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norangeyyy · 3 years

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Late Night HCs

Bucci Gang Edition

TW: nothing too extreme, just a little bit of hurt/comfort stuff sprinkled right here and there.

Bruno Bucciarati

► Bucciarati typically doesn't stay up late at night, he has work and would squeeze all the amount of sleep he can get on his free time.

► Unless he has a lot of things in mind.

► It doesn't matter whether it's a work-related problem, his past, a random thought, or just generally his worries about his future. It will keep him up.

► He'll definitely need someone to be an outlet but if no one's available, he'll just stare at the night sky and distract himself with the moving clouds or finish some of his work until he's too tired to think of anything.

► If you happen to be in the same situation and same place that night though, then make sure that you take care of the trust he has for you when he was at most vulnerable and he will do same with you.

► I personally headcannon Bucciarati to be the type to like those kind of conversations since i highly doubt that he has been so vulnerable in front of anyone besides Abbachio ever since he joined the mafia.

► And even then, he's mostly the one who lifts the spirits up and not the other way around since he's the leader.

► So expect to hear things and words you wouldn't expect to come from the Bucciarati you see everyday come spilling out of his mouth, it'll be a lot.

► Pat his back or better yet, give him a hug and brush his hair while doing so. He needs it a lot since he hasn't really got one after his family fell apart.

► "I feel so much better now, thank you. I'll make sure not to forget about this night. "

Leone Abbachio

► The night owl of the gang.

► Staying up until 3AM is nothing new to this man, hell, he could even go on a whole day without sleep if he has a lot of things that's bothering him.

► He's the opposite of Bucciarati, he prefers to shoulder his intrusive thoughts alone. It'd take some great amount of effort and trust to make him talk and let it out.

► What he does during those times is either using his stand to replay certain memories that could either worsen his guilt or put him at ease, or just drink until he passes out but most of the time, he does both.

► He could also be listening to some music while he does so but if he's feeling guilty for making Bucciarati concerned about his frequent drinking, then he'll just listen to music and hope that he'll fall asleep and not just keep his eyes closed until the sun rises.

► It works, kind of, but even without alcohol driving him to sleep, he'll always be tired. His sleeping schedule is seriously messed up because he never really cared about it in the first place.

► Would sometimes go out for a walk. Leone is fond of the city's peacefulness when everyone is asleep, with the only thing keeping him accompany is the cold air and the dim light of the lampposts.

► Secretly still has his police uniform and would occasionally take it out just to stare at it or talk to it in a not-so-kind of way as he sees his younger self in it.

► Gets dragged in whatever shit Narancia and the others are up to if he gets spotted. Mostly it's just for a movie night behind Bucciarati's back but Abbachio knows better and expects the unexpected when it comes to the gang.

► Knows what everyone does in late night if they're still up and has seen a lot of ungodly sights.

► Whether it be seeing a sleepy Mista and the pistols chanting a weird prayer to a bowl of cereals or Fugo being dragged out of his room by Narancia, Leone knows it.

Pannacotta Fugo

► Just like Bucciarati, Fugo rarely stays up late at night and if he does, it's usually just because he's busy.

► Fugo has hobbies like painting and reading, everyone in the gang knows that. It's just that he gets carried way too far sometimes and loses track of time.

► Who could blame him though when the book he's reading is just too interesting or the painting he's currently working on is almost done, right?

► On extremely rare occasions where something unpleasant enough to keep Fugo up at night happens, he'll bundle himself in his fluffy blanket like a butterfly in its cocoon.

► He always does this back when he's still living with his parents, it makes him feel safe from anything that's haunting him.

► And if it's neither his hobbies or problems that's keeping him up, he'll just hear Narancia whispering outside his door or Mista throwing pebbles at his window.

► For the first few times the duo did this, Fugo was still able to resist until he just can't anymore knowing that they wouldn't leave him alone all night.

► "Well, this isn't so bad. "

► He says as he enthusiastically tosses a popcorn into his mouth with his eyes glued all over the lit screen of the TV.

► Movie nights, along with sneaking out to go the nearest convenience store, became a common thing between the Torture Dance Trio™ ever since then.

Narancia Ghirga

► The type to wake up in the middle of the night and think "Hmm... Everyone's asleep, let's commit robbery tonight!"

► Fugo's sleep paralysis demon.

► Would literally not hesitate to steal chocolate bars with Mista and probably does 3AM challenges with him too.

► Never runs out of ideas to keep himself up at night and is the one who comes up with everything but what he does still depends on his mood.

► If Narancia's feeling a little too lazy then he'll just sleep and most of the time, with music keeping him accompany. But unlike Abbachio, he purposely doesn't wear headphones just to annoy Fugo whose room is right next to his.

► If he's feeling like it, he'll straight up just invite the others to watch a movie or play videogames even though Bruno has already made it clear not to use the TV after 11PM.

► But just as he likes staying up at night doing crazy things with the boys, he also uses his energy left and free time to self-study, as surprising that may sound.

► He may hate reading but he takes advantage of the fact that his brain is much active at night and he doesn't want to depend on Fugo too much. After all, he dreams on going back to school and he's more than willing to be capable enough to do so alone and pass without the other teen's help.

► Will cuddle anything that's near him while he studies but if you give him a plushie, it'll be instantly his favorite and he would definitely use it as a study buddy.

Guido Mista

► Alright, let's be honest here, this dude wouldn't even stay up if it weren't for his bros.

► 5 seconds lying on the bed and he's already knocked out for a good 10 hours if there's no work he has to do for the day. Make it 8 at weekdays thanks to his mafia-related responsibilities.

► He sleeps like a log so only a combination of shaking him up awake with Fugo and Narancia can make him rise from what seems like a two year coma but is really just a normal tuesday night.

► Will pretty much join Narancia at anything he does but since his last three brain cells are obviously still as half asleep as him, he won't be able to remember that much the next day.

► And once he's out of the room and is already sitting on the couch with the guys, Mista's the type to fall asleep halfway through the movie.

► You can't blame him though, it's 12AM and it seems that Fugo got to choose what movie they'll watch since Narancia already got to choose the other night.

► Unless they're playing videogames or are going out then he won't be acting like a slow ass PVZ zombie with a fried brain. Actually, he'll be hella active if that's the case.

► Active at grabbing every snack each second, that is.

► Actually, it's the pistols who does that but oh well, it's not like Mista's innocent too.

► "I swear it's not me who ate all of our groceries for this month! Right, guys?! It's the pistols! "

► And that, everyone, is how Guido blew their little rendezvous without even trying.

Giorno Giovanna

► There's not much to be said about this boy since just like Mista, Giorno goes to bed early as he makes sure he still gets the proper amount of sleep.

► He already has a lot of things to deal with at day so of course, by the end of it, he'll be exhausted.

► Nights before exams are excluded because although he may seem like he skips class sometimes, Giorno still knows his priorities.

► Only when he became the head of the mafia did he really started to lose sleep as great power comes with great responsibilities.

► It took a LONG time for Giorno to adjust to a lot of things cause come on, he maybe resilient but he's still a 15 year old teen.

► Not only does he have towers after towers of work but i like to imagine that he still continued his education and used some of the things he learns in class in the mafia, specifically in classes like history or geography class since as a boss, he has to know every nook and cranny of Italy.

► Not to mention that emergencies happen and he always has to be ready to give out orders, even if it means being woken up at 1AM.

► God, help this child because all the things mentioned above are just an understatement of what happens on the first few months of being in charge of Passione.

► "So this is why Diavolo looks like he's about to explode whenever something goes wrong huh. "

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hes-writer · 3 years

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deja vu

Summary: part two of drivers license!

Warning: angst

Word Count: 1643 words

let me know if you liked it!

_____

If this was a movie, Y/N would’ve collapsed on the floor, knees hitting the ground as her legs lost the ability to keep her weight up. The corners of her lips would tilt downwards as a fusion of sadness and nostalgia bombarded her at every corner. Tears would collect at her waterline, waiting for the remarkable blink that would send each drop of salty liquid down the apples of her cheeks. Y/N imagined she would call Harry on her phone and scream at him as soon as the click sounded, signalling that he had picked up the call.

Yet as seconds passed by, none of those theatrical episodes happened. Unlike in the movies, Y/N’s physical reactions were minuscule. Her heart ached in her chest. Her throat scrunched like a wad of tissue papers in her hand, drying up with shock and the shallow inhales she let out. The swirling of her stomach increased tenfold as she teetered between feelings of anger and indifference. This should not affect her anymore--or should it? It had barely been a few months since she last saw him and a little bit after when the first photos of Harry and his girlfriend went viral on the internet.

Everyone, especially him, seemed to move on from the relationship that they had shared. Y/N felt like she needed to catch up to him, racing to throw away the feelings she still held for him and to pretend as though nothing happened. But it was easier said than done. There were still endless memories that replayed through her head every time she passed by an ice cream shop. It was a hidden gem, past the popular hot spots. Not a lot of people knew about it because of its distanced location. And as much as Harry was a certified health nut; his guilty pleasure was a scoop of strawberry ice cream--in a cup instead of a waffle cone, of course.

Y/N still remembered those drives-turned-beach-trips. It was mostly during his days off. She and Harry would spend the whole day together, sharing one spoon amongst each other while they passed the cup of ice cream back and forth. The sound of the ocean encompassed them as they lay hidden around an alcove of rocks. It was a secluded area of the beach that Y/N had found way before. The sand was grainy beneath the layer of a checkered picnic blanket that Harry kept at the trunk of his car, their bodies laying on top of it. Eventually, Harry would proceed to just spoon-feed her, ‘accidentally’ nudging her nose with the cold treat.

Y/N could feel her shoulders slump at the flashback, body sagging as she sighed at what her phone screen was reflecting back to her. It was her Instagram feed showcasing Harry’s profile. A picture of a haunting landscape was captured by his phone lens; it was the very same beach spot that she had taken him to. Deja vu.

She bit her lip, wanting to smile about how he still visited it even without her. It showed that Harry still kept a memory of her at the back of his mind. Y/N’s heart fluttered at the thought, a sliver of hope shining through the dimness of her days. But it was impossible to keep an optimistic stance when she saw the caption. A simple tag of his new girlfriend’s Instagram handle puckered her lips into a sour expression, brows pinching together in curiosity as Y/N continuously denied the obvious constituent of events.

“There’s no way,” She muttered, breath hitching as Y/N’s thumb hesitated on tapping the bolded font.

There was absolutely no way that Harry would bring someone else in such a coveted spot. It was hers; she found it first and now he was acting as though it did not hold any meaning to her. Not like Y/N didn’t spend the last few days laying on his lap, watching the sunset over the horizon. Harry’s fingers would comb through her tendrils, tucking his jacket tighter around her chin to ensure that she was warm despite him being covered in goosebumps himself. Y/N would look up to see the beginning stubbles of his facial hair as Harry looked ahead, his green eyes mirroring the artistic hues of orange, pink and purple.

“What’s up, Y/N?” Jenny asked, returning from her short trek to Y/N’s small kitchen. One hand was carrying a large bowl of chips while the other held two cans of soda.

Y/N stared at her friend with hesitance. Was it worth bringing it up? She must be sick of her talking about him all the time.

“He brought her to our place,”

It was harder to hear it out loud. She didn’t even recognize her own voice; void of emotion except for a strained sound of pain.

Jenny tilted her head to the side, “Who did?”

“Harry. . .” Y/N cleared her throat before continuing, “There was this place I found in Malibu. At a beach. It’s pretty hidden and I used to go there by myself whenever I needed to think. I took him there. It was our place, you know? Somewhere only the two of us knew and I don’t know,” She trailed off.

“You thought he would keep it between you guys,” Jenny finished off, nodding her head in empathic comprehension.

“Yeah, it just sucks,” Y/N furrowed her brows, staring at the space in front of her as she took in the gravity of the situation. “He even took her to D’Campos,”

“The ice-cream shop?”

She nodded, “It was on her Instagram story today,”

“Forget about him, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve your tears,”

“I’m not even crying,” She chuckled, slapping Jenny’s arm jokingly.

“You look like you’re about to,”

Y/N sighed, “It hurts. Feels like he’s everywhere. Just when I thought I was moving on, he pulls shit like this and I’m forced to remember how good it was between us, you know? I haven’t driven past D’Campos or anywhere else that I might see him because it hurts too much to reminisce what I don’t have anymore.”

It was ridiculous how much Y/N has had to change her routine in order not to feel any more pain. She actively avoided places where Harry frequented in fear of confrontation and also because he might be with his girlfriend. She didn’t know how she could stay stoic seeing their hands clasped together, gazing at each other lovingly when Y/N wanted that from him for herself.

“You’re doing just fine, honey. Do you know who can’t move on? Him.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s doing fine,” Y/N said sarcastically, resting her back on the couch. “Better, even.”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Jenny argued, “Out of the two of you, who’s the one always going to the places you shared?”

Y/N opened her mouth to answer but a swift hand in the air caused her to halt.

“It’s him, right?” Jenny answered rhetorically. “I do not care what you say; that man misses you and it shows. Harry’s going to where he expects you to be, probably in hopes of running into you. Maybe even because he wants to relive the moments you shared together with her in hopes of him feeling the same way he felt like when he did with you,”

“T-that’s insane. He’s fine without me,” Y/N stuttered out, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance.

“First of all, you are in denial. Secondly, you cannot tell me that he doesn’t. He’s practically doing everything you guys used to do with this new girl. Why? Because he fucking misses you, Y/N. Hell, you’ve even got the same name.”

“It’s just a coincidence,”

“My ass,” Jenny scoffs, “Answer me something, do you still remember how it felt being there with him?”

Y/N nodded, “Always,”

“Describe it to me,”

Y/N squinted her eyes in suspicion. Where was Jenny going with this?

“Uh, as cheesy as it sounds, I felt happy and free. I could talk about anything without being judged. He had a way of making me feel comfortable without even saying anything. When we were together--wherever we were--I could be vulnerable about myself in front of him,”

“Would you do whatever it takes to feel that same way again?”

In a heartbeat, Y/N stated, “Without a doubt.”

“Tell me, if Harry asked you to meet him there right now, would you go?”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she took a moment to process the question. She had just said that she would do whatever it takes to feel the same unconfined emotion again. So why was she saying ‘no’?

“I-I wouldn’t,”

“Exactly,” Jenny concluded with a quirk of her brow.

“You’re gonna have to explain,”

“Gladly,” Her friend quipped. “You want to feel liberated, vulnerable, and honest again but not necessarily with Harry. That place meant a lot to you--sure. But it doesn’t matter. What counts is who you are with. Who’s giving you that type of comfortability that you’re able to be just yourself around them. Do you understand?”

Y/N leaned forward in interest.

“You are well aware of that but you won’t accept it. You won’t go with him because you know that it won’t be the same anymore. That’s the first step of moving on. Once you acknowledge that as much as you miss him, as much as you think you want him to be around, you know better than that. He’s changed and so have you. He’s searching for that same feeling by going back to the places that you used to go to. Thinks he will find it there but--,”

“He won’t.” Y/N finished off. “Because she is not me,”

___

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #deja vu #sour #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic

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tobesobri · 4 years

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When the Lights Go Out (Halloween fic; 8k)

𝖆/𝖓: first off, happy Halloween yall! This is my second favorite holiday and so I really wanted to get something up in celebration of it! I’ve talked a lot on here about having trouble with writing recently and so I do what I normally do with writer’s block and I just leave what I’m stuck on and go off to write something random, which is what this ended up being. So, my writing style is definitely different and maybe not great, but this is just for fun so I don’t care! I still hope you enjoy! There’s spookiness (not too much), enemies (frenemies) to lovers, pumpkin carving, smut, alcohol consumption, and giant skeletons 💀 (oh and Harry dressed as Tarzan 🥵)

my masterlist 🎃 my askbox

𝕸ost people’s Halloween traditions weren’t too complicated; usually involving cult-favorite scary movies—ranging from Halloweentown to Nightmare on Elm Street—handing out Snickers and Kit-Kats to tiny trick-or-treaters, or just getting wasted at a friend’s haunted house party down the street. Their friend group, on the other hand, opted for a pumpkin carving contest every year on Halloween at Jason Hallow’s house, and, yes, his favorite holiday is Halloween because of his last name. And so, a few years ago when they were all undergrads together, he began hosting the annual carving contest at his house, in which they all paired up and, at the end of the night, whichever pair’s pumpkin came out the best—as judged by Jason, the resident Jack O’ Lantern expert—won whatever candy was leftover. That and marathons of R-rated horror flicks as well as occasional breaks to go out in the neighborhood and scare some of the kids while dressed in terrifying monster masks and slightly drunk off their asses from too much Tennessee whiskey.

Jason’s house was, hands down, the place to be in their neighborhood. Everyone who came by always wanted to join in on their festivities, and one year, they’d been just drunk enough to let a few of-age neighbors join in. This year, though, it was different. The stakes were higher. They were competing not only for the candy, but also for the much envied twelve-foot tall skeleton Jason had found at Home Depot which currently sat in his front yard amongst his other outrageous decorations. The skeleton was definitely the most noteworthy and had been the center of plenty group photos from just about every one of his neighbors since he had brought it home and especially tonight. In fact, every time the doorbell rang and he greeted another group of kids in his gory doctor costume—because Jason was in med school after all—every one of them squealed about how much they liked his skeleton. And so it almost pained him to have to give it to one of his friends after tonight, but if he’s being honest, he has nowhere to store it—he’d purchased it completely on a whim—and next year they will compete for it all over again anyway.

Tonight is also different because Harry and Y/N are not getting along. They all knew this beforehand, but simply brushed it off until they realized it was much worse than anyone had imagined. They had a horrible friendship—if one could even call it that—ever since they’d met as freshmen pre-law students six years ago. Sometimes they got along, but mostly, they bickered non-stop at each other, which all their friends took as misguided flirting. They got along for about six months once, after a drunken hookup, until, of course, Y/N hooked up with someone else and set off the volcano that was their relationship all over again. It had been calm recently with both of them needing each other’s help through their vigorous law school studies. So, a truce had been made and they tolerated each other at best. Tonight, though, the monsters had truly been unleashed and neither one of them had stopped picking at each other since they’d arrived.

It began on the street, when Harry took the spot Y/N had wanted to park in. Then at the door, when he asked her how her midterms were going and she felt like stepping on his toes until she crushed them. Which was perfectly logical since his was barefoot and mostly naked in his stupid Tarzan costume he’d recycled about four times now since they’d all known each other. He only wore it when the weather was warm, as he claimed, but they all had a suspicion he wore it so that he could watch Y/N drooling over him all night.

She wasn’t innocent either, in his defense, at least not this year when she came dressed in a sexy Beetlejuice costume, something none of them ever thought was possible. But she made it happen. She wore a too-short black and white vertical striped t-shirt dress—which had rips in all the right places, particularly across her chest—and a pair of neon green boots that were Doc Marten knock-offs she had found online. Other than that, she had spray painted the front bits of her hair a grey-green color and did her makeup to match the theme, dark purple smokey eyes and a green color used as contour. It looked good, she looked good, not that Harry would ever say that out loud.

Jason’s entire living room and dining room floors were covered with plastic tarps. He’d set up the usual fold-away tables and chairs for everyone. It was an easy clean-up job that wouldn’t leave pumpkin guts smudged into his hardwood floors or, even worse, the beige carpet in his living room. And, as always, he had a line up of various pumpkins on his kitchen counter—and the necessary kit of carving tools—ready to go. They usually didn’t start until nine-thirty or ten, once everyone arrived and had a few drinks in them and they had all agreed on what movies to watch. This year was a marathon of The Conjuring franchise, because Jason had spent way too much money on a box set and he would not be wasting them. Nobody objected anyway because the movies held a sentimental value to all of them. Every year since the beginning when a new movie came out, they all managed to go see it together, and also cause a horrible ruckus in the theater. Although they’d almost been kicked out a couple times, it was still some of the best memories together they’d ever had.

There was also that one year, when Annabelle Creation came out and Y/N and Harry were getting along on account of the LSATs, that they’d secretly gone home together. And then, of course, pretended it never happened.

That had been the second time they slept together, the second time she’d woken in his bed, with Harry’s annoyingly toned arm wrapped all the way around her, and the last as well because Harry got into a serious relationship their first year of law school and that had been the end of things.

Well… not completely the end. At least not until tonight.

“Okay we’re getting started!” Jason announced over both the music and the television, which someone turned down before Jason continued. He stood, wobbling, on one of the foldable chairs, for no other reason than the bottle of vodka in his hand. He was teetering on the edge sobriety and really didn’t give a fuck if he fell off. “Y’all know the drill! Isa’s handing out the cards. No whining. No trading. Or you’ll be disqualified.”

The cards in question were riddles that they had to match up with the answer. Half of them got the riddle card, the other half an answer card and that would determine who their partner was.

Y/N both wanted Harry as her partner and detested the idea at the same time. She was all for it because, well, he was hot dressed in nothing but his small piece of brown loincloth fabric hanging loosely on his hips. But at the same time, she knew they wouldn’t win together and she really wanted that skeleton.

The riddles were all hand-made by Jason on his computer and then laminated in his girlfriend’s school’s teacher lounge however many years ago. They all knew every answer to every riddle by now, but it was still a much more fun way to pair up than picking names out of a hat.

Y/N read her riddle twice, having absolutely no recollection of the answer to it, however—which was probably due to the alcohol she’d consumed herself within the past hour. She wasn’t all to blame, though, Harry had a lot to do with it too. She was still mad at him, for what she wasn’t sure, but she also could not stop herself from stealing glances at him and the only way to stop feeling so many confusing things about Harry was to drown it all away.

She read her riddle one last time: The person who built it sold it. The person who bought it never used it. The person who used it never saw it. What is it?

Her brain felt like mush after the third read and she hoped someone would find her first and give her the answer. She peeked around at people’s cards as they all tried to find their pair, some of them meeting up immediately and getting the prime pick of the pumpkins. It had dwindled down to just a few of them and she finally waltzed herself up to Harry, grabbed his card from his hand without his permission and read it.

In bold, 16-point Helvetica font, it read: A coffin.

Of course.

She rolled her eyes, shoving his card against his stupid bare chest and groaning audibly. “Figures I’m stuck with you.”

When she finally looked up at him, though, she wasn’t all that upset about her odds as she pretended to be. Not with the way his face set into a devilish, wicked, up-to-no-good look that made her want to rip him from the room and rip his useless Tarzan costume off too while she was at it.

He had also been drinking, which was made even more clear when he opened his mouth. “You’ll always be stuck with me.” And then he leaned in a little bit, his smirk widening and his eyes darkening and the sweet smell of vodka on his tongue strengthening, “Forever.”

She hated the buzzing in her stomach he caused, and hated that she liked knowing they probably would, at the very least, know each other for the rest of their lives. It had already been six years since they met and she still hadn’t managed to shake him off. And now they were finishing up law school together and getting offers to work at the same firm together. There would be no escaping him, not that she really wanted to.

The only time she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him was when he had a girlfriend. She hated seeing him in her classes, in her study groups, her circles, at her internship. He was always there, though, rubbing it in her face as she had once done to him. Hers was just a dumb hookup, partially just to spite him, and his was… well he dated the girl for entire year before they broke up and he seemed genuinely heartbroken over it. It had been serious, and Y/N had been seriously miserable the entire time. Even more so when she found out they’d split up and she just about threw a party while Harry moped around campus. She couldn’t help it, though, she’d liked him ever since they met, but then they just sort of… didn’t get along all the time.

She knew he liked her too, at least a little bit, or he’d never have slept with her twice. How much he actually liked her though was still up for debate, and so she chose keeping their weird hate-love relationship over ruining all of it by admitting her feelings for him. Plus, she liked working with him and getting his help on exams and papers too much to ruin that as well.

Y/N grabbed the third to last pumpkin, an unopened carving kit, and led the way to two lonesome chairs. They sat closest to the door, and farthest from the dining room and Jason, in their own little corner where they had enough room to stretch out given that no else had laid any claim on the other side of their table yet.

“So,” Harry began once they were settled and Y/N began opening the kit of tools, “what are we making?”

Before giving him an answer, she laid out all the tools on the table in front of them, next to their poor misshapen pumpkin, and then reached down into the side of her boot and pulled out a black sharpie; she’d learned a couple years back to start brining one. It might have been cheating, sketching her design beforehand, but Jason never outlawed it.

“I’m making Jason’s favorite Tim Burton character and you’re in charge of the guts.” She dictated confidently, slapping the sawing tool and the large orange plastic spoon in front of him so he could get started right away.

He eyed the tools for a moment, then the pumpkin, and then finally her. “Absolutely not. I’m not doing all the shit work while you do the fun stuff.”

“Thought you’d be used to that.” She half-mumbled, but he still heard her over the rest of the noise in the house. And, frankly, she was right. When they had interned together last year, she always handed off the demeaning tasks to him, like getting the coffee or making copies, while she did the much more interesting parts of the job. What she didn’t know was that she didn’t make him do anything. He always did it so she didn’t have to.

He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, arms that her eyes—which were completely out of her control at that point—glued to immediately. He’d been working out ever since the break up and finally filled out the Tarzan costume a lot better. He’d always had a nice body, she knew that, but now… now he made her dizzy.

“I’m not doing it. Least not all by myself.”

She gave up then, mostly because she lost her will to argue against the pout of his lips and the flexing of his biceps—which weren’t ridiculously big, but they were subtle and modest and very much bigger than they had been this time last year when he’d dressed up as a shirtless baseball player. Most all of Harry’s costumes involved some level of nakedness and not much sense, but she didn’t complain too loudly. And his arms were definitely bigger now than they had been the last time she was in his bed and he was over her.

“Fine.” She groaned, grabbing the mini saw tool and then standing to begin carving a hole at the top of their pumpkin, around the stem. She made it big enough for them to be able to stick their hands inside, and then once she was finished, pulled the stem piece off and set it aside for later, chopping off some loose bits of pumpkin shreds first.

Despite his earlier protests, he was the first to dig into the pumpkin, standing as well and going hands first into the thing where he pulled out fistfuls and dumped it into a pile on the table. They went back and forth digging out the insides of the pumpkin until finally, Harry grabbed the spoon and really went in. And she didn’t even bother offering to help, and instead stared, again, at his stupid biceps and especially at his hands, which were slick from the pumpkin juice. She shuddered remembering where his hands had once been, and then pulled herself together remembering how long ago it had been and how very little interest he’d shown in picking up where they’d left off pre-girlfriend.

Once the pumpkin was fully gutted, they both sat again, and cleaned their hands off on the paper towels Jason had set up on each table.

She was the first to begin the process, sketching out the design with her sharpie of Oogie Boogie from The Nightmare Before Christmas. She’d carved the character before, but still needed a reference picture on her phone to get all the details right. And Harry watched her the entire time, memorizing her face for the millionth time while she concentrated, and sometimes he stared at her hands, too, hands he also found himself reminiscing over, to the point of needing to cross his legs so it wasn’t made visibly clear what he was thinking about. He was starting to regret recycling the Tarzan costume.

While they all worked, Jason answered the door and handed out candy about once every five minutes. The best part of their tradition wasn’t the pumpkin carving itself, but rather, the atmosphere. They loved the feeling, the adrenaline rush of it all. How messy everything would eventually get, how loud they all were. The anguished shouting when someone messed something up. The sounds of Thriller playing in the background mixed with the loud jump scares from the horror movies played all night long. It was heaven to any lover of Halloween (and they all loved Halloween).

She’d let Harry start the carving of the design, informing him what parts were staying and what parts needed to be cut away, before she ventured into the kitchen to grab them both a drink. On her way back, she paused for a moment, just watching Harry work over in their corner. The sight of him almost made her want to finally admit how she felt. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad if he rejected her, at least then she’d know.

But then Zoe plopped down into her empty chair next to Harry and crushed everything back down like an aluminum can being recycled. She tossed back about half of her Smirnoff after Zoe had scooted closer to Harry and grazed her fingertips across his arm—the one he wasn’t using the carve the pumpkin. And at first, he ignored it, but then he set down the tool, pushed his hair back with his clean wrist and offered Zoe one of his annoying little smirks that Y/N always thought he saved just for her. But now, seeing him use it to flirt with Zoe, she felt stupid and betrayed. And stupid again for feeling betrayed.

She had no claim to him. She just had her memories, as inconvenient as they were at times. But that was nothing and it’d been so long that he showed any interest in her, in anybody, that for her to be jealous now was just pure selfishness. As much as she hated Harry sometimes, she still wanted to see him happy again.

Y/N made her way back slowly, eying what others were doing, until finally joining Harry again just as Zoe went back to her own pumpkin.

She was quiet for a moment, sipping on her drink, watching him as he got back to carving, before cleaning her throat as she finally said something, “What did Zoe want?” And she tried not to sound anything other than curious, but the way Harry glanced at her, with a raised brow, she knew she needed to be so much more subtle.

He took the other cup from her that she hadn’t drunk from and replenished his blood alcohol level. “She just asked me what I was doing after this.”

Instead of opening her mouth and being obvious, she just set her drink down and grabbed both the carving tool and the pumpkin from Harry to take over. He’d already done way more work than she had, so it was about time they switched anyway.

He eyed her curiously still, even though he allowed her to continue where he left off as he leaned back in his chair and took a break, downing what was left in his cup as she worked.

“You’re not jealous are you?” He finally asked, after a few moments to let his brain marinate in the alcohol in order to brave that question in the first place.

“No.” It was sharp. A piercing rejection he felt dig its claws deep into his heart. He couldn’t tell if she was lying or not, but if not, it hurt. More than he was willing to admit, even to himself. He wanted her to be jealous. He always did. That was part of the reason he’d gotten a girlfriend. And of course she was also part of the reason they broke up, if not all of it.

He nodded, “So it wouldn’t bother you if I went home with Zoe?”

He noticed her brief hesitation, when her hand stopped moving and she took in a breath of air, but then she settled again. “Doesn’t bother me what you do, Harry.”

Again, he nodded, still watching her just to get a sense of her reactions. Of course he had no plans on going home with Zoe. He just wanted to know. Where they stood. How Y/N felt about him. Whether she thought about their nights together as often as he did. When they were studying together and she’d shift her hair behind her shoulder and he’d get a whiff of her shampoo and be taken right back to one of those nights, and the nights that came after that when he got lost in that scent on his pillows until it eventually dissipated and left him craving more.

He tried again. One last time. If he still didn’t get the response he was hoping for, then he’d give it up and leave her alone. So, he sat forward, crossing his arms on top of the table, close enough to her now that the buzzing in her stomach reappeared even though she never braved a single glance at him. He was close enough that the smell of his cologne overtook the odor from the pumpkin. Close enough that she felt his breath on the side of her face when he spoke.

“So, I’ve just been imagining the way you’ve been looking at me all night then?” His voice was just above a whisper, and soft, caressing her ears as the sound crept its way inside of her. As it seeped into all the places the alcohol had been, although Harry was always something way more potent than whiskey or tequila. He made her head spin, made her feel everything and nothing at the same time. Made her heart flutter so much at times it hurt.

His words sunk in and all her motions stopped as she froze in place. She stopped carving their pumpkin, stopped blinking, stopped breathing. Staring blankly at their half-finished design until he was wrung out from her system completely. That never really happened, though, because he was staring at her, watching her with those glinting, impatient eyes, waiting for an answer. There wasn’t even the familiar hint of a smirk or a bit of amusement on his face anymore, either, that might have calmed her nerves. Because at least if he seemed to just be messing with her, she could play that game with him, but this was different.

He leaned forward a bit, trying to get her to look at him, to say something, anything, really. He’d be satisfied enough with her lies at this point. But he also knew the absence of an answer alone was all he really needed. He didn’t feel like he was getting ahead of himself, seeing the way her body reacted to him, by assuming that she felt, at least somewhat, the same way he did about her. Because if she’d been the one to ask if she was imagining how he’d been staring at her all night, he wouldn’t deny it.

Just as she opened her mouth, just as she had gathered enough words to form a coherent sentence, the room went dark. Pitch black, actually. The lights all around them flickering off, the television going blank, the music cutting out. And once the startled gasps and dramatic, drunken yelling had subsided, they were left in a ringing silence, so completely opposite to what they had been moments ago that it was painful for their ears to adjust to.

“What the fuck?” They heard Jason’s voice in the darkness and then, finally, a bit of light as he turned his phone’s flashlight on.

“Did the power go out everywhere?” Someone else asked.

And while everyone panicked, all Harry cared and thought about was Y/N’s hand wrapped tightly around his own on his lap. He wasn’t exactly sure when she’d grabbed for him, but once he realized she was there, he didn’t really care too much about the lights anymore. What he did care about still, however, was whether she’d ever answer his question now. If he’d ever get to hear what she was about to say just before the darkness cut her off.

A few of them stumbled about, making plans to go outside and check on things while everyone else stayed inside and waited. The room went dark for a few more moments as Jason left, but then someone else turned their flashlight on, and shined them at the ceiling so that there was at least enough light so that they didn’t have to sit in complete darkness.

If it wasn’t Halloween, the power going out wouldn’t have bothered her so much. Outages happened happened all the time. But now, in the middle of the second Annabelle movie with all sorts of other spooky shit around them, she couldn’t help but be terrified and imagine the worst. Like… what if there was a killer on the loose who had cut their power. What if the killer was chopping up Jason and the others and then eventually heading inside to do the same to all of them?

“Hey,” Harry mumbled beside her, inching closer and rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand, realizing she’d grown tense when her grip on him had tightened. “You alright?”

Hearing his voice again, she let out a breath of air and tried to relax. She watched way too many scary movies and this was most definitely not one of them. Just a power outage, possibly due to everyone being home and using lots of extra electricity on their lights and decorations. She had no reason to panic. Although it could be blamed on Harry as well, if he hadn’t made her an astronomical amount of nervous just before.

She nodded until she realized Harry couldn’t even see her very well. “I’m fine.” She finally affirmed, and, to his dismay, took her hand away from his.

They sat in their own silence for a while, listening to the quiet conversations around them, particularly to Zoe and Julie who were trying to look up any information they could even though their phones were slow from the lack of Wi-Fi and service.

After a little while, she found his hand again in the dark, and this time, she wasn’t afraid from the power going out, but rather what she was about to say. Because if there was ever an opportunity to spill your guts to Harry Styles, it was in a dark room where his grassy green eyes weren’t all over you, sucking every ounce of courage from your bones.

Her voice was in a whisper, and she finally looked at him, or rather in his direction. To the outlines of his face, of his nose and his cheekbones. Even though she couldn’t find the green, she knew he was there, waiting, listening.

“You haven’t been imagining anything.”

She couldn’t quite see it, but his eyebrows had hit the ceiling and before he could question her further, she continued.

“I was miserable when you were seeing Liv and so fucking happy when you broke up.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t let that stop her, “And then miserable again because you didn’t want me. And maybe you still don’t, but it would really bother me if you went home with someone else.”

The quiet almost ate her alive for the next few seconds when he said nothing and she didn’t have his features to go off of. But then, she felt him getting closer until, finally, his lips were at her ear.

