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violetlilysunshine · 4 years ago

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No More Secrets

Boyfriend Harry Holland x Actress Reader

Summary: Harry finds out about a history between you and Tom, making him doubt himself and your relationship.

WC: 2,486

Warnings: a little bit angsty, kinda sad for a second, swearing, mentions of sex, mostly fluff

A/N: I like to put the “keep reading” bar on all my posts (not just 18+) because I prefer it that way on mobile, if y’all don’t like it, let me know!!

MASTERLIST

Somehow, Harry had convinced you to go on a camping trip with Tom, Sam, and Harrison. You, not being the outdoorsy type because bugs, agreed and now here you were in the woods trying to set up a tent with Harrison.

“No, it goes this way, Y/N,” Harrison barked at you in exasperation.

“Well, that’s not what the picture looks like, Harrison,” you sassed back.

“Well, I don’t care what the picture looks like!” he argued back before Harry came over to help you out.

“Why don’t you go help Tom unload the kitchen stuff, darling, and I’ll handle this,” he spoke against your ear, gently wrapping his arms around your waist and placing a short kiss to your temple.

“Yeah, alright,” you answered breathily, slipping out of his grasp and walking back towards the cars.

“Alright, how do we do this?” Harry questioned Harrison.

“Mate, I have no idea, she was the only one reading the directions,” he answered.

“Then why were you yelling at her!?”

“Because I’m sure my way will work just fine!”

“Well, she knows what she’s doing! She’s always right!”

“Just because she’s your girlfriend, mate, doesn’t mean she’s always right.”

Harry glanced down at the instruction manual laying on the ground at his feet, then glanced back at the tent in his hands. “Well, in this case she was,” he said shoving the manual in Harrison’s face before pulling the poles out of the tent to start over.

