven’t visited my mom in a while...”

Everything Lucas is saying is true, but it’s not the explanation Eliott is looking for nor the one that actually answers his question.

Eliott finishes the chocolate bar and turns to face Lucas. He gives him a half smile, his eyes warm and understanding. It makes Lucas feel at ease for the first time in a week, like he finally has his friend back.

“If you ever need help with anything you know you can just ask, Luc. That’s what friends are for,” Eliott offers along with an elbow to Lucas’ side, his eyes bright now but still just as warm.

Luc. How can one syllable make his stomach turn? The guilt from before comes rushing back, undeserving of such a nickname.

If the universe got one thing right, it’s putting Eliott into his life. He has been nothing but sweet and kind, a constant support system in his life when his mother and father couldn’t be. It boggles his mind how lucky he is to have a friend like Eliott but how unlucky he is to have fallen for him. Lucas feels so much gratitude for Eliott’s friendship and support but can’t help feeling guilty for not taking him up on it. What is he supposed to do, ask Eliott for advice on how to go about coming to terms with having a crush on him?

The bus pulls up to the curb and Lucas is so lost in thought that Eliott has to grab his arm to get him to hop on the bus.

OCT 9 - SAMEDI 15:49

Chloé is wearing a pink dress and the same lip gloss from the party last week. Lucas kisses her quickly and takes her hand as they walk into the huge theatre. Chloé takes a program with the list of films and cast and crew in it, then points to one of the names and decides that is the movie they should see. They sit in the plush red chairs and the lights go down as they settle into their seats, Chloé’s hand still in his.

They are halfway through the movie when Lucas gets up to go to the bathroom. He just can’t keep up the cute romantic act that Chloé wants from him anymore and needs to get out of that packed theatre. Lucas goes to the restroom and feels better instantly, it’s quiet and the air is cooler there. He washes his hands and uses the paper towel to get the sticky lip gloss off of his mouth and cheek where Chloé kissed him randomly during the opening credits.

So much for giving her another shot. Lucas really thought that he could go out with Chloé again and see how cute and beautiful and kind she is, to have those romantic and sexual feelings he knows he should have for her. Lucas looks at himself in the mirror, pressing his lips together in a flat line. He doesn’t know who he is, how to act, or what to do anymore. What happened to the guy that was confident and smooth, what happened to the guy his friends would look to for girl advice, what happened to the Luc who was always Eli’s best friend? Not this again. But this time there’s no stomach ache, no butterflies, nothing. He just feels empty. Like there’s just nothing left of him.

Finally, after what seems to be the longest hour of his life, the lights come up and the credits roll as Chloé turns to him to talk about the ending. Lucas wasn’t paying that much attention to the plot so he doesn’t know what to say, but luckily she’s doing most of the talking anyway. A couple are coming up the aisle to exit the theatre and his heart drops. It’s Eliott, holding hands with another guy.

What is he doing here? Oh, duh, he’s into film and art and it actually makes sense that Eliott would be here. But what is he doing here, with that guy? Who is this guy? And why is he holding hands with Eliott?

Lucas knows full well that Eliott is pansexual and fully supports him. He’s knows Eliott has been with guys before, but he’s never been in a committed relationship with a guy.

And what happened to Marie? If he’s not with Marie anymore, then does that mean the guest room incident was for nothing? Eliott barging in with Marie, that is. Or, maybe, the whole Lucas realizing he has a crush on him thing.

Seeing Eliott holding hands with a guy makes it even worse. A surge of envy courses through his body and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Lucas doesn’t think, just leans forward to capture Chloé’s lips with his and doesn’t let them go. He opens his eyes after a few seconds to see Eliott look his way, then shuts them again, in a far too passionate kiss for being in public, to avoid seeing Eliott’s reaction.

Chloé is dumbfounded, but pleasantly surprised and blushing hard when Lucas pulls away. He takes her hand and they walk out of the theatre, feeling so shitty for what he just did. Why did he do that? To prove something to Eliott? To Chloé? To himself?

Of course, the universe is up to their usual scheme; Eliott and his date are chatting in the lobby with one of the program directors in front of a booth for a film school. Lucas can’t help but smile slightly at the fact that Eliott looks so happy to be talking about film school and wishes he could share this moment with him. It has always been one of Eliott’s dreams to make a film.

Chloé says something but Lucas doesn’t hear. Eliott looks around the room and locks eyes with Lucas again, the latter averting his gaze after a minute. The stomach ache is back with a vengeance.

“How about some gelato? I saw a place on my way over here,” Chloé suggests, and kisses Lucas as they exit the festival.

OCT 10 - DIMANCHE 17:23

It’s a lazy Sunday at the coloc, Manon and Lisa are watching TV on the couch and Mika is laying on the floor on his phone. Lucas gets up from the chair in the living room to get a glass of water when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Shit. The last time Lucas studied for French was almost a week ago, with Eliott. Eliott. He feels guilty for shutting him out this past week, especially after the bus stop the other day.

Before Lucas could reply, another text pops up and it looks like the universe is packing another punch on this fine Sunday afternoon. He walks into his room before opening it.

Next time. If Lucas has to go on another date with Chloé he will actually explode. What excuse could he come up with now? He used to be so good at finessing himself out of too many dates to make sure it doesn’t become anything more than a casual fling. But this isn’t a fling anymore, it’s completely fake, a cover up. He’s using Chloé, and for what? Lucas is not personally getting anything out of it, other than a lot of guilt and anger. And protecting his reputation. Fuck his reputation, he can’t handle this anymore. But how the fuck is he supposed to go about doing this? Tell her that he doesn’t like her, or any girl for that matter? Tell the guys that all of his moves to win over girls were an act? Tell Eliott how he feels?

He can’t. It’s all too overwhelming, too scary, too risky. What if Chloé doesn’t take it well? What if his friends don’t want to be around him anymore? What if Eliott doesn’t? What if Eliott hates him? He can’t lose Eliott as a friend. He can’t lose Eliott.

