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trulymadlysydney · 4 years ago

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Scorpio Season: Two

Harry is the ghost that haunts the sorority house, Misty is the only one who can see him, and Scorpio season is far too short.

tw: Death, brief mentions of sexual assault, lots and lots of filthy smut

(This is also 26.k words so like... be prepared for a long read)

Read Part One Here

***Do Not Repost Without Permission***

It’s Halloween, and Misty is drunk.

Okay, so perhaps she isn’t quite drunk, but she’s getting there, and Harry is doing his best to take care of her. (And his best isn’t exactly good enough, considering she’s the only one who can see him.)

It takes him fifteen minutes to get her attention, and he lets out a sigh of relief when he finally sees her walking towards him- dressed head to toe like the devil (if the devil were, of course, sexy and wore a skin tight red dress and fishnets).

When she reaches him, she smirks, and he doesn’t know why. “What?” She asks, raising her eyebrows challengingly.

For the sake of Misty’s pride, Harry turns away before anyone can see her talking to nothing. “Follow me,” he says, nodding over his shoulder and leading her into the hallway.

They turn the corner into her bedroom, and Harry gently closes the door behind them. When it’s just the two of them, Misty grins. “What’s up, buttercup?”

Harry smirks. “You doing alright?”

“M-hm!” Misty says with a nod. “You want a drink?”

“Can’t, love.”

Misty’s smile slowly fades into a frown. “You mean ghosts can’t let loose? Have a little fun?”

“Who says I’m not having fun?”

Misty considers his words and offers him a shrug. “I mean you’re just watching a bunch of drunk college kids in stuipd costumes get even more drunk and make out with each other. That isn’t really my idea of a good time.”

“And yet here you are.”

Misty giggles. “You know what I meaaaan.”

“I’m watching you,” Harry says smugly. “That’s all I need.”

She laughs again, turning away so he can’t see the tinge of embarrassment on her face. “Don’t watch me,” she says. “Creep.”

“Not a creep,” Harry insists, plopping onto her bed. “Just want you to take care of yourself. That’s all.”

“I wish you could take care of meeee,” Misty says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively and punctuating her sentence with a half-hiccup, half-giggle.

Harry doesn’t know if Misty meant to say that, or if she even meant it in the way that he’s taking it, but he knows that if he had a beating heart, it would be racing at her words. He brushes it off, smiling at her softly. “M’taking care of you right now, aren’t I?”

“S’not what I meaaaaan,” Misty says, through another giggle, and now Harry knows exactly how her sentence was meant to be taken.

He laughs. “Sunshine why don’t we get you some water, hm?”

“I like it when you call me that,” Misty says, sauntering clumsily towards Harry. “‘Sunshine.’ Makes me happy.”

“I like making you happy,” Harry replies softly. “Now, will you make me happy by getting yourself some water please? I would get you some myself but, you know.” He gestures vaguely with his hands.

“You can’t!” she says, tittering to herself. “Cause you’re a ghost. I know that.”

Her words sting just the tiniest bit, even though Harry knows she doesn’t mean it in a negative way. He laughs them off anyway. “You’re stalling, Misty.”

“I’m not stalling!” Misty says. “I wish I could stay in here with you all night.”

And God, Harry wishes that too.

“And miss all the fun of the party out there?” Harry asks, eyeing her as she wobbles a bit around the room. “I saw the way those guys were looking at you.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and laughs as she gags.

“Ew,” she says, face twisting up in disgust. “They’re the worst.”

“You didn’t like their flirting? I thought that the trick the one guy did with the beer can on his head was very appealing. Especially with him dressed like a Greek God and all that.”

“You’re stupid.”

Harry grins. “Water, Misty, “ he reminds her. “You need to get yourself a glass of water.”

“Alright alriiiiight!” Misty holds up her hands in surrender. “You’re so neeeeeedy.”

Harry giggles, rising to his feet just in time to steady her a bit when she wobbles. She laughs softly at the feeling of his cold hands against her hips, turning in his arms to face him.

“You smell good,” she says, her face mere inches from his. “Have I ever told you that?”

Harry realizes that he’s held his hands in the same spot for just a tick too long, and he quickly drops them to his sides. “No,” he says, “Never told me that. What do I smell like?”

“Like…” Misty sniffs the air dramatically. “Like cinnamon. You’re laughin’ at me but it’s true! Smells really good.” She frowns up at him, as if a new thought just crossed her mind. “What am I gonna do when you’re gone?”

Now her words really sting, and Harry struggles to just laugh them off this time. Still, he knows tonight isn’t the time for sadness, and he doesn’t want to ruin Misty’s buzz. So he grins. “Buy a cinnamon candle?”

Misty pouts. “Not the same.”

Harry laughs, booping her nose with the tip of his finger. “Now I know you’re stalling.”

“Is it working?” Misty grins mischievously up at him, and Harry shakes his head.

“No,” he says through another laugh. “You little sneak.”

Misty giggles. “But you’ll stay with me, right? All night?”

“If you want me to.” Harry nods. “Yeah. You can’t talk to me though. Unless we’re in here.”

Misty frowns. “I know. Sucks.”

She turns like she’s going to leave finally, but then stops again. “Why can’t you show yourself in front of everyone?” she asks, as if the thought just dawned on her.

Harry sighs, because as much as he knows she’s stalling, it is a valid question. “I suppose I could,” he says, “If I really wanted to.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Not really, no.” Harry offers her a half hearted shrug, and when he sees her face drop he quickly tacks on, “Not that I don’t want to be able to openly spend time with you, of course! You know I do. It’s just difficult.”

“Why is it difficult?” Misty cocks her head to the side like a curious child, and it’s so cute Harry could burst.

“It’s exhausting,” he explains. “As ghosts we only have so much energy. And it’s affected by the energies of others in the room as well. Manifesting takes up a lot of that energy, especially when you’re manifesting in front of a lot of other beings.” He smiles, pausing to allow her to process what he’s just said before continuing his explanation.

“When it’s only you who can see me, the amount of energy I’m putting forward is far less than, say, the amount it would take for me to manifest in front of everyone else. On top of that, being around all different energies-- feeling them interact with your own-- you sort of adopt those energies as well. You take them upon yourself. I don’t like doing it. It doesn’t feel good.”

“Oh.” Misty frowns. “That sucks.”

“It does suck,” Harry says, nodding his head. “Especially since I can’t walk around tonight and show you off the way you deserve.”

Misty giggles shyly, and Harry beams at her before continuing. “Now if you don’t go and get yourself some water, I’m going to have to expose myself to everyone.”

Misty’s laugh is louder than it usually is, and Harry has no choice but to laugh along with her. “Okay!” she says. “Sorry! God.”

Misty makes her way over to the bedroom door with Harry close on her heels. He holds his arms out just in case she needs extra stabilizing. As soon as the door opens, she’s met with a loud cheering from the people in the hallway.

Harry recognizes Rosie and Greg, but there are two other guys there that he’s never seen before. And by the looks of their cheers, they’re super happy to see Misty.

“Mistaaaaay!” One of the guys, who is dressed as a lifeguard, shouts. “What were you doin’ in your room all alone?”

Harry scrambles to come up with an excuse for Misty, when she surprises him and comes up with one all on her own.

“My little sister was calling me, weirdo,” Misty says. “She forgot our parent’s wifi password.” She glances over her shoulder and shoots Harry a very subtle wink, and honestly Harry’s impressed. He chuckles to himself, shaking his head.

“Quick thinking there, sunshine.”

Misty ignores him but her smirk does not go unnoticed. Her attention is quickly pulled, however, when the original guy speaks up again.

“You’re lookin’ good tonight, girl. You know Josh is looking for you?”

And just like that, Harry’s ears are perked and his stomach is sinking.

“Yeah?” Misty asks, completely uninterested as she tries to push through the crowd. “Well I’ve been here!” She almost seems to sober up, and Harry is intrigued as to why.

“You should go see what he wants.” Lifeguard wiggles his eyebrows, and Harry takes a protective and unintentional step forward.

Misty rolls her eyes, seemingly unbothered. “If it’s really that important he can find me.”

Lifeguard whistles. “Damn, Misty, alright! Not interested?”

Misty spares a quick glance in Harry’s direction. “I’m not, no.”

It should make Harry feel much, much better. It really should. But it doesn’t.

Misty, of course, offers no time for explanation-- which she shouldn’t, Harry knows, but still. She only continues to push through the crowd, with Harry close behind-- and he tries to ignore the random shivers from the people he accidentally walks through.

“Misty--” He says quietly.

“It’s fine.” It’s barely audible, and of course Harry can’t blame her for that; for fucks sake, she can’t look like she’s talking to herself.

Misty stumbles a bit as she enters the kitchen, opening the fridge and reaching inside for a jello shot. Harry keeps a close eye on her-- not because he feels he has to, by any means, but mostly because it’s getting to the point in the night where things are starting to get a bit nutty. The boys are becoming handsier, the girls are becoming more giggly and loud. In his lifetime, Harry had been to quite a few parties-- so he knows exactly the direction this night is headed.

Misty is about to close the fridge when Harry offers her a pointed look. “Forgetting something?”

“Water!” Misty says out loud, without thinking. “Duh! Sorry.”

She reaches into the fridge just as a voice comes from behind Harry. “There you are, babe! Who are you talking to?”

Harry and Misty turn at the same time to see who the voice belongs to, and Harry immediately frowns.

He comes to the conclusion (based on little to no evidence) that this must be Josh-- just by the way he’s eyeing Misty like prey. He’s dressed like Tom Cruise from Risky Business, only he’s left the shirt unbuttoned far enough that his abs (or lack thereof) are visible.

Misty speaks, confirming Harry’s thoughts. “Hi, Josh.”

She sounds less than thrilled to be seeing him, and she goes stiff when he throws a hand around her waist and pulls her in for a hug. He leans in to kiss the side of her head, but Misty quickly ducks away, regaining her distance from him and opening her water bottle.

“Not happy to see me?” Josh pouts.

“No, I am,” she says, unconvincingly. She opens her water and is about to take a sip when Josh scoffs.

“You’re drinking water? Lightweight. Thought you were gonna get lit with us!”

“I am!” Misty insists. “Just don’t want to end my night with my head in the toilet.”

“You know I’d take care of you babe,” Josh says. “What’s in your cup tonight?”

Misty takes a few long sips from her water bottle, eyeing Harry pointedly, before she speaks. “Uh. I don’t know exactly, Kennedy made it for me.”

“Hell yeah,” Josh says, eyeing her glass. “You’re runnin’ low though, want me to get you another?”

Before Misty can even answer, Josh has taken the cup from her hands. He’s walking over to the stash of various liquors on the counter, and Harry immediately moves to stand beside him. He watches carefully as Josh pours the liquor into Misty’s cup.

“Heard you talkin’ in here,” Josh says. “Who were you talking to?”

“What?” Misty and Harry share a quick glance before she speaks. “Oh. No one. I was talking to myself.”

“Yourself?” Josh scoffs, still pouring vodka into Misty’s drink. Harry has to stop himself from reaching out to stop him from pouring. “You’re a little weirdo sometimes, Misty. You know that?”

Harry lets out an annoyed sigh, wanting more than anything to put Josh in his place. Misty only smiles passively. “I know.”

“Quite a bit of fuckin vodka he’s putting in there,” Harry says. “He’s trying to get you drunk, love.”

“I know,” Misty repeats, both to Harry and to Josh.

“Hot little weirdo though,” Josh says, adding only a tiny splash of cranberry juice before turning around to offer Misty her cup again. He pauses, just as he’s about to hand it to her.

“Did it suddenly get cold in here?” he asks, glancing around him.

“I could kill him,” Harry states, emotionless.

Misty has to fight a giggle, reaching forward to take her drink from Josh. “No, I don’t feel anything,” she says. She takes a quick sip, immediately regretting her actions when her esophagus is burned with the taste of vodka.

Misty shivers and gags, coughing in an attempt to get the horrible taste out of her mouth. “Jesus, Josh, what did you put in this?”

“Vodka cran baby!” Josh says. “Know you like those!”

“Vodka with a fuckin’ shot of cran,” Harry adds.

Misty coughs, putting her cup down on the counter. Josh frowns. “You don’t like it?”

“No,” Misty chokes, “I mean it’s fine but… fuck, dude, how much vodka did you put in there?”

“Nothing you can’t handle, Misty!” Josh steps forward, hip checking Misty and nearly knocking her over. “You’re a tough little girl aren’t you.”

“I really could kill him,” Harry adds.

Misty clears her throat, finally done with coughing. “You need to work on your bartending skills, Josh.”

“Yeah?” Josh puts his cup down, moving in on Misty. Before she even has time to react, he has her pinned against the counter, with both his arms trapped on either side of her. She leans her head back in an attempt to get further away from him. He, completely oblivious to social cues, only grins. “Maybe I do. But I know of one skill I don’t need to work on.”

“Josh—“ Misty couldn’t lean any further back if she tried, and she glances at Harry out of the corner of her eyes.

Josh leans in, pressing his lips to Misty’s neck. “C’mon, baby, you know what I’m talking about. Don’t you remember how good it was?”

Harry takes a step forward as Misty manages to get her hands unpinned and shoves them weakly against Josh’s chest. “You’re drunk,” she says.

��And you’re not?” Josh licks his lips, trying to kiss Misty again. “Take another sip then.”

Harry has never felt so helpless in his entire existence, and he doesn’t even think twice before reaching forward to yank Josh off Misty. Misty coincidentally pushes at his chest at the exact same time, sending Josh practically toppling over.

He regains his balance after a moment,, glancing at Misty with a confused look. There’s a thick silence in the air, and Harry instinctively takes a step between Josh and Misty. Josh glances around, as if searching for whatever just yanked him, and Misty shoots Harry a nervous look.

A menacing grin spreads slowly across Josh’s face, and he swipes his teeth with his tongue. “Damn, girl. You’re strong.”

Misty blinks back at him, swallowing. “Josh,” she says slowly. “I’m not interested.”

“That’s not what you said last time.”

Harry feels like his insides are on fire with anger, and Misty rolls her eyes.

“Yes, it is actually. Interesting how you don’t seem to recall that.”

“Say the word and I’ll kill him,” Harry says.

Misty rolls her eyes, which goes completely unnoticed by Josh as he continues his tirade. “Look, I know you’re just being stubborn and I get it! I do.” He picks up Misty’s abandoned drink, sloshing the cup around in his hand. “Why don’t you just finish this drink I made you and then come find me when it hits you and you stop being such a prude?”

Harry can’t hold back any longer, and he doesn’t even think twice before he moves in- slapping the cup and tilting it all over onto Josh’s skin and his stupid white shirt.

Josh shrieks, and the look on his face is a mix between shock and confusion. He eyes the now empty cup in his hand as if he can’t believe he just spilled it all over himself. Misty scoffs quietly to herself.

“Wow Josh, you might want to lay off the drinks.”

“Fucker,” Harry adds.

“I’m not that drunk!” Josh insists, raising his voice and taking a step towards Misty. Harry immediately steps between them once again, ready to push him away at a moment’s notice.

It’s at that exact moment that Kennedy walks in, saving the day. She instantly notices the tension in the room, and her eyes dart between Misty and Josh. She laughs when she notices his spilled drink.

“Woooow,” she says. “What happened here?”

“I stumbled,” Josh laughs, trying to regain his composure and play the situation off. “Misty saw it, huh?”

Misty shoots Kennedy a glance before muttering, “Yeah. It was crazy.”

“Mm,” Kennedy says, and it’s obvious that she seems to have an idea of exactly what happened. She doesn’t like Josh, that much is obvious. Harry is immensely grateful for her, knowing that she’s going to take care of Misty in a way that he can’t. “Well you should probably get that cleaned up, huh? And maybe lay off the drinks a bit.”

Kennedy immediately walks to Misty’s side, and Harry can tell Josh knows his game is over by the look he gives. Neither Kennedy or Misty hint at being upset, and Misty shoots Harry a thankful look.

“I’m not drunk, Kennedy,” Josh lies, a smile on his face that makes it very obvious that he’s offended.

“Okay,” Kennedy scoffs. “How bout you, Misty? Need another drink?”

Misty’s eyes dart from Kennedy to Josh to Harry, who watches her with helpless and sympathetic eyes. Misty wants more than anything to curl into Harry’s side, but she knows she can’t, and she’s thankful for Kennedy for stepping in when she did.

“Uh,” Misty says, clearing her throat. “Yeah, actually, I do. This idiot here spilled mine.”

Kennedy rolls her eyes, but it’s apparent she knows about the situation with Josh. “What a douche,” she teases. shooting Josh a look as if to say she’s not actually teasing-- she means what she’s saying. “Why don’t you go clean yourself up. Misty, I’ll make you another drink.”

Josh rolls his eyes, scoffing as if he can’t believe what just happened. “Yeah,” he says. “Alright.” He winks at Misty, shooting her an overly confident “I’ll see you later” before exiting the kitchen.

Kennedy, Misty, and Harry all watch him exit most ungracefully before Kennedy turns to Misty. “You okay? Like, actually.”

“Yes,” Misty lies.

“No,” Harry adds.

Kennedy rolls her eyes as she gets to work making Misty another drink. “He’s a fuckin douche canoe. I can’t believe he even still thinks he can talk to you.”

“I know.” Misty grabs a paper towel to clean up the bit of the drink that spilled onto the ground. “I don’t either.”

Harry watches Misty, continuing to feel helpless— almost as if he’s butting in on a conversation he shouldn’t be. But he doesn’t move. He remains still, almost frozen in place as he watches Misty clean up the mess he made.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I should’ve planned that better.”

“It’s okay,” Misty says, both to Harry and Kennedy. “I’m fine. He didn’t do anything.”

“He wouldn’t have given up though,” Kennedy says, pouring the actual correct amount of vodka into Misty’s cup. “He’s a creep.”

Misty sighs. “He is. But—“

“No buts.” Kennedy and Harry both say this at the exact same time, and it takes Harry a moment to process.

“God I hate him,” Kennedy says. “Don’t let him intimidate you. Here.” She finishes mixing the drink in Misty’s cup and hands it to her. “Stay with me, yeah?”

Misty smiles gratefully at Kennedy. “Thank you.” She glances over at Harry, a soft grateful smile directed in his direction as well.

Kennedy and Misty make their way out of the kitchen, and Harry once again feels helpless as he follows them. Should he leave her alone? She asked him not to, but now he feels awkward and, if he’s being honest, angry that he couldn’t help her more.

Harry numbly follows Misty and Kennedy through the house and into a cozy but messy living room filled with tons of other drunk people. He feels a slight sense of relief when, immediately upon sitting down, Misty’s eyes search for him. She seems to visibly relax when she sees him, and he smiles sadly at her. He reaches out to stoke lovingly at her cheek, and try as she might to not react, she can’t help but flutter her lashes closed for a brief second and lean into his touch.

The rest of the night seems to pass by slowly. Misty hardly touches her drink at all, and as normal as she’s behaving around everyone else, Harry-- and Kennedy, it seems-- can tell that something is wrong. She seems sad, her eyes less bright, and as the hours tick on she becomes less and less secretive about her glances towards Harry.

The party ends-- finally-- around 3am, with most of its guests falling asleep in various places throughout the house. Misty moves slowly, helping Kennedy clean up the apartment, and Harry follows her anxiously-- wishing he, too, could help.

“Are you okay?” Kennedy asks, once she and Misty-- and Harry-- are alone in the kitchen. “Like, actually.”

“Yeah,” Misty insists. “My buzz just wore off and like… I dunno. I just want to sleep.”

“I get that,” Kennedy says, turning on the sink to wash out a glass. “Well why don’t you go up to bed? I’ll finish up in here.”

“I don’t want to leave it all to you--”

“I’m good! I’m just gonna do a couple more dishes and then head up to bed myself. We can do the rest tomorrow.”

Misty hesitates, glancing from Kennedy to Harry before sighing, smiling a little relieved smile. “You’re the fucking best, Ken.”

Kennedy grins. “Duh. Go get some sleep.”

Misty throws her arms around Kennedy from behind, giving her a big squeeze and pressing the most obnoxious kiss to her cheek before bidding her goodnight. She still seems upset-- something is still very clearly on her mind, but she seems a bit relieved that she’s finally able to leave.

As she pulls away, she shoots Harry a questioning glance, as if asking him to come with her. He nods, holding up his finger to indicate that he’ll be right there. Misty smiles, nodding her head before disappearing out of the kitchen.

Harry turns back to Kennedy, making his way slowly towards her. He reaches forward, hesitating before giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. He’s thanking her, in the only way he knows how to without revealing himself, and much to his relief, Kennedy only jumps slightly before giggling.

“I knew you were here,” she says softly. “Whoever you are. And I know you care about our girl, too. Don’t worry, I’ve got her.”

Harry smiles to himself, wishing he could verbally thank her. But just her knowing about his existence-- and being okay with it, at that-- means more to him than he can explain. So without any more delay, he disappears from the kitchen and makes his way to Misty.

He finds Misty in her room, waiting in the doorway, and she smiles when she sees him. He makes his way quickly into her room and she closes the door behind him, her face immediately dropping the moment it’s closed. Harry waits for her to speak, but she doesn’t-- she only busies herself with retrieving the items she needs in order to get ready for bed.

“Are you alright?” Harry finally asks, voice gentle. He doesn’t know if he should step closer, touch her, hug her, or just stay away, so he stands awkwardly off to the side.

“I’m alright,” Misty says, most unconvincingly.

“You sure?” This time he does take a step towards her. “I don’t think--”

“It’s nothing,” Misty insists. “Seriously. He’s a creep.”

‘You shouldn’t have to deal with him,” Harry says. “Does he treat you like that often?”

Misty pauses, then sighs, nodding her head slowly. “And everyone kinda just… lets him get away with it because….” she scoffs cynically, “He’s Josh.”

“Fuck Josh. Where does he get off?”

Misty shrugs, opening a drawer and rummaging through it in search of a t-shirt. “It’s just who he is. I don’t know.”

“Well I mean…” Harry isn’t sure how to word his next question. “What makes him think that he can mess with you like that?”

“It’s literally nothing,” Misty says, exasperated. She pauses, considering her words before turning to face Harry. She opens her mouth, then closes it, and then finally decides to speak.

“You really want to know what happened?”

“If you don’t mind,” Harry says.

Misty sighs again, removing her little devil horn headband. “We were drunk at a Kappa party my freshman year. We kissed a little. I was… stupid. He kept pouring me drinks, and I just… kept taking them. And….”

Harry waits for a moment, before gently pressing her a bit more. “And?”

“And stuff happened. We didn’t like, have sex or anything. I know that for a fact. But he…” She trails off, lost in thought, before continuing. “I don’t remember a whole lot of it.”

Harry is furious, and he wants more than anything to go find Josh and kick his ass. But he knows that isn’t what Misty wants-- and definitely not what she needs right now. So he stays put, offering her a sympathetic sigh. “Oh, Misty.”

“It’s okay,” she offers. “I remember he made me a drink that was particularly strong. We went up to his room and then… next thing I remember I was throwing up in the yard.” Misty laughs bitterly. “My big was the one that found me. With him, I mean. That’s how I know we didn’t have sex. But she saw what we were doing and I—“ Misty trails off, shaking her head. “I don’t remember it at all.”

Harry swallows heavily as he takes in her words, scanning her face. The way Misty is looking at him right now, with her big soft eyes and genuine smile, he’s feeling guilty for even bringing it up.

“So. That’s what happened.” Misty shrugs. “I wish it didn’t, but it did. And that’s it.”

Harry runs a hand through his hair, feeling for the first time just how cold he really is. The only thing Harry can settle on in this moment is a sigh, and so he lets all of his anxieties out in a big puff of air that actually, admittedly, does make him feel better. As soon as he’s pushed all the air out of his lungs, his guilt increases, and he meets Misty’s eyes.

“Misty,” he says softly, “Sunshine. I’m so sorry.”

Harry reaches for Misty, nervous that he’s pressured her to talk about something so personal. She does lean into his touch-- thank God-- and she lets out the deepest sigh she feels she’s ever let out in her life.

“Harry….I don’t know how to navigate a situation like this,” Misty admits, voice hardly above a whisper. “I only want to make you happy.”

“Darling, you do make me happy. I can’t believe he would ever—“

“It’s not about him,” Misty says. “I’m okay. I’m talking about you. I don’t know how to navigate… this.”

Harry pauses, realizing that she’s talking about the blatant chemistry between the two of them. “Well, I—“

“You’re just…. such a wonderful guy. And I wish—“ she trails off, as if second guessing her words, before starting her next thought. “All I know is that you’re someone I just… want around. All the time.”

“I want to stay around,” Harry says gently. “I wish I could stay around longer.”

“Me too.” Misty smiles sadly up at him. “Our situation is unique.”

“Unique,” Harry repeats. “That’s a nice way of saying ‘weird as hell.’”

Now Misty giggles. “But I like it,” she tacks on quietly. “I like…” She trails off, closing her mouth as if the rest of that sentence hangs heavy on her tongue.

“I know,” Harry offers. “I do, too.”

They stay like this for a moment, before Misty sighs. “I have to get ready for bed now. So--”

“I’ll go!” Harry says quickly. “I’ll let you get to sleep and--”

“No, wait!” Misty holds up her hand. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna change and stuff in the bathroom. But then I’ll come back so we can… say goodnight.”

Harry wonders what exactly she means by that, but he doesn’t even allow himself to question her. He smiles. “Alright. I’ll be here.”

Misty looks almost relieved. “Alright.”

Misty disappears into the hallway, leaving Harry behind with the silence and his own thoughts. He knows Misty is still a bit buzzed, sure, but her words were pointed. He tries not to overthink what she could have potentially meant by ‘say goodnight.’

He sighs, walking around her room and trying to distract himself from the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looks at the pictures in the frames along her dresser, the unfinished homework lying on her desk, the paddle made by her “big” hanging on the wall. All these pieces of Misty’s life make him smile, but what really gets him is the framed picture on her bedside table.

It’s a picture of her family, taken from when Misty couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old. She’s smiling the biggest smile Harry thinks he’s ever seen, and she’s the spitting image of her beautiful mother, who stands behind her, laughing.

Beside her mother stands her father, a tall, broad man with some wrinkles around his eyes and graying sideburns. He looks like the kind of guy that Harry would love to chat with, sharing a whiskey neat or two while giving each other shit. He seems pleasant, and he seems like a wonderful man just from this picture alone.

Surrounding Misty are her siblings: an older brother, and a younger sister and brother. Harry wants more than anything to be able to meet them. To have to earn the respect of Misty’s older brother, to spoil her younger siblings and make them love him. He wants to be close to the whole family, really. He wants to be the boyfriend that Misty brings home one year for spring break. The boyfriend who brings a new plant for her mother, who watches football with her father and impresses them with his knowledge of American traditions, despite being british.

Harry wishes, more than anything in the world, that he was still alive.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been staring at the picture until he’s startled by Misty’s presence as she enters her room once again. He jumps a bit, and Misty giggles.

“Hi,” she says. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Hi. Ghosts don’t get scared.”

“Debatable,” Misty says. Harry gets a good look at her, and he’s completely enamored. He’s just watched her transform from a sexy demon, with dark makeup and long lashes and the plumpest red lips he’s ever seen-- to the most adorable person he thinks he’s ever laid his eyes upon.

Her makeup-less face reveals a few zits on her cheek, her lips look chapped, and she’s dressed only in a long t-shirt and shorts. She discards her costume into her hamper without a second thought, completely unaware of the way Harry is watching her.

“You look cute,” he says, as she pulls back her comforter.

“Shut up,” she says, rolling her eyes as she crawls into bed. “Ew.”

Harry snorts. “I’m serious. You’re so pretty.”

“Well,” she says, plumping up the pillows behind her. “You’re so nice, but I’m going to have to respectfully tell you that I think you’re lying.”

“Well,” Harry mocks, “agree to disagree then.”

Misty relaxes against her pillows, rubbing sleepily and adorably at her eyes for a few moments.

“Thanks for being so wonderful to me,” she says after a bit, pulling the covers up tighter around her hips. “Like, all night I mean. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t be silly,” Harry says. “I care about you. I had fun.”

“Me too. I just…” she sighs, and Harry takes a step towards her.

“What, love?”

“I just wish you could’ve actually like… had a good time. Like, drank and hung out with us and stuff. I wish I wasn’t the only one who could see you all night.”

“You don’t like havin’ me all to yourself then?” Harry fake pouts.

Misty rolls her eyes, but she smiles anyway. “It is nice to have my own personal ghost, but I just… wish you weren’t one.”

Harry smiles sadly. “Me too,” he says. “But I like watching over you. Like your own personal guardian angel or summat.”

Misty giggles. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Feelin’ okay?” Harry asks, trying to change the subject. “Need more water or anything?”

“No,” Misty says. “Think I just need to sleep off the rest of this buzz.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “Sometimes that’s best.”

“Yeah.” There is a weird sort of tension fizzling in the air between them, as if Misty has something else she wants to say.

Harry waits patiently, watching as she avoids his gaze. She seems deep in thought and on the verge of asking something, but when she doesn’t Harry realizes that maybe he’s the one being awkward. Maybe she wants him to leave now and she’s too polite to tell him so.

So Harry clears his throat. “Alright. Well. Goodnight, bug.” He nods in finality. After a few more seconds, he takes a step back before vanishing right in front of Misty’s eyes. He’s about to actually leave, and he figures he can go inspect the house. Maybe see what damage has been done, and try to discreetly clean up a bit in order to help speed up the process tomorrow for what he knows is going to be a very hungover group of girls. But something catches his attention that he absolutely cannot ignore.

“Wait, don’t go!”

Misty’s voice sounds so pitiful that Harry can’t even pretend like he’s not going to come back. He manifests immediately in the corner of her room and he coos at her. “What is it, sunshine?”

“Can you sleep with me?”

She seems so embarrassed to be asking, it makes even Harry’s cheeks flush. “You want me to… get in bed with you?”

Misty nods, eyes bigger than Harry’s ever seen. “Yeah,” she mumbles. “Can you?”

Harry doesn’t remember the last time he spent a night in a bed-- much less with a beautiful girl-- but the thought of doing it tonight excites him. He doesn’t want to come across as too eager, of course, but he can’t help but feel touched by her request, and he all but runs to her side.

As he makes his way towards the bed, he speaks. “I might be a little bit cold,” he offers. He looms over her, reaching down to brush a bit of her messy hair off of her forehead.

“S’okay,” Misty sighs, “I have lots of blankets. Just wanna cuddle. Is that okay?”

Harry smiles at how cute she looks, bundled up and sleepy in her bed. He chuckles softly, reaching to tug gently at her covers to pull them back for himself. “Yeah,” he says, “That’s okay. I can do that.”

As Harry settles himself in bed, he tries not to beat himself up too hard for the slight shiver in her body. She obviously doesn’t seem to mind as she cuddles up close to him instantly. The feeling of her warmth is almost too much for Harry to handle-- similar to the feeling of getting into a hot tub too quickly-- but he doesn’t mind. It feels so good, and if he closes his eyes he can pretend, just for a moment, that he’s human, too.

“Can ghosts sleep?” Misty asks abruptly, tearing Harry from his fantasy and reminding him of his actual form.

Harry chuckles. “Yeah, we can sleep,” he says. “It’s not exactly the same as how you sleep, though.”

“What’s it like then?”

Harry thinks for a moment, choosing his words carefully to explain this in a way that it makes sense. “You know how I mentioned I can visit dreams? When I’m… gone.”

“Yeah?”

“So if I go to sleep while I’m here, I’ll just go there. To the dreamscape. Where I can visit anybody’s dreams that I want. That’s usually how I visit my mum or say, a friend.” Harry chuckles. “Or someone who wronged me in the past. So I can haunt their ass.”

“But you’ll still be here when I wake up right?” She sounds so sleepy, almost needy, and it makes Harry hold her that much tighter.

“If you want me to be,” he answers.

“I do,” she says softly. There is a beat of silence before she’s changing the subject again. “Tell me what it’s like.”

“What?”

“The dream stuff. Like how do you just… do that?”

“Mmm. It’s like… how can I explain…” Harry thinks carefully once again. “I’m in a black… room? Sort of. Like where I go when I’m gone. And there are a ton of doors, right? In this room I mean. And I can enter any one of them that I’d like, at any time. Anywhere in the world.”

“You can enter anybody’s dream?”

“Mhm.”

“At any time?”

“At any time.”

“Woooooow.” Misty’s sleepy exclamation tickles softly against his neck. “That’s so cool.”

“It is yeah,” Harry says, smiling to himself.

“Can you come into my dream tonight?”

“If you want me to, yeah.”

“Can you make me dream about you?”

“Well,” Harry says, tracing a circle into Misty’s spine. “Yes and no. Whatever you’re dreaming about, I can enter it if I want to. But I won’t know what you’re dreaming about until I’m in there.”

“Oh,” Misty says through a yawn. “Ew.”

Harry snorts. “Why ‘ew?’”

“Because what if I’m dreaming something embarrassing?”

“Then I can embarrass you about it forever,” Harry says. “How fun!”

Misty pulls Harry closer, burying her face deep into his neck. He can feel her visible frown, and it makes him smile. “Don’t pout,” he coos, scratching at her back.

“Don’t tease meeee,” she whines, but the way she says it sounds like she has another thought to add on.

Misty hesitates, and Harry gives her time to think about what she’s going to say. She arches her back the teeniest bit, leaning into a particularly good scratch, and it makes Harry smile. Finally, she finishes her thought.

“I actually did have a dream about you the other night,” she says, “although now I’m guessing you already knew that.”

Harry nods. He did know that, because it was his doing. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened; if anything it had just been pretty mundane-- similar to every day he’s spent with her in real life. But it felt more real, more permanent, more tangible. Harry had been careful, of course, not to be too obvious with it-- he didn’t interfere with the natural plot line of her dream as much as he normally would if it were a real visit. He had just wanted to spend more time with her, and it had been lovely.

“Was it weird?” He asks, although he already knows the answer.

“It wasn’t weird,” Misty says. “You were just kinda… there. But I…” he feels her body tense up, and she curls herself even further into his side, as if hiding herself. “I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

Harry feels his breath hitch in his throat, and his fingertips cease their movements along her spine. “Yeah?” he chokes out.

“Yeah,” she whispers back. “Is that weird?”

“It’s not weird, sunshine,” Harry whispers. “I wanted to--” He trails off now, letting the rest of his sentence fizzle out in a sigh. “It’s not weird,” he repeats.

“I’m falling asleep,” Misty announces through the softest yawn Harry thinks he’s ever heard. “It’s not weird right? Like, things between us aren’t weird just cause I got drunk and kinda… confessed some shit?”

“Confessed what?” Harry says. “You’ve told me nothing.”

Misty giggles “You’re a good man, Harry.”

“I’m not a man,” Harry teases. “I’m a ghost.”

“Can you not be annoying for like, one whole second?”

It’s Harry’s turn to giggle now. “Alright, I’m sorry. I’ll chill.”

Misty yawns again, and the feeling of her breath against his neck makes him shiver. He smiles, snuggling his cheek against the top of her head. “Well,” he says. “Goodnight, sunshine.”

“Goodnight, Harry,” she mumbles. Without thinking, she presses the softest little peck against his neck that almost goes unnoticed by him. It makes him freeze, letting out the rest of the air in his lungs in a little sigh. He doesn’t know if he should kiss her back or not, but she doesn’t seem to mind either way. So he lets it slide.

But he spends the entire night replaying the feeling of her lips against his neck over and over and over again.

------

Misty sighs as she reaches into the fridge for a bottle of water. Somehow she’s been roped into a conversation that she wants no part of; gossip between Lindsey and Rosie about Lindsey’s boyfriend who’s been openly cheating on her for weeks. Perhaps she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but somehow Misty has found herself listening to the girls chat away, one feeling sorry for herself, and the other kissing her ass.

When Misty closes the door, she jumps when she sees Harry, who has manifested right in front of her. She lets out a frustrated sigh through her nose, and Harry grins cheekily at her, raising his eyebrows and daring her to speak.

“What’s wrong, Misty?” Rosie asks, and Misty realizes her little scare hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Misty glances between Harry and the two girls, who stare expectantly back at her. “Uh,” she says, “Nothing. I… thought I saw something. Sorry.”

“Is it that fucking ghost again?” Rosie’s face grows pale at her own words. “I swear to God if that fucker is back I--”

“No,” Misty says, cutting her off. “He-- it-- isn’t back. Continue with your story.”

Lindsey launches right back into it, hardly giving Misty’s words a second thought. “Anyway, Brad was like, totally flirting with me that night right?”

“He totally was,” Rosie replies.

“Thank you! I thought he was, and Jade thought he was, but then now he’s back with Jessie again and--”

“God who cares about any of this?” Harry’s voice drawls in Misty’s ear. “She’s been going on and on about this for ages.”

Misty sighs softly so that only Harry can hear her. She knows she can’t verbally respond to him, but he hears her response and smirks. It’s then the idea pops into his head.

“Whatever you do, don’t smile,” Harry says, voice low and teasing in Misty’s ear-- a surefire way to make her smile.

The corners of Misty’s lips twinge and she visibly gulps, and Harry knows he’s got her.

“I said don’t smile,” Harry, sing-songs, inching closer to Misty’s ear and trying his hardest to get her to break. “You’ll look like a crazy person. Can you imagine? Lindsey’s pouring her heart out, and you can’t stop smiling? What will they think?”

Misty clears her throat a bit more aggressively than normal as a desperate plea to get Harry to shut the hell up.

“No,” he replies, with a cheeky grin, knowing exactly what her noise meant. “I’m not going to stop.”

Misty holds her breath as an attempt to hold her composure as Harry continues. “Imagine if Lindsey’s water like, came out of her nose right now. Wouldn’t that be crazy?”

Harry notices the way Misty runs her tongue over her teeth, setting her jaw firmly so as not to slip up again. And honestly, he’s impressed. He presses her further. “Did you know I could make that happen?”

This time Misty’s breath hitches, and she eyes Harry threateningly out of the corner of her eyes. “I really can,” he says. “I can snap my fingers and she’ll be like a faucet. A free flowing spirit.”

Harry thinks he’s almost got her, her lips twitch up again and she raises her water bottle to her lips to cover it up. Harry snorts.

“Nah, I’m fucking with you,” he says, “you think I could really do that? Who do you think I am, fuckin Harry Potter?”

Misty rolls her eyes without giving it a second thought, which luckily goes unnoticed by her sisters-- but not unnoticed by Harry. He raises his eyebrows.

“Ope! Careful there. Going to give yourself away, eh?”

When Misty stares blankly ahead, Harry laughs.

“Wow,” he says, “so you’re really not gonna smile, are you? You’re good at this.”

His tone makes Misty think he’s giving up, and she gives a subtle smirk of satisfaction in his direction.

But Harry is nothing if he isn’t persistent. And he is not going to give up that easily.

It’s when Misty raises her arm to run a hand through her hair that Harry gets his idea. He doesn’t even allow himself time to think about it before he’s setting his plan into action. Before he knows it, he’s going right for Misty’s ribs.

Harry digs his hands into Misty’s lower ribs, squeezing a few times, and Misty folds instantly into his arms. She lets out a surprised shriek mixed with an almost honking laugh, and both Lindsey and Rosie stop the conversation immediately to shoot her a puzzled look.

It’s all too good, and Harry is so utterly pleased with himself right now. He’d be lying if he said this kind of power didn’t go to his head, especially when Misty immediately realizes that she’s got to stop giggling. Harry doesn’t let up on her ribs, lowering a hand to pinch softly at her side, and Misty tries desperately to cover up her remaining giggles with a cough.

Harry would also be lying if he said that seeing her laugh like this didn’t turn him on. But that is neither here nor there.

After a few more seconds of tickling her and watching her desperately try to contain her giggles and cover them up with the fakest coughs Harry’s ever heard, he decides to show the poor girl some mercy. He removes his hands from her torso, and it takes her a few seconds to realize she’s free.

The silence that follows is charged with awkwardness, and Harry almost feels a bit bad. Misty, whose face is visibly hot, reaches for her water bottle on the counter and takes several long sips from it.

“You alright?” Rosie asks, slowly raising an eyebrow.

Misty gulps down one more sip and gestures vaguely at her throat. “Yeah, sorry I just--”

“Have a tickle in your throat?”

Harry beams, voice low in Misty’s ear. “Something like that,” he says.