“Ugh,” Harrison groaned, “this is going to take forever!”

~~~~~~~~~

After dinner, so graciously cooked by Sam, you were gathered around the fire pit, under the stars. You were cuddled in Harry’s lap, sharing a blanket while everyone else was situated in their own chairs; yours had become the snack chair - featuring the s’mores supplies.

You were all slightly tipsy, having cleared through the single case of beer you’d packed. The boys were arguing about who would have to go into town the next day to get more, not that you cared. You were content being sober, never having been a big drinker.

Harry wasn’t paying much mind to the conversation either. Instead he was focused on your fingers tracing patterns on his thigh, your hair tied up in a bun to avoid a marshmallow-chocolate catastrophe, and the way the firelight lit up your cheeks.

You glanced down at him sweetly, feeling his eyes lingering on you. You breathed deeply before asking, “what’s up, bub?”

“Nothing, babe, just looking at you,” he answered.

“Like what you see?” you asked cheekily, chuckling lightly.

“Oh yeah,” he answered quickly, “how did I ever get a girl like you?”

“I don’t know, Holland,” you answered, laughing breathily once more and planting a kiss on his lips.

“Would you two knock it off?” Harrison groaned from across the fire, “no one wants to see that!”

You pulled back and chuckled, slightly embarrassed because you weren’t used to attention like this. You’d hardly spent time with these boys as a group, mainly opting for solo-time with Harry.

“Oh leave ‘em alone,” Tom answered quickly, “I think it’s cute.”

“Yeah, only because you didn’t want her,” Harrison grumbled out, much louder than he’d anticipated.

“What?” Harry piped up quickly.

“Oh no,” Sam sighed, knowing the full story, and the secret you’d vowed to keep from Harry.

You had met Tom on a red carpet once upon a time, greeting him quickly before being ushered off to the next interview. You didn’t think anything would come of it, but hoped that you’d cross paths again another day. To your delight, you did on your next project.

You ended up filming a small movie with the Russo Brothers and Tom came to set for a few days to visit them. The two of you “reconnected” and ended up getting on pretty well, hanging out casually while he was around.

The night before he left, the two of you had a night in at your apartment; you had take out together and watched a movie, during which you had gravitated closer together. You were talking a little and felt the smallest spark in the room. The two of you were looking at each other, a pause settled in the conversation. He glanced down at your lips, and you at his. In this moment, you silently agreed that you wanted to try something more. He leaned in and pressed a sweet, short kiss to your lips. You didn’t feel anything and neither did he. He pulled away and let out a breath. The both of you agreed that it didn’t feel like anything; not that it was a bad kiss, but it didn’t set either of your hearts on fire.

After that you agreed to stay friends, keeping things simple, and nothing more ever came of it. You didn’t know that he’d told any of his friends, as you’d never told anyone yourself. If you were ever asked about your relationship with Tom, you always said something along the lines of, “it’s just not like that.”

A few months later, you and Tom ended up in Atlanta; he was filming Spider-Man and you were working on another project. This time he had Harry with him, who you got to meet. Instantly, something sparked between the two of you. You ended up hanging with Harry a lot on this trip; the two of you found ways to be alone together, even if you’d started the night out as a group with other friends.

Quickly, you and Harry built a relationship; everything with him felt easy, comfortable, harmonious. One night, you were bar hopping with the gang, Harry and you leading the pack, and Harry kept bumping his arm against yours. You got the hint, and let him tangle your fingers together, very much like the Far From Home airport scene with Peter and MJ. Things progressed from there with more time being spent together and quite a few dates. A few weeks later, you slipped up introducing him to one of your friends, calling him your boyfriend when you’d hadn’t had that talk yet; but he was smooth, instantly reaching his hand out saying, “yeah, I’m her boyfriend, nice to meet you,” before winking at you and cooling the blush rising to your cheeks.

Now here you were a year later, and your secret from oh so long ago was about to come out. You wanted to tell him about your kiss with Tom, but didn’t want to hurt him or make him doubtful of your relationship, so you let it slide. Not worrying about it and just letting life happen.

You immediately looked at Tom, knowing what Harrison was referring to, now also knowing that Tom had told people. You weren’t mad at him for this, but obviously everyone knew that Harry didn’t know, and should’ve been keeping their mouths shut.

Harry had always been a little beaten down; he felt he was living in Tom’s shadow and thought that girls wanted Tom more than him. Meeting you was different, you seemed to see him. He never thought that you and Tom might’ve had something before he came along.

Silence passed between you all, no one willing to break the tension except Harry.

“What did you say, Harrison?”

“Nothing, I didn’t mean anything,” Harrison quickly stuttered out.

“No, you said that Tom didn’t want Y/N. What does that mean?” He questioned, looking at Tom first and then up at you.

You blinked quickly, eyes locked with Tom, urging him to speak. Thankfully he got the message, “Y/N and I sort of kissed once. It was nothing, just a peck.”

“You..... you what?” Harry asked, his face falling as you turned to look at him quickly. You pressed your hands to his cheeks trying to make him listen to your explanation as you began to sputter, “it was nothing,” and, “it didn’t mean anything.”

Harry nudged you off of his lap and stood up before stalking off to your shared tent.

You looked over at Tom, to which he quickly whispered a “sorry,” his face softening at you as well, before you locked eyes with Harrison sternly.

“What the fuck was that about?” You seethed at him. He knew he messed up and he was genuinely sorry, but right now in this moment there was no fixing it with you so he chose not to say anything at all. His eyes looked remorseful; deep down you knew he was sorry and that he wouldn’t do anything to break up you and Harry, but he had really messed up.

You turned around and began to walk slowly to the tent, wanting to give Harry a little time to cool off before you tried to explain. When you made it to the entrance, you slowly unzipped it and found him laying on top of the sleeping bag with his arm thrown over his eyes.

“Bubba?” you asked quietly, not wanting to push him too far, but desperately wanting him to speak to you.

He sighed deeply. You knew he’d heard you and that he was processing, so you sat down next to him quietly, waiting for him to come to you. Tears started to well up in your eyes because you hated hurting him and you didn’t want to lose him.

He slowly sat up and removed his arm from his face. He turned towards you and looked into your bloodshot eyes; his were red too and he already had streaks of tears down his cheeks.

“Yes, darling?” He asked; he wanted to hear what you had to say. He didn’t want to lead the conversation yet, hell, he wasn’t sure he was even ready to have it.

“Bubba, it didn’t mean anything. I promise. It was so long ago,” you breathed out, not really knowing where to start. You’d been so focused on him that you didn’t think about what you were going to say.

“What happened exactly?” he asked lowly, wanting to know the whole story.

“Well, he visited the Russo Brothers on our set and we hung out and then thought maybe we could be more and kissed once. It didn’t even last a second and it didn’t feel like anything and I don’t want him at all. He doesn’t want me. We agreed that it was nothing and I didn’t even know that Harrison and Sam knew and I’m so so sorry I didn’t tell you. I know how much it hurts to find out this way,” you quickly rambled out.

“When?”

“A long time ago. Before Atlanta. Before we met,” you stuttered out.

He looked up at the roof of the tent, breathing deeply. He felt like sloppy seconds.

“You couldn’t land him, so you came to me?” he spoke into the sky.

“Not at all,” you hurried out as you clambered over to him and straddled his lap, grabbing his cheeks and bringing his face down to meet yours, “I don't want him. There’s nothing between us, we’re just friends, you know that.”

You paused, giving him time to add something if he wanted. You breathed for a few seconds before continuing, “I know that you feel like you live in his shadow, but trust me when I say that when I saw you, my world shined a little brighter. You’re not in the shadow with me at all, baby,” you whispered to him, both of you now crying heavily.

You peppered little kisses on his chin as you continued, “I looked past Tom and saw you, Harry. It’s always been you,” your voice breaking.

“But you could have had him, why would you ever want me?” He questioned insecurely.

“Because you’re you, bub. You’re different people. You see me as I am. You appreciate me. You’re an incredible person with the kindest heart. You’re an amazing human being. You care for people so much. You’re an amazing photographer and you’re gong to make an amazing director someday. Hell, you already are with Roses for Lily,” you breathed quickly, squeezing his cheeks a little tighter, trying to make him believe you. “God, Har, I love you so much, it hurts,” you added before thinking.

You pulled away quickly, your tears stopping and eyes widening immediately. His widened as well, neither of you had said that yet.

Your brain kicked into high gear, immediately trying to talk your way out of it, but no words were coming to your mind so you were left stuttering a series of “um,” and “I didn’t mean to say that” and “what I meant was,” before he cut you off.

“I love you, too,” he said simply.

“Yeah?” you breathed out.

“Yeah,” he said before gently grabbing your waist and pulling you forward to connect your lips.

After separating after a few seconds, you asked him, “does this mean we’re okay?”

“Yeah, love, we’re okay,” he answered, calling you ‘love’ for the first time. Your heart beat a little faster at that before he added, “I just wish you would’ve told me sooner.”

“I wanted to, babe, but I didn’t want to hurt you, especially when it was nothing.”

“I understand that, darling,” he breathed out, “but no more secrets.”

“No more secrets,” you answered before kissing him again.

He poured his whole heart into the kiss, wanting to show you just how much he loves you. Your tongues tangled for a while before he started to tug at your hips a little harder, trying to grind up into you. You felt him beginning to get hard and pulled back chuckling.

“I am not having sex with your brothers and best friend sitting right there.”

“They’re pretty far away, love,” he laughed, trying to pull you in with his charm, “I don’t think they’ll hear, but if they do, they’ll really know you’re mine,” he added peppering kisses down your neck and sucking on your sweet spot just above your collar bone.

“Harrrrrrrrry,” you laughed out, pushing him away from your neck and pulling his face up to yours to plant a quick kiss on him, “no.”

“Later?” he asked cheekily, quirking up an eyebrow and smiling at you.

“Maybe, bubba,” you answer slowly, “if you’re lucky, very late tonight after we’re - and by we’re I mean I’m - sure everyone is asleep we can maybe go have sex in the car where no one will hear us.”

He plants a kiss on the corner of your mouth before saying, “man I can’t wait for them to go to sleep tonight,” with a laugh and a final kiss to your lips.

“C’mon tiger,” you say standing up and dragging him with you back to the group.

“All better?” Tom asks quickly once the two of you came into view. He glances down at your entwined hands before smiling.

“All better,” you assure him settling back into Harry’s lap and pecking him quickly.

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Tagging @thegirlintheswivelchair because she heard all about this as it was being written (and she brought up the s’mores) xoxo

#harry holland #harry holland x reader #harry holland imagine #harry holland fluff #harry holland x female reader #harry holland fanfiction #harry holland fanfic #harry holland oneshot #harry holland one shot #violetwrites

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fandomlovingfreak · 4 years ago

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Glacial Passion (2/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: Suggestive Content, but no lemon

Word Count: 1809

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy… all words that described Regulus Black’s grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: So I am a liar, and this will be longer than 3 chapters probably:) I kept writing chapter 2 and it ended up being more like 6000 words, so I’m splitting it up baby

Enjoy

Pulled from sleep abruptly, I sit up, disoriented in the unfamiliar bedroom. Glancing around as the memories of last night come flooding in. This bed, now empty , belongs to my husband. Noticing said husband's absence, I rest my hand where I last saw him, noting that the sheets are cool to the touch. I glance towards the two doors leading to the closet and bathroom. Something deep inside me hopes that Regulus would pop out of either of the doors.

Maybe he went to get something--

No. It's absurd to let myself believe that Regulus simply stepped out of the room for a moment. My foolish heart wants to believe he didn't, but I'm all too aware that Regulus abandoned me in our bed the morning after our wedding.

Why I assumed having sex with him would magically make him love me, I don't know. It was ridiculous, a miscalculation , an expectation that I had been holding onto consciously or not.

I laugh bitterly to myself. How stupid can I be?

How stupid.

***

I assume running into me in the library of the house was an unpleasant accident on his part, partly from the stuttering pause when he walked through the doors and partly from the icy look he gave me.

How someone can look at another with such-- coldness , especially someone you could at best call a stranger, is unfathomable to me. I look back down at the book that I've spent my day entertaining myself with to shield myself from his frigid eyes.

It's helped pass the time to an extent, the time I should have been with him doing whatever newlyweds do on their first day of marriage.

At first, I had wandered the halls aimlessly debating with myself if breakfast with his parents, alone, would be too unbearable. It was a perfectly tragic breakfast, with Walburga asking me an array of pointless questions that had little to do with getting to know her new daughter-in-law.

Worst of all, she had been relentless in her demanding way about the importance of an heir, as if I were supposed to pop one out after one night. I had to admit, the idea of exposing her son and his use of contraceptive charms had been a delicious idea at the moment. In the end, though, I chose civility with my charming husband, even as the spite I felt for him in the current time had nearly pushed me towards the edge in these conversations.

I had wandered into the library after escaping my in-laws, and I hadn't left since then. The novel chosen to occupy my time had been working to make me forget that I was beyond annoyed with Regulus and my situation... but then he walked in and ruined what little sanity I had collected in the past hours.

Regulus still stands in the door frame, looking as if he may turn around and walk away before engaging me in any conversation or even a simple hello. If this son-of-a-bitch turns around and pretends he didn't see me, I swear I will make myself a widow.

"(y/n)."

My shoulders tense, "Regulus."

He doesn't respond for a second before asking, "Have you had a nice day?"

Un-fucking-believable , "No."

Not even married a full twenty-four hours, and he left me alone to fend for myself in this creaky, horrible old house with only his parents and a house-elf for company, and he dares to ask me if I've had a nice day?

If I hadn't just had one of the most soul-draining days of my life, I would've laughed at the look on his face. He doesn't quite know what to do with my firm 'no'. Naturally, I am not happy, and I will not hide my unhappiness from my dear husband.

"What is the matter? Did you--"

"You ran off to Merlin-knows-where, leaving me alone in this house. I did not have a good day, thank you for asking." I go back to the book I was reading. I had been enjoying this moment of reprieve from the anger I was feeling, but now that he's returned, I can barely focus on the little black words.

"Mother and father were here--"

"I don't find their company appealing," I spit back. How dare he not even explain himself. And suggest such a-- repulsive alternative . His parents? He really wanted me to spend my first day as his wife with his parents?

"I assumed you would want to get to know your family."

"You didn't suppose I would want to get to know my husband?" I can't help but bite back. His calm tone further aggravates me.

"You should know your family."

"They are not my family."

I peek over my book to see his face. Confusion and a tinge of annoyance lace his features.

"They are your family."

" No , they are not."

He lets a frown crease his forehead for a moment before he goes back to his mask of passivity. "You are my wife."

"That is true." My jaw clenches uncomfortably. What was his point?

"Then you are family, which makes my family yours ."

I shake my head, "no, it does not. "

Regulus looks frustrated, "When we have children. Then you will consider my family as yours?"

"No."

"No? How can you say no to a fact? A child of ours will be related to my family as well as yours and bear the Black name."

"That is all true, but it does not make us family."

Regulus has the decency to look shocked at my words, "I am your husband. Of course, we are family. With a child, that's even more so."

"Our marriage is a glorified contract at best. You do not love me, and I do not love you. You don't even try to love me. You made it fairly clear today that you don't intend on trying. Yes, any child born between us would be my family, but that does not make us family. Family implies some bond of familial familiarity. I don't know you, and at this rate, I don't see myself ever knowing you." I keep eye contact as I lay out our situation to my husband. Husband didn't even feel like it should apply to him. The warmth the word could have brought to me has been extinguished by Regulus's lack of emotion. Lack of-- everything.

Regulus stares back.

"I can't love you."

His words pierce any anger I felt. I knew that this morning. Knew it as the hours passed by today, and I still heard nothing from him. I feel the lump of sorrow firm in my throat, and before I can stop myself, I whisper, "but why?" The weakness I let seep into the words disgusts me. I can't afford to be weak in this marriage.

His icy eyes stare into my watery ones. Stupid tears.

"It's not who I am."

Rage fills where the sorrow sat a moment ago. "I have been damned to an eternity of misfortune. I don't understand what I did to deserve this."

Refusing to show this vulnerability, I practically run from the room.

I walk past the doors to the other bedrooms of Grimmauld place, finding mine— ours . Collapsing on the bed, I let myself tear up completely.

I hate it here, and I can't think of any way to get out of it. Nothing can fix this— this mistake of a marriage.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I look up at the heavy canopy. I don't know how I'll survive this marriage; at least my sanity won't survive. How anyone can live in this dreary home is beyond me.

***

Regulus paces the room, not expecting an argument from her. (y/n) had been so... docile the entire night they spent together. Nothing could've prepared for him to hear her frustrated words or her claim that she possibly wanted anything from him.

And her quiet "but why"... he nearly lost his cool at the broken sound of (y/n)'s voice. He hadn't expected her to be so… emotional.

Despite their marriage being arranged, his wife clearly came in with the hope she could grow to love him. And she seemed to hope that he could love her as well.

If he had any idea how to be in love, he would try for her. But… it's complicated. Even with the bonding spell between couples like them, he doubts he can act as she wishes.

Maybe he could act it , but that's not fair to (y/n).

Regulus knew that it would be much crueler to pretend to love her when he truly did not.

***

(y/n) doesn't accompany him to dinner. Walburga and Orion don't comment, but he can tell that they are curious to know why their daughter-in-law wasn't present.

When he makes his way to their room, he isn't surprised that she doesn't turn around to greet him.

For a moment, he watches her as she sits at her vanity. She is a rather pretty girl, he muses. He supposes he should be appreciative to have such a beautiful wife. But, unfortunately, not many men in these marriages could say they were attracted to their wives.

He's about to approach her when she speaks.

"I want a child."

Regulus's mouth goes dry, " You do ?"

(Y/n) turns around in her vanity chair, "I do."

"Where-- did this come from?"

"Is this not why we married?"

Regulus crosses his arms across his chest, "that's beside the point."

"It's not! This is why marriages like ours take place!" She gets up close and personal to him, "that's why your parents chose me for you. So I would have your children and continue your line ."

He doesn't argue with her because she isn't wrong.

"We don't need a child now."

She laughs bitterly, "You'll deny me this as well?"

"I'm not— denying you anything."

"You have no right to say no to me, Regulus Black."

"We've been married for less than a week."

"The sooner, the better." She echoes his own words.

Regulus sighs, running a hand through his hair. This is the last conversation he wants to have at 10 P.M.

"We are not having a child right now. That's final."

She gets back up in his face, "We will see about that." (y/n) moves around him towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm sleeping elsewhere." He almost snorts at the irony of her leaving the room when she's all but declared she could seduce him into giving her the child she wants.