The thought of it forces a full-on anxiety attack. Lucas doesn’t register the fact that he’s crying until a tear falls onto his phone screen with the message from Chloé still open. He tosses his phone aside and climbs into bed and just lets it all out.

Lucas hears commotion in the living room, reminding him of the presence of his roommates, and makes half a mind to silent his sobs only to realize that he physically can’t. So he keeps crying and hopes that his roommates leave him alone, he’s just too embarrassed and too afraid to explain why he’s reduced to tears.

The universe spares him that, at least. It would just be brutal if they didn’t.

OCT 13 - MERCREDI 13:55

The gang decides to go to the library after school to cram for the French Literature test they have in two days, and Lucas needs all the help he can get. Imane and Emma join them later, and Lucas gets some tutoring out of Imane. She’s awfully nice to him today and he’s a little suspicious about it. Turns out Manon did hear him sobbing last night and it’s also written all over his face, exhausted and lifeless.

The library seems to be the place to be today. Chloé walks by the boys’ table and Lucas hears her friends whisper and giggle, pushing her towards Lucas. Chloé blushes and stands over Lucas still sitting at the table.

“Hi babe,” she greets him and lowers herself to accept a kiss she expects from Lucas. He indulges her, an awkward second later. She tries to brush off the fact that Lucas didn’t reply to her text and that he didn’t seem all that happy kiss her.

“So, I was thinking.. our next date should be like a romantic walk in the park, or something like that, you know, to talk and spend more time together.”

“Yeah, okay,” Lucas responds unenthusiastically. At this point, he has absolutely no interest in keeping this going any longer. He thinks it will just be easier for her to break things off instead of him.

“How about Friday night?”

“Sure.”

Chloé walks away with her posse, quietly cheering for her. Lucas feels exhausted just thinking about that date. Maybe she won’t be so quick to break things off.

OCT 15 - VENDREDI 11:41

Lucas’ biology class just got out and he stops at his locker for one last look at his French notes before going in for the exam. He tries to read as much as he can in the four minutes he has before one of the biggest exams of the year when he gets a text. He wouldn’t have opened it if not for the screen being right next to his notes and noticing who the message is from.

Lucas smiles like an idiot looking at his phone and laughs at the stupid and charming hedgehog meme. Then warmth spreads in his chest at the message that follows.

The usual is code for joints and beers at Eliott’s, and it’s amazing how he can anticipate exactly what Lucas wants and needs without fail.

The bell is about to ring, so Lucas ditches his phone in his locker and heads to the exam. Turns out the messages from Eliott helped more than a few minutes of cramming ever could.

14:55

Lucas sees his best friend sitting at the bus stop and waits a moment before joining him. He takes a second to take in the way Eliott’s ears are pinkish-reddish from sitting out in the cold, the way his brows are slightly furrowed as he focuses on reading something on his phone, the small black ink stain on the denim covering his right knee, his exposed ankles.

His heart flutters and feels blood rushing to his cheeks. But he’ll blame it on the same weather that colored the ears under Eliott’s perfectly messy hair.

Lucas takes a deep breath and slumps down on the cold bench next to the other boy.

“So? Did you ace it?” Eliott asks eagerly, turning to hand him the chocolate bar he was promised.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I aced it, but I think I did okay,” Lucas gives him an open-mouthed smile. “Because I had the hedgehog cheering me on.”

Eliott lets out a laugh, bright and loud, bigger than the one at the house party a few weeks ago. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and Lucas can’t believe that he’s the one who brought it out. Lucas laughs with him and swears his heart grows two sizes larger.

19:38

The feeling stays with him all night at Eliott’s. The two boys shared a joint and a few beers each before Eliott wants to take Lucas somewhere. They end up walking down a couple blocks to a secluded area with a park behind a locked gate. It’s dark and cold, but Lucas doesn’t care. Okay, maybe he’s a little scared, and maybe that’s why he stays close to Eliott’s side as they go deeper into the woods.

Eliott leads him down a path to a tunnel under a bridge. They lay down on the hard earth and look up at the night sky. It’s the first time in a long time that Lucas feels completely at ease - no stomach ache, no intrusive thoughts clouding his mind, just at ease.

“This is my place. It’s the best place to look at the stars in all of Paris, the city lights and pollution don’t interfere as much here,” Eliott says, soft and warm, the opposite of the ground they’re laying on.

Eliott reaches into his jacket pocket and fishes out his phone with headphones attached. Lucas watches his face illuminated by his phone’s light and takes the right earbud Eliott offers him. They listen to a song in comfortable silence until something comes to Lucas’ mind.

“You know, when you look at the stars, you’re actually looking into the past,” Lucas blurts out. “The stars are so far away that the light we see is from, like, a million light years ago. And we’ll never know whether the star has died and become a supernova or if its light is just beginning to reach us.”

He’s quiet for a while, until he continues: “It’s crazy, right? And almost a bit sad, I think.” A pause. “I mean, it’s like an author or artist whose works aren’t appreciated until after they’re dead.”

Eliott opens his mouth to respond, but doesn’t.

Lucas only realizes after how somber his words were, and how he had ruined such a perfect atmosphere with Eliott. His heart sinks and wishes he never said anything.

But, like clockwork, Eliott saves the day.

He shrugs and counters with, “I don’t know... But that’s one way of looking at it.”

Lucas turns his head to face Eliott now, but the latter doesn’t remove his gaze from the maybe-dead stars shining above them. He is stunned by the ease that his friend has coming up with the perfect words to resolve any misstep caused by Lucas. He can almost see the cogs turning in Eliott’s head as he strings those perfect words together, a skill he wishes he could possess.

“Well, the way I figure it, it’s comforting. I mean, with the millions of light years between us and the stars.. Even if we can’t see them, you know they’re still out there,” Eliott adds softly, like it’s a secret you have to be in on to hear.

