#as if she doesn’t dream of begging at her feet every second of the day

[rottengurlz]

toxic yuri vampires you will always be famous to me

[schemmentis]

La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 24

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18 / Part 19 / Part 20 / Part 21 / Part 22 / Part 23

Cowritten w/ @janeyseymour

Summary: Your new life continues...but the past has a funny way of coming back.

WC: 3.1k

Melissa keeps her word. She’s able to keep Lena with her mother while everything gets sorted out. And when it comes down to it, Lena and her mother end up staying in your guest room for a bit until they can get back on their feet.

So, the names Melissa and Y/N slowly fade away and become a thing of the past for the time being. Only when you’re positive that the other family is out of the house do you call each other by your real names.

After a few months, your girls are trying to convince Lena’s mother to stay with the four of you. Even though you’d arranged it so Lena had even gone to summer camp with them, and it had been months since that trip on top. With a bit of savings, and a few favors from one of the real estate guys you know, they’ve found their own little townhouse not too far from yours. You ensure they know the space is always there for them if it’s needed but you don’t beg like your daughters. You and Melissa have to bribe them with a movie weekend to get them to stop pouting once Lena and her mother officially move out. Despite the fact they still see Lena every day at school and spend plenty afternoons afterward between both of your houses.

By then, it’s the end of summer. Your wife has stolen the laptop you share for late nights putting together her lesson plan for the new year. Thankfully, this is your job’s slow season. You gladly hand primary possession to Melissa, taking over dinner and other evening chores in her stead so she doesn’t have to worry about anything that isn’t getting everything straightened out for the new school year. You knew she hated feeling unprepared, especially when it came to teaching.

It wasn’t the same as the restaurant. That brief glimmer of a dream come true that you try not to think about because of all the other things it was wrapped up in. It isn’t the same but you still see that spark of passion, even if it isn’t as bright for this profession as her previous. You see it all the same and smile with every new school year for the reminder of it.

You take a rare Monday half-day the day the school year starts. It used to be because you had to in order to ensure the girls were to school on time. One less thing for your wife to worry about that day even if it was in the same building. Plus, you got to sneak a little extra time with her yourself after seeing the girls to class.

Now, it’s out of habit though you’ve switched to taking the afternoon instead of the morning off. Especially since the girls try to speed walk away from the car that morning before you or Melissa can get out of it to avoid being seen with you. Like their friends don’t know who you are. In particular who Mrs. Vinci the second grade teacher is.

“Okay, bye!” Your wife shouts once she’s stepped out of the car herself. “Have a great first day! Mommy loves you!!”

You see the cringe of two pairs of shoulders as they duck inside while you step to Melissa’s side. “You did that one on purpose.” You accuse.

“No idea what you mean, Amore.” She murmurs as she loops her arm with yours to start walking in together. The smirk on her lips tells you she knows exactly what you mean and it very much was on purpose.

“Don’t torture them for not sayin’ goodbye at lunch, huh?” You suggest as you round the corner to head down the hall for her classroom. “It’s too early in the year for me to referee at dinner.”

“Honey, you’re refereeing in this family year round and you know that.” She retorts. Her arm unhooks from yours to pull out her keys to unlock the door that she props open. 

You lean against the doorway as she crosses to her desk. Her mug of coffee sat down along with her purse. “I could bring you lunch instead?” You offer a more tempting solution. “Sandwiches from your favorite deli? That’s a good start to the school year, huh?”

“You wanna renew our vows?” Melissa jokes in place of a yes. Still, she grins at you a moment later when she glances up from organizing her desk. “What’d I say? Refereeing twenty four seven, Amore. Without even meanin’ to.” She winks before turning her attention back to getting ready for the day.

You take what you know to be an absolute joke to heart though. “We never did officially get married as Raphaela and Saoirse.”

“I was joking, my love,” your wife chuckles softly. She sees the way that you look at her though, a softness that is only reserved for her. “Maybe.”

“I have to head to work,” you kiss her gently. “But you have a great first day, and please… don’t embarrass our girls. Please.”

“I make no such promises,” Melissa tells you earnestly. Then her lips quirk upwards. “I swear, all I do is breathe sometimes, and Cat flips her shit.”

“She takes after you,” you remind her. “Rosie definitely takes more after me.”

“That she does.”

You press one last kiss to her lips before you head out to your own job. 

It’s a slow day for you, and one of your clients ends up having the last name ‘Howard’. It takes you back years as your mind is flooded with memories. You wonder what they’re up to. Is Barbara still teaching at Abbott? Is Gerald still a senator? That gets you thinking about what the rest of your group is up to. After going down the rabbit hole and being relieved that both sets of parents are still alive and well, you check a few of the names of those in La Cosa Nostra. Dominic and Tommy are both dead. Dominic and Tommy have been dead for years. You swallow harshly at that news.

Meanwhile, Melissa is greeting her students at the door as they come in for the first day with their parents. It's all normal first day jitters until green eyes land on two figures she’s seen before… and not in New York.

Your wife coughs awkwardly. “Danik? Shaw?”

Two pairs of eyes dart right to her. “M- Raphaela?”

“I- oh my God.” Then she smirks and punches Shaw lightly. “I see you finally grew a pair and asked her out.”

“We’ve been married for the last… pretty much as soon as you left,” Shaw rubs his arm in the place that your wife playfully smacked him. “Had Frankie not too much later.”

“Frankie? I have a Frankie in my class this year,” Melissa stutters out.

“It’s funny,” Grace chuckles softly. “We saw the name of his teacher, but we didn’t think it could possibly be you.”

“It- it is,” she says softly. “Hey… I have to get to the kids, but… we should meet soon and discuss what’s happened in the past eight years.”

“We should,” both agents say at the same time. 

When the afternoon finally arrives, you swiftly turn off your computer. You’d ended up not getting nearly enough done. Instead, you’d gotten lost in following all those old ties. Seeing what presence of members of the Family you could track down. Most of them lead you to obituaries. It had only been in the last hour you’d be at the office that you had brought yourself to actually search for members of your family. You find a small smattering of them online; sharing photos from gatherings and holidays and birthdays. 

What had entirely stopped you short had been coming across a memorial post. For you, Melissa, and your daughters. For some reason, you hadn’t even considered it would be your own memorial you’d run across even as you had done so for many others you knew in your old life. You look at the poster, closing your eyes briefly when you see it’s Kristen Marie. If Melissa finds out about this you know you won’t be able to keep her from booking a flight to Philadelphia. Not if her sister is posting things like this, remembering her every year publicly on plenty of different occasions. This was the type of thing a Schemmenti sister pretended to not care enough to do. The fact that Kristen Marie has, and multiple times over a near decade, speaks volumes. 

It would be one thing if it had only been your daughters. You knew Melissa wouldn’t pitch a fight over that. She’d agree the girls should be remembered. Completely innocent just like they still were. You know though if your wife sees her own face and the caption her sister has put sharing how much she misses her it will be the last straw on the homesickness you’ve both been fighting ever since you left. 

From Kristen Marie’s post, you’d looked through her profile and clicked through to Mickey’s. Mickey who had gotten out only a few months after you’d ‘died.’ Mickey who’s profile is nearly entirely Melissa, you and your twins. The only exception is posts from Sunday dinner of everyone together. Even then there’s always a mention of the four of you.

You don’t dare click on the profile you see for Barbara. Relieved when that had been when you’d glanced to the clock to find it time to go. A quick rush to your wife’s favorite deli to pick up lunch and you’re walking back into the school. You’re certain you’re going to become an honorary TA for the rest of the afternoon but you don’t mind.

You knock on the doorway before you walk back into Melissa’s classroom. “Lunch as promised.” You say as you place her sandwich on her desk, pointedly over the papers she’d been trying to grade despite being on her break. It’s only when she looks up to glare at you for it that you steal a kiss, winking as you move to pull up your own chair.

“Thank you, Amore.” Melissa says as she unwraps both your lunches while you pull the chair over. “You’re never gonna guess who the parents of one of my kids this year is.”

“Don’t tell me it’s the youngest kid of that one mom from a couple years ago that was an absolute bitch and thought you were wrong for failing her daughter?”

Melissa’s lips form into a tight line. “Nope.”

“Who?”

“Danik and Shaw. Their son Frankie is in my class.”

“What?” Your eyes nearly pop out of your head.

“They dropped him off this morning and couldn’t believe it either.”

“Wh- how? Why are they in New York?”

“I don’t know,�� she says quietly. “We didn’t get a chance to chat, but I told them we should meet at some point to discuss everything.”

“Oh god,” you groan softly. “Well… you’ll never guess what I did today at work.”

“What’s that?” your wife’s brow furrows as she takes a bite out of her sandwich.

“I…” You take a deep breath. “I went back to our past lives. Looked up people who were real important to us from Philly.”

“Y-you did?”

“I don’t know what came over me,” you whisper softly as a few tears bloom to your eyes. “Our parents are still alive. Kristen Marie is still alive and kicking. Mickey’s Facebook is pretty much dedicated to us… I didn’t have the courage to check on Barb’s facebook, but she seems to be doing well. I found our memorial pages. It was…” you sniffle. “And uh,” you scratch the back of your head. “Dom and Tommy are gone. Have been for years.”

“They’re gone?” Melissa’s face pales just slightly. You know how much they meant to her, even if they almost always put you through hell.

You nod silently. “Died in prison.”

“C-can you show me their obituaries?”

“At home, love. For now, can we just… If we keep talking about it, I’m going to keep crying,” you request softly. “Almost everyone from Cosa Nostra is gone. And we can look into it later tonight… when the girls are asleep.”

She obliges your request, reaching a hand over to settle gently on your thigh. She squeezes it softly, letting you know silently that she’s here for you.

Despite your request to not speak of it, you continue to have tears fall down your cheeks as you break down quietly. You tend to break down a bit more than she does- you blame the girls and the fact that you gave birth to them for that.

“I miss our old lives,” you whisper, voice cracking. “I miss my mam, and my dad… I miss Babs.”

“I know,” she replies just as quietly. “I thought it would get easier.”

“I wish… I wish we could go back.”

“I do too,” Melissa tells you. “But like you’ve told me before: the life that we built here is just as beautiful, and not nearly as messy. It’s what we had to do to keep our girls safe.”

She goes on to say more, but the bell rings to signify that lunch is over. You quickly finish your lunches before she’s standing at the door and waiting for her little gremlins to come in.

As soon as you see Frankie, you know who he is. He is almost a spitting image of his father, right down to the goofy smile that you only got to see a few times while he was trying to keep spirits light for your girls in the hospital. And that… that’s something special that tugs at your heartstrings. 

You turn back around under the cover of saying goodbye one more time. Something you’d be guilty of anyway but today you have other motivation too. “When they pick him up, see if you can find out when they’re free. Maybe invite ‘em to the house? We can have dinner when the girls stay at Lena’s next.” You say before kissing her one last time then letting her get back to teaching the second half of the day. You meant to offer to help her out if you could but after the conversation over lunch, and your mild breakdown, you figure its best you take a little breathing room. For you both.

You force yourself not to go home. You know if you do you’ll just go right back to digging and you can’t let yourself now. At least tonight Melissa will be looking with you and her stronger willpower can get you to stop better than just you on your own. You wouldn’t have stopped at the office if you hadn’t been leaving early today.

You avoid the hallway where you know the middle school’s classes are to ensure your girls don’t see you. You’re not trying to get a lecture about being embarrassing tonight over dinner. You duck into the library, finding one of your old favorites among the shelves to get lost in for the hundredth time. Which you do, thankfully. Your mind keeps distracted until you hear the dismissal bell. You take the time to finish the page you were on to avoid arriving to pick up either your daughters or your wife too quickly. Any of the three of them would be suspicious, especially knowing you had the afternoon off today.

Carefully, you return the book to the proper section of the shelf before you step out of the library once more. You make your way to get the girls first. They don’t have any of their extracurriculars today and you don’t want them to end up just standing outside when you’re already here. Still, you decide to wait halfway down the hall instead of going to the door. The potential for a lecture is still on your mind. You wait only a few minutes before both Cat and Rosie exit their homeroom with Lena and some of their other friends. All of which greet you politely and with smiles but still Cat takes your hand to hurry you back down the hallway to get you on your way to pick up Melissa before you can manage more than a hello.

You roll your eyes where neither of the girls can see though you don’t fight. Not that you really want to, considering it is your wife’s classroom you’re once again returning to today. 

“Hi, Ma.” Cat and Rosie greet her at the doorway in unison. 

You don’t think either of them see it but you still pick up on the miniscule jolt at the nickname. “There’s my three favorite ladies. Gimmie just a minute to get my stuff together and I’ll be ready.”

You turn back toward the hallway at a tap at your leg. “‘Scuse me,” A tiny voice says to you, stepping past you in the room you’ve made in the doorway once you’ve turned.

“Ms. Vinci, my mommy said to give you this note.” The little boy says as he nearly runs into your wife’s legs in his hurry to get to her to complete the task. 

“Thank you, Frankie. Tell her I’ll talk to her soon, okay? And don’t run in the hallway on your way back to her and your dad.”

“We’re getting reading time tomorrow, right?”

Your wife laughs, nodding. “Yes, I promise, now go before you worry your parents, sweetheart.”

In anticipation you press against the doorway to give little Frankie enough room to zoom past you in the lead up to his sprint down the hall. Your eyes follow him just to make sure he’s safe. Just to meet the gaze of Agent Danik, or Shaw? You’ll have to ask her when you properly catch up. She waves once before leading Frankie out the front door of the school.

You turn back around to see Melissa’s gaze on the paper that Frankie handed her. Her face flickers through several emotions before she jumpstarts back up and continues packing her bags.

You cross the room and pick up a few things to help assist her. It earns you a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“Alright, my loves,” she finally sighs once she tucks the paper away. “Let’s head home. Mommy’s making lasagna tonight.”

As you all climb into the car, you glance back to ensure that your girls are distracted. Of course they are, both with headphones on and drowning out the world around them.

“What did the note say?” you ask as you squeeze her hand gently.

“Danik said we should meet them at their house on Saturday. Gave me the address and everything,” Melissa says through a tight lip.

“Should we?” You hope she nods, and she does.

Once you’re home, the girls fly up to their rooms to start on homework. They grumble about the fact that it’s ridiculous that they have homework on the first day of school. You’re inclined to agree.

[zombholic]

CONSUMED PT. 2 — abby anderson

summary — the fame really consumed her.

description — rockstar!abby, poc fem!reader, explicit content, sfw & nsfw, modern au, no post outbreak.

authors note — lets pray i don’t abandon this series, i dont like this chapter but guys i promise it will get better!

It had only been two days in your trip and you couldn’t get her out your head, Abby was consuming your mind, so fucking stupid she probably doesn’t even remember you.

You were trying to get ready, Ellie wanted to go to this club so badly that she was on her knees begging you to come along so she wouldn’t be left alone with Jesse’s insufferable ass, her words.

Sitting down on the toilet seat on this small hotel room you were scrolling through instagram, more specifically Abby’s page.

You felt like you were going to throw up your own heart, how the fucking stars aligned of course she was coming here for her tour the week you were visiting.

“Can you hurry up! I have to shit!” Jesse started banging on the door.

“Shut up!” You quickly turned your phone off and opened the door only to be quickly pushed out by the man who looks like he’s about to shit himself.

Ellie was facing the mirror fixing her hair, she turned around to look at you with a smile on her face.

“How many girl am I gonna pull tonight?” She bit her bottom lip giving you the light skin Justin Bieber face.

“I’m going to punch you in the throat.” You rolled your eyes going over to sit on the bed.

“What’s wrong now?” She sat beside your feet placing her hand on your knee.

“Abby’s coming to Madison Square tomorrow what if i run into her?” Ellie laughed at your stupid question.

“Did you forget that asshole is like an A-list celeb now, there’s no chance you’ll run into her bitchass.” You knew she was right but secretly you wished it would happen.

The club seemed so much more popular than Ellie said, you could spot out influencers left and right. You clung onto Ellie like your life depended on it, mostly because you were known for getting lost easily.

Ellie was sparking up conversations with every girl she saw, Jesse was on the floor dancing his heart out with his drink in hand, you were sat at the bar sipping on your frozen margarita.

“Stop looking all sad and dance with me.” Ellie hands you a shot which you gratefully took.

She grabs your hand and takes you over to Jesse who was definitely drunk by now, all three of you snapped your neck over to the direction of where the commotion started to grow louder by the second.

Jesse being Jesse he ran over the crowd that started to form, you and Ellie chasing him down. Slipping between people you had managed to grab the loop of his jeans.

“Need to get you a damn leash—“ “Y/n?” The voice sounded so familiar but you refused to turn around.

“No, nope, let’s go!” Ellie grabbed your arm along with Jesse’s.

You turned your head to see the commotion that was started by Abby, your eyes meeting each others for just a moment.

Jesse threw himself onto the bed groaning and complaining that his head was hurting, Ellie made him chug a glass of water before sending him to bed like he was her child.

You were still in shock seeing Abby, how is it that the same day you see her post you meet her at the club? Maybe this was a dream and you’ll wake up. Your heart felt like it was going to break once more while it was trying to heal.

“I think I may have jinxed what I said earlier.” Ellie rubbed your back a hint of guilt lingered in her voice.

“I’m just gonna go to bed.” You gave her a tight lipped smile.

Your phone chimed a couple of times, you dried your face off with a towel before grabbing it thinking it was Ellie asking you for something.

[bloody-bee-tea]

24 Days of Satosugu 2023 Day 18 - Uncertainty

This fic was inspired by this wonderful headcanon from @get0suguru

“Trust fall!” Satoru yells, hurling himself at Shoko only to stop floating at the exact place where she stands. Or well, stood, because she neatly side-stepped him and then watches uncaringly how he falls on his ass.

It doesn’t hurt because Infinity stops him from really hitting the ground, but his ego does take a bruise.

“Ow, Shoko, how can you be so mean to me?” he whines out, getting up and dusting himself off as if he needs it, but Shoko only regards him with slight annoyance.

“Do you do that with everyone?” she wants to know and Satoru honestly hadn’t thought about it.

It’s just—he was bored just a moment ago and Shoko walked past, and it had seemed like a good idea. He needs to use his new floating abilities for something, right?

And it might actually be fun to see how everyone else will react, though he hopes no one is as mean to him as Shoko just was.

“Yes,” Satoru confidently says even though he has yet to jump at anyone else like that and Shoko narrows her eyes at him.

“I am not going to heal you, should anything happen, so don’t even think about coming to me,” she informs him and Satoru doesn’t doubt that for a second.

He also doesn’t remind her that he doesn’t need her healing anymore.

“And the others?”

“If you hurt any of the others with these stupid shenanigans of yours I expect you to beg.” There’s a pleased look to her face and Satoru presses his lips together.

“Fine,” he still agrees because what else is he supposed to do and Shoko smiles at him like she knows it, too.

But not even the threat of having to beg her for some healing is going to stop him now that she planted the idea in his head and he gives her a blinding smile.

“I’ll get you one day, too, just you wait,” Satoru confidently tells her and Shoko crosses her arms in front of her chest.

“Dream on, oh honoured one.” It’s said in a mocking voice and sometimes Satoru wishes he would have never mentioned this to her and Suguru, because the teasing has been endless.

Shoko simply walks off after saying that, leaving Satoru behind and for a brief moment he thinks about trying it again, even though he knows his chances are about the same for her catching him.

No, he’ll have to catch her off guard one day, and he vows that he will do it, too.

~*~*~

Things with Nanami go about as well as expected. He regards him just like Shoko had when Satoru falls to his ass after yelling “Trust fall” and dropping himself in reach of Nanami.

It’s about what Satoru had expected, if he’s being honest.

Nanami is not his biggest fan, and he keeps reminding Satoru at every possible moment that his Infinity is keeping him safe from everything. It makes Satoru wonder, sometimes, if Nanami would simply assume the same during a fight and Satoru has to admit that it makes something uneasy curl in his stomach.

He might have automated Infinity, but it’s not fool proof yet and one of these days he’s going to get his ass handed to him. The only question is if Nanami would simply watch it happen or not.

Satoru shakes his head at those thoughts, because of course Nanami wouldn’t simply let it happen, not once he notices what’s going on, but the thought is still hard to shake.

It makes Satoru refrain from immediately trying Haibara next, because Nanami huffing out an amused laugh as Satoru crashed to the ground was certainly a blow to the ego.

Still, Haibara has to suffer through the same eventually, and Haibara—bless his heart—actually attempts to catch him.

He stumbles over his own feet in the end, and he isn’t quite strong enough to take the entirety of Satoru’s weight, but at least an attempt was made.

“Hey, you okay?” Haibara wants to know once Satoru’s feet are safely back on the ground and Satoru grins at him.

“Trust fall,” he belatedly tells him because he might have forgotten to mention that, and Haibara’s concern warms his heart.

“Oh. Well, I guess I failed, right? Didn’t quite catch you there,” Haibara says with an embarrassed laugh and Satoru grins at him.

“Actually, you get full marks, on behalf of the others failing,” he informs him brightly but Haibara frowns at him.

“Geto let you fall? That doesn’t sound right,” Haibara mutters and now it’s Satoru’s turn to let out an embarrassed laugh.

“Haha, yeah, no, I haven’t gotten to him yet. But Shoko and Nanami let me fall, which is all kinds of rude, if you ask me.”

“Geto won’t,” Haibara says, clearly completely convinced and Satoru gives him his best bright grin.

“Yeah, he probably won’t,” he agrees, even though he’s not quite sure about that.

“Anyway, was there anything you need, or was this all?” Haibara asks and Satoru pats his shoulder.

“That’s all, thanks for trying,” Satoru honestly says, and he is grateful that Haibara did try.

Didn’t quite succeed but the intent clearly was there, which can’t be said for Shoko and Nanami.

“You’re welcome,” Haibara calls out and jogs off, leaving Satoru to his own thoughts.

He’s not insecure, not quite, but there are certain things that make him uncertain. And one uncertainty is if Suguru really would catch him.

Satoru thinks he might—hopes so, really—but he can’t be sure about that unless he tries and that’s what’s stopping him from trying.

If Suguru lets him fall flat on his ass—even though Infinity will protect him from getting hurt—Satoru is not sure if he’ll ever make it back to his feet.

Well, there’s no rush in trying it out with Suguru, Satoru muses, and if he just ends up never doing it with him, who will be able to tell, right?

~*~*~

“I heard you’ve been doing a trust fall exorcise with the others,” Suguru off-handedly mentions one day and Satoru freezes.

“Now who would have possibly said something like that?” he eventually laughs out, but he knows that it took him too long because Suguru looks strangely at him.

“Haibara mentioned it the other day and Shoko and Nanami weren’t shy to share their stories then. How come you haven’t tried it with me?”

“Ah, Suguru, come on, is there really a reason to? We’re the strongest,” Satoru tries, slinging his arm around Suguru’s neck and hanging off his side.

“So? What does that have to do with anything?”

Satoru opens his mouth but no words actually come out and he almost loses his balance when Suguru suddenly stops walking.

“Satoru, you know I’d catch you, right?” he wants to know and he seems so serious that there really is nothing else for Satoru to do but nod.

“Of course I know,” he quietly gives back but the frown won’t vanish from Suguru’s face.

“No matter what, I’d always catch you, Satoru,” Suguru tells him and it sounds like the truth.

“We’ll see about that,” Satoru says with a cheeky grin, because it’s a big promise to make and now he’s actually even more afraid of trying it out because if Suguru doesn’t catch him then he will have lied to Satoru.

And that is not something Satoru is sure he could stand.

~*~*~

After that talk it becomes clear that Suguru is just waiting for Satoru to do the trust fall exorcise with him as well and he seems to worry more with every day that passes that Satoru doesn’t do it.

Satoru knows he’ll have to do it eventually, but he still needs to hype himself up for it, tries to convince himself that it doesn’t matter if Suguru lets him fall flat on his ass, because it’s not as if that can hurt Satoru.

Well, Satoru’s body can’t be hurt like that. His heart is an entirely different matter.

Still, eventually he has to do it, and so he does.

He’s floating high up in the air when he spots Suguru walking along the path under him, clearly ready to return to his room and Satoru thinks it’s now or never.

“Trust fall,” he shouts, causing Suguru to snap his head up to him and Suguru is running before Satoru even really stopped floating.

He’s plummeting from a pretty significant height, so Satoru breaks the fall down himself until he’s about an arm length above Suguru and then he simply lets himself fall.

And Suguru catches him easily.

He doesn’t stumble and he doesn’t belatedly drop him to the floor, either; his arms are safe and secure around Satoru and he’s holding him tightly to his chest.

“Told you so,” Suguru tells him with a grin, slightly out of breath from the sprint he had to do to get to Satoru in time and Satoru finds himself beaming back at Suguru.

“That you did,” he agrees and mourns the loss of contact when Suguru sets him down on the ground.

“You good?” Suguru asks, clearly worried for a second anyway but Satoru nods.

“I’m perfect.”

And he is, knowing that Suguru keeps his promise.

~*~*~

It’s addicting. It’s addicting in a way Satoru wasn’t prepared for and he fully blames Suguru for it, because he does keep his promise.

He keeps catching Satoru no matter what.

Satoru has taken to let himself fall into Suguru’s arms multiple times a day, simply because he can and simply because Suguru is always ready and never seems to mind and it makes something bright and warm unfurl in Satoru’s chest.

One time, Suguru had been giving a report to Yaga, stacks of paper in his hands and they had gone flying everywhere when Suguru spotted Satoru in the air.

Yaga is still yelling at them for it, and Satoru would feel bad for getting Suguru into trouble with something stupid like that, but Suguru never seems to mind and he always tells Yaga that it was more important to catch Satoru at that moment. The papers could be picked up later, anyways.

That statement made Satoru’s heart beat like crazy and he might have gotten even more obnoxious since then.

“Trust fall!” Satoru laughs out, floating in the air a little ahead of Suguru and the moment he says it, Suguru starts running.