Misty closes her eyes and lets out a long sigh, as if she’s just heard the worst joke of her life. Harry snorts. “I know,” he says. “That was a good one, wasn’t it?”

“Linds, I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Misty says, “But I have this huge paper due in a couple of hours and I’m super behind so--”

“Oh is it that stupid paper for english?” Lindsey nods sympathetically. “I worked on it like, all night last night.”

“Yeah,” Misty lies, “I have to work on it. I promise in a few hours I’ll be right back down to--”

“No worries, baby, do your thing!” Lindsey says, shooing Misty with her hand. “I get it. You’re good.”

“Thanks.” Misty begins making her way out of the kitchen without even sparing so much as a glance in Harry’s direction. “I want to hear all about it later though.”

Misty storms up the stairs with Harry close on her heels. He is giggling the entire way, but Misty doesn’t even smile. It’s about halfway up the stairs that Harry begins to get a bit nervous.

“You have to admit that was good,” he says through his laughter, obviously trying to lighten the mood. “Come on.”

Misty ignores him, continuing her path to her room. When she arrives, she doesn’t even check to see that Harry is behind her. She closes the door a bit harder than she intends, and Harry effortlessly glides through it. The silence that follows is absolutely deafening.

She turns, agonizingly slowly to face him, and the look on her face is unreadable. Harry isn’t sure if the smirk on his own face is appropriate or not, so he tries his best to suppress it while he waits for her to say something. When she doesn’t, his lips twitch.

“I take it you’re angry,” he tries.

“How could you do that?!” Misty hisses, the sort of whisper that’s stupidly loud. He knows she isn’t angry, not fully, but he almost worries he took things a step too far.

“Sunshine, I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“Made me look like a fucking idiot.” Misty runs her hands through her hair and shakes her head at him. “And for what? So you could get a laugh?”

Harry tries desperately not to smirk, but the corners of his lips turn up ever so slightly-- giving him away. “Yeah.”

Misty stops, not exactly expecting that answer. She pauses for a moment before sighing through her nose and closing her mouth. “Ridiculous,” she mumbles, before brushing past Harry to rummage through her closet.

“I really think you should lighten up,” Harry says, walking over and plopping himself on her bed. “Wasn’t meant to be a personal attack.”

“Lighten up?!” Misty says, whirling around on her heels. She hesitates, realizing that she’s raised her voice a tick too loud. She takes a step towards Harry, lowering her voice significantly before speaking. “You think I need to lighten up? Harry, you--”

“I didn’t mean to ruin your bloody day, Misty, Christ. I was just trying to make you laugh.”

“Well don’t.”

“Fine.”

There’s an intense pause between them, and Harry doesn’t shy away from Misty’s intimidating stare. In fact, there is hardly any emotion on his face at all, and Misty can’t tell whether it infuriates her or turns her on. She can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks growing hotter by the second, and she lets out a flustered sigh.

“You seem like you have something else to say,” Harry states calmly.

It’s so unfair, Misty thinks. It really fucking is. She scrambles to find words to express how she’s feeling, but her brain is cloudy with the thought of how goddamn attractive he is. When she really thinks about it, she isn’t angry at all, really. The thought of Harry being able to do whatever he wants to her- whenever he wants- in front of people both embarrasses her and makes her excited.

Truth be told, she’s never been more excited in her entire life.

Harry raises his eyebrows expectantly. “Well?”

“I don’t have anything else to say,” Misty says quietly.

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, rising to his feet and taking a cautious step towards her.

Misty lets out a frustrated breath, reaching up to push her hair off of her face. “Yes, I’m sure! Will you stop doing that?”

Harry scoffs, mockingly. “Stop doing what, Misty? Trying to call you out on what we both know is true?”

“No!” Misty’s voice is dangerously loud, and she catches herself again before she can get any louder. She rolls her eyes at herself before continuing at a much softer pace. “Stop… looking at me like that.”

And oh, now Harry understands.

Harry shakes his head. “I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Yes you are!” she insists, closing the space between them just the tiniest bit more. “You’re always looking at me like… like that!” She gestures indistinctly.

Harry licks his lips, eyebrow subconsciously raising challengingly. “I’m going to need you to be more specific, Misty.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Sunshine,” he drawls, voice thick as honey, “all I ever want is to make you happy. That’s a promise.”

Misty swallows, nostrils flaring as she tries to get her breath under control. “Harry, I…” She trails off, because truth be told she doesn’t know where she was even going with this thought.

“What?” he asks, taking another step towards her. “Tell me.”

After a beat of intense silence Misty groans. “I don’t know! You’re so annoying and you’re so perfect and you make me so happy and I just--”

“What?” Harry says, inching closer. “You just what?”

Misty lowers her voice, eyes thick with sadness. “I just… don’t want to be feeling this way about you. I can’t. But you make it impossible to not.”

“To not what?”

“Fall for you.” Misty sighs. “I’m trying so hard not to because… well, you’re not actually here are you?”

“Can you see me?” Harry asks, matter-of-factly.

“Well, yes, but--”

“I’m here.” Harry reaches forward, lightly caressing Misty’s arm. “I’m right here Misty.”

Misty glances down to his hand, then back up at him. “Harry, I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

He pulls away, not wanting to pressure her into feeling any type of way at all. “What do you mean?”

“I mean-- God.” She lets out all of her air and shakes her head, almost cynically. “Harry I… really, really like you.”

If Harry had blood running through his veins, it would run cold at her words. “You do?”

“Have I not made it obvious?” Misty scoffs. “Fuck, dude, you’re so perfect.”

“I’m not,” Harry says in a breath. He steps forward. “Misty, I’m not.”

“You are,” she insists. “I want you so bad, Harry. And I’m scared.”

Harry processes her words slowly, and he knows he shouldn’t say what he’s about to say. But he does it anyway.

“I’m scared, too,” he admits softly, feeling more human than he’s felt in a long time.

“I’m scared that I’m going to really fall for you,” Misty continues, “because I know you’re just going to have to leave in the end. And I’m going to be sad, and I’m going to miss you, and—“

“Well then why don’t we just pretend?” Harry tries. “We’ve still got a few more weeks, haven’t we?”

“Yes, but the thought of you leaving won’t go away, Harry! It’s all I can think about. Every time I feel something for you I’m reminded of our situation and how you’ll never actually be mine.”

“I hate it,” Harry agrees, his own voice matching hers in volume now. “I absolutely hate it, but Misty, we can’t let that thought hang over the time we have left like a raincloud.”

“But--”

“You make me feel alive again, Misty!” Harry doesn’t mean to cut her off, but he can’t help it. “I know that’s forward, and we haven’t known each other for all that long, but it’s true.”

Misty looks like she wants to cry, and her eyes feel thick and heavy. She wills herself not to break, taking a moment to regain her composure before speaking. “Harry, I don’t know what to do,” she whispers. “I don’t… we can’t--”

Harry leans in, taking Misty’s chin in between his thumb and forefinger. He tilts her head up softly, effectively quieting her, and she realizes her lips are still parted. Harry can feel her breath, and it feels far too intimate to be real.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice tender and quiet.

Misty blinks up at him. “God,” she breathes, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that.”

Harry smiles, leaning in gently and fastening their lips together slowly. He takes her top lip between his own, and he can feel her instantly relax against him. She smiles faintly into the kiss as well, but makes no movement to pull him closer— as if she’s still a bit unsure. He kisses her again, then pulls away, scanning her face for any sign of discomfort.

“How do you feel?” He asks after a moment.

“Like I want to do that for the rest of my life.” Misty reaches up to cup Harry’s face and bring him in for another kiss.

Harry, of course, happily complies to her nonverbal request, snaking his hands around her waist and holding her gently to him. He timidly peeks his tongue out, gliding along her lip as if asking for permission, and she willingly submits— opening her mouth for him to lick into.

Misty giggles into his mouth the minute their tongues interact, and it makes Harry pull away. “What?”

“You taste good,” she says. “You taste…. sweet. I don’t know. I love it.”

“Oh.” He grins, pulling her back into him to pick up immediately where they left off.

It’s beautiful, and Harry feels happier than he’s felt in a long time now that he’s finally kissing her. He licks into her mouth softly, trying to convey all the words he isn’t yet brave enough to say.

“Harry.” Misty pulls away, smiling up at him. She’s so happy that it feels like everything her eyes land on is glowing. “God, I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Why didn’t you do it then? I wanted it, too!”

“Well why didn’t you?!”

Harry grins. “Wanted to see how long until you gave in, I suppose.” When Misty rolls her eyes, Harry chuckles. “Alright I’m kidding. I guess I was just… scared.”

“Me too,” Misty admits. “I mean… feelings are scary one way or another, but then when you add our situation in there its…”

“Weird as fuck,” Harry says, nodding. “Yeah. I hate it.” He smiles, cupping the back of her neck and bumping his nose tenderly against hers. “But I don’t fully. I’m very happy that I have you, sweet girl.”

Misty smiles, leaning gently into his touch. “Kiss me again,” she asks, “Please.”

Harry grins, pulling her close to him and pressing his lips gently to her forehead. “With pleasure.”

They continue like this for a while, giggly and unsure and so, so happy. It is weird, as they both admitted, but it’s so incredibly wonderful and fills both of their hearts with a warmth that neither of them have felt for a while. And as Harry continues to kiss against Misty’s smile, he forgets his situation— if only for a moment— to revel in the fact that he’s kissing the most beautiful girl he’s ever known.

He doesn’t think his entire existence could ever get better than it is right now.

------

Later that night, Misty sits cross legged on her bed, fresh from a shower and rubbing lotion into her arms while Harry explores her vinyl collection. She’s wearing the cutest t-shirt and pajama shorts combo Harry thinks he’s ever seen, and it’s driving him crazy. Things are definitely not awkward between them by any means, but the whole situation feels silly and exciting, like two middle schoolers who just admitted they had a mutual crush on one another.

Misty nods towards the Fleetwood Mac record Harry currently holds in his hands. “I found that one at a garage sale,” she says. “Luckiest find of my life.”

“No kidding.” Harry turns, smiling at her. He holds the record up. “Do you like Fleetwood Mac?”

“Nah, just thought the vinyl looked cool. I don’t even know any songs by them.”

Harry halts all movement, eyeing Misty to figure out if she means what she’s saying. She’s got him for a moment, her expression remains completely unbothered as she rubs her vanilla lotion into her arms. But then she giggles, face twisting up like she can’t believe Harry would even ask her that. “What the fuck kind of question is that, Harry? Hello? Why else would I have that?”

Harry snorts. “You know what? I’ve had enough of your sarcasm.”

“My sarcasm?” Misty says. “You’re one to talk!”

“Me? I’m a dream!” Harry returns the record to it’s rightful spot and makes his way over to the bed. “You on the other hand--”

Harry reaches for a pillow to whack Misty with, but Misty is quicker. She grabs the other pillow on her bed and shields his attack, squealing as he continues his fight on her regardless. He eventually tosses the pillow aside, going for what he knows will absolutely get her to cave and digging his fingers into her sides.

Misty squeals, instantly bucking into his touch as he squeezes at her. “Wait, no! Fucker! This is cheating!”

“Careful!” Harry taunts, fingers wiggling up to her ribs. “No one else knows I’m here! Would be awful embarrassing if they heard you talking and giggling to yourself, wouldn’t it?”

“Well then fucking stooooop!” Misty whines, wriggling under his grasp. “Why are you making me--” She is cut off by her own cackle before she continues-- “Do this?!”

“Because I can.” Harry beams down at her, leaning down to press a kiss to her nose. “Because it’s cute and you like it.”

“I don’t like it!” Misty practically howls. “You’re annoying!”

“Oh,” Harry says, ceasing the movement of his fingers. “I’m annoying?”

“YES!” Misty whines, pouting up at him.

He smiles, leaning closer into her face and enjoying the heat radiating off of her cheeks. “Do you really not like it?”

Misty pants, catching her breath and smiling up at Harry. “No,” she admits after a beat.

Harry squirms so he’s fully on top of her now. “‘No’ you don’t like it? Or ‘no’ as in you do like it and don’t want me to stop?”

Misty reaches up to cover her face as much as Harry’s body pinning her will allow. “‘No’ as in… don’t stop.”

Harry grins, pressing a kiss to Misty’s nose. “I figured.”

Harry trails his lips lightly along Misty’s cheeks leading up to her mouth, pressing smiley kisses to the soft skin and loving the way he can feel her smile beneath him. “Pretty girl,’ he mutters. “You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

When he finally fastens his lips to hers, Misty sighs. She opens her mouth willingly, allowing him to lick his way in, and she delights in the sweet taste of his tongue against hers. She allows her hand to trail up Harry’s icy neck, tangling her fingers in his hair before she tilts her head away slightly to speak.

“You know,” she muses, “You could be awful mean to me if you wanted to be.”

Harry quirks an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side teasingly. “Do you want me to be mean to you?”

Misty only sighs. “If you have to ask--” She trails off, fingertips lightly toying with the hem of Harry’s shirt. There’s a moment of tense silence in which she bats her eyes up at him innocently, and that’s all the starting gun he needs.

“Ohh, sweetheart,” Harry coos. “You’re going to have to be more convincing than that.”

Misty groans, her facade crumbling away little by little. “I cannnn’t,” she whines, hiding her face in her hands. Harry can see her smile between her hands however, and it eggs him on.

“You can,” he says, voice almost mockingly sweet. He rises to sit on his knees. “Know you can. You just won’t.”

Harry reaches up, trying to gently coax her hands from her face as best he can. “You know why you won’t?”

Misty peeks through her fingers, shaking her head but not verbally answering Harry. He flashes her his cheekiest dimpled grin. “Because you want me to make you say it. Am I right?”

Misty giggles as Harry successfully lowers her hands. “You can’t make me say it,” she says teasingly.

Harry shrugs, placing his hand on Misty’s calf and squeezing lightly. “It’s true. I can’t. Can’t make you do anything you don’t want to, baby.” He walks his fingers up her leg, tauntingly tracing his pointer finger around her kneecap and making her shiver. “But darling, this cute little act of yours is only going to get you so far.

“It’s gotten me far enough, hasn’t it?” Misty licks her lips subconsciously, reaching forward to scratch behind Harry’s ear. “Obviously things have gone my way.”

“Have they?” Harry says, cocking his head. “I haven’t given in yet, have I?”

“How much longer until you do?” Misty asks, giggling nervously.

Harry shakes his head, leaning in to press a kiss to the side of Misty’s chin. “Dunno,” he says. “Wanna see how long you’re going to act like this for.”

Harry presses a few more rapid kisses directly to Misty’s chin before trailing them up to the fleshiest parts of her cheeks. After a few kisses there, he pulls away.

“Your cheeks are so hot, sunshine,” Harry muses, reaching up and tracing a knuckle along the tender skin. “Why?”

“Hot in here,” Misty breathes, voice so low that Harry can barely even make out what she’s saying.

Harry’s honey drip of a voice sends shivers down Misty’s spine when he speaks. “No,” he says with a grin. “That’s not it.”

With his other hand, Harry trails his fingertips down the sensitive skin of her arm, making her squirm a bit. “Know what I think it is?” His fingers squeeze delicately over her hips before resting on her exposed thigh-- where he gives her a soft scratch. “I think somebody is embarrassed about how badly she wants me to be mean to her.”

Harry leans in, pressing an icy kiss to her neck that makes her instinctively tremble. A breathy moan floats past her lips as Harry ghosts his own along her collarbone. He takes his time with this, really inhaling her scent and her warmth as he makes his way down her body. His fingers trace delicately along the waistband of her pajama shorts, her stomach jolting a bit when he hits a sensitive spot on her hips. Misty watches his face with parted lips, so completely enamoured by him and his touch that she’s rendered speechless.

Slowly, gently, Harry lowers his hand to the spot between her legs, feeling the damp heat against the soft fabric of her short pajama bottoms. He grins, slowly adjusting to sit up on his knees once again. He takes her in, her entire body, and allows himself to really savor this moment. When his eyes fall on the beauty between her legs again, however, he stops.

“And you know what else I think?” Harry says, grinning over her as his fingers tease her waistband once again. “I think you like being embarrassed like this. I think you like that I can do this to you, and we’re the only two who’ll ever know about it. Hm? Am I right?”

Misty gulps, goosebumps prickling her skin and lips glistening. She nods. “Yes,” she breathes. “You’re exactly right.”

“I knew it,” Harry says, hooking his fingers into her waistband. “Filthy girl, aren’t you?” He begins lowering the shorts from her hips, never breaking eye contact and smirking at how willingly she complies with his movements. When he pulls the shorts past her feet he flings them carelessly to the floor, then glances down at the ever-growing wet spot on the fabric between her legs. He grins up at her. “Messy thing you are, too. Look how wet you get just from some teasing.”

“Harry--” Misty breathes.

“Love it when you say my name like that, darling,” Harry purrs. He leans forward to press a kiss directly to her bellybutton. The kiss is wet, and the sound of it mixed with Misty’s beautiful sighing is enough to make Harry melt. He can’t help but to close his eyes and take a deep breath in, sighing when he’s met with her heavenly scent. “Smell so fucking good,” he mumbles. “Haven’t smelt anything like this in years.”

“Don’t--” Misty breathes, “Don’t tease.”

“Ohh,” Harry tuts, tracing the spot where her inner thigh meets the fabric of her panties. “Poor thing doesn’t want me to tease?”

He glances up at her from under his lashes, and the look on her face sends Harry over the moon. Her eyes are wide and the smile on her slightly parted lips is so warm and inviting that Harry almost has a hard time keeping this up.

“Well, I find that hard to believe.”

He sinks his teeth into the waistband of her panties without any warning, and she gasps at the sudden sharpness mixed with the temperature of his mouth on her hips.

Misty lets out an unfiltered moan and immediately flings her hand up to her mouth to keep herself quiet. She gives herself only a few moments to compose herself before whispering, “Harry, I… I need you--”

“Aww,” Harry coos, his teeth still hooked around her panties. He shakes his head a bit, curls falling in his face as he pulls the fabric away from Misty’s skin. “Needy,” he mutters, tugging a bit in an attempt to remove the panties.

When the lower half of Misty’s body is exposed to the chill of Harry’s skin, she shivers, and he delights in the movement for the first time since he’s met her.

“Know I’m cold,” he says quietly, teeth still clenched around her panties as he drags them down her leg. “But it feels good, doesn’t it?”

Misty nods. “M-hm…” She’s eyeing him, and he’s moving slowly because he can tell she has something she wants to say. He discards her panties onto the ground and tries not to outwardly show just how fucking delicious she looks right now. He’s practically drooling at the sight of her, but she’s nervous, and he doesn’t want to push her too far. So instead, he trails his nails slowly up her calf, looking only in her eye and waiting patiently for her to speak.

“Nervous?” he asks.

“Well, no,” she says. “But I…” she trails off, squirming when his eyes land between her legs once again.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…” she starts, squirming a bit. “I didn’t shave.”

Harry almost laughs at her when she says this. “Oh, darling. That’s what’s got you so nervous?”

She nods. “Yeah. I mean, I didn’t think… I don’t know.”

“Your pussy looks amazing,” Harry says, deciding to just bite the bullet and be as forward as he feels. “Looks fucking delicious. Smells delicious as well. I certainly don’t mind a bit of hair.”

“You don’t?” she asks, sitting up.

“Are you kidding?” He reaches forward, brushing against some of the hair with his finger. “Fucking sexy as hell. Don’t be silly.”

“I mean,” Misty says quickly, “I suppose it’s probably been, like, a minute since you’ve seen a pussy. So I guess any pussy is gonna be fine. I mean, not to assume your preferences, or anything, but you know--”

Harry leans forward, biting Misty’s thigh and making her yelp. “Shh,” he mumbles. “Please.”

Misty giggles nervously. “Okay,” she says.

Harry leans down and kisses the spot he’s just nipped at, trailing his lips up her thigh and settling himself on his stomach. Being this close to her core ignites something in him that he hasn’t felt in years, and just the smell of her alone makes his mouth water.

With one hand Harry coaxes Misty’s leg up and over his shoulder, and now with a clearer view of her beautiful pussy he licks his lips.

“You’re already so wet,” he observes. “Wanted it this badly, did you?”

“Want you,” she replies, squirming. “So bad.”

Harry takes his time with it, eyeing her body up and down before leaning in to press the most velvet soft kiss directly at her center His scruff tickles her lightly, and she lets out a sigh.

Harry hums against her core before really diving into his work, peeking his tongue out from between his lips to lap delicately at her clit. He watches her from under his long lashes, waiting for a reaction from her as he explores her with his tongue— wanting to find the best spot to really devour.

She watches him intently, as if in a daze, while he sucks at her, and it takes him a moment to realize she’s holding her breath. So he pops off of her clit gently, making her jolt, before reaching up to place a hand on her belly. “Breathe, baby.”

Perhaps Misty didn’t realize she was holding her breath, because she lets it all out in a puff. Her tummy immediately grows a bit and Harry loves it, loves seeing her fully relaxed for him like this.

“You okay?” He asks. “Genuinely.”

“I’m okay,” she says.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Cross your heart?”

Misty snorts. “I swear on my life, Harry, come onnnn.”

He giggles, “Alright alright.” Without any further warning, he leans down and presses the softest kiss directly to her clit, resuming his work and licking against her.

The only noises in the room are Misty’s heavy breathing and soft sighing, mixed with the wet noises of Harry’s mouth-- and it all feels so filthy and intimate that it makes Harry lose himself in his work. He moans, even louder than she does, and it makes her back arch a bit off of the mattress.

“Harry--” she sighs.

Harry tilts his head, ghosting his lips against her thigh. “Careful,” he says. “I don’t have to be quiet. You do.”

Misty smiles to herself, enjoying the feeling of his tongue between her legs. The sensation of his temperature down there is something she’s never experienced before in her life, and it makes the entire experience all the more intoxicatingly wonderful.

“God you taste so fucking good,” Harry mumbles, pulling his head back only slightly and reaching up to rub at her clit. “Like fucking honey. Delicious.” He lowers his fingers to collect her wetness, observing the stickiness coating the digits before raising his hand to her mouth.

He doesn’t even have to tell her to do anything, she’s already opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out. Harry rests his fingertips on her tongue, and she envelopes them with her lips, giving them a nice long suck that causes Harry to make a most obscene noise in the back of his throat.

The temporary distraction lights a fire in Harry’s soul, and he ducks down to bury his face in her pussy once more. She arches her back when he hits a particularly good spot, and she accidentally bites down gently on his fingers— which Harry is surprised to find that he loves the feeling of.

Harry hums against her, wiggling his fingers a bit as a silent request for her to loosen up. She opens her mouth, unable to contain the moan that escapes her lips when she does so. Harry envelops her clit with his lips and sucks harshly, and she squirms against him.

“Harry--” She breathes. “It’s so… fuck-- you’re so good…”

“Quiet now,” Harry mumbles against the skin of her thigh. “Unless you want them to know how filthy you are.”

“I don’t care,” Misty pants breathlessly. “I’ll blame my vibrator, I don’t care, I’ll--- oh fuuuuck.” She’s cut off when Harry sinks his teeth into the flesh of her thigh, and even he moans at the sensation.

“Fucking shit,” he mumbles as he pulls away, admiring the dents that his teeth left and the string of saliva trailing from his bottom lip to her plushy skin. “You taste good everywhere.”

“More,” Misty pleads. “Harry, more, please.”

Harry sits mesmerized by the imprint of his own teeth on her thigh. “They’ll think you’re crazy if they hear you.”

Misty groans, and Harry instinctively reaches up and covers her mouth without hesitation. He considers stopping, punishing her for not listening to him and being loud. But looking up at her, seeing how needy and fucked out she already looks has him weak. So he buries his face between her legs and prepares to finish the job, licking her out like it’s the one thing he was born to do.

Misty’s hand flies to Harry’s hair and she tugs so hard it makes him wince. Honestly, it’s the best feeling he’s felt in ages. No one has pulled his hair like this since long before he died, and the feeling alone causes him to moan out loud against her core.

“Fucking shit, Misty,” he mumbles. “Do that again.”

“You like that?” Misty cries breathlessly, her fingers moving frantically to grasp at his curls once again.

Harry groans, lapping against her clit and enjoying the most pleasure he’s felt in years. “Misty,” he breathes, relishing in the way she twitches against the tickle of his breath against her skin, “You’re so fucking perfect.”

“Fuck,” Misty groans. “Holy shit--”

“Is this good sweet girl?”

“I need more,” Misty cries, and who is Harry to deny her of her simple request?

He reaches down, fingering gently at the wetness pooling between her legs before teasing a single finger into her-- never once removing his lips from her clit.

He sucks harshly while his finger simultaneously searches for the spongy spot inside of her. She squirms around his digit, and Harry has to use his other hand to pin her hips down.

“Hold still,” he instructs.

“I can’t,” Misty whines. “I need another finger.”

She’s practically begging at this point, and it makes Harry so smug. “Ohhh,” he says, lips ghosting her thighs again, “So you’re the one calling the shots, are you?”

He’s teasing, of course, because he knows that she absolutely is the one in control of everything that’s going on right now. But the way she’s dripping, tugging on his hair and practically shoving his face into her-- as well as verbally begging him-- strokes his ego.

“Please,” she groans. “I want-- fuck-- I need to cum.”

Harry smirks up at her, tutting his lips. “Not even embarrassed to be so needy?” he teases. “My god…”

As much as he loves to tease her, though, he wants to make her cum more than anything else. And seeing her on the brink like this-- already-- makes him all the more eager. So he adds a second finger, pumping his digits in and out and lapping at her clit like it’s his last meal.

She lets out an obscene moan, louder than any of the others she’s let out, and he knows she’s close. But for the sake of her pride, he knows she has to stay quiet. So he removes his hand from her hip and presses it to her mouth.

“Quiet,” he instructs, giving her face a little squeeze before putting his entire heart and soul into eating her.

Misty is wiggling like mad now, and it takes everything in Harry to keep his mouth on her. He knows that if he lets go of her mouth to try and pin her hips down again, she’ll expose herself— loudly— so this is a challenge Harry gladly accepts.

She stills briefly when her orgasm hits, and then her thighs are trembling around his face. Her stomach is clenched and she’s drooling against the palm of his hand. Her muffled moans are music to his ears, but they do sort of catch Harry off guard because he’d never guess that she’d be such a vocal cummer. Of course, he isn’t complaining, and he wishes that he could hear her, completely unfiltered, with no one around to catch them.

Misty’s stomach relaxes a little bit at the same time she lets out a few little cries, and Harry realizes that she’s finished-- although her pussy continues to flutter with aftershocks against his tongue. He slowly removes his hand from her wet mouth and looks up at her from under his lashes.

She looks utterly fucked, with tears in her eyes and chest rising and falling gently as she tries to catch her breath. Harry is fascinated, thinking he’s never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life, and he realizes that he hasn’t moved in a while when Misty squirms beneath him.

He removes his lips from her but continues to watch her, relieved when her features seem to relax and she lets out a breathy giggle. “My god,” she says, voice somewhat hoarse. “That was--”

“A dream,” Harry says, now allowing himself to relax a bit as well. He looks down at her soaked pussy and grins. “You’re messy.”

“Can you blame me?” Misty reaches up to run a hand through her hair. “Fuck, that was good.”

“Yeah?” Harry smiles. “I’m so glad.”

Misty hums, reaching down to playfully muss up Harry’s hair. “Now, come up here so I can take care of you, pretty boy.”

Her words hit Harry’s heart, causing it to sink immediately. “Oh, doll,” he tuts, “God, I wish you could.”

Misty frowns. “What do you mean?”

“No blood in my veins,” Harry explains sadly, still making no effort to remove himself from between her legs. “No blood… no boner. I don’t get hard. I don’t cum.”

“Holy shit.” Misty props herself up on her elbows, looking down at Harry and causing the cutest double chin Harry thinks he’s ever seen. “Seriously?”

Harry nods. “Seriously. So even if you did… I wouldn’t feel anything.”

“Do you…” Misty’s voice gets quiet, as if suddenly going shy. “Do you still get horny?”

“Yeah.” Harry kisses Misty’s knee. “Of course. You think I don’t feel anything while I’m eating your beautiful pussy?”

“I don’t know!” Misty whines. “I feel like there is so much about you that I’m still learning.”

“Well,” Harry says with a sigh. “You turn me on. More than anyone I’ve ever known. My body may not be able to physically show it… but you do something to me that I haven’t felt in years.”

“So I’ll never be able to suck you off?” Misty pouts.

Harry smiles sadly. “I’m afraid not, sweet girl.”

“Holy shit.” Misty frowns. “That fucking sucks.”

Harry laughs. “I mean… it’s not so bad. I get to make you feel good.” He licks softly at her pussy in an attempt to begin cleaning her up, and she flinches out of sensitivity, causing him to chuckle.

“I hate it though,” Harry admits, “kind of. I hate that I can’t…. well… pardon my French here but—“

“Fuck me?” Misty finishes. “You hate that you can’t fuck me? Because I want you to.”

Harry snorts. “Well damn, miss Misty. Never expected you to be so forward but yes, I hate that I can’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked.”

Misty frowns. “I just want to make you feel good.”

“You do make me feel good.,” Harry says with a smile. “Every second that we’re together feels better than the last.” He licks at her pussy once again, smiling at the way she wiggles against his tongue instantaneously.

“Now,” he says, “let’s get you cleaned up and get that English paper done, hm?”

-------

It’s the night of Misty’s sorority homecoming, and Misty is having a less than ideal time.

It isn’t that the venue isn’t wonderful, or that her friends aren’t being lovely. Everything seems perfect from the outside, and Misty knows she should be enjoying it. But her problem isn’t with the event itself— it’s the fact that she’s here alone.

Because the one person she’d wanted to bring as her date happens to be a ghost.

Harry had watched her get ready all day, constantly telling her how gorgeous she looked and laughing, amused, when she’d tried countless times to get him to give in and come with her. Of course he wasn’t going to do that, and she understood, but still.

He’d sent her off with a kiss, reminding her one last time how absolutely stunning she looked and promising to be waiting up for her the minute she returned home. And she’d left, reluctantly, because she knew he was right— she did need to go off and live her life.

But god, what she would give to have him here right now.

“Misty!”

Misty realizes she’s been staring at the wall, the drink in her hand nearly spilling over, when she’s startled out of her thoughts. Angie walks excitedly towards her.

Angie, of course, looks stunning. She’s wearing a long, blue gown that compliments her eyes nicely, and her hair is done up in curls that are so perfectly put together they don’t even look real. She flashes Misty a warm smile as she approaches.

“Girl!” she says. “What’s wrong with you? You alright?”

Misty smiles, realizing that she probably looks silly all zoned out like this. “Yeah, no, I’m good! Sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“You look sad,” Angie says, worry creasing her eyes. “You sure you’re just tired?”

Misty sighs, because god, she really wishes she could explain her situation to Angie. Or anyone really. “Yeah, I’m good. Sorry.”

“Well you should get out there and dance!” Angie says encouragingly. “The DJ kinda sucks but like, if you take a shot beforehand it’s not that bad.”

“He does kinda suck, doesn’t he?” Misty giggles.

“Oh, also…” Angie hesitates before speaking her next sentence. “Josh is looking for you.”

Misty rolls her eyes, but Angie continues talking. “I knoooow, I know he sucks but like… I don’t know, maybe if you got drunk and made out a little bit it would--”

“Why would I do that?” Misty asks. “He came here with Brooke anyway!”

“Oh yeah, and she’s pissed about it,” Angie giggles. “Everyone knows he was just trying to make you jealous. Poor Brooke.”

“Yeah,’ Misty says. “Josh sucks.”

“You know, I don’t know why you won’t give him a chance!” Angie leans against the wall, taking a sip of the bright orange drink in her glass. “I mean, he like, very clearly wants you.”

“I don’t want him,” Misty replies. “Like, at all. If he can’t take a hint, then--’

Misty trails off when she notices Angie squinting over her shoulder. “Who the hell--” Angie whispers.

“What?” Misty turns slowly, and her jaw drops when she sees what it is that Angie is looking at.

In walks Harry, physical body and all, waving at everyone like he’s known them all his life.

Is she dreaming? Surely she has to be. She shakes her head, then reaches up to her forehead as if to check her temperature. Can everyone else see him? How is he here?

Her movement catches Harry’s eye, and he beams at her, turning his full attention towards her and heading in her direction. “Misty!” He calls, waving at her.

Angie’s jaw is practically on the floor, as are the jaws of almost every girl in the room. “You know him?” Angie asks.

And honestly, Misty isn’t sure what the right answer to that question is. “I--” is all she can manage to get out.

Harry approaches, and Misty is not only greeted by his delicious cinnamon scent, but a strong, spicy cologne. He looks delicious in this suit, and when he hugs her she shivers, partly because of his cold skin and partly (mostly) because she can’t believe her eyes.

“Hiya, darling,” Harry says, wrapping Misty up in a chilly hug and kissing her cheek. “You look absolutely beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” Misty manages to stammer out, although her facial expression must give away how confused she is.

Harry only smiles down at her, reaching up gently to close her mouth. He then turns to Angie with a pleasant smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says, extending a hand. “I’m Harry.”

Angie wastes no time, reaching forward to shake his hand quickly. She seems taken aback by the temperature of his hands, but Harry pays it no mind. Instead he brushes it off with a quick, “Don’t mind the cold hands. Can never quite get used to the weather out here.”

Misty giggles, awkwardly, wrapping her arm around Harry’s back. “Darling,” she says, as forcibly normal as possible, “I had no idea you were coming tonight.”

“Wanted to surprise you!” Harry answers cooly, before turning back to Angie. “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t catch your name…?”

“It’s Angie!” Angie blurts, cheeks growing redder by the minute. She giggles like a little schoolgirl. “Misty never mentioned she had a boyfriend… much less such a handsome one.”

Harry smiles. “I’m flattered, Angie. Thank you. But no, actually, Misty and I are just casual for now. We met a few summers ago during her spring break back home. We’re… oh, I don’t know what to call it… talking? I suppose?” Harry laughs, grinning down at Misty.

Misty, still in shock, misses a beat before realizing that he’s addressing her. She laughs stiffly. “Yes,” she says, “‘talking’ is a good word.”

Harry grins back at Angie. “And you? Where’s your lucky fellow tonight?”

“Oh,” Angie says, biting at her lip, growing visibly excited at the mention of her date. “He’s um… he’s somewhere around here. I guess we’re uh— talking as well.”

“Ah,” Harry says, “I see.”

He’s so ridiculously chipper, so casually cool, and Misty is growing more and more impatient by the minute. She laughs, accidentally cutting Angie off just as she begins a sentence.

“Angie, I’m sorry, but would you mind if I took Harry outside for a bit? I didn’t realize he was going to be here tonight and we… uh…” She looks up at Harry, who only grins smugly back at her, “We have a bit of catching up to do.”

“Oh sure!” Angie says. “Of course, babe, go have fun.” She smiles brightly at Harry. “It was so nice meeting you, I’ll catch up with you both later, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Harry says, warmly. “Of course!”

Misty smiles at Harry, but the look in her eyes informs Harry that she has a lot to say. He smiles, so ridiculously casual and sweet, and takes her hand.

“After you sunshine,” he says.

Misty rolls her eyes, but she does smile softly to herself as she leads him outside. Harry doesn’t know if she means to, but she gives his hand a slight squeeze as she walks. He gives her hand a squeeze right back, far more intentional than hers, and her breathy little giggle does not go unnoticed by him.

Harry eyes the room, taking in his surroundings and looking for who he has decided is his number one enemy in life (and technically death)-- Josh. He doesn’t find him at first, and he has to admit that his heart sinks a bit at the thought of not being able to show Misty off right to Josh’s face. But then he finds him, outside smoking a cigar with a few other guys, and Harry perks up once again.

Misty doesn’t even acknowledge the boys as she continues to lead Harry to a quiet corner of the garden, but Harry of course isn’t going to stand for that. Not when he has the satisfaction of seeing Josh’s face light up upon Misty’s arrival only to completely drop half a second later when he sees she’s with somebody. Harry’s not letting it end there.

“Evening, guys.” Harry raises his free hand to his forehead, giving the group an effortless salute. “Gorgeous night, innit?”

Josh takes the bait, immediately stepping out of the circle and making his way over to Harry and Misty. Misty doesn’t even notice until Harry is resisting her tug, and when she turns around to see who’s approaching she rolls her eyes. “Fuckin hell,” she mumbles.

Harry, of course, has the complete opposite reaction, smiling warmly right back at Josh.

“Hey man!” Josh says, holding out his free hand. “I’m Josh. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you around?”

“Never been around,” Harry says matter-of-factly. He takes Josh’s hand with a grip so firm Misty can sense it. “I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry!” Josh’s smile is so fake Misty wants to scream, and she wishes she could evaporate into thin air to escape the awkward tension in the air right now. “How do you know Misty?”

“I’m from her hometown!” Harry says. “Met her a few spring breaks ago. We’ve been casual for a while now.”

“Have you?” Josh looks pointedly at Misty, and she rolls her eyes. Harry never looks away from Josh.

“I would say so, yeah,” Harry smiles. “On and off of course.”

“I see.” Josh nods stiffly.

“Oh wait!” Harry says suddenly, as if a thought has just occurred to him. “Ohhh, you’re Josh! Misty here has told me quite a bit about you!”

Misty can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as she glances frantically between Harry and Josh. Josh smiles.

“Oh yeah? All good things I hope!”

“Mmm…” Harry says in a questioning tone, shrugging a bit but maintaining his smile.

Josh stares blankly back at Harry, completely unsure of how to process what he’s just said, and Misty can’t help but giggle.

“Okay, well!” she says, trying and failing to hide the smile on her face. “This has been super lovely but Harry and I have quite a bit of catching up to do, don’t we?”

“We sure do, pumpkin!” Harry wiggles his nose exaggeratedly at Misty and she laughs. He turns back to Josh. “Nice to finally meet the famous Josh,” he says. “I’m sure I’ll see ya around!”

“Uh,” Josh stammers. “Yeah. See ya.”

Misty tugs Harry away from Josh and over to a secluded corner of the garden, and Harry shoots Josh a pointed and intimidating look over his shoulder before turning to Misty. She tries to be serious, but she can’t stop herself from giggling.. “Harry what the hell!” She hisses.

He smiles. “Surprised? Happy? Do you want to kill me?”

“Um, yes to all of the above!” Misty lightly slaps his arm. “What are you doing here?!”

“Wanted to surprise you,” he says, reaching forward to gently hook his pinky with Misty’s. “Figured a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be alone on a big night like this. I wanted to help make it special.”

Harry leans in and places a kiss right on Misty’s cheekbone. “Besides,” he says, softer, “I couldn’t give Josh the satisfaction of thinking he had a chance tonight.”

Misty giggles, oblivious to the way the nearby group of boys are all watching her longingly. Harry laughs along with her, kissing her nose and then her smile. “Are you happy, sunshine?”

“So happy,” she says, kissing him back. “Beyond happy.”

Misty pulls away, eyeing Harry in his suit. Never in her life has she ever seen a more handsome man, and she lets out a hum of satisfaction. “But,” she says slowly. “I don’t… understand. Your energy--”

“I’ll be fine, love,” Harry insists. “It’s one night. As long as you’re happy.”

“Yeah but--”

“No buts.” Harry smiles. “Now, something tells me you haven’t danced much tonight. Is that true?”

Misty smirks. “Didn’t feel right dancing without you.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Harry says. “We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” He holds his arm out to her, raising his eyebrows.

Misty eyes his arm before giggling and linking arms with him. She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you.”

Harry leads her back inside, shooting Josh one more pointed look before holding the door open for Misty. She’s like a giggly schoolgirl as she walks through, taking Harry’s hand in hers and giving it a long squeeze.

Misty practically floats onto the dance floor as a slower song begins, and Harry can’t believe she’s real. He twirls her under his arm, admiring the way her skirt swishes and catches the dim lights. She beams up at him brightly before wrapping an arm up around his shoulders and pulling him in. They begin swaying together as Harry pulls her in closer by her hips; the scent of her perfume just below his nose. He can feel her sigh contentedly against his chest, and it makes him smile to himself.

“It’s so nice to finally dance with you like, out in the open and stuff,” Misty says. “Instead of looking like I’m possessed.”

Harry laughs. “I know. It’s nice to be seen. It’s nice to show off my dancing.” The minute he finishes his sentence, he spins Misty out, then in, before dipping her. She squeals, giggling up at him and going limp in his arms.