Lucas subconsciously notes the change between the use of we and you in Eliott’s words and takes in the way his eyes are sparkling from the stars they speak of.

“And yeah, you don’t know when the light is coming, but you know that it will come eventually.”

These words linger in the safe bubble they share before Eliott says firmly, “It always does.”

#i have been working on this for so long!!!#please enjoy and tell me what u think 💞#tessellate fic #elu fic #elu au #my writing #skam france #skamfr #elu #lucas x eliott #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #skam fr fic #fic

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drop-dead-art · 5 years

Text

Runaways - Fangs Fogarty

Sorry if this is bad, it’s my first songfic and I haven’t written in a looooong time, but Fangs needs love. This is if Fangs got out of town before getting arrested.

Edit- So I havent really posted anything Riverdale related (like fandom stuff) in a long time, but this was in my drafts, unfinished, and earlier I had taken a nap and had a dream of how to finally finish it. So here ya go.

Song: Runaways by All Time Low

Warning: ANGST... and swearing, because, it’s me who wrote it, duh.

———————————————————————

“Where’s Joaquin, I thought he was getting Fangs outta town?” Jughead asked frantically . “He got into some trouble. I called an old friend, they’re gonna get Fangs and bring him somewhere safe,” as FP finished his sentence there was a knock on the door, Jughead and Fangs looked at each other, terrified, while FP strolled over to the trailer’s door. “Y/N? Didnt know your dad was sending you. You’ve grown...,” FP spoke awkwardly.

“Do we have to do this ‘how do you do’ shit? Thought this was a time sensitive thing?” You spoke, crossing your arms, an uninterested look on your face. You looked over at the group of teens, “Wanted, come on. Get your shit and let’s go.” Fangs quickly hoisted his duffle bag over his shoulder, hugging his friends goodbye, before clambering into your car.

Only a quitter,

Would let it go,

I'm your fool in a one-man show,

I was so bitter,

'Til you came along,

You set my sails when the tide was low

As you and ‘Fangs’, as you’ve learned his name to be, drove down the highway there was nothing but silence, you could feel the awkward anxiety coming from the boy. Deciding you wanted more info you spoke, “so why exactly are you on the run?” He tensed, before muttering, “I was accused of murdering this girl,” he got frantic, spitting out a defense, “but I didn’t! I swear! She and I were just... seeing each other.” You hummed in response, “it’s fine, I believe you. If FP trusts you, I will too.” “Oh yeah... how do you know FP?” “Old family friend.” “So, are you a serpent?” “Yeah.” That was that, you both sat in silence for the rest of the ride.

We're going down this road,

With tears in our rear view mirror,

Far from home,

But in the dark you'll know,

With me you've got nothing to fear,

So let's run away

They will have to find another heart to break,

Why don't we just run away,

Never turn around, no matter what they say,

We'll find our way,

When the sun goes down,

On this town,

There'll be no one left but us,

Just like run-aways,

They will have to find some other hearts to break, hearts to break

It’s been a few weeks since you ‘rescued’ Fangs, bringing him back to your home in Salem, Massachusetts. You’ve since gotten used to him, even becoming friends, yet you can’t ignore the slight flutter you feel everytime he speaks, or the stutter in your heart when he looks at you. ‘His girlfriend just died, he isn’t gonna be over her!’ you thought, frustrated, ‘besides, he’s gonna be leaving anyways.’ Suddenly you felt sad, empty... thinking about Fangs leaving after you got attached, hurt, and hearing him talk about his friends so excitedly, not being able to contain how much he misses them, hurt more.

Out in the distance,

Lost in the fold,

We trace our steps to a great unknown,

Bury our toes,

Where the ocean meets the sand,

We hide ourselves right where we stand,

You’d been quiet lately, and Fangs couldn’t help but notice, he worried he’d done something wrong, but whenever he’d ask if you were ok or if he upset you you’d respond, “I’m fine, you didn’t do anything, I’m just feeling a little tired,” which he knew was bullshit. Frustrated, he decided today was the day he was getting answers. Stomping up to your room he knocked, though it was more like banging, on your door. As soon as you opened up he pushed himself in, “What have I done wrong?” He demanded, seeing your confused face he elaborated, “you’ve been extremely quiet and everytime I try to get you to laugh, or even smile, I’m met with complete silence. So, what did I do wrong?” You felt bad as he sadly uttered the last sentence, “Nothing,” you muttered, his head shot up, and as he opened his mouth, you continued, “I’ve been feeling upset because you’re gonna be leaving soon and I’ve gotten attached. I’m gonna miss you.” His eyes softened and a small smile painted itself on his face, “I’m gonna miss you too, I’ve grown attached as well. You’re always gonna be one of my friends.” Although your heart sunk at the label, you couldn’t help but feel happy at his admission. He strut over to you, pulling you into a hug. Your eyes widened in shock, a blush on your face, your heart pounding in your chest, he was warm, and for once in your serpent life, you felt... safe.

We're going down this road,

With tears in our rear view mirror,

Far from home,

But in the dark you know,

With me you've got nothing to fear,

So let's run away

They will have to find another heart to break,

Why don't we just run away,

Never turn around, no matter what they say,

We'll find our way,

When the sun goes down,

On this town,

There'll be no one left but us,

Just like run-aways,

They will have to find some other hearts to break, hearts to break

Once you got the dreaded call, the one telling Fangs that he’d be able to go home in two days, you began to feel empty again. Fangs, recognizing your sad eyes, decided to brighten your day by suggesting you guys go out and hang around town, making the best of the last two days you guys had.