“I’ve always wanted you.”

The buzzing was back but this time it was debilitating. Especially when he faced her and cupped his free hand along her jaw. And especially when he tilted her head back slightly to meet his lips, which had pretty good aim given their predicament. She missed the way he felt, she realized, once he was kissing her. Once he had scooted closer and released his hand from her grip on his lap. Once he grabbed up the other side of her face and pulled her closer. And then her hand was left to fend for itself on his thigh, and she, almost unconsciously, drifted her touch closer and closer and closer…

He moaned softly into her mouth when she toyed with the flimsy piece of fabric tied around his waist with her fingertips. And finally, she pulled apart from him, catching her breath before whispering, “Do you think they’d notice if we left?”

He shook his head, “Don’t think I care if they did.”

And so they were off. Trying not to draw too much attention to themselves even though she slightly tripped over the leg of the chair and he tried not to giggle too loudly while helping her. His hand fell into hers again as he led the way out of the living room, down the hall and into Jason’s guest room, closing them both off from any light source completely, not that they really cared too much about seeing each other; they just wanted to feel each other again.

And as soon as Harry had closed the door behind her, that’s exactly what they did. As she wrapped her arms around his neck; as he felt his way around her waist, he kissed her like he hadn’t kissed anyone in years. Like he was a dry, cracking desert and she was a vast river flowing through him.

He took brave steps towards the bed blindly, backing her up further into the dark room and managing to not trip over anything when he finally made it to the bed. They’d both, on separate occasions, spent the night in Jason’s guest room before, which helped when maneuvering around in the dark. For instance, Harry knew that Jason kept his secret stash of condoms in the bedside drawer. Harry had no idea why, but he was thankful for it right now, when, after laying her back on the bed, Y/N had already begun undoing his costume—with such quickness, he was sure she’d studied how the thing was connected to his body so that she knew exactly how to get if off if need be—and, within the next few seconds, tossed the flimsy Tarzan loincloth out of sight.

Which left him in just the black thong he wore underneath. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t have even bothered with it. But, when he had first gotten the costume and tried it on without anything, he imagined all the wardrobe slips and potential boners might not be in everyone’s best interests. So, he went out and bought the smallest pair of underwear he’d ever owned, tucked himself inside of them, and called it a day.

Those, too, were stripped from his body in a matter of seconds, or at least pushed down his thighs to where they no longer covered what they were intended to cover. But then she flipped them around, so that Harry was on his back this time, splayed across the bed and she was finally ridding him of the thong all together and not wasting any time getting her hands on him and he wondered, with how quick she was to get to this point, if she had been thinking about this all night. And if she had, then he would definitely have to whip out the Tarzan costume more often.

He seemed to sink into the mattress once he felt her mouth close on him, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth hanging open involuntarily when he hit the back of her throat. He had no idea how he’d gone so long without her, or why either. Why had he been so stupid? Why did he let her think he didn’t want her? Why did he deprive the both of them of this? Of the way she felt circling her tongue around the tip of his cock, the way he knew she was looking at him even though he could physically not open his eyes or come down off his cloud long enough to tell her how good she felt. How much he missed it. How much he was probably in love with her, even if that might have been crossing some sort of line.

“Forgot how big you were,” she whispered, giggling almost shamefully after wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and giving him a break to actually breathe properly again.

“Think we both know that’s a lie.” He was out of breath already and he was right, although she wouldn’t feed his ego no matter what he said. Although she remembered his cock perfectly fine, she wasn’t exactly used to it. And maybe she had momentarily forgotten what he had hidden under his costume. It’d been two years since they slept together, and the first time it happened they’d been drunk.

She didn’t say anything else, just tried to hide the blush on her face—even though he couldn’t’ see it anyway—by taking a mouthful of him again. She didn’t let him come, though, of course, and he didn’t expect her to either. She never had before. She always led him get right to the edge, to where he was panting and writhing and digging his fingers into her hair, on the verge of screaming her name into the dark, and then she’d stop. Pull him from the back of her throat and leave him a sopping, moaning mess.

He’d somewhat recovered when she crawled on top of him and and sat on either side of his hips with her hands planted on his chest. And now that their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she could see the curve of his lips as he smiled up at her and even the sinister little twist of his mouth just before he grabbed hold of the hem of her dress and ripped it off over her head, letting it fall onto the bed next to him. He wished they had just a little bit more light, but at the same time, it turned him on having to see with his hands instead. Having to reach up and cup her breasts in his palms and rely on his memories for a better visual than the one he currently had. And as she came down to kiss him again, there was one thing for sure he didn’t need any light or anything but his fingers to do.

He tossed her bra into the same vicinity as her dress and within seconds had his hands all over her again, and his tongue as well, wishing she was on her back so he could worship her in all the ways he desperately wanted to, but also aware that the power could flick on at any moment and he really didn’t have the time.

Not that she had asked, and maybe she just hadn’t thought of it yet, but he still, while continuing to make out with her, reached over, pulled the drawer open on the nightstand and reached inside to locate the box of condoms.

However, once he did, and he didn’t find what he was looking for, he sat up and pulled apart from her, twisting himself a bit in order to see inside the drawer. His other hand held onto her hips so she didn’t fall off of him as he searched the drawer. But, soon enough, he was laying back again, groaning as if he was in physical pain.

“There’s no condoms.” He muttered between his teeth and just that one little sentence ruined his entire night.

“It’s okay.” She assured, continuing to whisper just as he did so that no one would hear them through the thin walls. “I mean… we’re clean right? And I’m on birth control…”

He ran his fingers through his hair, looking up at her and trying to decide if it was a good idea or not. She was right, of course, but even so there was always a possibility. Even with condoms there was always that same possibility too. He knew one thing for certain. If he remembered correctly. There was absolutely no way in hell he’d be able to pull out, so that really wouldn’t even be an option either.

“If you don’t want to though, that’s fine.” She spoke again amongst his silence. It’s not like he would hate the potential consequences, and of course he would not hate feeling her without a stitch of anything in between them, he just needed to be reassured that’s what she wanted, truly.

“I do, just um… are you sure you’re okay with that?”

She nodded first and then, confidently, “Yes.” As she fell back into place over him, her lips came to his ear this time, “I want to feel you coming inside of me.”

His whole body shuddered, needing her more than he quite possibly ever had. And as she tucked her panties to the side and guided herself onto him, he would most definitely go outside and cut the lines himself if the power decided to come back on before they were finished.

“Forgot how wet you are…” He whispered, heart fluttering at the way she laughed while fucking him. He never forgot either, not quite. But feeling her again now, pooling around him, warm and snug, he again wondered why in the living hell he kept himself from her for so long. Sure, they didn’t like each other most of the time, but their first time together had been hot, drunk hate sex and ever since then he’d chased that feeling with other people, none of them ever quite adding up to her. He wondered if she thought the same. No one ever making her feel the way he did either. If, when she was with someone else, she thought of him instead.

He knew he wouldn’t last long the second she put her greedy hands on him, and so her being in control now was slightly dangerous. He wasn’t ready for it to be over, even if he was racing the clock, even if he could just take her home from here and do it all over again, properly. He didn’t want it to end as quickly as it started.

So, he flipped them back over, getting her on her back like he’d wanted to earlier. Slipping a pillow under her backside to get a better angle and letting her sink all the way through the mattress this time. He remained inside her the entire time, only making quick, shallow movements to avoid the sounds of their skin slapping against each other. But he gave up being careful about their noise level after she begged him to go faster, after he reached between them and rubbed his fingers over her clit to catch her up with him.

She tugged at his hair while he kissed her, breathlessly and without much of a second thought this time about how loud they were being. He assumed all their friends knew about them anyway, even if she chose to be ignorant to it. They all speculated about the secret hookups and the mindless flirting that was disguised as harmless bickering. So, he just stopped caring the closer and closer he got.

That was until he buried himself as far as he could inside of her, his hand wrapped around her throat the way he remembered her liking, and he felt the scream building beneath her skin, beneath his palm. Quickly, before her noises led to everyone barreling into the room to find out what was going on, he clasped his hand from her throat to her mouth instead. Holding tightly as she let it out, his eyes pouring into hers like a lake of shining emerald waters getting her to stay there in the room with him. So that she didn’t close her eyes and float away like he had before.

He titled her head to the side, kissed up her jaw to her ear. “Mm, I missed the way you sound.” He wanted to tell her how he thought about her pleads and her moans and her yells late at night when he was feeling particularly alone. When he wanted nothing but her, to either be inside of her, or to just have her there next to him. But all of that got caught in his throat, and instead, as he continued burying himself into her, he whispered like a growl in her ear, “Missed how well you take me.”

And although it made her moan, made her eyes cross and her fingernails scrape across his shoulder blades, he wanted to tell her that he missed how they fit together. How where he ended she began so seamlessly no one else could hardly compare. There had always been a seam with everyone else, with Liv, a visible divide between him and them, soldered together haphazardly. But with Y/N, it was smooth, flowing together as if they were the same person.

His hand slipped from her mouth as he began losing control, and soon she was the one having to cover the noises. Though, this time, she just simply pulled his lips to her own and felt all the vibrations escape from his throat against her skin, her teeth, her tongue. She breathed in nothing but the air from his lungs, and held onto his tightly as she began to unravel.

His moans quickened and quickened until she felt his release, warm and deep inside of her, just as her own gave way, until his body began to give out, until he was panting and no longer able to hold himself up over her. And so once they both descended from their cloud, once their wave had crashed onto the shore, he planted himself beside her, their chests in rhythm as they cough their breath.

And before either of them even managed to open their eyes or breathe steadily again, the surge of the power coming back on dimmed the haze. Their room was still dark, but light seeped under the door and the rest of their friends cheered from the other room as the music began again. And for a brief, stupid moment, Harry thought about fucking her again and letting her scream all she wanted, but that fantasy was cut short when he remembered their friends would soon realize they were missing.

“We should get back.” She mumbled. Although she made no sudden movements to get up. She even closed her eyes again, still off in another world.

And so Harry risked it, just for a few more moments, anyway, where he rolled closer to her and slid his hand up her jaw softly, pulling her attention toward him again as her eyes fluttered open, waiting.

“I was miserable when I was with Liv too. And we broke up because she knew I spent all my time thinking about someone else.” He swiped his thumb across her cheek, realizing for the first time that he’d probably royally fucked up all her makeup and then hoping she wouldn’t come to her senses and kill him for it.

“And who might that be?”

He smiled, sweetly this time unlike all his asshole smiles, and just as he glanced at her lips, ready to kiss her again, he was cut short.

“Yo, where are Harry and Y/N?” It was Jason, loud and clear and possibly headed their way to investigate his missing party guests who had snuck off together in the dark. Jason didn’t know that yet though, and as much as Harry would like none of their friends to find out, it wouldn’t exactly look great the two of them waltzing out of the guest room together. Harry’s curls in shambles, fresh scratches all across his back, and Y/N’s makeup smudged. There was simply no use in hiding what they’d been up to, it was written all over them.

Harry grabbed her clothes and handed them off while he went on a search for his own tiny pieces of costume. And just as they got decent again, there was a knock on the door.

“You guys in there? You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.” Jason warned and Harry and Y/n looked at each other for a moment before busting out laughing.

Harry got to the door first, throwing it open to a very surprised Jason, who then narrowed his eyes when he saw Y/N come up behind Harry.

“God, not in my guest room!” He whined as Harry pushed pass Jason, a looking Y/N following shortly behind, “Now I have to clean the sheets again! I just did them yesterday.”

“Sorry, mate!” Harry called over his shoulder, glancing down at Y/N quickly to give her one of his cocky little winks. And once they had reached the main room again, as he fell back into his chair, she realized just how many scratch marks she’d left on him, and wished he’d worn a costume with a shirt to cover it up.

She drowned out all the whistling and the comments about how everyone knew she and Harry were up to something, about the bets won and lost. All she heard was Harry’s voice in her ear, telling her how much he missed her and she wondered if it was real. If he really did miss her, or he just missed fucking her. If, when it was no longer October 31st, they’d just go back to normal. Like the horse-drawn carriage turning back into a lumpy, ugly pumpkin.

Harry noticed this, of course, because he’s a law student and notices everything, but just as he leaned in to ask if she was okay, she pulled away.

“I just, uh, need some air.” And then she was gone before he could do or say anything. She used through the front door, abandoning their poor pumpkin and headed toward her car. She’d left the keys and her purse inside, but it didn’t matter. She just leaned against the passenger door and gazed up at the stars, thankful for the clear night and warm weather.

And, of course, he was beside her not too long afterwards. She’d heard his footsteps against the pavement, knew he’d probably follow her out anyway.

He cleared his throat, half watching the same stars she was and half glancing at her. “Did I do something?”

“No, it’s um…” she faltered, her eyes falling to her feet. “Think I just had too much to drink.”

“Oh… I’m sorry. I—” she cut him off before he got too far in the wrong direction.

“No, I mean…” she pushed off her car then and faced him, “Are we just going to go back to how we always are after tonight? Because I don’t know if I can do that. But I never know what you’re thinking, Harry. Do you even like me or do you just like sleeping with me sometimes and arguing with me all the rest of the time?”

He continued to watch her for a moment, almost waiting for her to tell him she was kidding. But when she just ran a nervous hand through her colored hair, he realized she wasn’t.

He waited for a group of kids all dressed in various Star Wars outfits to pass by them before he began. “I guess I thought I was clear, but obviously not enough… I don’t just want to sleep with you every couple of years and pretend we don’t like each other in between. I think we’ve already wasted enough time, don’t you?”

She nodded once his words sunk in.

“Can we go finish our pumpkin now? And win the stupid skeleton. So I can take both it and you home with me?”

Again, she nodded, but this time it was matched with a smile. “Who says I want to go home with you?”

He rolled his eyes and threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close enough to kiss the top of her head as he steered them back toward the front door. “Guess it’ll just be me and the skeleton then.”

They both glanced over at the giant thing stuck in the middle of Jason’s front yard, still attracting every young person like it was a princess at Disneyland, and then she looked up at him again. “On second thought, I might like to see that.”

He shook his head, opening the front door for them, “M’sure you would.”

#sorry if there are spelling or grammar errors #im just glad to have written something tbh #but yeah let me know what you think! and i hope you all have a great halloween and that you're staying safe!#harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing

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justasimplesinner · 3 years

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Please for the love of fuck give me a happy ending to the riddler/scarecrow breaking hcs that may or may not start off with the reader running into them again and being understandably pissed. I just want to throw a vase at Eddie. I can have a mature conversation with Johnathan with some raised voices and some crying from both parties but I want to throttle that green goblin lookin motherfucker. I want to see fear in that man's eyes as I curbstomp his stank ass for living in my head and never paying rent. Cause that shit broke me no pun intended.

I'm a soft bitch I need someone to put a bandaid on the hurtie and kiss is to make it feel better.

ugh, you fuckin' softies. continuation of this post

Arkham Knight!Riddler getting his happy ending hcs:

like i stated in the previous post, you two may have not been together anymore, but that didn't mean he'd leave you alone. you were the last bit of his sanity, at this point, he didn't know how to live without you. he was constantly lying to himself and you about the motives behind his calls and visits, but truth was, he was just trying to cling on. he couldn't let you go, you were his raft in the middle of the fucking ocean, if he let you go, he'd... he wouldn't survive that. he didn't know how

but it doesn't mean that this whole thing sat well with you. fucking bastard, neglects you for years, treats you like the very dirt he walks on and now has the gall to fucking invade your private space? ruin you completely? it's like it didn't matter if you were with him or not, he'd still find a way to fucking destroy you. and you, on one hand, genuinely wanted out. you wanted him out of your life, because you had only one and you didn't want to live it in misery, you didn't want to just suffer and take it like a good puppy. you weren't even sure he realised the extent to which he fucking hurt you, because he was constantly focusing on himself and no one else, because selfishness was his coping mechanism and he wouldn't change

it was only logical that at some point, you'd have enough. you didn't want to fucking live like this. he didn't have a right to just sit there and do nothing and yet simultaneously do damage. he was a grown fucking man and it was time he made a grown fucking choice

– Well, well, well, look who decided to finally show up-... – you didn't give him the chance to finish, your fist connecting hard with his nose, or maybe it was his cheek, though you hoped it was his eye so it'd hurt the most. You didn't really know, you didn't really care, you've had fucking enough. You knew he was there, in your house, before he even opened his yapping mouth, and you didn't fancy being greeted in your only safe (or, apparently, not-so-safe) space by a fucking insult from the man responsible for all your current misery.

You didn't feel a pang of regret, quite the contrary, his stumbling form and widened eyes gave you this weird feeling of satisfaction. You kind of understood why Batman did what he did, beating Ed's ass was just too rewarding.

– I've had fucking enough of you and your stupid charade! – you didn't plan on beating around the bush anymore, it was time he was fucking faced with the consequences of what he did.

He didn't have the time to recover from your last blow before the first thing you could grab collided with his shoulder - a vase, apparently, and it shattered into small pieces upon impact. Great, now he fucking ruined your favourite vase, too, as if your life wasn't enough for him!

– You have no right to fucking invade my house and treat me like shit even after I've dumped you! – with every word, with every step you took forward, he took one back, eyes wide in genuine fear as he tried to back away from you, maintain a safe distance, as if anything could save him from your wrath now.

– If I mean nothing to you, then why the fuck are you even here?! Why the fuck do you insist on getting me all tangled up in your stupid games?! I'm not gonna fucking sit here and take it like an obedient pet just because you can't get over the fact that we're not together anymore! – you raged on, and you had no intention of stopping, you watched him back away, you watched him stupidly bump into the side of your couch and fall on his stupid fucking ass. He deserved to fall on the floor, not on a set of nice, comfy pillows. But he had no way out now. He had nowhere to run, not when you fucking rounded up on his shock-still form.

– I-... – he dared to try and interrupt you and it was truly the last straw, it was all you needed to have angry tears blur your vision and your hands clenched in fists again.

– You never even fucking apologized to me for anything either! Did it ever fucking occur to you that if, instead of tormenting me and calling me an idiot, you just fucking said you're sorry, pushed your idiotic pride aside and genuinely fucking said you're sorry, then I would've taken you back?! That maybe we wouldn't be here, in this fucking situation, if you just weren't selfish for once and apologized for all the shit you did to me, all the pain you've put me through-

– I'm sorry. – it was so quiet you almost didn't hear it. So shaky and breathy, so fucking... guilty. Heartbroken. So utterly pathetic. Just like he was, just like he looked. Just like you wanted him to be, but now that he was, you hated it. You hated his glossed over, wide eyes, the shame in them, the guilt, the pain. You hated his arms, slightly risen in a protective manner because he expected another blow. He deserved another one, but... it's like he was just a child then. Just this small, broken boy that was afraid to admit he was wrong, that was afraid of the punishment that awaited for him. And all over again, he made you want to pull him close to your chest and kiss it all better, make it so he'd never experience this pain again. And you hated yourself for it.

you've destroyed the fucking dam then. you haven't heard this man apologize to you once in your entire life, and suddenly, you were swarmed with sorries, with regrets and sorrows and his tears. suddenly, he remembered every smallest thing he ever did that made you upset, and he apologized over and over, for everything and anything, and you thought he was going to suffocate with how he was crying and rambling on your couch

god, he wasn't fucking worth it, you knew that, but suddenly, he was in your arms again, and you were soothing his shaking form, again. you were back there to ground him, to comfort him, to make him feel loved, even if he didn't deserve it. you were there to listen to his - probably empty - promises to change, even though you knew he most likely didn't have the power to change at this point, and god dammit - you believed it. or wanted to believe it. you wanted to believe that maybe you were important and that maybe he will put the effort in changing for you this time as you kissed him breathless and let him cling onto you for dear life. you wanted to believe that he deserved a(nother) second chance and that there was still hope for him as you clung right back. you missed having him right there, in your embrace. despite everything. and maybe you were just plain out stupid, or maybe he truly made a promise he, for once, intended to keep. and honestly? you weren't sure if you were ready to find out

you also apologized for throwing a vase at him. he wasn't mad. if he was, you'd throw another one. he had no right to be mad

Arkham Knight!Jon getting his happy ending hcs:

Jon genuinely thought about seeking you out, hoping that maybe that would give him some closure, that it would make him able to work and function properly again. but he realised how stupid, how selfish and disgusting that was. he swore to himself he won't even fucking force you to look at his ugly mug again. he had no right to come to you, expecting the person he pushed away in order to work to help him get back to work. he didn't fucking deserve to even breathe the same air as you

he kept tabs on you though. he had to know where you lived now, where you worked, and knowing where you were at all times would be ideal too, but he didn't dare go that far as to have someone stalk you. it's not out of some creepy obsession, it's actually out of... concern. sounds ridiculous, especially since he hadn't expressed any concern for you for the past few months, but he... he really didn't want to ever hurt you again. even accidentally. even if you were to be collateral damage. he needed to know the places he could target and the places he couldn't, he needed to know when, where and on who he could test his freshest batches and when, where and on who he couldn't. he hurt you enough. he destroyed your mind enough. he wasn't about to subject you to your worst fears too

but a reunion was inevitable, it seemed. one way or another, fate was bent on bringing you two back together. and so, he missed the fact that you changed your jobs and started working at Ace Chemicals, front desk actually, passing around exactly the information he needed about the company, it's building and resources

You genuinely couldn't believe your fucking eyes. You couldn't believe his cheek. The gall he had to be standing right here, in front of you, in his tattered, dirty "glory", milky eyes seeming wild behind the mask, as if he didn't expect you to be here. As if he hadn't planned it all.

– What are you doing here? – you didn't even have the strength to get angry at him anymore. You just resigned yourself to the fact that he was going to haunt you every single day for the rest of your life, be it in person or as a fleeting thought in your mind. You weren't allowed to get rid of him. You weren't allowed to forget.

– I could be asking you the same question. – his tone was hard to decipher. As if it was emotionless, but at the same time wasn't. Like there was something behind it, something he didn't want you to see. Something he himself wasn't ready to face.

You were already too exhausted mentally to give a shit.

– I work here. – you sighed, using that mocking tone he always used on you whenever you asked "stupid" questions. Funny, how one day he tells you there are no stupid questions and that you can always ask away, that he will always listen, and then treats you like an idiot when you do.

And yet you still loved his sarcasm, loved his quips and biting remarks. This was who he was, and you did, after all, love him as a whole.

– I didn't know that. – you were actually ready to believe that, what with how he was still standing there, practically in the doorway. He didn't round up on you yet, he didn't corner you like you were his prey. Actually, it seemed he thought you were the predator, like he was... scared to come closer.

Maybe that was better for the two of you. Who know what you'd do if he started to come at you like he owned you and this whole place.

– Oh, didn't you now? – you couldn't allow him to know though. It was his turn to get the cold shoulder for once. Not that he cared enough to be hurt by it. Not that he ever cared. About you, about anything. Anything but his work.

Jesus, fuck, you couldn't break down in front of him. You already did in the past. Way too many times. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of having the upper hand.

– You shouldn't've gotten a job here. – he seemed to feel as if he had it anyway – I work with chemicals on a daily basis and you know I'm planning to gas the entire city, it is only logical for me to take advantage of having a huge chemical factory right in the middle of it. It was obvious I'd come here sooner or later. – every word he said, he took a step closer to the desk. Every word he said, he beat you down into the ground harder. Obviously, you were in the wrong. Yet again. Always your fault. Why would you distract him from his goal yet again? Why would you meddle? It seemed that even if you didn't want to, you proved to be an inconvenience, a chink in the chain that was his research. It didn't matter what you did, it was never going to be good enough.

You two weren't compatible, after all.

– Yep, I'm stupid, I get it. Go on, psychoanalize me too, tell me how I did it knowingly just because I wanted to see you again. – you couldn't stop yourself from snarling at him. As always, he only came to you to break down what you've so carefully built back together. It was always that way, if you really thought about it. Every time you were starting to get used to his absence, starting to truly live on your own, he suddenly appeared, acted like everything was fine, acted like he loved you, and you believed it like the fool you were. You believed it and then he left you alone again. You believed it and then you woke up to an empty bed again. Every single time.

Maybe you really were a fucking idiot.

– And did you? – or maybe he was one, because this comment only resulted in riling you up more and yet he dared to fucking ask.

– I fucking hate you Jon. – you weren't ready to believe that what he just did at your words was flinching. That it hurt enough for him to physically move away. – If I wanted to look at your face again, I'd just turn on the news.

– I don't want to hurt you. – that was bullshit. He never did anything else. Hurting you was what he was best at, and he prided himself in it. – But I need access to the vast supply of chemicals your workplace has to offer. – even when you two fucking argued, it always came down to his work. Even when you told him you hated him, all he offered back was that he didn't care and came here just to get shit done. He didn't even fucking care enough to at least say he hates you back.

– You don't want to hurt me? That's a new one. – you were really tempted to just roll your eyes and go back to work. To ignore him, like he always did to you. But suddenly, you realised just how close he was. Practically leaning over the desk. His scarred face hooded and covered in a mask, hidden away from you. That face you wanted to stare into every time you woke up, that face you wanted to be the last thing you saw every day you went to sleep. That face that you wanted to kiss better, to make him know. Make him know you didn't mind. Make him know he was still handsome as ever. He never believed you, and you saw that. You saw that very clearly in his milky eyes. It's like they were fogged, like his mind was surrounded with fog and blurred reality with imagination, like there was this barrier between the two of you.

It wasn't there at first. But then he changed, and you didn't really know who he was anymore.

– I'm sorry. – it felt like pity. Like he pitied you. Like he was saying it just so you'd shut the fuck up and move out of his way at last.

And maybe it was better if you did.

– Save it. I won't get in the way of your plans, don't worry. I'm not getting paid enough to sacrifice myself for this place either way. – you were gathering your things, leaving the computer on, the information unguarded. You could use a day off, anyway. To cry in peace or whatever.

No such luck apparently, since Jonathan immediately had you in a grip, his fingers flexing against your arms.

– No, (Y/n). I'm sorry.

you really weren't ready for that conversation. not at all. you would never be ready for that. seeing Jon apologizing, hell, seeing him crying, genuinely crying in front of you, over you, wasn't something you ever expected to see. Jonathan, despite being a skilled psychologist, never really talked about his emotions. he was always hellbent on talking through yours - well, at the beginning he was, until the whole "spiralling into his obsession" thing started. then, he stopped, because he didn't have time for you. or, as he now explained, didn't have the courage to face how much he's hurt you. you really wanted to fucking punch him then, when he told you that he knew. that he knew all the time what he was doing, and yet never stopped, as if he purposefully sabotaged your relationship so you'd leave him. you knew he had his problems and you couldn't blame him for that, but you could blame him for running away from them. you could blame him for treating you like shit since he woke up from his short coma after the incident with Killer Croc. hell, he took the blame full on

you've never heard him so... bare. so raw. so vulnerable. when he apologized to you, thanked you for everything you ever fucking did, for always helping him, for sticking by him for that long, for enduring him and showing him how it feels to be loved, he was but a broken man. for the first time in... assumably ever, Jonathan didn't hide behind any walls and just... let the words flow. both of you knew that wasn't enough to compensate for what he did. nothing will ever be enough. he will never give you back everything that he took from you, and your heart will never fully heal. even if you two got back together, he wouldn't resign from his research either, and more likely than not, it was all going to end exactly the same, with him hiding away from you because apparently, acting like he didn't love you saved you from the heartbreak, and you having to mend your broken heart on your own, alone, knowing you will never get all your lost time back. you will never get back the time you spent crying in your home because you knew he wasn't coming. and yet, you - like the idiot you probably were - dived right back in. because you fucking loved him. and maybe it was stupid, and maybe his arms clinging onto you as you kissed him for the first time in months were stupid too, but if being stupid meant being happy, even for just one moment, you were going to take it

Jonathan still had a lot to make up for. you didn't think he will ever manage, honestly. but you were excited to see him try

#riddler #edward nigma #edward nygma #the riddler #jonathan crane #scarecrow #the scarecrow #arkhamverse #batman arkham knight #my writing #headcannons #drabble #angst #a sprinkle of fluff #kinda bittersweet #panshrekual iii

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msmarvelouswinchester · 3 years

Text

Irresistibly Yours

Chapter 2 - Noise Complaint

Summary - Y/N Y/L/N moves to NYC in hopes for a fresh start after a nasty breakup. There she meets her neighbor, the cynical lawyer, Dean Winchester. A love-hate relationship starts evolving between them ever since they met in the elevator one morning but a desperate situation and a string of lies forces the two friendly rivals to go on a date or rather a fake date. Will sparks fly between them when Dean gets to know Y/N real and up close? Will Y/N finally find her Prince Charming in the grumpy, workaholic, divorce lawyer?

Pairing - Lawyer!Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warning - None expect meanie Dean (Suspicious, isn’t it?)

WC - 2154

Square Filled - Don't put me in this position ( @anyfandomgoesbingo )

A/N - I promise the next chapter will have more of Dean and more conflict! This is just the beginning of a very long ride. Enjoy!

Beta’d by @miss-nerd95

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist Masterlist

The silence in the cab on her way back to her apartment gave her the quality time she needed to think. In a few weeks, Meg was getting married and now, since they knew, Y/N had to show up with her 'boyfriend’. She racked her brain, scrambling to come up with a good excuse because it was all a big lie.

Every time, however, she reached two conclusions - either make a fool of herself and admit that she lied or tell everyone that she broke up and be the one person at the wedding that everyone looks down on with pitiful eyes.

There was a third option, which was risque as hell too, cause Y/N barely knew the man and their first meeting did not go so well, but there was definitely something about him that made her blush every time she thought of him.The way he carried himself and the dominating vibes he gave off, sent shivers down her spine. Maybe he wasn't a morning person and she did start blabbering in the elevator the minute she stepped in. She swallowed hard when she remembered the way her name rolled off his tongue. ‘How did he know?’ She wondered.

As Y/N boarded the elevator, she thought about how, she wanted nothing more than to see a certain green-eyed man again. She had been residing in this complex for almost three months but she had never seen the man before. Maybe he was new here, in this apartment building, who knew? Mind plagued by millions of thoughts, Y/N trudged down the empty hallway to her cosy little home.

“Who invented these fucking heels?” She grumbled as she freed her feet out of the painful, yet pretty high heels when she reached the comfort of her own home. Shrugging her coat off, she relaxed as her ass hit the soft mattress of the couch.

“I need a date in seven weeks.” She said, making a mental note of the wedding date. This was the only wedding she ever looked forward to attending where she knew she wouldn't have to face the constant stream of questions involving her dating life and a particular man. All she ever wanted was to be with her close friend on the best day of her life.

“First dress fitting - tomorrow at 10.” Her phone lit up with an incoming text and groaning, she dropped her head backwards. Y/N couldn't even skip the wedding if she wanted to. She was one of the bridesmaids and it wouldn't be fair to both Meg and Cas, if she didn't attend it. A smile graced her frowning face when she remembered the time Cas proposed to her friend on Valentine's Day. Cliche- Y/N would say, but deep down, she knew she just wanted what Cas and Meg had.

A sigh left her lips as she got up, still in her work clothes. She put on some light music as she went into the bathroom to freshen up. After the long, tiring day she had, a warm bath and a Ryan Gosling movie were very much needed. Quickly stripping off, she stepped into the tub. She leaned her head backwards, closing her eyes, as the warm water soothed her aching body and her troubled mind.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone,” Y/N sang along the song, slightly off tune but she didn't care, as she stepped out of the bathroom after some time. She let go of the towel wrapped around her body and stepped into a pair of comfortable pjs. Getting a box cold pizza out from her refrigerator, she turned up the volume of the music playing in her apartment.

“He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring, and said,” Y/N yelled out the chorus when she started to heat up the pizza. Her private singing session, however, was cut short by a sudden knock on the door. She grudgingly pressed pause as she walked up to the door to find out the unwanted visitor.

“Excuse me- Ms L/N?” As soon as she opened the door, she was met by a very familiar, deep baritone that had been haunting her.

“Dean Winchester. And please, call me Y/N,” she breathed out. The formality in Dean’s voice made her cringe. Her eyes fell as she took in the man in front.

Dean had gotten rid of the dapper grey suit and slipped into a much laid back look. A black polo t-shirt fitted over his body and plain blue jeans hugging his bowlegs perfectly. The look on his face mirrored the one from the morning and Y/N wondered if he would look better with a smile on. Her train of thoughts were again rudely interrupted by the man speaking.

“I assume you're having somewhat of a casual evening,” Dean said, his hands waving to point at her pjs, making her suddenly self-conscious of her clothing state.

“Y-yeah. How may I help you?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“See, I moved in the apartment right beside you a few days ago, and I think you might have noticed sometime or the other that there are other people living in this building as well,” Dean said, his face not imparting any sort of emotions, “You might be having a casual evening but I can assure you that there's at least one person who is certainly not. Turn the music level down.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open at Dean’s words but she wasn't going to turn down the volume just because a man turned up at her door, asking her to do so. His words were sharp, but his tone was downright rude, and it was definitely not because he wasn't a morning person. The least he could have done was ask her nicely.

“Well, listen here pal, no one's having a problem, other than you. So you can go back to your room, put on some earplugs and do whatever the heck you were doing before you decided to make my day more awful,” Y/N said, taking a threatening stance with hands on her hips, a deep frown on her face.

“I'll file a noise complaint report against you.” Dean warned with his pointer finger right in front of her eyes.

“It's just music. Learn to appreciate the little things in life.” She said while rolling her eyes.

“I'm a very busy man and I got work to do, alright? And speaking about music, play something actually good like Zeppelin and people will personally come up to thank you. This song is not even a classic.” Dean spat back.

“Believe me or not, everyone is a Swiftie at heart.” She smirked with a sarcastic shrug. Dean’s lips twitched in anger as his face grew more rigid before he said, “If you don't lower the volume, expect a noise complaint report delivered with your newspaper tomorrow.” He walked away before Y/N had a chance to even think of a comeback.

Glancing over his shoulder, Dean went inside his own apartment room right beside Y/N’s. She glared at the empty hallway before swinging her door shut and walked back to her room towards her amazon echo, turning the music down anyway. She couldn't risk getting a report filed against her, and the man appeared to be dead serious about what he threatened to do.

“Stupid Dean Winchester.” She grumbled.

Squinting at the clock, Y/N woke up the next morning to loud bangs on her door. 7:30 am, it read. Removing the covers, she immediately shivered when the cool air hit her bare legs.

Hair still a mess, she grabbed her robe from the nearby chair, putting it on along with her slippers before she warily made her way to the door. “Dean will be complaining now for sure.” She grumbled as she unlocked her door to reveal her friend standing on the other side in a dishevelled state, eyes red like a mad woman.

“Meg?” Her face scrunched up in confusion as the said woman shoved past her into her apartment. “You’re wearing your shirt inside out.” Y/N closed the door behind her as Meg took a seat on the couch.