“Love hearing you laugh like that,” Harry says, mirroring what he’d told her the first night they danced together. “I mean it.”

He pulls her back up into him, her hair flying behind her. “No one makes me laugh the way you do,” she admits. “I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.’

A comfortable silence falls between the two of them for the next few moments, and they can’t seem to keep their eyes off of each other. Harry let’s out a boyish giggle and leans forward, pressing a peck to her nose.

“You know,” Misty says. “You’re actually a pretty good dancer for a ghost.”

“I’m not sure whether I should take offense to that or not.”

“It’s a compliment,” Misty laughs. “I’m just impressed. A lot of guys I know aren’t really good at dancing.”

“I was known to be quite the dancer in my day,” Harry says, spinning her out and then quickly back into him once again.

“Really?”

Harry gives Misty a soft little hip check. “Not at all.”

Harry and Misty laugh their way through the rest of the dance, hardly even realizing when the music slows to a stop. Harry leans down, pressing the sweetest kiss to Misty’s lips before she even has a chance to say anything, and she smiles into the kiss— communicating exactly how she’s feeling just by her kiss alone.

After a few more dances, they make their way to a table, giggling and out of breath. Harry orders Misty another drink, socializing with everyone at the table like he’s known them his whole life. And as Misty watches him through slightly buzzed and love drunk eyes, she allows herself to feel, just for the moment, that everything in her little world is perfect with Harry.

———

About an hour and a few drinks later, Misty wanders into the restroom, leaving behind a very happy Harry— who chats effortlessly with the other people at their table. She realizes halfway through her journey that her face hurts from smiling, and she giggles to herself quietly.

Her situation may be incredibly unique, but she’s so lucky to have Harry here on her arm this evening. She giggles, throat thick with the sweet drink she’s been sipping on and eyes hazy, before washing her hands and making her way back out into the hallway. No one is around, and she begins to make her way back into the large dance hall when she nearly runs someone over as she turns the corner.

“Oh, sorry!” She looks up, immediately relieved to find that it’s Harry she’s bumped into.

He smiles down at her. “Slow down there, speed racer. Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“Coming to find you,” she says, smiling at him. She rises up onto her toes and kisses his chin.

“Mm.” Harry hums, tilting his head to kiss her lips. “Having a fun night?”

“Yes.” She wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest and inhaling the delicious cinnamon scent of him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Yeah?” Harry presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Me too. So glad.”

Misty pulls away, licking her lips and adjusting Harry’s bowtie that she’d accidentally muffed up. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine!” Harry insists. “Like I could run a marathon.”

‘Oh yeah?” Misty eyes him quizzically, and he laughs.

“I mean… no,” he says. “But I feel fine.”

Misty groans. “You’re using too much energy.”

“Will you stop?” He asks, pulling her closer by the small of her back. “I’m fine.”

“Promise?”

‘Promise?”

“Swear?”

Harry chuckles. “Swear.”

“Cross your heart?”

Harry boops Misty’s nose. “And hope to die.”

Misty rolls her eyes, reaching up to comb her fingers through Harry’s slightly messy hair. “You’re not funny,” she says, booping his nose right back. “But you are handsome as hell. Especially tonight.”

“Yeah?” Harry tilts his body, tugging at the ends of his suit jacket. “Like it? Picked it out myself.”

“How?”

Harry winks. “Magic.”

“Oh god,” Misty giggles. “Well, however you actually did it… I’m glad you did.” She runs her hands along his shoulders and down his arms, squeezing his hands gently. “You look fucking delicious.”

“Hardly. You’re far too sweet to me, angel, but I figured that if I was going to be this beautiful girl’s date tonight, I needed to look the part.”

Misty hums, pulling him in by his lapel and buttoning her lips with his. He smiles against her mouth, and she licks eagerly against his bottom lip. He knows exactly the kind of mood she’s in just by the way she’s kissing him, and he reaches up to cup the back of her neck.

“God,” she breathes, lips ghosting his. “The things I would do to you.”

Harry gulps, loving the forwardness coming from her pretty lips. “Yeah?” He nods, as if urging her to go on.

“Mm, I could devour you. It’s all I want.”

Harry tilts his head, pulling Misty closer and kissing her ear. “What else do you want?”

“To feel you,” she says. “I bet you’re so big.”

Despite having no blood in his veins, Misty’s words stroke Harry’s ego and twist his stomach into knots. “Mm,” he hums, trying to maintain his smug demeanor. “I am, actually.”

“Damn.” Misty pouts, softly fingering at Harry’s bowtie. “God I wish I could suck you.”

Harry gulps, because fuck does he sure wish that as well. He raises a hand to brush Misty’s hair back from her face, eyes flickering between her lips and her eyes. “I know, sweet girl. Me too.”

They spend a few moments just looking at one another, speaking without words. Harry gently caresses her cheeks, wishing more than anything that his touch wasn’t so damn cold. He clears his throat softly. “We have to get back out there, you know.”

“I know,” Misty sighs.

‘You look so beautiful.” Harry smiles, reaching forward to take Misty’s hand in his own. “Never seen anyone so beautiful.”

“You’re one to talk,’ Misty says softly, making Harry scoff. “Can’t take my eyes off of you.”

“Then don’t,” Harry teases. “Does wonders for my ego when you look at me like that.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Misty hums, reaching up to thumb at Harry’s cheek. “I want you,” she says quietly. “So fucking badly.”

“Yeah?” Harry says softly, gears turning in his head as he realizes the exact kind of mood Misty is in. “What is it you want exactly, baby?”

Harry has only known Misty a short time, comparatively speaking, but he knows her well enough to know exactly what buttons to push. He knows what that look in her eyes means, and he knows how to turn her on with only his words.

He also knows that making her put into words exactly what she wants turns her into a messy, embarrassed puddle that turns them both on. So he watches her expectantly.

“Well,” Misty says slowly, heat radiating off of her face. “I want…. To suck you off.”

“I know,” Harry coos, trailing his fingertips along her jawline. “Said that already. But you know you can’t, baby. Doesn’t work like that.”

“I hate it,” Misty pouts. “I just want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

“Making you feel good makes me feel good,” Harry says. He waits for a response, and when it doesn’t come, tense idea forming in his head comes to fruition.

He reaches around to cup the back of her neck, scratching lightly at the hair there. “You want me to make you feel good right now, pretty girl? Hm?”

Misty snaps almost fully out of her trance then, glancing around nervously. “Harry, we can’t right now. Are you joking? We’re in public--”

“Why not?” Harry grins down at her. “You know I can disappear. Make it so that only you could see me.”

“Yeah but--”

“Nobody would know,” he shrugs, tacking on a quick, “that is, if you can keep quiet for me.”

Misty sighs sharply at his words, and he chuckles.

“Sunshine, if you don’t want to, I won’t.”

“No, I…” Misty lowers her voice, despite the fact that they’re still the only two in the hallway. “I want to.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks. “You sure? Not trying to pressure you.”

Misty looks up at him, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re not pressuring me. I’ve always wanted to do some raunchy shit like this.”

“Oh yeah? Bit of an exhibionist are we?”

Misty giggles. “Harry.”

“I’ll go under the table. No one will even know I’m there. Even if they look.”

“But where should I tell them you went?”

“Hm.” Harry hums, considering this for a few moments. “Cigar break. Went out to smoke. You were out with me for a bit but I got a phone call and you got cold. So you came inside.”

Misty frowns. “You don’t smoke.”

“I’m also not a living human being, but here we are.” Harry grins, pulling Misty in closer and lowering his voice. “Gonna let me make you cum, pretty girl? Hm?’

“Yes,” Misty whispers back, shyly avoiding his gaze. “Yes.”

“In front of all these people?” Harry asks teasingly. “Naughty.”

“Harry--”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to her nose. “Alright, alright. Go sit at the table. I think they’re about to serve dessert anyway.”

“And you’re going to miss it?” Misty pouts.

“Misty,” Harry says, “You know damn well I’m going to be enjoying my own dessert.”

Misty rolls her eyes. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“You did, yeah.” He pinches her butt. “Now go. Please. I’m hungry.”

“Oh my godddd. Fine.”

She presses one more quick kiss to Harry’s cheek and turns to leave, but he reaches forward-- taking her hand and spinning her back around. “Wait.”

“Hm?”

“When I come in, you’ll be the only one who can see me. You’ll have to cover for me when I get under the table.”

“Okay.” Misty nods. “I’ll pretend I dropped something under there, and I’ll lift the table cloth.”

Harry grins. “Alright. Good girl.”

“God,” Misty laughs, “You’re relentless, huh?”

“What do you mean?” The way Harry’s smiling, he knows exactly what Misty means.

“You just want to get me as worked up as you possibly can, don’t you?”

“You caught me.”

Misty rolls her eyes. “God you’re annoying. Okay, I’m going. See you soon.”

“See you soon, bug.”

Misty turns once again to exit, and Harry gives her bum a quick and subtle slap, which makes her giggle.

As Harry watches her go, he tries to ignore the ache in his bones. He’s exhausted-- of course-- from exuding so much energy, but he doesn’t even care. It feels so good to feel alive again like this. To be on the arm of a pretty girl, in the midst of a bunch of young happy people with their whole lives ahead of them.

He sighs, pushing his yearning feeling far out of his head and ignoring the exhaustion in his body. He’s going to give Misty a few minutes to get settled in her seat before he joins her, and he thinks maybe he should go hide in the bathroom for a moment to give himself a bit of an energy break.

The idea is quickly shattered, however, when Angie and her date turn the corner, giggling all over one another. Angie stops dead in her tracks as soon as she sees Harry, and she grows visibly embarrassed.

“Oh! Harry! Hi!”

Harry smiles politely. “Hello Angie. This must be your lucky man.”

Angie smiles shyly up at her date. “Yeah,” she says, “this is Eric. Eric, this is Harry. He’s Misty’s date tonight.”

“Hey man!” Eric removes his arm from around Angie’s shoulders and holds it out for Harry. “Nice to meet you!”

Eric seems like a pleasant guy, a bit on the short side with big brown eyes and hair that has been perfectly gelled for this evening. Harry shakes his hand warmly, grateful for the fact that Eric hardly seems to even notice the temperature of his hands.

“Where you from, brother?” Eric asks. “Never seen you around before.”

“I’m from Misty’s hometown.” Harry nods. “Known each other for ages. It’s a sort of casual thing between us, you know?”

“Right on!” Eric grins. “Sort of casual for Ang and I too, I suppose.”

Angie’s face falls just the slightest bit for only half a second, and if Harry had blinked he’d have missed it. She smiles. “Yeah!” She adds. “Super casual.”

“How wonderful.” Harry grins. “You’re a lucky man, Eric.”

Angie blushes at Harry’s words, then gives Eric’s arm a squeeze. “Harry you’re way too nice.” She lets go of Eric’s arm, turning towards the restroom door. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom, if you guys will just excuse me for a second.”

Harry and Eric mumble their goodbyes as Angie makes her way quickly into the bathroom. Harry smiles at Eric, nodding his head as a parting gesture before turning to make his way to Misty.

“Wait, Harry.”

Eric’s voice surprises Harry, and he whirls back around. “What’s up man?”

Eric seems hesitant, opening his mouth and then closing it. He laughs, as if embarrassed of his own self, before speaking. “Man… I don’t know why I’m asking you this.”

Harry steps back towards Eric, his friendly smile never leaving his face. “You alright?”

“No I’m good! I just… maybe it’s cause I’m drunk… but I’m--” Eric sighs. “Dude, I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?”

“Angie,�� Eric admits. “You know, like, I really like her and I-- I don’t know.”

“Mm.” Harry nods. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if… if she feels the same.” Eric seems nervous, and Harry smiles reassuringly.

“Are you kidding me? Do you not see the way she looks at you?” Eric’s eyebrows furrow, as if what Harry is saying makes no sense to him, so Harry continues. “She looks at you like you hung the bloody moon, mate.”

“Seriously?”

“You know, I asked her about you earlier. ‘Course, I didn’t know who you were. But when I asked who her lucky man was, her face lit up like the sun. How long have you been an item?”

Eric smiles a dimpled smile, seemingly relaxed. “Almost two months now, I would say.”

“Why the hesitation, then? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Eric sighs. “I don’t know, man. I guess I just…I don’t want to do things wrong.”

“You want to know what I think?” Harry takes a step forward.

“Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

Harry takes in a big breath, pondering the words he’s about to say. He opens his mouth, then closes it, before taking a step towards Eric. “I think,” he begins slowly, “that life is too short.”

Eric chuckles. “Man, it really is, huh?”

Harry nods. “Way too fucking short—pardon my French- to let perfect moments pass you by.”

“Yeah?”

“Mate, if you really feel this way about her, and you know you have this beautiful connection… why wait? You know what I mean? There were--er, are-- so many moments in my life that I look back on and think, ‘god if only I hadn’t been so stupd. If only I had done this, or said that. If only, if only, if only. And I think…” Harry sighs. “I think that when it comes to telling someone how you feel about them… it’s important to be honest and vulnerable. That’s what makes you feel human.” Harry smiles, almost lost in his own thoughts.

“And feeling human,” he adds, “The good and the bad, is what life is.”

Eric doesn’t reply right away. He smiles, taking in everything that Harry is saying to him. “Shit dude,” he says, after a long while. “That’s some profound shit.”

“Nah,” Harry says, playing it off with a cheeky smile. “We’re just drunk.”

Eric laughs at this. “Maybe. But that was really good advice.”

Harry shrugs. “Just telling you what I wish someone had told me.”

“Yeah.” Eric grins. “Well thanks man. Ang and I were coming over here to like….” Eric lowers his voice, “.... do stuff, but like, I want her to know it’s more than that for me. You know?”

“I know.” The door to the women’s restroom begins opening and Harry raises his eyebrows cheekily. “Off you go then,” he tacks on quietly.

Harry turns to exit just as Angie enters, and he can’t help but feel somewhat giddy in his stomach for Eric. He hears Eric and Angie chatting softly behind him when he’a suddenly stopped by the sound of his own name.

“Harry!”

Harry turns on his heel. “Hm?”

“Thanks.”

Angie glances between Eric and Harry, a bit confused but still smiling. Harry shoots her a quick wink before raising two fingers to his eyebrow and saluting Eric loosely. Eric smiles, an unspoken confirmation between him and Harry, and Harry rounds the corner, leaving him and Angie to talk things out.

And now, there’s only one pressing matter on Harry’s mind:

Making Misty cum until she can’t think straight.

Misty’s stomach churns as she watches Harry enter the room. She is so nervous for what she knows is about to happen, and yet she’s so excited. She makes casual small talk-- of course about Harry-- with the others at her table. “Yeah he went out for a cigar and then got an important phone call from work” and “oh yeah, we met a few springs back. It’s been very casual” and “God, I know, he’s handsome, isn’t he?”

Harry’s eyes never leave Misty’s face, and he’s smirking so deeply it makes Misty’s stomach (and other parts of her) twitch. “Hiya, baby,” he says quietly, and Misty has to raise her drink to her lips to cover up the enormous smile on her face.

“You remember you have to help me out here?” Harry asks, and Misty doesn’t answer him. Instead, she subtly knocks her knife off of the table.

It doesn’t cause much of a commotion, just enough for the others at the table to glance in her direction. “Oops!” Misty says, “My bad!” She leans over, lifting the tablecloth and shooting Harry a subtle glance.

He grins. “Sneaky girl,” he mutters, before dropping to his knees and crawling under the bit of space that Misty has opened up for him.

Misty tries to cover up the rustling of the tablecloth as Harry crawls, and luckily the movement goes pretty much completely unnoticed by all of her drunken peers. Harry settles himself beneath the table, and grins at her. He presses a kiss to her knee.

“Still good with this?”

“Yes,” Misty whispers. “Are you?”

Harry scoffs, gently running his hands up her calves. “What a dumb question.”

Blood rushes to Misty’s cheeks as she drops the tablecloth and sits up straight. She offers the others at her table a forced smile, but no one seems to notice or care. She squirms, parting her legs ever so slightly.

Harry reaches for the bottom of her long dress, taking his time and really teasing her by building up anticipation as he drags the fabric up her calves. He kisses the skin he exposes as he goes, taking care to love on her knees a little extra because he knows they’re sensitive. Misty instinctively opens her legs a bit more, and Harry chuckles quietly.

“Gonna need you a bit more open than that, love.” He gently pries her knees apart, bunching up the fabric of her dress and gasping quietly at the sight before him when he realizes what he’s looking at.

“Ohhh, baby,” he breathes, “no panties?” He reaches forward with a single finger, teasing at where he knows she’s already damp. “My god, you’re a dream.”

She wiggles a bit in her seat, hoping for more friction from Harry’s finger, and Harry chuckles almost menacingly. “Squirmy little thing, aren’t you? Barely even touching you yet.”

Harry leans in, pressing another slow kiss to her knee before trailing his lips and tongue up her thigh. He drapes the skirt of her dress over his head, immediately shivering at the feeling of her warmth and wondering if she likes the sensation of his coldness.

Under the protection of her skirt, all Harry can see, hear, and smell is Misty, and he takes a moment to really soak it all in. Her scent is intoxicating, and he swears that if he were alive, he would be more than content to live out the rest of his days with his face buried between her legs.

Harry takes a big deep breath in through his nose, and exhales slowly, making a point to blow against her skin. He can feel her subtly shiver, and he grins. This is going to be easier than he thought.

For him at least.

“Now careful,” he taunts. “Gonna keep quiet for me?” He smirks, pulling away to tease her skin lightly with his finger. “That was a trick question. Know you’re going to because you don’t have a choice.”

Misty kicks lightly at Harry, and he grunts. “Ouch. Feisty thing.” He grins. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop teasing.”

And somehow, Misty doesn’t believe him.

Harry leans in, licking and kissing softly at her clit, just to get her nice and relaxed. His curls tickle at her thighs, and he hooks his arms around her legs to hold her in place. He’s hardly even started, and yet she’s already so wet. He’d be lying if he said that didn’t do wonders for his ego.

He can faintly hear the conversation going on above the table, but he does make out his name and something about missing out on dessert.

“He’ll be fine,” Misty says. “I’ll grab him a slice in a bit.”

“What a generous girl you are,” Harry mumbles, although he isn’t sure if Misty’s heard him or not. If she had heard him, though, he doesn’t give her time to react. He opens his lips wider, lapping at her clit from a new angle that makes her shiver. She squirms in her seat, lowering herself just a bit so that Harry has easier access, and he unhooks one of his arms from her legs to rub gently at her clit while he repositions himself.

Misty squirms against him, and her hands make their way under the table. Harry isn’t sure what exactly she’s doing until her skirt is lifted up from over his head, and he blinks in the dim light.

“What, baby?” he asks.

She threads her fingers through his curls, squeezing, before gently trying to push his head back down.

“Oh you want my hair?” Harry chuckles. “Cute.”

He licks gently at her clit, enjoying the way her fingers scratch a bit harshly into his scalp. He hums. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Misty jolts when Harry kisses a specific spot, and he chuckles. “Ohhh...You liked that, didn’t you?” Harry pulls back, examining the spot he just kissed. “Noted.”

Harry leans in then, attacking the same spot he’d just been lapping at, and the way Misty yanks suddenly at his curls informs him that it’s definitely a good spot. He moves his hand to grip either side of her waist.

“Misty,” Harry gulps quietly, grasping at her as if he can feel her slipping through his fingers. “Baby, please, I need—“

Misty’s fingers curl into Harry’s hair even more, tugging slightly until Harry finds himself with his forehead pressed to her thigh. He shivers, mumbling against her skin, “Need you to open up just a bit more for me, baby.” Without thinking, he presses a kiss to the fleshy spots just below her pussy as she continues to scratch affectionately at his head. “You’ve done such a good job. Been good so far. Need you open.” Harry sponges kisses along the hem of her dress.

Misty pulls Harry’s head up gently by his curls and rubs her thumb along his cheekbone before squeezing lightly at his cheeks, opening her legs more and pulling him closer to her pussy.

Harry needs only that squeeze as a starter gun, and then he’s off. His hands find their way up to her hips as he bunches up her skirt. He presses several chaste kisses to the velvet soft skin of her inner thigh, taking his time to soak in her warmth before attaching his lips to her pussy again.

He flattens his tongue along her, licking a long broad stripe just to get the wetness all soaked into his tongue before wrapping his lips around her clit. He sucks softly, flicking his tongue between his slightly parted lips to give her a heavier sensation.

Misty hums quietly, letting her nails trail along his scalp to the back of his neck. He knows she wants to moan, and it only encourages him to work harder. He removes his lips from her clit with a popping noise that startles her, and she lifts the tablecloth ever so slightly. Their eyes meet, and Harry can tell she’s already fucked. He grins.

“They couldn’t hear that,” he reminds her. “You’re the only one who has to keep quiet here.”

There’s a visible lump in Misty’s throat as she sighs, begrudgingly removing her eyes from Harry and focusing on the party occurring around her. Harry clicks his tongue.

“Ohh,” Harry coos, “poor baby. Feels so good and she can’t even moan for me, can she? Sweet girl.”

Harry pulls the tablecloth out of her hands, yanking it back down before resuming the movement of his tongue against her clit. She squirms against him, obviously growing impatient.

“You love this so much,” Harry says, “don’t you, sunshine?”

Harry doesn’t know if he’s ever in his existence had it this bad for anyone before, and somewhere deep down he knows that Misty fully cognizant of the power she holds over him. It’s exciting for the both of them really, and Harry knows that Misty does not take it lightly. Still, he loves the exhilaration of teasing her to no end-- he loves how wet it gets her and he especially loves being the only one who gets to see her like this.

Harry lets out a low-bellied grunt, and Misty sighs, an almost inaudible mumble of “oh god” passing her pretty lips. Harry removes his mouth from her clit, tilting his head to attach it instead to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh with a mumbled coo of, “Careful.” He sucks harshly, pulling until he feels her skin against his teeth and then he lets off with a pop. Misty wants to moan so badly it’s killing her, and Harry can see her toes curling in her heels. He kisses the spot he’s just bitten, where he knows a mark is already beginning to blossom.

“Feel how wet you are?” He asks. “Feel how messy you get just from a bit of teasing? Are you not embarrassed to be so wet??”

“Christ.” Misty’s voice is so low only Harry can hear it, but he smiles against her inner thigh when he does.

“How cute,” he muses, reaching out to feel the stickiness pooling between her legs. “I wonder what everyone would say if they knew how messy you get for me.” He brings his fingers to his lips, tasting the wetness against his fingertips and humming to himself. “Wonder if they can smell you.”

Harry buries his tongue directly into the center of her and shakes his head a bit, ignoring the one loose curl of his that falls into his face. He can feel Misty’s entire body tense up, and he knows she’s close. He takes his opportunity to make it a million times worse for her; with one hand he reaches up and spreads her lips further apart. With the other hand, he gently tickles at the back of her knee.

She squirms, partly from his touch against the sensitive part of her leg but mostly from the sensation of his tongue against her clit. He can see her fingers clench against her chair, and he smiles before buying his own fingers inside of her warmth. Misty all but lurches forward, and Harry is almost worried he’s given her too much too quickly. Still, he’s nothing if not a tease, so he curls his fingers gently inside of her.

He smirks, deciding that she’s had enough teasing and wanting to make her cum. He can hear her let out a quiet, breathy giggle, obviously confused at the sensations she’s feeling, overwhelmed with the desire to both laugh and moan, and when he thinks she’s had enough he pulls his fingers away from her knee.

Harry hums against her core, shaking his head. “Cum for me, sweet girl.”

Misty grips the edge of the table at the same time Harry notices her stomach clenches, and then he knows she’s cumming because her knees begin trembling. He can feel her orgasm pulsating through her, and he works her through it patiently with his tongue. He curls his fingers a bit more, and sucks a bit harsher, and for a moment he completely loses himself in his own actions.

He’s never seen Misty so wound up, and she lightly stomps her heels against the ground in frustration. He knows she feels good-- hell, he feels good, too-- and he tries his best to keep her as grounded and still as he possibly can.

It’s when she tangles her fingers in his hair to lightly tug his head away that he realizes he hasn’t stopped, and she’s completely spent.

Harry sits for a moment, staring at her soaked pussy and now slightly bruised thighs, and he admires his work. She combs her fingers lovingly through his curls, and he knows she’s thanking him for making her feel so good. It’s then, of course, that he realizes exactly how exhausted he is. He turns his head to kiss gently at her wrist, then allows himself to sit for a moment and catch his breath.

He doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to last like this. He’s never used this much energy in manifesting before, and he didn’t expect it to be this hard. But Misty is having a wonderful time, and of course so is he— he doesn’t want the night to end by any means, but god, is he ready to lay down.

Harry musters up all the strength he can manage and taps Misty’s knee. “Can you let me out, sweet girl?”

It takes Misty a moment before she lifts the tablecloth, pretending to mess with her heels. She gives Harry the softest smile the moment their eyes meet, and she looks completely wrecked in a way that only he would recognize. He chuckles.

“Got you that good, did I?” He begins crawling out from under the table, trying his best to cover how exhausted he is. As he passes Misty he presses a chaste kiss to her nose, making her giggle. “I’ll be back.”

He rises, weakly, to his feet-- and he hopes Misty doesn’t notice how slowly he moves, but she does, and she frowns. He brushes it off, refusing to make it into a big deal, and then disappears from sight.

Misty is left, trying to cover up the fact that she’s struggling to catch her breath-- and she smiles the moment she sees Harry physically enter the room.

He’s grinning- because of course he is— and his finger guns in Josh’s direction do not go unnoticed by Misty. She rolls her eyes as he approaches the table, smiling brightly at everyone in the small circle.

“Sorry,” he says convincingly, “my mum called.”

Misty smiles up at him. “Oh that’s okay, my love! Everything okay?”

Harry grins at her, reaching over to take her hand in his own. “Everything is absolutely fine. Couldn’t be better, in fact.”

Misty grins, obviously flustered just by the way he’s looking at her. “Yeah?”

He leans forward, kissing her nose lightly. “Yeah.”

Harry turns to everyone at the table, smiling that charming smile that Misty is so obsessed with. “Now,” he says, “Am I too late to get a slice of this cheesecake?”

----

Harry drops, completely spent, onto Misty’s bed. As soon as she closes the door behind her she rushes to him, immediately undoing the laces on his left shoe.

He’s paler now, his skin looking thin and white, and he smiles sleepily down at her as she gets to work tugging his shoe off. She seems worried, but he only chuckles.

“Had so much fun with you,” he says, voice weak. “Did you have fun?”

“Harry, you shouldn’t have put so much energy forward.”

“Wanted to,” he says. “Worth it.”

“Harry,” Misty coos, tugging the shoe off of his foot before working on the other. “My god, look at you.”

“Just sleepy,” Harry says. “I’ll be completely back to normal tomorrow. Promise.”

Misty is unconvinced; she frowns as she tugs off his other shoe before sitting fully on the bed, crawling up the length of his body.

“I’m gonna undress you,” she says. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “‘Course it’s okay.”

Misty begins by unbuttoning his suit jacket, then the buttons of his shirt. Harry watches her the entire time, reveling in her warmth. “Feels nice to be taken care of like this. Wish you didn’t have to.”

“Harry, it’s the least I can do. You’ve done so much for me. You shouldn’t have come out tonight. You should have…” She notices the way he’s watching her, and it catches her off guard. “What?”

Harry grunts, trying weakly to prop himsef up on his elbows. “Do you realize,’ he says, voice frail, “that this is the most fun I’ve had in years? That getting to feel alive, with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known, is worth any pain I might be in now?” He catches Misty’s worried frown, and quickly tacks on, “But I’m not in pain. Just sleepy.”

Misty sighs. “I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault.”

“Awfully selfish of you,” Harry teases. “Not everything is about you, you know.”

Misty rolls her eyes, using all of her strength to sit Harry up and remove his jacket. Harry chuckles, a weak laugh that trails off into a cough. “I promise,” he says, as she settles him back down. “I’m okay. I’m just sleepy. It’s not like I’m dying.”

He watches her expectantly, waiting for a reaction and obviously proud of his stupid joke.

Misty shoots him a deadpanned glare that makes him cackle. “Come onnn,” he says, “that was a good one!”

“How can you still be so annoying when you’re so exhausted?” Misty says, chuckling as she works to unbutton his shirt.

Harry doesn’t answer her, propping an arm up behind his head and watching her work. She allows her eyes to trail down his body as she reaches the bottom button, pausing at a small patch of hair she notices leading from his bellybutton down into his trousers. Her breath hitches in her throat as she comes to the realization that she’s never seen him beneath his clothes.

Harry seems to realize this at the same time, and his smile fades just a hair. “What, baby?”

Misty doesn’t answer him. Instead she slowly pulls the two sides of his shirt apart further, exposing his entire torso. She lets out her breath slowly, surprised at how completely normal he looks. She reaches a hand forward but stops herself, unsure if she should actually touch him.

“You know I used to have a tattoo there,” Harry offers.

Misty’s eyes flicker from his tummy to his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I had a ton actually. But I guess when you die, they don’t come with you.”

“What were they?”

Harry trills his lips. “God I had so many I don’t even remember all of them. There was a butterfly right here--” he points to the direct center of his stomach, --”some swallows here--” his collarbones, “and…” Harry smirks, pointing to his hip bones. “Some ferns here.”

“God.” Misty continues to scan at his body, eyes landing on a soft purple mark on his ribs.

Harry knows immediately what Misty sees, and he smiles softly at her, taking her hand in his as his face takes on a far more serious expression. “Where I landed,” he explains. “When I—“

“Oh my god...” Misty is torn between wanting to touch the scar and wanting to leave it be, and Harry seems to be completely sympathetic to that because he only chuckles.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” He asks. “Took me a while to get used to.”

“I didn’t…” Misty trails off, confused as to how she should even word her question. “I mean, I didn’t think—“

“I know,” Harry says. “It’s weird. I mean how could you ever even know what to expect to see on a ghosts body? How could you expect, like… a sign of death on another body.”

“I just—“ Misty genuinely doesn’t know what to say, and she’s so thankful that Harry doesn’t pressure her at all.

“I know,” he repeats. “It’s weird.”

“Can I…” Misty’s voice is hardly above a whisper when she speaks. “Can I touch it?”

Harry smiles softly. “If you’d like.”

“I--” Misty trails off, unsure of what exactly it is that she’d like to say. She reaches forward with a timid hand, almost pulling her hand completely back before touching the gentle purple mark. It’s not raised-- she doesn’t know why she was expecting it to be-- but it’s colder than the entire rest of his body. She gasps without even realizing what she’s doing. Harry flinches slightly at her touch, but he doesn’t move.

He allows Misty to run a loving finger over his scar, taking in exactly what it is she’s looking at, before he speaks. “Are you alright?”

“What?” It takes Misty a moment to realize what he means, and she tears her eyes from the scar immediately. “Oh god, yeah, sorry. I’m okay, I just--”

“It’s weird,” Harry says for what feels like the ninetieth time. “I know.”

Misty sighs, hesitating a bit, as if she wants to say something more. She scans his body again, glancing up at his eyes sadly, before slowly moving forward.

She moves as if in slow motion, and Harry watches her with baited breath. She squirms a bit, angling her body a certain way, and lowering her face towards his torso. Harry realizes with sadness what she’s doing, and pressure builds behind his eyes when she lowers her lips to the purple scar. She presses the most velvet soft kiss Harry thinks he’s ever felt into his flesh, and his eyes cloud with mist.

Misty trails her lips from his ribs up to his collarbone. There is nothing but love in her movements, and Harry tries to swallow down a lump in his throat. His breath is shaky as he looks down at her, loving on his body.

She seems lost in her movements, kissing all over his torso as her lashes flutter slowly. She lowers her lips to his stomach, and he can’t stop the single tear that slips from his left eye.

He hasn’t been loved on like this in years, and he’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

There is no sexual intention behind her kisses, and her low breath from her nose tickles gently just above his belly button. Harry reaches up to dab at his eye, trying to prevent another tear from escaping. “Misty,” he says, voice cracking the slightest bit. “Darling--”

“Harry,” she says softly against the skin of his tummy. She lifts her head, looking into his eyes and giving him a sympathetic smile. She reaches up to wipe at his cheek with her thumb, and she doesn’t move her hand away when she’s done. She sighs. “You are so, so beautiful.”

“Misty,” he says. “I don’t--” He trails off when she pecks at his collarbone, trailing warm, wet kisses up his neck. She noses at his cheek when her lips hit his chin, and then she’s kissing his lips. It’s all so gentle, so ridiculously intimate and sweet, and Harry doesn’t even realize he’s still crying when two more tears roll down his cheek.

“My sweet boy,” she says, pulling away to wipe gently at his cheeks. “My god.”

“It’s not fair,” Harry whispers. “It’s not fair.”

“I know,” she says, continuing to run her thumbs over his cheeks. “I know, baby. But it is what it is. And Harry…” She smiles softly. “We can’t let it hang over the time we have left like a raincloud. Hm? Remember that?”

Harry laughs in spite of himself, knowing that she’s repeating his own words. “I know,” he says. He reaches up weakly to cup her face as well. “I just want to be able to love you the way you deserve. Fully. Without fear.”

Misty’s heart freezes the minute she hears Harry speak the word “love” but she doesn’t react. Instead, she leans in, kissing his jaw. “Harry,” she says slowly. “I know it’s not ideal. But you have given me the best month of my entire life. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“Don’t,” Harry says, “Don’t say that. You don’t need to thank me. Misty I--”

“Shhh.” Misty rubs her thumb along his bottom lip. “I know.” She smiles now, trying her best to hold back her own tears. “I’m so… so thankful for you. My beautiful boy. We will meet again, okay? I promise you.”

Harry swallows thickly. “I know we will. I’m coming back the moment I can.”

“See?” she says, smiling. “And next time will be even better. But you know what?” she sniffs, feeling herself slip further into sadness and begging herself not to cry. “We’ve still got a few more days, yeah?”

“We do, yeah.” Harry chuckles, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. “God, I’m a sap aren’t I? I didn’t think this was going to hit me so hard.”

“It’s good, my love! Sometimes it’s okay to let your emotions out like this. You’ve done so much for me. Let me love on you a little bit for a change.”

“You love on me constantly!”

“No,” Misty says. “Not enough.” She kisses him again before sitting up. “Let me get changed. We’ll go to sleep. We both need it.”

Harry watches her rise to her feet, and he reaches up to wipe at his damp face. “You’re too good to me, sunshine.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can thank me later.”

Harry snorts and Misty throws him a joking glance over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

Misty disappears into the hallway, making her way to the bathroom to wash her face, brush her teeth, and put on a t-shirt. She allows herself a few tears, crying quietly to herself for only a minute because god, it hurts so bad. It hurts feeling something so deep for somebody who isn’t even alive; for someone who she knows she’s going to have to spend 90% of the next year without.

As soon as she allows herself that moment of weakness, however, she forces it to pass. Wiping her tears away, she continues with her bedtime routine, making sure she doesn’t look like she’s been crying before making her way back into her bedroom.

When she gets there, Harry is fast asleep on top of her bed-- still in a state of various undress. She recalls him telling her that ghosts don’t sleep, not exactly, but he looks so peaceful-- wherever he is right now.

Misty works to gently undress him the rest of the way as he blinks sleepily, hardly even responding to her at all. And when he’s in only a pair of boxers, Misty crawls into bed beside him after turning off the light.

She rolls onto her side, watching him as he sleeps-- or, whatever it is ghosts do. He looks so beautiful, and she reaches forward to gently stroke at the scar on his ribs again. She loves him, she thinks. Even though she’s only known him for a short amount of time, she loves him. And there’s an ache in such a weirdly specific part of her heart that she can’t even begin to put into words.

Pressing the gentlest kiss to Harry’s temple, she cuddles into his side, and he subconsciously wraps an arm lazily around her. Misty wills herself not to cry-- not to think about the situation at all-- as she drifts gently to sleep.

-----

It’s a somber day. Colder than usual. Misty sits with her feet dangling over the side of her bed, and Harry stands off in the corner of her room, nervously fidgeting with some of the trinkets on her shelf.

They know it’s coming. They’ve known it was coming for the last few days, but they’ve both been avoiding the subject, pretending that if they just ignore it, it will go away.

But it won’t go away. And Harry has to leave.

Harry glances out the window. It’s gray outside, matching the atmosphere in the room. The trees blow angrily outside Misty’s window, and Harry swears he can feel the wind in his body.

“Looks like it’s going to rain,” he remarks casually.

Misty doesn’t reply, and he turns around to see her just staring sadly at him. She isn’t crying, not yet anyway, but her eyes look damp.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Her voice is quiet, like she doesn’t want to be asking the question, and she won’t even look directly at him. It makes his heart-- however dead it is-- feel like its shattering, and he takes a step towards her.

He brushes her hair behind her ear. “You know I wish I could,” he says, equally as quiet.

“And what would happen if you just… didn’t?”

“Didn’t what?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t… go?”

Harry smiles sadly. “It doesn’t work like that. I don’t have a choice.”

Misty opens her mouth, then closes it again. Her breath hitches in her throat before she lets it all out in a sigh. “What’s it like?” She’s speaking in a whisper.

“What is what like?” Harry matches her tone.

“When you… go, I mean. The process. Do you just like, fall asleep? Or is it like you just blink and you’re in the void?”

Despite the heaviness of their conversation, Harry chuckles. “Somewhere in between, I suppose.”

“Does it hurt?” She gulps subconsciously, and she looks so curious and cute right now Harry could scream.

He shakes his head. “No. Doesn’t feel like anything.”

“So one minute you’re here and the next you’re just…” She trails off, and Harry sighs.

“Gone,” he finishes somberly. “Yes.”

After a beat, Misty chuckles bitterly. “Seems a bit unfair.”

“I’ll be back the first moment I can be,” Harry says, then adds with a smile, “If you’ll have me.”

“Of course I will,” she says, finally turning to face him fully. She takes his cold hands in her own, and her warmth makes him shiver. “I’ll wait for you every single day.”

“Don’t say that,” Harry says, shaking his head and sitting beside her on the bed. “You have a life to live. I don’t.”

Misty’s eyes grow damp, but she blinks back the tears just as quickly as they arrived. “But I’m going to miss you so much,” she says through a shaky voice.

It all seems silly, really, for Harry and Misty both. But neither of them can help it. This connection they’ve formed in such a short amount of time weighs heavily on both of their hearts. And Harry is certain that he would do just about anything in the universe to get another chance at life, if only to be with her.

“I’m going to miss you so much it’s going to hurt me every second,” Harry says, not a trace of humor in his voice despite the slight exaggeration.

Misty lets out her breath in a loud, shaky sigh. She rests her head on Harry’s shoulder, and for a while they just sit there like this, him and her, pretending with all their might-- if only for a few minutes-- that this is just another day for them. That Harry is human, and that they can grow old together.

“I have a selfish request,” Misty says after a while.

“Anything.”

Misty takes a deep breath. “Will you come visit me? In my dreams?”

“You already know that’s my plan.”

“Every dream?”

Harry chuckles. “Well, that’s a bit of a tall order. I don’t know if I’ll be able to come every night. But, as often as I can, and as often as you’ll have me, I will come.”

“Promise?”

Harry turns to kiss Misty’s forehead. “I promise.”

Misty closes her eyes and leans gently into Harry’s kiss, breathing in the scent of cinnamon that she’s grown to love so much. “So when does it happen?” she asks, almost hesitantly. “When do you… go?”

“I don’t know the exact moment,” Harry admits. “Whenever the sun enters Sagittarius. Whatever that exact time is.”

“Is there gonna be a Sagittarius Season ghost?” Misty asks. “Ghost of Sagittarians past?”

Harry laughs. “I don’t think so, no. But if there is, don’t go fallin’ in love with him now. Sagittarians are nothin’ but trouble.”

“Don’t think I ever could,” Misty says, a bittersweet ache in her voice. “Think I’ll only ever have feelings for you.”

Harry sighs, patting gently at Misty’s knee. He savors her scent and her warmth for a few beats before he changes the subject. “Your sisters will be glad to have you around again,” he says. “I know I’ve been hoggin’ ya. They must think you’re really goin’ through something, the way you’re keeping to yourself.”

“They wouldn’t understand even if I did try to explain it to them,” Misty replies.

Harry nods sympathetically. “And you’re gonna have a hard time explaining to them what happened to your mysterious long distance boyfriend from back home.”