They won't catch us in the dark,

Roll like thunder, burn like stars,

They won't catch us in the dark,

Roll like thunder, burn like stars,

Tomorrow... Fangs will be leaving tomorrow. You couldn’t stop the tears that fell down your cheeks as you scrolled through all the pictures you guys took together. A small smile wormed itself onto your face as you looked at the picture of Fangs with whipped cream on his nose, eyes crossed looking down at it with a confused expression on his face. ‘What a doof,’ you thought, fondly. You wanted him to stay, to be with you. You wanted to wake up to him singing in the kitchen as he made pancakes, the only food he could make without burning. You wanted him to hold you, to kiss you, to tell you everything was gonna be okay. But, your wishes would go unanswered. As if life was telling you to go fuck yourself.

Run away,

They will have to find another heart to break,

Heart to break

So let's run away

They will have to find another heart to break,

Why don't we just run away,

Never turn around, no matter what they say,

We'll find our way,

When the sun goes down,

On this town,

There'll be no one left but us,

Just like run-aways,

They will have to find some other hearts to break, hearts to break

Today was the day, Fangs’ friend, Sweet Pea, was parked outside, along with Jughead and Toni. You remembered him going on and on about them, how wonderful they are, even if they were pains in the ass sometimes. You were jealous, he had such wonderful friends, you only had your brothers, whom of which were across the country helping some other serpents. “I will miss you, y’know,” you heard him mutter as he held his bag over his shoulder. “I know. I’ll miss you too.” “This won’t be the last time we see each other, I will come visit, I swear.” You gave him a sad smile, knowing that he’d forget all about you as soon as he got home. “You better,” you chuckled sadly, “otherwise I’ll have to go down to Riverdale and kick your ass.” A wide smile grew on his face, “oh yeah? is that a challenge?” “No. It’s a promise.” “Fangs! Let’s go,” Sweet Pea shouted, impatient to get home. “Bye, I guess,” you muttered. “For now,” he spoke, before hugging you, “I’ll see you soon,” as he let go and started to turn to walk, he bent down and kissed the corner of your mouth, “I promise,” he winked.

‘Soon,’ you scoffed. As if. It’d been three years since you heard from him. He didn’t even text you when he got back to Riverdale. FP did, saying thanks and that they all got home safe and sound. “I knew he’d forget me as soon as he was home,” you whispered, heart broken.

#riverdale #fangs fogarty #sweet pea #jughead jones #toni topaz #southside serpents #fangs forgarty imagine

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tonystarkstan · 6 years

Text

come morning light

Words: 2,016

Author: hopeless_hope on AO3

Summary: It’s a bad brain day. (In which Peter is caught in a depressive current, but one Tony Stark is there to make sure he doesn’t get swept away.)

It’s a bad brain day.

Peter knows this from the second he wakes up and registers the syrupy feeling in his lungs and the heaviness in his soul that has no explanation. At least, not right now.

He breathes in, and the effort it takes to do that alone nearly tires him to the bone, and he’d give just about anything to roll over and sleep the rest of his depressive haze away.

But school doesn’t care about any of that, so when his alarm goes off, he gathers his strength and gets ready for the day. (He uses that term loosely. He doesn’t feel like he can possibly be ready for whatever the world wants to toss at him today.)

When he gets to school, he’s greeted by Ned, who, upon realizing Peter’s not going to start the conversation, takes up the slack and fills the silence. But from the way Ned glances at him worriedly whenever he thinks Peter isn’t looking, Peter knows that he’s caught on.

They’d started a system awhile back.

Ever since Ben died, Peter had been wrecked with episodes of depression and anxiety that seemingly hit him out of nowhere. The anxiety - now that makes sense. Peter’s always been an awkward person, never quite getting the hang of social interaction, a loose thread in the fabric of social hierarchy.

But the depression. God, that’s the worst. After Ben, sadness permeated Peter in an ever-present current. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep - he stopped talking altogether. And May, desperate and grieving and so scared of losing someone else, had sent him to therapy. He came back with a bottle of pills and a shiny new diagnosis of clinical depression.

With the help of his meds, the current that he’d once been so swept away in, slowed and evaporated to a shallow pool, mostly manageable but still capable of weighing him down. Most days, he floated near the top, able to go about his day normally. And other days, he had to tread water to do anything. And every so often, out of absolutely nowhere, he’d wake up laying at the bottom of the pool.

Ned knows all of this, though, having been there from the beginning. He got to see Peter in each stage, had learned to deal with it better than almost anyone, save for May. He recognizes the signs, can spot the heaviness in Peter’s posture a mile away. He knows not to treat Peter differently or delicately. Ned simply fills the silence and picks up Peter’s slack, steering him throughout the day.

And lunch, Ned grabs Peter an apple, casually setting it in front of him with a look that allows no argument. With Peter’s enhanced metabolism, skipping meals is much more dangerous, but on days like these, so much as opening his mouth is enough to wear him down.

In classes, he does the bare minimum, knowing Ned will give him the notes later. Peter wouldn’t be able to retain any information if he tried, anyway. He watches teachers with glazed eyes and tries to breathe through the thick fog that seems to surround him. He wonders if he’ll choke on it.

The day passes by slowly and yet all at once when he spends it deep inside his own head. Peter’s painfully aware of the tightness in his chest that seems to make every second stretch on insurmountable, and yet, suddenly he’s walking out into the sun, students all around him leaving.

Ned patiently leads him forward, stopping suddenly at the sight of the familiar black car. He swears.

“Crap, Peter, you have the internship today, don’t you?” Ned asks, not expecting an answer. Not that it matters, he thinks, because of course Peter has the internship today. It’s a Thursday, and Peter has the internship every Tuesday and Thursday after school, an arrangement that had been set up shortly after the homecoming fiasco.

Peter swallows thickly, anxiety suddenly breaking through the haze. He opens his mouth to speak, to tell Ned to ignore the car and take him home, because he hasn’t had a bad brain day like this since before he met Mr. Stark, and he doesn’t think he can handle putting on a facade of normality.

Just as he’s about to tug Ned in the opposite direction, he sees Happy get out and make his way to the passenger side of the vehicle, gesturing for Peter to hurry up, and Peter fills with dread.