“Can I have some water?” Y/N dumbfoundedly nodded at her friend’s request and went to her kitchen to retrieve a glassful. Handing the glass over to her, she sat down next to the brunette who gulped down the entire glass of water in one go. Setting the utensil down on the wooden coffee table in front, she turned towards Y/N with slightly glossy eyes as she spoke, “I don’t want to go and finalise the dresses.”

Her words elicited a laugh from Y/N before she said, “Okay, bridezilla, we can reschedule it. Cas should better watch out!” She chuckled out the last words.

“No, y-you don’t understand!” Meg grabbed her friend’s hands, surprising the latter, “I don’t want to try the dress on at all.” Y/N was utterly surprised over her friend's outburst.

“Honey, you have a wedding in less than two months.” Y/N cooed as a few drops of tears rolled down the bride-to-be’s cheeks. “Meg, talk to me. Did something happen between you two?”

The woman shook her head, letting the other lady in the room know that she didn't have to kick Cas’ ass to her relief, but it confused her even further. Since their engagement five months ago, Meg had been over the moon and had started planning every minute detail with high precision and finesse for her big day.

“What if I'm making a huge mistake?”

“Don’t put me in this position. You know how I am when it comes to-”

“But I need to know, and I trust you.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line before she said, “Cas is the best thing that has ever happened to you-”

“You barely even knew me when I started to go out with him. We have only been together for fifteen months - five of which I have spent being engaged to him. What if I regret this later?” Meg's words were correct. Y/N used to barely talk to her when she had started dating Cas, but all through those eighteen months, as she slowly got to know the pair well enough, she knew that they were clearly meant to be in it for the long haul.

“But I have never seen you regret your decision to be with Cas even once… so why start now?.” Y/N politely answered, her hands letting go of her distraught friend's iron-clad grasp and reaching out to soothe her.

“Sometimes even if you have been with your man for what feels like forever, marrying him might seem to be the worst decision you can ever make, but it doesn't matter how long you have been with him. When you know, you know. Follow your heart.” Meg looked up at her as she mulled her words over before speaking.

“I love him.” She said.

“Then go, be with him.” Y/N smiled. Crisis averted.

A smile started to appear on Meg’s tear stained face as her eyes twinkled with a suggestive glimmer in them. Fiddling with her sparkling ring, she said, “Dean’s good for you. Don't let him go.”

Y/N was taken aback by her friend's supposition. She sat up straight in her seat as heat crept up her neck. Her mind was stuck in a turmoil as she tried to come up with an appropriate response.

“He’s not-Dean is not-” She stuttered, the words got stuck in her throat when she tried to think of a decent excuse. Maybe, this was the universe giving her a chance to take back everything she had said before, but the disheartened look on her friend’s face made her rethink her decision. After all, a little white lie never hurt anybody. “Yeah, he is a good man.” Meg smiled as Y/N played her into the deception game once again.

“Will he be at the wedding?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“What are you waiting for? Unless he is a figment of your imagination, ask him! I want to meet this certain Dean Winchester.” Meg giggled.

“I don’t have such vivid imaginations, Meg.” Y/N let out a nervous chuckle. She was now being given an ample amount of opportunities to tell the truth, then why was it so hard for her to deny everything she had said? Maybe she liked living in this utopian world where for once, no one deemed her as the broken, pathetic girl who failed to make a man stay. Maybe deep down, she wanted this damn lie to be true.

“I’ll ask him but you do know how men are about weddings.” She replied, having no knowledge of how to keep her end of the promise.

Chapter 3

Feedback is highly appreciated

If you want to be tagged in the series, lemme know!

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n #au dean x reader #au dean winchester x reader #dean fanfics #dean fanfiction #spn fanfic #irresistibly yours

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supernatural-jackles · 4 years

Text

Owe You One - Part 1

Title: Owe You One - Here’s the Deal

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 6,290

Warnings: Bad Sex, Fluff, Playful Banter, Smut, Female and Male Receiving, Bit of a consent kink, 18+ only.

Summary: Dean Winchester has been your best friend and neighbour for the last year. A year of finding comfort in random drop ins and casual conversations, but neither of you know the pasts that the other has. Not fully. Pasts that come back to haunt you, and ruin everything you want in life. Can you find what you’re seeking in a couple of favours and a good time between the sheets or is history doomed to repeat itself?

Square Filled: Neighbors!AU for @spndeanbingo, Free Space for @spnkinkbingo

A/N: It’s finally here!! I’m very excited to take you on this rollercoaster ride! Please leave your thoughts in the reblogs and replies! Feedback always keeps me going! Happy Reading!

“Fuck! I’m gonna come!” he called out, bucking his hips up into yours. You rolled off of him, taking the empty side of the bed as ripped the condom off, stroking his hard length. He rolled over, getting onto his knees so he could finish himself off on your body.

The sticky liquid coated your stomach as he let out a loud grunt, still stroking his cock. One of his hands came down next to you, trying to balance himself as pleasure zapped through him. You lay there, trying not to utter a word about it. Did he really have to be that extra about it? Did he really have to rip the condom off and coat your skin in his - stuff?

“Damn, you are something else baby,” he let out a chuckle. “I mean really something. Did you come?”

“If you had to ask, then the answer is no,” you scoffed, rolling off the bed, completely unsatisfied. “Look, I’ve got things to do so you gotta go.”

“Sure thing, baby. Can I call you later?” he grinned, looking over to you.

“If you want to,” you said lowly, making your way into the bathroom. You heard movement on the other side of the door. It sounded like his jeans being put back on. You willed him to move faster. You wanted him out of your apartment. Nothing like shitty sex and a guy that lingered. You had no idea why you even tried with this one. He was as stupid as they came. Carl, or Keith? You couldn’t remember what his name was. You met him in a diner a few weeks back. He took you on one date, and fucked you the rest of the time. He wasn’t a good lay, and he was selfish as hell on top of that. There was nothing worse than that.

You heard the front door shut with a click, notifying you that it was safe to leave the bathroom when you were ready to. You felt dirty and not just from sex. His hands were on you and they definitely weren’t the cleanest. You headed over to the shower, turning it on hot. You wanted to wash the gunk feeling off, along with everything else he left. What a waste of your time you thought to yourself. Why were you wasting your time with every guy that came along?

You stepped under the stream, letting the water hit directly on your stomach. Washing away his finished product. You couldn’t believe that he had the nerve to ask you if you came. The man was lazy as hell, and didn’t know the difference between the clitoris and vagina. It was a complete and utter disappointment yet again. You had no idea why you kept him around when all he wanted was sex. He didn’t care whether or not you came, let alone about your life outside of the bedroom. There wasn’t a point in continuing when you weren’t happy with him.

The hot water lulled over you muscles, relaxing you along with the apple scent of your shampoo. You always felt better after a good shower. No matter what the day held, or what went down. A shower made you feel clean and reduced your worries. There was a part of you that wanted to let your hand wander between your legs, just to finish yourself off. You had done it so often that it was becoming boring. Like a sad routine. You needed something more to get you there. Maybe you needed a new toy to play with.

You shut the water off, stepping out of the shower and onto the grey carpeted mat. You reached for the blue towel on the counter, wrapping around your body before moving in front of the mirror. The mirror was fogged up, not that you needed it urgently. You felt a lot more refreshed.

You dried yourself off, pulling on your black robe to cover yourself up until you grabbed actual clothes from your bedroom. You stepped out of the bathroom for a second, waiting for the mirror to clear up. You knew you had to get something out to cook for dinner before it got too late. It was already late enough.

Your kitchen smelled of the apple cinnamon scentsy you had plugged in. It was supposed to help you get in the holiday spirit. At least, that was the point of why you put it in your cart when you saw it. It mostly made your apartment smell good. You walked over to the fridge, looking to see the chicken you had picked up at the grocery store the day before. You had some leftover salad to go with it. Enough dinner for tonight.

You took the chicken out of the fridge, placing it on the countertop for when you got dressed. Three loud knocks at your door pulled out out of your thoughts. You had no idea who it could be at this time. You prayed it wasn’t doucheface showing up again. You weren’t sure you could handle anymore disappointment today.

You twisted the knob, pulling the door open, only to reveal your next door neighbor standing in the doorway. He had a half smile playing on his lips as he stood in henley with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans that fit him perfectly.

“You always answer the door in your robe?” he smirked. “‘Cause if so-”

“What do you want, Dean?” you chuckled, shaking your head.

“Mhh what?” he furrowed his brows, clearly getting a good look at you in your black robe.

“Dean, really?” you raised your eyebrow.

“Sorry, you’re just,” he pointed at you. “Sorry, I came over to ask you if I could borrow your microwave for a second. Mine broke this morning and I’m trying to heat up my dinner.”

“Yeah, c’mon in,” you nodded, opening the door a little wider for him to step in. Dean stepped in with a smile.

It wasn’t the first time Dean had been in your apartment and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. You had been neighbors for a little over a year. Eight months ago, he and his long time girlfriend Cassie broke up and he was a mess. You invited him to come over to distract him, and he ended up staying an entire weekend. You binge watched Friends and ate about a gallon of ice cream. That was when the two of you became really good friends.

Dean was in your apartment at least three times a week, depending on his week that is. Dean was a mechanic at a local garage that he and his dad owned with a few other guys. Most nights he finished around six and dropped by with some food for dinner. Other nights, he was working his other job. He and his younger brother Sam, owned a bar in town called Jefferson’s Starship. Dean named it of course.

He was a good guy. You got that vibe off of him instantly the day you met him. He helped you carry a few boxes into your apartment, which you needed. When you saw him upset that day he and his girlfriend broke up, you couldn’t stand it. He was a really good friend to you. One of the best actually. You weren’t the best when it came to guys, or friends for that matter. But Dean? Dean was special. There was no one that got you or your sense of humor like he did.

“I take it Doofy was over,” he teased, nodding once more to your outfit as he opened your microwave door.

“You really like calling him Doofy, huh?” you shook your head as you made your way over to the stool by the kitchen counter. “Yes, he was over.”

“I heard,” he smirked. “Well, him anyways.”

“Dean!” you raised your voice, shaking your head once more, trying to hide your smile.

“We share a wall, sweetheart. Your bedroom, my kitchen. Walls are thin,” he wiggled his eyebrows as he placed his hands on the counter in front of you. “So, let me guess this time. He came and left?”

“He came, asked if I did, then I asked him to leave,” you corrected him.

“Ouch,” he said sheepishly. “High and dry. That explains the robe and the wet hair.”

“How hard is it to pleasure a woman?” you called out. “I genuinely want to know. I haven’t found a single guy who knows the difference between my clit and my vagina, Dean! How hard is it?”

“Pretty hard if he doesn’t know the difference between buttons,” he let out a laugh.

“I’m just going to order a new toy off amazon at this rate. It’d get the job done,” you shrugged, feeling defeated.

“Can I watch?” he joked, opening the microwave door to stir his food. “Oh by the way. I wanted to ask you something which may or may not have been the real reason why I’m here. My microwave isn’t actually broken.”

“And here I thought you were here to comment on my sex life,” you breathed out, adjusting your robe a little more. “I’m all ears.”

“So my mom is having a birthday party this year, and they still think I have a girlfriend and invited us. I was kind of, sort of, maybe hoping you’d go with me to keep my family off my back for that anyways,” he said lowly, swirling around his food before shoving it back in for another two minutes.

“Me?” you raised your eyebrows. “Of all people, me?”

“You’re the only one I know that I can be myself around. I don’t have to force myself to get along with some random girl in front of my family. You’re one of my closest friends,” he pointed out. “You just have to pretend to be my girlfriend for the night. I swear I’ll repay you.”

“Will you though?” you side-eyed him playfully. “Look Dean, you really don’t have to. We’re friends and I’m happy to do it.”

“Really?” he beamed.

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” you smiled politely. “I’ve met your brother a few times so I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“I owe you big time, Y/N. You have no idea how much you are saving my ass by doing this,” he breathed out as the microwave beeped at him again. “I have shown up to the last three birthday parties alone and I’m not going through the ‘oh Dean, when are you finally going to settle down’ comment from my cousins, and aunts. Granted I was still dating Cassie last year, but she was away on some journalism trip. Not that they ever showed interest in meeting her. I’d just rather not deal with that again. I’m tired of the comments.”

“I would say I know the feeling, but I don’t. I’ve been on my own since I was pretty young. I didn’t get along with my mom and it was just the two of us.” you shared. “You’re making me feel pretty thankful I’m on my own.”

“Really?” he cocked his eyebrow. “I always thought you got along with your mom?”

“No. Not even close,” you scoffed.

“Well, it’s you and me now, girlfriend,” he winked. “I’m serious about repaying you though. You’ll see why when you meet my family. Sammy is the only normal one.”

“Name your offer, Winchester,” you said, crossing your arms over your body.

“Uh, let’s see,” he raised his eyebrow, looking up to the left. “I’ll let you drive baby?”

“Really?” you rolled your eyes. “That buys you handholding and that’s about it.”

“Oh we’re playing this game now?” he chuckled, opening up your drawer to grab a fork for his dinner before taking a seat at the counter next to you. “Fine. How about - oh - how about I show you that not all guys are clueless when it comes to sex?” he said with a smirk.

“And how are you going to do that?” you cocked your eyebrow.

“How do you think, sweetheart?” he wiggled his eyebrows before taking a bite out of his food.

“You? You’re going to have sex with me?” you asked in confusion.

“Why not right? I mean, you’re gonna have to kiss me in front of my family. Not that you haven’t dreamed about kissing me,” he pointed out. “And besides, I know the difference between your clit and your pussy, how to pleasure you, and I’m not going to stick it in the wrong hole unless you ask me to.”

“You said you were never going to bring that up,” you let out a dry laugh.

“What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t?” he grinned. “I’m serious though. I’ll show you a damn good time, and treat you right. We don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, of course. But I won’t leave the room until I know you’ve enjoyed yourself.”

“Dean, are you sure?” you questioned. “I mean, we’ve gotten really personal with each other but this is different. I don’t want to cross any lines here. I’m not putting our friendship at risk here.”

“I know, but I think we’re both mature enough to handle this. Nothing will ruin our friendship, ” he stated. “‘Sides, you have to know by now that I think you’re hot, and I’d nail you in a second given the chance. Call it practice for my mom’s party.”

“So if I untie this robe and drop it to the floor, you’d be cool with that?” you played, trying to gage his reaction as you stood up, stepping away from him. His eyes went dark as he froze, watching your every move.

“More than cool with that,” he muttered.

You reached for the tie, pulling it loose before opening up your robe. You could feel a lump forming in your throat. No going back now. Dean thought you were hot, you reminded yourself. You let the material fall over your shoulders, and drop to the floor around your feet. Dean swallowed hard, not daring to tear his eyes away from you.

“Son of a -” he breathed out.

“I’ll be in the bedroom when you’re done,” you teased,

“Oh I’m done,” he stated, getting up from the stool. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

“Yeah?” you cocked your head to the side, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Your voice was confident, but inside, you were dying to cover up and hide away forever. You weren’t gorgeous, or sexy. You weren’t the kind of girl a guy like him fawned over. You found guys like doofy. It was almost like you needed confirmation that he thought you were attractive.

“Oh god, yeah,” he licked his lips. “Can - can I touch you?”

“Yes,” you nodded. Your eyes locked with his breathtaking green orbs as he stepped closer. You were expecting his hands to either reach for your breast or your ass. You knew he was going to touch you. He asked and it was to be expected.

He reached for your hips before slipping his arms around your waist, resting them on the small of your back. That was completely unexpected to say the least. His eyes were dark and filled with desire, but there wasn’t the typical I can’t wait to shove my dick inside you, lust that everyone else had. You were standing completely naked in front of him and he couldn’t take his eyes off your face. It was different and you liked that.

“Seriously, you are fucking gorgeous,” he muttered, leaning in closer to you. You felt his breath mingling with yours. Was he going to kiss you? One of his hands reached up to your cheek, his index finger brushing the wet strand of hair away from your face before cupping your cheek in his palm. You melted against his touch, just a little as you glanced up into those breathtaking green eyes of his. He inched closer, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, hesitant kiss that made your heart flutter in your chest. He was gentle, which is the opposite of what you were expecting from him of all people. If anything, he was making you feel more comfortable. You kissed him back with the same hesitancy he had. You slipped your hands around his back, tugging him closer to you out of instinct.

“Mhh, we should probably move this into the bedroom,” you muttered against his lips.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he smirked. His calloused hands slipped down the curve of your ass, reaching the back of your thighs. He lifted you off the ground with ease, earning a tiny yelp from your lips. You giggled as he carried you into your bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot. He placed you carefully on the messy bed, letting you adjust yourself so you were comfortable while he stood tall.

“You’re wearing far too much clothing, Dean,” you smiled up at him. He cast his head down with a smile playing on his plump lips. “Off with the shirt and show me what you’re working with.”

He took the hem of his henley, tugging it over his head to reveal his upper body. God, he was a fucking sight. You had never seen him shirtless before this. You thought he was hot before this, but you had no idea just how hot he was until he shed some layers. He wasn’t completely toned. He was soft in some places and that only made you want him more. You wanted to trace your tongue over every inch of him.

“Damn, you’re hot,” you commented as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. He didn’t say anything to you. In fact, he looked a little nervous about it. You didn’t want to make a comment about it because this was a hook up and he wasn’t your boyfriend. You were going to let it slide this time and bring it up the next time you had a movie night or something. “Take it all off, baby.”

“You’re such a dork,” he let out a laugh. You watched as he unbuckled his jeans and shoved them and his boxers down his legs, revealing himself to you for the first time.

And oh my fucking god, he was perfect.

He has the nicest looking dick you had ever seen on a man. Big, thick and he kept himself well taken care of down there in terms of grooming. You were actually looking forward to this one. Not just for how hot he was. Dean was a good person, and not to mention a man of his word. You were looking forward to seeing what he had to offer you in terms of owing you one.

“Dean, you’re-“ you paused. “Fuck.”

“Like what you see?” He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Eh,” you giggled. “I’m not on the pill, just so you know. I do have condoms in my drawer though.”

“Good to know,” he nodded. “Listen, don’t be afraid to tell me what you like and don’t like. By all means, tell me what to do and I’ll listen the best I can. I just want to make you feel good.”

“The very same goes for you too,” you told him. “I wanna be able to make you come too.”

“Trust me sweetheart, you are going to have no problems with that,” he assured you. “Now, are you sure you want to do this? I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“I’m sure I want to do this,” you confirmed. You smiled at his words. It was nice of him to ask you. He wasn’t forcing you by any means, or making you feel like you had to do this. It was actually really nice of him the more you thought about it.

He carefully climbed on your bed from the bottom. Your eyes never left his body as he moved up the bed. His muscles flexed as he fit himself between your legs. His body hovered over yours, his cock pressing against your inner thigh. He captured his lips with yours almost unexpectedly, pulling your bottom lip between his, sucking down softly. Your hands traveled down the length of his back. You could feel the arousal pooling in your core. A delicious ache you couldn’t wait to satisfy.

His hand traced up your torso, his thumb brushing underneath your breast as his lips moved along your jaw, making their way to your neck. You let out a sigh, melting into the mattress beneath you. Your hands slipped into his hair as he kissed his way down to your breasts.

“F - Dean,” you breathed out. His lips latched around your nipple, his warm tongue flicking over your hardening bud. His touch gave you goosebumps and part of you thought that it was because you hadn’t been touched this extensively in a long time. He was fucking woreshipping you compared to the rest of them. Dean knew exactly where to touch you without a hint of guidance. He ignited something in you that no one had before. Maybe you were going to get an orgasm out of this after all.

“Feels good, don’t it?” he cooed, kissing along your abdomen as his hands soothed down your sides, filling your stomach with anticipation of what was to come.

“Damn good,” you panted. Your heart rate was speeding up, and he had barely even done anything to you yet.

He climbed off of you, taking a spot at the end of your bed. His hand gripped your waist, dragging you to the edge of the bed where he could begin the first real act of the night. He took his time and that was something you enjoyed about him. There was no rush like there usually was for you. His hand trailed along your inner thigh, tickling you in the best way, causing your core to clench around nothing. His soft, wet lips kissed along the opposite side of his hand and that drove you insane. You desperately wanted to feel him directly between your legs.

“Dean, I swear to god if you don’t -”

“Don’t what?” he chuckled. “Don’t rush a professional.”

“Where’s the professional?” you giggled, earning a bitch face from him. “I’m kidding!”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride, sweetheart,” he winked, growing closer to where you needed him. He settled directly between your legs with a smirk playing on his lips. He pushed your legs open a little wider. The anticipation was killing you and he fucking knew it too.

He inched forward, flattening his tongue against your folds, licking a long slow strip upwards, stopping just before your clit. God, did it feel good. His tongue was warm and wetter somehow. The initial touch sending a wave a pleasure through you. You threw your head back against the mattress, your fist grasping at the comforter. You wanted him to do it over and over again.

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

“Feel good?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, staring up at the ceiling, awaiting his next move. You released the comforter, allowing yourself to relax. Dean did the exact same thing, this time going even slower and reaching your clit, causing you to jerk just a little. He kept up with that for another couple of strokes, and you could feel yourself growing more and more slick as he did.

He pressed a kiss to your clit as his finger circled around your entrance. Your eyes clamped shut the second his tongue flicked swiftly over your little bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked upwards, needing more and more of his touch. You could feel him smirking against you. He knew exactly what he was doing.

He pushed a digit inside of you and you let out a breathy moan. He curled his finger as his lips enclosed around your clit, sucking just enough to drive you insane. You arched your back, needing more of him.

“De-Dean,” you groaned. “To the left.”

“Your left or mine?”

“Mine,” you panted. His tongue flickered over your clit to the left in a repetitive, but unpredictable motion that had your toes curling. Your hand reached for his head, your fingers fisting his hair tugging him in the right direction as he sucked down on you.

You could feel that familiar burn pooling in your lower abdomen. You knew it was mere moments before Dean worked you into your first orgasm the night. He removed his finger from your center and moved both his hands underneath your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh as his tongue worked it’s magic.

“Fuck Dean, I’m gonna - I’m -” you could barely even get the words out before warm pleasure pulsated through you. You twitched against him, your fingers pulling at his hair to try to keep him in place, and he never let up. He worked your through it, making it last as long as he possibly could.

He pulled away and you felt lifeless. You had no idea how to even move, let alone breathe. Dean wasn’t lying when he said he knew what he was doing. You tried to focus on breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth.

“Y/N, you alive?” he asked you.

“I- I think,” you answered, your voice high pitched as your eyes opened, meeting his gorgeous green orbs. “Barely but alive. Just give me a minute after that one. Fuck!”

“Told you I’m good,” he winked playfully.

“Oh shut up!” you let out a laugh, rolling onto your side, pressing your lips to his, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hand instinctively reached up to your hip, drawing you into him as he kissed you. God, did this man know how to kiss. He had your toes curling at the thought of continuing like this. But you knew he had other plans for the night, and quite frankly, so did you. “Your turn now, Dean.”

“You definitely don’t have to do that, Y/N,” he shook his head.

“I know. I want to. It’s only fair to for one, and two, I really want to taste you,” you played. “You want to move up the bed a little more?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. You managed to sit up, allowing Dean to lay in the middle of your bed. His hard cock rested against his stomach, and honestly, you couldn’t wait to taste him. You couldn’t wait to feel him on your tongue. Dean positioned himself so he was comfortable, and you gravitated between his legs. It was going to be easier for you to take him this way. You knew there was no way you were going to fit all of him in your mouth, but you were going to try your very best to pleasure him the same way he did you.

You took his velvety length in your hand, your mouth watering at the sight of him. Dean’s eyes were on you, and somehow, that didn’t make you nervous. You stuck your tongue out, licking the tip of his cock, instantly tasting the salty, almost sweet, precome that pooled at the slit. Dean hissed at the contact and you knew you did something right.

You moved down to his balls, flattening out your tongue before moving carefully along each one. Then you traced a line up his length, reaching the top, taking the entire head in your mouth. Your eyes flicked up, looking at Dean’s face directly and you could see that he was enjoying what you were doing so far. You sucked down lightly, spit collecting in your mouth as you did so. You released him, using your saliva as lube to slick up his cock, making it easier to pleasure him without worrying about hurting him.

You took him in your heat, sinking down a little lower this time while your hand jerked off what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You could feel each ridge and vain along your tongue, and damn did he taste good. A taste you wouldn’t mind having more than once if it were up to you.

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he growled. His hands made their way into your hair, half holding it back, half kind of tugging. You circled around the tip, running swiftly into the slit before teasing over his frenulum. He let out a loud groan, trying his hardest not to buck his hips up.

“Y/N-” he cried out as you took him deeper, the tip hitting near the back of your throat as your hand jerked him faster. You sucked down, causing him to moan once more.

“Y/N - fuck, you gotta stop,” he urged you. You pulled off of him with a pop, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. He was panting, his chest heaving. You smiled, knowing you did a good job.

Dean rolled off to the side, opening up the drawer of your bedside table, grabbing one of the condoms out of the box of twelve. As nervous as you were before, you weren’t now. Not even close. If anything, you were excited to be doing this with Dean. No pressure or unrealistic expectations. He cared whether or not you were enjoying yourself, and you were. But most of all, you were comfortable with Dean. Maybe it was for all of those reasons, or the fact that you had never trusted someone the same way you did your best friend. He wasn’t some random guy you met in a bar or a diner.

“You sure you want to do this?” he questioned once more, playing with the condom between his index finger and his thumb. “We don’t have to. I can just pay you back some other way if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah. I want to,” you nodded. “Do you want to?”

“Yeah,” he said softly, ripping the condom package open. He took the condom out, rolling it down properly over his hard length. You lay down on the bed, opening up your arms for him to climb on top of you. He spread your legs a little wider as he positioned himself between them. You couldn’t wait to feel that stretch when he pushed into you.

He took his thick cock in his hand, running it swiftly through your folds. You instinctively moved your legs further apart, your eyes meeting his, waiting for him to move. You nodded your head, reassuring him that he could proceed. He smiled softly. The tip of his cock lined up with your entrance. Your hands traced up his arms, settling on his shoulders. He pushed himself gingerly inside of you, stretching your walls more than you expected as they accommodated his length. You took a sharp intake of breath, your eyes shutting as your head pressed to the pillow beneath it.

Dean positioned his hands on either side of your body. His lips met yours as he bottomed out inside you. His kiss putting you at ease. You wrapped your arms securely around his shoulders and bent your knees to give him more room to begin moving. He felt fucking perfect inside.

“You good?” he breathed out, trailing his lips along your jaw.

“Yeah,” you swallowed. “‘M good.”

He drew his hips back before moving back in at the very same pace. You felt your walls fluttering at the new sensation of him. He felt fucking amazing when he moved. His length hit all the spots you needed him to, and all the spots you didn’t know you needed touched until now. His muscles tensed just a little when he moved, and his lips never left your skin, only added to the overwhelming satisfaction he was already giving you.

“You have no fucking idea how good you feel around me,” he growled into your neck.

“If it’s anywhere near how good you feel inside me then I think I know,” you groaned, your hand shifting into his hair, keeping him at the sensitive spot on your neck that drove you crazy. “Keep kissing there.”

“Curl your fingers in my hair again,” he asked lowly, his hips pushing back into yours.

His thrusts picked up the pace. You rolled your hips against his in tune with his and that familiar burn made itself known. Your breathing was getting shallower, and a thin layer of sweat coated your skin, especially in the places Dean’s skin was touching yours. The heat from him, along with the incredible aura you were creating together; it was bound to get a little hot.

Dean was panting against your skin, and he had to adjust himself, leaving your neck. He held himself up on his hands once more, his chest abandoning yours. His eyes traveled up and down your body, drinking you in as his cock quivered inside you. You didn’t want this to come to an end. He made you feel so fucking high; like every other emotion didn’t exist. It was just pure euphoria.

You readjusted yourself, hooking your ankles around his ass, giving him a different angle. He pushed into you and hit your g-spot dead on, you almost came right then. That coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter as he moved. You could feel every dip and ridge of his cock. Your mouth was growing dry as you struggled to breathe.

“Dean, I’m so close,” you straggled out.

“Good,” he panted. “Me too. What do you need?”

“Faster!”

He picked up his pace, pounding into you. You let out a loud moan and suddenly you were thankful it was only Dean’s apartment next to yours and no one else was next to you. Dean pecked your lips once more, and you could see the drips of sweat beading on his forehead and the top of his freckled dusted nose. His green eyes were damn near black, hooded with lust and pleasure that you had never seen before. You wanted to make him come. You wanted to hear him.

He hit your sweet spot once more, throwing you over the edge. You arched into him as your fingers dug into the flesh of his back. He collapsed on top of you, and you buried your head in his neck, muffling your cry just a little. Pure ecstasy flowed through you, causing you to shake beneath him. Your walls clamped down around him so tightly, you were afraid he wouldn’t be able to move.

“Fuck - Y/N, mhh,” he groaned, slamming his hips into yours as he spilled himself into the condom. He twitched, moving just a little as the waves of his orgasm worked through him. You were shaking, but at the same time, you felt completely lifeless. Like he had fucked every ounce of energy out of you, and in a way, he had.

He pulled out of you slowly, holding the base of his cock where the condom was. You pointed to the tissues on the nightstand for him to use. He quickly discarded the condom into the trash bin next to your bed before he settled down next to you.

“Fuck,” he breathed out. “That was better than I imagined it would be.”

“You imagined it?” you let out a chuckle.

“Of course I have. Have you seen yourself?” he let out a laugh. “In all honesty though, it was some good sex.”

“It was,” you agreed, adjusting your head on your pillow as you glanced up at the ceiling.

“Did you come?” he laughed.

“Shut up, asshole,” you shook your head.

“Oh I know you did,” he teased. “More than once. I’m just that good.”

“Yeah yeah,” you licked your bottom lip. “You held up your end pretty damn good if I do say so myself.”

“I’m glad,” he smirked. “I don’t think we’ll have any problems convincing my parents we’re together.”

“Me either,” you breathed out.

He rolled off the bed, reaching for his boxers on the floor at the end of the bed. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him as he tucked himself back in his boxers. You weren’t expecting him to stay in the slightest. It was a good time and it would’ve been awkward if he did.

“So where and when for your mom’s party?” you asked, moving the pillow to cover yourself up a little.

“Saturday night,” he said, pulling on his jeans. “I’ll pick you up at seven. It’s kind of fancy so you’ll have to wear a dress. I’m wearing a black suit if that helps you at all.”

“I have a classy black dress that should work,” you nodded.

“Perfect,” he nodded. “I am really thankful you’re helping me out. I don’t mean to fuck you and run, but I’ve kind of gotta get to the bar.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “Not like we’re together, bestie.”

“I know, but I like to treat my women better than that when we do something like this,” he frowned.

“I’m your best friend and I know where you live. Trust me, it’s cool. I’m not really one for cuddling after sex and talking about feelings anyways,” you shrugged. “Thanks for making me come, not once, but twice. You treated me better than any guy. Now get out of my apartment and go to work.”

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled. “You could always come with?”

“Nah,” you shook your head. “I’ve got plans with my one true love, Netflix.”

“Sorry I’m getting in the way of that,” he let out a laugh. “I’ll see you later.”

“That you will, Dean,” you winked. “Thank you for this. You do know how to satisfy a woman.”

“You’re damn right I do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2 coming Sunday!

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kissinginkitchens · 3 years

Text

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Eleven: Water Under the Bridge (Finale)

a/n: welcome back my loves <3 It’s so weird to think that this is the final chapter of YBMH and I’m definitely having a lot of feelings about it (denial, mostly). I want to say a huge thank you from the very bottom of my heart for sticking with this story and these characters that I love so much. I’ve had the most fun over the past few months talking to some of you and hearing your thoughts; I cherish it more than you’ll ever know. With all of that said, I’m going to miss this era so so much but I would still love to hear from you lovelies, so please feel free to drop by my inbox and let me know what you thought of this series!! Feedback, criticism, all of it is welcome :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, angst

Word Count: 6.7k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten

January, 2018

A strand of hair tickles Harry’s nose and his eyes flutter open. The faint sound of car horns and traffic outside reminds him of his location when his memory fails. He gently slips out of the bed and tiptoes over to the window, careful not to wake the girl sleeping soundly next to him. A thick layer of snow blankets every building and surface in New York City as far as the eye can see, and the grey sky above signals another storm on its way.

I’m going to die of hypothermia, Alani shivers, nursing her steaming cup of tea as she walks away from the office window and takes a seat behind her desk. Even after living in the city for a year, she still hadn’t adjusted to the cold weather and feared that she never would. Her boyfriend had joked on numerous occasions that you can take the girl out of the island, but you can’t take the island out of the girl.

“Vanessa’s on line three,” her assistant calls from the doorway.

“Thanks,” Alani nods before bringing the phone to her ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was brilliant,” the editor admits. “Insightful, witty. I think they’ll love it,”

Alani smiles and spins in her seat to face the window again. “St. James has been on my ass about this piece for weeks. I hope it’ll shut him up,”

“It will, trust me. Hey, I gotta go, but I sent the revision notes and we can discuss more later,”

“Great, thank you so much. See you at dinner,”

“Ta-ta.”

Alani reaches for a pen and scribbles a reminder onto a pink post-it note nearby.

Bloody five-star hotel, you’d think they could afford decent pens. Harry grumbles to himself, shaking the ballpoint to no avail.

“Where are you going?”

Harry freezes in his tracks and turns to the brunette stretching out her tired limbs. He has to clear his throat to keep from saying the wrong name.

“Just a quick walk,” he explains with a tight lipped smile. “Go back to bed.”

She flashes a wide grin and snuggles back into the covers, but he secretly hopes that she’s gone by the time he returns.

The snow crunches under Harry’s feet and he digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He had never been very fond of the cold, but he did have to admit that Central Park looked unbelievably beautiful in the winter. His phone buzzes inside his pocket and he digs it out to read the message.

Mitch: Me and Sarah are going to Bisous in ten. Meet us?

Harry: See you there.

********

“French is such a pretentious language,” Maleah scoffs, taking a bite of her pastry. “But I’ll be damned if I have to give up my chocolate croissants,”

Alani chuckles lightly and traces the restaurant’s logo of a red kiss printed on her napkin. Going to Bisous at least once a day had become a tradition during her best friend’s visits.

“I’ll have to smuggle a real one back for you and then you can tell me if this one’s the real deal,”

“When are you going, again?”

“Next month,”

Maleah wiggles her brows. “Oooh, Valentine’s Day? Are you taking Mason with you?”

“No,” Alani says casually. “It’s for work,”

“Well, who says you can’t mix business and pleasure?”

“Literally everyone.”

“Okay,” Maleah sighs, patting her full stomach. “Let’s go now before I get sleepy.”

The two friends make their way out of the busy restaurant and Alani’s shoulder brushes someone next to her.

“Sorry.” she apologizes, making brief eye contact with the other person before doing a double take.

Mitch purses his lips and turns his head back to the other girl at his arm while Maleah drags Alani out the door.