And it’s only then that Satoru sees that Suguru was holding his favourite mug in one hand, which is now flying through the air before it crashes to the ground and breaks just as Suguru brings his arms up to catch Satoru.

Just like he always does.

“Got you,” Suguru mutters, briefly pressing Satoru to his chest before he lets go of him again and Satoru feels horrible.

“I am so sorry,” he whispers, his eyes fixed on Suguru’s chest. “I didn’t mean to make you drop that.”

“Huh?” Suguru says and turns around to look at the destroyed mug. “Oh, that. Doesn’t matter, I still caught you.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten hurt,” Satoru says and takes a step back. “You know that, right? There’s actually no real reason for you to always catch me.”

“What? Of course there is,” Suguru immediately gives back and flicks Satoru’s forehead. “I told you I would, so I’m doing it.”

“But—that was your favourite mug, which is now broken. I wouldn’t have broken if you had let me fall this one time,” Satoru mutters, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Wouldn’t you?” Suguru seriously asks and Satoru’s head snaps up to look at him. “I think something might have broken if I had let you fall, and I’m not about to take that chance. It’s just a mug, Satoru, you can buy me a new one.”

Suguru’s words make Satoru blush something fierce, because he might be right. If Suguru had let him fall, Satoru’s heart might have broken on impact.

Still.

“I won’t do it again. And I’ll pay for a new mug, of course,” he tells Suguru who flicks his forehead again. “Hey, ouch,” Satoru complaints and rubs the spot even as Suguru leans forward to better look at him.

“Satoru, don’t be stupid. You can do it as much as you want, I’ll always catch you, no matter what I have to drop to do so.”

He seems completely serious as he says it, as if it’s not even a question for him that he’ll continue to be right there whenever Satoru falls and it’s too much to take for the moment, so Satoru turns his attention to the mug again.

It was a stupid gag gift he got Suguru; the words I’m the sexiest mother around printed on the mug, which Satoru thought kind of fitting, because Suguru is somewhat the mother hen of their group. The fact that warm liquid turns the print into I’m the sexiest motherfucker around is even more fitting and had sent Satoru into a laughing fit before he immediately bought it for Suguru.

He is the sexiest person around, after all. Not that Satoru is ever going to tell him that.

“You’ll still have to pick a new mug,” Satoru mutters, not daring to address what Suguru just said and Suguru rolls his eyes.

“That was my favourite mug because you bought it for me,” he tells him with a sigh and Satoru gapes at him.

“That was a stupid gag gift!”

“A stupid gag gift I happen to like because it came from you,” Suguru immediately shoots back and looks expectantly at Satoru. “So you’ll have to buy me a new one. But something with a more fitting text this time, maybe.”

“Oh yeah, and what would be more fitting than what was on that one?” Satoru asks, wondering what Suguru is on about and he knows he ran right into whatever trap Suguru set up when he smiles brightly at him.

“Maybe something along the lines of Best boyfriend,” he easily says and Satoru’s mouth drops open.

“I—�� he doesn’t actually know what to say to that, doesn’t know how to deal with this at all and he wishes instead of floating he could phase right through the ground.

“Can’t be too hard to find something like that, right?” Suguru whispers, leaning close and brushing his lips against Satoru’s cheek.

“And what do I get?” Satoru finally manages to get out, his voice just a tad too high and his knees wobble dangerously when Suguru smiles at him.

“The same? I mean, you’d be my boyfriend then, too, right?”

“I sure would be,” Satoru mutters under his breath and makes a stupidly embarrassing noise when Suguru steals a kiss for himself.

“You sure are,” Suguru corrects him. “And as your boyfriend it’s my duty to always catch you, no matter what.”

“Well, as your boyfriend it’s my duty to not make you drop things you like,” Satoru shoots back and his feelings turn a little gooey when Suguru takes his hand in his.

“I haven’t dropped you,” he seriously says and Satoru fears the blush on his face might be permanent at this point.

“You—” he gets out before he thinks that kissing Suguru again might be the better route to take here.

“And I don’t intent to,” Suguru mutters against his lips when they part and really, there is nothing Satoru can do but to accept it.

“Fine. I’m counting on you, then,” he agrees, making Suguru smile again.

“Always,” he promises and Satoru is inclined to believe him.

It certainly doesn’t help that he now gets extra kisses every time Suguru catches him, though Satoru is careful to not make him drop his boyfriend mug. They have to match, after all.

[ellieslittlebitch69]

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Hey besties :)) I'm baked and decided to put out another chapter ;) Let me know what you think so far!! And thank you for the love so far, you're all so sweet!

Prologue: Home Is Where The Heart is

Home Is Where The Heart Is: Chapter One 

------

It’s been weeks since i’ve arrived in Jackson, and not once have I slept through the night. 

David taunts me in my dreams, reminding me of everything he’s stolen. My family, my body, my sanity. My rest, apparently too. Just as I escape one horror, closing my eyes sinks me into the next. My eyes burn and itch throughout the days, a light pink hugh shadowing them.

A few days ago, I was finally able to trade the wheelchair for some sturdy crutches. I’ve already eaten shit a good few times, in public to my dismay. They lie next to me as I sit in front of the fireplace, drying my hair as I wait for Tommy.

We’ve formed somewhat of an understanding. He stops by every morning, watching me take my pills and eat something for breakfast, smiling as he watches me eat. By nightfall he returns, with dinner and always begs me to come into town. Ever since the incident, though, I’ve locked myself away at home.

I still find myself thinking about her, Ellie. I see her and Joel walking home from the square at night, practically glued to one another’s side. Sometimes, it makes me think of father. I wonder how he would like Jackson, or the people around us. Maybe we’d be living here together.

Just as I let my mind begin a dark turn, I hear my door pound, “Door’s open, Tommy.”

The door stays still for a moment, and I wonder what is taking so long until the door opens and… Tommy isn’t standing there, holding a plate of white pasta and a glass of orange juice.

Ellie is.

I take a deep breath, “Oh, did you come to fight? Kind of petty not to wait until I'm able.”

She’s silent for a moment, before willing a smile onto her lips. She’s wearing a pair of dark denim, a maroon long sleeve shirt, with matching tennis shoes. Like always, her hair pulled back to reveal her ocean eyes. It was like torture.

“Tommy and Joel are on late night patrol… so I thought I could bring you dinner.”

Ellie doesn’t move from her spot by the door, holding the tray with both hands. She avoids eye contact like the plague.

My lips twitch into a smile, “and how do I know you didn’t poison it?”

She ignores my comment as she walks forward, setting the steaming plate in front of me. It smells of roast chicken and garlic, instantly making my mouth water. By the time I look up at her again, she’s staring at me intently.

She takes a deep breath, “Joel and Tommy thought it would be best if I… apologize, for the other night.”

“Oh?”

Ellie holds herself together strong, but I can see the quivers in her arms as she stands there. Her eyes shift with uncertainty, never quite meeting a particular target. It was almost funny to watch, seeing this tough girl seemingly fall apart.

“Well,” I start. “Lets hear it, then.”

A nervous laugh escapes her lips, “I did? That was my apology.”

“You fucking suck at apologizing, Ellie.”

We stare at each other for a moment, before bursting into laughter. The second one of us would stop, the other would snort so loud it would trigger another fit. Laughing like this felt good, really good. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this.

Ellie takes a seat next to me on the couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table. As she got comfortable, I took the time to completely devour my plate, barely even chewing. The sauce was savory and filled with herbs, while the chicken was juicy and tender. By the time I was finished, I couldn’t help but let out a burp.

She lets out a deep sigh, “I remember my few weeks. I ate so much I looked pregnant.”

“Yeah, well I miss having boobs,” I laugh, licking my fingers. “I look like a little boy.”

Ellie looks down at her own chest with a frown, “At least you’ve HAD them, i don’t think i’ll ever get any.”

We burst out laughing again, and I take this opportunity to look at her. The freckles splayed out on her cheeks, underpainted with a deep blush. Her nose, curved and tiny, like a little button. The way she’d bat her eyelashes. It was all too much.

She catches her breath, “I really am sorry, for the other day. I’m just not used to being around… nice people.”

“Who said anything about being nice?” I reply, looking over at her soft expression. “No, really it’s okay. I’m sorry for staring.”

“Why were you staring, anyway?”

I look at her for a moment, puzzled. Either I can tell her the truth, that I find her absolutely breathtaking. That the sight of her made me stop in my tracks and smile. Or, I can lie. And based on how creepy the truth sounds, I take the lying approach.

I inhale, “I don’t think I've ever really seen anyone my age before. Every settlement I've ever been to has been overflowing with old people.”

This makes her laugh, “That sounds… awful. I hate old people.”

“Well you sure do seem to love Tommy and Joel.”

I wish I could take it back, the look on her face lowers for a moment. Her mouth gapes like a fish, trying to decide what to say before ultimately closing multiple times. 

She lets out a small smile, “yeah, well. I guess family is different.”

I think back on what Tommy said, my first night. It was hard to think I could have found my place, my people here. I’m still waiting for the punch in the gut, when these people finally show their true colors and I’ll have to flee. But, for some reason I don’t see it coming.

Ellie makes herself comfortable, as she tells me the stories of her previous mission with Joel. Traveling across the country, to be reunited with the Fireflies. She never tells me why, and I don’t ask. Hours flow by, and I notice her mannerisms. The way she bites her pinky when she’s nervous. Licking her chapped lips between sentences. Her voice getting louder when she gets to an exciting part of the story.

As she comes to an end, her eyes glance over to my bow, “Oh my god, that is sexy.”

“Sexiest thing i’ve ever seen,” I laugh, running my finger tips over its arch. “It was my father’s, he carved it before the apocalypse.”

I hand it to her, watching as she runs her fingers over the black-stained bow. The intricacies carved into the sides. It makes me smile, knowing fathers work will be appreciated even after he’s long gone. 

Ellie looks up, “I’m sorry he couldn’t make it with you.”

I shrug her off, “Oh well, that’s life. He’d love it here, though.”

“The food is great.”

I crack a smile, looking at the bow. “Oh yeah, he’d love that too. But, he always dreamed of living in peace again. Just existing instead of surviving. And you guys have beer? Woah.”

We stare at each other for a minute, and I find myself getting sucked into her eyes again. It was a trap, really. Like a magnet, I feel our faces slowly come closer to each other.

Which is then interrupted by Tommy and Joel, crashing open the door. Ellie stumbles back, laying back on the couch while I run my fingers through my hair with a nervous laugh. Fuck.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Tommy chuckles. “Look at that. big brother. They didn’t kill each other.”

Joel lets out a laugh, eyes glancing to my empty plate. The smile stays glued to my face as he approaches the coffee table, looking over me again for a moment. His fingers come to his watch, stroking the leather slowly. 

He lets out a sigh, “Alright, Ellie. You need some sleep, you have school tomorrow.”

Ellie let’s put a huff, “What’s even the point? It’s not like I have to go to college?”

I had never been able to go to a school before, besides bible study. Mama, for the most part, taught me everything I knew. What plants to forage, how to read and write, basic math. 

“School?” I ask, looking over to Tommy. “There’s school here, too?”

“Why yes there is,” he says with a smile. “We didn’t wanna overwhelm you, though. If you don’t-“

“I wanna go to school, please I am so bored. If I can't go hunting yet I might as well thump some books.”

Tommy and Joel glance at one another, contemplating for a moment, while Ellie gives me a nervous smile. I can’t look at her straight on though, without my cheeks bursting with a blush.

Joel nods, “Sounds good. Ellie will pick you up tomorrow at 8.”

“You’re not even gonna ask-“

“No, because I told you to Ellie.” Joel shoots me a wink before helping Ellie off the couch. 

The both of them stare into each other's eyes, challenging silently before Ellie backs down, looking over her shoulder at me with a half smile.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at eight.”

——

Ellie walks me to school every morning with a smile. There was never a dull moment between us, and the second there was silence she would slip out a joke book from her back pack. The jokes were stupid, but the way her face would light up everytime she told one made my heart erupt. In a way, she reminded me of Bonnie. There was still a touch of innocence. I want to be jealous of her, somehow traveling across the country with her family intact and a smile on her face. But I couldn't help but be happy for her. It must be nice.

It’s been a few weeks, and I’m officially free from the crutches. Despite a slight limp, I’m almost fully healed. I sit at my desk in the study, writing a two page paper for English. Ellie complained when our teacher assigned the work, but it made me smile. A little distraction never hurt anyone.

Tomorrow is my first day on the hunting crew. I’ve been assigned with Joel and Jesse, a young boy a few years ahead of me. My body shakes and twitches with excitement, to finally return to the woods, to run my fingers across the string of the bow. To prove that I am worthy to live in the community.

Just as I begin to write my final paragraph, I hear a low crash in the living room. I drop the lead pencil, freezing in my place. The crashing continues, footsteps increasing pace towards the door.

Without second thought, I grab and load my bow, staring intently at the door. I can hear glass crunching under someone’s thick boots, causing me to inch forward. The door opens and I pull the string back, and just as I’m about to release the arrow between their collarbones, I see the blue eyes.

“Ellie?” I sigh, dropping the bow to my side. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I almost killed you, dumbass.”

A smile eases on her lips, as her arms raised in surrender in the air. “I’m sorry, sorry. I was gonna knock, but I wanted to see if your windows lock.”

“Oh my god Ellie, did you break my fucking window?”

“No, no!” She sighs, “But I may have knocked over a lamp or two climbing in.”

Rolling my eyes, I set the bow down on my desk with a frown, “If you’re here to copy my essay, I’m not even finished yet.”

She laughs, “you’re funny, I haven’t thought of that essay since last week.”

“It’s due in three days, Ellie.”

“Well, then I’ll start it in two.”

We stare at each other for a moment as I begin to catch my breath. She wears a leather jacket way too big for her, jeans, and thick leather boots. Instead of her usual ponytail, though, her hair waves against her red cheeks, ending just below her shoulders. 

I clear my throat, “what are you doing here? I have a shift in three hours.”

“And you’re worried about a dumb paper?” She laughs, “I couldn’t sleep and um..” Her eyes shift to her fingers, rubbing them together nervously.

“And?”

Her eyes don’t leave the floor, “I was wondering if you’d teach me how to shoot.”

I laugh, a deep guttural laugh from deep in my belly. How is this girl even alive if she can’t shoot?

“You can’t shoot a gun?” Her eyes lift to meet mine slowly as I speak, cheeks red with embarrassment.

“I meant the bow you idiot.”

I blink slowly, looking over at the analog clock sitting on the table. 3:26 a.m. There was a part of me that wanted to say no, to tell her that no one else was allowed to use it. But I couldn’t say no to those fucking eyes. 

A sigh escapes my lips, “Oh, okay. Well… are there any targets out here?”

Ellie leads me to the shooting range, off the edge of the town. It’s nothing special, just a few painted targets sitting on an isle in the grass. They look as if they’ve never been touched. I can’t hold my excitement, running forward the second I see them in the horizon.

“Slow down! You shouldn’t be running on that ankle!” 

I look over my shoulder, “fuck off!”

I begin loading the bow just as Ellie reaches me, catching her breath in hitches. Her whole face is painted red, almost making her freckles disappear.

The arrow pierces the air, cutting through it like a sword to meet with the center of the target. I can’t help the smug look on my face as I turn back to Ellie, who’s jaw practically touches her knees.

“Holy shit, man.”

I chuckle, “Alright, now your turn.” I hand her the bow slowly, taking the sheath of arrows off my back and swinging it over her shoulder.

The shots she takes don’t even make it within five feet of the target. She curses, fiddles with her hands, and stomps the ground a few times in defeat. She’s like a tiny dog, all this anger bottled into such a little person.

I can’t watch it anymore, I decide just as she begins to load another arrow. We’ve been out here for almost two hours, and I can slowly see the sun coming up from the horizon. I find myself tentatively holding Ellie’s elbow, helping her take aim.

“What are you doing?” She asks, her breath hitching as she looks over her shoulder.

“I can’t watch you miss again, El, it’s killing me.”

“Fuck you, too,” she scoffs, but not pushing away from my touch.

My heart skips a beat at the nickname, rolling off the tongue before I could stop myself. Her eyes brighten slightly as she turns back around, slowly pulling the arrow back.

“Now, take a deep breath, in through your belly.”

“Wh-”

“Oh my god, Ellie, please just listen.”

She obliged, releasing a deep breath as she stared intently at the target. A shiver runs through my spine as I realize how close we are, goosebumps popping up onto my arms.

“And…release.”

The arrow shoots through the air, whistling in the breeze. I twitch with anticipation, following the arrow to the target. But it doesn’t sink into the isle.

It sinks into Bonnie’s head.

Just as Ellie screams with joy, looking over at me with a smile, I fall to the ground with grief. A piercing scream shoots through my body and into the air, shooting electricity down my spine. I can’t stop the tears, the whimpers, the shaking. I killed my baby sister.

Just as Ellie shoots down beside me, in the distance I see Joel on his horse, yelling my name as I get consumed by darkness.

[ellytraoflight]

this is a remix of the My Last Life AU by @opera25 ​! In which: Bdubs, thrown into a death game and plotting murder in a snow fort, dreams of normal life with his best friend. A life which consists of cats, coffee, and an apartment that’s broken but not cold.

~

The walls shudder as Bdubs slams the front door. A mistake, he realizes belatedly—their window’s still broken, and they can’t afford to damage the structural integrity of their apartment more than it already is. They’d called the landlord weeks ago, and still nothing!

“Rough day?” A voice calls from the room to the right.

“Ha!” Bdubs scoffs. “As if I have rough days!” Bdubs lets his bag drop onto the footstool—god, he’s tired.

“You didn’t come in shouting, ‘Honey, I’m home!’” A laptop closes. Bdubs turns to see Etho poking his head out the doorway, eyebrows raised in inquiry.

“It’s just the usual,” Bdubs sighs. No cat in the chair. He sits down in relief, couch creaking as it takes his weight. “Work. I probably can’t be late anytime soon, though.”

Etho hums in acknowledgement, and the weight on the couch shifts as he joins Bdubs. “Well, I’d hate to see them rob you of your beauty sleep.”

“Hey, I need my sleep! Sleep is very important!”

“Sure, Bdubs.”

“It is!” Bdubs finds himself relaxing into the usual banter. It’s enough to take his mind off the fact that he can’t control if or when his car is going to break down again. “How do you feel about bumping movie night up to tonight?”

“Uh…” Etho squints in a way Bdubs knows to mean he’s checking his mental schedule. “Yep, that works. Want to order pi— shoot.”

“What?”

“I forgot to feed Pineapple Pizza.”

Bdubs cackles. His feet are still sore when he stands back up on them, and he stretches, feeling his back pop. “I’ll feed her, you order pizza tonight. And that means you’re paying!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Etho huffs as he pulls out his phone.

The steps are routine: a few spoonfuls of wet cat food into Pineapple Pizza’s bowl, and he lets her eat the extras off the spoon when she begs for it. Pulling down the projector screen, Etho moves to set up the movie on his laptop. He piles the blankets onto the couch and buries himself beneath them—and steals the mossy one from Etho, of course.

Etho always wears the exact same expression every time Bdubs pulls this move: brows up, eyes blown wide, like every time is the first; like he can’t believe the audacity Bdubs has to steal his most precious possession.

“That’s the best one!”

“And I took it, fair and square!”

It really is unfortunate that they both have the same favorite blanket. Etho likes the blanket because it’s green. Bdubs likes it because it’s funnier when Etho doesn’t have it.

A hint of a grin in the crinkle of Etho’s eyes is all the warning Bdubs has before the blanket is yanked from Bdubs’ grip.

“Hey!” Bdubs shouts, cold and blanket-less. “Give it back!”

“Finders keepers,” Etho smirks, “losers weepers.”

Bdubs curls up on the edge of the couch, attempting to look as cold and blanket-less as possible. Sure enough, a few seconds later, he hears Etho sigh as he drapes the blanket over him once again.

“Alright,” Etho says as he settles under the other end of the blanket, which is perfectly big enough for both of them, “are we continuing our run of ‘The Office’?”

“Psh, of course.”

Bdubs feels his eyelids get heavy on the second episode, after the pizza is consumed and the plates disposed of. He’s never understood how Etho can stay awake forever if he wants to—once it’s past 10, ol’ Bdubs is out like a light. It helps that the projector screen shines just dim enough, the volume just soft enough, Etho’s snarky comments familiar enough for him to shut his eyes for a second or two, his head falling to the side. He has to be up early tomorrow, but tomorrow is a long time away, and he keeps forcing himself awake to savor the moment a little bit longer. Awake, awake—

Bdubs opens his eyes with an axe two inches from his face.

He screams, flailing back to get away get away. The world twists as he loses balance, his legs tangled in the blanket, and he’s falling— arm grasping for the armrest— what the hell—

“Aw, the Sleeping Beauty is finally awake!” cheers his intruder. The sunlight glints off his tactical gear, off his bandana, off his freshly-sharpened axe.

“I’ve been awake!” The adrenaline kicks in fast, and Bdubs’ eyes dart around the room—windows are sealed, door locked. Limbs tangled in the woolen sheets, not a hint of green in sight. “I knew about that the whole time, I was just testing you!”

“Uh-huh,” Etho says. He hangs his sharpened axe back on his belt, where it sits like an omen. He sits down on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, and Bdubs is breathing but it feels like there’s no air in his lungs. Which week is it? He can’t quite recollect Etho’s placement on The List this time, which is— bad. Very bad.

“I saw Scar going down the mines this morning,” Etho continues. “I think Magical Mountain could use a little de-magicifying.”

“Yeah,” snarks Bdubs, “A man of science, of course.” Scar falls about… mid-to-high on The List, from what he can recall, based on a comment from Skizz that the self-proclaimed wizard had been gathering lava two nights ago. It’s enough to justify an excursion to Magical Mountain. 

“You know me.”

“Hm.” Bdubs pulls on his chestplate, helmet, leggings, and boots. Hesitating, he glances out the corner of his eye, but— no, Etho’s looking out the window, as far as he can tell. He slips a dagger into his left boot. “Do you think he gives out free samples? Like the ones from Costco?”

Etho cocks his head. “Costco?”

“Nevermind.” Bdubs rifles through the barrel for his bow. Gosh, carrying all these arrows is awful. Maybe if Scar has the Enchanter, they can steal an Infinity enchant—if not the Enchanter itself.

In the morning sun, Etho’s shadow grows long. It poses on the far wall. “You’ve been sleeping in a lot, lately. Even more than usual.”

“Tracking my sleep, now? What are you, some sort of creep?” Bdubs almost reaches out to shove Etho as he heads out the door. He re-routes his momentum to grasp the curtains shut instead. Stupid dreams, with their stupid memories and stupid impulses they implant in his mind.

Etho cackles, “Of course not. I’d hate to see you robbed of your beauty sleep,” and Bdubs freezes under the sudden déjà vu. Before he can fully blink away the visions—memories, dreams, whatever—Etho turns and marches out the door without a backwards glance.

The back is the weakest point, and time is of the essence.

“Yeah, well.” Bdubs doesn’t reach down to his dagger, or his axe, or his bow. Bdubs follows Etho out of the snow fort to murder a man and pillage his home. “They’ve been good dreams.”

[thisfairytalegonebad]

"See the chains around my feet." / Vows - Whumptober day 21

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Character: Noctis Lucis Caelum Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Read below the cut or on AO3 here.

Noct’s life has never been his own. From the very start, everyone around him made sure to remind him of that.

“Prince Noctis, how do you expect to leave a good impression with Accordian diplomats if you can’t even speak their language?” his tutor said when he struggled with the conjugation of irregular Accordian verbs.

“Noctis, as King, you must do what is best for your people even if it is not what is best for you,” his father said when Noct watched him wither away from the strain of keeping the Wall up.

“Noct, you must leave a good impression tonight,” Ignis said when Noct was about to give an interview and he made sure Noct’s hair looked presentable and his tie was straight.

“C’mon, Noct, you don’t get to just give up,” Gladio said when Noct lost to him in combat training yet again and threw his sword to the ground in frustration.

No, every aspect of Noct’s life has been ruled by other people, for other people, so he’s not really sure why he thought he would at least get this particular part of his life to himself, why this especially hits him like a punch to the gut.

PRINCE NOCTIS OF LUCIS TO MARRY LADY LUNAFREYA OF TENEBRAE

His father only just called him into his study yesterday to tell him about the betrothal, and by today morning, the headline was already printed on the front page of every newspaper in the country.

It’s a little like a nightmare he can’t wake up from, except he knows exactly that he’s not dreaming.

Did Luna know about this? Did they spring it onto her at the last possible second too? How does she feel about having to marry him?

The problem’s not the fact that it’s Luna. Objectively, Luna’s probably the best option he can get, and he can only hope that she feels similarly. The problem is that he doesn’t want to get married, at least not yet, no matter to whom. The problem is that he wants to choose who he marries instead of being paired off with someone purely for the politics of it. The problem is that no one even bothered including him in the process that went into making that decision even though it’s his life.

And now he’s sitting here in front of a blank paper, tasked with writing his own wedding vows.

Abruptly, he stands. His chair topples over from the force of it, but he can’t bring himself to care.

His collar feels too tight around his neck - he’s already in a dress shirt for the interviews he’s supposed to give later today, but now his fingers scramble to open the buttons, he needs to get it off and get out, he can’t breathe and he needs to be anywhere but here.

A button rips off the shirt when he finally wrestles it open, hitting the floor with a soft plink. He tosses the shirt aside and makes for his bedroom, grabbing his most normal-looking t-shirt and a hat, and then he remembers the non-prescription glasses he still has from a photoshoot and grabs those too.

Hastily, he scrawls a note for Ignis and/or Gladio, whoever gets to his apartment faster when they get the alert.

Not kidnapped, just needed to get out. I’ll be back. I’m sorry.

As an afterthought, he scribbles his signature and a string of letters and words that are code for “I Am Saying This Of My Own Accord And Without Anyone Holding A Gun To My Head”, and then he sends a text to Prompto, asking, no, practically begging him to meet him in front of the arcade.

