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itsthewritergal · 3 years ago

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Is this okay? - D.M x reader ODD ONE OUT

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I’m in love with this part... I hope you guys like it as well xx

Dear Draco,

A lady at St Mungo’s fixed my ankle a few days ago, you were right it was broken. Mum actually sounded pretty impressed once she realised that you were right. I’ve been meaning to write to you since you left… I wanted to ask how things went with your father. also I needed to apologise, I shouldn’t have ignored all your letters over summer, I won’t ever forgive your father and you know how I feel about what you did but after the Quidditch World Cup I don’t think I could stay mad at you.

Mum’s been going on and on about going back to school, it’s driving me a little bit mental although it won’t be long until I’m back with you (and everyone else of course!!)

All my love

See you soon

Y/N

————

Dear Y/N,

I’m pleased your ankle is better now, I hated thinking about you in pain. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer that night I just didn’t think it would sit well with my parents. Things with my father were fine when I went back.

You have nothing to apologise for, I was in the wrong. I know I was, I knew I was when I stood there watching, but I’ll be honest I wanted to get a rise out of Potter. I shouldn’t have done it and I’m sorry that I made you think that I was that kind of a person, I promise you I’m not. And I will do everything in my power to change how I treat Potter and even his friends. I did what I had to at the World Cup, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you or your family got hurt and I could have stopped it. I’m just pleased you made it out safe.

I can’t wait to be back either, the Manor get’s horrendously lonely. Perhaps you could come and visit next summer? Or even Christmas?

Love

Draco

————

“Draco” Y/N called the moment she saw him on the platform,

“Hey darling” He said pulling her into a hug, but instead of relaxing like he usually did he just tensed up as if she was hurting him.Y/N pulled away quickly and studied his face

“What’s wrong” She asked

“Nothing. You worry too much” he chuckled, turning his back and pushing his trolly along the platform

“where are your parents?” Y/N asked, Draco knew she was digging for answers about his father and what happened when he got home. A part of him knew that she wouldn’t be settled with his answer in the letter.

“They left early, father had some ministry business to be getting on with” Draco answered “Oh” Y/N sighed, Draco wrapped an arm loosely around her shoulders once he had dropped off his trolly with all the others.

“You really don’t need to worry” Draco said

“Weasley!” Blaise grinned coming up to the two of them “Hello to you too” Draco rolled his eyes,

“You’re not as exciting as Weasley, I heard you broke your ankle over summer” He said, Y/N laughed knowing that Pansy told him.

“You must be really bored if you think a trip to St Mungo’s is exciting” Y/N said climbing onto the train after Draco.

They sat in a carriage, Y/N kept a close eye on Draco. There was something off, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but there was something off. Something different about the way he walked, the way he winced every time someone bumped into him, and Y/N most definitely noticed the look of pain which washed across his face the moment he sat down in the carriage. Pansy and Blaise were arguing about something with Crabbe and Goyle when Y/N turned to Draco silently looking him up and down.

“Tell me” She whispered laying her head on his shoulder

“What would I be telling you?” He said in a similar tone

“Why you’re in pain” She said, Draco’s smile was wiped off of his face “I saw it the moment I stepped on the platform and when you hugged me and then when you sat down”

“It isn’t anything” Draco said harshly

“Draco please” Y/N said

“Enough” Draco snapped, silencing the whole carriage.

Y/N picked her head off of his shoulder and slid herself as far away from him as possible on the seat. “Darling, I didn’t mean it” He said quickly

“Save it, I’m going to go find Cedric” She snapped, standing up and leaving without sending Draco another look.

— — — — —

“Great. Beauxbatons and Durmstrangs this year the castle really is going to be full” Pansy sighed sitting herself down on one of the leather sofas.

“Shut up Pansy it’ll be nice to have someone else around” Blaise said,

Draco sat between them, his eyes focussed on Y/N who sat with a few of her classmates by the windows.

“Just go to talk to her” Blaise said sympathetically

“I’ve upset her enough lately” Draco replied “Tell her” Pansy said harshly “You think she can’t handle it but you’re wrong”

“She doesn’t need to be worried about me, she needs to focus on her school work” “You sound like her mother. Go talk to her Draco” Blaise said

“She’s practically in love with you, she’ll understand why you didn’t tell her” Pansy said

“She’s hardly in love with me” Draco said

“Well she doesn’t get all loved-up looking when Cedric’s around thats for sure” Blaise laughed

“Oi Y/N!” Pansy called

“Pnasy” Draco whispered harshly, Pansy merely sent him a wink as Y/N walked over to the group. She looked exhausted already, her hair pulled into a pony tail on top of her head and a large knitted jumper thrown over her robes to keep her warmer. Draco had to stop himself from drooling over her tired look.

“What’s up?” She asked

“Draco needs to talk to you, I think you two should go to his dorm” Pansy said

“Pansy don’t be daft” Y/N said turning away

“Y/N please, I want to show you something” Draco said

“Okay” Y/N agreed warily.

— — — — —

Draco’s dorm room was warm, it always was. Y/N had only ever been in a handful of times when they got bored of the common room. A few clothes were already strewn across the floor on Blaise’s side, but Draco’s side look practically untouched. Y/N sat down on the end of his bed and crossed her legs underneath her.

“What’s going on Draco?” Y/N asked quietly, she felt strangely calm.

“I need you to promise me something” Draco said kneeling down in front of her

“Ok? what is it?” She asked. Draco took her hands in his, she felt his palms were sweaty. Something was wrong, really wrong.

“You can’t tell anyone what I’m about to show you” Draco said. Y/N gave him a simple smile

“You know I wont tell anyone, I rarely ever do. You know that” she said

“I know” Draco nodded, standing up. He dropped her hands back into her own lap. Y/N paused for a second as Draco took off his tie.

She was confused as Draco begun to unbutton his shirt.

“What are you doing?” She asked, knowing Draco wouldn’t do anything to hurt or scare her but things felt wrong, Draco said nothing as he opened his shirt exposing his pale chest.

Y/N felt the breath leave her lungs, almost as though someone had hit her in the throat. His stomach was bruised, and not just once or twice. Multiple marks from what Y/N already knew was his father’s cane. She should have noticed that day back at the Quidditch world cup. Y/N rose to her feet and made her way across the floor towards Draco, tracing her fingers across his stomach. A ghost of pain passed across his face.

“I’ll kill him” Y/N promised, Draco’s eyes softened.

“Darling” He said in an attempt to pull Y/N’s eyes towards him rather than the hideous bruising on his body. But she didn’t look away. Instead she just repeated the same words once more, this time a little more harshly.

Her fingers danced across the skin around the marks, as if she was testing just how much it hurt him.

“Sit” Y/N said firmly

“I’m alright” he said, taking a few steps away from Y/N and pulling on a quidditch jersey

“No you’re not” She snapped, Draco pulled Y/N back towards him; his arms wrapping around her shoulders, and hers around his back.

“Listen to me” He said “I’m okay now that I’m here, with you” He tilted his head down, and placed a finger under her chin lifting it up closing the space between the two of them.

“Draco,” She started,

“Is this okay?”He asked, waiting for her agreement.

“Yes” She said quietly. The gap between the two of them closed, as Y/N melted into Draco’s touch.

tag list

@whitewineandpizzapuffs @planet-naptune @thefandomplace @sebby-staan @poguesinablanket @witch-and-a-half @nojamsonmytoast @seanh-boredom @wanniiieeee @louweasleymalfoy @missryerye @big-galaxy-chaos @barnestatic @devilsbooksworld

Odd one out taglist @loxbbg @louweasleymalfoy @isabellamur @hellion-writes @i-have-my-issues

#draco angst #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy fic #Draco #Draco Malfoy #draco x y/n #draco x reader angst #draco x you #draco x weasley #draco x reader #weasley!reader #odd one out

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blessednereid · 3 years ago

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Pity the Living

Daniel Sharman x Reader Series

A/N: The Much Requested, and By Requested, I mean @rogershoe wanted me to write this, MY DANIEL SHARMAN FANFICTION!!!!!! The character that Y/N plays is based on my OC for FTWD and is not an actual character in FTWD. Basic Premise of the setting for this chapter is that they're in high-school/ secondary school. But for the majority of the story(minus flashbacks) it's set in 2016/17 when s3 of FTWD was filmed.

Story Summary: When (Y/N) (L/N) reunites with a high-school friend on the set of the job she's been working on for the past 2-3 years, not only is she excited to work with the guy who inspired her to go into acting, but to hear about what he's done since she's seen him. But the more they talk, the more she realizes, this reunion is not going the way she had planned.

CW: Cursing? brief mention of alcohol, anxiety, mentions of food, fake dagger, fake blood, bets,

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Career Day

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Most of the students around you were chorusing to the tune of your school anthem, but not you. You had heard the melody and sung it almost a million times. Whether you were exaggerating or not, not even you knew. Instead, you were whispering and laughing with one of your best friends, Daniel Sharman.

You met Daniel when you first came to the school. You didn't know many people. You didn't even know yourself in this place. It was a completely foreign experience, but he stuck by your side and showed you around.

Since then, you had made friends, joined the swim team, learned your way around the school without ending up in the boys' restrooms instead of the girls' ones. Despite not needing Daniel to show you around anymore, he still provided plenty of comedic support and pick-me-ups and was a great mate all around.

Your teacher had just finished introducing all the parents who were presenting at career day. The assignment being after the presentations were finished, you were supposed to think about what you wanted to be in the future. You had no idea what you wanted to be. But of course… Daniel did.

"An actor."

"An actor?" he nodded. "Like Macbeth?"

"No, Macbeth is a character. An actor is a person who plays the character."

"Why an actor?"

"Dunno. Just seems right."

You frowned. "Huh, that's nice. Knowing what you want to be."

"You could always try acting. It's worth a shot."

"Hah, if I ever tried acting, it would probably be when I'm old, senile, and look like Betty White."

"Oh, come on. You're a great actress!"

"What's that supposed to mean, Sharman?" you gasped.

"Just that you tell fibs and stories as if they were the truth. That's all acting is."

"I DO NOT!"

"How did you convince your mum that your dog jumped onto the table and ate the cake without making any noise last weekend, then?" You opened your mouth to speak before closing it.

"Cat got your tongue?" he teased.

"Shut up, Sharman."

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

L/N Residence

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

You and Daniel were both swimming in the pool in your backyard when Daniel asked you the question.

"Did you think about it?"

Still floating, you asked, "About what?"

"Acting."

You laughed incredulously. "You were serious?"

"Of course I was." He swam closer to you and pulled your leg down, making you flop around and splash water.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"Was just trying to get your attention," he remarked innocently.

You coughed. "You had it."

"Picture this," he waved you off. "Us, on the red carpet-"

"Who's red carpet?"

"Does it matter? We'll be each other's dates anyways."

"Why is that?" you asked.

"Because we're best friends."

"What if one of us has a boyfriend or girlfriend?"

He shrugged. "Ok, whatever. We're on the red carpet separately. It's both of ours red carpet-"

"So, does that mean we're in a movie together?"

"Yes, Y/N," he muttered exasperatedly.

"But that's impossible?"

"Why do you say that?"

You leaned closer to his ear. "BECAUSE I'M NOT BECOMING AN ACTOR."

He jumped away from you, proceeding to splash you with water.

"Mark my words. I know talent when I see it."

You sighed. "Could this just be you not wanting to be lonely in the acting world?"

He jutted his lip and spoke in a whiny voice. "Maybe…"

You laughed before splashing a giant wave of water at him. While he still had water in his eyes, you dove under and pulled him down.

He flailed around before his head popped up, and he calmed down.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"PAYBACK, SHARMAN!"

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Announcement

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

The intercom gave a heavy buzz, and static-y noises ran amok over the building before a voice actually came through the speakers.

"Hello, Teachers, Students, and Faculty. Welcome back to school. We hope that you all enjoyed your holidays and got the rest you needed to pay attention in class today," the last part was passive. Your principal gave more announcements for clubs and sports around the school, such as upcoming games or reminders for students to buy the school yearbook.

You were nodding along interested, or looking for interest really when something caught your best friend's attention.

"The school will also be hosting its first-ever play, Romeo and Juliet. Interested people should report to the music room before the end of the week to receive information."

You saw Daniel's eyes widen only moments before he spoke up. "Hey," he waved at you. "You should audition!"

"Daniel, are you insane?"

He chuckled, "No, but I think you'd like it."

You tried arguing, but he wasn't taking no for an answer. "You're the one who said you didn't know what you wanted to do after you graduated. Doing this cannot hurt."

"Yeah, it can't hurt until I trip on my costumes and break my neck!"

"That rarely ever happens," he said exasperatedly. "Ok, how about this? You audition, and if you end up getting a role and actually doing the play, I'll give you fifty pounds."

You squinted. "Do you even have fifty pounds to give me?"

"Do you even have to ask," he feigned shock in the accusation? You gave a sour face before he truthfully answered. "Fine, I don't have it now. But I will by the time the play comes around."

"What do I get just for auditioning?"

"I'll convince my mum to make that cake you like."

"Fine."

"BUT!" he exclaimed. "You have to audition for Juliet."

"You're kidding?"

He laughed. "No, I'm not. You have to audition for Juliet."

"I hate you," you mumbled before sighing a whispered 'fine.'

He gave a toothy smile. "Then we have a deal."

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Auditions

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

You reluctantly walked onto the stage, Daniel's widening grin so visible in the audience. He said that he only put his name on the audition sheet so he could watch the auditions. He would've already been gone by the time it was his turn.

"Hello, My name is Y/n L/n, and I am auditioning for Juliet," your lips pressing into a straight line after saying the sentence.

You stammered through your first few lines. "Sh-Shall I speak ill of him— that is my husband?" You said with a laugh.

"Ah," you paused and clicked your tongue. "Poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name… When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?"

You said your following line in an accusatory manner. "But wherefore, villain... didst thou kill my cousin?" you said, though your voice squealed trying to pronounce 'didst.' "That villain cousin would have killed my husband."

"Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring!" Your voice rose and fell several octaves. "Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy." Fake tears spring to your eyes, your voice cracked, and you began slowly falling against an invisible wall.

You looked down at your paper for what to say next. "My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband. All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?" You wiped your cheeks dramatically.

"Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, That murd'red me. I would forget it fain;" your lips quivered, and you sucked in deep, heaving breaths before speaking your line.

"But O, it presses to my memory. Like damnèd guilty deeds to sinners' minds! 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banishèd!" You shouted.

You stood back up in a startling jump, and with a proud smile, you said triumphantly, "And Scene!"

The directors and some students in the audience, especially Daniel, gave a round of applause before the director dismissed you.

You took the steps to the stage and sat next to Daniel as the director called the next student to audition.

"You were amazing! The director might as well have given you the role right then and there."

You laughed, "Hang on, charmer. There were a bunch of Juliet's who literally said that entire thing so… fluently. I stammered through the whole thing."

"But you showed more emotion than anyone else. You only had a week to prepare. The actual show will be like child's play."

"They want people who can memorize and recite. The emotion can be added later, but it's worth nothing if they forget their lines."

"There is such a thing called improvising for a reason," he reassured.

"Who in their right, bloody minds wants to improvise Shakespeare?"

He turned his head and chuckled before waving a five-pound note in front of your face. "Here, I got to go before they call me, but you earned this at least."

"Five pounds for being forced to audition for a stupid play so you can prove a point? Wow, you must really fancy me, huh, Sharman?" you said sarcastically.

"Goodbye, L/n," he whispered before sneaking out the back door of the auditorium.

"Alright, next up. Daniel Sharman!" The director shouted your friend's name a few more times before giving up.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Headmasters Office

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A week after your audition, you were called to the headmasters' office. Thus is the cause of the curious looks from your classmates. Oohs and Aahs flooded your ears as you grabbed your bag and headed out the door to the front of the school.

When you got to the front of the building and went into the headmasters' office, you saw the Theatre director, Ms Parker, standing behind the desk. "Headmaster Leo allowed me to use his office to do this. Isn't that cool?"

Ms Parker was one of the younger teachers in school. She was twenty-four, and this was her first year teaching after receiving her bachelor's degree in education and a master's degree in music production. A fact she could astoundingly ramble about for fifteen minutes. As proven at the auditions.

"I didn't want to call you to the theatre room. That would be too predictable, correct?" You'd come to realize she was a very eccentric woman. "I have called you in here to inform you that you have been selected to perform in this year's play of Romeo and Juliet."

A wave of shock coursed through your body, and you were sure it reflected on your face. "Are you sure?"

"Darling, I'm positive!- your audition was totally spectacular! So brilliant-in fact- that I am completely sure in my choice to make you our female lead- Juliet!"

"What!" Your eyes widened into a blank stare. Your thoughts were running rampant in your mind. You thought that performing on the stage would be a breeze when you weren't the lead.

"Ms Parker, I didn't actually want the part of Juliet! It's just that my friend dared me to audition for Juliet! Is there no way I can get a smaller part? I'm no Juliet. The show would be ruined," you rambled.

The directors' facial expressions softened, "Darling, you are the only choice. None of the other people who auditioned can even compare to the amount of passion you produced in that audition. I am determined to have you as our Juliet."

You whimpered out an "Ok." Professors had a strange way of convincing you to do extra credit assignments or things that aren't necessary.

"We have a chemistry read for you and a few of our other choices for Romeo after school today. Do you need to contact a parent to let them know where you'll be?"

"Uh, yes, please."

After you made your call, you walked back to your classroom with shaky hands. The class period was almost over, but you had to tell Daniel that you had gotten a part in the show. Not just any part- THE PART!

You shuffled into the classroom reluctantly. All eyes were on you as every student had assumed you'd been in trouble. Either suspended, expelled, or told your parents were going to have a sit-down with the headmaster.

You took your seat next to Daniel before taking out a piece of paper and writing out a note, encompassing the words, "I got the part!"

You slid the sheet discreetly onto his desk. When he read it, his eyes widened, and he quietly moved his hands toward yours, beckoning for a high five.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

First Rehearsal

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

After the chemistry read, the role of Romeo was given to a kid named James Mercer-Allen got the part. Though it was more because the directors were starting to become tired.

The next day was the first rehearsal. Swimming season was last semester, so there was no clash in schedules with the play.

"Alright, this rehearsal is to get acquainted with the stage, your fellow actors, and directors," she insisted. "Now, let's introduce ourselves. Can our Romeo please stand up?"

James stood up and gave a brief introduction. You were called on next. You stated your name, "I was on the swim team last semester, and I'm in my thirteenth year. I hope I can do this role justice."

More students stood up to introduce themselves. The entire process took more than thirty minutes.

The next thing to happen was that the rest of the students were called to recite lines for various roles. The only parts that had been cast preliminarily were Romeo and Juliet.

You and James had sat on the wooden stools unless there was a scene going on that needed Romeo and/or Juliet.

By the end of the first rehearsal, the majority of the speaking roles were cast. You went home exhausted but not expecting the conversation that waited for you.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

The Talk

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

"We're moving?" you shouted at your parents from your seat across from them in the sitting room. "What do you mean we're moving."

"Honey, your dad got a job in the states, so we have to move," your mother argued.

"But what about school? No school will take me in the middle of the year, and it's my last year of secondary school. I don't want to spend the rest of my last year knowing nobody."

Your dad, the man of the hour, spoke up. "Dear, we're moving at the end of the year. After school ends."

"But- What about Uni?"

"You said you were taking a sabbatical year!"

"Yes, so I could intern in London!"

"Can't you intern in California?" Your mother whined.

"We're going to California? It's the furthest state?"

Your dad attempted to reassure you but failed. "Darling, it won't be that bad. Maybe you'll like it there more than you like it here!"

"I could never like anywhere more than I like it here!"

You agreed to go to your room and spent the rest of the day there. Later on, after you finished moping, you ringed up your closest friends to tell them you were moving. You did that until you were so tired you fell asleep on the phone with Sarah before you even called Daniel.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Confrontation

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

"Why am I hearing from everyone besides you that you're moving?" Daniel appeared out of thin air behind you, and the accusation was an assault on your conscience.

You could lie and tell him that you wanted to reveal that to him in person, or you could just tell him the truth- say you fell asleep. Mix-and-Match? You ended up just telling the truth. "I fell asleep when I was making some of my other calls. I was going to tell you, I swear!"

"Why didn't you call me first. I'm your best friend?"

"That's why! It was too hard. I kept putting it off and putting it off and putting it off because I didn't want to tell you, I don't want it to be true, and telling you of all people would make it feel real."

"Why can't you stay for Uni?"

"I already told my parents I was taking a gap year. I didn't apply to any colleges."

"Crap!" he sighed. "Ok, well, we're going to have to make the most of it. And! You're getting a going away party!"

"Daniel, I don't need-"

"No debate! You are getting a going away party!"

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Opening Night

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

Four months later, after all the rehearsals and memorizations of lines. After much running around the entire film department, it was finally opening night, and your nerves were shot.

You were scrambling all morning to find everything you needed. All your costumes were at the school, but you still needed to bring your black leotard, skin-coloured tights, and wear your hair in an up-do style.

You decided to do your skincare routine, but your panic got the best of you, and you forgot what every single product was used for.

Daniel came over and helped you get ready but found you practically hyperventilating.

Your parents drove you both to the theatre, and when Ms Parker told you that Daniel couldn't be backstage, you promptly told her that he was your emotional support. After much arguing, she finally let him backstage.

Around an hour before showtime, the director told Daniel that he had to go wait in the audience if he already bought his ticket or that he had to go do it now.

Before he left, he gave you a pep-talk. "Hey, so one time, I was in this play, and the idea was that I was expelled, and there was a piece of paper I had to give my 'mother,' but I lost it. So we had to improvise, but I couldn't find the paper, and I felt horrible. So just know, even if you forget your lines, you must improvise, and remember, it still probably won't compare to the embarrassment I felt that day. So you can laugh at my humiliation. "

You chuckled, "I will. Ok, go before you get in trouble."

"Ok, me, our parents and all your friends will be in the front row. I've already reserved the entire row. I brought a whole bag of jackets just for that reason!"

"You can't do that," you said in between cackles.

"For you, I'll do anything," he grinned.

A few hours later and the show was almost done. "What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end," you wept.

"O, churl! Drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to die with thine restorative." You leaned over James and let your hair fall to the side of your head to cover your face. You pulled back without actually kissing James.

"Thy lips are warm."

A whispery voice came from offstage, "Which way?" The cue for you to take the poison, which was actually cranberry juice.

"Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!" You grabbed the dagger and brought it near your chest. "This is thy sheath;" you drew the fake knife back three inches from your chest and stabbed it to where the bag of more cranberry juice was and punctured the bag. 'Blood' soaked through your dress. "There rust, and let me die." You fell dramatically onto the altar and waited for the scene to end as the crowd cheered.

After the show, you dashed into the crowd where your friends and family waited for you. Ovations and Applauses were passed, lauded boxes of chocolates and gorgeous roses were given.

When you got to Daniel, he practically tackled you with a hug. "I actually thought you died for a split second. The blood looked so real."

"Daniel, most people don't bleed that fast, do they?"

"I don't know but fear kicked in, and I couldn't make sense of anything."

You grinned and almost went to your parents before Daniel grabbed your arm. "You don't have a date to the Leavers ball, do you?"

"No, I don't. Why?"

He sighed. "Well, I was thinking that you could go with me. I don't have a date either."

You squinted, thinking there was some ulterior motive behind his actions. "Ok, I'll go with you if you give me the money you owe me before then."

"It's right here," he smiled.

Your face scrunched up, but you reluctantly agreed. You only had a month of school left, and you might as well spend it having fun with your friends.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

The Leavers Ball and the Getaway Party

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

You were dressed in a light blue, pleated, Mikado prom dress that cut off at mid-thigh. You had black wedges on your feet and a black pearl-beaded bracelet on your arm.

You were wearing a half-up, half-down style that framed your face and a silver necklace with a circle-shaped diamond.

You were sitting in the parlour when Daniel rang the doorbell. He was ten minutes late.

"Sorry," he said when your dad answered it. "I know I'm late. I was picking up Kat and James."

Kat and James were your and Daniel's respective friends who'd started last year after you and Daniel introduced them.

"Hi," you popped out of the shadows. "Alright, Mom, Dad, we're late, so we're just going to get goi-"

"Wait! I have to take pictures! Go get Kat and James."

"No, Mom. No pictures!"

"It's only right. I just want a few. We can take it outside."

You sighed but reluctantly caved into your mother's will.

The four of you took pictures outside of Daniel's Jeep Wrangler. You took ones with silly faces, just girls, just boys, and ones with all four of you before your parents allowed you to leave.

You were forty minutes late, and the ball was already in full swing by the time you got there.

You got on the dance floor immediately because one of your favourite songs was playing, but the DJ switched the song as soon as you found a decent spot. It was a slow song. You chuckled, and Daniel put his hands on your waist.

"Well, this is awkward."

A few minutes later, Daniel posed an interesting question.

"Did you know that I had a crush on you when you first came to school?"

"Uh, you stammered. "No, I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I did. It was short, though. Surface-level."

"Oh," you said. "Should I take offence to that?"

"What?" His eyes widened in realization with what he said. "No, that's not what I meant. You have an amazing personality. I just meant that… I just meant I like you more as a friend than to ruin that with any of those feelings."

"Oh, ok. You wouldn't have, though."

"I wouldn't?"

"No, everyone needs an ego boost every once in a while."

"Haha!"

"And besides, I've had feelings for you at one point too. But it was very cliche, so I tried to shake it as hard as I could."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows. "And did you?"

"Like I said, as hard as I could. If it's still there somewhere, it's buried very deep, so much so that I was embarrassed."

"Embarrassed to like me?"

"I mean embarrassed to try and make my life seem like some movie."

"Oh, well, if you did, it would've just made you that much better as an actress. Speaking of that, would you consider acting in the least?"

"Maybe, now that I'm leaving, it's basically the last thing I have to connect me to you."

"No," he said, pointing to your bracelet. "You have that."

You had forgotten that it was Daniel who gave it to you, but the realization brought a smile to your face. "Oh yeah, I'll never take it off."

Later on, long before the ball ended, you saw many of your friends leaving.

"Hey, are you ready to go?" Daniel approached you.

"Where is everyone going?"

He wriggled his eyebrows. "Afterparty!"

"But it's not over?"

"Quit being a party popper and just come with us, L/N!"

You gave in, something you did a lot, and you all started driving. When you got there, you realized you were at Daniel's house.

"The afterparty is at your house?" you asked.

"Well…" James answered.

Kat joined in. "It's really an afterparty!"

"This is your going away party!" Daniel finished.

"But I'm not going away for another month."

"Well, now you have an entire month for people to give you gifts and stuff, and you don't have to worry about the party!" He reasoned.

"But why did it have to be after the Leavers ball?"

"Because you're already in a dress, and it has to be a surprise! Surprise!" Kat exclaimed.

"Alright, fine!"

The entire night you partied and danced, and though you didn't drink alcohol, plentiful amounts of pop and mocktails were passed around. The music was a delight to your ears with all your favourite songs. There were chips and pizza with all your favourite toppings.

"This party is awesome!"

Daniel grinned. "Well, I am an amazing party planner if I do say so myself."

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Airport

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

Daniel's parents drove your family to the airport. Your parents had sold the car. Your dad would return in a week to close a deal on the house. Everything was official, and now you were leaving.

You got out of the car, and the tears forcefully began to fall.

"I'm really gonna miss you, jerk," you said disdainfully to Daniel.

He chuckled. "I'm going to miss you more."

"Impossible!"

He wiped the fallen tear from your eye, and for a moment, you could see every single multi-coloured speck in his eyes and noticed how sometimes they looked blue, and at others, they looked grey or green.

You noticed the curvature of his smile and the chisel of his jawline.You saw the hurt in his eyes that said, 'why do you have to go? You're killing me,' and wanted to never move from that position.

He continued to rub the tears that fell onto your cheek, and the sad moment was as sheltered as it could be. You felt safe with him, in his arms, just looking at his face and being reminded of how he comforted you in a place that felt as familiar as Oz felt to Dorothy.

"What am I gonna do without you?" you whispered.

"Get at least one acting job, get an assistant and an agent, I'll do the same thing, and then either one of us has our assistants reach out to our agents, so we get back in touch in case we ever lose touch."

He sounded so grave that you couldn't help but laugh. "That's assuming I do become an actress, Daniel."

"You're right," he whined. "But don't forget me."

"I promise."

And you tried to keep that promise. Throughout your first year, you interned at UCLA, working in the lab. You then applied to go to school there, and you still tried to keep Daniel in your mind. Maintaining a social life on campus combined with schoolwork already wasn't easy. However, you still wouldn't let yourself forget your best friend.

It wasn't until you entered your senior year and you were about to graduate that he started to wane in your memories. The things you did together became obsolete as new friends and memories replaced the old. The things he taught you were thrown out to make space for the new lessons you learned each day.

Even when you did become an actress, you never really remembered why you decided to. You remembered that your friend pushed you to do that play, but it was almost ten years ago, and for the life of you, you couldn't remember his name.

But you did do it, first as an extra, then a body double, and then you started getting l roles on smaller shows. But your big break was getting a quasi-lead role on the spin-off of a big television show, The Walking Dead. For two years, you enjoyed going to conventions and playing the complex character, Valeria Bishop, and you thought you had it all figured out.

But life has a funny way of coming full circle and throwing you a curveball that knows you off course and changes your life.

#Daniel Sharman x reader #daniel sharman fic #Daniel Sharman imagine #Daniel Sharman fluff #Daniel Sharman angst #very angsty #ftwd imagine #twd imagine #troy otto imagine #dylan obrien imagine #that last one is for exposure #I have no regrets

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wizkiddx · 4 years ago

Text

the worst case scenario

okay so this is possibly part 1 of a v v angsty dad!tom fic!!

WARNING: the section under the cut of this is v v v dark with mentions of death and some graphic descriptions of blood etc - please please don't read if any of these things may affect you <3

the part above the cut (the keep reading bit) is completely fluffy (a bit of childbirth but not graphic) so you could read only that first bit as a stand alone if anybody wanted to

dad!tomholland x reader

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“Stop laughing at me!!!” Y/n exclaimed in mock anger before bursting out laughing, knowing she did look pretty ridiculous.