“Peter, do you want me to tell him you’re not feeling good?” Ned asks worriedly. “I can just say you’re sick and should probably go home.”

And God, Peter is so tempted to nod, but then he sees the look of irritation that flashes across Happy’s face at being kept waiting, and he figures he probably shouldn’t bother the man with something so stupid anyway. No need to make himself look even more pathetic.

So Peter just shakes his head and tries to muster a reassuring look, but he’s certain he fails when Ned just continues to look worried. After a quick wave goodbye, Peter takes another deep breath and wills his feet to move forward.

It’s so heavy that he’s half-convinced if he looks down, he’ll see cracks in the pavement from where he’s stepped.

Happy opens the door for him, looking bored. Peter gets in, movements slow and lethargic, distantly frustrated at how incapacitated feeling like this makes him.

When they pull away, Peter lets his head fall forward onto the window, hoping the cool glass will offer some relief for him, ground him. He’s so far away, so worn and tired, that he doesn’t even notice the concerned looks Happy shoots him at his uncharacteristic quietness.

(It’s not quiet, though. His head is so loud.)

Peter spends the entirety of the ride to the Compound letting himself lay at the bottom of the pool, a thousand pounds of water weighing him down, filling his lungs, and making it difficult for him to breathe.

When they arrive, he sits there for a second, not really registering anything and wanting so so badly to just go to sleep. To sit here forever. To never have to move or do anything. To stop thinking.

But then Happy opens his door and calls his name, and he’s jolted into action, fumbling to undo his seatbelt clumsily.

He walks to Tony’s lab on autopilot. At one point, he just stops in the middle of the hallway, tempted to sink to his knees and curl up, but then he shakes his head and makes himself move.

Peter hates being like this.

(He’s useless.)

When FRIDAY opens the doors to Tony’s lab, the man himself looks up at him, already elbow-deep in his latest project.

“Hey, Pete. Your stuff is still on your desk how you left it last time, so feel free to keep working on it. I looked over your formulas, and I think you’re getting much closer to a more durable form of web fluid,” Tony tells him conversationally.

On a normal day, Peter would be absolutely preening under the high praise from his mentor. Today, however, all he can muster is a small smile, even the uplift of his lips draining him.

In the absence of a verbal response from the usually chatty kid, Tony does a double take.

“You okay, kid?” he asks cautiously, taking in the uncharacteristically subdued figure. Peter just nods his head, and Tony tilts his head, studious eyes taking in the kid’s sunken posture.

“Did something happen at school?” Tony prompts, brain rushing through the list of possibilities of things that could have reduced the teen to this. He sighs when he’s just met with another head shake.

For now, Tony decides to leave the kid be, opting to watch the kid from the corner of his eyes as he continues to work on his own project.

However, ten minutes later, Peter has had yet to move at all, staring unblinkingly at his open notebook, and it’s clear his mind isn’t in the room.

Full-blown concern rushes through Tony now, and he puts down his tools and brushes off his hands, turning his chair to face the young vigilante.

“Peter,” he calls, hoping to gain the boy’s attention. When he doesn’t even flinch, Tony tries again, making his voice a little sharper. “Pete, look at me,” he commands.

This time, Peter jumps, a strange mixture of surprise and guilt coloring his face, before it morphs back into a numb, blank slate. Tony moves closer, alarm racing through his veins because something is wrong with his kid. The older hero cautiously turns the boy’s chair to face him, reaching out with a single finger and tipping Peter’s face towards his own.

The heavy look in Peter’s eyes sends chills down his spine.

“Peter, do you think you can talk?” Tony asks.

A head shake.

“Okay, that’s perfectly fine,” Tony says. “Can you keep shaking your head yes and no?”

Peter nods slowly.

“Good, that’s very good,” Tony praises. And so the twenty questions begins. “I know I already asked, but did something happen today at school? Or even with May?”

Peter minutely shakes his head.

“Is it...” Tony hesitates, wondering how to phrase his words. “Is it a bad day?”

Peter nods. Inside he’s screaming and screaming but he’s at the bottom of a pool and he knows his words and pleas for relief would never make it to the surface. So he does his best to at least get this right.

“Okay,” Tony says, running a stressed hand through his hair. “We can work with that. Has this happened before?”

Another nod.

“Does May know?”

Peter hesitates, unsure of whether Tony means about the bad days in general or just today specifically. He nods anyway.

“Do you want me to leave you alone and let you work?”

Again, Peter hesitates. He doesn’t want to be left alone, and he definitely doesn’t have it in him to work on literally anything, but he also doesn’t want to make Tony worry even more or go out of his way to accommodate him. Tony must read it on his face anyway.

“That’s okay, we can do whatever you want. We don’t have to work in here. We can go somewhere else. Do you want to go lay down?” Tony asks, desperate to find a solution that will help. He can’t help but feel relieved when Peter nods, because oh god, Peter wants nothing more than to lay down. He’s so tired. He’s so damn tired. And it hurts to breathe. He feels like his lungs might stutter to a stop at any moment.

He barely even registers the moment when Tony gently puts an arm around him, guiding Peter out of his chair and to the elevator. Tony never once tries to force him to talk or make Peter feel bad for not being able to, and Peter’s never been so grateful.

They arrive a few floors up, and then Peter’s being ushered down to the end of a long hallway and through a door, leading to a vast room. Distantly, Peter takes in the sight of the slightly untidy room, screwdrivers and wires and spare parts that must follow Tony up from his lab strewn carelessly on the floor and dresser. Peter realizes with a jolt that this must be Tony’s room.

Without a word, Tony delicately tugs the kid forward, pushing him gently over and onto the large bed sitting against the far wall, and Peter looks up at him with uncertain eyes.

“It’s okay, kid,” Tony reassures, pulling up a comfy lounge chair next to the bed.

“Just close your eyes. I won’t leave you,” Tony promises.

And Peter sags into the mattress, curling his knees tightly to his chest and reminding himself that when he wakes up, perhaps breathing won’t feel so hard, and the pool of sadness won’t feel so deep.

