#i have actually written an only one bed thing before a bit. never polished it up- it only exists in my friends dms (one day....) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

havethetimeofyourstyles · 4 years ago

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in which you’re prince harry’s personal bodyguard.

a/n: hi angels! i’m SO EXCITED to be finally sharing this story, and i’m really proud of this piece! like it’s genuinely one of my favorites i’ve ever written and one of my babies, so i can’t wait to hear what you all think! this story is inspired by gold rush by taylor swift, and this story immediately came to me once i heard the song. so, enjoy and please reblog and leave feedback!

thank you to my best beta and friend tina @sunflowers-styles and miss zoey @serendipitystyles who screamed with me when i just started writing it, ily both!

WORD COUNT: 24.7k of prince!harry x guard!yn (it’s gonna be a rollercoaster <3)

WARNINGS: ANGST (genuinely a lot of it), smut, mentions of death and disease

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘SINKING SHIPS’ i’d love to know your thoughts!

pls rb to share! <3

.・。.・゜

‘Eyes like sinking ships

On waters so inviting

I almost jump in.’

With a slight groan, you were taken out of your slumber by the sunlight that was seeping through your curtains. The birds were chirping away quite loudly this morning—acting like there weren’t people who were sleeping at seven in the morning, but early birds get the worm, right?

You sat up, stretching your arms towards the ceiling as you let out an inhumane sound that was very ‘unladylike’ before freshening up in the restroom. After putting on your regular and daily uniform: black slacks, white crisp shirt with a black tie, and black formal shoes—you opted out on wearing a blazer since you were going to be out for most of the day—before you headed towards the kitchen that felt like miles away because the Royal House was huge.

The chefs were already up, bright and early, ready to feed the Royal family. The aroma of French toast and sautéed vegetables filled your senses, making your mouth water.

“Morning, everyone!” You greeted happily once you entered the kitchen.

“Goodmorning, Y/N!” The chefs welcomed you into their kitchen in sync. You softly smiled, walking over to the fruit basket at the edge of the marble counter, grabbing a banana and orange before walking over to the island and leaning your elbows on it as you watched the chefs cook.

You always loved watching them work on their art, it was quite mesmerizing—the way they sautéed the vegetables, tossing the contents into the air was always something you loved ever since you were young. They were always so proud and humble about their work, presenting it with a satisfied smile as satiated empty stomachs.

Suddenly, the side door opened, revealing Maria tugging on the wagon that carried basketfuls of fresh vegetables and fruits. You quickly walked towards her, grabbing the basket from the wagon to set it down on the counter. The baskets were always quite heavy, and you always made sure to help her out every morning since she wakes up at sunrise to pick out and wash the produce for the day.

“Thank you, my dear,” Maria said, smiling.

“Of course, Maria. These are beautiful.” You handpicked vegetables and fruits. “One day, I’ll wake up earlier to help you out in the morning, so you’re not all by yourself,” you suggested. Maria was like a mother to you, and you truly looked up to her ever since you started to remember things. You never really knew who your real mom was because she had passed away when you were just a year old, so you saw Maria as a motherly figure.

You remembered when you first visited the Royal House; your father, Josiah, used to be a stableman and would bring you to work with him every day, occasionally letting you ride on the horses with him if it was allowed. Josiah and Maria had a mutual liking towards one another, but neither of them had acted upon it. They had just simply acknowledged the fact they had feelings for one another. So, you were around Maria a lot, and it wasn’t forced because you genuinely took a liking towards her and she started becoming a female figure in your life that you never really had.

“Oh, you’re so sweet, but that’s not needed. I know how exhausting your day is, so get those few extra hours of sleep, okay?” She raised her brows at you, and you chuckled, nodding your head at her. “And besides, I’ve actually got some help…” she trailed off in suspense.

It was your turn to raise your brows at her. “Really? And who might that be?” A tint of pinkness hit Maria’s cheeks as she looked down, occupying herself by taking the produce out of the basket.

“Just…Nathaniel.”

“Nathaniel, really?”

“Yeah, he’s nice, yeah? Handsome. Funny. Kind,” she started to sound like she was convincing you, but you really didn’t need all that much convincing because you actually knew him.

“I know Nathaniel, but thanks for the little recap,” you joked, chuckling as Maria blushed. “So, do you like him?” You asked.

“I mean…I don’t know. Maybe,” she admitted shyly. You gave her an encouraging smile because you knew that she was only shy to confess the truth because she had been in love with your father.

“Good—that’s good. Well, if you are taking a liking towards him, don’t run away from your feelings,” you told her sternly as if you were the mother now. “You deserve to be happy and in love!”

“Suppose you’re right. I just feel…bad.”

“Don’t be. He would want you to be happy, I promise,” you reminded Maria.

You could definitely understand why she felt bad about the fact that she was interested in Nathaniel. Maria and Josiah were in love, once upon a time, but ever since your father passed away two years ago, due to his heart condition, it was difficult for Maria to move on from the love of her life. With regret wilting down on her face, she asked herself why she didn’t bother to do anything about her love for him, and she didn’t know if it was the right thing to do to be interested in someone else. However, you constantly reminded her that Josiah wanted you two to have a great life, containing a lot of love and laughter.

Looking at the wall clock above the chocolate brown cabinets, you realized that it was a bit past seven, so duties for the day were calling. You kissed Maria on the cheek, telling her that you’ll see her during lunch before bidding the rest of the staff goodbye as you headed out of the kitchen

Your clad black shoes clicked against the shiny and polished tiled floor, echoing the corridor of the Royal House as you walked towards the West Wing of the house; the staff and employees all lived on the East Wing, and it was quite a walk from one end to the other.

Knocking on the tall and heavy door, you heard absolute silence on the other side, which wasn’t abnormal. So, you knocked once more, hearing no movement before you allowed yourself inside of the bedroom of the Prince.

As you expected, he was sprawled out onto his large bed, too large for one person, with his curls covering his forehead. His mouth was slightly agape with puffs of breaths coming out as he was in deep sleep. You opened the long curtains, letting the sunshine enter his room before walking over to the side of his bed, placing the two fruits on his bedside table so he could fuel himself as he’s getting ready; you gently tapped him on the shoulder.

“Your Highness, It’s time to wake up,” you softly said. With no response, you shook his shoulder a bit harder to get him out of his deep slumber. “Your Highness, it’s past seven.”

The Prince groaned, eyes still closed as he began to writhe around the bed. You took a step back from the bed, waiting for him to wake up fully before greeting him. He buried his face into the pillow, refusing to budge, as an exhausted muffled groan came out of his mouth.

Once his eyes were fully open and he was aware of his surroundings and consciousness, he turned his head towards you, giving you a look as if to momentarily remember who you were; you gave him a smile to start off his day.

“Good Morning—agh!” You let out an unexpected squeal, cut off by the Prince’s large arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you down onto the bed with him. His lips immediately attacked your neck and face, peppering your skin with his affection. You laughed softly, trying to keep your voice down in case anyone heard you, but you couldn’t help it because it tickled. “Your Highness!” You pushed his body away from yours, and you knew he only pulled back because of the name you had called him.

He pouted, looking at you with puppy eyes. “I told you to stop calling me that, Princess,” he joked slightly.

You raised your brows, mouth slightly open as you playfully patted his chest. “And I told you to stop calling me that, Harry.”

“Then I’ll stop calling you that once you stop calling me ‘Your Highness,’” he said in a mocking tone before he raised his brows to see what you were going to respond with because he knew that you loved being called ‘Princess’ even if you were far from actually becoming one. You two would have these playful arguments on which nicknames to call one another, and ‘Princess’ and ‘Your Highness’ were both a bit of an inside joke now.

You simply just rolled your eyes. “Not fit to be a Princess.” Harry’s arms wrapped tighter around your waist as both of your heads rested against the same pillow. You loved mornings like these, and although it was unusual to be sleeping in different rooms, it had to happen under certain circumstances.

“You definitely are fit enough to be a Princess because you’ll be mine…soon…one day,” he lightened up the air, pressing a kiss to your cheek and forehead. “Perfect for me, I swear.” You smiled admiringly at the Prince, feeling incredibly grateful for him and his presence.

For five years, your love for him had only increased when you thought that your heart couldn’t get any bigger. But Harry somehow made it happen; he filled your beating organ with so much love and devotion, making you feel so overwhelmed with happiness that you felt like you could burst any minute. You’ve known Harry since you were a little girl, but you didn’t play with him much since you had to stay close to Josiah. But when you did, you two would always go riding together; it was an innocent and pure friendship, and even when you were younger, you would find yourself missing your friend, who just so happened to be the Prince of the country.

Five-year-old Y/N simply understood that he was a Prince, but you understood it just like the Disney movies. So, you and seven-year-old Harry would play Prince and Princess for fun. Every morning you would tell Josiah to dress you up in a pretty dress because your “Prince was waiting on the West Wing,” as you said.

As the years went by and you two played less of Prince and Princess, but you and Harry were still inseparable. He was your best friend—still is, and you couldn’t be more happy that you two had never drifted off into the fog that vanishes every afternoon.

With how close you were to Prince Harry, you realized you had feelings for him when you were thirteen, and it wasn’t until you were twenty when you two got together. Harry had told you that he’s liked you since he was seven, and fifteen years later, he finally had the balls to tell you. Typically for some, it wouldn’t be the most ideal relationship since your blood didn’t bleed royalty, but you’d rather have him in private rather than displaying your relationship to the entire world, especially his family.

The bubble that was his room, was your hideout. The sanctuary where you felt most comfortable because it was where he slept in, as his scent roamed around the room, making it feel like home. You loved how you immediately felt safe and calm when you opened his bedroom room door, especially when you saw him peacefully sleeping; it was your favorite thing to do.

Harry didn’t mind, either. He knew how brutal his family could be if they ever found out about your relationship with him, and no matter how much he wanted to shout his love for you from the top of his lungs to the world, they truly didn’t need that because the only people who were the most important in this relationship were you and Harry. As long as the two of you knew that you were in love with one another, that’s all that mattered.

He was there for you for most of your life, and with a clueless mind, you didn’t know where you would be without him when your father had died. Since Josiah was working for the Royal Family with your occasional help, you had thought the Queen and King were going to kick you out because you had no place or purpose staying in the Royal House. But luckily, Harry quickly proposed the idea of you being his personal bodyguard. Someone who just followed him around while making him seem less lonely because the other men that were his guards before rarely said a word to him when he was out.

The Dutch and Duchess, and especially the Queen, were a bit skeptical, but let him have his way to avoid any sort of resentment in the future. You were ecstatic and thanked him profusely for letting you stay at the Royal House, but he brushed it off, telling you that he would’ve asked a million times more until they said yes.

So, for two years now, you’d been Harry’s personal bodyguard, and you thought it was the easiest job. One, because even if you weren’t his bodyguard, you’d protect him with your life, putting yourself in front of him when chaos would come his way. Two, he made the job seem fun and it didn’t even seem like a job because you two laughed and messed around from time to time, not actually doing work. And three, who doesn’t love working with their partner?

“Is that a promise?” You tested him, seeing if he was willing to promise you that he was going to marry you. It didn’t seem possible if you were honest. Either he would have to run away from home or you two wouldn’t get married at all, and just stay together, which you wouldn’t mind either.

“That’s definitely a promise. You know me—don’t say shit just to say it,” he said, a smug smile on his face.

“Okay, well. Whenever that day comes, I’ll be waiting to become Mrs. Styles.”

“Princess Styles,” he corrected, and you breathed out a chuckle, shaking your head a tad bit as you surrendered your argument on him calling you that.

You snuggled closer to him, enjoying his presence and warmth; and for a moment, you had forgotten yours and Harry’s responsibilities for the day; you just enjoyed this small and quiet moment you two had together that only usually happened in the mornings. But you cherished them nonetheless.

Nearly drifting off to sleep, you jolted to stay awake. You looked at Harry to see him looking at you with a small but fond smile on his face, eyes gleaming ever so brightly as the sun gently cast its light through his window from above his bed.

You gave him a quick kiss to his lips and nose before getting out of his hold, earning a groan from him. You stood beside the bed, smoothing out any wrinkles that creased on your clothing.

“C’mon, we have so much to do today! Plus, we’ve already exceeded morning bedtime hours.” You grabbed his arm, tugging him towards the edge of the bed. He sighed, resisting as he pulled back.

“Don’t wanna do anything today. Just wanna lay in bed all day with my Princess.” His words came out muffled as he spoke into the pillow. Your cheeks heated up as you held his arm; you wished that you’d get the chance to spend the entire day with him, doing nothing instead of keeping a distance from him throughout the day. But alas, being with him for most of the day was still what you considered a wonderful day.

“Let’s go,” you softly insisted. You kneeled down onto the floor beside him, pecking his face all over. The left side of his face was smashed against the mattress, but you could see the smile forming onto his face as you kissed his cheeks. “Get up, dreamy.” You used your nickname on him, and you realized that was a bad idea since you were trying to get him out of bed.

Harry suddenly perked up, smirking before he turned around to lay on his back. He pulled your arm, hauling you to lay on top of him; you giggled once you landed on him, and he connected his lips with yours, kissing you passionately and sensually. Your legs were straddling him, and you unconsciously ground against his sleep pants, feeling his bulge grow harder and bigger. Harry softly moaned into your mouth, slightly bucking his hips upward towards your center.

You pulled away, about to tell him that you couldn’t do this right now, but once you saw his flushed face and swollen pink lips, not to mention his aching hard-on that was rubbing against your thigh, you decided against it.

And Harry knew you all too well to know that you were going to say something but held back. So, instead, he grimaced and wrapped his arms around your waist before trailing them down to your ass, giving it a squeeze over your pants.

“Think we got time for this?” He raised his brows teasingly at you, and you bit your lip.

Grinding your hips against him was your way of giving him your answer, your mouth met his ear as you whispered, “All the time in the world for you to fuck me.” You nibbled on his earlobe before moving your lips down to the spot under his ear, resulting in a moan slipping out of his mouth.

He flipped you two over, now his turn to hover over you. The Prince gave you a certain look that you knew all too well; it was a look of certainty like he had all the time in the world to have his way with you, and he definitely wasn’t going to shy away from it.

“Wanna feel me? Think you could handle me?” He challenged teasingly. His voice was low, raspy, and deep—much deeper now since it was morning and he’d just woken up. But the way he spoke sent a shiver down your neck, making you jerk, causing a mess in your panties.

“Know I could handle you. I’ve been handling you for years now,” you smirked. A flushed tint rose onto Harry’s cheeks; he always seemed to feel himself get giddy over the fact that you two had been together for years, and hearing it come out of your mouth made it much better.

“Let’s see about that.” He began to kiss down your neck and body as you relaxed into the pillow, completely enjoying his lips and body on you.

And just like all the other days, it was going to be a long morning. But the early birds get the worm, right?

Harry headed towards the dining room where his family was eating breakfast. They all looked up at him suspiciously, like they knew about his morning escapade with his Princess, and he was nearly gutted because they had gotten caught, but they simply just looked at him and continued eating.

“Morning everyone,” he relaxed, clearing his throat as he took his seat, unbuttoning his black suit jacket; a light pink button-down shirt clad on his tattooed torso. The servers that had been serving them for decades, Mariah and Deborah, poured him a tall glass of water and set down his mug of coffee. He thanked them, and they gave him a smile, always surprised to receive a ‘thank you’ in the Royal House. But Harry wasn’t snobby or arrogant, he had manners and was polite.

“A bit late to breakfast, Harry, and you didn’t show for morning tea,” the Queen herself had pointed out. Elaine hadn’t even made eye contact with him, she just continued eating as she sat at the head of the table.

Harry froze for a moment to look at his sister to see if she’ll help, but Gemma just raised her brows, not knowing how to back him up.

“Sorry, Nan. Couldn’t sleep last night, so I slept in a little bit,” Harry lied.

“Hmm, and where was that bodyguard of yours to wake you up? Isn’t she supposed to wake you?” She wondered, but by her tone, it was like she knew already; and Harry really hoped that wasn’t the case.

“Uh, yeah. She did, actually, and I told her to give me a moment. Guess that turned into forty-five…” he curled his lips in, containing the smirk that was begging to show through. His cheeks formed a tint, and he quickly grabbed his glass of water to cool down and to cover his flustered face.

The two of you had stayed in bed longer than anticipated, and when it was only supposed to be a quickie, Harry took his time with you the first round but decided to go two more rounds, fucking you hard until your teeth were biting the sheets and screaming into the pillow. You had to cover all of the marks that littered his neck, but the others that only you were able to see were casually resting under his clothes.

Harry shifted in his seat, remembering how your eyes looked up at him as you kissed down his body to wrap your lips around his cock. His mind was spiraling, immediately thinking filthy things your mouth and body could do to him; that was until Gemma had kicked his foot under the table that got him out of his head.

He looked at her, flicked his head at her, a way to ask ‘what was that for?’ She tilted her head towards the Queen as Elaine was still talking to Harry.

“Okay, just wanted to make sure she’s doing something right. If not, you let me know, and we’ll have her removed from the House,” she advised quite sternly.

“There’s no need for that, Nan. There hasn’t been a problem for the last two years she’s been my guard, so there certainly won’t be,” Harry explained quickly. He didn’t know if his eagerness sold his disagreement, or if it helped his case with his secret relationship with you. But he didn’t want you to leave his side, let alone, leave the House. He wanted you here, and if having you in private was the only way, where you two had to sneak around and kiss behind closed doors, then he didn’t mind that.

Elaine nodded, letting go of the subject before talking to the Dutch, Harry’s father, about some of the duties that needed to be completed today. Harry let out a sigh of relief once the Queen’s attention wasn’t on him anymore. He ate his breakfast in silence, thankful that the conversation he had with his grandmother didn’t go any further than a bit of scolding; he would say it was going to be a good day if they went a morning without Harry marching off early from breakfast.

Breakfast went on quickly after that, thankfully. Mariah and Deborah began to clean the table before setting up a few cups of coffee for his mother, father, and the Queen. Harry and Gemma excused themselves, saying they had a few things to do for the day before they quickly walked out of the kitchen.

The siblings rounded the corner and walked until they were far enough before Gemma spoke, not wanting their family to hear their conversation from the echo because of how large their home was.

“You really need to be careful, H—the both of you, I mean it. Staying in with Y/N can’t happen consistently—I feel like she’s starting to get suspicious. ” Gemma started. She had a concerned expression as the part in between her brows creased.

Harry sighed, nodding his head. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. We’ll try to be more careful. It’s just hard, y’know.”

“I understand. I get it, I really do,” Gemma sighed before chuckling as if a realization had popped into her head. “Hell, I’m doing the same thing, but I’m just better at hiding it,” she chuckled.” It was true; Gemma was in a relationship with one of the servers—Sebastian.

They’d been together for seven years, ever since she was twenty-three. She kept it a secret for three years until she decided to tell Harry, which of course, Harry was ecstatic to hear the news—only because he had just told his sister about his own relationship, which you two had only been together for a year at that time.

Gemma and Harry were supportive of one another, looking out and covering up for each other because at the end of the day, they were on the same side and in the same situation; neither of them wanted the other to get caught because there would be worse consequences coming from the Queen, and the two tried to avoid those said consequences as much as possible.

Naturally, Gemma loved you. You’d grown closer to her and seen her as a best friend, someone you could always go to and count on. The appreciation you had for her was vast, and you thanked her almost every day for how grateful you were that she was so supportive in your relationship with Harry.

“Thanks for kicking me back there, though. Didn’t need another morning where Nan flames my ass,” he scoffed, shaking his head slightly.

Gemma laughed. “Yeah, don’t know why she’s picking fights with you. She used to love you, wonder what changed,” she wondered, genuinely thinking what the cause may be.

“Don’t know what it is, but if you know, tell me because I can’t always eat my meals stressed because she’s always onto me.” Gemma giggled. “Anyways, gotta go. I’ll be at the charity event until late afternoon, and I gotta find my girl. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you. I’ll wait for you to eat dinner, so you’re not alone. Have a good day, little brother, be safe.” The Styles siblings hugged, a nice and warm embrace that showed much appreciation and respect they had for the other.

“You as well, big sister.”

Harry walked in the opposite direction as Gemma, smiling to himself as his heart felt so full. He was lucky to have a sister that was so encouraging and caring, and he always made sure to give the same love back to her because she needed it. Their parents were always a bit strict on them, but he was sure they had to have gotten that attitude from the Queen—well, at least his father. His mother, Anne, was a sweetheart. For some odd reason, she didn’t show much love to her kids because of Elaine. When they were kids, Nan would always get on Anne’s case about how she shouldn’t show them much affection or treat them like babies because they needed to learn discipline and from their own mistakes.

Walking over to the East Wing and past the kitchen, Harry headed towards the living area, where some of the staff, including you, were hanging out, waiting for the Royal Family to finish their breakfast. One of his father’s guards immediately stood up, making the rest hastily stand up to greet the Prince.

“Your Highness…” The staff greeted in sync; the men bowed as the women curtsied as Harry stood in the doorway of the living room. His eyes found yours, watching you curtsy; and on your way up, your head perked up, shyly smirking at him. Harry’s heart flipped as he puckered his lips to the side, containing his smile; you two would always laugh about these kinds of greetings, and sometimes Harry would greet you the same way because after all, were his Princess. He wasn’t one to be formal with greetings, and if it were up to him, he would tell the entire staff to stop greeting him like that, but he didn’t make the rules around here.

“Goodmorning, everyone,” he greeted back. “Hope everyone has a great day. I should get going, though. Y/N?” He looked at you and slightly raised his brows. You walked across the living room and past him, standing before him before making sure to give him a smile. He bid everyone goodbye before you two walked alongside one another.

The two of you headed towards the large front door in silence. You occasionally glanced up, but quickly averted your eyes towards the path, and Harry was also looking at you through his peripheral vision, smiling to himself as he saw how many times you glanced up at him. The silver Rolls Royce was waiting for the both of you at the end of the steps with the back door open with his driver, Benjamin, holding the door open. Harry gestured for you to get into the car first like the gentleman that he was.

“Hi, Benjamin,” you greeted the middle-aged man with a smile.

“Hello, Y/N,” he responded, tilting his hat down.

“Thank you, Benjamin,” Harry shook his hand appreciatively. Benjamin had been Harry’s driver for the past ten years. He used to be his father’s driver, but when Harry grew older and was able to go to events and out on his own, they assigned Benjamin to be Harry’s driver.

“You’re welcome, Prince Harry,” he slightly bowed before closing the door after Harry slipped into the car.

Benjamin drove to the facility where the charity event was held. The privacy compartment screen between the driver and back seat was up; the fancy car seemed more like a movie theater with so much leg space and a middle console between the seats with a blank privacy screen in front of you. It screamed expensive, and Rolls Royce was the company that helped the Royal Family get from point A to point B as their entire underground garage was filled with these types of vehicles.

You and Harry had about half an hour to chat and touch one another, so you unclicked your seatbelt, quickly moving towards his seat. He smiled, unclicked his seatbelt before letting you half-sit on his lap, your legs rested on his thighs, and he pulled the seatbelt over the both of you and clicked the metal buckle before pulling the seat belt strap behind him so it wouldn’t get in your way.

A sigh came out of both of your mouths, enjoying this moment that felt short, but was cherished. You cuddle into his side, resting your head against his shoulder as his arms were tightly wrapped around you. You could feel his heart pounding through his chest, and you enjoyed the sound, knowing it was maintaining a steady heartbeat for you.

Harry kissed your forehead, lips delicately brushing across your skin, making you flustered. You looked up at him as he smiled down at you, the two of you smiling like idiots before he took his lips in with yours.

“What’s it like to grow up always being so beautiful?” He suddenly asked, very charmingly, might you add. He couldn’t get enough of you and how stunning you looked every single day; no matter how much you disagreed with him, he always thought you were the most gorgeous person on this Earth.

You smiled, looking, and studying his face. Some strands of his hair had fallen into place against his forehead; you pushed them back, softly kissing his forehead.

“Could say the same for you. You always have a beautiful heart and a lovely face.” You grazed his jaw with your thumb, his stubble scratching against your finger.

A breathy chuckle fell from his lips. “Love you, my Princess. Dream girl, I swear.”

“And I love you, Your Highness. Love you like crazy,” you softly giggled, kissing his jaw. “How was breakfast, by the way?”

“The usual. Gemma said Nan is starting to get suspicious, so we have to be careful, can’t have too many mornings in,” he explained sadly. You slightly pouted, but quickly covered up your sad expression with a neutral face, not wanting to make him feel bad because he had no control over his grandmother.

“Okay…” you agreed, nodding your head.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said genuinely. “Know this is hard, but we’ll figure it out, alright?” His hand cupped your cheek, gently caressing your soft skin as he looked deeply into your eyes. His green eyes held an immense amount of care and love, just like his heart, and just being in his view of vision was an honor enough.

You nodded, blinking back the tears that had quickly formed. “I know we will. Don’t mind having you to myself, though,” you chuckled. The corners of his lips turned up as his dimple popped out. You took your finger and poked his dimple, something you had been doing ever since you were younger.

“I don’t mind it either, but sometimes the sneaking around sucks, doesn’t it?” His brows slightly furrowed, clear frustration expressed on his face. You took your thumb and smoothed out his stressed and wrinkled forehead, and he immediately relaxed.

“It does, but if that’s what it takes for me to be with you, then that’s how it’s gonna be.”

Harry deeply sighed, resting his head against your neck. You lifted your head up, so he had more room to perfectly fit against you as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Butterflies soared in your stomach once you felt his lips against your neck, pressing soft and gentle kisses to your skin. After all these years, his touch still made you giddy while goosebumps rose on your skin. His kisses didn’t lead to anything more as they simply spoke the words of admiration and gratitude.

“Hmm, don’t deserve you,” he mumbled against your skin.

“Yeah, you do. Deserve love and happiness more than anything, and if I’m the one to provide it to you, then that’s all I need in life.” He pulled his head back, coming face-to-face with you now as your words had really meant something. Your hand grazed his cheek, feeling his soft but yet somewhat stubbled skin.

“I love you so much. Genuinely think my heart is going to explode full with my love for you.” He took your hand that was on his face in his, giving the back of your hand a kiss before placing your palm against his heart. You felt his heart beating fast, hard, and it was all for you. “You have my heart in the palm of your hand.” His actions were literal, and you loved how he always had a way with his words. “Full of love for and from you.”

You smiled, leaning forward to kiss him as your hand was still against his chest. For the rest of the car ride, you two relished in one another’s touch; it felt nice to be with one another outside of the Royal House where you didn’t have to hide behind corners or in secret passageways.

When the car came to a smooth stop, you quickly unclicked the seat belt and got off of Harry, giving him a peck to his lips before situating yourself in your own seat. Benjamin opened Harry’s door and you let yourself out on your own side, quickly jogging around the car to stand next to Harry.

A line of Rolls Royces were parked behind the vehicle you were in previously, and five guards, including you, were surrounding Harry as you all walked inside of the banquet room. You were standing in front of Harry, between two guards, while the other two were slightly behind the Prince, making sure he was safely boxed in between you all.

Quite a few gasps were let out once people saw who had just walked in, and the volume in the room had increased. People were starting to walk towards you all, bowing and curtsying to the Prince as he said his hellos to everyone. Straight ahead, you noticed a woman running towards you, and you knew that wasn’t safe at all, considering this was a children’s charity event and you had the Prince right behind you.

“Prince Harry-” her arms reached forward and she gained a little air, jumping a tad bit, but you had immediately stopped her, making sure she did no harm to the royalty.

“Ma’am, please step back,” you stood in front of her like a brick wall, pushing her slightly as she stumbled back a bit. Her face had gone red, stepping aside; Harry softly smiled at her, waving his hand. You turned around briefly to see if Harry was okay, and a small smile appeared on his face, nodding at you to proceed.

The group of guards walked Harry to one of the tables a group of kids were sat at. Harry told the guards that he was okay and that they could stand back until he was ready to leave. The four guards, including you, separated along the wall behind the Prince.

You observed the room, noticing that there were a few photographers, clicking away at the charity event, making sure they get Prince Harry in their shot, along with volunteer workers and some parents at the event with their phones out, snapping pictures of him. You watched Harry interact with the children, helping them build legos with an enthusiastic smile on his face; he would high-five them, telling them that they did an amazing job building the ship before taking his phone out and snapping a picture of the wonderful sets the kids had built.

Your heart warmed at the sight, and you couldn’t help but think about Harry being the father of your children because he would be the best dad; he would treat them so sweetly, spoil them rotten, and support them in letting them be whoever they’d like to be. A sudden warmth hit your face as you curled your lips into your mouth, hiding your smile—you suddenly thought about being pregnant and how Harry would be so gentle with you as he touched and kissed your stomach.