Instead, he grabs her arm before she can leave, "you stay here. I'll leave."

"I am perfectly capable of sleeping in a different room."

"Stay here," he gives her a serious look.

(Y/n) looks away from him, pulling her arm free, "fine."

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writesowhatnext · 4 years ago

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submerse myself in brie // fred weasley

Summary: Bill & Fleur’s wedding is quite the event… too bad about those wedding crashers. Anyway, what wedding is complete without awkwardness at the buffet table?

Request: Are you taking requests? If you are could I ask for another Fred Weasley? Maybe something where they’re fighting together (bills wedding or battle of Hogwarts maybe?) and the reader rescues him in some way but gets injured herself but not fatally because I can’t deal with too much angst 🙈 hope that’s not too specific... also just wanted to say I love your writing it’s amazing 💕💕

A/N: thank you!!!! Terribly sorry for how long this took holy cow but I hope this is alright love I loved the request and that is why this is so long also I wasn’t quite sure how to split up the flashbacks so like we’ll see how this goes

Reader: female

Warnings: injury, battle, suggestive, couple stuff, alcohol, suggestive, implied sex

A groan peeled open your lips before you could even think about opening your eyes. You couldn’t really focus on anything, though, not when everything just ached, not with your head pounding and your ears ringing. People’s feet blurred past you, rushing and falling with flashes of light. You frowned. Blades of wet grass pressed against your cheek. The smell invaded your senses.

Fred groaned like a child at Molly’s pestering, the vibrations echoing down your spine. You rolled your eyes, pressing your back further into his chest in response.

“When I get married,” he said, turning to face George with a grimace. “I won’t be bothering with any of this nonsense. You can all wear what you like, and I’ll put a full-body-bind curse on Mum until it’s all over.”

Molly tutted at her son, ignoring him for the most part as she scurried away to fix something else that didn’t really need fixing.

“Oh, really, mate?” George said, drinking his tea.

You were happy to see him up and around; you remembered how scared Fred had been after the incident on the broomsticks. The bandage around George’s head still looked particularly grizzly, but you were glad he was feeling better.

“Does Y/N have anything to say about that?” he said cheekily, hiding his face in his mug as he watched you with playful eyes.

“Why would I?” you asked, pulling away from Fred to grab a piece of toast off the table. “It’s not like my standards are low enough to marry this git.”

“Oi!” Fred huffed.

You tried to move out of his reach before he grabbed you, or worse, tickled you, but you weren’t fast enough and you squealed as he clapped his hand on your arse.

“Cheeky,” Fred said, pointing at your accusatorily as you glared back, pulling your dress straight with your toast balanced in your mouth.

“Might have to teach my wife a lesson,” he teased, shooting you a wink. As you moved to sit by George on the kitchen counter, you mimicked Fred, ignoring the backflips of your stomach at his words.

Your stomach flopped again as you rolled over, the wet grass splaying over your face, no doubt covering your cheeks in mud. There was a sharp pain at your side and a nagging in your head as you tried to remember what exactly was happening. Where you were. Where the bloody hell Fred was. Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, every breath felt like daggers in your side, your ribs bruised horribly. Whatever happened had certainly left you winded. It could have been worse, though, you thought as your vision cleared up.

Standing up was almost impossible and each breath was wheezy as you fought the fog clouding your mind, your knees sinking into the mud as you did. Your dress was ruined, that much was obvious. The fabric and your skin were both covered in dirt and dust and black marks as you reached your feet. You tried to smooth it down, but it didn’t seem worth it, especially not as your eyes trailed up to see the wedding tent.

Well, what was left of it.

The golden marquee was in tatters, torn here and scorched there. Guests were running under the archways and disappearing into thin air like there was no tomorrow, no doubt encouraged by the black figures shooting brightly coloured spells at their feet. You almost wished the ringing in your ears hadn’t stopped as the sounds of shouting and carnage began to fill your senses.

“Y/N, you look lovely, dear,” Molly said, the pride in her voice obvious.

“Thanks,” you said, shooting her a wink. “I’ll be sure to pass the message on to my stylist.”

She laughed at the joke, patting your hand softly and leaving to tell someone off, no doubt. You remembered fondly her insistence earlier that no, she was never too busy to do her favourite soon-to-be-daughter-in-law’s hair. It was a good job though, you thought, that Fleur was too busy getting dressed up herself to hear that one.

You finished your champagne, more than grateful that the flute was enchanted as you watched it refill. As you stared, you became suddenly aware of someone’s eyes on you and turned to see Fred sat beside you, a strange look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked lightly, sipping your drink.

“Nothing,” he said, a decidedly un-Fred-like smile playing on his lips. It was far too angelic to be recognisable in his features.

“Is there something on my face?”

You all but slammed your glass on the table, using the shiny napkin holders to try and get a better look at your reflection.

“No,” he chuckled, his laughter only growing as you made faces, looking for some stray crumbs or Aunt Mildred’s lipstick. “There’s nothing wrong with your face.”

He placed his hand on top of yours, stopping your borderline-neurotic inspection. You looked up at him with a pout and a fond smile spread across his lips.

“There is,” he said, cupping your face in his hand and running his thumb along your cheekbone. “Nothing wrong with your face.”

Struggling to hide your pleased grin at his compliment, you leant into his touch.

“Sounds like someone has a crush, Weasley.”

“Oh, really?” he said, his hand leaving your face with a pout in its wake. You smirked though, when he scooted his chair closer to yours, like a child, leaning on the back of yours with his elbow instead.

“I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, his smile contagious. “Is that so?”

“Actually,” he said conversationally, leaning the side of his head on his hand. “I think you might be the one with the crush.”

“How did you know?” you said dully, slowly placing a hand on your chest in mock surprise. “How can I ever cope with the knowledge that you will never feel the same?”

He barked a laugh at your dry, monotonous tone, his head dropping to the side as he watched you for a moment, an unreadable look in his eyes. That was before, however, a sly smile lifted his lips – a look you were very familiar with when it came to Fred. You fixed him with a suspicious stare.

“How about we get out of here?” he said, shifting in his seat.

“What?”

Your eyes followed him as he stood up, brushing down his suit briefly before offering his hand.

“Come on,” he insisted impatiently. He made a face at your unwillingness.

“Fred,” you said incredulously, shaking your head at his gall. “This is your brother’s wedding.”

“I have other brothers,” he shrugged before rolling his eyes and leaning down to grab your hand. “And we’ll be back in 20 minutes, half an hour, maximum.”

You stood up, enjoying the way his hand twisted to thread your fingers together.

“We will, will we?” you said, raising your eyebrows with an amused grin.

“Yes.”

He moved to wrap his hand around your waist, pulling you closer so he could whisper in your ear.

“With you looking like that, I doubt we’ll need any longer, sweetheart.”

You choked out a laugh at his words and looked around you as you escaped through the side of the tent.

“If we get caught-“ you threatened, cutting yourself off when he shot you a smirk.

“Live a little, sweetheart.”

“Fred,” you said quietly, your voice coming out hoarse. You blinked, swallowing and letting yourself adjust to the frantic rush of your surroundings.

“Fred,” you repeated, slightly louder this time as your heartbeat began to race.

People were apparating in and out like wildfire and there were already a few bodies collecting on the ground. Only injured, from the looks of it, but your mind thought the worst. Spotting your wand on the ground, you bent down to pick it up, your whole body singing in pain at the stretching of your muscles.

“Merlin,” you muttered, a grimace contorting your features. That was going to hurt tomorrow.

You searched for someone you knew in the crowds, a recognisable face in a sea of sparks and mist and gold wedding decorations. Your reactions weren’t the best, though, and your head was swimming. Albeit, though, you were grateful to be getting your land-legs back with each shaky step. Every flash of red hair you saw had your heartbeat jumping, but none of them were Fred, all most likely some distant Weasley cousin and none of them anybody you wanted to see right now.

What had even happened? One minute you and Fred were watching Fleur and Bill dance – she did look ever so lovely in that dress – and the next you woke up on a bed of damp grass with a killer headache and a distinct lack of memories. You didn’t have to be a genius, though, to put two and two together. The dark figures slowly herding people inside the tent and shooting spells every which way were Death Eaters; you could only hope that Harry had gotten out safely. Despite your hopes, though, your thoughts were preoccupied with Fred and you found yourself praying that he was okay.

“Fred!”

You hoped you weren’t giggling too loudly, and that your dress wasn’t too creased, and that it wasn’t too obvious what you’d just spent the last 23 minutes doing. As you snuck back into the tent, you separated from Fred, shushing him and moving to interest yourself in the buffet as to avert suspicion. Necessary, you figured, with Fred being so very suspicious. Typically, he ignored your plans and followed you to the buffet table, a cheeky grin slapped across his face

You glared at him, distracting yourself with the mini sausage rolls and putting as much distance between you both as possible. Harry, unlucky as ever, was caught in the crossfire.

“You alright there, Harry?” Fred said, looking over the display. “Any of the classically beautiful Weasley cousins taking your fancy?”

“I’ve got other things on my mind, actually, Fred,” Harry said tightly. You felt your stomach drop slightly; he was far too young to be carrying so much weight on his shoulders.

“Ah, no mind,” Fred replied, as unaffected and blasé as ever. “I’m sure you’ve got your eye on someone else anyway, eh?”

You watched Harry’s face heat up and rolled your eyes affectionately: Fred had a knack for turning even the darkest of issues to humour.

“I’ve got my eye on someone here actually,” Fred said, piling cocktail sausages onto his plate with a mischievous smirk.

“Oh, really?” Harry asked, turning to face Fred. He clearly didn’t care but you did notice his double-take and frowned, your brows drawing together. “Who’s that?”

“Well, if I told you then I’d have to kill you,” Fred nodded solemnly, shoving three mini sandwiches in his mouth at once and shooting you a surprisingly subtle wink.

“Sorry, uh,” Harry stuttered, pointing at Fred and then gesturing to his own face. “You have, uh, something on your-“

“What?”

Fred frowned, his mouth stretching as he swallowed the food and began to rub at his cheek.

“Lipstick, I think,” Harry said, decidedly awkward.

Your eyes widened and you gulped, not daring to look at Fred

“Ah, cheers for that Harry.”

“Not a problem, Fred.”

With that, Harry turned to leave, surprised to see you behind him. You watched his eyes flicker down to your lips and you prayed to Merlin, Godric and even Salazar that he wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Alright, Y/N?” Harry said softly, his mouth set in an embarrassed smile.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice a couple of octaves too high. “Thanks. Enjoy your…”

You looked down at his plate, swallowing uncomfortably as you felt your face heat up.

“Chocolate frogs.”

“Ah,” Harry nodded. “Thanks.”

You clenched your teeth as Harry walked past you, cursing Fred under your breath. Chuckling, he slid next to you, his plate once again overflowing with food.

“Brilliantly eloquent there, love. I don’t doubt that Harry’ll enjoy those chocolate frogs, but I’m sure your well wishes are appreciated.”

“You’re the worst person alive,” you snapped, not looking at him.

“That is not what you said earlier,” he said smugly. You turned to shoot him a dry look as he pushed a block of cheese into his mouth.

“I hate you so much,” you insisted, your smile giving you away.

“Me?” Fred pressed a hand to his chest defensively, spewing crumbs everywhere as he spoke.

“Yes, you-“

Your bickering was cut off by the clinking of a spoon against a champagne class. You both turned to face Molly, who was looking particularly happy with herself as she announced Fleur & Bill’s first dance.

“Come on, you pig,” you huffed, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the crowd forming around the happy couple. Despite his grumbling, he put down his plate and followed you. Ever the gentleman, he brushed off crumbs onto his trousers before grabbing for your hand.

As you watched them dance, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. It was hard not to imagine you and Fred in their shoes in a couple years. Molly always told you that you argued like an old married couple as it was, surely it wouldn’t do any harm to make it official. You couldn’t think like that now though, not with the constant threat of war looming. It never seemed more real, though, than when Kingsley Shacklebolt’s patronus appeared, his deep voice ringing through the tent, announcing the incoming storm, creating a frenzy.

Fred’s hand tightened around your own and when the Death Eaters started appearing, you were grateful for the contact. You looked between the faces you recognised, somewhere between heartbroken and horrified to see Ginny and Molly already firing out spells; Harry, Ron and Hermione rushing outside, hopefully apparating to safety. Distracted by the others, you barely noticed a Death Eater appearing next to Fred. Fred, in his panic, didn’t seem to either. Just as he readied his wand, you found yourself pushing Fred to the side and out of the crossfire. The force of the hit ripped your hand from his and the last thing you remembered before you were knocked out cold was your body flying through the side of the tent.

“Y/N!”

You spun around, the new memories and very familiar headache making you wince as you all but collided with Fred, suffocated instantly in his tight grasp.

“Merlin,” he sighed, his breath fanning against your cheek as you struggled to form a sentence. “Am I glad to see you.”

He pulled away, cupping your cheek with one hand whilst the other still held your waist gently. “You had me so worried.”

He didn’t need to tell you that; you could see it for yourself. His relief was slowly ironing out the deep crease between his brows and his eyes were shining with tears in the light of the moon.

“Pushing me out the way like that, what were you even thinking? Could’ve been killed. Merlin, you flew right through that tent, George had to hold me back, he did. If I wasn’t so bloody worried, I would’ve ripped that bastard to-“

“Fred, we really need to go,“ George insisted, his eyes drifting to you for a moment as he anxiously fiddled with the wand in his grip.

“Hang on a minute,” Fred said distractedly, turning to his brother for a moment as his fingers slotted behind your ears, cradling your face.

“Are you okay, love?”

You breathed for a second, only vaguely aware of the commotion still going on around you. Without another moment’s hesitation, you threw your arms around Fred’s neck, holding him close and revelling in the familiar scent of his shampoo. You smiled as he relaxed in your hold, his chin digging into your shoulder.

“Guys-“ George said, the urgency in his voice unmistakable. Fred pulled away abruptly, his worried eyes scanning your face.

“Are you alright to apparate?” he asked, wetting his lips with his tongue.

You nodded.

“Let’s get the hell out of here then.”

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator @decadentwastelandtrash @loveisblindness @xinyourdreamsx @brainlesspasta @hariosborn @staringmoony @rexorangecouny @alittletoomanyobsessions @peachesandpinks @yuptha-tsme @obsessedwithrandomthings-blog @dreamer821 @iprobablyshipit91 @in-slytherin-we-trust @haphazardhufflepuff @princesof-theuniverse @whovianayesha @msmimimerton @extra-trash77 @potterverseimagine @my-own-mindpalace @sxrensxngwrites @damonwhitlock @susceptible-but-siriusexual @answer-the-sirens @thisismysketchbook @zhangixingxing1 @cedricscoffin @ccabian @amourtentiaa @ickle-ronniekins @harrysweasleys

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #imagine #writing

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wlntrsldler · 5 years ago

Note

okay hear me out the cardigan, betty, august love triagle to reader x fred x angelina i've been thinking about it since folklore came

PROMPT: based on cardigan, betty, and august by taylor swift (an installment of my taylor swift x harry potter series. to read more about it, click here) Y/N and Fred see each other after 7 years and she finally lets him know that she knew that he cheated on her with Angelina all those years ago. (fred lives au lol)

also my submission for @wand3ringr0s3‘s 1.9k follower writing challenge!

“i knew it was too good to be true.”

“was in love with you. was.”

WC: 1.5K+

WARNINGS: infidelity, angst

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

cardigan x betty x august (f.w one shot)

“Why did you leave?”

You froze in your spot when you heard those words come out of Fred’s lips. The party behind the two of you was still in full swing— a party where his sister and her groom were celebrating their undying love for one another; Unbeknownst to them, just a few feet away, was the dying breath of another love.

You turned to face the man you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. You thought about the years you’ve wasted pining after Fred Weasley, dreaming of him like he was the one who put the stars in the sky. He was your safety blanket, one to cover you with a sense of comfort and belonging in a way that nobody was ever able to. He clouded your judgement until you didn’t know right from wrong anymore, and yet, not once did he take advantage of his hold on you— because he’s a good man.

And you hated it.

You hated how even though he was the same man who made you doubt in the power of love; even though he was the man who haunted you in your darkest hours; even though he was the man who laid beside a woman who wasn’t you, tangled in the white sheets while he was supposed to be devoted to you; you still knew he was a good man.

“You don’t get to ask me questions,” you breathed out, shutting your eyes tightly. You couldn’t look him in the eye, not while his eyes are flaming with anger and suffering.

“The hell I don’t!” he exclaimed, stomping over to you. His tone was harsh, but even that couldn’t mask the quivering of his words. “Why did you leave me?”

You finally opened your eyes, after feeling his breath tickling your skin, “You left me first, Fred.”

His eyebrows furrowed, genuine confusion evident in his features. Fred gulped, blinking a few times, not expecting that answer, “What are you on about?”

“Angelina Johnson.”

And just like that, Fred felt his knees grow weak.

His face paled, all color draining from his once red cheeks. He knows exactly what you were talking about. But he wished he didn’t.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice turning into a broken whisper, “I-I can explain.”

“No need,” you dismissed, staring at your feet. You kicked around the grass, sending small pebbles to ripple across the garden. “It’s been years, Fred. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Obviously, it does,” he insisted, stepping closer to you. He couldn’t help but shed a tear when you took a step back.

You shyly looked at your fingers, unable to look at him in the eyes once more. It has been seven years since you found him sleeping soundly beside Angelina Johnson, right before the war. You confessed your feelings for him a few hours before that night, even going so far as kissing him under the moonlight before you went off to fight in the battle of Hogwarts the next day. You didn’t speak to him the entire time and you left without another word once the war was over.

“Can we talk about this?”

“No, Fred,” you hissed, not even bothering to wipe the tears that were falling from your eyes, “Do you know how many times I’ve cried while we were still at Hogwarts because people would whisper about how bloody pathetic I am for being madly in love with you? You daft git! I would’ve done anything for you, Fred. Everyone but you could see that.”

You grimaced as you continued, “Do you know how it feels to confess your love for someone and then finding them in bed with another woman not even a day later? Do you know how it feels to lose your best friend and the one you love all in a blink of an eye?”

“Y/N, listen-”

“No, you listen,” you exhaled. In that small moment of silence, you faintly heard the crowd chanting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” and you felt so guilty having this conversation during two of your closest friends’ magical night. You looked at Fred, “I was so happy that night, you know? We’ve been best friends for ages before that and you always told me that I was deserving of love. I never believed you until that night because Merlin, if I’m deserving of Fred Weasley then maybe I am deserving of love.”

“You are,” he squeaked, trembling like your words were daggers stabbing him.

You ignored him, “I felt so stupid after seeing you with Angelina because then I knew it was too good to be true. I couldn’t even bring myself to confront you about it.”

“I-” you chuckled humorlessly, throat beginning to close up, “I wanted you, Fred. A-and obviously, you belonged to someone else and I just… I couldn’t be there anymore. I couldn’t be here anymore! How I managed to still be friends with Ginny or visit Charlie in Romania when I was there for work— knowing full well that I saw you every time I looked at them— without bursting into tears, I don’t know! But I left for me, Fred. I needed to put myself back together again.”