“I can’t help it you just…. You look like an elephant!” Tom cackled from his reclined position lying on the couch, whilst his 8 month pregnant fiancé struggled to get up from her seated position on the floor - where she had spent the last half an hour wrapping presents for her nephews birthday.

“You know a supportive soon to be father would’ve helped me up!” Replying with a scowl that didn’t last long, Y/n finally standing up took the three steps to the couch before uncerimoniously collapsing into it.

Grinning with this absolute sparkle in his eye, Tom leant forward and slid up to Y/n to pull her into his side. His hand came to rest upon her massive bump - at this point it was almost a rule that if he were touching Y/n he also had to be touching the bump. Tom claimed it to be skin to skin contact and although Y/n were pretty sure that didn’t come into effect until after the baby was born, she wasn’t complaining either.

“It’s a shame your stuck with me then huh?” He murmured into the top of Y/n’s head, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head while tracing meaningless patterns on her shirt over the bump. Tom was beyond excited to become a Dad, family had always meant everything to him growing up (and now). There was nothing he wanted more , therefore, to call them a family of three - or more accurately four, not forgetting Tess of course.

“Oh how I regret ever taking up that extra shift at the club” She mused sarcastically, enjoying how he feigned offence in return.

The way the two had met was so incredibly cliche that it was almost painful, whenever anyone asked how they met she always winced internally. But it was their truth, Y/n had been a caddy at the golf course Tom frequented with his brothers. The nature of his ‘reputation’ meant the caddies always had to sign NDA’s to be paired with Tom’s group and the chosen few were those personally recommended by the golf course. She’d always stuck out to him, mainly because she seemed to be biting her tongue as they worked their way round the course. Caddies, also by job description, were not to speak unless spoken to; to be polite and courteous but not chatty. So, given how professioial she was, had taken some convincing for Tom to drag it out why she looked in physical pain whenever they played the 13th hole.

“Look somethings on your mind I can tell! If you hate me I can arrange another caddy I just -“ He followed her march to back from the hole toward the little buggy, ahead of his brothers and Dad who were making small talk from behind.

“FINE! Okay fine.” Reaching the end of her tether, Y/n snapped, whipping her body round to face him. “It’s your grip! On this hole especially you always play the driver with you pinky too far down the shaft, it’s why you always end up in the bunker on the 13th! It’s bloody infuriating because them I’m the one that has to clean the buggy you’ve trampled sand into!”

“Oh…. I-I … I wasn’t expecting that” Tom had spoken quietly, in an unfamiliar tone to Y/n. Over hours she’d spent on the course with them over the months, Y/n had gotten used to his storytelling voice when recounting an insane experience to his family that he’d had in the world of Hollywood; his grumpy voice when he played badly, which was often; and then his gloating voice - most definitely the worst and intolerable. This voice though, was different.

“I-I’m so sorry I have no right, I just-“ She’d out her foot in it …. badly. The young actor was one of the most clubs most prestigious and valued members; and she’d just insulted him. Clearly, she was also about to be in search of another job.

“No no I appreciate your tip… I didn’t even realise you play?” His gracious smile calmed her nerves a little, though Y/n still wrung her hands together as she replied.

“Well we aren’t supposed to talk about it but the club let us employees loose after hours… I practice quite a bit”

“Seeing as you think my game is so shitty, you fancy a round next time?”

Flash forward 3 and half years and a proposal, they were now taking their next massive leaps in the world together. Bringing a whole new life into it. It was bloody terrifying, they both openly admitted. But it was also exciting, new, incredible and… and made them even closer. Now they had to be in each others lives forever, no escaping.

“How many days left?” Craning her neck back on his shoulder so Y/n could meet his brown eyes, she knew the answer would be immediate.

“15 till the due date and the app said they’re the size of a rhubarb but I don’t really know what that means.” He knew more about the pregnancy and birth than she did. He had about a dozen different apps on his phone (including one pointlessly comparing the size of the baby to carrots/ watermelons/ onions), had read 4 different books (which for Tom was the equivalent to reading Newton’s book ‘philisphica Mathematica’.)

Ever since she’d told him about the pregnancy Tom had excelled every expectation Y/n had of him… massively. Without even having a conversation surrounding it, he had explicitly cancelled all major work commitments within 2 months of the due date and until around a year after. He had flown back and fourth across the world so he could pop in and check on you. He’d also set his whole family on becoming your minders when he was away - Y/n wouldn’t have been able to go a day avoiding a Holland (or Osterfield) if she had tried.

The pregnancy thus far hadn’t been the easiest though, hence why Y/n still appreciated to constant worrying texts and calls. During the first trimester the morning sickness had been literal hell; and then you’d had a little bit of a scare with pre-eclampsia during the second. It landed you a 3 day stay in hospital and a very very panicked Tom rushing back from New York on the first possible flight.

So now? Y/n wanted the baby out. She wanted family life as parents. (At which point hopefully Tom would stop comparing the size of your child to an assortment of different fruit and veg)

“You know, you really are going to be the best dad in the world Thomas Stanely Holland.”

“And you Y/f/n y/m/n y/l/n are already a pretty impressive mum.”

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It was 3 o��clock the next morning when Y/n awoke with a sudden groan instinctively rubbing her stomach in an attempt to get them easing up. Now too familiar with Braxton-Hicks contractions, the weird cramping that waxes and wanes but never letting her get any rest - Y/n knew she was in for a long night. With a muted sigh she carefully lifted Tom’s arm off her side, cautious not to disturb him. The poor boy had been up most nights with her, just because baby wasn’t letting her sleep, it didn’t mean Tom wasn’t deserving of rest either.

So making furtive movements at a snails pace, she attempted to tip toe out the room - yet as Tom had pointed out before, she looked almost like an elephant, so everything was relative. Surprisingly though, she was successful, escaping onto the soft cream carpet of their hallway before choosing to venture into the room opposite theirs. It had once been a spare room, though more correctly termed the ‘shit room’ because that’s where all the accumulated shit they got was thrown. Now however, Tom and his brothers had taken on the mammoth task of clearing it out and redecorating - creating the most beautiful nursery one could ever see. Complete with a rocking chair which Y/n made a beeline for, now allowing herself to audible groan at the tight sensation deep inside her.

Normally they would ease after a half an hour or so, yet this time, after what was surely more like an hour and a half they started to…. ramp up. What was a tight pressure sensation quickly became one more forceful volatile and full of pain. She put it off for about 3 or 4 cycles of these, pursing her lips and breathing deeply as she tried to convince herself they’d just simply fizzle away. This couldn’t be the real thing could it? It was too soon - as Tom had said she wasn’t due for another 15 days. It wasn’t happening… was it?

The answer was pretty comprehensively and cohesively given when Y/n tried to stand up, in the hope of walking the ache off, she felt an incredibly tight crunch as her insides seemed to wring themselves together. Oh … and a surge of water soaked her pyjama bottoms.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck FUCKKKK TOMMMM!! TOM-ah shit- MY WATERS!!! TOOOMMMM”The pain had amped up to a very very impressive levels, forcing Y/n to clutch her sides as she kept bending and straightening back up… as if that would help. Her lonesome agony didn’t last long though, a flustered Tom hurtled in the room - his hair sticking up all over the place and although his eyes were puffy from sleep he still had them glued open impressively wide.

“No its-its too- its too early!” In pure disbelief, Tom shook his head staring across at her face, contorted in pain.

“Yeh because-“ She gulped and exhaled in as much of a controlled manner she could through pursed lips; before answering his stupid statement. “Because I can just HOLD IT IN FOR ANOTHER 2 WEEKS SHALL I?” It took a while for Tom to process, looking down at the puddle of clear fluid on the floor and damp patch on her plaid bottoms while it was Y/n’s turn to look upon his it utter disbelief at his stupidity.

“Oh shit shitshitshitshitshitshit!!!!” His words grew with increased volume and place whilst he stayed frozen, his arms reaching out lightly toward Y/n without touching her though. “What do we do?!”

He of course had revised repeatedly and extensively what he was supposed to do when this happened - yet in the moment all knowledge and planning evaporated from his mind. Now wasn’t the time for taking the mick of her terrified fiancé though, Y/n was too blinded by pain as she leaned on the dresser.

“Get the-ah FUCKING hell - phone we need to time them and phone the … the-MIDWIFE.” It was hard to direct a frantic and terrified man when one feels as though her insides are collapsing in on themselves.

Tom gulped, nodding shakily, whilst trying to take deep breaths because although he was fucking terrified it wasn’t him that was giving birth. He had to step up now.

It took barely 10 minutes from the midwife picking up to a frantic Tom for her to assess that they needed to get into the hospital asap. During the pregnancy, all of Tom’s rich friends had recommended paying for a private hospital like the ‘Portland hospital’. The idea was it was a much more luxurious and private experience - of course coming with a heavy price tag. For Tom money was not an issue, so he’d suggested to Y/n and met the strongest rejection of all his life. The NHS was by far the only choice in Y/n’s mind - of course it busier, a lot less serene and not as private; but if god forbid something did happen, that was where all the experts and resources were. The idea of being able to pay for better access to healthcare actually repulsed Y/n and everything she stood for… so in short Tom was met with a very blunt refusal.

Once they arrived on the ward, all it took was one look at Y/n’s inflated belly and the way her body was squirming in the wheelchair Tom was pushing, whilst laden with the baby bags they’d had packed and prepared for weeks, for the pair to be rushed into a side room. After an intense 20 minutes of getting Y/n settled, getting her full medical history and inspection of her vagina the hmidwife’s head popped up from between her legs with a kind smile. She explained in a calming and gentle tone that Y/n was 5 cms dilated and had got to that point fast, yet now things looked to be slowing down a bit. With final words of advice of try to relax she left the pair to it.

They both looked at each other, a matching expression of confusion and relative terror blatantly clear in both their eyes. It had them both burst out laughing, if Y/n then scowled at the pain that shot through her side.

“This is really happening huh?” Tom murmured as he rounded the bed to gently run his hands through her sticky hair.

“I don’t know unless you really do want me to postpone their arrival for a short while?” Tom rolled his eyes and shook his head, although not really able to surpress the chuckle at his finances humour - even if it was at his expense.

“Glad to see you can still be as sarcastic as ever.” He laughed but before she could reply another wave of contractions hit making her instead just scream - grabbing his hand so tightly Tom was certain a bone or two were crushed in the process.

It was another hour or two of the same traumatic sight of watching the women he loved more than anything in the world be in such extreme pain. God knows how his appreciate for his mother grew in that moment - she had had four kids overall, two of them twins! Tom dared to think of the scenes in that room of twin brothers birth. Having to deal with both Sam and Harrys large heads…

Harrison had arrived in the meantime, he was to be the child’s godfather and Y/n was more than happy to have him there - even if it was more of a support to Tom than Y/n. Quite expectantly though, he was just as terrified and useless as Tom - so instead of having one idiot to deal with, the midwives now had double trouble of terrified men.

And yet after another 1 hour or so Y/n was being told to make one final push. Baring down on the gas and air tube, Y/n squeezed her eyes shut together whilst simultaneously contracting every muscle in her body with what little energy she had left. Hearing Tom and Harrisons words of encouragement; the midwifes orders and her own long and continuous scream, Y/n pushed with all she had. It was excruciating and torturous yet she kept going until the most beautiful sound was the only thing left reverberating round the room.

Her babies cry.

Tom looked at the scene in awe, feeling an almost out of body experience as the midwife unfolded from her position leant over the bed looking up to Tom.

“Do you want to cut the cord Dad?” Releasing a breathy laugh, tears collecting in his eyes he looked down at Y/n. She looked a mess - hair flying all over the place; sweaty sheen and a ruined look on her face; panting hard as she caught her breath. But to Tom? Never had he seen her look more beautiful, especially when she managed a small smile, nodding encouragingly at him. So he moved round to the end of the bed as the nurse motioned, while Harrison squeezed Y/n’s shoulder with the proudest look on his face.

It was the first time Tom had ever seen his child. And really, seeing a wrinkly little pink thing covered in all sorts of gunge - it shouldn’t be such a magical moment. But here he was, a single tear escaping over his lower lashes at the sight of them wriggling about. The midwife gave him a second, before gently handing him the medical scissors and directing him as to what to do. Once done, the lady announced the room it was a beautiful baby girl.

The next hour or so was a bit of a blur, the whole situation felt extremely surreal to everyone - but perhaps most to Y/n. Although the baby was premature the doctors had checked and were confident was perfectly healthy, so after both Y/n and Tom having their turn holding her (Tom finally got his real skin to skin time) they brought in a little incubator where she could rest while Y/n was recovering. Due to her prematurity, as a safety net, the doctors did want to keep the baby girl in overnight for observation, which meant the whole party would be staying too.

Y/n loved nothing more than watching Tom and Haz with their baby. The way they delicately cradled her in their strong arms and the way their eyes softened so inexplicably. Y/n swore that had she not just pushed a watermelon sized human out her vagina, the way Tom looked while holding their daughter would make her pregnant all over again.

“I still can’t believe you two created a real life human.” Harrison mused while standing with the baby girl in his arms, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he watched her sleep soundly.

“To be fair it was mainly Y/n” Tom laughed as he squeezed Y/n’s hand (wincing internally as it hurt his already injured hand - Y/n had an almost death grip)

“Oh no credit where credits due… he was involved for a whole 3 minutes or so.” Harrison snorted and Tom scowled at her, yet her cheeky if exhausted grin instantly erased any annoyance.

“Don’t make sexual jokes in front of our child!” He retorted, Harrison still laughing at his friend. Haz loved Y/n too - she made Tom a better version of himself. And now, she’d made him a dad.

**triggering part starts here

After all the excitement of the early morning it was more than fair to say Y/n was shattered, Tom not doing much better. So after a little bit, Tom joined Y/n on the bed and they instantly fell asleep to the light beeping of their babies heart monitor. Harrison stayed in the arm chair in the corner of the room, wheeling the little incubator right in front of him to just stare at the little girl. He had been texting Tom’s family too, giving them details of when they’d be allowed to come and meet the little one, who had just woken up to all Tom’s frantic texts from the night before.

Eventually though he was ped ousnapt of his happy daze, looking over to the bed and seeing Tom groan as he shifted on the mattress that was technically only spacious enough for one.

“You good mate?” Harrison spoke in a low voice, keen not to disturb either the baby of Y/n - she had earned a bit of peace. Tom just mumbled in response, rubbing his eyes as he sat up before letting out a deeper groan.

“-hat the fuck” Tom lifted up the blanket covering them both as Harrison looked on inquisitively. But then Tom leapt off the bed, started violently shouting Y/n as he shook her in a look of desperation. It was violent and harsh, Harrison was horrified as he immediately stood up in an action to pull Tom off her.

“Tom what are you-“

“Get help Haz.” Tom turned around to look at Haz, only at which point could the blonde haired boy make out why Tom looked so insane. Because his trousers, and the bedsheets that were now not hidden by the blankets, was covered in a red sticky substance. Jaw dropping, Haz slalomed round the incubator to stand at the foot of the bed.

It honestly looked like a horror scene. Y/n’s lower half was completely saturated in a bright red liquid that slowly was creeping further and further through the sheets. Her face looked pale, Haz cursing himself for not noticing earlier and her breathing… it looked so slow it was barely noticeable. The silence was only endured for a few moments, before Tom turned back to violently shaking the dead weight below him yelling her name repeatedly and frantically.

As soon as the alarm was raised more and more staff piled into the room, each one carrying a new level of importance and seniority - instantly taking control of the room and shouting orders. Tom had long since been pulled away from the bed by a nurse, who was trying to speak to him and calm him down, but was completely ignored as he focused on the scene over their shoulder.

“Looking like a primary PP bleed but she’s lost at least 3 pints already…. Somone bleep the aenestists and lets get moving to the OR please!.. We’ll need bloods crossmatch 5 units….”

Tom heard to the controlled sense of urgency in the lead doctors voice and he felt as though his heart was being torn straight from his chest. Harrison took over from the nurse, half restraining - half hugging him as the nurse ushered them completely out the room. Shouting over Tom’s desperate pleas to let the doctors do their thing. He fought hard against Harrison but ultimately his hold was enough to keep him back, the two watching from he corridor as Y/n’s bed was wheeled rapidly out the room - what seemed like at least 12 staff members bustling after it.

Harrison knew it was hopeless to try and talk to Tom, as he paced up and down the ‘relatives room’ the two had been confined to. They didn’t have a clue what was going on, no-one seemed to want to tell them - making the worst case option appear the most likeliest in Harrison’s head. A nurse had said the baby, as yet unnamed, had been taken down the neonatal unit so that it was one thing less for them to worry about ; but refused to say anything about Y/n, saying a doctor would come and explain soon.

It must’ve been 20 mins, even if to the two men it felt like a lifetime, when a round and short, greying man with big black rimmed rectangular glasses entered the room. Tom was too in his own head to even notice, pacing up and down the room while constantly running a hand through his hair as he tried to keep his breath in regular time - even if his brain was on overdrive. It took Harrison calling his name twice to make him snap out of it, looking up with desperate pleading eyes to notice the stout man, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Are you Mrs y/L/n’s husband?”

“Fiance”

“I’m Dr Webber the consultant gynaecologist, shall we take a seat sir?” Tom stayed rigid, standing opposite him in an offensive manner.

“She’s dead isn’t she?” At Tom’s cold words, Haz’s breath halted in his chest. It had been what they’d both been thinking, of course, it was natural when you see someone with more blood out their body than inside it. The doctor seemed a little shocked at his frankness, pressing his lips together as he let out a sigh.

“No sir she’s not but she is very very unwell. Please, let’s sit down so we can talk about it because I understand it’s a lot to take in.” It took a couple of movements of Tom stood frozen staring but Dr Webber held firm, waiting until Tom took a seat next to Haz before he moved - drawing a chair from across the room so he could face both men.

“First off I’m sorry you were removed from the room and put in here for so long but these situations are incredibly hard and to get Y/n the best care we needed the whole room.”

“Doctor I just… I just need to know what’s going on.” He couldn’t deal with the state of unknowing, Tom was going insane, he didn’t care for the small talk.

“Sorry right, so what we think happened was your fiancé developed a condition called ‘placental accreta’. In simple terms, a bit of the placenta is stuck in the uterus and causes bleeding.”

“That much bleeding?” Haz couldn’t help himself from butting in, he knew this wasn’t really his place, that he was just being there for Tom. But at the same time that was his godchilds mum, it mattered.

“Honestly? Usually not, Y/n had very severe bleed… So she has been taken in for surgery, where the very talented surgeons are trying patch up the affected blood vessels. I’m afraid at this point that’s all I can really say.”

“So… she’s going to be okay?” It was desperate plea for something that, even if Tom wouldn’t admit, he didn’t really believe - it seemed as if none of the three in the room did.

“It’s not that easy I’m afraid. Assuming the surgeons can stabilise the bleeding and fix it…. with blood loss like she has suffered we… we don’t know what the effects of that will be. We tried to prevent as much damage to her brain and body as possible with transfusing blood into her and it was good that she was in hospital so could get treatment almost immediately…. But I’m afraid it’s simply too early to say. The first hurdle is going to be getting her out of surgery safely, only then can we deal with whatever happens next.”

Tom had so many emotions flashing through his head. He knew the doctor was trying to go slow to make the information a little more digestible but it was all so bloody incomprehensible. So when the greying man asked both men if they had any questions, neither took up his offer. Surely they both would after hours of processing and analysing but for right now? They were stunned into silence.

“Okay sir, now I hope you don’t mind me saying this but it really is important for you to hear. You are now a father, as Y/n is a mother. This situation is never easy but as a first time dad I need you to be aware that now your fiancé can’t be your only priority. We are all here to support you but please, just remember that.”

Harrison was so glad the doctor had said that, it was so completely true - yet Haz knew he didn’t have enough power to have said it to Tom. The whole thing was impossible and at the centre was an innocent, beautiful but totally dependant baby.

“What happens now then?” Haz had to ask on behalf of his friend, who was now completely overwhelmed. Dr Webber sighed, leaning back and rubbing his knees before answering.

“If the surgery is successful it’ll be at a best estimate two hours before we will have news for you , then she will be taken into intensive care where everything else would be assessed and further investigations would happen. You can both stay here or go get food, maybe go down and see the baby in the neonatal ICU? I personally promise that as soon as any of us get any news you will be the first to know.”

He was met with the sort of silence that makes you shiver. Sighing heavily, the doctor rubbed his knees, apparently preparing to leave. “This possibly one of the worst case scenarios that could’ve happened but Y/n is in the best hands and we will do everything for her. If you do think of anything you want clarification on, grab one of the nurses and they’ll come and find me.”

And then he left.

The room was deathly silent. Harrison couldn’t dare to look over at Tom - he knew what he would see and honestly seeing Tom like that would only make it worse. God knows how long they sat in those plastic lined, lightly padded hospital chairs. Both in silence. Just thinking… or more like worrying… or more like dreading. It was Tom who actually broke the silence first, his voice barely audible but still the meaning was crisp and clear.

“I can’t do it Haz�� For the first time since the doctor was with them, Harrison looked at Tom, catching him directly in the eye. That hurt… Tom’s eyes looked so, so… hopeless. He knew what his broken friend was saying, but honestly Haz didn’t want to hear it so he did not respond. That didn’t stop Tom though, he continued. “I can’t do it. … I-I can’t be a dad without her… I just can’t.”

What the hell was Harrison supposed to say? There wasn’t really a guidebook to this situation. He was clueless. So, cautiously Harrison just leaned over, wrapping his arms round Tom as he all but collapsed into his friends chest. Tom was sobbing harshly as Harrison looked up at the ageing ceiling tiles, trying to surpress his own emotions because now clearly wasn’t about him.

“You can Tom… you have to.” His friend didn’t respond, well apart from harsh sobs that racked his frame. And so Harrison just let Tom cry, folded awkwardly and uncomfortably over the arm rest of the chairs, occasionally yelling into his chest at the unjustness of the situation.

It wasn’t fair. But it had still happened. And there was still a baby girl by herself downstairs.

//////

is this okay or too much? I won't write another part if generally people think its a bit too dark!!!!

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #tom holland x y/n #Tom Holland angst #angsty

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rogue-durin-16 · 4 years ago

Text

STICK TOGETHER

Summary: When Fred finds out Y/n is planning on leaving the Wizarding World, he canalizes his feelings in the worst way possible, which leads to a terrible outcome that seems unfixable.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality

Warnings: swearing

A/N: @meph1stophelian is here putting pressure on me to post this already so I'm apologizing for the poorly written ending lmaoo enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Fred, calm down." George begged me; he walked by my side, trying to talk some sense into me, but it was not the moment. "You gotta understand her— throwing a fit isn't going to help anyone—" I didn't even look in my twin's direction while he spoke. "Bloody hell, Fred—"

"Y/n!" I quickened my pace, leaving George behind after spotting her in one of the corridors, having a chat with a couple of Ravenclaws. "Can I have a word?"

"Sure— Oi!" I hadn't waited for her to reply before grabbing her hand and snatching her away to pull her into the nearest broom closet. "What was that about?"

"Tell me I heard Katie wrong and you're not actually leaving."

"I can't tell you that." She plainly responded, her voice steady.

A single, gobsmacked snide left my throat. "You're joking, right?" My heart ached as if it was being constricted when she shook her head no. "So you're fleeing?"

"What?"

"Things are getting ugly so you're running away."

Her eyes dug into mines as she stayed in a very uncomfortable silence before replying with. "So what if I am?" When I averted my eyes from hers, she called my name. Her eyes were somewhat softer now, with a gleam of plea in them. "For the last two years we had nothing but tragedy. Diggory died, You-Know-Who is back and recruiting, the ministry is full on going against a teenager, this pink colored nasty toad is physically abusing us, and on top of that, I have to put up with my housemates' bullshit for having muggle blood— I'm tired!" Her voice had raised a bit, enough for me to know she was struggling to keep it at bay, but still managed to. "If I can have a life out of this then—"

"You're a coward."

"Fred." there was a warning on her tone, but I couldn't listen.

"You're leaving... people behind," she attempted to reason; I didn't let her. "Dunno why I'm surprised, really. At the end of the day you're a Slytherin for a reason."

Her eyes started to well up, and I couldn't tell if it was with anguish or fury. I knew I was getting under her skin, but that was exactly what I intended to do; if I was going to leave that room scarred, so would she.

"Self-preservation, you call it." I scoffed, feeling my own rage building up faster each passing second. "Pure cowardy."

"Is that what you think?" Her tone wasn't steady anymore; she was holding back the poison of her words, for my sake.

"Yeah." I wasn't capable of doing the same thing for hers. "And I don't want your cheap excuses and emotional manipulation to convince me otherwise." My face was probably red due to the anger, my jaw and fists hurt from clenching them; I was off the rails, and the person who would usually stop me was standing in front of me. "Better leave now so you don't have the chance to sell us out when shit goes down."

Silence fell upon us, our gazes locked, equally watery and with the same amount of fury and sadness within them.

And finally she snapped. "Maybe I'm a coward, but you're a self-absorbed prat who's not able to see beyond your own ego!" The way she said it hurt me more than the sentence itself. "This is not gonna be a DADA class, Fred! I don't want to fucking die because I was too slow casting Protego."

"Good luck, Y/l/n." I curtly wished her before stalking out of the broom closet I have initially dragged her into.

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

We avoided each other for a week. The following Monday, when I entered the Great Hall, I found George and Katie quite depressed.

"What's gotten into you?"

They shared a look before my brother turned to me, deciding to break the news himself.

"Y/n left last night." He gave me an apologetic look. "Thought she'd wait until the graduation—"

"But she's had enough." Katie finished, toying with her breakfast. "Honestly, I wish I had a life in the muggle world too."

My lungs were refusing to take the air inside; I felt as if I would choke if I stayed there, so I stormed out, jogging to reach the countryard.

I needed to breathe.

Even after the wind hit my face, that vital task felt like the most difficult thing in the world to accomplish.

I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her.

A sob escaped my chest, realising the harsh words I had spat at her were probably the last ones she would ever hear from me.

I love her.

A Year And A Half Later

READER'S P. O. V.

I managed to apparate somewhere in the cornfield —the only place around the Burrow I remembered clearly.

I should have landed with a broom, but apparently, Mad-Eye didn't inform Lupin that I would serve as an extra escort for Harry if they were ambushed, so my broom was now smashed somewhere down the muggle road we had flown over.

Mentally cursing the damn moment in which I spoke to Shacklebolt in hopes of being useful in this war, I looked for the entrance of the Weasley home, which took me quite a while.

Funnily enough, it was Lupin who stepped out, wielding his wand and casting yet another hex at me that I somehow managed to block.

With a swift wave of my hand, he was propelled back into the house. "YOU!" A long-haired redhead I recognized as the eldest Weasley helped my old Professor up as I stalked to them with my wand up. "YOU HEXED MY BLOODY BROOM! I'M LUCKY TO BE ALIVE!"

"Y/n, calm down—" Shacklebolt was now besides me with his hands up. "He didn't know you were coming— he was trying to protect George from further harm."

My brain was slow to process his words, but as soon as it did, I started to down my arm. "What happened?"

"Snape hit him with the sectumsempra." My eyes widened at Lupin's heavy words.

"Did everyone else make it?" The three of them remained silent, the ginger shaking his head no.

My breath caught up in my throat, but before I could ask if Fred was alright, another tall ginger flashed the corner of my eye, and my head snapped to the living room's door.

FRED'S P. O. V.

Everyone was scattered around the house. Ginny took Hermione and Fleur to her room; Ron and Harry made its way up too; Tonks went out —she needed a moment alone to mourn Mad-Eye—, and, while my parents and I stayed with George, Lupin, Shacklebolt and Bill went to guard the entrance.

I was still kneeling by George's side, holding his hand while our mother healed his wound the best she could, when we heard a yell followed by a strong blow in the kitchen.

I looked at my mum and dad, my eyes flickering to my twin while I reached for my wand.

As I got up, more yells were heard, this time clearer; the voice was familiar— I knew that voice all too well.

There she stood, at the entrance of my home.

Her eyes met mines as soon as she caught a glimpse of me, and my head started to spin. I knew I had no right to do what I was about to do, but after that night's events, in which the war became very much real, I couldn't help but rush to her and engulf her in a tight hug.

Surprisingly enough, I couldn't take more than two steps forward, since she did what I intended to do first.

"You're alright." She mumbled against my shoulder. My eyes shut, trying to block the tears that threatened to fall. "How's he?" She inquired whilst pulling away with a concerned frown.

Not trusting my voice, I nodded in the living room's direction. A quiet sough escaped my lips as she passed by, her hands lingering on my arms for a brief instant before she entered the room and took careful steps towards the settee.

I barely caught a couple of words from George and Y/n's exchange, my mind still buzzing due to the shock.

"What do you say, Freddie?" I frowned at my twin, regretting not listening to the conversation. "She can take my bed, right? I'm not gonna get far anyway."

"Right." I agreed, struggling for my voice to come out steady. It was Y/n we were talking about; I had known her since our fourth year, I had been friends and more with her, seeing her shouldn't be that nerve-wracking.

A couple of minutes later, we were all heading to our respective rooms, and as I closed my room's door behind me and Y/n, it dawned on me that I had underestimated the anxiety that could cause me being left alone with her.

Get it together, Fred.

"If you want, you can grab a shirt from the drawer." I finally managed to speak, motioning at the chest besides the window. She nodded and turned to it to look for one she could sleep in.

Now that I had the opportunity, I carefully observed her, and soon realized how much she had changed in the time we were apart. Not only when it came to her physical appearance; she stood a bit straighter, talked a little calmer; the joy with which she used to sparkle was dim now, eclipsed by a severe, worried attitude— a sign of us no longer being the kids who messed around at Hogwarts.

"I missed you" I knew right away that wasn't the best start for the conversation.

"It sure didn't seem like it." The bitterness in her tone stung my heart harsher than I expected.

"You're still mad?" The way I was conducting the conversation was making me want to bang my head against the wall.

She sighed, turning around now that she had the shirt on to meet my gaze. "A year and a half, Fred. You didn't contact me for a year and a half. I thought we were friends."