********

“I mean, what the hell was that? I could barely keep my drum kit together,” Sarah laughs gently, sipping her coffee.

“Cause of death: rocking too fucking hard,” Mitch shrugs. “There are worse ways to die,”

Harry stirs his black coffee with a spoon and watches the mini whirlpool grow. “Rob said you could feel it in the balcony, too,”

“I’m surprised you didn’t die,” Mitch pokes. “Mr. defective lungs,”

“Heyyy, I can’t help the asthma thing, alright?”

“Well it’s the last night,” Sarah chimes in. “Are we gonna try to beat the Kiwi record and go for four times in a row?”

Harry shrugs, a soft grin on his lips. “Dunno. Maybe if it feels right,”

“I say we cut out the middleman and just bulldoze MSG ourselves. What difference does it make if the fans tear the house down or if we do?” Mitch suggests.

“Oh yeah,” Harry nods. “I’m sure Irving would love that.”

“Some food for thought.”

The trio finish their breakfasts and excitedly continue their conversations about the impending show, but the entire time, Mitch is haunted by the knowledge of Alani’s presence in the city. He debates telling Harry, but is suddenly reminded of the intense aftermath of the pair’s falling out.

********

“Where’s Alani?”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that name to me ever again.”

Mitch’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

And with a simple question, anger had subsided into grief. Mitch still didn’t know all of the details surrounding their split, but he had pieced together sufficient bits from Jeff and, in part, from the lyrics Harry penned in the following weeks. The slump had lasted through the fall and winter of that year, but as spring rolled around and the album’s release drew closer, Harry pulled himself together enough to promote and tour. It felt good to be on the road, and he found himself revitalized by the energy of those who came to support. Tour itself had been relatively intimate, as he had actively decided to play smaller venues than the sold out stadiums he was accustomed to, but the enthusiasm of the crowds hadn’t changed from his band days. As Harry occupied his attention with music, Hawaii grew smaller and smaller in the back of his mind. Eventually, it dwindled into a dull ache at the center of his chest, felt only on particularly long nights coaxed with a little bit of alcohol in his bloodstream. For now, he tried to focus on his last show at Madison Square Garden.

********

Alani’s stomach turns. Had she really seen Mitch or had it been a remarkable doppelgänger? She hoped it was the latter, knowing that if he really was in New York City, Harry wasn’t far behind. This was by no means the first time she had been reminded of her summer love turned sour, but it stung just as much every time. The first incident was last April when she turned on the T.V. only to find Harry performing one of his new songs on Saturday Night Live. It had resulted in the loss of her favorite mug as it shattered against the hardwood floor in her apartment. Since that day, Alani had seen his face on countless billboards in Times Square and habitually asked taxi drivers to change the radio station or turn it off entirely. After a while, she had gotten better at dealing with the sinking feeling whenever he was mentioned, it was easier to detach feelings for someone who lived on a screen. Running into Mitch, however, had blasted a hole straight through the fourth wall that Alani had erected, and she knew that there was absolutely no way she could cope with a similar encounter from Harry.

“Oh shit,” Maleah gasps softly, looking through the windshield at the hundreds of people lined up on the pavement outside of Madison Square Garden.

“What?” Alani asks, head still spinning.

Her best friend immediately turns to her with a nervous smile and shrugs. “Oh it’s nothing. Hey do I have something in my teeth?”

Alani glances out the window behind Maleah and her eyes bulge. “Woah, what’s happening there?”

“Oh it’s probably, like, Lady Gaga or something. Anyways, look at this random text I got the other day.”

But it wasn’t “Lady Gaga or something.” The marquee reads “Harry Styles—SOLD OUT” in bold lettering. Alani retches into her bag.

********

“Oh, for fucks saaake!” Harry shouts playfully, the sound of his obscenities echoing throughout the large venue.

Mitch and Adam chuckle beside him and continue setting up their equipment while Sarah offers a comedic “badum-tss” on her drum set.

“Okay then at that point, stage lights will come down and it’s ‘Meet Me in the Hallway’,” the technical director speaks into his earpiece.

Harry nods and watches the screen behind him roll through the animation that will play during the song.

“Alright, then it’s—”

“Wait,” Harry interjects over the mic. “Sorry, can we run it?”

“Run ‘Meet Me’?”

“Yeah,”

Mitch tenses listening to the conversation that filters through his own inner ear piece, but he continues fiddling with the strings of his guitar.

“Running ‘Meet Me’,” the director affirms. “Sarah, stand by.”

Harry’s eyes dart over to Mitch and he nods as a sign to begin. The guitarist clears his throat and strums the opening chords.

Meet me in the hallway

“M’gonna go wait in the hall…”

Meet me in the hallway

“Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

I just left your bedroom

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Give me some morphine

“I hope you got all the material you wanted.”

Is there any more to do?

“Please don’t go.”

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Maleah offers. “I can catch a return flight tomorrow,”

Alani sits up in her bed and shakes her head. “No, Mi, it’s okay. I’ll be fine,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s probably just a stomach bug or something,”

Maleah gives her friend a tight squeeze and pulls away to read her face. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll come right back,”

“Thank you,” Alani says, forcing a smile. “I’m so sorry to put a damper on your last day.”

“Nah, there’s nothing to worry about. Feel better soon, Nani.”

The door closes softly and Alani burrows deeper into the covers. She tries to bury the emotion back under a lock and key, but a gentle sob fights its way up her chest. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, she cries, but maybe it was. Just as the sun rises and sets, so had Harry entered and exited her life, and maybe that’s exactly how it was meant to be. After all, Alani had gotten exactly what she wanted, hadn’t she? So why does it still hurt?

The snow falls gently outside of her window, but the entire scene blurs into shades of white and grey behind her tears. It had snowed just like this on the day she moved to the city. Shortly after the article about Harry had been published by a small gossip site, Alani had contacted the publishers and threatened litigation if they didn’t take it down. Unsurprisingly, they had also been contacted by Columbia Records and thus, the piece was removed that same day. Despite the quick turnaround, Rolling Stone had caught wind of the storm brewing on social media and reached out to Alani a few days later. They had been impressed that the elusive Harry Styles granted her an interview, but they didn’t push the matter much further. Instead, they had offered her one piece of her choosing to prove herself. If the reviews were favorable, she would be given a regular contributor spot, unpaid of course. They would re-evaluate at the beginning of the new quarter and negotiate from there. When January of 2017 rolled around, Alani’s writing was making surprising waves in the Rolling Stone community, so she had been hired on as a junior writer and assistant to the Editor in Chief. The pay wasn’t great, but it was a leap in the right direction.

Despite everything that had changed in a year, a string of random letters on a building that Alani passed a million times had brought her emotions right back to the day she had tried so hard to forget. Her phone buzzes under the covers and she reaches out a hand to locate it. Her editor’s name appears and she answers it quickly.

“Hello?”

“Darling, hello! Where are you?”

“Oh my god,” Alani groans. “Vanessa I’m so sorry,”

“Is everything okay?”

Alani sits up and clears her throat. “I have food poisoning,”

“Christ, from where?”

“Bisous,”

Vanessa sighs. “Poor thing. Okay, no worries we’ll just reschedule,”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you,”

“No need to be sorry, get some rest and we’ll catch up later!”

The call ends and Alani gawks at the time. 7:30 already? She slumps back under the covers and sifts through her social media, wincing when she sees several of her friends posting about the line outside of Madison Square Garden. No, Alani decides sternly when the sudden urge to go stirs in the pit of her stomach, absolutely no fucking way.

********

“10 minutes!”

Harry scans the crowd from the monitor backstage. He pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb as the nerves settle in.

“The house is packed,” Jeff comments with a hand on the singer’s shoulder. “And there’s still a crowd outside,”

“We did it?”

“You did it,”

So why does it still hurt?

“Thanks for everything,” Harry says, bringing his manager in for a hug. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jeff pats Harry on the back. “All in a day’s work for the dream team.”

Before heading out, Harry stops one of the crew members and asks if any of the guests on his list have arrived yet. Names are read off, friends from different inner circles over the years, but there’s one name in particular that isn’t called. He offers a thumbs up and a forced grin before making his way to the stage.

It always surprises the technical crew at every venue that Harry has specific lighting requests for the house. Performers had their individual preferences, this wasn’t unusual, but no one made a bigger deal about being able to see the crowd like Harry did. He enjoyed being able to see each person and connect with them, especially when performing an album that was as personal as this one. But in every sea he searched, one face was always missing. Tonight’s audience, much to his disappointment, was no different.

The crowd cheers as “Sweet Creature” fades out and the lights on stage dim. More than half of the show has already gone by and they’ve reached the point that is always a little harder to get through. Harry takes a swig from his water bottle and clears his throat to fight the lump that forms. He breathes in deeply and “Meet Me in the Hallway” begins, but no matter how hard he tries to focus on the technical aspects of his performance, it’s nearly impossible not to get dragged back into the moment when the song was written.

“I should go back,”

“H, I don’t know if that’s such a good—”

“I have to go back.”

And so he had. After two hours of pacing the airport lounge, Harry had jumped into an Uber and sped back to the hotel. It had taken another agonizing twenty minutes to explain his situation to the front desk workers and retrieve his old room key, but it was no use. He was too late. The bed was still unmade, but there was no sign of Alani save for the faint scent of Baby Honey and a gold necklace tucked away between the sheets.

The flight back to the mainland had already departed by the time Harry stumbled through the hotel lobby, and there wouldn’t be another one for three more hours. In the meantime, he decided to get some fresh air and clear his mind, hoping all the while that he would find Alani at the edge of the beach waiting to run back into his arms. She never did, and he was left with all the words he wished he had said.

I walked the streets all day

Running with the thieves

‘Cause you left me in the hallway

Just take my pain away

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Great show,” praises Rob Sheffield, author of one of Harry’s favorite books, Love is a Mix Tape. “Drummer’s incredible,”

Sarah beams and Harry flashes her a grin. “Thanks. It’s Sarah’s band, really. I’m just the frontman,”

“Well she kicked ass. All of you did, and I can tell by the way the floor was shaking that I’m not the only one who thought so.”

“Thank you so much, that means a lot.”

More guests filter in and congratulate Harry and the rest of the band, but while he sincerely appreciates all of the love, he can’t help the way his eyes flicker to the door every once in a while in the hope that someone else will straggle in. He slowly loses that hope when the room empties and the night drags on.

********

This isn’t ethical, Alani chastises herself, this is wrong on every level and you’re gonna pay. She runs her fingers over the Rolling Stone press badge in her hand and stares at the marquee towering over her. What the fuck are you doing?

“Excuse me!” Alani calls when she sees an employee slip through a side door. “Hi, I know I’m really late but I’m actually here with Rolling Stone,”

The blonde-haired woman blinks and scans over the badge with an unamused look on her face.

“Nice try,”

“No, wait,” Alani begs. “I have to get in there, please—”

“You and every other girl within a twenty-five mile radius.”

Alani takes a deep breath and re-groups. “You don’t understand. I really need to get back there, I’m working on an important piece,”

As the struggle continues, another woman in stiletto heels exits through the side door with a clipboard in tow.

“My name is Alani Hale, see? Please just—”

“Wait,” the woman with the clipboard intervenes. The name sounded strangely familiar, probably from the blacklist, in which case security would need to be notified. “What did you say your name was?”

Alani holds her badge out and swallows hard. “Alani Hale, junior writer for Rolling Stone.”

The woman checks through the blacklist but the name isn’t registered. She does a cursory glance over the V.I.P section and her finger lands on a note that reads “Mahealani ‘Alani’ Hale—Code Carolina: escort backstage and inform Mr. Styles immediately.”

“Follow me, please,”

Alani trails behind, doing her best to keep up with the long strides of the woman with the clipboard.

“Marta to security, I have a Code Carolina,” she murmurs into her ear piece. “Repeat, I have a Code Carolina.”

Alani’s heart races as they zig-zag through the arena. Did Harry know that she was coming? Had Mitch told him that they saw each other at Bisous? The answer was no, Mitch hadn’t told and Harry didn’t know. He had only hoped. Unbeknownst to Alani, her name was printed on the Madison Square Garden list and on every list of every show in all the countries scheduled. Through Paris and all through Rome, Harry had looked for her face in the crowd and he dreamed that one day his efforts wouldn’t be in vain.

“Wait here,” Marta instructs, leading Alani to a back room with mirrors, a couple of couches, and a clothing rack. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

Before she can ask any questions, Marta is gone and the sound of her heels echo down the hall. Alani takes a deep breath and her lungs are immediately filled with the familiar scent of vanilla. Her eyes carefully rake over the scene and land on a familiar white shirt hanging on the rack and the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey.”

“Thief,”

“I meant to return it.”

Alani spins on her heel and Harry stands with his fists shoved deep inside the pockets of his flared pants, eyes cast down at the floor. She tugs on the sleeves of her coat and offers a shy smile.

“It’s okay, looked better on you anyway.”

A brief silence follows and they size each other up like it’s a gunfight, each waiting to see who will draw first. His hair is longer and curlier, Alani notices, chest and shoulders broader, too. But there’s a familiarity in his creased brow and in the heart shaped curve of his cupid’s bow. Harry does his own inventory; dark, almond shaped eyes, check. Round face, cinnamon skin, check and check. Her long, wavy locks are now shoulder length, but he’d recognize the scent of Baby Honey anywhere. The two are absorbed in their own silent assessments for a moment longer, but Alani quickly gets the urge to flee after she counts too many similarities between this Harry and the one that left her with a broken heart.

“I should go,” she croaks, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have come—”

“Why did you?” Harry asks earnestly.

Alani tugs at a loose thread on her sleeve before crossing her arms. “Saw your name outside and got curious. For a while there, I started to think that maybe I imagined you,”

Harry doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he had haunted her as much as she had plagued him. He had spent so long believing that he meant nothing to her, but nevertheless, a part of him left room for her return.

“You did, this is a hologram projection,”

Alani smiles and her shoulders relax at his humor. It really was him.

“Did you enjoy—”

“I didn’t see the show—” they speak at the same time, eager words overlapping.

“Oh,” Harry laughs softly. “You didn’t miss much,”

Alani shakes her head and takes a single step forward. “No, that’s not true. I’m sure it was amazing,”

Harry offers a coy grin, the shadow of a dimple on his left cheek. One hand emerges from his pocket and his knuckle brushes against the tip of his nose. Alani catches sight of the silver rose on his finger and she still remembers how it feels under the pad of her thumb.

“Are you hungry?” he asks softly, pulling her from her reverie.

“What?”

“Have dinner with me?”

Alani blinks, her throat suddenly dry. “Oh. Well I don’t know, I don’t wanna interrupt—”

“Never an interruption,” Harry assures her.

She nods and he takes a step back.

“M’gonna go change,” he explains. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“What, you don’t wear custom Marc Jacobs suits to dinner?” She teases.

He grins, amused, and continues backing away towards the door before correcting her. “It’s Gucci.”

Alani rolls her eyes and he disappears into the hallway.

When Harry reemerges in a beanie, puffy coat, and light wash denim jeans, he leads them through a series of tunnels and exits.

“Where are we going?” Alani asks, bracing herself for the snow outside.

“It’s a surprise.” he offers and she doesn’t fight him on it.

********

“We’re not eating here?”

A soft smile falls on Harry’s lips. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed her incessant questioning.

“No,” he replies, opening the passenger door with one hand and passing her the bag that contains their dinner. “Too crowded,”

“Oh,”

It made sense that Harry would want to keep a low profile and avoid any possible paparazzi sightings of the two of them, but it still felt strange to worry about such things after they had lived so carefree in Hawai’i. But that was then, and this was now, things had inevitably changed.

“D’you wanna play some music?” Harry asks, settling behind the wheel. The parallels between this moment and their first excursion together make her chest tighten.

“How about,” Alani starts. “Your album? Since I didn’t get to hear it live,”

Harry’s breathing hitches. “Well, I dunno—”

“Please?”

He meets her pleading eyes momentarily and, against his better judgment, agrees.

“What’s it called?” she questions.

“It’s just my name,”

“Self-titled, very classy. I like it,”

“I thought about calling it Sign of the Times,” Harry reveals. “But it’s already been done before,”

Alani hums. “Prince,”

“Yeah,” he nods. “But then I also thought about going with ‘Pink,’ because, you know, when in doubt—”

“Go with the pink one,” they say in unison and Alani smiles softly. How had he remembered that?

“And it’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” she continues.

Harry beams. “Exactly. But then Jeff suggested that we just go with the name. Simple, but effective,”

“Okay, so now that we’ve got the background,” Alani pokes. “And you’ve sufficiently distracted me, can I listen now?”

He swallows and checks the GPS, still twenty-five minutes to go.

“How about we hold off,” he suggests. “Just for now so we can listen to the full thing and really soak it in?”

Alani backs off. “Alright, deal.”

She presses shuffle on the playlist of her frequently played songs for the month and immediately regrets doing so. Clearing her throat, she goes to press skip but Harry stops her.

“S’a good one.” he says gently, so Alani lets Adele fill the awkward space.

If you’re gonna let me down

Let me down gently don’t pretend

That you don’t want me

Our love ain’t water under the bridge

********

Harry opens the passenger door and Alani steps out, her eyes squinting to make out any recognizable landmarks in their surroundings. They remain a comfortable two feet apart and make their way to the entrance of what appears to be some sort of greenhouse. Alani is filled with more confusion, but she doesn’t ask further questions until they reach the white double doors.

“What?” Harry questions. “Never been to the New York Botanical Garden?”

Alani’s eyes widen. “The—wait, you—we’re?”

“After you,” he chuckles lightly, opening the doors.

“Are we even allowed? I mean is it open?”

“I pulled some strings,”

She enters cautiously, immediately met with an archway of blush colored flowers and string lights that takes her breath away. A long, narrow pond in the center reflects the image back and creates a kaleidoscope of pink, green, and golden hues.

“How did you,” Alani begins, at a complete loss for words. “Who are you?”

Harry nods in the direction of an adjacent hallway. “There’s a ballroom set up for a wedding tomorrow night, but Jim said we could crash as long as we clean up after ourselves,”

“Jim?”

“The director.”

“Of course.”

Sure enough, round tables with cream colored tablecloth and elaborate floral centerpieces are arranged around the room. A delicate, yet undoubtedly expensive, chandelier twinkles in the center of the room and casts such a warm glow that Alani momentarily forgets about the snow outside.

“Dig in,” Harry instructs, setting the pasta on the table in front of them.

Alani sits and gently sheds her winter coat as he does the same. Underneath his jacket, Harry wears a yellow shirt that catches her eye with the words “treat people with kindness” printed in black lettering. She freezes when she spots a gold chain with a sun and moon pendant nestled comfortably between above the words.

“How is everyone?” Alani questions politely to shift her attention. “Mitch, Tom, Jeff,”

“They’re good, yeah,” he nods. “How’re Freddie and your family?”

“They’re fine, and he’s living his blissful little life,”

“Good for him. Miss his cuddles,”

And yours, Harry thinks, but he pulls back. Alani offers a shy laugh and thinks about the elephant in the room yet to be addressed: the break-up. It’s worth discussing, but she sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to bring it up.

“And how’ve you been?” Harry asks when the silence stretches out for too long.

Alani chews and ponders the question. “Good. Been working a lot,”

“Where at?”

“Rolling Stone,”

“Really?” he beams. “That’s incredible, congratulations,”

“Thank you,” she replies graciously.

Harry’s chin rests in his palm and he twirls a noodle around his fork. “So you live here?”

“Yeah, in the Village,”

“Wow. Greenwich Village, a real city-slicker now. Traded Stevie in for the Holland Tunnel?”

A bittersweet smile spreads across Alani’s lips at the memory of her beloved Bronco. “Sadly, yes. And you?”

“Malibu,” Harry divulges. “I hate the cold.”

“It’s not so bad. You can always cuddle up with the giant rats,” she jokes, which makes his nose scrunch.

“I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that,”

“Speaking of pretend,” Alani wiggles her brows. “You were in a movie after all,”

“I was,”

“I didn’t watch it, sorry,”

Harry feigns offense and Alani quickly back pedals. “I don’t like war movies!”

“And you hated my guts.” he teases, though it pains him that there might be some truth to his words.

Alani shakes her head and fights the urge to reach across the table for his hand. “No, not really. It was kind of the opposite, actually.”

Harry’s eye wanders to the outside of Alani’s wrist and a faint smile creeps across his face when he spots the black outline of a crescent moon. He wonders if there are any new inked designs that he isn’t aware of. Despite all the time that has elapsed, there is a familiarity in her presence that he hadn’t felt even in the comforts of his California residence. It was like kicking off your shoes in the doorway after a long trip. It was like coming home.

They finish their meal and continue their light-hearted banter into the night. Harry tells his favorite stories from tour and Alani wishes more than anything that she could have been there. She details the events of her own busy life in New York and the highlights of working for Rolling Stone, one of which being the time that she got to meet Stevie Nicks in the flesh.

“Did you tell her about your car?” Harry presses enthusiastically.

“No way,” Alani chuckles, draining the last of her drink. “I wasn’t gonna embarrass myself in front of the Supreme,”

“I think she would’ve found it flattering,”

“Naming your child after someone is flattering, not a car,”

Harry shrugs. “I think it’s cute,”

“Yeah well,” Alani sighs. “You’re not like most people,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She mulls it over, studying the familiar sea glass irises that she never thought she’d see again. What had Alani meant by that statement? Truthfully, she didn’t know if she could put it into words, nor had she meant to say them in the first place. But something about Harry always made her feel brave, like she could speak her mind uncensored and he would understand without even trying.

“I just meant that you’re, you know,” she starts. “Not judgemental. Like, I could tell you that I think I’m part alien and you’d probably try to help me find my home planet,”

Harry laughs and leans forward with his elbows on the table, an unspoken challenge for Alani to continue her thoughts.

“You make people feel seen and heard,” she says finally with a wistful look in her eye. “I mean, why do you think all those people lined up to see you tonight?”

The last part of her statement is a deflection from what she really wants to say, which is that Harry makes her feel seen and heard. Despite all the time and space between them, it was still true and it terrified her. There was only so much bravery that Harry’s presence could evoke. The mood shifts suddenly when Alani’s phone buzzes and the name “Mason” with a pink heart emoji lights up the screen next to her glass of water. Harry hadn’t meant to look and he deeply regrets that he did.

“You have a boyfriend,” he comments dejectedly, and though he hadn’t meant it to be accusatory, all words carry the sting of judgment when falling on guilty ears.

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ve stayed celibate this entire time,” Alani bites back.

Harry’s brow furrows. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” she apologizes, standing with her coat.

“Wait,” he jumps up. “What just happened?”

“I have to go—”

“Just stop for a minute, please,”

Alani stops in her tracks and turns back to face Harry slowly. His jaw is tight and the crease between his eyebrows is deeper than she remembers.

“I’m sorry,” she begins carefully. “Thank you for tonight, but I really shouldn’t be here—”

Harry’s eyes clamp shut and he runs a frustrated hand through his messy curls.

“Can you stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by leaving and just talk to me?”

“What do you want me to say?” Alani pushes back. “‘I’m sorry that I saw your name in flashing lights and I got caught trying to spy on you’?”

“Alani—”

“‘I’m sorry that I tried to move on’?”

“Stop apologizing—”

“I’m sorry that I fell in love and fucked it all up because I was afraid and I’m sorry that I betrayed the one person who meant everything to me,”

Silence falls between them and the only sound is the sniffling of Alani’s nose as she tries, and fails, to hold back the emotions that pour over.

“That’s why I went,” she continues, voice wavering. “Because I’m selfish and I couldn’t stay away. Every single day, I’m reminded of how royally I screwed everything up and it tears me apart, so I went to try to make things right and take some of that pain away. Even though I hurt you and there’s nothing I can ever do to change that,”

Harry swallows hard and his eyes sting, but Alani speaks up again before he can respond.

“So please,” she begs. “Please, just let me finally do something right by you and let me go,”

He takes a cautious step forward and shakes his head. “I don’t want to,”

They both hold their breaths, anticipating the other person’s next draw.

“And maybe that makes me selfish too,” Harry adds. “‘Cause I went back that day, back to the hotel,”

Alani blinks. “You did?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Because I wasn’t mad that you published the article, I was scared that it was the only reason you were with me—”

“Harry—”

“But then I realized that I didn’t care,” he laughs dryly. “Because I still loved you, and I figured that having you— having just a little bit of your heart and your attention—was worth it, even if you didn’t really love me back,”

He takes another step forward and the toes of their shoes nearly touch. “And maybe I’m being selfish now by asking you to stay, but you’re not the only one trying to get rid of the pain,”

Alani takes a shallow breath and studies the eagerness in his eyes. The sight makes her chest pound.

“I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt,” she whispers. “But I meant every word I said, you were everything to me. You were the sun that my life revolved around and I was terrified of losing you because the truth is that I hate the cold, too,”

Harry gently reaches a hand up to her cheek and Alani leans into the warmth of his touch.

“Can I show you something?”

You and your goddamn surprises. “Yes.”

He leads them down several winding hallways before flicking a light on in the gallery. Alani’s heart stops when she sees it.

“Not quite as impressive as the real thing,” Harry offers. “But Ms. O’Keeffe did a pretty damn good job,”

An original Georgia O’Keeffe painting of a waterfall, their waterfall, the one that Alani had mentioned all that time ago, is displayed proudly on the wall before them. A replica had hung above the bed they shared on many nights and all at once a faint memory resurfaces.

“Where did you say the original was?”

“New York Botanical Garden,”

“M’gonna take you one day,”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Alani takes a step closer to the artwork and examines the details of the oil on canvas. A few steps behind, Harry is only concerned with her reaction and pays little attention to the piece of art on display. As far as he was concerned, Alani was the only one worth admiring.

“Do you remember what you told me when I asked why you went to the falls to write?” Alani asks.

Of course Harry had, but he remains silent to let her continue.

“You said that you liked going there,” she adds, deliberate. “Because it made you forget about every bad thing that ever happened to you, because none of it was real in comparison to the feeling of standing in front of that waterfall,”

Harry nods gently, but he still doesn’t speak.

“Do you know what that feeling is called?”

“No,”

“It’s called home,” Alani says softly, turning to face him. “It’s what I felt, what I feel, when I’m with you,”

His breath hitches and he stands frozen as she carefully walks toward him.

“And while we’re making wishes come true,” she smiles delicately. “I never told you what I wished for the day we saw that rainbow,”

“What did you wish for?” Harry searches.

Alani’s eyes fall to his parted lips. “That you would kiss me.”

His mouth curls at the edges and he releases a long breath. “Think maybe I can deliver on that one, too.”

Harry leans in, ever so slightly, and Alani closes the gap. They had been standing mere inches apart, but the meeting of their lips bridges an entire chasm. Over and over again, like waves against the shore, their mouths collide desperately as they pull each other closer with no intentions of ever letting go.

********

February 14, 2018

“Comment est le temps?”

Alani peers up at Harry and shields her eyes from the sun behind his back. “What does that mean?”

He grins softly and kisses the top of her head before taking a seat on the balcony next to her.

“Means ‘how’s the weather?’,”

“Oh,” she leans over, lips puckered for a kiss. “Full of perfectly Parisian sunshine,”

“Try sayin’ that ten times fast,”

Alani swipes his pink, heart shaped sunglasses and slips them onto the bridge of her nose with a contented sigh. Ahead, the Eiffel tower stands proudly in the distance and the lenses of her glasses tint the entire scene in a picturesque rosy glow.

“La Ville de L’amour,” she hums. “Did I say that right?”

“Oui,”

“Hey, you know what I saw on the room service menu?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, what?”

“Piña coladas,” Alani wiggles her brows. “Think they deliver at midnight?”

He chuckles lightly and his hand takes purchase on her knee. “They better,”

“Never had a Parisian piña colada. Sounds romantic, though.”

“Sure does, sweets.”

Alani stands and reaches for Harry’s hand. He accepts and rises to his feet, pulling her close. Below, the sounds of the city serenade them as they gently sway in the chilly breeze. When Harry feels Alani shiver, he hugs her to his chest and rests his chin comfortably on the top of her head. She feels his steady heartbeat against her cheek and smiles softly, fingertips smoothing up and down his back.

“Are you ready for Valentine’s Day surprise number one?” he asks, pulling away slightly to meet her eyes.

She narrows her eyes. “Where are we going?”

Harry pulls back with a mischievous smile, hands still attached to hers, and leads them back inside.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Alani giggles but she doesn’t push. Instead, she happily follows him out of their room, down the hall, and into the bustling streets of Paris.

We don’t know where we’re going

But we know where we belong

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

It’s hard when we argue

We’re both stubborn

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road

You bring me home

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #ybmh #so!!!! that's all folks <3

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cicada-bones · 3 years

Text

The Warrior and the Wildfire

Chapter 1: Return to Mistward

Here we go! the first chapter of my rowan POV of Queen of Shadows! Please let me know what you think!

tw for thoughts of self harm, very minor

word count: 3832

Masterlist / Ao3 / Next Chapter

Rowan awoke abruptly, gasping and retching over the side of the bed. Bile pooled in his throat, and it was an effort to keep from vomiting up the meager contents of his stomach onto the cold stone floors of the fortress.

It had been the dream, the same dream. The visions that had tormented him for what now felt like months – though it had barely been a week since they had begun.

Aelin on her knees. Maeve towering before her, darkness wafting in deep pools around her feet. Black iron everywhere, keeping her chained to the floor. Keeping his queen locked in place.

Lorcan and Rowan appeared beside Maeve, whips clutched between their fingers. Aelin looked at him with betrayal in her eyes, and Rowan had to watch as he and Lorcan cut her skin to ribbons. As they cut her just like the men of the salt mines had cut her. As her master had cut her.

Maeve just laughed.

And that was usually when the screaming began. They were Lyria’s screams, but they fell from Aelin’s lips.

Rowan knew they were loud, knew the sounds coming from his queen were enough to echo through the castle, to shake its very foundation. But somehow, in the dream, he felt distant. Removed from them.

The sounds of her agony brushed his face like rose petals. Like a silver mist.

Cool. Soft.

And yet they made his heart pound through his chest, hammer and chisel on stone, splintering it apart. Piece. By. Piece.

Even now, he could still feel those screams radiating through his very being. Rippling through his soul like a rung bell. It felt as though their tender sound would never leave him.

It made Rowan want to tear out his own throat.

But instead, he slowly sat up, taking in slow breath after slow breath. Trying in vain to calm his pounding blood.

Rowan had been in Mistward for eight days now. Eight long days, and eight even longer nights. And he still hadn’t gotten used to sleeping in an empty bed. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to it again.

It felt wrong to sleep in this bed without Aelin by his side. A bed they had shared for months, long enough for Rowan to get used to balancing himself on the edge of the mattress. Long enough for him to get used to hiding his desire from her, particularly in the mornings.

Her scent still lingered, almost like a friendly ghost haunting the stone alcoves. But soon, even that would be gone. Along with her muddy boots and lent garments.

Rowan had always slept on the side of the bed facing the door, providing Aelin as much protection as he could – even in his sleep. Aelin got the window side, where often, the moonlight would stretch its fingers across her golden hair, marking it with silver.

Now, it felt like an invasion to spread out, to brush against her side of the bed. To touch her moonlight.

So Rowan kept to his edge, and let the moon mark the empty space where his Fireheart used to rest.

For a while Rowan just lay there, letting himself be completely useless. Wallowing. But as the minutes slid past like hours, and Deanna finally slipped below the horizon to allow Mala to stretch her golden fingers over the land, Rowan dragged himself out of bed and prepared to face the day.

Each piece of steel he strapped to his clothes felt heavier than the last.

Rowan wandered down to the kitchens, his boots silent in the fortress corridors. It was still early, and Mistward was quite awake yet. But the kitchens, as usual, had been bustling with energy long before dawn.

From the top of the stairs, Rowan could hear chopping vegetables, the quick opening and closing of the bread ovens, the cursing of burnt fingers. The melody of Luca and Emrys preparing for the breakfast rush.

Rowan slid in as quietly as he could, grabbing a mug of stew and snatching a loaf of bread when Emrys’ eyes were averted, then retreated to a back corner to wolf it down.

“Hurry up with those vegetables, Luca! No time to waste – the stock should have started simmering over 15 minutes ago!”

“I’m sorry Emrys, it’s just that Elentiya used to deal with this.” Luca frantically shoved the mixed vegetables into a pot, and moved on to carving at a mysterious slab of meat. Roast duck, perhaps?

“I know I know.” Emrys said, exasperated. “Just get it done. Malakai will be down in a minute to take you away, and then I’m going to have to finish this all myself.”

As if the old male had summoned him, Malakai appeared in the entranceway, his lined face haggard with missed sleep. He nodded at Rowan, then snuck behind Emrys to embrace him.

“See? What did I say,” Emrys teased, a smile in his voice, “Now I’ll be without both my helpers to get breakfast on the table.” He snuck a kiss on his mate’s cheek, then twisted out of his grip to stir a massive vat of scrambled eggs, grabbing a handful of chopped chives from Luca’s cutting board and tossing them in.

Luca started working more furiously than ever, cutting bread into slices and portioning soup into bowls. Malakai reluctantly let go of his mate, then, surprisingly, looked up at Rowan.

“Prince Whitethorn,” he cleared his throat lightly. “Thrain has asked if I would join him beneath the fortress today, to help install the new iron gate. And Randall is over at the healer’s compound this morning, so – ”

Rowan frowned. He thought he knew where this was going. “ – would it be alright if you took Luca on patrol this morning?”

Rowan sighed. It wasn’t like he had anything more important to do. He gave the male a small nod, then said, “Emrys, if you need him this morning, it can wait until after breakfast is done.”

The old male didn’t even look up from the stove. “Thank you, Prince Rowan. Now Luca – ” Emrys gave the young male a daunting list of instructions, the boy’s face noticeably paling.

Malakai nodded at Rowan once again, kissed his mate, grabbed one of Luca’s slices of bread and cheese, then disappeared out the kitchen door, presumably to head for the tunnels beneath the fortress.

Rowan finished eating just as the demi-Fae began to arrive, told Luca he would be back in an hour, then left out the back door and headed into the forest, his limbs stretching into a slow, loping run.

This wasn’t the first time he had taken charge of Luca’s training since his return to Mistward, and he was starting to realize that he rather liked the young demi-Fae. No matter that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He was almost like a very, very young Connall – always full of questions, and going around with that naïve, bright-eyed innocence. So impressionable.

His run slowly transformed into a sprint, his muscles burning with exertion.

It was strange to feel the boy beginning to warm up to him after all these months. Finally opening up, and asking all those questions burning on his lips. And it was nice that Malakai and Emrys seemed to trust Rowan with him, even if it was just to guide him through the basics of sparring, or run with him around the borders of the fortress’ lands.

Rowan knew that Malakai and Emrys were at least a little bit confused as to why Rowan was back, but they hadn’t asked too many questions, for which he was grateful. Malakai and the other leaders wanted an update on the events in Doranelle and to know the Queen’s response to the Adarlanian attack, but all Emrys wanted to know was whether Elentiya was all right.