With your leg shaking as you stood, you were getting jitters as you daydreamed. One of the guards noticed that you couldn’t stand still, so he slightly nudged your shoulder with his, bringing you out of your pleasant daydream. You looked up at Earl, raising your brows before he asked if you were okay. You nodded your head, standing straighter and placing your arms behind your back, interlocking your hands as you continued to watch how Harry’s smile brightened up while playing with the children.

Harry absolutely loved charity events, not because they gave him good press but because every time he had gone to one, he would forget that there were cameras around him. Being and spending time with the kids had made him so happy, and the children seemed to enjoy their time with him as well, so that’s all that mattered to him.

The charity event was being hosted by a foundation that helped kids who lacked a certain connection with their youthfulness because their parents didn’t have the money to get their kids toys or bring them to amusement parks. The foundation was a non-profit organization that simply organized donations to be used towards the children. They hosted toy drives every month, picnics every other Saturday, and sometimes Disney trips every six months if they reached their donation goal.

Harry was all for donating to them, and this foundation was one of the five organizations for children that he was a member of and was very active with them throughout. He was very passionate about helping the children out, and he wanted them to have a nice childhood, helping them outweigh the good from the bad. His natural liking towards kids in general very much helped him easily bond with them.

After a few hours, making sure every child got his attention, he was ready to leave. He didn’t leave without saying a small speech because it was expected; thanking everyone for donating and supporting this foundation, and he also thanked the kids for playing with him, which he earned many cheers from the young ones.

Once he got off stage, he made eye contact with you, telling you that he was ready, and you headed towards him, the other guards followed after you. Just like you arrived, the guards boxed Harry in safely as he bid everyone goodbye. Everyone waved as a series of farewells were scattered across the room, sad to see the Prince go. Once you all were outside the venue, Benjamin was waiting by the passenger door. From the three hours Harry had been at the event, news had spread out like wildfire that the Prince was attending the event, so there was a swarm of paparazzi waiting outside the venue.

The box of guards that were surrounding Harry closed in tighter since you had to get through the crowds. Harry, being the polite prince that he was, said hi to everyone as they reached out to hold his hand. But he rarely let anyone touch him because of an incident he had six months ago when he had reached over to shake someone’s hand, but they had taken advantage of the opportunity and harshly yanked him forward, making him stumble. Being frightened by that, he informed his guards to not let anyone touch him after that. He wasn’t being obnoxious or a typical ‘no one can touch me because I’m the Prince’ kind of guy, it was simply for his safety. You absolutely hated that someone was out to hurt him, and it pained you to see how shaken up he was that day. If the Prince had actually gotten hurt that day, there would be massive consequences for that person, but anyone would risk their lives to feel his touch.

Once you were close to Benjamin, Harry let you get into the car first, but Benjamin stopped you. With a confused look on your face, you asked if everything was okay while Harry asked if there was something wrong. Benjamin leaned down to whisper in Harry’s ear, and you furrowed your brows, suddenly becoming suspicious as you watched them. Benjamin pulled back and Harry deeply sighed, shaking his head.

“Y/N is my personal guard, though,” Harry mentioned.

“Yes, but this was a direct message from the Queen herself. I’m only delivering the message, Your Highness. I don’t want to lose my job if I don’t comply,” Benjamin explains sadly. There was clear stress on his face, saddening him that he has to go against the Prince’s orders, but he couldn’t afford to lose his job when he has a family. And besides, it’s the Queen—everyone follows her orders.

“Okay. Thank you, Benjamin,” Harry said, and Benjamin bowed.

Harry turned towards you, leaning down to whisper into your ear just as Benjamin did to him. “Nan said that I have to take one of the other guards to ride back to the House with me. Specifically said, ‘Have the other guard come back with Harry, don’t care who it is.’ She told Benjamin that she wouldn’t be happy if he’d let us ride together. Fuckin’ ridiculous.” Harry pulled back, rolling his eyes. You simply nodded, knowing you couldn’t comfort him in any way since you were still in public, so you moved out of the way and stepped aside.

Harry gave you a quick smile before turning his head to one of the guards, asking if he could join him. They quickly said yes, and safely got into the car. The rest of the guards waited until the car door was closed before walking towards the cars they arrived in. You slipped into the car, the one you didn’t arrive in, as you watched the one with your Prince inside drive away and towards the Royal House.

Sighing, you looked out the window and watched the road and houses pass by. The Queen had never really taken a liking to you—never really made the effort to talk to you. You were the closest person to Harry, physically, since you were his bodyguard, but all she had ever done was question your actions when you’d been doing your job correctly, according to the instructions and demands from Prince Harry.

But the worry and anxieties had increased because Elaine had become more suspicious than she was last year. Had she found out about your relationship with the Prince? You two had been doing well at hiding it besides this morning. And you had been good, denying Harry’s wishes to stay in up until this morning. But every day, it got more difficult hiding your love and affection towards the Prince. The word ‘no’ coming from his beautiful mouth as he would stare at you with those captivating emerald green eyes as he would plead to spend more time with him in his comfortable bed; the word completely vanished from your head.

You wished the situation was different, but for now, you only hoped that things would get better from here.

Once the car was parked in front of the large cemented steps that led up to the front door of the Royal House, Harry sighed, thanking Benjamin for driving him as well as Nico for accompanying him on the ride back. They both bowed, saying ‘you’re welcome’ before Harry let himself out and up those steps. Benjamin quickly reminded him that the Queen would like to see him when he arrived home, making Harry dread the conversation.

He walked slowly towards the front door that was opened by two of the front gate guards. Saying a quick ‘hello’ to them, he walked towards the Queen’s lair, where she always prevailed when she said she needed to have a conversation with someone.

The hallway leading to the double doors always made Harry anxious, ever since he was a little boy. He hated how dimly lit the hallway always was, and he never understood why she never wanted to put lights in this hallway. Probably to match her heart, Harry thought, but immediately took back the thought because he shouldn’t think that way about his grandmother, better yet, the Queen.

Taking a deep breath, his shaky hand knocked on the door, hearing ‘Enter’ from the Queen from inside, and Harry opened the door. His grandmother was sitting at her large desk chair that was lined like a gold antique frame and was drinking tea out of her teacup that was passed down from generations.

“Your Majesty,” Harry bowed, greeting his Nan. She placed her teacup down onto the small plate, placing her hand out to indicate him to sit down in the chair on the other side of the desk. There were no greetings, not a word out of her when he had entered, and now, she was staring at her grandson with snake eyes, ready to attack.

Harry gulped, hands fidgeting in his lap as he sat straight up so she didn’t point out any more of the things he was doing wrong.

“How was the charity event, Harry?” She suddenly asked, breaking her silence.

“Uh, good. Had a lot of fun with the children.”

“Good, good. Anyways, I should get to the point with this, hmm?” She raised her brows as she asked her question as a genuine one. Harry’s face remained neutral, slightly nodding. “I called you in here because I wanted to tell you a bit of news that I found out earlier this week…” she trailed, taking a deep breath before she revealed her news. “I found out that I’m dying. I have a tumor in my brain, and the doctors have found it too late. They gave me the option to have surgery where they would try to take it out, but that would lead to very risky complications that I can’t afford. So, I told them that I would hold out.”

Harry was shocked. His mouth was open, eyes wide, and speechless. Not knowing how to process this new information, he couldn’t believe how casual her tone was when she told him, even her face remained calm like she expected this to happen.

“I, uh…Nan…”

“I’ve been preparing for this—I’m getting older, so this was bound to happen already. I’m making sure the kingdom and our country are safe, and I’m making sure your parents are ready for the job they are about to accept.”

Harry nodded, eyes welling up. “H-How much longer do you have?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Doctors said six months to a year, but that could change anytime. We just don’t know.” Harry exhaled deeply, looking down at his lap. He felt as if his heart was heavy as he listened to her talk about her disease—how okay she was with dying. Sure, now, he and Nan don’t get along very well, but once upon a time, they were closer than ever. The Queen absolutely loved her grandson and was always so sweet and gentle with him, but things quickly changed when he turned twenty-two. The older you get, the more distant they become, he thinks. He sighed, wishing it wasn’t like that.

“I do have a wish from you…before I go.”

“Anything,” he answered immediately, and he had wished he hadn’t answered so soon because the words that came out of her mouth next was his worst nightmare.

“I would like to see you get married while I’m still alive. I’m arranging a gala this weekend and I’d like you to meet some people, you know, you can take your pick or whatnot,” she said with an emotionless face. He always disliked how much she lacked enthusiasm or emotion, and how she talked about things so casually.

Elaine picked up her pen, writing out Thank You cards that she was sending to some people in the village.

“I…what?”

“Might I need to repeat that again?” She raised her brows annoyingly, hating when she needed to repeat herself.

“I can’t do that…”

“And why not?” She asked sternly, her change of voice had surprised Harry as she slapped her pen down onto the wooden desk.

“Because…” This was it; he could easily out his relationship with you, tell her the truth, and it would be over with, but he didn’t because he knew that you weren’t ready for what was to happen after. Besides, you would have to know if he was going to tell her the truth, so Harry couldn’t go behind your back. “I don’t wanna meet someone at the gala just to get married right away. What happened to falling in love?” He questioned.

Elaine scoffed, waving her hand. “Falling in love, that’ll happen when? Never? I’m gonna be gone, Harry. You’d rather fall in love in a year’s time rather than fulfill your grandmother’s wish?” Her voice started to increase, echoing, and bouncing off the walls of her office. Harry started to shake his legs anxiously from the volume of her voice and the idea that she proposed, absolutely hating it.

The Queen had guilt-tripped him into marrying someone; she had used her disease and lifetime time limit so she could get what she wanted. Elaine knew full well he was going to obey her wishes because that’s how Harry was—he didn’t want anyone to feel bad and he certainly didn’t want it to come from him. She would ask Gemma, but she had much thicker skin than her brother, so she would turn the idea down faster than Elaine would be able to get it out. But Harry, on the other hand, was much easier to get to.

“Harry, I’m only asking for one thing. When have I ever asked you for anything major?” She crossed her arms, resting them down on the desk. “This is my dying wish. Wouldn’t you want your wish to be-”

“Okay,” he interrupted. His voice was soft as he didn’t dare to look her in the eye as he spoke.

“Great, it’s settled. Make sure to get your fittings done before the weekend. You have to look your best.” Harry didn’t have to look at her to know that she was absolutely beaming, knowing that she got what she wanted and didn't try hiding her excitement. “Please close the door on your way out.”

Harry stood up slowly as he was in disbelief. Walking out of her office and closing the door, he started to breathe heavily. Tears were in his eyes and his chest felt heavy as his hands started to shake. He picked at his fingers to calm the shakiness down, but it didn’t work. Walking down the hallway, he rushed towards his room, not even checking to see if you had arrived yet, but he couldn’t face you, not yet. He had just agreed to marry someone that wasn’t you, and you were bound to be upset—he would be suspicious if you weren’t. How was he going to break this news to you? Hell, he didn’t even know how to process this himself.

All he knew was that this was not going to end well.

Hours later, you were wandering around the house, wondering where your Prince could be. You hadn’t seen him since you left the banquet hall earlier this afternoon; and Benjamin had told you he was to meet with the Queen once he had gotten home, but as the hours went by, you hadn’t heard or seen him.

Quickly walking over to the West Wing, you headed towards his room because that was the last place you hadn’t checked. You walked by some of the guards and maids, saying a quick ‘hello’ to them as you passed by; it wasn’t odd for any of the staff to see you heading towards the Prince’s room because you had done it many times and Harry had instructed you, in front of the staff, that if you ever needed to see him, you could knock on his door.

So, that’s what you did; you knocked on his door, waiting for a word from the other side, but you heard no movement whatsoever. You had checked the entire Royal House from top to bottom, but he was nowhere to be found, so he had to be in his room. You took a look around if anyone was near and once you saw the second floor was empty, you slowly opened the bedroom door of the Prince’s room. And what you saw was as if a tornado had hit his room; a mess was what described his room perfectly as objects were thrown all across the floor, the bed was unmade, chairs and sofa were flipped upside down, and the mirror was cracked in half, leaving shards of glasses on the dresser.

You slowly walked in, afraid that someone other than Harry might be in his room, and had purposefully trashed it. There was light coming from his bathroom, so you walked towards the light, slowing your steps so your shoes wouldn’t squeak against the polished and shiny tiles.

“Harry?” You softly called out. By now, he would have come out because you were the only one allowed in his room without permission, so you were starting to get worried.

Once you were close to the restroom, you started to hear sobs echoing the bathroom, filling the room with soft and quiet heartbreaking sounds, making your heart drop because you knew those cries and you knew exactly who they came from. When you were inside the bathroom, you saw Harry sitting against the wall, arms leaning on his knees as his face was resting on his arms as Harry cried and sobbed.

Seeing the love of your life in pain and in such anguish, it genuinely felt as if your heart was tearing into pieces or if someone had ripped your heart out and stomped on it. The pain that Harry endured was also felt through your heart as well because he was your soulmate, you both felt everything the other felt.

You kneeled beside him, gently calling out for his name once more so he knew that you were right beside him before you placed your hand on his shoulder. Harry didn’t have to look up to know that it was you—your touch, your voice, and your presence before leaning to the side and into your arms, sobbing into your chest uncontrollably. You quickly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, comforting him in the best way that you knew how, and that was to simply hold him.

He liked being held and it made him feel at ease, made his mind shut out the noise. You would simply hold him for the rest of your life if your life depended on it, and if that meant keeping him calm and at peace, then you didn’t mind.

You ran your hand through the locks of his hair, scratching his scalp and pushing his hair out of his face. You kissed his forehead, giving him many pecks in a way to comfort him. Harry roughly coughed and sniffled; you could feel his heart beating radically, so you smoothed your hand down his back, somewhat rocking him in your arms. You knew he wasn’t a baby, you knew that, but if it worked with crying babies, then it must work with adults too. And besides, who didn’t like to be held while crying?

To your credit, it had worked; Harry was calming down and his heartbeat wasn’t out of control. He looked up at you through his glassy eyes, sniffling; he looked defeated, and you hated that you weren’t there when he was breaking down because it must have gone on for hours. There were visible tears that stopped against the crevice of his nose, so you took your hand and wiped his tears away before kissing his nose.

Harry sat up, sitting against the wall as he was before you came in. Propping his knees up, you moved to sit in front of him, in between his legs, so he could know that you were there for him and that he had your full attention. He grabbed your hands, sadly kissing them but in a way, saying ‘thank you’ for comforting him and making him feel better just by your hold. You rubbed his hands with your thumb, gently caressing his skin as you patiently waited for him to talk to you.

He took a very deep breath as if it physically pained him to breathe before he spoke, wishing the words that came out of his mouth were a sick joke, but it wasn’t—nothing that came out of the Queen’s mouth was a joke.

“I spoke with my grandmother earlier…” he began to tell you that she had brain cancer and that she wasn’t going to do anything about it, just live the rest of her life until she couldn’t anymore. Your face saddened as Harry explained, simply just listening to him as he spoke. You placed one of your hands around his neck, playing with the curls that sat on the back of his neck.

“Bub, I’m so sorry to hear that.” You leaned forward, kissing his cheek before giving you a hug. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, taking in your scent and comfort; he felt better for the time being—before he had to tell you the other part. A new set of tears streamed down his face, unable to hide his emotion now.

Once you pulled away, you softly wiped his face with your hand before he spoke again. “Sadly, that’s not the news that I’m crying over.”

Raising your brows, you looked at Harry with a surprised expression, wondering what got him so sad to trash his room and breakdown in the corner of the bathroom.

“Oh…W-What is it?” You hesitated.

You listened, watching his mouth as he spoke. Every ounce of hope had disappeared from your body as Harry explained the situation that he was in, that you were in. He cried, unable to be coherent as possible as his sobs won over his ability to speak a full and proper sentence. It genuinely felt like you were asleep like this was a dream, more of a nightmare. As if all of the plans and dreams you had patiently waited for was thrown out the window in a world record time of a minute, maybe less. The color from your face had completely drained, leaving you shocked, appalled, and hurt. Every word was just another twist of the knife that went straight to your heart as you wished his words would get better to relieve the strong and harsh ache in your chest, but they didn’t.

Wake up, please, wake up, you told yourself, but this was reality. It was real.

Silence had washed over you two after Harry was done explaining the horrible news. The silence was louder than glass shattering, loud and pitchy. Contrasting to the silence outside of your head that laid between you and Harry, the inside of your mind, your world, was similar to the glass, breaking and crumbling into pieces with one hard hit of the enemy.

“I-I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve said something, anything. But instead, I said yes,” Harry bawled through his words.

“Are we…over?” You asked nervously. The lack of eye contact you were giving him only pained him, but he knew how difficult it was to say that. He took your face into his hands, tenderly cradling your sad but beautiful face.

“No,” he immediately disagreed. “I mean, not if you don’t want it to be. I understand why you would, though—didn’t even fight for you. Please, let me fix this. I’ll talk to her, tell her everything. She can’t make me do this, I have a right to my own words and decisions, right?” You stayed silent. Harry understood why you were quiet as you were still taking in this information and how to process that your boyfriend was to be married in the next few months, but he really needed to hear your voice. He needed the reassurance from you because you always seemed to know the right words, but he knew you needed him more. “Princess, please look at me.” His voice was shaky, and you glanced up at him through your lashes. “I’m gonna fix this, okay? Not gonna let her walk all over me again. I love you, and it’s time for her to know that.”

You nodded briefly, not able to get the right words out. Harry didn’t mind; he took you into his arms, wrapping his strong and tattooed arms around your shaking and frightful body.

He held you tight as you both sat on the floor of his bathroom, pretending that everything was going to be okay. But in reality, neither of you knew if it really would be.

The weekend had come by too quickly for Harry’s liking. He didn’t get the chance to have a moment with the Queen because she was busy with handling errands for the gala; from talking to event coordinators, caterers, and floral arrangements, so she hadn’t gotten a moment to sit down unless it was nighttime. Harry practically felt her negligence towards him, always telling him she’d talk to him later, which left Harry feeling defeated because the more she ignored him, the quicker the days had gone by—closer to the gala.

And to his dislike, it was the morning of the gala, something he had been dreading ever since Elaine had told him she was hosting one. It felt like his world was crumbling; he noticed your demeanor change—how could it not. Things weren’t the same, and they weren’t going to be the same again until he got himself out of the unwanted arranged marriage that the Queen was putting him upon.

You didn’t mean to act differently around Harry, your boyfriend, or whatever this meant for your relationship, but it was difficult to act like your normal self. You sought comfort from Maria as she told you that this wouldn’t be the last of you two; she had a gut feeling it wouldn’t be.

You had always imagined getting married to him as you two would excitedly talk about marriage and how life would be when you were husband and wife. But Harry was soon to be meeting his wife, and you had to be in the same room as him, possibly feet away from him when he did so. Your heart ached, dropping to your stomach as you felt sick to your gut every time you thought about it.

You were wearing your usual attire but you added a black corset over your white shirt and a black blazer since the gala was a more formal event. Standing in front of the large bedroom doors, you closed your eyes for a mere second, taking a deep breath before knocking, entering right after.

Upon your eyes was Harry standing on the block square step in front of the mirror that was placed in the corner of his bedroom. His seamstress sewing the crystals that were loose on his embellished jacket that he paired with white trousers. The gold buttons on the front of his jacket were engraved with his initials, adding a touch of personalization to his attire; along with his white lace gloves, white pearl necklace, and cross pendant.

He looked absolutely marvelous, rightfully so, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him no matter how heartbroken you were.

His eyes caught yours in the mirror, widening before turning around to face the seamstress. “Jaylin, I think we’re good, yeah?” He asked, hoping she wouldn’t find any more flaws in his suit.

“Yes, we are. Have a great time at the gala, Your Highness,” she curtsied, grabbing her supplies before heading out the door. You greeted her on her way out, and you earned a smile from her.

The click of the door was heard, indicating that it was just the two of you in his room. Usually, you would take advantage of being alone with him, but again, things were different this time around.

Harry stepped off the step, slowly walking towards you. His eyes never left yours, piercing through you like fire, and you were going to melt.

“Hi, beautiful,” he greeted softly, looking you up and down. You slightly grinned, looking down at your feet.

“Hi, Your Highness.”

He placed two fingers under your chin, lifting your head up. You looked at him with doe eyes, and he couldn’t help but fall in love with you even more with just your stare.

“You look gorgeous,” he complimented. Leaning forward, he was about to place a kiss on your lips, but you felt his hesitancy as he pulled away. He hadn’t felt your touch, your lips in what seemed like years; completely deprived of your touch, but it’d only been a few days.

“Thank you. You look wonderful as always.” You grabbed the edge of his jacket, tugging on it to straighten out the material before smoothing your hand over his shoulder and down his arms. Harry sucked in a breath; that was the most you’d ever touched him in days, and he was cherishing every second of it because reality had hit him, and this could possibly be the last time you were ever going to touch him.

You sighed, pulling back as you crossed your arms behind you. Harry could tell that you had a million thoughts racing in your head and you were wary of saying them, but nothing you could say would scare him; he was already faced with his biggest nightmare.

He walked towards you, taking your hands in his. The softness of your hands juxtaposed to the slight roughness of his that carried multiple heavy rings on his slender fingers.

“Hey, I’m gonna fix this, alright? I’m telling her tonight, and I promise that I’m gonna be yours forever, no matter what happens,” he reassured, looking ever so deeply into your eyes so you would get the message. His eyes had captured yours, putting you under his spell, so you nodded and believed him. Harry sighed in relief, thankful that you trusted him. “I actually got you something.” He let go of your hands, walking over to his dresser before pulling out a square box from the drawers.

Harry was always one to give, always the giver and he loved giving without expecting anything in return. Throughout your relationship, he would always buy you random but sentimental things that he saw at the shop simply because it reminded them of you. The thought was incredibly sweet and you loved the fact that even when you weren’t around him, he was still thinking of you.

He opened the box, revealing a pearl necklace that had a gold anchor in the middle. It was a necklace that you had thought of getting to match the tattoo that was inked next to your right breast. You and Harry had gotten complimentary tattoos the second year of your relationship, and he proudly got a ship tattoo on his left arm as well as an anchor on his wrist to match with you. Harry was your anchor; he kept you upright. He was the backbone of your ship, helping you slow down whenever you needed a break.

“You were secretly eyeing this when we visited that farmer’s market a few months ago. And since I couldn’t go and get this by myself since you’re always with me, I asked Gemma if she could get it for me. Hope this was the one you were talking about,” he explained shyly as he held the box open for you.

You were speechless as your heart fluttered. “Harry…” Your fingers delicately grazed the necklace, studying and feeling his gold chain; it was the exact same one you saw at the market.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, I do—I love it.” You softly smiled up at him. “D-Do you mind putting it on me?” He immediately nodded, taking the necklace out of his case, and you turned around, slowly pulling your hair to the side.

Harry unclasped the necklace; the small skin on the back of your neck was exposed to him, so he leaned down, placing a small kiss on your skin. The action sent shivers down your spine, but you took the touch that you’d been starved of. He put the necklace on as it sat perfectly against your collarbone; and Harry wrapped his arms around your waist, taking in your delicious scent. You felt extremely warm as if you were standing in the courtyard and the sun was casting its light right down your spine, providing you warmth. You placed your arms on top of his, hugging him to yourself as he rested his face against the crook of your neck, tenderly kissing your skin.

A deep sigh of relief was released from your lips as you let loose in his hold. His arms were a place you wanted to be in forever; it was a place where you found security and comfort, and the thought of leaving, a chance to never be in his arms, had never once crossed your mind.

You turned around in his arms, facing him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, mindlessly playing with the small curls that sat so effortlessly on his neck.

“Thank you for the necklace, I truly love it,” you sincerely said, reaching up to place a small chaste kiss on his lips. Your lips against his had made Harry’s stomach flip, and he couldn’t bear to hide the smile that made you fall so hard for him.

“You’re welcome, my love.”

“Do you mind…fixing my corset? It’s a bit loose.” You offered him a smile, and he nodded. You took off your blazer before he reached behind you to untie the knot that you had tried to make look decent.

“I love you, you know that, right?” You suddenly asked as Harry pulled the strings tighter, making you take a big breath in before he started to tie them smoothly without the need to look if he’s doing it correctly; he’s tied your corset for you so many times already that it was all muscle memory.

“Yeah, I do know that,” he nodded, looking deeply into your eyes. You had practically felt Harry’s doubts and insecurities of your love deep through because of the news that he broke to you the other day. And you figured you weren’t being a good enough girlfriend to him and failing to remind him that you loved him and it wasn’t his fault for everything that’s happening. “You know I love you as well, yes?”

You raised your brows at him, nodding. “Mhm. Just wanted to see if you knew.”

He chuckled, finishing up the knot. “Yeah, I know.”

He placed his hands on your hips, and you leaned to give him a kiss to thank him as well as just to kiss him lovingly, something you two hadn’t done in days. Giving you a smile, he was going to go in for another one, but a knock was heard on the door, making you two pull away quickly.

That knock on the door only meant that the car was ready and that Harry should be heading to the gala now. That knock only meant that it was time to face his future—the future that was going to fight for, the one that he wanted and not the Queen.

That knock only indicated that it would be determined if he was to live with or without you, and there’s no way in hell he was living without you.

Elaine had definitely gone all out with this gala, Harry thought. It was held in a museum that was closed due to the Queen’s personal favors and demands.

When a guest entered the gala, they were immediately caught with the gold antique lining on every end of the wall; the high crystal chandeliers reflected off the gold and illuminated the room even further, bouncing off the shiny and polished floors. Long champagne color curtains were draped in front of each window with a historical gold statue pushed up against the window. The dome-shaped ceiling was high, painted to tell the story of the Renaissance. When a guest entered the gala, they were welcomed with elegance, grace, and exquisiteness, prepared to have a gold evening that would only end in secret affairs and tragic events.

You led Harry through the room, many guests greeting him with such poise as they tried to get his very best impression. With suits looking sharp and dresses were extra flowy, they bowed and curtsied as Harry politely said his greetings to them.

Many of the guests had been mentally and physically prepared to have a proper conversation with Prince Harry, and hopefully get a chance with him on the dance floor, if he allowed it. Everybody wondered what it would be like to walk into the building with Prince Harry on their arm, how they would flaunt and brag about how they arrived with him.

During galas and balls like these, the guards were instructed to be present, to be aware, so they didn’t need to always be close to the Royal Family. Once you got an approving nod and smile from Harry, you left him be; guests surrounded him, the men were shaking his hand as the women gave him a kiss on the cheek. He was completely soaked up in the attention, everyone praising him for the recent work that he’s done for different foundations and events that he attended recently. He’d been offered too many invites to grab a drink, or to the dance floor later in the evening, or even to their bedroom when everyone was asleep.

Politely and respectfully, he told all of them that he’d see where the night would take him, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to reject them fully because the only one he wanted to have a drink with was you. The only one he wanted to invite and take on the dance floor, dancing and spinning the night away to classical and soft music was you. The only one he wanted to go to bed with, to make love under the sheets, and wake up in the early hours of the morning to admire how you slept was you.

The Queen was sitting on her throne, crown sitting perfectly on her head as she watched Harry for over an hour, interacting with her guests. She could practically hear the conversations that the many women whispered to in his ear, inviting him for a night in their presence, but she noticed how uninterested Harry was—the look on his face said it all and how he would politely brush off their question without giving them an answer. She observed how he, quite often, looked over at you, standing against the wall, watching him as well.

You were nervously watching him, observing the way he acted around the guests, seeing if his demeanor would suddenly change since you weren’t right by his side anymore. It wasn’t as if you were jealous—you were never one to be jealous; it was your own insecurities that made you constantly worry about how Harry could just pack up and find someone else that was much better for him. Everyone always wondered what it would be like to love Prince Harry, and you were the lucky one to know what his love felt like, and you would hold onto that love for as long as you possibly could.

Elaine had made her rounds and chatted with several people who were eager to talk to her, and they were lucky enough to get a chuckle out of her. It was difficult impressing the Queen, her own family even struggled to get her approval, so it was a rare sight to see Elaine walk up to someone and initiate a conversation.

But that person wasn’t just ‘anyone,’ they were that person the Queen had specifically picked out to wed her grandson, someone who was worthy of hers and the Prince’s time. Elaine had asked the woman to follow her, which she immediately complied as Elaine walked through the room, nodding her head at everyone who greeted her, for what seemed like the hundredth time.