“Y/N, if I had known you’re in love with me-”

“Was in love with you,” you corrected, although you didn’t know if what you were saying was the truth, “Was.”

He flinched but continued, “-was in love with me, then I wouldn’t hav-”

“Wouldn’t have fucked her?”

Fred faltered, your words twisting the knife that was already buried in his chest. He nodded sadly, “Yeah.”

“Fred, you would’ve done it anyway.”

“No, I wouldn’t!” he pleaded, rushing over to you. “I wouldn’t because I was in love with you! I’m still in love with you! Had I known you weren’t just saying that because we were going into war, I swear Y/N things would’ve been so different.”

“Please save it,” you placed a hand on his chest, keeping him at arms distance.

He grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips as he peppered kisses to your knuckles. His tears touched your skin, the warmth of it making you shudder. You pulled your hand that he held closer to you, wanting to feel him near you, even just for a moment. You watched in despair as he murmured apologies into your skin.

His eyes were closed, eyelashes touching the scar on the crease of your index finger. Fred looked at you through blurred vision, eyes red from crying and pleading. You couldn’t hear anything else but his sobs, the sounds from the wedding long forgotten. Fred whispered, not knowing if you were even listening to him anymore.

Please. Please. Please.

You stared at the boy in front of you in all his glory, vulnerable for you. Subconsciously you stroked his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb, humming as he nudged his face into your touch. Fred’s bottom lip quivered, twisting his head to kiss your palm. He whispered again.

Please. Please. Please.

“Freddie,” you finally spoke. You felt his lips twitch to a smile at the way his nickname still sounded so smooth rolling off your tongue, so sweet like honey.

“Hm?”

“I want to forgive you.”

“So please forgive me,” he said so softly you almost didn’t catch it.

You pulled your hand away, holding it close to your chest. You stared at each other, taking in each other’s presence for the first time in seven years. He looked more mature. The years you’ve spent apart were kind to him. He looked more handsome than ever.

You stared at the scar on his eyebrow— the one that he got when he tried to teach you how to fly in your third year. You stared at his eyes— the same ones you used to dream about waking up next to in the morning. You stared at his lips— the ones that you had the pleasure to feel on yours on that forsaken night.

“I want to forgive you,” you echoed, allowing yourself to bask in his presence one last time, “But I can’t, Fred.”

Silence.

“You-” you paused, collecting yourself before continuing. You looked up at the sky briefly, letting out a shaky breath, “You broke me. I have spent years trying to fix myself. All those years apart, all I’ve done is try to forget you but you’re everywhere, Fred. You’re the person in my dreams and in my nightmares all together. Everything reminds me of you.”

“And I’d be lying to myself if I said I don’t love you because I do,” you confessed, now looking at him intently, “I fear that I’ll always love you. I fear that I’ll always be tied to you. I fear that you’re probably the love of my life and I hate the part of me that still hopes that you are.”

“Because if love is supposed to feel like this— if love is supposed to hurt like this— then I’d rather not love anyone for the rest of my life,” you began to quiet down, wiping the tears on your cheeks. You started to walk back to the party, deciding that you’ve missed too much of the night already, “It was good to see you, Freddie.”

Fred watched as you retreated back to the party, a fake smile plastered on your face. He stood there in the dark, crying silently and blaming himself for the mistake he made seven years ago, as he watched the love of his life give up on him.

tags: @rexorangecouny

#wand3ring1.9kchallenge #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #frances x taylor swift x harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x yn #fred weasley fanfic #frances writes #frances song fics

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writingdumpsite · 4 years ago

Text

That’s because she’s shy (g.w.)

Summary: George Weasley doesn’t think you fancy him and decides to prove his point. What he doesn’t see coming is your reaction.

pairing: George Weasley x fem!Reader

words: 3k

A/N: just something I wrote these last days inspired by some lines from one of my favourite films. yes, a couple of days ago I rewatched Pride and Prejudice for the millionth time and the scene where Darcy proposes to Lizzie hit as hard as usual.

“Oh c’mon George! Can you please stop looking at her and listen to what I’m trying to tell you?” Fred groaned once he’s seen his twin brother staring at her, yet again. But George couldn’t help but stare at the entrance of the Great Hall. To be completely honest, he thought she was one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever met. She was talking to Hermione, too focused on her to sense his piercing eyes on her figure. Her soft features seemed even softer thanks to the light that invaded the Great Hall. Her eyes were shining while discussing animatedly with Hermione. George supposed it was something rather interesting. At some point – he couldn’t tell when, though – she has even started gesticulating.

A loud smack on the back of his head brought George back to reality. When he turned his head towards a smirking Fred he felt his cheeks reddening. Fred was not the only one smirking but Harry, Ron and Lee were there, too. The knowing looks were enough for George to be sure he wasn’t getting away with some lame excuse. But he stayed silent, not exactly knowing what to say to his friends. And now that he thought it through, what was he supposed to say? That he fancied Y/N? That seemed pretty obvious. Harry and Ron chuckled but decided not to torment him any further. Instead, they excused themselves and went to their next class.

The silence made him feel uncomfortable but he didn't want to speak first. George sighed in relief when Lee finally decided to open his mouth. “Don’t you think it’s time to say something to that poor soul?” The boy shook his head “I don’t think she fancies me. I mean, we’ve known each other for years. All I've been doing for months now is flirt with her any chance I get.”

“Are you sure you’re flirting? Eye contact and light touches here and there aren’t enough sometimes” Lee nodded at Fred’s words. And deep down George knew his twin was right, that he should tell you instead of subtly flirting once or twice a week. It’s not that difficult. Once you find her alone, you take her somewhere more private and shoot your shot. The plan in his head, though simple, seemed rather effective.

But she was so out of his league, even for the most famous prankster of the entire school. So smart, genuine and kind that nobody was worth her undivided attention. Her grades were stellar and the hobbies she had were unparalleled and far from George’s. She was an artist. In her free time, she was always doing something creative, like reading, playing an instrument or knitting. He knew that because he has been bothering Hermione to get to know pretty much anything he could on her .

He didn't notice the girl turning her head towards the boys at the Gryffindor table. Y/N is quick to catch George's eyes and shoot him a gracious smile. Oh c’mon you idiot, do something. She’s flirting, she’s definitely flirting is all is repeating to himself. But before he could wave at her, she starts to approach the boys at the table, Hermione right behind her.

“Hello boys” she greeted them with the same smile she shot George a minute ago. With that, the idea of her flirting with him faded together with his hope of being his type. Again.

He didn’t pay attention to the greetings she received and avoided the conversation she started with Fred and Lee. Until she said the word “cracker”. His eyes shot up to the girl in time to catch the remaining of the discourse. “My cousin sent me some crackers after I told him about the situation with the Umbridge. They’re nothing like yours, of course, but I reckon the pink toad knows nothing about how these muggle ones work.” The conversation went on for a couple of minutes. She told them how to use them and George found himself mesmerized by the girl’s knowledge on the topic. “I’m not a fan of crackers and I'm not going to use them so if you ever needed them, let me know. I’ll be more than happy to get rid of them.”

She was out of sight when Fred cleared his throat and announced to his twin that if he didn’t ask her out soon, he would. George laughed at that but knew that he needed to end his agony. He spent all day pondering the options on the matter but they seemed so stupid the more he went through them.

It was at dinner that Ron suggested something interesting. “You could always try and make her jealous. You know, you could pretend to date some random girl and see her reaction”. At first, George thought it was a bad idea. He would have to convince someone to pretend to date him. But he also thought that, if the plan worked, Y/N would make a move on him, tell him that she's always fancied him. And they’d finally be together. But if that didn’t happen, if she didn’t show interest at all, that would hurt him even more. Yet, the more he considered the plan, the more he convinced himself that was the right thing to do. So the next day he asked his good friend Alicia to fake-date in front of Y/N next Monday at breakfast.

George needed to get a reaction from the girl. He wanted to know if what he felt for Y/N was unrequited ad he had to give up and forget her, or if she fancied him as well.

What he wasn’t aware of was that Y/N has fancied George for a while. Yet, if he looked for proof, he wouldn’t find any. She was pretty good at disguising her feelings as kind gestures, such as smiling or waving. She sometimes would try and speak to him alone, laugh at his jokes or ask questions if she was chatty that day. And that wasn’t flirting, was it? Plus, everyone knew she was always the quiet one who didn't mean to sound flirtatious. She was aware that she was shy and not good at showing affection to her loved ones. So, she never considered she was acting like a flirt. She was sure she was being rather subtle with her pining but she was wrong, of course. On that day, Hermione explained what she knew about flirting and dating. She resolved, what Y/N was doing was flirting, even if almost non-existent. After that, it didn’t take long for the bright witch to learn what Y/N felt for George Weasley. And that lead to hours of telling her to confess, to make a move, to make it crystal clear that she fancied the prankster. Otherwise, someone else would find a way to his heart.

The process lasted less than imagined. Only a couple of days of distracted expressions and head in the clouds. It also coincided with the weekend and Y/N was not planning on crying her eyes out because of a boy. So, she postponed the whole “profess-your-feelings-to-George” idea to Monday. She was sure that having time to let everything sink in would be good.

All weekend Y/N expected second thoughts or any other impediment to happen. But on Monday morning, there was nothing that could prevent her from her original plans. So, nervously, she got changed and mentally prepared herself to face George.

“So, are you going to do it?” asked Hermione as soon as Y/N met her in the Great Hall. “If it’s of any help, Ron and Harry told me George has been talking non-stop about you for weeks. I'm pretty sure he likes you.” Y/N smiled and tried to stay calm, but everything inside her was screaming. “I’m not sure I’m ready but I'm doing it anyway.” she stated. Then, she took a big breath a continued on a funnier note. “And if it goes wrong I’ll drown myself in the huge pile of homework we have to do”. Hermione laughed and then patted her shoulder to show her support. “I’ll be here in case you need me”. Y/N ’s face softened at her friend's words. After taking another big breath, she stepped into the crowded Great Hall.

Her eyes meticulously scanned all the faces in search of George but it seemed like he wasn’t there.That’s odd, he’s never late for breakfast she thought. Fred was already there, surrounded by everyone she could think of, except for the one she was looking for. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe some kind of guardian angel was trying to send the message that it was not a good day to profess her feelings.

She went back to reality when someone lightly bumped into her shoulder. Y/N ’s eyes, until that moment, fixed on the Gryffindor table, landed on the couple who passed her. They were holding hands and Y/N couldn’t help herself imagining what holding hands would be like with George. But she didn’t have the time to indulge too much in the thought because something ginger caught her eyes. The “something” turned out to be George’s hair.

All she wanted to do was to divert her gaze, forget what she was going to do that morning. But her eyes seemed glued to the scene unfolding in front of her and incapable of focusing on anything else. The couple was now standing mere feet away from her and George was leaning in, as if he wanted to kiss the girl. In the end it was a simple kiss on her forehead but the act itself was enough for her. Y/N felt her heart sinking and before she could do anything to prevent it, tears formed in her eyes. And the more she saw, the more she wanted to slap herself. How could she be so naïve and mistake some kind gestures for interest? George was being so nice to her because it was in his nature and because she hung with his little brother’s friends a lot. How could she not see it?

She was so focused on the scene in front of her. So much that she didn’t notice the tears starting to stream down her face or George’s head turning towards her. But she wasn’t going to show him any of her feelings, so she turned around and run out of the Great Hall as fast as she could. Her run came to an end when something – or rather, someone – pulled her robes and made her turn around. Hermione was now standing in front of her, a sad expression on her face, and Y/N knew that her friend knew. She still wanted to say something, anything to try and justify her run but couldn’t. Instead, she felt her cheeks turning even redder and new tears forming. She had no idea how it happened but a moment later, she felt Hermione's arm around her. And as her head fell on her shoulder, she started sobbing.

Where did it go wrong? Were they happy tears or sad tears? You idiot, obviously they were not happy tears. George couldn’t shake Y/N ’s tear-stained face out of his mind. He wasn’t expecting this reaction. He didn’t do anything completely wrong, either. He didn’t snog Alicia or proposed to her in front of Y/N , he simply kissed her forehead. That meant nothing, either for him or for Alicia. He did what he did to prove his point that Y/N didn’t fancy him. To get a reaction, to see what she felt. He was so sure she would understand that and make a move, it didn’t matter if good or bad.

“So, how did it go?” asked Ron when George took a seat next to him. Across from him, Fred and Lee stopped planning their next prank and turned their head to hear George. He was still studying Y/N ’s reaction, pondering words as not to sound more confused than he already was. “I didn't think I'd made her cry” blurted out the boy, pouring himself a goblet of juice. But before anyone could make any type of comments he added “I’m not sure if that was the reaction I was looking for, though”. “Well, now you’ll understand if she fancies you or not” stated calmly Ron “And decide whether what you’ve been doing for months was flirting or pining” added a smirking Fred.

“Excuse me?” Hermione’s voice snapped behind George. The boy went white as he realised Hermione has been there long enough to find out about the plan. One by one, the other boys decided it was best to return to their breakfasts. That left George to deal with the girl alone. He could see she was fuming so thought it best to stare at her, letting her rant about how stupid the whole idea was. “How could you do that to her? She’s a sobbing mess because you didn’t have the guts to confess your feelings. Among all the options you had, you chose to risk hurting her to not deal with your heart being broken. I wonder why she fancies you. Yes, she should have admitted her feelings for you as well, but she didn’t do something like this just to get a reaction.” The whole situation, Hermione lecturing him, made George feel like a young boy again. Always trying to defend himself when accused of something. But at that times, it never mattered whether it was his fault or not. This clearly wasn’t the case.

“I didn’t know what to do. I panicked because she’s so out of my league. And I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in case she wasn’t interested.” he tried to resonate with Hermione, wording out loud the thoughts that have been floating in his mind for weeks. But the moment he spoke, he came to the conclusion that the whole plan was stupid. “Plus, it seemed like she was completely indifferent to me and my flirting” that was his last resort. Blaming her for not noticing all along only angered Hermione more. “That’s because she’s shy. Y/N hardly shows her true feelings for me. We’ve been friends for years now and I have seen her cry only once when she got bad news from home." An uncomfortable silence fell and George could see Hermione pondering her next words. "Also, if it is of any consolation, a couple of day ago I found out she likes you.” George stayed silent, letting Hermione’s words sink in his brain. “I really fucked up” was all he admitted before getting up and running out of the Great Hall to find Y/N .

“There you are. Ron thought you might be here but I wasn’t sure I should listen to his suggestions this time.” George has been looking all day for the girl, but it seemed impossible. She always managed to find alternative ways to go to class to avoid him but they both knew she couldn’t hide forever. When she didn’t show up for dinner, Ron hinted at Y/N ’s favourite spot. And there they were, right outside one of the greenhouses.

Y/N didn’t have the strength to find an excuse to sneak away. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically after hiding from him all day. At this point, whatever he needed to tell her, she was ready. “What do you need?” she sounded tired and even a little unpolite but she didn’t care. She forced herself to look up at George’s face. Sparkling eyes and a loving smile looking at her. George

“I’d like to apologize for how I behaved this morning. Alicia and I are not dating, we’re just friends. I actually asked her to help me. That scene this morning was supposed to get some kind of reaction out of you, I never wanted to hurt your feelings.” he stopped to catch his breath. He’d never admit it to anyone but he has been rehearsing this whole speech all day so that he wouldn’t make mistakes. Y/N smiled and nodded weakly, encouraging him to continue. “The thing is that I like you, a lot. And I've tried so hard to make it obvious but it didn’t work. I know I am out of your league. I mean, you’re gorgeous, kind, talented and smart, but I’d be honoured if you’d go out with me”. He couldn’t believe he said that. It was a piece of cake, why didn’t he do it sooner? Silence fell between the two, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. George knew Y/N was thinking it through. He didn’t want to pressure her further and so turned around and mentally prayed that everything would turn out fine.

“You know, it hurt. A lot. Today I wanted to tell you the very same thing you told me. But what hurt wasn’t the act itself but the fact that I thought I was late to tell you that I liked you.” George turned to face the girl, who was now smiling. “All day, I've wanted to slap myself because of that. It seemed like, the only time I decide to speak clearly about my feelings and overcome my shyness, I get there late. So, it’s me who’d be honoured to go out with you” her smile was wider now. And though it was dark outside, George saw her cheeks turn red. “Friday night it is then. It’s a date.” it was difficult to contain the happiness now. Before he could stop himself, he felt his arms wrap around Y/N’s figure in a tight hug. The girl grinned and reciprocated. “It’s a date, then” she confirmed and lost herself in George’s arms.

#writing #george weasley #george weasley x you #george weasley x reader #george weasley oneshot #harry potter

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stargazing-enby · 5 years ago

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I had a dream that harry and draco were both aurors and they were married to ginny and astoria and then got sent to a mission and they had to do a steak out????? But ofc there was tension so they were like uuuuhhhhh we should bring our wives bc uuuuhhh we cant be away from them too long ya know and they all spend a month or two in a house and shit and ginny and astoria fall in love and bc theyre badass ladies they are upfront about it and then harry and draco are like.... Guess we should a dress

our thing too huh?? And then albus and scorpious have 2 moms and 2 dads (ginny and astoria were both pregnant btw, dont know if i already said that) and it was weirdly amazing and i didnt know who else to tell so yea

***

Anon, your mind. First of all, thanks so much for sharing your dream with me because it's honestly amazing. Second of all, I was re-reading your asks the other day wondering if I should try to write this, and soon after that I took the (ill-advised) decision to take a nap and started dreaming about your prompt. Now I feel like I share a special, oneiric connection with you! Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

Thanks @april-thelightfury115 for betaing!

Drarry | 2.3k | Teen and Up | Falling in Love, Break Up, Getting Together, Kid Fic, Pregnancy | Read on AO3

At first, Ginny had been mad. Offended, even, that her husband had thought it a great idea to make her share a house with Astoria Malfoy for Merlin knew how long while he and Draco ran off to chase some suspect.

“The only thing that woman and I have in common is that we're pregnant,” Ginny had argued, “and that we're both married to bloody idiots!”