"You left me behind!" I talked back, partly because I panicked, but also because I, to my surprise, was still mad too. "What did you even expect?"

"A letter?" She questioned, throwing herself down on the bed. "I mean— I didn't really expect anything, but a letter would have been a good way to let me know you didn't fucking hate me." My eyes, now fixed on my lap, went wide when Y/n's voice broke at her last three words.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled, quite ashamed of having to apologise while also being scared of saying anything that could harm her further. "I'm sorry about not writing and- uh... I'm sorry about what I said to you. I know it's not an excuse but I was really mad and..." I cleared my throat and felt the blush creeping up my neck even before I finished the sentence. "... and hurt 'cause you- I thought that maybe I wasn't important enough to you and- yeah, I'm sorry about what I said." I tried meeting her eyes but they were fixed on the wall before her.

"It's fine." She shrugged, "I guess you were right anyway."

"I wasn't right-"

"You were." She hugged her knees to her chest and hid her face there. "Wanna know why I'm back?" She didn't need my response. "They're hunting down my family." My heart stopped beating for a second due to the shockingly deadpanning tone. "A friend gave me a tip-off— they were tracking them down. I got to them just in time." I refrained myself from asking about them —the less I knew, the better. "So yeah, you're right, I was a coward and left people behind."

My body shot up and my legs carried me to George's bed; without me being fully aware of what I was doing or which consequences it could have, I sat down and pulled Y/n into my arms.

Though she was shocked at first, her body soon relaxed into the familiarity of my arms, and she let out a relieved sigh. "You're not alone on this." I whispered, pecking her crown. "I'm here, okay?"

"So you don't hate me?" She murmured against my chest.

Maybe it was the fragility of her voice, or the warmth of her embrace I missed so much; maybe it was this past year and a half of regret, or the night's events, but I couldn't hold back my words.

"I love you."

And even though she went stiff, even if I had just blurted them out almost in accident, I didn't regret saying them, because I, in fact, loved her.

She pulled away to look into my eyes. "You mean it?"

"Yeah." I replied, calmer than I had been in a while. "And I'm really sorry about everything, if I could turn back time—" words and air were cut off by her lips crashing against mines.

We had kissed before, but it was on a bet's behalf or to prank someone; this was different, this was her pouring her 'I love you' into actions, and I embrace it gladly.

"No more running away." I commanded when she pulled back. "From now on, we stick together." She nodded, her forehead resting against mine and her palms on my chest.

#fred weasley x reader #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfics #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x gryffindor!reader #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x gender neutral reader

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hellomynameisbisexual · 4 years ago

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“QUEER”

First of all, let’s clear up a common misconception. Queer does not just mean gay. It’s an umbrella term for an identity which deviates from society’s perceived norm: heterosexual, or straight. Queer can refer to sexualities — gay, bisexual, pansexual, — or it can refer to being gender-queer; i.e, any label that deviates from the perceived gender norm: the binaries, male and female.

“Queer” is a reclaimed slur.

If you do not fall under the umbrella of queerness, it is safe to assume that you cannot use it. At all.

I am bisexual.

This means I experience attraction to plural genders. Pansexual also works fine. For the difference between bisexual and pansexual — see here:

Being bisexual isn’t easy. I went through similar hardships to gay women: I experienced attraction to women and was scared of what this meant for me, in such an oppressively homophobic society.

I am not saying being bisexual is harder than being gay, nor the inverse. But my experiences are distinctly bisexual, not gay.

Without further ado, here are the 3 things I’ve found to be the hardest about being queer, but not gay (enough).

#1: Finding My Place

Or, not being queer enough

I always knew I wasn’t straight, but I didn’t know what I was. Up until recently, I was still questioning. This didn’t feel enough to join groups or conversations with LGBT+ folk, let alone go to pride. Was I even LGBT if I was never L, G, B, or T?

I am still yet to attend a pride, even though I identify (fairly confidently) as bisexual. I am in a relationship with a man. This is (problematically) known as a “straight-passing relationship” and makes me feel even more undeserving of a place at pride.

This has been upsetting to me at times. But for others, it can be outright devastating. Growing up and needing support, but feeling like you’re ‘not gay enough’ to ask for it? So many young people are being left alone and afraid. Finding others like you is vital to figuring out who you are. Likewise, finding spaces which are safe and inclusive is vital for anyone, regardless of their sexuality or gender identity. A friend of mine happens to be a transgender man, and he summed up the issue perfectly:

“One thing that I keep noticing is how all hangout spots are “gay bars”, or (far less common) “lesbian bars”. I’m a straight man, so I don’t feel like I’m supposed to be there, but hanging out at regular bars is still too much of a gamble, so I don’t really have anywhere to go.”

It goes without saying that gay folk aren’t always safe in these spaces, as seen by the homophobic attack on the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, in 2016. Bigotry hurts the entire LGBT+ community. Bigotry doesn’t stop to ask whether you identify as gay or otherwise queer before it pulls the trigger.

But the LGBT+ community itself is much more welcoming to those who “pick a side” and just come out as gay, already. The infighting is inexplicable when one looks to attacks such as that in Orlando: bigots don’t care which letter you are in the acronym. So why does gatekeeping exist when we need to be strong in the face of intolerance when fragmentation only makes us weaker? Who are we helping by continuing to exclude identities from the discussion?

#2: Myths and Misconceptions

Well, it stands to reason that if bisexuals are what they seem in TV and movies, why would anyone want to make them feel included? They’re “greedy” and inauthentic. They’re attention-seeking, not to mention their propensity for threesomes. Now, I haven’t been in a wild orgy yet, but it seems like it will only be a matter of time before I follow my natural path.

Straight men, in particular, need to own up to their assumption that bisexual women are down for a threesome. The thing is, we are. But not with you, you big ASSUMER.

Infidelity

All jokes aside, the stereotyping of bisexuals is not only hurtful, but leads to difficulties finding and maintaining relationships.

As I came to terms with my bisexuality, I also had to accept that I might never be fully trusted by my partner, regardless of their gender or sexuality. I was shocked when my partner reacted to my coming out with the equivalent of a shrug — so much so, that I burst into tears of gratitude that my soul-bearing moment hadn’t been met with slut-shaming or assumptions of disloyalty. Nothing has changed. If anything, our bond is even stronger for me having been more authentic after coming out.

But cruelty came from elsewhere: when I came out, I was told that my partner was to be pitied, either because I’m gay and in denial, or bound to cheat on him. The main consequence of such attitudes has been the crippling fear of coming out to my partner. It saddens me that I felt so relieved when he accepted me for being who I am, and loving him just the same as I always have.

This outcome is not the case for many couples, with straight folk worried that their bisexual partner will realise they’re gay and just leave them. This fear of abandonment comes from a place of ignorance. When the media presents bisexuality as a steppingstone on the way to “picking a team”, it’s no wonder that people struggle to trust their queer partners.

Other Queer Myths

The myth that all trans folk medically transition invalidates those who choose not to do so, and let’s not forget the ignorant jeers that it's all just a mental illness. Asexual folk battle the stereotype that they can never have a relationship and shall forever remain a virgin (because what an awful thing that would be, right?) And pansexuals… well, at the lighter end, they’re asked if they have sex with cooking utensils. But often, they’re erased as irrelevant because “we already have the label bisexual”.

This brings us onto the third and final difficulty that comes with queer folk who aren’t easily categorizable as gay: erasure.

#3: Erasure

Erasure refers to the denial of an identity’s existence or its validity as a label.

Non-binary folk face ongoing and loud claims that they simply do not exist. This is despite the historical and scientific evidence to the contrary. Plus, the most important evidence — them, existing. Asexual folk are told they simply have not found the right person yet, or that they are just afraid of sex. Demi-sexual folk are told “everyone feels like that, unless they’re just sleeping around!”. And bisexuals are dismissed as simply being in denial that they’re gay.

Monosexuality & The Gender Binary

Our culture is so built on monosexuality (being solely attracted to one gender — for instance, gay or straight). Monosexuality is reinforced through everything from marriage to dating apps, the media to what we teach in schools. People cannot fathom that someone might want to experience more than one gender in their lifetime.

The binary models of sex and gender are also deeply ingrained. These rigid belief systems combined are to blame for our inability to accept that bisexuals do not need to “pick a side”. I was paralysed by fear for 17 years because I found girls attractive and that might mean I’m gay, because bisexuals are just gays who haven’t realised they’re gay yet.

Bierasure

Bierasure is dangerous, firstly because it leads a child to have to internalise both biphobia and homophobia. For instance, I had to work through being taught to hate gayness, whilst being taught that any attraction to non-male genders made me gay.

Women were cute, and so I was gay, and this meant I was disgusting.

My own mother told me this. She also told me that something has “gone wrong in the womb” for a child to be gay. (Well, Mum, I’ve got some bad news about your womb!)And she, like any bigot, extended this theory to anyone who experiences same-sex attractions — anyone queer. This is another reason why bi-erasure is perilous. Whether you’re a gay, cis-male or a demi-bisexual, trans woman… if your parents will kick you out for being gay, they will likely kick you out for being any sort of queer.

If we deny the bigotry that bisexuals undergo, we will continue to suffer. It won’t just go away. It will fester, with bisexuals having no one they can go to who believes them. And thus:

Erasure Kills

Bullying and suicide rates of queer-but-not-gay people continue to sky-rocket. We must direct funding, support and compassion to every queer individual, as they are all vulnerable to discrimination and bullying. The problem is being left to fester. This is in part because bigots treat all queer labels as just ‘gay’, deeming them equally unworthy. This is how far erasure can go.

Conclusion

Earlier on, I stated that my experiences are distinctly bisexual. The same applies to any queer identity.

Emphasising our differing paths and struggles is important to avoid the aforementioned erasure of already less visible groups. But this does not mean that the LGBT+ community should be fragmented by these differences.

If we can unite in our hope to live authentically and love freely, we will be stronger against bigotry. We are fighting enough intolerance from without: there is no need to create more from within.

So out of everything, what’s the hardest part about being bisexual?

It’s the fact that nobody knows it’s this hard.

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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Because Hearts Get Broken - Loving Is The Antidote (Part 3/3)

Because Hearts Get Broken Part 3 :) read the first two on my masterlist

Synopsis: Overcoming fears is not an easy thing, but maybe it’s worth a shot if the ending leads to happiness.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: kinda angsty, mostly fluffy and SHMUTTYYYYYYYYY

Warnings: SMUT!!! (so beware, this is kinda sweet, but oh so filthy; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), m going down on f, slight fingering etc), swearing

Word count: 5895

Y/N had never been so nervous while getting ready for a show. She liked to be front-row, right by the stage to feel as close to the music as possible, the energy of the crowd filling her up and making her buzz with excitement, even hours after the concert was done.

The thing was – with when they started dating and then with the pandemic shutting everything down in spring, Y/N had never seen Harry live. Sure, he’d given her private concerts, had sung her any song she wanted, but this was different. Somehow, even though there were more people, it felt more intimate because this wasn’t just him lulling Y/N to sleep. This was Harry baring part of his soul to the world, and doing it with such ease, it made her heart ache.

The venue was small, at least compared to the arena sizes Y/N knew he typically performed at. There were around 100ish or so people, and the line was quite quick to move.

She told the woman with the clipboard her name and provided some ID. The list wasn’t that long, and it took her barely two seconds to spot the name, as she smiled and gave Y/N a nod.

“I’ll have Bert escort you to the backstage if you’ll just follow him, please.”

“Could I actually watch from the crowd?” Y/N asked biting her lip. “I love being a part of it, you know. Feel the energy and stuff.”

“Uh, sure.” The woman gave her an uncertain look. “It’s just that Mr Styles asked for you to be brought backstage, and umm…”

“If Harry says anything,” Y/N put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “I’ll deal with it. Please, don’t worry too much. Unless he wants a kidnapping charge, he’ll deal with the fact that I’m inside the venue.”

And that seemed to do the trick, as the girl, visibly relaxed and even laughed a bit, handing Y/N back her ID and motioning with her head to go inside.

Small tables had been set up, and each one could house four people at a time. Most of them had already been taken and given how she didn’t want to draw any attention, Y/N decided to take one of the tables at the very back, a pillar half obscuring the stage and with that – her face.

The enthusiasm was palpable in the air, and people were chattering away, anticipating the moment Harry with his band would walk onto the stage. A waitress came up to her, asking if she wanted anything to eat or drink.

“And your name, please? To set up a tab.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Oh,” her eyes went a bit wide. “Um, no need to pay then.”

Her brows furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“We’ve been told that anything you order should be put on Mr Sty – “

“Mr Styles tab,” Y/N finished the sentence with a chuckle. “Yeah. Okay… well, is it possible for you to not say anything to him and let me pay for my drinks?”

“I – “ she shrugged. “I guess?”

“Just the G&T please.”

The waitress nodded and clicked her pen, still seemingly unsure about what to do, but ultimately deciding to go with what Y/N asked. “Coming right up.”

The lights dimmed, and Y/N’s attention was brought to the stage, where she saw Harry, Sarah, Mitch, Adam, Naomi and Charlotte appear and take their places, as applause and cheers became their background music.

He looked good, very good, in fact. His brown hair was the typical messy mop on top of his head, the signature pearl necklace around his neck, while he sported the soft rainbow cardigan, a sharp-looking high neck button-up, and black slacks, with black boots.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Harry started, and it made a collective chuckle rise into the air. He could post a fleeting comment on Instagram saying he was having a concert in three minutes, and there’d be ten thousand fans waiting for him. “When ‘Save the Children’ reached out to us and asked if we could help them raise some donations, we immediately hopped on the idea, and it warms our hearts seeing so many of you here, and the fact that you’re supporting their cause.”

Loud cheers immediately exploded, and Y/N obviously joined in.

“All proceeds for the tickets made today will go to them, as will any other donations you decide to give, so, I hope you do, and let’s get the show going.”

That was Sarah’s cue to hit her drumsticks together three times, as the notes of ‘Golden’ rattled the air.

Seeing Harry in his element was nothing short of electric. Although he was sitting down, and most of the songs he sang were acoustic versions, it was dazzling to see the passion seep out of his body and into the lyrics he'd composed.

Throughout most of it, his green eyes kept scanning over the gathered people, while flitting to see what was happening behind the curtain, and it made Y/N sort of giddy, thinking that he might be trying to find her.

Because in truth, he was. When Harry had arrived, he was all nerves and jitters, which had never happened before a show. Well, never before had Y/N come to one of his shows, so there was also that.

All throughout prep, he was waiting for someone from the staff to come up to him and tell him his girl had come, but no one did, until like five minutes before he was supposed to perform, a breathless woman, who seemed so nervous she was about to pass out, had tapped him on the shoulder.

“Is she here?” Now he was the breathless one.

“Uh, yeah, Y/N arrived a little while ago.”

His forehead creased in confusion. “Then, where is she? No one came to inform me.”

“I’m so sorry Mr Styles, but she asked to be allowed into the crowd, she uh… didn’t wanna be taken backstage.”

“Oh.”

That was literally all he could manage, as his heart dropped. “Well… at least she’s here.” He gave the assistant a smile. “Thank you. I uh, I hope you’ll enjoy the show.”

Then it was call-time, and he had to gather himself as he walked on the small podium, taking his place by the mic, and beginning the concert.

After each song, he scanned the gathered people, in hopes of seeing Y/N’s face, but she had hidden really well, and when he’d looked to the sides, wishing to see her frame standing there, he had to remind himself, that she was there, and he still had to fulfil a little surprise, which he hoped she’d like.

“You know when writing… songs are inspired by many things, but just like with books you reread, they can get new meanings and make you feel different than before. So, although I had no clue this person existed when I wrote this song, the second I met her, I knew it was about her. She’s uh, she’s here tonight.”

Y/N’s head snapped up from where she’d been propping it against her hand so hard, she was sure she heard a bone crack.

No.

Fucking.

Way.

“So, I’d like to end this small get together and dedicate it to her. And I know this isn’t one of her favourite songs,” Harry let out a small laugh, Sarah mimicking it behind the drums. “She told me she’s kind of sick of it, given how it was all over the radio at one point, but uh, I hope that maybe, she - uh - she just listens to the words, and knows I mean it.”

Y/N didn’t even need the first chord to be played to know what song he meant. ‘Adore You’.

During their quarantine, she’d jokingly said if it played one more time on the radio, she’d have to break up with him.

He’d yanked her down on the couch, nose nuzzling into her hair. “ ‘N why’s that? Thought you liked my singing.”

“I do,” Y/N wove her fingers into his locks and massaged at his scalp, making Harry let out a satisfied groan. “I just don’t wanna hear you sing about loving and adoring someone that ain’t me.”

A playful smirk pressed against her skin. “Jealous, are we?”

“No,” Y/N shrugged pinching his side. “Jus’ tired of the song.”

“Don’t worry.” He brought his face from where he’d hidden it by her shoulder and turned hers to face him. “From now on, whenever I’ll sing it, I’ll sing it for you. You’re the only person I wanna love and adore.”

“What about Gem and your mum.”

A disgusted look passed over his features. “Not in that way!”

“Harry!” Y/N slapped his arm as both of them dissolved into laughter.

“You don’t have to say you love me,” he sung, breaking her out of the trance, “you don’t have to say nothing, you don’t have to say you’re mine.”

She’d never hated the song, never meant it when she’d said that, and could never be mad at Harry for having written out his feelings, woven them into notes and masterfully put it together for others to hear.

It was a weird notion to Y/N though, knowing everyone in the world could hear how he’d loved someone so much, but that was just because of her own inability to properly express her feelings. Yet now, listening to him sing that song for her, made her chest hurt.

Thankfully Y/N wasn’t the only one sniffling in the audience, so she wasn’t standing out that much. She was kind of scared that Harry might look over and others would connect the dots, but he didn’t, not really at least. His green eyes scanned the people, but mostly he kept his gaze on the floor, as if afraid of what reaction everyone would have as the song ended.

“Thank you,” he muttered into the microphone the cheers morphed into ovations, while he pressed his fingers against his lips and ‘sent’ the kiss to the audience before retreating backstage with his band in tow. As people started to filter out, groups heading down the street while others lingered in hopes of catching a glimpse or having a word with Harry, Y/N waited by the table, finishing off her drink before moving towards the backstage.

“I uh.” She showed one of the security guards her ID. “I was told I can come backstage?”

The burly man looked down at the woman next to him, who much like the assistant before had a clipboard. When she found Y/N’s name she looked up and smiled. “Right this way.”

They wove through the small walkways, as people rushed back and forth, coiling up wires, dismantling the drum-set and carefully placing the instruments in their boxes for them to be put in the van.

“He’ll be back here in a minute,” the representative said, opening up a door where Harry’s name was plastered on, letting her step in, and Y/N nodded, pulling her jumper sleeves down her palms.

It was a nervous habit of hers, having switched over from biting her nails to plucking at loose threads of clothing to now pulling at them. Harry had been the one to help her get rid of the biting.

“How am I supposed to paint your nails, if you rip them off?”

Y/N had scoffed shoving him a bit. “You have your own nails to paint.”

“Yes, but I wanna make your pretty too.”

“You telling me I ain’t pretty enough for you?”

“No, I think you’re gorgeous, but,” he’d leaned closer to her, so close she could feel his teeth graze her earlobe, “I do love it when I can see marks on my back in the morning.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, as butterflies tumbled through her stomach. Three minutes of anticipation and the door clicked open, making her whip around and come face to face with Harry.

“Hey,” he breathed out. “I uh I didn’t really think you’d come, but I’m really happy you did.”

Y/N shrugged toeing at the ground and smoothing her hands against her thighs. “I’ll always do everything I can to support you. Being together is not a condition in my book for making sure you’re alright and happy.”

“Did you uh – di –“

“Did I hear the song?” she interrupted him, and Harry visibly gulped nodding.

“Yeah.” It was barely a whisper, her eyes cast down, noticing how his foot was tapping an irregular rhythm.

“And?”

“And?” Y/N let out a chuckle before leaning down to the couch and grabbing a pillow. “How! Dare! You!” she yelled, hitting his arm with it. “You think you can just do that, you think you can dedicate a song – a fucking love song – to me and get away with it? You think you can just be sweet and nice and so fucking loving and not make me fall in love with you more? And – and – and you just think you can do that?! And make me feel things?”

Harry’s smile was blinding, as he grabbed the pillow, throwing it onto the sofa, and eliminating the two remaining steps between the two, hands on her waist, forehead to hers, as Y/N huffed seeing the smirk bloom even more on his lips. “I made you feel things, huh?”

“Yes,” she grumbled crossing her arms in front of her chest, but in no way was she attempting to push away from him, actually relishing his touch and warmth, and his skin against hers. “You did. And I hate you for that.”

“Do ya really, dove?” He was smiling wider than before.

Her nose brushed against his. “Very much so.”

“I love you too. So much.”

“You sure you want to take a chance on me?” Y/N had to ask. “It’s – I can’t promise it’ll be easy.”

“Love’s not supposed to be easy. And you’re worth it. You’re worth everything to me.”

“Okay then…” She had to suppress the cry that threatened to break out of her throat by clearing it. “But on one condition,” Y/N stated with all seriousness. “You give me a proper shag right here, right now, because I’ve missed you so much, I won’t be able to wait until home.”

“Fuck, dove!” Harry groaned and cupped her cheeks, pulling her lips to his. “They’re gonna ban me from here,” Harry muttered against Y/N’s mouth, trying to wiggle out of the cardigan.

“Then let’s give them a reason,” Y/N hummed against his lips, as her fingers, shaky but still nimble, undid the first button to his high-collared shirt.

Down and down, they went until the planes of his chest and stomach were exposed, and she could indulge herself by letting her palms and nails rake over the skin and the tattoos.

“Wanna taste you,” Harry gasped pulling away for a breath of air. “Haven’t had you in so long, wanna feel you cum on my tongue.”

Y/N’s eyes rolled to the back of her head from his words alone, and given how she didn’t trust her voice to not shake, she nodded her head, helping him get her boots off, toeing the socks with them and then shimmying out of her jeans.

Her bottom half was practically naked when Harry pulled her by the thighs, legs around his waist and lowered her on the shabby sofa. Her mind was so hazy from all the love and pleasure, Y/N didn’t even care about how it probably hadn’t had a good deep clean in ages.

Skilful hands lifted up her jumper, exposing the tank underneath. Harry raised his eyebrow. “How many layers do you have on? I want you naked.”

“It’s fucking winter in New York.” Y/N helped him remove the piece of clothing he found so offensive. “Did you want me to come in just lingerie and freeze my tits off?”

He hummed before looking up. “Speaking of tits? Can I see ‘em?”

“Maybe. If you eat me out first.”

“Deal.”

The thing was, as much as Harry wanted to dive right into it, he was feeling mischievous, so he decided to drag out the process as much as possible. Hands caressing her sides, he lifted the shirt so he could press kisses to her stomach, leaving invisible marks of love with every step of the way, and he grinned to himself hearing Y/N’s breath hitch as he reached her underwear.

There was an embarrassingly large wet spot, and Harry pressed his hips against the couch to somewhat minimise the pain he was starting to feel. He was not gonna blow a load in his pants when he finally got to be with Y/N again.

“Can I take 'em off?” Harry murmured, leaving a fluttery press of his mouth against her hipbone, while she viciously nodded.

Quickly he pressed a kiss to the spot he’d soon be able to see unclothed, and it made Y/N jerk, but fuck she was eager, pupils blown so much there was nothing left of her usual Y/E/C eyes, but two black abysses.

Harry’s were quite the same, as the green had turned dark jade, and even that was a small ringlet around his intense gaze.

“Do not!” She pointed a finger at him, and Harry stopped mid-motion, just as he was going to pocket her panties. “I won’t go commando while wearing jeans.”

“But –“

“It’s not you who’ll chafe.”

Harry huffed, and put them on the side of the couch. “Fine. But just so you know, you’re very boring and are ruining all the fun.”

“At least I won’t have to deal with a yeast infection.”

He couldn’t argue with that, running his hands over her thighs. “Fair enough. But you owe me a kiss.”

“Come here, you doofus,” she grabbed at the open lapels of his shirt and pulled him down, arms looping around his broad shoulder to have his chest pressed against hers and bring their lips back together.

For a couple of minutes, they let their tongues dance in the familiar rhythm. There were no teeth clashing, no foreheads bumping or biting. Despite both of their eagerness, they’d decided to revel in being together, so each kiss was experienced to the fullest.

“Better?” she asked, completely out of breath, as they pulled apart.

“Yeah.” Harry smiled, mind a blissed-out haze. “Now, where were we?”

She couldn’t really think straight either, so her only response was a lift of her hips.

“Right,” he sighed and slipped a delicate hand down her tummy and along the inside of her legs. “God, I missed being here.” And slowly his head joined where he was brushing the sensitive skin of the apex of her thighs.

“Harry!” she dragged out his name, as his fingers just kept skimming her skin, and when she thought they’d slip past her folds, he dragged them back to the inner thigh. “Stop teasing!” Y/N had her hands over her eyes.

“Why?” he smirked, kissing right around the place she wanted his lips on, but not on it. “It’s fun. Payback for everything you put me through.”

“Harry, I swear if you don’t put your tongue in me, I’ll put my foot through your face.”

He lifted her legs up, and then over his shoulders, caging her hips in with his arms. “Not if I do that.”

“Just – fuck! You’re such a bully!” Y/N laughed.

“Are you telling me, I’m being mean to my girlfriend, the love of my life, owner of my heart and soul?” he asked, leaning his cheek to rest against the inside of her thigh, and she wove her fingers into his hair.

“Well, if you don’t do anything, it’s gonna be ex-girlfriend again.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Look who’s being a bully now.”

“But – just – please!” she whined. “Please, I need it so bad.”

“Need what?”

“Ugh, you’re such a menace!” Y/N pretty much yelled and leaned to rest herself on her elbows, catching Harry’s eyes to keep a direct gaze. “I need your tongue so far up my cunt, that by the end of it all, your neck is covered in my cum. Happy now?”

His grin was wicked. “Very.”

That seemed to do the trick, as he lowered his head, and with closed eyes like a wine taster, finally attached his mouth to where Y/N had been craving him for so long. A deep sigh of relief passed her lips, and she threw her head back against the couch cushion, savouring the feeling of what was happening to her.

“Did you eat pineapples before coming?” Harry asked, replacing his tongue with two of his fingers; they slipped in without any resistance with how wet she was. “Taste… sweet.”

“Had a fruit salad for dinner,” she moaned as he leaned back in and licked a broad stripe. “Didn’t have anything else in the fridge.”

“That’s not proper dinner. Pizza afterwards?”

Y/N hummed as he sucked on her clit. “Domino’s?”

Harry linked his fingers through hers and brought their intertwined hands to rest on her stomach. “Whatever you want.”

“Isn’t this kind of cheating for you though?” she let out a choked-back laugh, and with furrowed brows, he detached himself from her core.

“What’dya mean?”

“You’re having dessert first.”

The singer threw his head back with a cackle. “Don’t worry, I’ll eat my veggies. But let me finish having my fruit first.”

It was like he’d been starved of her, and in a way, Harry definitely had been. For almost three months, a quarter of a year, he hadn’t felt Y/N’s touch, hadn’t tasted her, nor pretty much heard the sounds she made.

All he’d been left with was one last good-bye, a kiss given in a passion induced haze, and the one-sentence she’d recorded for her voicemail box, and well, let’s just say – Harry was more than happy to feel her hands let go of his and grasp onto his hair, to drink up everything she offered and listen to all of the moans Y/N was no longer depriving him of. It was heaven, to say the least.

“ ‘M not gonna last long,” she gasped, yanking at his hair, making him moan into her, the vibrations only adding to the already intense pleasure that was coursing through her veins.

Harry released her clit with a small pop. “Don’t want you to last long. Want you to cum and do it like you said you would – soak me all the way down to my neck.”

A second later, he had his mouth around her clit again, ten seconds later, her whole body seized up, the air got stuck at the back of her throat, as her eyes rolled to the back, and her back arched up from the couch so far Harry almost lost his hold on Y/N’s waist.

It was through a fog she heard Harry speak, and it took all of her willpower to focus on understanding what he was saying.

“Hey, come back to me, dove,” he whispered, gentle palms coming to hold Y/N’s face, and he intently watched her eyelids flutter, body still going through the aftershocks of orgasm. “Come back, dove.”

“Mhmm,” she let out a soft sigh, leaning her face more into Harry’s touch before opening her eyes and giving him a fucked-out smile.

“You good there?”

The words ‘the best’ were pretty much a slur, but Harry understood them, eyes twinkling. “Take my top off.”

“What?”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t you wanna see my tits?”

“Yeah,” Harry laughed. “I did – do. Very much so. Gonna let me?”

“Just take my top off.”

Pressing a chaste kiss to her lips, where she could taste herself (and much like Harry had said – she did taste sweet), he practically ripped the tank top off, and with a little help from Y/N who stretched her back, the bra came off as well, revealing her in her full naked glory.

“So beautiful,” he uttered in a soft voice. “Still so bloody gorgeous. Should kick myself for ever letting you go even for a second.”

A little piece of her heart broke at Harry’s statement. “Wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe.” He dragged a hand between her breasts and watched as Y/N’s breathing went ragged. “Maybe not. All I know is, I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

“Then don’t let me. Please.”

It was the tears in her eyes which made him lean down and give her an open-mouthed kiss, tongue twisting against hers, promising that whatever happened, whatever insecurities came their way, he wouldn’t ever let go.

“Take these off,” Y/N said, popping open the button to his slack, and even that small motion made Harry release a groan of relief, as some of the pressure was taken off his painfully hard dick. “Wanna have you inside me.”

“Dove, you’ll kill me with that mouth of yours.”

“I’d rather you raw me than die.”

“ ‘S not my fault you’ve got such a dirty mouth.”

He’d managed to kick off his shoes, and shimmy the trousers down, now lying in a pile on the floor, while Y/N had fully removed his shirt and had thrown it somewhere across the room, itching to just have him pressed against her.

“Condom,” Harry hissed when Y/N’s hand slipped behind his briefs and grabbed him at the base, twisting her palm the way he liked, and slowly moving it up so she could press her thumb against the sensitive tip. “Condom – shit – Y/N, I wanna cum, but not that quick.”