Then, without waiting for an answer, he turns off his phone, puts it on the table next to the note, and warps out of the window.

The moment he turned his phone off, an alert was sent to Gladio, Ignis, Dad, and just about every high-ranking security official in the Citadel, so he doesn’t have much time until they send the Glaives after him.

For a brief moment he considers sticking to the rooftops, but that’s something that only really works in movies and video games, even with warping. Besides, the Glaives are sure to spot the blue flashes, so it’s safer to blend in with a crowd.

Social stealth, his mind supplies, and the game reference tears a hysterical laugh from his throat.

The laugh almost turns into a sob and he quickly presses his hand over his mouth to stifle it.

Shit, he’s a mess - how did anyone think it would be a good idea to have him marry Luna?!

----

When he gets to the arcade, Prompto is already there, fidgeting nervously with his phone. As soon as he spots Noct, he runs over to him.

“Dude, what’s going on, you didn’t answer my text, are you okay?” Prompto says all in one breath and stares at him with wide-eyed concern, and somehow that’s almost enough to make Noct tear up.

“Just needed to get out, I’m fine,” he says even though he’s decidedly not, but Prompto immediately understands it to be I’m fine in the sense of I’m not bleeding and no one’s after me and not I’m fine in the sense of I’m actually fine.

“I guess you didn't tell anyone you left?” he asks instead of prying because he’s seen the headline, of course he knows what’s going on.

Noct rubs the back of his hand across his eyes. It comes away wet. “I left a note.”

“Okay. Okay. So, you don’t wanna be found too quickly, yeah? So we can’t go back to my house, and, no offense but the arcade’s a shitty hiding spot because that’s like the second place they’ll look,” Prompto points out.

“So where would you go?”

“Dunno. The park?” Prompto shrugs. He looks mildly terrified, and, right, Noct’s getting him into a ton of trouble here, but Prompto isn’t asking questions, isn’t telling him what a bad idea this is even though it is, and Noct loves him for it.

Neither of them has any better ideas, so they go to the park. It’s a weekday, so there aren’t too many people about, and when they find a near-empty playground, Prompto tugs him towards the swings.

Noct can’t remember the last time he’s used a swing, isn’t even sure if he’s ever actually used a swing. He’s a bit too tall for it, he has to bend his legs awkwardly, and the chains the swing is hanging from bite uncomfortably into his palm.

But Prompto starts swinging a little, so Noct does too, and for a while, they just sit and idly swing back and forth without talking.

A few times, Noct opens his mouth, tries to say something, but then he changes his mind and closes it again. He’s… he’s not ready to have a conversation, not about the wedding, not about Luna, and not about anything mundane, not when it feels like his life is being torn from his hands and he’s expected to smile through the whole thing.

Eventually, a little girl runs up to them and asks to use the swing, and a little embarrassed, they get up.

Noct pulls his hat down so it hides a bit more of his face and gives the kid a small smile. “Yeah, sorry, it’s all yours.”

The girl’s mother is staring at him a little too intently, and Noct doesn’t want to push his luck, so he grabs Prompto by the arm and pulls him away before she can blow his cover.

Prompto quickly falls into pace with him and points towards the other end of the park. “There’s a duck pond there. Wanna go check it out?”

All the benches are full, most of them taken by elderly people who are feeding the ducks with rice and bird seeds, but Prompto simply sits down on the grass by the pond.

Noct does the same, carefully lowering himself down onto the ground. His back is going to complain about it later, but right now he’s got bigger things to worry about.

“I want you to be there,” he says abruptly.

“Hm?”

“The wedding. In Altissia. I want you there. I don’t care who I’ll need to fight to make it happen.”

His own father can’t attend his wedding. Noct’s been informed of that pretty much in the same breath as he’s been told about the engagement. Gladio and Ignis will be there, and Noct is more grateful for that than he can ever express. But Prompto is someone he chose, someone who has chosen him, and Noct is going to fight tooth and nail to have at least this: his best friend at his wedding.

“Wouldn’t miss it for anything, buddy,” Prompto says quietly.

There’s so much sincerity in his voice that tears well up in Noct’s eyes and he quickly lies down on the grass so Prompto doesn’t see them.

Soon, the Glaives are going to lock down the park, search every nook and cranny until they’ve found him, and then they’re going to return him to his apartment where he’s going to get chewed out by Ignis and Gladio, and his dad is going to give him a disappointed look, and he's probably even going to make it to the interview in time.

But right now, he lies in the grass with his best friend, watching the clouds pass by, and wishes that this moment could last forever.

----

Read all of my Whumptober prompt fills here.

[thanksbutnoshanks]

“beg for it.” Nora x Derek

Sometimes Derek needs something a little more. It had been one of those weeks where he needed to lose control a little bit. Some time where he didn’t have to be an alpha. 

Nora was perfect for this. She’d mix just the right amount of aconite into a drink for him. Just enough to dull his healing but not his senses. He never asked her how she found this magic amount and he was sure he didn’t want to know.

Then she’d strap his hands and feet down using something he couldn’t break on his own, he’d tried multiple times.

“What’s your safe word?” She’d ask whisper soft, the picture of innocence with her red hair softly waving down her back and her blue eyes glowing in the low light.

“Trapezoid,” Derek swallowed and it seemed to echo through the loft.

When they first picked safe words the story had been he hated math. One day in the cuddling aftermath Derek explained it better. When Kate had seduced him she was the substitute math teacher, they were doing geometry and she used helping after class to get in his head. The word would snap him back quicker than anything and Nora promised never to make him use his safe word, so far he hadn’t.

Nora was quite enamoured with Derek, she trusted him and he trusted her especially with this. She knew how big of a thing it was for him. And to be honest it was for her, no one had trusted her in years.

Once that was done she slowly trailed her fingertip from his big toe across his leg. When she got close to his very naked midsection her finger dipped in slightly to just brush against his balls. Making sure not to touch his cock. She smirked at it’s twitch when she got close and felt his sigh as she moved on. The finger mapped his internal musculature, Derek closing his eyes and his body relaxing into the bed.

To him it felt like hours but he was sure it was only moments. The longer it went the harder he got, and she still hadn’t even touched his dick. At this point she’d touched every spot on his body that she could reach. But she just started the process over. Derek knew it had been a rough week when he couldn’t last much longer than the first couple passes today. 

“Please,” he whispered.

“You’re sure you’re ready?” she asked a note of concern in her voice.

Derek nodded, and it felt like so much effort.

“I need to hear you say it Derek,” her voice more commanding, “beg for it, beg for it or you won’t get it.”

“Please Nora,” it was on a breath, “I need it.”

She could feel the conviction in his voice, and as always that first strike on his leg made his eyes jump open. They tried to flare but with the aconite in his bloodstream it was just a flash and gone. The second strike of the batton was across his chest, this time the aconite working better. The more strikes the more it stung. Derek couldn’t hear anything outside of the blood rushing in his ears and the sound the batton made on his flesh. He could feel tears of relief streaming down his face, his mind emptying of all the stress and worry.

Instantly the strikes stopped, “are you there yet?” her voice soft and it felt like her breath spanned every bruise on his body.

Derek nodded and normally she would make him speak but she knew how bad this week had gotten to him, she dropped the batton starting to kiss his damaged chest as she swung her leg over and got on top of Derek. 

It didn’t take either of them long to reach their peaks. After Nora collapsed forward causing Derek to hiss slightly. But as she laid there a constant weight on his chest he relaxed back onto his bed.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the dark, kissing the top of her head.

Nora nodded enjoying the afterglow and Derek felt her smile when he growled softy, sounding like a purring cat. That’s how they fell asleep that night.

Some days later Derek is woke up screaming coming from beside him as Nora is sleeping. He can tell she’s deep into her sleep as her body is locked up tight. Derek doesn’t need to know what the dream is, it doesn’t really matter. It’s the same every time.

Derek is gentle as he brushes the sweaty hair out of her face. He leaned forward whispering into her ear.

“Please,” he spoke just loud enough to be heard, the breath brushing her ear and her neck, “Please Nora.”

Derek sat back somewhat hoping it was enough tonight, but he wasn’t that lucky. Although Nora settled for a moment, the thrashing started. He knew better than to try to hold her down. In that they were different, she had always needed her freedom. So Derek brushed his finger tips down the side of her neck, and across the tops of her arms. A few more brushes up and down before he leaned forward again.

“Nora please I need this,” he tried not to sound desperate, “I need you.”

Her body seemed to relax almost instantly, and he smiled against her neck when he felt her hand clench into the fabric at the back of his boxers. 

“Are you back with me?” he asked, not moving more than he needed to.

He felt her nod and bury her face into his neck, his wolf loving the nuzzling motion she was doing. Pushing her scent deep into his skin. But it only drew more attention to the fact that she smelt wrong. Too much fear and pain was wafting out of her pores. 

So his wolf took over, gently rubbing his face on her neck, his lips soft as they left kisses in his wake. Once he was satisfied that his mate’s neck smelt like them he kissed her softly on the lips. He was happy to feel the smile her lips were curved into when he did. He pulled back to watch her face. 

Nora smiled up at him, “thank you,” she whispered her voice hoarse from the screaming.

“Any time,” he returned the soft smile. 

He inspected her face, the soft moonlight filtering in the grainy window highlighting her beauty. He could see small scars from a rough life but that wasn’t what he noticed first. He noticed the slight freckles she had, genetics and sun to thank for that. The fact that her laugh lines were getting deeper than the stress lines on her face. Something he was grateful to see. But the best part was the soft vulnerability that only he got to see. And only in dark, quiet moments like this.

He snapped out of his thoughts when the moonlight glittered across the tears on her face, “I’m sorry,” he whispered kissing the moisture on her cheeks, “I got lost in you.”

“God you’re sappy,” she told him softly, “but fuck do I…”

She had trailed off, neither of them had said it yet and neither of them knew when they’d be able to. It was such a dangerous word. Instead of focusing on that though he leaned down to softly kiss her on the lips again.

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

I Cant Betray You part 5 - Hoseok mafia au

6.3K words I like to call disaster, welcome to the finale from hell. Trigger warnings: abduction, abuse, mentioned human trafficking, torture, drugging, guns, violence, blood, death, starvation, brief mention of suicide, derogatory terms, a butt load of sexism and objectifying women. Italics are the past or thoughts

Prev

Red gushes out of his mouth as he stares at you, his expression empty. That unnerved you a little, you expected shock or anger, something human in his reaction. It was almost as if he knew this was inevitable, or he was truly the monster from the depths of Hell you had yet to discover by his side. There was no satisfaction in this, no pleasure, not with the blank look on his face. You wanted him to suffer a little of what you had, in every dream of this scenario that haunted you in your sleep, you screamed and cried as you took his life, but even you were eerily silent now the moment arrived. 

‘The dead don’t make a sound’, it's funny his words enter your mind now, the carcasses of his men surrounding you. This room was full of the deceased, you included. Most people die once a lifetime, but you were already dead inside because of them, it was only right to return the favour before they killed you a second time, a final time.

You’re covered in their blood but it doesn’t faze you. The instinct to survive took over, you’d seen enough people dying before, by the hands of the man in front of you now, you were almost numb to it now. You push the knife in your hands deeper into his chest, making sure this nightmare was truly over, waiting for the light to leave his eyes. You didn’t feel guilt, or like your soul was tainted. For the first time since you can remember, you felt the heavy burden on your existence lift. You were free.

—

He couldn’t find you. The thought has his soul sinking six feet underground, the body of a dead man walking in his place. It had been days, there were no leads, no clues, nothing. Everything they did came up empty, the flower shop on the van was fake, the number plates were bogus, whoever took you knew exactly what they were doing and they were a hundred steps ahead of him.

He stares in silence at the maps of Seoul, his arms supporting his weight on the desk as his eyes pour over each one, begging for a sign as to where you were. He understood why you chose the city as your hiding spot, anyone could lose themselves in the concrete jungle of the east.

There was no such thing as hope left in him, but what was he supposed to do? Give up? While you were out there somewhere alone in the hands of who knows what? He couldn’t. Until his last dying breath, he could never give up on finding you. He blamed himself, he hated himself, completely and utterly. He learned of your past, the dumbass detective had taunted him with it, yet he left you alone, even with this threat looming over you, he left you alone. 

“I should have put surveillance on her!” He screams into the dark room as the thought finds a voice, the glass of bourbon thrown against the wall in a fit of despaired rage. It's the thousandth time he’s cried into the night, begging to find you safe and sound. But he isn’t a fool, he knows wherever you are, you’re suffering. 

He doesn’t know how long he cries until his tears sober, an eerie numbness taking over each time. His eyes begged for rest, his men had told him he’d think sharper after a night's sleep. He almost shot them for such a suggestion, and they could see it in his glare. It was safe to say they never brought it up again.

“Hoseok!” His cousin calling his name in panic does nothing to stir him alive, not unless the news was of you. But he had let himself hope that too many times in the past few days, his brain told his body to wait before it came back to life.

Krystal appears breathless at his door, supporting herself on the frame.

“Our buildings in Gangnam are being attacked!” She says rushed. “Someone set them on fire.”

He almost chuckles humourlessly, he leaves his empire for 72 hours and the vultures and rats of Seoul are already trying to infest it while the life of his love hangs in the balance. The audacity of these swines. Who would even dare, knowing the state of his wrath? He had no time for mercy, not with you missing.

“Find whoever did it with Zelo, burn them alive,” he orders. She only nods once firmly before rushing away to do as told.

He sighs as he turns back to the map, he swore every street corner, every building drawn on it mocked him.

—

Three days without food, and barely any water. You were dehydrated, starving and on the cusp of delirium. You still had to see the face behind who took you, but you didn’t have to see it to know. The only human contact you’ve had is the poor thin girl sent to your cell to give you a sip of water, enough to keep you alive, but not enough to satiate your thirst.

It told you one thing, he didn’t want you dead, not yet. You didn’t say a word to the girl, she reminded you too much of another from your previous life, someone you lost, and the resemblance tortured you as much as the starvation. 

You were cold, you were weak, for a moment you wondered why he hadn’t sauntered in here yet and killed you. But you remembered his games, the slowest forms of torture, the most patience you could endure while you reduced your target to nothing, gave you the best thrill in the end. That was how he liked to play, and you knew, the angrier he was, the longer your purgatory would last.

You pull at the ropes that tied you to the chair, the effort feeble. It was useless to try, you were well aware, but sitting here waiting… you couldn’t take it.

—

“What do you think about marriage?”

That was a question out of the blue. You turn with a puzzled expression as he comes in through the kitchen door from work, kissing you on the cheek before taking a seat at the breakfast bar. He looks at you expectedly, not saying another word until you answer.

You sigh, turning back to cooking dinner. The second he can’t see your face it falls, memories haunting you, an unfortunate consequence of his question.

“A piece of paper that makes a man think I’m his property?” you scoff, “no thank you.”

You don’t see the frown on his face, you don’t want to.

“I don’t see it like that,” he contends gently, he didn’t see it like that at all. To him it was a partnership, something to tie you both together in this life and the next. 

His frown only grows when you don’t continue the conversation, he swears he can see the signs of you gulping even though he can only see your back. 

“It just means ‘I love you forever’,” he can’t help the pout on his face, knowing if Zelo saw him now, his right hand man would have a hard time stifling his laughter. The Jung Hoseok acting cute and hurt in front of his girlfriend? It was the stuff of fiction.

You smile at his words, shaking your head as the chill in your bones fade. This was your Hobi, he wasn’t like… him. He couldn’t hurt you anymore, you made sure of it.

“I don’t need a contract to prove that,” you reply softly, finally facing him again as you walk up to him. His arms come around you as you sit in his lap, a happy grin on your face that makes his pout disappear. “You’re stuck with me for life, Jung Hoseok, til death do us apart.”

He returns your grin, you were right, he was never going to let you go. But in the back of his mind, he could hear whisperings of the frailty of trust, the reality of his situation, the fear that when you found out who he really was, you would run. 

But even if you did, even if something tore you both apart, he knows in his heart, he would never stop searching for you.

He doesn’t realise there are similar thoughts running through your mind, mirroring his. The smile dampens ever so slightly, not enough for him to notice, but a heavy overcast dims the light in your eyes. Would Hobi leave you if he found out about your past? Were you putting him in danger by being with him if they ever found you? Were you being too selfish with his life, when yours would forever hang in the balance? 

Happiness was fleeting, but addicting. He gave you a fix for what life could really be, and you didn’t have the heart to leave it.

—

“He’s not talking boss,” Zelo tells him as he walks in, his gaze set on the man that would be the answer to all his hope. The piece of shit had the courage or stupidity to scoff and smirk as he met Hoseok’s eyes, even with the blood dripping down his nose and mouth. 

In other circumstances he might’ve enjoyed torturing this lowlife, but his only concern was extracting information regarding you. The soon to be dead body on the floor was the last person to have seen you, the one that lured you into a false sense of security dressed as a delivery driver. It took them far longer than Hobi would have liked to find him, but finally they had, and now he would not hold back.

“Get me the bone saw,” Hoseok instructs one of his other men, watching the fake delivery boy’s eyes widen as his subordinate nods and walks out. 

Desperation, an innate overwhelming desire to survive makes men do stupid inane things. This fact was proven when the scum tries to find his feet, a need to live fueling his steps as he tries to tackle Zelo out of the way, only to be thrown harshly onto the floor. Where was his cool disrespecting demeanour now? 

Hoseok kneels to meet his gaze at eye level as he sits up, and his next victim now understood why the rumours likened the kingpin of Seoul to the angel of death, a black aura surrounding him like the illusion of wings behind him. But this was no angel, the devil himself came to collect his comeuppance and drag him kicking and screaming into the fires of hell.

“Where is she?” The voice of Death digs his grave with a single question.

The man with terror in his eyes visibly gulps.

“They’ll kill me if I tell you,” he states, shaking his head.

“You’re already dead,” Hoseok tells him as matter of fact, an unnerving smile that didn’t reach his eyes, but the promise was written all over his face. “You’re leaving this room in a bodybag, but believe me when I’m done with you you’ll be begging for it. Most men don’t last 5 minutes before they’re wishing for me to take their life.”

“Why would I tell you if you’re going to kill me either way?” The shit has the audacity to laugh although the sound is nervous even to his own ears. 

“I don’t think you understand the situation,” a breath of laughter passes his lips, the unhinged look in his eyes showing the quivering figure on the floor a glimpse of the darkness that consumed him. “You’ll be kept alive until you tell me, I’ll make sure of it.”

He’s unable to break away from the gaze of the demon in front of him, but in the corner of his eyes he can see a silhouette return from his errand. Hoseok stands, towering over Death’s next victim, the light on the ceiling casting a menacing shadow over him.

“So I’ll ask you one last time,” the voice of death booms above him, his head cast back to watch it in horror, a new dread fills his veins now the face of the kingpin was hidden, his form becoming otherworldly. “Where is she?”

—

Is it day seven? Or day six? You’ve lost count, honestly there was no concept of day or night in this dark cell, no windows to tell you of the passage of time, the only way you could calculate it was with how often that poor girl came to give you your morsels. Your head hurt, your bones ache, you kept drifting in and out of consciousness, your body exhausted and fatigued with no energy. You could feel yourself drift now, in and out like waves, eyes heavy.

You dreamt of Hoseok, you assumed it was your brain’s way of coping, but it obviously hadn’t realised how cruel it was when you woke up. You couldn;t let yourself think of him now, there was no use to it, it just made your heart ache. Instead you focused on the consequence of your torture, the hunger, as painful as it was, it was better than thinking of the life you gained and lost. 

As if on cue the door opens, the light from outside this room flooding in like the Sun after a storm. The shadow that emerges steps towards you, and your back goes up. It was too big to be that girl, that step was too loud, too harsh. You were experienced enough to recognise oncoming danger, your muscles tensing under your restraints. He takes another step towards you, and his silhouette becomes a familiar form. You know exactly who this is. And your blood runs cold.

“Seven years I’ve waited for this,” the gravel tone of his voice triggers you to shake without choice, your body and mind blanking as it reverts back to a time of trauma.

He watches you shiver pathetically as his face comes into the dim light of your cell, a man who’s morbidity would make Death and Famine turn their heads in disgust invades your senses, the dread almost pushing you into a seizure. 

Marcus Typhon, the father of the monster that you escaped, come to return you to the underworld before he buried you to reunite you with his son. His hand whips to your neck, so suddenly you choke as his nails dig into your skin. The face of terror stoops to your level, a serpentine fire danced in his glare. 

“Seven years you’ve hidden from me you disrespectful whore,” he spits. “Seven years I’ll extend your sentence with me before I deliver you to Death’s door in pieces.

And then my son can have his way with you for all eternity.”

He watches you hyperventilate, the light leaving your eyes as if your soul was trying to escape what he promised you, he bares his teeth amused by your fear. 

“And don’t think Jung Hoseok will save you,” the life in your face returns with a single name, your lungs finding breath, your nerves calming. Mere seconds ago that name was torture, but now it gave you comfort. “We’ll be out of the country before he has a chance.”

He doesn’t like your new expression, it has his sadistic grin turn into a scowl. Peace did not belong to a bitch such as yourself, and he would beat it out of you. The grip around your throat tightens, holding you in place. You see his fist before it collides with your cheek. 

—

The pounding of your brain against your skull woke you. You should have realised it was your conscience trying to escape this unending life you were stuck in. You thought you were free, you dreamt of it, now you were waking it seemed so cruel. It seemed so real, that man you met, Hoseok, you should have realised he was a figment of your imagination. What criminal would be so loving? You built him off the foundations of what you knew, this horrid life.

“Y/n,” his voice calls for you, it makes your throat seize, a mix of fear and disgust making you want to gag. You don’t know which side of him was worse, the pretence of kindness when he had a drink, or when he had too much and flipped into the cruel bastard you knew. He was worse sober, you decided, so much worse.

You can’t see much in the darkness, it’s eerily quiet, you can’t place him in the shadows, can’t hear his steps but you can feel his presence walk around you. It’s too calm, it puts you on edge.

“When I call for you I expect you to answer me, bitch!”

You see the glass of whiskey fly towards your head like a bullet of a gun out of the darkness, ducking just in time before it collided with you. You’re shaking, you can feel his anger but still your voice was caught in your throat. You feel his hands sneak around your neck, your breath taken from you as the pressure builds. You try so hard to speak, to make a sound.

“My property must behave accordingly Y/n,” he says, his breath on your face but you can’t see him. “I paid so much money for you.”

“Midas,” you finally choke out his name. “Stop.”

It was like his name unveiled him to your eyes, a decaying face next to yours in your peripherals that makes you freeze… you remember… you killed him, how was he here?

“How long do you think you can run from me?” He whispers into your ear as the past catches up with you. Blood stained his chest as he comes fully into view, the stab wounds you inflicted blaring at you in the corpse come alive to take you to hell with him once more.

A second hand wraps around your neck, squeezing the life out of you as you fall to the floor in front of him. This was it, this was how you were going to die, by the hands of a ghost.

You hear your name yelled from his lips but he sounded so far away, you must be losing consciousness, you must be fading because you could no longer feel the world under you.

“Y/n!” Why was he shouting when you were right in front of him, when he was squeezing the life out of you. “Angel!”

You frown, he’s never called you that before, he didn’t sound like that. You didn’t think he could ever sound so… concerned.

“Angel!” Hoseok shakes your shoulders as you wince. “Baby it’s just a dream.”

For the past few minutes you were making strange noises in your sleep, it didn’t take him long to realise you were having a nightmare. You wake with a pained expression across your face, a look of panic as you gasp for breath. You look at him in shock almost as if you didn’t recognise him, as if you were trying to place him in the reality your mind created.

“You’re real,” you whisper. The haunted look in your eyes disappears as they water.

He doesn’t have a second to question it before you’ve buried your head into his chest sobbing. It takes him by surprise, but he doesn’t say anything, only holding you closer in his arms.

—

“They come into my territory, they take my girl,” he seethes, blood dripping from his hands as he takes the cloth from Zelo to wipe them. “No fucker makes it out alive.”

The body on the floor, cut to pieces, a scream written in its dead eyes, is left behind as they make their exit. Death marches with flanks of his men behind him, not breaking stride as they collect their weapons.

“Hoseok it feels like a trap,” the voice of reason, Krystal looks between him and Zelo in concern, willing him to think it through before he walked into disaster. “What if she’s already-”

The gun clicks before its placed pointing at his cousin's head, a moment of shock between his men at the action. Krystal can see red in his eyes like never before, but she knew it was his rage that made him act, the gesture empty, other than to get her to shut up. 

“What do you want me to do if she is?” he grits his teeth in reply. “Let them live?”

“Think it through at least.”

“We don’t have time,” he snaps, an army of vans stopping in front of them as his men climb in, watching the pair wearily. Zelo stands closest to them, ready to step in if needed. It wasn’t the first time they both got into it, but it was the first time he’d ever seen his friend place a gun to his cousin’s head. Family came first for Hoseok, and before his own blood, you were family first. 

“We don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Krystal continues calmly. “Lee was terrified of these people, more than he was of you.”

He refuses to argue any further, climbing into the black out vehicle, slamming the door in her face. 

—

He gave you something, that was the last coherent thought you had. The walls were moving, dancing in a mocking way around you. He let you out of your restraints, why would he do that? Where was the door? Where did it go? If you could just stop the world spinning under you, you could escape again, you could go back to Hoseok and be happy. That’s all you wanted.

You stumble in your steps, almost falling like a newborn foal, losing balance every second you stood. What the fuck did he give you? You hear a loud creak, like the sound of iron breaking, it came from somewhere, or everywhere. Light surrounds you, rectangular in shape, multiple windows of light, like you were in a house of mirrors. Something told you not to walk to it, an old saying that scrambled in your brain, something about an end of a tunnel, stay away from the end of it, don’t go into the light. But it seemed, because you did not approach it, Death would approach you. A figure of black, hidden in the shroud of the golden gates behind him steps towards you.