Three weeks into the stakeout, however, Ginny had to admit she’d been wrong. Although wrong wasn't perhaps the most accurate of word choices, since she and Astoria were, like she’d suspected, completely different kinds of people. Where Ginny was passionate and intense, Astoria was quiet, an aura of serenity always surrounding her. Where Ginny bickered and joked and threw jibes around with her husband whenever she had the chance, Astoria was all subtle touches; a small caress to Draco's shoulder before they left home in the morning, a careful take care whispered in his ear.

Where Ginny was fire, Astoria was water: cleansing and soothing and calm.

But she had been utterly, dangerously wrong in that she couldn’t help but find Astoria Malfoy intoxicating.

“Darling.” Astoria had recently taken to calling her that when they were on their own, in a tone that Ginny could not bring herself to believe to be purely neutral. “Are you sure you're not tired? I sincerely doubt they'll arrive before dawn this morning—we don't have to stay awake if you don't want to.”

“No, no—” Ginny couldn’t help but shiver as the small realisation washed over her for seemingly the hundredth time that night: the realisation that Harry, as much as she adored him, could not have had any less to do with her wanting to stay awake. “I don't want to give up the chance to beat you one more time.”

Astoria smiled at her, cheeky.

“Very well,” she said, and, after a moment, moved one of her knights on the board. She didn't take her eyes off Ginny as the Knight destroyed one of Ginny's pawns; her eyes sparkled with naughty mirth, and Ginny's breath caught.

A moment later, a wave of guilt drowned the butterflies in her stomach, and Ginny looked down at the chess board and told herself that she was in love with her husband. Utterly, helplessly in love.

Except you aren't, a little voice said. You love him. You love him more than anything. You’ve loved him since forever; you'll love him for forever, because he'll always be the person who gave you your son. But you are not in love with him anymore. You haven't been for a while now.

“Ginny.”

She raised her head.

“You're not thinking about the game.”

It wasn't a question.

Astoria knew. She wasn't stupid. She knew she wasn't meant to be calling Ginny darling, knew of the emotions—deep, fierce, raging—that ran under Ginny's skin whenever they shared a smile, a look; whenever one's fingertips found the other's knuckles and their knees brushed and bumped almost on their own accord in the middle of their nightly conversations.

“I'm not,” Ginny said. “I'm thinking about us.”

Astoria let out a breath, shoulders sagging. She looked down, but Ginny waited, gaze steady, for Astoria to look back up at her.

“It's late,” Astoria said after a moment.

“I think I'm falling in love with you.”

Astoria closed her eyes, a slow frown twisting her sharp features.

“I know.” It was barely a murmur.

“I know you know,” Ginny said, a challenge.

Astoria met her gaze, then, and Ginny's resolve wavered when she realised just how terrified Astoria was.

“Hey,” Ginny murmured, standing up. Astoria, lips trembling, buckled over to make room for her in the settee. “Hey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry—”

“It's not your fault.” Even though her head was turned away from Ginny, Astoria leaned into her touch. “None of this is your fault. Draco is—” Her voice broke, and Ginny held her hand with both of hers, aching, yearning to hold Astoria in her arms and take the pain away. But she couldn't. “Draco is a wonderful man. He's attentive, and loving, and he's funny, and…”

A tear fell into Astoria's shirt over her tummy.

“And he's my best friend. But he and I are not in love. We never have been.”

That caught Ginny off-guard.

“Never?”

Astoria laughed, a broken, pathetic sound.

“Never. Our parents planned our union soon after I left Hogwarts. I was horrified at first, but after getting to know him, there was a time when I really thought I would fall in love with him in time. That he'd fall in love with me. And we did end up loving each other, mind you: he will always be my closest friend. It's just not…”

“Yeah,” Ginny said softly. “I understand.”

Astoria turned to look at her, then. Seeing her teared up made something inside Ginny snap, and she reached out, held Astoria's cheeks in her hands, thumbing at her messy tears.

“Harry and I were in love for a long time, but… I think he knows just as well as I do that the love we feel now is purely platonic.” She smiled—chuckled. “In fact, a small part of me suspects whatever he feels for Draco right now is more intense than what he ever felt for me.”

That tore a laugh out of Astoria.

“I would not be surprised if that was the case. Those two…” She shook her head. “They're incorrigible.”

Ginny groaned in agreement. A moment later, though, her smile faded away and she was left with Astoria's face cradled in her hands. Their legs pressed together, their eyes searching the other's face. Scared, but hopeful.

Sliding her hands down Astoria's neck and shoulders, and then squeezing her arms, Ginny let out a slow, deep breath.

“I think we need to have a conversation with our husbands.”

***

“You… What?”

To Harry's credit, he looked more baffled than anything else.

“We're in love,” Astoria repeated, voice steady, but gaze pleading with Draco to understand.

“I… Okay. Okay. Give me one second.” Harry turned around and sat down on the nearest chair.

Draco remained still. As far as Ginny was aware, he’d barely even blinked since they'd started explaining the situation to them.

“Are you going to say anything?” Harry asked after a moment, turning to Draco. When Draco shook his head, gaze still fixed in some distant point in space, Harry stood again, leaning his weight against the table. “Okay, so first of all, this is all extremely awkward.”

“We were aware of that much, thank you,” Astoria said.

“I mean, both of you are pregnant. With our babies.” He gestured between him and Draco. “Not to mention that we're married, although that's slightly less permanent…”

Draco huffed, and the three of them turned to him. When he didn't say anything, Harry continued.

“But I guess it… makes sense? I mean—you two are sort of like… the perfect opposites, you know. I always knew you would get on well. I didn't suspect you'd get on this well, but, hey—”

“Have you—” Draco's head seemed to be stuck mid-shake, eyes scrunched closed. “Have you done anything? With one another?”

“No, darling.” The word sounded different, Ginny thought, when Astoria used it for Draco. “We were waiting to tell you.”

He nodded, but didn't say anything else. When Astoria approached him, Ginny took a step back to give them some space and leaned into the table with Harry.

“I love you,” she told him.

“And I you,” Harry said, eyes low. Gulping, he took Ginny's hand in his. “But… I mean, I think both of us had noticed that something was… that something wasn't…”

“I know.” She squeezed his hand. “I know.”

He looked up at her, and Merlin, he looked so, so vulnerable in that moment that Ginny wished more than ever that she could love him the way he deserved to be loved. But that simply wasn’t for her to do.

“I still would like for us to raise our son together,” he murmured.

“We will. Harry, I don't care what happens from now on. You're still my best friend, and you're still the father of my kid. Nothing is going to change that. Okay?”

Harry nodded, and, biting his lip, turned his gaze to Draco and Astoria. After a moment, Ginny did too.

Draco was crying.

“Come on, let's give them some space,” she said, pushing herself off the table. Harry followed her out of the room.

***

“Draco…”

No reply came. Harry looked at him, but Draco's gaze was fixed somewhere outside the car window.

They'd spent countless hours inside that car, in that very watch post. Hours chatting, and bickering, and taking turns to sleep while the other watched the house for any signs of activity.

It had never been awkward before now.

“Look, we need to talk,” Harry said. Draco huffed, unamused. “We need to talk because we both know our wives are not the only ones who’d noticed something wasn’t right before yesterday’s conversation. They were just the only ones brave enough to be upfront about it.”

In the moment it took Draco to turn around, Harry thought of Draco's head on his shoulder; of the way it had felt when Draco had fallen asleep there, of the way he'd been so careful not to let it fall so Draco wouldn't wake up. He thought of the way their arms brushed whenever they walked, wands in hand, toward a dangerous location. Thought of the very reason they'd been so adamant that their wives should come with them on this mission: a truth they'd refused to confront, and that had gone and slapped them in the face anyway.

“Do you understand how terrifying this is for me?” Draco finally said, body turned to Harry, but gaze fixed on his knees. “To know that my life as I know it, as I always expected it to be, is over? Do you think”—he looked up at Harry, and Merlin, he looked so scared Harry had to hold back from reaching out to him—“that I haven't noticed that I'm in love with Harry Potter, and not with the woman I'm about to have a baby with?”

Harry held his breath. Searched in Malfoy's eyes, desperately, for any hint that he was about to take back his words. Then, almost out of breath:

“I'm in love with you too.”

Draco let out a desperate laugh.

“I know that, you bloody idiot,” he choked out. “Fuck, I know.”

Harry bit his lip. Reached out, rested a hand over Draco's trembling, fisted own.

For a few moments, neither spoke.

“I'm sorry,” Harry murmured eventually. “I'm sorry things can't be different.”

Draco started playing with Harry's fingers, and Harry closed his eyes—marvelled in how warm Draco's hands felt. How careful they were even as he fidgeted.

“I'm glad they told us,” Draco said. “I want Astoria to be happy, and I know she'd never be completely happy with me.” A sigh. “I wouldn't, either. Not with her. I just… I need some time to come to terms with it.”

Harry's fingers turned and turned between Draco's nervous own.

“That's okay. I don't mind waiting for you.”

Their eyes met.

“Okay,” Draco said.

Harry squeezed his hand. Smiled.

“Okay.”

***

The whoosh of the hearth letting someone through was quickly followed by two high-pitched squeals. By two very excited cries of, “Daddy!”

Harry smiled to himself when he heard Draco's laughter coming from the living room as he—presumably—was tackled to the floor by Albus and Scorpius.

“Boooys,” Harry called after a moment. “Come grab some cookies from the kitchen!”

A few seconds later, the two five-year-old tornadoes were rushing toward the tray, barely sparing Harry a glance. Harry shook his head, grinning.

“Where's my hug?”

“Daddy!” Albus, face already full of crumbs, ran toward Harry's arms. “Your cookies are the best!”

“Mmh!” Scorpius agreed.

“I'm glad you like them.” Harry ruffled Al's hair. “Do save some for later, though!”

Draco walked in, grabbed a cookie. “How are your mums?” he asked while he gave Harry a sonorous kiss on the cheek, the crumbs on Draco’s mouth scratching against his stubble.

Harry was about to complain when Albus stretched his arms out, asking to be picked up.

“They have a date today,” he—quite loudly—whispered in Harry's ear.

“Do they, now!”

“A date in a restawant with candles and a lot of different forks,” Albus explained. “And—and they were wearing really pretty dresses!”

“Really? What colour?” Draco asked, picking Scorpius up too.

“Mum's was red,” Scorpius said. “And mummy's was, uh, it was really pretty, and—”

“And sparkly!” Albus squealed. “Black and sparkly!”

“Wow! I don’t think Draco and I own anything so pretty!” Harry turned to Draco. “What do you think?”

“Hmmm…” Draco dragged the sound out, sharing a mischievous look with Scorpius. “I’m not sure… I think we might have some sparkly garments hidden in the back of our wardrobe, but I’m sure Al and Scorp won’t be interested in—”

“We want to see!” Scorpius screamed, wiggling in his father’s arms.

“We want to see, we want to see!” Albus chanted.

Harry and Draco shared a smile.

“Very well, then,” Draco said solemnly, setting Scorpius down. “Let’s see which of you can find the prettiest clothes in our bedroom for us to wear today.”

The kids darted upstairs, and, before following them, Harry took Draco’s hand in his and kissed his husband’s cheek in return.

#OTPshipper98 #Drarry #Drarry fic #Drarry squad #Harry Potter #Draco x Harry #Astoria x Ginny #how would you call this ship?#Astinny #that doesn't sound right XD #Pregnancy tw #chess players plase don't murder me if I got chess wrong #I have literally never played it aslkjglks

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joheunsaram · 4 years ago

Text

To Make A Power Couple - 5.5 (knj)

Chapter 5.5: “No. We had our first makeup.”

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

previous | masterlist | next

Summary- Namjoon and Y/N talk about their relationship.

word count- 2.5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, slow burn, fluff, smut, strangers2lovers, angst (😱)

warnings- none! just extreme fluff

a.n- This didn’t fit well in the next chapter but I wanted to end the angst in the last chapter on a better note. Let me know what you think.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii , @jinjccns , @joyful-jimin @sideblogger @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond

Namjoon awoke earlier than the sun the next day, his head heavy and his eyes sore, evidence of last night’s vulnerability etched into his features. Unlike most times you weren’t tangled up in his arms, instead he saw you on the other side of the bed, curled up in a fetal position, one hand between your knees while the other rested under your cheek, making your mouth pout. He frowned at how your eyebrows seemed to be furrowed in your sleep, making you look distressed.

Sighing, he rose up, walking to the other side of the bed to his luggage and digging around for painkillers for his headache. Before he walked to the fridge to grab water, he pulled the comforter higher over you, lightly caressing your cheek, his eyes trailing the necklace around your neck, the pendant resting on the sheets next to your hand.

He sat on the couch, pulling your laptop on the coffee table towards him and turning it on to be greeted by the proposal you were supposed to be working on yesterday. The document seemed to be littered with little comments, and he felt anger flare within his chest as he read them. He knew he was snooping, and he should just minimize the window and go on Netflix as he was initially planning, but he couldn’t help it.

Y/N, are you an idiot?! This is not possible! That is not how this company works

Please fix this. We know you are better than this rubbish.

Let’s discuss this when you get back from showing off in Detroit… this is nonsense.

The comments were too casual and berating to be from your staff and he could only assume they were from your board members. You never talked much about your relationship with the board other than the occasional complaint about wanting to buy them out to have full control, but Namjoon never expected this amount of disrespect from them. As he looked at your sleeping form across the room, he felt a bubble of guilt rise within him. Now that the haze of jealousy and self-hate he was in last night had disappeared, he couldn’t help but realize how mean he had been in his comments to you. If you were dealing with all of this from your board, you didn’t need to be dealing with it from him too. He wondered why you never shared this with him, as he rubbed his face and leaned his head back over the couch. He had seen you become frighteningly more stressed and tired over the last month but he always stopped himself from asking questions, thinking he was projecting his own troubles on to you. In hindsight, he should have known better. Over the past month, Harry had texted him twice to ask if you were doing alright, and even at drinks on Friday, Siwon had pulled him aside to remind him to make sure you relax this weekend. He should’ve known better.

He felt a pang in his heart as he thought about your relationship. It had started with a promise of honesty, of never hiding yourselves from each other, but somehow the distance and the stress had made you both recede into yourselves. Unlike Namjoon, you were the kind of person who never seemed to wear her emotions on her sleeve, and he wondered if you felt similarly to how he had been feeling these past months with your work too. Were you also caging yourself in, afraid to share your stress with him?

“Joonie…?” You groggily traced your hand on his side of the bed to find it cold and suddenly last night came back to you and you feared for the worst. You had thought you had resolved your fight. Sure you hadn’t talked about it fully yet but feeling the emptiness made your heart stop. Was he gone? Shooting up, all traces of sleep were gone as you searched the room for him, eyes still puffy from sleep calling his name again, louder this time.

“What’s wrong? I’m right here, babe.” He walked over and you relaxed watching him climb into bed, his back against the headboard as he kissed your forehead, while you moved to sit cross legged between his long legs in front of him.

“Sorry.” He felt you shake slightly as he smoothed your hair to comfort you. You looked up at him, your palm coming to rest against his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Thank you for last night.” He gazed at you, hoping to convey his true gratitude, his hand wrapping arounds yours in your lap. People had always left him alone when he was in that headspace, and he was amazed that you had not only confronted him but managed to pull him out of it. “I’m sorry you had to see me that way.”

“Don’t apologize.” You looked at him sternly before a blush crept on your cheeks and you averted your gaze to your joined hands. Now that he was in a better place, you felt your guilt from last night coming back. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I made it hard for you to believe that I love you.”

“It’s not that… I think I just had a fucked up idea of how girlfriends show love.” He smiled awkwardly, squeezing your hand comfortingly. “I just got insecure about you not being jealous or territorial… I don’t know. It’s pretty dumb” He chuckled humorlessly.

“Oh… I was jealous.” You looked at him with wide eyes as he looked at you with shock. He was sure you were trying to placate him but he wanted to hear your reasoning. “I… I rationalize my feelings. I don’t go off the first thing, you know?” You shrugged sheepishly as you continued. “I feel a thing and then I go ‘hmm wrong reaction, let’s fix that’ so yeah of course I was jealous, are you kidding me? But then I thought it wasn’t an adult response to feel like that so I pretended till I was okay with it.”

Namjoon couldn’t help but laugh at that. He spent two days feeling like he was defected for being jealous of random men, even Yoongi. Of course you had more restraint over your emotions than him. He was in awe of you and he felt like a complete idiot. He leaned forward to pull you closer, arms around your waist to pull him to his chest and kissed you once, before you pushed him off.

“Hey! Stop laughing at me! I’m being vulnerable here!” You pouted, moving your arms around his neck. You knew he wasn’t laughing at you and you were glad he took your confession so well. To be completely honest, you had always felt your trait of rationalizing your feelings was your worst - it created a rift between you and other people who often deemed you as cold and heartless. It pained you that this same trait had made Namjoon so insecure.

Namjoon to his credit, stopped laughing immediately, instead looking at you with a fond smile. “I’m sorry baby. I’m laughing at myself - at how much of an idiot I am.” He once again kissed you, his lips moulding to yours, moving languidly. “I can’t believe that was my barometer for your love. Shit, I’m a fucking idiot.” He giggled, his lips a few centimeters away from yours.

“You’re not an idiot, Joonie.” You frowned a little, cupping his face as you looked into his deep brown eyes. He poked lightly at the corner of your mouth, hoping to remove the frown, looking at you seriously before speaking.

“I hope you know, you don’t have to filter yourself for me, Y/N. You can tell me if you feel jealous or stressed or sad or angry or whatever. I won’t ever judge you.” You felt lighter hearing his words, even though you knew that by now your feelings filter was pretty much an automatic response, it felt nice to hear that you didn’t need to be as careful around him.

Seeing your smile, Namjoon kissed you again, moving your backwards till you laid down under him. His kisses were relaxed, slow, as if he had all the time in the world, and it made your heart blossom. However, you knew that you still needed to talk about his feelings from last night. It wasn’t like you to let things stew, and so before things could get more heated you suggested going to the roof to watch the sunrise. Namjoon finally agreed after a few more lingering kisses, both of you changing into your hoodies and sweats before walking up to the rooftop.

You both laughed when you reached the top of the stairs at the obscenely large no entry sign that was much more evident now that you weren’t in a wild haze of emotions. Choosing to pointedly ignore it once again, you open the door to walk to the edge of the railing. It seemed that the rain last night had cleared the air, the cool morning breeze feeling fresher as you looked over downtown Detroit, the first rays of sunlight breaking over the shiny skyscrapers.

After a few minutes of enjoying the view, you turned to your boyfriend, intertwining your fingers. He had a small smile on his face as he looked over the city, his other hand under his chin, elbow resting on the railing. The first few rays of sunlight reflected off his face, making him look almost ethereal. “Joon, can I ask you something?” Still looking at the view, he hummed in approval. “Why didn’t you tell me you collapsed last week?”

“Probably the same reason you didn’t tell me how hard your board was hounding you for this proposal.” He looked at you pointedly, squeezing your hand, as you let out a sigh.