“Nuhu,” she shook her head, wrapping her legs around his waist, both her hands going to the back of his underwear and dragging them down, not before squeezing his ass. “I said I want you to raw me.”

If Harry was going to bust a nut before, now it took him literally biting on his lip and closing his eyes for a minute to gather composure.

“Wait no!” Y/N suddenly sat upright as he was going to lean down, almost knocking her forehead to his nose.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just wanna blow you.”

“I –,“ he stammered, “you – fuck. Okay. As much as I love that idea, because believe me I do, you’ll have to do it later, ‘cause I’m just about ready to cum.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, hand reaching for his hard member, Harry having to stop her midway. “But – you just gave me such good head. I wanna give some to you too.”

“I will literally cum just from you talking if you don’t stop, but I really wanna fuck you, so will you please just let me?”

“Okay,” Y/N nodded leaning back down and reaching for Harry to lay over her. “But you’ll let me stuff my face with your cock after?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“ ‘S not fun being teased, is it?” Y/N grinned, biting on his earlobe, as Harry took himself and lined up with her entrance, letting the tip nudge against her clit.

“Yes well,” he took in a breath, slowly sinking in, “if you giving me a blowjob is your form of revenge, I might have to piss you off more.”

That was a suggestion Y/N was happy to take him up on, as long as it got Harry inside her.

He was being very gentle, very much so aware of how sensitive she still was from her previous orgasm, and all he wanted to do was make her feel as good as possible, so he stilled half-way in, but Y/N shook her head.

“More,” she whimpered.

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he muttered against her lips, legs shaking from how much pleasure he was already having, but still very much so attuned to what Y/N’s body was telling him, yet she seemed to not be having any of it.

“Harry if you don’t get inside me right up to your balls, I will get myself off in front of you, and leave you high and dry.”

“Now that,” he looked at her pointedly, “just won’t do.” And with those words, he sank deeper, just as Y/N had requested until he’d bottomed out.

All the air had been choked out of her lungs from the sensation, and not only did Harry have to wait for a second for her to adjust (and to compose himself somewhat), but also for Y/N to take in a breath.

“Breathe, dove,” he let out a small laugh, and it made Y/N reciprocate, her chest rattling with uneven intakes. “Said I didn’t wanna hurt you, let alone kill you.”

“ ‘S not my fault your dick’s massive.”

“Do I hear complaining?”

“No, just stating a fact.”

“Well, I’ll be taking that as a compliment.” He smoothed away some strands of hair, letting the two of them just lay there for a moment, to relish in the normalcy of the situation and how amazing it was to be back together, emotionally, mentally, and physically.

Harry left kisses all over Y/N’s face as she calmed down, lips skimming over her cheeks, then down her jawline, up her chin to give a peck on the lips before kissing the tip of her nose and the bridge, then each of her eyelids and then the forehead before slipping to soothe at her temples. “You alright?” He checked in, a thumb stroking her cheek. “Do you want some water maybe?”

“No,” she shook her head, her own palms on a never-stopping motion on his back, up and down, and then circling against Harry’s sides. “Jus’ needed a second to gather myself. ‘S been a while.”

“So, you haven’t gotten with anyone while we – “

Y/N raised an eyebrow as his question trickled off. “Do you really wanna know if I’ve had sex with anyone? Right now? With your dick all the way in my vagina?”

“Hey! STDs are a real thing!”

“Harry, if I was, I would’ve told you before all of this. And not just because of health risks…”

And that made something in his chest bloom. This certain hope, he’d felt get extinguished when Y/N had broken it off, but that had been quite the pest in his mind. The hope that was the reason he’d tried so hard to talk to her both on New Year’s and then the week prior – the hope, that Y/N did trust him enough to open up, and that if he just gave her the time, she’d do so without inhibitions.

Her answer confirmed it to Harry. He had no rights to know what her sex life was like when they weren’t together, he wasn’t her keeper, but the fact that she’d implied, she would’ve let him know regardless, that Y/N so wholeheartedly trusted him with such intimate information made that hope blossom into a glowing flower.

“I haven’t been with anyone either,” his tone was sincere. “I – I couldn’t. I tried to, but I just couldn’t take it that far, because every time I opened my eyes… it wasn’t you staring back at me.”

“Haz…” tears gleamed on Y/N’s bottom lashes, and when they fell, he gently wiped them away. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” He shook his head. “None of that. It was a good thing. Because we’re here, right now, right this second, and it’s you I’m with, and it’s you I wanted. Needed. So, none of that.”

“I just – “

“I know,” he said and pressed his forehead against hers. “I know.”

“Okay… I – “ she took in a breath. “I think you can move now.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm,” Y/N hummed. “Just take it slow at first.”

Harry’s head fell into the crook of her neck. “I’ll take care of you. Promise. Just tell me if it hurts, and we’ll stop.”

“You could never hurt me.”

And as much as her statement made his insides all warm and fuzzy, Harry still moved gently. Slowly he rolled his hips into hers and took in the small moan that left Y/N’s throat. Then once more, and more, and more until he’d set a bruising pace, pounding into her so much, the table next to the sofa shook with the force.

“Fuck, Haz.” It was a breathless whimper, her nails digging oh so deliciously into his back, leaving crescent moon marks for him to admire later. “Feels so good. So deep.”

“And you’re so tight,” he grunted, placing a hand on her lower stomach and pushing down until he could feel himself moving inside of Y/N. “Taking me so fucking well.”

One of his palms came to rest by her head, and the other took the arm of the couch, giving Harry the chance to lean into her even more and finally hit that spot that made all thought leave her head, and all breaths come in short gasps, while she desperately tried to hold onto reality by digging her nails in his biceps.

Not that Harry was fairing any better. With every thrust and stroke, he was slowly coming closer to letting go, to finally getting that release he craved and painting Y/N’s core with his cum, but before that, he just had to, if only to prove to himself he could, get her off one more time.

His palm slipped down from the armrest of the couch, over Y/N’s collarbones, squeezing her breast before finding its way between them to rub circles over her clit.

“Ah, shit,” he moaned, looking at where his cock was disappearing into her, wetness spilling and sticking to his lower abdomen and thighs. “Fuck, dove, I need you to come.”

“ ‘M almost there,” she gasped. “Don’t stop rubbing.”

He didn’t, instead, increasing the pace, and he felt her clench more and more until there was pretty much no way for him to move and that pushed both of them over the edge.

It was an explosion of fireworks without a sound, as bright colours came to life behind their eyelids, but all the noise became non-existent, the most euphoric feeling in the world seemed to replace their blood and replenish their souls with love.

But funnily enough, even though Y/N was the one who’d had two mind-blowing orgasms, it seemed Harry was having a harder time coming down from the high, as he was still shaking, his whole body racked by tremors, hair sticking to his sweat-slicked skin.

“Come back to me, Haz.” Y/N kissed his eyelids just like he’d done to her. “Come back. ‘S alright.”

“Nuhu,” he shook his head, laughter rumbling through his chest and reverberating into hers. “I think you’ve killed me. Absolutely bloody murdered me.”

“Guess I gotta hide your body then.” She smiled, letting her hands roam his back and soothe the pain her nails had left.

“Good thing you’re obsessed with all those crime shows.”

“Gotta get some useful skills somehow.”

Loud banging against the door made the two jump, and Harry whipped his head towards it.

“Are you two done fucking?” Sarah hollered. “ ‘Cause there are people here who’d like to change and get something to eat.”

“What’dya say?” Harry raised an eyebrow at Y/N. “Pizza?”

“You did promise dinner.”

“I did.” He kissed her. God, he was never going to get tired of kissing her. And luckily, Y/N was there to stay.

“Great.” She smiled. “And after that, I’ll get my desert.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15 @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland

A/N:..... I need a cold shower, yall. Didn’t intend for it to get that explicit, but oh well :D

P.S. my tags are always open :)

300 notes · View notes

mymedicine · 4 years ago

Text

Alocasia

or, 7.5k words of blushy harry and sassy y/n

moodboard/inspo tag + my masterlist

sum - y/n doesn’t like people, but she likes harry—even though he keeps fucking this up

warnings - language, alcohol, mentions of sex (not explicit), lots of banter, excessive use of parentheses, umm... veganism?

notes - hiii! for once i don’t really have anything to say other than welcome, to a very fluffy and kind of chaotic one shot. hope you give her a chance and a reblog if you enjoy! <3

Upon moving into his charming downtown apartment, Harry was feeling a lot of things.

He was excited at the prospect of living there, of waking up in his cozy new bedroom, of flipping pancakes in the kitchen with a stunning view of the city skyline, and of lounging on his soft gray couch while watching reruns of Criminal Minds. He was also anxious, and a little annoyed. There were groceries to be bought, chores to be done, bills to be paid (Fuckin’ landlord was an ass for refusing to include utilities in the rent). The cabinets in the bathroom were a little creaky (Do I need some WD-40? Can I afford WD-40?!) He even had to walk up four flights of stairs to get to his door, a task which Harry was keen to count as his daily exercise.

Above all, Harry was lonely. Living alone was a blessing and a curse, he reckoned. He could lounge about without any clothes, dance in the kitchen to the sounds of Folklore (a guilty pleasure), and watch creepypasta videos on YouTube until three am (and consequently stay up til dawn, for fear of nightmares) without worrying about anyone but himself.

But after just two days in the new place, he was concerned that the cost of privacy may not be worth it. Loneliness and boredom weighed heavily on his conscience as he laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Not only did he live alone, but he also didn’t have any friends in the city yet. No one to see, nothing to do. Lost, he decided. No direction, no purpose…Only four walls and a bunch of empty cabinets.

And yet it wasn’t even social interaction he craved necessarily—it was purpose, company, and…perhaps some cuddles. He briefly considered the idea of a pet. Maybe a friendly little French bulldog to chase around and be responsible for? Or a fluffy Maine Coon kitty to scratch behind the ear and snuggle at night?

But the bills…the responsibility…The prudent adult deep within Harry knew he was hardly ready to support himself, let alone a helpless animal. He’d have to feed it and walk it and make sure it didn’t shit all over the floor—not to mention the landlord would raise hell if he found out.

Meanwhile, the soft, gentle, maybe a little naive man who dominated Harry’s conscience was craving a friend. Pets were a no for now, so what’s the next best thing? He grappled with the question…Surely, a person was the obvious answer. He wouldn’t mind a pretty body to warm his heart—or, at least, his bed.

Harry stretched his legs out over the arm of the couch—the only furniture he had at the moment aside from his mattress on the floor of the bedroom—and snuggled into his cozy corduroy blanket, craving warmth in the cold apartment. A rainbow cardigan adorned his chest today, draped over a plain white turtleneck that warmed his neck. He liked to keep it cold so he could be snuggly wrapped in his sweaters without sweating bullets. He dug around in the pocket of his cardigan for his phone, eager to receive affection from something other than his clothes.

In retrospect, Tinder had given Harry far more unfortunate encounters with other people (lots of younger girls just looking for a plug and toxic guys who left him on read) than pleasurable ones. But hindsight was always 20/20 and isolation had already planted the seed in his head.

He quickly examined his own profile. It consisted of two photos of him smirking softly (not too serious, but not too eager either), one with his sister and his mum (to show he’s a family man), and a group one with his mates (because sure, he was lonely, but he didn’t want people to know that). There were also one or two shirtless photos (thirst traps, according to Niall) that he’d sprinkled in between the tame ones even though it made him feel kind of icky. Weighing the odds, he’d decided that desperation for matches outweighed the cringey-ness of it all.

His very last photo was the only one where he felt like himself. He was smiling wide in it, wearing a baby blue sweater with a little chick popping out of its egg on the front that Mitch had teased him for back home. His bio, too, showcased his wholesome values.

Harry’s eyes widened as he observed on the first person he saw upon opening the home page—Y/N. She only had two photos—a shot of her perched on a car hood and smiling wide and one far away one with her figure drowning in a sea of…plants. Fittingly, her bio read: “I love plants and I hate people.”

She was beautiful and every bit as anti-social as himself. It was perfect.

Harry laughed softly to himself and swiped right immediately. He was giddy when the familiar It’s a match! popped up on the screen immediately. His thumbs hovered over the keypad, brow furrowed as he frowned at the screen. Matching was one thing, but actually starting a conversation was another entirely.

Ultimately, he decided honesty was the best policy:

you had me at ‘i hate people’ :D

Now what? Matching was one thing, starting a conversation was another, but having a whole conversation was another thing entirely. He hated the waiting, especially when he had absolutely nothing to busy himself with in the mean time, aside from fiddling with his fingers and doing laps around his living room.

Seven minutes later (not that he’s counting), a ding came through on his phone.

y/n: you had me at ‘treat people with kindness,’ mon petit :)

Harry smiled wide. He was pleased she’d noticed not only his bio, but also the sweater he was wearing in his favorite photo of himself. It was the perfect response from a perfect girl.

harry: so what do you do?

y/n: i work at a plant shop on Main

Figures, he thought. He imagined her carrying a watering pitcher, tending to a plant with gentle fingers. She’d be surrounded by them like she was in the photo on her profile, green on all sides. God, he thought. What a beautiful scene with a beautiful star.

harry: wanna go for drinks tonight and talk about plants?

y/n: sure ;)

Nightfall brought a chill to the air that made Harry desperately want to curl up into his warm bed and snuggle into his pillow. But here he was, shuffling his feet outside the crowded bar and absently wearing another tiny hole in the sleeve of his striped sweater. It was a decent bar in town. They didn’t water down the drinks and they kept the lights dim so she wouldn’t have to see him flushed beet red after one drink. That is, if she would show up at all.

“Hey, you’re Harry?”

He turned quickly toward the sound of the voice, and there she was. And holy shit, he thought. That is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her two profile photos did not even begin to do her justice. The idea of a mere photo on a screen couldn’t even compare to the real thing. He would never be keen to look at a photo again, he reckoned. It wouldn’t make his heart bloom and flutter like the vision of her in front of him did. Was this love at first sight?

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, and not because the chilly night, “Y/N, right?”

Harry didn’t think he really believed in love—certainly not love at first sight, but this girl was throwing him into another world. Before, he couldn’t seem to stand still, but her presence in front him planted his feet firmly on the ground.

“Yep, that’s me!” She smiled wide, speaking cooly and confidently. It was obvious she knew how beautiful she was and, even more evident, how enamored Harry already was with her.

“I—you’re absolutely beautiful,” The words slipped out of his lips before he could catch them—not that he was really making any effort to hide his attraction for her. Still, he enjoyed the way her eyes brightened and teeth gently nibbled at her bottom lip in response to the compliment

And suddenly, the idea of merely kissing her soft flesh, tickling her sweet bud, and ultimately burying himself inside her tonight didn’t seem like enough. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to smell her hair and hear her laugh. He wanted to make her pancakes in the morning and kiss her lips, sweetened lightly with maple syrup. He wanted to love her.

No, he couldn’t possibly ruin his chance with a girl like this by fucking her on the couch in his cold, lonely apartment, never to see or hear from her again.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Of course.”

One hour and four and a half drinks later, (whiskey cokes for Y/N, vodka crans for Harry) the cramped bar was hot and they were floating on air. He’d learned that she worked at Main Street Nursery, usually by herself, sometimes with her cousin who owned the place. She was an avid vegan, but only because she hated meat and dairy made her sick. She’d learned that Harry was new in town and lived only a block away from Main. Also, Y/N managed to learn that Harry had no friends here and was very lonely in his new apartment, but only after his third vodka cran when the already weak filter in his throat began to crumble and embarrassing things spewed out of his lips like a spout.

“Let’s dance, H.” Y/N requested, gently caressing his bicep from where she sat beside him.

Oh god. No amount of alcohol would let him embarrass himself like that. “I don’t really… uh—“

But Y/N was having none of that. She thrust his half empty glass in his face, eyebrows raised in a pointed look. “Come on, baby!”

He hesitated for only a moment. Her fingers were soft and warm and distracting against his arm and it was very dark in the crowded bar, but he could easily see her bright eyes and the mischief dancing around in them. Somehow, she looked just as beautiful after putting away five whiskey cokes. Ah fuck. How could he possibly say no to her?

Harry tipped the glass against his lips, downed the bitter beverage, and finally let her tug him to the middle of the room.

A few people were dancing raunchily to the loud music, and the combination of the alcohol and the darkness and Y/N’s effortless beauty gave Harry the confidence to join them. He placed his hands gingerly around her waist, nearly flinching at the warm feeling of her skin against his. Y/N flashed him a blissful, slightly drunken grin and squeezed his bicep more firmly, relaxing in his hold.

Y/N led them in a giggly dance, letting her hands wander Harry’s body and ultimately settle around his neck. Brain foggy with an alcohol induced haze, she swayed her hips against his.

Minutes turned into an hour or so and Y/N had grown quite comfortable in the circle of Harry’s arms, fronts flushed together impossibly close.

“Wanna get out of here?” Her whisper in the shell of his ear was alluring, seductive, sweet, and almost irresistible. But Harry was on a mission—one that only included seeing her again after tonight and, ultimately, making her his. Five vodka crans weren’t quite enough to outweigh his desire for something more. No, this plan didn’t include fucking her. (At least, not tonight).

“Um, I think we should…er—slow down…”

“You don’t...you don’t wanna hookup?” She looked up at him with something like disappointment (or maybe anxiety? insecurity? He wasn’t sure) in her eyes.

“No, it’s just… I—I wanted to get to know you?”

Y/N subtly stepped away from him, just an inch or so, but more than enough for him to notice and consequently panic. “Oh um, It’s okay...I just thought—well, I didn’t think we’d really be getting to know each other…”

Ouch. She obviously was not on the same page as he was with the whole I WANT TO LOVE YOU thing he had going on at the moment. The alcohol thickened his skin a little, easing the sting of her words.

“But if I’m like...not pretty enough or nice enough I—uh...” she was rambling a little—and oh god, she must be wasted if she’s questioning her beauty. Harry’s heart hurt. How could she not see that she was perfect inside and out?

“No, Y/N! You’re perfect…it’s just—“

“I get it, um...”

“I’m sorry, you don’t understand!

“I understand, Harry…I guess I’ll just—go home now.”

Well, fuck. In an effort to prolong his time with her, he’d managed to cut it short and blow his shot to see her again at all. He kicked himself for hoping. Hope for the best, expect the worst, he reminded himself. He was just fine at the hoping part, but the disappointment in the aftermath bit even deeper than his desperate loneliness.

Back to square one.

I’m going for a plant…if Y/N happens to be there then…Harry thought as he approached Main Street, then Y/N will be there. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He tugged nervously at the sleeves of his sweater—this one white with a “my life is crap” graphic that he found quite funny—wearing another tiny hole in the fabric. He absently regretted not taking a shot or two before impulsively jogging across the block to the plant shop, but he pushed the thought out of his mind. I’m just here to get a plant.

Truthfully, he didn’t know shit about plants, but how hard could it be? Surely, all it took was a little water and a sunny spot. Optimistic, he wandered into the cute little shop. Upon entering, he found it wasn’t really indoors at all—just four walls of greenery with only a few wooden beams as a ceiling, allowing rays of mid-morning sunshine to illuminate the space quite beautifully. Harry couldn’t help but notice how one such ray shone directly on the most beautiful creature in the shop.

The scene was even more delightful than he’d imagined. She looked ethereal doing even the most mundane tasks, he thought. The way her skin glowed in the sunlight in front of a backdrop of lush greenery? Heavenly. He took a few more moments to absently admire her as she lifted a watering can above her head with skilled hands, squinting at the sun while reaching up to water a large, leafy looking plant that hung from one of the beams.

The plant was hanging just low enough to block her view of Harry, so when he gently cleared his throat to call her name, she leaped backward. A loud thud rang out and suddenly, the watering can was no longer grasped between her fingers and her pale pink apron was stained crimson—completely drenched.

“Oh my god!” they both screeched at the same time.

Harry felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as he ran over to her. “I’m so sorry angel,” he said, picking up the now leaking can from the floor. “I really didn’t mean to scare you, oh my god, are you okay?!”

She looked a mess, quite honestly. But even covered in water and sprawled out on the concrete floor, she was cute to him, like a little bud sprouting out of the pot. She looked up at him with a contemptuous stare.

“Harry!” She cried from the floor, “What are you doing?”

While he did appreciate how adorable she looked, Harry was horrified. He hadn’t known her long, but he’d never heard her stutter or seen her blush like that. Even in their brief text exchanges and one night together, she’d always seemed so confident, so effortlessly graceful and calm. “I’m so sorry love, I really didn’t mean to—“

“Why are you here?”

“I-I just...I just wanted a plant and—and… I know you love them, and I thought there wouldn’t be anywhere better to go...”

Y/N’s expression softened as he rambled. “Okay, well, feel free to look around,” She stumbled to her feet, murmuring as she went. She wiped her hands on her soaked apron, trying to clean them but actually just spreading the wetness. “And um…Let me know if you need anything.”

She pressed a tight lipped grin on and her voice went a tinge too high pitched. She was clearly putting herself in customer service mode, but Harry caught a playful glint behind her bright eyes.

Harry flushed red and turned away from her, kicking himself for being so clumsy. He craned his head around the shop, feeling hopelessly overwhelmed. He wanted to ask her for help or at least a gentle push in right direction, but he figured he’d already bothered her enough.

Even with his back to her, Y/N’s presence was distracting. He could hear her feet shuffling around softly, the light clang of the metal watering can against the counter, even the pinging sound from her phone as he wandered the store.

Harry made a few aimless circles around before particular plant caught his eye. It was a modest looking plant, no where near as big as some of the hanging vines and rubber trees that littered the store. It had large, dark green leaves with jagged looking edges and sat pretty in a terra cotta pot near the front of the store.

He decided this plant would suit his needs perfectly (what are those needs again? He asked himself, company? responsibility?). He ultimately ignored his thoughts and the fact that he wasn’t even himself clear on what he wanted and picked up the plant in both arms. He shivered upon realizing that Y/N was probably watching him the whole time as he brought the plant to the counter where she was waiting. Watching him struggle and make a fool out of himself, that is.

“Did you find everything okay?” she asked cordially.

Harry nodded stiffly, unsure what to say. “Mmhm.”

“Have you got others?” Y/N continued making conversation while punching some numbers into the cash register, smiling and avoiding his gaze.

Harry looked up at the same time she looked away from the register. He was a little startled by her question, not expecting her to actually speak to him after what he’d done earlier. “Uh, no. I just moved here, remember?”

“Oh, right—well, you know this is an alocasia?” she said it very gently, with a patient smile. He didn’t like that she was avoiding his gaze before, but now that she was staring at him unwaveringly, he felt like he was under a microscope. Heat rose is Harry’s cheeks. Did the name of the plant matter?

“Uh, yeah? I mean, uh—I had a few back in my old place…” Why Harry? Why is your first instinct to lie?

“So you know what to do with this kind of plant?’

“Um…yeah?” He stammered, speech as rushed and clumsy as the beating of his heart. His sweaty palms further confirmed the obvious—Y/N made him nervous. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was perfect. He felt desperately out of place in front of her here. How could he possibly impress her? After he’d already fucked up more than once?

“I, well—nevermind,” Y/N replied finally, shaking her head. She was still smiling, but now he felt like she was giggling to herself because she knew something he didn’t.

“Did you want to add some Miracle Potion to your purchase today?” she asked, back in customer service mode once again.

Harry did not know what the fuck Miracle Potion was, but it sounded like a rehearsed line she was required to say during every transaction. She was looking at him so pointedly though, and the brightness of her eyes was distracting. How could he say no when she was looking at him like that?

“Yeah, why not.”

And seeing her beam at him with that lovely smile was so worth the extra eight dollars.

Harry cradled his new plant—Franklin, he’d decided—in both arms, awkwardly body-slamming his apartment door to get it open without his hands. First order of business after setting Franklin down on the coffee table was to quench his thirst. He still hadn’t gone on a real grocery trip for the new place, so he’s been living off of trail mix and kombucha. Harry craved kombucha like plants craved water.

Which brought him to the second order of business: research. He sat on the couch with his trail mix, kombucha, and laptop, quickly opening up a search for “alocasia plant care”

And suddenly Y/N’s behavior made sense.

Of course, of every plant he could have chosen at random, Harry’d gone for one of the most difficult, demanding, and definitely-not-for-beginners house plants in the shop.

He had a funny feeling it wasn’t the last time his optimism would get him in trouble.

Harry was frustrated.

It’d been less than twenty four hours since he became a father, and his once green-leafed baby was already browning at the edges. He frowned, peering at Franklin’s crisp leaves as he meticulously sprayed the Miracle Potion into the soil. The once dry dirt was starting to look a little better, but—holy shit!

Harry leaped away from the table, dropping the spray and nearly knocking himself onto his ass. His eyes were wide and his heart was pounding. He felt betrayed and horrified. Y/N never mentioned that there’d be bugs crawling in the soil! But Harry could not unsee the tiny worm-ish looking guy slithering up from the depths of the pot and onto the base of Franklin’s stem.

This was a mistake. A huge mistake. Who has he kidding?

He couldn’t help himself. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing the plant shop’s number without a second thought.

“Hello, you’ve reached Main Street Nursery! We’re not available right now, please leave a message and we’ll call back as soon as possible.”

“Y/N! S’Harry and, oh my god there’s a bug in Franklin! I was sprayin’ the potion stuff on the soil like ya said to but then there was a big worm thing and I dunno what to do now? I’m scared Y/N, why didn’t ya tell me there’d be bugs?! Holy shit, Franklin’s gonna die, what the fu—“

A beep interrupted his ramblings, which Harry would later be grateful for. He was always a sort of ramble-y type, but adding a pretty girl and a bug-induced panic was more than enough to make him insufferably talkative.

He begrudgingly opened the Tinder app, his only other means of communicating with her. He typed out a lengthy message with rapid fingers, explaining the bug situation in between a series of colorful emojis.

thought you knew what you were doing? Y/N’s reply came in three and a half minutes later.

harry: I lied :(

(No use in lying now).

y/n: that’s alright bub. just relax, I’ll bring you some bug stickers

Bug stickers? What the fuck? He’d already made a fool of himself, so he might as well ask, he reasoned.

harry: why would I want a bug sticker?!!

y/n: just send me your address

He did as she asked, blushing profusely at the thought of her being in his apartment. Oh shit, he realized. She’s gonna be in my apartment. Realistically, he knew she probably wouldn’t even come past the front door. She’d just give him the damn stickers and then go off to whatever better things she had to do. But if Harry has any dominant personality trait, it’s optimism.

So he quickly started to tidy the living space—careful to avoid the coffee table where Franklin and his new worm-ish adversary sat. The plant aside, it’s a cute little place that screamed an unemployed single man lives here. Once the kombucha bottles and gum wrappers are thrown out, he puts way too much effort into swiping the trail mix crumbs off the couch and carefully arranging a throw blanket across the arm of it—she won’t even be coming near the couch, Harry, chill out.

When would she be coming? She hadn’t given him a time. She’d asked for his address…did that mean she was coming immediately? Maybe she’d asked for it to come by later? Or tomorrow?—

A loud knocking at the door interrupted his thoughts.

He should have expected this. Even after only meeting twice, he should’ve known she’d barge right into his living room, skirting right past him to find Franklin. The first thing he learned about her was that she owed plants and hated people.

“Um, hello love,” he said awkwardly, trailing behind her. “Thanks for coming over.”

Y/N looked up from where she was examining the plant’s leaves as if she’d just noticed him lurking behind her (very on brand for her, Harry noted to himself). He was taken with her sudden eye contact. Her eyes had that same sparkly glow as they did in the shop—they got that way when she talked about her veganism and her cousin and her plants.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, mister Harry Styles. You’re a liar.” she said plainly. She was frowning at him (Is that a playful frown? He hoped so) “You’re a liar and it almost cost Franklin’s life.”

Harry was, once again, horrified. If he hadn’t proper fucked it up the first two times they met, he’d surely done it now. Y/N loved plants more than she loved breathing, and he’d almost killed one. And he lied to her! Fuck you’re such an idiot Harry...get it together.

Y/N must’ve seen his turmoil, (how could she not? He always did wear his heart on his sleeve) for she cracked a happy grin and smacked him playfully on the arm. “I’m just kidding Harry, for gods sake!”

“But...but the plant—“

“—will be fine.”

“And the...the bug?”

Y/N turned back to the plant and squinted into the soil. She put her hands on her hips over the fabric of her wide pants (Palazzo? Harry wondered absently. They were like those gypsy looking pants that looked super comfy—like, one step above pajamas...and damn where could I get some of those?)

“Is the bug on my ass, H?”

“W-what?” He replied, snapping out of his reverie with wide eyes. No! He blubbered, tearing his eyes away from the yellow fabric to her face, where her lips were pursed and her eyebrows were raised accusingly. He didn’t even mean to be staring at her ass (though it did look cute and peachy in the palazzo pants, he couldn’t help but notice now), but, feeling caught, he blushed sheepishly anyway.

She dropped the accusatory glare, replacing it with a wide smile. “Only joking,” she interrupted his ramblings. “Still reckon you were lyin’ about the bug jus’ to get me over here, though.”

Harry sighed exasperatedly, heart racing as he meandered around the couch toward the table where she was leaning. She kept him on his toes and it was as exhausting as it was enticing.

He got right up behind her and peered over her shoulder at the soil. “There!” He cried, almost having another heart attack at the sight of the little black bug. In a rushed attempt to show her the worm so she could get rid of it, he’d probably put himself way closer to her than necessary. He could feel the fabric of her long pants brushing his toes and her sharp breath hitch against his chest.

“Oh Harry,” she laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of his apartment like beams of light. Looking away from the danger, he focused his attention on her instead. He couldn’t help but notice how her hair smelled like flowers and freshly mowed grass and ...honey? Something sweet and enticing and natural, like the earth. Like a sprawling meadow or rose garden or—

He’d been effectively distracted by her that he’d almost forgot the reason for his fear, the reason she was even here. That is, until the little bugger was out of the soil and crawling on her finger.

Harry screeched and leaped backward, and this time, he did fall on his ass. Right in front of the couch he’d cleaned for her while she giggled profusely. The gentle melody of her laughter and sweet little coos at the bug softened the sting of embarrassment—a little.