“Oh shit,” Misty says, worry suddenly showing on her face. “What am I gonna tell them when they ask?”

“Tell them he died.” The look on Harry’s face is so smug, and Misty can tell that he’d been holding onto that one for a while. She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t even try to refrain from smiling.

“Oh my god, Harry.”

“It’s not wrong!”

“That’s not funny!” The smile on Misty’s face tells Harry otherwise, and he nudges her shoulder with his own.

“Alright alright.” Harry smiles, reaching forward to interlace their fingers. There’s a moment of drab silence, and Harry sighs thickly before finally admitting weakness. “God, I’m going to miss you.”

Misty’s smile softens, but it doesn’t completely fade. She turns her head, pressing the softest kiss to Harry’s shoulder. “I’m going to miss you more than you know.”

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between the two of them, and Harry interlaces his fingers with hers. “Maybe you’ll meet a boy to take you to next year's homecoming,” he muses.

Misty frowns. “That’s not funny either.”

“Not trying to be funny! Trying to encourage you to live your life, darling. I wish I could still live mine.”

“You can live in my dreams. Rent free.”

With a snort, Harry stands up. “Oh I intend to. As much as possible.”

“Well good.”

Harry walks over to Misty’s window again, watching the trees blow in the wind for a few quiet moments. After a bit, he speaks again. “I have an idea.”

“Hm?”

“Let’s have fun tonight. Let’s watch a movie. I’ll manifest in front of everyone and we can end on a high note. Instead of being sad.”

Misty considers his words for a moment. “But I want you to myself.”

Harry grins. “So they won’t question it when we excuse ourselves early, will they?”

Misty rolls her eyes. “Well, when you put it that way--”

Harry laughs. “No one even has to join in with us if they don’t want to. But I figure my last night here shouldn’t be spent so upset.”

“Yeah,” Misty agrees. “But I’m still gonna be sad.”

“Don’t you want to remember me having fun? That’s how I want you to remember me, at least.”

“Yeah but--”

“No buts!” Harry holds his hand out to her. “Come on then. You get to pick the movie.”

The evening progresses unbearably fast, and it isn’t long before Misty finds herself curled up into Harry’s side on the couch, watching him giggle alongside all her sorority sisters and their various partners. She hopes he doesn’t notice her staring at him, but she can’t help it of course. He is so lovely, so full of some type of light that she has never seen before and cannot seem to get enough of.

As Misty watches him, she realizes how heartbreakingly human he really is. He may be a ghost, but he died a young college boy— with so much ahead of him and so much to look forward to. Never in Misty’s life has she seen a more genuine smile, nor has she ever met anyone as charismatic as Harry. Try as she might to forget it, she knows her time with him is coming to an end and she hates it. But watching him interact with everyone around him, as charming as ever, she realizes that he genuinely needed this. He needed to feel alive, to feel apart of something once again.

So Misty leans closer into him. He smiles down at her, looking so full of life and warmth. He reaches down, pulling the fuzzy red blanket covering both him and Misty up over her shoulders. “You alright?” He asks softly.

Misty tilts her head, leaning up to press a peck to his nose. “I’m wonderful,” she replies quietly.

Harry grins down at her, and for a moment the two are lost in their own little world— looking into one another’s eyes as if the entire universe existed in them. As if reading her mind, Harry gives Misty’s lips a soft kiss. The kiss is tinged with sadness, of course, because the darker it gets outside the less time they know that they have together. So he pulls away, bumping her nose with his.

“You sleepy?” He asks quietly.

And Misty knows exactly what he means. “Mhm.”

“Mm,” Harry hums. “Me too.”

He moves to rise to his feet to make a graceful exit with Misty. “Well,” he says, addressing the room. “Misty and I are going to go up to sleep now. I have to head back home pretty early tomorrow and—“

“You’re going to fuck,” Kennedy says, matter-of-factly. Misty and Harry both gape at her, and she laughs. “It’s alright! No shame in that. We’re all adults here.”

Misty laughs nervously, and Harry remains calm and smug. “You’re hilarious, Kennedy. I think I’ll miss you most of all.”

Kennedy laughs, winking and pointing finger guns at Harry. Misty rolls her eyes, but she’s giggling as she turns to exit. Harry follows close behind her and Kennedy calls out, “Be safe! Use protection!”

Harry and Misty giggle the entire trip up the stairs, and as they approach Misty’s bedroom, she speaks quietly. “Okay, but how are you feeling? Like, energy wise.”

“Fine,” Harry says, and he honestly means it.

Misty glances at him like she doesn’t believe him, and he snorts. “I promise, Misty. I mean it. I didn’t use that much tonight.”

She rolls her eyes, making her way over to her bed and sitting on the edge of it. Harry closes the door behind him, still buzzing from the fun he’s had today, and a playful smile spreads across his face. He turns slowly on his heels, eyeing her mischievously.

She looks back, tensing up a bit as a smile spreads across her face. “What…”

Harry growls playfully, bounding over to her and tackling her onto the bed before she can even say anything. She squeals, giggling as she and Harry come tumbling down. Harry attacks her face and her neck in kisses while squeezing at her hips, and she squeals.

“No!” She shrieks. “What are you doing?! NO!”

He growls, nipping at her cheeks before lifting his head and grinning down at her. “Gimme kiss.”

“If I do, will you chill?” She giggles.

Harry makes a face, pretending to consider her words. “Mm… maybe.”

She lifts her head slightly, pecking at his lips, and he shakes his head. “Better than that,” he says.

She kisses him again, but he only repeats, “Better than that.”

Misty lets her head fall back again, mouth falling open as the most lovely laughs bubble out of her lips. Harry seizes this opportunity, leaning down and kissing her open mouth with a dimpled grin.

Misty’s giggles die down the minute their lips interlock, but the smile never leaves neither her nor Harry’s faces as they kiss. Misty licks gently into Harry’s mouth, and he immediately grants her access, swirling his tongue against hers. He speaks between kisses. “You’re--” kiss, “so--” kiss, “beautiful.”

Misty rolls her eyes. “No you are,” she says, and Harry kisses her before she’s even finished her sentence.

He chuckles. “No you.”

“Nooo…” She pecks at his nose. “You.”

Harry snorts. “God we’re disgusting, huh?”

Misty hums, reaching up to brush a stray curl away from Harry’s face. “Yeah. Ew.”

He leans down, burying his face in her neck and sucking softly. He feels her melt against him, squirming a bit as she lets out a long, humming sigh. He smiles, lifting his head to press another kiss to her lips before speaking. “I have an idea,” he says.

“Another one? Do tell.”

“How about……” Harry sing-songs, “One more orgasm for you. As a parting treat.”

“Hmm…” Misty muses. “Only one?”

Harry snorts. “Or two. Or… however many you want.”

“How many do you want to give me?” Misty scratches lovingly behind Harry’s ear.

“Oh sunshine,’ Harry says, “If I had my way I would never stop.”

Blood rushes to Misty’s cheeks and ears, but she tries to hide it. Harry only laughs again, thumbing at her cheek. “Gonna miss that.”

“What?”

“How easy it is to get you hot.”

Misty rolls her eyes, but she laughs. “You’re an idiot.”

“Gonna miss that, too. Love when you insult me.”

“Oh my god.” Misty shakes her head. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Harry hums. “With pleasure, sweet girl.”

They continue kissing for a bit as Harry undresses Misty gently. He loves on every inch of her body, reveling in every single reaction he gets out of her. He tries to remember every detail that he can, and everything about the evening they’re sharing. And when he makes her cum, four separate times, he savours her taste, her smell, and the noises she makes as best as he can-- without making himself even sadder than he is. He knows she feels the same, noticing the way she continuously glances at him with more love in his eyes than he’s seen in a long time.

After hours of messing around with her, loving on one another’s bodies and sharing giggles and playful kisses, they realize it’s time to go to bed. They undress one another, and Harry helps her remove her makeup-- which makes them both laugh the entire time.

When they find themselves in bed together, stroking lovingly at one another’s faces, they realize that they can’t run from the inevitable anymore. Their time together has been reduced to only hours, and there is nothing they can do about it at all.

“I’m going to miss you,” Misty says, tracing his features in the darkness. “Have I told you that already?”

Harry laughs softly. “Maybe once or twice,” he admits. “But I’m going to miss you more.”

Misty sighs, kissing his lips gently. “Promise to come visit my dreams as much as you possibly can?”

Harry leans into her touch, tilting his head to kiss the palm of her hand. “I promise.”

“I don’t want to fall asleep.” She looks on the verge of tears, and Harry wishes there was something he could do to stop her. At this point, however, he knows it’s inevitable. So he tries to make her smile.

“You need to,” he says. “Humans need sleep.”

“Maybe,” she says. “But I need you more.”

“That’s not true, baby. You know it’s not.” Harry strokes a spot just in front of her temple-- a spot he’s noticed over the past month that relaxes her more than anything else. As if on cue, she yawns.

“Listen to me. You are meant to live your life, sweet girl. You are meant to be happy, and grow old. Promise me you will.” She frowns at him, but he doesn’t allow it. “Promise me, baby.”

“I promise,” she whispers. Harry smiles.

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I promise Harry,” she whispers, blinking against the sleep in her eyes. “But I also promise that when you return, I will be waiting.”

“That’s fine. You can wait. But do not let it stop you from living. You hear me? Please don’t. I would give anything to live my life again.”

Misty yawns again, finally giving in to the heaviness of her eyelids and closing her eyes. She leans into him. “I promise. I’ll live every day in your honor, Harry.”

“Yeah?”

She smiles sleepily, still not opening her eyes.

Harry watches her, taking in every last detail of her sleepy face. He can feel himself fading, but she doesn’t seem to notice, so he says nothing. He ignores the pressure building behind his eyes, swearing to himself that he’s not going to cry.

Misty is also fading fast, succumbing more and more to sleep by the second. Harry knows it’s going to be a hard year without her, but he takes comfort knowing she is surrounded by people who love her.

And it also doesn’t hurt that he plans on haunting Josh’s dreams so that he leaves Misty the fuck alone.

He smiles softly, completely unable to stop the tear from leaking from his eye. He’s grateful that Misty’s eyes are closed, and he presses the slowest, most gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, miss Misty.”

Without opening her eyes, Misty speaks with a distant, sleepy voice. “I love you too, Harry.”

Harry replays that moment in his head for the next few hours, reveling in the way those words sounded coming out of her mouth.

And when Misty wakes in the morning, Harry is gone.

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry Styles AU #Harry AU #Harry Styles smut #Harry smut #smut #Harry Styles fluff #Harry fluff #fluff

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all-my-love-for-harry · 4 years ago

Text

Delicate. — Part 2.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: Part 2, let’s gooo. as always, feedback is very much appreciated! Let me know what you think or what you would like to see next. thank you for reading!

catch up here!

"Stupid cheesecake recipe."

"Over baking wasn't exactly on the recipe, J."

"Oh, shut up. Yours is dry as fuck."

Y/n opened her mouth, pretending to be offended. The pair was currently having a little baking competition that clearly went wrong since none of them can bake. Now, Y/n was pretty good at cooking in general, but for some reason baking just wasn't her thing. And obviously, it wasn't Jensen's thing either.

"I hope you clean this mess after you're done." The truth was, Louise wasn't surprised by the mess her children had made and didn't mind it either. The age difference between both of them was big, so growing up there wasn't much they could do to bond. Right now, however, they were so much closer than they were before, and Jensen and Y/n had more things in common and more options of activities they could do together, like baking.

Even if they were bad at it.

"I invited Harry and Sarah tonight. They're having dinner with us." Louise spoke again, grabbing a rag and starting to wipe off the flour on the kitchen island.

"Who's Sarah?" Y/n asked, cleaning the flour on her left cheek. She tried to ignore the growing butterflies in her stomach at the mention of Harry. She'd be lying if she said she hasn't thought about him since their last encounter, even went as far as trying to look for him on the internet but she got nothing. But the mention of another woman made her feel confused. Was he married or something? Don't blame her, the guy wears a lot of rings.

"The owner of that cat café I took you to the other day. She's great, don't worry."

Jensen nudged her playfully, and she rolled her eyes in return. "I'll take a shower." She announced before marching out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her old room. She wanted to clean herself up before Harry arrived, although she didn't know why. Looking through the clothes she kept at her mother's house, she settled in a plain, long blue dress with spaghetti straps and a pair of sandals. She didn't want to look overdressed but also didn't want to just wear a pair of sweatpants like she's been wearing all afternoon.

"Do you remember when mom tried to set me up with that girl who worked at the restaurant on the other side of town?" Jensen entered the room without knocking, running his fingers through his hair. He was also fresh out of the shower.

"Madison?" Jensen hummed in response. "She was nice. Why did you stop going out with her?"

"Because mom only did it because she thought I was lonely.?"

"What's your point?" She looked at him after grabbing a hairbrush from the vanity.

"That she's doing the same now with Harry? Duh."

"Woah, I've met the man once. And I've tried going out with people she sets me up with, and we never click."

Y/n tried to play it cool when she heard the gates open, busying herself with whatever as the doorbell rang and Louise hurried towards the door. Harry and a gorgeous brunette stepped into the house, smiling widely at the middle-aged woman.

"Come on in! I'm so glad you could make it."

"You have a lovely home, Louise." Harry's deep voice along with that accent of his sent shivers down Y/n's spine. She had a weak spot for British people and she didn't know why.

"I'm sorry Mitch couldn't make it." The woman beside Harry said.

"Oh, it's okay. There's always next time."

The three of them walked into the living room where everyone else was sitting. Jensen stood up and high-fived Harry before giving Sarah a side hug. A smirk appeared on Harry's face as Y/n came into his view. "Hello again, love."

"Hi, Harry." Y/n returned his little salute. "Azaleas are doing great, by the way." She jokingly said.

"Knew you would keep them alive." He gave her a little wink before giving her a quick hug.

Sarah introduced herself and Y/n did the same, accepting her hand to shake. Y/n had to admit, she was really pretty. Along with her brown hair, she had a pair of blue eyes and an inviting smile. If Harry was really dating Sarah, then he was a lucky man.

Throughout the dinner, Y/n didn't say much. She'd occasionally steal little glazes at Harry and admired how gorgeous he looked tonight. It was funny, Y/n had this feeling in her tummy every time she's seen him, which by the way has only been twice, and she grew nervous out of nowhere. It was almost like she was too shy to speak to him, which was weird considering she was a pro at holding conversations as she's been trained to do so. Sometimes she'd stare for too long and Harry would notice and smile her way. Y/n felt like a teenager with a highschool crush. She tried to convince herself she didn't like him that way and she was just taken back at how pretty he was.

Dinner was over and Harry insisted on helping with the dishes despite Louise's protests. So now it was just Y/n and Harry in the kitchen putting everything in the dishwasher while sipping on white wine.

"How can you put ice on it?" Harry asked, nodding at her glass filled with wine and ice. "When the ice melts it just tastes like water."

"I like it really cold but I don't like keeping the bottles in the freezer." She explained, taking a sip from her glass. "So how do you know Sarah?"

"She was the first friend I made when I came here. She's also British so we became fast friends. Plus, he's dating my best friend and co-worker."

"Oh." She said, processing the information. Perhaps that Mitch guy Sarah mentioned was her boyfriend and not Harry. Suddenly, she felt a wave of relief but then again, why?

"Can I say something without sounding creepy?"

"S-sure?"

"My sister is a massive fan of yours. When we still lived with my mum, you were all she listened to."

"I'm sorry." She joked and he breathed a laugh. "Well, tell her I say hi, please."

"Will do."

"So..." She dragged the word. "You knew who I was?"

"Obviously I don't live under a rock." He rolled his eyes playfully. "I'm just not invested in that whole world as other people, you know? I don't even own an Instagram account or anything." Harry shrugged.

So that's why she couldn't find him anywhere, she thought. A feeling of excitement ran through her veins. Harry knew who she was, but he didn't care. Being treated like a normal person was a luxury Y/n didn't have anymore, so it was safe to say she felt happy knowing he'd treat her like one.

They finished the task in silence, but Y/n couldn't contain the little smile forming on her face and honestly, Harry couldn't either.

She was curious about him. What was he doing in her hometown if he was from the other side of the world? What did he do in his free time? Where did he get so many cool rings? Did he always want to be a florist? Why was he a florist? She had a million questions she wanted to ask, feeling genuinely intrigued by him. Harry could easily come off as an intimidating man, but what she has noticed from him was completely different.

Harry was shy, incredibly so. But he was also cheeky, and silly and had a boyish smile that he could change into an intense look in a matter of seconds if he wanted to. His green eyes were always shiny, like stars in a black sky. He also appeared to be always happy, although she couldn't be certain on that one.

The things she was feeling right now were things she's never experienced before and that was both exciting and terrifying.

"I never trust a narcissist." Y/n tasted the new lyrics she's been thinking about with a random melody on the piano. She sat in front of the instrument in her living room and this time she didn't have to squeeze her brain for one decent melody, because this time she was able to come up with one smoothly.

Pandora was casually laying down on the floor close to Y/n while Lizzie was chilling around the house as she didn't like the sound of the piano that much. This was one of those nights when inspiration came to Y/n from nowhere, having to drag herself out of the comfiness of her bed before she forgot what her brain had come up with. She continued adding lyrics, making sure her phone was still recording everything she was doing.

It had been a few days since she's seen her family or had any kind of human interaction and now that she was thinking about it, she kind of missed it. Now, she loved her family to pieces and would do absolutely anything for them but she missed her friends, her real friends who were thousands of miles away from her right now. She was craving that more than anything right now and that's probably why she found herself in front of The Blossom House the morning after, debating whether or not entering the shop.

Deciding to suck it up, she opened the door of the building and stepped in, feeling the overwhelming smell of flowers hit her nostrils immediately. There were a few people in the shop, a young boy buying a bouquet of red roses and two middle-aged women that looked like they came together. Y/n tried to go unnoticed as she stepped deeper into the store. The truth was, she didn't know what she was doing there. She didn't need more flowers, that's for sure.

She looked through her sunglasses a bouquet of daisies her mother would absolutely die for, so she decided to grab it for her.

"Oop, sorry. That one's not done yet." Someone said from behind. She turned around and saw a man with long hair tied in a low bun and a mustache on his face. "It's a commission, actually. But I can make another one for you."

"Oh, it's fine. I'll just pick something else." She gave him a polite smile. The name on the tag read Mitch, so he must be Sarah's boyfriend. "Uh... weird question but, is Harry around?"

"Yeah, he's in the back. Want me to get him for you?" He offered but she declined.

"It's okay. Thank you." Giving him one last smile she walked away to the other side of the room, this time looking at the roses. The white ones were her favorites and she loved looking at them.

"Hey, stranger." Taking advantage of the fact he couldn't see her, she smiled widely at the sound of his voice. "Fancy seeing you here." As soon as she turned around she saw the goofy dimpled smile on his face.

"Likewise, do you work here by any means?" She smirked as he giggled, deciding to play along.

"Darling, I own the place."

"An entrepreneur, oh my god." She pretended to fan herself with the palm of her hand and Harry let out a big laugh.

"What brings you here? More flowers?" Something tells her he knew she wasn't here for the flowers, and it was true, as much as she wanted to tell herself she wanted a new bouquet for her mom. In reality, she wanted to see him. "Has something caught your eye so far?"

"There was this bouquet of daisies but a man told me it was for a commission?" Her words came off more like a question.

"Oh, yes. Mitch's been working on that for a few hours now. I can tell him to make you one like that if you want. Could be done in a couple of hours."

"That would be great. I could swing by in a while to get it."

"Orrrrr, we could wait for it over a cup of coffee?"

She observed him for a while and how the dimples never disappeared from his face as he waited for her answer. He seemed confident and she really liked that. "Sounds fun." She shrugged before a smile appeared on her face, matching his.

"Let me tell Mitch and we'll go." He said before rushing to the back of the store and returning shortly after without his apron. "Would you prefer to go to Sarah's? Because there's this one, half block away that serves good coffee."

"Let's try that one." Honestly, she'd walk whatever blocks if that meant they'd spend more time together. "As much as I loved going to Sarah's, seeing all those kittens at once makes me cry."

"I feel the same. I always take my mum there when she comes to visit, last time she came she adopted one." He mentioned. A car passed at low speed, making Y/n nervous. She tried to cover her face as much as she could with her hair and fixing her sunglasses. "Is everything okay?" Harry asked, noticing her change of behavior.

"Uh? Oh, yes. I thought someone was watching from that car." She said in a low voice. What happened next, she would've never expected. Harry pushed her gently to the other side of the sidewalk, changing places with her so his much taller frame would cover hers.

She blushed, looking up at him but he acted like it wasn't a big deal, like it was a natural thing to do although they didn't even know each other that well. She thought he'd tell her she was being paranoid or something but instead, he chose to do something he thought would make her feel more at ease. And it worked.

Harry held the door open for her when they arrived, guiding her to a table away from the windows and pulled out the chair for her to sit, being an absolute gentleman with her. And although Y/n insisted, Harry went for their coffees and paid for them as well, saying he was the one who invited her hence he'd be the one who pays.

Once they were settled with their own cups of coffee, they started talking. Mostly about Harry, Y/n still didn't feel comfortable enough to talk about herself and he understood so he let her ask him anything she desired.

"Do you go to England often?"

"Not as much as I'd like to. I try to go during summer and for the holidays, of course. Although for birthdays and such, I'm not always able to fly there."

"You must miss your family a lot." From what she's gathered about him, he was a family guy, so being away from his must be tough. She knew it was for her.

"I do. But I also love it here."

"Do you see yourself going back?"

"To London? Probably not. I have gotten used to being in the states so if I ever move back there full time I'd feel out of place."

She nodded along, listening to him carefully. Harry had a beautiful voice and he spoke slowly so it made it even more soothing than it already was. She swore this man could read her a bedtime story and she'd be out in the first minutes.

They talked for some more and bought another cup of coffee for the walk back to the flower shop. They were having a great time, and although they wouldn't say it out loud, none of them wanted it to end. So it was safe to say they both felt a little sad once they arrived at The Blossom House.

"Let me get the bouquet for you." Harry told her after they entered. He came back with a replica of the bouquet of daisies she saw earlier and she smiled. "It's on the house, tell Louise I say hi."

"You don't have to gift me flowers every time I come, you know that right?" She chuckled but grabbed the bouquet regardless.

"I know I don't have to but who says I don't want to?" He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, grinning at her.

"Thank you, Harry. For the coffee and the flowers."

"You're very welcome. I, uh, I had a great time today." He said, blushing a little.

"Me too."

"Do you think we could do it again some other time?" He asked hesitantly.

"I'd love to, honestly." Y/n admitted, starting to blush as well.

"So can I have your number or I'd have to wait until you come again?" He asked teasingly. "Swear I'll not sell it on e-bay."

"Can you even sell a telephone number on e-bay?" She asked, laughing as she took her phone out of her bag, handing it to him. "Feel free to text yourself so you could have mine too."

"I'll use it wisely, I promise."

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps not only for coffee but for a nice dinner."

Yeah, she definitely hoped he'd do that.

Tag list: @reverse-hxlland @cronias13

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles series #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluffy imagine #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #florist!harry styles

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torikengel · 4 years ago

Text

Thomas Hewitt x Reader (Part 4)

“I see you already gave breakfast to her.” Luda, Mae smiled. “Is everything alright, m’dear?” She asked with a cheerful tone in her voice. “Yeah, I am okay.” You answered with a forced smile. “Then I will leave you two alone if you need anything just lemme know, darling.” She stated and disappeared in the hallway. You looked back at Thomas and could see how hurt he was by your sudden behavior. Even though he and his family literally kidnapped you, you felt the urge to apologize, so you did. “I am sorry for startling you; I really didn’t mean to. It’s just that I remember yesterdays’ events only partially. I-I think I might’ve hit my head or something…” you stuttered nervously as you could feel his gaze on you. Honestly, you felt incredibly exposed even though you were fully clothed. He kept staring at you without saying a thing. Right, he was mute… so how are you supposed to communicate, you wondered. Well, he could at least answer with yes or no by nodding or shaking his head, you thought. “So… umm…” you mumbled, not knowing where to begin. “I really want to remember everything, so there won’t be any misunderstandings in the future, but please bear with me, you know that this… it’s tough for me.” You tried to explain how you felt the best way you could. He nodded, but then pointed at the plate with breakfast. “R-right, I should eat to gain some energy first… after that, can you help me recall exactly what happened yesterday?” you asked as you took a bite of the bread with a slice of cheese. Thomas just nodded again and sat on the floor, his eyes not looking away from you for a second.

As you were chewing the dry bread, you realized that they must struggle to buy food, that’s why they are doing all this. You suddenly coughed as the urge to throw up made you choke on the food. Thomas panicked but tried to help you by slapping your back. He was so clumsy when it came to human contact, and he hit you a bit harder than he should have. But it helped you because you stopped coughing in no time, and your attempts to catch breath turned into giggles. You enjoyed this lighthearted and awkward moment in the middle of your miserable situation. Thomas just got more and more confused by everything you did. “I am sorry, I guess I am just trying to laugh at the fact that you eat human meat instead of crying.” You didn’t understand your need to apologize to him and admired your brain for coping with cannibalism in such a way. You were stoked that you could remember something, even though it wasn’t charming this time. After you finished your breakfast and put the plate on the nightstand, you turned to Thomas, who was still exploring your body with his eyes. You took a sip of water to clear your throat and gestured for him to sit next to you on the bed. He hesitantly did what you wanted. “So, I know this might be a bit tricky, but I want to know what happened to me. Please just nod when I say it correctly.” You pleaded and took his hands in yours. He immediately nodded but looked away in embarrassment as he felt your touch. Everything he felt yesterday came back to him.

You calmly started speaking from the very beginning, talking about how you went to Luda’s shop, then about the spike strips that caused the accident, and after that, how Hoyt shot your friends and took all of you to this house. Still, you didn’t know where it was or how the house looked from the outside because you were unconscious until you woke up in the basement. Thomas just nodded as you seemed to recall everything correctly. “Now, it might be difficult…” you said as you tried to remember what happened there. You looked at Thomas’s face and thought about his mask for a while… Chloe and Matt… right, he killed and butchered them, as he did to Emma. “You killed all of them?” you asked, and Thomas looked away while nodding. He was nervous, he didn’t want you to hate him. “I guessed your name…” you looked over to the nightstand, “… and you gave me water when I asked for it.” You exclaimed after seeing the glass of water next to the empty plate. It bothered you because you didn’t understand why he helped you, why were you still alive. “I sang for you, and then Hoyt came into the basement and…” you stammered, “Emma was there because he did stuff with her.” You stopped talking to gather your thoughts, and Thomas just kept nodding. “And then we ate dinner… human meat?” you didn’t remember what happened at the table because of Hoyt. “You took me upstairs; I mean here, and I went to sleep?” You looked at Thomas who was now lost in his own thoughts. He was hoping you’d remember the kiss, so now he was disappointed. But maybe it was for the better. He knew that one day you would have to go, one day he will have to kill you… right? There’s no way you would accept him like this; he was a freak, an animal just like everyone has told him, plus his family was far from normal too. You, on the other hand, were simply perfect. After all, if you had the opportunity to run away now, you would do it without question.

He didn’t realize you were getting closer to him this whole time. You were intrigued by this man, you didn’t know if it was the instinct to survive or the trauma you went through, but you felt like he was the only safe space you had right now. He never mistreated you; he helped you when you needed and did whatever you asked of him. And those eyes, you could stare into his eyes eternally. You felt a familiar tingling in your stomach that made you recall one more thing. “We kissed…” You wanted to think it was the fever, but you couldn’t deny it anymore. There was no logic behind it, only honest feelings. When Thomas realized how close you were, it was too late for him to react in any way as you cupped his cheeks with your hands and desperately kissed him with tears forming in your eyes. Thomas moaned quietly into the kiss as your hands traveled from his cheeks into his hair. Even when you were almost breathless, you didn’t stop hungrily kissing him. Thomas held you tightly around your waist and closed his eyes while he tried to keep up with you. This all was still very unknown to him. You finally parted lips gasping for air. “T-Tommy…” you whimpered, trying to hide your tears. You knew it wasn’t right, and you were beating yourself up for feeling this way, regretting your decision to ever go on this road trip.

Thomas’s heart was pounding so fast as it was about to explode. He was happy, yet hopelessly confused. Did he hurt you? What was he supposed to do? He remembered how you snuggled in his arms last night, so he hugged you and caressed your hair, trying to calm you. Your muffled cried were becoming even more desperate as gruesome flashbacks from yesterday appeared in your mind. He could’ve killed you the same way he killed your companions, yet he chose not to. He spared your life. “T-thank you…” you sobbed into his shoulder as he kept holding you in his big, muscular arms. You were grateful that he let you live and even felt sorry for his situation to some extent. You could imagine that his life wasn’t easy, and you couldn’t bring yourself to hate or blame him.

But he was even more grateful than you because you were the one who actually saved him. In the moment of inevitable death, you showed him humanity and kindness. His whole life, everyone called him a monster, an animal, so he became one. You treated him like a human without prejudice or disgust, and by doing that, you managed to save that sad, pained boy deep inside him. You took him back to his childhood and his teen years when he didn’t resent every single human except his family. In those days, he still had hope that someday he would have a normal life. He had his dreams and achievements he wanted to accomplish. He lost all of those the day he snapped. After each kill, it became easier, especially as his victims fought back with more nasty words, and Hoyt just fueled his hatred. However, now, with you in his arms, he felt like he could take on the whole world. He still wasn’t sure about all this, and he didn’t trust you yet as everything he was taught telling him to kill you, but his heart warmed when you were next to him, so as long as you didn’t try to run away, it would be alright.

When you finally calmed down, you leaned your body against the wall while rubbing your eyes dry. You were embarrassed by being so vulnerable in front of your captor. Even though you just woke up, you were still exhausted, and intrusive thoughts about your situation bugged you to no end.

Then you looked at the man sitting in front of you… this man who you just spent such an intimate moment with. You knew him for one day, yet you felt a sense of familiarity when you were with him. You pushed away the reality of him being a killer and a cannibal at that and settled with a thought that if he didn’t kill and eat you, it was okay. “Thomas?” you raised your eyebrow playfully as you put your hand on his thigh. “Can I please take a shower? And… if it’s possible, get the suitcase from the van? I have some clothes there… Pretty please.” You decided to make the best of your situation, at least until you can escape… plus he wasn’t so bad after all. Thomas still couldn’t process your mood swings very well, but a smile made its way on his lips. That made your heart flutter as this was the first time you saw him smile… he was kind of cute… kind of. Thomas nodded and left the room when he realized that your hand was on his thigh. He still got startled easily when he got personal with you as he was very touch starved and only used to pain coming from encounters with other people. He made his mind up that he would try his best to fulfill your request, however, it wasn’t up to him. You looked after him as he disappeared from the room like he was a mirage never to be seen again, and your heart ached unexplainably.

The reality of your situation dawned on you again as you blankly stared into the hallway. He left you to yourself, and you really didn’t know what to do. “Is he going to do what I asked for?” you started quietly talking to yourself to make yourself less lonely. Am I going to be here every day like this, you wondered? It felt so weird, especially how physically close you got to your captor in one day. “It just felt right at that moment! Don’t beat yourself up over it like it’s your fault! It was probably a onetime thing as well…” you argued with yourself, but then decided to stop acting like a lunatic and stretched your sore body. Your leg was cuffed to the bed, but you could at least stand up. Then you just stared outside from the window, lost in your thoughts. You ignored the passage of time. Loud footsteps that gave you goosebumps echoed in the hallway and made you realize that you’ve been doing nothing for more than an hour. Thomas came into the room with your purse and suitcase, looking defeated. “Oh my god! You actually got my stuff. Thank you so much, Thomas!” you jumped up, ready to look through everything, but your clumsy self, tripped on the rope again and felt on the floor with a big thump. Thomas chuckled under his mask when you tried to stand up again. As you noticed his expression, your face became completely red. So, he’s having fun at your expense, huh? A thought came across your mind, and you fell back on your knees, covering your face with both hands as you started sobbing. Thomas’s smile disappeared, and he rushed over to help you. As he got close enough, you suddenly burst out laughing and grabbed his hand. “Got you!” Your prank irked Thomas, but when he saw your genuine smile, he melted. That was the first time in many years someone laughed together with him and not at him. “Sorry, but that’s what you get for looking at me embarrassing myself like that.” You smirked at him. Talk about being positive in a bad situation you thought for yourself when you looked at his bloody apron. “So, now that we got this out of the way, can you take me to the bathroom, please?” you stood up and looked at Thomas, attempting your best to look as cute as possible. He nodded and uncuffed your ankle. You contemplated if you should just run for it, but he was too used to this, so he grabbed your wrist, almost crushing it. “Ow, ow, ow.” You cried out in pain as his grip was tightening around the abrasion on your wrist. Startled, he completely let go of you and stepped back to the door so that you wouldn’t escape. “That hurt,” you looked at your bruised wrists. “How about we take it slow?” you sighed, and Thomas grunted. You opened your suitcase and took out a black lace top, white shorts, and clean underwear. “Now,” you stepped closer to Thomas, who guarded the only exit with his big body. “Let’s try this.” You grabbed his hand and teased him, “Don’t let go if you don’t want me to run.” He rolled his eyes and led you to the bathroom, clearly confused about whether to be happy or mad. When he closed the bathroom door behind you, your body finally gave in. You exhaled and felt all your muscles loosen. For the first time in two days, you were free to an extent. The bathroom was far from clean, but you felt happy, finally having some privacy and time alone without being tied up. You stepped into the tub and let the brownish water run down on your hair and body. There was nothing but a bar of soap, so you just used that to clean yourself. When you were done, you dried yourself with what seemed like a clean towel and put on your clothes. You weren’t sure if you felt cleaner, but you definitely felt more like yourself now. You then looked around for anything useful, but then scrapped your silly idea and just opened the door.

Thomas looked you up and down, mesmerized by everything. However, he snapped back to reality and grabbed your hand, so you don’t try anything to escape. He led you back to the bedroom. When you sat on the bed, he kneeled to inspect your wrists and ankles. Maybe he could get his momma to look at your wounds for him? He then loosely cuffed your ankle again so that it wouldn’t deepen your wound, but not that you could slip out of it. He glared at you with a growl, trying to say: Don’t try anything stupid. “Thank you for your concern…” you shook your head a bit. How could he think you’d be able to escape when he had the key? He stood up, prepared to leave as he had work to do, but you stopped him. “Am I going to die anytime soon?” you bluntly asked him as you braced yourself for the worst outcome. He shook his head and looked you in the eyes. There is going to be a time when he would have to get rid of you… He knew it would be hard as he saw you as a human, not a piece of meat. “I am glad to hear that… because you know, despite everything, I want to keep living.” You teared up a bit at the thought of his cleaver next to your skull but quickly wiped your tears off.

Thomas rushed out of the room, closing the door behind him, leaving you confused and alone once again. He wasn’t prepared to face the reality of you being a victim and him being a captor. Him being the one who took your life, not literally, but still. He took away your freedom, family, friends… They won’t ever know what happened to their precious y/n. You made his mundane duty so difficult to carry out by acting the way you did. You didn’t even realize it, but by everything you’ve done so far, you completely changed Thomas’s life. He wasn’t sure if he liked it, because it made everything very hard. All he had to do up until this point was providing for his family without any hope for having a nice future for himself. He just did what had to be done and listened to Hoyt’s commands. Sometimes he thought about having a normal life, a normal face. Everything could’ve been different, and he felt so desperate about being unable to change it. That’s why when he saw that handsome soldier boy, he ended up taking his face… because that guy had everything Thomas could only dream of. He had given up on his dreams after the first kill; he knew he became the monster everyone wanted him to be. However, you made him think about his dreams again.

His thoughts dispersed as he heard Hoyt’s voice. “So, how’s yer bitch doin’?” he snickered. “Why are you even keepin’ her, it’s just ‘nother mouth to feed?” he kept blabbering. “Let him be Charlie, and he can keep ‘er until we run out of meat.” Luda Mae interrupted. “Okay, whatever you say, ma, but maybe I could show him some tricks, so he gets the best outta her.” He teased. Thomas was clearly uncomfortable, even though he was used to the sex talk and knew what it was as he grew up next to Hoyt. This time it wasn’t just a random girl. You had a name. He also realized that even if he tried to touch you in that way, you would probably finally curse him out and look at him with disgust. Hoyt often bragged about how amazing it felt and how Thomas should finally become a man. Hoyt even offered to show him how it’s done with some victims. Of course, he would love to try it someday, but only with someone who would like touching Thomas, and he was convinced there was no one like that in this world. He didn’t like the faces and sounds the girls were making when Hoyt did it with them. For him, it just tainted the fantasy.

a/n: I swear this was so hard to write, but I am trying my best <3 Thomas is so precious, I just wanna kick everyone who bullied him... and I want you to show him all the love in the world too, but you are still a victim of kidnapping... we are steadily getting there though. Any comments would be highly appreciated.

#thomas hewitt #thomas brown hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt/you #thomas hewitt x oc #leatherface #the texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre #x reader #slashers x you #slasher x reader #slasher #horror #horror slashers #hewitt #luda mae hewitt #hoyt #sheriff hoyt #homas hewitt x reader

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fellulahh · 5 years ago

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Hey! ❤️ your MC accidentally confessing to the brothers while drunk gave me life 🙏🏻 could you maybe do a part 2 of it where MC is sober again the next morning? 🥺❤️ have a nice day! 🥰❤️

Sorry this took me so long to do the other brothers/Diavolo! Unfortunately I can’t find the original post of when MC was drunk so I’ve included everything from it in this post😹

MC’s drunk and confesses her love for him, Part 2: the next morning (Asmo, Beel, Belphie and Diavolo)

Asmo

- MC and Asmo had been drinking together

- Like always, he drunk her under the table - she ended up getting absolutely wasted while he seemed like he hadn’t drunk a thing

- He can’t stop cooing over how smiley she is, she was definitely a happy drunk

- She’s also a little touchy

- Like she’s completely infatuated with Asmo when she’s sober, let alone drunk (only she hides is MUCH better when she hasn’t had a drink)

- She can’t stop pinching his cheeks, telling him how beautiful he is

- At first he was like ‘FINALLY someone notices’ but then after she keeps complimenting him, he actually starts to get flustered and a little shy

- But then she starts telling him she’s love him and then he gets REALLY shy

- Acts all cool around drunk MC saying things like ‘of course you love me, who doesn’t?’ But inside his heart is beating like mad

MC woke up in her bed with a sore head. She let out a loud groan when she heard a knock at her door. Soon Asmo appeared with a jug of cold water and a glass. MC’s eyes lit up at the sight.

“Oh Asmo you have no idea how happy I am to see you.” She sighed, sitting up slowly in her bed.

“If you’re happy to see me now I don’t know what exactly you were feeling last night.” He cooed as he reached her bed, sitting beside her. “MC! You didn’t take off your makeup!” He gasped.

She was too busy processing his first remark. There was definitely something more to his comment but she couldn’t work out what. Silently, she cursed to herself, praying she didn’t do anything embarrassing. Driving herself insane with her overthinking, she decided to ask him.

“Asmo?” She asked groggily.

“Yes MC?” He smiled brightly.

“Did I do anything embarrassing last night?” She asked hesitantly, unsure whether she wanted to hear the answer or not. Bringing up a full cup of water to her lips, she sipped gradually.

“Well let’s see...” he laughed, leaning on one hand as he pondered, “it depends really, MC. Do you consider your undying love for me embarrassing?”

MC spat out her water causing Asmo to jump back. “Sorry?” She asked quietly, making sure she heard him correctly.

“You told me you love me last night! I hope you don’t find that embarrassing, MC. I mean I can’t blame you for falling in love with me!” He gushed.

“Oh my goodness.” She sighed, flopping back onto the bed, “please kill me now.” She moaned as she took another sip of water.

“Kill you?!” Asmo asked shocked, “MC if I were to kill you then how on Earth am I going to tell you I love you too?!”

Once again MC spat out her drink at his words.

“Honestly MC, if you wanted me to know you’re a spitter there are other ways of showing me!” He shook his head before breaking out a smile.

Beel:

- Beel was heading to the kitchen to grab his 100th snack of the evening when he was surprised to see MC’s head in the fridge

- He’s even more surprised to see her munching on whatever food she can find, it’s like he was looking in the mirror

- “Are you okay?” He asks concerned

- “Beel!!” She squeals, standing up straight before pulling him into a hug “Mammon and I were drinking and I got kinda hungry” she spoke sheepishly “but I’m so glad you’re here!”