The cat was out of the bag for the both of you. It felt odd to talk about your stresses after so long, and therein lies the problem. The two of you started this long distance with promises of keeping each other updated but started rethinking that as soon as the stress piled on. Neither of you wanted to burden each other with your stress, but the more you both talked about it you realized the two of you had just been disrespecting each other, assuming the other couldn’t handle your reality and taking away their autonomy to make that decision. You both talked in hushed whispers as if discussing a shameful secret. Well, you guess it was pretty shameful the way you had been hiding in the bathroom at work to avoid talking to people, or that your one glass of whiskey after work had turned to four.

Namjoon assured you he wanted to share your burden and he wanted to share his with you too. He told you about his own shame - of trolling the internet for self-esteem destroying messages - chuckling at your proclamation that you would report every single message till they didn’t exist. It felt nice to finally tell someone, tell you, about his tortuous midnight habit. He also shared his stress about interviews, the anxiety that comes with having to translate for everyone and making sure he does the good job at representing not only his band but his country internationally.

“Okay this cannot happen again. We can’t fuck our communication up this bad every time we do long distance!” you exclaimed after almost two hours of you catching each other up on your less than ideal month. Namjoon was now sitting on the floor, back against the railing as you sat between his legs, your back on his chest and his chin resting on your shoulder. You squeezed his hand in yours. “We need to strategize how to be better!” You turned sideways as Namjoon burst out laughing.

“Damn you really are a CEO. You want to strategize our relationship?” Namjoon had calmed down enough to look at you incredulously.

“Joonie! I’m just trying to make sure we don’t fight again. I didn’t like it.” Namjoon sees your face fall at that as you look to the ground, a little sigh escaping, before he lifts your chin to look at you. You looked at him sadly. “We really had our first fight, huh?”

“No. We had our first makeup” He looks at you with conviction, eye contact not wavering in the least before he kisses you softly on the lips, watching a small smile evaporating your frown. “Okay let’s do it. What’s your strategy, boss?”

And so the two of you came up with three rules to foolproof the rest of your long distance. One, you switched your calls from goodnight to good morning calls, when both of you had enough mental semblance to stitch a proper sentence together (and so you could scold each other if you ended up pulling unnecessary all-nighters). Two, you would never assume the other person was not mentally ready to hear about your stress but would instead ask if they were okay with listening to you. You were to never assume you were a burden on the other person, because you both wanted to support each other. And lastly, your safewords were no longer for the bedroom, instead you both decided to use the colour system on your fights or heavier conversations, giving each other the opportunity to call yellow or red on a topic you weren’t ready to discuss. You didn’t know if this strategy was the best, but you would never know unless you tried it out.

With the sun getting higher and your stomachs growling for sustenance you decided to stand up, looking at the view one last time before venturing downstairs. The city was alive, cars moving around, people rushing to their Sunday plans. It was beautiful. You leaned back, closing your eyes as you took in the sun. “Ah! Healing rooftops!”

“You know, I don’t get the ‘healing power of rooftops’ thing you have.” Namjoon looked at your blissed out face as he put his arm around you, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looked at the view, thinking of last night. “All I see are empty offices. Doesn’t it feel lonely?”

“Nah, Joonie. You’re looking at it wrong. For every empty office that means that that person is home safe with their loved ones. Isn’t that the opposite of lonely?” He was taken aback by your positive spin on the situation. He smiled at you warmly as his arms tightened around you. He loved that even though you always said you were cold and people called you Ice Queen, all he ever saw was a soft-hearted optimist. He kissed your cheek as you giggled.

“I love you, pretty girl.”

“I love you too, Joonie.”

————

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#namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #rm x reader #rm fluff #namjoon smut #rm smut #rm angst #houseofddaeng #thebtswritersclub #thetruthuntoldnet #btsnoonanet #purplearmynet #ficswithluv #namjoon series #namjoon fanfic #bts idol au

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wevegottogetaway · 4 years ago

Text

I love you

First I love yous...do I need to say more? Anyway, please don’t hesitate to reach out for anything, whether that be comments, requests, feedback or just to have a chat! Happy reading xx

It’s been three days of utter pandemonium ripping through your brain in complete disarray. Three days of pent up stress storming through your mind as you ran like a headless chicken to try and find a handle on a situation that frankly, you didn’t give a rat’s ass about.

It all started when your boss had called you in his office, his signature tyrant-resting face on, solid frown drafting his features in a look of severity. Well, this can’t be good, you’d immediately thought once you took a hesitant seat across his desk. You’d hoped for a benign reason behind the sudden meeting, and that the scowl on his face was merely a residual of some other trouble that had absolutely nothing to do with you.

Your prayers had fallen on deaf ears however, as the summoning proved to be a twenty minutes angry diatribe about how one of your most recent client had expressed their wish to withdraw from their deal and de facto, the company. Though it hadn’t been your fault per se, your boss didn’t have any reservations about reminding you of your supposed responsibility to keep your clients sated and on the company’s leash. He’d given you three days to fix it after that. Three days to persuade the client not to pull out of the deal, or you risked some serious downgrading if not redundancy.

You’d called Harry for support the minute you got home and spent the whole evening brainstorming the craziest ideas to him. He’d listened patiently, holding your hand on the table as you both indulged in the Thai take-out he’d picked up on his way over. That first night, you’d barely slept as you laid in his strong arms, back to his chest. Your reeling mind had still been trying to conjure up any sort of plan that would help you out of this chaos; but for each switch of the glowing red digits on your alarm clock, your hopes had dwindled some.

You hadn’t known then, but Harry couldn’t find rest either as he spooned you against him. You two hadn’t been dating long, several months at best, but already your distress was unbearable to him and every bone in his body ached to do something to help you. This feeling of powerlessness was crawling out of his skin and swimming around like a shark amidst his prevalent thoughts of support, admiration and love. Because, while he’d shown you the first and conveyed the second countless times in the past, the third had yet to tumble out of his lips, despite the confession burning their flesh a bit stronger every day.

What really had had his mind reeling though, was knowing that maybe, just maybe, he had the power to make this situation go away; and for each switch of the glowing red digits on your alarm clock, his hopes grew some.

Your earlier utterance of the client’s name had been ringing through his mind in faint recognition, an itch starting to fester at his fingertips. Dialing a phone number was all it could take. A couple choice words and if he played his cards right, the deal would be back on the table. He’d known interfering was arguably a bad idea, and truthfully he’d always made a point of honor not to use his connections to serve ulterior motives (his or anyone else’s), but how was he supposed to do nothing when the person that caused you trouble was in fact a friend of a friend that might reevaluate their stance if he pitched in with a bit of charm and compelling words? How was he supposed to stay idle, watch you dissolve in an anxious mess, if he wasn’t as powerless as he thought?

So he didn’t.

He’d originally planned on keeping you in the loop, but you’d been gone by the time his forest green eyes had fluttered back to consciousness the next morning. After a quick shower, a large mug of the coffee you’d left for him before running back to work, and locking your apartment with the spare key you’d given him a couple weeks back, he’d pulled out his phone. Two minutes was all it took for his friend to pass him your client’s number and without hesitation, he’d launched the call and brought his phone to his ear.

It took a bit longer than a couple of minutes for that conversation to take effect, but eventually his words hit their target. After all, his lovely nature could pierce through the most robust walls and stubborn minds. He didn’t even have to put on the charm that much, instead drawing earnest sentiments about your impeccable skills and rambling about how there was no better person to keep their account safe in the business. He’d gnawed at his lips the whole time, desperate to pull through but still scared to fail you somehow. You’d already been let down by the client and your boss, you certainly didn’t need your boyfriend added to the list.

The call had ended with their promise to reassess and consider your undeniable abilities in the equation, yet the next day you were once again convoked to your boss’ office with a snarly bark of your name. Puzzlement washed over you as you speed-walked after him. Why was he still so resentful with you when you’d gotten the client to reenter the contract?

Another twenty minutes of intense scolding provided you with that answer. With a disdainful gaze puncturing your poise, your boss told you that while your job was no longer on the line, you’d been given a firm warning about using your boyfriend as negotiator for the company’s dealings.

How he knew when you yourself weren’t aware of the fact, you didn’t know. In retrospect, your talk with the client had been suspiciously easy for someone who’d made their will to ditch the company crystal clear. You’d merely laid out your arguments, expecting resistance and some pushing, but were only met with a squinted look and cautious acceptance. Now you know your case had already been pleaded once, by the man who was taking more and more space for himself inside the chambers of your heart.

You didn’t quite know how to feel about it; didn’t know if you should be mad or grateful. You were specifically stunned because you knew it was out of character for Harry. Your boyfriend was the most generous being you’d ever met, but humility was even more so a prevailing layer of his beautiful nature. You certainly didn’t expect it, didn’t wish for it to happen again because you were always adamant not to ever use anyone for their assets. Yet there was a tingling, a mixture of discomfort and gratefulness, sloshing in the pit of your stomach.

This whole thing was a mind-fuckery of emotions you were too tired to process.

What you did feel though, was the pure frustration at your boss’ hypocrisy. You both knew he didn’t really care how you’d gotten the deal back, just that you did, but his intolerable disposition wouldn’t allow him to applaud your efforts and move on.

Wanting to put this all mess behind you, you bit back the retorts that you craved to force down his throat, simply nodded through his chastising charade, and leaped to your feet as soon as the dismissing words left his stupid trap.

Now that you’re making your way inside your home, your nose is hit by a waft of delicious aromas traveling from the kitchen. Your mind is still fuzzy with every trouble and startling revelation that transpired in the past three days, but as your eyes settle on your apron-clad boyfriend, you take a moment to appreciate the sight of his soft figure stirring the content of what must be a pan on the gas. His back is facing you, but you can hear the gentle humming under his breath, as he hasn’t registered your arrival yet.

After another minute of whistling, he finally twists around and his eyes almost pop out of their socket when they find your timid stance a couple feet away. "Jesus, pet, didn’t know you were home yet," he chuckles softly before taking in your somewhat moony features. Your expression is hard to pinpoint, your delicate traits blank of any emotions yet your eyes have the same sparkle that greets him every morning and every night when he pulls you for a deep kiss in his warm embrace. "Everythin’ okay, love?"

The query snaps you out of your semblance of trance, your head looking down to the floor to gather your wits before you level your gaze back to his. "Yeah it is. Umm, my boss called me in again today," your bite your lip, not knowing how to navigate the conversation. In all honesty, you just want to be done with the whole thing, would rather spend an evening full of cuddles and potentially mind-blowing sex, but you know this ought to be acknowledged.

"Oh," his brows pull together with the same confusion you’d experienced when your boss ushered you to his office. "Did he thank you for the big save?"

"Not exactly," you clear your throat bracing yourself and Harry’s face tenses at the realization about where this is going. "My job is safe and I’m still working on the account," hie loosens up in relief, but your next words have him stiffen right back up in alarm. "But I got a warning for a certain someone’s involvement in the company’s operations. Apparently, my boyfriend called the client on my behalf and forgot to clue me in…"

Your voice is calm and doesn’t carry any reproachful tone, but Harry’s pulse is suddenly speeding with dread regardless. The fact that he could have lost you your jobs is the only thing registering in his frenzied mind, as he sets the dish towel from his shoulder down on the counter and steps closer to you. His eyes are bouncing off yours in a frantic back and forth, as he gulps his remorse down. Before you can appease him with reassuring words, and show your lack of anger, he launches in an apologetic rant, enclosing both your hands between his palms.

"M’so sorry, love. I didn’t mean to put you in a bad position. Fuck I just- I kept thinkin’ I could help since your client was a friend of a friend. And, the more I thought about it, the more I kept thinking 'I can’t do nothin’. Cause I hate seein’ you in pain an’ I really want to be here fo’ you and I know this was probably the wrong way to go about it, but damn y/n, I couldn’t stand doin’ nothing, m’sorry-"

"I love you."

The words come fast but distinct, airy but firm, not an ounce of doubt laced through their utterance. An eerie silence permeate the small space surrounding them, as Harry tries to find his own words back. It took three of them to steal all of his, but in his defense they were the ones he’d been dying to hear and to deliver himself. His eyes are wide, blinking in total surprise. He’d expected irritation, disappointment perhaps, maybe even anger, but definitely not the sweetest words he’s been keeping at the forefront of his mind. "I- you do?"

You still have that wondrous look on your face, but this time a bright smile enlivens your features, "I really do." You take your hands out of his grip to hold onto his wrists and pull him closer to you. You have to look up since he towers over you but you’ve always liked that about your relationship; the way he always seems to dwarf you in his embraces, whether because of his height or his bear-paw hands. "I mean, don’t that again," you let out a soft laugh, "but I know why you did it, and I love you for it."

Harry smiles rivals your own now, as your hands smooth up his arms to clasp at the nape of his neck, "plus, my boss is a jerk anyway so, who cares?" You pull him in a loving kiss then and his arms wrap themselves around your shoulders in a tight lock. His lips are as soft as ever between your own, and you detect the faintest taste of pepper and other exotic herbs lingering on their edge, from his cooking endeavors. He’s always been one to have a taste or two while he’s working, whether that be in the kitchen or other rooms…and regardless, you always like it when you get your share from his supple lips.

He feels slightly distracted against your mouth though, his technique not as ravishing as it usually is. and before you can wonder why, he’s pulling an inch away from your swollen lips, hurriedly whispering your tender confession back to you as though the words couldn’t be out of his mouth and into your heart fast enough, "I love you too, pet. So much." His hands are cajoling your face, thumbs drawing soothing circles across your cheeks, and his beaming smile is melting your heart in a goo of pleasure after all the strain it suffered in the past couple of days.

"Fuck, c’mere, don’t ever wanna stop kissing you," Harry mutters against your lips before diving in for a real mind-bending, soul-shaking, tantalizing kiss this time. Just like that, all your worries and sorrow evaporate into thin air, only to be replaced by an intoxicating pink loving brume. You two definitely spend the most perfect evening with lots of cuddles and endless mind-blowing lovemaking. Screw everything else.

➪ Masterlist

#Harry Styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #creative writing #reader insert #Harry fic #harry styles fanfic #love #romance #first i love you

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ot7always · 5 years ago

Text

Forget-me-not

Word Count: 7.4k

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Village!AU. Angst. Seriously, it hurts.

Warnings: Mentions of war. Death, grief.

Rating: PG-15

Summary: As much as this had always been a possibility, you never thought that one day your best friend would actually be stolen from you.

A/N: This fic is part of my 1k Milestone Requests that was picked randomly out of the pool of requests I got!! Thank you to the lovely @jinpanman for sending such an interesting request in!! When I started writing this I had just come off of writing so much fluff, so I thought: I guess it’s time to write ANGST and this physically hurt me fhkfldhgf

“Y/N!” a voice called out loudly from downstairs, startling you enough to drop your sewing needle into the mess of fabric on your lap. Your sister had once again managed to tear one of her dresses running around doing whatever it was she did with the neighbour’s youngest son. Not that you could have boasted any more appropriate behaviour when you were her age.

“Just a moment, mother!” you responded, eyeing the damage. Truly, it wasn’t as bad as she made it sound when she came to you in a panic, dirt on her hands and tears on her cheeks. Surely it couldn’t take you more than a few minutes to fix.

“Come now, love! There’s a messenger from the capital outside!”

That had your brows furrowing instantly. A messenger? Here? Surely your relatively small, riverside village was of nearly no importance to the capital aside from paying the annual taxes.

“Coming!” you shouted, rising quickly and tossing the garment onto the chair behind you. The sewing could certainly wait, whereas the capital did not wait for anyone. It was possible the messenger had already started his spiel, and you were much too nosy a person to sit at home while something interesting was happening.

You slipped into your shoes quickly before rushing downstairs and out the door, hoping you still appeared as put together as you had that morning. Perhaps you should have thanked your mother before running full-speed toward the village’s centre, but it was much too late for that now.

When you arrived, a well-dressed man was already standing in the centre of a crowd, luckily only seeming to have just begun speaking.

“-sends his regards from the capital, but also his deepest apologies.”

Before you could ponder his words much, a sudden towering presence beside you stole your concentration for a moment.

Dark brown hair unruly, coat hastily done up, boots unlaced – how Kim Namjoon managed to make looking like a total mess a fashionable statement, you could never understand. But according to the whispers you heard as you went about your day, his unkempt, boyish manliness had stolen many ladies’ hearts in your little village. You would almost be annoyed, if not for the fact that he was so oblivious.

He shot a quick, dimpled smile your way, returned by one of your own before you both concentrated on the man’s speech once again.

“-army had taken a massive hit after the last war. As you know, that was only one year ago, and we have yet to recover properly after the close victory. And it appears that Reina is looking to take advantage of this.”

Reina. A country nearly 2 weeks away by horse, one who recently allied with Xenia through marriage, who your Kingdom’s army had barely defeated last year.

Unease settled over the crowd immediately. You grabbed for Namjoon’s arm instinctively, his hand raising to cover your own only a second later. This couldn’t possibly be what you thought it was, right?

“War appears to be imminent, and it can only be so much longer before tensions snap. We cannot let the Kingdom fall without a fight, and we are calling on all of our allies for assistance. But it is not enough.”

You sucked in a breath.

“The capital has decreed for all able-bodied man over 20 years of age to report for training and assignment. Women may volunteer to join the forces.”

Whispers and hushed cries of disbelief rang out through the crowd, but were quickly quieted by the continued announcements.

“You are expected to be in the capital within one weeks’ time. You may report to me for additional details. That is all.”

You turned to Namjoon with a helpless expression colouring your face, but the one on his was already one of resignation. Every man knew this could always be a possibility – hell, the same thing had happened only years ago for similar reasons, though that that time, your best friend had been too young to be conscripted.

But not this time.

“Namjoon-”

“It’ll be fine,” he cut in quickly, trying to quell the steadily rising despair taking over your features.

It seemed that the other men in the crowd felt the same sort of sad acceptance, hushing their daughters, wives, and friends in the same way.

As much as you might as joked to anyone who asked that Namjoon was nothing more than a nuisance, you hardly went a day without seeing him. His family home was only down the street – a fact you’d learned only days after you grew old enough to play with the other children on your own.