“Aw he’s so cute!” She prodded her other finger at the creature, which really was no bigger than her fingernail, but horrified Harry anyways. “Can’t believe Harry wanted me to come and kill you, sweet little thing.”

He was once again struck by how gentle and nurturing and sickened-sweet she got with plants and animals. Meanwhile she laughed at him and teased him ruthlessly for his dramatics.

“Here,” she said “Hold him.”

She thrust her finger into his hands from where she stood above him. Harry flinched away, but couldn’t move far enough from where he sat with his legs folded and feet planted on the ground. The worm fell into his palm. The tiny impact of it on his skin ignited an explosion of fear through him.

A millisecond passed and it crawled through the hole in the wrist of his sweater, causing his panic to quadruple.

He screamed out loud while Y/N continued laughing at him. “AH!” Harry screamed and flapped his wrists violently, throwing himself against the couch with wide eyes as he felt the horrible tickling of the creature crawling on his skin.

“Stop! Stop Harry, let me!” Y/N stepped closer, ducking between his outstretched legs. She shielded her face with one hand and desperately groped around for Harry’s wrist with the other. Finally, he paused to breathe and Y/N caught his arm in both of hers.

She wrestled his arm to still and calmly plucked the creature from his skin. “Thank God,” she sighed dramatically in relief, holding it on her finger between them. “The little fighter survived your temper tantrum!”

“No!” Harry cried, now shielding his own face from the wrath of the worm.

He watched her get up and drop the bug back into Franklin’s soil, all the while laughing at him.

“You’re such a baby, Harry,” she cooed as she turned back to where he was still sat on the floor, “And no wonder you’re so cold in here. You’ve got holes all in your sweater!”

“I’ve got holes in all my sweaters. My mum used to fix them f’me.” He frowned, missing her and his friends suddenly. Living alone was hard.

“You’re hopeless,” Y/N shook her head as she bent down to sit on the coffee table next to Franklin and sent him endeared smile. “I could fix them for you?”

Harry reeled back and blushed, “You—you could do that for me?”

Yes, living alone was hard and lonely and boring. Harry had been shamefully making excuses to see her for several days now, and yet he was completely oblivious to her doing the exact same thing.

“Sure! Come over tomorrow and bring all your sweaters.”

Harry saw absolutely no reason to object. He could never say no to her, anyways. “Okay, then.”

“In the meantime, take these…” She reached into her pocket and fished out four yellow squares of what looked like...tape?

“These are bug stickers,” she explained. “You tape them around Franklin’s stem and it’ll catch the gnats and aphids and stuff. Won’t kill your new little friend though.”

Despite her teasing tone and his lingering fear, Harry couldn’t help but smile at her while she demonstrated how to tape the bug sticker on. He’d deal with all the goddamn bugs in the world if it meant she’d be pleased with him.

She finished taping it on and turned back to him with an adorable little flourish, as if to say ta-da!

“Can I offer you some kombucha for your trouble?” Harry suddenly blurted.

What the fuck Harry? Who the fuck says ‘can I offer you—‘

“Ew, no!” She interrupted his self-loathing, face twisting in disgust, “Kombucha tastes like dish soap.”

Hurt, Harry reeled back again and a shocked expression graced his face, “You don’t like kombucha?! Don’t vegans like, live for that shit?!”

“This vegan has taste,” she replied with a snarky smirk. “And besides, I’ve got to get back to the shop for work like, now.”

“Oh, okay no problem.” Harry stuttered, “Thanks again.”

“Sure thing!”

And as quickly as she’d busted in, she was gone, leaving the apartment as cold and lonely as ever. Harry frowned, feeling as if he’d blown it once again. No ‘see you tomorrow’ or ‘thanks for having me.’ Chance after chance and still he made a fool out of himself. She hadn’t even told him where she lived! Maybe the offer to come over and get his sweaters fixed had been a pity invite and she actually wanted nothing to do with him ever again. The thought made his stomach churn. Where was his customary optimism when he needed it?

Grumbling, he grabbed a fresh kombucha from the fridge, wishing it was something stronger.

Franklin and his little worm friend’s (Harry didn’t think the bugger deserved a sweet name like the alocasia did—it was still a disgusting creature that made his skin crawl) company did little to satiate the aching loneliness he was feeling throughout the following day.

Finally, a message came through his phone from an unknown number.

unknown: hey harry, it’s y/n! did you still want to come over today?

harry: howd you get my number

Even through a screen, Harry managed to blurt out the first thing that popped into his head. Fuck. Shit. She’s gonna think he’s avoiding the question! He rapidly began composing a second message, but the three little dots appeared and interrupted his flying thumbs.

y/n: your message on the answering machine at work.

by the way, that was hilarious

harry: right, well. sorry for that

and yes, id love to come over.

y/n: no worries, i saved it to listen to when i need a laugh.

haha cool here’s my address

harry: should i bring food or wine or something?

A new wave of anxiety washed over him as he looked at the address she’d sent. Now what? What would they do? Would he just drop off his sweaters and leave? Or would she invite him in? What would he say then?

y/n: just bring yourself and your sweaters, mon petit!

Harry was speechless. Much like the shop she worked at, Y/N’s apartment could rival an actual jungle. Greenery of all different shapes and shades and sizes lined the walls, and while they had the exact same floor plan, it was an entirely different world than the one Harry was living in.

Y/N, meanwhile, effortlessly sauntered deeper into her space. She looked like she belonged there, obviously, but Harry felt like a fish out of water.

“They won’t bite, you know,” Y/N giggled, noticing his apprehension. She was watching him patiently with something like fondness in her eyes. Harry felt her careful gaze on him, but the magnificent green scene around him claimed his attention—but not for long.

Gently, Y/N took his fingers between hers and pulled him deeper into her space. Harry stumbled over his feet, craning his head to look at the plants hanging from the ceiling. How the hell did she even water those?

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. He looked adorable, like a child at Disneyland. She swore his eyes were actually twinkling as the greenery in the room made the color pop against his skin even more than usual.

“This is…incredible,” He said, finally turning back to meet her eyes with his own. “You’re incredible.” He set down his bag of sweaters on the floor by his feet. They could certainly wait.

Something about the praise and the way he was looking at her like she hung the moon was making Y/N absolutely swoon for the man. It was impossible not to notice how much he adored her. He looked at her the same way she looked at Delilah, at all the things she loved. Things. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually loved a person before. But this man with the holes in his sweaters and the permanent flush in his cheeks was planting himself deep in her heart.

But she’d never let him see that.

“…I make lots of my clothes myself…” She was talking about how she learned to sew from where she was sitting on her couch. Harry noticed that she’d arranged her living room differently than he had. While he had a single gray couch in the middle of the room, her sofa was against the window, inviting the evening sunset to gently warm the pale pink cushions.

“Did ya make those pants you were wearing the other day?” He asked with genuine curiosity, continuing to poke around the plants and knitted blankets and woven fruit baskets that littered the entire space.

Harry turned to face her just in time to catch her flashing a knowing smile. “Yes. Should I make a pair for you as well?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m sure your ass will look great in them, too.”

“Ah—shut up!” Harry laughed, fiddling with the leaves of one of her hanging plants. He recognized this one.

An easy smile still graced his lips as he murmured “It’s a philodendron,” half to her and half to himself. Now that some of the extensive plant research he’d been doing over the past few days had indeed stuck, it was easy for him to identify by its telltale heart shaped leaves.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, “That’s right,” she said, sounding impressed. “She’s called Delilah.”

Harry hummed, unable to focus on words when she was giving him her full attention like that.

“She’d be cute next to Franklin, don’t ya think?” She continued, tiptoeing closer to him. She stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the plant much like she’d done to Franklin a few days earlier. The fabric of his brown sweater was soft against her fingers as she wrapped her arms around him. Harry tensed. He had longed to do the same thing to her when their positions had been reversed a few days ago, but chickened out. But as always, Y/N’s actions were confident and smooth. The thought of her face against his knit-clad back and the feeling of her soft hands around his middle made his head spin.

Yes, he thought, she’s cute next to everything. She’s fucking adorable…

And again, Harry was struck with the thought that he should have seen this coming. It was such a Y/N move—the way she confidently pressed on his shoulders to sit him on the couch and proceeded to smoothly kneel over his thighs. His heart raced as she sank to his eye level, straddling his lap.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” Harry said almost absently, as if lost in them. Y/N looked kind of surprised that the words came out of his mouth. She’s sort of confused by him, by the way he makes her feel. He had this nervous, chaotic energy surrounding him, as if his mind was going a mile a minute at all times. It didn’t make any difference to him though—a racing heart didn’t stop him from enjoying the feeling of the insides of her thighs against his.

Y/N suddenly grabbed one of his flushed cheeks in her palm and turned his face to hers, letting him get a good look at her eyes. “Think so?” She grinned with a hint of her customary cockiness.

Harry nodded in response to the playful question, caught up in her smirk. He reckoned it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Once again, she proved him wrong when she licked her lip. She studied him seductively while his own eyes, of course, flicked down to where her tongue was swiping over her lips. Her tongue was pillowy, gentle, and…distracting…In the next instant, she’d pulled his face to hers and met his lips with her own.

Despite having been mentally begging for her to kiss him since the moment they’d met, he was still a little caught off guard. Quickly, he began to relish in the feeling of her warm hand holding his cheek and soft lips pressing tenderly on his. He kissed her back gently, but with urgency—as if he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He let his hands wander slowly from her knees up her thighs, her hips, settling comfortably on her waist. His heart skipped a beat when she pulled back a millimeter.

“Is this okay?” Harry let out a concerned whisper.

Y/N smiled effortlessly and nodded. Of course it was okay, it was better than okay.

“Thought I’d proper fucked up my chance with you ages ago,” he murmured against her lips. Now that he’d gotten a taste of her sweet lips, he was truly a fucking goner.

“I thought so too, frankly,” she laughed fondly at him, “But you reeled me in with your charm and wit...” She shook her head and furrowed her brows sarcastically, “...Your true gift for horticulture, your brilliant sewing skills, your excellent taste in beverages...” she continued lecturing him in between sweet pecks on the lips.

Harry giggled at her mock-compliments, tugging her impossibly closer by the waist. She relaxed her chest into his and easily wrapped her own arms around his neck.

“You’re an absolute pest you know?” Harry teased her, confidence growing as she caressed his skin, “I oughta get a buncha those damn bug stickers to catch you!”

“You sure about that?” She smiled bigger, eyes wide and innocent as sat back on his legs. She continued to feed him sweet words as she trailed her fingers down his sweater, the mock compliments melting into sincere ones. Harry’s own smile grew as she mumbled how she adored his soft hands and blushy cheeks and gentle disposition…

Her words were innocent, but her fingers began tracking a sinful course downward, and he twitched in his sweatpants as she cheekily palmed him through the fabric. He was putty in her hands, reduced to a pile of mush by her eyes that twinkled with playful innocence and mischief and unmistakeable lust. The soft hands and gentle, innocent praises falling from her lips were making his cock bloat and head spin. Just as he was getting into it—moaning and whimpering for her to please don’t stop…she shoved her arms between his body and the couch cushion and delivered a firm squeeze to his ass.

“That’s for calling me a pest, you pest!”

She roared with laughter and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight to her chest.

Harry’s desperate, high pitched whine quickly melted into joyous laughter. He couldn’t help it—she was so lovely and beautiful and playful and cheeky and of course, he should’ve seen a stunt like this coming. She was a pest indeed, but Harry had already decided to love her. Perhaps decided wasn’t the word—no, his love for her sprouted and grew like a strong and beautiful vine holding them together.

“Now how about I make you come for real and then fix the holes in those sweaters like you fixed the holes in my heart?”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

thank you for reading <3

talk to me about harry and y/n and franklin and delilah!

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #my writing #alo

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mrs-tsunderemeitantei · 4 years ago

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DISCLAIMER: HUGE, LONG RANT AHEAD!

ALSO SPOILERS IN CASE YOU'RE NOT UP TO DATE WITH THE MANGA OR WITH ZERO THE ENFORCER!

Soo in case you missed it, Gosho released the SDB Justice Plus some time last month:

The biggest shocker was the answer to Question number 4, shown below:

Basically this translates to:

Q4: On the Mystery Train, he (Amuro) said to Miyano Shiho that “My comrades who are tracking us have made arrangements in order to retrieve you”, but were those comrades from PSB? If that’s the case, I’m curious about how he planned to deceive Vermouth...!

A: Those were comrades from the Black Organization, so there was no need to deceive them.

Ummmm...what??

Idk about y'all but when I read this, I was livid. It didn’t make any sense to me. And quite frankly, I didn't want it to. Maybe because I am one of those (very rare) people who thought Rei and Shiho could eventually end up together (Don't laugh, it would have made sense, and I'll write about that in a separate post).

Anywho, safe to say Gosho's latest confession left me in absolute confusion. Like why? Just why? Then I realised I'm more butt-hurt about this because I was fixated on a certain idea of Rei's character and chose to ignore his other sides, as if they didn't exist. It didn't help that his past is so freaking depressing which got me sympathizing with his character and led me to either ignore or make excuses for any red flags.

But now that I think about it, it sadly makes sense. It also explains why he didn't show any sadness or regret when he saw Shiho supposedly ‘die’ in the luggage cart in the Bell Tree Train Arc.

Now to let me wrap my head around this, I needed to breakdown his three "faces":

1. Amuro Tooru is a cheerful, friendly, generous, carefree, outgoing man.

2. Furuya Rei is a serious, law-abiding, calculating, patriotic police officer who is willing to die for Japan's security.

3. And Bourbon is a devious, manipulative, cunning, deadly agent.

Yet, ever since we found out he was in fact an NPA agent, we (or at least I), seem to have forgotten about those dark sides he possesses. Also with Zero's tea time showing us a softer side of his character it was easy to get caught up in "he's 100% one of the god guys" when in fact, he's a complex, grey character.

He has shown on multiple occasions, just how far he is willing to go, to achieve whatever goal he’s set his mind on. Let's not forget how in Zero the Enforcer, he completely flipped the switch. (I know this isn't Canon but...) The man went as far as to create a suspect and jail the innocent Mori Kogoro so he can legally investigate the case and emotionally manipulate Conan into unkowningly help with the investigation.

Also, in the Detective Nocturne’s case he deliberately didn’t tell Ran as soon as he noticed Conan might have been kidnapped by the criminal because he hadn’t finished investigating the apartment.

And in the Scarlet Arc, he was willing to harm Jodie's teacher friend, so he can lure out the FBI and advance his investigation on Akai’s death. Let’s not forget once he figured out the truth, he was willing to expose Akai’s fake death (which I get it he's out for revenge), but by doing so, he would have also gotten Kir killed (even though I'm pretty sure he knew at that point, she was in fact a NOC).

As we can see, be it Bourbon, Furuya Rei or Amuro Toru, he will stop at nothing to reach his goals, even if it means throwing innocent people under the bus. So, now when Gosho says his "partners" were in fact BO members and not the PSB, I'm no longer surprised.

I mean, why wouldn’t he sell Shiho back to the organisation? Because he knew she was Sensei’s daughter, and that should have meant something to him? Alright, let’s talk about that.

Did he love Shiho’s mum? Yes, he did, there’s no doubt about that (one of the reasons he joined the joined the police in the first place was to find her, so you can't convince me otherwise).

But what if he loved Japan even more? (It's not canon, but he did say in Zero the Enforcer that the safety of this country matters most to him, even if it means he’d end up paying with his own life).

So, I'm going to take a wild guess as to how he could have felt when he found out the woman he loved as his own mother, willingly joined the deadly organisation that threatened the safety of his country. Based on his memories, he remembered her encouraging her husband to join the Carasuma group.

So, if through his investigations, he was able to realise she is the same woman from his childhood, I’m pretty sure he would have been very disappointed. I’m not sure the extent of his knowledge about the drug, but if he also found out their research created the poisonous APTX-4869, I reckon it would be more reason for him to be upset.

Now let's talk about Haibara/Shiho. To any outsider who's unaware of the truth of her past, she is a woman born into the organisation, then was groomed and taught from a young age by the syndicate and promoted to take on their research. A research that produced a poisonous drug, just like her parents did. Also, she only ran away after the organisation killed her sister. Before that, she was a high-ranking member. With all these facts, why would he think of her as anything but a criminal just like the rest of the BO members? It’d be rather foolish for him to not hand her back to the organisation just because she is the daughter of the woman he once thought so highly of. If anything, he’d be killing two birds with one stone, by executing a criminal, while also gaining higher standing in the organisation.

As fans of Haibara, we are rightfully upset by his intentions of returning her to the organisation because we know her truth. He doesn't. It wasn't until we learnt more about her painful past and kind and caring nature that we grew to love her. We know she never wanted to create a poisonous drug. That she already hated the organisation for using the drug as a poison. That she had to develop the drug to protect Akemi’s life.

There is no way Rei would have known about any of the bullying she or her family faced from the BO. By nature, Shiho is very secretive and reserved and very little of her personality or history would have been known by any of the BO members (except maybe Gin). Therefore, apart from the files the BO would have kept on Shiho and her role in the organisation, that’s all Rei had to learn about her. So, I can’t really blame him for choosing to hand her back to the organisation.

Some people who are still in denial, argue that if he planned to kill Shiho, why was he willing to kill whom he thought was Vermouth instead of handing her over?

Shouldn’t that prove he was going to take Shiho to safety to the PSB, not the BO? Before Gosho's statement, I would have agreed but now...sigh. Now, I get why he did that. If Shiho were to die BEFORE she was returned to the organisation, he wouldn’t have gained the trust he was seeking. If she were to die AFTER he delivered her, I highly doubt it would have mattered to him. Although I'm still hoping he maybe he had a plan of not leaving her in the organisation's clutches after "handing her back" and he never truly intended on getting her killed. But since Gosho also said there was no need to deceive Vermouth, I highly doubt it. (Heart breaking).

After such an explanation, does everything make more sense now? Maybe. Am I ok with it? Hell no! I’m quite angry and annoyed that this is how things turned out to be, but it is what it is. We have to accept that Rei is not a good character, and he's not a bad character. He's a grey character and when you think of it that way, it's easier to understand his behaviour. Not that I agree with it. After Gosho's statement, I think pretty sure Rei is in dire need of some character development. He could stand to learn a thing or two from Conan who manages to reach his goals while preserving as many lives as possible (Akai's fake death being the burst example while managing to drive Kir back to the BO).

For now, I’m looking forward to the developments that will entail. I’m curious to see how Rei and Haibara will react once they eventually meet each other. It'll be interesting to see what will go through his mind once he figures out her true identity. One thing I'm sure of is once they're introduced to each other, emotions will be running high and things will get intense. Which honestly, I can't wait for and I'm counting down the days till I get a proper Amuro/Haibara interaction.

#shiho miyano #miyano shiho #haibara ai #ai haibara #sherry #furuya rei #rei furuya #tooru amuro #amuro tooru #bourbon #dcmk #case closed #detective conan #Detective Conan #elena miyano #miyano elena #vermouth

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exquisitley-obsessed · 4 years ago

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The Dinosaur and the Vampire Part Three (Carlisle Cullen x Reader)

Author: exquisitely-obsessed

Request: hi can you do a one shot for Twilight where the reader is best friends with Bella and is there at the car crash in the first movie, they go to hospital and that’s where the reader meets Carlisle, really fluffy, thanks

Word Count: 5000+

Pairings: Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Warnings: nothing

A/N: This is and this isn’t the final part of the story. I’ve already got a draft for a part four but it’s also going to be able to work as a one shot in itself. Here’s a hint - it’s got something to do with the plot of New Moon. Kinda obvious but I LOVE angst. My requests are open <3 But if you’re interested you should check out my masterlist here!!

previous part

Y/n felt crazy. It was the middle of the afternoon also the middle of a storm and she was standing on Bella’s doorstep, half-crying.

Her day trip to the Cullen’s house was only a few days ago and yet so much had changed since then. Bella was basically no where to be seen, now constantly spending time with Edward to the point where she even ditched school with him after Biology leaving y/n to drive herself home.

Moreover, the Carlisle incident had also wedged a gap between her and Bella. After the silent drive home back, y/n waited until Bella was busy with Charlie before heading to the nearest store and treating herself to an assortment of bathing items. New shampoo and conditioner, body wash, body scrub, shaving cream, razors, body lotion, leave in conditioner, facial oils; the list went on. Y/n knew she could never speak to Bella about it, too mortified over what Carlisle had said never mind the fact she was crushing on the 20-something year old doctor and (adoptive) father of Bella’s boyfriend.

All this combined with Jess talking her ear off about the dance, her parents pressuring her about college and her grades slipping; it had all become a bit too much. Her last straw was an argument with her mum about the dishes which left her storming out of the house, hopping the fence and knocking on Bella’s door. She couldn’t take it anymore, she needed her friend.

“Hey Charlie, is Bella in?” Y/n watched as Charlie took in her groggy appearance, wrapped in one of her dad’s old jumpers which had holes spotted along the sleeves.

“I’m sorry she’s not,” Charlie answered, his eyes tentative. Y/n tried not to act surprised, after all what did she expect. “She’s at the Cullen’s house, playing baseball or something.” Y/n could feel the angry tears prickling behind her eyes, she had never felt so alone and abandoned and she hated herself for it. She wanted with every inch of her heart to brush it off and just be happy for Bella’s newfound romance, but this seemed to come at the price of her own happiness. “Hey y/n are you okay-”

“Yeah.” Y/n answered a little too quickly, wrapping her arms around herself and nodding furiously. “It can wait. I think I’m going to go for a drive or something.” A somewhat forced smile slipped onto her cheeks as she tried to shake off her disappointment. “Could you tell Bella that I was asking after her?”

“Course.” Charlie said calmly, his gaze still soft and worried.

“Thanks, uh, bye Charlie. Have a nice evening.” Y/n splurted turning away from the door and hopping the fence. Without looking back y/n unlocked her car and quickly got inside, aware of Charlie’s lingering fatherly gaze. After sitting still for a moment, not quite sure what to do with herself she decided to drive down to La Push. The rocks, the ferocious waves, the abandoned feeling of the place. It was exactly what she needed. Trying not to let the tears brim over she turned on the radio and spluttered the engine to life.

Turning out of her driveway she felt better already. Some distance would be nice, plus she never knew who she might bump into along the way, it would be nice to see Jacob again. However, as she was driving down her street she noticed Bella’s red truck speeding toward her. From what she could see Edward was driving, a terrifying expression cut into his face as he glared at the road; Bella peering at him with an estranged fear, tears in her eyes. Y/n only saw them for a second before they passed, headed for home.

Had they been fighting? Y/n’s heart lurched for Bella. Despite Bella’s lack of communication recently, y/n still understood how much Edward meant to her, and of course she would still be there for her.

For a moment she wondered if she should turn back, wait till Edward left and then call on the house again, but her mind was already carrying her to the beach. She needed this time to herself; a break from everyone and everything.

***

Y/n hadn’t been driving long when she was pulled from her mind once more. She was driving down one of the lesser known roads, green and blue blurring around her when she caught sight of someone standing on the side of the road.

The first thing y/n noticed was her hair, ferocious red. It exploded around the woman’s head in fiery ringlets. Her clothes were raggedy and didn’t fit her very well: a tartan button up and loose fitting beige trousers. Over her shoulder hung a backpack with a bottle of water and thick rope looped off the side. She was waving her hands desperately in the air, clearly trying to catch y/n’s attention. Without thinking y/n slowed the car and rolled down her window.

“Are you okay, what’s wrong?”

“Oh thank God!” The woman cried in a strange accent. “I was hitchhiking when I thought I saw a bear. Ran like I never had before but now I’m lost. If you could just drive me to the nearest main road I’ll be able to find my way back to my car.”

Y/n couldn’t help but drink in the appearance of the woman now that she was closer. Her hair appeared even more explosive, a stark contrast with her ivory skin which appeared dewy and soft. Perfect freckles were sprinkled across her nose underneath a pair of dark eyes. She was unimaginably beautiful.

“Sure!” Y/n found herself saying without really taking it into consideration. She was pretty sure the woman looked like that girl Martha in her history class, maybe this was her older sister. “Hop in!”

It would be a minor detour, wouldn’t take long at all. The woman moved fluidly to the side of the car, opening the door with a flash before seating herself comfortably next to her. Y/n paused a moment, waiting for the woman to pull on her seat belt, when realising she wouldn’t she started the engine and drove on.

“The plan will work.” Edward comforted Bella, the two now back at the Cullens house following their performance for Charlie. The Cullens themselves rushed around them, preparing.

“Rosalie and Esme are heading down to your house as we speak. They won’t take their eyes off of Charlie. He’s perfectly safe.” Carlisle added, Bella shot him an appreciative smile. A pause of silence.

“Carlisle what about y/n?” Edward pondered aloud.

“Already thought about it.” Carlisle answered without looking up, Bella glanced between the two. First Edward’s invitation (for which he brushed off all her questions and instead supplied the phoney answer of wanting to know Bella’s friends better) and now this?

“What about y/n?” Bella asked. Edward took a deep breath, not meeting her gaze and ignoring her question.

“James and Victoria have no reason to suspect y/n is of any importance to Bella, Charlie or any of us. They’ve never seen y/n with us, they haven’t heard us talk about her. Y/n is no more than a neighbour. Besides, with Rosalie and Esme having eyes on Charlie they automatically have eyes on y/n.”

“Y/n’s not at home though,” Bella interjected worriedly, “We saw her pass us, she was leaving in her car.”

“What.” Carlisle stated rather than asked, his voice dropping as well as his easy smile. In fact, his entire body language changed, he stood taller, stretching his shoulders forward slightly as he eyes flickered a darker shade of bronze.

“It’s fine.” Edward said, not phased by Carlisle’s reaction, “I read her mind, she’s headed to La Push. If Victoria or James goes onto their territory...” Bella shot him a confused look.

“You’re right.” Carlisle murmured, relaxing slightly as he chewed on the new piece of information, “As long as she’s there she should be safe. I’ll send word to Rosalie, she can keep an eye out for y/n’s return.”

“Let’s go.” Edward muttered without another word.

***

“Just a few more turns then we’ll be on Bogachiel Way, you should be able to find your way from there.” Y/n said automatically, wearing a cheery grin as she hoped not to spook the woman any further - it sounded like she had had a rough day.

“Actually I was hoping we could take a left," The woman spoke, it was the first thing she had said since being in the car. Her voice was smooth like honey but not overtly-sweet, there was definitely some bite in there.

“Are you sure?” Y/n’s brows furrowed, “I haven’t been down there before and we could risk both of us getting lost,” She chuckled to herself, “And-” She turned to face the woman and stopped abruptly, her jaw clamping shut.

“What is it?” The woman asked, not breaking eye-contact. Y/n felt as though she was being compelled, she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Your eyes,” She stuttered, “They’re...blood-red.” She tried to laugh, speaking as though the woman would be surprised herself.

“Oh.” Was all the woman said in a voice completely devoid of all emotion. “Well that just gives it away.”

“What-” But the woman had already snapped her fingers through y/n’s hair, and all she remembered was the sight of the driver’s wheel as her skull crashed into it.

***

Bella sighed heavily from where she was sat in the hotel room. The TV presenting her with some daytime talk show with a painfully loud and obnoxious host. Alice and Jasper were completely still next to her as they watched, no emotion, they looked as though they weren’t even thinking.

The phone exploded with a shrill ring that made Bella jump, before she could get up Alice was already answering it, nodding along to whatever the other person was ranting about. Bella waited patiently with watchful eyes, if it was Carlisle that was calling Edward couldn’t be too far away.

“Bella,” Alice turned to her with a vacant expression, holding out the phone. Bella went to reach it when all of sudden it was falling out of Alice’s grasp with a resounding ‘k-dunk’. Bella went to protest when she realised Alice couldn’t see her, she was seeing something else, something from the future - Jasper was behind her in a second.

“What is it?” He asked soothingly, his hands resting on her shoulders.

“It’s...Victoria.” Alice spluttered distantly, her golden irises flitting back and forth.

“Charlie is he-” Bella began.

“She’s driving. She’s happy.” Alice continued.

“Alice, is Charlie-” Bella tried again.

“Oh.” Alice once more continued as if she hadn’t heard. Then it was over and she turned to Jasper with wide, fearful eyes. “It’s y/n. She has y/n tied up in the back of the car.”

“What?” Bella distantly muttered behind her, meanwhile Edward’s frightful voice could be heard yelling through the phone from the floor. Jasper swept down and twirled the phone into his fingers.

“Edward.” He said clearly, “We have a problem.”

“Is y/n okay?” Bella asked shakily, her fingers half covering her mouth. Alice simply collapsed back down on the couch, her brows furrowed, eyes frightful and she chewed on what she had just seen.

***

“What’s going on Edward?” Carlisle asked as he shifted the car up a gear, racing down the motorway. Edward’s eyes were wide, fluttering left and right as he took in new information.

“What’s wrong?” Emmett asked from the backseat, picking up on the awful tension.

“We have a serious problem.” Edward began.

“How serious?” Carlisle asked, not removing his eyes from the road and yet his voice was still calm, supportive.

“Alice just had another vision but it was of Victoria, apparently she’s driving somewhere with y/n tied up on the backseat.”

What Edward had said didn’t seem to settle with his audience for a while. Carlisle’s face enigmatic, Emmett just simply confused.

“Who’s y/n?” Emmett pondered aloud. Y/n’s presence and affect on the family had pretty much been kept secret between Edward and Carlisle, and Edward was only in on it because of his ability.

“A friend of Bella’s.” Edward answered so Carlisle didn’t have to. “Her best friend, in fact. She could be used for leverage.” Carlisle still hadn’t spoken although his knuckles where blushing blue from his grip on the wheel. “Carlisle?” Edward asked after a moment, still on the phone to Jasper. No response.

“We’re going to need to split up.” Carlisle’s voice was calm, the same as it always was. It was only his eyes that were different, flickering to a darker shade of bronze. “Emmett, Edward, I’m going to need you two to keep driving. Head for the airport and buy yourselves plane tickets to Seattle. Regroup with Jasper and Alice and keep Bella safe.”