Harry was in conversation with one of the Dukes when his grandmother had walked up to him, the first time tonight, with someone, who he had never met before, trailing behind her.

“Harry,” The Queen made herself known.

“Your Majesty.” Harry bowed.

“I would like you to meet Venus. She’s the daughter of one of the board members for the Water and Power Organization,” Elaine introduced the dark-haired girl.

Venus curtsied. “Your Highness.” She smiled, flashing him her gorgeous smile. Venus was pretty, anyone knew that from just a glance. She wore a champagne silk dress that had crystals embedded on her waist, cinching her figure. She added white silk gloves and diamond earrings to top off the look.

“Pleasure,” Harry simply said behind a smile, masking his anxious and nervous attitude. He knew this was the moment where the Queen would tell him who Venus was and what he was to do while you were standing in the back watching the entire interaction, holding in your tears as your heart broke a little more.

“My dear, Harry,” Elaine started. Harry looked at his grandmother weirdly; she hadn’t called him that since he was younger. “Shall you accompany her to the dance floor? Get to know each other, hmm?” She suggested, brows raised.

Harry was all too polite to reject the poor girl as Venus looked at him with hopeful eyes. He simply cleared his throat and nodded, hesitantly offering her hand to the dance floor. Venus gladly took his hand, and Harry led them under the high crystal chandelier before she put her hand on his shoulder while the other still held his hand. Harry respectfully placed his hand on the small of her back--his actions unsure. Sure, he had danced with many people throughout the years, even while being with you, but this was completely different; this was the woman who he was to be wedded to, and he was sure Venus knew that as well.

“The Queen is very kind. I thought she disliked a lot of people, so I was shocked when she started up a conversation with me.” Venus made conversation to fill the void of silence between her and the Prince as they swayed to the classical music.

Harry lightly scoffed to himself. “She’s the Queen, could do anything she wants.”

“She told me the plan, and I will happily be your wife, Your Highness, an honor really.” Her voice was light and hopeful. Harry knew that she was a kind woman and anyone would jump at the chance to marry into royalty, but he couldn’t deal with this, not right now. Not when you’re standing feet away, containing your pain. Harry pulled away swiftly from Venus’ hold, leaving her confused. “Your Highness?”

“I’m sorry, I-I can’t do this,” he told her before walking away and leaving her on the dance floor.

The Queen had watched the entire interaction, anger, and disappointment present on her face as she watched Harry walk away and out of the main ballroom. You were about to follow him out once you saw him frantically walk out, but you noticed the Queen quickly trailing behind him. Holding tightly onto your thumbs to contain the shakiness, you stayed put as your mind had begun to wonder if your boyfriend was okay or not.

You understood why he seemed upset and stormed off; dancing with someone who wasn’t your partner hurt just the same as watching it right in front of you. All you wanted to do was hide away with him, in each other’s arms forever, but that wasn’t reality.

Harry’s footsteps clicked against the tiled floor, walking in pure frustration as he tugged on his hair. Tears threatened to spill out of his eyes, a groan slipped from his mouth. He heard footsteps following behind him, and he already knew who those particular steps belonged to. Turning around to face what seemed like the devil itself, he inhaled deeply, holding his breath.

“What in God’s name are you doing? You left the poor girl hanging!” Elaine scolded, eyes piercing through him.

“Nan, I can’t do this. You can’t make me do this.” His eyes and voice pleaded, begged for mercy as he was asking for a favor as her grandson, not the Prince.

“And why may that be?” She tested. Harry’s mouth opened but quickly closed, refraining himself to say anything. The words were right at the tip of his tongue and he had told you that he would tell her everything, but when it came to the moment, anxiety and nerves got in the way. But it seemed like the Queen knew exactly what he was going to say because she spoke for him, saying, “Is it because of that girl out there who happens to be your personal guard? Y/N, is it?” Her voice had a hint of sarcasm, and that’s when Harry knew.

She knows, she knows everything.

“H-How did-”

“Oh, for god sake, Harry. Do you think I’m naive? Oblivious? It’s painfully obvious--the way you two look at each other, how you walk so closely next to each other, not to mention, the mornings in. You can’t tell me that every time you sleep in, she’s nowhere to be found too? Hmm?” Crossing her arms, she knew she defeated Harry. There was no way around it and no room for lying because she knew everything.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought it was a one time thing, the first time I noticed it--that it wouldn’t last long. But I’ve watched it happen for five years, and now that I’ve had limited time on this Earth, I didn’t want to see it anymore.” She shook her head in disappointment. “So, you will marry Venus,” she instructed sternly.

“I will not,” Harry bit back, holding his ground.

“You will do as I say-”

“Your Majesty!” Harry interrupted, his lip wobbling involuntarily. For a moment, Elaine had seen the seven-year-old Prince as he gave her big puppy eyes, pushing his bottom lip out as he begged. For a moment, she was about to give in to his wishes, disagreeing to be wedded to a woman he had never met before tonight. If it were twenty years ago, she would have, but twenty-seven-year-old Harry didn’t have the same effect on her as he did two decades ago.

She loved her grandson, she did. As cruel and heartless as it was, her love for him had begun to slowly dissipate ever since he started dating you, making her a bit more harsh with him as it was a complete switch up from how she acted around him when he was younger.

“You are to be married to Venus next Saturday, and that is final,” she said in an unrelenting tone before she walked away, heading back into the main room without another look back at her heartbroken grandson.

Harry was left in the empty hallway on the verge of a full breakdown. His knees felt weak, about to give out from holding him up. Luckily, you entered the hallway, quickly walking towards Harry who looked completely stunned. The bottom of your shoes clicked loudly against the quiet hallway.

You placed your hands on the side of his face, frantically worrying. “Harry, baby? What’s wrong? What happened?”

He finally exhaled the deep and big breath that he had been holding in since his conversation with the Queen. The absence of your presence had made his breath shudder as he quite frankly couldn’t breathe properly when you weren’t around.

His legs gave out as he couldn’t properly stand, and without warning, he collapsed, but you had caught him as you quickly placed your arms under his underarms, trying your best to pull him up. But his deadweight had won, bringing you both to the floor. You caught his fall, somehow maneuvering yourself to be placed behind him, so he wouldn’t completely fall on his back. Sitting in between your legs, he turned himself in your hold, burying his head in your neck as he began to sob. Tears soaked your skin as they slid smoothly down to your shirt, dampening the piece of clothing. His hot breath hit your skin as he bawled his eyes out, holding your top tightly between his fist, wrinkling your perfectly ironed white shirt.

His wails broke your heart, and you had no clue as to what happened prior to getting this reaction out of him, but it must have been something horrible; something the Queen had said to him as you saw her walk into the ballroom just before you walked out. You only assumed it had something to do with the arranged marriage that she mentioned earlier this week.

“Baby…please, you’re scaring me,” your voice was shaky, anxious as to what the reasoning for his breakdown was. Your fingers threaded through his chestnut curls, comforting him in a way you only knew how to do.

Harry’s breath stuttered as he sniffled, catching his breath as he calmed down a bit before he spoke. “S-She knows.” Your breath had hitched in your throat, heart dropping to your stomach. The Queen knows everything, constantly replayed over in your mind like a broken record. “She knew from the very start of o-our relationship that’s why she started to become so harsh and short with me.” Your heart broke for Harry as he spoke about his grandmother, and you couldn’t help but think that you were the one that caused the Queen’s unpleasant tone with the Prince. “But I am to still be married to the woman in the ballroom. She scheduled it for next Saturday,” he added as his voice cracked towards the end.

His words were echoing in your head, and it only added fuel to your terrible nightmare. You thought you had time, time to convince Elaine that your relationship with Harry was serious and that you loved him. But you’re starting to think that Elaine didn’t care if he was happy or in love, that she was doing this completely out of spite.

“W-What are we gonna do, Y/N?” Harry needed your words—he needed your console, your reassurance that everything was going to be alright.

But this time, you didn’t have an answer.

Your footsteps were the only thing that were heard as you walked through the dark and quiet hallway, leading up to the Queen’s office. She had asked one of her guards to tell you that she requested to see you after breakfast, and your thoughts had been running ever since. This had been the first time the Queen would speak a word to you; the other times had been full of her ignoring your greetings as you curtsied politely.

You asked Harry if she knew if he knew what she was going to say to him, but he just shook his head no. Rightfully so, he’s been in quite a gloomy mood, but he’d been more clingy than ever since this was most likely your last week together. You tried not to think about how Harry was to be married to another woman at the end of the week, and that only led to crying into your pillow until the early hours of the morning; Harry’s been the same, maybe even worse.

With a shaky hand, you knocked on the door; not too hard but not too soft either. You gulped as you heard Elaine say ‘Enter’ from the other side of the door. Nervously opening the door, you were faced with the Queen sitting in her chair with her hands linked together as she rested them against her desk.

“Your Majesty.” You curtsied, anxiously looking at her for some sort of approval, but all she did was gesture for you to sit down.

Once you were sitting rather uncomfortably on the edge of the seat, she stared at you for a moment, looking at you up and down as her glare was rather deadly. You tried not to fidget or anxiously bounce your leg, but her eyes were probing into your soul, and you were afraid of how she may react if you disconnected your eyes from her.

“I assume you know why you’re here?” She started. You nodded lightly, not saying a word. “I don’t appreciate you and my grandson going behind my back to have this…affair of yours, especially for years. First, did you think nobody would find out? You’re in the Royal House, everyone reports things back to me when they see something suspicious, so don’t think you were all that sneaky. Second, Harry’s a Prince, you’re a…guard.” She said with much emphasis on your title. “Did you think it was going to work out? I mean, he’s a Prince.” She added a bit of a scoff at the end, but her tone was stern.

“My apologies for going behind your back, Your Majesty.” You hadn’t a clue on what to say to her other than to apologize because there was no reason for lying only to make the situation worse.

“Hmm. You see, Prince Harry is to be married in four days. That means you are no longer in relations with him, and since you’ve disrespected me and my family, you are no longer needed in the Royal House. You are to be packed by Saturday, and you’ll never go close to my family ever again—more importantly, the Prince. Understood?” She instructed unsympathetically.

Your breath was stuck in your throat, your stomach in knots, and your heart didn’t feel like it was beating anymore. You were absolutely crushed. The thought of not seeing Harry anymore frightened you; you didn’t want to do life without him. You needed him, and unknowing to the Queen, he needed you too.

“I asked if you understood,” she said, wanting a vocal answer to seal the deal.

Slowly, you nodded your head. “Yes, I understand, Your Majesty.”

Elaine leaned back in her chair. “Very well. You may leave now.”

You got up, making your way out of her office, closing the heavy door before you let out a wracking sob, chest heaving up and down. You quickly made your way to your room, covering your mouth to contain the volume of your cries. The fee staff that you passed by had called out for you, asking what was wrong, but you ignored their calls, heading straight to your room where you locked the door and cried into your pillow, just as you had for the past few days. Your heart broke into a million pieces for yourself and for Harry, and you didn’t know how you would ever recover.

As you were talking with the Queen. The Duchess had found Harry lingering around Elaine’s office, pacing back and forth as well as pressing his ear up against the door.

“Harry? What are you doing?” Anne asked worriedly.

“Mum, please. I need you.” Tears streamed down his face, and Anne’s heart broke as she saw her son so heartbroken. All of the rules Elaine had instructed Anne to do on how to raise her children, like completely stop showing her kids affection, had completely torn in half. And just like that, her child needed her.

Anne quickly took Harry into her arms, and Harry sobbed into her shoulder, hugging her tightly. “There, there, my darling. You’re alright.” She rubbed his back soothingly. “What’s wrong?”

Harry pulled back. “Uh, Y/N—she's in there with Nan. Mum, she knows everything.” Anne’s eyes widened. “We’ve kept it in for so long, why now?” Harry choked in between his words as his cries had heightened.

Anne looked at Harry with a defeated face. She’s always known about his relationship with you ever since the beginning. A quite fresh six months into the relationship, Anne had caught you two running around in the courtyard under the moonlight, past curfew hours. Harry suggested sneaking out because that was the only time you two had alone, so you hesitantly said yes without thinking about getting caught. Sure enough, you two did get caught by the Duchess. You relentlessly apologized to his mum, saying you won’t pass curfew hours anymore, but Anne simply just smiled, telling you two to be more careful next time because it could’ve been the Queen who had caught you.

As Harry’s mother, she understood the importance of wanting him to live his life the way he wanted to. She always encouraged that he could be whoever he wanted to be, and she would always be there to support it. She didn’t want to tell him who to love or who to marry because that decision should be completely up to him. And throughout the years, she’d seen how much love he has for you while that same love was also being reciprocated. That’s all she wanted for him—someone who would love and cherish him.

“I don’t know what to say, darling. Maybe you could talk to her?” Anne suggested, caressing Harry’s arms.

“I-I tried before, but she just brushed past me. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” Frustration was clearly going through Harry’s body as he pulled on his hair, something he does when he’s anxious and frustrated because he was somewhat in control over it.

“C’mon, let’s go into the living room.” She grabbed his arm, leading him out of the hallway, but he pulled back.

“But…”

“She’ll go to you when she needs to. The last thing you need is getting caught lingering around when I’m sure the Queen doesn’t want you two being around one another.”

Anne was right; a mother does know best. Following her wishes, he nodded, trailing behind his mother and out of the hallway, away from his poor girl who was being confronted by the Queen.

It was Friday night, and you had just zipped up the last of your luggage. Your room was empty, and it pained your heart that it was your last night at the Royal House, the last time you would ever see Harry.

You were due to be out of the Royal House by seven a.m and off Royal grounds at nine in the morning; there was a boat scheduled for everyone visiting the grounds to departure at nine, and you would be on your way to God knows where, but far away from the one person who had your heart.

Harry’s wedding was to be scheduled quite early in the morning, around eight-thirty, or so you’d heard from the staff. The entire staff had no clue of your leave, except a few of the guards that were going to escort you out of the Royal House and to the docks. The Queen had bumped into you in the hallways and specifically instructed you to not tell anyone that you were leaving because she was going to tell them that you resigned if they asked. You simply had no energy to argue, to disagree with her choice, so you nodded, not saying a word.

You sat on the edge of your bed, completely drained physically and emotionally, and the one thing on your mind was to go to sleep—sleep and Harry, your dearest Harry who you hoped was okay. You got ready for bed mindlessly as a numbness fell throughout your body. You couldn’t feel anything but pain, and the suffering you’d endured for the past week had overwhelmed your mind and body, leaving you dazed.

Your heart pounded through your ears with every movement as it started to make you feel dizzy, so you laid down on your side, facing the wall while you hugged your pillow tightly while your hand was wrapped around your gold necklace Harry had gifted you. Shutting your eyes, you forced your mind to go to sleep.

A few moments passed by, and due to your ears ringing, you didn’t hear your bedroom door open and close. But you did feel the edge of your twin bed dip down, making you open your eyes in startelement as the figure behind you engulfed you into their arms, and you immediately relaxed.

Sighing deeply, a few tears shed from your eyes, feeling relief from the pair of arms around you; you hadn’t felt his arms around you since Tuesday, the day you talked to the Queen. You also hadn’t seen him since Tuesday because after your meeting with Elaine, she had found Harry, telling him to stay away from you. Many arguments had come out of his mouth, but Elaine immediately shut him down after that, sternly telling him that he was to never speak to her that way again. Knowing that Harry would break the rule of not seeing you, Elaine ordered for you to not cross the boundary of the West and East Wing as she knew you wouldn’t break her rules.

The feeling of being this close to one another after three days was such a relief, and it almost felt wrong because of the Queen’s wishes, but you simply couldn’t care less because you were in the arms of the person you adored.

Turning around to face him, you were immediately greeted with a loving ‘I missed you so damn much’ kiss. His lips glided over yours smoothly, but rushed, desperate to feel your touch as his arms never loosened around your frame, needing your body close.

“Hi, Princess,” he said breathlessly once he pulled away.

You kissed the tip of his nose, making him blush. “Your Highness, how are you?” You asked concerningly.

“Was doing horrible without you, but right now, I’m just happy to see you, happy to be in your bed.” You softly smiled, pecking his lips.

You were also happy to have him in your bed. He’d only snuck out of his room to sleep in your bed a handful of times, but he could easily say that it’s the best bed he’s ever slept on because your scent was all over the sheets as well as your body being pressed up against his due to the lack of space you two had. You’d tease him, saying that you were baffled he would rather leave his king-size bed for your small one, but he would charm your pants off and come back with how he liked your small bed better because that meant you would be closer to him the entire night. A charmer, he is.

A silence fell over you both, simply just looking and taking one another’s presence in. You had both memorized every inch of each other’s face throughout the entirety of your friendship and relationship—every mark, mole, crease, and wrinkle was ingrained into your mind as it was your fear that you would forget how your handsome Prince looked like—but this time, it was different. You two were looking at one another, so neither of you would actually forget what the other looked liked because you wouldn’t be able to see him again.

You lowered your eyes to your neck, stopping yourself from crying, but it seemed like your tears and emotion for the best of you. A small sniffle came out of you and Harry pouted, bringing you into his chest and holding you tightly.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you said against his skin.

“C’mon…” Harry said with slight annoyance, lightly scoffing as he was in disbelief of what you were saying.

“I mean it, I’m really gonna miss you.” You pulled your head out of his chest, looking up at him.

He shook his head as tears formed in his eyes. His heart was breaking more than it already had, and it upset him how much you were letting all of this happen—accepting it, more like.

“Don’t do this.” He looked deeply into your eyes, brows furrowed; you could tell that he looked frustrated and offended, but you didn’t know what you could do to make your situation better, so you shrugged your shoulders in defeat.

“There’s nothing else for me to do, Harry. I don’t know what you want me to do. I don’t want you to resent me for not being close to your grandmother when she’s practically on her deathbed.” He pulled away from you, laying on his back as he looked up at the ceiling fan, hoping if he looked long enough, he would be hypnotized into another life—a life where it involved just the two of you. But he was still in your room and his realities were still coming true. “I don’t know what you want me to do,” you added.

“Don’t accept the fact that we’re not gonna see each other again!” He whisper-yelled, trying to keep his voice down, still not making eye contact with you. How could he ever resent you? For most of his life, you’d made him the happiest—ever since you two were kids, you would always find a reason to put a smile on his face and get out of bed in the morning.

You sighed deeply, closing your eyes. This wasn’t how you wanted your last night to go, and you could understand why he was frustrated, but you really didn’t know what he wanted you to do because there wasn’t anything you could do.

He turned his head towards you, seeing that you were closing your eyes, exhaling through your nose deeply. He turned his whole body to lay on his side, facing you before bringing his hand to your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb. You opened your eyes once you felt his cold touch, chills rose onto your skin as you looked at him through your glassy and sad eyes; a look that broke his heart.

“I��m sorry for raising my voice, my Princess. I’m just…angry and sad.” He lowered his eyes, feeling subdued.

“It’s okay, I understand. I just don’t know what to do to make this situation any better, but we have to accept that this is our ending. And it may not be ‘happily ever after’ for the two of us, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop loving you.” He nodded as he took in your words.

“Just…hold me, yeah? Until you have to l-leave.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, finding it rather difficult to accept the fact that you won’t be on the same grounds as him anymore.

You nodded, closing the inch of space, and wrapping your arms around him. As your face was pressed against his chest, Harry’s chin rested on the top of your head as you two held one another. It was a surreal but heartbreaking moment, but the two of you cherished the last several hours you had with one another.

You lifted your head up, only to be met with his chin, and you pressed a kiss along with the sharpness of his stubble jaw; Harry sighed in relief. You hooked your leg around his waist, pulling him closer than he already was, and trailed your lips to his neck, sucking and licking his soft skin. Harry groaned, involuntarily bucking his hips into yours as the feel of your lips had that much of an effect on him.

Shifting upwards so you were face-to-face, you looked in his eyes momentarily, taken back by his beauty. He was so immensely beautiful that he quite literally took your breath away. He almost didn’t seem real, so tangible, but he was definitely a sight. You’ve had a crush on him for more than a decade, and not once had it minimized into something frivolous or vanished; you hadn’t doubted your love for him and you never would. You were always going to have a crush on the Prince until the day you took your last breath when you would think about giving him one last kiss goodbye.

Connecting your lips together, you felt like you were home. The peace his lips provided made you melt with every kiss, every single time his tongue glided over yours, or when he bit your bottom lip and pulled back a bit—just being connected to Harry physically and emotionally made you feel secure, and you couldn’t ask for anything more in life because you would be too greedy.

In the midst of moving your lips in sync with his, he traced his tongue against your bottom lip, making you open your mouth, a moan leaving your lips. His tongue met yours, swirling and tasting one another as the grip you had on one another had stiffened, pulling each other closer. With your hips slightly grinding against his, the breathy moans that left his mouth, and Harry’s lips perfectly and gracefully kissing yours, the electrifying feeling was more powerful than ever. The spark ran down your back, making you want more as chills ran down the course of your body. You would always want more when it came to Harry; he had that appeal where he would leave everyone wanting for more, but luckily, you were the only one he would be giving it to.

You pulled away, completely breathless by his soft and pink lips before you whispered, “Want you, please.” Your eyes were pleading with him to do anything to your body as you just wanted to feel his touch, his body against yours.

“Sure?” He asked as he always did before you two ever had sex, and you appreciated the thought because it really showed how true of a gentleman that he was before he fucked you relentlessly into the mattress.

“Mhm. Give it to me…one last time,” you sighed, curling your lips into your mouth as your fingers pushed away the curl that fell onto his forehead.

He shook his head softly, disapproving of your choice of words. “Okay,” he responded, brushing off your statement as he gave you another kiss, unable to get enough of your sweet, cherry-flavored lips.

Soft kisses were pressed against your cheek, trailing down your neck as he gave you a love bite; you threw your head back into the pillow, allowing him more access to your neck. His hands found the hem of your baby pink silk nightgown, bunching the soft fabric up to your waist as he held your thigh up to his waist, softly grinding his pelvis into yours.

You sat up and raised your arms straight up before Harry took the chance to peel your nightgown off of your body and on the floor. You laid back down, completely naked, besides the necklace that rested perfectly on your skin, as his eyes bored into you, admiring your figure and being quite mesmerized by you as he always was. Your room was dark besides the soft glow of the moonlight that peeked through the window and casted down at your body, giving Harry a clear and beautiful vision of you.

“So beautiful, my love. Take my breath away every single time I look at you,” he said softly. You shyly smiled under his state, finding it quite intimidating for a moment.

Harry raised his arms and reached behind his head to take off his shirt, showcasing his tattoos that you’ve traced, counted, and kissed plenty of times throughout the years. His inked skin was something you loved most about him because despite being Royal blood, he still wanted to be himself—not someone people assumed he was as if they’d figured out his entire life and personality. Just Harry.

He was outright the most stunning man you’d ever laid your eyes on. You were sure there would be no one like him because there was only one Harry that you loved, only one person that you loved.

You reached your hands out for him, and Harry slowly placed his weight on you. His lips sucked and licked the swell of your breasts and nipples, giving each the same amount of attention. You grabbed his face, bringing it up to your lips as you missed them.

He molded his lips with yours for a few moments, enjoying your touch before you briskly flipped the two of you over so you were on top now.

Harry smirked, hands immediately finding their way to your waist. “My girl wants to be on top, hmm?” You nodded as you began to take his striped pajama pants off; his cock was hard, sitting against his lower abdomen. You leaned down, licking one long stripe from the base to the tip, earning a raspy moan from your Prince before kissing up his body, making sure to leave a few love bites so he had something to remember you by in the morning on his wedding day. Call it petty if his new wife would see them tomorrow on their night as newlyweds, but rightfully so, he was yours and you had his heart first.

You reached his neck, littering his skin as you sucked and licked. “Wanna feel you deep. Can you sit up, please?”

“Always so polite. Of course, I can.” He sat up against the headboard, and you pressed your body against his as his cock laid perfectly between your folds. You could practically feel your arousal dripping onto his hard-on, so you slowly started to grind against his hard length as you feverishly kissed him.

A throaty moan came out of both of you as your hands desperately held onto one another, grabbing whatever you both can to really feel each other.

“Please,” he whimpered. “Need to feel you.”

“Look who’s being so polite now, huh,” you teased, and Harry giggled. He loved being able to giggle and tease one another during the intimate times you two had together; it made things fun and less serious as you two were able to be yourselves around each other.

You sat on your knees to raise your hips before you licked your hand and grabbed a hold of his cock, giving him a few pumps before you lined him up with your entrance. Slowly sinking down on him, your walls hugged him tightly as he graciously filled you up. After five years, he still filled your walls and stretched you out as his thick and long size was something you still had to adjust to. A soft moan left both of your lips once you were fully on him, keeping yourself there for a moment.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Could stay like this for as long as possible,” he breathed out.

You softly smiled. “Give me a moment. Always gonna need to adjust to you, just so big.” You praised him for endeavors, knowing he liked being praised; and he smirked.

“All for you,” he breathed out, making you smile.

After a minute or two, you started to move up and down on him, raising your hips until only his tip was inside of you before sinking back down, taking him in fully. He always hit that special spot in this position; with just one thrust, it had you moaning his name out like there was no tomorrow.

You squeezed around him, making him throw his head back onto the headboard as he started to guide your hips that were working on grinding and bouncing onto him. Your movements began to pick up, finding a rhythm as you swiveled and grinded on his cock, feeling on edge already.

His mouth attacked your tits as his hands squeezed and slapped your ass, leaving a red mark onto your skin, but you loved it, you always did. You wrapped your arms around your neck, hugging his face to your chest as he hugged your waist, keeping you close while kissing the valley of your breasts.

His hands gripped your hips, pushing you down so you would stop your movements. You looked down in confusion as big doe eyes looked up at you. Pushing his hair back and scratching his scalp, you gave him a small smile, kissing his lips fully.

“W-What’s wrong?” You asked once you pulled back from his lips, your voice soft and tender.

“Just…wanna make this last longer.”

You nodded, agreeing. “Okay.” You didn’t continue your movements after that, just simply staying seated on him, keeping him warm as he was tucked in away with your softness and warmth of your velvety walls.

“I’ll love you forever, y’know that, right? Not gonna love another soul again,” he confessed sadly.

“I know that, and I love you more than life itself. But baby, you’re getting married—spending the rest of your life with someone. You’ve ought to love her someday.” As hard as it was for you to tell him that he could love someone else, you knew that it was inevitable for him to catch feelings, especially for his new wife.

He shook his head in disagreement. “No, no. I can’t do that, even if you’re telling me to love someone else, I physically and emotionally cannot open up my heart to someone who isn’t you.” His eyes were glassy; the moonlight still made his gorgeous green eyes sparkle.

“I know, I know.” You lovingly placed a kiss onto his forehead, lingering your lips onto his skin for a moment as his fingers trailed down your spine. “Just know that I’m gonna love you forever, too.”

“Yeah?” He asked, smiling slightly; you nodded. “Please do. Need your love,” he sniffled, a tear slowly streaming down the side of his face.

You wiped it away, leaning down to kiss his nose and lips. “Need your love too. Can you feel mine? Can you feel my love?” You asked as you began to start moving your hips.

A throaty moan left Harry’s lips as he nodded. “Yeah, I can feel it all over. Feel it everywhere—never want to not feel it.” He gripped your hips hard, squeezing the flesh as you whimpered.

Slowly bouncing on him, you started to revive your orgasm as you started to whine and mewl, desperate to get there. Your thighs were shaking and burning from being on top and grinding on him for so long, and Harry started to see that as your movements slowed down and you had to take a few breaks.

“Tired?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, I got you, baby. Let me love you.” He shifted down so he was on his back and your body was pressed up against his. “Let me take care of you.” You nodded softly, burying your face into his neck, hiding away from him as you whispered from the movement.

Harry planted his feet on the bed, bucking his hips and fucking up into you; it wasn’t fast, no, it was slow but his thrusts were hard. He was so deep that you felt the electrifying shock run down to your toes, making you curl them in. Hot breath hit his skin as you moaned out his name before he felt your lips continuously kissing, sucking, and licking his neck.

“My Princess. My dream girl. Gonna love you forever. Gonna miss you, gonna miss this.” His voice cracked, hugging you tightly to his chest as he continued to thrust up into you. “Please, let me feel you,” he pleaded for your release.

His cock was hitting your special spot as you were very close. After a few more thrusts, a few more moans, and a few more words that effortlessly slipped out of Harry’s mouth as he encouraged you to find your pleasure, you let go. Your beautiful sounds were muffled from the pillow and the way you buried your face into the crook of his neck. You were quite overwhelmed as you began to sob, a quarter of your distress was because of how powerful your orgasm was, but most of it was because of how empty you would feel when you had left the Royal Grounds tomorrow morning, and how you wouldn’t see Harry anymore.