Rowan told them as little as he could, saying that he had informed Maeve of the details of Adarlan’s attack on the fortress, that she was responding accordingly and would keep them informed through the usual channels. He told them that Elentiya was on her way back to Adarlan, and that he was here on his queen’s orders.

Rowan just didn’t specify exactly which queen had ordered him to return, and they did not ask. But somehow, he thought that Emrys suspected. That male seemed to be able to see through anything.

Rowan felt that Emrys and Malakai were wondering why he hadn’t gone with Aelin, but they didn’t say anything. And for that, Rowan was even more grateful. Because he didn’t have an answer to give them. He barely had an answer to give himself.

Rowan knew that Aelin hadn’t been telling him the whole truth on that pier, but he hadn’t wanted to push. She deserved her space, deserved to go back to Adarlan alone, with a clean slate and without a hulking ass like him hanging on her coattails at every moment. Even if it drove him completely insane.

Rowan’s feet pounded into the earth as he sprinted through the trees. Maybe this morning he would reach as far as the sea.

By the time they said goodbye, the captain’s scent had completely left her own. There was no trace of him left. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t still want him, or that when Rowan saw her again, the scent wouldn’t have returned.

There was also that prince, the Havilliard boy. They were friends, at the very least. And surely a match between their two houses would be politically advantageous. The first daughter of Brannon Galathynius, and the first son of Gavin Havilliard, combining their houses? Certainly something Aelin would be considering.

Rowan ripped past a patch of thorns, their barbs digging into the skin of his forearms. He didn’t pause.

Aelin had only mentioned her cousin a few times, just in passing, but Rowan had heard of Aedion Ashryver. Knew all the stories about the wolf of the north. Even knew about the rumors that had circulated, several times over, that a marriage would be arranged between the two of them.

It could be a smart match, the two cousins. Aedion was respected and admired throughout the western continent, and beloved by his people. It would solidify Aelin’s position within Terrasen, and secure her more support within her nation. He even had his own legion of soldiers he could promise to her cause.

Rowan’s breaths were sharp in his throat. He pushed himself even harder.

Then there was the matter of her former master. Aelin had never been clear about her relationship with Arobynn Hamel, whether he was father, brother, or…lover. The word turned Rowan’s stomach.

He was now practically flying through the trees.

Aelin had told him that she needed to go to Adarlan alone because Rowan would be too much of a distraction, that he would only make things harder for her if he went with her. And that was true, at least in part. But Rowan thought that the real reason she wanted to go alone was because she needed to deal with Chaol and Arobynn without him there to complicate things.

Arobynn… Rowan sighed, gritting his teeth. Rowan wasn’t sure he had ever desired the death of another human being more than he had Arobynn Hamel’s.

Aelin had been so hesitant, so reluctant to say anything about her former master. But those scars spoke volumes.

He had chained her, had abused her, manipulated her, and then beat her bloody. He had tortured and killed her lover. Her Sam. And then he had sent her to the salt mines, where she was whipped and starved and had nearly been destroyed.

Rowan wanted to tear Arobynn limb from limb, wanted to rip out his fingernails and chain him up in the dark and leave him there until he started to lose grip on what was real and what wasn’t. There was no torture too extreme, no punishment that he didn’t deserve.

But if Aelin decided to forgive him, decided to let that monster back into her life, Rowan would have to live with it.

And it killed him.

Killed him to have her headed over that sea, towards enemies who had already nearly succeeded in killing her, and who had tried over and over and over again. And most of all, it killed him because he had no idea when he would see her again. No idea if he would ever see her again.

His legs kept pushing him forwards, his lungs fighting to keep up.

She didn’t want him. Aelin didn’t want him by her side.

Another ragged breath.

He would learn to live with it. Would learn to deal with that burden.

In. Out. Forwards.

Aelin would marry another, be it for love or politics. And Rowan would be there for her no matter what. That was the promise he had made, and that was the promise he would keep.

So he ran, pushing through the undergrowth until he could feel the sea air on his cheeks, until the wind whispered of caves and sand and foam and spray. Rowan sprinted right up to the cliffs, jerking to a stop.

He looked out over the deep blue water with sharp, determined eyes. As if he looked hard enough, he would be able to see her on her little ship, sailing away from him across the blue ocean.

But of course, the sea was as empty as it always was.

His breaths ripped through his chest, but before they calmed, Rowan had already shifted into his hawk and was soaring through the sea-tossed air. Heading back over the trees he had just run between.

This run had become a part of his routine. And while he told himself it was just exercise, he knew that it was really so he could run over the paths he had spent so much time with Aelin on. So he could feel like she was still with him, even fleetingly.

What had taken him nearly an hour to travel on foot took him barely minutes in the air. And soon, he was swooping down over the fortress and shifting to land on his feet outside the kitchen door to collect Luca.

Ever since the battle, the ward stones had been useless and silent, the barriers permanently fallen. Rowan had spent some time examining them, and though he could find no obvious flaw in the ancient stone, he also could find no remedy. Their magic was simply spent, and it would not come back.

As a result, the residents of Mistward had spent a significant amount of time and energy on designing replacements to secure the fortress; higher walls, stronger battlements, sturdier outer gate, larger drawbridge. These improvements were well underway by the time Rowan had returned a week past, and he had gladly thrown himself into the effort.

Even now, as he waited outside the kitchen for Luca to arrive, he could see various workers laying the foundation for the new gate and battlements, and others pulling a large wagon filled with quarried stone for the outer wall. Rowan would likely spend his afternoon among them, either with the men in the small quarry a mile or so away, harvesting stone blocks, or with those who were currently building the scaffolding to contain the stones as they were laid in place.

He wasn’t exactly looking forwards to it. The days were getting hotter as summer grew nearer, and though the day had barely begun, it already was promising to be sweltering.

Luca finally appeared at the door, Emrys’ voice calling from across the room reminding him to be careful, and that he would see him in the evening for the dinner rush, and to stay safe. Rowan disguised a small smile.

Luca glanced up at him briefly, then jerked his eyes away and skittered out of the entrance, making for the fortress gates. Rowan followed without a word.

“Malakai told me I was supposed to run the southern perimeter, and then work on my sparring forms.” Luca’s eyes met his, then flitted away again. Luca’s scent was mellow, buttered toast and apple slices, but right now it was sharp with anxiety and excitement.

Rowan nodded at the boy, and they took off towards the south, passing by sentries who waved and smiled at Luca, but didn’t seem to know how to greet Rowan. Most looked down and away, or raised their hands in half a wave which they quickly gave up on. Rowan ignored them.

Public opinion of him had shifted since the battle, but not by that much.

They ran in silence for a while, Rowan alert and watchful, though they found nothing of interest. Luca was demi-Fae, but since he couldn’t shift, they were confined to a much slower pace than Rowan was used to. Meaning a run that would have taken him minutes, took them over an hour.

By the time they stopped for water, Luca was panting, but determined. Rowan handed the boy the water skin, which he eagerly gulped down. Rowan stripped off his light cotton shirt, now soaked in sweat, and hung it up on a branch at the edge of the clearing.

Luca’s voice floated over to him, “Do you think Elentiya is ever going to come back?”

Rowan paused for a moment. “I don’t know, Luca. But I don’t think so.”

His brow was furrowed. “How long are you going to stay here then?”

“I don’t know that either.”

The boy almost laughed. “I used to think that you knew everything.”

“No one knows everything.”

Luca shook his head slightly, glancing around the forest, his lips curved upwards into a sly grin. “But I still thought you did – well, if not everything, then at least everything important. Bas – ” Luca’s voice stumbled a bit over the other boy’s name, “he tried to tell me different, but I refused to listen to him.”

Rowan’s heart sunk. Bas. He had been so young, only a little bit older than Luca. He hadn’t known any better, had just wanted what everyone did – to be accepted. To be safe.

“I killed him, did you know that?” Luca’s gaze turned to Rowan’s. “I was the one who killed him.”

Rowan nodded. “I guessed.”

His eyes jerked away again, his feet scuffing the earth. “I still forget that he’s gone, sometimes. But it was the right thing – what I did. Wasn’t it?”

Rowan sighed, frowning slightly. Luca looked back up at him, worried. “The world is a complicated place,” Rowan said finally. “Answers are almost never as easy as that. But yes, Luca. I think that you did the right thing.”

The boy’s face darkened, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

Rowan let the silence continue, just waiting. Knowing that he might be the only person who could soothe this ache for the young demi-Fae. It was a responsibility that he didn’t take lightly.

“Sometimes – ” he broke off, and though his face was turned away, Rowan could see that his eyes were lined with silver. “Sometimes I wonder whether I still want to become a warrior.”

Rowan considered his answer carefully before he responded. “Warriors are many things, Luca, not just soldiers. Malakai has been a warrior all his life, but his days are filled with the duties of a leader, not with violence.”

“That wasn’t really what I meant.”

Rowan waited.

“I meant – I’m not sure why I’m doing this anymore. I mean why do I even want to be let into Doranelle? It doesn’t seem much better over there than it is here.”

“Then let me ask you a question in return,” he said plainly. “Do you think that what you’re learning is worthwhile?”

Another pause. “Yes…” Luca said slowly. “Or at least I think so.”

“Then I would say don’t worry about whether or not you will pass your tests, and be let into Doranelle.” Rowan turned, and began walking through the clearing, scanning it over. “Many demi-Fae come here, and spend all of their time wishing to be somewhere else. Then when they don’t achieve that goal, they end up lost, and angry.” Rowan grabbed a long, sturdy stick from the ground and turned back to the young demi-Fae. “Instead focus on what you are in control of.”

Rowan threw the stick over to Luca, who caught it just before it smacked him in the face. The boy wiped at his eyes, then nodded.

“Are you ready?” Rowan asked.

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

Rowan guided him through the basic sparring forms, grabbing another stick for himself as they staged mock battles. They exchanged choreographed blows until the sun began to pull them into midday, and they returned to Mistward.

Luca traipsed off to join the other young sentries, and Rowan spent the rest of the afternoon toiling over a ten-foot section of the new outer wall, laboriously hauling piles of stone and fitting them into place with smeared vats of pale-grey grout.

It was hard, physical labor. The kind that filled your muscles with a satisfying soreness at the end of the day. But it did not fill his mind.

Instead, Rowan spent the afternoon mulling over his conversation with Luca.

That boy really did have a way of worming through other people’s barriers.

But it was more than just that. It had almost reminded Rowan of living in his uncle’s house, when he was still learning the fighting arts and was recovering from the deaths of his parents. He had been surrounded by cousins, both younger and older. And today with Luca – that is what it had been like back then. Learning and teaching alike, giving comfort and advice when asked.

It was a time so distant, it felt strange in Rowan’s mind. Like they were the memories of another, completely separate person. Someone who didn’t exist anymore.

But this morning, he had reappeared. If only for a moment.

It was like putting on old clothes, made unfamiliar by time. The memory stretched tight over his new frame.

Rowan realized that he missed Sellene and Endymion and all the rest, missed their mess and chaos, and the countless children underfoot. It wasn’t likely he would see them again anytime soon. Nor that their meeting would be under anything resembling decent circumstances.

When they ate dinner that evening, Luca sat at Rowan’s table. They didn’t say anything to each other, but Rowan recognized the gesture for what it was.

And that night, when Rowan finally curled up at the edge of his mattress, his thoughts fell to family. To children. And what they would look like if he shared them with Aelin.

Rowan gritted his teeth at the idea, but he was unable to banish it. And so those thoughts coaxed him slowly to sleep, where he lay in the fortress of stone, surrounded by silver mist.

Just barely out of reach of the moonlight.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Next Chapter

···

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#warrior and the wildfire #watw #rowaelin #rowan pov #rpov

93 notes · View notes

fireflyinsummer · 4 years

Text

Gymnopédie | myg

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: mostly angst, but a lil’ bit of fluff, too

> words: 8.3k

> warnings: blood, mentions of sex, car crash, violence, kidnapping, swearing

> summary: you had two options. number one: trust your desires and risk losing yourself. or number two: be rational about it and come to terms with the fact that, even though you’ve been dating for quite a while, he never uttered those three words, the ones you craved the most. and that’s not all he’s been keeping from you.

a/n: well, that’s a shitty summary. it’d be cool if you gave this a chance, though. i really enjoyed myself while writing it, especially towards the end. feedback is always welcome, it means a lot <3 anyways, thank you! hope you like it.

[11:32 PM]

You let the robe slip through your skin and immediately shivered. The bathroom was cold, and you were alone. Again. As your body sank in the hot, comforting water, you felt your muscles relaxing. It was like a hug, really. And you needed one. With a sigh, you went through the night in your head again. Every kiss, every touch. Sometimes it felt so meaningful, so real. So why didn’t he say it back? Why does he never say it back? You were exhausted from having to deal with those questions all the time. It was always at the back of your mind when you were with him, haunting, lurking. You never had the guts to be vocal about them, though. Wouldn’t be able to bear if you got the wrong answer, so it was best to give him time. How much more does he need, though? Maybe he just didn’t. That thought made you shiver again, but not from the cold this time.

“Angel”. Lost inside your own head, you didn’t notice when he entered the bathroom. He was so beautiful. Even when he didn’t mean to be – he hardly ever did, he was just so… himself. There was really no better way to put it. His dark hair was beautifully disheveled, covering his entire forehead. He wore grey sweatpants that hugged his hips perfectly. That sight alone made you want him again. “You’ve been there for a while now. Aren’t you coming to bed?”. It was so easy to pretend when he talked to you like this. To forget he never actually said he loved you, even though you’ve lost count on how many times that sentence had slipped through your lips. He’d always kiss you sweetly after that, but never uttered a word. For a while, you just thought he was having trouble expressing himself. He was never really comfortable when it came to opening up, letting his feelings on display. But as time passed by, you couldn’t find any more excuses. Deep down, you knew. You knew he couldn’t say it simply because he couldn’t lie. It has been that way for two years now.

And, as much as it hurt in the beginning, nothing could compare to the pang you felt in your chest now. Because you just couldn’t picture your life without him anymore. You loved him too much, you could never recover from that, you were sure of it. He could destroy you completely if he said the right things. Or if he didn’t. So, every time your whispered confessions were met with a morbid silence and a few pecks on the mouth, your stomach churned. Suddenly it was cold poison in your veins, not warm blood. But he never seemed to notice. He hadn’t noticed much lately, always busy with work, always too tired to even give you a chance to say it out loud. Angel, I don’t think I’ll be able to come to dinner tonight, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. He never did. He never tried. It was odd to have him home this time at night, really. For the past few months, you’ve hardly ever had time for each other.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be there in a minute”, you tried your best to put out a convincing smile. He nodded and closed the door again. “God…”, you muttered under your breath. That night, when you finally escaped your prison of a mind, you found him already asleep. Except he wasn’t. He hadn’t been able to sleep much lately.

[7:13 AM]

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed. His scent was still lingering, and it made you miss him even more. He used to wake you up with lazy kisses all over your face so you could have breakfast together – that often lead to the best morning sex, too.

But dreamland must be put on hold now, you were late for work. Realizing that, you kicked the sheets off your body and rushed towards the bathroom for a quick shower. There was an important meeting that day and you definitely could not be late.

You worked for a big publishing company as a personal assistant. Your boss, Michael Stewart, was a living breathing nightmare of and editor. And a jerk, but you were getting used to it by now. He liked his coffee black, no sugar. Suits him. His wife was the picture of perfection, but that never stopped him from crossing boundaries with some of his coworkers. Word on the street was that he was using his desk for shady purposes when a rather noisy Mrs. Daisy from the copy machine went to see him.

“Y/N? Wait!”, a breathless Brianna called out, causing you to stop on your tracks.

“Morning, B. What’s up?”, you offered her a heartfelt smile when she caught up to you.

“I’m good, I’m good”, she smiled mischievously. “So, how’s mister sunshine today? I bet the prospect of this meeting is eating the man alive. I feel terrible for you.”

“No, you don’t”

“I don’t. But only because I love seeing him nervous. Seems like he’ll suddenly combust any moment now”, she whispered while the two of you entered the conference room, earning a little giggle from you.

“Oh, the fine line between love and hate. I see right through you, miss B.”, you tried to taunt her.

“Y/N, I swear to God…”, she seemed truly revolted by your words, but quickly recovered. “Well, it’s not my ass he eats with his eyes every now and then”, she teased. It made you want to regurgitate breakfast, but you let it go as soon as you saw him at the end of the table, looking quite pale and skittish.

“Good morning, Mr. Stewart.”, you greeted him and placed his coffee on the wooden surface. He tried to give you his usual flirty grin, but failed. Instead, it came out as an awkward grimace. It was fun seeing him nervous.

[10:47 PM]

It had been a long day. Michael had put you through hell because, apparently, it was your fault that he had forgotten to bring the signed papers to the meeting. He was stubborn and could never bring himself to plead guilty for something he’d done, so you were always to blame when things went south. You hated that. Specially ‘cause you knew you could do his job better than he did. But patience is a virtue, so you just called your business partners and rescheduled. Which was a shame, you were really hoping to see how’d that particular book deal go.

You entered the apartment with a deep sigh, dropping your keys on the balcony and getting out of your murderous shoes. Everything was dark, so you figured he wasn’t home. “Surprising”, you murmured to no one in particular.

“What is?”, the unexpected answer made you jump on your feet.

“Fuck”, you gasped, fear making it’s way to your voice and giving it a pitched quality. “Yoongi? Why are you in complete darkness? You scared the shit out of me”. You turned on the lights and finally situated yourself. He was sitting on his black armchair, eyes fixed on a glass of what you just assumed to be whiskey. Neat. Just how he liked it.

“Sorry, angel. Didn’t mean to frighten you”, he said as he got up, walking towards you slowly, elegantly, awfully like a feline predator. Maybe a black panther. He cupped your face with his unoccupied hand and you immediately felt little shock waves spread through your body. His touch was warm and inviting, leading you to let out a shaky breath. You hated how a simple gesture of his had such an impact on you. You hated it. “Have you eaten?”

“Um… No, not really. It was a busy day at the office. Have you?”

“I haven’t. Thought we could order something”, he mumbled as he went to fix himself another drink. Don’t go. Touch me. I miss you. Instead, you said something like “It’s a little late, let me see if there’s something edible in the freezer”. It was so out of character for him to be home before midnight these days. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes. His white dress shirt was wrinkled, his hair was pushed back and you could just tell that he’d been running his fingers through it multiple times. He looked stressed.

“Did something… happen?”, you caught his attention while heating something up for the both of you. “I mean, you seem so tired, that’s all. I’m worried about you, baby”. Your last sentence was nothing but a whisper. He looked at you with a characteristic blank expression and opened his mouth a few times before finally speaking.

“I’m okay. Don’t worry”. It hurt a little, how dismissive he was. And you didn’t foresee the anger that sparkled within you after hearing his words. You were tired, so fucking tired.

“Bullshit”. The moment you said it, he snapped his head in your direction, surprised. Good. At least that kind of emotion he’s able to show. But before you could blink, he recovered his previous façade, and that made you angrier. Why the hell couldn’t he just open up to you? “Shit, Yoongi, it’s crystal fucking clear that you’re not telling me everything. In fact, you tell me absolutely nothing. What’s wrong? Don’t you trust me?”. You sounded defeated by the end of your little speech, and you could tell it got to him, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop, not now, not with all the pent-up hurt, anger and fear. Fear of the truth you’ve been trying to look past, but couldn’t. “Do you not want this anymore, is that it? Do you even care at all??”, you were purposely avoiding the four letter word because it hurt just thinking about it. You were not ready to hear the answer.

“Is that what you think?”, he was annoyed. “You think I don’t fucking care about this?”, a bitter laugh escaped him before he cupped your face with both hands and plunged his next words directly to your heart. “If I didn’t want you anymore, angel, it would be easier. Believe me, we wouldn’t be together a second longer”

That stung. His last words cut deep, making it impossible for your built-up tears not to fall. That’s when he knew he had made a mistake. He could see the hurt in your eyes and he couldn’t bear it. So when you rushed upstairs without sparing him a second look, he felt something inside him churn. He fucked up, he always did. He wouldn’t even dare try to comfort you in that moment because he knew you needed space from him. He was absolutely sure that he was only going to make things worse if he went after you like he wanted to. He wondered how much of his shit you would take before you packed up and left. You wouldn’t be the first to abandon him, hell, his own mother did; so he’d like to pretend he was prepared. With that in mind, he grabbed his jacket and his car keys. He was definitely getting wasted that night and would probably end up sleeping at one of his friend’s. Maybe Jimin’s. He didn’t care.

You couldn’t sleep. Not with the bitter taste on your tongue and the burning flame within your chest. You felt like falling apart. Hot, heavy tears tumbling down your puffy cheeks. It was tiring how you couldn’t stop your restless body from shaking, even though you craved some sleep, just so you could take your mind off it. Those exact words were thoroughly printed inside your mind.

If I didn’t want you, it would be easier.

Believe me, we wouldn’t be together a second longer.

You did believe him. Shit, you probably knew that way before he said it, but you still didn’t know why. Why was he still with you? Gathering from what he said, your relationship was a burden.

At some point, you were no longer crying, you were laughing. Hard. Maybe you were going insane, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Thinking about tomorrow morning, you went downstairs to pop some pills, just so you could get some sleep. Your steps were careful, quiet. But, as soon as you got to the living room, you realized there was no use to being silent. He wasn’t there.

[12:42 PM]

It was lunch time when it happened. You usually ordered something with your coworkers, but you decided to grab some sushi at that restaurant you loved. Mr. Stewart was being a pain in the ass all day, but he did give you some extra time off because he had an appointment that afternoon, he wouldn’t need you for a while. You had asked Brianna to come along, but she had to catch up with some papers. At the end of the day, you were glad she couldn’t make it. No one to witness what seemed to be your whole world tumbling down, every plan you had made with him slipping through your fingers in the blink of an eye. In the touch of a hand.

There he was. Through the glass wall, you could see he was tense, as if he was afraid of something or didn’t want to be there. You almost went over his table to check on him, willing to forget last night’s argument for a moment, to call for a truce, because you cared about him still. But then you noticed something important. He wasn’t alone. The woman in front of him was beautiful. Dark hair, olive skin, the prettiest red dress. She had her hand on top of his. That’s when you finally realized what was happening. In that moment, everything clicked. Why he had been so distant, why he would never confess. Why it was hard for him to stay.

For how long?

Suddenly, you felt the urge to throw up. The whole situation was making you nauseous. You had to get out of there, but your feet wouldn’t move. You stood still for god knows how long, trying to digest what you were seeing. You hadn’t even noticed the tears, couldn’t feel them. You couldn’t feel much, it was all just a haze, like you’d dissociated. You didn’t hear him at first, acknowledging his presence only when he touched your shoulder.

“Y/N?”, he said, confusion and concern lacing his tone.

“J-Jungkook”, you stuttered. “Kookie! What are you doing here?”. When you realized who it was in front of you, you immediately threw yourself at his chest and hugged him tight, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“What happened? Why are you crying?”, he couldn’t help the questions flying out his mouth. He hadn’t seen you in so long. He missed you. “Y/N, please… Talk to me. Are you hurt?”. The affection so raw in his voice, you couldn’t help but cry harder. You missed him, too. He pushed you slightly away so he could take another look at your face.

“Oh, god… Oh my god, Kook, this is so fucked up. I’m so fucked up”

“What are you talking about?”, his voice was soft, you could tell he was trying his hardest to soothe you.

“I-I need to get out of here. Can you take me somewhere else?”

“Yeah… Yeah, of course I can. Do you wanna go to my place so we can talk?”, you didn’t trust your voice, so you just nodded. “S’okay, noona. Look at me”, he cupped your face and brushed your remaining tears away. “It’s gonna be alright, I promise. I’m here for you, I’ll always be here for you”. It was reassuring, mostly because you knew it was true. He was safe. He felt like home.

[1:53 PM]

“He was… cheating on you? Y/N, you know I hate the guy, but that doesn’t sound like him at all. Are you sure?”

“Pretty much”. It was hard to tell him. You felt like an idiot for trusting Yoongi for years, for loving him even when he didn’t love you back. It was hard to come to terms with that, let alone tell Jungkook. But you thought you would die if you didn’t talk to someone about this. And he was still your best friend, right? “I’m so stupid, Kook”, you let out a humorless laughter. “I wanted us to work out so bad that I didn’t even see it coming. But it was staring right at my face, really. God, I just can’t believe this”, your voice wavered.

“No, don’t say that. Y/N, he’s a jerk. He’s the one who should be feeling stupid, not you. I knew I was right to hate him, I just knew it”, he seemed truly upset at this point.

You took a minute to contemplate his apartment. While your house with Yoongi was neat and clean, Jungkook’s home had so much personality that you would think about him immediately even if you didn’t know who it belonged to. He hadn’t changed much since six months ago. He was still the same caring, funny, protective friend he’d always been. Even smelled the same. You felt bad for the distance that grew between the two of you. It was just that you were both so busy with work and stuff, it felt only natural. You’d never admit to anyone, not even yourself, that it also had to do with the fact that he and Yoongi didn’t get along. It was like Sophie’s choice, and maybe you had made the wrong one.

“Kook, I missed you. I’m sorry for not trying harder to keep in touch”, you said before you lost the courage to do so. He seemed taken aback by your bluntness, like there was some secret agreement that neither of you would bring it up.

“I missed you, too, noona. A lot. We should’ve both tried harder”

“Yeah. It was stupid”

There was a moment of silence. You were sitting at one end of the couch, while he was at the other. He wanted to give you space, always so considerate. But you needed your friend, so you threw caution out the window and crawled closer to him, clinging to his black shirt. He let you ball up against his chest and held you close.

“Let’s watch a movie, shall we? And then I’ll take you home if you want to. If not, you’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. You know I’d love to have you”

“Thanks for offering, but I’ve got to fix this. I need to confront him”, your heart was beating painfully faster just thinking about it. “I’ll take you up on that movie, though. Pleasure first, duty later, isn’t that what you taught me?”

“You’re older. If anything, you’re the bad influence here”

“I am three months older than you, Jungkook. I don’t even think it’s okay for you to call me noona”

“Yeah, right. Whatever. Okay, so what do you want to watch?”

“F-“

“And don’t say Friends. I forbid you”

You pouted. “But you know it’s my comfort show, Kookie”, you figured he’d give in if you whined a little, but the boy seemed resolute.

“Yah, Y/N, how many times have you watched that?”. It was rhetorical. You didn’t even know and he was aware of it. “Have you seen Phantom Thread?”

“I have not. And I don’t wanna watch your movies, they’re boring”

“I resent you for that, by the way”, he scowled. “But you’ll like this one, I promise. I thought about you all the time while watching, it’s definitely one of yours”. You were touched that he thought about you in the past few months. If he could read your mind, he’d burst into laughter. Because you were always in the back of his mind, like a little ghost that kept him company even though he chose to ignore it.

“Okay, I’ll pretend to trust you this time. But if I don’t like it we’re watching Friends until I leave, no bathroom breaks”

“Sur-“

“AND-”

“Here we go”

“You’ll have to admit that Chandler is indeed the funniest”

“Hey, you know damn well that Joey is the funny one!”, he took his arguments very seriously.

“Don’t get on my nerves, Jeon. Put your excuse of an entertainment on so I can tell you how bad it is and we can watch my show, hm?”

“We’ll see about that”, he smirked mischievously.

You spent the entire afternoon curled up on Jungkook’s couch watching his goddamn cult movie. He was right, you loved it. Although you couldn’t completely forget what was going on and how you ended up in that situation, you were somehow calmer. The worst part about taking big, important steps was deciding what to do and how to do it. At some point, it was eating you alive. You had to make a decision, an important one, but you were completely torn. Because the thing is, you loved Yoongi so fucking much. You sincerely could not envision how life would be like without him. But when you realized that even saying his name out loud tore your heart apart, you knew that he had made that decision for you; things would never go back to the way they were. It was over. That thought hit you so hard that you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom, so Jungkook wouldn’t see how exasperated you were. It was like a hole had been carved in your chest, one that would never completely heal. So you twisted your shirt with both hands in the spot where your heart was supposed to be; you had to keep it together. You had to survive this, even if you weren’t exactly sure how to do it yet.

Thinking about it now, a couple of hours later, you felt relief. The hole was still there. The emptiness, the anguish, the excruciating pain, it was all there. The only difference was that you had already made peace with your fate. Not seeing him anymore was easier than being constantly reminded that you probably didn’t mean shit to him. That even if you did, it was not enough, it would never be enough for him to love you. You didn’t wanna fight it anymore because it was agonizingly painful and bitter. Maybe this is for the best. So when you left Jungkook’s apartment, it was with a placid sense of duty.

[1:09 AM]

When you arrived at home, you didn’t have the guts to turn on the lights. You calmly took your jacket and your shoes off, heading for the kitchen to get a glass of water; your throat was painfully dry. You leaned on the counter for a couple of minutes, heart rate through the roof, thinking that maybe he wasn’t even there. Either way, there was no point in stalling, you had to do it now. So you leisurely carried yourself to the bedroom, opening the door carefully. If he was asleep, you wouldn’t want to wake him up. If he was asleep, this… thing you were about to do would be considerably easier. Of course, luck was never your forte.

“Your phone is off”. He was sitting in the armchair, a drink in his had and a bottle of whiskey on the desk. His black dress shirt was wrinkled and he seemed worried.

“Yeah. It is”

“Look, angel-“, he was getting up when you cut him off.

“Don’t call me that”

He seemed confused, and you could see a hint of hurt in his black orbs. “I know we’re not in the best place right now, and I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to hurt you the other night, and I know I did. I’m sorry”, he blurted out. He looked too sincere, and that caused your heart to constrict. Because you knew there was no way in hell he was being honest right now.

“Let’s cut this short, okay?”, you said sternly. Suddenly you couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore. Your words must have surprised him, because he was looking at you with wide eyes, something just indecipherable about them. “I saw you today. I know what you did – or what you’ve been doing, I really don’t give a fuck about how long you’ve been at it. I saw you with her”. As soon as you uttered your last words, you recognized what was it in his eyes. Fear. He was afraid.

“No, it’s not what you’re-“

“Shut up. Just do us both a favor and shut the fuck up, Yoongi”, you whispered tiredly. He could see it in your eyes that you had given up on him, that you didn’t even intend to fight him anymore. That caused a chill to run down his spine.

“Please, just listen to me. I wasn’t cheating on you, I-“

“Have you fucked her?”

“W-what? No! Y/N, stop saying shit like that. I’ll explain whatever you need me to, but don’t jump into conclusions before I do so. I didn’t do it, I’d never do it”. He was closer now. You could smell the alcohol mixed with his scent, you could see how deep the dark circles under his eyes were. You could see honesty slipping through every word. Surprisingly, it didn’t change much. You wanted more. You wanted him, all of him. So in the last attempt to save your sanity (or ruin it entirely), you decided you had to ask. You just had to.

“Do you love me?”. He froze, hands in the air trying to reach you. You had never confronted him about this and he didn’t see it coming. His hands fell to his side, closed fists. His eyes were bulged, breathing was erratic. It was all the answer you needed. You immediately felt the hole again, and you didn’t even realize when your hands made their way to your chest, just like it happened in Jungkook’s bathroom. A sob escaped your parted lips; you couldn’t be strong anymore. Through your blurry vision, you didn’t notice the panicked, pained expression he was wearing. You couldn’t know about the pang in his heart, or how hopelessly desperate he felt at that moment. It said it all, but you just couldn’t know.

“I-I’m fucked, okay?”, he stuttered. “I’m fucked in the head, angel, it’s not about you”. You couldn’t process his words, didn’t want to. As you slid to the floor with a whimper, he grew desperate. “Please, you have to believe me. I’m begging you to understand, please, please…”. He wasn’t able to control himself and let out some tears of his own. Deep down, he knew why he couldn’t say it. It was not because it wasn’t true – he knew it was. Fuck, he was petrified. It’s for your own good, for your own good, I can’t do it to you, too. He didn’t know what to say anymore, so he just held onto you for dear life, hoping you’d give him a chance to redeem himself for all the shit he put you through. You just had to stay. You had to, he wouldn’t even dare to think otherwise. You didn’t know how long you stood in that position, scared to move a finger, but you knew what you had to do. So you got up. It pained you to look at his face and see how truly devastated he was, but you were too far gone.

“I don’t think we can get through this. I don’t know if we should”

“Don’t say it. No”

“I’m going to stay with Jungkook for a while. I ran into him today and he helped me a lot when I thought you were… you know”. Your voice was devoid of any emotion at this point. Too scared of being engulfed by the hole if you let yourself feel.

“What? No! You know I don’t trust him, right?”. He was standing in front of you now, voice pitched and tear tracks staining his cheeks. “Don’t do this, Y/N, I can’t… I can’t even… No.”, he shook his head a couple of times.

“It’s not up to you! Just looking at you is a constant reminder that you don’t feel the same as I do and I just can’t, I can’t do this anymore. Because, shit, I do, I love you so much, it’s killing me”

“That is not true. I never said I didn’t love you, don’t put words in my mouth”, he was very serious now. But it didn’t matter.

“You didn’t say you do, either. If you can’t even look me in the eyes after almost three years and say that you love me, I don’t think we can salvage this. So I’ll just take the hint before I get my ass kicked”

“How can you even say that? I don’t want to break up. You don’t understand, but please, trust me. Just trust me”

“You’re right, I don’t understand. But I can’t wait around until you figure it out”. You grabbed the bag that was on top of the wardrobe and opened the zipper.

“For fuck’s sake, just stay home! It’s almost two in the morning, we can talk about this tomorrow, please”, he tried to persuade you, but you didn’t listen. You picked out a few clothes and your toothbrush, closing the bag when you were done. “Y/N…”, he followed you to the door. It was obvious that he was crying, and even though it broke you to leave him like this, you felt like you would lose your mind if you stayed. So you just climbed down the stairs, bag on one hand and keys on the other. You tried to open the front door, but he stopped you.

He was a mess. Bloodshot eyes, trembling hands. So unlike him that you were a little taken aback by the sight. But you were sure you looked a lot worse, though. “Don’t leave me”. His voice was small. He seemed a bit smaller, too; like a child, scared of some imaginary monster. But he wasn’t a kid anymore, and the monster was real. Too real. “Angel, how am I supposed to live without you?”

“You’ll do just fine”, you said in a husky voice. You didn’t want to wait for a response, so you just closed the door in his face and ran to your car.