“And you?” Emmett asked, now curious.

“I’m going to turn around and head back to Forks. See if I can track down Victoria and stop this from getting anymore messy than it has to.”

“How are you going to...ah.” Edward’s question was answered when Carlisle swung a hard right and sped into the car dealership. Before they knew it Carlisle was up and out of the car throwing the keys to Edward.

“Don’t scratch the Porsche,” Was all he said. “It was a gift.”

“Are you sure?” Emmett called out leaning out of the back window, “You don’t need help?” Carlisle smiled at his son.

“It’s more than I don’t want you to see what I’m about to do.” And with that he turned and disappeared into the building. Edward in a flash was sitting in the driver’s seat, starting up the engine - desperate to see Bella again.

“So,” Emmett smiled broadly as he leaned back and stretched out his arms across the seats, “This girl...y/n...she’s important right.” Edward sighed deeply, before glancing over his shoulder with a soft grin.

“You have no idea.”

***

Y/n stirred, her head feeling as though it was going to pound out of her skill. Distantly she was aware of something holding her wrists and ankles close together and the hum of the engine beneath her.

At first her vision was blurry, and it didn’t help that the trees were rushing past her window and an incomprehensible rate. It was also dark outside, too dark, how long had she been out?

“Wakey, wakey.” A dark voice fluttered down at her. Y/n groaned in response, her hands, bound, automatically rushed to her forehead and when she pulled them back they were slick with blood. This couldn’t be happening.

“What’s going on?” Y/n was surprised how calm her voice sounded as her eyes focused on the sight of the red-head, her wild appearance now feeling threatening. This woman must be insane.

“You have no idea what you owe me.” She spoke in riddles. “Lying there bleeding across these seats. I almost messed up the whole plan.” Yes, she was definitely insane.

“I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. “Have we met before?”

“No.” The woman rolled her eyes, “I promise you would remember if we had.”

“Where are we going?” Y/n didn’t feel like playing into her games, she was petrified as it was.

“Seattle. A girls trip.” She grinned menacingly at her over her shoulder. “James just called, apparently some of your friends just booked a flight there. We can’t risk flying though so I’m afraid we’re driving.”

“To Seattle?”

“We’ll be there before you know it. I’m a quick driver.” She was, the trees were rushing by so quickly no distinctive feature could be made of them. Whenever they came across another car on the lonesome road it whipped by within the millisecond.

“What did you mean by my friends?”

“The Cullens, silly. I saw you hanging around Bella’s house, asking after her even. That’s why your here.” Y/n couldn’t make sense of it, the jumbled words and the fizzing in her head meant everything she tried to process felt scrambled.

“I think you’ve got the wrong girl.” Y/n muttered, her eyes scrunching up as she tried to endure her throbbing skull..

“I’m not sure about that.” Victoria glanced in her rear view mirror, y/n noticed and, twisting in her seat, she watched as a white blur stayed hot on their trails, following the cars movements perfectly. She tried to focus on the identity of the driver but another wave of nausea rolled through her guts.

When this had passed she glanced around panicking. Looking down she noticed the rope, about an inch thick and bound several times around her wrists and ankles in expert fashion. It didn’t take long for y/n to conclude there was no way she could get out of them herself. Glancing around, her head feeling a littler clearer she looked for any way to slow the car down or at least call for help.

Trying to look inconspicuous, y/n leaned forward and looked through the window resting her fingers near the trigger to pull it down. With a quick glance at the woman she slammed down the trigger; but the window rolled down all to slowly and all to loudly. The woman’s head snapped around.

“Bitch.” Was all she spat before rolling the window back up with the panel by her arm. “What were you going to do, make a jump for it? We’re going 150 on the motorway.” The number made y/n feel queasy but she had already committed now, she wasn’t just going to sit here and we carted off to her ��girls trip’ in Seattle.

Quickly, y/n flipped the window down again and using the bony knot of the rope between her arms she began to attack the top of the glass the same moment the red-head began moving it back up. She wasn’t quite sure where the strength had come from but after a small fit of thwacking her arms against the window she became aware of the tiniest crack at the top. This fuelled her flame.

She started again, aiming directly at the crack beating her bound arms against it relentlessly. In the moment the pain ignited her fury although she was sure she would regret it later. All of a sudden the window gave, one piece fell and then suddenly the whole thing shattered. Before the woman could stop her she leaned out the window, her hair exploding in the wind as she was caught in the white cars headlights.

“Help!” She shrieked, the volume of her voice astounding even her. “Help! Get me out of here! Call the police!” Re-filling her lungs for another spout of shouts the woman leaned over the front seats grabbing a handful of y/n’s hair and slamming her back into the car.

“Insolent bitch!” The woman cried, taking her hands off the steering wheel to yank y/n over the divide between the front two seats. “If you make this anymore difficult for me I’ll find away to get Bella without your help!” This caught y/n’s attentions and she went limp across the seats, her head hanging back so she saw out the front of the car, the world upside down.

“Bella?” Y/n choked.

“If you keep struggling you’ll never see her again.” The woman twisted so that one hand gripped the steering wheel, the other holding y/n’s hair so she was firmly bent back against the armrest, straining her neck; y/n couldn’t help but notice the impossible strength at which she was being pinned down.

The short scrape had pulled and split y/n’s previous head wound: a deep cut curling above her left eyebrow. And when she had broken through the glass and leaned out the raw glass had cut her waist and cheeks. This meant that as y/n’s head was pulled back blood dribbled up her face, trickling into her eyes and leaving a mixture of blood, tears and sweat.

She wasn’t held in the position for long. At some point the woman gasped and let go, now holding two hands on the wheel. Y/n couldn’t quite see what was happening around her but she saw a flash of white and felt the cars wheels roll unstably. She snapped back into the backseat, now no longer interested in the window but rather trying desperately with her bound hands to buckle her seat belt.

As she focused on her bound hands she could faintly hear distant, familiar voices and the red-headed woman shouting back something incomprehensibly fast. Her instincts proved correct, within the minute the car leapt out of control underneath her, swerving off the road and rolling down the small hill. Clutching onto the overhead hanger for dear-life y/n felt her entire world upside down, the sickening scent of burning flesh before darkness finally coddled her once more.

***

Y/n stirred from unconsciousness for the second time in 24 hours and the first thing she noticed was the release on her wrists and ankles. Before she tried to open her eyes she fluttered her fingers over her wrists where there lay course indentations. The skin was tender to touch and she was sure the skin would be black and blue.

Trying to open her eyes she noticed the warm light above her, somehow this made her feel safe. Her head still throbbing furiously she tried to open them further provoking tears to prick behind her eyes and dribble down the sides of her face. A wave of nausea overtook her then and abruptly her body snapped up underneath her, once she was vertical it seemed to die down.

“Woah, woah, woah.” She heard a familiar voice call, she knew that voice. It appeared he had leapt from the shadows, guiding y/n back down but she protested, groaning audibly. “Slow down.” He said calmly, his fingers firm on her sides. A harsh intake of air whipped from her lips and his arms snapped back.

“Your fine it’s just...my sides.” Y/n muttered, wincing from the lingering stinging from her sides, the cuts from the glass of course.

“You’ve had a rough couple of hours.” Carlisle spoke into the silence. Y/n groaned pushing up again, this time Carlisle didn’t move to stop her. “You really shouldn’t sit up, you’ve got some serious head trauma.”

“Just for a sec.” Y/n’s voice was breathy as she pleaded with him, “I just feel too nauseous if I lie down.” He didn’t say anything, but he let her sit. Y/n had just assumed she was in the hospital what with the presence of Carlisle, but when she looked around she wasn’t startled to realise she was propped up on his kitchen counter top. A series of cashmere and fluffy looking blankets covering the surface to make it soft, she tried to ignore that a few were covered in blood.

“I assume you have a lot of questions.”

“You think?” Y/n didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know where to begin. It was a debate on whether to tell Carlisle her crazy story, to describe to him the red-headed woman with blood-red eyes, how she had talked about the Cullens and Bella. On the other hand, instead of explaining she wanted to ask questions; how had she ended up at the Cullens house, where was her car, what happened to the woman. She settled on her question. “Is Bella okay?”

Carlisle stared at her with a pondering expression, as if he were chewing on the information she had released by that question alone.

“Bella is fine.” He said slowly, his voice soft. He had stepped away from y/n and stood at the opposite counter top, running a white cloth (by the smell it was doused in alcohol) over an assortment of medical instruments. Y/n tried not to look at them. He turned to her suddenly, as if he were waiting for another question.

“Do you know what happened to me?” Y/n asked, her fingers rushing to her forehead. He was there in a second, his hand empty, holding her fingers back with his own gentle touch. He had moved with supernatural speed but y/n couldn’t process that right now, that wasn’t the craziest thing to happen tonight.

“Yes and no. Don’t touch your wound I’m not done.” He answered clearly, going back to his work. Y/n just stared at him, waiting for him to go on. He sighed. “I got a call saying that you were in danger. That you had been taken hostage by Victoria.” Y/n automatically linked the name with the face. “I came to help you. I was in the white ford bronco behind you.” Like deja-vu the images shot through her mind, leaning out the window calling for a help, unable to make out the figure in the white car.

“How come...” He was back assessing her wounds, dabbing it here and there, engrossed in his work. Her eyes were large, slightly dazed and glossy as she watched him through his arms, her eyes fixed on his own.

“How come...” His warm voice was only a whisper, guiding her along her words.

“You. How come it was you that came for me? You...” She trailed off again, aware even through her murky mind of her heartbeat picking up at his closeness.

“Because, and I know this is confusing,” He began, taking a break and looking directly into her eyes, capturing her attention, “I will always be there when you need me. Perhaps not necessarily when you want me...but always when you need me.” Y/n surprised herself by completely understanding what he was trying to convey. It all felt like a dream anyhow.

“When your car went off the side of the road.” He began, unable to return to his tools as he was caught in a memory, “I-” He trailed off, a flash of anger dancing in his eye. “I pried open your door and you were unconscious. And the blood-” He stifled something in his throat.

“You’re a doctor and you don’t like blood.” Y/n murmured, a smile slipping on her lips. Carlisle smirked.

“I’m not afraid of all blood, only yours.” He went back to work.

“You’re afraid of me?” She asked, her voice quiet and small. He paused, catching her off guard as he moved forward, his nose an inch from hers.

“I haven’t felt fear like I did tonight for three hundred years.” Y/n still felt like she was dreaming.

“It hurts.” She mumbled after a few moments of tense silence.

“I know, love.” He hummed, saddened at her pain. “Where?” Y/n went to brush her forehead but stopped herself, she then moved to her stomach, tentatively, afraid of showing Carlisle her exposed flesh she lifted her shirt slightly. Peering down herself she noticed a series of cuts dancing around her waist, in particular her front from where she had leaned on cut glass. If she were not mistaken, Carlisle’s breath hitched in his throat. She let her shirt drop.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Carlisle winced as if he disagreed.

“You shouldn’t even be this hurt in the first place.” He murmured, more to himself than anyone. “I thought that by leaving you alone I was protecting you. In reality, I was only pushing you away because I was afraid.”

“There’s that word again. Why do I scare you?”

“It’s not you per-say, more what you’ve made me realise about myself.”

“Carlisle...my heads spinning.” He met her eye before turning away grabbing something off the counter top.

“Here,” He murmured, a smirk lighting up his face. Looking down y/n caught sight of a roll of band-aid held between two of his slender fingers; the familiar dinosaur pattern somewhat sun-bleached.

“God, I can’t seem to escape those.” Y/n murmured softly smiling despite everything.

“Well I might’ve taken a box home since the accident.” Y/n eyed him, he had taken these from the hospital? “I guess I couldn’t help myself.” He said as if reading her mind, his brows now furrowed as he turned back to his work. He unwrapped a decent amount of plaster before tearing it with his fingers, finally he positioned it above her right eye and, soft as feather, pressed it against her head. As he had done this he had inched closer and closer, y/n’s legs automatically opening so that he may position himself comfortably.

“I have to say I think you’re going to get your wish.” Carlisle muttered softly.

“What?” Y/n whispered back, astonished at how close he was standing, his hip bones touching the inner of her knees.

“I think this cut may just scar. You can finally walk around town with something interesting to talk about.” Y/n rolled her eyes but grinned broadly, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly.

“By the way, what am I going to say, about this?” Her fingers reached up to her face resting against her dinosaur spotted plaster. Carlisle thought for a moment.

“You,” He began, reaching his own fingers up to join hers, “Were tired...and upset,” His voice was so soft, and yet the silence blanketed around them meant it filled the room. “And you went for a drive,” Chills sparked down her spine as he slowly lowered himself to her level, careful not to make any sudden movements. “And you...lost sight of things...for a moment.” She could feel cool breath brushing against her cheeks. “It was dark and you crashed...I saw it happen by chance, and helped.”

“Okay.” Y/n murmured. “But...that’s not the truth.”

“No,” He breathed into the tension, “Unfortunately the world cannot know the truth.”

“Can I?”

“I think it is what you’re owed.” Y/n pondered this.

“The woman?”

“She had disappeared before I got to you. Afraid probably.”

“Of you?” Y/n asked somewhat incredulously, but she could see it, the power in his voice, his control over a room.

“I have a...reputation.” Y/n just grinned, overwhelmed.

All of a sudden his cool fingers were brushing her hair off her face before resting either side of her head, his thumb back to brushing under her right eye. Y/n froze at the contact and yet he clearly found the movement completely natural as he tilted her chin to meet his gaze.

“There is so much about this world you have yet to discover. Right now, you are on the cusp of a discovery that may change your life forever and most certainly it will mine. We’ve been keeping something from you, me, Bella, Edward. But not out of contempt, or anger, or hate...but because it’s difficult to know how to best protect those whom you love. And if today is any indication, I’ve been doing it all wrong.”

“Love?” Y/n whispered. Carlisle paused heavily.

“It’s...not my fault, I promise.” Carlisle murmured, his nose brushing with hers ever so slightly, “There is a degree of destiny involved.” Y/n grinned as she pulled back slightly, but Carlisle’s hands never left her face.

“You speak in riddles.” This caused Carlisle to laugh, deep and heartily.

“A product of my age unfortunately. But, I promise. Things aren’t as complicated as they seem...or maybe they are. Either way, you no longer will be left in the dark.”

“Is this the part where you spill all of your dirty secrets?”

“How did you know?” He mocked with a grin. “Now listen carefully.” He pulled back leaving only cold air where he once was, but he remained in contact, holding onto y/n’s hand, brushing circles over the feathery veins as he seated himself next to her.

“There’s a lot you need to learn.”

next part

Tag List:

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@pluckastarfromthesky

@flirtygerty

@sadbean18

@nialeesato

@the-fall-guardian-fox

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@originalsoulcollector

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@drunkinthemiddleoftheday

@imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl

@littleladdty

@the-witchers-whore

@hearteyesmotherclucker

@thecrazytealady

@mauvette268

@hearmecallinyou

@nijiru

@mauvette268

#twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #carlisle cullen #carlisle #carlisle cullen imagine #carlisle cullen x you #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen x y/n #edward cullen #edward and bella #Emmett Cullen

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rhenuvee · 4 years ago

Text

The Heart in You pt2 (Fred Weasley x reader)

Request: Could you do something along these lines? Love you soo much <3 your imagines make me happier. It would mean the world to me if you could do this!! Request: Could you write a Fred Weasley imagine where the reader is Fred's best friend but they never really show affection, they insult each other all the time and occasionally Fred flirts, teasingly. But Fred gets all nervous and goes soft when y/n is visiting their home since its so small and you know.. they're poor and stuff... thanks <3

Link to pt1: Here

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

You were peacefully walking through the corridors, ready to spend a cozy Sunday afternoon being warm from the cold with your friends. It was quite surprising how little disturbance there was, as if you were in a scene in a movie.

That is, until you heard the sudden roars of laughter, clapping, and awe. You gritted your teeth- you knew that the peace was too good to be true. You decided to change your direction, hoping that this path would bring an end to this once and for all.

This was something you’ve been dealing with for the past week, and it’s been pissing you off. You found the source of the crowd of noise, seeing that it was coming from out in the courtyard. It was just as you expected.

“-and then there I was, cornered! Like a poor gazelle standing out in the open!” narrated a voice you knew too well. You stood watching from a distance with your arms folded, seeing as a specific redhead told a story you almost knew by heart by now.

Just as rehearsed for the past seven days a week, you saw the same dramatic gestures by none other than Fred Weasley. His stupid chocolate brown eyes which you couldn’t bother to look at, his stupid smile which you swore he had on 24/7- Although you had to admit, something even more stupid was the first and second years genuinely interested and believing in his anecdote.

“I almost died, but I stayed strong!” you facepalmed as he scrunched up his face way too dramatically. “She- the lion, sneaking up, ready to jump out and-”

“WEASLEY!” you yelled interrupting him, hearing enough of his crap. It seemed to scare some of the first and second years as they jumped and turned to see you.

“It’s the lion! Run!” shouted Fred. The kids yelled their lungs out and ran in all different directions all to get away from ‘the lion’. You marched your way to Fred, trudging your way towards him. You didn’t care about your shoes getting wet from the snow, all you cared about was slapping that smirk off his face.

“Yes?” he said rather casually from his spot, leaning against the wall.

“Yes? That’s all you have to say to the ferocious lion?” you asked incredulously. He chuckled.

“Actually, I do have something to say, though we may need a spell to translate between your roaring.” You scoffed at his terrible joke.

“I hate you.”

“We know that’s a lie, love.” You rolled your eyes. You knew that the reason the story started in the first place was because of that day you asked him to the yule ball. He tricked you, and his ego was just getting bigger.

“And what makes you think that?” you retorted.

“You’re the one who asked me to the ball, love.” he said scoffing. You mentally slapped yourself for having a question with an obvious answer. The term of endearment definitely didn’t help in trying to hide your embarrassment.

“I was drunk.” you replied quickly. Fred in turn laughed at your quick statement, causing you to laugh a little.

“Really? Then you should get drunk more often.”

“I think you’re drunk, gazelle.” you said poking his chest then turning to leave. Though, this didn’t stop him from hopping from his place and catching up with you.

“Am I now?” he asked pressing further.

“Yes Fred, bye.” you said as you were about to leave him and turn a corner.

“Alright, don’t miss me too much darling!”

“Fred!”

---

“Hey (y/n)!” called someone from behind you. You stopped and turned to see George who was slowing down to stop near your spot.

“Hey George. What’s going on?”

“Are you doing anything this holiday?” he asked.

“Hm, probably just gonna go home for the break, same as every year... why?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to come to ours for Christmas.” Your eyes widened at his offer. You had never been to the burrow before.

“You don’t have to, but I know it would make a certain gazelle really happy.” he teased. You rolled your eyes.

“If it would make him happy, why couldn’t he ask me himself?”

“Well riddle me this, would a gazelle purposely perch itself out in the open where any predator- ow!” You playfully punched George in the arm, seeing as the story was starting to rub on him.

“Sorry- what I meant to say was, it would also make myself, Ginny and Ron really happy. You’re our best friend (y/n)... also, mum’s been asking for you as well.”

“Your mum? Asking about me?” you said shocked.

“You’ve been mentioned here and there.” he said casually. You bit your lip, trying to supress a smile. You were invited to the burrow, which you’ve heard only good things from Harry and Hermione.

“Alright, I’ll send an owl to my parents and ask them.” you said. He nodded with a grin, knowing his twin would be ecstatic to hear this.

---

Your parents were a little surprised that you were going to spend the holidays at the burrow. They’ve never met the twins, just like how Arthur and Molly only heard a few things about you. Nonetheless, they were glad to see you so happy to be with your friends. On another note, you were very very nervous. Maybe it was because of seeing the rest of the Weasley family, but also for very stupid reasons.

“Oh (y/n), it’s so good to finally meet you dear! Come inside now!” You were welcomed by Molly herself, engulfing you in a tight and warm hug. You smiled, instantly relieved that Molly liked you enough to hug you.

“I’ve heard so many things about you.” she said maintaining a bright smile.

“And I’ve heard that you heard many things, all good I hope.” you said.

“Only the best.” she said swiping your cheek then turning to lead you deeper into the house. You walked in, and your eyes couldn’t help put to move left and right.

“(Y/n)!” You then saw Ginny appear, running as fast as she could down the stairs, then jumping and hugging you just like her mother did. You both squealed in excitement.

“Hey idiots! Your favourite person is here!” Ginny yelled calling for the twins.

“Ginny!” scolded Molly with her arms crossed. You giggled. You watched as the two tall figures stepped down to where you were.

“Well look who it is.” George said smirking and leaning in for a hug. Once you pulled away, you saw Fred, but you couldn’t help but notice something was weird about him.

“Hi.” he said curtly, but with a small smile.

“Hey...?” you greeted, letting your confusion be slightly present. He also went in for a hug, though it was a lot lighter than the ones you’ve received so far.

“Do you want any food?” asked Fred.

“Um sure.” you shrugged. You thought it was a little strange that Fred was being so ‘nice’ to you. I mean, like George said, would a gazelle let itself stand in the open and offer food for a predator? But you decided to brush the thought off, besides, you really ought to get that dumb story out of your head.

The first evening with the Weasley’s went well. You were able to meet the rest of the family as well as Harry and Hermione which you realized later that they were here. Molly’s cooking was delicious, and you were glad to be apart of the holiday gathering. You were glad that everyone was willing to welcome you, despite being new to the burrow.

It wasn’t until a couple hours after dinner, when it was late and you spotted Fred and George sitting on the couch, fiddling with what you expected was some of their future joke shop products.

“Hey.” you said heading over to sit with them. George smiled, then quickly jumped up to leave.

“I gotta go to the bathroom. See ya!” he said a bit too joyfully. I mean- tis the season, but one could not be that excited to go to the bathroom. You then scooched closer to Fred, and he noticed with a small grin.

“Hey you.” he said bringing his lanky arm to wrap around you and bring you even closer. You blushed at the extremely close proximity between you two, but if you were being honest, you didn’t mind one bit. This was secretly what you wanted, right?

You remembered the day you asked Fred to the yule ball quite clearly. After that incident, he was a huge ball of chaos and energy. You remember him skipping down halls, and how you had to chase him to shut up when he started the gazelle story.

And when the night of the ball finally arrived, you were a big bundle of nerves- and Fred was being a cocky little shit as usual... but aside from that, there were things he did that made you have the most fun you’ve ever had in your life. You didn’t forget how much he made you laugh and smile that night.

And now, you let the thought of his silence creep over again. He spoke and cracked jokes during dinner, but he was still quieter than you’ve experienced. You sat in the same silence as he seemed to be fixing a product.

“Fred...?” you said looking at him, a little surprised that your faces were closer than you expected.

“Hm?”

“Uh, are you okay?” you asked. You tried to ask it in the most subtle way possible. He only looked at you with an unreadable expression. The weirdest thing being that he had no witty comeback, or any line to start your typical banter.

“Yeah.” he said giving a closed mouthed smile again, then looking back at the joke products. Jeez, why did boys have to be so hard to read? To you at least.

“I just, ‘m surprised you accepted when George invited you here.” he muttered, but you heard it loud and clear.

“And why would you be surprised?” You didn’t know what to feel. His head pointed downwards- suddenly this moment felt really familiar. You were a bit skeptical if you were being truthful. After a long pause, he suddenly chuckled awkwardly to himself and sat up, leaned back until his head was tilted back on the top edge of the couch.

“I’m mad for you.” he said shifting himself so that his head was still tilted back but facing you. All your jumbling thoughts couldn’t force itself out of your mouth. You just sat there, your eyes bulging out of your head, and mouth in an o shape.

“W-what?” you managed to say. Now you were very very skeptical of what was to happen. You do not want to be tricked by him again, and leave you a blushing mess.

“I’m mad for you- do you need me to spell it out?” he asked. With the dim lighting you couldn’t see the slight flush of red on his cheeks. He brought his hand to cover his eyes, still showing his lips which were curved up in a flustered smile.

“I- are you being serious?” you asked in confirmation.

“Am I- yes I am (y/n), I’m mad for you. I said it three times, now you gotta believe me.” he said taking away the hand covering his face. You didn’t even try to hide the pink tinting your face. You shook your head, not knowing what to say.

“You still don’t believe me do you.” he deadpanned. You didn’t answer to that. He chuckled, already knowing your answer. In one swift motion, he cupped your cheek with his hand and brought you in closer for a kiss. You closed your eyes as his lips pressed against and moved in sync with yours.

You moved so that you were able to put both your hands on his shoulders to bring him closer. You could feel the hum from his lips when he heard you let out a little noise. Both of you were speechless blushing messes once you pulled away with the ‘smooch’ sound.

“Believe me now?” he said in almost a whisper. You nodded frantically, earning a smirk from Fred, as well as a beckoning gesture to ask you to cuddle next to him. You followed, snuggling up to his side, resting your head on his shoulder.

...

“I always knew you had a heart in you.”

...

“Excuse me?”

You tried burying your head further inwards, as you attempted to stifle your giggles about to erupt. Yes, you really did just pull that card on Fred Weasley.

“What did you just say?” asked Fred ducking his head to your level, trying to get a glimpse of what he hoped did not just come out of your mouth.

“Nothing!”

“You did not say nothing, princess.” he said trying to pry your hands clutching your face as you finally gave in and let out your laughter. You made the split second decision to bolt out of the living room and into the dining room to run away. Fred of course had no problem running after you.

You were both giggly as heck as you both circled the dining table, which happened to be the only thing protecting you.

“Take it back!’

“No!”

And once you said that, he made a dash for the tight corner and was able to capture you from behind. You squirmed with your legs kicking out as he held you tightly and swung you in a circle.

“Take it back!” he said in your ear.

“I won’t! This is what you get Weasley.”

“What I get? For what?”

“For...-” You realized then that if you said the reason, he would know that he was the reason you got flustered in the first place.

“What? Am I too handsome for you?” he asked as he placed you down, but still pinned you to the counter.

“In your dreams!”

“And in real life too.”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.” you huffed crossing your arms. However, your attempt at trying not to smile failed horribly when you turned your head away from him.

“That means I won, princess.” he said smirking and tilting your head back to face him.

“Oh shut up Fred, you-”

“Make me shut up-”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” You and Fred both jumped when you saw George and Ginny intrude. And worse, when you were both getting riled up at each other.

“There will be no ‘make me shut up’ in this house.” said George mockingly as Ginny stood next to him laughing. You deadpanned at Ginny clearly not helping the situation.

“You’re not going to encourage them? It’s about time.” said Ginny.

“Gin, if you knew me, you’d know that I’m not even surprised.” replied George sarcastically.

“Oh sod off, both of you. Bein’ two creeps.” said Fred shooing them away. George and Ginny gave each other a knowing look and did as told. Fred then immediately turned back to focusing on you.

“So, what were you thinking on making me shut up?”

#fred weasley #weasley twins #fred and george #Fred Weasley x reader #Fred Weasley fluff #Fred Weasley imagine #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley one shot

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outofsstyles · 4 years ago

Text

WHEN IN ROME - part 1

a/n: Ciao ragazzi!! So this is the part 1 of my friends to lovers featuring italy!Harry. Also a special thanks to my dear friend Giorgia for helping me with this, love her very much!! Hope everyone enjoys it!! Pease feel more than welcome to leave feedback (or just chat if you’d like) :)

Word count: 7k Rated: M,mature

You visit your best friend in Rome and some old feeling may start to resurface.

You struggle with your luggage after one of the wheels got caught on a loose tile, making it jerk across the airport floor.

The other passengers from your flight stroll along the illuminated hallway, towards the arrival gate exit. Looking around, you notice their tired faces; half-open eyelids and pouted lips, often opening in small yawns. You probably didn’t look much different, considering flying always tends to make you sleepy, which is why you preferred the night ones.

This one, in particular, was supposed to have landed around sunset, giving you enough time to enjoy your Harry’s company before settling in the hotel room. What no one was expecting, however, was to hear a muffled voice announce through the speakers that your flight was expected to be delayed for about 3 hours. The news was annoying, sure, but you knew there was not much to be done about it. So you simply snuggled further on the uncomfortable metal seat as you rolled your eyes at some angry man who was trying to argue with the poor attendant.

The warm Italian weather was a refreshing change of settings when you finally got to step out of the aircraft, making you take off your cardigan and tie it firmly around your waist. It sent a sparkle of energy down your spine, knowing you arrived after what felt like such a dragged-out flight. But despite your tired state, you feel a warm feeling settling itself in your tummy. One that makes you fight back a smile and jump on your heels in excitement as you walk maybe a bit faster than you should.

Going through the exit doors, it almost feels as if your heart wants to escape from your ribcage. The nervous anticipation filling every inch of your mind.

You walk past the group of people gathered around the gate, politely declining the ones who approached you offering taxi rides in a strong accent. Peering around the busy area, it doesn’t take long until you spot the curly mop you were looking for, as he calls out your name.

You don’t hold back the smile that breaks into your face as you watch him approach you with open arms, his dimples marking his cheeks. Not giving a second thought, you let go of the handle of your suitcase, rushing to his direction. You find your place between his arms as he pulled you into a tight hug, arching his back a bit to make your feet leave the ground just barely.

The scent of his cologne makes your eyes water just slightly, not realizing how much you had missed his presence until that moment. You nuzzle your face deeper into his neck, his arms tightening around you once more.

“Missed you so much, love,” he blurts, his voice muffled as his face squishes into your shoulder blades.

Placing a quick kiss to the side of your face he pulls away, allowing you to take in his appearance up close for the first time in months. His hair was still short, but longer than it was the last time you’d seen him in person, some locks falling charmingly along with his face.

You place your hands on his smooth face, rubbing it lightly, “you shaved!” You exclaim, referencing the last picture he had sent you, which showed a scruff growing along his upper lip and jawline. At the time, you were quick to text him to playfully let him know you were not the biggest fan of it.

He rolls his eyes at you, shaking his head slightly as he pushes your hands away from his face. “‘m very happy to see you too, knobhead,” he mumbles, moving to retrieve your forgotten bag lying on the floor behind you.

“I’m just teasing, silly,” you pinch his chin jokingly as he comes back by your side, guiding you through the airport, “You know I support all your decisions, even the bad ones.”