He came for you. Your blood runs cold, an icy air coming through the door of death along with the silhouette. He opened the door to the afterlife, only to come back for you. You shudder, walking back as he approaches quickly, catching you off guard. You scream, hands coming in front of you, extended like a shield as he tries to embrace you, to take you with him.

“G-go b-back to hell,” you beg, crying out in fury and despair. This wasn’t fair, how many times did you have to kill him, before he stayed dead. 

Hoseok watches the tears streaming down your face, shocked into freezing in front of you, the look of terror on your face breaking his heart. What had they done to you that made you hate him? 

“No!” you yell at the top of your lungs as he takes another step, crouching to the floor with your arms around your head. 

All he can hear are your cries and his heavy breathing, the noises of the onslaught outside not reaching his ears. Whatever you felt for him, it didn’t matter, he had to get you out.

“Y/n,” he breathes but it only causes you to shake. He tries to reach for you but you back away, falling to the floor. He can feel his own tears well up, his soul crushing from the way you’re rejecting him. This was why he never wanted to tell you, he never wanted you to look at him with that fear in your eyes. 

“Baby we need to leave,” he tries to say softly.

“W-why aren’t you d-dead?” Your voice cuts him into pieces, a burning hatred in your eyes. “F-fuck yo-ou, if you t-think I’m going down without a fight.”

He frowns at your words, unable to understand what the hell was going on. You look like a wild animal backed into a corner, the limbs trembling as the agitation inside of you grew. 

“I killed y-you once, I can f-fucking do it again!” 

You lunge at him, taking him by surprise as he falls to the ground, your hands around his throat as you straddled his body. You’re strong, but he's able to remove you by the wrists when he recovers, pulling you off of him but it only results in you kicking and screaming.

“I killed you!” You wail as he tries to restrain you from hurting either of you. “Why? Why!”

“Angel,” he tries to placate you, holding you against him, realising you were out of your mind to no fault of your own. That bastard gave you something. “Angel, it's me, angel it's me!”

“I’ll kill myself before I ever let you touch me again you bastard!” You push against his chest with all your might, it takes every ounce of his strength to keep you still, sniffling as he hears the anguish in your cries. You try everything, you fight, you beg, you scream, but he waits patiently, knowing the clock was ticking.

“Boss!” Zelo runs into the room, blood covering his suit as he catches you both on the floor, you struggling against him as if your life depended on it. 

“They’ve given her something,” Hoseok explains, unable to stop his own tears shedding in front of his right hand man. 

“I’ll get the sedation,” is all he says before he tries to run out of the room.

“You don’t know what he’s given her, you can’t sedate her,” Krystal’s voice stops him as she enters to witness the scene. “Hobi you’re going to have to carry her out.”

“Look at how she’s fighting him, what if he loses control over her?” Zelo argues before Hoseok has a chance to speak.

“You can overdose her, you dumbass!” she shouts back.

“We sit here until it passes.” 

They both stare in shock at their leader’s instruction.

“Boss, we’re sitting ducks if we wait,” Zelo knows they’re running out of time. It was a fair fight outside of this room, he honestly didn’t know whether they were going to win this.

“We’ll guard the door,” Krystal for once doesn’t question him. “She’s going to tire soon, look.”

She was right, your punches and kicks were becoming feeble, your words turning into incoherent mumbles. 

“We need to take her to a hospital,” Krystal states, her gun out as she looks into the corridor. 

Hobi looks at your face, your eyelids were becoming heavy, but your breathing became shallow. 

“Just k-kill me Midas,” you whisper, becoming more and more drowsy. “Let me be free.”

He picks you up off the floor, the fight in you dulled as if you had accepted your fate. Krystal and Zelo flank him as he carries you out of this Hell. Your captor, nowhere to be seen.

—

Death was warm, but it was painful. Why did it have to be so painful? You thought that misery was for the living, but maybe you were wrong. Your brows crease as you become aware again, feeling like you had just drowned and resurfaced. The light is too bright, you thought when you reached the end of the tunnel there would be something behind it, but when you opened your eyes you were blinded by it. 

You gasp at the familiar figure standing above you, tears rushing to your eyes as your thoughts jump to the only conclusion plausible; Hobi was dead too.

“No,” you shake your head, unable to believe it, your bottom lip trembling. You didn’t want him to die too.

It's when he holds your hand your thoughts begin to unscramble, looking around you. You’re on a bed, you’re hooked up to so many machines, an IV drip, the walls are white, and based on the evidence you finally conclude correctly, you’re not dead. 

You made it out of Hell a second time.

The silence is stifling, the stare you’re caught in catching your breath. He looks so tired, so worn out, how long were you unconscious for? 

“Marcus?” you ask hoarsely, unwilling to let yourself feel any relief until you knew the state of your haunting past.

Hoseok frowns, eyes on the bruises on your neck. He shakes his head, unable to find his voice. 

“He’s going to come after me again,” you tell him, accepting your fate.

Hoseok lifts your hand to his lips, sealing them in a promise to your skin.

“They’ll never touch you again angel,” he swears, a thousand of his men were hunting the bastard down, every airport was filled with his syndicate, every corrupt official he had in his books involved. No one comes to Jung Hoseok’s country and hurts his girl. 

“You don’t know what he’s like,” you whisper, watering eyes staring up at him. You try to sit up, using him for support as his arm comes around you to help. 

“It doesn’t matter what he’s like, he’s in my territory,” his words are harsh, but his actions soft as he fluffs the pillows behind you. This was Seoul’s biggest criminal mastermind? You almost smile.

“You must think I’m a hypocrite,” you can’t meet his eyes. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I didn’t tell you?”

He stiffens for a second. You watch him out of the corner of your sight carefully as he sits on the bed beside you, leaning towards you. You close your eyes when he kisses your temple, unable to help the tears that fell.

“I suspect it’s a similar reason to my own angel,” his forehead rests against your own before he pulls away. Your hand grabs his before he can move any further apart, stifling back your sobs. You both loved each other so much, but were so scared, and that fear tore you both apart. You didn’t want that anymore, you wanted everything out in the open, all the cards on the table, only then could you decide the date of your relationship and your future. 

“My dad owed some nasty people money he couldn’t afford to pay back,” you confess, your throat constricting heavily as you recall the memories, you have to swallow the emotions down. “One night, we were all sleeping and they tore the door down demanding their repayment…

He didn’t have it, so they-“

He watches you release a shaky breath, your hands trembling as your eyes watered quickly, little drops of tears escaping before you could hold them back. Hobi tells you with his eyes you didn’t need to carry on, but you want to tell him.

“I found out later it was their MO,” you whisper, a breath of humourless pained laughter escaping you like the mad woman you were. “They lent money to those who couldn’t afford it, came down on them like bricks, because there was so much more money in trafficking women, and this way their collection was justified.”

You shiver, a chill bursting through your spine, the ghosts of the past walking over your grave.

“I got sold to some bad people.”

He can see the past haunt your eyes, the way they became hollow as they watched it all unfold again, a purgatory you couldn’t escape from mentally even though you had physically.

“A man who brought women as trophies, he called us his wives, as if there was some honour in it,” the laugh that you emit has his bones shivering, as it ends your bottom lip trembles, the tears returning as he watches you cry, the sight clutching his heart and squeezing it painfully. “Killed us in cold blood if we didn’t behave, but we were already dead with what he made us do, with what we had to see.”

You choke on a sob, shaking your head, closing your eyes as if it would erase your past. But nothing took away the scars they left you with.

“Every time he lashed out, he would leave us to die. We tried so hard to heal each other, stitch the cuts, disinfect the wounds, but sometimes we were too late,” you remembered every face, every single empty body whose soul escaped, and you felt disgusted with yourself that at the time, you envied that they were free, that their torutre was over. “There were rumours that I was next, I had pissed him off too many times. So I did what I had to to survive, I couldn’t think of anything else other than I was not going to be next. I was not going to be some nameless body they found washed up in the river.”

He pulls you into his arms, unable to stand the sight of you like this, unable to stand the fact you had suffered and he didn’t know. He could do nothing to make them pay, nothing to heal you, no amount of guns and force was going to fix this. It killed him to think, all those years you were together, he had no clue.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes into your hair, rocking you slowly as you wept. 

—

Girls like you were merely lambs made for slaughter. A mere lamb that had bit the hand that fed it, how ungrateful were you to turn your back on everything his family provided? A roof over your head, food, a heavy hand to keep you in line, what more did a mongrel like you want? 

How did you, a mere weak bitch, best his son and manage to escape from his wrath? It angered him, but for the sake of his survival he would have to return another time. The number of his mob had depleted after the kingpin’s attack, how he found you he had no clue. He was just about to start his next session with yourself before the alarms blared, realising it was a mistake to leave you on your own as he waited for the hallucinogen to take effect. That one blunder meant he had to leave you behind, barely managing to escape himself. 

The overhanging screen in front of his seat changes again, another hour delay to his flight. He frowned, the other planes were leaving on time… A quick glance around him has his instincts turn to overdrive. The busy bodies around him had thinned, only a handful of civilians remaining. He stares at the woman in white, the large hat on her head doing nothing to conceal the glance she made his way. His back goes up, these weren’t civilians. He had been so wrapped up in his loss he didn’t realise he himself was being herded to the slaughterhouse. 

Being as inconspicuous as possible he rises from his seat, pretending to search for the sign for the toilet before moving in that direction. No gun, he had to dispose of it, he’d have to do this the old fashioned way, lure them to him. 

He takes off his tie as he steps closer to the door, knowing his onlookers were moving towards him. He kicks the door as he enters, turning back to it with the tie in his hands ready. Seconds turn into a minute, but he waits patiently. One minute turns to five, the adrenaline trying to fizzle out of his system as if there was no danger, as if he were paranoid. But if that was the case, why was this bathroom empty?

His stance is firm, sounds of movement finally coming through the door before it's silent once more. The moment has him tense, but he knows he can take them. The door slams open, but it isn’t a body; its two small explosives hurled into the room. The bang of the grenades disorientates him, smoking and light filling the room as he charges out.

A thousand clicks surround him, everywhere he turns there’s a gun, and behind them, four figures coming towards him. 

“I wouldn’t try anything,” Krystal warns, “there are about a hundred police officers outside all armed.”

She shows him the walkie talkie in her hand with a sly grin, the message clear, They owned everyone, there was no escape for him. This was finally the end. 

“The Jung Hoseok I assume,” Marcus eyed the man beside you excluding complete control. “How did this bitch wrap you around her fing-”

His sentence is cut short by a scream from his own mouth, dropping to the floor as the bullet cuts through his shin. He watches the smoking gun being handed to your palm, a look shared between you and the syndicate leader, it made him sick. 

You had the audacity to step towards him, the barrel pointed to his head. You don’t need the support but Hoseok stands behind you, hands on your arms, a kiss to your head, a whisper. 

It had made him laugh when the detective told him that this man called you an angel, it made him realise how pathetic you all were, how blind. But of course a devil like Jung Hoseok would think a demon such as yourself was anything but a monster. 

You can see the hate in his eyes, the flare of his nostrils as he looked at you in disgust. It killed you previously, you feared that look, but with Hoseok beside you, you didn’t anymore. You made it out alive.

“I would love to extend your pain and your suffering,” you say to him. “But I just want this to be over.”

The gun clicks.

“I’ll see you in hell.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Taglist : @nlost21 @pb-n-juju @needyomnivore @lvpersona @marvelfamily3000 @love2lovesworld @halesandy @dreamamubarak @deepseavibez @mikymouse0729 @barnesrogerslover @itismochirice @scuzmunkie @girlinthemikrokosmos @semireads @yiyi4657 @illnevertrustmyselfagain @portia-bts @taeyongzodiactwinkiri @teampaul @skattwang @woderfulkawaii @danietoww04 @daydreambrliever @zahraaelamira @toriluvsfics 

[mackenzielovee]

Hi, I loved crazy love. Literally I become obsessed, so I was wondering if you could write something about them when they are moving to their new apartment near to college and both of their families are helping them to have everything in order, but Rafe only want them to leave to be all alone with you in their new home. Maybe a little bit of smut?

a/n: this idea had my heart bc i'd really been wanting to write something like this ;) i hope you enjoy! thanks so much for the request!

Warnings: swearing, smut, mentions of planned pregnancy, discussion of sex

crazy love masterlist

my writing

our home: crazy love blurb - rafe cameron

"No, no a little to the left. Ward, are you listening to me?"

You sigh as you set the very last box down on the kitchen counter, stealing a glance at Rafe, who is sitting on your new couch. His head is in his hands as he listens to his parents bicker back and forth, trying to hang up the painting they had bought the two of you. Rose had gushed over it when she bought it, telling you it would match the rest of your decor perfectly.

"Of course, darling. You're talking loud enough," Ward gripes, shifting the painting to the left as Rose demands.

"Oh, come on, now. Back over to the right-"

"It's straight!" Rafe raises his voice, standing up from the couch.

You inhale sharply and step into the living room of your new apartment, wrapping an arm around him to try and calm him down. Ever since his parents and Wheezie arrived with the moving truck to help you both, he's been on edge. When your parents showed up with Macy, you thought he was about to go into cardiac arrest.

"Actually, I think it might just be straight," Rose nods, "Good eye, Rafe."

"Thanks so much," he remarks sarcastically.

"Hey," you whisper to him, trying to tell him to quit being mean to his step-mom, "They're here to help, remember?"

Rafe rolls his eyes, "I could do this shit myself."

"Because you're such a handy man?" you snort.

Rafe clenches his jaw as he looks down at you, but can't help the smirk on his face. He pulls you closer to him, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Where did Macy and Wheezie go? They should start on those kitchen boxes," Rose tells Ward, stepping away from her husband to look for them.

"We can handle the kitchen boxes," Rafe tells her.

"Y/N?" Rose looks to you for a final answer.

You glance up at Rafe only for a second, noting the look on his face, then nod your head in agreement.

"I like the kitchen organized a certain way, anyway," you tell her with a smile.

She nods her head, "All right. Ward and I can start on your sheets-"

"Y/N's parents are taking care of that," Rafe informs her.

Wheezie and Macy come tumbling into the front door, running past all of you and into your bedroom with your parents.

"What the hell are those two up to?" Ward questions.

Wheezie and Macy have become as thick as thieves, the best of friends, over the summer. One day, you'd shown up at Rafe's only to find your sister in her kitchen with Wheezie, baking away. Ever since then, you and Rafe have had to be extra quiet upstairs.

Rose and Ward step toward your bedroom as well, which is down a small hallway just off the kitchen. Rafe grabs your hand and yanks you with him, following the crowd of people.

"Can everyone get out of our bedroom, please?" Rafe grumbles, standing behind his father and watching your parents finish up making your bed.

Your parents had not been crazy about you and Rafe living together right as you both make the transition to college. You had cried, begged, threatened to not go to school, and even dragged Rafe over for a family dinner so all of you could talk the situation out. You'd never seen Rafe's face so red as the night he had to sit at a dinner table and discuss with your father how the two of you would be sleeping in the same bed.

When your parents found out that the Camerons would be financing your rent bill, however, the living situation had changed. Your parents hadn't realized how expensive dorm living is, and the thought of not having to pay for housing on top of tuition sounded like a dream come true.

Which is how you land in your new, empty kitchen, trying to hold Rafe back from killing every family member the two of you currently have within arms reach.

"It's quarter to three," your dad tells your mother over your bed.

"Macy," your mom speaks, "Get your stuff, honey. We have to get going."

"Yeah," Rafe perks up, earning the attention of his parents, "You guys should get moving, too. Y'know, lots of traffic, and Wheezie's got that thing early in the morning."

Wheezie opens her mouth to speak, but stops suddenly when Rafe gives her the death stare. She looks to you, to which you just shrug, and then turns back to her parents.

"What thing?" Rose asks her. Ward's phone buzzes in his pocket, earning his attention.

"Uh," Wheezie hesitates, looking to Rafe once more.

"Girl scout meeting," Rafe blurts.

You cover your face with your free hand to try and prevent Rose from seeing your laughter. You truly have no idea where Rafe gets this idea that Wheezie is old enough to be in girl scouts. Wheezie narrows her eyes at him, shaking her head slightly.

"Girl scout?" Rose questions to herself, still trying to figure it out when Ward speaks up, eyes still glued to his phone.

"Wheezie, get your stuff. You won't want to be tired in the morning at your meeting."

Wheezie rolls her eyes but does as she's told, making her way out of your bedroom and down the hall to collect her things in the living room.

"Seriously, Rafe?" she hisses, "Girl scouts? I'm fourteen-"

"Shut up, Wheeze," Rafe says back to her through gritted teeth.

Wheezie turns to you, "He's your problem, now."

"Oh, boy, do I know it," you tease Rafe, smiling with Wheezie. She laughs, but it's short lived when Rafe shoves her away.

"Get your shit," he mutters.

"Stop it," you demand, stepping in front of him and holding onto his forearms as they are wrapped around your waist.

The one thing you love about Rafe more than anything is how he always shows affection to you, even if your parents or his parents are around. He just doesn't seem to care about anyone except you.

"I want them to go," he defends himself, keeping his voice quiet, "I just want to be alone with you. In our home. I didn't realize that was such a difficult request."

You smile up at your fussy boy, dragging one hand up to his face to stroke his cheek. You can faintly hear your families moving around the two of you, but you're too lost in your own little world to think too much about it.

"Be patient," you whisper to him.

He smirks, "Will you make it worth my while?"

You give him back the same look, loving the way he smirks at you and allows his eyes to rake over every inch of your face and torso. It takes everything in him not to just grab you by the throat and kiss the hell out of you, only controlling himself because your dad is ten feet away.

"Don't I always?"

Rafe groans, trying his best to keep his composure. He has to close his eyes as he continues to whine, knowing that if he keeps looking at you, he'll be hard in no time.

"All right," Rafe says loudly, tugging himself away from you, "Thanks for coming, everyone, but we have a lot to unpack here. Dad, Rose, Wheezie, I'll show you to the door."

You snicker as you watch him attempt to lead his confused family out the door. You turn to your own family, giving hugs and promising to call whenever you can. Rose refuses to leave without giving you a hug, which pisses Rafe off, as he's gotten Ward and Wheezie out successfully and only needs one more.

Rose promises to send flowers, one that match the color scheme of course, and tells you she'll call you to check on Rafe, since he doesn't bother to return her calls. You give Wheezie a hug and give Ward a polite smile and wave from the doorway.

The second they're all out the door, Rafe slams the door shut and locks it before any of them can decide they forgot something.

"Ah, free at last," you joke.

Rafe turns around, licking his lips as he thinks about how you two finally have an empty house and he has you all to himself. No distractions, no parents, no little sisters listening intently at the door for secrets and drama. He eyes you up and down once, and when he brings his blue orbs to meet yours again, you know what he's thinking.

"Come here," he demands, but he can't help himself.

That boy rushes over to you, pushing you up against the wall in the entryway of your new apartment, kissing you as if his life depends on it. You accept his kiss without a second thought, allowing your hands to wrap themselves around his neck.

"Up," he mutters against your lips, hands guiding themselves to your waist as you jump up and let him position himself in between your legs, wrapping them around his torso.

He moves his kisses to your cheek, then your jawline, then your neck, while his hands relentlessly roam your ass.

"Rafe," you say, tilting your neck to give him more space.

"Hmm," he hums against your skin, not stopping or slowing down for anything.

"I really do have to unpack the kitchen if you want to eat dinner tonight," you tell him, although you're fully aware he would never set you down for anything right now.

"Not hungry."

"Rafe-"

"I think," he stops you, wet kisses trailing your collarbone, "We should fuck everywhere. Y'know, break the place in."

Even though you two have been together for a while, him saying things like that to you always seems to send tingles through your whole body. He always knew what to say, what to do, to get you riled up in all the right ways.

"That would take us all night," you whisper, smirking because you already know what he's going to say.

"Fine with me, baby."

You smile, then reach down and grab ahold of his cheek with your hand. You lead his lips back to yours, kissing him harder than you had been before. He moans into your mouth and you know you have him right where you want him now.

"Kitchen first?" he questions, breathless, "Or should we mess up that pretty little bed your parents just made up?"

The raspiness in his voice gets you going, enough for him to notice you squirming in his grip. He grins, knowing exactly what it is you need.

"Kitchen," you tell him, watching as he barely nods before he kisses you again, carrying you over and setting you on the counter.

With ease, he removes your shorts and underwear, dropping his own shorts to the floor beneath him. He kicks all of the clothes away, knowing the two of you won't be needing them for a very long time.

"I can't wait, baby," he mumbles, excusing his lack of foreplay.

You shake your head, and he already knows you don't mind based on the way you're dripping onto the granite, "Please, Rafe."

He smirks and then grunts as he enters you, breathing out a sigh of relief that you two are finally home.

By the time you and Rafe even make it to your bedroom, he has to carry you because your legs can't physically function anymore. Rafe's proud of his work, but pretended to pout when he finished you off on the couch and you told him you needed a break.

He lays you down on your new, freshly made bed, moving the pillows out of your way and tucking you underneath the duvet. He climbs in beside you and molds you into his body almost instantly, inhaling your shampoo scent and perfume, thinking about how perfect this moment truly is.

"I can't believe it," he whispers.

"I know."

"Our home."

"Yes, it is."

You two lay there for a while, staring out at the tens of boxes that have each of your names written on them, just begging to be unpacked. You're sure Rafe's boxes will still be sitting there in two weeks, as he had packed a separate duffle bag of his 'essential' belongings.

"You know," he starts after a while, a devious smirk finding it's way to his cheeks, "The next big step is having a mini you. Or a mini me. But, I'd rather have a mini you."

"We just moved into our college apartment and you're talking about impregnating me," you laugh, as if to ask him if he's serious.

"She'll be so cute," he goes on, "A little girl that looks just like you. And she'd have your smarts, thank God, because she'd be screwed with mine. But she'd have my humor, of course."

"Of course?" you tease him.

"And then we'll have a boy."

"Wow, Rafe Cameron, you really just have this all figured out," you move your head up to look at him, noting the small, cheesy smile plastered across his face.

"I do, baby. He'll be a hellion, though. Never listening, always running away, but a total momma's boy. Never wants you to leave his side-"

"So, just like his dad, then?" you grin, watching Rafe clench his jaw and shake his head.

"Break's over," he grunts, rolling you on your back and climbing on top of you, "We're trying, now."

"No, we're not," you say forcefully.

Rafe rolls his eyes, "I'm joking. We'll wait until, like, junior year or something."

"Rafe."

"Fine. But the second you walk across that stage with your diploma, I'm putting a baby in you."

"Deal."

Tags:

@hollandsour @flowerkidlxrry @kookkyra @pogueslandia @sarahwasfound @fuzzyhumanpersontrash @rafecameronn @rafeswh0ree @outerbankies @morganwilliams

*if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist at any time, please send me an ask!

[lovetorn]

babysitter [roommate!dream au]

Roommate!Dream x Fem!Reader

summary: you babysit tommy. do i need to explain?

warnings: swearing

w/c: 1.4k+

a/n: thank u 🧋 anon, u are amazing. i hope i did justice for ur amazing idea hahaha 😫hope u guys enjoy!

roommate!dream masterlist

—

“Please, Y/n! It’ll only be for a few hours, just while I do my exam, and then I’ll be back. That’s all! I promise, please.”

You’d never heard Wilbur beg like this before. It is kinda funny. You stand with a smirk as you watch him, your arms crossed over your chest. Yes, you’ve babysat his brother before, but this time, your plans for lunch with your friends were being jeopardised.

“I’ll call Niki and Karl myself and tell them the situation, I’m sure they’ll be fine with it,” Wilbur pleads. His glasses sit on the edge of his nose and you guarantee they’re going to fall off in the next 2 seconds. Obviously, you’re going to babysit for him, but this is too funny to pass up.

“I don’t know, Wil. I planned this weeks ago… I’m not sure I can cancel this late…” You try your best not to smile. But, Wilbur isn’t silly, he can see through your act from a mile away.

“Thank you!” He exclaims, shaking your shoulders. You give him an incredulous look and then laugh.

“You owe me one, Tommy isn’t easy to babysit,” You giggle, knowing all too well how he acts when his family isn’t around. Wilbur nods.

“Yeah, yeah, anything. I’ll buy you breakfast for the next month.”

Your eyebrows fly to your forehead. “I'm holding you to that, Wilby.”

And so it was decided: Tommy would come to your apartment at 1 pm and be there until 4. You told Dream you were having a guest over, sparing the details, which made Dream a little suspicious. He really hoped it wasn’t a date—no, it couldn’t be a date.

But, when he hears a knock on the front door, and then the murmur of deep voices, he thinks of the worst. Dream gets up from his bed and presses his ear to his bedroom door, hoping to get any clues as to who is at the door. He knows this is the dumbest thing he’s done since he moved in with you, but he can’t help it. The door shuts and then it’s silent and Dream thinks that maybe the person left.

Meanwhile, you lead Tommy into your room. “Want any food or anything?” You ask as you watch him jump onto your bed and grab the TV remote off of your nightstand.

“No,” He says, fingers flying over the remote to turn the TV on, change the channel, turn the volume up, change the channel again, and then press the button for Netflix. You don’t mind that he’s made himself at home in your room, he’s gonna be here for 3 hours.

“I would like a Slurpee though,” You squint at him. He can’t be serious. Before you can say anything, he continues. “Thanks, Y/n. you’re the best.”

You give him a fake scowl for sucking up to you and sigh. “Fine. I’ll be back in a second.”

You don’t want to ask Dream to go to the corner shop and get Slurpees, but you’d rather ask him to do that than ask him to watch Tommy.

“Dream?” Pushing open his bedroom door, you see him spin around.

“Hey, hi, what’s up?” Dream hopes he isn’t being weird.

He’s being weird and you don’t know why. You hold onto the door handle and inhale sharply. “Uh, I was just wondering if you could go to the corner store for me? Just really quickly, I’ll give you the money.”

Oh shit, Dream thinks. She’s making me go buy condoms for her and her date. “I—Uh, sure, yeah. What am I getting?” He asks, sliding his feet into his Birkenstocks and shoving his phone into his back pocket. Please don’t say condoms.