- She suddenly pulls out her secret stash of food she’d hidden “eat with me!” She grins

- Beel’s a little taken aback but he’s not going to turn down food and time with MC

- He chuckles at her as they sit down by the kitchen counter, he can’t help but notice her staring at him as he’s eating his food

- “What?” He asks amused, food stuffed in his mouth

- “You.” She smiles “I love you Beel.”

- “And I love you too, MC.” He grins, ruffling her hair

- “No, Beel. I’m in love with you.”

- *shocked silence*

As MC stepped into the dining room ready for breakfast, she was only met by Beel sat at the table. As soon as she saw him, she quickly tried to slip back out of the room unnoticed, knowing exactly what she’d said to him the night before. MC wanted to save the embarrassment of finding out her love was unrequited so she made her way into the kitchen to get some breakfast to go.

As she was rummaging through the cupboards, she heard the door open. “Hey MC - how come you ran off?”

‘Uh oh’

“Hi Beel.” She smiled sheepishly, turning around with red cheeks, “I’m not feeling great so I was just going to take some food upstairs to eat.”

“Oh that’s a relief.” He breathed, “I thought you were avoiding me because you told me you love me.” MC’s body froze and Beel noticed her sudden change of pace. “Unless...that is why you’re avoiding me?”

“Listen Beel I’m sorry.” She sighed, “I had a lot to drink and wasn’t thinking - I didn’t mean to tell yo—“

“Why are you worrying so much?” He interrupted, “I told you I love you too last night and you seemed really happy about it!”

MC tried to rack her brain for the memory but had no such luck. “You did?” She asked unsure.

“Yeah.” He chuckled, “I mean admittedly you then told me you’re in love with me and caught me by surprise...”

“Oh no.” She shook her head embarrassed.

“I didn’t think you felt that way about me.” He grinned, pulling her in for a really warm hug. MC was too shocked by his actions to say anything back. Cautiously, she slipped her arms around his body, hugging him too. “Do you wanna go and grab something to eat today?”

“Like a date?” MC asked against his chest confused.

“Yeah, like a date.” He smiled to himself.

Belphie:

- Belphie’s heading up to his room to go to bed for the night

- He does a double take when he opens the door and sees MC passed out

- He tries not to wake her but as soon as he sits on the bed she begins stirring

- “Hey! You came back” she smiles sleepily “Asmo and I got back from the club and I wanted to come and see you but you weren’t here!”

- She immediately snuggles into him

- He looks down at her in awe as she buries her face in his side

- “You are so comfy” she mumbles “why don’t we do this more often??”

- Belphie thinks MC is the purest lil thing he’s ever seen and can’t help the big smile on his face. He doesn’t think anything could make this moment better.

- “Have I ever told you I love you Belphie?”

- Never mind, that did.

MC woke up dazed and confused. She rolled over as her eyes adjusted. Soon her confusion turned into nerves when she realised she was in Belphie’s bed - and after remembering the events of the previous night those nerves turned into panic.

‘You idiot’ she thought to herself, recollecting the moment she told Belphie she loved him.

MC almost let out a scream when she felt someone stirring beside her. Emerging from the covers was Belphie. He rubbed his tired eyes with his fingers before facing MC.

“Oh hi MC.” He said simply.

“Belphie why am I in your bed?” She asked bewildered. She hadn’t even realised that she wasn’t alone under the covers.

“You fell asleep here last night, I went to go and sleep on the sofa downstairs but you woke up and demanded ‘I snuggle you’” he answered with a small smile.

“Yeah that sounds about right...” MC mumbled to herself, feeling more embarrassed with every second that passed. “I’m sorry you had to put up with me last night.”

“I’m not!” He laughed, “I rather enjoyed your drunkenness - drunk MC is a lot more honest that sober MC.”

She silently hoped he wasn’t referring to her confession. Perhaps she said something else while she was intoxicated that she hadn’t remembered?

“In fact can I ask you something?” He spoke with a cunning smile.

“Sure.” MC nodded, watching him intrigued.

“Have I ever told you I love you?” He asked with the cheekiest grin.

MC accidentally let out a gasp when he repeated her words from last night. “Belphie that’s not funny!” She scorned him.

“Answer the question!” He smiled.

“No.” MC answered unamused, “No you haven’t told me.”

“Well it’s true.” He spoke softly, flopping back onto the bed. A relieved smile spread across MC’s face. “You still want to snuggle?” He asked, holding out his arms.

“I’d like that.” She nodded, accepting his offer.

Diavolo:

- Diavolo pops over to the house of Lamentation to see how everyone is, not realising MC and some of the brothers were practically having a house party

- He’s sat in the lounge drinking tea with Lucifer when suddenly MC stumbles in

- “Diavolo!” She beams, seeing the Prince of Devildom in the room, she walks straight over to him, plonking her bottom in the space next to him

- Lucifer shakes his head amused, leaving the room

- “Well hello MC” he grins at her

- MC can’t stop staring at him, she’s absolutely mesmerised by his beauty

- “Have you been drinking?” He laughs at her

- “If I told you yes would you tell Lucifer?”

- Diavolo finds her hilarious

- “I’ve always had a soft spot for you, MC. You never fail to make me laugh.”

- When she hears his words she leans on his shoulder smiling “you’re so handsome. I’d love to take you home with me - my parents would love you.”

- Completely shocked, Diavolo can’t help but smiling as he pulls MC in for a tight hug

MC woke up in her bed as usual. Although she had a small headache, she still got dressed and made her way down for breakfast. As she approached the dining room she was surprised to hear Diavolo’s voice. Usually he goes back to the palace after paying a visit but he must have stayed in one of the spare bedrooms last night.

Stepping into the room, she was met by smiling faces. “Here she is!” Asmo cooed, “our little drunk human.”

“How did you know I was drinking last night?” She asked flustered.

“I might have mentioned it this morning.” Diavolo grinned, “come MC, I’ve saved you a seat next to me.”

“Okay.” She mouthed with a smile. She sheepishly made her way toward him, her heart fluttering over the fact that Diavolo wanted her to sit next to him. As she began serving herself up some food, he kept stealing glances at his exchange student.

MC noticed his stare and a blush soon appeared on her cheeks as she picked up her knife and fork. She quickly turned her head and shot him a subtle smile before anyone could notice.

“So MC.” Diavolo beamed as he leant back on his chair to smoothly put an arm around her shoulder. The brothers were surprised at the interaction as MC turned her face to listen to him. “When are you taking me home to meet your parents then?”

MC’s eyes widened. She’d completely forgotten about her comment the previous night.

“Diavolo!” She gasped causing him to laugh.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten! I was looking forward to the visit.” He grinned, “especially after you told me I’m so handsome.” The brothers couldn’t believe their eyes as they watched their Prince flirt with MC. “Perhaps if you’re not actually ready for me to meet your parents you’ll entertain me by joining me for a drink at the palace this evening?”

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me drabble #obey me imagine #obey me oneshot #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hc

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petri808 · 4 years ago

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1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Inukag Royalty AU

If the day was an example of the life, she’d lead here, then she was certainly grateful to have found it. But while she’d swore to herself not to reveal where’d she’d gone, the guilt of leaving Sango in the dark wore too heavily on her conscience. So, before she’d change her mind, Kagome penned a letter to her friend to let her know she was okay and settled into a new place. She didn’t provide a lot of details, just that it was in a neighboring kingdom with a respectable family, ending the letter by begging the woman to not say a word to anyone for fear of reprisal. Kagome would rather Sango flee than suffer for her wayward decision. Perhaps Sango could come here? Kagome sighed as she laid in bed staring at the ceiling. It would be nice to have her friend around.

She processed how much of a whirlwind of a day it had been. Such a blur to go from arriving in a strange new city and ending up as a part of another royal household. Is it just her destiny to be stuck in a castle? At least, this time the pressure felt lower. Sure, it was a bit nerve wracking to be a Princesses Lady in Waiting, but Rin was an adorable child to attend to and the family a joy to be around, minus Sesshomaru who still made her anxious. The royal family, oh the queen was quite a beauty. Kagome could see why the Inutaisho would fall such a wonderful woman regardless of heritage. And their son… her heart skipped a beat just thinking about the man. Inuyasha was very handsome indeed with his broad chest and long white hair tied up like his father, with adorable fluffy ears perched atop his head. Kagome swooned at the sight of his flashing golden eyes. He was cordial with her, albeit a bit flirty… or not, that might have been her imagination. “It was just a kiss on the hand,” Kagome chided herself. Nothing more than a gentlemanly gesture. She exhaled and closed her eyes. ‘I think I’m gonna like it here…’

Meanwhile in another part of the castle…

“Son, remember you are already spoken for,” the Queen counseled. “I was young once and I’m not blind. I saw the way you were looking at her.”

“Mom. I was just being nice,” Inuyasha rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna do anything to jeopardize the treaty.”

“I trust you won’t.” She kissed his forehead. “Good night son.”

“Night mom.”

But as he watched his mother leave the room, Inuyasha knew it might be easier said than done. There was just something intriguing about this Lady in Waiting that made him want to learn more about her. The others had been older, boring, matronly, and not very interesting whereas Kagome was close to his age and not only very, very beautiful, but based on the dinner conversations intelligent too. The other attendants would sit quietly only watching Rin, but she engaged with them correctly as if this were normal for her. ‘How odd…’He mused and threw himself back onto his bed. But who was he kidding? Even if he wasn’t betrothed, as a Prince he had to marry a Princess… which Kagome Tanaka was not. He smiled and closed his eyes, ‘we could still be friends though…’

The following morning after breakfast, Kagome kept her promise to Rin to visit Buyo. She wanted to make sure her horse was adjusting well to the new stable, and the child was eager to meet him. Rin happily petted and groomed the horse while Kagome chatted with the stable hand about anything the man should know about Buyo’s quirks. Buyo was a docile horse since it was bred to carry a royal, but it could be picky about certain feeds. They were there for about half an hour when they were interrupted by none other, but Inuyasha and another man.

“We meet again,” Inuyasha kissed Kagome’s hand with a smile. He then ruffled his giggling niece’s hair. “This your horse?” He questioned the woman.

Keeping her emotions in check, Kagome smiled demurely. “Yes, your highness. His name is Buyo.”

“Beautiful steed…” Inuyasha ran a hand over the horse’s neck. “Like it’s owner.”

Kagome flushed bright red, but now the man accompanying Inuyasha snorted a laugh, gaining everyone’s attention.

“You hush Miroku,” Inuyasha growled.

“Sorry, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you flirt before,” the man jested back.

“I’m complimenting the woman, is that a crime?!”

Ignoring the Prince, the man then stepped towards Kagome and bowed. “Where are my manners. My name is Miroku and I am the princes first guard.”

“Kagome Tanaka,” she bowed as well. “Princess Rin’s Lady in Waiting.”

Miroku took hold of Kagome’s hand and leaned in with a devious grin. “Someone as lovely as you should be my wife, not dealing with guys like the prince.”

“W-What?!” Kagome sputtered out in shock.

Inuyasha quickly grabbed Miroku by the shoulder, spun him around and shoved away hard. He then snapped at the man to get their horses ready so they could leave. “My apologies for this idiot,” he growled at his friend while addressing Kagome. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you again.”

“I-It’s okay!” Kagome waved her hands to wipe the air clear not wanting to cause any trouble. “I was just caught me off guard.”

“It’s not okay. He needs to learn to keep his loins in check,” Inuyasha grumbled. There was a brief awkward silence starting to brew, so he quickly changed the subject. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Oh, um, yes, I’ll be there your highness.”

“I look forward to it. And please, call me Inuyasha. Your highness makes me feel old.”

Kagome blushed at being so informal, but who was she to refuse the simple request of a Prince. “Okay. Inuyasha.”

Inuyasha tipped his head to the woman and leapt onto his readied horse, giving it a good snap of the reigns to usher it forward behind Miroku’s. As soon as they were out of range, he moved to trot beside his guard.

“You’re such an ass!” The prince snapped at his friend. Embarrassing me like that! I ought’a have you reprimanded!”

“Oh please,” Miroku rolled his eyes at the tirade. “I did that to confirm my suspicion.”

Inuyasha narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You like this one,” the man jested with a big grin on his face. “And I don’t blame ya, she cute!”

“Keep your hands off her if you wanna keep them!”

“Oh, yeah,” Miroku burst out laughing. “You do like her.”

“Keh! Rin really like Kagome. So, I’m protecting my niece’s happiness.”

“Uh-huh, tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.”

“Just shut up and let’s get this over with,” Inuyasha ended the conversation. They had a problem nobleman to deal with in the next village over and he wanted to get back in time for dinner.

It’s not like Inuyasha planned to do anything wrong. What was the big deal about being nice and making a friend out of the Kagome? He didn’t have that many people to talk to aside from palace staff anyway. So okay, as the days passed, sometimes he would watch from a distance as the woman tutored his niece to make sure they were safe. Isn’t that what a good uncle would do? Inuyasha liked seeing Rin so happy and this was the first attendant who she honestly got along with it. The child was always smiling with Kagome who would tutor the girl with such a level of patience and understanding the others never possessed. And at many a dinner, the child would talk about the new things she was learning. Inuyasha could see the effects growing on his parents too who were treating Kagome less like a servant and more like the daughter they never had. From dresses and accoutrements fit for a noblewoman, Kagome was made up to look like a member of the family. He didn’t know if it was simply to make sure the woman stuck around long term or if there were other reasons for their behavior because it didn’t matter to him.

A few weeks later, Inuyasha was arriving home late in the evening after a day’s journey. He was tired from the trip and ready to crash. But as he walked past the library, he noticed a bit of light still on inside it. That was odd because the servants would never leave a torch or lantern burning at this hour, especially in the library with all those precious tomes.

“Hello?” He called out. “Is someone in here?” He heard a shuffling sound and walked towards it, finding Kagome sitting in a chair with a book on her lap surprised to see him. “Oh, hello Ms. Tanaka. You’re up late.”

“Sorry,” the woman apologized. “Did I disturb you?” She asked worried that she shouldn’t be there.

“No, no,” he gestured with a wave of his hand. “I was just surprised to see anyone up.”

“Oh,” Kagome flushed. “I um, couldn’t really sleep, so I came in here to read.”

Inuyasha walked closer, looking at the book. “What ya reading?”

“It appears to be a history book about this kingdom. I thought I should learn more about it since I’m here.”

He sat down on a chair across from Kagome. “I see,” he chuckled, “then you’ll probably learn more than I know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Studying and reading was never my thing,” the prince shrugged. “It drove my mom and tutors crazy.”

“Oh,” Kagome giggled, with her hand covering her mouth in gentile fashion. She pushed the book next to her lap on the chair. “So, how was your trip?”

Inuyasha slouched down. “Tiring. Dealing with nobles are either boring or just irritating.”

She laughed again. “I understand.”

“You can?” His brow raised.

Realizing she’d spontaneously made such a statement, Kagome back pedaled. “I mean I can assume it’s not fun. Doesn’t seem like fun.”

“You’re really strange for a commoner you know, especially a female.”

“I-I’m not sure what you mean.”

“It’s just unusual. You don’t talk and act like any that I know. Which isn’t much, but when you speak it’s just different, like take when you talk with my parents, you can hold a proper conversation with them as if you’ve done it before.”

“I, well, I mean it’s probably my mom’s influence. She was around nobles a lot and raised me to reach for higher standards I guess.” Kagome’s voice softened as her anxieties rose. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

Inuyasha sat up and leaned forward with a soft smile. “On the contrary. It makes you a lot more… intriguing.”

Just the glint in Inuyasha’s eyes, made Kagome’s cheeks heat up. There was intent behind them that made her heart race and body weaken. ‘Pull yourself together girl!’ She swallowed slowly. “A-A good intrigued?”

“A good intrigued. I don’t have a lot of people to talk to here. Servants aren’t generally educated or interesting. Bureaucrats bore me. Miroku I swear all he thinks about is sex. But you remind me a lot of my mother, a combination of beauty and intelligence with a big heart. My niece was lucky to have found you that day in the marketplace.”

If Kagome’s cheeks burned any hotter, she’d look like a tomato from his compliments. “I do adore Rin,” she smiled genuinely. “She’s a bright child that reminds me of me when I was her age. When I’d set out into the world on my own, I never would have imagined ending up like this.”

“It was quite the shock when my brother adopted her,” Inuyasha chuckled. “I’m sure you probably thought the same thing, cause he’s not exactly friendly and yet that girl was able to pull some humanity out that frankly I didn’t believe existed. Rin has a gift for gauging people in a way an adult could spend a lifetime trying to achieve.”

“You really love your niece.”

Again, Inuyasha laughed. “Ask her how grumpy I was when she first arrived.” But a sudden yawn cut him off. “Wow, I really am tired. I guess I should get to bed.”

“I probably should too,” Kagome agreed, or she’d have a hard time waking up for Rin in the morning.

Inuyasha stood up to leave, then hesitated. He walked up to the woman and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Good night, Ms. Tanaka,” he smiled and turned to leave.

“G-Good night, Inuyasha,” she stammered out as her hand reached up unconsciously to touch the spot he’d kissed. ‘Oh… my…’ it tingled against her fingertips. “Um, Inuyasha?”

He stopped and turned his head. “Yes?”

“Please,” her voice full of nervous hopeful energy, “you can call me Kagome.”

Inuyasha’s eyes widened with surprise, but a smile instantly overtook him. “Very well… Kagome. Pleasant dreams.”

Once he was out of view, Kagome buried her face in her hands. What was she thinking?! Though to be fair he started it by being so flirty! ‘It’s just my name!’ Informal, but not world ending. She bundled the book up close, put out the lantern, and rushed back to her room. ‘Get your head together!’ It would be stupid to read too much into this. He was betrothed and just being nice, nothing more. But if only… ‘argh!’ Now she really didn’t think she’d sleep that night!

#inukag #inukag au #inukag fan fic #inukag fan fiction #inuyasha #kagome higurashi #royalty au #the irony of fate #ch 3 #petri808

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periminkle · 5 years ago

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Orphic | 03

After moving into your own place, it seems life is finally going your way; the path to independence leading you to a quaint suburban town where even the grass seems to grow a little greener. Although a shocking encounter leads you to believe that perhaps appearances can be quite deceiving.

pairing: hybrid!jk x reader (first person)

genre: hybrid au, angst, fluff

word count: 8.0k

rating: pg-15

warnings: swearing, people throwing up, death, mentions of harming test subjects, ANIMAL ABUSE

author’s note: hahaha no it hasn’t been almost a month since i uploaded the last chapter, what are you talking about ?? this was also supposed to be the second half of chapter two before i got carried away and added an extra 8k to it,,, anyway eNJOY

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A few days had passed since word broke of Taemin’s death. With his absence, there was a substantial lack of cells to study, thus granting loads of free time to brood over said jaguar cub.

Knowing he would eventually leave prepared me for a mild episode of dejection, but nothing could compare to the aching gap left from his passing. Despite having known the little guy for only a short month or so, he was my stress reliever, coaxing a tender smiles after a day’s worth of drudgery with his endearing behaviour. He was the spark that fuelled my growing bond with the only decent people I could find here.

Moreover, he spent the last couple months of his life caged, muzzled and treated atrociously, as if he was the beast. I pushed back tears for the umpteenth time.

My head jerked backwards as a tissue was abruptly shoved in my face. “Do you want me to get another box?” Yoongi’s rough voice permeated the sniffles I tried to hold back and I buried my face deep into my arms, closing my eyes and trying to even out my staggered breath.

In my grief I pushed everyone away, disgusted with even my own lack of ability to protect the one faultless being that was ripped out of my grasp much too soon. Bereavement blinded me, leaving me unable to distinguish friend from foe and as a result, I cast them all out.

Unknowingly, I reverted to the mindset that I had hoped to leave behind in the city, where there was no one to turn to when everything spiralled out of control. Blaming others for my own shortcomings opened my eyes to just how cowardly I was, losing myself in a labyrinth of my own self-loathing.

It was lonesome, to say the least.

But they’d never left my side, much to my initial displeasure. Either Namjoon or Yoongi constantly shadowed my inhospitable self, from the office to the lab tables, going as far as waiting outside the bathrooms for me. I angrily confronted each one about the evident stalking on numerous occasions, yet Namjoon would insist that he was worried about my well-being and Yoongi claimed he was simply headed the same way.

By the second day, I caught on to their schedule of routinely swapping babysitting duties at around the second and third hour mark. I attempted to find some respite and solace by escaping to the break room once, when I knew both assistants had already taken their respective time off for the day. Foolishly, I believed that I’d finally evaded the duo’s clingy tactics.

However, before I could bask in my newfound solitude, Jin’s lethargic form made an appearance. True to his overbearing, fatherly instincts, he placed a homemade sandwich on the coffee table in front of me and lectured me on skipping meals.

Even without acknowledging my mistreatment towards them lately, I knew the three of them were empathetic enough to chalk it up to my process of mourning. Nonetheless, the immeasurable guilt I felt had accumulated over the abundance of time I had to reflect on my actions. Enough hours had been allotted to sulking and after a full day’s worth of encouraging, internal pep talks, I mustered up the courage to put effort towards amending my wrongdoings.

The screech of wheels rolling against the smooth tiles of the floor elicited the roll of his name off my lips. “Yoongs.” Intrigued by the lack of a hostile tone present in my voice, I felt his gaze flit to my hunched frame. The fact that I didn’t even have to lift my head to feel his eyes softening at the vexing nickname stuck a fresh layer of shame to my skin. “’M sorry.”

With my face practically burrowed into the sleeve of my lab coat, the apology came out muffled and barely audible, though I was met with the thoughtful, low timbre of Yoongi’s hum. “And, I know it’s no excuse, but everything has just been a lot lately.”

Regardless of my verbal atonement, the blonde man continued on his path out of the office, evident by the creak of his weight shifting off the chair and the following footsteps that drifted farther away.

I belatedly lifted the heavy weight of my head off of my arms, vacantly staring at the doorway that Yoongi had just passed through. Before I knew it, his unusually lively form lumbered back inside, two brightly patterned tissue boxes in hand. “What a crybaby.”

The corners of my lips tugged upwards for the first time in the past few days. It was a welcome development.

One down, two more to go.

With a single reconciliation under my belt, repeating the same process with Namjoon went a lot smoother than expected. I sought him out after my healthy banter with Yoongi ceased, eager to successively rectify all the relationships I’d bruised. “Don’t stress about it; honestly we deserve a cold shoulder for the trouble we’ve caused you. Yoongi probably depleted over half your stash of beer all on his own.”

The drinking tolerance of those boys was well beyond my comprehension. Although my house was completely out of the way home for all of them, I could only assume that it was sheer obstinacy impelling them to commonly stop by my house to wind down after a typically harsh day.

Lifting my head from the microscope that held samples of Doshik’s DNA, the resident blue tang speedily running laps in the tank, I peeked over at Namjoon’s dark hair, ruffled from the strap of his goggles. “I don’t mind. All I’m saying is that if I ever run out of stock, you guys are going to have to bring your own drinks.”

“C’mon Y/N, don’t be like that. Restocking your liquor every once in a while is nothing compared to our company right?” The appearance of his endearing dimples brought me back to the times I magically woke up in my bed after drinking my problems away with them the night before, the days they sent me home early because I yawned one too many times or all the snacks I strangely picked out of my bag ever so often.

I raised one teasing brow, crossing my arms and leaning back in the incommodious, metal chair. “Once in a while? With the rate that you guys are going, I would have to go to the store every other day.”

“Like I said, mainly Yoongi’s fault.” His deft fingers switched to a higher lens before continuing, “But really, you’ve got to confide in us, alright? I think we’re past the stage of ‘I want nothing to do with you when my shift is over.’”

It seemed like another weight had been lifted off my shoulders from the unexpected, forgiving nature of both men despite having every reason to be peeved at my churlish attitude as of late. Before I could formulate a response, Namjoon added, “Are you feeling better?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to his question when I was just as clueless about my own welfare. But, I disregarded the notion of lying or concealing anything from them, as they’d relentlessly proven their loyalty and concern for me on more than one occasion.

“I’m not sure yet, Joon. I think I need some more time.” I covertly swapped out my microscope slide for the one sitting next to the unsuspecting man, intent on decreasing his workload, even if only by the slightest bit. “I’m glad that I have you guys, though. Thanks for dealing with my grumpy ass.”

I couldn’t help the curve in my lips when his impish gaze finally met mine, evidently content with my candour. “To be honest with you, Yoongi told me about your apology, so I was kind of expecting it.”

My jaw dropped in betrayal. “He told you?”

“Mhm, said that you could practically refill Doshik’s tank with the amount of tears you shed.”

“Wha—how could he, this guy!” Contrary to the clear exasperation in my tone, a wide grin revealed my true feelings. “Then he says that Jin exaggerates all his stories.”

A hearty chuckle escaped him. “Well, at least we know where Yeri got it from. Do you remember the last time she came to the lab?” I couldn’t repress my own chortle at the memory, the onslaught of laughter provoking a sudden cramp in my stomach that I uselessly pressed my palm against, attempting to quell the overactive muscles. “She swindled me out of twenty bucks by crying about Jin throwing out all of her toys!”

With a flaming red flush to my cheeks, I struggled to get a sentence past my quivering lips. “You can’t even blame the kid,” I temporarily regained my breath and continued, “you’re just too gullible.”

“Hey!” He pouted at the remark, jabbing a gloved digit into my side as a form of retaliation. The blow to my ribs induced a high-pitched squeak out of me and my hand darted to the sore spot in an attempt to block any further attacks. “Have you ever been on the end of those puppy dog eyes? You can’t just do nothing, it’s basically witchcraft.”

“Yes, yes, Jin taught her too well.” I attempted to placate the threatening fingers that hung in the air, poised for another stab if need be.

Namjoon bobbed his head in agreement, seemingly pleased with my answer as brought his attention back to the chromosomes in front of him. “Have you had time to go see him?”

“Ah, no, not yet. He’s the last one I have to pour my soul out to.”

In the comfortable silence that ensued, I found myself recalling the vile confrontation from a few days back. Truth be told, my mind regularly drifted to Hyunho’s harsh words whenever an empty lull emerged within my headspace, which was the exact reason I enjoyed keeping myself occupied as of late. The echo of the wretched man declaring Taemin’s passing was the predominant focus of my flashbacks, but a particular fragment of the rest of his spiel stuck out to me as well—the mention of a tiger cub. “Hey, Joon?”

No doubt noticing the change in my tone, Namjoon fixed his stare on my fragile countenance once more, holding my gaze. Only then did I realize that I was unconsciously craving the sincere reassurance locked away beneath those brown specks, similar to a wailing newborn falling silent at being held in its mother’s embrace.

“Did you know?” The question spilled from my lips before I could process it.

Even with the lack of context, the adept assistant instantly shook his head. “No. No, I didn’t.” My gut twisted as he redirected his stare, trapping his lower lip between his unforgiving teeth in thought. “I still don’t really know. I’ve heard bits and pieces from some gossiping researchers that talk too loud, but I haven’t gotten enough to piece everything together. Hoseok said that they recently found the test subject they’d lost a while ago.”

Sincerity undoubtedly rang within each syllable of Namjoon’s voice. After a speedy internal debate, I unloaded all the horrendous secrets that I’d uncovered, from the initial suspicion I harboured to the folder in Jin’s office, and finally to the mutated PDE6C gene. The hardly intelligible speech all raged past my lips much like word vomit and my knee began to briskly bounce up and down from the massive influx of emotions.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Namjoon said softly, stretching one lengthy limb out to rub soothing circles onto my back. “Let’s go slow, hm?”

I concentrated on the gentle touch that now rested on my shoulder, schooling my breath before continuing, “I need to help them. I can’t stand around, watching Hyunho and Minzi do whatever they want with no repercussions. These are lives they’re ruining.” Feeling myself getting heated again, I twiddled the tips of my fingers to keep my head level and busy. “It’s not just about Taemin anymore, think about it. This can’t be the first time a lab animal has been ‘tested on’ and died of ‘natural causes’ or whatever excuses they’ve been using.”

I didn’t catch the recognition flashing in Namjoon’s eyes, but his silence drove me to release the thoughts that had been stewing around my conscience for a while now. “Hyunho said that they’re bringing in a new cub right? We can’t let the same thing happen to him. We have to protect the animals in this lab, Joon.”

“I know how you feel, but there isn’t much we can do when they take the animals away to perform their tests.” As he saw me open my mouth to butt in, he interjected, “Trust me, we’ve tried. I’m pretty sure that the only reason we’re still around is because Jin keeps vying for us despite all the ruckus we’ve made.”

“We can’t just sit around and do nothing though! Have you been in the break room lately? Have you heard their screams? Joon, there’s something in there. Even now, they’re probably torturing some poor, undeserving animal.” In my determination, I grabbed the lapels of Namjoon’s pristine, white lab coat. “We have to save it.”

“We don’t even have a key card, Y/N,” Namjoon protested, his tone of voice still low and gentle, imploring me to understand the more rational side of the nonsense I was spewing. “And even if we did, the second we barge in there the cameras will spot us and we’ll be fired immediately. No matter how persuasive Jin can be, he won’t be able to save us from that. Then there’s really going to be nothing we can do to help them.” He hung his head in resignation. “At least we can make their last days somewhat enjoyable. At least from here we can wait for an opening, a chance for us to catch them in the act when they inevitably slip up one day.”

My brows pulled upwards in my distress, bringing my head closer in an attempt for Namjoon to see my desperation. “And how long is that going to take? Weeks? Months? Years? When do we put our foot down?”

His features softened and I already knew that I wouldn’t like whatever he was going to say next. “If we don’t act logically, we won’t be able to save anything.”

My jaw clenched, but I knew he had a point.

A sigh escaped his distraught form. “Go eat something and cool your head. We’ll talk more when you get back.”

In my defence, I had made my way to the break room like Namjoon suggested, nearly settling down with one of the many homemade sandwiches Jin left in the fridge—but not even five minutes passed before torturous whimpers of pain filled my ears. The pile of carbohydrates in front of me suddenly didn’t seem quite as appetizing.

In order to restrain my impulsive self from further digging my own grave, I mercilessly gnawed away at my lip, repeating Namjoon’s warnings like a sacred mantra in my head. When the dull taste of metal hit my tongue, I quickly placed the meal back where I found it and scurried out of the agonizing space as fast as my legs would carry me.

Rather than providing relief though, I found that every step weighed heavier than the next. I felt the toll both physically and emotionally. No matter how much distance I put between myself and the tormented creature, I wasn’t able to escape the distressed cries that echoed throughout my skull, perpetually bounding from one end to another.

My plan was to drown out any nonsensical thoughts with the lengthy sequence to Doshik’s yellow tail.

However, it was foolish to believe that I would be able to concentrate on the chromosomes in the petri dish. I couldn’t focus on properly setting up the gel electrophoresis, forgetting to dig out small wells in the agarose gel and even incorrectly attaching each end of the power source, mixing up the spots for the cathode and anode. At this point, I had to restart the whole project.

My annoyance was made vocal by the groan of frustration slipping past my mouth, though there wasn’t anyone around to witness my theoretical fall into insanity. After a few beats, attributable to the pads of my gloved fingers drumming against the lab bench, I gave in to my curiosity and concern.

I wish I hadn’t.

A quick search on the computer in Namjoon and Yoongi’s office brought up the history of the animals that had been kept at this laboratory at one point in time or another. I was revolted at the sheer number of predators who had spent their last breath here.

Dread filled my gut at the upcoming arrival of the tiger cub. I knew I could no longer heed Namjoon’s words, no matter how sensible and pragmatic they were in comparison to my own faulty logic. But to tune it all out, live in ignorance and deal with countless other innocent mammals meeting the same tragic fate as Taemin—no, I would protect anything within my reach, no matter the cost.

Although I could never fight off all the monsters of this world, I hoped to have enough power to at least change one innocent being’s life.

And that would start with whatever they’d hidden away upstairs.

With this new mission in mind, my once empty days became filled to the brim with organizing a brilliant plot, often sacrificing hours of my sleep to continue planning and ensuring every aspect was foolproof. It took self-restraint that I wasn’t aware I was capable of in order to not burst in behind Minzi whenever she threw that smug smile at me before entering with her keycard; though I knew that plan wasn’t beneficial to the animal inside. Hence, I clenched my fists and dug the soles of my runners deeper into the ground whenever I thought of it’s tortured wails.

Just a little longer.

Despite familiarizing myself with the tone of the screeches that constantly resonated in my mind, I still couldn’t place the species the groans belonged to. It didn’t necessarily matter, but I was starting to run on the blind hope that they would be similar in size to Taemin, who I could easily carry in my grasp. In case, I also hid one of the carts used around the lab to transport loads of spot plates and test tubes, emptying it of all equipment and sanitizing the sides in case of any lingering, harmful chemicals.

After many long, strenuous hours of devising strategies and avoiding suspicious eyes, the day of the crime was finally upon me. Throughout the day, I used my precise notes to shift the angle of each camera slightly when I found myself alone, just so I could sneak past without showing up in frame.

I even headed upstairs to finally visit Jin, not having found the chance to properly apologize to him yet. The opportunity wasn’t wasted though, as I scoped out the cameras in the dim hall and nudged them over to the side as well. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to deal with those inside the torture chamber itself, but I would cross that hurdle when it came down to it.

Hopefully, the all-black guise I prepared would cover any distinguishable features amidst the shadows of the night.

I was nearing the end of my extensive plan, the only step remaining being the act of acquiring a key card, grimacing as I thought about resorting to the horrible decision of swiping that which belonged to Jin. Ironic, really, considering that the whole reason I was going to see him was to atone for my previous behaviour, yet I was planning to nab his keycard within the same breath.

That aspect of my plot was at a standstill, as I’d never gotten a glimpse of said object in Jin’s office or on his person. I was stumped, beginning to believe that he didn’t have access to the lab upstairs. But his position as assistant director must surely give him such privileges, right?

As I was about to enter Jin’s office, prepared to snoop around a bit with the excuse of looking for Doshik’s file for concerns about his unusual allergy to something within the tank’s water, I spotted Eunmi, the snotty receptionist, striding past my frozen form.

She plucked the notorious keycard out from an inside pocket near her chest, holding it against the reader as my eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. Unperturbed by my blatant shock, she adjusted the pile of folders squeezed within her hold and strolled in.

A huge grin split across my face as I formulated my next steps. Instead of carrying on to my original destination, I changed my route to head off to the front entrance, patiently waiting for Eunmi’s return. I could push off Jin’s apology for a little later.

After about half an hour had passed, I spotted Eunmi gracefully slide back behind the towering desk, which concealed everything but the crown of her head. The loud clicking of the keyboard filled the silence.

Typical.

“Ah, Eunmi!” I briskly walked towards her, meeting those sharp eyes for a fraction of a second before they flickered back to the monitor in front of her. “I don’t see you around very often, how have you been lately?”

“Cut the small talk newbie, I’ve got work to do,” she sneered.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to allow her words to affect my deceptive, cheery disposition as I asked, “I was wondering if you’d like to get a drink with me tonight? Y’know, since I’ve been here a couple weeks and we haven’t gotten a chance to know each other yet!”

“Sorry, too busy,” Eunmi asserted, flicking a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her shoulder. It seemed to be one of her many annoying habits that ticked me off.

Slapping my flattened palm against the shiny surface of the desk, I leaned back slightly and threw out my bait. “Ah, that’s too bad. I wanted to treat you out tonight, but I guess you’ve got too much work, huh...”

Hook.

She hummed in thought. “Time and place?”

Line.

“Bar two blocks away, eight-thirty?”

Eunmi raised a single, defined brow. “Nine. Your treat?”

I confirmed with a nod as her lips curled, displaying a pink lipstick mark on her front tooth.

Sinker.

Precisely a quarter before nine, the gentle creak of wood followed the twist of the doorknob to the assistant researchers’ lab. Jin’s drooping countenance peeked through the crack he created, fixating a mock glare on my busy hands. “That’s enough, Y/N. You can pick it up tomorrow.”

Despite the multitude of gel electrophoresis equipment scattered around me from the past few hours spent slaving away, most of that time was allocated to finalizing the nitty-gritty details for tonight. Honestly, analyzing DNA became second nature to me by now, creating space within my mind to freely cogitate due to the lack of deliberation the task required.

I swivelled around in Yoongi’s chair, facing the evidently fatigued man. “I’m almost done with this sequence though, give me ten?”

He let loose an excessive groan of frustration at being unable to retire for the day, tousling his unkempt locks before collapsing on the worn down bench in front of Namjoon’s desk. I hummed a catchy melody as I continued to scribble down the results from each experiment.

“Now that I have you all to myself,” I gingerly began, stealing a glance at Jin’s unmoving form, “I wanted to properly apologize for everything.”

He raised his arms to cushion his skull against the tough surface, which I took as a sign to continue. “Yoongi might have already told you about my poor attempts to make amends with everyone and I haven’t had the opportunity to sit down with you yet so,” I paused, taking a second to inhale and gather my thoughts, “better late than never, right?

“I shouldn’t have turned my back on you guys when all you do is look out for me,” I sincerely confessed. “I guess I took advantage of how comfortable I felt around you, but I realize that it was unacceptable to treat you as my friend when we’re at work and you’re acting as my boss. I crossed a line and I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to conduct myself accordingly at work.”

A few minutes of devastating silence trickled by. My mind was whirring with all the possibilities of Jin’s next actions; whether he would flip out and rage, simply march back out the door or if he’d fallen asleep and hadn’t heard a word I said. Unsurprisingly, when I turned around I was met with the tranquil sight of Jin’s relaxed frame, soft snores circulating in the office.

I swerved over to him, the squeak of the old chair screeching horribly against the tiles of the floor. “Hey, Jin. How about you go home and I’ll make sure to lock up, hm?”

His eyes fluttered open into slits and I could see the gears whirring in his half-conscious state. To seal the deal, I threw out a cheeky smile; one that I knew he couldn’t resist. “Alright, fine. You just,” he was interrupted by a hefty yawn overtaking his speech, “you just need to lock this door and the main entrance. Everything else is already taken care of.”

My eyes lit up at the sight of his keys and I let out a hum in acknowledgement at his instructions, attempting to curb any suspicion.

Jin’s tall stature towered over me when he pushed off on the balls of his feet, standing up to his full height. “And you didn’t need to apologize, Y/N.” My jaw went slack at his confession of having heard my whole spiel and I had to strain my ears in order to pick up the quiet mumble of, “I should be the one begging for forgiveness anyway.”

Before I had the chance to process his words, much less time to compose a well-thought-out response, he brushed past me and discarded the shiny metal on top of my pad of paper. The revving of a car engine came to life, headlights beaming through the window to the left as he sped away.

Although I could have spent much too long trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind Jin’s bewildering statement, the clock was ticking. Ten minutes remained to clean everything up, change outfits, lock both the office and the front door, then book it to the bar.

Prancing through the flashy entrance with mere seconds to spare, I registered the reality that I might have missed a minute detail in my intricate scheme. Whereas the individuals loitering around appeared as though they’d just come from a fashion show, I felt severely underdressed in the tight jeans and oversized sweater I’d worn to work that morning.

The place was relatively empty, seeing as the night had yet to begin. Nevertheless, I made my way over to the bar stools where I saw Eunmi with a glass in her hand.

“Eunmi!” After a closer look, I took in the wine coloured body-con she slipped on, complimenting her dyed hair well. But from the forced smile she plastered on, I could tell she hadn’t discovered that lipstick mark from earlier.

“You didn’t go home and change?” She pointed out once I was within earshot, her awkward grin morphing into her mundane scowl. Oddly, I felt more at ease with her evident displeasure than her amiable facade.

I glanced down at my attire with a slight shrug and pretended to dust off non-existent wrinkles.

“Tonight’s on you, so let’s start off strong, hm?” If the stench wafting off from her breath was anything to go by, I presumed that she commenced her own pregame at home before arriving. She waved the bartender over, “Two shots.”

He flashed a greasy smile and a nod our way before beginning on our drinks.

“So,” I tried to initiate conversation that hopefully didn’t come off as awkward as I felt, “how’s the pro—”

“Nope, we’re not talking about work here.” Eunmi turned her chin up, rolling her eyes at my apparent nonsense. “I don’t wanna think about that shit hole more than I already have to.”