A hand gently cards through his hair, and Peter, soothed by the tender touch of calloused hands, finally lets himself fall asleep.

#peter parker #tony stark #iron dad #fanfic #depression #anxiety #mental health #bad day #oh look at me #im projecting on my faves again #this is a mess im so sorry

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wakandanblogger · 6 years

Text

What You Don’t Do

REQUESTED BY: Anon

Summary: You have always been there for Erik so he wants to repay you for everything that you have done for him. Smut to come.

Warning(s): fluff, smut to come, slight smut

Paring: Erik x Reader

@elaindeereads @aria725 @ ashanti-notthesinger @imaginewhoever @idilly @bubbleboss17 @ lalapalooza718 @ niecey4cocaine afroricanprincess94

(Part 2)

You were always there for Erik. Everyone had their little funks, or highs and lows, but Erik had more lows than highs. He always had nightmares about the accident that cost his father his life, the rough life of his past, and often had anger issues. None of those things ever stopped you from loving him any different. In fact, even though he never said it, the look he gave you was almost enough and you knew his eyes were thanking you a thousand times for putting up with him and his childish ways sometimes.

Erik sat in between your lap watching Family Feud while you retwisted his dreads for him. He was laying down on one of your thighs since the dreads you were retwisting was on the side and it also allowed Erik to rest his neck. “Now how the hell is that suppose to be a damn answer, I swear! White people so fuckin’ dumb!” You laugh at Erik’s irritation and he looks up at you confused, “What! Like how the fuck! Even Steve know dat shit ain’t up there!”

Erik points his hand to the TV and you continue to laugh at the outburst while he continues to complain. You loved the little ounces of victories whenever he gave an answer then when the answers are revealed his answer is on the board. “SEE! I told y’all DUMB mu’fuckuhs! Baby! You see that shit!”

You smile and hum your answer.

You made it a point to be there for Erik even in his dark times.

When you get out of bed Erik reaches for you blindly, you assume he’s still asleep so you pad over to the bathroom. While inside you can hear slight mumbling and the sheets being thrashed. Once you return to the darkroom you could see Erik’s head shaking violently back and force and the look of fear and discomfort on his still sleeping face. He mumbles pleas and semi-cries, clearly trapped in a nightmare you rush over to him. You gently trace your fingertips down his jaw and shoulder, careful not to startle him too much.

“Erik,” You whisper, “Erik baby wake up, it’s just a nightmare,” You whisper kissing his temple as his breathing continues to whimper.

“Erik, baby, it ain’t real,” When you finish your sentence, Erik’s eyes open and he shoots up gasping for air and assessing the room. When his eyes rest upon you he frowns a bit and lays back down, dismissing the concern in your eyes. Without a word you rest up higher so that his back is against your stomach and his head is resting beside your chest, and you wait. You knew that in due time he would nestle up into you, and you were right. When he feels you silent invitation Erik turns and wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your chest. You can feel his cold sweat and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

“He was coming to get me,” Erik whimpers into your abdomen as he clung to you, his nails digging into your skin. You felt so sorry for him listening to him blame himself for the death of his dad. “I was… I should’ve…”

You simply shush your boyfriend and hold him tighter, “He doesn’t blame you,” You whisper, kissing his temple and running your fingers through his dreads.

Erik had never opened up to anyone after being bounced around from home to home. His mother was in jail so he had no way of getting to her. Life for Erik was pretty hard so you felt obligated to show him that life wasn't full of disappointments.

His head sinks back against the back of the couch and a hiss pushes through his teeth. "Aaah, fuck girl," Is what he'd say when you sucked him just right. He feathered his fingertips down your back and finally rested on your ass, rubbing you as to motivate you not to stop, and it did. Erik's hand dips between the waistband of your shorts and you feel his rough hands on your ass and a hum vibrates his dick between your lips. He angles his hand so that your shorts practically roll down his wrist and exposes you, the cold air sending shivers down your wet slick. You can't suppress the next moan that escaped your throat, earning another groan from your boyfriend. You look up at him with those soft doll eyes while bobbing your head up and down. He leans over and slides your shorts down your legs and off the edge of the couch.

"Ahh-fuck, get on this dick baby," He sighs pulling you up from him so that you can straddle him. His swollen tip grazes against you and you cage his head between your arms. You look at him and can't help but smile and wipe the small amount of spit off the corner of your lip and slowly roll your hips, spreading your wetness on him. Erik takes a moment to look at you as well, breath hitching when he pokes between your folds.

"What?" You whisper and rest your hands on his shoulders

He shrugs. His hands take your hips between his rough hands. Erik guides your hip until he is at your entrance and you sink down onto him.

Today was just like any ordinary day for you. At work and leaning against the desk at the clothing store. You groan and check your phone, dry as hell. Your mind somehow drifts to Erik and you can’t help but smile at the thoughts and memories between the both of you. Erik, to your surprised, only opened up and showed his true self to you ever since you tried to show him the better parts of life. He was responding. He is responding. You knew that he didn’t really know how to, but he was trying to show his love back. It was like helping your aunt set up the new smartphone honestly. You would laugh at the ridiculous questions, but the questions and ignorance were pure. Erik reminded you of that. When you hear the front door beep you perk up, “Hi welcome to- Hey baby!” Your eyes light up when you see Erik looking around and smiles when his eyes rest upon you. “Damn baby, you look good,” His eyes examine you up and down when you move out from behind the register to talk to him. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your lips against his with so much passion and love. Erik truly made you happy and the two of you have gone through some things together but being able to get through them made the both of you stronger.

“You ready to go?” He asks looking down at you and planting another kiss on your soft glossed lips. You make a face and look at the clock, “It ain’t time to go yet though baby,” you say and he only smiles, “I already called and talked to, what’s-her-name.”