His tiny body had come barreling into your smaller one in a rush, sending your 6-year-old figure straight into a nearby bush. And as any young girl would do after having torn the new dress gifted to you only weeks earlier, to no fault of her own, you recalled throwing quite the tantrum.

You only saw more and more of him after he brought you to his home in a hurry, pushing you towards his mother in a wordless plea to fix whatever problem he caused. And so she mended your dress, urged you to return for tea the next day, and thus began your odd relationship with the clumsy boy.

You were not quite fast friends, your friendship with his mother developing much more quickly than any relationship with him. The younger you was quite adept at holding a grudge, and you didn’t dare forget that this was the boy that almost ruined your birthday present.

But, as children did, you got over it before long, especially after learning that you would be attending the same classes that same year. While a year older than you, an unfortunate illness had befallen him two years prior, holding him back several months.

After weeks of taking the exact same walk to and from school, you’d warmed up to the boy quite a bit. He liked to show you his strange collection of rocks, and in exchange you showed him your collection of fabrics you’d collected from old clothing and blankets over the years. The fact that you’d acted interested in each other's odd habits must have been a testament to your strengthening bond.

Spending your days with him became second nature over time, right up until he’d grown at least a head taller than you and become more man than boy.

You’d seen each other through almost all of life’s troubles; studying together in a harried panic, hurriedly throwing together gifts for birthdays you’d forgotten, and eventually cheering each other on in finding an occupation for yourself.

It must have been a surprise to the other villagefolk that it was you who had become the teacher, and not Namjoon, because it was him dazzling your teachers with grand speeches and uncanny wisdom for his age. Though they could not be surprised long, for it was Namjoon who spent many months of the year in neighbouring villages, and sometimes even the capital, studying to be a doctor.

There were few people in your village with the capabilities to study such a profession, but Namjoon excelled. He preferred not to boast of his abilities, but you heard frequently from your mother that many travellers sung his praises. Your best friend was a rare gem whose future appeared to span far beyond the tiny walls of your village.

Which was why you could not simply accept that he would go off to war, possibly never to be seen again.

“How can you be okay with this? How are you not panicking? Namjoon, I-”

You were unaware of your rising volume until steady hands settled on your shoulders, moving to shield you from the curious eyes now pointed in your direction. How could he possibly take care for your reputation when the country was asking him to give up his life?

“We always knew this might happen some day, Y/N. You know it as well as I do.” His words were firm, but his eyes spoke different words, pained words. Words that he could not say here, for to publicly voice his displeasure would not be taken well. Especially not when so many of the men around you had already gone to war and returned.

He was right that you knew this could happen – you would be a fool not to realize such a thing. Even your father had been lost to war when you were only a child, as is the reality for many children in your village. But did that make this any easier to bear? No person could say that preparing for a possible goodbye made the event any less gut wrenching.

“I’m worried for you,” you eventually whispered, head tipping back to stare into those eyes that had become a constant in your daily life, eyes that, one week from now, you might never see again. That thought sent a new wave of dread through your very being, a hole opening in your chest at the thought of Namjoon riding off, never to be seen again.

“Y/N,” he said, squeezing your shoulders in an attempt to pull you out of your head and back into this moment with him. “I need to speak with the messenger. Will you wait for me by the pond?”

You could only nod mutely, afraid that if you were to open your mouth, the only thing that would come out would be more words of displeasure.

“I’ll come as soon as I can okay?” he asked gently, voice filled with compassion. A part of you was ashamed that he was here comforting you when it was his life on the line.

When you didn’t make to move on your own, the hands still on your shoulders nudged you to turn around, further words of assurance falling from his lips.

It was as though you had been possessed. Your mind felt suddenly blank, your chest empty, your movements not your own. You hadn’t even realized you were approaching the pond near your home until the water was glistening right in front of you.

You stood as close to the water as one would dare, what with the notoriously slippery rocks at your feet. You stared at your reflection in the crystal-clear shallows before you, as though she could tell you how to deal with this situation. And as you watched your skirts sway gently in the spring breeze, you wondered if your eyes appeared as empty as your soul felt in this moment.

Being here only spurred up more shared memories. Summers spent playing in the water, digging up insects, even chasing each other over the wet rocks, much to the disdain of your mother.

Not only that – this place felt safe. It was where you came when you were upset, where you always were when Namjoon came looking for you to make things better. It was where you found him when he was contemplating whether he was fit to be a doctor, where you assured him that he was the most intelligent person you knew of.

Without even realizing it, you had begun digging up every good memory you had with Namjoon, as though to mourn them before you’ve even lost him.

It seemed that a part of you had already accepted the possibility of losing him forever, already accepted that as many memories as you had together, you might never have the chance to make any more.

But rather than sadness, sorrow – all you felt was a gaping emptiness within you as you stared, unblinking, unseeing, into the water before you.

Was something wrong with you, not to feel? Someone akin to family was about to be ripped away from you, yet your eyes were dry. Shouldn’t you be screaming, sobbing? Didn’t he deserve at least that?

“Y/N.”

You didn’t have the slightest idea how much time had passed before Namjoon was calling your name, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You turned slowly before meeting his eyes, the distance between you unusually large. He appeared as though he didn’t know what to do with himself, as though you hadn’t spent over 15 years at each other’s side. He looked to be brimming with words he wanted to say to you, but his eyes remained fixed on you, his mouth shut.

“So?” you managed to force out, voice sounding distant even to your own ears.

He only gave you a pained smile in response, closing the space between you and eventually sitting next to the place you stood. When he patted the ground at your feet, you joined him.

Minutes went by with both of you silent, gazes staring blankly across the water, as though failing to address the subject at hand would render it nonexistent.

However, patience was never your strong suit, and you could not hold your tongue any longer, even if you would only receive bad news in return. Though, it appeared Namjoon had the same idea.

“What-”

“I-”

As quickly as you had both opened your mouths, you had stopped talking. A slight smile finally cracked your stony expression as you met Namjoon’s eye, his expression sheepish, as though he could have known he was going to cut you off.

“You first,” you chuckled, tension seemingly broken as you watched Namjoon collect his thoughts.

“I spoke to the messenger...” he started, taking another breath as you acknowledged him with a low hum. “He told me I would be able to work with the doctors there.”

You perked up immediately at his words, hope blooming in your chest. “So you won’t have to fight?”

But the troubled expression on his face told you it wasn’t that simple.

“Not on the front-lines, but I’ll have to be close by. Wherever they decide to send me.”

“You’ll be in the camps.”

“Right.”

That coiling feeling in your gut returned. “And the camps get raided often.”

“Right,” he murmured. “I could...”

“You could die.” You cut him off with a whisper, turning your head away to hide your furrowed brows, nails digging into your forearm as though the physical pain could ease the burden in your heart. “How are you not more upset?”

“Part of me always expected for this day to come,” he sighed, hand drawing senseless patterns into the rocks at his feet. “As a man in a country at war, it’s like I was born just to die.”

“Don’t say that. Why do you accept your death so easily?” you forced out through gritted teeth, burying the sorrow in your chest that was creeping up your throat, threatening to burst at the seams. Did he value himself so lowly that it was so easy to throw his life away for his country?

“There’s nothing I can do about this, you know that,” he said lowly.

“I know,” you replied simply. You did. But that didn’t mean you could accept it so easily. You should have been more like him, should have expected that this might eventually happen to the two of you, but too much of you didn’t want to think about a reality without your best friend in it. Perhaps it was naïve and foolish of you, but you were happier thinking that the time you had with Namjoon was not defined by an hourglass that tipped at the notion of war.

The silence that followed was heavy, the emotions that laid between you more than words could express.

To think that his hulking presence in this place you grew up together – when he visited you in the classroom with treats for the children, when he ran through the village streets with your sister on his back – to think that one week from now, those might just be memories, never to be seen before you again. Was it selfish to mourn how lonely you would be without him?

You thought you could hold yourself together until you returned home, but it was the arm circling around your shoulders and the words that came next from his lips that broke you.

“Will you remember me well?”

It was as though the single thread holding you together snapped, sorrow rearing its ugly head as tears spilled from your eyes. You kept your face from him, but no matter how quietly you cried, the heaving of your shoulders, gave you away.

Namjoon didn’t comment, only pulling you closer so that your head could rest on his shoulder.

“You’re so stupid,” you sobbed, voice strained as you angrily wiped at the tears on your face. “I hate you.”

You swore you heard Namjoon snort at that. After all, he heard that phrase from you at least 5 times per week.

“I know, I know.”

You finally turned towards him, but before he could get a good look at you, you buried your face in his chest and wrapped your arms around him. When you realized that this could be one of the last times you held him close like this, another strangled cry was wrenched from your throat.

He didn’t dare comment on how tightly you were holding him, nor how wet the front of his shirt was becoming.

Another comment on how well he was keeping himself together was on the tip of your tongue before you felt the shuddering of his body beneath you.

Namjoon was a silent crier if you’d ever seen one, and if not for the breath catching in his throat, it would have been hard for anyone to tell without seeing him.

You didn’t know how long you sat there like that, half-sprawled across his body, tears falling until there was nothing more for your body to give. Namjoon’s hands trembled in their place on your back, and you wished more than anything that you could make this easier on him somehow. It was his life on the line, after all, and not yours.

“Y/N,” he whispered, the sound wrought with emotion.

You pulled from him enough to meet his eyes, the pain you found there a reflection of your own. His hand rose to wipe at the wetness on your cheeks before moving to lace his fingers with your own.

“Take care of my mother for me. Please.”

You nodded gravely, reaching for his other hand as well. “Of course,” you replied, breaking eye contact lest you fall apart all over again. “Only until you get back.”

“Only until I get back.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noted the setting sun above the tall trees surrounding you, though you still had no grasp on how long you had been here together. Everything felt to be a blur of fear and despair.

“When do you leave?” you asked.

“In five days.”

You nodded. Five days left with your best friend before you had to send him off to a war he might not return from. You were certain those days would be spent busy right from dawn until dusk, but you would steal whatever moments with him you could.

You eventually returned to your original position sitting beside him, facing the water as a slight breeze sent a shiver through you.

“We should head back soon,” he said, but he didn’t sound to want to leave very much. “It’s getting dark.”

“Stay with me a while longer,” you murmured, reaching for his hand.

So he did.

The days following passed in a whirlwind. Despite your dedication to spending as much time with Namjoon as possible before his departure, it proved difficult with the preparations he had to make. Writing letters to his colleagues, saying goodbye to old teachers, securing a horse, packing his belongings – there was unfortunately not much time left for the two of you to simply spend with each other, though you stole what moments you could.

It was almost surreal, what you felt in that time. You couldn’t help the tears that came that night after the pond when your mother held you. Since then, it had almost been an endless cycle of sorrow followed by emptiness, over and over and over.

But the morning before Namjoon would set out on his own, you were determined not to break down again. You were determined that you would send him off with a smile, no matter how difficult it would be to manifest one. He deserved to leave on a good note, not having to comfort you yet again right before he left. You should be the one making him feel better, not the other way around. You would support him as best you could, and momentarily put aside the worst-case scenarios that had been circling through your head ever since the words came from that messenger’s mouth.

“Were you waiting long?” came a voice from behind you.

Turning around, you smiled as you met Namjoon’s eyes, his body already clad in a riding outfit and sturdy boots. It looked good on him.

“Not at all.”

The two of you had decided to spend the last of his time in the village together at the pond. It felt fitting – it was a place ever-present in your childhood memories together, a place you felt a strong emotional attachment to. Not only that, it was peaceful here. Quiet. Perfect.

“Sit with me,” you said, settling yourself in the grass beside a basket you brought with you.

“Is that what I think it is?” he questioned, clearly trying to keep the childish excitement from his voice, though failing.

When you removed the cloth covering what laid within, you had to keep yourself from laughing at Namjoon’s sudden intake of breath.

“Apple pie, fresh from the oven about... an hour ago?” you hummed nonchalantly, not bothering to hide your grin at his excitement. “It’s not exactly breakfast, but I thought you would appreciate it. You can take what’s left with you.”

“You really know how to cheer up a guy, don’t you?” he breathed, sending a reverent ‘thank you’ as you handed it over to him.

As he distracted himself with the pie, you took the chance to study him.

You quickly dispelled the thought that you had to memorize his face now, burn the picture into your memory while you could.

What startled you was that he looked... happy. Well – as happy as he could be considering the situation, but truly, he looked content. As though accepting his fate was no difficult thing, as though he wasn’t leaving his family behind within hours.

Perhaps you should not have been so surprised, though, as Namjoon had always been someone who adapted well to change and thrived wherever he went. All you could do now was have faith that that would hold true now.

“Something on my face?” he teased, snapping you out of your thoughts before darting a slightly embarrassed glance his way.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“How much I’m going to miss you.”

A flash of pain went through his gaze before he snapped his head down to hide it. A pang of guilt shot through you at the sight.

“I’m sorry,” you hastened. “I promised myself not to be negative today, I just...”

“Can’t stop thinking about it, right?” he mumbled.

“Yes,” you whispered, reaching for his hand as you pushed the leftovers of the pie out of your way. “But it’s okay. You’re so stubborn I know you’ll come back.”

Your words had their intended effect, those dimples you’d come to grow and love making their appearance again as he exhaled a laugh. The momentary joy you saw there, though, was quickly put away and replaced by an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone sounding unsure and entirely unlike him. A furrow worked its way between your brows immediately and you were about to comment on his apparent nervousness, but he spoke up before you could. “I need to tell you something.”

“Hm?” you responded, caught off guard. “Okay, sure. What is it?”

“I... This is – Well...” he stuttered, taking you off guard even more. Anything that rendered Namjoon an ineloquent speaker must have been weighing heavily on his mind.

“Namjoon?” you prodded, tone laced with concern. You had never been one to mince words with each other, and so his inability to come out with what he was thinking was unusual.

“I’m sorry for doing this to you right now,” he blurted out in what must have been half a breath. “But I don’t want to leave here with any regrets, you know? In case... well, you know...”

“You’re scaring me,” you said, your heartbeat increasing already just from watching him fumble around with his words.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he breathed. “But before I go, I just have to tell you that I...”

He took a long pause then, several moments passing as he gathered himself. Just as you were about to cut in again, he said the words all at once, almost too fast for you to process.

“I love you.”

You spent a moment staring at him blankly as you registered what he said.

But once you did, you were left no less confused than you were before.

“I love you too, Joon, you should know that-”

“No,” he interrupted loudly, wincing slightly in apology when you jumped in surprise. “That’s... that’s not what I meant.”

That’s not what he meant? What else could he have possibly-

Wait.

Namjoon spotted the exact moment you realized exactly what he meant by his words, confusion, realization, then confusion again flashing in your eyes.

It was silent for several moments as you simply stared at him, no part of you knowing what to do with this knowledge.

“What?” was what you settled on, and you inwardly cursed yourself for not having anything better to say.

He gave a bit of a self-deprecating laugh then, and something in your gut wrenched knowing you were the cause of that sound. He broke eye contact, bravery seemingly used up, instead staring blankly into the water.

“I know it’s unfair to tell you this now, and honestly,” he paused as his lips upturned in a mirthless grin. “I don’t really know why I did. It doesn’t change anything.”

You wanted so badly to be able to comfort him, but you couldn’t tell whether your touch would just make it worse.

“I-I don’t know what to say, I never-”

“I know you don’t feel the same way. I just had to get it off my chest since...”

He let his words trail off, both of you already knowing what he was referring to. There was no use saying the same thing again and again.

“I never thought about it,” you whispered, glancing over at Namjoon in a new light. In love with you? You couldn’t say there was never a moment where you thought you and him could be together like that – you'd spent much of your life together, after all. But it was never something you’d entertained seriously, never something you allowed to linger in your brain.

“I know,” he said, and you ignored the way his voice cracked at the end of the phrase. “I just didn’t think our story would end like this, you know?”

“Namjoon...”

“I thought I’d have time to muster up the courage, time to make you fall in love with me too,” he continued. “You always told me I was naïve.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I should have said something earlier, stopped hiding, stopped pretending...” He sighed. “There’s no use dwelling on it now. Find someone who makes you happy, okay?”

It was as though all of the words had been stolen from your body. You didn’t know what you could possibly say to him, how you could possibly ease his pain. And despite not having known, you couldn’t help the guilt that washed over you. You were the one causing him this pain, you were the one somehow too oblivious to see something in the man you claimed to know everything about. And at the same time, you wished he said something before, because now was too late – whether you could have been happy together didn’t matter now. Fate was cruel with her strings.

“Y/N.” His stern tone broke you free from your thoughts. “It doesn’t bother me now, okay? I just... couldn’t leave with secrets.”

“I understand,” you responded, though you could not stop thinking on the notion. What you might have been together had he not been called to war, had he had time to enact his grand plan to win your heart.

But none of that mattered now.

After several minutes of heavy silence, his voice startled you out of your melancholy.

“I need to say goodbye to my mother.” He stood, offering you a hand to join him.

“I’ll walk you,” you offered quietly, not letting go of his hand. He didn’t comment on it.

You felt almost dazed after his confession, the two of you arriving at Namjoon’s family home within what felt like seconds.

When you looked up at him he was staring at you quizzically, and you quickly removed your hand from his own.

“Will you meet me at the gates in a half hour?”