Harry continued to fuck you, riding your high out before he spilled into you, loud and raspy moans slipped filled your ear as he moaned your name and how much he loved you.

Once he calmed down, the room was in absolute silence beside the sounds of the gut-wrenching sobs that came from you. You were incredibly sensitive and emotional as you held onto him tight, Harry still inside of you. His heart was breaking as he started to quietly cry with you, which caught your attention, so you lifted your head up to face him. Witnessing Harry crying wasn’t your favorite sight to see; it pained you to see him so upset, and you wanted to take his pain away and keep it to yourself so he would be happy.

“No matter what…” you started, stroking his cheek tenderly. “I’m gonna love you. And even though I’m not going to be physically next to you, you’re still gonna have my heart and you’ll feel how much I love you. Just…remember that, please?”

Harry nodded. “And you’ll have my heart,” he reciprocated.

“Mhm, and I’ll guard your heart for the rest of my life.”

He pecked your lips sweetly. “I know you know this, but you’re my ship. You’re the thing that brings me home safely and securely while I lay out in the sun for hours and be completely content and happy with life. And no matter what storm you, or we, encounter, you’re always able to guide us to a brighter part of the Earth. And for that, I will love you forever. Got you inked on my skin permanently and I will cherish the memories and the love you have given me for the past twenty years.”

His proclamations had you in tears, sniffling throughout his words. You knew how difficult it was for him to say those words because it meant that he was accepting his reality.

You captured his lips in with yours, sobbing and shaking against them as you cried, holding onto one another for dear life as you two only existed in each other’s arms—forgetting about the outside world. Your heart had sunk so far into your stomach, making your insides feel like they were in knots. Harry had been your safety net for so long, your source of happiness and love. But now, he was going to be added to the list of people that you had lost; the first two being your parents.

The three most important people in your life had sailed a ship far away from you and you weren’t able to see them anymore. Maybe in another lifetime, but right now, you needed them.

It was quite ironic how Harry thought you were his ship, something that kept him afloat and content when all you felt was the numbness, the pain, and the sinking of your heart, making the depth of the ocean feel so inviting.

A shake on his shoulder had woken an exhausted Harry up. Inhaling deeply before letting out a groan, he opened his eyes to be met with the day ahead of him. If it were any other day, he would be met with his love, looking at him so lovingly and sweetly as you would beg him to get out of bed, but he would pull you to get in the covers with him before spending half an hour of making giggly and sweet love in the morning.

But today wasn’t any other ordinary day…it was his wedding day, and the person waking him was Anne, sadly smiling down at him as she wore a rather beautiful lilac gown. He looked at her confusingly before taking a look around the room; he was in your room and that’s when he recalled the night prior. You two fell asleep holding onto one another, whispering lovely words into one each other’s ear, pretending that the next wasn’t happening so you two could be Y/N and Harry.

“Morning, darling. I see you’ve made your way in here last night.”

Harry sat up, looking down at his body; he was fully clothed, and he smiled to himself at how thoughtful you were to put his clothes back on. But his smile quickly disappeared when he took a clear look around the room. Your belongings were gone and the luggage that was packed wasn’t there anymore. A piece of him felt like it was ripped out of his chest, leaving him to suffer and sleep through the nightmare.

He sighed deeply, chin meeting his chest. “She’s really gone, Mum.”

Anne didn’t say anything but nod. She rubbed Harry back comfortingly as she kissed his forehead. She’s never seen her son so heartbroken before; sure, she’s had to distance herself from him, but she was always observant of Harry. She noticed that whenever he walked into every room, he had a smile on his face and that was because he was laughing at something you had said or blew him a kiss that made him flustered. So, Harry being so sad and heartbroken was a new kind of Harry that she will have to encounter because for most of his life, he was always happy, never had a complaint in his life, and that was because he had you.

“She left you this.” Anne presented a white envelope, which made his eyes widen, but he immediately took it from her hands. The front of the envelope wrote Your Highness with a heart at the end, making his heart flutter. He looked up at his mother and she smiled at him, caressing his face before planting a kiss on his cheek. “Be quick to read that. The Queen is still expecting you to be married today,” she sighed. “You have to be ready soon—the ceremony starts in an hour. Be out of this room before anyone else catches you.” Anne walked towards the door, and before she walked out, she called out for him, making Harry lift his head up. “Everything’s going to be fine. Trust me.”

With that being said, she left your empty room, leaving him with the letter in his hands and your scent that swirled around the room, making him miss your presence even more.

His hands shook as he carefully opened the envelope—you even spritzed some of your perfume that he loves so much as he brought the paper to his nose. Unfolding it, the letter was quite long—the entire page—and Harry could feel himself already getting emotional over it, but he read it anyway.

My sweetest Harry,

I am writing this in the early hours of the morning as you’re sleeping peacefully in my bed, hugging my pillow. You look so peaceful when you sleep, did you know that? Besides the occasional snoring, which I don’t mind because you know that I’m a snorer myself, you have this sense of calmness to you when you sleep. It makes me not want to wake you up in the mornings sometimes because you look like you’re at complete peace. But then I miss you too much and want your kisses so eventually, I do wake you up.

I’m going to miss that, waking you up, and having a morning to ourselves where we get to be us. But I’m also going to miss all the other times we get to spend together. In the car on our way to events, in the courtyard running around like we’re kids, midnight strolls under the moonlight, and sneaky makeout sessions when you would pull me into a random room in the Royal House.

I’m going to miss every single moment.

It pains me that I am no longer by your side and we had to part this way. I’ve never felt so heartbroken in my life before, and I thought I wouldn’t ever get to feel this type of agony because I was with you. And we promised to not hurt each other, no matter what. But I’m proud of us because we kept our promise until the very end. We never hurt each other—we always talked it out and never left one another to fight one’s own battles. We were such a great team. The best team.

You’re everything to me, Harry. My whole entire heart belongs to you, and it will always be yours as long as you hold onto it and keep it safe. Thank you for protecting my heart since we were kids. Thank you for always being there for me in a blink of an eye. You’ve truly helped me get me back on my feet when my father passed, and for that, I don’t know how to thank you enough. I felt like I'd lost the fight when he passed and I didn’t know what I was going to do, but then you reminded me that you were by my side, and for that, we won.

It has truly been an honor to know you. To be in your presence. But to be in your heart is the greatest gift that I’ve ever received because you love like no other. There will be no other that’ll compete against you. It will always be you.

My lips will remember the way you love, the way you taste. Your lips are my favorite, and I smile every single time I feel your touch because it’s quite unforgettable.

You are my heart, my sun, my lover, my best friend, my dream boy, and my forever Prince that I will love for the rest of eternity.

Thank you for loving me. Thank you for letting me into your heart, Your Highness.

Yours forever,

Y/N.

With his face slightly damped from the tears that streamed down his cheeks while his eyes were swollen and red, he cried into his hands once he finished reading your letter a third time in a row. The feeling in his chest felt like it was physically tearing him apart as it was difficult to catch his breath, gasping for air through his sobs.

All he wanted to do was to hug you, hold onto you for the rest of his life, and he would be completely satisfied with everything. But you were soon to be on a boat, sailing away from Royal Grounds, further away from him.

He looked down at the piece of paper, making sure to not wrinkle the last physical piece he had of you. You signed your name off with a heart at the end, admiring your handwriting that he never failed to compliment every time you would handwrite him a note. Bringing the paper to his lips, he kissed your name briefly, exhaling heavy breaths through his nose before pulling away and safely putting it back into the envelope.

His heart grieved for you two because neither of you deserved this consequential punishment that broke you two apart.

Standing at the altar in front of hundreds of people wasn’t something Harry imagined his wedding to be like. He pictured his guest list to be quite small, only the people he truly loved and appreciated. It definitely wouldn’t have been in a large venue that held six figures worth of art. And it wouldn’t have been Venus walking down the aisle, meeting him in a white long gown with a veil covering her face.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he felt slightly guilty. Harry knew it wasn’t his fault as to why he’s standing here, but he would have never thought he would ever be standing at the altar without you walking towards him. You two had talked about getting married and the wedding itself so many times that, naturally, it was the norm. Neither of you were scared of getting married to one another, so there was no need to worry about the other running away from the idea or the relationship.

You always talked about wanting to get married in a garden where there would be bushes of flowers surrounding the area, giving the scene a pop of color. You two agreed on only wanting about fifteen to twenty people, most of the guests would come from Harry’s family and friends, and you would invite some of the staff that you had gotten quite close to throughout your life of living in the Royal House. You would ask Maria to walk you down the aisle as you wore a light champagne dress with hints of gold embedded into the dress; you always told Harry you didn’t want to wear a traditional white wedding dress because you would be too afraid to stain it, especially if you were going to walk on the grass. Harry didn’t mind one bit as long as you were the one walking down the aisle towards him; he would be the happiest man on Earth.

But now as he watched Venus make her way towards him, this wasn’t the magical night he dreamed of ever since you two got together, and he wished this was a dream so you could wake him up as soon as possible. But you didn’t because it wasn’t a dream, and he realized that when he shook Venus’ father’s hand, giving her daughter away to marry the Prince as she was soon to become a Princess.

Harry and Venus stood in front of each other as she held his hands tightly, feeling that she needed to hold up his hands because he wasn’t holding onto her at all. Venus nervously gulped as she looked at the Prince; he wasn’t making eye contact with her nor the Priest. He was looking down at his shoes and the doors that she had entered as if he was impatiently waiting for someone to burst through those doors as he didn’t listen to a word of what the Priest had said.

“Harry, do you take thee, Venus, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, til death do you part?”

The moment was finally here as Harry blinked his tears away, knowing two words were going to change his whole entire life.

Your heart was beating fast as you struggled to hold onto your belongings with your two arms. You rolled two suitcases that sunk their wheels through every crack of the wooden and old dock as you walked; your duffel bags took every other bump, struggling to remain on your luggage, making you stop once again to place it back in its rightful spot. Towards the side of the dock was a schedule on what time the faerie was arriving for departure, and you had about twenty minutes to spare if there were no delays.

It was a quite gloomy day—unfortunate that Harry had to have this kind of weather on his wedding day, but maybe that was Mother Nature’s way of expressing her sadness with you.

You looked at your small gold watch on your left wrist—an accessory your father had given you when you turned eighteen as he told you it was your mother’s and that she used to wear it all the time. The small watch made her feel powerful, independent, and a grown woman who had grown up from the beaded bracelets she used to make when she was younger. It was a piece of your mother that you got to keep with you wherever you went, so you cherished it with your whole heart.

When it was nearing T-minus 5 minutes, you gathered your bags and headed towards the boat where every passenger crowded around. There were quite a few people and you hoped that the boat ride off the Royal Grounds was a quiet and smooth sailing ride because with the headache you’re enduring from crying and your heartbreak, you needed silence.

One of the members of the faerie stood on the edge of the boat with a megaphone raised to his lips. “Attention! People who are boarding for the nine o’clock departure heading West of the Royal Grounds. We seem to have noticed a last-minute complication with the engine, which will delay us for about another thirty minutes. We will update you all if we need to switch boats, but for now, hang tight and hang around. Visit the Royal gift shop and get yourself a crown!” He finished his announcement as everyone groaned as you chuckled at everyone’s reaction. You didn’t mind the delay because it meant that you got to stay on the same ground as Harry for a bit longer, even though you weren’t able to see him.

You headed towards a bench that overlooked the ocean and set your bags close by you as you grabbed an apple from your tote that you snatched from the kitchen on your way out of the Royal House. There were little kids running around with balloons in their hands while their parents tried to chase them, telling them to be careful or they’ll fall off the dock.

Suddenly, a little boy jogged towards you, nearly startling you. “Hello, are you Y/N?”

You raised your brows, leaning your arms on your thighs as you wondered how he knew your name. “Why, yes, I am. And who might you be?” You asked in a friendly tone.

“I’m Russell. This is for you.” He handed you a bouquet of a gorgeous arrangement of daisies.

“These are lovely, thank you! Did you pick these out yourself?”

“No, I didn’t. I was told to give them to you. Your husband wanted me to give it to you!” He exclaimed excitedly.

“Really? And who might my husband be?” You amused him, not thinking seriously about his statement. But he suddenly pointed behind you, making you turn around in suspense.

There he was, your Prince, smiling down at you as you looked up at him in pure disbelief. He looked dashingly handsome in a silk hot pink blouse and a floral embroidered black suit that suited him very well. You took a moment to observe him, trailing your eyes down to his hands, only to find his left ring finger bare. His face looked too happy to be married to someone who wasn’t you, but his smile looked as if it was relieved as if his worst nightmare had come to an end. He was relaxed, the complete opposite of the trepidation that he held for weeks.

Your observation was coming to a conclusion, and once you realized what was happening, you matched his smile as you stood up.

“Your Highness,” you curtsied, making him giggle.

Before he could explain to you why he was standing in front of you with no security, he turned to the little boy who had helped him. “Russell, thank you for delivering the flowers to my wife.”

“Your welcome, Prince Harry!” The little boy bowed excitedly before running off to his mother who was waiting and watching on the sidelines.

Once Russell was safe with his mother, you turned back towards Harry. “Your wife, huh?” You raised your brows, teasing him as you masked your giddiness. You intertwined your hands behind yourself, containing yourself from reaching out and grabbing him.

“Yeah, my actual wife—someday—not the one that was walking towards me earlier.”

You smiled softly, still lost on why he’s in front of you. “What are you doing here?”

“I left. I ran away from the altar. I couldn’t do it, Princess. No matter how mad the Queen would be, I couldn’t marry that woman,” he explained. You exhaled in relief, tears pricking your eyes. “I felt guilty, y’know? Never have I imagined standing at the altar without you. It was…weird and I didn’t like it.”

“How did you even manage to do that? To run away?”

Harry slightly chuckled. “Mum helped me.”

“Really?” Your eyes widened as you were in shock.

“Yeah,” he answered, explaining to you what happened thirty minutes prior to him racing to the dock to find you.

When the Priest was reciting the vows, he waited on Harry’s promise to marry Venus. But Harry had turned his head to look at his mum before earning a nod of approval. He turned his head back to Venus, and she had some sort of look of understanding like she knew Harry clearly hadn’t signed up for this wedding—to marry her. Harry gave Venus a small smile that apologized for what he was about to do before turning to the Priest and telling him that he couldn’t do any of what he had said. The guests’ chatter had increased, some softly gasping as they wondered why the Prince wasn’t complying with the marriage.

He let go of Venus’ hands, heading towards Anne to give her a kiss on the cheek. Anne had sneakily handed him a pair of keys to one of the Rolls Royce cars, and he smiled in appreciation. He glanced at Elaine, not even bothering to say goodbye to his Nan, but Elaine had a few words herself, so she grabbed Harry’s wrists before he walked down the aisle.

“Walk out those doors, and you wouldn’t even be considered a Prince anymore, you are not allowed back on Royal Grounds if you walk out, and you are no longer going to be part of this family,” she warned, eyes piercing with such disappointment.

He gave Elaine one last look before yanking his arm out of her hold, which earned a loud gasp from the guests. Elaine looked around at the people who had watched the two, and she felt embarrassment heat up in her cheeks.

Once Harry walked out the doors, he jogged to the front of the Royal House where Gemma had closed the trunk. He took his sister into his arms, hugging her tightly and gratefully.

“Thank you, Gemma. For everything,” he said, giving her an extra squeeze. She patted his back before pulling away, giving him a smile.

“I’m proud of you, H. Now, go and get her. I’ve already flagged down the captain and told him to delay the boat for thirty minutes, so you should hurry before the other passengers start to fret. And the boat you two are going on should be ready by the time you’re there.”

He smiled. “Thank you, again. I’ll see you soon? I’ll call you from wherever I am.” She nodded, telling him to reach out soon. “You take care of yourself, alright? Don’t take shit from her. You and Sebastian deserve to be with each other.”

“I will. I won’t. And yes, we do,” she answered in the order Harry said, making him chuckle. “Now, go. You’re making her wait.” She patted his back once more before he got into the car.

With one last wave, he was off to the docks where the love of his life was waiting for him.

“So, here I am,” Harry said with a smile, arms opening as he presented himself. You smiled widely, giggling. You were still in shock how he simply gave up his family and his position to once rule the country for you. You knew he would do anything for you, but this was more than anything—this was leaving his family for good, walking away from being connected to royalty. And he left it all behind. For you.

“Here you are,” you breathed out a chuckle. “I can't believe you’re here. That you didn’t marry that woman.”

“You know I couldn’t do that. You’re the only one I want to marry, the only one I wanna see walk down the aisle, wearing a beautiful champagne gown.” You were slightly taken back, tears glazing your eyes; he remembered the small detail you had told him about not wanting to wear a traditional white dress to your wedding. “So, you’re not the Prince anymore, hmm?”

Harry shook his head. “Nope. Not gonna leave me to find another Prince, are you?” He joked, raising his brows. You playfully slapped his chest, but he caught your hand, bringing it up to his lips as he placed a chaste kiss on the back of your hand.

“Course not. I’ve had a Prince of my own for the past five years.” You unconsciously reached towards him to straighten his jacket. He pulled you forward by the hand that he was already holding, and your chest was pressed together against his with your faces inches away from one another as you looked up at him.

“Our six-year anniversary is coming up soon. How should we celebrate?”

“Hmm, now that we have all the time in the world, wanna go on vacation? I’ve been dying to go to Italy,” you suggested, and Harry’s eyes lightened up as if you had suggested the greatest idea ever.

“I would love that. Where in Italy are you thinking about? Because I’ve been thinking of the Amalfi Coast. Think about it…driving along the coast, cliff diving, swimming in the ocean. Sounds nice, huh?” You nodded your head at his plans.

“Sounds amazing. Maybe we could…get married there?” You suggested another plan hesitantly, testing the waters to see how he felt about it.

“You wanna get married? Next month?” You nodded your head. “Are you proposing?”

“Only if you say yes.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, kissing his chin.

“You know I will.” A tint of pink hit his cheeks as he smiled down at you.

He leaned down to place a tender kiss on the tip of your nose, and when he pulled back, your eyes sparkled with such love and happiness—a gleam that he’s missed seeing in your eyes, and a gleam he would make sure was always there as long as you two were together.

“Well, in that case…Your Highness, my love, will you do the honor of becoming my husband in one month?” You asked with a hopeful and playful tone as you couldn’t contain your smile.

“Of course, my Princess. Wouldn't wanna be by anyone else,” he answered as you softly squealed.

Harry placed his hands on your jaw, gently bringing your face to his. His forehead rested against you as the tip of your noses touched, giving one another an Eskimo kiss. Your lips merely brushed together so delicately as you smiled once you felt his touch. With one last small touch, Harry kissed you with such passion and devotion as you two moved your lips in sync. The kiss spoke every beautiful and exquisite word in the dictionary that it wouldn’t be enough to describe how tenderly and passionate he kissed you, and how much love your heart held for him.

Neither of you cared if there were bystanders, wondering why the Prince was kissing someone in the middle of the Royal Grounds, in public. But there was not one hint of care because you two were together, and this kiss indicated what’s to come for the rest of your lifetime.

He pulled away, and you were so caught up in the sensation and the feeling that you didn’t realize that he had stopped kissing you. When you opened your eyes, you were met by your favorite green eyes that stared at you with a big smile on his face, dimple indenting his face.

“I love you so much, Princess, you have no idea.” His words were slow, hoping to engrave them into your mind so you wouldn’t forget it.

“And I love you, too, Your Highness.” He smiled, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, too quick for your liking.

“Now, c’mon, we have a ship to catch.” Harry grabbed one of your bags as he held one of the duffle bags on his shoulder. He informed you that you two were going to take the family ship and that his belongings were already loaded on the ship.

You nodded, grabbing the other luggage and duffle bag. You turned around, taking a look back at the Royal House that peeked behind many buildings and trees. This was the end of the story, and it was time to start a new one. You were able to close the book and set it down while you reflect on the memories you had made in one house with the one person who had your heart.

Sure, you don’t know where you and Harry would be settling down; maybe you two would constantly move around and travel the world since neither of you got the chance to do so, but whatever the universe had in store for you both, you were glad to do it with Harry by your side.

“Hey, are you coming with or what?” Harry called out, making you turn around. A smile that was brighter than the sun was plastered on his face as his arm reached out in front of him, palm facing up, telling you that it was time to leave. That it was time to start a new life together.

You smiled, walking towards him as your eyes were glossy. Taking his hand and intertwining your fingers with his, he held your hand tight as you two crossed the ramp that was securely resting on the edge of the dock and the edge of the boat.

You leaned against the railing of the boat, looking out at the deep ocean that you once felt like you were drowning in. But once Harry’s arms wrapped around your waist, chest pressed up against your back while his lips attached to the skin behind your ear, you no longer felt like your ship was sinking. It was smooth sailing and immensely happy.

please come into my inbox and tell me all of your thoughts, feelings, and favorite moments! thank you for reading <3

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peachoony · 4 years ago

Text

chasing love - one

Genre: mafia!au, smut, arranged marriage

Warnings: blood, kidnaping, basically violence, smut

Word count: 3.2k

Pairing: mafia leader!changkyun x fem!reader

A/N: yes another mafia lmaoo, but this will definitely have more parts. actually i had this au written for a very long time in my drafts so i thought i’d post it.

You greeted all the new guests with a smile while looking for your parents, who were talking to other guests. You walked to them, hoping you wouldn’t get interrupted by some auntie telling you how much you’ve grown up, since the last time she saw you. By the time you reached them they were already bowing goodbye to the guest.

“Dad the priest has arrived and Uncle Minho is asking for you.” You informed him and he nodded, leaving you alone with your mother.

Well actually not really mother. Your parents had passed away in a car accident, before you could even start collecting any memories with them and your biological father‘s brother – your now father – adopted you and now you called them mom and dad. They were just like your actual family.

„You look beautiful, y/n.“ Your mother smiled and you smiled back while looking down on you. You were wearing a baby pink silk dress with some accessories and your hair was lying with wavy curls.

„Thank you mom, but so do you. Still looking all young,” you said making her chuckle and playfully hit your arm.

“Stop it, will you?” She rolled her eyes playfully. “Can you go to up to Mirae and help her a bit with the preparations, I’ll come get you two when it’s time.” She continued and you nodded, mumbling a ‘sure’ before walking up the stairs to the bride’s room.

You knocked twice before walking in with a big smile, but you were rather greeted with an empty room.

“Mirae?” You said and silence answered you.

You opened the bathroom door but nothing. Where is she? You walked further into the big room and your face fell into a deep frown, when you saw Mirae’s wedding dress on the bed. You immediately walked to the bed and your eyes found a folded paper next to it.

No. No she can’t do that. Not today.

With shaking hands you picked it up slowly opening it, scared of confirming your biggest nightmare.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I’m sorry I haven’t told you this before and It’s probably too late to fix anything, but I can’t marry Changkyun. I tried to force myself but the feelings aren’t there anymore. I fell in love with someone else and, before I could’ve done something that could’ve hurt him more I decided to leave all this behind. Don’t try to find me, I’m happy.

~ Jeon Mirae

You stood there for a while, slowly letting your arms fall next to you, grasping the letter tightly. It took you a moment to realise what just happened, but when it did it came crashing down on you like a tsunami. You blinked a couple of times, still unsure what to do as anxiety started taking over you.

You opened the door, running through the hallways trying to find your parents as you placed a hand against your forehead, but before you reached the stairs you ran into a bigger figure making you stumble back. You looked up, your eyes meeting the ones, you wanted to see the least right now.

“Y/n, I’m sorry I didn’t see you.” He apologized, his icy expression not leaving his face, as always.

You looked at him with widened eyes, still grasping onto that piece of paper. His eyes scanned your face and he tilted his face.

“Why are you crying?” He suddenly asked, making you sniff. You were crying?

“I…” you started still at a loss of words. “Is everything okay?” He asked, now frowning.

“Mirae…” you said, getting his attention now. “What’s with Mirae? Is she okay?” He was clearly confused on what’s going on.

You nervously looked around, going through a panic attack.

You’ve been walking on heels for years now, but suddenly you couldn’t even stand on them. You needed to sit down with your wobbling leg. How will you tell him that?

“Y/n what happened to Mirae,” he said again louder, stepping closer and you gulped, suddenly scared of him.

“Mirae, she...is not in her r-room,” you choked out, hands shaking when you held up the letter. Changkyun looked at the letter then back to you before grabbing it as his eyes slid from left to right.

Slowly the letter slipped from his hands and landed on his neatly polished shoes. He stared into nothing, before coming back to his senses. You expected him to at least show some emotions, but he just stood there with a clenched jaw. His eyes met yours and you both looked at each other for a solid minute.

“She did what?” Your father yelled out standing up, making the chair fall to the ground.

“We can’t cancel the wedding,” Changkyun’s father said, shaking his head. “What will the people say? They will look down on us.” He added.

“I’m so sorry Minho, If I had known she would do that…” he trailed off and your mother placed a hand on his shoulder.

Changkyun didn’t say anything, while sitting on the couch. His cold eyes looked into nothing with his hand rubbing his jaw.

You sat on the bed still looking at her million dollar wedding dress. Their voices faded and your eyes went back to the letter and you sighed silently. When your name fell, you looked up confused on why you were relevant in this conversation.

“Right, why can’t y/n marry him?” Changkyun’s father said.

“What?” You blurred out, instantly covering your mouth with your hand. “I mean...How can I do this? This is not my place,” you explained and your mother walked to you.

“Y/n right now is not the time, please do us that one favor. Everyone is outside waiting.” Your mother spoke up and you looked over to Changkyun, but he didn’t seem to care what was happening, blinking a couple of times you looked down. “People will look down on us y/n. What image will we bring across? They will take us a joke,” she added and you frowned, deeply in your thoughts.

“Y/n, you won’t regret this decision, I promise you that,” Chanwoo, Changkyun’s brother said this time.

You looked up into the mirror and here you were in a wedding dress, that wasn’t even yours, just like the place as Im Changkyun’s wife. Your heart pounded against your chest as your father walked with you to the hall. You liked Changkyun, maybe more than you were allowed to. You didn’t know when those feelings took over your heart, since it was pretty obvious that your families would form an alliance of the clan’s, but the moment Changkyun’s family asked for Mirae’s hand in marriage, your heart broke into millions of pieces. You were honestly still hoping somewhere deep in your heart that it would’ve been you. That it would’ve been you he fell in love with, but who were you fooling? Mirae was always the prettier one out of you two, always the one everyone liked more. She had all the friends and the lovers. How could you even think you can compete against her? Of course he would choose her, of course he would choose a pretty, outgoing and loveable wife. All these years you pushed your feelings aside and now that you’ve finally mastered hiding those feelings, you’re becoming his wife. You wanted him to be yours secretly for so long, but not like this. Not as a replacement of his actual love. Not as his last option.

“I’m so sorry,” your father spoke up, making you look at him. “You don’t deserve this y/n. You’re not supposed to clean after your sister's mistake,” he continued clearly ashamed.

You stayed silent, not sure what exactly to say. “If you don’t want this, tell me now. I will manage something.” He seemed disappointed in himself.

You shook your head squeezing his arm. “Accepting someone else's daughter and actually treating her like your own kid is not easy. Despite Mirae being your real daughter you always treated us fairly, always making sure I have everything she had. I never felt like an orphan, thanks to you dad.” You smiled as he looked at you with teary eyes.

“You’ve never let me down, now it’s my turn.” You added and he pulled you into a hug.

“You’re not an orphan and neither are you someone else's daughter,” he said after placing a kiss on your forehead. “You’re my daughter. And after today my only daughter.”

You sighed giving your best holding your tears back so you wouldn't ruin the make up as a smile spread over your face.

“I’ll make sure he treats you right, y/n.” Your father said and you nodded. “I know you will.”

If it wouldn’t be for Changkyun holding your hand, they would be shaking like crazy and when he slid in the ring you almost scoffed. This wasn’t supposed to be the finger the ring should be on, this shouldn’t be the hand he should be holding, this shouldn’t be your dress and this shouldn’t be your husband, but now it was.

You looked around the big room. You were in here once, because of your sister Mirae, but now you’re here as Changkyun’s wife. A sigh left your lips and you leaned back against the headboard, closing your eyes.

So this is your life now?

It was still hard to believe but it was best for you to get used to this, since you would only hurt yourself. Your eyes shot open at the sound of the door opening and you instantly sat up at the sight of Changkyun walking in.