Already halfway to Jungkook’s house, you decided to just ignore your shaky hands and faltering voice and dialed his number, but your call went straight to voicemail. Which was strange, because he knew you were coming over. “Hey, Kook. I’m sorry if I took longer than expected, I hope I’m not waking you up or something. I’m on my way. And… Thank you so letting me stay a couple of days, really, it means a l-“, you couldn’t finish. It all happened so quicky, your mind wasn’t fast enough to keep up. A pickup truck had deliberately hit the back of your car, as if trying to get you off the road. You lost control for a second, the vehicle doing little zigzags, but soon regained it.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”. Your heart was pounding, almost hurting your ribcage. At first, you thought it had been an honest mistake, but that idea escaped your mind soon enough. Something was seriously wrong, and you didn’t want to find out why you were being targeted. The truck was still on your tail, so you didn’t have much time to think. You sped up, in order to put some distance between you and the stranger on the wheel, but they picked up the pace as well. “Shit, shit, shit”. The adrenaline was rushing through your veins like a drug, and you couldn’t keep your hands steady. You had dropped your phone when you startled, so you fumbled through the car floor trying to find it. That’s when they hit you again, this time a lot more brutally. You whimpered, trying to maintain control of the car even though you were scared to death. What the hell is going on?!

As you stepped harder on the throttle, you decided you had to contact somebody, anybody, a terrible feeling creeping up your spine. You fumbled again, only this time you were able to grasp your phone. The call had been cut off, so you searched for his contact. You needed him, no matter what happened earlier, you needed him. And you knew he would come. Your whole body was trembling and the truck was getting dangerously close again, you had to be fast. You held the phone to your ear with shaky hands. He answered almost immediately.

“Y/N?”, his voice was rough.

“Yoongi!”, yours was desperate. “Yoongi, something’s going on…”, in that moment, the truck hit the rear of your car again and you screamed. He sobered up instantly.

“What?! What’s happening, where are you?!”, he sounded hectic.

“I’m on the Fourth, someone’s after me. L-Like, a truck! A truck hit my c-car, I-“, you tried to make sense through heavy breathing.

“Fuck”, you heard him tripping through the bedroom, trying to put some clothes on. “Angel, listen carefully. Do you remember when we got lost near Target’s? We ended up in a wasteland, remember?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Good. I need you to go there, okay? I’m coming for you, baby. Okay? I won’t let anything happen, I promise”, you could already hear the engine starting and that soothed you a tiny bit. You trusted him with your life. It would be okay, he was coming.

“Y-Yeah, okay”, you couldn’t stop the tears. “Yoongi, what’s going on?”, the words left your mouth almost like a whimper.

“I’m sorry, love. I’ll get you out of th-“

But you weren’t listening anymore. This time, when they hit the rear again, you lost control. The car spun like crazy and you could hear Yoongi yelling something through your screams. You tried your hardest to get on track again, but couldn’t. All you could think about was how wrong this all was. You wished you had stayed home like he asked. Before you could have a reasonable train of thought, you hit something. Your head jerked towards the steering wheel and it all went dark.

[2:17 AM]

He was going crazy. He was absolutely losing his mind.

“FUCKING HELL!”, he hit the steering wheel an abnormal amount of times while making almost a hundred miles per hour. He had to keep his mind clear and sharp, he couldn’t let his emotions cloud his judgement, not with your life on the line. Still, all he could think about was how scared you sounded, how raw your screams were. How he stopped breathing right away when he heard the loud crash, how he shouted your name a million times asking what happened. He was sure he would go insane when you didn’t answer. You had to be okay, anything other than that was not an option. He wouldn’t let his mind go there, now was not the time to lose control. Yet.

He knew who it was inside that truck. It had to be her or someone doing her dirty work. If anything happened to you, he would kill them. He would kill all of them, and then he would kill her. He would take his time with it, too. You had never seen him this angry, he always kept himself together when he was with you. But now he was furious. He felt like he could burst in rage anytime now.

“Shit, fuck, fuck”, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut because it was all too silent. He lost connection with you after a few minutes and he just felt sick to his stomach. Lost in thoughts and trying to focus on the road, he startled when his phone rang. He hesitated for a moment before picking it up, the number was unknown. “Yes?”

“Honey, I already miss you”. He felt his blood boiling to the sound of her voice.

“Where is she?”, he roared.

“Don’t you miss me?”, she whined. It was disgusting.

“Mura, I am being very patient, but don’t mess with me. I swear to God, if you hurt her…”, the threat was evident in his tone, and anyone but her would be shitting themselves. But she loved him too much to care. He wouldn’t really hurt her, right? They were meant for each other.

“She’s here, darling. And she’s so annoying, too. Had to shut her up a couple of times”. He growled, knuckles white as he pressed the wheel tighter.

“Tell me where you are”

“Are you coming to see me?!”, she seemed thrilled as she clapped her hands and made happy noises. “I’m at the warehouse, honey. Where else would I be?”

“Don’t move. And Mura…”

“What is it, honey?”

“Don’t think I won’t kill you, yeah? I’m warning you, if she has as much as a scratch, you’re dead. I won’t think twice, you hear me?”, his voice was dark. There was no doubt he meant it.

“Oppa, you can’t talk to me like that! But I forgive you… I know she must have something against you, you couldn’t possibly love her. You already love me, darlin-“

“Shut the fuck up. I’m almost there”

He felt like he could finally breathe now. You were alive.

[2:27 AM]

Your entire body hurt. There was something hindering your vision, and when you realized what it was, your stomach churned. Blood. There was a deep cut near your hairline from when you hit your head. You were tied to a chair, the ropes too tight on your wrists and ankles. When you looked around with the eye that wasn’t completely covered in blood, your stomach sank. It was dark and humid, the cold punishing your sensitive skin. You were scared. Where was Yoongi? What happened and where the hell were you?

“Hi, there!”, a high pitched voice startled you. It was a woman, beautiful dark hair, olive skin… Wait, what?

“Wh-“, you tried to talk, but your voice was raspy and rugged. “Who are you?”, you tried again, barely succeeding.

“I’m Yoongi’s girlfriend. Who are you?”

“You’re w-what?”

“His girlfriend, darling”, she laughed melodiously. “My name is Mura, what’s yours?”

Your brain was operating a hundred miles an hour. What the fuck was going on? Had he lied? Had he been lying to you this whole time? It was too much, too overwhelming. You just wanted to lay on your bed and sleep forever. Every single part of your body was sore and cold, your head was killing you and you were emotionally exhausted.

“What am I doing here? Where are we?”

“Honey, you have so many questions. I intend to answer every single one them as long as you answer mine, okay?”. You hated her already. And not just out of jealously, but because she was so irritating, too. You wanted to shut her up with your fists, but you were in no position right now. Instead, you just nodded. “Alright. Now tell me, when did you and Yoongi meet?”

“Three years ago. A friend introduced us”

“I see. So you two are together now? You’re dating, is that it?”

Your answer hurt, you felt a pang in your chest. “No, we broke up”. She was silent for a moment, as if processing your words. And then she laughed.

“Is that so, darling? You shouldn’t lie to me. I’m trying to be good, but I don’t think I can hold back for much longer”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”. Just as you finished speaking, she made a move with her hands. Suddenly you notice a gigantic man guarding what you suppose to be the entrance. And he was walking towards you.

“Hirashi, the girl lied to me. Can you believe that?”

“That’s not good, ma’am”, his voice was deep, scary. Every cell of your body was telling you to run as fast as you could. But you were stuck. “Do I have your permission, ma’am?”

Permission for what?

“Yes”. You didn’t even have time to react before his fist stroke your face. You couldn’t breathe, all the air escaping your lungs as you lose your balance and hit the malodorous floor. You gasped, your head spinning and your jaw burning from the impact.

“Are you ready to tell me the truth now? Because I’m pretty sure he didn’t mention you two breaking up”

You tried to form a coherent sentence and couldn’t do much. You were in too much pain, your jaw was on fire. “W-we d-did”. At your words, she sighed.

“Fine. If that’s how you want it, that’s how it’ll be. Either way, it doesn’t matter anymore. I was never gonna let you out of here alive anyways”, her words petrified you. You knew she meant them. “I’m sure Yoongi won’t mind. He doesn’t love you, after all”

He doesn’t love you

It hurt more than it was supposed to, because you already knew that. No, he didn’t love you. But he cared for your life, right? The thought made you laugh. If he cared for your life, he would be here. If he cared for your life, he wouldn’t let his… girlfriend kidnap you and have her way with you. If he loved you, he would’ve said so. So yeah, maybe he wouldn’t mind at all. Tears stung your eyes and you barely saw when Mura signaled to Hirashi again.

“Finish it. I want to go home and cuddle with my man”

Oddly, you weren’t scared. Hell, after all you’ve been through tonight, maybe death wouldn’t be so bad. But then he kicked you the first time. You let out a painful yelp, sure he had broken a few ribs. And then came the second. The third. You couldn’t take it, it was agonizing.

“P-Please, just… j-just kill me already”, you blurted out, praying for his mercy. Just do it. Do it quickly, please, just do it.

[2:35 AM]

As soon as he saw the abandoned warehouse Mura used for her… activities, he peeled out, leaving long tire marks on the road. He rushed out of the car, not caring enough to close the door. That’s when he heard the first scream. His heart was pounding in his chest, heart constricted and throat dry. He ran inside, not wanting to waste any more time.

“P-Please, just… j-just kill me already”. First, he heard your pleading. His blood was already boiling, fists closed tight, anger slowly taking over him. But nothing could prepare him for the moment he saw you all curled up on the floor, shirt ripped and bloody, your beautiful face starting to swell, a purple eye. He went livid and stopped on his tracks. That day, a part of him died. It was like someone had ripped his heart and stomped on it over and over again. His immediate reaction was to go for the son of a bitch who was doing that to you. He knew his name. Hirashi. A dead man walking. When his fist first collided with Hirashi’s face, he fell to the floor. In the back of his mind, he registered Mura’s gasp. He was a mad man now, growling and punching the other ruthlessly. There was blood everywhere, and this time they were not yours.

“Yoongi, you’re gonna kill him!”, Mura yelled.

“Yes”, another punch. “I am”, he was strangling him now. He was blind by rage, every ounce of his body seeking revenge.

“Y-Yoong-gi”. The angel said and he froze, loosening his hold on the other’s throat, making him gasp as he searched for air. He looked at you and the anger was overpowered by a lot of feelings. Guilt, sadness, fondness. Love. It should be him in that state, not you. Never you.

“I’m sorry”. He crawled towards you, splashes of blood all over his face and his shirt. You looked… broken. It devastated him. After untying you carefully, he held your upper body on his lap and removed a few hair strands of hair from your face. “I’m so, so sorry, angel. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, he chanted. “I love you so much”, his voice broke. “I really, really do”

“H-Home”, you whispered.

“Yes, love. Let’s go home, I’ll take you home, okay? I’ll take care you”, he promised. He took you in his arms and you whimpered. It all hurt so much. You don’t think you’ve ever been in so much pain before. He scowled, guilt plastered on his pretty face. “Sorry”. He had a lot to be sorry for, didn’t think this lifetime would suffice if he wanted to redeem himself. But he would find a way.

“Yoongi, where are you going?!”

“Mura… remember what I told you. I’ll come for you soon. Let Hirashi know that I’m not done with him either, will ya?”. She didn’t reason. Perhaps too scared, now that she saw that he wasn’t joking. He would come for her. And she had to make some arrangements to vanish for a while. Until his rage subsides and he can love her again, that is. In her mind, she knew he would. He just needed some time, and she had plenty.

After the both of you left, she made a call. It went straight to voicemail. Stupid boy, didn’t he know how to make business? Phones on at all times. She hated leaving messages.

“It didn’t work, J. They left”

[7:39 AM]

Your entire body hurt like hell, that was the first thing you noticed. The second was a warm hand intertwined with yours and a soothing breathing hitting your shoulder now and then. You opened your eyes cautiously, afraid of something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. He was sitting in a chair beside you, head resting near the crook of your neck, hands in yours. He was asleep, but as soon as you moved a little, his eyes shot open. He startled, correcting his posture immediately, and then he scowled. The position he had slept in wasn’t the most comfortable. He looked at you like you were his whole world, and you wonder how you never noticed it before. His feelings were crystal clear.

“How… How are you feeling? The doctor came by earlier when we got home. You were passed out, though. He said that you had a few broken ribs and a twisted ankle, but these were the most serious injuries. I mean, you’ve got a purple eye, too, and your jaw is a little swollen, but-“

“Yoongi”, you cut his blabbering off. You predicted the diagnosis, but it was still good to know. For a moment there, you really thought you would die. It was good to know you didn’t.

“Yes, my angel?”, his voice was soft, feelings pouring through them.

“Did you mean it?”

He didn’t have to ask what you meant, he already knew. “Every single word. I love you, Y/N. I have loved you since the beginning, I just… couldn’t say it”. Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You didn’t think he would ever know how much of a hold he had on you.

“Why couldn’t you say it?”

“Because… Because everyone I love leaves eventually, one way or another. I couldn’t lose you, too. And yet, I almost did”, his voice faltered near the end. He was being so raw, so honest. You could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth. He really was. But his words hurt you a little, too. You knew he was talking about his family. Yoongi rarely talks about them, but you know enough.

“I’m sorry, baby”

“No, don’t say that. It’s me who has to apologize. I shouldn’t have let you leave when I knew she had found out about us. I promised I’d keep you safe, but I couldn’t”. Suddenly, you remembered. Mura.

“Was she really your…?”

“No. Mura and I never had anything. We met six years ago on a business trip, but I didn’t… I never slept with her. When I rejected her, she became obsessed. She followed me around for a couple of years, but she had already left me alone when I met you. She came back… when she learned that I was with someone else. Her father is a very powerful man, and she is clearly spoiled, so I didn’t want to make things worse. I didn’t want to confront her because I was afraid of what she might do to you. Look how that turned out”, he laughed bitterly.

“Don’t blame yourself. Please”

“How could I not? You’re hurt because of me”, his face was twisted in an anguished grimace. You couldn’t stand it. Yes, he had hurt you. But what happened last night with Mura was totally different. You held his face with both hands and pressed your lips gently against his. He groaned. “I don’t deserve you”, he said, lips still lingering in yours.

“But you got me”. He smiled big, the prettiest gummy smile you had ever seen. God, you adored him. It was easier to understand him now that you knew his reasons. You couldn’t not forgive him. He was your whole heart.

“I forgive you, but you can’t keep secrets from me anymore. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. I wouldn’t dare”, then he pecked your lips sweetly.

“And you gotta tell me you love me every day now. You owe me. For all the time I lost”. Sadness crossed his features, but he let it go soon enough.

“I love you, my angel”, he pecked your nose. “I love you”, your cheek. “I love you”, your forehead. “IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou”, finally, your lips. You giggled.

“Thank you”

“You’re welcome, miss”, he said as he got up. “Would you like me to prepare you a bath?”

“Extra bubbly, mister”. He smiled and entered the bathroom.

After a few moments, he came back wearing a mixed expression.

“Y/N, I was thinking… How did Mura know where to find you? She wasn’t anywhere near the house when you left, I am sure of it”

“Uh… I don’t know”, you were confused. His question made sense, no one else knew where you were going, except for J-

His eyes bulged, so did yours. You could tell he had come to the same conclusion as you.

“Fuck”, you both said at the same time.

#bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #i guess #bts angst #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts you #bts fluff #just guessing #i don't know what to put here

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velvetthunder1999 · 4 years

Text

All the time on Earth

Part 25 - Drunk Holidays

Summary: George has to take care of your giddy, drunk little ass during Christmas break in the Burrow

Warning: None

Word count: 3K

George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist

“Come on, Ron!” you shouted excitedly as you stepped out of the taxi into the deep snow, following Harry and Ginny onto the icy road.

“This bloody thing!” said Ron angrily, struggling to pull his heavy trunk in the snow. You stopped and waited for him out of pity, but you just couldn’t wait to finally get into the house.

The last three and a half months were — let’s say, not the best times of your life. Fear, anxiety and suspense greeted you when you woke up and haunted you way past of falling asleep. Even though you and George, and even you and Fred exchanged letters every second day, assuring that everything was okay, news of more and more disappearings and deaths made you utterly scared and uneasy. Hannah Abbott’s mum was killed, Katie Bell had been attacked and the Dark Mark had been seen numerous times across the whole country.

Nevertheless, it was finally Christmas break. Something you had been looking forward to for a long time. It was here, and you were about to spend a few wonderful days at one of your favorite places, the Burrow.

Ginny had barely opened the front door to the house when a loud scream and an excited Mrs Weasley welcomed you into the kitchen.

“Oh, kids, finally… It’s so good to see you, come here, come here, all of you!”

She peppered you with hugs and kisses, not being able to restrain herself. While she was hugging Ron, you noticed a beautiful blonde figure at the kitchen table. You waved.

“Hey, Fleur.”

She smiled right back just when loud thumping was coming from the stairs. It sounded as though someone was running down on the staircase and indeed, a second later George and Fred emerged in the other side of the kitchen.

A huge grin appeared on your face as they made their way towards you, wearing the same wide joyous beam. Mrs Weasley was still nagging about how skinny Harry was, and they were completely claiming the small room between the kitchen table and the wall to themselves. Fred came to a halt and looked at her mother irritatedly, while George — barely able to contain himself — said in a tense voice:

“Mum, move! Er — please.”

“Oh, sorry dear, I…”

But you didn’t hear what she said for George was already holding you in his arms, lifting you up from the ground and rocking you from left to right, laughing. You were laughing just the same, squeezing him with your eyes closed until he put you down; then, you grabbed his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss, a kiss which ended in laughter, a laughter of pure joy after not seeing each other for so long. Then, when you pulled apart, another familiar face made your heart burst with happiness.

“I reckon it’s my turn now, isn’t it?” said Fred and hugged you just as tightly as his brother, while you held him as close as you could, and only letting go of him when your arms felt sore and tired. Even then, you beamed at the both of them, not even knowing which one to look at.

“Thanks, I am here as well,” said Ginny to her brothers in mock anger. You laughed again, grabbing both George’s and Fred’s hands.

“Let’s go up, I want to hear everything about you two!”

——

George was still smiling to himself hours later when he thought about the afternoon; it was hard to hide his smile from Fred as he replayed in his mind how you were laughing at his jokes and how you took his hand into your lap so naturally, so lovingly… He had missed you so much, so bad for three excrutiatingly long months. But you were finally here, safe in his arms.

Whatever he had written in his letters, he had been nervous, too. Oh, yes, of course. After what had happened to Katie, it had taken him twice the usual time just to fall asleep, not being able to think about anything else but what if… Had it been you who touched the necklace, he’d known he would have gone mad. Having you so far away from him in times like these made him having anxious fits all day long.

But not today. Today he wasn’t anxious. Today he could relax a bit. You were there, waiting for him back at the Burrow, and he couldn’t wait to kiss you again, to smell the scent of your hair again, to hear all your stories again, to listen to the sound of your voice when you laugh at —

“What’s so funny?” asked Fred as they were walking back in the snow. They had been to the village, letting Fred have a go at a girl they had met a few days ago.

George turned his head away slightly, trying to organize his expression.

“Nothing.”

“Mphf!” chuckled Fred. “No, I get it. Lover boy.”

George felt his ears turning red under the knitted hat.

“Shut up. You don’t have to have a go at me every time. Might pay you back one day.”

“Well, as things were going with sweet cheeks back there —”

George snorted.

“Don’t even dream about it. She was into me the whole time.”

“Only because she thought I was you, you see.”

“She went for the intelligent one,” smirked George.

“Come off it, had she gone for the handsome one —”

“Then it still would’ve been me.”

Fred snorted and George laughed as they got a glance at the Burrow. Being rather dark at this point, a few windows were lit by the light inside, and George couldn’t wait to sat down into a squashy chair and warm his cold hands by the fire.

“Bighead, are you?” said Fred as he opened the gate to the garden. “You wouldn’t be so cheeky if I told mum about the ring.”

George stopped in his tracks.

“You wouldn’t.”

Fred laughed, apparently enjoying himself.

“Just think about the fuss she’d make! All the weeping —”

“No, stop it, will you? Mum doesn’t need to know. So don’t go on talking about it.”

His voice was angrier than he had intented it to be. He headed for the door but Fred grabbed his arm, making him stop.

“I know, Georgie, I was just joking.”

“Well — don’t. And don’t call me Georgie, you git.”

“What a snappy retort.”

“If you don’t take me seriously —”

“I do!” said Fred hastily, still not letting George go. “So, tell me. But quickly, my toes are already numb.”

George looked at his brother then turned his head towards the house. He could hear laughter form inside.

“I have the ring, but I don’t want to ask her just yet.”

“You think she’d say no? Don’t be a prat, she’s —”

“I know, but it’s… not the right time,” he looked back at Fred. “I want her to finish school. I want us to have our own life before I ask her. But I have the ring cause it’s a nice reminder of what’s about to come. And if you tell mum I’ll end you.”

Fred grinned and started walking again towards the house.

“Don’t worry, Georgie, I keep your secret.”

“I sure hope so,” answered George and opened the door to the kitchen. Fred shrugged.

“Anyway, it still — What the bloody hell’s going on here?”

Hearing Fred’s shocked voice George jerked his head at once, excpecting trouble, but all he saw was Ginny, his mum and you around the kitchen table, having a fit of laughter.

“…and then he said,” giggled Mrs Weasley, clearly not aware that her sons were back. “That he never saw a witch anything like me before and that he’d like to —”

“MUM!” shouted Ginny, half embarrassed, half laughing. “I don’t want to hear that!”

You cried out in laughter, burying your face into your hands, your eyes watering. Mrs Weasley reached for her glass in front of her and emptied it within seconds. George’s gaze fell onto your glass which was also empty.

“What is going on?” he asked, looking around at the three of you. You were still wiping your eyes. “Are you drunk?”

“Bloody hell, look at this,” said Fred, snatching the empty bottle from the table. “They’ve drunk all of it! Mum! Where did you get this?”

“Freddie!” said Mrs Weasley, shushing you and Ginny while fighting a giggle. “Come, come here, we were just…”

“Mum,” said George louder. “Where did you find this bottle?”

“In the — in the — cupboard,” she started giggling again and you did, too.

“Above the sink?” asked Fred. “This was supposed to be for the eggnog tomorrow! One cup only! Ginny?”

“Oh, they — hush now! They found the bottle and wanted to taste it.”

“And they drank the whole bottle?” asked George, trying to talk over your continuos giggling. “Why didn’t you stop them?”

“I’m not their guardian! And I wanted to drink it, too, but it had a dreadful smell! They didn’t mind, tough.”

“Oooh, we’re in trouble!” you said, trying to whisper but unable to do so. Fred laughed.

“Yeah, Mum’s been talking about her and dad at Hogwarts, she’s sort of all right,” said Ginny, watching the pair of you. “But I think Y/N has just lost it.”

Every head turned towards you, as you were still having a fit of laughter. Mrs Weasley reached for the bottle but she just realized it had gone from the table.

“Oh — Thank you!” she reached for the bottle in Fred’s hand but he jerked it away.

“I can’t believe this!” a satisfied smile appeared on his lips. “Oh, mum, I cannot wait to tell you about this tomorrow.”

You whispered something into Mrs Weasley’s ear and you both started to giggle like mad. Then you looked at Fred and said:  “Fred — Fred you won’tbelievethis,” your words started to become incomprehensible. “You — you — hehe…” 

You didn’t finish but reached for your empty glass and raised it to your mouth. Then, when you saw that it was already empty, the saddest, most miserable expression appeared on your face. George burst out laughing.

“All right. Even though I am quite entertained, they need to go to bed.”

“No!” said Ginny. “I want to watch them, they’re funny.”

“They won’t be funny tomorrow,” said Fred. “They need to sleep it off.”

“Why?” asked Ginny. “They seem fine.”

George looked at the empty bottle.

“Well, let’s say this stuff is stronger than your usual butterbeer.”

“Why? What’s in it?”

George caught Fred’s eye and they decided without words that it’s better to keep the ingredients to themselves.

“Er — a lot of things.”

“Brilliant,” said Ginny, standing up from the table. “Maybe it’s better if I don’t even know.”

“Ginny!” you suddenly reached for her hand and squeezed it, pulling her close to you. With your eyes wide open you whispered, though everyone heard you clearly. “Ginny, you like Harry Potter. Ginny… The Harry Potter! He’s upstairs! Go up, Ginny, go and —”

Ginny laughed and carefully loosened your grip. Then she looked at George.

“Yes, maybe they need to sleep it off. See you tomorrow.”

Then she headed for the staircase but you didn’t watch her. Your eyes were fixed on George in great surprise, as though you just realized he was there, too. Mrs Weasley leaned closer to you and whispered something into your ear. You started giggling again.

“All right,” said Fred. “I reckon mum’s up to me.”

George nodded.

“She might fall asleep before dad comes home.”

He walked over to you. You jumped as he touched your elbow.

“No!” you said, fear in your eyes. “No, you’re makin’ us sleep, no! I don’t want to sleep, I —”

“Come here, love,” said George with a grunt, lifting you up from the table. He helped you standing up but had to grab you immediately as you were about to crash into the table. “Careful. Are you okay?”

“I don’t wanna sleep!” you mumbled, reaching for your glass, but George made it disappear with a flick of his wand. “Hey!”

“Sorry, love, but you need to sleep. Come — no, this way — that’s it.”

He put an arm around your waist, keeping your balance and you even managed to put one foot up the stairs, but then you stopped. In the kitchen George could see Fred guiding his mum to the bedroom.

“You’re a funny man, George,” you said suddenly with great certainty.

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Funny, funny man,” you mumbled. George laughed and took another step on the stairs.

“All right, let’s go.”

“Noo!” you mumbled, frowning.

“Come on, we’re almost there,” he lied, holding back his laugh at the sight of your disapproving face.

“No, I don’t wannasleep!” you said, struggling to form the words.

“Oh, no, why not?” asked George, taking another step with you. He figured if he keeps you talking, you won’t realize that he’s taking you upstairs.

“I need to tellyousomething.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Ahhh!” you said, chortling. “Did you know you’re so cute?”

George chuckled.

“Thanks, love. What do you want to tell me?”

“I just did! You don’t listentome!”

“Oh, okay, that was it, then?

“Mm…” you reached for his face, clearly to caress it, but you were not in charge of your actions at all and you poked him in the eye. George started blinking heavily, looking through his tears.

“All right, love,” he gently pulled your hand away from his face and you two finally made a turn on the staircase.

“Oh, Georgie,” you gave a really deep sigh. George couldn’t hide his smile anymore.

“What is it, love?”

“You are so nice! So, so nice! And you have a nice soul and everything!”

“Well, you have a really nice soul, too.”

“Oh, God, I’m so drunk.”

George laughed. You stopped walking and looked at him, frowning.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Yes,” chuckled George. “Yes, I do.”

You furrowed your brows and pouted, then, a weird, surprised expression fell over your face. You smiled, letting out a giddy laugh.

“You’re so handsome.”

George felt his ears turning red just like every time you complimented him, but he was still beaming nevertheless. You took his face into your hands again - this time successfully missing his eye - and tilted your head.

“You know what I love the most?”

“What?” asked George, completely forgetting about his mission to take you upstairs. Your drunk smile somehow made him feel intoxicated, too.

“Your freckles,” you mumbled, still holding his face. “I love your freckles.”

It was one of those rare occasions when George had no idea what to say. Something told him that your statements were coming from a very genuine place.

“So pretty,” you sighed and continued your way upstairs. George followed. “I even liked them when you were younger. And you. You were so cute…”

“Mm, you liked me, didn’t you? Wait…” said George suddenly. “You liked me? I didn’t know about this!”

“Because I didn’t tell you, silly,” you mumbled and chuckled at the same time.

“Tell me more, please,” said George, totally in shock. You giggled.

“You know you have a nice smile, Georgie?”

“No, tell me about how you liked me…”

“I am! When I was sorted, you were smiling with Gryffindoor. And I thought you were really cute. And I know you by your smile and now when you smile at me I’m really happy. I wanna brush my teeth.”

You stopped as you reached the bathroom. George opened the door for you. You stood next to the sink, struggling to put toothpaste on your toothbrush. George helped. He watched you while you were hastily brushing your teeth, and when you finished he lead you to his room.

“I’m tired.”

You fell into his bed face first and George had to grab your legs and put them onto the matress for you to be able to lie down properly. You reached for his hand and pulled him to you so suddenly that he had to squat down next to the bed.

“Georgie, I wanna tell you something else as well.”

“Well, don’t hold back now,” he said, leaning over in a very uncomfortable position. His neck was already hurting but he couldn’t pull away; you were holding him in a firm grip.

“Georgie, do you know you were the first person who actually cared for what I had to say?”

George looked at you, startled. You were clearly reminiscing but your face was gloomy. George had no idea what to say to you.

“I see.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, your head on his pillow, your eyes closed. It was almost like you were talking in your sleep. “McLaggen always fancied me but I don’t think he had the slightest interest in me. And that guy… he ditched me.”

“What guy?” asked George with a sudden feel of discomfort. You had never told him this.

“My date at the Yule Ball,” you mumbled. “He didn’t even care… Why did he ask me, then? He left me there after ten minutes.”

“Oh… I remember that. But you had a great time after that, didn’t you?” he added hopefully.

“Yes,” you said with a deep sigh.

Then suddenly, you opened your eyes but you weren’t looking at George. You were staring at the wall, but it looked as though you didn’t even see it. You were clearly thinking about something else, and when you spoke your voice cracked.

“I was so lonely.”

George knew that this was the moment when his heart broke into a million pieces. He stared at you, unable to speak. He felt as though the words got stuck somewhere around his stomach, unable to burst out. And he suddenly felt scared; scared that your sadness was rooted deeper than he could imagine and this time he won’t be able to comfort you. But then your beautiful, tired eyes met his and you spoke again.

“I’m not lonely anymore.”

Had George had the ring with him in that moment, he knew he would have asked you right on the spot. But the ring was in his flat on Diagony Alley, buried deep in a drawer among a bunch of socks. Also, you were quite drunk. He was sure you wouldn’t remember anything by tomorrow.

“Will you stay?” you asked, whispering.

“Of course, witty,” he said as he lay down next to you in his bed. “Always.”

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possum-rat · 3 years

Text

King ophelia

is this nearly 2 months late? yes yes it is.