It was difficult to remain civil in the face of the obvious contempt she harboured in her voice, although I bobbed my head to convey my consent anyway. While racking my brain for any other topics to touch on, I came to the realization that I’d never properly interacted with the surly woman seated beside me; other than asking for directions on the first week and extending a greeting that was rarely reciprocated, I only knew her name and that she enjoyed clicking away on her noisy keyboard for the majority of her days.

Swooping in to the save the definite lull in the discourse, the round-eyed bartender slid over the shots. Eunmi, shockingly, downed the drink as soon as it came into her grasp. In an effort to appear as amiable as possible for the sake of the overarching strategy, I rushed to follow. The abrupt grip on my forearm halted any movement though.

“But, I will say,” Eunmi confidently boomed, puffing her chest and slapping one outstretched palm on the table. If the irked stares the other patrons were giving us right now were enough to kill, I was certain that we’d be ash by now with her outrageous volume overpowering the dull beat of the music. “I am way overworked considering what my job description actually entails. The place wouldn’t even be able to run without me!”

My brow creased as I toned down my own voice in the hopes that she would get the hint. “Oh, uh, of course! And, uh... just as a refresher, how have you been helping out lately again?” Honestly, with the lack of visitors to the lab, assistants having to prepare samples and write reports, Eunmi’s role within the lab puzzled me greatly.

“What haven’t I been doing is probably the better question to ask!” She haughtily spat out, swiping my glass and chugging the liquid down her—most likely burning—throat. Even the narrow glare courtesy of the bartender himself couldn’t stop her from slamming the empty glass on the counter. I smiled apologetically. “I mean, from delivering J3’s documents to manning all the receptionist duties, I wonder what miss Minzi is doing exactly!”

Naturally, my head tilted in curiosity at the unfamiliar name. “J3?”

“I keep telling them; ‘he’s too dangerous’, ‘if he gets out again we’re really in for it’, but who’s about to listen to the too-brilliant-for-her-own-good receptionist? This is exactly how those stupid characters in the horror movies die; they don’t listen to the smart one!” With each argument, her unstable torso swayed back and forth, threatening to completely topple off the barstool a number of times. I placed a hand at her waist in an attempt to keep her upright, although she, very dramatically, slapped it away.

Undeterred by the aggression, I leaned in closer with widened eyes. “Mhm, but I would listen to you, Eunmi. What exactly is J3 though?” I prayed to any higher power that she was too intoxicated to pick up on how desperate I came off in prodding her for information.

She scoffed, “You don’t actually think I’m that dumb, do you?” Her face reared closer to my own, merely centimetres apart at this point, eyes burning holes into my soul and the stench of tequila thick on her breath. “I know what you’re trying to do here, inviting me out to get wasted, even going as far as to pay for it all.”

Panic rose as I nervously chuckled, eyes darting. “I don’t know what you’re getting at?” To relieve some of the perspiration building in my palms, I nabbed the freezing water that remained untouched in front of Eunmi—not so subtly placed there by the bartender.

Licking her lips, she arrogantly leaned back with a cocky smirk plastered across her countenance, “You want to get in my pants.”

Any remaining liquid in my mouth grotesquely flew into the air.

“It’s okay, no need to be embarrassed that I connected the dots. I mean, a lot of people have been in your shoes.” Eunmi expressed, flicking a stray strand away from her forehead. “But I just don’t see you that way.” The look of sympathy she attempted to exude didn’t sit well with me, although I didn’t know whether it was because I could trace where her eyes were drifting to—another drunk guy who’d ripped his shirt off and began spinning the fabric around as if he was some kind of helicopter—or that anything less than hostile was strange look on her.

I was still pondering on whether it was a blessing or a curse that she misinterpreted my intentions so horridly because after downing a couple more shots and a cocktail to top it all off, Eunmi was thoroughly convinced that I was harbouring some intense feelings.

The second time she swiped her pink tongue across her lips, she gracelessly clambered off the barstool. “Don’t worry about it too much; it’s not you, it’s me,” Eunmi drawled out, pointing a well manicured finger to her chest. “It just wouldn’t be fair to you, having to stand next to me all the time when everyone knows there’s absolutely no competition.”

I didn’t realize how many people had entered the club since we’d arrived and I reached out to grab Eunmi’s wrist again, worried at the way she was stumbling away from me. Even though she was a bit of a lousy woman, I wasn’t heartless enough to have Eunmi fend for herself in a pool of sharks, especially when she was heavily intoxicated.

My attempts to restrain her were futile though, as she squirmed away while eyeing the man from before, who had scrambled onto the top of a table and sensually moved his hips to the beat.

“Ooh, I do see something worth banging toni—”

And down she fell.

As I reached over to aid the inebriated receptionist, lifting by her exposed upper arms while wondering just how much alcohol she consumed prior to her arrival. Coming in contact with the unexpectedly damp, sweaty skin impelled me to cringe away from the unpleasant sensation, but I resisted temptation to turn tail and duck out of there for the sake of my goal.

Eunmi’s whines complaining that she was fine and endeavours to wriggle out of my loose hold only served to further thin my nearly non-existent patience. At this point, I had to conserve as much energy as I could for later on, not expend it all to take care of a toddler that couldn’t seem to stand on her on two feet.

When Eunmi’s visage faded into sickly green shade, I hurriedly yanked her limp body over to the unusually vacant washrooms. Out of seemingly nowhere, another sobbing, disheveled girl wriggled out from beneath the sink, evidently having thrown up there as well. As my nose scrunched up at the fishy odor, the stranger crawled over to Eunmi’s side by the toilet, gently patting her back and cooing at the similar, dreadful state the two were in.

While her focus was on aiming her regurgitation into the toilet, all her efforts in vain with the sheer amount of vomit surrounding her, I took the opportunity to file through her shimmering purse that I held in my clutch. I rummaged around to quickly find the key card, slipping it into the back pocket of my jeans, thankful that despite the change in outfit, she brought along the same bag that she had left work with.

“Eunmi, I think we should head home now,” I suggested, mildly concerned about her ability to breathe due to her continuous retching. Without waiting for a response, I began dialling the number for a cab.

After she finished emptying all the contents of her stomach and my wallet felt noticeably lighter than when I came in, I detached the weeping girls from one another and took hold of Eunmi’s underarms, dragging her past the dancing masses and plopping her down at the entrance.

“I get that you had a rough day,” I huffed out, taking a seat on a misplaced block of cement, “but did you really have to get so wasted?”

Streaks of her dark mascara decorated her cheeks from her bawling session, swollen eyes staring off into the distance. “Might as well enjoy myself before J3 finally rips my throat out.”

My brows knitted together at the repeated mention of the name, although I wasn’t able to dwell on it for long because I was soon blinded by a pair of bright headlights beaming from a vehicle painted in a distasteful mustard shade. The cab pulled up to the curb and I somehow managed to shove Eunmi into the backseat, forking over another wad of cash as I encouraged her to mumble out an address.

The car sped away and the lingering breeze grounded me, steeling my resolve despite the wet drops spattering onto the sidewalk. It seemed as though even the weather was attempting to foil my immaculate plans and I silently cursed my past self for failing to check the forecast ahead of time.

Deep down, even the possibility of having to endure another day acting clueless to the torment transpiring within my own workplace terrified me. Not even hard-headed Namjoon could deter my unwavering will at this point.

I jogged back to the lab as quickly as my fatigued legs allowed, predictably drained from hauling another person. The adrenaline pumping through my veins was the only tangible factor keeping me going and luckily, powering through the skittish apprehension gripping my mind.

Once the spotless exterior of the lab came into view, I began scouring through the bulky tote bag I lugged around everywhere. My hand ran across a smooth length that I failed to recognize, pulling it out to identify the unknown object. A miniature fishing rod decorated in vibrant red accents emerged.

The toy I bought for Taemin.

Clenching my fist around the rod, determined to save them this time.

Driven now more than ever, I located the keys that Jin entrusted me with earlier, twisting the lock open and slinking inside. The door creaked eerily behind me as I scanned the tenebrous entrance.

Refraining from switching on the lights, I relied on my muscle memory to sneak off to the changing room and donned the black guise in my locker. I secured a cap on top of my head before creeping up the stairs.

With the staircase enshrouded in darkness, I was forced onto my hands and knees to carefully navigate myself; I tried not to think about how pathetic I looked at the moment.

My hands trembled in the face of the obstacle I had envisioned barging through countless times—and now, I was presented with that very opportunity on a golden platter. Well, with more lying, drunken antics and conniving than intended, but none of that was important in the grand scheme of things.

Taking hold of the key card and pressing it firmly against the reader, the ruby glow blinked green. Success.

I took a tenuous inhale and an even shakier exhale before heading in. Considering the lack of windows, the complete darkness that enveloped the room was expected; hence the downwards tilt of my head and slight adjustment of my cap as I begrudgingly flicked the light switch beside the doorway. Immediately, I covertly surveyed the ceiling for any cameras that could be covered or nudged out of sight.

Oddly enough, none were fixed up there nor were they scattered along the walls. I wearily stepped deeper inside, elated yet distrustful all the same. The number of cameras I passed on the way here was more than I could count on both hands, so I couldn’t imagine they wouldn’t want a single, watchful eye in here.

Just what kind of experiment were they performing here?

Relenting in my inspection, my attention wandered to the middle of the rectangular room. There, on what looked to be a decrepit operating table, laid a human body.

Well, sort of human.

The lack of movement on the other end prompted me to draw in closer, examining the man. I was bewildered at the jet black ears that stood atop the crown of his head, poking out through his dark locks. Hesitantly, I stretched a hand out and tugged on one, watching his face for any sign of cognizance. My heart rate sped up at the confirmation that they were indeed attached to his skull and were undeniably soft to boot.

Examining the rest of his body, which was clad in simply a pair of boxers, I spotted a similar pitch black coloured tail resting beside his left leg. Although I resisted the urge to check if that was real as well, since I was sure that if he was anything like his animal counterpart he wouldn’t take well to the idea of a sudden jerk on his tail.

I couldn’t help but run my digits along the length of the fur, pleased to find that it was just as fluffy as his ear. The longer I stared, the more confusion swarmed my head. The pads of my index and middle finger came up to rub at my temple, unsure of what I was observing.

Were they trying to fuse the DNA of a human and—

A sudden, horrifying connection fired off in my head, making my heart drop to my gut as I examined the rest of the room. I pleaded for my assumption to be incorrect, just a figment of my bereaved brain.

Resting on the floor in one corner of the room was a sheet, draped upon an indistinguishable object. With bated breath, I staggered over to the lump and pinched the fabric, lifting the sheet off and uncovering what lay beneath.

Taemin.

My chest tightened and I felt claustrophobic in the spacious room, as if the walls were closing in and I could no longer afford the luxury of a breath. Salty tears welled up, slipping down my cheeks as I quietly wailed, “I’m so, so sorry.”

Through the blurry haze, my gaze travelled along his tiny body that was missing patches of fur, making parts of his pale, bruised skin visible. Another sob wracked through my body as I looked to his face and met a pair of dull, emerald green eyes; they were devoid of life, staring aimlessly at the wall. They didn’t even have the decency to lower his eyelids.

Instead of shock, a sort of numbness filled me—which was a thousand times more terrifying. I longed for the rich emotion that blazed through every orifice of my body, anything other than the apathetic desolation that halted my waterworks.

With one last glance, I shut his eyes and allowed the muscles to remain in their relaxed position. My heart yearned to give him some semblance of a proper burial, although I reminded myself that his young, playful spirit no longer occupied this empty carcass. After smoothing my palm over the side of his head and giving my final goodbyes, I covered his unmoving form once again.

I used the corner of my sleeve to wipe away any evidence of my anguish and turned my attention back to the man on the table. At the very least, I would save one life tonight.

Upon further inspection, I noted the chains cuffing his limbs to the table, which made me wonder about the threat he might pose if released—something I hadn’t taken into account. A quick scan of the room gave no clues as to anything that could free him, prompting me to forage through the few lab benches scattered around.

The mess of papers, test tubes and syringes made it difficult to locate anything, I doubted if even the head researchers could rifle through this mess to uncover something of use. A common theme among all the stacks I came across was the name, J3, scrawled across each of them; the familiar name that Eunmi brought up earlier that night piqued my interest. But, I stuck to the mission at hand, stressed from being on borrowed time.

Irritation settled into my features with each tick of the clock, coming up empty at the bottom of each bench I scoured. Through pure coincidence, I made out the gentle skitter of metal bouncing across the floor after making contact with the front of my sneaker. I grinned and scooped up a key

After stumbling back over to the table, I scrutinized his distinct features, defined brows resting above his closed eyes, enhanced by thick lashes. Travelling over his high cheekbones and down the slope of his nose, I inspected his thin lips complimented by the tiny mole underneath and framed by a strong jawline. I found his countenance oddly familiar, as though I’d seen him somewhere befo—

A hollow chuckle escaped my lips.

It was the burglar.

Of course, perks of moving into a small town right? You’d get to know everyone, even the criminals!

My eyes roamed over to his side where an atrocious attempt at first aid was located, the torn skin peeking through slivers of the bandages. Bright pops of colour laid in a few different spots, courtesy of the Hello Kitty band-aids he’d stolen from my drawer back home. The sight of the white cat on the well-built man almost made me burst into a round of giggles, but the dried, crusted blood reminded me of the gravity of the situation.

Any remaining resentment I harboured fled with my next exhale, leaving pity in its exchange.

In reality, I didn’t sustain any injuries from the scuffle and all I’d lost were a couple of first aid supplies. While in this rare compassionate state, I also reluctantly forgave him for the hassle brought about from my broken lock.

Even if he probably snipped a few years off my life with the stress from the encounter—resulting in the growth of a couple white hairs, no one deserved to be screeching out their lungs in pain every day.

I deftly unlocked each lock confining his wrists and ankles and stepped back to admire my handiwork when I processed just how ripped the guy was, strength bulging out every crevice of his body. All I could think about was how the hell I was going to transport this hulking mass of pure muscle out of here.

The idea of plunking him onto the cart I prepared earlier and wheeling him all the way home was tempting, but other than all the little kinks in that plan, most of all, I didn’t think it would be too comfortable with his current state adorning his body.

Then came the crippling realization that I couldn’t handle this on my own.

Thus, I retrieved some clean bandages from one of the benches, deciding that it would be best to snatch a few tranquilizers for my own safety as well and returned to his side.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through my short list of contacts before locating his name. As the device began to ring, I reached across the stranger’s lithe body to unravel the old dressing, nearly consumed in reddish-brown dye at this point, to replace them with new ones.

The chime ended, indicating that the receiver had been picked up, before he asked, “Y/N? Why’re you calling so late?”

I began to place the gauze on some of his superficial wounds. “Hey, so, um... long story?”

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jungkook hybrid au #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagine

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xlady-saya · 5 years ago

Text

I want this touch to be familiar [fic]

Relationships: andrew/neil, side aaron/katelyn

Summary: Deep down, Andrew knew he would always reach this crossroads, a time where the thought became too strong to ignore.

Going all the way with Neil. It's not something he can continue to avoid thinking about. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil's hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he's forced to acknowledge how much he's allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

But that’s not all there is to it, and the desire to make a decision finally makes itself known.

Tags: first time fic, p*rn with feelings, relationship study, fluff and communication, multichapter

Read on ao3!

They're having a movie night when the idea sinks its hooks into Andrew's brain. He’s not blaming the Foxes, but their bad choices in films is the catalyst to a milestone Andrew didn’t think he’d have to deal with so soon.

In a swift motion, he brings the hand that's not on Neil's thigh to itch at the back of his own skull, unsettled. He almost thinks he should ban himself from these get togethers, if only to avoid these ideas from taking root. Though, if he's being more honest with himself for once, he'll admit it's not the first time it crossed his mind.

It's possible that's the problem entirely.

No, this idea is more comparable to a mosquito, swarming around in his head and beating against the grooves at random points in the day. It's so powerful, so persistent, it's like this one mosquito is a whole swarm, poking around the ridges in an indecisive process to figure out where it finally wants to dig in.

The movie night is just the point in which it finally latches on and doesn't let go.

It's a predictable action film; Andrew doesn't understand why every director in Hollywood keeps trying to recreate James Bond, but he stopped caring about the movie two minutes in. Neil is boneless and relaxed from the shower they shared after practice, fingers drumming beats against Andrew's wrists while his brow furrows at the film. It has enough explosions and suspense to keep Neil somewhat entertained, though Andrew suspects the focus is mostly due to Neil trying to pick apart the inaccuracies of it all.

Most of the time, Neil ends up staring at Andrew for a majority of the film. Andrew finds it easier to not mind in the darkness, where he can feel the brightness in Neil's eyes instead of actually seeing it.

Essentially, this is the only reason he comes to movie nights.

He's almost at the point where he's ready to ignore the thing completely, along with the Foxes’ scathing commentary, but then the scene comes on.

It's not hard to see coming, but as crude and rough as the Foxes are, their movies don't often include sex scenes. Andrew isn't usually bothered by this type of thing, but it does nothing for him. He's neither repulsed or intrigued; the man isn't his type (or Neil, his brain says, unhelpfully), and the scene isn't aggressive enough to feel like assault.

No anger or heat surges under his skin as the slow orchestra plays, the woman's dress falling to the floor in what he's sure is supposed to be a good shot but has been so overdone it's pointless. Suddenly there's skin, and chests, and the actress' loud gasps turn into louder moans.

It's obnoxious, how fake it sounds, the camera angle cutting to show just enough in between movements.

"Ughhh," Nicky groans, and Allison turns to give him a look. Nicky sags in his chair even further just to spite her, almost falling out of it. "Why do they always do this? I don't need to see two straight white people suck face and bone in every movie! What is this doing for the plot?"

Aaron's head perks up, and he pauses his mid mouthful of those stupid chips Katelyn got him. "What's wrong with straight white people?"

"Everything."

Matt raises his third beer of the night. "Cheers bro, I'll drink to that."

Aaron looks to the wall, as if it will offer him anything better than his current company.

Andrew's eyes fly back to the television, right at the moment the hero slots himself between the actress' legs.

The swarm in his head digs in.

Andrew's hands tighten in the couch cushion, but he keeps the hand on Neil's thigh steady so he won't notice. Neil can be so perceptive when he wants to be, when it comes to Andrew specifically. It's infuriating, sometimes. Andrew never asked to be known so well, yet here they are.

Neil cracks a smile at Nicky and Aaron's fighting, more fond of it now than anything, and Andrew tracks the curve of it with his eyes. On screen, the spy starts thrusting.

"It's romantic!" Allison counters Nicky's claims, and he chucks a pillow at her with a surprising amount of force. Some of the feathers float out.

"They met not even a day ago!"

Aaron's chips are forgotten, which is about as serious as his brother gets nowadays. "I think you've hooked up with dudes you've met within an hour, you asshole."

"This ain't about me."

It's at this point Neil decides to speak, his brow arching in a way Andrew is pretty sure he didn't do prior to starting their this. Andrew's eyes fly up to catch it, and he realizes he'd been admiring the slope of Neil's neck, the discoloration where his hair meets his nape. "Honestly Nicky, what right do you have to talk about plot? Didn't you make us watch that terrible beach movie last week just because you liked the actor?"

Off to the side, where they're trying to become siamese twins, Dan and Matt chime in with some 'ooo's and air horn noises. They’re loud enough to startle Kevin from whatever he’s texting Thea about, and Allison’s cackle follows. Renee’s smile has a slight sharpness to it, the evillest she can look nowadays.

Andrew can't be bothered by the antics; his focus keeps returning to the movie, and the fact is nearly enough to startle him. But he stays still, calm, and doesn't give anything away. It's the best defense he has for the war about to rage inside him. His mind, two seconds from overdrive.

"Et tu Neil?" Nicky sniffs, and then the actress has some kind of orgasm, since she makes a noise akin to a dying bird.

And, because when is it ever about the love interest, the man keeps going, chasing his own release. Andrew's throat feels scratchy.

Andrew spares a look at Neil's face, and finds the striker's attention divided between the screen and Nicky's ramblings. Andrew doesn't care about whatever Neil says in return, he's too set on the slide of Neil's tongue over his bottom lip, the heat of his skin under his palm. Andrew moves his hand more towards Neil's inner thigh, and his breath hitches when Neil's legs widen on instinct for him.

The idiot isn't even aware of it.

Andrew would only need to slide his hand deeper to graze the place where he and Neil could be connected, as close as they can get. He'd be able to work Neil open, savor the twitch of Neil's hips.

Neil is mouthy enough in bed with how they do things now. Would he be louder? Uncontained?

Andrew allows himself to watch the rest of the scene play out on screen, the two rehearsed 'rough' thrusts, the groan of pleasure. But this time, it's hard to be disinterested. It's hard to not let his mind, so gifted with spinning fantasies on account of his cursed memory, put him in the spy's place.

What would Neil feel like, he wonders. Tight and warm probably, strong legs locking around Andrew's hips until his ankles are crossed and knocking against his lower back. Neil can get so greedy sometimes, even with his obnoxiously high consideration for Andrew's boundaries. When he's allowed to take, he's desperate about it.

Would Neil let him go that far? No, would he want to?

Does he want--

Andrew stops the train of thought there, but doesn't cut the journey short. He has no choice but to be stuck here now, and thus, Andrew can no longer swat the idea away like the pest it is.

Going all the way with Neil. It's not something he could avoid thinking about after a certain point. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil's hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he's forced to acknowledge how much he's allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

Bile rises in his throat on instinct, and he squashes it down. Sex with Neil is not something he needs to feel terrible about, and he doesn't. It feels the opposite of terrible, and Andrew hasn't worked through all those troublesome thoughts yet. He can't pin a label to it.

He remembers when jerking off in the shower, mouth pressed to Neil's, had felt like a huge thing to give. Now it wouldn't be enough.

Neil touches him now, Andrew asks him to touch. He's used to Neil's weight on top of him and his hands sliding suggestively over his abs, his biceps. His hands are used to resting comfortably over the curve of Neil's ass, grinding against him.

And it hasn’t stopped there. He's had Neil's mouth on him, his blue eyes on every part of him as the striker sucked him off after a particularly good game.

Andrew had shut down the goal, and the look in Neil's eyes had made him feel far too much. Overwhelming, dizzying.

So they'd taken the next step, not without hiccups, not without caution, but they'd done it.

And that's the thing with Neil; once they cross a certain line, it's a snowball effect. They're incapable of going back.

Neil blew him then for the first time and suddenly Andrew couldn't get the image out of his head, Neil's lips around his cock, trying to adjust to get the best reactions out of Andrew, to make it feel good.

Neil, so stupidly determined about everything he does.

And Andrew, the fool he is, got used to it. He never expected it, because routine was not a yes, and some days he preferred to not be touched at all.

But now, when Neil sinks to his knees or asks to jerk Andrew off, the initial anxiety Andrew might've felt months prior isn't there. It's been burned away into something more concerning, addictive.

Because Neil will stop if he needs him to.

So, Andrew let go, and the floodgates opened.

Shared handjobs turned into frequent blowjobs, which turned into heavy petting without clothes. Andrew feels stripped down, raw, with how much trust he's given this single person.

Every now and again, he searches deep in his soul for some ounce of disgust, regret for any of it, and it makes him angry to find none.

The only thing that does make him angry is how good it feels, a natural reaction Andrew can’t just drop cold turkey. Yet, his body doesn't just enjoy the progressions he and Neil have made together, so does his mind.

Again, he derails the train there, not willing to admit it, and returns to the thought of plowing Neil into their mattress.

It was only a matter of time before he ended up at this crossroads, only so far he and Neil could go before reaching the logical 'next step.'

But, it doesn't have to be a step at all if Neil decides against it. If Neil doesn't want to, they won't. The itch in Andrew's brain is mostly due to the fact they haven't discussed it. He has no idea how Neil feels, if he even thinks about it in the way Andrew does.

There hasn't been time, but Andrew knows if he's reached this point he has to bring it up.

He's not afraid to; he and Neil aren't like that. It's about framing it in a way Neil's exy-only brain won't read into it wrong.

He needs Neil to be able to say no if that's what he needs, he doesn't want to imply he wants this from Neil, that there's a pressure to take it there. Because as stubborn and rebellious as Neil can be, unwilling to be pushed around, Andrew is a weakness.

So, Andrew won't accept anything from him other than the absolute truth. 'Always' doesn't exist with things like this.

The movie turns back into a mindless explosion show while the fantasy in Andrew's brain is paused, mostly because indulging in it feels wrong at this point. If it's something that'll never happen, there's no point letting it play.

What he already does with Neil is enough, more than enough. Andrew never thought he'd ever be like this with anyone, and he's still not used to it. His pleasure during sex came from control in the past, on being able to dictate how it all went, to touch without being touched and have the person like it.

Neil turns everything upside down; where control once stood undefeated, something else sits, unmovable. White-hot, blinding desire.

A danger, unacceptable.

Andrew's eyes rest back on Neil and the heat coiling in his abdomen subsides, softened by the unruliness of Neil's bangs and the glow against his cheek. That's another problem too, about Neil. Desire isn't alone.

But, Andrew sets that issue aside for now.

Feeling Andrew's pensiveness, Neil turns his head, blinking so slow Andrew can see the flutter of his lashes. He nearly pushes his face away.

He's not sure what Neil sees in his analysis; Andrew knows he can't read minds, but it's unsettling and calming all at once to watch him trace the wrinkles in Andrew's face. He asks himself if maybe Neil can feel the itch too.

Neil hooks his fingers over Andrew's lightly, and Andrew realizes all too late how tight his grip on Neil's thigh had gotten.

"Okay?" Neil asks, and fuck him for doing so, for catching Andrew slip. He curses himself for slipping at all, or maybe the better term is falling.

Andrew taps Neil's hand once, twice, three times, and squashes the urge to kiss him.

"Yes," he says, and it's not a lie.

It's not a lie, and he doesn't have the energy to think about why that is. He just knows that soon, it will become a bigger problem. He puts it to rest.

Instead, he watches Neil nod and smile, and when Andrew finally turns back to the television, his brain gets to work on the words he needs to say, and knowing how they’ll probably come up short.

Andrew's mind is a vault mechanism. When one part of the lock is cracked, there's usually another waiting behind it.

He hasn't realized it yet though, couldn't possibly, with Neil rutting in his lap.

Andrew grunts as his nails dig into Neil's hips, where the brunet's sweatpants are dipping dangerously lower by the minute, a consequence of the force of their dry humping.

He's not quite sure how they got this carried away in the span of ten minutes, but all Andrew knew then was this wasn't a bad day, this was a day where Neil could pin Andrew to the couch without consequence.

So he let him.

Neil is shirtless, scars on display along with hard nipples and a twitching abdomen, the heat building and building.

Because of Andrew.

The position should feel stupid, immature, maybe even high school, but Andrew's brain is swimming with a pleasure comparable to nicotine.

It's nothing he thought he'd feel before, because the weight of someone on him never used to lead to good things.

"Fuck," Neil breathes, hips stuttering against Andrew's and wiping the dangerous path away before Andrew can even take a step towards it. Neil gives a rough jerk, barely able to fight Andrew's grip, but he prefers when Neil works for it. He doesn't let up, because he knows the striker is nothing but determined.

Neil whines, surging forward to pant into Andrew's mouth. He growls; part of him was enjoying the show and doesn't appreciate the interruption. The other part of him can't get enough of Neil's mouth, the wicked tongue pulling his out and sucking on it like it's another part of Andrew's body.

Neil is always so scatterbrained; he'd do it all if he could.

Andrew's breathing comes out heavy, wet, and they've fallen out of position quite a few times as a result of their desperation. Neil's clothed cock is barely grazing Andrew's now, but he doesn't have the will to stop Neil from moving so fast, so needy. There's a small wet spot forming against Andrew's pant leg, and he watches Neil fight to keep his head from lolling back from the dizziness of it.

It makes something smug burn through Andrew's chest, seeing Neil sigh and whisper incoherent nothings which don't amount to much more than 'yes' and 'more, Andrew, more.'

Andrew leans back into the couch cushions and bucks up, earning him a sound so Neil he can't take it. It's a cross between a gasp and a groan, devolving into another string of curses. At this point, Neil's pants are low enough to reveal the coarse hair of his groin, the criss crossing scars almost as tantalizing as the hardness pressing against Andrew's leg.

Andrew suddenly doesn't have enough hands. He's torn between pressing his palm over the scars, keeping Neil under his grip, or digging into Neil's hair to expose the column of his throat.

This is why this kind of thing can still get a bit overwhelming, but not in a discomforting way like it used to.

It's still fairly new, the dry humping. At first, it had started as slow and experimental grinding in the morning, Neil pressed up against Andrew's front while he rocked forward. The first time, Andrew had to stop, too taken by the newness of it, the unfamiliarity.

He hadn't had time to really pick it apart and think about why he was doing it or if it made him anything like them. If pressing Neil down and chasing his own relief didn't reveal something uglier about him.

By that point, he'd had Neil's hands on him on a regular basis, jerking him off and pulling him into his throat. Those things were becoming less daunting.

He's used to letting Neil get him off now, to getting off in front of him with his own hand. It's just...this is so much more shared, intense. Andrew isn't quite used to it, but the movie night sits heavy in the back of his head still, and he thinks it might make a little more sense now.

The process to get here had been the same, a slow evolution; they'd use grinding as a means to get worked up, to cause friction before moving onto blow jobs or heavy makeouts. It turned into a thing when Andrew didn't have the patience to separate from Neil for even a moment. Humiliating, but in the heat of the moment he hadn't thought twice. He remembered asking for his yes between biting kisses before humping Neil into their bed, and when he came, the rush had been blinding. The heat running through his veins carried all through his spine and down to his toes, intensified even more by Neil's body jerking against his.

Close, intimate.

And so very, very close to the real thing.

Before that thought threatens to ruin everything, Andrew bucks up again and Neil's moan blocks the path again.

Andrew is so hard it's painful.

Before Neil can press down in kind, Andrew tightens his hold until Neil can do little more than squirm, leaving them stuck like that, with Neil's hands making a mess of Andrew's hair and unable to give them the sweet friction. Andrew rubs circles into Neil's hip bones until he hears the sigh he's looking for.

Watching Neil blink, eyes blown wide in a desire fueled haze, makes Andrew lick his lips in anticipation.

Neil blinks down at Andrew, not really seeing, breath stuttering as he fights the grip. "H-hey--"

"Hey," Andrew replies, feigning innocence. It's not effective, when one of his hands snakes around to Neil's back, looking for any trace of discomfort or even a silent 'no.' When he finds nothing but want, he presses his fingers down onto Neil's lower back to force him forward. Neil's back arches like a cat, like Andrew pulls all the strings. "Move up."

Neil exhales shakily as he shifts, legs spreading and putting him back to where they initially started. Andrew takes the time to rid himself of his jacket, way too warm, and unzips his jeans to help the tightness.

Neil's gaze flies to the prominent bulge under Andrew's boxers instantly.

"Right there," Andrew says with his hands back on Neil's ass, squeezing the muscled flesh greedily and trying hard to avoid the thought of spreading him open like this. He aligns Neil so their cocks are settled against each other again. It's a struggle for them to stay still; Neil leans forward so Andrew's neck muffles most of his groan, and sucks on his pale skin. Andrew's voice is nothing short of strained when it comes out. "That's it."

Neil smiles when he pulls back, and Andrew has to look away. Idiot, always so pleased with proof of Andrew's unraveling. "Can I--"

"Yes," Andrew growls, and he meets Neil halfway. One hand flies to the back of Neil's neck, digging into the hair at his nape to pull him close again. His skin is scorching to the touch.

Neil doesn't hesitate. His hips move fast as his hands dig into Andrew's biceps, intent on chasing the orgasm for both of them. Small, jagged whimpers leave his mouth with every thrust, his cock brushing right against Andrew's. Neil is practically bouncing, and it doesn't take long for Andrew to realize he's moving too, just as fast, just as rough. The head of his cock pokes out of the slit in his underwear, smearing precum on Neil's pants.

"Oh fuck, fuck," Neil moans at the same time Andrew starts grunting with each jerk of his body, unconcerned with the volume. If anyone knows what's good for them, they won't be back early. Andrew's vision starts to blur, his movements less coordinated, breathing loud. He's close, so close and the heat pooling in his abdomen makes his head swim.

It should unnerve him, this lack of control, this animalistic urge to keep going, take and take. But Neil looks the farthest from afraid above him; he's matching Andrew in his entirety, grunting loudly and rotating his hips in just the right way for them to feel every inch of each other. His hands are dutifully clutching Andrew's shoulders, unwilling to move. Because Neil knows, he knows this is Andrew's most vulnerable moment, seconds from orgasm. No matter how close to the edge they are, Neil won't risk Andrew's discomfort, he won't let Andrew's pleasure be overridden by shock or the disregard for his boundaries.

Andrew hates him, he hates how Neil is the only one who will ever make him feel this way, because now no one else is good enough.

In more ways than sex.

Andrew snarls from the anger of it all, from how inaccurate it feels to call it that. He brings a hand up to wipe the sweat off Neil's brow, pushing aside his bangs so he can see those eyes for all they are, the ring of blue a bottomless pool Andrew no longer tries to escape.

Neil's mouth falls open from whatever look is on Andrew's face, and he's no longer able to keep his eyes open, throwing his head back as his orgasm rips through him. He trembles in Andrew's arms, and Andrew feels the warmth of Neil's cum against his cock, even through his sweats.

Andrew's arms lock around Neil's waist as he thrusts up harshly, and in the last split second before he comes, he imagines they're not just dry humping like dogs in heat. He allows himself to imagine he's inside Neil, that they're as close as they can possibly be, and it makes Neil feel good instead of pained.

Andrew comes, but it's with an unexpected dose of shame. Despite that, he comes hard. It's full body, enough to make his shoulders shake, his breath hitch. It's that same tingling sensation running over him, stronger at the points where he and Neil touch.

It doesn't make sense to him.

He hadn't meant to let his brain go there, to let the fantasy rear its ugly head again, but it had felt so...

He didn't have the right to think about it without Neil's yes, not in this case. Because it means some fucked up part of him craves it, needs to take it.

He won't, he won't do that. He knows he won't, but then why does it make his stomach swirl?

Andrew sighs before going rigid, and Neil must take it as his cue to separate. That's one thing which hasn't really changed, Andrew's need for space. It's gotten better, he can normally stay pressed against Neil for ten or so minutes, and it's weirdly comfortable. However, eventually his brain will begin to overthink or itch with a need for room, and he'll have to push away.

This immediate stiffness is unusual though, and Neil catches it so fast Andrew should feel vulnerable about it.

Neil goes still as soon as he senses something is off, and removes his weight from Andrew in a blink. He's never seen Neil move so fast away from him, not out of fear, but concern.

Neil is mistaken here though; he's not the one who's done something wrong.

Neil puts as much distance between them on the couch as he can, bringing his knees to his chest and only grimacing at the wet squelch of his pants.

His chest is still heaving, and part of Andrew finds excitement in that. He made Neil feel good, it's proven by his mussed up hair and swollen lips, the high blush. Neil waits, eyes scanning the lines of tension in Andrew's body, the soft parts of his face.

Andrew watches him for a long time as he thinks, trying to find evidence he's right, that he took it too far. Neil can't read his thoughts, but for a moment Andrew worries he can.

Did he feel it, Andrew's body claiming him, using him in a way Neil maybe has never thought of?

Andrew glares, but he knows Neil will be able to tell it's not at him.

Andrew is usually able to begin the long dissection of these issues in his own head, revealing the threads he can offer to Bee to pull at and untangle into something more manageable. But right now, he's at a loss.

They sit like that so long their breathing evens out, and only at that point does Neil reach out. He extends his hand forward, not commanding, but offering. Yes or no. "Andrew?"

Shit.

He hasn't moved in minutes. Time is never something he managed well in his head, always pulling him back to the past in a blink while the future pulled apart like dust, disintegrating before taking a full shape. He inhales shakily; Andrew hates to show so much, but this is Neil. They're alone. He scrubs a hand over his face in frustration, trying to bring it back to its blank state before he reaches out to pull Neil closer.

They're still not touching anywhere else, Andrew can't handle that yet, but it's enough of an acquiescence for Neil to understand the problem isn't him.

He moves to the cushion next to Andrew, his bare feet settling against the carpet as he waits for Andrew to say something.

And well, this is where he brings it up. There's no point in waiting, beating around the bush is useless and pointless and not something they're capable of doing.

Andrew's words come out blunt as ever as he stares into nothingness. "Before I came I thought about fucking you."

The harshness of the words, and how removed they are from any emotion should probably make any normal person flinch. Neil isn't just anyone.

Neil, for all his usual drama, doesn't react to that, and Andrew feels the ghost of relief. Once, Neil told Andrew his lack of reaction to otherwise terrible events made Neil feel better about them. Andrew hadn't really understood, but now he just might be seeing the logic.

Neil's gaze on him during their vulnerable moments typically makes Andrew want to jump out of his skin, far too exposed, but with this it's less difficult to plow forward. Neil stares at Andrew, as blank as he can manage, while still letting the curiosity furrow his brow.

Andrew wants to wipe off the sweat there.

He cracks his knuckles, mulling over the words and trying to find a way to say them where he won't have to admit too much. Unfortunately, it's impossible.

He scowls at the coffee table as he speaks, like the words are vile. "I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I haven't been able to stop."

Why can't he stop?

Because part of him can't help himself, is that it? He can't control himself, even after years and years of limiting every possible stimuli so he could.

If he sounds angry it's because he is; how dare Neil push him this far, so unintentionally. Yet even then, Andrew knows the blame is all on him. The irritated tremble in his voice should not fucking be there, just like the thoughts shouldn't be. He shouldn't have given ground enough to make such a confession, to make Neil think he's torn up and ugly.

Andrew should be a blank slate, but Neil is chips in the stone, splashes of paint which Andrew cannot scrub off.

He told Neil what he's always told Neil: the honest version of how he feels, even if he wishes he felt nothing.

Long before the movie night, long before he cares to remember, and he remembers everything, he's thought of slotting their bodies together, of pulling Neil impossibly close so they're intertwined in every way.

At Andrew's aggravated scowl, Neil finally chooses to speak. The confusion is more obvious on his features now, the ring of blue reappearing and threatening to wash Andrew in waves.

"You don't have to stop," Neil says, like it's the simplest damn thing in the world.

What the hell does he know? He's not in Andrew's head, he's not--

"Neil--" Andrew almost growls, a warning Neil should be all too familiar with. Stop while you're ahead.

Neil is a very bad listener, with a short fuse to match.

"I think about it," the striker bites out quickly, almost challenging. Those blue eyes widen with the admission, rocking on the balls of his feet. Andrew's entire body freezes up, hell the world might have stopped for all he cares. Even Neil bites down on his bottom lip, as if to cut the words off, before realizing how stupid that would be. He knows how Andrew feels about regret, and he's not lying in this moment. Andrew would be able to tell. A few seconds of quiet pass, they hear some muffled music through the windows. Neil's voice is a silky whisper to his ears, despite how cracked it sounds. "I think about it too. So...there, stop putting this just on you. I think about it a lot so, you don't have to do...that."

It's so stupid, how Neil can remain so interesting even when Andrew's feeling this on edge. It's a welcome distraction for a second, before the words really sink in.

Neil thinks about it.

Viciously, Andrew steps on the small slug which resembles hope as it crawls through his brain. He ignores the mess in his pants as he turns to face Neil, sitting cross-legged on the couch.

Andrew raises a brow, daring Neil to elaborate on the that he's referring to.

"Hide it so I don't have to know," Neil supplies, waving his hand in the air. "Shoulder it all yourself like you always do. This way I've made it both of our problem."

Neil winces, no doubt scolding himself for the poor choice of words.

Andrew's face is back to a blank slate. "A problem, is it?"

That's certainly how he saw it, but having Neil echo the sentiment makes him feel more, which would be terrible enough, but the feeling isn't even good.

Neil's gaze is a freshly sharpened blade. "No. Not to me," Neil says, firm. "You know we don't have to, but--"

"But you think about it," Andrew echoes, unable to help it. The coils he tries to wrap around the realization are slippery and can't get a grip, so he repeats it. Neil thinks about it, the desire is shared.

What is he supposed to do with that information now? One step forward, two steps...somewhere.

Neil swallows, and the redness on his cheeks is oh so appealing to even Andrew's hazy mind.