He walked to his dresser, taking off his watch and tie without looking back at you.

“Changkyun,” you started clearing your throat as you stood up from the bed.

“I’m sorry all this happened and I know that I wasn’t supposed to be here today. This is not my place but it happened and I promise to not bother you at all.”

He turned around blankly staring at you and you gulped, clearly uncomfortable under his piercing gaze. You were about to speak up, but he suddenly walked into your direction making you stumble back, falling back on the bed.

“Is that all?” He asked and you shuddered at the harsch tone.

He grabbed your wrist, not as harsh as his tone, and pulled you with him to the door and the next thing you knew was him closing the door in front of your face. You stood there for a while, before you realized what just happened.

He threw out of his room.

You couldn’t believe you were standing in front of your husband's room, after he just kicked you out. Tears started gathering at the corner of your eyes and all you wanted to do was fall to your knees and cry. You knew that you wouldn’t get the love and affection from Changkyun as a husband, but if you knew that he would straight up throw you away like a piece of shit, you would’ve definitely reconsidered this marriage. You would’ve saved you from this hell. You couldn't spend the rest of your life like that, not with your own husband treating you like a complete stranger. The thought of living like that just brought more tears into your eyes. You wanted to go home, to your father. You wanted to go back to him. You don’t want this life.

“Y/n?” You suddenly heard someone call your name and you froze, scared to turn around and face whoever was standing there. You slowly turned around looking straight into Chanwoo's eyes.

“Do you need anything?” He asked confused as to why you were standing here in the hallway at almost midnight. You blinked a couple of times, panicking inside and thinking of a plausible answer.

“Uh no…thank you,” you stuttered. He nodded slowly looking to Changkyuns door then you. “Why are you not going in?” He asked with an raised eyebrow and you opened your mouth just to close it again, left with no answer.

“He kicked you out didn’t he?” He sighed and you looked away, clearly embarrassed at the fact that you got kicked out from your own husband.

“That jerk,” he mumbled and started taking steps towards the door, but you immediately grabbed his arm. “No please don’t say anything to him,” you said and he frowned.

“Y/n, he can’t do this. Let me talk some sense into him,” he said and you shook your head. “Chanwoo, please just...don’t.” Your begging made him sigh again and he took a step back.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked you after he walked you to the guest room.

You stayed silent not knowing the answer to his question either. Why were you doing this? Better said why was Changkyun doing this? Why does he hate you so much? Was it really your fault that your sister decided to run away? That you got talked into marrying him?

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry you got into this situation.” His last words before he disappeared wishing you a good night.

You sat there for a while and before you knew the tears started running down your face.

You opened your eyes as you felt someone gently shake your shoulder. “Miss, good morning,” a woman smiled and you knew she was one of the workers here. You sat up and blinked the sleep away, before you realized you didn’t have the chance to change, still sitting here in your wedding dress.

“Breakfast is ready in 30 minutes. Please freshen up, I’ll bring you your clothes.” She informed you and you nodded still in the process of waking up.

When she left you sighed and fell back into the bed. You barely got any sleep, all you did was cry and miss your parents. What were they doing right now?

After recalling last night you stood up and walked to your, well Changkyun’s room and thank god he wasn’t there. You quickly got out of your dress straight to the shower and the moment the warm water hit your skin you closed your eyes. You felt your muscles relax, especially after yesterday where you slept in a dress in the most uncomfortable position. After a while you heard the door open and you remembered the worker telling you she will bring you your clothes.

“Place my clothes on the island next to the bathtub, please.” You said, but when you heard Changkyuns voice you almost jumped out of your own skin.

“I don’t have your clothes,” he said and you heard shuffling before he disappeared again and you thanked all the seven seas that your shower glass was dimmed due to the warm water. The moment the door closed you let out the breath you were holding in. Of course this would happen with your luck.

You slipped into your heels before walking down hesitantly, still ashamed of what happened back in the room. When you walked into the dining hall you saw an unfamiliar girl sitting next to Changkyun while pinching his cheeks.

“You’re so skinny gosh, what are you guys feeding my poor baby brother?” She said playfully and you remembered Mirae telling you he has a sister, but she lives in the states due to work which meant she was rarely even here. Her eyes landed on you and she smiled.

“Oh hey, aren’t you Mirae’s sister y/n?” She asked and you nodded slowly. “Uhm, yeah that’s me.” Why was she mentioning her name?

Her next words felt like a slap into your face. “Where is Mirae though?” She asked, still smiling and everyone fell silent. You didn’t dare to move looking away to Changkyun, but he clenched his jaw. Chanwoo slapped her arm and she frowned.

“I’m sorry y/n, she just arrived and we didn’t had the chance to tell her.” He explained and nodded to the seat next to Changkyun with a smile.

“Join us.”

“Didn’t tell me what?” She asked looking at her parents, but Chanwoo silently gave her a sign that he would explain everything once they were alone.

To say the least – the breakfast was awkward. Changkyun didn’t even finish his food before he excused himself for work and honestly you didn’t feel like eating at all, so you just had some fruit to not completely come off as rude.

The moment you walked upstairs you let out a sigh, happy that you had the most awkward moment behind you, but when you heard your name you looked up.

“I’m sorry for what I said in the dining hall. I didn’t know all of this happened, I was just assuming you were here to visit Mirae.” Kyuhyun's sister carefully took a step closer. “It was so insensitive of me to speak without thinking,” she scoffed and you shook your head.

“Oh no, don’t worry about that. You didn’t know, since you just arrived today. It’s fine,” you smiled at her and she took a deep breath. “Okay good, I was so scared that you might be upset.” She laughed. “Oh and I’m Gyuri.”

How weird is it that you were just now finding out your husband's sister's name. Mirae never really spoke much about her or the family at all. She was mainly focused on Changkyun, but here and there said something about his family. You knew his family too, exchanging a couple of words on galas and events, but more than the basics you weren’t that informed about them. Especially Changkyun, he was always a mystery to you, with his secretive persona. You were always curious on how Changkyun was with Mirae, since he didn’t seem to be a romantic and affectionate person, but she didn’t really give you any details.

After Gyuri offered you to always talk to her when you needed something, you thanked her and headed back to your room. You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, but before you had the chance to drown in your thoughts your phone on the dresser started ringing, showing up your fathers contact.

“Hey dad,” you said and for the first time after your wedding you smiled that genuine.

“Oh wow someone is extra happy,” he chuckled at the other side of the phone.

“I missed you dad.”

“I missed you too y/n,” he said and you could hear the car engine in the back.

“Are you going somewhere?” You asked leaned against the dresser. “Oh yeah I’m on the way to a meeting, so I thought I’ll just quickly have a talk with you.” He explained and you nodded. “I see, but don’t overwork,” you reminded him and he chuckled.

“Yeah yeah don’t worry. How is Changkyun?”

Your smile faded as you remembered everything that happened yesterday. “He is good,” you said, but he sighed. “That’s not what I mean, I’m going to see him in that meeting anyways. How is Changkyung treating you y/n?” He asked more specifically and you bit down on your lower lip. “Don’t worry dad he is good to me.”

Yeah you’re lying, but things will change and then it won’t be a lie...right?

> chasing love masterlist <

#monsta x #monsta x mafia #monsta x imagines #monsta x smut #monsta x x reader #monsta x scenarios #monsta x fluff #im changkyun #changkyun x reader #changkyun smut #changkyun imagines

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dragonsareourfuture · 4 years ago

Text

Mammon/GN!Reader — Safe

⚠️Warnings: emotional distress (caused by Lucifer) and swearing. If you are sensitive to these, please do not go further.

Sometimes I get fed up with how the brothers, mainly Lucifer, treat Mammon. I hate the “punishments” Lucifer gives him and how it’s just brushed off. I desperately want to hold the poor man when it becomes too much for him, so here’s possibly the most serious Obey Me oneshot I’ve ever written to help me cope with not being able to do just that. Begins as angst and evolves into fluff.

You feel terrible, but there is really nothing you can do but clean up the pieces.

Another night, another sleep interrupted by shouts echoing off the corridors of the House of Lamentation. You wish Lucifer would dial it back at least some nights. Hell knows that you’re not the only one whose sleep schedule is suffering just so he can punish his younger brother — then again, only half of the inhabitants of the house actually have a sleep schedule. Curse this entire house for its innate ability to let sound travel so fucking easily.

You groan, rolling to the other side of the bed in a feeble attempt to distance your body from the noise at least a little. It, unsurprisingly, does nothing and you can still hear the incessant booms of Lucifer’s thunderous voice. A pang of guilt bubbles in your chest. How could you be complaining when poor Mammon is the one who has to endure it all? It just doesn’t sit right with you, especially knowing that if you interfered you might have the slightest possibility of putting a stop to the ill treatment of the second born.

Even so, you can’t exactly blame yourself for being wary. Lucifer has tried to kill you on multiple occasions for doing just the thing you are contemplating. You figure you can let yourself off the hook for that one, just this once.

Miraculously, that one conclusion fails to ease that feeling of uneasiness lingering in your stomach. Fists clench around your pillowcase, nose digging into your soft mattress, your patience wears thinner by the second. Your limbs even twitch in an attempt begin rising and deal with the situation after all — but then the noises cease.

The room sounds eerily quiet. Not even the air conditioning is blasting anymore. You yawn, wondering if your ears had just popped. They had not. You snap your fingers. You can hear that just fine. So, you’re not going deaf. Okay, that’s a good sign, at least. You sit up and gaze around the pitch darkness of your bedroom. Nothing stirs — inside the room, that is.

Outside, however, you can hear the distant clomp of footsteps growing closer to your sealed bedroom door. You know who it is immediately, not bothering to lay back down and attempt to sleep, not even considering it. You sit up, feet hitting the floor soon after as you pad your way over to the door. You swing it open just as the footsteps stop right outside your room.

Mammon stands, fist held up in the air as if he was just about to knock on the polished wood. He blinks a couple of times, and you notice the gentle shine to his eyes and eyelids.

“Ya said that I could come...if I needed anything,” the demon croaks. All power that he ever seemed to hold over you had vanished all too suddenly and, rather than relishing in the feeling, all you can do is nod and step aside to allow him passage into your room.

“Of course, come on in,” you say delicately. The last thing you want is to be too coddling, for he might sense that as a personal threat and duck out. But you allow your instinct to care for him shine through with your soft tone. He apparently doesn’t feel that you are babying him too much, as he trudges through your threshold like a defeated puppy. It sincerely breaks your heart.

“I want you to know that you’re welcome to stop by any time you need to,” You had told him earlier that week.

The intrusive demon had never used your welcome for anything besides barging in to hang out at any and all hours, but now, with this clear predicament weighing down on him as heavy as the earth, you feel deeply touched that your words actually got through to him back then. He felt that he could trust you, which is why he is here now and not sulking in his room as he used to do after a particularly brutal scolding.

You shut the door behind him as he makes his entry, watching carefully as he shuffles around your room as if confused on what to do next. His hesitant nature directly contrasts how he would usually waltz in and make himself comfortable. You contemplate locking the door. It would be completely counterproductive if Lucifer or one of the other brothers forced their way in and made the situation way worse. But, at the same time, you would hate to make him feel uneasy, like you’re trapping him in with no way out. You opt to keep the door unlocked.

You pay close attention to Mammon’s features now, shrouded by the dark, sure, but you can make them out almost perfectly. You like to look at his face — it’s pretty, and you don’t bother to keep yourself from doing so. As a result, you can see all his ticks no matter how difficult it may be from the angle, lighting, etcetera. He often scrunches up his nose when he’s irritated, or on he verge of tears. So, seeing his nose twitch as he looks around your room is no surprise to you.

You step closer to his shifting form, and Mammon seems to get even more uncomfortable, so you move back. You rest your arms at your sides, making their positions known so that he won’t fret about the possibility of you hitting him by surprise. You would never, you know this, but Mammon isn’t aware that loved ones shouldn’t ‘lay down the law’ as harshly as Lucifer does.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask slowly, keeping your voice steady and calm.

Mammon’s hands slide into the pockets of his jeans. He shakes his head, the snowy white fringe covering his eyes shaking along with the movements. You nod, understanding his silence. Understanding that if he so much as opened his mouth to answer, a sob might find its way through instead. Even though he trusts you, you suspect that The Great Mammon isn’t keen on letting his human see him in tears.

“Mams, I won’t judge you if you cry. We all have to let off some steam every once in a while,” you reason, voice straining to keep from pleading but failing as your emotions get the better of you. “I love you all the same.”

Mammon hides his face from you, but the telltale sign of his shoulders bouncing up and down tell you that you need to step in. Your hands brush against his shoulders and he jolts. Though a shock runs through your heart at the sight, you simply have to make sure he knows that you’re there for him. You’re not going to let him cry alone in your bedroom when you’re right there beside him. Your grip becomes a bit more forceful now, only enough to turn the Avatar of Greed around by his broad shoulder and pull him close to your body.

With the contact, Mammon feels free to let go completely. Sobs wrack his entire body as you hold him steady. The intensity of them startled you but not as much as the volume. His head is buried in your shoulder, right next to your ear and you are spared no shout nor whine that comes out of the demon’s mouth. This combined with his heavy weight pressing you down tells you that it’s time to change positions.

You gently nudge Mammon into standing up straight, leading him by his hands to your bed, still warm with your body heat from when you had tried to hunker down earlier. He wastes no time at all in pulling you down with him, arms locked tight around your waist while his tear-stained face nuzzles itself into your chest. It’ll leave stains, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. Instead you marvel at how much pent-up emotions Mammon let sit stewing in his head before now. Clear sorrow, evident by the tears now soaking into your night shirt. Anger and desperation, demonstrated by how tightly he clamps around your body, though you can tell he is still somehow holding back, determined not to crush you even in this fit of pure, raw emotion. And all of this caused by a family member. It’s enough to make you seethe, but revenge for Mammon’s sake is not the focus. Right now, his comfort and consolation is all you need to worry about.

You rake your hands through Mammon’s head of ivory hair, brushing it out with your fingers and noting the softness. You plant a frenzy of kisses atop his head, the last one lingering before you lean close to his ear. “That’s it, let it all out...you’re alright now...I’m here.”

Your demon’s cries have, at the very least, calmed a smidge. He shakes less in your grasp but his head remains pressed flush against your chest. You take it upon yourself to ease him further, the hand that held his back sliding down and slipping beneath his ebony-colored shirt. You trace the curve of his spine, relishing in the way it feels against your fingers. He’s more slim than the majority of his brothers, and you absolutely adore it. You get to the dip of Mammon’s lower back and your fingertips nearly move on their own to run over the dimples back there. Warm breath spreads over your chest as the demon cradled in your arms lets out something delightfully close to a laugh.

Your lips quirk upwards in a smile at your accomplishment. Mammon has calmed down enough to where low whines and wheezes are all he emits now. These eventually transform into hums, then snores. You keep Mammon’s face pressed against you — you grew to appreciate his radiating body heat in that area — but moved his mouth and nose away to be sure he wouldn’t suffocate.

Before lying back and drifting off yourself, you wipe some of the excess tears from his cheek and under his eyelids, pressing the gentlest kiss you can produce onto his tanned cheek. Mammon’s eyes only crinkle for a second before his features flatten again with the tranquility of sleep.

Opting to get some sleep of your own, you rest your head finally to your pillow, huffing a great sigh with the contact. As sleep pulls you in, you silently curse the monster that could do this to your baby, dreaming up the most vile plots for your revenge during your outwardly peaceful slumber. But that could be handled another day, preferably whenever Lucifer least expects it.

You wake up before Mammon’s eyes ever begin to crack open. Your position had changed slightly over the course of the night, but most factors still remain the same. Your demon’s face is now in the crook of your neck, steady and cool breaths fanning over your skin, making you shiver. His arm is draped over your stomach as you lay on your back, the other arm tucked underneath him. You want to pull it out from under him — the pins and needles should be bad when he wakes — but you’re determined to let him sleep longer after the night he just had.

Your goal is met, and you lay with him for what feels like a few more hours. You aren’t completely conscious, fading in and out of the realm of sleep every few minutes it seems. Noises begin to sound off outside your bedroom — doors opening and closing, footsteps on the staircase, and eventual chatter from the first floor. People are starting their days like nothing ever happened.

You hope it isn’t the noise that stirs Mammon from his heavy slumber. His eyebrows furrow and a light groan seeps past his parted lips. His head shakes, as if his sleepy self is wondering why his movements are so restricted. If that is the case, you loosen your hold around him. After a few seconds, the Avatar of Greed’s snowy white eyelashes flutter against your neck as his eyes force themselves open.

You pull away to greet him with your smiling face. “Morning, sunshine,” you say, voice coming out in less than a mere whisper as your throat is still rough from sleep.

Mammon’s features flood with realization, an alarmingly dark blush spreading across his nose and cheeks, some even reaching his ears and neck. You wish you could wake up to this face every single day.

“M-m-mornin’...” he tries, stuffing his face in your pillow in an attempt to quell the blood rushing to his face. Your chuckle at this action only makes it worse.

“Everyone’s getting up right about now,” you tell him, your hands finding their way up to his incredibly soft head of hair, twirling a couple strands around your index finger as you speak, “Do you want me to go make you some breakfast and bring it up here for you?”

“Gah!” Mammon jolts, eyes losing their sleepiness immediately to stare at you in disbelief. “Y-y-you’d do that!?”

“Of course!” You pull your torso off the bed, accentuating your declaration, and leaning on your elbows for support. “I’m not gonna make you go down there and face your brothers if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“Oh...yeah...yeah, that sounds real nice. T-the Great Mammon appreciates your service!”

You jokingly roll your eyes, heaving your body all the way up to start dressing yourself. “I’m sure he does.” You halt all movements when pressure suddenly builds around your wrist, constricting and pulling you back before you can stand.

You look back, a worried-looking Mammon staring at you with wide eyes and upturned brows. He seems to catch himself, hanging his head a bit and sinking into the bedsheets. “B-before you do that...do you think you can stay a bit longer?”

You are about to comply with Mammon’s request, positively falling victim to the pleading look he shoots you, when a loud rumble breaks the brief silence. Mammon whines and clutches his stomach, concealing his face with your sheets.

“How about I get you some breakfast, then I’ll come back and we can cuddle all morning. Does that sound good?”

Your demon peeks an eye out from under the covers, white hair bobbing up and down in an affirmative nod. You smile, getting up and slipping on some shorts to go with your nightshirt. You make it to the door, hand on the handle when you turn to ask your sleepy demon a question.

“So, did you have anything in mind? You’ve got your spicy noodles—“

“Wait! I’m saving those! It’s my last cup and Lucifer says we’re not going to the store in a week! Not...ya know, not that I’m scared of him!” He perks up, sheets cascading down his torso.

“I can always make a quick run to the store. Lucifer’s words aren’t law.”

Mammon looks hesitant. He shakes his head and grabs at the sheets to pull them back up his body. “No, no, I’ll take a sandwich. Beel bought some Melancholy berry jam the other day and hasn’t eaten it all yet. Some of that with peanut butter would be great...”

“Not a problem. Oh, and do you want toasted bread?”

Mammon hugs your pillow. You suspect he’s getting weirded out by being asked all of these questions about his own preferences. Not a lot of demons seem to take them into account on a regular basis, after all. “U-um, that sounds good... and ... ugh, never mind!”

“What is it?”

He struggles with his words for a moment before asking, rather rushed, “Could you cut off the crusts, too?”

You have to brace yourself on the door handle to not collapse at how incredibly adorable that request is. Nevertheless, you can tell he is embarrassed and decide not to tease him too much. That could be done later, when he isn’t in such a vulnerable state of mind. You nod, chirping a quick ‘Sure, sweetheart’ before exiting and closing the door behind you.

Heading downstairs feels like squaring up for a fight. Deep down you know you can’t do much, Mammon would be crushed if you got in trouble with Lucifer for his sake, but you won’t be pleasant, either. You cringe at yourself, unable to handle the empty threats you seem to have in abundance inside your brain.

You can’t give most of the brothers the cold shoulder, that much you know. It wasn’t them that forced Mammon to tears the previous night with nothing but their words and whatever other hells Mammon was forced to endure. No, only Lucifer deserves your passive aggressive wrath today.

Luckily for you, there are only a few of the brothers remaining in the kitchen instead of waiting at the table already, one of those few being Lucifer himself who stands against the counter with a mug of coffee pressed to his lips. Satan and Beel are present as well, Beel rummaging through the pantry and fridge while Satan watches with what looks like mild amusement.

“Morning,” you greet the two younger brothers, going out of your way to make as little eye contact with Lucifer as possible. Whether he picks up on this, you can’t tell, but you can sense the change in atmosphere as you open the fridge and dig around for the jam Mammon wants.

“(Name). Is something wrong?” A deep voice inquires and, as you deduct that voice to be Beel’s, you look over your shoulder, offering a smile.

“Can’t possibly imagine why there’d be something wrong.” Wrong with you at least.

“Are you sure? You seem...off,” Satan inquires, as curious and considerate as ever.

You head over to the pantry, now with the jam in hand, and search for the peanut butter. A soft ‘ah!’ escapes you as your hand closes around the jar as well as a loaf of bread and you make your way over to the cutting board.

“I’m cool,” you deadpan. The younger brothers remain silent after you hear them shift a bit.

You begin to prepare the sandwich, daring not to turn around when the sound of footsteps approaching you invades your ears. All too suddenly there is a looming presence behind you, peering over your shoulder and radiating the most intense energy you’ve ever felt.

“What.” You say. It is not a question, but a demand. You still do not meet the eldest brother’s eyes.

You hear fabric shift and body heat warm your skin as Lucifer leans down to speak quietly enough so that his brother’s can’t hear. “It is for his own good. He will never learn if he is not properly disciplined.”

Your blood begins to boil. You raise your voice to him, completely disregarding Lucifer’s attempts to keep his brothers out of the situation as you do. “You know you can ‘properly discipline’ him without hurting him, right? What kind of brother are you?”

You leave it at that, throwing the rest of the sandwich together quickly before storming out of there. But wait...you stop in your tracks and stare down at the sandwich with defeated eyes. You forgot to cut off the crusts, dammit!

So, throwing your opportunity for a badass exit out the window, you march right back into the kitchen, tear open a drawer to grab a knife, and chop every single crust from the bread — all while the three brothers stare at you in both confusion and awe.

As you go to leave again, Satan finds the will to speak up. “Where are you going?”

“To my room.” You hold up the now crust-less sandwich. “The Great Mammon’s gotta eat.”

“But it’s your turn to make breakfast for everyone!” Beel whines, clutching at his stomach helplessly.

Again, you pause. Your fight leaves you and you approach the gentle giant upon seeing him look at you with such sorrow. You know how important food is to him.

“I’ll call for delivery from Hell’s Kitchen. Just round up everyone’s order and text it to me. Is that okay?”

Beelzebub nods enthusiastically and you pat his head, then turn on your heel to head back up to your room. You feel eyes on you as you walk away and, if you weren’t so fired up right now, you might take that as a compliment. But you know it’s Lucifer. You know it’s him even as the presence behind you follows you out into the hallway.

“I don’t like being followed.” You state in a bored tone.

“You don’t have to treat him like a child, you know. He can take care of himself.”

“I don’t want to let him take care of himself. I’m gonna be there for him when his brothers are being assholes.”

Lucifer looks taken aback. You don’t curse at them, you just don’t. Unless you’re joking, you never speak ill to them no matter what. And you didn’t to Beel or Satan. Even in your fired state you calmed enough to treat them as you normally would, with kindness and compassion. It is him you have the grudge against right now, and Lucifer’s brain can’t seem to accept or handle the fact that this is because of your protectiveness over his younger sibling.

“You won’t be here forever, you know.” Lucifer knows he crossed a line, but he can’t seem to stop himself. “He will need to fight his own battles eventually.”

“How about you give him less battles to fight, hmm?”

Lucifer seems to have nothing left to say. Taking his silence as an invitation to leave, you do just that and start up the stairs to your bedroom.

“Oh, and by the way,” you begin, stopping midway up the staircase to address the short circuiting demon you left in the hallway, “I may not be in this world as long as you guys will, but if you even touch him after I’m gone, my ghost will fuck you up.”

You make your final leave, Mammon’s breakfast in hand and a smile lining your face as you prepare to greet your greedy little demon.

#obey me oneshot #obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #mammon obey me #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #reader insert fanfic #reader insert #mc obey me #obey me mammon x mc #mc x obey me #obey me mammon x reader #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #obey me luficer #tw swearing #tw emotional distress

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malfoysstilinski · 4 years ago

Text

girl in the mirror pt2 | DRACO MALFOY

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader

SUMMARY: part two of girl in the mirror. draco meets his soulmate for the first time. she’s pretty cool for a muggle, but reveals something that has him heading back to hogwarts a little less than happy.

WARNINGS: none i think?

A/N: i dont think americans have houses and i assume most of my readers are american,, so in case its confusing obviously theyre like harry potter houses, but jk rowling made it ten times more dramatic and a main part of her story. we dont really care about houses irl.

Explaining to you that Draco was a wizard was one of the most frustrating and hardest things the blond boy had ever had to do. Only hours later were you starting to reluctantly believe that he was telling the truth. He’d been reluctant to tell you, but since you were his soulmate, you were allowed to know. You had the right.

The pair of you hadn’t even realised how much time had gone by, sat on your bed as you stare at him unsurely.

“You look as though you still don’t believe me,” Draco says. “I’ve shown you my wand.”

“Yes, but you’ve not shown me any real magic, have you?” You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms across your chest.

“I told you, I have to wait a few months ‘till I’m seventeen,” Draco reminds you with a roll of the eyes. “Then I’ll show you something.”

You sigh, not wanting to believe him but having a funny feeling that he was telling the truth. I mean, how else could you explain the fact that he had literally fallen through your mirror?

“So... We’re soulmates,” you repeat from earlier, before the two of you had fought over whether or not Draco was really a wizard.

“Yeah,” Draco whispers with a nod. “You know what that is, right?”

“I guess,” you mumble, hugging your arms closer to yourself. “But why is your soulmate not... magic as well?”

Draco shrugs. “Happens sometimes,” he says. “Never ever to a Malfoy...” He looks a little paler as he says so. “But I suppose there’s a first for everything.”

You wonder why it’s a big deal for a member of his family to be put with ‘a Muggle’ as he had called you before.

“Enough about me,” Draco claps his hands together when he sees the clogs in your brain turning. “Let me find out about you. Please. I’ve been wondering about you since the day I turned thirteen.”

“There’s not much to say,” you sigh. “I guess I just go to school... come home... homework... maybe hang out with friends sometimes.”

Draco seems interested despite your negative mood, sitting up straighter with an eager look behind his silver eyes and an encouraging small smile on his face.

He looks odd sat on your bed. He truly does look like some sort of magical being with his pale features and icy hair, and the black suit and turtleneck and polished shoes make him look like he belongs truly where he says he’s from-- a castle or something. Not your bedroom that screams twenty-first century teenage girl.

“Well, tell me about school,” Draco suggests, glancing you over. “Your tie is red. Is that your house?”

You glance down with a frown, pulling at your tie. “Hm? Oh, no. I’m in Austen. The yellow house.”

Draco frowns. “Is that good or bad?”

You frown back, raising a brow at him. “I mean... we won the most house points last year? Not really a big deal. Oh, and we won house games, like, two years in a row.”

“Not a big deal?” Draco scoffs. “Well done, Y/N! That is a great deal.”

You stare at him like he’s grown two heads. “Thanks? I’m assuming houses are a big deal at your school?”

“Well, of course,” he says rather arrogantly. “I’m a Slytherin. How were you sorted into your house? Do you take personality quizzes in the Muggle world?”

“No,” you giggle slightly and Draco’s heart skips a beat at the sound. “You just get put into whatever house depending on what tutor group you’re in. I switched from green to yellow half way through secondary school because our tutor group got full.”

Draco had never looked so confused. He wonders how Muggles are even motivated to do well when their house points don’t even really mean anything to them.

He knows a few things about Muggles-- he knows they definitely do not play Qudditch on flying brooms and would much rather play football. He guesses their house games are like that.

“My tie’s red because I’m a prefect,” you say and reach into your bedside drawer, producing a red badge with ‘prefect’ written in gold on it.

Draco’s grin brightens, taking it from you as he scans it over. “Oh, they look just like ours!”

You laugh at his eagerness. “That’s good.”

There’s a moment of silence and Draco peers at all of the records placed on your wall. He stands and moved to look at some of the vinyl covers, pointing at your The Neighbourhood one, releasing a huff of air past his nose and glancing over his shoulder back at you.