@king-ophelia

“If i die im totally haunting your ass”

(Y/n) x C!Sam Platonic

______________

Mentions of: death, blood,tommy’s prison arc

There had always been a close Mentor and Student type of bond Between a certain droopy elf-eared green-tinted skinned man and a young kid around the age of 15-16? Some might even say that it was closer, more Father and child-like. So naturally when Awesamdude began distancing himself from everyone while making the prison (Y/n) felt a mixture of anger and slightly guilt. Guilt because it wasn't Sam’s duty to take care of them. Sam had simply shown them Human kindness, and (Y/n) not having many good encounters with people had clutched to the praise that Sam had given on the regular. (Y/n) had only felt angrier and angrier as time passed. Especially when Ponk had stumbled into their small dark oak cottage on the outskirts of what was Pogtopia. His red yellow and black mask burned beyond repair and holding what was left of his arm. Leaping up from the small couch situated in the middle of the small one-floor house (Y/n) turns their attention to Ponk. As they work feverishly whispering that it’ll be okay more to themselves than anything else. That day they realize that the Man that they had admired so much and had tried to please didn't care. ------ “Sam? I made something look!” (Y/n) says happily as they pull the prosthetic arm they had been working on for Ponk. “I'm busy (Y/n), Tommy needs help with something,” Sam states as he brushes past (Y/n) without a thought. “Of course. It’s always Tommy and tubbo this. Why don't you have a second of time for me?” (Y/n) mumbles dejectedly. Shoving the arm back into their bag they grumble annoyed. Eventually, they bump into Foolish. “(Y/n)! Didn't see you there! How are you?” he asks cheerfully crouching into a squat. “I made something for Ponk. I tried showing Sam but he was busy. As always.” They say quietly while fiddling with the hem of the bag. Foolish’s emerald eyes widen in interest. “You did? Can I see?” Nervously they pull a wooden base of an arm armor of the bag before turning their attention to Foolish, (Y/n) smiles shyly up at the man before gently placing the arm in his huge calloused hands. Foolish sits on the ground in front of (Y/n) and turns the arm silently, his jade eyes staring intently at the arm that’s a quarter -if that -the size of his hand. Growing more nervous and agitated at the lack of response (Y/n) a close mentor-student type of bond between Sam and (Y/n). If you were to look closer it might be called a Father/child type of bond. Maybe even Found Family. Always ever since (Y/n) had been younger. (Y/n) had always looked up to him, always trying to be just like him. Horror was the least they felt when Ponk- stumbled into (Y/n’s) small cottage. His arm was bloody in his other arm. His mask torn in places, his hood pulled up pasted his face. To cover the deep cuts. Dropping the book they had been reading: The Book thief, on the couch they spring up and run toward Ponk one line still ringing in their head. “I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that's where they begin. Their great skill is their capacity to escalate.” The meaning of those words smacks (Y/n) like a truck. Just like how Sam had destroyed (Y/n’s) view on the world, Ruining the one last thing that kept (Y/n’s) view of the parental figure like a parent. It didn't help that (Y/n) was the youngest in the vast land of DreamSmp. Being 12 when they lost their first life jumping in front of Technoblade's fireworks that Schlatt had ordered him to fire at Tubbo. And 13 when they had lost their second life to a forest fire that Niki had started. Niki had apologized of course, but techno. You know how he is. ---- It had been a few weeks after Ponk’s visit, and (Y/n) had been wandering around looking for Sam for some input. Eventually finding him they tap his shoulder and present the Wood and golden ornate hand they had been making during the past 2 weeks. “Sam! Look!” They state excitedly. As they hold out the arm. “That's nice (Y/n). But I'm busy. I need to help Tommy with his hotel.” Sam says as he shrugs (Y/n) off brushing past them. Nodding slowly (Y/n) stands on the prime path before turning and shoving the arm into their bag before walking down the prime path with no particular idea. “Oh- sorry I didn't see you there-” A tall man with bright observant jade green eyes and golden shining olive skin gazes down wearing Egyptian royalty wear with gold, and emerald stitching along the hems of the shendyt. Shifting down he smiles down at (Y/n) his gold ornately patterned Wesekh with lapis emerald and Netherite hangs off his chest while he grins happily. Sharp shark-like teeth gleaming. “(Y/n) right?” he asks as he offers out a huge hand. “Y-Yeah. You're Foolish right?” the man nods causing (Y/n) to breath in deeply the scent of pine filling their nose. (Y/n) gazes at the ground while Foolish asks “May I see the arm you tried showing Sam?” nervously (Y/n) obliges. As Foolish sits on the ground examining the minuscule arm (Y/n) grows agitated at the lack of negative response- well any response. “Sorry- I know. It's stupid and it won't work-” they mutter quietly. “No, no-no. that’s not it at all. Im amazed at the level of detail on the fingers and the knuckles (Y/n).” --------- “Tommy? I can give a note to Dream so you don't have to see him.” (Y/n) states with an undertone of wanting to prove themselves. “No- You're too young-” he begins. “No.” They interrupt loudly. Tommy raises an eyebrow. (Y/n) never really questioned anybody's judgment, they merely followed without question. “I- uh. I want to help. Please.” they continue their voice growing quieter as the sudden jolt of courage dissolves into fear of rejection. Tommy nods a small smile on his face. “Sure. Only if you pinky promise you’ll be safe okay?” ------ As they reach the prison, the anger they had repressed for months begins bubbling up. In addition to anxiety. (Y/n) hadn't really interacted with Dream much. Only briefly when he needed somewhere to hide. And foolishly (Y/n) had let him. As they reach the other end of the portal Sam doesn't look up from the desk he’s sitting at. “Tommy. Kid. I have something for you to sign.” he says tiredly. As he places a book in front of (Y/n). “Read that out loud.” (Y/n) feels a twinge of anger at the nickname Sam had given Tommy. Sam had never taken the time to do that for (Y/n). Taking a deep breath they begin. “Page 1 I HEREBY ASSUME ALL OF THE RISKS OF VISITING THE HOLDING CELL, including by way of example and not limitation, any risks that may arise from negligence or carelessness on the part of the Prison guards, prisoners misbehaving, from dangerous or defective equipment” (Y/n) read haltingly and slowly sounding out negligence. Sam suddenly glances up and sighs “(Y/n) why are you here. Tommy said he’d be here.” ignoring what sam had asked they continue rambling

“Page 2 or property owned, maintained, or controlled by the Prison Guards. I certify that I waive, release, and discharge the Prison from any and all liability, including but not limited to, death, disability, personal injury, property damage,” they glare at Sam and murmur “you did that to ponk. You hurt him.” they take another breath before continuing:

Page 3 property theft, or actions of any kind which may hereafter occur to me, including my traveling to and from visiting the Prisoner. Written name, then sign: (Y/n)” They sign it and slide the book toward Sam. “(Y/n). Why are you here.” they scoff annoyed and reply “Why else? I'm visiting Dream. I'm telling him something Tommy wanted me to say.” ------------- As (Y/n) reaches the platform they turn toward Sam and state. “Sam. If I die. Then I’m totally haunting your ass.” Sam sighs and retorts “You're not going to die. And stop talking. Face forward.” Nodding (Y/n) turns forward tears forming in their eyes. Gazing up at the ceiling (Y/n) lifts a hand pressing it against their eyes while mentally shouting at themself to not cry. Being in prison wasn't as bad as they thought. Dream seemed nice enough, so he made conversation. “So (Y/n) have you made anything new? I’ve heard that you like making things.” Dream says as he leans against the wall his tone curious. (Y/n) jumps at the opportunity of having someone showing genuine interest in what they enjoy. “Well- I’ve started reading Norse Myths. Those are cool- I also really like- I like uh building things. Like a few weeks ago I made a fake arm for ponk cuz Sam ripped him off.” They state excitedly. Dream nods his mask contorting into a small smile. “Wait-” Dream pauses his mask’s eyebrows contorting into a frown “Did you say Sam ripped off Ponks arm?” (Y/n) freezes the hairs on the back of their neck suddenly standing on end. They laugh awkwardly, alarms blaring internally “What- nooo that's preposterous. Why would Sam do that? I mean Sam loves Ponk.” they blabber nervously as they fiddle with their hands nervously. Suddenly there’s an ear-splitting boom. Causing (Y/n) to freeze in place. ------ About a week has passed since (Y/n) got trapped in the prison. (Y/n) eventually grew more nervous and twitchy whenever Dream so much as looked at them. On the 4th day, they had gotten a cat. (Y/n) had named the calico “Fat Ass” as he was one of the Fattest cats (Y/n) had seen. On the 8th day or so (Y/n) had been trapped Fat Ass had seemed to have enough with everything and committed unalive by walking into the lava. (Y/n) would never forget his pitiful yowls as he burned alive. The ninth day (Y/n) began growing desperate Screaming at the lava for hours on end until their throat grew dry or Dream had yanked them up and tossed them across the small room. As he yelled “(Y/N) SAM DOESN'T CARE. HE’S GOING TO LEAVE YOU HERE TO FUCKING ROT. WHY WON'T THAT GET THROUGH YOUR FUCKING HEAD.” (Y/n) grew silent at that. Playing with the orangy drawstrings of their hoodie. “Okay.” (Y/n) whispers in defeat. “You win. Just stop yelling at me please.” Dream scoffs bending closer to (Y/n) grabbing the collar of their Hoodie. “(Y/n). You're pathetic. I could kill you right now and revive you because I'm bored. I could do that for hours and Sam wouldn't move a damned muscle.” (Y/n’s) (e/c) eyes widen in fear as they whisper “Your lying.” gulping they rasp “You wouldn't. You don't have it in you-” Dream grins. “(Y/n), I’m a GOD.” He Lifts a clenched fist before sending it into their gut. “I can do this as much as I want and you can't do anything about it.” He sends blow after blow. And as he bends closer to (Y/n). They take the chance and grip his ears tightly. Before screaming as loud as they could. “SAM-” As Dream sends another punch to their gut (Y/n) pulls down hard on the ear. Dream squeezes his hands around (Y/n’s) throat. “SAM PLEASE HELP. DAD-” they wail as they kick trying to escape Dream’s grasp as air begins to be a long-lost luxury. “Aw- Are you calling for daddy? He won't come (Y/n). He’s busy.” Those last words are the final words (Y/n) here before everything doubles and shifts into kaleidoscopic colors and shapes, and they take one last half-hearted breath.

(Y/n) wakes up in a calm place. Everything is so...peaceful...weirdly so. As they spin in a circle they see a playground. The cool midnight breeze ruffling (Y/n’s) hair as they skip toward the structure. Not thinking twice (Y/n) sits on one of the swings and begins to kick off. The rocking mixed with the cool breeze of the night and footsteps- wait why were their footsteps… Jumping from the swing at the top of its arch (Y/n) comes crashing down to earth. Wincing at the feeling of their body slamming against the ground. “Hello?” (Y/n) asks quietly. “Dear? Oh my- oh you were so young- Come here let’s have a little chat you and i.” a feminine voice says. (Y/n) tenses up and replies “Can- Could I stay here? On the swings I mean? I- I don't really know- I’m a little scared here- Where am-” the feminine figure comes into sight wearing a flattering simple black dress that throws her elegant features into greater depth. “Oh Honey, Do whatever makes you comfortable okay? You're in well that's hard to explain. But to put it simply, you're dead. I guess this Empty park is yours- what did My husband's son call it? Limbo? You're stuck here while we talk.” (Y/n) freezes tears forming as they sit in front of the woman. “No- I cant- Sam saved- I’m just- I'm dreaming right?” they whimper as they clutch the soft material of their sweatshirt. “Sam- He was- He saved me and I'm just having a nightmare.” (Y/n) whispers to themselves as they rock back and forth. “Here Honey let me help you. You have a bad cut and I don't want it to get infected.” (Y/n) nods slowly and as the gentle touch of the woman’s hand grazes their cheek (Y/n) jerks awake with a start. ------------------------- There had been an alarm. Luckily Sam had been in the prison at the time. As the automated voice says calmly “The Prisoner is displaying violent acts toward the visitor.” Sam’s blood runs cold. “(Y/n)” he gasps as he sprints through a special tunnel he had created in case of an event like this. As he waits for the lava to drain he regrets ignoring (Y/n). As the lava finally drains he can see Dream leaning against a wall, a hand covering his left ear as bloodstains it. While (Y/n) seems to be asleep at his feet. That doesn't help his fears. “Dream. What the hell did you do?” Sam asks quietly as he reaches the halfway point of his destination. Dream turns slowly before reaching down to (Y/n’s) head and turning it where it’s on full display for Sam to see. Bloody, and 2 giant purple hands print upon their throat. Sam Backs up disgust filling his brain. “They wouldn't stop yelling for you. I got annoyed.” dream states simply. Sam backs away in disgust as he crouches down and hoists (Y/n) up. “Sam- D’you know they kept begging for mercy. They shouted and I quote“Sam Please help. Dad” Dream’s tone is mocking as he stretches. “Obviously you failed them as a parent. When they first came in they were so eager to have someone listen to them for once instead of being bossed around.” Dream laughs. “They tried so hard to make you happy or to be proud of them. (Y/n) felt so neglected that they were genuinely excited when me- a prisoner showed interest. That says a lot about them doesn't it Sam.” Sam stares at the floor, his heart beating faster and faster. “Sam- I heard what they said to you before they came in here.” As Sam steps back onto the floating bridge he set’s (Y/n’s) body down and backs up his hands rubbing his face as the Lava begins to return to place. Sam leans on the wall a few feet from the lava covering the entrance of Dream’s holding cell. ----- Phantom(N/n). That's the only thing the ghost remembers. The only name apart from Awesamdude. Phantom(N/N) is pretty sure that Awesamdude isn't their name. Standing in a small purplish room, where two unfamiliar men stand one cowering under another man with a scar running down his face making his eye white. Tensing up Phantom(N/n) backs up and crutches into a small ball trying to stay out of view. But they were spotted. The man with the scar crutches in front of Phantom(N/n) and smiles offering out a reddish hand. Phantom(N/n) gazes up at him before taking it nervously and avoiding the gaze of the man wearing green while Alive(Y/n)’s voice murmurs to stay away from Dream. The man with the scar has warm hands Phantom(N/n) notices. Glancing up Phantom(N/n) smiles up at the man, as he gently guides the two of them across the bridge. As they reach the other end Phantom(N/n) lets go of the man's hand, noticing then that he has Light brownish feathers coming from the side of his head along with wings coming from his back with dark shiny greens and other colors. “(Y/n)?” he asks as he places his hands on each side of their shoulders. Phantom(N/n) frowns before saying “Oh you're talking about Alive(Y/n), I’m Phantom(N/n)” they smile up at him taking in his injury. Gently raising their hand Phantom(N/n) places a finger on the man’s cheek while frowning. “Does it hurt?” Phantom(N/n) asks their head tilting in concern. Phantom(N/n) removes their hand from his slightly rough scar before turning when a set of footsteps grow louder. As they turn Phantom(N/n) fiddles with the orange drawstrings while they gaze at the shiny slightly refective Blackstone floor. Lowering themself Phantom(N/n) sits on the floor tracing the cool stone tile as the two people talk in hushed hurried tones. Before the man with duck-like feathers suddenly erupts “SAM- THIS IS A CHANCE FOR YOU TO TRY TO REPAIR YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH (Y/N).” The other man Sam retorts his voice shaking “Quackity. (Y/n’s) dea-” Phantom(N/n) looks up at those words. As their eyes meet Sam’s they flick their gaze back to the floor. “I’m not (Y/n). I’m Phantom(N/n).” Phantom(N/n) murmurs quietly while Quackity and Sam continue to argue. As their shouting becomes louder and louder Phantom(N/n) stands up and tries to find an exit. Finding a passageway probably for employees Phantom(N/n) walks through pressing a hand to the wall as they skip through the cold narrow halls. The cool rush of air a pleasant change in contrast to the hot sticky-stale air of the prison cell. The yelling growing fainter Phantom(N/n) feels a breath of air go. On they didn't realize they were holding in. Reaching into their pocket Phantom(N/n) pulls out a soft Bunny. One with orange wool, and a small carrot attached with a thin string. Holding it in their hands Phantom(N/n) stares at it a small smile spreading on their face. An expression of confusion replaces the small smile before the grin returns.“ You’ll be...uh...Your...Pluto. Yeah, you’ll be Pluto.” One of pluto’s shiny black eyes catches the light of something and Phantom(N/n) stiffens as they gaze forward. Slowly turning around Sam stands their Axe in hand. Tensing up Phantom(N/n) says with a huff.“That’s not nice. You shouldn’t point pointy sharp things at people. Someone could get hurt.” Sam frowns before crouching infront of Phantom(N/n) and placing the axe somewhere in his inventory. Smiling in approval Phantom(N/n) shrugs their jacket higher on their shoulder before jumping toward Sam. “Who are the rings for? You and Mr.Quackity both had 2 each. Are you married to two people? Do I get 2 more dads?” The questions roll of Phantom(N/n’s) tongue fast. Sam stands up resting Phantom(N/n) on his hip his left arm securing them to his body. Sam hesitates before nodding. “Yeah.- yeah you do. Do you want to meet them?” the two people walk through the same hall that Phantom(N/n) had walked through. “Mr.Quackity? Who are you married to? Isn’t it the man with the swirly pattern and the other man with the headband?” Quackity nods slowly before muttering. “Something like that. They forgot about me.” Phantom(N/n) doesn't seem to like this information. Squirming in Sam’s grasp Sam gently places them down before they grab Quackity’s hand and smiling up at him “Well We’ll go make them unforget! Come one!” They state firmly as if there were no room for criticism.

#Poss angst #awesamdude #(Y/n) x awesamdude #Platonic #Quackity #Dream smp #ponk x foolish x sam #karlnapity #Dream #tommyinnit

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iamtrebleclefstories · 4 years

Text

maybe it’s wrong to say i love you - part one

Part One: Cardigan

i knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss... i knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs... So... this is a miniseries that was inspired by one of my many many jolex breakdowns. It is definitely going to be different from anything you've ever read so please enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments!

In this story, Jo was part of the original class of interns (MAGIC)

--Part 1--

-When you are young, they assume you know nothing-

“Hey! Wilson”

Jo turned around and saw her fellow intern that Cristina had appropriately nicknamed Evil Spawn, “Yeah, Karev?”

Alex nodded and gave the woman a once over. “I just… I saw that you had trouble with that case today and I wanted to make sure you were alright. I know I can be an ass sometimes, but if you need someone to talk to about… whatever it is, you can talk to me. I was abused as a kid so I don’t know, maybe I can help you.”

“It’s a long story,” Jo looked down to the ground. He was right. The case they were on today was really hard on her. They had treated a woman and her son who’d been abused by their husband/father. Jo had worked with the mother while Alex took care of the son. “I’ve never shared it with anyone before.”

“I’ve got time,” Alex cracked a smile. “Want to go with me to Joe’s? Drinks are on me.”

Jo felt her lips curve up into a smile, “Okay.”

————

-But I knew you-

-Dancin' in your Levi's-

-Drunk under a streetlight-

“Stop, Alex!” Jo let out a peel of laughter. “It’s pouring. We’re going to get sick.”

“Who cares?” Alex’s drunken face lighting up as he stood in the rain and danced under the lights outside of Joe’s bar. “Jo, come on. Live a little. We passed our intern exams. We’re residents now!”

“No. I don’t want to get sick,” Jo shook her head, grinning despite herself. She looked at Alex, who had a mysterious glint in his eyes. Practically reading his mind, Jo held her hand out in protest. “No. No. Alex! Don’t you dare!”

Sure enough, Alex surged forward and lifted Jo over his shoulder, running out into the rain. They laughed and Alex spun around a couple times before putting Jo back down. He looked down at her wide smile and couldn’t help but match it with one of his own, “You see. I told you it would be fun.”

“You are a child,” Jo rolled her eyes, trying not to let on just how much she was enjoying the experience. Becoming friends with Alex had been an unexpected blessing. He’d broken down her walls and saved her from herself in so many ways. He knew her deeply, intimately. Every secret she’d ever held, he knew them. He was her person. A person who she was starting to develop inappropriate feelings for. Which is why she was trying so hard to not get wrapped up in all of the butterflies currently coursing through her. “But you’re right. It was a lot of fun.”

“You see, I’m right sometimes,” Alex walked over and wrapped his jacket over her now shivering frame. His feelings for Jo had snuck up on him. She had just been a friend that he enjoyed spending time with, a friend that he knew he could tell anything to. She made him better and saw through all of the facades he’d put up. He loved her. He was sure of that. Maybe what he was about to do next would screw it all up, but he didn’t care. He was willing to take the risk. So, that’s why he leaned in a bit closer and took a deep breath. “And I really hope I’m right about this.”

If you asked them about it later, they’d probably both laugh at how cheesy the whole thing was. A first kiss under the rain, outside their favorite bar, illuminated by the streetlights, gasping for air as they broke apart, staring at each other in wonder.

“So, was I right?” Alex asked breathlessly, eyes flitting back down to Jo’s lips.

“Yeah, you were right.”

————

-I knew you-

-Hand under my sweatshirt-

-Baby, kiss it better-

“Wow,” Jo sighed breathlessly. “That might be some of your best work yet.”

“You think?” Alex grinned and propped himself up on one elbow. He took one of Jo’s hands and laced it with his own. “I aim to please.”

“You are way too proud of yourself,” Jo chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss him again. “I could lay here all day.”

“Me too,” Alex smiled and ran his free hand up and down her bare back. “Hopefully no one will page us for a while.”

“Yeah right,” Jo snorted. “We’re on-call in the middle of the night with no attendings around. We’re going to be getting paged every two seconds.”

“Ugh, I know,” Alex huffed. “One can hope.”

-And when I felt like I was an old cardigan-

-Under someone's bed-

-You put me on and said I was your favorite-

They laid there in silence for a few minutes when Alex spoke up again, “You know, we could do this more often if we just decided to be together.”

“Alex,” Jo sighed. “You know why we can’t really be together. You know why I can’t give you more than I’m giving you right now.”

“Jo, I already told you that I don’t care about Paul. I love you and I want to be with you and only you,” Alex stared at her intensely.

“You say that as if you aren’t also sleeping with Izzie,” Jo muttered quietly. Alex looked at her in shock. She let out an unamused laugh. “Yeah. I know that you’re sleeping with her again.”

“Jo--”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jo shook her head. “We’re not a couple. We’re… you’re my best friend. And I’m still legally married to that asshole, so maybe it’s better that you see Izzie.”

“One day, you’re gonna be free and I’m gonna get my crap together and we’re gonna be together. We’re gonna be a family. I promise you. I’ll wait for you,” Alex pressed a kiss on her shoulder.

Jo looked up at him with a soft expression on her face, “Okay.”

————

-Chase two girls, lose the one-

“No! No, you said you’d wait for me,” Jo shook her head and paced up and down in the empty exam room. “Alex you said, that you love me”

“I do! I do love you, Jo,” Alex paused. “But--”

“But you love Izzie, too. You’ve fallen in love with her these past few months and you don’t know how to deal with that right now,” Jo stated, eyes watering. “Please… please don’t do it.”

“Jo, I have to,” Alex looked down sadly. “She’s dying. She’s sick and dying and maybe, just maybe, I can take away a little bit of her pain. I can do this for her. I can give her the wedding of her dreams.”

-You drew stars around my scars-

-But now I'm bleedin'-

“I’ll file for divorce from Paul! I’ll do it,” Jo exclaimed desperately. “If it’s marriage you want, I’ll file for divorce. Even though I'm terrified that he will come find me, I will do it for you. Please, Alex. You promised.”

“I know, I know I promised,” Alex swallowed back a few tears. “I hate than I’m breaking my promise to wait for you. I hate that I’m hurting you. But please, I need you to love me enough to let me do this for her. Let me make her last few months a little less miserable. And then, who knows? Maybe you and I will have a chance one day. But right now, I need a best man and I’d hoped you’d be it.”

Feeling like she was going to vomit, Jo fought against the bile that was threatening to come up and nodded despite herself, “Okay.”

————

-'Cause I knew you-

-Steppin' on the last train-

-Marked me like a bloodstain-

“Jo,” Izzie’s voice cut through the dark stillness. “What are you doing?”

“I—uh… I’m leaving,” Jo breathed out quietly.

“What? Why?” Izzie stood up from her spot on the couch.

“Why are you down here?” Jo attempted to change the subject.

“I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about George,” Izzie whispered, a sad look crossing her face. She looked back up. “Now, answer my question.”

“I have to go,” Jo clutched her bags tightly and shook her head. “I have to get out of here… I can’t—I can’t stick around.”

“Because of me and Alex, right?” Izzie’s face turned downcast. “You can’t leave. You’re his person. His best friend. He needs you.”

“I can’t,” Jo shook her head and felt her tears threatening to fall. “I can’t stay because I’m in love with him. I’m so in love with him that it hurts to see him with you. It was okay for a moment there, when you were dying and Alex told me he wanted to do this for you. Because, you were dying and you’re my friend and I care about you. Now you’re getting better—and I’m grateful for that I truly am, because I love you and I want you to live. I want you to be able to see your career grow and have kids and grandkids. I want you to thrive and beat cancer’s ass. But you living, means that I can’t and won’t ever get Alex. Because he’s good. He may be an ass and a douche and a jerk at times, but he’s good and loyal and he loves you and he will stay with you.”

The women stood in silence for a minute before Izzie spoke up, “He loves you more.”

“Maybe,” Jo shrugged simply. “But that doesn’t matter. He made a commitment to you and he will stick to it, because that’s who he is. He’s honest and kind.”

“If you’re so sure of that, why do you have to leave?” Izzie furrowed her brows. “You’ll only hurt him if you disappear.”

“I’ll hurt him more if I stick around. I’ll hurt me more if I stick around,” Jo paused, finally losing her fight with the tears she was trying so hard to keep from falling. “I need to leave, because if I don’t—I don’t know if I’ll recognize myself if I stay. I might drown in that pain. All my presence does is cause pain. It’s a painful reminder of what could’ve been. And you don’t deserve that when you’re trying to build a marriage and a life together.”

-Tried to change the ending-

-Peter losing Wendy, I-

“Jo, please there has to be some other way—“

“There isn’t. Izzie, I can’t breathe,” Jo cried. “I can’t breathe here… I’ve never let myself get attached to people. I always ran before they could leave me because abandonment sucks. It’s all I’ve ever known. But then I started working here, and I met you guys, and I formed a family. A family that has helped and supported me through some of the worst days of my life. This is where I became a doctor. This is where I made connections. This is where I fell in love. So, trust me when I tell you, that leaving feels like I’m ripping part of my heart out and leaving it behind. But staying? I can’t stay. And I hope that you can support me in this one last thing.”

“I don’t like it, but…” Izzie wrapped Jo in a tight hug. “Please be careful.”

“Will you give this to Alex for me?” Jo handed Izzie an envelope. “I just—I can’t face him, but he should hear it all from me.”

“Of course,” Izzie nodded and released Jo from her embrace. “Okay. Now, go before I change my mind and yell at everyone to stop you.”

-I knew you-

-Leavin' like a father-

-Running like water, I-

————

-But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss-

-I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs-

“Hey, good morning,” Alex said as he walked down the steps and gave his wife a quick kiss. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Izzie answered simply.

“That sucks,” Alex commented quietly and tied his sneakers. “Do you know if Jo’s up? I was gonna go for a run and wanted to see if she wanted to join me.”

“Alex.”

“What?” Alex looked at Izzie and flashed her a crooked grin.

“Jo left early this morning,” Izzie was wringing her hands nervously.

“She went to the hospital already?”

“No,” Izzie let out a breath. “Alex… I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Alex shook his head.

“Jo’s gone. She left last night and she asked me to give you this,” Izzie held the letter out in front of him.

“What do you mean she’s gone? Jo wouldn’t leave. This is her home. We’re her family. She’s my—she’s my best friend. She wouldn’t leave and not tell me,” Alex furrowed his brow.

“Alex… she’s gone.”

“No… no. No, dammit! Why didn’t you stop her?” Alex exclaimed. “She—I… where did she go? Iz, you have to tell me.”

“She didn’t say,” Izzie looked down sadly. “She just said that she was sorry and to give you this letter.”

Alex nodded his head slightly and finally took the letter from her hand, walking out the front door. He paced up and down the porch for a few minutes before taking a seat on the swing out front. With shaking hands and tearful eyes, he took a deep breath and opened the letter.

Dear Alex,

The last thing on earth I wanna do is hurt you, but I’m leaving. I'm sorry. You deserve more than a letter. And this right here, this cowardice, this letter? It's officially the worst thing I've ever done. But it's about me, Alex. It's not about you. It's not what you deserve. You deserve and have earned so much better than this. I love you, Alex. I love that you are resilient and bold, and no matter what you go through, you never let it hold you back. It makes you stronger, kinder. You made me stronger. You loved me for exactly who I was, and I loved you. I love you. Maybe it's not fair to say that, but it's true. What's also true is that you're in love with Izzie.

I used to imagine this whole life for us. One day, when I finally got my divorce from Paul and you decided to stop playing the field, we'd get married. We'd buy a big house in a nice neighborhood and have kids. So many kids. They'd be happy and loved and spoiled and have everything we never had growing up.

I had never pictured that kind of life with anyone else. Before you, the thought of being a mom scared the crap out of me. I didn't think I'd be a good one. I didn't feel safe enough with anyone to even entertain that possibility before you. But you tore down all my walls and became my best friend.

Now you're living this life - the life I pictured - with Izzie. And I'm happy for you. I truly am. Because this is what you've always wanted. You wanted a wife and a family, and now you have it. With Izzie. I'm sorry I couldn't give you what you wanted. I'm sorry I was too scared to go all-in with you. I'm sorry I'm running away.

I can't stay here. Even though I'm happy for you and Izzie, I can't stay here and watch her live the life I was supposed to have with you. It hurts too much. That's why I left. That's why I can't come home. I'm not coming home, Alex. I can't face you. I can't look you in the eye because I wouldn't be able to walk away. And I have to. I have to walk away if I want to survive, if I ever want to get over you. Honestly, I'm not sure I ever will, but I have to try. You have to try.

Maybe it’s wrong to say I love you, but thank you for making me better and taking care of me when I needed it. Oh, you deserve everything good in this life, Alex. I hope you and Izzie have the happiest life together. Thank you. I'm sorry. I don't know how to end this. I don't want to.

Goodbye.

Alex struggled to hold back his tears as he read the letter. This was his fault. He brought this upon himself. In trying to help Izzie and give her something to live for, he'd caused the most important person in his life unimaginable pain. Maybe it wasn't fair to say that Jo was the most important person in his life considering he had a wife that he loved, but it was the truth. Jo had rescued him. She healed him and brought life back into his eyes. The past two years, she'd always been around. She encouraged him and made him a better person. He wasn't sure if he remembered how to live without her constant presence and the sound of her laughter brightening the room. He didn't want to live without her.

After a few moments, Alex walked back inside the house, eyes red-rimmed. Izzie looked up from her bowl of oatmeal and sighed, "You okay?"

"No," Alex shook his head. "But I will be."

————

-I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired-

Over the next few months, Izzie had improved tremendously. She’d even returned to work and was performing surgeries again. She and Alex moved out of the frat house and into Derek’s old trailer in the woods and were attempting to work on their relationship--which needed a lot of work if they were being honest. Maybe it was the stress of the cancer or the hospital merger or the death of a friend and the disappearance of another one, but Alex and Izzie couldn’t help but argue constantly. It didn’t take away from the fact that they loved each other, but they certainly were less than compatible, a fact they were just coming to realize. They were dangerously close to falling apart and they both knew it, despite hiding their issues from their friends.

What really drove the nail in the coffin was when Izzie was fired. Having heard about her getting cut from the program, Alex rushed over to the residents’ lounge to find her before she did anything stupid. He caught her just as she was stuffing her things into her bag, scrambling frantically, almost as if she were trying to leave in a haste.

“Izzie!” Alex reached out and grabbed her arm, causing her to pause. “Iz, I heard what happened. I’m so sorry. We can talk to the board. We can make an appeal. It’s not fair for Webber to fire you. You’re not back fully. You’re still getting better.”

“Alex get the hell off of me,” Izzie pulled her arm away and glared in his direction. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault? How is this my fault?” Alex scrunched his face in confusion.

“You told Webber that you were worried about my ability to do my job! Of all the people, I thought you’d at least have my back!”

“I talked to Webber to help you,” Alex furrowed his brows. “I told him that you needed this. You need this job because you need something to look forward to. I told him to go easy on you when making this decision because you’re trying to recover.”

“Well, you trying to help just made things worse! This was all I had left, Alex! How could you jeopardize it?” Izzie was livid, shaking with anger.

“All that you have left?” Alex raised his voice. “Really? Well, it’s nice to see where I stand on your list of priorities. You have me. I do everything for you. I gave up everything for you.”

“Oh please,” Izzie scoffed. “Don’t talk to me about priorities and what you gave up for me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I know you blame me for Jo leaving! I know that even though you married me and stood with me, I’m not your priority. I know that Jo was and will always be the number one person in your life,” Izzie flailed her arms. “That’s why this job is the only thing I had left. Because I never had you. You always have been and always will be hers.”

“Iz, I’m trying,” Alex bowed his head. “I’m trying to be a good husband, please. You have to give me a chance to get over her.”

“No, Alex. I know you’re trying to be good, but we can’t keep doing this. We are horrible for each other! I’m done. I’m done with this place. I’m done with this marriage. I’m done, Alex. We’re over. Just let me leave,” Izzie placed a hand on Alex’s face. “Please. I don’t have anything left for me here. Denny died, George died, I got sick and almost died, I got fired. I can’t stay here anymore.”

“Fine. Leave. Run away and don’t come back,” Alex’s mouth curled up into a scowl and he huffed. “I could’ve--I could be with Jo right now! But because I hurt her, she left and didn’t tell me where she was going. I have no idea where she went or if I’ll ever see her again. And it’s all because I was trying to be a good husband to you. Because I’ve given everything of myself and changed so that you could be happy. And this is how you repay me?”

“I’m sorry, Alex but I’ve made up my mind. This is my decision. I am leaving and hopefully one day you’ll see that this was what was best for both of us,” Izzie picked up her bag and made her way towards the door. She turned to look at Alex again, “I’m going to go pack my stuff in the trailer and I’ll be gone before you get back from work tonight.”

-I knew I'd curse you for the longest time-

-Chasin' shadows in the grocery line-

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theadventuresofamuslimrevert · 3 years

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Forgiving is hard.....

Every time I contemplate on all the heartbreaking episodes & events that i had to endure these past few months, I couldn’t help but to be filled with rage and/or great sorrow. Lately, it has kind of taken a toll on me. I often find it so difficult for me to fully focus & achieve khusyu’ in my ibadah or any task I do in general. As hard as I try to eliminate external distractions when I’m at something, my past always finds its way back to me. I start to be reminded of how hurt i was, and all the familiar faces that caused that hurt. Anger will peek in and just like that, I lose focus.

Now being distracted isn’t my main concern. It’s the fact that by losing focus when i’m in the middle of doing something, be it ibadah or work, I would end up not entirely satisfied of the outcome once it’s done- this bothers me a whole lot. Imagine how much better everything would turn out if I gave my 100%. Until I discover how to get rid of everything that’s bugging me, I don’t think I’ll ever be at peace. The question here is, why can’t I? Why is it so hard to get over everything? Then it occurred me last night that maybe, just maybe, the reason why I can’t let go of my past is because I’m withholding one of the most essential thing that is needed to move on- forgiveness.

In my effort to start fresh, I realised how I still get all emotional and mad each time I think of the ones who broke me. So I ask myself, if I still feel this way then have I really forgiven them? Hm, I don’t think so. But then, why not?

Although Allah has given us the right to refuse from forgiving someone, I’m pretty sure He does not encourage it. As difficult as it is to forgive, holding back forgiveness is way more tormenting and painful. It haunts you. In my idealism, I used to think that if I don’t forgive someone, i have done my revenge. They will not be able to live in peace because regardless of whether they have asked for an apology or not, i’d still consider it as ‘unsettled business’. But hey who am I kidding, because eventually, this mentality corrupts the heart. And a heart which is corrupted will never be at peace- including mine.

Oh come on, It’s islamic new year. If not now, can there be a better time? You see, forgiving does not only benefit the person at fault, but it’s equally as important & necessary for the forgiver as well. You should forgive others not only because they deserve forgiveness, but because you deserve peace. After all the crap they got you through, even if they never bothered to say sorry, forgive them. Again not because they deserve it, but you are way better than that. Because you are worthy with the quality of being forgiving. It takes the same amount of energy to forgive as well as to not forgive. There’s a certain kind of humility required to be the adult here. Not forgiving, as convenient as we ‘assume’ it is, just indicates the amount of pride and arrogance we have in us. Since when is life a battle of ego? Remember the story of Adam and Iblis Laknatullah? Ego was the exact reason why Iblis was taken out of jannah.

We are all children of Adam. We make mistakes. At some point of our lives, we have also wronged someone. We might have caused them hurt. With or without intentions, knowingly and unknowingly. It is certainly natural to mess up here and there. Yes right now you are torn. Yes you are shattered to pieces and broke to the bones. That person may have betrayed us, slandered us, or simply been a pain in the ass. But how can you be so sure you’ve never left anyone feeling the same way before? And because of that, we all owe each other forgiveness. If we hope to be forgiven, why is it so hard to do the same to people? Why are we withholding something which we are clearly not the rightful owner of in the first place?

Forgiveness, dear readers, it’s is not our forte. It’s not something we humans are experts of. For goodness sake, we are not God. Even Allah is Al-Ghaffur- The Most Forgiving. He forgives and He loves to forgive. It’s one of his beautiful attributes. A Godly one. Now since Allah is All-Forgiving, if the person at fault commits sincere tawbah (repentance), it is most likely for Him to forgive the person. But us humans? We on the the other hand, are different. We tend to come up with so many excuses and have the cheek to not forgive a fellow human being who breathe, eat, sleep and make mistakes just like us. Do we think that if we do not forgive them, we can refuse them jannah? Are we for real? Don’t compare who hurt who more, or ‘my pain is bigger than your pain’. If you look at it that way, you will never be able to forgive. We are not the bosses of others. I don’t owe you, you don’t owe me. Honey, who are we to punish people? If Allah can forgive people, why should we punish them more than they deserve to be punished?

It warms my heart every single time I recall on how forgiving our prophet Muhammad SAW was. Do you remember how he was once rejected by the people of Ta’if? When he arrived to Ta’if, he was pelted with rocks and stones until he bled awfully. His whole body was covered with blood and his sandals were clogged to his feet. Things got so ugly that Jibril was sent down to usher the angels in charge of the mountains to look after this matter. The angel greeted Rasulullah and said;

“Oh Prophet of Allah! I am at your service. If you wish, I can cause the mountains overlooking this town on both sides to collide with each other, so that all the people therein would be crushed to death, or you may suggest any other punishment for them.”

I bet you can guess what the prophet did next.

Yes, he forgave them instead. Allah. He was A PROPHET. A Nabi! He could simply ask Allah to destroy the people of Ta’if. But not only he forgave them, he also prayed for them. He prayed for his enemies. No grudges. No nothing. MashaAllah, such humility. Muhammad SAW raised his hands towards the heavens and said “…So long as You are not angry with me, I do not care. Your favour is of a more expansive relief to me.”

Allahuakbar

Here’s another story. Once during the time of the prophet SAW, a man was said to be given glad tidings of Jannah. A sahabah heard this news and due to curiosity, he observed that man’s activities for 3 days from the moment he wakes up, to the time he goes to bed. However he did not find anything that made the man stand out from the rest of the sahabah who seemed to be doing more good deeds. So one day, he gave up and decided to ask the man directly. The man revealed a truly virtuous act that he never forgets to do every night. He said “Every night, before I go to sleep, I forgive whoever has wronged me. I remove any bad feelings towards anyone from my heart.”

How beautiful is that?