“A Slurpee,” Thank god.

“Ok, flavour?”

You turn your head to look back at your bedroom door before you look back at him, a puzzled look on your face. “All of them?”

Dream nods slowly. “Okay?” You two stand in silence momentarily and then Dream ushers you out of his room. “Ok, I’ll be back in 5.” You hand him a few dollars and then make your way back to your room.

“Thank you, Dream! I owe you one, thank you,” You smile, pushing your door open and then closing it immediately. Dream barely smiles and grumbles as he leaves.

“Your delivery will be here in like 6 minutes minimum,” You say. Tommy snickers but doesn’t look at you. You cross your arms over your chest.

“What’s funny?”

Tommy shrugs. “I don’t know. I just think it’s funny that your roommate is willing to do that for you. Must like you a lot.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I’d do the same for him.”

“Him? Woah-ho-ho, that changes the game,” Tommy sits up, a shit-eating grin on his face. “What’s his name? I bet you’re like, in love with him.”

You immediately shake your head, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “No~, no, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, okay.”

The room remains still.

“You totally love him.”

“Tommy!”

Then there’s a knock on your bedroom door. You throw your middle finger up at Tommy and tell him to behave before you open the door.

“Here’s your disgusting Slurpee,” Dream mumbles, shoving the cup into your hands. He's a little out of breath from running but doesn't show it.

“Thank you,” You smile. Dream nods and then turns around, but before he can take a step, a voice calls out from behind you.

“Is that the roommate?” Tommy laughs. “Come in here, roommate.” You want to slap him.

Dream looks over his shoulder at you and you shrug. He wears a concerned look as he enters the room and is surprised to see Tommy, obviously.

“Y/n, why do you have a child in here?” Ok, definitely NOT a date.

You have no time to answer before Tommy speaks.

“I’m being babysat and shit,” Tommy rolls his eyes. Your hand is getting cold from the drink so you hand it to Tommy. “Fuck yeah,” He then flops onto your bed again, not caring if he spills some of the sugary liquid onto your bedspread and presses play on the movie he’s watching.

“Stay in here, roommate, we have some business to discuss.”

You shake your head and close the door behind you as Dream perches on the edge of your bed.

“I'm Dream.” He greets.

Tommy nods and looks in your direction, winking overdramatically. “Tommy. Master of women.” Dream scratches his forehead and glances at you. You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose, whispering to Tommy to shut the fuck up.

“Movie time! We’re watching Sex/Life,” You are bewildered.

“Um, no we’re not!” Moving to snatch the remote from Tommy, you lean your body over Dream’s and see the mischievous look in the child’s eye. You know what he’s doing—could he seriously make this any more awkward?

“Let’s skip to 19 minutes and how many seconds?” Tommy teases, skipping ahead to the timestamp of the scene that went viral. Tommy’s laugh is maniacal, but you are more worried about the position you’re in. Dream’s hands rest in his lap and he looks at the ceiling, while your body leans over his. You don’t know if Tommy is laughing more at the show or the tension between you and Dream.

Finally, you grab the remote and throw it into the chair in the corner of your room. “You are a nightmare, Thomas.”

“Ha, get it, because I’m a nightmare, but he’s Dream, who must be a dream.”

You and Dream groan at his shitty joke and tell him to shut up.

“Anywho, so what’s up with you two?” Tommy smirks. You and your roommate make eye contact, both blushing before looking back at Tommy. He can practically see the tension in the room.

“Nothing.” You say simultaneously. This makes Tommy grin and hum.

Ignoring him, Dream takes refuge on the chair in the corner, looking to you to see how you’re going to handle this situation—however, he can’t help but shamelessly check you out whilst you’re not paying attention to him. He knows it's a dumb thing to do, especially when Tommy is sitting there and has no filter.

You stay speechless in the middle of the room, eyeing Tommy. You didn’t expect babysitting to be so difficult.

“You’re staring, big man.”

You whip around to face Dream and see that the comment makes his cheeks flush a deep red. Your eyes widen and then Dream's up and out of your room. “Bye.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy!” You say, embarrassed. You look back to see Dream’s door closing and you want to kick Tommy, so bad. “Ugh, you make everything so awkward! I hate you.”

“I hear that a lot, it’s a compliment at this point.”

And when Wilbur comes to pick Tommy up, you shove him out the door and swear that if Wilbur breaks his promise about breakfast every day, he's gonna be in deep shit.

[harry-writings]

The Happy Years

- The one where Y/n is unhappy in her engagement and finds an escape with her former lover

Part 1

Masterlist

(A/N) IM SO EARLY IM SORRY I KNOW I SAID 9PM BUT IM DONE SO MUCH SOONER THAN EXPECTED OKAY IM SORRY LOVE YALL <3333

-

Three years later.

The heaviest of thunderstorms hit the city of London by early morning, the loss of the sun and the gloom of the day leaving Harry bedridden for the first time in weeks.

He always tried his best to avoid days like this — trapped within his home, caged in memories that make every step he takes heavier than the last, wishing for just the smallest taste of salvation — because it’s when he’s left alone between these walls that the darkest parts of him come out, ravaging, feeding off of what’s left of him.

Rain reminds him of the day Y/n left. Thunder reminds him of Malibu. Malibu reminds him of all the things he ever used to do with her — on the bed, on the couch, in the hallways.

There’s no escape from what he’s done.

But when the time hits two in the afternoon and Harry still hasn’t gotten up from under his blankets, he decides that doing even the bare minimum with his day would be some sort of accomplishment.

He decided to get the mail.

And what a terrible decision that was, Harry thinks, as he sees an envelope addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting by an unfamiliar name. Something about it upsets his stomach and throws him off key, knowing in his heart that he shouldn’t open it, but it’s heavy in his hands and he can’t ignore the temptation of it all.

Another terrible decision he’s made.

Please join us for the wedding of Alfie Lexington & Y/n Y/l/n.

Saturday, September 25, 2021 at 3:00 PM.

Dartmouth House. Mayfair, London.

The downpour feels like a drizzle compared to the cries Harry lets out as he reads the wedding invitation, his worst nightmare playing out right before his very eyes and if he wasn’t already so fucked up, he’d try his best to ignore it.

Y/n played her move. She wants him to strike back. She wants to win and watch him lose more than he already has. That’s all she has left of him.

His lips tremble as he sniffles, the invitation shaking between his palms as he lets reality sink in.

Y/n is getting married.

Y/n is happy.

Y/n is going to spend the rest of her life with somebody other than him — somebody that was once his friend.

It's unfathomable to him. The connection him and Y/n shared was unlike any other. They were drawn to each other instantaneously, their feelings of infatuation never once dying down because it was simply incapable of doing so.

They put each other first. They made each other better people, helped each other grow through all the droughts and winter days, and continuously found ways to become closer to one another. They were so comfortable and confident in their company, and so every day they spent together within those four years had never been anything less than pure happiness.

They were meant to be. He didn’t see it then, but he sees it now, and now that’s all he sees because everything he sees is her. 

To know that it’s no longer the same for her kills him from the inside out, because now she really doesn’t belong to him.

He lets out a sound that can only resemble what would be a whine and a groan made together, sobbing as he flips the invitation around, only to find another saved date he just doesn’t have the heart to see — an engagement party for all the invited to join.

He’s so overwhelmed with devastation that his brain becomes fogged, his body disassociating from itself as he rips the invitation apart, growling and screaming and wailing as he just keeps ripping it and ripping it and ripping it.

He’s destroying it in the same way it destroyed him until he gives up, slamming his fists down upon the counter, losing control of himself beneath all his pain and regrets. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to happen. This isn’t what was supposed to come from this life.

He’s barely surviving as it is.

And he just needs to see her again.

But he doesn’t know how he’d react once he does. Whether he’d want to kiss her, to hate her, to love her all over again, he doesn’t know. His entire world is collapsing and he doesn’t know how to save it from falling apart. He can’t take any more risks when it comes to her.

But what is love without fear and danger? What would it say about him if he were to walk away from this now instead of trying just once more with her?

So with a heavy heart and a sobbing chest, he doesn’t take his chances.

And Y/n simply just couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.

Harry is standing at her doorstep, soaked head to toe, shaking in his bones. His lips are a light shade of blue and his eyes an alarming shade of red, somehow wetter than the rest of him. And as the thunder rumbles beneath her feet and nearly sends her to her knees, it goes to show her that he really is here, standing at her doorstep, and it’s not just a dream.

And she must have been struck by the shock of his presence because her tongue is suddenly tied, her throat dry, her lips fallen open yet forgetting how to breathe.

She just looks at him, soaking him all in, trying to understand what exactly led him back to the biggest mistake of his life.

“Harry?”

“So that was your way of getting back at me?! After three fucking years?!”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her eyebrows furrowing in defense. How he could possibly accuse her of something she didn’t even do — considering she hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to him since the moment she left Malibu — makes her feel even more betrayed than before.

He should know her better than this. He should know her from the inside out at this point, but she supposed three years really is a long time, because she’s never seen this side of Harry before. He seems so different to her now.

“Don’t you dare come to my home and try to make an ass out of me! Since when have I ever been the kind of person to get back at somebody?!”

Harry stutters for a moment, his anger and jealousy and hurt blinding him from the truth that Y/n never goes out of her way to get even. Her heart is too big, but he can’t shake this feeling that the person who sent him the invitation was out to do him harm.

And nobody had more of a reason to hurt him than Y/n.

“So the wedding invitation, then? You had nothing to do with that?”

He speaks it condescending, as if he didn’t believe a word she said, but that’s not what it comes down to. It comes down to the fact that she has moved on and found herself somebody so much better than him, and he has no one.

She shakes her head as if to gather her thoughts, confused about how he even found out about the wedding considering Harry quit the firm just hours after he left Malibu, leaving him with no contact to anybody that had any string tied back to her.

“Of course I had something to do with the wedding invitations! I’m the one getting married!”

She pauses then, her cold demeanor dropping into something Harry wants to say resembles a hint of relief, but it’s much more cross than that, much more serious, and he doesn’t expect what’s coming next.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Me getting married?” She speaks it through a small, bitter laugh. “I should have known the only way you’d fight for me was by being with somebody else. You never could stand being second to me, as ironic as that is.”

“I could give two shits about you getting married.” He lies through clenched teeth, his stomach sick at the mere thought of it. “But I do have an issue with you inviting me to your wedding after walking out on me.”

Her head snaps back up to him.

“Wait, Harry, what are you talking about?” She frowns, trying to make sense of it. “I didn’t invite you to the wedding.”

Why would she?

They are no longer friends, no longer much of anything, so for her to take time out of her day to sabotage anything but herself wouldn’t feel right to her. Besides, it was her decision to never speak to Harry again, she wouldn’t ever take her word back.

Harry frowns then, too, because she isn’t faking her emotions. She’d always been terrible at doing so, and the way her eyes scream and beg for answers can’t go ignored. He, again, feels like the absolute worst person in the world.

“Then who did?” He whispers.

There’s only one possible answer.

-

Seven months ago.

Alfie insisted that he and Y/n had a New Year’s Eve party. They’d never had one before, as Y/n much preferred staying in with a bottle of champagne and celebrating with a lobster dinner and late night reruns of The Honeymooners.

But Alfie was persistent. Very persistent. Too persistent. So persistent she had no choice but to give in, and she just didn’t understand why.

She didn’t understand it as days passed and all Alfie talked about was the stupid party. She didn’t understand it when he rented out one of the most expensive venues. She didn’t understand it when he laid awake the entire night before, too anxious to fall asleep. She didn’t understand it when he asked her to wear his favorite dress.

She wished that she did the moment it happened.

The clock was ticking.

“Five!”

Alfie reached for Y/n’s hand.

“Four!”

Y/n noticed something shift in the air.

“Three!”

Alfie reached his other hand into his pocket.

“Two!”

Y/n knew what was coming.

“One!”

Alfie dropped to one knee.

“Happy new year!”

It was every girl’s dream — the fireworks, the balcony, the view, the prince charming that would whisk her away to spend the rest of eternity together — yet it couldn’t have felt any more like a nightmare.

It wasn’t what she wanted. Not then, not ever before, not once during the span of their relationship, and time seemed to have stopped moving forward.

There she was, in the center of the universe as everybody stopped and stared, gasping and gushing at the sight of a man on his knees for a woman. An act of vulnerability, of love, of submission, yet it didn’t feel like any of those things.

It all felt so wrong.

She began to cry.

To everyone else, it seemed as though she was crying from happiness. Her devoted boyfriend of two years finally asked for her hand in marriage, to be the mother of his children, to spend the rest of their lives tied together by a vow, unable to be broken. So it was no surprise when everybody let out an awe of endearment, nobody (not even Alfie) knowing her well enough to distinguish the difference between her happiest and saddest cries.

Harry would have known.

And that was all it seemed to come back to in that very moment in time.

Harry.

What she would have given to feel his hands on her waist, blocking her body from view with his, taking her away from all the unwanted eyes on her fragile body. He would have done it in a heartbeat because he always did — he always found a way to help her escape her horrifying realities, even the sweetest of ones.

What she would have given for it to be him kneeling in front of her… this all would have been so different.

Her lover of two years was promising her a future, yet all she could think about was somebody stuck in her past, yet so heavily prevalent in her present.

But she couldn’t say no. How could she when everybody expected the answer he was looking for, ready to toast to the bride and groom? How could she when phones captured the beginning of the rest of their lives, ready to share for all to see?

But she couldn’t say yes, either.

She settled for a nod of her head.

The crowd cheered, some clapping, others clinking their glasses, lovers kissing. She only caught a glimpse of those celebratory moments before everything around her drowned in her tears, voices of congratulations so distant beneath her heavy, hyperventilated breaths.

Alfie embraced her, then, and she felt his laughs of euphoria rumbling in his chest as hers met his, and she couldn’t even pretend.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, her expression void of everything that she should have been feeling. And her eyes went blank as they caught a reflection of her through the balcony windows — the last time she ever saw herself for what she truly was.

-

That same day.

Y/n was a mess waiting for Alfie to get home.

Seeing Harry again filled her with so many different emotions, she didn’t know which one to start with. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to destroy everything and everybody that dared get in her way, she wanted to disappear. Yet she had done none of it. All she could manage to do was pace around her bedroom, biting at her nails and getting lost in her scrambled thoughts, her mind and body moving at a million miles an hour, unable to be tamed.

This is precisely the reason Y/n never wanted to see him again.

He does things to her, he always has. She hardly has any control over herself whenever it comes to him and she fucking hates it. No matter how sad, how mad, how hurt or how upset, there was something about his presence that made her see past all of that. It saddens her how much she used to love it.

But her moods swing at her relentlessly, the sadness turning to anger because yes, she is angry. She’s angry that he still has this much of a hold on her, especially after everything he’s done, and she’s even more angry that he hasn’t yet apologized for it.

Because it was all getting better. The constant wondering about what he’s doing or who he’s with and the continuous string of thought always leading back to him was all finally falling into its place. She was finally finding her place.

And then her fiancè did this.

When she hears the bedroom door open, she hardly gives Alfie any time before she starts a fight, wishing nothing more than to take it all out on him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/n fumes, everything tainted red with anger as she looks into his eyes and feels nothing but hurt and betrayal. “Inviting Harry to our wedding behind my back?! Do you not remember what he did to me?! Do you not realize what you just did?!”

He frowns, not sarcastic or menacing, but he genuinely seems upset that she’d ever even ask him such a question.

“Y/n…” Alfie sighs, and she suddenly hates the way he’s always managed to remain calm in the most heated of arguments. She wants to start a war with it, to go for the kill, to make him crawl and beg and bleed for her forgiveness. “Of course I remember what he did to you, which is exactly why I did it.”

Her hands turn to fists.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“I wanted to hurt him for hurting you! God damn it, Y/n… after finding out what he did to you all I could think about was ripping him to pieces and that urge never left me, especially after we got together.”

He slumps himself down at the foot of the bed, loosening the tie around his neck, almost too aggressively. And if she wasn’t so out of her mind enraged, she would try her hardest to understand his side.

But there is no excuse for this. There’s no excuse for any of it.

“So now you use our marriage as a way to get back at him?!”

Y/n may not love Alfie the right way, but she had never stooped so low to treat her marriage like a weapon, ready to strike at any moment in time. It wasn’t something she used to inflict pain onto anybody else but herself, no matter how hard it had gotten.

And though she once believed their engagement meant more to him than it ever meant to her, she can’t help but feel as if that’s just another lie she’d been forced to live with.

He went behind her back deliberately to hurt somebody even she never intended on hurting. He knew what was to come of this and yet here he is, letting it all happen for satisfaction’s sake.

It feels like all she will ever be is used.

“Is that what this is to you?! A point on your scoreboard?! A big ‘fuck you, i won!’?”

“Isn’t that what this is for you?”

“Don’t you dare turn this into my problem.” She spits through clenched teeth, punching at the dresser beside her with the side of her fist, face burning with fury. “I’m not the one sending him our wedding invitations!”

“And I’m not the one staying up past midnight scrolling through pictures of him on my phone!”

Her mouth shuts then, her hard and pressed features softening at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

She had been looking at pictures of Harry almost every night since Malibu, she just never expected to get caught. She could physically feel Alfie fall asleep against her, so she always waited thirty minutes before she took her phone out, looking back at everything that once was.

It was the only thing she ever truly wanted.

It’s what she kept going back to — a habit that came as naturally as telling her best friend about her day, about her perspectives on the world, about the lack of guidance in her life — like a phone call at the end of the day as a way to unwind.

She had make believe conversations with him as she scrolled endlessly through her favorite photo album, the thickness of his accent engrained in her mind as she thought of everything he’d say to her if he were still around. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d live vicariously through the memories they made together and replay those moments all night, until they lulled her to sleep.

“I told you from day one that —”

“That you’re never going to let him go, I know. I know that he was the love of your life at one point but this is just pathetic now, Y/n. Absolutely nothing short of pathetic.” She frowns, his choice of words making her heart sink because he knows exactly how to do it. And he sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his face as if he were in agony. “I didn’t know this was the kind of shit I was signing up for.”

Her eyes brim with tears but don’t offer anything more, only upset that he couldn’t find a way to understand her when she’s trying so hard. But he never has and he never will — not in the way she needs him to and not in the way that could ever make this work.

“I’m not sorry for what I did.” She confesses sadly, her bottom lip between her teeth and fingers picking the skin around her nails as she tries, yet again, to make him see. “He was my best friend before he was anything else to me. There was a time in my life where he was all I had.”

And though her heart is still with Harry in every aspect of every way, it’s true. He was her best friend and that’s what she misses the most. There was so much to him that meant so much to her and none of it could ever be replaced, not even by Alfie.

“You know I love you but you also know I'm not the same woman you fell for in Malibu. I’m my worst self when I don't have him around and your favorite parts of me don’t exist without him. Don’t pretend like you don’t see that.”

His hands twitch against his lap, his shoulders slumping because it’s true. The most lively and brightest parts of herself had died the first step she’d taken away from him that night. Sure, she’s still the most resilient and beautiful woman Alfie had ever known, but she’s never been the same since then.

She’s still in love with him and there’s nothing for him to do about it. He didn’t see it until he saw the way she sulked over Harry that night, all those years later, with a diamond ring on her finger that just seemed to weigh her down even more.

None of this means anything to her.

“It’s been three years, Y/n. Just find yourself a new best friend and move the fuck on already. I’m getting sick and tired of this.”

What he doesn’t understand is that she is, too.

-

Two weeks later.

Y/n shouldn’t be this alone at her own engagement party, but it’s the impossible things that always manage to find their way to her.

The party consisted mostly of Alfie’s friends, considering Y/n is much more of an introvert than he is and the small number of friends she does have seemed to have disappeared within the sea of unfamiliar faces. She felt lost for a moment, but when she finally found her fiancè, he had been too invested in his own friends to spare her a single one of his glances, and it soon became disheartening to wait for him to acknowledge her when the thought of her never once crossed his mind.

So she ends up on the steps of their back porch, sipping on a glass of champagne, overlooking the garden, breathing in the silence.

She closes her eyes and succumbs herself to the summer breeze, wondering what she has to do to find a single glimmer of happiness. Her life is just so sad, a labyrinth of betrayal and hurt and heartbreak she can’t ever escape.

Darkness is all she sees when she thinks about her future. There is nothing for her to look forward to. Every day will come and go the same way it has been — unwanted, dreaded, wasted, another failed attempt of contentment. It all seems so hopeless to her now.

The champagne doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to a lonely Y/n, and it isn’t nearly enough to curb her mood, either as she huffs at her empty glass, wishing she had taken another.

She sets it down next to her, placing both her elbows on her knees, getting lost in her world of sorrow, long forgotten by her lover.

Harry is the first one to find her.

He had parked his car across the street from her shared home with Alfie, and even from his distance he knew Y/n wouldn’t be inside. He knows her too well to know she wouldn’t find her place in crowded rooms where the attention is all on her, even if it was all in the comfort of her own home.

And the fact that Alfie didn’t know her senses of belonging well enough to accommodate them made him seeth. She is an independent, a lone wolf, a woman who moves solely in her own way and anybody who’s ever loved her knows that above all else.

He doesn’t care for her.

And he doesn’t need to go looking for her because he can feel her, as if the universe somehow bent its laws of gravity and pushed him straight to her back porch steps, where he finds her all alone.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand fall softly on her shoulder, but immediately sinks into comfort when she sees that it’s Harry moving to sit beside her, his hand refusing to pull away.

Finally, she has a friend.

“Hey.” She says softly, one of the corners of her lips turning slightly upward at his unexpected visit. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

He smiles briefly at her before he overlooks the garden, his fingers squeezing at her shoulder before resting his palms over his lap. And there’s something about being next to her again that makes everything around him fall back into place. This is where he’s meant to be.

“Honestly, neither did I, all things considered.” They both let out a chuckle, the atmosphere between them so horrifically sad yet so incredibly right. “But I just really felt like I had to be here for you tonight.”

Despite the years that had passed and everything that drove them apart, Y/n remains who he loves most in this world. His connection to her never died, so the sudden gusts of off and disturbing feelings Harry used to get whenever Y/n was troubled had never left him. He felt it all just as strongly — her anxieties, her fears, her tears and everything in between. And he’s glad that part of them never died because the look in her eye tells him everything he needs to know.

She’s absolutely miserable.

She sighs, the corners of her lips falling as she stares at her engagement ring, her thumb and pinky twisting it around her ring finger, itchy and heavy no matter which way it's worn.

“Me and Alfie aren’t doing so well.”

She didn’t have to say it because he can already see how treacherous they are together, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to hear.

He lost his right to be selfish with her in Malibu, and though he does gain a sense of happiness knowing he may have a chance with her again, it’s significantly outweighed by her sadness. Nothing had ever pained him more than that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shakes her head, her fingers reaching up to tuck fallen pieces of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t be. I don’t really know why he decided to do this, anyways.”

Harry’s lips fall.

“Marry you?”

Y/n’s leg begins to shake, her greatest and most absentminded nervous habit. And Harry had always been quick to place his hand over her thigh and rub at the surface, meeting her eye halfway and taking a deep breath in, to which she would always follow. He hesitates to do so tonight, but settles for it anyway.

She looks appreciative beneath it all.

She’d forgotten about Harry’s subtle favors over the past three years, so to feel it all again when she has been so low and neglected feels like a blessing to her. It feels like somebody finally cares for her, and that’s all she had been wanting all along.

Harry, she feels, is the only one who ever truly has.

“We just never talked about it. It was this big, ginormous, unavoidable, life changing question thrown at me with no warning at all.” Her forehead falls to her palms, as if humiliated by the memory. “In front of everybody.”

Harry’s heart crumbles from within him because nothing Alfie has given her has been anything she’s wanted, and that’s not what she deserves.

He remembers it so distinctively now — the way she poured her heart out to him just a few months before Malibu. It was the third Valentine’s Day they’d spent together and Y/n got so drunk, she spent nearly the entire night venting to him about everything she’d feared when it came to her future relationships.

With her head on his shoulder and her leg slung over his hips, Y/n’s thoughts were so destructive, she couldn’t bear to entertain them any longer, so she decided to let it all out.

“And what if my boyfriend proposes to me in a room full of people? I’d drown in sensory overload. And what if I want to say no? Or maybe? Or yes, just not right now? With all those people looking at me? I think I would pass away.”

Harry looked down at her in subtle curiosity, his fingers playing with her hair in the way they always liked. She was the only thing in his sight that wasn’t spinning out of his control.

“So how do you want to be proposed to?”

She hummed, as if contemplating her answer. But she knew. She already knew.

“In bed, probably. It’s so intimate and private there. So non-traditional. You’re the most done down at your first hour and something about someone wanting you at your worst, forever, is so poetic.”

She looked up at him with doe eyes merely seconds after.

“Will you make sure he does that for me, please? Promise me you’ll try.”

He smiled the best he could at her, pressing his lips down to her forehead. They lingered there for a moment, and Y/n’s breath was taken away.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

What makes the memory even worse was how much he really did love her and how blinded he was to it. He kissed her. He held her. He played with her hair. He slept beside her that night. He kissed her again goodnight. He brought her breakfast in bed the next morning. He did it all over again.

It couldn’t have been any more obvious.

But there’s something about the way she hasn’t expressed any of those concerns with Alfie that doesn’t sit right with him. It just doesn’t make any sense to him.

“Been with him for how long now, two years? And you really didn’t expect him to propose to you? Have you met you?”

She sulks herself deeper into her knees.

“I don’t know. I guess — I guess I just never really thought about it.”

Never thought about it?

“But you’ve always wanted to get married.” He says it more like a question than a statement, genuine concern and confusion in his tone of voice as his eyebrows furrow, trying to comprehend it.

She looks up at him with a void, empty expression.

“Yeah, but never to him.”

Her eyes linger on Harry’s for just a beat longer — just long enough to catch a glimpse of the way his lips fall and the way his face drains of color — before she blinks away from him, turning her gaze back toward the garden. The flowers have never looked so lifeless.