“Okay, I get it, it’s a no for the beard,” he chuckles, “mum hated it too.”

“I’ve always trusted Anne’s good taste,” you provoke, making him poke you playfully before reaching to put his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into a side hug as you two walk.

“‘S too bad your flight got delayed,” he says, “was planning on grabbing a bite and show you around fo’ a bit.”

Your heart grows a bit at his words, you reach your arm around his waist as to hug him back. “Yeah, it’s too bad,” you gaze up at him, meeting his eyes for a moment before he looked up again, “sorry for making you wait so long.”

“Stop that, don’t have to apologize,” he assures, “‘s not your fault.” He squeezes you against him gently, “‘sides we have the entire week to make it up fo’ it.”

When Harry broke in the news that he would be moving to Rome to pursue a photography degree you obviously felt heartbroken. You two were inseparable at the time and knowing you wouldn’t be able to see him every day anymore made your heartache. It couldn’t have come at a worse time either, you had just broken up with your boyfriend, and suddenly it felt like you were losing everyone you loved the most at the same time.

But still you swallowed back your selfish feelings to show him your support, promising to visit as soon as possible.

In your ideal world, you would drop everything and pack your bags with him to start a fresh life somewhere else. But realistically speaking, you had too much tying you up to your home, and not nearly enough money to pay for tickets to Italy every weekend so you could visit your best friend as regularly as you wish.

So you hugged him goodbye with tearful eyes and shaky hands, watching him walk towards the departure gate as he waved back one last time.

That had been eight months ago.

You never expected to take this long to finally be able to see him again, but life sometimes just doesn’t line up the way you want it to. Harry never let you lose contact, though, and for that, you were eternally grateful. He always made sure to call you at least once a week to catch up on each other’s lives.

It was the highlight of your weeks if you were honest. Getting the comfort of seeing his face even if it was just to talk about trivial things like his recipe of vegan brownies or a new boutique shop that opened on the corner of your street.

But now you don’t have a screen separating the two of you anymore. You can see his smile without it being a pixelated image. You can hear his voice clear next to you. You can hug him back and feel his arms squeezing your waist. You can smell the faint lavender scent on his shirt, mixing with his cologne.

You definitely missed him much more than you’d realized.

The sound of your alarm clock rang softly through the compact hotel room. You sigh contentedly, reaching to turn it off before rolling on your back and blinking your eyes open with little internal fight.

It wasn’t often you could feel this well-rested, especially after sleeping on a strange bed. But thinking about how tired you were the previous night, it didn’t take long for you to fall into a deep slumber as soon as you finally got to lie down.

The sunlight invaded your small room through the cracks of the nearly closed curtains, making you realize you might’ve been too sleepy to bother on closing them all the way the previous night. Usually, in regular days, you’d lay back in bed and steal a few more minutes of sleep, which would eventually lead to maybe another hour or two of snoozing your alarm clock. But this wasn’t just a regular day, you were in Italy, and Harry would probably be waiting for you down in the lobby in just a few minutes.

He had revealed none of the plans he made for the day, wanting to keep most of the trip a surprise for you. This habit of his of trying to keep a mysterious front usually makes you tease him with a roll of your eyes, but on this occasion you accepted it. You didn’t really care about what activities you’d do on your stay, as long as you can do it with him.

You check your bag to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything as you wait for the elevator to go down. Running your hands over your summer dress as the doors opened.

Walking into the lobby, you expected Harry to be late, considering he would always be the last one to arrive on any kind of social gathering you’d go before he moved. But to your surprise, you find him leaning against the reception counter, speaking excitedly to the sweet old lady that had welcomed you when you checked in.

As you get closer to them, you can identify that they’re speaking Italian, making you smile softly at how easily the words flew through Harry’s lips as he speaks.

The lady notices you first, smiling at you as you approach the counter, making Harry check over his shoulder to find you standing behind him. His smile grows, his eyes traveling down your body so subtly it almost felt like your mind was making it up. He greets you with a small hug, looking back at the woman behind the counter one last time and saying something you don’t understand.

“She looks beautiful!” she speaks, her word flowing with a strong accent, “bellissima!”

You feel a blush creeping to your cheeks as you thank her, wishing her a nice day before Harry and you make your way to leave through the front door. The hotel you’re staying in isn’t the fanciest, but it makes up with the cozy feel and charm you could only find in a small, old building. You chose it specifically for being located just a block away from Harry’s apartment, allowing you two to be closer to him.

“She seems nice,” you say once you turn into the street.

“She’s lovely,” he agrees, shooting you a quick look with a smirk on his face, “was telling me about her husband.”

“Oh,” you say, “What did she tell you?”

“Told me about how they met and all that, they’ve been married fo’ forty years!”

“You love those stories, don’t you?” You chuckle.

He rolls his eyes, “they’re sweet, okay?” he argues. “Not my fault you have a cold heart.”

You gasp, poking him playfully. “I don’t!” you exclaim, earning a knowingly look from him.

You walk a few more blocks along on the small sidewalk; the closeness making your hands brush slightly every so often. The day was nice, ideal for staying outside and enjoying the clear sky. A morning breeze messes up your hair a bit and the sounds of birds singing take over the empty street, along with Harry’s low hums to a tune you’re not familiar with.

He guides you to a small bakery, barely noticeable amongst the surrounding buildings. As you approach the entrance he explains how it’s one of his favorite places to go for what he says is “the best Italian breakfast in Rome!”

Walking inside you are met with the delicious smell of fresh-baked bread. The place is filled with quiet chatter as a few people sit on a long couch located by the back. An older man wearing an apron with various spots of flour on it greets Harry happily as you come in, pulling him into a small conversation you, once again, can’t really pick much of.

Soon, you two are sitting at a small table by one of the large windows that overlook the street you came from. You bite into the sandwich as a pair of green irises watches you carefully, trying to catch a glimpse of your reaction.

“So, what are we doing today?” You ask as you pick a few crumbles of bread left on your plate.

“You’re very impatient, haven’t changed a bit,” Harry replies, taking one last sip of his coffee.

You roll your eyes at him, “you say that as if we haven’t talked in eight months.”

He chuckles lightly as he leans back on his chair, his arms reaching over his head in a stretch. You try not to notice how his shirt rides up just barely, but enough for your eyes to wander a bit lower than you should’ve. When you meet his gaze again, he has a smirk adorning his face, knowing he just caught you not-so-subtly checking him out.

You clear your throat, praying the warmth you feel creeping on your cheeks isn’t noticeable as you try to think of how to cover up.

“Nice fit, by the way,” you motion towards his blue shirt with an imprint of Mickey Mouse on it, to which he matched with floral shorts.

This was the kind of clothing combination that would most definitely look silly on anyone else, but Harry was the kind of person who could pull off wearing a potato sack. He just looked good in anything, it was almost aggravating if it wasn’t also endearing in a way. But you’d never say that out loud.

“D’you like it?” He asks as he moved his hands to pull at the hem, looking down at it before meeting your eyes with a smug look on his face. “‘S my tourist outfit.”

“Is it now?” You chuckled, “does that mean we’re being tourists today?”

“I mean, you are a tourist, but yes,” he said, “we’re sightseeing, baby.”

Walking around the historical neighborhood in Rome was an overwhelming feeling in every sense of the word. You knew choosing to visit the city at the peak of summer would come with tourist-filled streets so it didn’t surprise you to be met with congested crowds as you got closer to the historical sites.

But as much as you were not the biggest fan of crowds, you couldn’t even feel bothered in the slightest by the masses of people surrounding you. The feeling of the city itself was ethereal, something that seemed right out of a movie screen. Timeless buildings stood tall above you, with the perfect combination of old-fashioned and modern.

Harry is having fun with his camera, teasing you at the amazed expressions you made at every corner you turned. But you couldn’t help but feel like that.

The day only helped to enhance the enchanting feeling of the place. With the sun shining proudly in the clear blue sky, but still catching a light breeze that relieved the heat that formed a light coat of sweat on your body, making you take big gulps out of your water bottle every so often.

Even the air around you feels different. Something you couldn’t really explain, it was lighter. Harry said it was Italy’s perfect mixture of great food and great people - to which you can’t deny - but you know having him with you is also a big factor.

“Harry, please, I’m scared I’ll bump into someone,” you say, moving your hands blindly in front of you.

“You won’t,” he replied, keeping his hand firmly above your eyes as he guides you.

“What if I run over a child?”

“I find your lack of trust incredibly hurtful,” he says from behind, pulling you closer to him. “We’re almost there.”

“Do we really have to do this?” You chuckle.

“Yes, now shush.”

You walk a bit more before he stops. His chest meets your back as he leans in, the ends of his hair tickling your ear slightly. You mindlessly hold your breath, grabbing his wrists anxiously as you wait for him to remove his hands.

“Ready?” He asks. His low voice causing goosebumps to form on the back of your neck.

You nod quickly into his hands, bouncing on your feet slightly as you wait for him to pull out his hands from your eyes.

It takes a second until your vision can get used to the sunlight after being in the dark, but as soon as you focus on the sight in front of you, it’s like all the air escapes from your lungs. The colosseum stands in all its glory, centered in the open area. A place you have only seen in pages of history books or through a screen. You bring your hand to cover your mouth mindlessly as you gasp at the gigantic monument.

“How does it feel?” Harry bites his lip, grinning as he gazes quickly at the construction before looking back at you. “Seeing it fo’ the first time?”

“It’s incredible,” you gasp, your eyes still wandering around the sight in front of you.

“It’s two thousand years old, you know,” he explains. “‘S why it kinda looks like a swiss cheese f’you look at it closely.”

“Oh my god,” you giggle, shaking your head at him. “Did you just compare one of humanity’s most historical monuments to cheese?”

Harry rolls his eyes playfully, “‘s a metaphor, darling, you wouldn’t get it.”

“Of course, I’m sorry for being so illiterate.” You joke, bumping your hip against his.

“‘S fine I’m used to it,” he provokes back. “So, are you just gonna stand there with your mouth open or are we going in?”

Your eyes widen at his question. “Wait.” you grab his arm as he looks at you with the most amused expression.”So we actually get to go inside?”

“Course we get to go inside, love.” He throws an arm above your shoulder, squeezing it gently. “What kind of tour guide d’you think I am?”

It warms your heart how much thought he clearly put into planning this trip for you. Not just planning it, but also making sure you’re enjoying all the aspects that Italy has to offer in your limited time here. Truthfully, the biggest reason that brought you here was him. Getting to visit one of the grandest cities in the world is just a bonus. A wonderful bonus. And you are glad to do it with him.

Okay, maybe you finally realize what people meant when they described Rome as “enchanting, yet congested” on the many traveling websites you had researched before packing your bags.

Harry warned you about it before you entered the small square - that isn’t even that small but the packed crowd makes it seem much enclosed. He keeps his hand holding securely onto your waist, pulling you close as you walk towards the fountain.

The fountain, yes, the whole reason you are here. Fontana di Trevi. One of Rome’s most prized monuments, and just taking one look at it you could see why. It’s gorgeous, not like any other fountain you’ve ever seen in your life.

That seems to be a repeating theme in this place, finding the beauty in the most minimal details, like the flowers blooming on a building’s wall, but also on the obvious ones, like the carefully crafted statues posing forever on top of the marble stones.

As you get closer, your eyes never leave the artwork standing in front of you. You’re thankful for Harry’s grip on your waist, otherwise, you’d probably trip down the steps as you make your way through the crowd.

You find a spot by the edge of the fountain surprisingly easily. Harry lets go of your waist to reach into his back pocket, retrieving a few coins and offering to you.

“Here.”

“Do I make a wish?” you asked, picking a couple from his palm.

“No, there’s this whole thing,” he began, “f’you throw one means you’ll return to Rome,” he held up a coin as he explained, “two, means you’ll get married, and three, s’to get a divorce.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, “that’s a nice way to break the news, I guess.”

You looked down at your palm, quickly picking up a cent and throwing it at the fountain, watching it descend slowly into the clear water.

“There.”

“Just one, love?” Harry asked, making you look up at him to meet his gaze.

“Don’t really have anyone to get married to, do I?” you joked, “What about you?”

“Already made my wish when I first got here,” he replied, “not gonna risk throwing more.”

“How many did you throw?”

He simply grins down at you, letting your question linger in the air for a moment. You can feel his hand making its way on your waist again, pulling you closer to him.

You’re received at the bar table with excited cheers from the small group already gathered there.

There’s an already annoying knot settling at the pit of your stomach. It’s something that has been bothering you throughout the day from the moment Harry mentioned you’d be meeting his friends for dinner. Even with his assurance that you’d be fine, telling you how excited they are to meet you, it still makes you a bit anxious. Of course you want to make a good impression, they are his friends after all. His new friends.

What helps with your nerves a bit, is the fact that it’s not a massive amount of people, in fact, you are a bit surprised to see there’s only four of them.

They all seem like they’ve just walked right out of a Vogue issue photoshoot, which makes you fidget with the fabric of your dress nervously. Harry keeps his hand placed on your lower back soothingly as he introduces you to everyone.

The two girls don’t even bat an eye in his direction, getting up to make their way directly to you. The first one pulls you into a tight hug immediately, the unexpected gesture causes you to take a second before hugging her back. She’s shorter than you, but she gives you a big smile as she introduces herself as Giorgia with an excited voice. Her look is very classy which stands out from the more laid-back outfits of the rest of the group.

You barely have time to separate from her before you’re being pulled into another hug.

“I’m Francesca!” She says before pulling back, her blonde hair a bit messy on top of her head. “It’s very nice to finally meet you!”

You laugh softly at the warm welcome, “It’s lovely to meet you too.”

“We were all so excited to meet you,” Giorgia says, as you sit on the chair across from her. “Harry talks about you all the time.”

You glance at Harry who’s pulling the chair next to yours, arching your eyebrows at him. “Oh, does he now?”

“Alright, alright.” He scratches the tip of his nose, letting out a light chuckle. “Knew she’d do that as soon as you got here.”

“It’s my personal job to tease you at any given opportunity, H.” She reaches for the wine bottle, pouring it into a glass and handing it to you.

You give her a slight smile. “Think we’ll get along then.” You chuckle, moving the wine glass to your lips.

“Wait!” Giorgia stops you, “there’s a saying here in Italy that if you drink without toasting, you have seven years of bad sex, so.”

“Oh,” you move the glass away from your mouth, raising it. “We don’t want that.”

“No, we don’t.” You hear Harry say from his spot next to you, moving his own glass to meet yours in a light click.

The night progresses bringing a warm feeling in all the pleasant ways.

A light chatter fills the table, mixing with the sound of the other loud conversations from other young groups surrounding you. You risk learning a bit of Italian from the girls, as they tell excitedly stories about Harry’s first months not knowing the language. It makes you feel silly for ever thinking they wouldn’t welcome you, seeing how they are treating you as if you are friends for years.

But what makes your heart swell is seeing Harry so comfortable and laid-back amongst them.

It may be the effect of the alcohol settling itself on your bloodstream, but as time passes, you find it harder to keep your eyes off of him.

The crinkle in his eyes as he throws his head back with laughter brings an inevitable smile to your face. His hand squeezing your knee reassuringly, every so often, makes your breath catch in your throat. His eyes never leaving yours as you ramble about something you don’t even pay much attention to.

He’s listening closely to the words coming out of your mouth, his own lips forming a soft grin. You can feel your words start to get confusing as you become much aware of the distance between the two of you. It was close enough so you can notice the cloudy look in his eyes, but till not as close as you wish.

Your mind seems to erase everything around you as you can see his eyes moving down, so quickly it almost seems like it’s part of your imagination.

“You two look so cute together.” You hear Francesca’s sudden voice from the other side of the table, reminding that you’re not alone. “You’d make such a cute couple”

It catches you off guard, making you glance over to Harry before shaking your head. “Oh, I mean, I- Well- We’re not- We’ve never-”

“Francie!” Giorgia - thankfully - interrupts your nervous stutter, poking her friend gently in the arm. “You don’t just say stuff like that.”

“What? But it’s true!” Francesca says defensively, “they must get this all the time.” She turns back to you.”Right?”

You quickly bring your glass to your lips, taking a long sip as you decide to let Harry deal with the situation. You feel grateful for the dim lighting of the place, knowing it will cover the undeniable blush that you can tell is already covering your cheeks.

“I mean, yeah, we used to,” he begins, wrapping an arm over your shoulder. “But that’s just cause we slept together.”

You choke on your wine at his words, making him laugh at your clear affected state. “Harry!” You exclaim, hitting his chest lightly before gazing at the amused expressions watching the two of you. “We just slept together, literally. As in just sleep. And that was years ago!”

“I feel like I should take offense at your horror,” he teases.

“Wait- No! I- I didn’t mean it like that-” you try to explain.

“I enjoyed sleeping with you. Thought it was special.” He throws his head back dramatically.

You shake your head at him. “You’re having way too much fun with this.”

He looks back at you with a smug look on his face, “maybe I’m just flattered.”

You look away from him, taking a sip of your wine as you hear laughter taking over the table.

“Told you, you are cute!” Francesca says once again.

The walk back to the hotel was filled with giggles and rushed whispers as to not disturb anyone, considering Harry’s warning about the loud acoustic of the narrow streets. Your minds were hazy and your chests warm as you stumbled along the way.

“Madame, you’re home.” He says, motioning dramatically towards the entrance door.

“Well, sir thank you for your company on this dark night,” you giggle, bowing slightly. “Seems like you’re a proper gentleman now, aren’t you?”

“Now?” he questions, an offended look taking over his face, making you giggle again. “Was I not before?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Of course you were!” you bring a hand over your mouth as an attempt to quiet your laughter.

“Well on that note, I’ll leave.” He turns on his heels.

You reach for his arms pulling him back to you. “No! Stop! I’m sorry, come back.”

He glances over his shoulder, allowing you to drag him towards you. His grin was visible on his face, dimples deep on his cheeks, as he wraps his arms around your waist, drawing you in. Your laugh stops on your throat when you gaze up to meet his eyes, realizing how close you were.

Even in the poor lighting, you can still see the green of his irises as he brings his hand up to cup your cheek. The alcohol dancing in your mind making it seem like you were watching it from the outside, as you hold your breath, too afraid to make any kind of movement.

Your heart was loud on your chest. You wish you could read his mind, know his next move. His eyes looked at you almost as if they wanted to tell you something, but your head was too blurry to understand it.

You swallow dryly, “thank you for today, H.” You break the silence. “Was really nice.”

“‘F course, love.” He whispers, caressing his thumb gently over your cheekbone. “Should get some rest,” he says, “got another early day tomorrow.”

“Sure,” you breathe. “Good night, Harry.”

He leans in, your breath catching on your throat as he places a soft kiss on your forehead before pulling away completely.

“Buonanotte.”

“Gelatto!” You hold up the two ice cream cups before handing one to Harry and moving down to sit next to him on the steps, carefully avoiding the handlebar of your bike laying on the ground.

“Look at you!” He giggles, “by the end of the week you’ll be a proper Italian.”

You chuckle, “I mean, it’s not like this word is not written all over the store or anything.” you lick the ice cream off your spoon. “But I do have the best tour guide in Rome, so that helps a lot.”

“Is that so?”

You hum with your spoon between your lips, nodding at him.

“Should get his number then, heard he’s a pretty cool bloke.” He smirks, “heard he’s quite handsome as well.”

You roll your eyes at him, “he’s got a big head too.”

He scoffs, nuzzling you as you giggle. “You’re a pest.”

“I am?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Yes, you are.” He shakes his head, playing with the spoon on his ice cream before scooping a bit.

You fall into a comfortable silence enjoying each other’s company with the soft sound of nature surrounding you.

The day was thankfully cooler than the ones before, allowing you to sit underneath the sun without feeling like your skin was boiling. The light breeze helped to chill your hot skin, caused by all the cycling you did to get to the island.

“Y’know,” Harry’s voice breaks into the silence. “I’m very happy that you’re here.”

You gaze up at him, smiling softly. “I’m very happy that I’m here too.”

“No, like really I-” he begins, meeting your eyes. “Thank you fo’ coming.”

“Of course I’d come, silly.” You say, “promised I would.”

“Yeah, I know but-” he looks down at his shoes, a frown forming between his eyebrows. “‘S just,” he sighs, almost in frustration, as if he doesn’t know how to say it. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, H.” Your eyebrows knit together - you can tell there’s something on his mind. “Where’s this coming from?”

“‘S nothing,” he brushes off, still not meeting your eyes.

“Almost fooled me there,” you say, bumping your shoulder on his softly. “You can talk to me, you know?”

“I know.” He looks at you, “was just thinking back to right before I moved. When I told you about it.” He shakes his head, gazing up to the river in front of you. “Felt like the worst friend in the world.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, “‘s just-” he begins, his eyebrow still in a frown - as if he’s searching for the right word to say. “You just were in a bad place back then, felt so bad fo’ just leaving you like that.” He admits, glancing at you. “I’m sorry.”

You can feel your heart sink as the words come out of his mouth, knowing what he’s referencing to. Your breakup.

It’s something you don’t really enjoy thinking about but still seems to come back to your mind occasionally, as if to haunt you.

The entire relationship was a mess, to begin with, and it’s something you can only look back now and realize. From the start, you only accepted going out with him as a form of distraction from your genuine feelings - to which you assume now it’s incredibly unfair not only to him but to yourself. Truth to be told, you never loved him the way you were supposed to.

But as the months went by you learned to get used to it, telling yourself that maybe with time you would forget about who your heart yearned for. So you swallowed back that ache.

When it finally happened, it didn’t come as a surprise to you. You felt like it was inevitable that you wouldn’t last. What did surprise you were how harder the aftermath would be when you learned your biggest support was leaving.

So you look at Harry apologizing for it, not knowing how to express in words that the primary reason you were a mess back then, wasn’t because of the breakup at all.

“I’m sorry, shouldn’t have brought it up.” He apologizes after your lack of response.

“No, it’s fine.” You reassure, “just haven’t thought about it for a while.”

You can feel him watching you from the side of your vision.

“It killed me to see you with him.”

The sentence makes you freeze a bit. You’ve always known Harry wasn’t a big fan of ex. It wasn’t something explicit, considering he never spoke about his dislike of him. But you know Harry. You could tell from his dry words and uninterested eyes every time your boyfriend came up, that he disapproved. So hearing him admit it straightforwardly shocked you a bit, to say the least.

“I-” You begin, but stop, not knowing how to end the sentence.

“‘m sorry, shouldn't’ve said that.”

“No. Harry-” you pause for a moment, his eyes never leaving you as you think how to say it. “He was a dick.”

“Yeah.” He agrees. “He really was, love.” His gaze moves forward, breaking the eye contact. “You deserve much better than that.”

Like who? You want to ask. Even if you already know the answer. Well, you think you know the answer.

The words get caught in your throat, screaming so loud inside your mind you physically shake your head, trying to stop thinking them. It’s that unsaid confession. The one you’ve been meaning to say long before you even dated your ex..

There’s an awkward pause in the air. One you created without even realizing, because of your lack of response. Harry clears his throat, getting up before offering one hand to help you do the same which you take it.

“We should go,” he says, his eyes still not meeting yours. “Still got to return the bikes.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

You let out a content hum as the orangy taste hits your tongue, scrunching your nose slightly at the bitter aftertaste, due to the alcohol in it.

“You don’t like it? Harry chuckles at your expression, pulling his glass back to his side of the table.

“It’s good,” you say, “Just looks like orange soda.”

Harry wraps his lips around the straw, taking a sip. “Suppose it does.”

The sound of a small boat passing by the river next you call your attention, making you gaze at it as it moved lazily across the water. You take a moment to appreciate the view from your table, feeling grateful for finding one right by the edge of the sidewalk, allowing you to look at it without lots of people serving as obstacles.

A pinkish and golden tone paints the sky, as the sun goes down to give space for the nighttime. The sound of someone playing the piano took over as background noise. The lights are already turned on though, reflecting beautifully by the water. You can see the masses of people strolling on the other edge where the expo was set up.

You were there earlier in the day, going through the small businesses and gazing at the artworks exposed on the tents.

There was a particular rose necklace that caught your eye, making you run your finger through the delicate piece for a moment before deciding it was best to leave it be. To your surprise, a few minutes later, as you stopped to watch someone plays a ukulele version of Riptide, you feel a cold chain being wrapped around your neck.

You looked back to find Harry smiling at you, muttering a shy “Surprise,” as you reach to your neck, only to find the same necklace you had been eyeing before.

The recent thought brings a smile to your face, causing you to play with the pendant.

“D’you remember,” Harry’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. “When we went to that friend of yours birthday party.”

“Alice?”

“I think so,” he says. “That party was shit.”

You laugh, “God, it really was.” You shake your head slightly at the memory. “We left after, like, ten minutes.”

“We did, yeah,” he says fondly. “Went to that petrol station at midnight to get those awful chips you like and ate them at that empty parking lot.”

“The one with the broken sign.”

“The one with the broken sign,” he smiles. “‘S one of my favorite memories.”

“Really?” You incline.

“Really.” He says, “can still picture you laughing at my terrible attempt at making jokes.” He looks down, poking his finger at the tablecloth. “Almost kissed you that day.”

You blink at him. Feeling your heart skip a beat at his confession. His eyes moving up to meet yours with a gleam to them.

Maybe it was the ethereal feeling that had settled into your mind from the first moment you got here. The one that made it seem like you were in one of those cheesy romcoms Harry loves so much. One where you found yourself in a breathtaking place along with your best friend, where you two slowly would come to the realization that maybe you felt like being more than just friends.

You tried your best to keep those thoughts away. Locking them down in the back of your mind and trying to forget they even exist. But like an annoying ich you can’t quite seem to reach, they would come back to you, almost in a provoking way, to remind you you couldn’t get rid of old feelings. No matter how hard you tried.

It was in the small moments when those thoughts came back to life. When he holds onto your waist in a crowded space so you wouldn’t get lost. Or how he always found a way to compliment you.

Or even when he’s not even doing anything, but the string of lights above you just hit his face perfectly as he looks at you with the most affectionate eyes. His thumb finding your hand over the table, caressing it so gently that brought the most beautiful butterflies on your stomach.

Maybe the wine has gotten to your head but those unspoken words weigh so heavily on your tongue you can almost taste them.

But it was a little voice inside your head that makes you swallow them back. One that screams that this has become something too important to be thrown away in a failed attempt at a relationship. Whatever window that was of becoming more than friends had already been closed years ago.

And with one look at his glistening eyes, you take a sip of your wine, deciding that those past feelings should stay in the past.

~*~

{PART 2}

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #my writing

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Backyard Boy (Gottrosenali) - Pinkgrapefruit

a/n -

special thanks to the druk discord for both their help with gottrosenali as a whole and the enby central station for their invaluable help in my portrayal of a trans character. also thanks to frey for her infinite wisdom when it comes to grammar.

i really hope you like it so please let me know how you feel!!!

Dance with me in my backyard, boy

Looking super fine in your corduroy

Drive me ‘round the block

We can go in a loop

And we’ll turn the volume up on some

Good boy band tunes

Mik leans forward, head bumping against one of the front seats as he attempts to grab Denali’s phone from the cup holder. She doesn’t notice, too focused on navigating towards the Mcdonald’s, but Rosé does, and she slaps his hand like a small child.

“I love you baby boy, but I’d rather Nali drive us into a wall before I let you play Gaga one more time.” She sounds grumpy, but Mik can search out the soft undertone and he rubs a thumb over her hand before he leans back. He sighs in relief, twisting a little to try and release some of the pressure from his binder before he sits back.

“God, someone needs to get some food into you,” he jokes and he watches as Denali places her hand on Rosé’s thigh - the pink-haired girl has always been the worst for being hangry.

It’s their lunch break, and they’ve escaped into town to get a McDonald’s before they have to sit through another hour of school. There isn’t a lesson they share between the three of them, so they relish in this time together.

“Drive-thru or eat in?” Denali calls out, her volume always a little too loud for the tiny Volkswagen she drives.

“Uh,” Mik replies, “I’m paying and I need a wee, so I reckon we go inside and then eat in the car.”

Rosé grunts, and he sees Denali’s thumb slide over her tights before she sighs. “You know I hate it when we eat in here,” she moans, but then she catches his eye and rolls her own. “But sure.”

Mik pumps his fist in triumph and, once they’re parked up, makes sure to give Denali a quick peck on the forehead before intertwining his fingers with Rosé’s. Denali wipes the Carmex off her forehead with an affectionate scowl, patting his ass in return before skipping ahead to open the door.

“My loves,” she bows her head, waving her hand in a comically large gesture that makes even Rosé crack a smile.

“Chivalry ain’t dead. He hears her mutter under her breath, and he laughs in response, loving the way her eyes brighten up when he does.

He orders for them, Rosé in too much of a grump to avoid yelling at the poor cashiers, and Nali with just a little too much anxiety. He notes down the orders on his phone like a good boyfriend and then relays them perfectly, adding on a bag of mozzarella sticks because he knows Rosé will try and steal his.

"Ladies,” he bows as he holds out the brown paper bag, and Rosé loops a hand through his arm. He loves it when she allows herself to be clingy, and Denali does too, so they let her whenever she feels it - even if it means having to guide a dead weight back to the car.

She sighs and flutters her eyes open when she’s back into the passenger seat before snorting a chuckle that makes Denali do a double-take from the fries she’d been devouring.

She points hazily at the paper bag. “Mik-Donalds-” she jokes.

“Fuck,” Mik says, leaning forward again from the back seat to drop a peck on Rosé’s cheek. “God, I love you.”

Denali places a palm on his cheek while he’s still leaning forward. “Same,” she sighs. “Same.

I can feel the fresh air

I can feel your eyes stare

And I’m not gonna lie

I get a little bit scared

My heart is on wings

I’m living in dreams

And at the top of our lungs, we sing

He lets his back hit the locker with a clang, double-checking the number because even after a year and a bit of dating he’s still never quite sure which locker belongs to Rosé. Luckily, he’s proven to be correct when Denali skips over to him, slipping her hand into his and leaning her head on his arm with a deep sigh.

"Spanish not doing it for you?” he jokes, tilting his head so it rests on top of hers, watching the rest of the students trail out of the class.