“Tammy?” You laugh at the white manager that obviously had a crush and thought she had a chance with Erik. You hit his shoulder and head over to the register to clock out and grab your purse out from under the counter, “Okay, well where are we goin’?”

“Just follow me boo,” He smiles

You roll your eyes and say your goodbye’s to some co-workers watching the exchange between the two of you as if it were some kind of soap. You push through the double door and laugh when Erik catches his shoulder on one of them and lets out a loud, “Oh shit!”

----

When you follow Erik, the two of you pull up at your apartment, you assume that you are dropping off your car, so you get out and walk around to his, that is until he cuts off the ignition. You stand there a little confused as to what was going on. “What did you order?” Assuming you knew exactly what he was doing, he smiles.

“Chinese,” He says shutting the door and walking up the stairs leaving you on the sidewalk with a mean frown.

“Really, Erik. Forreal?” You saw dropping your arms at your sides, “Forget that, we need money, I’m finna-”

“Man if you don’t shut yo big headed ass up and get up here,” You hear Erik laughing and poking out his head from the second floor, his white teeth catching the sun. You grumble and make your way up to your apartment door where Erik was waiting for you. He wraps his arm around you and you resist for a second but hit his shoulder in defeat earning a small chuckle from him. When he pushes the door open he leads you inside, you kick off your shoes and an aroma fills your nose.

"You better not have burnt anything" You laugh when Erik stops walking and gives you a look. You shrug and put your things on the counter while examining the food on the stove of you favorite foods and sides. You couldn't help but cover your mouth and makes a small muffled scream.

"Mama cooked this! Where she at!?" You laugh

"Naw I got the ingredients from her but I cooked this shit" He smiles and pulls out a chair for you to sit, "I shlaved over dis hot stove," Erik says in a old woman voice that made you nearly made you fall from laughter. When you take your place at the nicely decorated table, Erik puts your plate down in front of you. You pucker your lips at him and giggle and whine when he goes in but pulls back two or three times before finally connecting with yours. It was times like these that made you love this man so much.

In the middle of eating Erik got a bit quiet and he cleared his throat and you look up at him with concern. "You okay baby?" You ask sliding the fork from your lips and he only nods. Erik sits there opening and closing his hand while tapping his toe on yhe hardwood floors nervously. He tends to have moments and small anxiety attacks at random times, again something that you figured out how to handle so this wasn't any different. When you try to get up go get him a glass of water he grabs you wrist stopping you.

"Marry me!" He says suddenly catching you off guard.

#black panther #fluff #smut to come #requested #erik killmonger x reader #erik x reader #erik #erik killmonger #erik stevens #michael b jordan #michael #michael b jordan x reader #michael b jordan smut #erik killmonger smut

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bitubific-blog · 7 years

Text

car crash

"a ghost named self hatred haunts both of you tonight, and the night is the longest it has ever been."

-changsub x reader -1.9k words -angst/sad -writer’s note at the bottom

the rain has many victims.

often you are the victim. the downpour drops daggers from the sky and you bleed melancholy. despite this, you still try to reconcile with the clouds. you stand on the balcony, where the rain falls down on you.

you aren't the only one the rain touches.

a whirlwind of car wheels and concrete turns the rhythm of rainfall away from you. before your mind gathers itself, a man staggers out of his broken vehicle.

his name is lee changsub. his name is one you heard in highschool, one you fell in love with whenever you heard his laughter. but no one could laugh now. in the rain, the static between him dragging himself off the road sounded like a cry for help.

your body moves out the door without second thought. soon, you've flung yourself down the stairs of your flat to the exit. the moment you see him, his name launches out of your throat. amidst all the heavy rain, it reaches him, and he turns around to see you.

"hey!" he shouts from the other side, wobbling to turn around. "sorry about the fence!" he laughs but it doesn't convince you. even from the other side of the street you see the crookedness of his smile.

it's only after you run towards him that he finally recognizes you. for a moment, changsub is lost in the recall - he waves his eyes over you, finding the same eyes and same frame from all those years ago. "y/n?" he says in astonishment. "from class 3-a? you live out here now?"

"we'll talk inside," you answer, already with his arm around your shoulder. in the moment, you're overtaken by the urgency to make sure he's safe. you're practically lifting him off the ground, into your apartment. the flight up wasn't easy. between the crash and your flat, the two of you slowly turned breathless. it was only natural that, by the time you made it up the stairs, both of you lunged towards the couch.

changsub winces, but still makes every effort to be cheerful. you can tell it's fake, though; the more he tries, the more it irritates you. changsub was reckless before, but never enough to hurt himself like this. now wasn't the time for these thoughts, though.

"wait here," you tell him, scanning the drawers in sight for an emergency kit. all he does is watch, following your footsteps and your hands, how they leap forward at every chance to help him. as soon as you grab what you need, you turn to him. you catch him right as his cold expression thaws. his face is more familiar now, more gentle. as he smiles at you, his teeth threaten to peak past his lips.

"woah.. you're so cool now." he laughs. "were you always like this in high school?"

"i guess not," you say. the two of you exchange giggles on your way back to him. only now, with the silence engulfing your living room, do you get to see him up close. from what you can tell, it's nothing serious, just a few scratches and bruises here and there. there's blood on his head - probably from the impact - but otherwise he's alright.

"keep still," you urge him and he nods. changsub twitches every now and then as you press the cotton swab against his forehead. the alcohol seeps into his wound and he hisses loudly, turning his head away. apologies shoot out of you in bursts of nervousness. all he can do is laugh. “it’s alright,” he reassures you.

the room is silent but the world feels otherwise. you’re face to face with a boy you loved in highschool, the one you wanted to love but never could. you’re face to face with a boy who broke your heart without your consent, a boy who never knew your agony when you found out he loved someone else. you’re face to face with a boy who never knew the depth of your feelings, and now that boy is the torn up man before you. a man barely smiling, but still trying to regardless because you’re there.

something in you sinks and you’re not sure what.