“Y/n… if I had known how you felt, I —”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Y/n shakes her head, looking back down at her trembling hands, tears now burning in her eyes as the sudden sadness of the conversation starts to weigh down on her. “You had four years to feel the same for me and you never did. My feelings would have done nothing to yours.”

“And I never did?” Harry asks incredulously, his voice low and faltered behind the heaviness of her words. “Is that really what you’ve been living with the past three years?”

Loose tears begin to fall down her cheeks because yes, she has been living with his unrequited love for six years and no, it’s never gotten any easier. It’s pathetic and ridiculous and the most unexplainable form of grief she’d ever carried, but it’s the most devastating kind. “How could I think any differently?”

“Because it was real, Y/n. Fuck.” He lets out a strangled, dry chuckle upon his words as he runs his shaking fingers through his hair. He’s nervous, absolutely terrified because if he fails to show her how deeply he feels for her now, he may never get the chance to again, and losing her is no longer an option for him. Not when she’s so close. “Because you know me better than anybody else and you know I wasn’t faking it with you. How could I have been? You would have seen right through me and you know it. You always do.”

Perhaps the love blinded her. Perhaps her heart was so invested it deceived her to see only the things she wanted as a subconscious form of self-preservation. It’s not an impossible possibility, and it’s certainly one she believed in throughout all this time, but a part of her can’t help but find a hint of truth stuck somewhere between his words.

The kissing, the touching, the tasting, the laughing and the loving did feel real to her. It felt real when she saw the way he smiled after every one of their kisses, and the way he reached for her when it was just to two of them, like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he moaned against her, and the way he told her he loved her, like he meant it.

She knows all of his movements and all of his habits — knows all the signs of his stress, his sadness, his tension, his ease. She knows the emotions he wears and the ones he doesn’t, notices everything he does and doesn’t do, and never once did anything he did with her seem anything less than genuine.

She hates that it’s taken her so long to see that, but it doesn’t fix all that he had broken now that she does. She wishes that it could, this life would be so much easier for her to live.

“You really hurt me.” Her voice quivers, low and quiet as she speaks her truth, and it breaks his heart all over again. Never has he heard her sound so sad in his life, and it’s all because of him.

“You think I don’t know that? I hate myself for everything I put you through because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He pauses, waiting for her to say anything else, but it doesn’t come. All there is for her to offer are her silent cries and waterfall eyes.

“That night with Lydia… nothing happened. She caught me off guard and I panicked because how could I not? She was giving me everything I thought I wanted yet all I could think about was how I wanted it to be you.” Y/n’s breath falters then, a knot forming in her chest as she revisits the sight of that horrific night. “I tried so hard to talk it out with her, but she wouldn’t let it go. She kept persisting and persisting and she didn’t give me the chance to explain myself before you walked in on us.”

She didn’t truly know what happened between him and Lydia, but she had her ideas. Whether they kissed, touched, confessed their love or crossed bases, the truth would have only made it worse for herself. Ignorance was bliss when it came to them.

But she didn’t think nothing happened, either, especially when the first words that Y/n heard Lydia say to him that night was I love you, too.

Too.

Too.

Too.

Like he said it first.

She really hopes he didn’t, but she’s so afraid of his answer that she doesn’t ask.

But she doesn’t say anything else, either, because there’s so much more she needs to hear from him but she doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know what to do, yet she wants to know everything.

“You were all I ever wanted and I’m so sorry for the way I had to find that out. I’m so sorry that I had to hurt you to realize how ridiculously in love I am with you.”

And how ridiculous it’s gotten.

“It haunts me. It follows me everywhere I go. Every morning, I think about the way you slept beside me in Malibu and how perfect you looked before you even had the chance to wake. I still reach for you even when I know you’re not there just so I can say I tried. Every time I walk the street, I somehow convince myself that I see you walk past me and I always turn back just in case I missed you. Then I spend the rest of my day wondering where you are and how much happier I’d be if you were with me.”

And it’s all so true.

She is around him at all times. Her spirit lingers in the air he breathes, her shadow alive in every ray of sun that touches his skin, unable to be soaked away. The ghost of her is everywhere he is, always, and it pained him just as much as it comforted him.

“I come across all these women and go on all these dates in hopes to find someone that makes me feel half the things you do, just to go home hours later and watch all the stupid videos and photos I’ve taken of you throughout the years because it’s you that my heart is after. Nobody else.”

She melts into herself at his confession.

To know it wasn’t one-sided — the longing, the missing, the wanting so bad that he couldn’t help but look back at all their memories together. Whether he was beside those women or not, she had done the very same thing, and it’s almost as if those hidden moments of desperation were a silent call to one another.

He reaches his hand to her thigh again, his skin warming her to her bitter core, setting a fire in her that had burnt out many years ago. And she doesn’t stop staring at it.

“I love you, Y/n. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything else in this world. I love you so much that it drove me crazy to think about you spending the rest of your life with somebody else because I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of mine without you. But that’s my heartbreak to live with, not yours.”

But it is. It is because he’s the only one she’s ever wanted and living her life with someone else was once unimaginable. It still is. Even through her relationship with Alfie and everything they’ve built together, it wasn’t ever the same.

And it’s not a matter of her not loving him, because she does, just not in the way she loves Harry. He is a high she constantly fiends for, an intoxication that keeps her wild and free, an addiction like no other. Being without him makes her feel sober — in a constant state of withdrawal, falling down deeper into her urges, dependent solely on her relapses — and Alfie is just the mild distraction.

All of this is her heartbreak.

His fingertips rub softly at her leg.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don't know how I’m ever going to find a way to move on from you, and I don’t know if I ever will, but at least I had the chance to tell you everything you deserved to know. I didn’t think I’d ever have it.”

She still doesn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect anything more.

He wishes he could stay with her for just a bit longer, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome (if he could even call it that). And he starts to cry as he thinks about leaving her alone again.

She’s forever going to be his hardest loss.

“I have so much more I want to say to you, but this is your night with Alfie. I don’t want to be the one to hold you back from it.”

He squeezes the top of her thigh, dreading the let go. This may be the last time he sees her or speaks to her for a while, and that in itself is enough to make this so much harder on him.

“I’ll miss you everyday.”

He can’t even look at her as he says it.

His eyes are flooded with sadness as he stands from where he sat beside her, shaking fingers wiping at his tears, his heart the emptiest it’s ever been yet his chest heavier than ever before.

It suddenly dawns on her that she never wants to see him walk away from her again. She doesn’t want to go another dreaded day without him beside her, or go the rest of the night thinking of everything she could have said, but didn’t.

She wants him. She loves him. And she doesn’t want him to go.

“Wait.” She grabs his hand in both of hers before he can make it too far, her eyes wet but the brightest he’d ever seen them. “The party doesn’t end for a while and — and Alfie hasn’t come looking for me since it started, so…” She hesitates, his hands still in hers, and everything is right in the world again. “Do you want to take a walk with me? It doesn’t matter where just, please stay here with me?”

And how could Harry ever say no to her?

He lifts her up from where she sits, the first real and genuine smile he’s seen out of her since they’ve reunited spreading on her lips, and he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

They stray further than expected, catching up on everything they’ve missed throughout the years. It all feels so easy and so right, as if time had hardly passed between them, yet they’ve never felt more apart. Never once did they expect to live in each other’s world through late night storytelling and clandestine getaways.

They laugh. They cry. They reminisce. And they don’t let go of each other’s hand the whole night through.

-

Y/n returns to the back porch a couple hours later, grabbing the finished champagne glass she’d left on the top step to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Not that she necessarily has to, she doesn’t feel as though she’s done anything wrong, she just couldn’t imagine what would come from this if Alfie was to find out.

She slides the back door shut quietly behind her, the remaining guests only giving her a small smile of acknowledgement, none at all suspicious. Some offer her hugs and mingle with her, congratulating her as if it were their first time doing so, telling her how perfect of a marriage she and Alfie are going to have.

If only they knew.

But it isn’t until the last of the lingering guests make it out the door that Y/n and Alfie are left alone — the most dangerous place for them to be. And neither of them speak a word to each other, just meeting eyes for a brief moment in time, as if avoiding everything else that came with the night.

The air is heavy, the chill brutal, but it’s what Y/n is so used to. This is her normalcy.

“I’m glad you had fun tonight.” Y/n says plainly, gathering all the littered champagne and wine glasses floating around the kitchen.

In any other circumstance, she would have stood her ground much more strongly, but the bitterness inside her subsided to something much sweeter after her time with Harry. The weight of the world is gone, it seems, the moon and sun and stars aligned perfectly in her universe. She is weightless, floating, her spirit dancing along the edges of her own personal heaven.

The silence Alfie responds with doesn’t strike a nerve like it usually would. It rather goes unnoticed, only furthering her into her illicit dreamland.

Harry’s touch lingers on her skin and she can feel it all the same even though he’s gone. A shiver runs down her spine as she thinks back to the way his lips pressed against her cheek before parting ways, muttering the quietest goodnight, lovie against her skin, leaving her breathless.

She is endlessly hypnotized by him, forever under his spell, as if his lips were made of magic.

And Alfie’s heart sinks when he sees the look on her face. It’s been years since he’s seen it, yet it’s all so familiar once he does. It’s the same look he fell in love with when he first met her in Malibu.

It’s all so clear to him now.

“So we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t leave our engagement party with Harry?”

Y/n lifts her head to look at him properly for what seems to be the first time tonight, his question catching her off guard since she had so rightfully assumed he wasn’t concerned about her whereabouts, and Harry didn’t make his presence known to anybody but her.

But she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t deny it, doesn’t try to scrape for excuses that’ll only dig her in deeper because she doesn’t regret what she did or why she did it. She has no reason to.

“And we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t completely exclude me from our engagement party?”

Alfie’s hands slam against the kitchen counter, a bitter and sarcastic laugh falling from his lips, as if she had said something untrue. “So I don’t give you attention for two minutes and you decide to run off with some other guy?”

“Two minutes? Try two hours on a night that was supposed to be for us.” It’s her turn to slam her hands down, except hers land on her thighs. “I was sitting on our back porch all night and nobody, not even you, came looking for me.” She sits down on the island stool with burnt-out eyes and heavy shoulders, drained from the reality of their relationship, tired of trying for somebody that’s never held her heart the right way. “Harry was miles away and even he found a way to find me.”

And just like always, it all circles back to Harry.

She’s never been one to compare — verbally, at least — so there is a gloom that hovers over her after she says it, the guilt settling in her bones, but it’s the reality of their situation. An old lover held his hand out to her while Alfie refused hers, and it ended up exactly where it had always belonged.

“All you had to do was ask me to be with you.” He sighs, depleted, because it’s true. He would have been there the second she called his name. It’s the fact that she didn’t that shows him how incompatible he is with her wants.

“I shouldn’t have to.” She frowns, fingers fiddling with the skin around her nails as she contemplates what there is to say next. “Is that how this marriage is going to work? Me begging you to be there for me all the time? Because I’ve never been that kind of person. I will never be that person.”

Alfie breathes heavily in response but doesn’t know what else to do or say to get her to stay. She’s slipping right through his fingers and he can physically feel it — can feel the way she feels for another man, can see the way her eyes refuse him, as if hiding away from something.

But this isn’t about him, it can’t be because it was all going so well, so much better than ever before and nothing ever pushed her away, until Harry.

This is all him.

“You know he doesn’t love you, right?” Alfie breaks the silence, her heart along with it, because she needs to be reminded how badly he had done her wrong. She wouldn’t be turning him into the villain if she did. “He lied to you. He used you to get what he wanted. He —”

“He does love me.” She interrupts him because she doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want him to talk her out of this, no matter how much she should. But it’s on the tip of her tongue, almost breaking from its resistance, and she can’t swallow it back down now. “He was there for me more than you were tonight and he’s not even the one I’m engaged to.”

Another deafening silence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He understood her, loud and clear, but she’s speaking between the lines. There’s a part of her that’s holding back from something and he already knows what it is, he just needs to hear her say it.

So she does.

“I’m in love with him, Alfie.”

If the confession of her disloyalty wasn’t enough to tear her apart, the choked back sob she heard from Alfie undeniably did so.

She shuts her eyes, pained, unable to take it.

He doesn’t deserve this, but she’s left with no choice. She’ll only hurt him more if she stays.

So she doesn’t.

-

The morning after.

Harry didn’t know what was to come after he confessed his love to Y/n — whether it be a new day of a new life away from her, or the beginning of something so beautifully timeless, he had no idea.

The closure warmed him enough to lull him to sleep, to keep him deep in a dreamstate where all he envisioned was sunny days and the touch of her hand in his. He had never felt so light, so free, so liberated from the cage of guilt and unspoken truths that even if he were to never see or hear from Y/n again, it would have been okay.

He said what he needed to say, she heard what she wanted to hear and that’s all he could have done without interfering with her relationship.

But what he wakes up to is far from anything that ever crossed his mind.

Seven missed calls and five text messages. All from Y/n.

H, please tell me you’re awake. I need you.

I ended it with Alfie.

I don’t have anywhere to go and you’re the only person I want to see right now. Can you meet me at the coffee shop? I really need to talk to you.

Please wake up.

H?

Harry sits himself up in a state of panic, his eyes jumping between the time she had messaged him last and the time it is now. And he springs himself out of bed when he realizes that he hasn’t missed out on her yet, planning to get to her as fast as he can as he throws yesterday’s outfit, not at all caring about how it makes him look.

She ended it with Alfie.

He’s the only person she wants to see right now.

She needs him.

That’s all he can process as he scurries down the street, thinking of everything he has left to tell her to try and win her heart again. He knows he’s undeserving of it, and she does too, but that doesn’t stop him from loving her the way that he does.

His life is meaningless without her, so dry and bleak and depressing he can’t live another day like it. He can’t and he won’t because he’s going to fix this. He has to fix this.

And it doesn’t take him long to find her because there she is, sitting at their usual outdoor table, a large hot tea held between her hands, her leg shaking, her eyes distant. It's such a heartbreaking sight, and he suddenly wonders if she ever sat there after their breakup, waiting for him, hoping he’d do the very same.

The thought makes his head twitch to the side and fingers twist with guilt because no, he never did. He never went back to that coffee shop since the goodbye. It would have hurt too much, it would have reminded him of everything he’d ever done wrong and he couldn’t bear to face the person he once made of himself.

That person died along with her.

She stands from her seat when she sees him walking toward her, exhausted mentally and physically enough to nearly fall from her feet in the process. But her heart is racing a million miles an hour, her stomach fluttering as he grows nearer, her senses of anything but the love she has for him disappearing to nothing, as if it were just the two of them.

And she just needs to know if it feels that way for him, too.

“Y/n —”

“Did you mean it?”

Harry hesitates then, stopping in his tracks, his head tilting at her in curiosity but his features are softer, sadder, as if the question somehow broke him down further than before.

She doesn’t need to elaborate because he already understands what she’s asking. It was his mistakes and his selfishness that led her to question all his intentions, to doubt every sentiment he’s ever given to her, to wonder what was real and what was pretend.

But he doesn’t know what to start with, he doesn’t know what she needs to hear from him to be satisfied with his answer, or know if what he doesn’t say is what breaks this relationship.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you meant it.” Y/n demands when he fails to answer her, tears flooding yet her face pressed and hard, committed to hearing every last bit of truth he has left. “Because I gave up everything I had for just the smallest possibility that you did. And that may make me weak, that may make me pathetic, and I may hate myself for the rest of my life knowing I made that decision but I can’t help feeling the way I feel for you.”

This is his last chance.

The window of opportunity is open and he is more than willing to dive head first out of it, but he can’t get ahead of himself. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong anything and he will have to endure an eternity of misery without her.

So he gives her more than she demands.

He grabs her face between his two hands, gently stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his gaze set on hers so that she can see how deeply he feels for her and how desperate he is for her forgiveness.

“I meant it.” He breathes out, his lips so painfully close to hers, she can feel his breath as he talks and it makes her legs shake from beneath her. “I’m in love with you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want.” He leans in closer, ever so slightly, just so the ghost of her lips can meet the ghost of his. “There’s never been anybody but you. Just you. Only you.”

Her breath stammers, quivering and cracking as she flutters her eyes shut at his words, unforgiving tears pouring down her cheeks. And she doesn’t know why she’s reacting this way — the love of her life is giving her everything she’s ever asked for and yet all she can manage to do is break down from everything she’d been keeping inside for so long.

He knees buckle as a particularly violent sob nearly takes her down, and if it wasn’t for Harry’s strong hold on her, she’s sure she would have collapsed to the floor.

Her tears, his shirt, his hands, her back.

This is the closest they’ve been to each other in so long, his heart nearly shatters along with hers. He missed this more than he missed anything else in this world.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Harry shushes her, his lips settling on the top of her head as he presses chaste kisses on it, his fingers combing through her unbrushed hair. “I’m with you, okay? I’m never leaving you again.”

And he holds her for a while, tying her together as she falls apart in his arms, vowing to her over and over again that this is all over. All the pain is over. Everything will be different now.

And it was.

It felt different when Y/n and Harry spent the rest of the morning sitting in their favorite coffee shop, at their favorite table, drinking their favorite lattes. It felt different when Harry reached his hand over to hold hers, this time with no ulterior motive.

It felt different when she held his hand back, and when she smiled down at where they were intertwined, as if they were an extension of each other.

And unlike the last time they were there together, he doesn’t have to let go.

[wayfaringauthorofficial]

You look at me as I lace up my boots. Don’t wear that falls from your lips yet again. I am but a hair out of place on your perfect head, something to be disregarded until I fit the mold you made. I try not to argue, but my anger is present, as I make my way back up those stairs to rummage through my closet for something- anything- to wear that falls into the category of your picture perfect daughter, your cookie cutter family. I look for just the right outfit, in a fleeting hope that my next choice will make you love me more. We both know that it won’t, that I have ruined everything good about me, but something in the way you look at me keeps me trying, begging, for that split second ounce of approval you save for the others. Something keeps me by your side, no matter how many times you let me down or how many times you break my heart.

I just want to feel safe again. I want a new default. I just want you to look at me and see a normal girl again, even though I’ll never be normal again because this world is big and cruel. This world does what it can to tear its inhabitants apart day after day, even though they’re just doing what they can do to survive. Don’t you see that I’m seconds away from crumbling at your feet, from soaking the shirt that was yours in the tears and bile that are already waiting to surface? Maybe you’re blind to it, blind to the fact that I can’t breathe, that I am hurting; that I was hurting; that I’m still hurting. But you don’t think it’s your fault. Get some exercise, even though I’m underweight. Stop eating like that or you’ll be obese, when I haven’t eaten in three days. You can’t dress that way because your friends won’t want to be your friends anymore. But doesn’t that just mean that you won’t want to be with me anymore? Doesn’t that just mean that my mom won’t be my mom anymore? Doesn’t that mean that my life is yours and not mine?

I’m not sure when it started, but perhaps you’ve always been this way, nitpicking every inch of me, every move I make, every word I say. You need to be sure that I don’t stray from the careful path that has been laid for me. It doesn’t matter if I destroy myself following it, only that your imperfect daughter fits the perfect mold you locked her in all those years ago. Sometimes, I wonder if your mother did this to you, too, and I ask myself if she ruined you the way you ruined me. I still hold a place in my mind and heart for you, still save a sliver of my life for you, but it’s hard to reserve a spot that you keep taking yourself out of.

One day I’ll pack up that old car filled with everything I own. I’ll buckle my seatbelt and leave this town behind, disappearing little by little as I glace up at my rearview mirror. Because isn’t that what every kid in this town dreams for when they close their eyes? A break from this plastic coated place, a relief from the bullshit that’s shoved down our throats and into our minds, chains falling as they break from the strain of holding everyone back?

I always said I wouldn’t be that girl, the one who crumbles at the feet of others, but isn’t that the person they beat me into, day after day? I hold my head high as I walk through the flames, trying not to get burned, but each lick and sizzle tears me apart. These won’t go out on their own, not without an army. But you pushed them all away from me or made me believe I needed to shut them out. You made me doubt myself, doubt everyone around me, with your lies. I don’t know how I’ll be able to get back to the girl I was before. Maybe she’s gone forever, but I’d like to believe there’s still a sliver of her left inside of me. I like to hope that I can rebuild her someday, somewhere far away from here.

-When will I be good enough for you?

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Photoshoot Fantasies - Fred Weasley

Title: Photoshoot Fantasies Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW!!! Dom!Fred, daddy kink, spanking, masturbation (male and female) oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, choking, begging, dirty talk Summary: Fred doesn’t like it when his girlfriend gets naughty without his permission A/N: this is….pure filth. For the anon who wanted some smut with dom!fred. this is literally like 3% plot and 97% smut lmao so I hope you enjoy!! Requests are open and feedback is always welcomed!!

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“Oi, lover boy! You’ve got a letter from your girlfriend,” George calls teasingly from the kitchen.

Fred groans as he rolls over in bed, his hands coming up to rub the last bits of sleep from his eyes. He squints as he opens his eyes, due to the bright streaks of sunlight coming in from the break in his curtains. Fred takes a moment to mentally prepare himself for the day before he heaves himself out of bed, and shuffles into the kitchen.

“Good morning dear brother of mine,” George greets far too cheerily for the early hour.

Fred grunts in response and takes a seat across from George, waving his wand so a cup of coffee lands in front of him. He usually isn’t one to need caffeine in the morning, his own natural energy is usually enough to clear the sleep induced fog from his head, but he’s been having trouble sleeping lately since Y/N hasn’t been by his side.

After graduation, Y/N landed her dream job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry. Fred had been so proud of her, and he loved how excited she was each night as she told him about her day over dinner. Unfortunately, her job had one huge drawback: traveling. Every so often Y/N would travel to different parts of the UK and Europe to get updates on the population of certain magical creatures or to help develop and implement conservation plans. A week ago, she left for her longest trip yet, an entire month, and Fred hasn’t been able to sleep well since.

“Where’s this letter then?” Fred asks after he has a few sips of coffee. He can feel the caffeine working its’ magic, and his brain is finally clear enough to string a sentence together.

George rolls his eyes and tosses a thick envelope at Fred. “You two are sickening, you know that? I think she wrote you a bloody novel about how much she loves you and misses you,” George says, pretending to throw up.

Fred flips George off, trying to contain the blush forming on his face. “Don’t act like you didn’t stand in the doorway for 15 minutes last night kissing Angelina goodbye, git.” Fred can feel George’s eyes on him as he fiddles with the envelope. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he bites.

“Someone is feeling feisty,” George retorts with a laugh. “Come on then, open the damn letter. Let’s see how long it takes her to start waxing poetically about your eyes.”

Fred glares at George as his fingers quickly rip open the envelope. Normally he would wait for George to go and busy himself with something else or he’d retreat to his room so he could bask in Y/N’s words by himself, but it’s been far too long since he’s seen her and Fred thinks he might explode if he waits any longer to read her letter. “Oh,” he says softly in surprise, when he only pulls out one piece of parchment. The envelope hadn’t been bulky from the lovely letter she wrote him, but the half a dozen photographs she had included. His eyes scan over the short note, a small smile appearing on his face.

To my dearest Freddie Eddie Spaghetti,

Things are going well up in Scotland, Niffler birth rates are through the roof thanks to the plan we implemented last year. We’ve spent the last few days prepping a large cohort of them to send off to Egypt to assist the rune breakers Gringotts has out there. I’ll be off to France in a day or so to check up on some of the Thestrals we brought to a conservatory outside of Nice a few months ago, hopefully they’ve acclimated well.

I’ve been missing you like crazy, Freddie. You’re all I seem to think about these days, it’s been quite hard to focus on my work. I don’t know how I’m going to manage going three more weeks without seeing your face or being held in your arms. You better rest up, because you won’t be getting any sleep for days once I’m finally back home with you.

I’ve included a few photos that will hopefully keep you company while I’m still away.

Love you lots and lots and lots, Y/N

“That’s it? One stinky piece of parchment?” George asks, clearly annoyed. “There’s my day, ruined. Thought I’d get a nice laugh at least since you’ve been so miserable. What else is in the envelope then?”

Fred’s eyes are still scanning the letter, trying to commit the words to memory and he absentmindedly grabs the stack of photos to show George. “She sent photos,” he responds, finally putting the letter to the side. “Probably of all the baby Nifflers,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Let me see, then,” George says excitedly, reaching his hand out. “Remember when she sent those photos of the baby dragons dressed up in onesies? That was jokes. Bet she put hats on them this time.”

As Fred goes to hand George the stack of photos he gets a glimpse of the one on top. His eyes widen and he quickly pulls his arm back, cradling the photos against his chest. “Nope, sorry. You can’t see them.”

“What? Why not?” George watches as Fred starts to fidget in his seat and a red flush starts to take over his face. “Oh my god!” he says suddenly with a laugh, realization hitting him. “She sent you nudes! What a little minx. You two are far more disgusting than I ever could have imagined.”

Fred clears his throat, choosing to ignore George. “Well I’m going to go back to my room and uh, respond to this letter. See you later.” Fred tries to act as normal as possible as he heads back to his room, desperately trying to ignore George’s cackling. He breathes a sigh of relief as he shuts his door behind him, leaning on it for a moment.

Fred rids himself of his T-shirt and climbs back onto his bed in nothing but his boxers. This isn’t how he planned on spending his morning, but Fred is more than happy to change his plans. He sits up in bed, his back pressed up against his cold wall and his legs splayed out. While Fred would consider himself adventurous in the bedroom, this is the first time Y/N has ever done anything like this, and he can feel himself getting aroused already.

“Merlin,” he groans as he allows himself to look at the first photo. Y/N is laying in the middle of a bed wearing nothing but a lacy red bra and the matching pair of panties, a set Fred is all too familiar with.  Her whole face isn’t visible, just her mouth, and as the photo moves her tongue comes out to lick her bottom lip and her hand lightly trails down her torso to her thigh.

He balances the stack of photos on his lap for a moment, his right hand pushing his boxers down to his thighs. Fred had planned on drawing out the experience, but he’s already rock hard from the first photo. He throws the first photo on the bed beside him as he wraps his hand around himself, and he picks the stack back up.