Neil thinks about it.

But that doesn't mean they can just...do it. Andrew doesn't know if he can; the disconnect between what his body wants and what his brain can manage is a minefield and he's never wanted to scratch at gray matter so badly.

Briefly, he understands why Aaron values normalcy so much. Normalcy would allow Andrew to just be the horny college student he could've been, instead of having to deal with all these speed bumps and cones in the road to get to the ultimate goal. And even if he were to get there, there's a big chance he'd decide it's better to turn back around to prevent a crash.

But he is not Aaron, and he does not value normalcy.

He values--

"I do," Neil states, so understanding, and maybe a little flustered. Flustered, not scared, not unsure. "I like doing that stuff with you Andrew, but how it is now is good, more than good. Hell, that was so...wow. You know I've never felt this towards someone."

Neil's smile is so far away from what Andrew can handle he has to ruin it.

"Horny?" He says, and hates how even when he's deflecting the thought sends a shiver through him. The thought of Neil only wanting him, only giving himself to him. Andrew squashes the possessiveness, uncomfortable.

Neil gives him a look for that, but isn't deterred. "Technically yes, but you know what I mean."

Unfortunately he does, but that's even more uncomfortable to think about than the physical desire. Neil has never been shy about his feelings for Andrew, not since Andrew actually acknowledged their this and showed how he was going to make zero moves to push Neil away. Even if Neil did hold back his bluntness, he gives Andrew those fucking looks like he's the most amazing thing he's ever laid eyes on, not some delinquent with a crooked nose and a hostile disposition.

And still that can't be it. Neil's desire, like his feelings, are so intense they can't possibly be fake. The eagerness, the desperation with which he receives Andrew's advances...it's not the issue. Neil is trying to tell Andrew he doesn't need to feel pressured, like Andrew doesn't already know that.

He thinks he's getting closer to what his real problem is with it, but it's just out of reach. It's a shared desire, he checks that off. Neil thinks about it, another check. And Andrew...

No matter how he tries to kick it aside he wants it. His body craves it and his mind can't let it go. He wants and it's so nauseating in how it's not, instead it's light and tender and all things he is not supposed to be.

So, where is the issue? It's him, it's--

"Stop avoiding the truth," Neil says, and when Andrew looks back at him those pale blue eyes are intense, almost deadly. They pry Andrew apart, flaying the flesh from bones and seeing the rawness inside, like Neil has managed to pin down the anxious animal inside him with talons sharp as knives.

The words 'shut up' die on his tongue; what truth? What can Neil see that he can't?

Andrew doesn't have fears. He briefly entertains the idea that what bothers him is the fact Neil thinks about it and that means one day he'll really want it and won't be able to hold the urge back. If Andrew can't give it to him, if he decides he can't go through with this, Neil will be like everyone else, just someone who wants more than Andrew can offer. Then he'll leave.

But Andrew doesn't fear. And it would be stupid to fear; anyone who would leave for something like that simply isn't worth the time of day. Yet...yet...

Andrew thinks of life without Neil, and he remembers emptiness crashing down, an empty stadium, and true darkness.

Frustrated beyond all reason, Andrew retreats into the bedroom to change into clean underwear and sweats. There are no footsteps behind him, no annoyed sighs or disappointment in his wake. He hates how Neil knows how long he needs before following, how trusting he is, because he changes right in front of Andrew a few moments later, needing no boundary.

"There's no 'truth' in this to avoid," Andrew answers, delayed, as he tracks the curves of Neil's body, the scars making him feel safe and angry all at once. Angry at those who would hurt his person, safe knowing Neil doesn't shy away from the ugliness.

Neil shrugs as he sits on the bed, beckoning Andrew over. He follows, of course he does, it's automatic.

What he says isn't a lie; he hasn't figured out the truth of this. Neil grins at him, infuriating. "No, I just think you're avoiding thinking about it. Don't get me wrong, I have no idea what you're actually thinking about, I'm not a mind reader. But if something else weren't bothering you I don't think you'd be this antsy."

"I'm not antsy."

"I told you, I'm the better liar so you should stop trying," Neil says with a smile, kicking his legs out in front of him. There's bruises on his knees from their last game. Andrew reaches out to press his palm against them, frowning at the yellowish color; there was no helping the fall, but Andrew had still checked him out afterwards. Neil sighs into the touch, leans into it, and it hits Andrew that this level of vulnerability he's been given is not something he's ever asked for, but he couldn't let go of if he wanted to.

Can’t let himself betray.

"I haven't made up my mind," Andrew says, not like he has to. Neil is normally good at knowing when Andrew isn't ready to give his final answer, but something about this feels different. It makes Andrew say as much as he can. "I don't know yet if I can do it."

What he thought would be devastating to admit aloud feels more like one weight has been shed. Neil doesn't even react, apart from prying Andrew's hand off his knee to trace the veins on his wrist.

"That's okay," Neil whispers, and there's enough encouragement in the tone to make Andrew growl.

"Shut up."

Neil freezes, his fingers hovering over Andrew's knuckles, and has the audacity to squint at Andrew. The man always did have a death wish. "It is."

Andrew turns away, in what to others would read as a clear dismissal, the cold shoulder. Neil has never cared to accept those things.

"Andrew," Neil says, and it's with conviction this time. No gentleness. "I'm not going to...leave if we never do it, I don't care about that, I just care about you. But if it is something you want, it's a yes--"

Fury spikes.

Andrew bites back the auto-response of 'I don't care if you leave' because it's a deflection he won't bring into this. He doesn't have time to keep that wall of his intact during a conversation like this. Neil will fight it and see through it and it'll waste their time.

But honestly, screw Neil for seeing through Andrew so easily. For pulling out fears that shouldn't be there and aren't, they aren't.

When Andrew turns his scowl on Neil, the striker doesn't so much as flinch. Andrew is here, giving away too much, showing too much, and Neil takes all of it.

"That doesn't have to be your final answer," Andrew stresses, voice tight, and this time Neil does have the decency to look surprised. Those pretty eyes soften with it, and Andrew sees the exact moment he puts something together which Andrew hasn't yet touched. "We don't have to. That goes both ways, I won't take that from you unless you're 100% sure so you better be and fuck you if you don't tell me the truth when the time comes. And it's not going to be you letting me, or doing it for my sake, or some other half-assed reason. If you don't want to, we won't. "

If I can't, I won't.

And the only reason he wouldn't be able to is if...

Andrew feels a stone settle in his stomach, and almost grins from how amazingly stupid this all is. Bee would be so proud, him getting to this point, on the cusp of figuring out what the hell is going on in his head.

All of a sudden Andrew is tired, too much energy pulled out of him, a war of emotions, all for him to come to the obvious conclusion.

It always comes back to Neil.

And Neil seems to have figured it out too; he stares at Andrew for a long time, scanning his face, giving him that look, the one which burns Andrew from the inside. Warm.

"The next time one of them says you're soulless, I might have to fight them."

All Andrew's words, and Neil manages to find the sliver of realness buried in it. For a moment, Andrew thinks Neil will let it go, for Andrew's sake. But, he should know better. They're no longer at that point, and Bee would call that progress, but Andrew doesn't know what to do with it yet.

All he knows is that if Neil thinks he can soothe any of Andrew's thoughts, he will, no matter how many times Andrew tells him he doesn't need it.

It's quiet, when Neil finally speaks. "You wouldn't hurt me," he whispers into the small space between them. Andrew hadn't realized they'd gotten so close, but there's his forearm, pressed right against Neil's. No wincing, no queasiness.

Andrew starts to turn away, and Neil risks blocking him with his hand. Andrew's vision is all blue, Neil's bangs such a mess he wants so badly to push them back again. "You wouldn't hurt me Andrew, if that's what you're worried about. You couldn't. I trust you. Of course I want to, but it's not a deal breaker. Stop treating it like one."

Andrew doesn't move, it's amazing he can even look at Neil, but he can't stop. There's so much he could argue in return, lots to prove wrong. Neil doesn't know anything about this, he can't possibly get it, or know what he's really giving Andrew, or what he’ll want in the future.

Their future; another subject to flood Andrew's brain. Too much at once, too much.

And yet, Neil is a deadly weapon, except with Andrew the slicing wounds give way to blooms instead of blood.

Neil strikes. "If you decide it's a yes, and I come back and say no, would it be a deal breaker for you?"

Andrew twitches from the mere thought, which is as good as a full body jerk. Neil could say he never wanted to have sex again and Andrew wouldn't push, he'd stay. "No," he seethes, unable to keep it out of his voice. Neil goes right for the throat every time, making one of Andrew's arguments null.

As for the other...

"I want to," Neil says, and for once, he seems embarrassed. It's a rare thing on Neil, the worried lip, the giddiness. Like he's excited. It's not even about the sex, he's pretty sure Neil did this when Andrew first held his hand too. Andrew's stomach flips itself over in half, the bastard.

"You wouldn't be taking either," Neil says, and Andrew flinches internally. Hurting Neil...he could hurt Neil, he could-- "We'd be...sharing, like we always do. So you can stop beating yourself up over my decision, and think about yours."

In Neil speak: Do whatever you need to do to figure out what you need, I'll be waiting.

Andrew hates the assumptions, mostly because they're right. This is not something he can resolve with one conversation. The thought of somehow ruining this for Neil, for making his first time something horrible, is too much for him to unpack this quickly. Who knows how long it will take him to reach a decision, or what the decision will be.

Yet, Neil's here, telling him he doesn't care how long it takes, or where Andrew lands at the end of it. He'll be here, now and after.

What percent is Neil even at? The millions maybe. Andrew's blood boils before it comes down to a simmer, then fades completely. Andrew never asked to feel, but Neil is wearing him down everyday.

The thought repeats: Andrew doesn't know how to stop.

He clenches his fists, grabbing Neil's shoulder and forcing him down onto his side to lie next to him. Words won't work for him anymore, and he's not capable of touching or even kissing right now. But it's a concession, a thing he is learning to give without despising the weakness of it.

Neil gives a small yelp but goes with Andrew willingly, not resisting. His curls fan out on the comforter, one decorated with cats that Nicky gifted them. Andrew sighs; Neil has yet to make any sense to him, even when the entrance to the messy path ahead of him has cleared.

He'll need as much rest as possible to figure this out. It's too early to go to bed, but after all this Andrew needs sleep, and he hates how Neil being next to him has become the new normal.

"I fucking hate you," he says in the small margin of space between them, and closes his eyes before he can be blinded by Neil's idiotic smile. "Go to sleep junkie."

Andrew's memory feeds him Neil's smile anyways.

Neil sighs across from him, and Andrew immediately feels drowsy, like it's a spell over him. He falls into it, not resisting.

As the world fades in and out, the most important thoughts stay afloat, and he embeds them in his head. They're less like mosquitoes now, more like additional grooves.

Neil wants it, Neil is ready. There's no sense in Andrew dwelling on that issue further for now, so he bypasses the first lock of his mind. Of course, he was never so optimistic to think that was the only thing holding him back, and Neil pulled that out of him too.

The big issue, the one holding Andrew back. The striker's words flood his mind, blurred and echoed. 'You wouldn't hurt me.'

But is that the truth? There's only one way to find out, and Andrew isn't sure if it's something he's willing to risk. Neil never was and never will be someone fragile, but that’s not the point. That’s not what Andrew means.

Just the realization he has the power to hurt Neil with this, the way Andrew was hurt…it makes him shy away from any attempt.

After all, he decided long ago he wouldn't risk losing Neil, not for anything, returning words said on rooftops. And yet…Neil makes him itch to prove those things wrong.

He's not sure yet where to go from here, but he pushes it aside to think about later. He has as much time as he needs. With the first lock conquered, the tension in his shoulders relaxes. Neil thinks about it, wants it. So can Andrew.

Just like that, Andrew finally concedes; he lets the idea of want flood in.

This time, there's no guilt to be found. Neil, with all intentions, made sure of that.

#andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game #aftg

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diegolabhont · 4 years ago

Text

The beginning

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing: Zoey Wade x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes) & Poppy Mid-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes)

(Keep reading please, I have an explanation)

Genre: None (in this post, al least)

Rating: Anyone can read it, really.

Tags: @nevermindme-justreading

SO... here´s the thing:

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes) Beck is a trans latin guy, but you´ll see about that as the story takes off. This is just the presentation for the MC. Sorry

Now, about the PAIRING... I, as a writter, didn´t want to loose the opportunity to writte for my Queen Zoey and my other Queen Fic!Poppy (I SWEAR THAT´S NOT BECAUSE SHE´S ASIAN) so I will be using the same character to both, kinda like choices style, kinda. If you have any comment, PLEASE BE RESPECTFULL and patient with me. This is also my first english fanfic and english is not my mother language, so... i´m sorry fo the grammar errors. Also, I don´t live in the US so sorry if it´s a little bit weird.

CHAPTERS

Chapter one

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

Belvoire University. That´s where they were. During all of those years of hard work and hidden passion for music after heavy and demanding tasks back in the family farm, the last thing Beck Hughes thought would happen to them were getting a full scholarship for a music and composition major in one of the most prestigious institutions all over New York and they were truly, truly grateful. If you ask them, the view in here was too flashy for their simple taste, but they couldn´t complain, after all, they did have one of the best music programs at their disposition.

In the meantime, they were walking through campus feeling oh so in home. The gazes of the students around fixed on them as if Beck was some kind of alien in this glamorous and wealthy world. Beck didn´t care honestly. Too long ago they got used to teasing, to comments behind Beck´s back, to be judged for banal and superficial things. At least nobody was being dangerous. That´s why they walked with confidence and upright posture, feeling the strap of their guitar case dangle across their shoulder through his leather jacket. Maybe that bored and unimpressed expression they put up to pretend was the one to blame for the ruckus, especially when they clearly didn´t belong there, or maybe it was Beck´s second hand clothes, they didn´t know, but all that stopped mattering when their fear to be inside of a school drama came true the moment in which a noisy blonde bumped into their way.

At first they didn´t understand the magnitude of the problem, why was a simple coffee such a big deal? All the blonde girl had to do was move her lazy ass and ask for another one to herself instead of yelling to this poor girl just like a Karen. Yes, it was naïve of Beck to believe that they could interfere to peace the waters; the only thing he got was to bring all the fury from the banshee imitator right at them. Well, at least the first victim looked a bit more relaxed.

“Who the fuck do you think you are to talk to me like that?!” She yelled “Do you have any idea of who am I?”

No, who cares?

“I´m…”

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to worry about who she is. But you should worry about who I am”

Beck heard a voice talking right next to them, but again… Who. Cares? People was staring still; can we all just forget everything or doing a raincheck? Beck snorted with annoyance while turn around to face the new combat player logging in.

“Come on, tag along, shall we? Let’s acknowledge everybody’s name! The guy in the back, who are you? Who are everyone? I totally care!”, he thought for a split second, but their brain stopped working completely to the sight of a stunning and beautiful strawberry blonde standing right in front of them. He didn’t even notice how everyone was deadly quiet.

“Shit, she´s gorgeous…”

“And I’m about to become your first and last memory of Belvoire University”

Aaaand… she ruined it. Beck let out a chuckle, a challenging, mocking smile on his face.

“Is that a threat?”

Please, there was no possible way she could do anything to make them back down. Nothing. It took two steps from Beck to close the distance between them and the strawberry blonde, leaning gracefully to poke fun at the noticeable height difference. The girl didn´t back down neither, accepting the challenge with a murderous, threating look.

“You won’t last a day here”

Oh, that how it´s going to be, I see…

“I'm a trans person in a conservative, religious town… Try me”

Blonde´s face was a poem. The surprise so clearly drawn on her face that they could see exactly how her brain stopped, looking up and down Beck, astonish, processing the information, … “Ow, I broke her” They thought, amused. People were completely eating all up the show, Beck could feel every eye on the interaction, what was going on in this school? Fuck, where did they got into?

“Look, I gotta go. If you find something clever to say, just text me, a ‘right?” Said Beck, very willing to leave.

“Rude!”

Squawked Young Karen.

“Oh, snap. New Dude´s not backing down!” said someone.

They didn´t even care, Beck kept walking without looking back and they would be considerably far if not to a hand clawing back their free shoulder.

“How you dare—!“

“Hey, Beck! Look at the time, we gotta go!”

A girl shows up from nowhere, took his arm and pulled them out of the commotion, running away as if a bear were behind them. Seriously, what the hell? The girl, that finally looked like the danger was gone, stopped right in front of a large and fancy door and slammed her keycard against some kind of sensor.

“Wish the circumstances were different, but welcome to de Winfrey dorm complex, AKA your new home!

She was agitated, naturally, but was until that moment that Beck had the chance to look at her with more detail… Gosh, are really all the ladies here that pretty? What´s in the water? Her hair, her eyes, those lips... She was completely flawless, a breath taking beauty.

Feeling confused and intrigued, Beck stumbled inside looking around in awe. Just a fraction of that room looked even more expensive than their own home!

“So… you are my… counselor or something?” they asked, the gorgeous girl looking too young to be one, though. She then cracked up a smile and a little chuckle.

“Beautiful”

“Starting with the wrong foot here and there, don´t you?” She grinned back to they and all the things Beck could feel was embarrassment and a beating heart making heat on their face. “You got out of that one alive. Barely.” She said, looking concerned once again, the laughing disappeared from those cute eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly… You´re gorgeous” A slight blush appeared on her cheeks, alarming Beck.

“Did I just…”

“…Is what I was thinking, but did I just say it out loud?” I hate me, I hate me, I hate me…

“You did, and you´re absolutely, positively right. I´m Zoey Wade, your roomie…”

Oh, so she has a name… wait a minute…

“You´re my roomie?” Beck asked taken aback, what does this means? They felt restless, kind of anxious. It´s this even allowed or the school was acting based on...

Zoey seemed to understand the internal fight in their mind because she immediately clarified.

“You don´t have to worry, this kind of dorms tend to be mixed so it´s kinda normal. Besides I check your info on The T and I saw you were LGBT+ so I´m not feeling…”

“My what?” That´s where she realized.

“Oh! Right… Ok, I´ll make it simple. Here there is a whole system here based on reputation.” Zoey took her phone and showed Beck a long numbered list. Number one and on the top were the same girl they encounter earlier: Poppy Min-Sinclair was there, showing a radiant and flashy perfect smile, next was the banshee named Chloe St James, people, people, people, and low, low into the very bottom, was Beck Hughes… Or we most say “Newbie” Hughes.

“Y´see... you are the new addition and The T´s been all over you. Specially because… well…” She looked reluctant to say it, but it wasn´t actually bad to Beck. They were used to.

“I don´t belong. Got it”

Beck let the guitar case on the floor, right next to the couch, walking around to see their new place, feeling Zoey´s eyes on them all the time.

“I don’t really care, I came here to have a good time and enjoying my music” and to save my life, basically. “So… mind if you show me some fun?” Said Beck, a little flirty. They were a little insecure, taking their chances… New town, new life, right? The seductive smirk they got back relaxed them a little bit more.

“Oh, Beck… I think we will be getting along just fine.”

#choices #queen b zoey #zoey wade #trans #ftm #zoey x mc #MaleMC #bea hughes #Beck Hughes

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matt0044 · 5 years ago

Text

The Anime Community has a FUNimation Problem. Full Stop.

In Prison School’s seventh episode, Anzu Yokoyama’s dialogue with Shingo Wakamoto has her calling out his attempt at talking to a woman and kicking starting a fairly obligatory romantic subplot. The English Dub, up to that point, had all the hallmarks of FUNimation’s script writers playing off the already existing comedic aspect of the title. Some disapproved while other embraced it.

However, the dub would go a step further by having Anzu’s emasculation of Shingo involve a reference to the then ongoing Gamergate controversy. If anybody knew of the movemen then, you’d know this wasn’t a good idea. Every geek and their mother took offense to it right out the gate, claiming that it was FUNimation “shoving politics” where they don’t belong and insulting their fans.

To play devil’s advocate, Prison School as a whole is all about young men being integrated into a formerly all-girl school with all the sleazy shenanigans that the title’s become infamous for. It’s already pretty provocative in terms of visuals and how it pushes the envelope on its fan-service element. Something the dub team were keen to embrace with all of the dialogue reflecting this tone.

Yet Tyson Rinehart was raked over the coals for what was suppose to be an edgy joke for the sake of it, not unlike a lot of Prison School’s humor. Bare in mind that it within was one scene in the seventh episode out of a twelve episode Anime. We don’t get any other references to Gamergate like Anita Sarkeesian or the like in any other scene of any other episode. It’s just... this.

Yet even now when the line was redubbed to remove the reference for the home release, you’d think that this one line is all the dub is. That it’s akin to Shin Chan or Ghost Stories where the dub team wrote their own story and made jokes out of every kind of current event controversy because that’s what gets the lulz. Yet, again, it was just one scene in one episodes out of the twelve.

Of course, the cycle seemed to begin again with Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid which had a more... small scale kerfuffle in regards to the titlular human character claiming that, “I’m not into women or dragons.” Ironically, Jamie Marchi claimed she wrote that line since something like, “But I’m a woman,” came across as homophobic to her. However, I wrote my piece on all that.

What really got the wider community all up in arms was in regards to the character of Quetzalcoatl AKA Lucoa, specifically a single scene where she and Tohru exchange dialogue for less than ten seconds at most over her more conservative attire. Lucoa is pretty much THE fanservice character with breasts big enough to nearly suffocate a little boy in his sleep. Yes, that did happened.

Lucoa explains her more conservative attire as feeling uncomfortable with everybody looking at her in her other revealing outfits with the official subtitles by both Crunchyroll and FUNimation at the time. The dub would take it a step further so to speak by having her claim that she changed clothes because of “pesky patriarchal standards” getting on her nerves, something a tad different.

Well, I say, “different,” in the sense of what she’s referring to in regards to why she changed her clothes. The sub has it come out to “everybody” in a general sense like men, women and children alike while “patriarchal” is more specific in referring a societal phenomenon. However, that’s not what fans got in a tizzy over. The word, “patriarchal,” is the real focal point for this scene’s controversy.

It’s not secret that this word is thrown around most Feminist circles to the ire of geeks who “just wanna have fun” and hearing this word alone set off all the alarms. Like with Prison School, FUNimation was accused of trying to push a political agenda using Anime as Lucoa’s line was spread across the community.

By now, I’d like to be frank in how this all feels overblown. Using a word that’s common in the Social Justice lexicon can stick out but the idea that it turns the dub into political propaganda never made sense to me. I mean, it’s one thing the entire scene was rewritten to recite some kind of feminist manifesto but it only mentions the “patriarchy” and... that’s about it for this one scene alone. :/

I’d bring up “My First Girlfriend’s A Gal” but I feel like the points I made with Prison School largely apply here. However, I feel like some fans are hypocritical in how they claim that the dub’s dialogue is “inaccurate” when most enjoyed the dub for how it nearly went full Ghost Stories. Many felt that the dub was spicing up an otherwise by-the-numbers Ecch Fest that people would’ve written off. :P

Yet along came Episode 7 and the usage of the words of “SJWs millenials” among others was enough to make the dub “propaganda” in the eyes of many. Despite the fact that the script does convey the spirit of the original with the cafe manager trying to get the female cast into reading smut to nerd without their consent. What does that matter when the dub uses terms like “cuck?” :/

What about the voice acting? Doesn’t matter. Anzy referred “Gamergate.” That’s all that matters about Prison School’s English dub now and forever.

How well does the dialogue hold up on the whole? Doesn’t matter. Lucoa mentioned the “patriarchy.” That’s all that Maid Dragon’s dub amounts to.

Is it enjoyable in any way aside from said foibles? Doesn’t matter. The mention of “SJW millennials” in that one scene has now tainted the dub. Oh, the shame.

Starting to get the picture? I don’t want to be the guy who says dubs should go off doing as they please with not consideration for what the original’s narrative was trying to convey. Even if the occasional liberty can be intriguing, it’s always better for an English dub to keep the story in line with their source material. I, of course, type this for those who actually approach any dub in good faith at all. :/

The problem comes when the examples described above are weaponized by those who never had good faith in dubs and/or had it out for the likes of FUNimation to begin with. It’s not about discussion. It’s about propping up their bias of dubs being trash at best and trying to falsely villainize a company for making mistakes that ultimately amount to a handful of off-sounding dialogue.

By all means, discuss how those like FUNimation could improve on things such as where their streaming services are available region by region. Discuss how dubs like Danganronpa and Phoenix Wright recast the characters from the VAs in the games. Discuss how good or bad their script writing can be when it leans more loosely. All this fearmongering and vitriol does nothing but poison the well.

But weren’t these choices in adaptation politically motivated? Hell no? There’s a different between humor made in fairly poor taste and trying to brainwash your audience into believing, what, that women have problems? It’s not propaganda when you recognize it right away. And while Tyson Rinehart and Jamie Marchi responded rather rudely to the backlash... can you blame them with all of this?

I say this not to “kiss up” to FUNimation. Much as I admire their script adaptation process like the nerdy nerd I am, there can be times where I do feel they might’ve missed the mark. Particularly with their earlier dubs of the Dragon Ball franchise where they were borderline 4kids. However, dubs such as Fairy Tail and My Hero Academia are modern examples of how far they have come.

This mentality of holding grudges over fairly small potatoes that personally offend you gets us nowhere. I mean... isn’t it like the stereotypes SJWs are known for. A piece of media does something offensive, however big or small, and is deemed problematic forever by purity crusaders. Can’t we take a joke? It honestly gets to the point where I kind of have to quote Anzu Yokoyama here:

“Do you have a stick up your ass or are your one of those Gamergate creepshows?”

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katie-dub · 5 years ago

Text

A Special Day of Mourning

Fleabag Fic

Summary: Last time a wedding brought us together, this time it's a funeral. Still the tragic loss of Godmother in a freak accident involving a falling wall of plaster of paris penises has got to be good for something, right?

AO3

Yes, I’m back with more Fleabag x the Priest fic. Thank you as ever to the delightful @eirabach for reading this for me, when she doesn’t even go here! I love you darling.

15 Years Later

So last time you saw me, I was sending my sister off to go get the hot Finn who was crazy about her after my almost boyfriend the actual Priest delivered a terrifying homily about love at Dad’s wedding to the ever repellent Godmother. The Priest broke my heart when he chose God over me and exited pursued by a fox.

Since then I found love, tried the whole marriage thing, had a child, realised I was surprisingly good at motherhood but less so at being married and am now amicably divorced. I still touch myself thinking about that one night with the Hot Priest who was the first man I ever loved, unless of course you count Leonardo DiCaprio, which I don’t.

Claire and Klare have three terrifyingly beautiful children and she actually smiles constantly now. It was disconcerting at first, but after all this time, I think I’m used to it.

Dad’s still alive and kicking, at 88 years of age. Godmother, however, is not. She passed away in a freak accident involving a falling wall of plaster of paris penises at her sexhibition two weeks ago. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.

Before The Funeral

I walk up to Dad’s house with my Daughter in tow. She’s 11 and has already entered her awkward teenage years a whole two years early. Fucking overachiever.

That’s not to say that she isn’t the light of my life, the apple of my eye and all other appropriate cliches. It’s just that I can finally appreciate how really fucking annoying teenage girls can be. And she hasn’t even started her period yet.

We ring the doorbell and I hum “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead” very softly under my voice. If there’s a hell, I’m almost certainly heading there.

Claire answers the door. “Hello, are you ready for this sad, sad, sad day?”

“I’ve brought the champagne!” I reply, lifting the bottle I bought especially. Just to toast to our dearly departed Godmother in the manner she would have wanted, of course.

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” Claire says, eyeing me suspiciously.

“You know grief does wonders for my complexion, I can’t help it!” And if there’s an extra spring in my step at the thought of finally being free of Godmother, well you can hardly blame me.

I deliberately take a moment to compose myself. I do feel for Dad, burying his second wife has got to be monumentally shit, even if he is better off without her.

“Wait,” Claire tugs on my arm urgently, bringing me to a halt.

“Is everything OK?”

“Your Priest is in there,” Claire murmurs in an undertone, her lips barely moving.

I’m struggling to follow her meaning. “What?”

“You know, your Priest, the one you - you know?” Oh. Oh! “He’s in there with Dad, comforting him, he’s conducting the funeral. I just thought you might need some warning.”

I wonder if he’s still hot. “Is he still hot?”

“Painfully hot,” she says with a grim nod and a tone that implies catastrophe. “He’s also still a man of god, so just don’t fuck him again ok?”

“I do have some restraint! That said, he was really fucking good at it. I’m single again, why not hey?”

Claire’s jaw is tight. It’s fun to know that I can still wind her up like this at the age of nearly 50. “I mean it,” she pleads sincerely, “I know I wasn’t around much last time with Finland and everything, but I could tell how much that hurt you then and I don’t want to have to kick a Priest’s arse for hurting my little sister.”

There’s a steely glint in her eye that makes it clear she means it, and I find myself deeply touched. I swallow down a lump in my throat and shrug, an “if you say so” gesture. “Didn’t know you cared.”

She nods. “Right. Oh also, Godmother is in there.”

“Wait, Godmother? Like her body?”

“Yes, it’s a whole art thing apparently.” Claire says “art thing” like it’s an infectious disease. “Transparent coffin. It’s horrendous.”

We walk into the living room, Dad is sat on the sofa, head in his hands, the Priest is beside him, an arm around his shoulder. His neck is still beautiful.

And right where the coffee table should be, a transparent coffin, with Godmother inside, wrapped in some kind of hot pink monstrosity.

“Oh holy fuck,” I shout, stopping abruptly at the sight.

Claire somehow avoids crashing into me and steps around me muttering “I did warn you” under her voice.

I shake myself, forcing my feet to take me further into the room. I drag my eyes away from Godmother, seeking out Dad to comfort him, and I’m greeted by the sight of my Priest’s warm smile turned on me.

He has more wrinkles and his once dark hair is now salt and pepper, but age hasn’t changed one fundamental fact: he is deeply, unfairly hot. Lucky bastard.

And he looks pleased to see me, which I’ll admit does good things to my ego, I may be a divorcee fast approaching 50, but maybe I’m not completely unfuckable yet. Or maybe this is just a genuine friendly smile for a former lover. Either way, it’s a happy surprise.

“Hello,” he says, “I’m sorry to leave just as you’re getting here -” his eyes suggest that this comment is sincere “- but I need to be on my way to the church.” He grips my arm briefly as he moves past me, a small gesture of comfort that nonetheless sends a little shiver of anticipation through me. I’m surprised that even after all this time he can affect me like this. “I’m sorry for your loss, but it is lovely to see you.”

“You too,” I agree, “I’ll see you at the church.” He nods and heads out of the door.

Oh fuck, the church.

The last time I was in that church I was trying to wrestle him out of his clothes. I’ve never been back. Not inside it at least, although I may have dawdled outside it on more than one occasion. And now I have to sit through Godmother’s funeral there, all the time thinking about the way he ordered me to “kneel” in the confessional. Maybe about when he repeated that command in my house and I sucked him off.

I try to distract myself with other thoughts, but the only thing to look at is the coffin. It really is hideous, and not so much because it's a dead body, but that pink is a bit much and the embroidery on it looks suspiciously like - "is that funeral shroud really covered in fornicating skeletons?" I ask, looking to Claire in the hopes of hearing a sensible "no".

"It is," she confirms, her mouth a hard-set line of disapproval.

"Well fuck me."

The Funeral Procession

We didn’t do a funeral procession for Mum when it was her funeral. It was too over the top and showy for her. So of course Godmother insisted.

I’m packed into a car with Dad and Daughter driven by the Shepherd of the Deceased, as the man insisted on being called (I can see why Godmother liked him, but what's wrong with just calling yourself a funeral director?). Claire and her family are in the car behind us. We inch down the roads painfully slowly, surely pissing off half of London as we follow the hearse to the church.

My heart pounds at the sight of the church, a feeling that quickly gives way to confusion as we continue to drive past it. “Where the fuck are we going?”

“Language,” tuts my Daughter, and I’m tempted to stick my tongue out at her. I promise, I really am a good mum. Usually.

“No seriously, haven’t we just gone past the church?”

“Hmmm? Er, wh-what’s that dear?” asks Dad distracted and distraught and I’m beyond bewildered.

We pull up outside an entirely unfamiliar church, and it occurs to me that my Priest must have been moved to a new parish. All this time avoiding his church and he doesn’t even work there now.

I get out of the car and help Dad to do the same. I walk to the front door and that’s when I see the sign: St Jude’s Anglican Church.

Anglican?

What. The. Fuck?

The Funeral

There’s no chance for me to confront the Priest about his conversion before the service, so I sit by Dad’s side during it and stew on this startling revelation.

Anglican. He’s Anglican now, and so, apparently, no longer celibate. Not that he did all that well at the whole celibacy thing while I was around.

Does this mean he’s available? Or did he leave the Catholic Church for someone else, someone who he loved enough to really be with, someone who he is still with now?

I realise this sounds like I spent the past 15 years and all of my marriage pining for an unavailable man, when honestly, I haven’t. But it’s still something of a head fuck to discover that he is no longer forbidden fruit. The possibility of that is delicious, while also giving me doubts about what we ever had.

Like I said, a head fuck.

I can’t help but think, looking at his outfit with its minimalist design, that he must miss the robes from Catholicism. You can say what you like about their beliefs, but those Catholics have got style.

"Sometimes I worry that I'm only in it for the outfits," he'd said that night in the church, the alcohol and desire for me driving him to doubt himself. Well, he proved that wrong, didn't he?

A cameraman zooms in on my face and I find myself looking to camera, startled, before realising that I should probably focus on looking rather more distraught at Godmother’s death and rather less intrigued by the possibility of fucking the Priest again.

Trust Godmother to hire a camera crew to film her own fucking funeral.

The Wake

"I'm very interested in the conflict of my mortality, the desire to cheat death expressed in my pursuit of sexual pleasure with its promise of rebirth," Godmother narrates in her death video. "My custom-made burial shroud is a culmination of these desires, the fabric interwoven with fungal spores such that in my passing, new life springs anew."

I feel a presence beside me and assuming it's Claire, start to talk over Godmother's incessant monologue. "Is she calling death an STI? I think that's almost profound."

"Fucked if I know," a decidedly male Irish brogue replies. I turn to look at the Priest. "Sounds like a load of wank to me."

"That's Godmother in a nutshell," I agree and he laughs appreciatively.

"I'm not sure how those fungi will survive inside a sealed perspex coffin. Don't they need air?"

"Fucked if I know," I echo him with a shrug. "Still prefer funerals to weddings?"

"Generally, yes. You know I believe that we're going somewhere wonderful in the next life. This funeral has given me pause though."

"It's a bit much, isn't it?" I'm not quite sure what to say next, the thing I desperately want to say feels wildly inappropriate.

"I'm not Catholic anymore." I’m surprised by how direct he's been. "I just thought I'd put it out there. Although that now sounds like an awful chat up line, which it's not - "

"Well fuck you then," I say, trying to brush off the hurt of that decisive shutting down of my half-formed hopes.

"If you insist." There's a twinkle in his eye now. Maybe I've misread things.

"Are you propositioning me, Father?"

"You know, I think I might be."

"Mum! Mu-um!"

Of course, of fucking course, kids are the ultimate cock block. The Priest looks awkward, I probably do too. I swear he's trying to surreptitiously look at my ring finger so I use my hands in a way that probably resembles a muppet to show off how attached I'm not.

"Everything OK, darling?"

"Dad's here to take me to his place, says he's not comfortable leaving without speaking to you first." Daughter rolls her eyes. I wish I could do the same.

My ex is so considerate. What a prick.

"Sorry, Father, I have to go talk to my Ex." Had to get in that confirmation of my relationship status, just so he has all the facts. "We'll talk when I get back?"

"I'll be waiting," he says with a smile.

It takes longer than I'm totally happy with to wrap things up with my Ex. Unfortunately he's busy being concerned about my dad and asking practical questions about homework and after school clubs and I can't exactly tell him that I'm a bit busy seducing a Priest to talk.

It takes me a while to track him down when I finally escape, but I find him hiding and having a fag in the same secret corner where we once shared stolen kisses. Honestly I can't decide if it's romantic or a little pathetic that we're back here and history's potentially going to repeat itself.

Hopefully not to the same bitter conclusion.

I pull out my own fag and the Priest offers me a light. Leaning close to his hands I feel the same rush of anticipation I did back then, my heart fluttering at his presence like no time has passed at all.

"So," he starts, then breaks off.

"So," I agree with a nod. "I'm a mum - a single mum, and you're a hopefully single, no longer celibate man."

"I am."

There's a long silence that's almost deafening with its intensity.

"So what made you -" "I'm sorry I didn't -"

We both start speaking at once, stop and stare at each other for a minute then I gesture for him to speak.

"I'm sorry I didn't leave for you," he says, then looks me right in the eye. "I hope you know that it's not that I didn't love you, I just, I needed time to figure things out."

"I know. I knew that then too. So what did make you convert in the end?"

"The sex. I was really, really gagging for it," he deadpans. I snort with laughter, he waits for me to calm down before he carries on. "Honestly it did start with meeting you -”

“Me and my blasphemous tits.”

“Yeah.” He smirks at me, then looks a little sad. “I felt lost after we stopped - after I ended things.” He shakes his head and looks at me, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I was so lonely when we met and you came into my life and we just connected so deeply and I fell so hard for you.”

Oh fuck, I am not prepared for this conversation.

“No, don’t disappear, not now.” He takes my hand and waits for me to focus on him, so I try my best to fight against how overwhelmed I feel and to stay in the moment with him.

“I know that you don’t believe what I do, but I really do believe that God is love. 'Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.' That's what the Bible says. It just didn’t make sense to me that I could be so full of love and that that was a bad thing, something to be ashamed of. Isn’t love meant to be a wonderful gift from God?”

I can feel the tightness in my jaw, a prickle of tears, I seem to have forgotten how to breathe.

“As time went on the intensity of my love for you faded, but that seed of doubt was planted. Not in God, not in Him, but in the word of the Catholic church. A different denomination of Christianity would allow me to marry you, to celebrate our love, there’s nothing in the bible to say that we shouldn’t.”

These words hang heavy between us and there’s a long pause, while he takes a long drag on his cigarette and lets the smoke slowly drift out of his parted lips.

“Over time I noticed more and more of these inconsistencies and one day a teenage boy asked me for forgiveness for falling in love with his male best friend and I just couldn’t … I couldn’t understand why he needed it. I couldn’t in all good faith follow the teachings of the Catholic church and stay true to what I believe.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“You wanted to marry me? It'll take more than that to make an honest woman of me."

He chuckles. “I don’t know. If we could've dated and my feelings stayed as they were? Maybe. I wanted the option.”

"When did you leave?"

"Four years ago."

"Did you -" oh wow, it's so hard to ask this, but I need to know. "Did you ever think of telling me?"

"No."

Fuck me that hurts. I drop my cigarette to the floor, study it as I stomp down on it to make sure that the fire is out. It’s my way of deflecting from the sudden urge to cry. He gently lifts my chin with his finger, bringing my face up to look at his.

"I knew you were married. Your stepmum said."

"Was she a dick about it?"

"Of course. Still, you were unavailable. What good would telling you have done?" He's right. I was still married when he converted, it was for the best.

"I saw you once with him. Or I think it was him."

"Am I detecting a smidge of jealousy there, Father?"

"Oh fuck off.” He didn’t deny it. “A parishioner had died and I just, I really needed a friend and I thought of you. You just got me so well, you know? I went to Hillarys and you were there in the arms of this man and you looked so happy that I just couldn't ruin that for you. I shouldn't have gone. Not when I didn't know if I could trust myself around you."

"And what about now?"

"Well I'm allowed to kiss you now, I don't need to worry about trusting myself."

"That's true. So do you want to come over to my place for a friendly game of strip poker?" He laughs at me, shaking his head while smirking. "Spin the bottle?" That devilish gleam appears in his eyes. "Seven minutes in heaven - or is that considered blasphe -"

He cuts me off with his lips on mine.

It’s everything I remembered and so much more. Intense, passionate, devastating kisses that drive me to cliches straight out of a romance novel. Pushed up against that wall my heart races, my chest heaves, and, yes, my knickers get fucking wet.

It feels just like it did 15 years ago. It feels like love. And that’s insane, we had barely even started when things ended between us and I’ve lived and loved so much since then. But this thing between us? It just feels right.