“are you okay?” you finally ask. changsub’s answer stays caught in his throat.

“i’m alright, it was just an accident,”

“no, i mean -"

“the car’s a bit of a wreck, right? i should probably call someone.”

“that’s not what i meant - ”

“if i broke anything, i can probably cover for it-"

“listen to me, changsub.”

the smile he tried to wear has fallen off. his smile - fake or real - dissolves into the air. he is desolate. he is all the things you knew he never deserved to feel like but he won’t admit it. changsub’s head dips into his lap and he heaves out the weight in his lungs.

“what happened to you?” you finally ask, hoping the volume of your voice outmatches the rhythm of anxiety in your heartbeat. changsub is still for a moment, and he knows he can’t keep still forever.

“she cheated on me,” changsub's voice rises. “she said she loved me and i believed her. i was young, okay? i loved her back, i gave her everything. and that’s why she stayed. she never cared about me. not when i saw her with -"

you hold his hand. he exhales.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to yell.”

“no, it’s fine. i’m sorry this happened to you,” is all you can say to him.

changsub stands and carries himself to the balcony. the sun has dipped beneath the surface of the sky and his body is just a silhouette. there is static in your throat and numbness in his heart; neither of you know how to deal with it, but you follow him anyways.

“i’m such an idiot," he says bitterly.

“i know,” you reply, “i guess not much has changed since high school.”

the moon is kind enough to light up his face. you see him soften, like part of the dread he’d harbored finally let go of him.

“you’re right.”

you want to hold him. you smile with him instead.

soon enough, the nostalgia is blurred out by reality. changsub’s car is still a wreck, wedged between the countryside fence across your flat. neither of you have signal on your phone, and with the downpour heavy above you it’s unlikely anyone will drive past, let alone someone who can fix his car.

“what will you do?” you ask.

“i don’t know,” he says bluntly. “it’s late, plus it looks like no one really goes out here much. i don’t want to bother you so late at night though,” changsub pivots towards the exit. “it’s not too much of a wreck. i’ll go see if i can drive back.”

“stay.”

god knows what made you say that. all you’re sure of is that you’re more surprised than he is to hear those words. your heartbeat runs rampant, especially when changsub turns towards you slightly. somehow, your brain functions enough to speak for yourself in self defense. “it’s really dark, you shouldn’t drive. you don’t even know if the car works, and you hurt yourself so you should probably rest and…”

changsub laughs to himself quietly. “thank you,” he says. the two of you lower your heads in humility.

when the awkwardness pushes itself over, the two of you catch up on the years after high school. you tell him the country home you live in is one you share with friends, whose antique shop you help run during the week. he tells you about his family’s company, and his little sister who finally started high school this year.

he tells you about her. the one who cheated on him, the reason why the two are you are even together again. at first, his voice is turbulent - tossing back and forth between his right to suppress his feelings and your right for an explanation. “she was the one i dated in senior year,” he begins, “our parents knew each other so we were together a lot. i really liked her, you know? and i thought she did, too.” changsub sighs, leaning back onto the couch. “turns out i was just a business deal. our families needed us together to make ends meet. i never knew we were set up for an arranged marriage - she did and she never cared. she was just using me in the end.”

“that’s horrible,” you say. “at least you weren’t in the wrong.”

“i guess,” he replies, “i should’ve known earlier.”

“but that’s not your fault!”

“this is, though,” changsub sighs at the window. “the car, i mean. and the fence. sorry you had to deal with this.”

you shake your head. “you don’t need to be sorry. i’m here to help you.” the words stuck to your mouth only leave your body when you turn away from him. “i want to help you.” on your way to get the extra blankets, changsub stops you in your tracks.

“you always were there, weren't you?” you can feel yourself rooted to the floorboards by his world, deafening the rain and the static and every echo your heartbeat could make. you stand a meter apart from the couch but it feels like he’s lodged himself in your abdomen.

“y/n, did you ever love me? back then?” you fucking idiot, of course i did.

no words emerge from your mouth.

“forget it. it’s a stupid question.” you hear him toss and turn behind you. “you should go to sleep, y/n. i’ve kept you awake long enough.” his back is already facing you when you turn around. “goodnight,” is the last thing you hear before the rain floods your thoughts again. you stand silently before him for centuries, mixing cocktails of complicated feelings and self doubt in the acid of your stomach. you manage to halt your thoughts, just long enough for you to grab the blankets and gently throw them over him.

“i did,” you whisper, pulling the blanket over him as lightly as you could. “i did love you.”

changsub’s still awake as you say this, still awake as you heave yourself onto your bed. a ghost named self hatred haunts both of you tonight, and the night is the longest it has ever been.

in your dream, you are back in class 3-a and everything is honeydew and bliss. the friends to your left and right point to changsub, giggling at how the mention of his name curls your mouth into a smile. in your dream, he notices you and says your name, which always sounded better with his voice. the two of you are red cheeked and young and happy, unapologetically.

when you wake up, it is 11am and your chest is a hollow vessel. you shoot upright, running out of your room, confessions in your throat about to spill into the living room.

gone.

the flat is empty. the world moves in slow motion as you search for him, from living room to kitchen to bathroom. nothing. all that’s left is an empty couch and a neatly folded blanket. your eyes latches onto a note left on the coffee table. reluctantly, your hands gravitate toward the page. it reads: “i loved you, too. thank you.”

the page slips between your fingers. just like he did.

outside, the sunshine casts its beams down to spite you. the warmth is so strong you don’t feel the numbness in your chest, or the tears that ricocheted from the paper.

in a state of faithlessness you pray for rain. the rain brought the two of you together, and now you want to drown.

you want him to come back.

this is my 2nd btob fic, thank you so much for reading!! and thank u ana for the prompt!! its a bit clunky but thats bc i’m not used to writing full scenarios - but i’ll get there!! thank you again <3

#btob #btobnetwork #btob fanfic #btob scenario #lee changsub #angst #sad

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