The gates. The place where you would say goodbye to your best friend, not knowing if or when you would hear from or see him again. You pushed down the dread once again, determined to show a brave face.

“Of course,” you replied weakly, sending him a smile that surely didn’t meet your eyes.

Before he could express his worry at your behaviour, you patted him on the back as you set out for the gates.

The entrance to your village was a beautiful place – surely the most beautiful in the entire area. One of the village teachers had a special gift for horticulture, tending to the hedges and flowers almost every day. You had tried your best to help him when you were young, though it was quickly proven that despite your love for flowers, you lacked the ability to care for them properly.

The primroses were in full bloom, the array of colours surrounding you from where you sat in the grass. The butterflies were rampant this time of year, enough that some of the grumpier citizens likened them to pests. But you had always admired their beauty, silken wings of white, yellow, and orange fluttering gently through the warm breeze.

Perhaps such painful goodbyes could be made slightly easier in scenery such as this.

The grass was soft where you sat waiting, nothing like the thick, pointed blades near the pond. You allowed your fingers to trail through the greenery on either side of you, closing your eyes and tipping your head back to greet the warmth of the sun, only having just taken its place in the morning sky.

You didn’t move even as you heard the clacking of hooves on cobblestone, as footsteps approached and arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind.

He was warm, and safe, and alive, and you would give anything and everything to keep him that way.

But sheer will and sacrifice could not win a war, no matter what the folk tales claimed.

You allowed yourself to relax into his hold, despite the awkward position of Namjoon hovering above you.

You didn’t remember doing it, but at some point, you must have pulled him down with you. Because the next thing you knew you were in his lap, face hidden away in his chest as you trembled, holding back tears.

The hands on your back and on your head almost hurt in the way they were crushing you to him, but you didn’t dare complain, not when you were doing the same to him. Not when this one moment needed to last you until you could see him again.

If you could see him again.

But now was not the time to explore that train of thought once again.

Pull yourself together and be strong. For him.

Forcing yourself to take several deep breaths, you eventually pulled away from him enough to look into his eyes for the first time since he walked up.

You didn’t know whether to be happy or sad that the deep brown of his eyes held only a resigned acceptance, lips upturned in a smile that looked more self-deprecating than anything.

Neither of you dared to break the silence, and it dawned on you then that to anyone else, you might have looked like lovers, wrapped together amongst the flowers, gazes locked.

Yes, fate was cruel with her strings.

The bell from the clocktower several blocks away was what broke you free of the moment, your heart dropping in your chest when you processed what you’d heard.

The seventh hour.

He had to leave now.

You stood up wordlessly, almost as though you were in a trance. You couldn’t bring yourself to lift your head up, staring intently at your feet.

“Y/N.” His voice came with a gentle hand on your cheek, tilting your head up to keep you from hiding any longer. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Don’t make promises you can’t keep.

“Okay,” you whispered, covering his hand with both of your own.

A moment passed before you led him to where his horse was waiting. You managed to crack a smile at the sight of the remnants of your pie bagged and tied messily to the saddle. With a knot like that, you were dubious that it would make it to the capital in one piece without being left behind.

You clung to his bicep the entire time you walked the horse past the gates, your fingers digging into the flesh as though you had the power to keep him there.

His hands moved to cup beneath your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his eyes one last time before he left.

You didn’t even blink as his gaze darted across every inch of your face, memorizing it as if he didn’t see you in his dreams every night already.

“I guess this is it,” he murmured, allowing his thumb to stroke mindlessly along the soft skin of your jaw.

It wasn’t often that he got to touch you like this, and he would make this one moment last a lifetime if you would let him.

He gave you a smile then that was small but as genuine as you’d ever seen it, and your face was lighting up in return before you even gave it any thought.

You only nodded, afraid in that moment of what would leave your lips if you dared to part them.

His hands left you slowly, leaving warmth in their wake. When he turned his back to you, about to climb atop his horse, you didn’t know what came over you then. The warmth, the pain, emotion you couldn’t put into words – something in you snapped.

You saw the breath leave him in a sigh, and right as his leg begun to raise from the ground-

“Wait!” you yelled, yanking his arm to turn him back around, a yelp leaving him as he almost lost his balance.

His eyes were wide with alarm, but you didn’t give him the chance to ask what you were doing before you threw yourself at him.

When your lips met, sparks didn’t fly, nor did time slow to a pause.

But something within you blossomed at the touch, a hand raising to rest against the nape of his neck even as he stood frozen with shock. His hands hovered in the air as his mind struggled to catch up, struggled to process the fact that you were kissing him.

Just as you were about to spring away from him, concerned by his utter lack of reaction, he groaned into your mouth, arms circling around your waist.

You’d clearly awoken something in him, his lips responding to your own with vengeance, pulling your body as close to his as possible. Your neck ached fiercely at the harsh angle, but that was the last thing on your mind.

You couldn’t pinpoint what this feeling was – you only knew that you didn’t want to let it go. This warmth, this safety, this moment with the sun warming your skin, his hands clutching you, his lips soft, patient against your own.

What started out hurried and desperate soon became slow and calm, but your heart was pounding in your chest regardless.

It was the horse’s whinny at your side that broke you from your daze, your lips separating as you looked at him wide-eyed.

“Y/N-”

“Come home safe,” you cut him off, finally disentangling yourself from him and stepping back.

He looked like he had so much he wanted to say to you, and you shared the sentiment.

But there was no time if he wanted to reach the capital before sundown.

He would just need to come back.

With a sombre nod and a quick touch of his fingers to his lips in disbelief, he turned to finally mount his horse.

You locked eyes once more, forcing your mouth up into a smile as you weakly waved farewell.

But your heart hurt, your eyes stinging.

All he could do was try his best to return it.

And with one last tilt of the head from both of you, he set off.

Come home safe.

Please.

It was a long and grueling six months.

You were beside yourself once Namjoon left that morning. It must have been days before you felt well enough to leave your bed, but time was a blur then. Your sister did her best to comfort you, cuddling her much smaller body into your side until you both fell asleep.

But you could not spend all of your days moping. Not when you had your own responsibilities in your home and with your students. Not when that would be the last thing Namjoon wanted, either.

Each time a letter arrived from Namjoon, your hope renewed. They came every few weeks, one for you and one for his mother.

You always ran excitedly to her house when a letter came for you, eager to share what words he was able to put down in a rush at the camp.

He was clearly a busy and well-needed man, stationed at one of the more populated camps on the edge of the battlefield, tending to the wounded at every hour of the day.

Despite his short letters and scribbled words, he always included petals or pressed flowers in his letters to you.

It made you giggle when you opened the first one to find a badly-crushed hyacinth stuffed into the sheets.

It was no secret that you went through a phase in your adolescence in which you loved to collect flowers in notebooks. You’d had many short-lived passions, but this one lasted for years. Books and books of dried, pressed flowers, enough that your poor sister sneezed whenever she entered your room.

It became routine to find flower after flower in his letters to you, and you had to admit that your heart fluttered each time, excited to see what he included for you that time.

The flowers on the other side of the country were much different from your own, and it was no small thrill to see what beauty was in store for you with each letter.

Stretching your arms far above your head, you sat up in bed, having been woken by the sunlight streaming in despite your closed curtains. Perhaps you would soon need to invest in buying some heavier, darker fabrics.

Hopping out of bed quickly and tossing on your skirts and apron, you gave yourself a quick once-over in the mirror before heading out to wash up and make breakfast.

You were often the first one up, your mother much preferring reading or knitting until late at night, lit only by lanternlight. Your sister, on the other hand, slept early and woke up late. The girl got an obscene amount of sleep, though you supposed her growing body must have needed it.

You didn’t mind the quiet, your hushed footsteps and soft humming only ever interrupted by birdsong and crickets chirping.

You were in a particularly good mood as of late, constantly receiving news of battles gone well and your country’s forcing advancing. The village elders had told you that with the way things were going, the men should be back in about a month or two, perhaps even sooner should your opponents surrender.

The thought of seeing Namjoon again in only a month had a soft smile spreading across your face before you had realized it.

You didn’t know what you were feeling for Namjoon, didn’t know if it was love, but you knew that with every letter, he wrapped himself around your heart even more.

Reaching the kitchen, you reached for a hair bandana before turning in search of flour. Perhaps you could make pastries before your family woke up?

But as you turned, a flash of white in your peripheral caught your eye. Spotting an envelope on the near the front door, the bandana fell forgotten to the floor, feet racing across the room.

Scooping the envelope from the floor, you hurried over to the table, setting yourself down into a wooden chair in preparation for another of Namjoon’s letters.

But when you examined the letter closer, you frowned.

It was addressed to you, but the handwriting wasn’t one that you recognized. Who else ever sent you letters? Who could you possibly not recognize despite them knowing where you lived?

Doubt and dread rose in your gut, but when you turned the envelope around, you could have sworn your heart stopped.

A military seal.

Bright red, and clear as day.

With trembling hands, you reached for a nearby knife to cut the envelope open.

Pulling the paper from inside, you had to muffle a cry when you unfolded the letter, a flower falling into your waiting hand, Namjoon’s writing covering the page.

Unlike his normal, scribbled, rushed handwriting, this was meticulous. Neat.

It made you feel sick.

Already feeling like you were sinking, you begun to read.

My dearest Y/N,

I pray to anyone who may be listening that your eyes never see the words written on this page, that I return to you a stronger man, prepared to do anything to have you kiss me again.

In the event that you are reading this, I’m sorry.

I asked my commander to send you a letter in the event that I do not make it out of this war alive.

It pains me to write this, and I fear staining the paper with my tears as I do. There is nothing I want less than to leave you alone, than to leave you behind as I leave this plane.

There was something you said to me once when we were perhaps 11 or 12, I’m not sure if you remember it. It was after we got into one of our silly, petty fights, and I ignored you for a several days.

When we met again, I remember that you were crying. Your eyes were wet and red, and my heart hurt then. You told me, “Never leave me alone again.” I told you I wouldn’t, and I never did something like that again. From then on, I promised myself that I would never leave you. I would stay by your side in whatever capacity you let me.

I'm sorry. I’m sorry I broke my promise, and I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to come back to you.

I love you more than words can say, and I’m sorry.

I never want to cause you pain, and it kills me knowing that if you ever have to read this, I won’t be there to ease the hurt.

I want you so badly to be happy no matter what, and I want nothing more than for you to look back on our moments together with joy. Please don’t let my death take that beautiful smile from your face forever.

I’m sorry.

With all my love,

Your Namjoon

You didn’t know when you had started crying, but fat teardrops covered your hands, splashing against the ink on the page.

Why?

Why did your story have to end here?

You tried to quiet your sobs, but it was no use. You were lost to sorrow, overcome with pain, your vision blurry with tears.

As you balled up your fists in rage and agony, you felt something poke into your palm.

The flower.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you looked down into the palm of your hand, and another gut-wrenching cry was pulled from your throat.

Because there laid a browning, wilted, crushed, forget-me-not.

Tagging: @jinpanman @ezralia-writes @wwilloww

#houseofddaeng #btsgoldnet #btsguild #ficswithluv #heartsforbts #hyunglinenetwork #magicshopnet #mikrogalaxynet #namjoon x reader #bts x reader #bts angst #namjoon angst #bts fic #bts fanfic

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lovemesomeharry · 5 years ago

Text

ICE CREAM

Warnings: Curse words

Words: 1.6k

Summary: When the air conditioning breaks down, you and Harry have to figure another way out how to cool yourselves down.

A little idea popped in my head inspired by this.

When Y/N moved to London, she didn't think it would ever be this hot. The cliché that England is only haunted by dark clouds and cool rain is a false accusation she had to experience first hand. But today must’ve been the hottest day of the year and their air conditioning had to act up.

From time to time she washed the sweat from her forehead as her boyfriend, Harry, frustratedly hit the air conditioning.

"This thing sucks!" He threw the screwdriver in the corner in frustration and stood up straight. His hair was already sticking to his forehead and although he was only dressed in a white shirt and knee-length trousers, he was sweating.

The warm air whipped them both in the face, although no windows were open and their entire house was darkened to keep the heat out. Not even the cold soda, which Y/N had been sipping on since she got up, cooled her down.

Frustrated Y/N sighed. "I told you this thing was no good." She had known since last summer that the air conditioning had seen better days when the thing started to vibrate wildly and make unpleasant noises. But Harry refused to believe it. He said it was normal and he could fix it with duct tape. But this was obviously not the case as they were now standing in the living room sweating like crazy and both shared the same bad mood.

"That's not true." Dismissively, he put his hands on his hips and stared at his girlfriend with a distracted look.

"I did, Harry! We could hardly sleep because of all the noise." She reassured him, and as he still shook his head stubbornly, she rolled her eyes at him and moved back to the kitchen so as not to spark a fight that neither of them wanted. She knew he was in a bad mood because he tolerated the heat even worse than she did, even though he spent half the year in Los Angeles and he was frustrated that he couldn't repair the old thing.

With big steps she moved to the refrigerator and opened it, just to feel the cool air on her skin. She closed her eyes when she finally got a little cooling off. Relaxed, she breathed out the even warmer air inside her and the sweat on her skin cooled off. She was too busy enjoying the brief moment that she didn't even notice how Harry entered the kitchen.

It was only when he spoke that she noticed him. "Do we have any more ice cream?" She opened her eyes to check the contents of the refrigerator. But she regretted not seeing it and shook her head. As she did so, several strands of hair fell on her face, separated from her bun. Sighing in frustration, Harry wrapped his arms around Y/N's waist and pressed her back against his muscular chest.

"Harry, stop! You're too warm and sweaty." She tried to release his arms from her but this only made him push her harder against him and hide his head in her neck to give her feathery kisses. “Seriously, baby, let me go.”

He hummed. "But you're so cold." His soft curls tickled her face and his big hands were placed on her belly where butterflies were already going crazy. She loved his attention and that he was so needy, but in the moment the cool air was a little tickle more important to her than his affection.

"Baby." She whined, which is why he pushed her against him one last time before reluctantly letting her go.

"You're annoying." He complained as he took her lemonade from her hand.

"Hey!" She tried to take it out of his hand, but he was faster and with a playful grin on his face he dodged her. "You're a pain in my ass." She sighed.

"I don't mind. You got a nice ass. He winked and Y/N couldn't help but grin, as she tried to roll her eyes at him. She closed the fridge and leaned against the cool marble of the kitchen counter while Harry sat on one of the pink bar stools.

"Since we don't have any ice, how about we get some?"

"Or I could keep fixing the air conditioning?" She knew he was joking, but she didn't want to hear it when beads of sweat ran down her back again. So she grabbed the washlight that was on the counter and threw it at him.

"Don't joke about that. We both know you wouldn't want to ruin your manicure for that." Insulted, he narrowed his eyes and stretched his tongue towards her.

"Fine. We can get some ice cream." He finally agreed and stood up. “Let me grab my disguise.” He spoke in a playful tone, but she could hear that it wasn't always that much fun for him, especially when he had to walk around on such a hot summer day with a big jacket and a thick sweater, but there was nothing he could do about it, unless he wanted his privacy invaded more than it already was.

After a short time he came jogging back into the kitchen with a black sweater, sunglasses and a colorful hair clip that kept his hair from falling into his pretty face.

"Let's go, darling." He kissed her temple and pulled her to the front door with him while his right hand played with his car keys. Together they walked to his car, got in, and as soon as the air conditioning hit them both, they sighed in a relaxed sigh and leaned into the soft leather.

"Or maybe we could stay here." She said. "Then you don't have to wear these clothes." Her hand reached for his hood cord and pulled on it gently.

A smile crept across his face. "As sweet as it sounds, I won't deny my baby her ice cream." A warm and mushy feeling erupted in her belly when he said that in the sweetest tone.

Without saying another word, he started his car and drove the short distance to the ice cream parlor they loved so much. It was a small shop that wasn't too centrally located and therefore didn't attract many people, but still offered delicious ice cream.

When they both got out of his car, Y/N started babbling about how she was going to get cantaloupe flavoured ice cream, so Harry made a disgusted face. "How can you eat that? It taste like old socks."

She rolled her eyes. "And how do you know what old socks taste like?" He couldn't help but ignore her teasing tone as a playful grin took over her delicate features.

"What can I get you?" Asked the woman behind the counter, who didn't seem to recognise Harry. Her gaze was directed at Y/N, who could place her order without thinking about it, while Harry was still checking out the rest of the ice cream flavours.

Y/N quickly paid for her ice cream when she noticed that Harry was still busy because she knew if he paid more attention to her, he would have taken over the payment, but she didn't want that.

"Have you chosen yet?" The woman now asked Harry, who was just shaking his head and staring right into her eyes.

"I'm sorry." He said and looked at Y/N, who was already licking her ice cream with relish before he made his way out of the shop without giving the lady another look, nor explanation. Y/N had to refrain from laughing at her boyfriend's weirdness.

"How are you more awkward than me?" She asked jokingly while she poked his cheek. She was really surprised sometimes when he became awkward in such common situations because he couldn't handle not so common situations without any problems. "Didn't they have your favorite?"

"No."

"Do you want to try some." She asked and held her ice cream under his nose, making the tip of his nose twitch slightly. "It doesn't taste like old socks. Promise."

Reluctantly, he took the ice cream out of her hand and hesitantly tried the it. But as soon as he felt the cool consistency on his tongue, he couldn't get enough of it and kept on gobbling it up until his girlfriend had to intervene.

"Hey, that's enough." She tried hard to rip the ice cream from his hand, even stood on the tip of her toes for it, but their height difference didn't help her to get her it back. "Harry, you're eating all of it." She pouted, as Harry hummed in appreciation.

"That's what you get for paying for it." He said as he grinned down at her, uncovering his dimples.

Insulted, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked away. He took the opportunity to put some ice cream on her nose before he continued to eat it with much joy.

"Hey!" She wiped it away and rubbed her nose.

"Cantaloupe is not so bad." He laughed. "We should share ice cream more often."

"No, you need to call an electrician!"

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