“You listen to this one all the time,” Draco states. “I like the one about jumper weather or something.”

You laugh and nod. “Sweater Weather. It’s a good song...” You trail off. “You know, I don’t really understand your music. You only seem to listen to classical.”

“That’s me,” Draco says, scratching the back of his neck. “Playing the piano. I don’t- I don’t really listen to music much. I never really have to when you listen to it 24/7 anyway.”

You look away with a small blush on your face, bashful. “Sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Draco moves to sit beside you on your bed. “I love it, actually. It makes assemblies less boring and sleeping in a dorm far more bearable.”

“I’m glad,” you say. “Do you want to listen to something now?”

Draco’s breath hitches because it’s all he’s ever wanted. He nods slowly, scared that you would laugh in his face and take your suggestion back. You grab your phone off of your bedside table and press shuffle on a playlist. Draco can’t believe how weird it is to hear your music playing but not have it muffled in his ears as if he was underwater.

He watches with parted lips as you slide down so you’re laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling. Draco looks at you like you put the stars and the moon in the sky. You might be just a Muggle, but you’re magic to him. The true definition of it.

Slowly, unsure if he’s crossing a line or not, Draco slides down so he’s lying beside you on your bed, on his back like you. You both stare at your ceiling and he notices that you have constellations painted on it. He nearly melts when he sees ‘Draco’, one of the biggest ones.

He slides his hand down the small gap in between you and hesitantly holds your hand before guiding it up above your heads. It’s not like real stargazing, but Draco likes it. Maybe one day he would be able to sneak you to the Astronomy Tower and show you the same sky he stares at most nights.

“That’s Draco,” he says.

You smile as you turn to face him and Draco shuffles to face you too, the only sounds being your small breaths and an Arctic Monkeys song playing behind you.

“Maybe I always knew?” You suggest.

“Maybe,” Draco chuckles back and turns to look up at the ceiling.

You spend a few seconds admiring his side profile; his sharp jaw and the strength of his nose. It’s hard to be scared of the stranger when he’s so beautiful and feels so familiar. Like a puzzle piece you’d been looking for.

“You’ve only been playing sad songs recently,” Draco says quietly after a little bit. “Is everything okay with you? I was worried... so I asked my friend to teach me how to do the mirror trick.”

You frown a little at the reminder and immediately grow embarrassed. You’re not sure if you should make up a lie or try to change the subject, but Draco seems really concerned and you’d feel awful lying.

“My... Well, um, my boyfriend broke up with me,” you say awkwardly.

You feel Draco stiffen beside you. He sits up after a few seconds. He knows it’s not really your fault but he can’t help feeling jealous and angry. He swallows as he stares at a spot on your carpet, unsure how to feel knowing that his soulmate had been with another person.

He needed a moment to think. He didn’t want to scare you with his harsh words or looks.

“I should get back,” Draco mutters, trying to make his voice sound strong as he stands.

“Draco, I--”

“It’s nearly what? Four in the morning? I should of been going ages ago anyway,” he forces you a grim smile as he heads towards the mirror. “I’ll try and talk to you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You watch with a saddened expression as Draco slips his hand through the glass or your mirror and is suddenly gone. You push yourself up from the mattress and rush over, your fingertips brushing it but coming to a dead end. You blink back tears, wondering if you had just imagined the entire thing.

You stare into the mirror, unaware that Draco is sadly staring back.

...

i know it’s a lil dramatic but that’s draco for you and teen love in general tbh

#draco malfoy #draco #malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #dracomalfoy #harry potter #harry potter imagine #imagine #draco malfoy x muggle!reader #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy soulmate au #harry potter au

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

pretty eyes & starshine: iii

(Mostly SFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

part i || part ii || part iii (epilogue)

word count: ~2.2k

Nothing ever really ends. It just grows in different ways with different parts.

warnings: description of post-injury, reader and hawks being traumatized but coping, a soft epilogue

the ending folks :’^) thank you for reading this far. here is something gentle for all of us, with some future, past, and the present for sweet starshine and keigo :’^)

enjoy loves 💞!!

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Keigo doesn’t break promises.

He loves white lies, the silly kind where he can rib you for a minute or two before soothing any ruffled feathers with quick kisses. He never leaves big wounds, nothing gaping or jagged, just loving pokes in your sides to get you to laugh and quip back at him.

He never goes back on his words that count.

His journeys out of the house remain short and rarely surprising. He never leaves without a goodbye, whether that’s a sleepy fuck or two, or a hand-written, tooth-rotting note on a scrap of paper next to a steaming cup of coffee on the kitchen island.

Keigo’s used to the open skies, rolling forever. The curve of the horizon is his primordial friend that he never got to say goodbye to, but he still chases it a few times a week. Little drives he takes by himself, hikes, and things that he let him feel a bit of that free wind in his shaggy hair.

It takes you a while, but you don’t look forlornly at the door anymore.

The awareness that of his absence from your little bastion lingers as you move throughout your day, but you know he’s good for his word. He always returns, bearing a toothy grin, and usually an armload of snacks or takeout.

It’s better, and you’re both a bit more alive.

...

Spring in the mountains reminds you of something you can’t place.

The memory of it is foggy, far-off and untouched. Probably a bit dampened from, you know, a year of trauma, but the feeling of it makes your quirk burst to light without fail.

It comes when you notice the little patches of wildflowers that spring up in new grass that rings around the porch. Heat flares in your eyes when you see the little seedlings you and Keigo planted into the window boxes begin to bud and flower.

The days get longer, sweeter, and the summer comes easily.

...

The bad days never cease, but you both learn to cope to some degree.

Your scar... cracks one day. You’re doing some half-assed stretches in the living room (mostly arching your back so Keigo gets a good peek of your ass) when it happens. Your right leg bends at the knee, and a resounding ‘crack’ and shatter echo off the walls of the cabin.

You both panic.

Keigo instantly urges you on the couch, trying to soothe your own panic with little coos from the back of his throat. You feel numb as Keigo shoves up your pant leg, looking for any damage.

The scar looks relatively unchanged. It hasn’t writhed since your days at the hospital, and its edges have only faded a shade or two with time. It’s long, obtrusive, and something you still avoid looking at.

All the same, Keigo traces the gnarly flesh, nimble fingers searching for the source of the sound. Any bit of pain he can identify and soothe, ideally, remove. The pads of his fingers drift to the crook of your knee, pressing against the shiny, black seam of the scar.

His eyes go wide before awe shines through, without a lick of fear.

He warns you to take a deep breath, ‘breath with him’, before pinching at the glassy center and pulling. There’s a bit of resistance as he pulls, you’re not sure what he’s doing, and you see ‘it’ before you really put it together.

Keigo holds ‘it’ up for you to see.

The inky glass of the scar.

Literal rock. Inky obsidian pulled from your flesh, about the size of your pinky and painfully jagged.

“W-what is that?” You asked, grabbing his wrist to examine the bit. “That’s... the scar?”

Keigo nods his head, scrutinizing it with you, pinching at it, “Weirdest scab I’ve ever seen.”

Scab.

You have never thought about calling the ugly root of the scar a ‘scab’ but looking at the way it so easily was pulled away, it makes sense. After a bit of examination and tender prodding, the tissue around it looks healthy, albeit thick and burned. The scar goes deep into your flesh, feels raw to the touch, but the skin that’s beneath it is somewhat alive. Maybe too alive, given how sensitive it is.

Nonetheless, you marvel at the little piece of volcanic glass that Keigo had pulled from you like it’s the most precious stone in the world.

...

It takes a long time to convince both of you.

Keigo never receives another call from Suits, ‘president’, what the fuck her name is. Thank fucking god. His snap seemed to have scared her and her crumbling organization away. You can only hope that it was for good.

The potential return comes from kindness rather than demands.

Calls from both Endeavor and Miruko, ‘Enji’ and ‘Rumi’ as they insist you call them. Rumi chatters on the phone for hours with Keigo every few weeks, puts the phone on speaker, and has you give your piece as well. You like her, she’s funny and loud and Keigo smiles when he talks to her.

Enji actually visits.

Once or twice, maybe more. You stop counting when the extra bodies in the cabin don’t have you breaking into a cold sweat anymore. It had taken a great bit of coaxing, but you opened your cabin up for the former pro and his entourage.

He brings along his daughter and the ‘Three Musketeers,’ as the media calls them. The boys train in the mountains nearby, never lingering too far based on the shouting from the blond one that echoes against the hills.

The rest of you settle into the walls of the cabin whenever they come to visit. It feels warmer than normal; it makes sweat gather under your arms and in droplets on your forehead. Even if you wanted to attribute the heat to the old flame hero’s presence, it wouldn’t account entirely for your thumping heart.

You work through it, slowly.

You like watching Keigo and Enji. They both look worn. Keigo’s a bit too young for grey hair, but Enji has more than his fair share around his temples. The beard around his jaw glints silver in the lowlight of the cabin whenever he tilts his head to sip at his tea.

They smile like old friends, talk like it too.

You end up in the kitchen a lot during their talks, distantly cooking and observing. You’re always listening to their stories, the banter. It’s hard to keep up with, a lingering vestige of Keigo’s old persona that clings to him and his mannerisms.

You don’t mind it, even if it feels foreign.

...

“Can you pass me that honey, dear?” Fuyumi asks, voice sweet and close.

You nod, sliding her the jar across the corner top. She carefully spoons a glob of the thick liquid into the four waiting mugs, humming just under her breath.

The cabin feels warm, and it’s not just the ambient heat Enji gives off.

The ‘three musketeers’ plan to camp in the mountainside and ‘rough it’. You couldn’t imagine the freshly-greened hills giving them too much trouble. They bicker, you have found, constantly. Blunt jabs from Enji’s son, met by explosive remarks from the blond one (why is his hero name so long? You can never remember it well.) Consider your growing aversion to loud noise, you like Deku the best. He seems like the peacekeeper (and peacemaker) of the trio and compliments your cooking. What a gem.

The guest room has been polished into an actual guest room. Fuyumi takes it, and Enji, bless his heart, takes the creaky fold-out couch. He doesn’t mind, he tells you, something about enjoying tending to the hearth at night.

Keigo calls the nights where they fill the house ‘sleepovers’, and he adores them.

They’re a bit overwhelming for you if you’re being honest. But Enji is far less intimidating now that you’ve seen him nodding off and slack-faced on your couch. Fuyumi has patience you’ll never fully understand, and babies you a bit, which you don’t welcome but don’t refuse either.

She does just that, scooping up three mugs after pushing your own toward you. You regather and sit next to Keigo at the kotatsu, slipping your legs under the thick blanket and sagging with the heat. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he presses you into his side, pressing a few kisses to the top of your head. It’s an idle action, habitual and welcomed as the conversation flows.

(Something about one of Keigo’s old sidekicks. Another about Endeavor’s agency, still chugging along with him at the helm, albeit not as an active hero. The new hero charts, the new rules established, legislation. Things are getting... safer, a semblance of order being re-established now that much of the League has been apprehended.)

(Things are settling, as horrifying as the change is.)

The thought of so much makes you sleepy, long-standing exhaustion heavy in your bones. You nod off at some point to the kind, safe voices.

Keigo coaxes you awake once the conversation dies down.

“Love,” he purrs, rubbing your side, “let’s get up now and get you to bed.”

You follow him, the way he rises and guides you to the bathroom to help you ready for bed. Enji is settling on the couch, tugging a few throws over himself on the futon. You give him a shallow wave with half-lidded eyes, meeting his own.

Eye contact feels hard, but you manage to hold it for a few seconds.

In the bathroom, you pop onto the counter and slowly brush your teeth. Sleep clings to you, and you know it’ll return quickly, but the process of moving and interacting wears you down so easily. Your toothbrush almost slips from your grip.

“Just a little more, and then you can rest, dove,” Keigo urges, reverent as he finishes his own routine in tandem. You watch as he splashes water on his face, wetting the tufts of hair that fall around his face.

The cabin feels warmer.

You notice it as you enter the bedroom, Keigo already hopping into bed to assemble the ‘nest’ as both affectionately refer to it. The old throw, a few extra soft blankets, and a buttery soft duvet must be arranged just right before he is satisfied.

Keigo knows it’s a remnant.

He carries plenty of them, little chunks of him that are old and worn, old and unused. He can shake them, can’t bury them, they just simply are.

The birdish ones are nice, he thinks. He likes that he can preen you. He loves that you can preen him. That you’ll indulge him in that way, running your hands through his overgrown hair. You detangle any knots, soothe the snarls and rub at his neck until he’s liquid in your lap.

He likes nesting. The cold of the cabin can be almost forgotten in the little nests he makes. The mountains of bedding and pillows that you both can settle in. It’s peaceful, and it's shared, and things are okay.

It’s all slow, and a bit tedious, things that the remnants of ‘Hawks’ scream and thrash at. But, really? Keigo has no reason to listen to a ghost. He tries not to let himself be haunted.

He indulges himself for the first time in his life, probably.

As Keigo nestles you into the sheets beside him, he gives you a bit of room to get comfortable. Adjusts your pillows how you like, tangle your legs together in the comfiest way. Your own version of nesting that makes his palms sweat and his words turn to mush.

You settle together, chest to chest, Keigo’s chin hooked over the top of your head.

“Did you have a good day?” You ask, soft and sleepy.

Keigo nods easily, “I did. Enji doesn’t seem to quite as much of a square as he was a few years ago.”

You snort, muffling a giggle into his chest, “He’s definitely a little bit of a square. But I like him.”

“He offered to host us at the estate if we ever want to go back.”

You swallow, thick and slow, and try to bury yourself deeper in him, “... Do you want to go back?”

“No.” He pauses. “Maybe. Not yet, and not anytime soon. But the offer is on the table. It’s nice to have, even if we don’t take it.”

It’s insurance, somewhere else to tuck yourselves away if the mountains stop favoring you.

The thought of the future makes your head spin, as it tends to. The scar aches, but maybe it’s a tad duller than it was a few months ago. The pains only last a few moments, only stab so deeply. The place where the little chunk of obsidian fell out doesn’t feel quite as tender.

You lay your cheek on Keigo’s chest, your breath coming in time with his.

“‘M tired,” You murmur into his chest. “Can I sleep?”

“Of course, starshine.” He pushes back your hair, clears your forehead to press his lips to the skin, lightly. Little kisses piling up on top of each other. “Get some rest.”

“You too, pretty eyes.”

You both need it. For more than just a day with the folks who stuck around. You and Keigo need more rest than a being can responsibly accumulate during a human life. There are things to be stitched, worn parts of you that need tending to, and burns that’ll need salve until the day you die. It’s not any less than it was in the month’s past.

But it’s easier to manage.

You snuggle into Keigo’s chest, drifting off to the thought of fresh coffee and crackling heat.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

thank you for reading!!💞

ko-fi

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #my hero academia #mha fanfic #mha x reader #hawks imagines #wow :'^)#thank y'all for reading

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no-droids · 5 years ago

Text

The Floor is Better

Part Eight of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.4K i am. appalled.

Warnings: SMUT, very vague attempts at sprinkling in hints of an overarching plot, language, the slightest bit of angst, TONS OF FUCKING FLUFF WOWWWW

A/N: This is by far the softest smut I’ve ever written. I will say that there is a hint at butt stuff tho (just a HINT—THERE IS NO ACTUAL BUTT STUFF IN THIS GUYS) so brace yourselves

***

Alright so this bed is, like. Atrociously uncomfortable.

It’s not even a bed. It’s a cot. Just a bare minimum place to sleep, shoved into the wall and taking up less space than the ship’s armory. Like a… like a really shitty gurney almost, except no padding. So not even a gurney then, just a fucking. Piece of metal. Just a piece of fucking metal to sleep on.

There’s surprisingly a bit of space to maneuver yourself when you’re pulled into the cubby completely like this, and yeah, it’s quiet and dark in here but man does your back hurt. Is his spine made of metal, too? Is that why he prefers this? The floor isn’t a feather mattress by any stretch of the imagination, but at least there aren’t any uneven support bars digging into your side.

You’re on Coruscant, and Mando’s been gone for over three weeks.

It. Fucking. Blows.

You’ve literally run out of ideas to occupy your time. You’re far enough above Coruscant’s dangerous underworld to not worry about any potential… mishaps, like what happened on Corellia, but the only issue with the ground being so far below you is that it’s not like you can just stroll down the road and buy yourself a deck of cards at the nearest merchant. The only shop within walking distance of this hub contains the bare essentials; things like food, medical equipment and bacta, spare electronics and parts—all of which you purchased without hesitation. Other than that, you need a ship to travel anywhere in this massive galactic capital, and while you just so happen to have a ship, what you don’t have, at least right now, is a Mando.

Fuck, but you did. Before he left, you had Mando all to yourself for at least a full hour. After he landed the Crest in a long-term terminal and turned his attention back to you, for some reason, he was insatiable. It didn’t really make much sense back then, but in hindsight, it’s like he knew good and well how long he was going to be gone this time, attempting to search for a quarry on a planet with a population that broke a trillion last year. It makes sense. With this many people, a biometric tracking fob would be almost useless, and sure, you realize he set the ship down in the long-term terminal for a reason, but long-term with Mando typically means a week or two. You suddenly realize that in a handful of days, he’ll have been gone a full month.

You suppose you probably could fly the ship somewhere else and send him a coded coordinate set of your new location, but for some strange reason, you can’t seem to reconcile going to all that trouble just because you’re bored out of your fucking mind. You don’t want him to have to travel another however many miles out of his way to get back to you just so you won’t have to twiddle your thumbs for weeks on end. You don’t want to run the risk of trying to make a quick trip there and back without alerting him of any change in location, either, especially on a planet this size. He could return to the hub at any time, and if he comes back to a different ship parked in this lot, you’ll probably never see him again.

Okay, no, that’s not true—he hunts people for a living, and you have his kid. You probably just wouldn’t see him for at least another month or so, and by then he’d be fucking livid.

So. You stay here. The baby offers a distraction, but only to a certain point. The ship is pristine right now, inside and out. Fucking pristine. Almost… almost compulsively so, you reluctantly admit. The console’s entire motherboard has brand new soldering and connections. You used ear swabs to clean and polish each individual button, key, and knob in the entire flight deck. You… may or may not have even labeled and color-coded the heat shrink wrap on every single cable in the Crest’s patchbay, all five-hundred and something of them. When you pried open the metal paneling that covered all the ship’s interior routing jacks, you remember gasping at the sight of a mechanic’s worst nightmare and wondering if the last person who touched it took even more than a few hours on its installation. What used to be a horrifying tangle of haphazard wiring is now a lovely set of rainbow snakes meticulously gathered and bound together with zipties, and you’re incredibly proud of it, though you still haven’t decided whether or not you should be.

There’s also a very particular reason you’re in this poor excuse for a bed. You still very clearly remember Mando’s unfiltered voice in the pitch darkness, telling you he wants to come back to find you in his bed. To find you in it, so he can fuck you though it.

Well. Three weeks ago, sleeping in here sounded like a good idea. You even have a pillow now, and a blanket you can lay out beneath you while you curl up under the one you brought from home. It’s thick and warm—probably a shock blanket, to be honest, since you did happen to find in the medical section—but it still doesn’t offer near enough padding to feel like you’re laying on an even surface right now. Mando could theoretically get on top of you in here and fuck you—there is enough room vertically. He might break one of your ribs on accident though, just judging from the way this one Maker-forsaken support bar seems to dig into your ribcage no matter which way you position yourself in here.

Stars, your back hurts. You should just lay on the fucking floor. If he hasn’t come back by now, what are the chances of it happening tonight? But then your mathematical hindbrain immediately reminds you that statistically, the chances are the highest they’ve ever been. The longer Mando’s gone, the more likely he is to come back every single day that passes.

It’s just as well, you figure, grabbing the tracks beneath the bed and slowly beginning to squeak yourself out of the wall. You try not to let your fingers get pinched between the railing and the slider, but that just means the quickest you’re able to inch out is in intervals the approximate length of your index finger. It’s dark in the hull—the baby is fast asleep in his crib in the cockpit, and the long-term terminal you’re parked in is quiet. It would be a perfect time to sleep, if you could. But here’s the thing—

It sucks that Mando’s gone for this long, absolutely. It sucks that you slept on this awful fucking bed for three whole weeks when you could’ve done this ages ago. But most of all, it sucks that you don’t have anything else to do. Because that means you can’t occupy yourself, and when you can’t occupy yourself, your mind starts to wander. And then you start to fixate on things you probably shouldn’t fixate on, for your own good.

Things like blood on your hands. The baby limp in your arms. A voice spitting, “pretty little bitch like you would sell for at least—”

Your eyes snap to the corner of the hull for the millionth time, the sight of where it happened, before you shake yourself out of it and hop down off the suspended cot.

“This’ll be good,” you whisper quietly in the darkness to yourself, pulling the blankets off and grabbing the pillow. It’s… it’s something you’ve started to do when you need to instantly snap yourself out of a dreaded line of thinking but you don’t have anything stimulating around you to help. Talk to yourself, talk about anything, just talk out loud and focus on the sound of your own voice. If you listen hard enough, it’ll drown out your thoughts. “The floor will be great. The floor kicks ass. I like the floor.”

You spread the fluffiest blanket down on the ground as far away from the offending corner as possible, and then close the much shittier metal bed into the hull wall before collapsing on your clearly superior one, never once ceasing your rambling nonsense about the floor.

Oh, this is nice. This is fantastic. Your back is still tight and achy from three awful weeks of sleeping on a “mattress” clearly made for someone with no concept of comfort, but being able to stretch out on a flat surface with a large shock blanket that feels like a fucking cloud under your body? Your eyes are already starting to droop.

“The floor is better,” you whisper, yawning and snuggling deeper into the pillow. The terminal is quiet. The kid will be asleep for a while. Mando won’t come back tonight. Mando won’t come back tonight. “The floor is better. The floor… the floor…”

***

You jerk awake to something kicking your leg, hard.

Gasping, you’re instantly pulling the blanket over your chest on reflex and bracing yourself for another impact, except then whatever kicked you is immediately toppling over your shins and stumbling to the floor with an unfamiliar grunt.

You and a man you don’t recognize blink at each other for a few seconds; him taking in the way you’re curled up on your makeshift bed, and you taking in the way he’s got his face squished against the metal ground, apparently not quick enough to use his arms to try and soften the abrupt tumble.

It’s like all your blood suddenly thickens and the adrenaline digs claws into your chest. Your first instinct is to fucking bolt, but then your eyes instantly flick to the cockpit, where you know the kid is still sleeping.

Only—you can’t move. You’re frozen in terror, quickly blinking your wide-eyed gaze back at the man on the ground. You know you could’ve only been staring at each other for a few seconds at most, but with the way your mind is hurtling right now, it’s long enough for you to have just the briefest flicker of confusion as to why he hasn’t appeared to have moved either.

Except then another set of footsteps slowly begin clanking up the ramp.

Your heart is fucking slamming up against your ribcage at about the rate of four beats per footstep, but as soon as you catch a flash of beskar stepping onto the ship, you‘re reaching up to clutch your chest with your palm like you just finished a long-distance sprint and trying to take deep, calming breaths.

It’s just a quarry. It’s just a quarry. His hands are cuffed behind his back. It’s a quarry.

The Mandalorian slowly comes to a stop right in front of your outstretched legs and the sharp angles of his chrome profile silently stare down at them, unmoving. You swallow thickly and try not to blush as his helmet tilts towards you and follows your knees up to your hips, along your heaving abdomen and chest, before eventually coming to a rest on your face.

He holds there for a second, taking you in. You bite down your lip and feel your heart thundering under your ribcage, blinking up at him as your cheeks flush in a boiling hot mixture of panic, embarrassment, and relief.

His metallic visor carefully follows the length of your body back down again, pausing once more at your feet.

And then he sighs heavily through the modulator, loud enough to echo through the silent hull, before slowly stepping over them.

“Well, well,” the quarry says, stealing your attention with a sick smile creeping across half his face as it’s smushed against the floor. “Who’s this, Mando? She’s just darling, isn’t she? Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addit—?”

The bounty abruptly cuts off with a strangled yelp when Mando bends down and grabs him by the collar, yanking him to his feet and then shoving him forward towards the carbonite chamber.

You collapse back down onto the floor with a relieved breath and try not to tremble with the adrenaline comedown. Maker, you woke up barely a minute ago but almost all of it was spent in fight or flight—or in your case, freeze—mode, and you’re already fucking exhausted again.

“I’ll tell him—” you can hear the quarry snarl just before Mando slams him into the metal frame. As much as you try to just tune the confrontation out for the moment and focus on slowing your heart rate, you still manage to catch bits and pieces. “See him again… be interested to know…”

You close your eyes and breathe deeply, counting to three during each inhale and exhale. Fuck, that scared you. You almost had a fucking heart attack, and it takes you a few seconds to get your body under control again. But then you realize you haven’t heard anything from Mando’s side of the hub for an extended moment, and the carbonizing gas hasn’t yet filled the room.

Your head turns and if you squint from this distance, you can make out a leather glove clamped tight around the quarry’s throat, the man’s face a red-purple by this point as he sags weakly against the chamber.

“Mando!” You bark quite suddenly, and beskar shoulders jerk straight at the sound as the bounty immediately takes in a giant, ragged breath from under a marginally loosened grip. Mando quickly releases his neck altogether and punches in a few buttons on the control panel to the right, and then freezing gas soon solidifies the gasping quarry into solid carbonite.

He stays with his back to you for a moment, letting the cloud disappear completely before he moves a single muscle. When he does eventually turn to look at you, he still doesn’t say anything.

He just stares. The lights in the hull glint off his helmet, and you tug the blankets up your chest a little further on instinct. Fuck, three weeks is a long time. You’re defaulting in a way, finding it impossible to not reevaluate him after a long absence. Before he left, you’d gotten a bit better at gauging his mood and countenance, been more relaxed and friendly around him, but now, after some time away from him, he’s still so… jarring. Unpredictable, even when standing still. Especially when standing still.

You’re just trying to play it by ear, trying to respond to him the way he responds to you. Only—it feels like he’s either not responding to you at all, or you’re just too rousing of a stimulus to show a response.

“You…” you breathe, and for some reason your heart rate is beginning to kick up again instead of decelerate. You should be calmer now that he’s here, but he still hasn’t said a word. “Y-You scared me.”

Mando stays rooted to the spot, just a motionless suit of armor, with the exception of his chest moving with breaths and his fists repeatedly clenching at his sides, and fuck.

Fuck, you’re wet.

You feel like prey right now. You’re starting to gradually build into another fight or flight mode every second he’s staring you down, refusing to speak, but you also feel a stirring deep down in your floor muscles. He’s so fucking tall from this angle, so broad and—

He steps a single foot forward. You flinch at the abrupt movement, practically soaking your underwear now. Mando takes another step forward, and you wet your lips and start to crawl back on the bed just a bit, staring at him with wide eyes.

Maker, the tension is making it hard to breathe. You’re silently begging him to come take care of you after such an agonizing three weeks apart, and Mando’s body language looks like he’s more wound up than you’ve ever seen him. He starts pacing directly to you, crossing the hull rapidly, and your heart thumps furiously with every step he takes.

But then he gets right to the edge of the blankets and suddenly stops short. He looks down at the neatly made bed at his feet, and then down at his body.

You try not to make an audible huff of disappointment when he abruptly collapses down onto his back with a clatter right there on the floor, just a few inches shy of the blanket, immediately bringing the backs of both hands up to press against the face of his helmet. It should look weird considering his knuckles are pushing hard against the visor, almost like he’s covering his eyes or has a headache but is rubbing the beskar instead of his forehead, but it doesn’t. It just makes you want to rip that armor off his body even more and remind him again of what his skin feels like.

“What are you doing?” You try not to make it sound like a breathless pout as you squirm impatiently under the blankets. “Come over here.”

“I’m dirty,” is the first thing that comes through the modulator, gravelly and distorted but his voice burning a fucking hole through you after not hearing it for almost a month. “I need to shower before I touch you.”

You don’t know why, but something about the way he says it makes you throb hard between your legs.

“Will you please just…” you bite your lip, stopping yourself short of saying take your clothes off and go with, “please, just—hurry. I’m…”

Maker, you don’t know how to say it, and Mando soon rolls his helmet to the side to look at you when you don’t finish your sentence. Desperate for it? Hurting? Feeling your clit pulse right now even though he hasn’t laid a finger on you yet?

“I missed you,” you eventually finish lamely, breathless as you fidget and bite your lip.

“Yeah?” He breathes, suddenly turning the rest of his body on his side to face you. “Tell me.”

“I… I want to show you,” you return quietly, scooting closer towards him. “But you’re being withholding.”