“Not last period,” she sighs, rubbing her temple with her index finger. “I’m getting a headache I swear.” She angles her head to check Mik’s watch and clicks her tongue. “Where’s Rosie,” she whines, much to Mik’s amusement.

“Rehearsals will be running late,” he tells her, enjoying the way she’s curling further into his side as the bell chimes loudly above them.

She harrumphs, mewling even more as he pulls away from her side, placing his rucksack on the ground and rummaging around for the painkillers he tends to keep. He finds them, and hands them to her alongside a bottle of water that she grasps quickly, swallowing the pills with a happy sigh. When he stands, he lets her fall back under his arm and he traces patterns on her back, muttering about his senior textiles project while she butts in with questions.

As the 3:15 bell chimes, they watch the last dregs of students trail out of the door, and Mik starts to suck at his teeth in frustration. He knows he’s done the same thing when engrossed in a project, eyes only focusing on the way the needle goes through the fabric, but he can’t bring himself not to be irritated when Rosé hasn’t even texted.

“Ah, the prophetic daughter returns,” Denali mocks from in his shirt, pulling him out of his thoughts and making him turn towards the theatre department where Rosé is jogging casually down the hall.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she calls, sliding slightly as her worn converse lack grip on school linoleum. She comes to a halt, hands on his bare arms, lips pressed against his cheek in a chaste peck. She does the same to Denali in apology, and although the girl still looks grumpy, there’s a flicker of warmth in her eyes.

“You’re driving home,” she says bluntly, handing over her keys with a scowl before turning to the door, and Rosé looks at Mik questioningly.

“Headache,” he tells her, and she nods knowingly.

“Migraine?”

“Not yet.” She sighs, shaking the keys in her hand to elicit a pleasant jingle, but Mik notices how it makes Denali wince. “Soon,” he amends before jogging to catch up to her - knowing the sun will do little to improve her mood.

“Sleepover it is,” Rosé sighs to herself, unlocking the car from a distance and watching as he helps Denali into the passenger seat - all too aware that the last time she was in the backseat with a migraine, it went terribly. She smiles, she’s not sure how she got so lucky.

Da da da da da da

Everything is perfect

Da da da da da da

All our words were worth it

Mik’s been going to the gym to cope wth his dysphoria, and it shows in the way his shoulders are getting broader and his muscles more defined. An extra bonus is the way it means he can cradle Denali in his arms, carrying her easily up the stairs. He lets her rest her head in the crook of his neck and relents when she tries to get him into bed with her, curling around her and sending Rosé off to search for Denali’s rescue meds.

She brings a glass of water and a sticky cold patch with her, which she applies gently to Denali’s forehead, coaxing a whimper out of her. They get her to swallow the pill, and then Rosé closes the curtains, padding around quietly before sliding into the bed next to them both.

Neither quite know what they would do if Denali’s migraines made her sensitive to touch as well as light and sound (they’re all too affectionate to try and withhold touch), but they’ve lived through enough of them that they know that with a dose of medication and a few hours in the dark she tends to be good as new.

They’re right, though the attack does relegate them to ordering pizza and eating it in Rosé’s ridiculously large bed (or at least this is the excuse they use on her mum when she looks at them disapprovingly).

Denali presses a kiss to Rosé’s bare shoulder and the pink-haired girl rolls over, placing a hand next to each of her shoulders and hovering above Denali with a wicked grin until Mik pokes his finger into her side and she collapses. Denali lets out a yelp, but she’s giggling while Rosé curses them both for ruining her moment.

“No funny business while Nali’s drugged up,” Mik reminds her gently - a rule they had to put into place after they made the side effects of her meds ten times worse due to some rougher activities.

It’s a situation that they’re not particularly willing to repeat.

Rosé rolls over Denali again until she’s in between them, sighing contentedly when Mik rests his head on her chest. “Movie?” she asks quietly.

“Disney!” Denali suggests, before wincing ever so slightly at the pitch of her own voice. She runs a hand through Mik’s hair and then places her head on Rosé’s other shoulder.

“I’m down for that,” Mik agrees.

“UP?”

“That’s Pixar, god, Rosie, know your animated films.”

“Potato, Potato,” Rosé replies, clicking on the title on Disney+ before tossing the remote to the side.

They don’t mention Rosé crying when Ellie dies.

They fall asleep to the end credits.

Da da da da da da

Dancing around like a clown at the circus

Da da da da da da

Backyard boy, you make me nervous

Mik wakes up to aching in his lower abdomen and it sends a shiver of fear down his spine. His boxers feel slightly damp, and he’s grateful that he fell asleep with his head on Rosé’s chest.

He flips the soft comforter over so he can see the sheets, and the sight of the blood makes him more nauseous than his cramps. He weighs his options for a second before gently stroking Denali’s cheek with a sigh.

“Baby,” he says with a quick glance at Rosé’s lit up alarm clock. It’s four am. “Uh, Nali.” Denali lifts her head from Rosé’s shoulder and blinks her eyes expectantly. They’re bleary and she lifts a hand to rub at them before she properly focuses on Mik.

In the dim room, she can see the dark patch on the white bottom sheet and she gently palms his face.

“Let’s get you cleaned up love,” she says with an apologetic smile. He nods and watches as she rolls out of the wide double and swiftly locates the pair of period pants he keeps in a hidden pocket of his duffle. She looks between them and a tampon before tossing the tampon onto Rosé’s desk and then hands them to Mik, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “Go on, love.” She nods towards the bathroom and he smiles weakly, watching her shake Rosé awake with a gentle hand.

When he gets back, the bedside lamps are on and Rosé is stripping the bed, tossing the spoiled sheets into a pile on the floor. When he looks around for Denali, she stops and walks over to him, palming his chest over his t-shirt and snuggling into him the best she can with the small height difference.

“She’s gone to get the Nurofen and a hot water bottle,” she tells him - voice hoarse from sleep.

“I’m sorry-” Mik starts to say, but Rosé cuts him off with a steady hand on the side of his head.

“You don’t have to apologise for anything Gottlieb,” she asserts firmly. “It’s a natural thing that happens to bodies and you wouldn’t let me or Nali say shit if it were us-”

She looks sternly.

“-would you?” He nods in acquiescence and jumps a little when he feels a warm hand on his upper arm. He smells the coconut shampoo of Nali’s hair before he sees her.

“You wouldn’t let Rosie apologise when she bled on your favourite hoodie,” reminds Denali softly, handing him two tablets and a small tumbler of water before exchanging them for a hot water bottle. He sighs when he tucks it into his abdomen, and they make him sit at Rosé’s desk while they bustle around sorting out new bedsheets.

Rosé’s mum pops her head round the door at one point, causing Mik to flush red, though Denali waves her off. “Don’t worry about this, Mrs McCorkel.” She smiles wearily. “Periods.” She shrugs, and Rosé’s mum laughs, shutting the door with a low thud.

They all crawl back into bed, Rosé insisting on spooning him from behind while he holds Denali close. She presses her lips to the back of his neck, and he can feel her smile into the skin.

“You’re my favourite man, handsome,” she states, warmth in her voice. “I love you.”

He buries his face into Denali’s hair and lets the warmness lull him back to sleep.

Dance with me in my backyard, boy

Looking super fine in your corduroy (five, six, seven, eight)

Roll the windows down

Let the base drop low

And everybody’s talking

But I don’t wanna know

Denali yelps, pulling back from where she’d been straddling Mik in such a way that makes them both fall off the window seat and tumble onto the floor. Rosé looks over at them and scowls, a highlighter in her hand. She makes an obscene gesture with it and then sets it down.

“Can you two be horndogs literally anywhere else,” she asks, exasperated, and they both fall into giggles.

“I’m sorry!” Denali squeals as Mik runs a hand down her side. “Your boyfriend just gave me carpet burn from his damn moustache.”

Mik looks up, somewhere between awestruck and dazed.

“Maybe it’s retaliation for you giving me rug burn,” Rosé quips with a wink before looking at their boyfriend, who’s doing a perfect meerkat expression. Before she can blink, he’s on his feet and running towards the bathroom, where they hear a sharp squeak of excitement.

She holds a hand out to Denali who pulls her out of her chair, and they let their interlocked fingers swing together as they wander over to follow him.

In the middle of the counter, next to three empty vials of testosterone, is Mik. His eyes wide and unblinking, fingers stretching the skin of his upper lip so he can pinpoint a single pale brown hair.

Denali places a featherlight kiss on his exposed shoulder and then reaches to touch it, pulling back in mock anguish.

“Ouch!” she shouts, and Rosé stifles a giggle at her antics, rubbing a hand on Mik’s back to try and gauge how he’s feeling. He sighs into the touch and his shoulders relax a bit.

“That’s one special little dude you’ve got there, bubs,” she tells him with a look of pride on her face. “I think it needs a name.”

Denali looks at her and shakes her head, but Mik is already nodding slowly. “Jeremy,” he says, voice full of conviction.

“We’re not naming his face pube,” Denali fights back, hoisting herself up onto the counter so she can look closer. She ruffles his hair with her fingers and he swats her away.

“Two against one, love,” Rosé points out. “Jeremy the destroyer.”

She leans up and kisses his top lip. “There is now a fourth in this relationship,” she announces smugly, raising an eyebrow at Denali, who holds her hands up. Mik looks between the two of them in amusement.

“I’m not going to kiss the face pube-”

“He has a name,” Rosé cuts her off with a grin.

“I’m not going to kiss Jeremy the destroyer,” Denali responds petulantly, throwing a slightly damp flannel at her from beside the sink.

“Do you not support your boyfriend?” Rosé catches it and tries to throw it back, but Mik grabs it out of the air, holding onto it so he doesn’t get one in the face.

“Rosie McCorkel, you little bitch.”

Mik watches them, dismayed, but incredibly entertained. “Fucking lesbians,” he mutters under his breath, still smiling.

Feel the fresh air

I can feel your eyes stare

And I’m not gonna lie

I get a little bit scared

And my heart is on wings

I’m living in dreams

And at the top of our lungs, we sing

Denali smiles at him as she slips out of the glass door, wincing a little as her bare feet touch the sun-bleached patio stones. He feels Rosé flick some water at him from her place in the pool, but he flips her off, beckoning to Denali, who does an awkward little hop-scotch across the hot yard until she can slide down next to him on the sun-lounger.

He places a gentle hand on her exposed hip, but she clicks her tongue at him. “Mikkk,” she whines, and he places a kiss on her temple before he slides off the sun lounger and moves down to sit on the edge of the pool.

It’s such a hot day that even the lukewarm water on his legs feels like an ice bath, and he desperately wants to take his baggy shirt off, but the idea of sitting outdoors in a sports bra makes him squirm a little. Rosé’s neighbours could see.

She seems to catch his discomfort and she swims up to him, placing one hand on each of his thighs to hold herself up in the water.

“You’re so short,” he teases gently, but she just hoists herself up, straining her neck to place a wet kiss on his chin. She snorts into it and falls backwards, flailing in the water so he gets covered in a fine spray.

“You need to calm down,” he tells her, hearing Denali chuckle in the background.

“Come and make me,” Rosé replies as she swims further away. She tries to shake her ass at him - skimpy pink bikini bottoms pulled high up onto her hips - but she falls forward, head going under the water again.

“Did she ever learn to swim?” Denali asks between loud slurps of ice-cold lemonade, the book she was reading in the shade long forgotten.

“I really couldn’t tell you.”

He turns back to the pool and sees Rosé sitting on one of the bottom steps, hair ties in hand as she tries to braid her thick, pink hair - her fingers fumbling in an attempt that can only be deemed pitiful. He sighs, moving to sit behind her so his swimming trunks are completely submerged. She leans back into him gratefully, and he takes the hair bobbles willingly, weaving her two french braids.

He’s about to move after he finishes when he hears wet footsteps.

“Don’t run, love!” calls Rosé, paddling next to Mik so she’s leaning on the edge of the pool. Denali just scoffs, skidding on the water until she can dive straight into the deep end of the pool. He winces as she does it, hand reaching out to grip Rosé’s, but they both know that her ice-skater balance will save her. She does a messy front stroke over to her partners, her costume glittering in all of its tacky-mermaid glory.

Denali slides between his legs and tips her head back for a kiss, pouting until he gives her a chaste kiss, and then indulging Rosé, who scrunches her nose at the momentary lack of affection.

Mik sighs, pulling Denali’s long hair out of the messy bun it’s in and separating it into two. “Thank you, Mik, we love you, Mik, you’re the best boyfriend ever, Mik,” he moans, letting his fingers slide through her hair like silk.

Rosé tries to hide her laughter in a cough.

It doesn’t work.

Da da da da da da

Everything is perfect

Da da da da da da

All our words were worth it

The euphoria he feels with a pride flag wrapped around his shoulders, billowing behind him like a cape, is unreal. He feels like he could fly if he wasn’t holding hands with Denali, who’s keeping him firmly grounded, and he’s making sure she doesn’t run off and get lost while Rosé has gone to find drinks.

Luckily, they see her before she sees them - Mik is a full head taller than Denali in his platform combat boots and can just about see over the crowd, so he spots the glitter down Rosé’s parting. She’s carrying three plastic cups with straws, and she’s trailed by a sapphic pride flag that’s looped through her belt loops, so it surrounds her denim cut-offs like a skirt.

They’d had a long conversation about the flag - she and Mik sat on the porch with coffee in hand. She’d bought it before they got together and she’s right when she says it looks pretty with her hair - the shades of pink all muddling together until she looks like a ball of cotton candy. He’d smiled and taken her hand in his, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her hair that still smelled of sleep and Denali’s perfume.

“I know you think of me as a man,” he’d said, feeling her squeeze his hand in acknowledgement, “and I know you like women.”

“I just don’t want you to feel left out,” she’d said, poking her tongue into her coffee to check its temperature before taking a long sip. Denali padded out onto the porch, bare feet on the wooden slats. She was wrapped in a tartan blanket and she sat down next to Mik with a huff, laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes.

“I’ll survive not being the centre of your attention babe,” he’d joked. And that had been it.

It was the right thing to say because she looks radiant in the sun, and he takes the cold peach lemonade gratefully, handing off Nali-watch to Rosé as he adjusts his trans flag in a shop window.

He re-ties Denali’s bi flag while he’s at it, looping it through the straps of her dungarees so it won’t come loose in the crowd. She turns around and smiles gratefully, placing a soft hand on his barely-there stubble.

Rosé called them disgusting when she first saw them this morning, side by side in their matching crop tops and dungaree shorts. He’s got his own over a nude binder, and it’s the closest he’s ever felt to being shirtless, even with the way his chest is sweating in the summer heat. He knows Rosé’s rucksack has a spare top and bra for him - it’s a part of the reason why he loves her.

“All good?” Rosé asks, adjusting one of the pins in Denali’s flower crown (pink, blue and white) out of habit. She presses a quick kiss to the tip of Denali’s nose and then checks her braids in the shop window too.

“Am I still on Nali-watch?” Mik asks, half-joking and offering his arm for her to take, to which Denali laughs and waves her hand.

“I can get places myself, guys,” she giggles.

“You absolutely cannot,” Mik tells her, raking his hand through his sweaty curls.

“Not if we wanna get there on time,” chimes in Rosé, taking Denali’s hand and swinging it between them. “Now, come on!”

Da da da da da da

Dancing around like a clown at the circus

Da da da da da da

“We have a present for you,” Denali tells him, watching him comb hair gel through his curls in an attempt to tame them before he puts his graduation cap on. He smiles, watching her in the mirror as she curls the back of Rosé’s hair with deft fingers. Rosé flicks her eyes up from the eyeshadow palette she’s looking at, a small smirk playing on her lips, and she goes to say something, but then she stops herself.

“Well, now I’m excited,” he tells them, placing his tie loosely around his neck and leaning back against the countertop, watching them adoringly.

It’s moments like this that he just can’t believe his luck - how he’s got two beautiful women to call his own. Denali is a vision in lilac - a fitted bodice moving into a flared skirt that reminds him of the skating videos her mum showed him at Christmas. Her newly bleached hair is in a braid over her shoulder, and the loose baby hairs that just won’t submit to hair spray make him want to tuck them gently behind her ear.

Rosé resolutely told them she wanted them to die for her, and she’s really trying in a pink, bardot dress that shows too much cleavage to be appropriate for graduation. He supposes she wants to go out with a bang, and he’s not complaining, but he might need a moment before they leave just to collect himself.

“You look flustered,” smirks Rosé with one eyebrow quirked. It pulls him out of his throughs, and he flushes a darker shade of red at the comment.

“Stop teasing him,” Denali tells her, moving to put on some lip gloss before he can steal one last kiss. “I wanna get onto the surprise.”

“Impatient baby,” Mik jokes to get the heat off himself, and she bats a blush brush at him. He’s about to respond when Rosé places a hand on his cheek, guiding his body around so she can fasten his navy blue tie.

“Be good,” she tells him with a tap on the nose. “Now stay here for a second.”

He waits quietly in the bathroom while his girlfriends hurry off, coming back after a few minutes with an envelope and a tentative look on both of their faces. Denali hangs back, leaning against the doorframe with a crinkled nose while Rosé moves forward and holds out the envelope. She waves it at him and he takes it, feeling its weight in his hands. It’s light, but there’s something about it. He can’t figure out what it is.

He shoves a makeup brush under the seal and rips it across, drawing a snigger out of Denali, and Rosé rolls her eyes at them, holding out her hand for her makeup brush because she doesn’t trust him with it.

He holds it out of apprehension and he hears someone click their tongue at him with impatience.

Slowly, Mik pulls out a single sheet of paper and his breath hitches.

“No,” he exhales, feeling his tailbone hit the edge of the countertop in a way he knows will hurt later. He blinks a couple of times and the envelope falls out of his hands, grabbed by Denali who swoops in, placing a warm palm on his upper arm.

“Yes,” replies Rosé, a smile in her voice.

It’s a GoFundMe receipt printed on flimsy copy paper totalling just over $5000. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“The whole year pitched in - the school really,” Denali murmurs, her hand on him a grounding presence that keeps him tethered to this reality.

“I don’t know what to say.” He’s being totally honest, voice shaking under the weight of his emotions. It’s everything he’s ever wanted and he’d resigned himself to another four or five years without that. “It’s freedom.”

“You deserve it, love,” Rosé tells him, her smile softer than he’s seen in a while - softer than she tends to go without Denali pouting at her.

Denali reaches up and swipes the pad of her thumb under his eye to catch the tears he didn’t know were falling before straightening his tie and placing a firm hand on his chest.

“Come on handsome,” she tells him, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

Backyard boy, you make me nervous

#rpdr fanfiction #pinkgrapefruit #gottmik #rosé #denali foxx #denali x gottmik x rosé #poly #high school au #transboy mik #trans character #fluff #tw periods #tw dysphoria #its basically just cute #yes i consulted actual trans people #i fucking hate tagging oh lord #uhhhh stan V she’s great #concrit welcome but i have anxiety so be nice xo

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wizkiddx · 4 years ago

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worst case scenario part 3

umm so, never ever intended it to be this long but here we are. again this is v dark so please please read the warning!! also [and obvs] this is very medically inaccurate and just a work of my head aha

[part 1] [part 2]

warning: mentions of death / hospital / mentions of childhood abandonment too- please don't read if this could affect you <3

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His heart was thundering in his chest, so much so it drowned out all other sounds making all the doctors words fade into the background. Conciously, he really was trying to listen to what the doctor was saying; consciously he knew she was trying to prepare him to see Y/n; consciously he knew she knew he wasn’t okay. But really? It didn’t matter, and as they drew closer to his fiancé Tom felt an urgent sense of relief purely know she was there. She was there and she wasn’t dead…yet.

Only two people were allowed to go up, just because the nature of the ward - everything was meticulously controlled, including the comings and goings of visitors. If you’ve never been in an ICU it’s a pretty hard environment to describe. Really, it’s just another hospital ward, with capacity of about 20 beds. Each bed has much more equipment surrounding that the average and a nurse is stationed per patient, monitoring every possible variable that the machienes are measuring, so any trend (either positive or negative) can be identified at the earliest point. Though in everyones head, it seems as though ICU is a common place ending up for some unfortunate sod when something bad happens, it’s actually really rare for someone to be so ill and dependant on medicine to maintain normal body functioning. Only the most severe trauma, infection of the most dangerous microorganism, surgery of such high stakes normally make an appearance on the ward. And ,on average, between 8-20% patients that are admitted to an ICU never make it out.

And those grim figures were unignorable to anyone. As soon as you walk through the doors, the atmosphere is intense and ineffable. It’s not spoken, but is so incredibly morbid it makes anyone shiver.

Dom felt this, squeezing his sons shoulder as he followed Tom and the doctor, just a pace or so behind them. Having offered to go with Tom, whilst Harrison took Nikki to see the baby, Dom was now feeling just as clueless as his son did. Except he was actually listening to what the doctor was trying to warn them about and it scared him. The three, made it to the door and with a swipe of her ID card the doctor admitted the Holland men in. Gratefully, none of the staff took any notice of who was walking in, they were much too busy for that - Dom was incredibly relieved, had someone recognised Tom when he was in this state, god knows what would’ve happened.

The doctors pace was with purpose, perhaps so that the two couldn’t spend too long ogling the other patients in the beds - who all looked almost unhuman with the amount of tubes and wires coming out and into them. But then, she slowed up, halting infront of a bay about 5 or 6 down the ward. Spinning on her heel and with a subtle nod to momentarily release the nurse from her post at Y/n’s bedside, to give them a bit of privacy, she looked at the two men.

“You can touch her, just be gentle with the wires.”

Shellshocked and terrified, Tom was frozen those 2 metres away from the bed barely able to see her face over all the equipment. Yet undoubtedly, it was his finance’s delicate visage lying on the white pillow, with a thick white mouthpiece and tube covering her mouth and stuffed into her nose. Not able to move, both Dom and Dr Goodwell sensitively waited - it was an adjustment to say the least, seeing someone you knew so well look so different. With quiet tears starting to roll down his eyes, Tom eventually started to inch toward the bedside, taking his time to try and absorb everything of this frankly ridiculous situation. He couldn’t get over how, even considering it all, above her nose it just looked like Y/n. Like she was asleep in their bed, eyes closed as if she had once again fallen asleep infront of a random Netflix movie Tom had bugged her enough to watch in bed. And it was, ever so slightly comforting. That was still her, that was still the love of his life lying there. And she was still alive - which given the last few hours, was enough.

Reaching the bedside, Tom naturally reached out and stroked the top of her head delicately, pulling into place a few rogue strands that seemed to have a mind of their own - she had always hated when her hair got frizzy. The picture had Tom’s mind casting back to their first holiday, a serene if quick few days in Fiji- though Y/n didnt know this , that holiday had been one of the most important times in their relationship for Tom. Until then, given the nature of his job, the couple had only ever managed brief periods together. They spent time together as and when they could in between Tom’s busy schedule but it was never as long as they’d like. Somehow though, he’d managed to squeeze a few days away to surprise Y/n with the trip.

It was everything he’d ever hoped it would be and more. In fact it was then Tom was oh so sure he would be spending the rest of his life with her. This thought crossed his mind on the last morning, when he had for once woken up before Y/n - her head mere cms away from his on the pillow. Just like now, her hair had been all over the place and her sparkling green eyes locked shut. Contrastingly though, in Fiji the sight had made him smile softly; now it just made him cry again.

“Would you like a minute alone Mr Holland? We will just wait outside?” Not even turning round to properly respond to the doctor, Tom just nodded violently, not taking his eyes off his fiancé - waiting till he heard his Dad and the doctor leave the bay; then the curtains be completely drawn to a close, before he shakily cleared his throat to whisper.

“Hey darling… you um-you’ve scared me shitless today… and… and I’m supposed to be the dramatic one in the relationship.” Chuckling wetly, Tom clasped his other hand in Y/n’s - still mindful of the IV port coming out of the top of her wrist. Not that he was expecting any sort of response, yet the lack of her squeezing his hand back still had his heart sink. “Look I…I love you so bloody much and I really need you to get better okay? You’ve never listened to me before but I really am begging you to now, I just.” Swallowing thickly, he shut his eyes momentarily and delicately rested his forehead on hers - his touch feather light. Just needing to feel her. “I just really need you and I really love you., okay?”

Unsurprisingly he didn’t get a response. The rhetorical question hung in the air alone, safe the mechanical whir of the ventilator and various chimes of the machines and monitor, till his Dad came in. Grasping and squeezing his shoulder lightly, Dom provided the stimulus for his son to unfold from over the bed, standing upright, as both men just took in the sight of Y/n lying there for a minute or two.

“I need her Dad. I-I-“

“I know Tom.” Speaking so quietly it was barely audible, Dom’s eventual agreement at what Tom was saying was in a way a relief. Haz and his mum had both either been saying or implying that they would be okay no matter what - which came from a good place but was so infuriating. Because god forbid, if this situation got worse Tom knew it wouldn’t be okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. So his Dad’s simple acknowledgment meant a lot, causing Tom to turn round and embrace his slightly shorter father.

Dr Goodwell silently watched the exchange for a short while and once the men eventually pulled away she stepped forward to give some more information. She went through what all the biggest and scary looking tubes and wires were doing for Y/n, before explaining the next steps.

“Now as I said before we are sedating her at the moment, while we wait and see if she gets any complications from the surgery that are better treated while she is asleep. By this afternoon we will have a clearer idea and by that point we may choose to withdraw that sedation. It’s important that you are aware though that she might not wakeup immediately. Sometimes some people that have suffered similarly to your fiancé will be unconscious for a while in what I’d presume you’ve heard of as a ‘coma’. Now it’s not as dramatic as you see on TV shows, it’s just Ms Y/l/n’s brain giving her body a chance to recover. It’s often a longer process, which I know is something you don’t want to hear, but I have to be honest.” The doctor was stern but in a softer and from-a-caring-place. “These patients are suggested to possibly recover quicker if they have a steady support network behind them, which it seems like she does. That means that you need to look after yourself so you can help her sir, especially in what could be a long process. It’s not going to be helpful for Yn if you’re killing yourself trying to be here all the time… It seems like Y/n already has quite a big group of you here for her, so please remember you’ve got all of her care team here and everyone else to help you too….Does that make sense sir?”

“Tom” His Dad, in a gentle but firm warning tone, urged Tom to speak and to listen. Properly listen.

“Yeh… I-yeh It’s just all a lot right now.”

“Of course… and we promise that if anything changes with her condition, you will be phoned straight away. You are welcome to stay as long as you want - the only rules are two at a time, no flowers, sign in and out and then sanitise your hands pretty excessively. If you need anything, Ms Y/l/n’s nurse will be your first port of call.”

“Thanks for everything” Dom nodded in a gracious manner, which the doctor seemed to massively appreciate - apparently, for the job they do not receiving a hell of a lot of thanks.

“I’ll pop back in a little bit.”

And for a couple of hours everything everything felt like a bit of an anticlimax, nothing happened, not a lot changed. Just Tom and Dom sat next to Y/n’s bed in silence; Harrison and Nikki downstairs with the baby, till Dom got a phone call from Nikki asking them to meet at the neonatal unit - which was limited by visitor numbers unlike the ICU. Thinking it’d be simple, the elder man gained Tom’s attention with a call of his name, explaining they should go down to meet up.

“I’m not going down there.”

“Son, I know you’re worried by Y/n isnt going anywhere right now. The doctors said they’d call you if anything happens.”

“It’s not-“ Tom stopped himself, biting his tongue and looking away from his Dad. “I just don’t want to go down there.” Slowly, Dom was more and more realising Tom’s thought process and honestly… it scared him. In the hopes this was just a big misunderstanding he offered a different option - hoping Tom would equally refuse that. Dom suggested going down to the cafe instead, which most unfortunately Tom agreed to. It wasn’t leaving Y/n that was the issue, it was being near the baby.

Tom’s daughter. Unnamed and apparently abondoned by both parents.

Anyhow, Dom resigned to playing into Tom’s choice, perhaps Nikki and Harrison would be able to swing him round, to see sense. It still took Tom getting the nurse to triple check they had his correct number on record , just in case, before Dom could tear him away from the bed. Fortunately the pair found a quiet and secluded corner table, where Tom was still yet to be recognised, while Nikki and Haz found them too.

What followed was Tom answering all his mum and Harrison’s questions about Y/n’s condition, in a blunt and emotionless manner - without Tom returning fire by asking any questions at all about his beautiful little baby girl. Eventually Nikki braved it, someone had to bring it up.

“Well it sounds like littles going to change for a while… maybe you should head home for a bit? You’ve been up half the night and you look shattered love. You don’t have to go back to yours… you could stay in your old room for a bit?” Tom being by himself at the moment sounded like the most incredibly stupid idea ever, Nikki was offering it as a choice - when in reality there was only one option.

“Maybe later this evening I will? Just don’t want to leave her alone yet.”

“It’s already 7 love, you’ve not eaten all day, you got to look after yourself too.” Harrison and Dom sat awkwardly while Nikki tried to delicately encourage Tom into what was the only sensible plan, watching him nurse the small hot choclate in both his palms. Time really had lost all meaning at this point, for him it felt both years since he’d first arrived with Y/n and at the same time barely 10 minutes ago. It felt weird.

“We can take shifts? If-if you want someone with her I mean… I don’t mind staying for a bit longer if it means you head back to your parents.” Harrison really truly didnt mind, in fact he sort of wanted to. He wanted to see Y/n’s face definitely alive, wanted to feel reassured by the monitors. Shockingly, Tom slowly nodded his head, surprising everyone with his lack of argument. None of them could work out whether it was a good thing him not putting up much arguement ; either he was heeding everyones advice of taking care of himself - or he had just given up. Harrison, as much as he didn’t want to, was favouring the latter.

“Okay” Nikki declared optimistically “So maybe you and Harrison go up so you can say good night to Y/n, then we can all go and pick up the baby?” She opened the plan to the floor, allowing for input but got nothing - except maybe Tom’s jaw unconsciously tensing uncomfortable at the latter part of her statement. Dom noticed.

Not one noticed but knew what it meant. His son blamed his granddaughter. His son, right now in that moment, hated the unnamed and totally helpless baby girl.

part 4?

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #tomholland #tom holland angst

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