My body is on fire, I’m pretty sure it’s in the good, aroused way and not because God’s smiting me for defiling a priest. He’s a tad late to the punishment, if that was His plan. But I’ll happily let this fire consume me because it feels so good. After all this time, I never want what we’re sharing to end. But the need to breathe becomes too strong and we break apart, noses nuzzling and foreheads resting together.

“Can I take you to dinner tonight?” he asks but I’m so staggered by our kisses I barely hear what he’s said.

“What?” I breathe out in between pants.

“Let me take you to dinner tonight,” he says, stroking my cheek before leaning in for another dizzying kiss.

"Oh, I don't know," I pretend to be thinking hard. "Sounds a bit tame, I did have plans with a rabbi for a good hard fuck."

He barks out a laugh. "Oh really?"

"Yeah and tomorrow's my night getting spanked by an imam."

He raises his eyebrows holding back a laugh at what I'm saying and playing along. "What about Friday?"

"Threesome with a pujari and a Buddhist monk."

"What if I upgraded my offer to dinner and if you're really good you get dessert?" He ran his tongue along his lips.

"And what if I'm really bad?"

"You'll have to get on your knees and pray for forgiveness."

It's ridiculous how easily this man can turn me on. Although I have kneeled for him before, I remember the effect.

"I could be tempted to agree," I say, affecting disinterest.

"But you'll have to dump your harem of religious leaders," he all but growls.

"Oh I don't -"

He slams his mouth into mine, pushing me back against the wall, cutting me off with a fierce kiss. He trails his lips along my jaw to my ear. "Please," he murmurs, then kisses down my neck and pushes my collar to one side to suck and lick where it meets my shoulder. That fire starts up inside me again, his mouth almost painfully good against me, driving me to the brink of madness until I'm half tempted to push his trousers down and fuck him against the wall where anyone could see.

“OK,” I pant. "I - I guess I can do that."

"Good girl," he growls into my ear, then pulls away, righting my collar as he does, to hide the bruise he's surely worked into my skin. “We should probably get back before they start looking for us.”

And he steps back from me, innocent smirk on his face.

"I'm going to make you pay for that," I say, trying to sound commanding, although I'm so breathless that the effect is lost.

"Oh please do," he says with a grin.

We head back towards the party and one important thing occurs to me. “If you’re Anglican now, why did you do Godmother’s funeral? Isn't she Catholic?”

“You may find this hard to believe, but I don’t think she was really all that interested in the religious side of being a Catholic.”

“Oh yes, she wanted one of those religion-free faiths.”

“Exactly. She may have intimated to me that she would very much like for me to conduct her funeral when her time came because her funeral should be a thing of beauty.”

I snort with laughter. “I didn’t realise it was possible to be vain from beyond the grave, but if anyone was going to find a way it was her.”

“You won’t hear me complaining - she brought me back to you.”

“She finally did right by me, she’ll be so disappointed.”

#fleabag #fleabag x the priest #fleabag fanfic #katie dub writes #I don't know guys #my brain works in strange ways #but it's a very on brand death for godmother #so I went with it

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miraculouscontent · 6 years ago

Note

You mentioned a one-sided reveal for the LadyBugOut AU. I’m both intrigued and apprehensive about how that would go. I also would like to know how Master Fu feels about all this in regards to Chat Noir/Adrien. You mentioned that he wouldn’t be very supportive of a ChatNoir blog but not much beyond that. If it would help to break up this post into two separate ones that works for me, I just really want your thoughts on my thoughts.

Well, by this point, you guys know that Chat yelling at Ladybug ended up being live-streamed.

Fu heard it, and he... wasn’t very happy about Chat’s behavior.

As Miraculous Ladybug spread over the city, Ladybug waved as the bee heroine whisked off the former akuma victim into the night.

This left only her and Chat, as the area they were in had been thoroughly cleared of people due to the akuma’s powers.

Ladybug glanced over at Chat, but he avoided her gaze. He’d been doing so ever since the “yoyo recording” (as people had been calling it) had been streamed for all of LadyBugOut’s followers.

Her followers knew it hadn’t been Ladybug’s fault. Even Miraculous Ladybug had been selective in its healing before. People were honestly happy that Ladybug’s powers were looking out for her.

But that didn’t leave Chat in a good position.

Ladybug sighed. It was fine. The lack of flirting had honestly been a relief; gave her more time to focus on the task at hand.

She could deal with it. She–

“Chat Noir.”

Ladybug stiffened, then jerked her head back. Standing only a few meters away from there was Master Fu, who was staring unwaveringly at Chat.

“Master?” Ladybug and Chat asked in unison.

They looked at each other–a first in a long while–then back to him.

Chat blinked. “Is something wrong?”

Master Fu said nothing, but he certainly wasn’t smiling. He glanced at Ladybug. “I’d like to talk to Chat Noir alone. You may go.”

Chat may not’ve seen it, but Ladybug noticed the way Fu’s eyes briefly darted over to a nearby alleyway. She got the message.

“Um–yes, Master.”

Ladybug turned, hopping off to the roof of the nearest building. She felt Chat’s eyes on her, but the feeling left as she disappeared among the rooftops.

When she was sure Chat had thought she’d gone, she dropped down into the alleyway Fu had directed his gaze towards.

“Tikki, spots off.”

Her transformation fell, Tikki taking form in front of her.

Slowly, Marinette peeked out of the alley, knowing it was safe since Chat wasn’t looking her way. Tikki followed suit.

“I don’t get it,” Chat said. “Don’t you usually visit me when I’m at home? Is there an emergency or something?”

“You could say that, yes,” Fu mused. He looked away, taking a breath, then glanced back at Chat. “Return the cat miraculous.”

“W-what?!” Instinctively, Chat covered the hand with his ring. “Why?!”

Master Fu closed his eyes, looking as though he’d expected this. When he opened them again, his gaze was stern. “Because I have clearly made a mistake in choosing a holder,” his voice lowered as he added somberly, “again…”

“B-but–” Chat shook his head, unable to process this. “–what did I do?”

Fu gestured to him. “That response is exactly the problem. You have been woefully oblivious to the feelings of your partner. You have neglected Ladybug and brought her into meaningless debates over your own feelings, whether intentionally or otherwise.”

Chat was clearly trying to remain polite around Fu, but his words fumbled out anyway. “What about Ladybug? Ever since she made her blog, it’s made me look bad!”

Fu just stared, unblinking. “That is not, nor has it ever been, Ladybug’s fault. All of this has been your actions and your actions alone. Do not blame another for what you yourself have done.

“Your life does not exist within the confines of what has been put online for everyone to see. The good that you do does not erase the bad, and whether or not the public has seen your behavior, I still cannot allow you to hold the cat miraculous any longer.”

Chat opened his mouth to protest. “I–”

It happened in an instant.

Fu reached out.

Chat jerked forward.

A bright green light engulfed Chat’s feet, slowly moving up Chat’s body. Orange and white shoes appeared where Chat’s boots once were.

Fu’s fingers closed over a ring that was slowly turning white. A black blur flew out, taking the form of a cat kwami.

From their hiding spot, Tikki whispered, “Plagg…”

Marinette could only watch, mouth dropped open as Chat’s de-transformation moved all the way up his body.

Adrien is Chat Noir.

Adrien was Chat Noir.

Fu said nothing as Adrien looked down at himself, then at Plagg, then back at Fu.

“I don’t get it,” Adrien said, a mixture of upset and offended. “I did–”

Fu held up a hand, silencing him. “I’m not finished.”

He sighed, looking regretful. “Admittedly, I gave you the ring because I wanted to give you a chance to be free. I saw what your life was like and thought that the ring would be beneficial to you.”

“It was!” Adrien interjected. “I loved being Chat Noi–”

“But, there is more to heroism than being an effective hero or even tending to the lives of civilians.

“You have to be able to communicate with your partner. You have to respect your partner’s boundaries.” Fu’s gaze hardened. “You have to be prepared to protect civilians, even if you felt you were being treated unfairly.”

Adrien straightened. “What–you mean–Syren?”

“Plagg,” Fu said, keeping his gaze locked on Adrien. “How did you feel as Adrien was about to relinquish his miraculous over a secret that was not yours to tell?”

Adrien looked up at Plagg, eyes practically begging Plagg to side with him.

Plagg didn’t. “I… I-I mean…”

“Plagg.” Fu was patient.

“…Pretty bad, yeah,” Plagg admitted.

Adrien’s face fell.

Fu continued, addressing Adrien, “I was willing to let you keep your miraculous then due to the perilous state the city was in. Ladybug trusted you wholly and completely, so I tried to do the same.

“However, it seems that Ladybug has been mistaken, or is at least too forgiving for her own good. A reckless cat is normal, but every time you have not thought ahead and been taken control of, you have left Ladybug to fight on her own.”

Adrien tried to speak up, but Fu talked over him.

“And yes, perhaps your love for Ladybug has blinded you, but ladybugs are not meant to be left alone, just as cats are not meant to be left alone. They are meant to work together, balancing each other in the act of creation and destruction. Miraculous Ladybug may heal the recent damages caused by the victims of akuma, but you chose to become distracted and allow Ladybug to take on the task of leader.

“Your downfall was seeing Chat Noir as a different person; someone that was free to do as they pleased. I gave you the cat miraculous to allow you to feel the freedom of the outside world, not to feel the freedom of having nothing affect the one underneath the mask.

“And even then, you have failed to be a hero as Adrien. I’m not aware of everything, but I know you have ignored poor behaviors and not stood up for the right people. You allow your relationships to blind you, leading you to neglect those you should be protecting.”

“Who?” Adrien asked, not even coming close to understanding. “I’m always trying to do a great job, with or without the mask!”

“Are you?” Fu challenged. “Or are you only enabling those with ill intent, in fear of inciting conflict amongst your peers? You remain passive and devoid of conflict as Adrien Agreste which only causes aggression as you transform into Chat Noir.”

Adrien’s mouth remained open, clearly in the midst of planning a response.

He had nothing. Instead, he glanced hopefully to his kwami. “Plagg?”

Fu remained patient, but his eyes were sharp. “Do not ask for sympathy from a kwami that is no longer by your side.”

Adrien recoiled at the command. He then threw his hands up, eyebrows furrowed. “Well, how was I supposed to know any of this?” he asked, clearly desperate and grasping for anything he could to save himself.

“When you were told. When you were shown,” Fu answered. “You react as things affect you or when they relate to you. When your partner is uncomfortable, you do not notice until you are told. You joke when it is a time for comfort. A hero is meant to be aware of the emotions happening around them, and you merely choose which emotions you pay attention to.”

The streetlight nearby flickered. Plagg said nothing, almost looking as if he knew this was inevitable.

Fu stored the miraculous in his pocket, then placed his hands behind his back.

For one final time, he met Adrien’s gaze. “My decision is final, Adrien Agreste. I hope you might one day realize the error of your ways.”

Fu turned, then walked the other way. “Come, Plagg.”

Plagg gave a fleeting glance back at Adrien, then followed after Fu.

Adrien stood there. Silent. Unmoving. He was like a statue.

The streetlight flickered again. Finally, Adrien looked to where Fu once was, then turned around, ready to go home.

His eyes locked with Marinette’s. She’d stepped out onto the sidewalk without thinking.

Adrien’s eyes went wide. His expression said it all: you saw that?

After an agonizingly long second, his mouth moved. “M…marinette?”

Marinette turned, immediately running in the other direction.

She didn’t look back, and Adrien didn’t chase her.

#((Strike three.))#((You're out... Adrien.))#MC's Collabs #collab: LadyBugOut AU #other: ask and answer #category: long post #word count: over 1000 #MC's Writing #writing: story

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western-writer · 5 years ago

Text

After the Fall: War Within Family

Fandom Far Cry 5/New Dawn

Warnings: mentions of abuse, drug addiction, and sex addiction, general angst, brief mention of suicide

A/N: this is long lol. Just warning you. I’m honestly really proud of this and hope anyway reading it loves this as much as I do. Like all my writing, this is my own idea and Braeden is my OC for Far Cry 5. This is unedited so there may be mistakes. Should I make a second part? Enjoy!

Summary: Braeden is riddled with guilt and remorse for her actions before the collapse. With the death of the Seeds, her friends, and coworkers on her mind, she retreats into herself for seventeen years, only to be brought out of it by Joseph himself. After finding out some alarming news, Braeden is left feeling betrayed by a person she thought you would never feel that from.

I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was going to save everyone, save the county. I was wrong. I was very, very wrong. Jacob tried to stop me, begged me to stay. That was the first and last time I had ever heard him beg.

Now I wish I had listened.

“You don’t need to do this, Braeden,” Jacob spoke softly to me. His face wore an expression I was unfamiliar with. “You have me. You have John and Faith. Isn't that enough? Joseph can only do so much without us.”

I spun around to actually look at him, instead of looking at him through the mirror. “Yes, I do, Jake. I tried to be reasonable. I tried to get him to stop of his own free will and he refused. It doesn’t matter if he can’t do much on his own. He can do enough and the county deserves to live in peace.”

I took a few steps toward him and cupped his face. He was beginning to worry me. “Please be careful...”

“I will. Go to your bunker. I made sure the Peggies cleared out so it should be safe. John and Faith are already preparing to leave in the safety of their bunkers. You should too.”

He pressed a kiss to my lips, soft and hesitant.

That was the last time I saw Jacob. I left to go face Joseph with the support of Whitehorse, Pratt, and Hudson. Joseph had taken my friends, the members of the Resistance, and it was a battle to get them back. Eventually, it was all of us against Joseph and he didn't stand a chance. As he made his final speech, crawling across the ground bloody and bruised, I checked my watch. I was supposed to meet the others in ten minutes. I was running behind schedule.

I watched as Whitehorse put Joseph under arrest and Joseph spoke a few words to me. I couldn’t really hear him over the howl of the wind and the sound of a bomb exploding in the distance.

That was the moment I knew I fucked up.

Whitehorse ushered us into the truck while Nick and the others took off in other directions.

I tried to get us to safety. I tried to get us to Dutch, but I crashed. I was knocked unconscious and when I came to the others were dead and Joseph was gone. Joseph ripped me out of the truck and I was in and out of consciousness until we reached Dutch’s bunker. There, when I came to fully, I saw that Dutch had been killed by Joseph.

Joseph became my family that day. My only family. I was sure that John, Jacob, and Faith were dead.

Joseph and I were stuck in that bunker together for over five years. Over the course of those years, I changed, Joseph changed me. He told me he forgave me for turning his family against him, but I never quite believed him. I still don't.

I haven’t said a word since right after the bombs destroyed the world, nor have I shown my face. I left myself behind when the door to that bunker sealed shut and I lost everyone I loved. After everything I did... I deserve this.

The Twins were quick to move into the valley and New Eden, Joseph’s new following, fought The Highwaymen until they extinguished the fire in Joseph’s statue that I had destroyed years ago. They lost faith in Joseph, despite still being completely loyal to him, even after he left us. They’re scared, and I don’t blame them. The Highwaymen aren’t like Eden’s Gate was all those years ago. They aren’t taking over for the greater good, or what they think is the greater good. Unlike Eden’s Gate, The Highwaymen are self-absorbed. They care about their survival and their survival only.

News of outsiders in the county traveled fast and word of some “Captain of Security” giving The Highwaymen hell circulated through the compound. Whoever she is, she reminded me of me when I caused trouble for Eden’s Gate. Sometimes I miss those days, but most days I don’t.

“I know you’ve heard of this Captain of Security,” Ethan muttered to me inside his living quarters. “She intrigues you, does she not?” He turned to look at me. I just stared at him. “My father has told me about you and him before the collapse.” I stiffened up at the mention. I never talk about that. Never. I never want anyone inside these walls to know who I used to be. I’m ashamed of it. “She’s a bit like you, isn’t she Deputy?”

The name hit my ears like nails on a chalkboard. It pulled memories out of the deep pit in my mind causing an acid taste to hit my mouth. I glared at him through my mask. If I could’ve, I would’ve yelled at him. Shouted that he doesn’t know anything, but not talking for nearly seventeen years does a number on your vocal cords. Instead, I clenched my fist and he got the message, brushing it off with a chuckle.

“I have received word that the Captian will be coming here to seek our assistance with The Highwaymen. You remember what to do when an outsider wishes to come inside these walls, correct?”

I nodded.

“Good. I doubt she will succeed, but I guess we will find out.”

Ethan walked away from me at that point. My glare followed him as he disappeared out of sight.

Not long after that, the Captain appeared at our door, but I turned her away just as I had been instructed to do. Everyone was surprised when she came back with the Book of Joseph and I had to let her in. Ethan instructed her to bring back proof that Joseph was dead. He wanted his father to be dead so badly so that he could take over for good, but that didn’t happen. Joseph was alive and well and Ethan was furious when New Eden rallied behind him once again.

After that, I began to accompany the Captain on her journey to take down the Twins. It had been a long time since I had done anything like that. It felt good to get away from New Eden and away from Ethan. It gave me a distraction. And God knows I needed it.

***

“You see that sniper up there?” Cap asks me, pointing to a tower on the other side of the Chop Shop. I nod to her. “Take it out.”

I break into action and sprint to the tower silently. I was a bit rusty when we first teamed up, but my old instincts have kicked in once again and I’m back to kicking ass just like I used to.

Maybe John was right. Maybe I am wrath.

My arrow lands in the neck of the Highwayman and he crumples to the ground, bleeding out silently. I look back to Cap and watch her takedown of the Highwaymen with a shield. She picks it up and throws it at another Highwaymen. I can hear the crack of her neck as it snaps from the force of the throw.

“You hear that Joseph Seed is back?” I hear one of the Highwaymen mention to another, blissfully unaware of their dead colleagues.

“Who hasn’t?” the other responds. “You hear about the sighting of what people are believing are the other Seeds?”

I nearly choke on air at that.

“What?”

“Yeah, people are seeing what they think are other three Seeds up north.”

“C’mon, you don’t really believe that, do ya? There’s no way they’re still alive.”

“Of course I don’t believe it. I just think those people drank a little too much ethanol.”

Being distracted, I didn’t even realize I was being snuck up on until I felt the buzz of a bullet fly past me and land in the head of a Highwaymen. I look back at Cap who motions for me to charge. She’s taken out the alarms.

I do as I’m told and jump a barricade. Within mere minutes we have taken back Fall’s End-I mean the Chop Shop.

I stand in front of what used to be the Spread Eagle, thinking about when I first met Mary May and Pastor Jerome. I had saved them from the peggies that had taken Fall’s End. Then I shared a drink with them right there in that bar.

I wonder how Jerome is doing. I know Mary May died, as did most of my friends when the bombs dropped. I haven’t seen any of the living ones since that final battle with Joseph. I refuse to enter Prosperity. I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle seeing John’s Ranch.

I remember when I took John’s ranch from the cult. John was so upset with me. He threw every insult he could at me and got even angrier when I didn’t react. I wonder if he’s ever forgiven me for taking his home away from him.

I wouldn’t forgive me for that.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Cap questions me, pulling me from my thoughts. I glance at her, then back to the ruins of the bar and shrug. “You don’t say much, do ya?” I shake my head. “Joseph told me you haven’t spoken since right after the bombs dropped. Is that true?”

I nod slightly in response.

“Why?”

I shake my head and look around what used to be Fall’s End while thinking, You wouldn’t understand.

She sighs, slinging her gun over her back. “I’m going back to Prosperity. You comin’?”

I shake my head again. She’s told me who’s there. I want to see everyone, but they wouldn’t recognize me. I’m not the Deputy anymore. I’m the Judge. I couldn’t stand to have them see me how I am now. I shell of what I once was. I couldn’t stand to see John’s ranch.

“You’re gonna have to go there eventually, Judge. What if the Twins attack it and we need your help?”

I shrug again and at this point, I can tell she’s irritated with me.

“Fine, do what you want. I’ll be at Prosperity getting a hot meal and some sleep if you need me.”

I want to tell her everything. Tell her that I was like her once. Naive in the mindset that I could save the county. But instead of saving it, I caused the apocalypse. I ruined the whole world and destroyed myself in the process. I caused the death of so many of the people I cared about. Why did I get to live?

Maybe that’s why Jacob had tried to convince me to not stop Joseph. Maybe he knew what would’ve happened if I did, but couldn’t tell me, or didn’t want to tell me for some reason.

Why didn’t I listen to him?

***

I make it back to New Eden and immediately go to my bed. My stomach grumbles, but I ignore it. My tiredness trumps my hunger as I fall asleep the moment my head hits my pillow.

I wake back up to see Joseph standing next to my bed and holding a bowl of soup.

“I noticed you did not stop to eat,” he mentions. I sit up and take the bowl from him. He sits down next to me as I move my mask up to eat. He chuckles a bit and glances at me. “You know, I never thought that you would actually stick to your vow of silence. When you stopped talking to me, I thought you were angry with me for some reason, but then when we came topside and I saw that you wouldn’t speak to anybody, I was sure it wouldn’t last more than a few weeks. But you proved me wrong.”

He places a hand on my shoulder as I eat.

“Their deaths were not your fault. None of them. Not my siblings, not your coworkers, not your friends. The collapse would’ve happened one way or another. We just sped up the process.”

I want to ask him how he’s so sure, but I can’t seem to get the words to leave my mouth.

“Do not keep punishing yourself, Braeden. It is not what Jacob would’ve wanted. It’s not what any of them would’ve wanted.” With that, Joseph walks away and I’m left in my thoughts. I haven’t been called by my real name for a long time. It felt strange to hear it, especially from Joseph, the one who rebranded me as the Judge.

It’s insane to think that that crazy son of a bitch could’ve ended up being my brother-in-law one day. Jacob and I had never talked about marriage; we never really got a chance to talk about our future together. I doubt the man would’ve wanted to be married, especially being in his late forties by the time we got together. I wouldn’t have blamed him for that. Being with him was enough for me. A piece of paper saying that we were legally bonded together would never have changed anything, and I’m sure Jacob felt the same way. Jacob wasn’t always vocal about how he felt about me, but he didn’t need to be. He showed his love by his actions and he was incredibly good at it. I understood his love language better than most people did, maybe even John and Joseph, but I also got to see a part of him they never did. I loved him. I still do. No one will ever be able to replace him.

I loved John and Faith, too. I love Joseph, despite everything he has done.

He’s right. Jacob wouldn’t want this for me, especially this long after the Collapse. None of them would’ve wanted this.

After that night, I decided to take Joseph’s advice. In private, I began working on being able to talk again. Not speaking for so many years took a hard toll on my vocal cords and for a while, I began to think that I had lost the ability. No matter how hard I tried, the words just wouldn’t come out.

It wasn’t until I stumbled upon what’s left of John’s bunker that I finally spoke. It was the only bunker accessible, the other two being stuck inside the radiation zones and making it impossible to reach, even with Eden’s Gift.

Seeing it in ruins like this makes me unreasonably emotionally. I stand at the top, staring into the flooded hole in the ground. Memories pour back. When I first met saw them in the church when we arrived in Hope County. When I seized control of his house singlehandedly. Me, never being able to stop apologizing for that. When John first found out about Jacob and me.

I still remember the look on his face when we decided that we were leaving the valley after Joseph was stopped. I could tell he was devastated. I don’t blame him, though. I promised him happiness, a life where he’s not a herald.

At least one of those things came through. He’s not a herald any more.

“I’m sorry, John...” I choke out, my voice rough and raspy. Tears fall down my face and I rip my mask off. “I... I j-just wanted you all t-to be h-h-happy and I-I-I fa-iled.”

“John? Who’s John?” I hear Cap’s voice behind me. I glance back and see her coming up the hill. “Judge, is that you?”

I wipe the tears from my face. “Ye-ah, Cap, It is.”

“You’re talking!” she exclaims.

I laugh a bit. “I am.”

“Who’s John?” I look back at the broken bunker.

“He would’ve been my brother-in-law if life had been kinder.”

As I talk, it gets easier and quicker, too.

“Ew, did you have a thing with Joseph?”

I laugh. “No, no.” I turn and face her. “Have you heard stories of the Deputy that nearly saved this county singlehandedly back before the Collapse?”

“Of course I have, Kim and Nick never shut up about her.”

“I was that Deputy, Cap.”

She looks as if she’s about to choke on air. “W-what?”

“I was the Deputy. My downfall was falling in love with the oldest Seed, Jacob. Joseph wouldn’t stop what he was doing and after he was stopped, I was going to leave the county with Jacob, Faith, and John,” I look at the bunker. “But the Collapse started before I could get to them and I believe they died that day. I was stuck in a bunker with Joseph where the guilt and mourning ate me up until I became this, the Judge. Joseph certainly didn’t help.”

“I never would’ve guessed that you were the Deputy.”

“Most people don’t and haven’t. The only ones that do are Joseph and Ethan.”

She takes a few steps toward me. “That’s why the other day at the outpost you got distracted when those Highwaymen were talking about the rumor that the other Seeds are alive.”

I nod.

“How are you so sure they aren’t alive?”

“I missed our meeting time. They would’ve been topside and away from safety when the bombs dropped.”

“But are you sure?”

“Please don’t get my hopes up, Cap. I’ve spent the last seventeen years mourning these people and feeling responsible for their deaths. Do you know something I’m unaware of?”

“Well... I wasn’t gonna say anything, but knowing what I know now...”

“Tell me!”

She sighs, crossing her arms. “I was up north a few days ago and... I saw what those Highwaymen were talking about.”

“What!?”

“I don’t know how, but I think they’re alive.”

***

My first steps into Prosperity feel strange. It feels like I’m coming home yet arriving at a completely unfamiliar place at the same time. My mask stays on as I look at what they’ve done to John’s ranch. I’d like to think that he would like it.

I walk around and find so many familiar faces that I almost feel overwhelmed by it. I don’t know how I should do this. Should I expose my identity to everyone all at once or do it one at a time?

Now that I think about it, all at once may be too overwhelming. One at a time it is.

My eyes wander over the sea of faces before they land on one that causes an indescribable feeling to shoot through my body. It’s Sharky. My crazy pyromaniac best friend. My ride or die for as long as I was the Deputy.

His back is to me when I walk over to him alone in the explosives lab, but he turns when he feels me getting close to him. He eyes me, unable to figure out what to make of me.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks. His words would sound aggressive if you didn’t know Sharky like I do. Or did. Good thing I know better than to think that he’s being an asshole.

My hand reaches up for my mask and grasps it firmly. He’s looking at me strangely and I lift it up barely enough for my mouth to show.

“Hi, Shark,” I whisper.

His expression changes quickly. “Shorty?” he whispers back. Finally, I get the nerve to take my mask off all the way and I do. He wraps me in a bear hug when he sees my face, and he tells me he’s not crying when I feel wetness hit my neck, but I know Sharky too well. When we pull away his eyes are filled with tears, just like mine. He holds my shoulders, staring at me.

“I missed you too, Shark.”

“What the hell happened to ya, Brae?”

I hold up a hand and shake my head. “That a long story for another time. Just know that I’m back.”

A huge smile spreads across his face and he pulls me into a hug again.

One by one, I go to everyone and show them who I am. Then, I get to Nick, Kim, and Carmina.

She grew up into such a beautiful woman, Carmina did.

“The Captain brought you in, right?” Kim says, sparing a glance at me as the three of them have their backs to me and are looking at a map or something. For a moment I forget my mask is back on.

“Mhm,” I answer.

“Great, well, welcome to Prosperity. I’m sure you’ll be of great help. I’m Kim, the unofficial leader of our community. This is Nick, my husband, and our daughter-”

As she was talking and slowly took my mask off. Then, I finished the sentence for her. “Carmina,” I say. “Heard that name once or twice.”

My mask drops to the ground and the three of them turn to look at me. Nick and Kim stare at me in awe for a second, seemingly unable to move before they both spring forward and wrap me in a tight hug.

“Braeden, is that really you?” Kim questions, sniffling. I nod to her.

“Braeden...?” Carmina says. “You don’t mean that this is...?”

“Yes, honey,” Nick says. “This is Braeden Creed. Your godmother.”

Without hesitation, Carmina hugs me. And when I say it was the best feeling in the world, I don’t mean it lightly.

***

“Where have you been all this time, Braeden?” Nick asks after I got into a change of clothes. Those old rags I had been wearing were beginning to be uncomfortable. They sit around a fire, eating, and I join them, being handed a plate.

“I’ve been up in New Eden,” I answer. “After the bombs, I was stuck in Dutch’s bunker with Joseph. I... I felt guilty. I blamed myself for everything. For the end of the world, for the death of my coworkers. For the death of Adelaide, Mary May, Jess, Dutch, Eli. For Jacob, John, and Faith. I was mourning the loss of the people I loved while feeling responsible for it at the same time and Joseph took advantage of that.”

“Why for the Seeds?” Grace asks me. “What made you feel like it was your fault they were dead?”

I sigh. “The day we went to stop Joseph, I was supposed to meet with them after and we were gonna leave. Leave the county. I missed our meeting time and they would’ve had to have been topside and away from safety by the time the bombs dropped.” I set my food down, suddenly not being hungry anymore. “Jacob had pleaded with me to not confront Joseph that day. Maybe he knew what would happen if I did, I dunno, but he begged me not to and Jacob never begged. He was too proud for that.”

“But, if he knew what would’ve happened, why would he have let himself die?” Carmina asks.

I shrug a bit. “Jacob was fully prepared to give up his life for Joseph’s throughout the war. And he didn’t even really know if he believed that Joseph could talk to God.”

“That’s one thing about Jacob,” Hurk cuts in. “He never needed a reason for anything.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” I respond.

The more I think about Carmina’s question, though, the more it makes sense. He wouldn’t have just let his family die. Not if he could have prevented it. Maybe Carmina’s on to something here.

Maybe the others really are alive.

***

I stare at John’s house, still in awe of how good of shape it’s in, even all these years later. The Ranch is still as beautiful as it’s ever been. Kim has taken such good care of it.

“Do you think he’d mind that we moved into his house?” I hear Carmina behind me. I turn to look at her and she hands me a cup with something in it.

“What?” I ask, my voice cracking a bit, making her laugh as I take the cup. “Sorry. Rusty vocal cords.” I crack a grin at her and she smiles back.

“Do you think John would mind that we moved into his house?”

“That’s a good question. I had never really thought about it. If I’m being honest, I think he would’ve preferred this to it ending up like a lot of the other structures around here.”

I place my cup on my leg, smiling sadly at the house.

“I remember when I took this place from the cult,” I mention to her. “Jacob and I were nothing more than two smartasses flirting with each other, and John was furious. Called me every name under the sun and more and me not reacting to it made it worse. I thought it was hilarious.” My face falls a bit. “Eventually he got it back, but he didn’t get to enjoy it much. I knew he was mad at me still and even when he said he was over it, I never quite believed him. The Resistance had destroyed a lot of his property: his plane, family photos.”

Carmina looks at me for a second before pulling something out of her pocket. “Here,” she says, handing me a photo. “I found it in the master bedroom in a safe. When you find them, you can give this to him.”

I glance down at it and find a family photo of him, Jacob, Joseph, and Faith. I smile and look back up. “Do you really think they’re alive?”

“What I think doesn’t matter,” Carmina responds. “If you know, deep down, that they’re alive, that’s all that matters. Do you think they’re alive?”

I look down at the photo and run my thumb over it. “I want to. But if they are then I spent all these years punishing myself and feeling guilty for they’re deaths. I’m scared that if they are alive, things won’t be the same.”

Carmina stares at me for a second. “You’re afraid that Jacob won’t love you anymore. That’s it, right?”

“I...” I pause, the realization hitting me. “Yeah... I am afraid of that. Terrified, actually. A lot can happen in seventeen years and I still love him with all my being. I don’t know what would happen if he didn’t love me anymore.”

“I’ve heard about how you and Jacob were. And from what I’ve heard, it seemed like he really loved you. Not just any kind of love, either, no. The kind of love that can and would survive the end of the world. If he’s out there, there’s not a doubt in my mind that he would love you the same, even after seventeen years.”

Carmina’s words of encouragement stuck me with me over the next weeks as we started our search while simultaneously fighting the Highwaymen. Even New Eden is searching, wanting to bring the beloved heralds home. For a long time we turned up empty and I was beginning to lose hope. Then another sighting would happen and the process would start over. It began to feel like I was chasing ghosts.

“Times like this is when I wish I had one of my old guns for hire or fangs for hire” I mutter as me and the Captian steak out an outpost.

She glances at me. “Who were yours?”

“Well, for my guns for hire I had Sharky, Nick, Hurk, Adelaide, which was Hurk’s mom and Sharky’s aunt, Grace, a girl named Jess, a dog named Boomer, a cougar named Peaches, and a bear named Cheeseburger.”

“Sharky was a gun for hire?”

“Well of course. He and I were best friends. Loved to fuck shit up on the cult’s expense. I remember this one time-” My recollection gets cut short when commotion starts in the outpost. We watch as cheering spreads through the outpost. One by one, we see prisoners being dragged in. I grab my makeshift binoculars so I can get a better look and that’s when I spot a familiar blonde being dragged in. The green eyes were a dead give away, if the hair wasn’t.

I smack Cap’s arm and she gets annoyed at me before seeing my expression.

“That’s Faith,” I breath. “It’s Faith.”

“Let’s go raise some hell, then.”

Faces blur together as I take them out one by one, making my way to Faith as fast as I can. It feels as if time as slowed down as bullets fly out of my gun, embedding themselves in the flesh and bone of the scumbag Highwaymen. Then my gun gets knocked out of my hands and I barely manage to dodge a swing as the bat connects with the metal behind me. I roll off to the side to put distance between me and my attacker when suddenly my gun comes sliding up to me. I look up, expecting to see Cap, but it’s not.

It’s John.

With a heavy breath and a smile, I pick up my gun and land a shot into the guy trying to kill me. After that, I jump to my feet and run over to him.

“I’ve got the key to free the prisoners they’ve already put away,” he sighs quickly. “I’ll go get them and Faith. Just keep doing what you’re good at.”

He leaves me with a hand on my shoulder and the question, “Where’s Jacob”, hangs in the air but I stop myself. For now, I need to focus on killing these bad guys.

I spin on my heel and fire off a few shots, dropping them like dead flies. The recoil of the gun feels familiar and for a second, Hope County is back to normal and I’m dropping Peggies faster than you could say Eden’s Gate. The memory waivers for a second before the scene in front of me turns back to normal and the last Highwaymen drops in a heap on the floor.

I glance to my left and see John making his way over to me, Faith in tow. Her eyes light up when she sees me and I run over, crashing into both of them and wrapping them in a tight hug.

“Please tell me that Jacob is okay.”

I pull away from there and their expressions are unchanged, giving me hope.

“He broke up away from the group when they were bringing us in and ran off,” Faith explains.

“We’re not really sure where he is, but we know he’s okay. It’s Jacob,” John adds.

Their eyes look past me and I hear heavy footsteps behind me. Turning around quickly, I see him.

I see Jacob.

Jacob.

My Jacob.

It’s almost like he doesn’t believe his eyes when he looks at me, but an emotion washes over him that I’ve never seen on him before. A look of confusion, mixed with pure joy and happiness.

I can barely contain myself and find myself crashing into his chest. Even seventeen years later, the man is well built and takes my impact without budging. My arms snake around his neck and I hold on like he might disappear if I let go, and a part of me might believe that.

“I thought you were dead, all of you,” I whisper to him. “I thought I had gotten all of you killed.”

“You can’t get rid of us that easily, sweetheart,” he says into my ear. His voice... I missed his voice so much.

I feel something wet on my face and it takes a minute to realize what they are.

Tears.

I haven’t cried in years.

“I wouldn’t want to.”

“Braeden, backup’s on its way! We need to go!” I hear Cap yell to me. I gather myself quickly and nod to her. “We’ve got a ride waiting on the road on the other side but we have to make it there in one piece!”

I let out a loud, ear busting, whistle, pulling the attention of the survivors around us. “Listen up! Highwaymen have reinforcements on the way so if you wanna live, you’ll follow us!”

The group of us run up into the tree where Cap and I were waiting and just as she said multiple trucks are waiting for us and we all pile in.

“Braeden, you’re bleeding,” Cap points out from across the bed of me.

I look down, seeing a gash in my upper right arm.

“When that person tried to take me out with the bat, the metal he hit must’ve buckled and cut me...”

“Well, I guess it’s good we helped Selene out so she can patch you up when we get back.”

“Back where?” Faith asks.

“Our base,” Cap answers.

“Yeah... John, you may not like this...”

***

The moment we’re through the door to Prosperity, Carmina’s on me, clinging to me for life.

“We heard what happened through the radio. I was so scared we lost you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“What happened to my house...?” John mutters, looking at me.

“Hey, don’t look at me. I had nothing to do with this.”

A little bit later we sit down for dinner and the three of them start interrogating me.

“So, all three of them died...?” Jacob questions me, talking about Whitehorse, Pratt, and Hudson.”

“Yeah,” I breath out. “The truck crashed when I was driving us to Dutch’s bunker and, well, when I came to, it was too late...”

“Wait, then how did you survive?” John asks.

I smile a bit and look down at my food. “Joseph. He pulled me out of the truck. Unfortunately, I was trapped in that damn bunker with him and it changed me.”

“Changed you...?” Faith says.

I stir my food around, debating on whether I should tell them or not. “For the last seventeen years, I felt guilty and responsible for the collapse, for the death of you guys, my coworkers, my friends-everything. I became a shell of what I was. Stopped talking, never showed my face.” I glance over at Jacob. “It wasn’t until Joseph came to me a few months ago and told me that none of it was my fault and to stop punishing myself...”

“Braeden... did Joseph ever tell you what he tried to do?” Jacob asks me.

I feel my stomach drop at his tone and cautiously, I question him. “No, he didn’t. Why? What did he do?”

“He tried to convince us to stay... to stay hidden in our bunkers while he fought you. Tried to convince us to not leave,” Faith answers. “We didn’t listen to him and John and I, we went to meet Jacob at his bunker so we could go meet you together, but when we went to leave, there was a small army of followers outside that kept us from leaving.”

I stare at her, trying to make sense of what she just told me.

“Joseph sent the followers, Braeden,” John continues. “He’s known this whole time that we were alive.”

Once the realization hits me, I feel the rage bubble inside me-my wrath. I slam my bowl down, spilling what was left inside of it, and jump to my feet. “That son of a bitch let me believe that you were dead for the last seventeen fucking years. Let me feel guilty and responsible for your deaths and mourn the loss of all of you at the same time. He had the audacity to look me in my face and tell me that your deaths weren’t my fault. All while knowing that you’re alive!?” I pause for a moment, looking at them for a second. “I’m gonna kick his teeth down his throat and rip his fingernails out.”

***

They tried to stop me. They really tried, but they should know better than to stop me while I’m indulging in my wrath.

I was an unstoppable force when I stormed into New Eden for the first time in months with the other Seeds in tow. New Edeners were stunned to see my face as I blew past them in search of Joseph.

Ethan tried to get in my way when I found them, which was a major mistake. I shoved his bitch ass so hard into the wall that it seemed like the wall cracked under the pressure.

Joseph’s face was priceless when he saw the others and even better when slammed his back into the wall behind me. My rage was nearly palpable as I stared at him.

“You,” I seethed.

“What did I-?”

I pull him forward and slam him into the wall again. “YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID,” I roar at him. “For all these years, all these FUCKING YEARS you let me believe that they were dead and for what? To make me into your fucking monkey!?”

Joseph falls quiet for a second. “I wanted you to feel my pain. To feel what I felt when you turned them against me. I never meant for it to get this far.”

“Yeah!? And what the fuck did you mean to happen!?”

“I wanted to tell you! I wanted to find them, but the further you fell into yourself the harder it became.”

“Yeah? And what about them? What about leaving them trapped in that bunker for years!?”

“I never intended for they’re exit to be blocked! Believe me, I tried to move the rocks time and time again, but I am only one man! It was by the Grace of God that an earthquake came through and uncovered the doorway.”

“You’re a piece of shit, Joseph. Fuck you for what you did to me and fuck you for what you did to your siblings. I didn’t turn them against you, Joseph. You did that yourself by refusing to see that truth. You’re lucky I don’t put you out of our misery right now.”

I back away, glaring at him as I do. The rage eventually subsides and all I'm left to feel it betrayed.

Who would’ve thought that I could feel betrayed by Joseph Fucking Seed?

What a joke.

#jacob seed #john seed #faith seed #joseph seed #Far Cry 5 #far cry 5 oc #new dawn #far cry new dawn #the deputy #the judge #oc: braeden creed

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