Mando doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, but the front of his visor burns into you, steadily increasing your need for him the longer he silently stares at you.

“Show me, then,” he says after a moment, and the sentence rolls through you with a shudder.

You swallow thickly, and slowly start to pull the blanket down. It’s unnerving that his helmet doesn’t move, even though you can literally feel his gaze lowering and searing hot along your newly revealed body. You’re not even naked, not in the slightest, but with the way his shoulders tighten and his spine tenses just slightly, you would think you were completely exposing yourself to him right now.

“Do you want…” Your fingers waver near your belly button, caught somewhere between wanting to pull the hem of your shirt up for him and wanting to pull the waistband of your pants down. “What do you want to see?”

A breath comes through the helmet; slow, but shaky.

“I have to shower,” he grunts sharply, suddenly, his fist clenching at his side. You don’t take offense to the stern tone. He’s clearly repeating the sentence as a reminder to himself, not to you.

“You can get me dirty,” you breathe regardless. “I don’t care.”

“I just spent three weeks on Coruscant’s surface,” Mando grits. “I can’t touch you, I’ll infect you with someth—What are you doing?”

You bite your lip at him as an answer, bypassing your prior conflict altogether by slithering your hand down the front of your pants.

“What are you doing?” He repeats through the modulator, just as your fingertips wedge underneath the hem of your panties.

You shiver at the sensation, your eyes losing focus just slightly as you trail down the front of your pussy. “I… I missed you.”

“Fuck,” Mando barks, and then he scrambles to stand up. “Stop. I’m taking a shower, just—just stop.”

You ignore him, turning on your back and widening your knees so he can still see the way your hand is still moving down between your legs, your finger just barely brushing the top of your slit. “But it feels good.” “Take your hand out of your fucking pants,” he orders tightly. “Right now.”

Your eyes flutter up at him as you do what he says, slowly bringing your hand out of your trousers. “Hurry,” you murmur, biting your lip and blinking innocently up at him. “Please.”

He doesn’t say a word, but his cape does make an audible sound with how quickly he whips around and shuts himself away in the tiny fresher.

***

You forget how long it takes to undo the beskar armor sometimes. In fact, throughout the entire duration of Mando’s shower, you’re able to quietly sneak up to the cockpit and navigate the ship out of the terminal, pull up the coordinates for the next quarry on the navcomp while rising to a high enough altitude above the galactic capital, make a jump into hyperspace, return to the hull, shut off the lights, and slither back under the covers before the fresher actually turns off.

Soon, Mando raps his knuckles against the door separating the two of you, and you’ve completely wiggled out of your clothes by that point, the blanket resting just below your naked waist. “Hey,” his unmodulated voice calls from behind the thick slab of metal. “Eyes closed for a second.”

“I’m not looking,” you agree, draping your elbow across the bridge of your nose and waiting patiently. He gives you a few seconds regardless before the door is sliding open. You expect it to quickly shift shut again, plunge the room back into pitch blackness like before, but he hesitates. It takes another moment for you to realize that he’s probably just staring at your naked chest while he stands there in the doorway, light spilling into the hull and illuminating you waiting for him with your eyes obediently shut.

“I thought I told you not to sleep on the floor anymore,” he murmurs after a quiet second, and you bite your lip and shuffle your shoulders impatiently against the floor, arching your chest out just slightly to entice him to come closer.

“Fuck that bed,” you breathe with your arm still pressed over your eyes, and your nipples feel tight in the cool air. “Your armory is bigger than that bed, Mando. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“Yeah,” he returns, finally shutting the fresher light off and shifting the door shut behind him, beginning to make his way over to you. “Tells me that there are more guns than people on this ship, as well it should be.”

“Maker, you’re impos—”

You’re cut off by Mando dropping to his knees and slowly crawling over your body, and fuck he’s as naked as you are, he’s naked and his skin is warm and damp from the shower and his hair is still dripping as you slither your arms up his chest and comb your fingers through it.

You can’t see a damn thing but you’re instantly thanking your lucky stars for that fact when his head drops down and a hot tongue drags up the curve of your neck. Okay, this is better. This is always better. Even when you can’t see a damn thing, feeling the hollow of your jaw be caressed by a blazing wet furnace and tugging your fingers through his hair will always be better than when he keeps the helmet on. Maker, you almost forgot how fucking good his mouth is, how soft and warm it is, and you can’t bite down a whimper when his lips finally trail up your chin and seal against yours.

You moan when his tongue gently slides into your mouth, unable to stop yourself as your cunt fucking throbs between your legs with arousal, and Mando even lets out a short huff of air through his nose and a low noise quietly slips through his vocal cords as he tastes you. The barely audible sound is enough gasoline to your fire that you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his lower back before tugging, wanting his cock pressed against your cunt so you can rub yourself against it while he kisses you.

Only, something in the way Mando’s elbows immediately buckle and the hiss of air through his teeth before he unceremoniously collapses on top of you makes you instantly let him go.

“Hey,” you say, letting him bury his head into the crook of your neck and puff a short few breaths of hot air against your skin. “What’s wrong?”

“Fuck,” he grunts, sounding somewhere between discomfort and legitimate pain, moving to prop his arms up next to your head again but taking a moment before trying to push himself up. “Back. Back hurts. Too—” he winces when his shoulder moves a certain way, “—too old for this.”

“Here.” There’s just enough space between you and Mando to wiggle out from underneath him, quickly turning around and swinging a leg over his back as he abruptly drops to the floor with the extra weight. “Let me rub your back.”

“Shit—come on,” he groans against the blankets. “I haven’t touched you in three fucking—”

Your hands trail up his spine, slow and gentle, and Mando cuts himself off. He shudders under your palms as they carefully push and roll into the small of his back, and the muscles curving down under your touch gradually rise as he breathes in a lungful of air. “Let me rub your back,” you repeat softly, letting your voice lull just a bit in a lower register, and all the air immediately releases from under your hands.

“Okay,” he relents, but his spine still holds straight and tight with tension.

“Okay?” You repeat, dragging your palms back up until they’re roughly in the middle of his spine. “Tell me if I go too hard.”

Mando barely huffs with a chuckle beneath you. “Yeah, okay, I’ll tell you if—nghh—”

You dig your knuckles into the dip right beneath his shoulder blades and start kneading, and Mando makes a strangled noise and sags into the floor. Your smile is almost impossible to hide, but the pitch black hull does the job just fine as you press and roll your knuckles into the hills and valleys of his back. The noises he makes are a mixture of soft gasps and chokes, but it gives you the perfect opportunity to explore his body in ways you haven’t been able to before.

Your thumbs you dig in and follow the curve of his spine down, squeezing through the tightness in his lower back. The skin under your hands is soft and giving, even though you can feel massive knots hidden underneath. You take all the time in the galaxy with it, isolating each ache and pain and then grinding your knuckles into them steady and hard enough to make Mando groan brokenly under the pressure. You work at it for a while, trailing your fingers up to his neck and massaging the base of his skull, not being able to imagine how much those muscles have to hurt after holding up a heavy beskar helmet every single day. Your hands explore everything you can from this angle—you squeeze the tops of his shoulders, slide your palms down and squeeze his biceps, the muscles under his elbows, the ones wrapped around his forearms.

“This alright?” You ask after a while, and you barely get a hoarse grunt from him in response. His body is perfectly relaxed under yours, almost dead if he wasn’t still breathing, and you slowly walk your hands down the length of his back until you’re braced upright on him once more. “You gonna make it?”

Eventually, he drags his forearms up so he can prop them against the blankets and slowly roll over underneath you. You allow the lazy movement, lifting your hips up as he rotates, feeling his smooth skin shift under your palms until he finally comes to a rest on his back.

“My turn?” He asks through the darkness.

“Your turn for wh—?” You gasp as his grip instantly tightens, and then he’s abruptly switching your positions until he’s on top of you. Almost all of your breath is knocked out of you when Mando grabs you and flips you over until you’re on your tummy, and then whatever remains suddenly whooshes out when he straddles you and plops down on your lower back.

“My turn to give you a massage,” he says, and you let out a quiet, “fuck—” when his palms land on your shoulders.

“Wait—” You pant, “—Wait, hang on, I don’t need a—”

Thank the fucking Maker you turn your head quick enough to muffle a loud moan when his fingers begin rubbing hard circles into your deltoids. Stars, sleeping on hard metal for three weeks was truly a nightmare for your posture. The knots in your upper back burn under the steady push and press of his touch, and it’s like your muscles can’t decide if they want to relax under the manipulation or tense up against it.

“Maker,” he murmurs, his thumbs frame either side of your spine and slowly drag downwards, and your voice almost cracks as you hide another groan in the pillow. “Why does your back hurt? What did you do to yourself?” “I slept—” you gasp when his knuckles roll up the length of your sides. “Slept—on that piece of fucking scr-scrap metal—you call a—” his fingers press firmly against the valley below your shoulder blades, and then widen apart to start squeezing your arms, “—a bed for three weeks,” you manage to gasp, sparks of sensation shooting down to your fingertips as he rubs the muscles along the length of your biceps.

Soon, Mando’s hands come back down to rest on the small of your back, and he begins digging his thumbs into the base of your spine. “Why did you do it for so long if it hurt?”

“You said—” You cut off with a moan into the pillow as he slowly scoots back until he’s sitting on your thighs, his hands moving downwards and kneading the soft flesh of your ass, pressing deep into the sore muscles while you struggle to remember what you were going to say. “Said you wanted me to sleep in y—”

His thumbs start slowly moving inwards, his large hands butterflying out along both cheeks and squeezing. He spends a second just grabbing and pulling your pillowy flesh, shamelessly spreading you and manipulating it until you’re throbbing between your legs again. He’s being so brazen about it, too, gradually moving his thumbs closer and closer together until they’re digging into the crevice.

“Hey, uh,” you pant, starting to tense up a bit as his thumbs begin moving downwards. “Ma—h-hey, you’re getting really… close to m-my…”

His hands keep steadily moving down, and you’re starting to squirm just a bit at the unfamiliar sensation of someone’s fingers pressing and kneading the unexplored skin between your cheeks.

“Getting real close to your what?” He drawls out from above you, low in his throat, and your cunt pulses with need.

Fuck, you’re gasping raggedly into the pillow, wondering if the absence would truly make him this bold. You’re halfway caught between nervousness and being incredibly fucking turned on, and the way he pauses right above your asshole and just holds there makes your the muscles deep in your lower abdomen twist in anticipation and heat. Fuck, you’re soaking the blankets beneath you, you can tell. A thin sheen of sweat breaks out across your body and it’s all you can do to just lay there and wait for it with bated breath.

But then his weight is suddenly lifting from you and sliding down the length of your legs, settling at your feet. You barely have enough time to let out a deep sigh—half of it relief and the other half… disappointment, maybe?—before he grabs hold of one of them, the size of it only slightly bigger than his hand, and firmly presses both thumbs into your arch.

A groan of approval slips through your vocal cords and you go practically boneless underneath him, not realizing how tense you just were a second ago.

“Fuck, that’s s-so good,” you murmur into the pillow, grabbing the blankets at your sides and fisting them subconsciously as he clamps his large hand around your heel and squeezes.

After spending just as much time and attention on the other foot, you feel him grip both your ankles and start working circles up the length of your calves with his thumbs. His hands flex against the backs of your knees when they get there, and then your breathing kicks back up again when they gradually drag up your subtly clenching thighs.

But then they come to an immediate halt about halfway up, and you have to bite back a huff of distress when he just holds there. Fuck, why did he stop? Why did he stop?

“Sweet girl,” he eventually breathes out, sounding somewhere between chastising and shocked. Your eyes flutter in the darkness at the tone, the endearment after nearly a month without it, and you wiggle slightly on the bed with arousal. “Is this…?” Mando brushes his fingers along the inside of your thighs, and you can feel the way his cock pulses as he presses it tight against your leg. It’s not until he drags his hand down to your calves that you feel the slick heat coating the tips of his fingers, wiping it off on your relatively dry skin.

The pitch blackness makes it impossible to truly tell, but you’re sure your eyes roll back. Stars, you are so wet for him, you’re leaking it halfway down your thighs. It’s been too long since he’s touched you. You can feel your lower muscles bearing down and coiling tight, your entire pelvic area now cramped up with need.

When his hand carefully moves up and a finger just barely ghosts over the soft flesh of your lips, you can’t stop yourself.

“Touch me,” you hear yourself suddenly beg, goosebumps breaking out along your skin while he begins to slowly trace the outside of your slit, up and down, up and down. “Oh, fuck—please, Din, touch me, I—”

“Hush,” he tells you softly, and fuck, he’s on top of you and you physically can’t do anything to encourage him to hurry up. The only thing you can do is kick one leg out as wide as possible and just shudder helplessly against the floor, trying to give his hands more room to work.

You feel desperate, your blood pounding through your ears as he takes all the time in the universe exploring you. “Stars, don’t do this—I need you to—”

“Hush,” he murmurs once more, before moving both fingers to spread your lips apart ever so slightly, your slick heat seeping out to coat his fingers and the blanket below. “Relax for me.”

Maker, your lower muscles are tightening down and throbbing in equal parts, and you just can’t relax, you can’t relax when you’re this close to cumming all over his hand even though he’s barely touched you. You’ve been aching for it this whole time, but now there’s a bite to it, a slow burn that begins to engulf the lower half of you in simmering heat. “Din, please, I missed you so m—”

You choke when you feel the slightest brush of a fingertip next to your clit, before he’s firmly pushing down and tracing a torturously strong semi-circle around the top of it.

Your toes curl and your body locks up and you gasp his name into the pillow, flexing every single muscle in your body in response to his touch until you’re impossibly rock hard with tension under him.

“Poor thing,” Din whispers, slowly tracing an arch back around the other way, and your entire body trembles with it. Maker, you’re soaking his hand, slippery and hot and every nerve from the waist-down feels sharp and exquisite at the same time. He leans down to press his lips to your shoulder blade while starting to rub strong circles around your clit. “All alone for three weeks, nobody around to look after you. Make sure you’re seen to.”

You’re not sure which way is up right now, and not being able to see anything isn’t fucking helping either. You feel dizzy with sensation, shaky as his tongue slowly drags up your skin, and you actually feel water rush to your eyes in torment when he pulls his hand away.

You open your mouth to beg him not to stop, but then he’s already moving. Grabbing your hips and slowly lifting them until your knees have to shuffle up to compensate. He still keeps your head buried in the pillow, though, still keeps the upper half of your body firmly pressed against the floor. You pant into the fabric half covering your face and fist the blanket underneath you, biting your lip and clenching your thighs as two hands carefully settle along the backs of them.

Fuck, he keeps you there for so long. He drags out the anticipation until you’re downright hurting for it, waiting with your ass up in the air for him to do something—anything to help relieve your stress instead of continuing to build upon it.

“Fuck—” he whispers, “—missed you, too.”

When his hot, velvety tongue finally glides through your slit, something about it makes you moan brokenly into the pillow, spread your knees and arch your back even more in presentation. Fuck, there’s just something about the mindblowing eroticism of your positioning right now, how you’re bent in half and letting him lick through your folds however is easiest for him, something about it hits just right and makes your orgasm suddenly pull up tight and fast.

“Din—” you breathe frantically, your knees shuffling apart and your hips pushing back against his mouth. “Din, I’m gonna cum—”

His hands come up to clamp around your thighs and hold them steady. And then he lowers his chin to seal his mouth over your clit, slowly dragging his slick tongue over it, again and again and again, and fuck, you can’t do anything to stop it. Everything surges up, searing hot and wet as you go rigid and gasp his name, shuddering your way through the debilitating bliss as it arcs brilliantly up and down your spine.

By the time you’re finished, you’re slumped against the floor in exhaustion. He pulls away and sits up, and you try to push yourself up too, but a large palm firmly flattening along your spine stops you. The sound of him spitting and the subsequent slick glide of his hand around his cock makes you groan hoarsely against the pillow and relax back down again.

Din eases his way inside you and the thickness of him as he slowly breaks you open is fucking electrifying. Your sensitive channel hugs tight to every fucking inch of him, lighting your nerves up from the inside and sending skittering shocks down your thighs. You melt into the floor and take what he gives you until his hips touch your ass, sagging against the ground as he stands so tall and upright on his knees behind you.

When he slowly pulls back out, you can hear the wet sound it makes echo throughout the pitch black hull. Maker, he just starts up a slow, steady rhythm, his steel grip on your ass holding you steady as he pushes in and out of you. It’s blinding, making you writhe against the floor while he gives you his cock at a languid pace, dragging the pleasure out but snapping his hips against yours whenever he does reach the apex of his strong thrusts.

It’s as agonizing as it is blissful, and you moan softly into the pillow the entire way through it. Except—you’re too full of mindless pleasure, too stimulated to want to remain stationary for this long. You need to move, you need to show him how much you thought about him while he was gone.

“Din—” you whimper, breathless and needy, turning your head back slightly to unmuffle your words. “Turn over.”

“In a second,” he huffs, his cock continuing to steadily rock into you. You’re bent in half, taking it the only way he’ll give it to you and not even being able to push back into him. “No—l-later. After.”

You whine, frustrated, clawing and pulling at the blankets under your arms. “Please—”

“Fuck,” Din pants, “fuck, what do you need? You need it faster?” His speed kicks up the slightest bit, and stars, you have to bite the back of your hand to muffle the ragged noise you make in response. “This what you need? Tell me.”

There’s not a good way to phrase it. Mostly, you just… feel the need to participate in this more directly. You know from experience that he likes to finish when he’s on top, but after weeks apart, you… you need to be what makes him cum, not what he holds steady and uses to get himself there.

Your voice comes out frantically, pleading gasps for him to grant you this one thing. “Just turn over, please—pleasepleasepleaseplease—”

His thrusts falter, until they stop completely. He sounds like he’s having as much trouble breathing as you are, but his hard grip on you gradually loosens. “You—do you not—?”

You don’t let him finish. As soon as he lets you go, you’re pushing yourself up and turning around, grabbing his shoulders and all but wrestling him down to the cushioned blanket. Din grunts and lets you do it, dropping down onto his back and snaking his hands up your naked chest as you climb over him with weak, trembling limbs. Once you get his cock into position and sink down though—fuck, you grab his wrists and yank them up until his palms are cupping your tits, and Din hisses below you. Your hands are barely large enough to wrap around the backs of his, but you force him to squeeze them nonetheless, and then you begin to ride him in earnest.

He curses, bracing his feet against the floor and shifting his knees behind you, and then he starts pushing his hips up into yours in time with your downward rolls. Maker, he hits something deep inside you at the angle, something that makes you gasp every time your hips meet. Your palms drag down his wrists and forearms as he keeps groping your breasts, throwing your head back in ecstasy as another orgasm starts to stir somewhere low in your core.

“Stars, I—I think I m-might—” You barely have enough time to gasp it out before he’s releasing your breasts and anchoring his grip tight to your hips, beginning to angle and isolate in on that one spot that drives you fucking crazy. The strong thrusts pull you forward until your palms are braced on the floor next to his head, and you just moan and push back against it as he fucks deep into you.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Din says again, his disembodied voice sounding tighter and more desperate in the darkness, like it’s coming out against his will. “I—I missed you, t-too, sweet girl, I f-fucking—missed—”

You choke out a cry as another wave of euphoria all but fucking evicerates you. Your elbows buckle and you fall into his chest, but Din wraps both arms around your back and keeps fucking you through it, gritting breathless curses at the ceiling as your cunt spasms around his cock.

“Tho—ught about you—” he groans, husky and low next to your ear, “every… fuck, every fucking day—thought about y—”

His body tenses and his thrusts stutter to a halt, and then he grinds up into you, gasping your name into the pitch black hull. Your body is crushed into his chest when his hips jerk against yours, and you bite his shoulder in satisfaction, squeezing hard around his throbbing cock.

When Din finally settles back down to the floor again, both of you are spent. Neither one of you fucking move. You don’t say anything while you catch your breath against his chest, slumping down into him as his knees suddenly drop flat.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck. I’m. I’m never taking a bounty on Coruscant again.”

You laugh lightly, swallowing and turning your head to settle in the crook of his neck. Your knees shuffle up slightly until you’re resting all your weight on top of him, his cock still engulfed in your hot center. As soon as you lift off him, you know you’re just going to dribble a mess all over these nice blankets, so you decide to put it off for as long as he allows it.

Din doesn’t seem to have a problem with it at all. In fact, his chest shifts just slightly beneath you when he reaches down to catch one of the blankets and pull the fabric over the both of you, collapsing back into the pillow with an exhausted sigh and doing absolutely nothing to encourage you to move whatsoever.

“Corellia was worse,” you tell him instinctually, and he grunts and brings his hands up to trail his fingers along your lower back.

“Corellia was over within a day,” he points out, and. Shit. You know he’s just being diplomatic about it, but something in the way he casually brushes it off suddenly makes you go quiet. He’s right, you probably weren’t on Corellia for more than a few hours total. Not that you necessarily expected him to, but he clearly doesn’t realize the events that took place there have haunted you for weeks.

When you don’t immediately say something in response, Din stops dragging his fingers up your spine. You can feel his chin lower slightly, his jaw brush against your forehead. “You oka—?”

“I killed someone on Corellia,” you whisper, and your words hang heavy in the still air immediately afterwards. “A man is dead because of me.”

He doesn’t speak. For a long time, Din doesn’t speak.

By the time his voice eventually does come through the darkness, you’d almost convinced yourself he wasn’t going to say anything at all.

“You’re right,” he tells you bluntly, brushing your hair back from your shoulder. And, for some reason, you’re not expecting it. If you were able to get a verbal reply out of him at all, you… you hoped he’d argue with you even just a little bit, if only to make you feel even the slightest bit better. “A man is dead, and you killed him.”

Though his voice is soft and you know he’s not being intentionally cruel, it’s like he reached through your ribcage and crushed your heart himself. Your shoulders tense at the feeling, wanting to instinctively curl yourself inwards and make yourself smaller in response to it. Only, Din’s broad chest prevents it. All you can do is hide your face as best you can in his neck and let the unfiltered truth weigh heavy on you in the silent hull.

“But you’re wrong about one thing,” he eventually says. “He’s not dead because of you. That implies you had a choice. You didn’t. He’s dead because of him. He gave you an ultimatum, and you did what you had to do. Don’t feel bad that you won.”

“I didn’t win anything,” you whisper against his throat, uncomfortable with the implication.

“He initiated a confrontation, and you finished it,” he asserts. “You did what you had to do, and you did great, so don’t—”

“Great?” You close your eyes and try not to sound as upset as you currently feel, because you know this is just him being polite. He does this for a living. He’s probably lost count of how many people he’s killed in his lifetime, so what’s one body to him? You shouldn’t have let the conversation lead here, especially after such a lovely moment. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it—”

“Listen to me,” Din suddenly says, curling the tips of his fingers against your shoulder blade. “There’s something you need to understand, and I’m not trying to hurt your feelings by telling you this. But the galaxy will never be as kind to you as you are to it. You’re tenderhearted, and that’s not a bad thing. Hang onto it, but recognize that it’s rare. It’s not something that you’ll come by often. You’ll never see as much of it in anyone else as I see in you.”

Maybe it’s because you know he’s not used to comforting people that the words actually manage to make you feel somewhat comforted. They’re blunt and honest, but they also allow an unobstructed glimpse into his feelings for you, specifically because of that.

“I just…” You bite your lip and snuggle your head deeper into the crook of his neck. “I just wish I could… somehow…”

His chest expands fully with air underneath you, and then you can literally feel yourself slowly sink down a few inches with how deeply he sighs. But… this isn’t the normal Mando sigh. He doesn’t sound frustrated with you, exasperated, or impatient. He sounds… empathetic. Understanding.

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head and comb his fingers through your hair, tugging at some of the tangles at your nape. “What would you have done differently?”

You don’t answer him, because you immediately see what he’s getting at. You’ve told yourself these things a million times over in the weeks he’s been gone. Regardless, he goes on for you.

“Would you have chosen to land the ship in a different spot? Risked a different person following you onto it?” He asks, and though the overarching point to this line of questioning is already blatantly obvious, his voice is still kind. “Would you have taken that vibroblade to a different part of his body? Given him a slower death? What else would you have done, sweet girl?”

You stay silent, fluttering your eyes shut. His fingers lazily trail up and down the length of your spine, goosebumps breaking out on your skin once again.

“Even if there was something you could’ve done—even if his death had been your fault,” Din murmurs, “—listen, do you remember what you said to me? When I told you my name—before that, do you remember what you said? You said that some things just belong to people. That there are certain things that people just own, right? Fundamentally. And you can do whatever you want with them. You can choose whether or not to share them with others, you can hide them, or you can. Change them. Burn them away. Remember?”

You nod as much as you can with your head buried into his neck like this.

“Well, you’re right,” he continues, his voice softening. “Some things do belong to people. But some things… some things you can’t change. Some things you can’t hide, and you can’t just burn away forever. But that doesn’t make them any less yours, understand? You killed someone. It doesn’t matter what I tell you, or what you tell yourself. The end result won’t ever change. It can't change. You own that now, and you’ll carry his death with you. Just like I carry every single one of mine.”

He’s… he’s right. You don’t have to like it, but he’s right.

“I don’t like it when you quote me to me,” you eventually whisper, your lips brushing his throat.

“Too bad. I got another one for you,” Din rumbles, and you can feel his gentle smile against your hairline as he tilts his head and presses his lips to your temple. “The Way says no take-backs.”

You narrow your eyebrows into this perfect little corner of him, not liking how curt and unapologetic it sounds rolling off his tongue. “Did I say that?”

“Yep,” he huffs at the ceiling. “Half-asleep, yet observant enough to be annoying.”

Your mouth twists, trying to appear visibly offended in the pitch blackness for some reason but fighting back a smile. “Would you rather I be oblivious and adorable?”

“No,” he says immediately, and then you blink a few times in the darkness at the sincerity in his tone. “You’re smart. Well—you’re an idiot sometimes, but you’re smart. That’s good. That’s your best weapon. Use it.”

“Use it?” You ask, your voice quiet but curious. “For what?”

He takes a second before responding, his fingers continuing to trace gentle, subconscious shapes along the curve of your spine. “What planet are we going to next?”

The abrupt change in subject is stark and immediately noticeable, but you wrack your memory for the coordinates you brought up earlier when he was in the fresher nonetheless. “Naboo.”

“I was thinking,” Din says, shifting just the slightest bit under you. You groan when you realize his cock is still inside you, soft but still gorgeously thick enough to not slip out. “Might… might be a good idea to show you some things. Give you a few self-defense tips before I head out again. Naboo is one of the safest planets in the galaxy. We can… take a few days.”

“Yeah?” You breathe, a spark of excitement bringing an immediate smile to your face.

“Yeah,” he repeats softly, the scruff on his jaw rubbing against your temple as he nods. “Been awhile.”

“Okay,” you bite your lip on a grin and try not to let him hear the happiness in your voice. Fuck, a few days. A few days he’s delaying his job to spend with you. Maybe you’ll be able to sleep on an actual mattress at some point. You truly can’t fucking wait.

You two stay like that for quite a long time, just resting and breathing with each other in the pitch black hull.

“We just wouldn’t have gone to Corellia, how about that?” You find yourself saying after a moment of comfortable silence. When Din doesn’t speak, you elaborate. “You asked me what I would’ve done differently. We just wouldn’t have gone to Corellia. Avoided the whole fucking sector altogether, like I plan on doing for the rest of my life.”

And then your whole body abruptly jerks up and down exactly once with his genuinely amused huff of laughter from underneath you.

Your expression immediately narrows. This is the third time you’ve ever made him laugh in all the months you’ve known him, and somehow all three of them have been at your own expense. “What’s funny?”

“Absolutely. You could’ve—” he clears his throat, “—convinced me. Not to hunt down a bounty.”

He doesn’t make a sound beyond that, and had you not been laying on top of his chest as it subtly vibrated with stifled chuckles, you wouldn’t have known at all that he found that to be so funny.

“I could’ve… wooed you,” you try after a second, and nope. You feel like you’re on top of a silent, quaking faultline now, and you do your best to keep a frown on your face as you rock back and forth on top of him. His cock almost slips out of you in the commotion. Almost.

“Get some sleep, you sweet talker,” he eventually sighs when he calms his breathing, kissing your forehead and settling back down into the blankets. “The kid will be up in a few hours, probably less.”

“He’s your son,” you grumble, still sulking somewhat at his blatant disregard of your seduction talents. “Takes after you. For all I know he looks just like you, too.”