Fred starts to slowly stroke himself as his eyes rake over the next photograph, his mouth running dry. Y/N is laying in the same position as before, but the bra she was wearing in the first photo has been discarded, and as the photo moves her hands massage her breasts and she bites her lip.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, as he moves onto the next photo. Y/N is now completely naked, and as the photo moves one of her hands trails down her front from her breast to her core while her other hand pinches and toys with one of her nipples.

Fred starts to stroke himself faster and is unable to contain the grunts that fall from his mouth as he moves to the next photo. His thumb rubs the sensitive tip of his cock, spreading around the precum that has started to accumulate, helping his hand glide easier as he strokes. In the next photo, Y/N’s mouth is open, and Fred is sure a breathy moan is leaving her lips, as the movement of the photo shows Y/N starting to slowly rub her clit as her other hand fists in the sheets underneath her.

“Oh, fucking shit,” Fred groans as he looks at the second to last photo, his hand stilling on his cock to stop himself from finishing just yet. Y/N’s feet are now flat against the bed, her knees bent and open wide. As the photo moves Fred can clearly see Y/N sink two fingers into herself as her thumb rubs at her clit. Her other hand tugs at the sheets and her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, a telltale sign that she’s on the brink of her release.

Fred starts to stroke himself again as he reveals the last photo, his orgasm quickly approaching. Y/N’s entire body is flushed red and as the photo moves her back arches, her toes curl, and her whole body trembles as she reaches her orgasm.

Fred’s thumb teases the sensitive head of his cock as his eyes wander over all of the photos. He focuses on the last one, and as Y/N once again reaches her climax Fred does as well. His head tips back and he lets out a low moan as he releases all over his stomach, his cock twitching in his hand. Fred continues to lightly stroke himself as he comes down from his high, his breath coming out in hard pants.

When he gets to be too sensitive he releases himself, letting his cock lay against his stomach. He reaches for his wand so he can clean himself off with a simple spell. But an even better idea pops into his head.

“Accio, camera,” he casts, watching as the top drawer of their dresser opens and his camera starts to fly over to him. He grips the camera and points it at himself, so his body from his torso to the tops of his thighs are in shot. Fred makes sure that his limp cock and the come on his stomach is the center of the photo, and once he’s pleased with the shot he clicks the shutter button.

Fred places the camera on his bed as the photo prints and develops, grabbing his wand and cleaning himself off with a spell. He pulls his boxers back up and gets out of bed, rummaging around for some parchment and a quill. Once he finds what he needs he writes out a quick letter to Y/N.

To my dearest Y/N,

I’m glad to hear everything is going well with work. I’m so proud of you and the things you do. Things at the shop are going well, the new range of whiz-bangs sold out in just a few days. I’m missing you like mad, I can’t wait for you to get home.

Those photos you sent me were very naughty. How dare you pleasure yourself like that without Daddy’s permission. I think Daddy’s going to have to punish you when he finally gets his hands on you. 10 spanks sounds fair, doesn’t it princess? I think you deserve it, after the mess you caused Daddy to make all over himself.

Love you lots and lots and lots and lots, Freddie Eddie Spaghetti

Fred grabs the now developed photo from his bed as he reads over the letter, a satisfied smile on his face. He folds up the letter and tucks it into an envelope along with the photo before he seals it and addresses it to Y/N. As he goes to leave his room he spots a piece of folded up parchment on his floor and he grabs it, opening it up as he heads towards the window in the kitchen.

I’m going to Angelina’s. Use a silencing charm next time you perv.

Fred laughs at George’s note as he sends their owl away with his letter, already thinking about taking advantage of his brother’s absence.

-

“Someone is in a good mood this morning,” George muses as Fred saunters down into the shop just before opening.

Fred adjusts his tie as he joins his brother at the till, a huge smile on his face. Just like last week, a letter had arrived from Y/N this morning with another filthy set of photos. This time she was in a lingerie set that Fred didn’t recognize, and she brought herself to her climax using one of the toys Fred had purchased for her as a Valentine’s Day present earlier in the year. Fred had just enough time to bring himself to his own orgasm and write her back before he had to get dressed and head down to work.

“And why wouldn’t I be?” Fred asks as he unlocks the door and turns the open sign on with a wave of his wand. “The sun is shining, the birds are chirping. It’s a beautiful day, Georgie.”

George looks Fred over before he scrunches his face up in disgust. “Y/N sent you another letter today didn’t she?” When Fred sends George a wink he gags. “Bloody disgusting. I hope you washed your hands.”

“And why would Fred need to be washing his hands?” Verity asks as she comes back from the storeroom with some more love potions to be stocked.

Fred’s face flushes red as George start to laugh. “No reason in particular,” he stutters out. Fred turns to George and glares at him. “You’re such an arse.” Fred moves to hit George upside the head, but he ducks his brother’s advance and heads over to help the two customers that have just walked in the door.

“You lot don’t pay me enough to deal with this,” Verity says as she chuckles and shakes her head.

-

Fred sighs to himself as he sits up in bed, his eyes scanning over some of his notes. He and George are in the early days of developing some new products, and he’s working out some of the initial bugs before they start production next week. At least that’s what he’s supposed to be doing, but his mind is definitely elsewhere. Y/N’s third letter had arrived a few days ago, and he can’t help but let his mind wander to the new photoset sitting in his bedside drawer. It seems that his threats of punishment have fallen on deaf ears, because the photos Y/N has sent have been dirtier each time, and he can’t help but imagine what will be waiting for him in the envelope when her final letter arrives in a few days.

“What do you want?” Fred asks dully when there’s a knock at his door, not bothering to look up at George.

“That’s an awfully rude way to greet your girlfriend after you haven’t seen her for nearly a month,” Y/N says, the smile evident in her voice.

Fred’s head snaps up immediately, a smile taking over his face. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” He immediately climbs off the bed and heads over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Y/N drops her bag on the ground and wraps her arms around Fred’s neck, pulling him down so she can kiss him sweetly. “We finished everything up a few days early. Figured I’d come home and surprise you.”

Fred presses their lips together again hotly, his hands moving down to Y/N’s thighs. He lifts her up, his hands gripping her tightly and moves her over to the bed. “God I missed you,” he murmurs into their kiss, before he tosses her onto the bed.

“Couldn’t have missed me too much, not with all the photos I sent you,” Y/N giggles as she lays back on the bed.

Fred’s eyes darken and he can’t help but let out a groan as he thinks about those pictures. He can feel himself start to get aroused, and he grabs his wand, waving it so that his door slams shut, and locks and a silencing charm falls around his room.

“Such a naughty girl you were, Y/N. Taking those photos without Daddy’s permission,” he scolds, his voice low and rough.

Y/N squirms on the bed, looking up at Fred as innocent as possible. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I just wanted to make you feel good while I was gone,” she explains sweetly. “And clearly it worked, that photo you sent me made me so wet, Daddy.”

Fred bites his lip as he watches her squirm on the bed, taking pride in the fact that he can see a blush forming on her cheeks. “Oh, you made Daddy feel very good, princess. But you were still being a little brat. And you know what happens to brats? Don’t you?”

Y/N can feel herself getting wet as arousal starts to build in her stomach. She’s been waiting for this moment since Fred mentioned spanking her in his first letter. “They get punished,” she responds airily, fists clenching to keep from touching herself.

“That’s right princess, they get punished.” Fred pauses, letting his eyes roam up and down Y/N’s body. “Daddy think 30 swats is good, 15 on each cheek. Don’t you think, princess?” Fred smirks when Y/N lets out a whine as she nods wildly. “What should I use, hm? My hand? Or should I get the paddle?”

“Your hand, please,” Y/N begs. As much as she loves the paddle, she craves the feeling of Fred’s hand on her ass.

Fred smirks down at her. “Normally brats don’t get what they want. But you asked so nicely, princess.” Fred tears his gaze away from Y/N and takes seat on the end of their bed. “Get naked for Daddy and come stand in front of me.”

Y/N immediately gets off of the bed and rids herself of all of her clothing. Normally when they play this game she loves to drag it out and tease Fred endlessly. But she’s been on the edge for nearly 4 weeks and Fred has already been preparing to punish her, and she doesn’t want to find out what he’ll do if she’s even more naughty now that they’re finally back together. Y/N comes to stand in front of Fred, feeling shy under his intense gaze.

“God you are so gorgeous, princess,” Fred compliments, his hand reaching out to lightly grip her hip. He rubs circles into the bare skin, reassuring her. “Come on then. Get in Daddy’s lap.” Fred helps Y/N get situated across his lap, laying on her front. “Such a good girl,” he whispers, letting his hand run down her back, over her bum and to her thigh. “Do you have anything to say to Daddy? Before he gives you your punishment,” he drawls, his hand pushing in between her legs to rub at her wet folds.

Y/N gasps at his touch, her eyes falling closed. “I’m sorry for being a naughty girl, Daddy,” she moans out as Fred rubs her clit ever so slightly.

“Thank you princess,” he says softly, removing his hand from her core. He places it on her bum instead, lightly massaging one of her cheeks. “Daddy’s not mad at you, princess. But you still have to be punished, do you understand?” When Y/N nods he smiles. “Good girl. I want you to count for me, okay?”

“Yes Daddy,” Y/N responds, getting comfortable in Fred’s lap. A squeak leaves her mouth as Fred lands the first slap to her ass. “One,” she counts breathily. Before she has a chance to recover from the first hit, Fred is landing another hit to her cheek causing her to moan. “Two.”

Fred smirks down at the writhing mess Y/N has turned into after her first 15 spanks. Her right bum cheek is bright red, and Fred resists his urge to lean down to kiss it. “Are you doing alright, Princess? Can you take 15 more?” Fred asks quietly, reaching up to stroke Y/N’s hair. As much as he loves being rough with her, he never wants to hurt her or make her uncomfortable in any way. He’s rock hard in his trousers already, and he wants to make sure she’s getting as much pleasure from this as he is.

“Yes, Daddy. Need more. ‘M a naughty girl, I need to be punished,” she responds desperately. Y/N is soaking wet and her stomach is a pool of arousal. A few tears have snuck out of her eyes from how turned on she is, and she’s basking in the warmth left behind on her bum from Fred’s hand.

“Good girl,” Fred praises, leaning down to press a few kisses to Y/N’s shoulder. “You can use your safe word at any time, you know that right?” When Y/N nods he presses another kiss to her shoulder and starts to massage the bum cheek he hasn’t hit yet. “Count for me again, princess, okay?”

Y/N nods, letting out a moan a Fred lands the first hit to her cheek. “One,” she whines, lifting her hips up to encourage him to spank her again. Fred suddenly lands three hits in a row, causing a few more tears to leak out of her eyes as she moans. “Two, three, four,” she stutters out.

By the time Fred lands the last hit to her ass, Y/N is desperate for release. She’s slowly moving her hips forward, desperate for any kind of friction against her clit. “Daddy please,” she begs.

“Look at my desperate little baby,” he coos, moving Y/N’s hair out of her face so he can see the desperation on it. “Such a good girl you were, princess. Such a good girl for Daddy. C’mere let me kiss you.”

Fred helps Y/N straddle his waist and tucks a few stray hairs behind her ear. He kisses her deeply, his tongue immediately licking into her mouth. Y/N moans into the kiss, rolling her hips against the rough fabric of Fred’s trousers. Fred groans at the contact on his clothed cock, his hips rolling up to meet hers. “God, so fucking desperate for it aren’t you, princess?” he asks as his lips start to trail kisses down her neck.

Y/N nods, tipping her head back to give Fred more room to kiss. “Need you so bad, Daddy. Missed your cock. That’s what I was thinkin’ about in all those photos. Thinkin’ about how much I love your cock and how good it feels inside of me.”

Fred groans into Y/N’s neck and pulls away so he can look at her. “That’s so fucking hot, princess. Imagining you lying in bed, touching yourself and thinking of me.” Fred kisses Y/N again. “Go on and show Daddy how you touch yourself, princess. Get in bed and pleasure yourself for me.”

Y/N crawls off of Fred’s lap and onto the bed, settling down in the middle of it. One of her hands starts to pinch and twist her nipple, while the other runs down her body and settles at her core. She watches as Fred stands up and starts to undress himself, her index finger starting to rub small circles on her clit. “Oh fuck,” she moans, tilting her head back.

Once Fred is fully nude he kneels on the bed next to Y/N’s head and takes himself in his hand. He starts to slowly stroke his cock, his eyes crawling over every inch of Y/N’s body. There’s a flush that creeps up her chest, over her neck and to her cheeks and her hips are slowly rocking as she teases her clit.

“So pretty, princess. You look so pretty touching yourself for Daddy,” Fred praises.

Y/N turns her head to look at Fred as she feels her orgasm approaching. She opens her mouth, silently asking Fred to let her suck him off. When he doesn’t immediately give in, she whines. “Please let me suck your cock, Daddy. Please.”

Fred reaches down with his free hand to cup Y/N’s cheek. “Fucking hell you’re desperate for it princess.” He pushes his hips forward just enough so Y/N can wrap her lips around the head of his cock.

Y/N whines around Fred’s cock, her head starting to move up and down. She lets her tongue wrap around the head on each pull back, wanting Fred to release into her mouth. When he starts to slowly fuck his hips forward she hums around him in encouragement. As her climax builds she starts to rub harder circles on her clit, desperate for release.

“Fuck princess, gonna make Daddy come,” Fred moans, his eyes watching his cock disappear into her mouth.

Y/N’s eyes flutter shut as she reaches her orgasm, her whole body trembling. She moans around Fred’s cock as pleasure flows through her, causing him to suddenly release into her mouth. Her motions on her clit slow down as Fred’s cock twitches in her mouth and she swallows his release. As Fred slowly pulls his cock out of her mouth Y/N stops her movement on her clit, bringing her hand up to clean off her finger.

“Holy fuck,” Fred pants, watching Y/N’s lips wrap around her finger. “You are so fucking amazing,” he says in awe. Fred’s cock which hadn’t even gone fully soft starts to harden again as Y/N looks up at him. “Look at what you do to Daddy, princess. His cock is already hard for you again.”

Y/N smiles as she gets up to her knees. She wraps one hand around his cock and starts to slowly stroke it, while her other goes to his neck so she can pull their lips together. Fred’s mouth immediately overpowers hers, and he forces his tongue into her mouth. Fred is fully hard in Y/N’s hand now, and as they kiss he maneuvers them so he’s sitting with his back up against the wall, and Y/N is sitting in his lap.

“Need your cock Daddy,” Y/N whines, pulling her mouth away from Fred’s. “Fuck me Daddy, please.”

Fred chuckles, his hands falling onto Y/N’s hips. “Go on then, princess. Fuck yourself on my cock since you’re so desperate for it.” Fred suppresses a groan as Y/N grinds down against him. Fred and Y/N have tried nearly every sexual position either of them could think of, and they both know that being on top is low on Y/N’s list of favorites; she much prefers it when Fred holds her down and fucks her into the mattress.

“Daddy,” she pouts, grinding down against him again.

Fred narrows his eyes at her and resists his urge to kiss her. “Princess,” he warns. “If you wanna be a desperate cock slut, then be a desperate cock slut and fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Maybe if you’re a good girl and you come on Daddy’s cock he’ll give you what you want.”

Y/N perks up at that, and she leans forward to kiss Fred slowly as she rises to her knees. One of her hands’ rests on his shoulder, while the other reaches back to grasp the base of his cock.

Fred breaks their kiss so he can watch as Y/N lines him up with her entrance. Y/N whines as she sinks down, her eyes fluttering shut at how full she feels. She sinks down until their hips meet and Fred is fully inside of her.

“Fuck you’re tight, princess. Always so tight for Daddy,” he praises. He groans as Y/N starts to roll her hips, his grip on her tightening. “Go on, baby,” he encourages. “Get yourself off on my cock.”

“Oh,” Y/N moans, her hands gripping Fred’s shoulders tightly. She starts to slowly pick herself up, stopping when Fred is only halfway inside her, before she slams herself back down. “So good, Daddy,” she pants.

Y/N fucks herself on Fred’s cock like that for a few minutes, growing frustrated when she fails to hit the spot inside of her that will bring her to her orgasm. “Daddy please,” she whines.

“Come on, princess. You know how to fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Come around Daddy’s cock and he’ll give you what you want,” he encourages.

Y/N leans back, placing a hand on each of Fred’s thighs and uses the leverage to lift herself up. “Oh fuck,” she gasps as she sinks back down, the tip of Fred’s cock finally brushing her sweet spot.

“You look so pretty, princess. Getting yourself off on my cock,” Fred praises, helping Y/N to lift her hips off of him. “Such a good girl.”

Y/N moans as she fucks herself on Fred’s cock, already feeling her orgasm approaching. She starts to move her hips desperately, searching for her release. “So close, Daddy. Touch me Daddy please,” she pleads.

Fred smirks before he leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to Y/N’s lips. “Come on, Princess, come on Daddy’s cock,” he encourages, one of his hands leaving her hip so he can rub circles on her clit.

With one more downwards movement of her hips Y/N’s walls tighten around Fred as she comes, her body shaking as her orgasm rolls through her. “That’s it, princess. Such a good girl,” Fred coos quietly, his thumb slowing its motion and his hips rocking slightly to help her through her orgasm.

Fred kisses Y/N slowly as her breathing starts to return to normal. She shifts around on his cock as their lips move together and it takes everything in Fred to not come right there. “You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight, princess. Doing so well,” he says, breaking their kiss. “Can you take more, baby? D’you want Daddy to fuck you into the mattress?” Fred pecks Y/N’s lips. “It’s okay if you don’t baby. Daddy just wants to take care of you.”

“Want you to come inside me Daddy,” Y/N tells him, looking into Fred’s eyes. “Want you to pin me down and fuck me into the mattress.”

Fred doesn’t need to be told twice. He kisses Y/N hard and flips them over so her back is on the bed and he’s hovering over her. He throws both of her legs over his shoulders, pinning her to the mattress with his hips. He braces himself with one hand as his other comes up to grip Y/N’s throat and he pulls all the way out before he slams back into her.

“Oh fuck, Daddy,” Y/N moans as Fred starts to fuck into her relentlessly. The tip of his cock is brushing the spot inside of her and she’s already so sensitive from her previous two orgasms, and with the way Fred is gripping the side of her neck she knows she won’t last long.

“God, princess,” Fred grunts as Y/N’s walls clench around him. “Such a good pussy. You always feel go good wrapped around Daddy.” Fred lands a particularly hard slam as Y/N moves to touch herself. “Hands off, princess. Want you to come just from my cock. Can you do that for Daddy?”

Y/N nods, too busy moaning and whining to answer Fred verbally. Her body feels like it’s on fire, her toes curling and her back arching as she reaches her climax. “Daddy,” she moans lowly, as she comes around Fred’s cock, a few stray tears falling from the corners of her eyes.

“Fuck princess,” Fred moans. Y/N’s walls tighten and twitch around him, bringing him to his own release. His hips still as he empties himself inside of her and he crashes their lips together. Fred slows their kiss down as they both recover, unable to stop the smirk that forms on his mouth when Y/N whines as he slowly pulls out of her. Fred collapses on the bed next to Y/N and she immediately cuddles into his side as he wraps his arm around her.

“I love you,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth.  

Fred turns his head so he can kiss her properly, not pulling away until they both need to breathe. “I love you too, Y/N,” he says softly. “Are you alright? Did I go too far?”

Y/N shakes her head, chuckling at Fred’s concern. “Not at all, love. It was incredible.” She pauses so she can press a kiss to his neck. “I’m glad I have the next few days off, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”

Fred laughs and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Good thing I have you all to myself because I have quite a few plans for us.”

Y/N looks up at him, a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “Oh yeah? What might those be?”

“Let’s just say our cameras are definitely going to need more film when I’m done with you.”

[glassartpeasants]

That ending was a stab on the heart from beginning to end I'm gonna steal bob 🏃🏾‍♀️

The One That Got Away

Shigaraki x GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst, cheating, death

A/N: Don’t threaten Bob

~~~

The bed felt different after that night.

2 months ago you had caught Shigaraki cheating on you with someone random woman. You stood in the doorway just watching, trying to find the words to say but nothing came out. It’s only when you dropped your groceries and your present to him is when he noticed your presence.

*flashback*

“Shit! (Y/N) it’s not what it looks like-” He tripped over his words. You said nothing as you just looked at him, knowing that no matter how much you loved him that there was nothing that could ever make you forget this.

“Fuck just say something!” You were still silent as you dropped the groceries you were holding. It just wasn’t clicking for you. How could he do this to you? what had you done wrong?

“What did I do wrong?” Your voice seemed to echo throughout the room. Nobody said anything. Until she spoke up.

“Oh my god, Im so sorry! I didn’t know he was taken! Please forgive me.” The girl spoke as she jumped outta bed and started putting her clothes on.

“It’s okay. I forgive you.” Those words spilled from your mouth before you could actually say anything you meant. The girl had hugged you before saying she was so sorry a final time. Flipping off Shiggy on the way out.

“(Y/N)...i promise we can talk about this.” You just kept looking at him. Those eyes seemed to burn into his soul. He doesn’t think you noticed the tears spilling from your eyes. He was about to say something to you but you started to walk towards him. Thinking he was gonna get hit he just stood still before feeling your part of the bed dip.

He turns around to see you laying there, eyes still open with tears rushing down your face, your clothes of the day still on your body.

Shigaraki tried to put his arms around you but you had hit his hands back. and used your feet to push him to the edge of the bed while you laid clung to the wall.

*flashback over*

Thinking back on it you don’t know why you didn’t just walk away. Maybe you were to tired from being busy and running errands for him all day? Did you want it to be a bad dream and hope to walk up to realize nothing ever happened? Whatever the reason was, you weren’t sure but a part of you wishes that you left that night.

Now you sit at the bar, sitting far away from what use to be your boyfriend, not even taking a glimpse of him and he knew it. You just sat in the corner drinking and looking on your phone until a familiar smell approached you. 

“Oh hey Dabi.”

“Hey there (Y/N), why aren’t you hanging out with crusty over there? He keeps staring at you and the tension in here could be cut with a knife. It’s been two months and apparently everyone said i should ask what's going on.”

“Im not going near him at the moment. We’re on a break per say.” this seemed to peak Dabi’s interest as he leaned closer.

“Oh? Did crusty do something?  Your secret's safe with me, i swear on my soul.” What did it matter if you told Dabi? He already doesn’t respect Shigaraki so why not, plus, so what if that fuck didn’t want anyone knowing, he shouldn’t have cheated when everyone else was sleeping in the base.

“Don’t tell anyone I told you but, 2 months ago I caught Shigaraki cheating on me...” You felt small tears prickle the corner of your eyes. Bringing your hand up to your face you rub it away, hoping to ignore the pain that was banging against your chest.

“What a dick, wanna make him pay?” You look up at Dabi who had a huge grin on his face. You thought about it for a good few seconds before shaking each others hand.

“Once Shigaraki goes out on that mission today, we’ll talk more.” Dabi said before getting up from his seat and grabbing a drink from the bar.

You didn’t know what Dabi had planned but you hoped it would bring Shigaraki the same pain you felt that fateful night 2 months ago.

~~~

You sat on the ground in Dabi’s room as he paced back in forth, coming up with revenge plans. All of them sucked or ended up with you guys might going to Jail.

“New plan, everytime Shigaraki wants to hang out tell him you had plans with me and leave the room. You can go somewhere and i’ll go somewhere with you. Effectively ditching him.” Thinking, you try to come up with all the pros and cons this proposal Dabi shared with you. But soon your hurt over ruled the logical side of you and you agreed to it not a moment later.

“Great! Now all we need is for Shigaraki to ask to hang out with you. Don’t know how long that’ll take though...”

“I usually ignore him after what happened but sometimes he asks to hang out with me whenever its a slow day at the base or if he’s bored.”

“ Well guess we have to wait tell then huh?” Nodding your head, you get up before putting a thumbs up in his direction. You walked out of his room and see Shigaraki sitting at the bar. He must have finished his mission early. You rolled your eyes before sitting on the other side of the bar counter. You could feel shigaraki look at you through father.

“Hey....”

“.....”

“Look im sorry, a-and i know that doesn’t excuse what I did but please-” You got up before he could finishing his sentence as you walked towards your shared bedroom. Going in there use to give you comfort but now everytime you step into that room you see that fateful night over and over again.

You sat on the bed before hearing Shigaraki’s footsteps coming towards the room. Furrowing your brows, you ignore him as you put your shoes on. You needed a little bit of fresh air so you were planning on going to the local park to relax a bit. You weren’t a villain like the rest of them, you were just a simple civilian. Not that you minded really. It was peaceful not fearing for your life everyday and having the fear of failure not on your shoulders.

You didn’t really have a quirk so you just ignored the questions when people asked you if you had one. 

“Can I talk to you?” You were dragged back to reality when Shigaraki’s voice rang through your ears. Annoyed you just answered hoping that the conversation would be short. 

“What do you want?” You voice was snappy and you could feel the venom dripping from it.

“I understand that your mad. And you have every right to be but your not even giving me a chance to redeem myself and-”

“Redeem yourself? Why the hell would I do that? YOU cheated on ME. LIke hell im gonna forgive you so easily.”

“It’s been two months! What happened was in the past!”

“It was in the past my ass. How would you like it to see your lover in bed with another?!”

“I-”

“I felt like my soul died that day. I thought I was your only one! Only to find out that you slept with her! Was she a one time thing or were there more hookups?!” You stood up from the bed as your fists turned white and your anger slowly erupting.

“.....”

“TELL ME DAMNIT!”

“Three...there were three different occasions...” Now the tears were kicking in. You were hoping that it wasn’t true. What if there was more and he was only saying three just to ease your heart?

“Why? Why would you do this to me? What did I do to deserve this?” Your questions were like knives stabbing into Shigaraki’s heart. He wanted to tell you the truth, but he didn’t want your heart to hurt more than it already was.