I learnt that one way to be more forgiving is by reading more seerah of the prophets. How they dealt with people, particularly who hated them and had harm inflicted on them. They were so gentle towards others and they showed that it is absolutely possible to forgive with hikmah; to become strong, without being hard, and remain soft, without being weak. Personally, the more I read about the prophets, the more I feel so little. As if I have no right at all to NOT forgive people, despite how they were towards me before.

Again,

Forgive others not solely because they deserve forgiveness, but because you deserve peace

It’s a win-win situation, for both parties. Not only that, it is also an investment for our Aakhirah. Our “jannah access cards”. Give yourself a chance to be happy again. Get rid of all that intention of wanting to torment a fellow human being by not forgiving them. It’s liberating and life changing, you know. Set them free, while setting yourself free. Pray for them. Ask Allah to guide them and make them happy. I noticed that by making du’a for those who have hurt us, we will find that their happiness can also be our happiness too. Tell me how can we not be happy seeing our prayers being granted?

And to every single soul that I have wronged, if by any chance you’re reading this, I sincerely beg for your apology. Please make du’a for me. Also know that I have forgiven you and I wish you nothing but the best for both your dunya and aakhirah. May Allah grant you contentment and peace, and may he soften our hearts to continue forgiving.

I deserve peace. You deserve peace.

So may peace be upon us all, inshaAllah.

#reflection #islam #islamicquotes #beautiful quote #positivethinking #manifestyourlife #selfreminder #holy quran #prophet muhammad #forgiveness

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ruddcatha · 4 years

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Guardian Chapter 12

Thank you again to @heavenin–hell for your inspiration, I hope this story does your work justice.

posted on Ao3: Here

Posted on FFN: Here

Guardian has been Nominated for the Feudal Connection 2020 3rd Quarterly Inuyasha Fandom Awards! Thank you to all the supporters of this story!! Voting will begin on July 29 and run through August 12, 2020.

Nominated for: Best AU/AR

If you would like to be added to the tags please let me know!

@willowandfog @smmahamazing @clearwillow @sticky-llama-perfection @alannada @shinidamachu @cstormsinukagblog @superpixie42 @nartista @neutronstarchild @i-dream-of-soup @hnnwnchstr @fawn-eyed-girl @ all-my-cuffs-have-buttons @liz8080

Kagome quickly realized that the first months of training had been nothing but child’s play. The last few weeks were, quite frankly, kicking her ass, and kicking it hard.

Kagome was no longer learning pure defensive moves; she was being taught throws and holds and attacks… which usually meant she was the one getting tossed. She just… could not get it. She had never been very coordinated, and that was becoming a huge hinderance. Often, she would practice a move and trip over her own two feet. At least target practice had been going better, she was getting more consistent with a pistol, maybe she didn’t have perfect aim but at least the bullets were usually closer together than when she started.

But it was the training with Miroku that was really draining her. He was trying to train her to use spiritual energy that three months ago she hadn’t even known she had. And patience was not something she was entirely known for. Sesshomaru led the training sessions, demonstrating physical attacks to be practiced and drilled under Inuyasha. He had turned into an extremely strict task master, drilling yokai and humans alike

And then there was Inuyasha. Their first date had been special, magical. For the past three weeks he would do little things to make her feel special. He walked her to and from her from classes, often bringing her a Mocha Latte on her longer class days, hold her a little longer than was needed during training, or steal a kiss when he thought no one was looking. If she had to study for class, he would bring dinner over and sit with her in her room as she studied. She smiled, one evening she had turned to ask him a question and found him curled up on her bed, dead to the world asleep. The moment she had touched his shoulder to wake him up his arm had reached out to pull her close to him, his nose buried in her hair as he fell back into sleep. It was the first and so far, only night she had spent in his arms.

He was slowly driving her insane. He made her feel like she was the most precious object in the world to him yet backed away when things got too heated. He was content to hold her in his arms, to kiss her, but would go no further. A part of her appreciated the respect that it showed, the reverence, but at the same time…

Her boyfriend was fucking hot. And watching him on the training mat, demonstrating a hold, a throw, how to hold a sword… she wasn’t the only one who appreciated his form as she had seen more than a few admiring glances from some of the women… and a few of the men, who were with them for training. She had found out that this was one of seven training areas across Japan, and each facility could train up to 100 at a time.

Inuyasha and Sesshomaru had taken over leading the trainings as if they had been born for it, and in a way, she guessed they had been. They had certainly changed the focus of the trainings from what she had overheard others say, but it only made sense. Inuyasha, Toga and Sesshomaru were the ones most familiar with Ryukotsusei and his tactics, Koga had only gone against him a few times in the past.

Kagome was quickly learning the downside of having your boyfriend as one of your trainers. She couldn’t keep up with him. One moment his eyes were so heated on her that she felt her bones would melt, and the next he would snap out an order or a correction for the umpteenth time, and she would hear the obvious frustration in his voice. When a training session ended, and they were walking back to her apartment building he held her to him as if he wanted to protect her forever. In training though, when it didn’t go well, she couldn’t help but feel he was disappointed in her.

He never said anything, but she heard it in his tone, see the flash in his eyes that he would quickly ide.

That had been happening a lot in all her training sessions. She watched Kikyo excel in creating barriers and manifesting her spiritual powers into her hands, while Kagome could maybe, just maybe, get her skin to glow. Kikyo kept telling her she should not feel bad, Kikyo had been training ever since her spiritual powers had manifested and had been practicing for thirteen years, while Kagome’s had only appeared three months ago. Kagome heard the logic of that, but emotionally could not help feeling that she was disappointing her cousin and Miroku, who spent hours every week walking her through meditation and channeling just to watch her crumble.

Inuyasha watched Kagome going through the drills for the day’s session, they were working on how to roll the body out of a toss to reduce physical injuries. He had paired Kagome with Jaken, he knew they would both need to train with more advanced partners, but they needed to wait until they had mastered the moves. He winced and had to force himself to stay still and not run to Kagome every time she landed wrong, even though every muscle in his body was fighting to scoop her up and run from the room.

Kagome moved to toss Jaken, but her hand placement was wrong, instead of grabbing his arm and using her shoulder to force his momentum forward, she placed both hands on his chest, stopping his movement. Before she could try and correct it Jaken had used her own inertia against her and she went flying, landing flat on her back with a loud “oof.”

“ENOUGH.” He roared. He couldn’t watch any more. He didn’t want to indirectly be the cause of her pain and bruising, but he knew it was necessary.

He had been speaking with Sesshomaru and Toga, they had no clue when the actual fighting would begin, and that concerned him. But the thought that Kagome wouldn’t be ready, that she could be vulnerable? That fucking terrified him. He wasn’t sure when she had become so important to him, he had gone from wanting to spend time around her and get to know her to wanting to hold her in his arms and protect her from any possible danger, but he knew that he couldn’t.

The thought of her being hurt was bad enough, but the thought of her fucking dying? Of not being able to see her, smell her, hold her in his arms ever again? Kami, he had woken up in a cold sweat several nights at the thought. He closed his eyes, holding back a groan. He had seen the flash of hurt in her eyes when he had snapped before, but he could not coddle her, as much as he wanted to.

Toga stood at the edge of the training room next to Totosai and just watched his youngest son with a look of concern. Something was troubling him, and Toga had started to see signs of instability in his son’s yokai. That needed to be addressed sooner rather than later. He knew what was causing it, he had been the same when he met Izayoi.

Kagome was a puzzle to him. He had caught flashes of power from her, and if she had been able to break their seals she had to be very powerful, but it was untrained, and she did not know how to call it out. The brief flashes he had felt seemed… familiar… to him, he had felt that power for almost a thousand years, and if it was what he thought… no, he wouldn’t consider that without more than just an inkling of an idea.

Sesshomaru walked away from the floor to join Toga and Totosai.

“What do you think?” Toga asked.

Sesshomaru raised an eyebrow at his father. “I think if we had more yokai to train, it would be much better.”

Toga saw Inuyasha finally move towards Kagome, reaching out a hand to help her up from the floor. Inuyasha tugged a little longer than he knew he needed to, just enough to throw Kagome off balance towards him, and his arms quickly closed around her, holding her tightly to him. Kagome stiffened for a moment before wrapping her hands around his waist with a sigh, nuzzling her cheek against his chest.

Toga watched the exchange, a haunted expression in his eyes.

“Kagome.” Inuyasha’s voice had deepened as he held her, sending shivers down her spine. “I … I have something I need to show you something tonight.”

“Tonight?” He nodded slightly.

“It... it has to be tonight Kagome, just… just come meet me here just before sundown.”

Kagome was surprised, he seemed almost nervous. When she nodded, she watched his face visibly relax. She reached up to touch his cheek, a soft smile forming when he nuzzled her hand before placing a kiss into her palm.

She felt the tension that had formed around her heart ease a little.

“How about I cook dinner for us?” She asked. “You’ve been bringing dinner to me, how about I make you one of my favorite dishes?” He had left his glamor ring off that morning, and she giggled as his ears perked straight up and started twitching with excitement. Her hand left his cheek to slide up and stroke the soft fur of his ear. He twitched it away from her hand as he pulled her closer.

“Not here woman.” He growled against her hair.

And just like that, all was right in her world. At least for a moment.

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

Later that day Kagome stepped out of the elevator to Inuyasha’s level to find him pacing anxiously. As soon as he saw her, he darted forward to take the bags she carried from her and grabbed her hand.

“Inu?” His behavior was confusing her.

“Keh.” Was the only response as he pulled her away from the elevator and towards the kitchen area, he seemed anxious to get away from an open area and towards the living quarters. She could feel the tension growing around him as they moved, even in trainings she had never seen him quite so agitated.

“Inuyasha stop.” She pulled back on her hand, forcing him to turn and look at her. “What is going on?”

He sighed. “I wan… gah… well, you are about to see anyway but I wanted to… keh.”

He let go of her hand and pulled away, standing in front of her. He looked at the clock on the wall then looked her square in the eye.

“I don’t understand Inuyasha, what is…oh… oh my…” As she watched Inuyasha’s hair began to darken, first to gray then deepening into black. His eyes began to swirl, a blend of gold and deep purple and his puppy ears seemed to shrink as human ears appeared. His eyes never left hers as he stood before her completely human, a look of worry in his now purple eyes.

Kagome stepped closer to him, her hand reaching out to trace the lobe of one ear. Inuyasha stilled, as if waiting for … something. She ran her hand through his raven locks before standing on her toes to press a soft kiss to the underside of his chin. With a release of his breath he grabbed her against him with arm not carrying a bag, holding her to him in a crushing grip. She pulled back slightly and pushed back his banges.

“Want to tell me about this while I make dinner?” He let out a choked laugh before releasing his hold on her waist to capture her hand in his and lead her to the kitchen. He watched as she rinsed vegetables and set them on the counter. He watched as she chopped ginger and garlic before adding them to a pot on the stove. As she stirred the mixture, she gave him a pointed look, smiling as he dodged her gaze.

“Sooooo. Is this what you wanted to show me?” She teased.

“Keh.” His soft grunt was answer enough. He watched her pour a mixture of chicken broth, mirin, and soy sauce into the pot before she lowered the temperature.

“How about you chop these for me and tell me about it?” She handed him a bunch of scallions, showing him how she wanted him to chop them before handing him the knife and pushing the cutting board towards him. As he chopped, she took out another pan and began to cook pieces of chicken.

“Well, I’m a half yokai, half human. So, one night a month, on the night of the new moon like tonight, I lose all my yokai and turn into a human.”

“Why is that?” She asked as she flipped the chicken over. Even with his dulled senses the combination of the cooking broth and chicken smelled amazing. He walked up behind her at the stove and wrapped his arms around her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder and watched her movements.

“You would have to ask dad on that, I’m not quite sure. I am pretty sure it was a shock to him and mom the first time it happened, I don’t really like my human night now, I can’t even imagine how bad it must have been when I was a baby.”

He reluctantly loosened his hold when Kagome pushed back with a shoulder before taking the skillet of the chicken off the stove to it to the oven that she had pre-heated before adding a container of dried mushrooms and added it to the broth.

When she stopped adding spices to the broth, he gently pulled her into his embrace again, holding her against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. He told her stories of his human nights growing up, playing hide and seek with his mother and the other children when there were no features to distinguish him. One hand absentmindedly caressed her back as he told her about the first time he had disobeyed his parents and snuck out of the village on the night of a new moon, his terror when he realized he couldn’t fight back against a yokai that had stalked him. His hold on her tightened as he told her how Toga and Sesshomaru had found him backed against a rock formation, a snake yokai about to strike and how his father had physically shielded him with his body as Sesshomaru had removed the head of the snake mid strike.

Inuyasha was pulled out of his thoughts by Kagome’s thumb stroking his cheek.

“You are ok Yash.” She whispered. “You are safe.”

He looked down at her, his eyes intense.

“But you aren’t.” His voice trembled as he said it.

Inuyasha abruptly loosened his embrace and stepped away from her, his hands running though his hair before he turned and stalked away and towards the fridge. Kagome watched as he pulled out a bottle of water and drank half of it, never turning back around. A sizzling sound behind her pulled her attention to the stove, and she quickly added blocks of dried noodles to the broth and pulled the chicken out of the oven to cool.

“Yash.” She said softly, waiting for him to turn to her before she continued. “Do you want to help me get the food together?”

Inuyasha let out a shuddering breath before he nodded and moved to join her. Soon they were seated next to each other at the counter with steaming bowls of homemade ramen. The scent of the dish was amazing, even to his human senses, and he could only imagine how much better it would be on any other night. He tentatively took the first bite but knew that no matter what it would be amazing because Kagome had made it for him.

The first bite made his mouth sing.

“This is quite possibly the best thing I have ever tasted in my life!” Kagome’s cheeks flushed with pleasure at his words and she nudged him with her leg softly.

Inuyasha felt like he was in food heaven. The flavor of the chicken had seeped into the noodles with a salty broth that made him want to lick the bowl clean. Kagome giggled at his obvious enjoyment of the dish. She brought him a second helping and watched with a smile as he devoured that as well.

When he realized his bowl was empty a second time he looked to the stove and realized that there was no more available, he released a slight whimper. Kagome leaned over to nuzzle his shoulder and slid the rest of her bowl to him.

“Here, have the rest of mine.”

Inuyasha reached out to place his hand over hers, but she continued to offer him the bowl. Her eyes turned puzzled as he grabbed a piece of chicken out of the bowl and held it out to her.

“Keh, did you think I hadn’t noticed that you didn’t eat much today Kagome?” He gave her a soft smile as she opened her mouth and accepted the food. He seemed to get as much enjoyment out of feeding her the ramen as he had eating it, and who was she to tell him no. She knew he was right; she hadn’t been eating much lately, but she hadn’t realized he had noticed.

Inuyasha helped her clean the kitchen and place the dishes in the dishwasher after they had finished. Well, helped wasn’t exactly accurate as he was more distracting than helpful Kagome found. He seemed to find every reason to touch her hand, to kiss her head, to nuzzle her cheek. She didn’t mind, not in the slightest, but it made it harder to focus on cleaning when all she wanted to do was kiss him. It was strange, he looked so different, but his actions were purely her Inuyasha. It was one more layer to the hanyou she was quickly beginning to…

She shook her head; it was way too early to think that. ‘Wasn’t it?’

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

Kagome looked at the limited selection of movies in the living room, noting that clearly Miroku had been lacking in providing decent entertainment options. They were usually at her and Sango’s apartment, so she hadn’t realized just how few options they had. She finally settled on Robin Hood Men in Tights, one of her favorite comedy films. When she went to sit on the couch Inuyasha promptly snuck his arms around her and cuddled her close.

“Inuyasha?” Kagome asked softly halfway through the movie. “Why did you want to meet here instead of at my apartment tonight?”

He leaned his cheek against her head and thought for a minute before answering.

“I’m vulnerable on these nights. After the snake yokai I never left our house on my human night. So now it’s… I guess you would call it a safety measure. I don’t heal on these nights until the sun comes back up, so I stay home and don’t let myself sleep until the sun comes back up.”

He leaned down to place a soft kiss on her lips.

“Other than dad and Sesshomaru, you are the only other to know about this.”

Her eyes went wide at the confession before filling with tears.

“Then… wh… why tell me?”

A single finger titled her face upwards towards his.

“You know why.” He said softly before he touched his lips to hers. He drew back and amethyst eyes met chocolate.

“Y..Yash.” she whispered as she raised her hand to his hair. She gently took a lock and pulled him back down towards her. His lips brushed hers softly once, twice. As he moved to place a third soft kiss, she captured his lower lip with her teeth and tugged it playfully. She giggled as she saw him raise an eyebrow in exacerbation as she waited for the smirk she knew was coming. She crinkled her nose at him before burrowing her face against his neck. His arms pulled her close as he lay back on the couch, Kagome tucked onto his chest above him.

“I... Wou…” She began, unsure how to ask. “Would you want me to keep you company tonight?”

He kissed her forehead as she looked up at him.

“I was hoping you would.”

Inuyasha held her close for the remainder of the night, as he told her stories of his childhood, pranks he had played on Sesshomaru, and how he felt when his mother passed. One of his hands stroked her hair as she snuggled against him, a loving smile teasing his lips as he watched her struggle to keep her eyes open. A quick glance at the clock told him there were still a few hours until dawn, she had surprised him, he had been positive she would have fallen asleep before then given how hard she had been training that day.

Kagome felt the comforting feeling of his hand on her hair luring her into sleep, she tried to fight it, but it was a losing battle. His arms felt like home, the sound of his voice, slightly softer than she was used to hearing, soothed her.

“It’s ok to sleep baby.” He whispered to her.

“Nnnn… I wanta stay up with you.” She murmured back. She could feel his chuckle before she heard it, and she shifted her head so she could hear his heartbeat.

“I get to hold you Kagome, that’s enough.”

She felt him place a series of kisses on her forehead as she drifted off. In the moment before she slid into slumber, she thought she heard a softly spoken vow.

“I promise I will protect you with my life.”

The smile on her lips faded as the world around her slipped away.

#inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha #kagome #inukag #inukag fanfic #Guardian AU #inspired by Heavinin--hell #Ruddcatha #fcq32020 #fc nominations #feudalconnection

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tae-cup · 4 years

Text

.hamartia. ‘Part V,

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (f) x Taehyung (?)

Genre: Mafia!Au, Fluff, Angst (Mostly angst oopsies) I DO NOT CONDONE BEHAVIOR DISPLAYED IN THIS, PLEASE IT’S FICTION AND DON’T DO STUPID THINGS THANK YOU

Plot: Y/N is a skilled, well, torturer, though you don’t like to call yourself that; it makes what you do too real. When mafia boss Yoongi wants information or wants a hostage to suffer, you step in. However, one fateful day you are thrown Taehyung, another person who does your line of work. You need answers, he is determined not to give them to you. That’s when you try...a different approach, and Yoongi is not pleased.

Rating: TV-MA

WARNINGS: YO IF YOU’RE NOT COOL WITH SUBTLE BI AGENDAS THEN I’M SORRY THIS IS NOT THE PLACE FOR YOU, Blood, torture, mafia things (ya know?), drugs alcohol, sadistic tendencies, a fundamentally flawed main character (I’m sorry i’m just writing myself pretty much), assault, harassment, stalking (not bad), romance (somehow), Maybe stockholm syndrome???

Word Count: 3.3k words (Chonkers!)

A/N: shit’s about to go d o w n. I’m gonna be honest here...I forgot if I’ve mentioned Yoongi’s hair before-but I’m making it black and I’m sorry for continuity errors that may be caused by this...I’m just a dumbass who forgets shit.

Other:

Masterlist

perfidy/ˈpəːfɪdi/

~ noun: perfidy;

plural noun: perfidies the state of being deceitful and untrustworthy.

“You know, it’s pretty selfish to think you could keep me all to yourself. I have a job.” Yoongi sat unbothered in the bedroom as you packed your things.

The word selfish hit a different spot in your already wounded soul. After your fight, you decided to pack up and move to a room down the hall. You never officially broke it off, but it was clear you didn’t want to be around each other. Neither of you could bring yourself to say the dreadful words. You spun around, t-shirt in hand as you shoved it into your suitcase.

“F-Fuck you.” You stuttered, anger unmanageable. That’s how you’d been for a while now, it was probably why Yoongi was getting tired of you. You’d been angry, irritable, depressed, and your emotions were out of wack. What you needed was counseling, which you would never ask for, nor would anyone care enough to force you. It was a weakness. Yoongi had similar issues to you; you didn’t understand how he kept such a calm facade.

“If you’ve come here to berate me for the last few moments I’ll dare to be in the same fucking room as you, then fucking leave.” You cussed at him. He just looked amused.

“You know me too well.”

“I wish I didn’t.”

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Choosing your life over innocent ones was a job you tended to every single day. Every day it was your life over theirs, your blood over theirs. Hawyeong was the first of many. Her obsidian eyes haunted you at night. You were hurting Yoongi by putting your need for him above the gang. So you decided, if you were going to be selfish...I’m going all in. You flipped him off as you stormed out of the room. His eyes never strayed from your back, even once the door was closed.

“Fuck.” He whispered to himself and ran a hand down his face. “Why did I do that?” He spoke to the open air.

Taehyung had a very different look in his eyes when you walked in for your daily chat. Finally, we’re getting somewhere. You thought.

“Good afternoon.” He said stiffly. Your head whipped around to face him from where you were grabbing a spare chair in the hallway.

“W-What did you say?” You sputtered, utterly gobsmacked. He never spoke to you, much less speak first.

“Good afternoon, is that not what you people say around here? Do you prefer screams and crying?” He didn’t look fazed as he carefully chose his words.

“You just...” You trailed off a little.

“You do that a lot, you know?” He sat on the edge of his bed, as always, while you sat facing him.

“Hm?” You urged him to continue speaking.

“You trail off like this...” He mimicked you. “It’s annoying. So many times I wish I could have asked you to continue.”

“Why now are you telling me this?”

His eyes glanced to the security cameras where Jimin was watching in the surveillance room. Jimin was frozen, confusion and intrigue palpable around him. Taehyung check his nails before continuing, completely ignoring your question.

“I’ll tell you this- I do the same job you do, but I do it better.” He grinned cockily. “It’s going to take a lot more than taking away gray and waking up earlier to faze me.”

He drifted off, eyes becoming cloudy. “But...I have enjoyed your company these days, despite our rough start and pretty one sided conversations. I almost forget how selfish you are.” He chose that word very obviously, as if showing his cards.

You reeled back, chair falling to the ground. How did he know to use that word? You had your suspicions, but this was too clear. He chuckled darkly, though it didn’t give him a great deal of pleasure to deliver blows to your traumatizing past. He wasn’t even supposed to be talking to you.

“How did you know?” You gaped.

Taehyung didn’t respond. He couldn’t get you off his mind lately. Maybe it was because you and Jimin were the only people he ever interacted with; and Jimin wasn’t a smooth talker. Jimin stuttered when talking to him and showed him his intentions too easily. Taehyung enjoyed speaking with you, he could never read you.

“Y/N.” He stood and slowly made his way over to you until he was towering above you, your back pinned against the wall. He leaned down, whispering so the audio wouldn’t pick him up. “The audio has been tapped.” He whispered hurriedly. “Listen, you need to leave before 3 A.M. come find me and I’ll help get you out of here. I don’t want to see you in pain. It’s best if you leave.”

Your skin buzzed as you felt his breath graze your neck. You could barely register his words. When you did, you looked up into his handsome face and narrowed your eyes.

“What game are you playing here, Taehyung.” You whispered back.

“One where you are just another pawn. One where you never met me.” He leaned to be at eye level. “Because I mean the truth when I say I don’t wish to see you in harm’s way, just as you don’t wish that for me.”

“You misunderstand me. I’m perfectly happy seeing you rot.” You hissed.

“I know you don’t, kitten. Why else would you be bothered waking up so early to watch me, even when you full well know you’ve designed this room to be inescapable; both in life and death.”

“I...” You glanced away. “If you don’t step back, I’ll scream and Jimin will come running.”

“You think I’m worried? He has a nasty punch, but he’d never pull a gun on me.”

Taehyung had a point. You knew Jimin wouldn’t be able to disable Taehyung, but that didn’t stop you. Your voice was high pitched and shrill. The dark haired male jumped back, eyebrows furrowing.

“You are impossible. I’m trying to help you.” He practically yelled.

“Why would I trust you?”

“Trust me? Isn’t that what you’ve worked so hard to do these past few weeks? Well congratu-fucking-lations because you’ve done it.” Taehyung stared at you incredulously as if you had just spit on his face. You didn’t respond, heart beating wildly. He was so close. You could take a few steps meet lip to lip. You slightly shook your head. Stop thinking about making out with your hostage. His eyebrows quirked upward, as if reading your mind.

The door banged open.

“Ah, Jimin good thing you’re-” You stopped mid-sentence. “Oh.”

Yoongi, in all his might, stood in the doorway, huffing. His chest rose and fell quickly. “Do you understand how many flights of stairs I had to run just because I heard you scream?” He said calmly, taking a moment to breathe.

“It was only one flight you lazy ass.” You retorted, rolling your eyes at his theatrics. Taehyung didn’t seem surprised by this little squabble.

“One flight too many.”

“How do you think I feel having to do that every time you decide to call me into that damn office of yours.” Your lips pressed into a thin line.

“Can we talk about this elsewhere?” Yoongi let his gaze slide to Taehyung. “You didn’t touch her, right?” He hissed.

Your ears perked up at the jealousy evident in his voice.

“Of course not, pretty boy.” Taehyung stayed still, having not expected Yoongi to appear. Jimin, he could handle, but Yoongi? That man was dangerous and he knew it.

“Why does it matter if he touched me?” You said, provoking Yoongi.

“I told you not to get close to him.”

“This was the most we’ve spoken in ages, Yoongi.” You snapped. “You don’t control me anymore and I’m not your property anymore either.”

I wish you were. Yoongi thought to himself. He didn’t meet your eyes and instead looked to Taehyung.

“Don’t come near her again you son of a b-”

You quickly ushered him out of the room, using all your force to shove him through the door. Taehyung let out a chuckle as you locked the door behind you. You turned to Yoongi, a sour expression on your face.

“I was finally getting somewhere. I only screamed to catch him off guard.”

“I saw the footage. He had no right to be that close to you.”

Yoongi cornered you between the wall and his body. His hands planted on either side of your body on the wall. He leaned in. God, how many times does this need to happen in one day? You mused to yourself, but you could feel the blood rushing to your head.

“Would you rather it Taehyung in my position now?” His voice wreaked of possessiveness and jealousy.

“Of course not, but why would I want you in it either?” You ducked under his arms, trying to ease tension.

“You never broke up with me.” He called as you hurried towards your door across the way.

“I think three months of silence is good enough.” You slipped inside and slammed the door shut.

You were awake at 3 A.M. of course you were. Taehyung had been waking you up around then anyway.

There was something different this morning. The sun hadn’t risen, but you decided to wander around the halls of the mansion. You had a bad feeling, which explained why you were dressed in all black. Still, the feeling wasn’t enough to make you grab that knife in your top drawer. You glanced at the door across from yours. Then you took a right to head to the surveillance room. You felt someone watching you, but you continued on anyway. It was probably a trainee or guard wandering around. The mansion had 24/7 surveillance and guards that rotated hourly. You assumed it was a changing of the guard. Then there was a strangled sound from the floor below as you walked past the stairs. You were instantly alert.

Your hand reached for a knife that you didn’t have. Shit. You quietly walked backwards, not letting your eyes leave the stairs. It felt like the calm before the storm. You prayed your heart would stop pounding, but you were getting more anxious by the second. There were heavy footfalls followed by quieter ones. You held your breath, carefully keeping your eyes trained on the stair entrance. You glanced behind you. A few more feet and you’d be at your door.

There was a thundering sound upstairs. Yoongi’s voice could be heard. You wanted to shout at them to stay quiet, but you heard his footsteps fade behind you upstairs. You only caught a few words from their scuffle. The words bounced around your brain. What do you mean Mark is dead?

You almost screamed when a gun went off. Immediately, it was like the mansion was alive. There were hurried footsteps upstairs and then footsteps rushing around the stairs. Still, no one came to your floor. It felt like you were in the eye of a hurricane. That was until a hand clamped itself over your mouth. You wanted to scream, but then you heard the low timber of a familiar voice. It was a voice you shouldn’t trust, but you did relax ever so slightly.

“Y/N, we need to leave.” His voice made you shiver.

“Is this your gang? Are they here?” You murmured as he removed his hand. He seemed confident you wouldn’t scream. You were almost tempted to just to spite him, but you decided this was not the right time to be difficult.

“Of course it’s my gang. They’re here to collect me and take you out, obviously.” He looked to the stairwell. “We have to get going, they’re getting closer.”

You nodded, letting him take your hand.

“Where are we going?”

“Away.” He said mysteriously.

“Very specific.” You huffed.

“You can stop this act, you know?” The man didn’t turn to you, he just kept running ahead, turning every corner like he knew this place.

“Act?” You stomped your heels into the ground, effectively halting him. He sighed as if he wished he had said nothing.

“This tough girl act. All I saw was a scared girl who hurts others to avoid her own hurt.” He crossed his arms, looking at you quizzically. Before you could respond, he turned back around and gently grabbed your hand. “I know because I’m the same way.”

You gaped, letting him drag you along.

The plan seemed to be going great as the shouts got louder and the gunshots continued firing. Then it was quiet. Way too quiet. It was as if they had reached a stalemate. Your mouth felt dry. Or one side was wiped out. Taehyung looked to you.

“I’m sorry about this, but you trusted the wrong person.” He shrugged, though it hurt him to see the shock cross your face. There were footsteps and then you almost heard the crack of your skull as the butt of a gun knocked you to the ground unconscious. It’s so much easier to break trust.

You trailed Yoongi has he descended down the stairs.

“Are you really going to make me some sort of maid?” You scoffed, eyeing the maids closet that you seemed to be headed towards.

“I’ve got you something even better.” He grinned that gummy smile, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He opened the dusty library door that now had held files upon files stacked in every corner. God, he’s going to make me a librarian, isn’t he? You averted your eyes from the files. He seemed to read your expression.

“I’m not going to make you file things, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Then what are we doing here, babe.” You frowned.

“We’re here for this.” His hands ran over the creases of a bookshelf and slowly slid it open. It revealed a small passage way. It smelled of blood.

“What is this place?” Your voice was small and you looked at Yoongi with a scared look.

“It’s where we hold the hostages.” A voice answered. Your eyes jerked up, taking in the silver haired man. He had blood on his hands, which he carefully wiped on a rag before extending a hand. “You must be Y/N. I’m Jimin and I work for you now.”

Your mouth hung open as you shook his hand. “Yoongi, what the hell is this.”

The black haired man behind you shrugged. “You wanted a job and this was the only opening.”

You entered the passageway tentatively. Upon seeing the first hostage, bloodied and bruised, you wanted to gag. You weren’t weak, but you weren’t violent, every knew this. You could yell and throw words around all you wanted, but you would never raise your hand against someone.

Jimin carefully picked up a knife. He held it out to you. You hesitated, hands shaking.

“Yoongi! I can’t do this! I can’t do this to innocent people!” You had to keep your voice from shrieking. His eyes darkened. He didn’t like seeing you this way, but you had begged him for a job and he felt obliged to give you one. He would prefer you know how to use weapons, even against innocents, rather than a helpless maid. That was his twisted logic.

“They are far from innocent.” He said dryly, giving you a small push towards Jimin.

“Anything but this.” You pleaded.

“I may be your lover, darling, but I’m also the boss around here and I’m still your boss. And as your boss I order you to do this job.” His voice was stony, cold, and calculated. “Who knows, maybe you’ll come to enjoy it?”

You looked to Jimin, pain in your eyes. He looked away. You could tell he didn’t want to be here either.

“You wanted a job. Now do it.” Yoongi whispered threateningly.

You shakily took the knife and walked towards the hostage.

You opened your eyes, head pounding. You immediately noted your bound hands and legs. You were tied to a chair. Classic. Was this what your hostages felt when they woke up? The room was a concrete box, but you didn’t feel unsettled. You spent most of your time in these concrete boxes. It wasn’t something that bothered you. Maybe that was why Taehyung never seemed bothered by staying in the dark or being tied to a chair. Taehyung, that bastard. The rage and betrayal you felt was much like when you had your fight with Yoongi three months ago. It wasn’t a good feeling to be completely out of control of your emotions.

Before you even opened your eyes, you knew he was there. That man with the dark hair and even darker eyes. The one that betrayed you so easily.

“Y/N. I know you’re awake.” You heard him crouch in front of you. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I will let you know that it’s sort of my job.”

You slowly opened your eyes to see him staring at you. You couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy; to have an even slightly concerned look on his face.

“Yoongi will rip you to shreds.” You spat, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could think. Shut up. Yoongi isn’t yours anymore. He may look like he cares, but he doesn’t. Don’t make empty threats. He must have seen the immediate regret that flashed across your face because he stood.

“I’m sure he will.” He nodded, almost like he was trying to humor you. Then his expression turned dark. “I won’t hurt you, I have no reason to. But he does.” and he stepped to the side to reveal a man.

“Fuck.” You murmured. Mr. Joh stood tall, a scar running down his face. He had those obsidian eyes, just like Hawyeong.

“You murdered my sister a while ago, do you remember her?” Mr. Joh carefully slid a chair in front of you and sat on it. Taehyung looked away, a muscle in his jaw ticking. You kept your eyes locked on him, not Mr. Joh. It was almost as if Taehyung was a slice of home, a reminder of when you were back at the mansion. Oh how the tables have turned.

“Who? I’ve killed many.” You tried to bite back, but your words lacked the punch needed to effectively get your point across. You were tired and sore. How long had you been sitting in that chair?

“What do you mean who.” Mr. Joh spat. “You don’t even have enough pride to remember your victims, do you?”

“I remember you...” You stared straight at Taehyung, and he watched you carefully. “And I certainly remember you.” You spoke to him. Mr. Joh followed your eyes. You knew you were giving away too much, letting him into your mind far too easily. Even a low level torturer would be able to decipher the thoughts in your mind. Please, Taehyung, let me out. Don’t you like me? The second those words crossed your mind, you froze. Don’t you like me?

Your heart was beating fast. Then Mr. Joh snapped, signalling Taehyung to leave the room. Your eyes pleaded with him. Please don’t go. You then realized you had no right to beg for life. After all...Death longed for you more than Yoongi or anyone else. You had stolen so many lives, why couldn’t you accept your own demise? Your eyes looked down to the floor, ashamed. The monster inside was locked in the basement and the angelic little girl from before had control. No wonder you felt so broken at the moment. Taehyung seemed hesitant to leave, but he left nonetheless.

“Now, where were we?” Mr. Joh smiled, flicking a knife into his hands.

as;fks;gkhslkdhf Okay okay okay- I like this direction. Let me know your thoughts.

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#bts #bts mafia #taehyung #yoongi #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #taehyung mafia #yoongi mafia #bts x reader #fluff #angst #hamartia

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