“Im not going to ask again Shigaraki. You either tell me the truth or I will walk out of this base and never come back.”

“The...the first time it was a drunk accident, the second time Dabi had brought her to the base and one thing led to another. The last one was the same as the second one.”

“Did...did Dabi know about the affair?” You were begging, no pleading for him not to have known. You didn’t know if your heart could take it.

“Yes...” That was it. That was the thing that broke you. Walking up to Shigaraki you pushed past him before flipping him off and saying one final line.

“I would rather die that ever be with you again.” And with that, you left the hideout. You speed walked through the alleys to get to you parked your car. Your friends house was pretty far and you didn’t feel like walking in the dead of night were criminal activity was more active. 

Getting in your car, you turn on the radio and start breaking down. Your tears were blurring your eyesight as you put the car in drive. 

The streets weren’t busy except for the occasion car with some college students. Or drunk people walking along the sidewalk. The sound of the radio blasting songs that were supposed to be happy barley brightened up your mood as you drove down the dark highways.

All of a sudden a bright light hit your eyes from the right side. Some fuck must have had their brights on. But you had the right away so you went. All of a sudden a huge crash rang through your ears and the world became dark.

~~~

A ring came from Shigaraki’s phone. Looking at the clock he noticed it to be 2am. Annoyed he just decided to answer it.

“Hello, this is (hospital name). You were listed under a emergency contact for (Y/N) (L/N).” Shigaraki jolted awake as his hands reached his neck, standing up and already begun to pace the floor of his room.

“Yes did something happen?!”

“At 12am tonight miss (Y/N) was in a car crash. A hit and run to be exact. Their car was totalled after it rolled about 3 times from the speed that the driver hit them. A bystander of the accident called 119. They were in need of surgery immediately once paramedics noticed that they were crushed and bleeding out quickly due to a shard of glass that was stabbed in their chest.”

“Are they okay?!” The doctor on the other end went silent.

“Im deeply sorry for your lost sir. They died during surgery trying to remove the glass that was lodged in their skin. The police are on the look for the suspect. if you wish to see them were on (blank street). Once again, im sorry for your loss. Goodnight sir.” The phone went silent as the doctor hung up. 

Everything seemed to stop as the feared villain feel to his knees. Tears fell from his eyes as his body shook. He realized that now it was impossible to even try. And the last words you had ever said were ‘ you’d rather die than ever be with him again.’ Crying into his hands as his tears made a puddle on the floor.

I guess you took your words seriously.

[helaintoloki]

Everybody Loves Somebody

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: slight language, themes of insecurity, angst, pining, slow burn (kinda?), eventual fluff, over 5k words in length

notes: it’s finally finished! this took forever but I swear I put my entire soul into making this as perfect as it could be. I’ve never used this format before in my writing and it was challenging but also super fun so hopefully you guys like it :) (also yes the title and the fic somewhat is inspired by the Dean Martin song)

summary: Thrown into a blind date against his will, Bucky does his best to prepare in the days leading up to Saturday night, a feat that proves to be much more difficult than expected thanks to his neighbor across the hall.

Sunday

Three quick raps on the apartment door force Bucky to kick back the covers and sluggishly rise from his spot on the floor. He’s exhausted, but his recognition of the evenly spaced knocks on the wooden frame has him feeling compelled to answer, and so he does. Too tired to notice the television is still droning on in the background, Bucky idly wraps his discarded blanket around his form to shield his vibranium arm before opening the door to greet the old man standing on the other side.

“Rough night, huh?” Yori greets with a knowing smile.

“Something like that,” he replies with a tired, lopsided grin. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I set you up on a date,” the man says casually, as if setting Bucky up on dates without his knowledge and against his will is a common every day occurrence, and it is. “Saturday evening at six.”

“What— A date? Yori—“

“She’s a nice girl, very pretty. I think you’ll like her.”

“Now hang on a minute,” Bucky tries to interject, but Yori is already halfway down the hall before the super soldier can get another word in.

“You’re meeting her at the Italian place down the street!” Yori calls behind him. “She likes sunflowers!”

The old man’s shouts are sure to have woken up the entire fourth floor by now, but Bucky is too busy trying to process the jumble of information that has been thrust upon him so suddenly and so early in the morning to care. The last date Yori had sent him on had ended in disaster; Bucky wasn’t ready to get back out on the field, a stable relationship wasn’t in the cards for him. Surely no one in their right mind would stick around once they found out the truth about the man, and if they did it would only be a matter of time before the constant nightmares and extra baggage that came with dating the ex-Hydra assassin sent them running for the hills. But Yori meant well, Bucky knew that, and he also knew he owed the man more than he could ever give him in return, so if sitting through another painfully uncomfortable date would make him happy, then Bucky would just have to suck it up, put on the nicest shirt he owned, and charm his way through another awkward dinner.

“Sunflowers,” he grumbles to himself, quietly shutting the door before returning to his spot on the cold hardwood floor.

Monday

Monday mornings are gym mornings, early workouts that start at five and end at seven. He promptly returns to the apartment building at seven thirty, eight if he stops for breakfast, then goes to check the mail before heading back to the comfort of his sheltered apartment. He doesn’t receive much other than grocery coupons and an odd letter from the government every now and then, but he’s been told that a routine is good, it’s healthy, so on Monday mornings at seven thirty—or eight— Bucky pulls out his keys and opens his assigned metal box with a sense of indifference.

It’s eight o’clock on this particular morning, and with a half finished cup of coffee in hand the soldier opens the little metal compartment to find nothing other than stray specks of dust and the tiniest of spiderwebs in the top right corner of the box. It’s a familiar sight, but Bucky has learned not to let it bother him by now. Remember James, it has nothing to do with you, his therapist always said. You have to learn not to take things personally.

“It has nothing to do with me,” Bucky murmurs quietly before finally shutting his mailbox with a sigh. Coffee cup discarded in the nearby trash can, Bucky turns to make his trek towards the elevator only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of a beautifully familiar face.

Your name is y/n, you live on the fourth floor, and for someone reason you’re always covered in glitter. You’re on your way out the door, art supplies held clumsily in your grasp just begging to jump free from your hold, and despite the rush you seem to be in you still greet the man with a polite smile.

“Good morning,” you chime, honey coated voice filled with warmth and kindness for the stranger. Bucky simply gives you a halfhearted smile in return, watching you walk out the door and wishing he could just muster up the courage to speak to you.

You won the soldier’s heart the day you knocked on his door to drop off a “welcome to the neighborhood” casserole. It had only been his second day in his new apartment, and while he knew some of the other tenants were weary of the mysterious man with the thousand yard stare who had decided to call the building a home, you never once seemed to bat an eye at Bucky or his closed off nature. He had been a little short with you upon your first meeting, his anxiety coming off as annoyance, but still you wore that same kind smile of yours and assured him that if he ever needed anything you’d be happy to help. You were a kind person with a big heart, and Bucky didn’t want to chance snuffing out one of the few lights left in the world, so he let you be. Admiring you from afar was all he let himself have of you, and that was it.

Though, Bucky would be lying if he said you didn’t come across his mind every once in a while. He wondered what you were like, what music you listened to, how you liked your eggs in the morning, if you were an old soul or young at heart, if you’d ever let yourself fall into in the arms of a broken man and help pick up the pieces. It was a pipe dream, but sometimes a friendly smile from you in the morning was enough to get Bucky through an entire day. He hadn’t been with anyone in years, and while he didn’t think he was ready to get back out on the dating scene just yet he knew that if you asked him to he’d take the plunge in a heartbeat. You were an angel, and Bucky would never be able to bring himself to taint you with his touch.

Monday mornings are workout mornings, but they’re also mornings with you.

Tuesday

On Tuesday afternoons Bucky often finds himself in the company of Yori, ensuring the old man stays out of trouble and going out of his way to make sure his newest friend has a nice day out on the town. It isn’t much, and it never will be, but it’s enough for now, at least until Bucky can find the courage to tell the father just what exactly happened to his son on that fateful night. But until then, sushi for lunch will have to do.

He makes his usual trek to the man’s apartment, stomach already beginning to rumble at the prospect of a nice crunch roll, but Bucky’s hunger is soon replaced with nerves at the sight of the woman standing in Yori’s doorway.

You look pretty today, hair haphazardly styled in your rush out the door this morning, colorful stains of dry paint adoring your hands that clutch a bundle of books close to your chest, and a dangly pair of earrings that glint underneath the sunlight pouring through the hallway windows. There’s a smile on your face as you nod along to something Yori says that doesn’t quite register in the soldier’s jumbled thoughts, and the two of you are both too engrossed to notice his lingering presence standing just a few feet away.

“Thank you so much for lending me these. The kids keep me on my toes and I haven’t had any time to settle down with a good book so these were perfect,” you utter gratefully, handing off the pile of poetry books to Yori’s awaiting hands. Names of authors that Bucky doesn’t recognize catch his eye, just as his friend finally catches his presence.

“Of course. I have more if you’re ever interested,” he says before finally addressing the elephant in the hallway. “James, there you are. I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”

Bucky stiffens at the sound of his name, heat immediately crawling up his neck as you turn to him with a friendly smile. Clearing his throat, he steps forward and musters up a meager grin in return.

“Like I’d ever miss Tuesday lunch,” he jokes, a nervous chuckle falling past his lips.

“I guess I better get going. Thank you again, Yori,” you chime with a grateful smile. Then, with your attention turned to Bucky, “Have a nice lunch, James.”

“Thank you...” he trails quietly, mentally kicking himself for his stiff demeanor and wishing he could be less pathetic in your presence just once. Just once and he’d die a happy man.

You leave with a polite smile, turning down the hallway and out of Bucky’s grasp once again. Yori elbows his side.

“She’s single, you know.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Bucky replies with a wry chuckle. “You have me set up with one girl already.”

“Right,” Yori notes thoughtfully with a knowing smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes that Bucky can’t quite decipher. “I think you’re going to have a nice time on your date.”

“We’ll see,” is all he says in reply, your smile the only thing on his mind as the two men head out for the day.

Wednesday

Bucky has grown to love rainy days, days in which he can remain tucked away in the warmth and comfort of his own home with a relaxing mug of hot chocolate in one hand and some piece of pop culture media he has yet to catch up with in the other. Today’s pick is a book titled The Outsiders, and Bucky chooses to sit upon the windowsill to read the novel.

Gentle drops of rain trail down the glass window, pattering soothingly in a way that makes Bucky fear he may fall asleep. He sets the book aside with a tired sigh and glances out the window with his warm cheek pressed against the cool surface; the city is quiet and the streets nearly empty, and this makes it easier to spot you.

It’s almost as if you’ve been popping up out of nowhere lately, but Bucky never seems to mind. Watch from afar, that was the deal he made with himself, so who was he to complain if you made the task easier for him? He could never have you the way he wanted to because he doubted you’d ever want an unstable old man like him, and even if you did he’d be no good for you. He knew girls like you back in his day, girls with stars in their eyes and hearts on their sleeves, girls who’d melt in his arms whenever he so much as smiled at them. And yet you weren’t like any girl he’d ever seen; you were an enigma and he wanted nothing more than to spend all of eternity deciphering the mystery of you. But he couldn’t, because he shouldn’t, so he didn’t.

Despite the gloomy gray skies hanging above you there’s a serene smile on your face as you stop to admire the pots of sunflowers outside the building, reminding Bucky he has to buy some for his date on Saturday. God, he was dreading it. Bucky was sure whatever girl Yori picked for him would be nice enough, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes wish it were you he’d be taking out for a night on the town. A guy can dream, right?

You retreat into a nearby coffee shop when the rain begins to fall harder, and as Bucky turns to his own warm drink he finds that the mug is now cold. Book discarded, he rises from his spot on the windowsill and drowsily drags himself into the kitchen for another cup.

For a moment he thinks sunflowers might surely bring about his demise, and the passing thought brings the smallest of smiles to his face. Only time will tell.

Thursday

“How are you feeling about your date on Saturday?”

The woman stares at him expectantly, pristine notepad resting casually in her lap, pen in hand as a warning, eyebrows raised at the man as he stares down contemplatively at the stitching of his leather gloves. What should be a comforting environment instead only seems to put him on edge, and as the seconds tick by on the clock hung crookedly above the doorway her pen only seems to get closer to the blank page below her. Shoulders sagging, Bucky can only offer a small sigh in response.

“I can’t say I feel too great about it,” he finally says, the tension in his shoulders alleviating slightly as she finally puts the pen down.

“And why’s that?” Doctor Raynor prods curiously.

“I just don’t really think I’m all that ready for a relationship. What person wants to be with someone as screwed up as me?”

“The right person will,” Christina comforts. Your smiling face flashes briefly in his mind in response and he shifts in discomfort— the doctor notices. “But I don’t think you’re telling me the full story here, James. I suspect there’s something else that’s holding you back. Or maybe someone.”

“That obvious, huh?” Bucky retorts with a wry smile.

“Who’s the lucky person?”

“Her name’s y/n,” he says, your name falling past his lips in the softest tone Dr. Raynor has ever heard from him before. “I don’t know her all that well, but she lives in my apartment building so I see her around a lot. She’s... she’s really pretty.”

“Well, what is it about y/n that you like?”

Geez, where do I even begin?

“I don’t know,” Bucky shrugs, picking absently at a loose seam on the end of his shirt, “I guess I like how friendly she is. Every time I see her she’s always smiling, she always says good morning to everyone and lends a hand wherever she can. It’s like she goes out of her way to be nice to me, and I’m not really used to that but it’s a nice feeling. The first time I met her she never even flinched, she wasn’t scared like other people usually are, and even when I blew her off she still made it clear that I was welcome and if I needed a friend she’d be there. That’s the kind of person she is.”

“Did you take her up on that offer?” The woman asks, but by the look on her face Bucky is sure she already knows the answer.

“No...”

“James, we’ve talked about this,” Christina says firmly, “you have to stop closing yourself off from the people around you. Making a friend could really help you, especially if this girl is truly as nice as you say she is.”

“She is,” he reiterates firmly, “and that’s why I can’t be her friend.”

The doctor’s brows furrow with piqued interest at his admission, legs shifting underneath her as she gets comfortable in preparation for what will most likely be a heavy confession. “Can you elaborate for me?” She says. Bucky sighs.

“After everything that’s happened, and everything the world has been through, it just gets harder and harder to find some sort of light in the dark. So when you finally do find it, it’s like you have to do everything in your power to make sure it never goes out.”

“So y/n is a light?” Raynor reaffirms.

“For so many people,” Bucky nods, “and if I try to put myself in the picture I’ll only bring her down. There’s no future with me, and she deserves better than that.”

“How do you know that if you never put yourself out there?” The doctor asks softly, silently stunned by the heavy confession Bucky has entrusted her with; it’s the most he’s ever opened up before.

Pieces of the past dart through his mind, and in the midst of all the heartache and the chaos he sees Yori, the one friendship he’s been able to successfully maintain since his period of healing. The memory of the man is pleasant for a moment, until Bucky is reminded of the basis of their friendship and how one single confession will tear down everything they’ve built together. It doesn’t matter what kind of man he is now or how much control he has over his own life, the Winter Soldier will always have the final say, and nothing will ever change that. Finally, he speaks.

“I just do.”

Friday

“Crap.”

The softly uttered curse sounds from across the hallway and alerts Bucky of his struggling neighbor’s presence. Purse slipping off your shoulder and heavy groceries spilling from your arms, you struggle to maneuver your key into the lock of your front door all while the heat of embarrassment engulfs your body in a suffocating hold. You’re not as put together as you usually are, your belongings in disarray and eyes full of exhaustion rivaling that of his own, your usually meticulously picked clothing replaced by joggers and an old college sweatshirt that’s three sizes too big on you, and yet Bucky still finds himself frozen in your presence.

Don’t just stand there, help her you idiot, his mind screams at him, the soldier harshly swallowing down his nerves before taking shaky steps towards you. An orange slips out of the brown paper bag and rolls towards his feet, and Bucky takes it as his in into a conversation.

“Need some help?” He asks with a crooked smile, one that softens at the look of distress clear in your eyes as you meet his gaze.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” you breathe out before offering a meager smile of your own. “Some help would be great, thank you.”

Bucky takes the heavier bags of groceries from your aching arms and returns the orange to its rightful place, allowing you the chance to take your keys and unlock the door. You don’t spare him another glance as you walk in, leaving it open as a silent invitation for him to let himself in. Bucky swallows nervously but wordlessly follows behind; he’s never been in a woman’s apartment before, and the fact that it’s yours makes the experience all the more nerve wracking.

Your apartment is small but personalized, decorated with little knickknacks and houseplants and old family portraits that Bucky does his best not to stare at in fear of being rude, and the vanilla scented candle that burns on the coffee table makes him feel all the more welcome. You drop your purse by the couch with a tired sigh before directing your attention to the man who stands awkwardly in your living room. His hulking figure makes your apartment seem tiny, oddly comforting in a way, but you hold back your giggles and merely guide him to your kitchen.

“You can set them on the counter,” you say with a passive wave before reaching into one of the cabinets for a glass cup. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No, thank you,” the man says politely as he settles the heavy bags down on the marble surface; as much as he’d like to sit and spend the evening with you, he can’t stay long, or more like he won’t allow himself to stay long. Your movements are clumsy as you down your glass of water, and Bucky looks away flustered as little droplets begin to escape the corners of your lips and dribble down your neck. “I hope I’m not overstepping by asking this, but are you alright? You seem a bit... flustered.”

“Is it that obvious?” You joke quietly, your smile barely reaching your eyes as you fidget with the sleeves of your sweater.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky begins to say in fear of overstepping, but you merely shake your head in response.

“I’m just a little stressed out. The kids always keep me on my toes, especially now that there’s more of them, and it’s been hard trying to get some of them to readjust.”

“Kids?” He repeats with furrowed brows. He can’t recall ever seeing you with any children, and there’s no sign of any living with you in your apartment. A genuine laugh leaves your lips this time at his response and Bucky tenses uncomfortably. Did he say something wrong?

“I’m a kindergarten teacher,” you explain with a smile, and everything clicks in Bucky’s mind then. That would explain the constant paint stains and trails of glitter left in your wake, the arts and crafts supplies and stacks of drawings you seem to carry with you everywhere. And here he thought your heart couldn’t get any bigger than it already was— were you even real?

“The effects of the blip have been really difficult for them. It’s hard having to come back to school and see that all your old friends are now five grades ahead of you. I know everyone has been impacted in some way by what happened, but it’s harder for the younger ones to understand. I’m doing my best to make the transition back to normalcy easier for them, but some days are harder than others, you know?”

“Sounds rough,” is all Bucky can manage to say, swallowing his emotions back harshly.

“Yeah,” you sigh quietly, rubbing away the clear exhaustion in your eyes, “but I’m trying my best.”

“Sometimes that’s all you can do.”

You smile then, a genuine smile, one that makes Bucky weak in the knees, and suddenly it’s as if all the weight has been lifted off of your shoulders.

“I really needed to hear that,” you utter softly, “thank you.”

“What are neighbors for?” Bucky jokes lamely, but you must like his sense of humor for you let out the quietest of giggles.

“You’re sweet. I like talking with you, but I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you’re a busy guy.”

“Not really,” he shrugs with a crooked smile, “I just had some errands to run before tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” You ask curiously, brows raising with interest as Bucky awkwardly looks down at your hardwood floor.

“I’ve got a date.”

“Huh, no kidding. Me too,” you smile, and in response Bucky’s heart slowly begins to sink to his stomach. Yori had said you were single, but only an idiot would believe that someone like you could stay that way for long. Maybe if he had taken the doctor’s advice sooner he could be the one you’re seeing instead of the lucky guy that beat him to it.

“I should get going... I’ll see you around.”

“Thank you again for the help, and good luck on your date,” you say with an encouraging smile. Bucky swallows harshly in response, a look of longing in his eyes that he hides well with a meager quirk of his lips.

“You too,” he murmurs in response, casting you once last glance before showing himself out. The lock clicks behind him, and Bucky trudges back to his own empty apartment.

Saturday

The dining patio of the Italian restaurant is pleasantly empty, but the quiet stillness does little to help soothe Bucky’s nerves as he waits for the arrival of his date. He probably should have asked Yori what she looked like, what her name was and what she’d be wearing so he’d know what to expect, but the old man had been adamant on keeping the identity of his date a surprise.

“It’ll be better that way,” he had said, “trust me.”

The bouquet of sunflowers sits before him on the table almost tauntingly, their bright colors and sweet scent sending his senses into overdrive. He almost resented them, but then he thought of your smiling face through the window and the tension from his shoulders began to dissipate— if you could be strong and put on a brave face despite all the bad things that had happened in the world, then so could he.

“James?” A meek voice calls quietly, pulling the man from his thoughts. His blue eyes widen in surprise at the sight of the woman standing before him and he swallows anxiously.

“Y/n?” Bucky replies, quickly rising from his seat and cringing at the way in which the legs of the chair scrape harshly across the floor with his sudden movements. Here he thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful, and here you were proving him wrong with your cute little outfit and styled hair and charming smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for my date,” you explain with a sheepish smile. Bucky deflates— not only would he have to suffer through his own painfully awkward date, but he’d also have to sit and watch you get swept off your feet by someone else all in the same night.

“Oh... well, who’s the lucky guy?”

“That’s the thing,” you say with a nervous laugh, “I think you are.”

“Me?” Bucky repeats flabbergasted. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Yori was the one who said I should try dating again. He thought it would be good for me to spend some time with other adults since I’m always with my students, and when I said I didn’t really know anyone he told me he’d take care of it for me. All he told me was to come to this restaurant Saturday at six and look for the man with sunflowers,” you summarize before gesturing to the bouquet on the table, “and you’re the only one here with sunflowers so...”

A disbelieving laugh leaves Bucky then at the realization, and he isn’t sure whether he should jump for joy or wait for the ground below to swallow him whole. Finally he had a chance to spend time with the girl who had taken over his thoughts and occupied every available space in his heart, and yet he couldn’t help but feel terrified. A date was a big step up from neighborly conversation in your apartment, and all of Bucky’s hopes of developing something more with you were riding on this one date. Yori knew exactly what he was doing by setting the two of you up, and Bucky had no choice but to be grateful for the man who had bestowed upon him the chance to finally win you over.

“If this is too awkward for you we can just skip this whole date—“

“No, it’s not awkward at all,” Bucky is quick to interject. “I mean, this whole thing is certainly a surprise but it’s a good one. It’s an honor to be your blind date.”

He flashes a charming smile that makes you weak in the knees, and he knows then that he’s back in the game— who would have guessed he’d be able to dust off his old moves with such ease? He had to if he wanted any kind of chance at winning you over.

“In that case, why don’t we get out of here? This restaurant is a little stuffy,” you note with a small chuckle, your nerves slowly beginning to dwindle.

“Alright, what do you have in mind?”

The nightlife atmosphere of the plaza square is surprisingly much more comfortable compared to the dining patio, and Bucky considers himself the luckiest man alive to be able to witness firsthand the way your eyes seem to sparkle with the light of the starry sky. A nighttime stroll is right up Bucky’s alley, and you both fall into a comfortable step as you talk about whatever topic seems to come to mind. You speak of your students, about how much their smiling little faces have helped you get through the toughest times, how there’s a stray cat who calls the dumpsters behind your apartment building a home and waits for your arrival on trash days because you always bring the feline a special treat. Alpine, you had named it, and Bucky adored that greatly.

The details are vague but you enjoy the stories he tells you of his childhood and the way his whole face seems to light up at the mere mention of his mother and sister; that look dwindles slightly when he speaks of his old best friend, but you pretend not to notice. As a younger man Bucky worked at the docks before serving time in the army, though he fails to mention where he’d been stationed, and now he works for the government. You feel almost giddy to be learning so much about the man you once believed would rather prefer solitude over your company, and as the night drags on and the conversation begins to dwindle you almost wish you could reverse the clock and do it all over again.

“Thank you,” Bucky says after a moment of silence, prompting you to halt your steps and raise a brow curiously at your counterpart.

"What for?"

“Taking a chance on a guy like me,” he smiles faintly while offering you a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. “I haven’t really done anything like this in a while, and the idea of putting myself back out there scared me shitless, but you just make things so much easier. I guess what I’m trying to say is when I’m with you everything comes naturally, and I really appreciate that.”

“Oh,” you utter softly, a sheepish smile of your own gracing your lips as you turn away to admire the scenery around you. It isn’t until now that you notice you’ve stopped before the fountain, the arches of water flowing overhead illuminated by the fluorescent lights below them. A nervous fluttering occupies your stomach and when you finally meet Bucky’s gaze you feel as if nothing else in the entire world mattress other than the two of you in this moment. “Well, if it makes you feel any better I’m kind of in the same boat, so that just means we can figure this out as we go. Together.”

“I like that,” Bucky affirms with a nod, a look that can only be described as lovestruck taking over his features. Nerves overcome you then as you clutch your bouquet of flowers to your chest, heart thrumming rapidly in your rib cage as Bucky steps closer. The glove that had once shielded his right hand from the cold is now missing as he gently cups your cheek and encompasses you with his warmth. His palm is calloused and rough but comforting all the same, and it takes everything in your power not to melt like putty in his grasp.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs quietly as if raising his voice any higher will ruin the moment.

“Yeah,” you breathe shakily, swallowing back your nerves, “it’s okay.”

Your softly uttered words of confirmation are all Bucky needs to hear before dipping down and gently brushing his lips against your own. His movements are hesitant for only a moment, and it is only once he’s sure you are comfortable and secure that he moves in for more. Your lips are soft against his own, plush and warm and so sweet, and as your eyes begin to flutter shut and the forgotten sunflowers slip out of your grasp you drape your arms securely across his shoulders at the same moment in which his left hand joins his right in cupping your face as if you were a precious jewel in need of the upmost care.

Nothing exists when you are in each other’s arms, you are safe and sound in your own little world, and as you part to take a breath Bucky realizes then that one kiss is all he needs to know that you are the one he’s been waiting for all his life.

And by god, if you aren’t more than worth the wait.