“Sleep,” Din tells you, bringing a hand up to cup the back of your head and push it deeper into the crook of his neck. “That’s enough talking.”

You stomp down the playful urge to bite him and settle into him instead, closing your eyes and breathing him in. Fuck. A few days on Naboo. You’ve only heard nice things about the beautiful planet. You wonder if it has an ocean. Could a planet be called beautiful if it doesn’t have at least one? You’ve seen rivers and lakes on planets Din has taken you to, but there was always land on the other side. You’ve never seen an actual ocean before, you’ve only heard about them. Water, as far as the eye can see. There has to be an ocean on Naboo, right?

“Hey Din, are there any—”

“Stop.”

It’s alright, you’ll ask later.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #fanfic #reader insert #no-droids #rough day #smut

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xxxtrouvaillexxx · 3 years ago

Text

Let’s Strike a Deal

A/N: This is late, I know. If you have not realized from before, I’m really bad at meeting deadlines. Well, at least deadlines that I’ve created for myself to follow because I like to procrastinate things and frankly… what am I gonna do to myself? Band myself from tea until I’ve written a chapter? I don’t have the self control for that! And life is hectic. But you know, enough with my excuses and onto the story. Hope you enjoy. I always love feedback so please be sure to leave a comment! ALSO I wanted to give a TRY (key word) to first person. If I don’t like it... I might change it, idk. I should never write anything at 3am as per evidence below, especially without editing lmao

Pair: CEO!Tom x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N, the small town of Hawkshead girl trying to make her way in the big city of Westminster, London. Not as easy as she thought. When things start to take a turn for the worst one afternoon and only one man in the crowd of hundreds decides to help her, she does something rather uncharacteristic and gives her savor her number in case he could ever use help of his own. Course, she never expected for him to actually call her out on it.

Masterlist

Warning(s): none… yet. Cursing?

Word Count:

My time was limited. There was nothing left that had to be done here or anything left to pack. Everything I’ve ever owned sat in a car on the way to my new apartment and last of the suitcases were in the bed of my brothers pickup at this very moment while I sat on the floor of my room. There wasn’t anything left for me here, I knew that, but it was still difficult to say goodbye to the place that carried so many of my favorite memories and the imprints of my childhood that still were splayed around the surrounding room.

There were two dents in the wall right in front of me from when I was ten and hit my head after tripping on one of my toys, thumbtack holes that littered everywhere above the bed from forts that I would make with my brothers and friends, nail polish that was spilled on the carpet from times when I was too distracted with talking than keeping the bottle up straight, my engraved initials on the windowsill. The memories that I had made in this room were countless and they were all absolutely priceless.

“Y/N!” I heard your mother call from the living room, her voice was slightly hoarse from held back emotion and it broke my heart to hear her like that. “You got to get going, dear! You’ll miss your train if you wait much longer to head out.”

Taking a deep breath and slowly standing from the, now old, bed I made my way toward the door, feet dredging behind me and scuffing the floor as I walked out. “I know, Mama. I’m just-” the words caught in my throat and I was at a loss. “I’m really going to miss you guys so much.”

“Oh stop it, you’re gonna make me cry if you keep on like that,” She said giving a tight hug before pushing me out the front door. “You are going to love it in London so much you’re not even gonna be thinking about us here, so get goin’. Your brothers already waiting for you in the car.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her antics, “I love you Mama! I’ll call you when I get there!”

Jumping into the passenger seat of the truck, I waved final goodbyes from the window, dramatically blowing kisses as the car started to drive away.

“You better!” She exclaimed, watching as we pulled out and down the road.

“She is going to be a mess when I get back home. I can’t believe you’re going to leave me to deal with that alone!” Christian, stuck driving you to the train station much to his dismay, gave you a mocking glare. “After all the things I’ve done for your, this is how you choose to repay me? I’m pretty sure I’m getting the short end of the stick here,” he laughed humorlessly.

“Ahhh~” I cooed and smiled, “You’re only saying that cause you know you guys’ are going to be missing me so much!”

“Miss you?” He scoffed, “Yeah right. What we’re going to be missing is your baking. It’ll be the greatest blow our family has faced since 1824.”

I gave a scathing look, “And what, if I may ask, happened in 1824?”

“Don’t know, but something bad probably.”

»»-——————————————-««

I have never been so sore getting off of a bus in her life. The cheapest route to get to Westminster from Hawkshead was a train and 8 bus stops, totaling up to 10 or so hours in and out of vehicles. I groaned and stretched when my feet planted on hard asphalt for the first time in what seemed like forever. But, for all the soreness, I had made it to my destination with time to spare.

It was louder than I had imagined, crowded with traffic from all directions and people running any which way to get on with their lives. It was bustling and busy. Lively. Not exactly what I was used to which made me smile.

Wide.

I made it.

I only had a suitcase with me, the rest of her belongings would be delivered in a few days to the new apartment.

My apartment.

I was positively giddy at the thought.

It took a lot of self control to keep from skipping down the side walks while I somehow navigated the new scenery, but I managed to keep my excitement under wraps for the time being. Arriving an hour early gave me a bit of time to take in the bigger sites near by, like the Ferris wheel, the clock tower Big Ben, and my personal favorite- Westminster Palace and abbey. It was a dream of mine since I was little to see it in person, and now here I was standing mere blocks away from the grand building, elated and amazed.

Vibrating caught my attention and I barely managed to turn my eyes away from the sites in front of me to my phone, Kyra’s name popping up on the screen. My best friend and now room mate, Kyra Bardou, who was probably wondering where the hell I was now.

“Hey,” I drawled with an obvious grin I couldn’t even hide in my voice.

“Hey yourself! I’ve been waiting at the stop for 15 minutes with no sign of you only to learn you’re already in town and didn’t even bother to tell me!” She spoke so quickly I was shocked she didn’t run out of breath and laughed.

“I’m site seeing, sue me!” I turned and started making the slow walk back, “I’ll be back in a couple minutes, I promise.”

She only grunted in response and let me walk in a comfortable silence, letting me continue to take everything in while simply enjoying her presence on the line. It was the last few moments I’d get now, the last bits of my old life slipping through my fingers like sand in exchange for a new one.

And the chaos that comes with a big city.

Like robbers.

I couldn’t even let out a cry as I was shoved to the ground, my phone forced from my hand and my suitcase caught up in a strange mans arms. It took me a whole 5 seconds to get my bearings enough to yell at the man and give chase, shouting for help though no one so much as looked our way, just moved out of his.

“Stop!” I screamed, running but quickly losing him as he bobbed and weaved through the crowd skillfully. “Stop! Someone stop him!”

And this time, someone moved to action, running past me at an alarming rate and quickly gaining ground on my assailant before they both rounded a corner and I lost sight of them.

My heart dropped and I picked up speed again, hoping that I didn’t let them get far enough away for me to lose them completely, it would have been easy for them to get away from me here.

But when I turned around the block, I found the man on the ground with the track star of a man on top of him, already on the phone with I assume the police. I finally caught up to them and without thinking, hugged the man on the phone, a silent thank you while he spoke to whoever was on the line, before I gathered my things and hugging them close to me.

He smiled kindly, finishing the call and turning to me properly while still pinning the thief to the ground. “Are you alright miss?”

“Yes! Thank you so much, I’d have been completely lost without this,” I gestured to my luggage. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me get it back. I don’t even know how to get around town yet.”

He laughed and nodded. “So new to town then. It was my pleasure to help, though I was really just doing what anyone in my position would do,” he responded kindly.

Furiously I shook my head, “No, you didn’t. I don’t believe I saw a single soul other than you move to help. Unless you did but beat them to it at the last minute. Not that that it implausible, you are seriously fast on your feet.”

He laughed again and I noticed what a nice laugh he had, it was contagious and I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle of my own now that my adrenaline was fading bit by bit. “Yes, well- I do enjoy the sport.”

“Dually noted,” I grinned, jumping a little when my phone started to buzz in my hands. Kyra’s name popping up on the screen again. “Shoot!” I exclaimed and answered. I wasn’t even able to put the phone to my ear before I heard her shouting my name on the line. “Kyra-”

“Oh my god, Y/N! What the heck happened, I heard you shout and then the line went dead! Are you okay? Did something happen? Where are you?” She was speaking so loudly I had to hold the phone away from my ear a safe distance as she spouted one question after another at me without reprieve.

My rescuer across from me chuckled, overhearing my frantic friend. “I’m fine, someone tried to steal my stuff on my way to meet you. Luckily someone came along and helped me catch him, otherwise I’d have lost everything. But everything is okay now, we are-” I looked around and realized I have no idea where we were.

He seemed to catch on to my newest distress and whispered, “Tell them we are on the corner of Tufton and Bennett’s Yard.”

I nodded and mouthed a thank you, “ Tufton and Bennett’s Yard,” I repeated and she said she’d be here in a 10 minutes and to sit and wait before hanging up the phone.

I slouched on the wall of some building, letting myself relax. “Not to be repetitive or anything, but thank you.”

He just shook his head, “No need. You’re friend sounded pretty worried about you, it wouldn’t do well to let her stew in that worry longer than needed.”

“Yeah, it’s been a few years since we last saw each other. She’d be pretty upset if something bad happened before I could even move in,” I laughed, though it didn’t quite sound right even to my ears. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” I introduced and stuck my hand out.

He took it and gave a firm shake, “Tom. It’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N. Even in these less than optimal circumstances.”

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you.”

“Y/N!” Someone yelled, and we both turned our heads to see Kyra sprinting full speed around her car and at me. I stood and braced myself for the collision of her, and fell back against the wall with the force of her body.

“Holy shit, girl! You scared the hell outta me, you could have died! This is why I told you to call me when you first got into town, you always manage to get yourself into trouble like this. What would I have told your parents if something happened, huh? Huh!?”

I grinned and pulled back to get a proper look at her. Her black hair, normally frizzy was sticking out in every direction and her honeyed eyes wide as she scanned me over, running her hands over my arms for injuries. “I’m fine, Kyra. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, you’re right.”

“I know I’m right!” She shot back with a glare, “That doesn’t make me feel any better!”

“Well, there is a first for everything after all.”

Tom laughed hard at our back and forth, making us both jump a little and look down at him. Before I could even say anything, Kyra was down on his level with the thieves shirt in her fists and a scowl that would scare the devil himself on her face.

“Is this the bastard that did this?”

“Let go!” I shrieked and pulled her off, albeit with a little effort. “Tom called the cops and they’ll deal with this properly. Not you,” I said sternly. She just let out a huff of a response and pushed herself back enough to look at Tom properly.

She gave him a once over and held her scowl in place, “So you’re the one who saved Y/N/N?”

He gave a small, hesitant nod and gave me a nervous glance. I just laughed and stood back up, as Kyra launched forward to give him a hug. “Thank you,” she murmured a few times and pulled back.

“No worries,” he said, and looked far less distressed now that Kyra didn’t look like she wanted to gut him. “I was there at the right time is all.”

“Yes, well- That doesn’t mean what you did was anything less than amazing. My whole life is in that bag and in that phone at the moment. Seriously, if there is anything I can do for you in return it’s yours. Ice cream, some roller skates, a kidney. Just ask.”

Everyone laughed at that and he nodded with an obviously sarcastic “sure”, just as the police arrived to take the culprit and our statements. Kyra mumbled something about them being slow and went to the car for a few minutes to be out of the way.

15 minutes later, everything was settled and they took the man away. Leaving Tom and I alone on the side walk again while I settled everything in my case to be sure I didn’t miss anything and quickly scribbled on a stray notecard.

“I meant it when I said I owe you one,” I said and handed the card with my name and number to him. “Just give me a ring if I can ever be of any help at all and I’ll come running. Though, probably much slower than you did.”

He tried to decline the offer only once, but after some persistence he took it with another smile, “Thank you, Y/N. Hopefully this will not be our last meeting. And hopefully never again under such pressing circumstances,” he held out his hand, and I took it, returning his earlier shake with a firm one of my own and I agreed.

“Until next time then,” he said and left.

I barely was able to take my seat in the car before Kyra grasped my arm with a devious smile, “Y/N/N- Did you just give that guy your number?” My silence was answer enough and she laughed, “Girl! No way!”

No way was right, I thought with a small smile of my own as we pulled away and started home.

»»-——————————————-««

TAGS: open

@drakesfiance @dumbgopher1 @kewlbeans-22

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amor-immortalem · 3 years ago

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Everything Undesired Chapter 3

Chapter 2

“So what’s the plan?” Beel asked as he and Satan followed Lucifer to the Demon Lord’s castle.

“I say we go for an instant kill,” the Avatar of Wrath smirked, “make an example out of them.”

"I'm hungry enough I could swallow them whole." Beel commented.

"No, a quick death is not what they deserve even if they'll find themselves stuck in the eternal torture they so rightfully deserve once they reach Asmo's court in the second layer." Lucifer stopped and turned to his brothers, a knowing smile graced his lips, "Rather, we'll torture them slowly. We'll make them suffer for every bit of pain they've inflicted on our brother before we even allow Asmo to deal with them. "

The demons nodded as the doors to the castle swung open. There waiting for them was Diavolo's ever so capable butler, Barbatos.

"Good evening," The ancient demon smiled, "Here to see the young Lord, are you?"

Lucifer would only nod as Barbatos led the way.

Levi paced about outside Mammon's room. How does he even begin to approach this? The thought was almost enough to send the Avatar of Envy scurrying back to his room.

"No, Levi your brother needs you right now! Ruri-chan would never leave someone who needs her behind so you won't either!" He took a couple deep breaths before opening the door and hit his brother who was coming out of the bathroom with the door. Mammon stumbled and just barely caught himself before he could take a tumble down the stairs.

"Damn, Levi," the Avatar of Greed groaned as he held a hand to his lower back. "It's like you're tryin' ta take me out..."

"I'm sorry. I thought you were still in bed and I-"

"It's fine. I've had worse, what's another bruise?" Mammon attempted to force a smile- to crack a joke as he leaned against the railing. "So what's up? Need something?"

"We all know what happened to you, Mams..." Levi frowned. "Asmo figured it out when we were having a family meeting while you were out of commission." He only watched as his older brother shoulders tensed up before relaxing.

"It's funny right?" He let out a bitter laugh, "I'm s'pposed ta be this big strong demon, but I end up getting tied down and used like a glorified sex toy- a cheap whore... fourth most powerful demon in the devildom my ass."

"No, its not funny." the purple haired demon frowned. "We all feel so bad for you. Personally, I can't even begin to imagine what you went through. I feel bad. There were a lot of nights were I saw you coming home super late. Part of me wonders if I had reached out to you then if we could've found out sooner..."

"It wouldn't have done anything... They ordered me not to talk." Mammon had a distant look on his face. "Even if I could've, I wasn't really all that there. After the third time, it just got to be too much and I just checked out. I don't actually remember coming home most nights... just waking up in bed like it was all some horrible nightmare..." At this, Mammon started to move down the stairs and took a seat on one of the couches.

Levi followed him down, talking a seat on the opposite end of the couch. "Why did you do this to yourself? The not eating and sleeping I mean."

"The nightmares just got to be too much so sleeping just became not worth it and I don't really know why I started starving myself.... one day I just... couldn't eat- at least not more than a few bites every couple of days anyway. If I had anymore than that it was hard to keep down. Maybe it was the guilt I felt that was making me sick..."

At his brother's word's the demon cocked a brow. "Guilt? Why do you feel guilty? You didn't do anything wrong."

"I feel like I cheated on Arella- like I didn't love her enough to fight harder against the witches. Levi, ya don't understand. I finished- multiple times at that so I must've enjoyed it deep down..."

The Avatar of Envy's jaw dropped at that statement. "That doesn't mean anything! So what if you finished? It was just a physical reaction to a stimulus. Its the same as sneezing when someone tickles a feather under your nose. A-and cheating's only a thing that can happen when both parties consent to it. It doesn't count if you get raped- at according to humans anyway."

"It still doesn't change the way I feel though. Honestly, I'd be surprised if she still even wants me at this point."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm damaged goods, Levi. You know what women down here are like- humans can be like that too... they don't want a guy who can't protect himself from somethin' like this cause that means he can protect him."

"Yeah but not Arella!" Levi stood up a deep frown on his face. "She's different and you know it. I can't believe you would even say that about your own girlfriend."

Mammon only frowned at him. He grabbed a blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch and cocooned himself in it. "I know 's a stupid thing to think, Levi, but 'm not used to someone like her. If I was datin' any other girl she'd have left me on the spot."

"I-I'll be back," Seeing his older brother this way, seeing the Avatar of Greed in this bad of shape, the purple hair-demon realized he was not the person most equipped to deal with this sort of thing. Instead he would go get Asmodeus, certain that the Avatar of Lust was the only person who could really help their brother. "I'm going to get Asmo."

Mammon would only watch his brother go silently. In all honesty, he was greatful to his little brother coming to see him. He did need someone to echo the words his human had said to him earlier even if he himself wasn't yet convinced.

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"Asmo, there's an emergency!" Levi just barged into his brother's room as Amsodeus looked up to him.

"What happened? Is Mammon alright?" Asmo looked up at him, pink to yellow gradient eyes filled with worry.

"Physically but he's in a real bad place mentally." Levi looked down. "Even back when our insults got to him so bad he wanted to.... unalive himself, he was never this bad. Arella’s still busy with making food for him and I wasn't any help, but as the Avatar of Lust you know so much more about how to help a victim than I do."

"That was the next stop I was planning to make after gathering up my nail polish and other tools but all that can wait, I suppose." He gave Levi a reassuring smile. "As long as you attempted to reassure him that this was never his fault to begin with you've done more than enough." The demon rose placing a hand on his older brother’s shoulder. "Don't worry, Levi. We'll get our brother back to his old self eventually- It make take a few years and many late night talks with all of us but it will happen. Given the right support, a victim can heal. Maybe not completely, but at least enough where its not the only thing they think about and Mammon has always been a resilient person.

The Avatar of Envy only nodded as he and the strawberry blonde demon walk out of his room together.

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"Mammon, I'm back," Arella called as she entered the bedroom carrying a tray with two bowls of cup noodles placed on it. When she noticed him starting blankly at the screen of his D.D.D, her stomach dropped at the thought of those monsters daring to contact him again. She made her way down the staircase as quick as she could without spilling the bowls on the tray. When she got to the glass coffee table, she placed the tray on the table and placed a hand of his shoulder. "Give me your phone, Love." It was an order Mammon was all to eager to follow, practically shoving the device into her hands as he buried his face in his hands. "I made you two cups. Eat as much as you can, even if its only a few bites."

"I'm sorry. Please don't be mad. Don't leave me because of this..." The demon's voice quaked as he looked up at her.

"I promise I won't. No matter what's on this screen, I'm not leaving you for anything."

He could only nod as he picked up a cup as Arella took a look at his phone. She frowned at the messages on written in the group chat.

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Masterlist 2

#tw victim blaming #tw mention of mental illness #tw mention of rape #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#mammon angst #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me oc #arella

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absconditum-imaginaerum · 4 years ago

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Hyunjae | Vulnerable Words | 18.7K Genre | Fluff, Angst, Mutual Pining Notes | Female!Reader x The Boyz Hyunjae, Post College AU. Mentions of alcohol, threats, unhealthy relationships, cursing. A whole shared brain written piece of work; Rainah and I wrote such eerily similar stories without the other’s knowledge, and here’s my rendition. This is a work of fiction, and any depictions of actions, behaviors, thoughts, and personalities of characters used in this story do not reflect reality. Summary | Hyunjae’s been gone for six years, leaving his family and friends behind to escape some painful feelings. Once returning, he realizes that those six years did nothing to help his feelings, and after running into you again, he’s convinced they’ll never go away, and that you’ve felt the same way all along.

Hyunjae hadn’t spent a summer vacation—or any vacation for that matter—in his hometown since leaving for college. He couldn’t place exactly what drew him back, but his parents were ecstatic when he arrived with a suitcase in hand and a shy expression on his face, hoping he still had somewhere to stay, even unannounced, with them. There was an air about his hometown that felt like a sea breeze on his face, like a breath of fresh air, a familiarity he couldn’t seem to find anywhere else.

His mother welcomed him with open arms, always thrilled to see her little boy, especially when she was never quite sure when she would see him again outside their visits to him. A fresh face he was surprised, but happy, to see was his older sister’s. She gave him a warm smile, waiting for her turn to embrace him after finally getting past their mother.

“You’ve been gone so long, you know,” she said to him. An explanation was queued in his throat transitorily just to hum in response, but for a moment just being welcomed by his family was calming.

“I always have classes in the summer and winter, and it’s a long way for a couple of days,” he explained. His father knew his ambitions, always studying extra hard at school, and was always encouraged to join extracurriculars or take more classes if he could—so he did.

“So, then, what made you take this summer off?” she asked.

It was an inevitable question he knew would be asked, but no matter how many times he thought to himself about the reason, he couldn’t come up with one other than he felt like he should, like he wanted to, like something was calling him back. Unable to answer, he shrugged it off before trekking up the stairs of a house he once called his.

Hyunjae got settled into his old room. Most of the things he didn’t take to college or didn’t ask to be kept were gone, and his bed was a full instead of a twin now, which must have meant that they used his room for guests—which he now was. For a brief moment, he sat on his bed, taking in the reality of actually being back in his hometown and seeing his family for the first time outside of FaceTime in a while. All the trinkets and pictures he’d asked his mom to save glimmered and glowered at him—maybe it was time to go through them to see what he wanted to get rid of. He reached over and gently plucked a silver frame from the dresser which encased a picture of himself and a girl he knew from a long time ago: his childhood best friend.

Hyunjae thought about you often, about what you were doing, if school had treated you well and how your family was— you both were that type of friends, the type that was close with the other’s family, the type whose families were basically your own. After moving away, he’d thought about you a lot through college in many lights; the good and the bad.

It was late enough in the evening that fifteen minutes into feeling nostalgic about his old life and friendships made it to dinner time. He was almost startled by the way his mom softly knocked on the frame of his door to alert him that dinner was ready, and although he didn’t feel overly hungry, he wouldn’t refuse mom’s homemade cooking or dare not sit down with them at the very least.

The evening wasn’t eventful, mostly just catching his family up on what life has been like for the time he’d been away, and similarly asked about things going on around there—about how much it had changed and become more accommodating to the younger crowd and how things had shifted around and all of the infrastructure that had been built. It was so much busier than he’d last remembered, with new shopping strips of immaculate and fingerprint-less glass storefronts with fancy chrome polished doors and neon signs that lit up the night; new bars and restaurants popping up in more populated areas he’d only glazed over while in the back of a ride-share on the way to his parent’s home.

His family stayed up much later than they had back before he left for college—he only knew because it was unusual for him to be tired before the rest of them, but when he took a peek at the clock, registering quarter to twelve, he was surprised.

“You’ve had a long day of travels, you don’t have to stay up for us,” Hyunjae’s mother commented, resting a hand against her son’s shoulder to bring him back to life, somewhat, as he was dozing off a bit in the corner of the couch. After moving to get up he gave her a soft smile, bid his family goodnight, and headed back to his room.

The bed and sheets were different, but somehow the way they slid over his body, the cool sheets meeting the warmth of his skin, something about it felt like home. Maybe it was the familiarity of the shape of his room, of the same furniture in the same spots, some trinkets still here and there he had fond memories of, or the comfort of the pillows that he sunk into like a sack of bricks. Maybe he really just was that tired from traveling and the somewhat mental exhaustion of being back and still not understanding what brought him here that any old bed may have felt like this. Despite that, he couldn’t help but glance over to the picture he was hanging on to previously. You both had just graduated high school in the picture, hanging on each other with playful smiles donning your caps and gowns. He wondered what you looked like now because he knew he looked quite a bit different.

Then he began to wonder if you ever thought about him, about how once he left for college the two of you quickly stopped talking... And now that he was thinking about it, he wondered if the number in his phone was even still your number.

Audibly sighing, he rolled onto his side to face away from the dresser from which that photograph was glowering at him, or so it felt. He closed his eyes and pressed his head deep into the pillow, tucking the sheets under his arm so just enough chill of the air conditioning would make it comfortable and somehow, despite his racing thoughts, he fell asleep.

Three days of summer ‘vacation’ went by agonizingly slowly, but he’d gotten the opportunity to look around some new shops that had popped up around the area with his sister before he was looking at your number in his contacts. Was it even worth reaching out to you? Would you even want to see him? Surely if he was having these feelings, there was a chance that maybe you were feeling them, too. So, as he sat across a bistro table from his sister after ordering lunch, his finger hovered over the message button before typing something quickly so he couldn’t change his mind.

An immediate notification came back from his service provider, notifying him that the number he had messaged was no longer in service, but that didn’t seem to ease his tension any as he looked back at the message with a displeased expression—shockingly upset in a way even he couldn’t understand.

“Who are you secretly texting under the table?” Hyunjae’s sister asked, not even remotely distracted with her food enough to not notice.

Hyunjae sighed, there was no reason to lie—it didn’t even really matter at this point, all hopes of him contacting you had been thwarted by the fact that you’d changed your number who even knew how long ago.

“An old friend from a long time ago, but their number is disconnected,” he replied with a sigh and all but tossed his phone against the rustic wood table, finally turning to his flavored tea for the first sip since it had arrived, and already their food was there. “I haven’t seen her since we both left for separated colleges… I figured if I was going to be here, it might be worth seeing her if she was still around.”

She looked at him for a moment; one name clicking in her mind right away and without thinking blurted it out. Hyunjae turned his gaze away from his plate, trying to wrangle his appetite, and up to his sister. Your name almost hurt him to speak out loud, but his look only confirmed his sister’s suspicions.

“Her family still lives around the corner, their old house…” she trailed off, trying not to step on any toes if there were toes to be stepped on, “I’m sure her mom would like to see you, she asks about you a lot.”

“Mom never told me that,” Hyunjae replied, appetite completely out the window that his point even if he picked around at the side of fruit on his plate.

“At the very least, you might be able to ease yourself about it.”

So, after a few more days of hanging around at home, helping his mom with some shopping, and exploring his some-what forgotten town with his sister, he pulled on a light jacket after dinner and announced he was going for a walk. His sister gave him a knowing look, almost promising she wouldn’t say where he was going as he stepped into his shoes and left out the front door. The way to your house was emblazoned in his mind, he knew it like the back of his hand—it was close and he couldn’t even count the number of times he’d been there over the years.

The yard was the same, littered with beautiful flowers as it always had been—your mother had a knack for gardening. All the flora was nicely groomed while the outside lights illuminated the walk-way a pale yellow color that glowed in the twilight air. He approached the door, a tight knot in his stomach; he hadn’t even planned anything to say to you, if you happened to be there, which almost made him turn back if he hadn’t already pressed the bell, listening to it chime loudly through the house before a quiet voice called back.

Hyunjae shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he listened to the locks turn before the door opened to a woman he was so familiar with, a woman who didn’t look a day older than when he’d last seen her at his high school graduation. A soft smile pulled at his lips, and his eyes softened just looking at her. She smiled back, although there was a glint in her eyes that told him that she wasn’t quite sure who he was.

“Can I help you?” she asked politely.

Hyunjae’s smile faded a bit, but not enough to drop from his face.

“I’m here to see my second family, after being gone for six years,” he replied gently, hoping that was enough.

She shook her head as her gaze cast away from him, which inevitably resulted in the smile dropping from Hyunjae’s face.

“Six years pass and your son from another family doesn’t even call you mom anymore,” she teased him as her eyes came back up to meet his disappointed gaze. “You’ve gotten so tall over the years, Hyunjae.”

His smile struggled to come back, and all he knew was the warmth of her embrace as she stepped just outside the door to wrap her arms around him. “I ask about you all the time, your mother always tells me how busy you’ve been and that you don’t even come to visit them.”

Somehow it made him feel guiltier coming from your mom than his own mom—maybe that was because his dad was always chirping in the background about studying hard, about how they’d always be there for him to come back when he was ready. His hands slowly pulled out of his pockets to embrace her back with words caught in his throat, a poor excuse of an explanation about why he hadn’t come back. It didn’t matter, the thought of you loomed in the back of his mind like a bad dream, and, as if her intuition could still reach him…

“She’s out at work tonight. Would you like me to let her know you dropped by?”

Now he was really on the spot. He could feel a shiver shoot down his spine and he thought about just asking for your phone number, but that felt like too much of a hassle. His hands shook a bit, and he was sure your mom could hear the way his heart raged against the cage of his chest just trying to come up with a response to a simple yes or no question.

“Yes, please,” he finally blurted, but it sounded unsure, there was no conviction. She reeled back to get a good look at his face, to see the nerves all over it, to see the frustration knitted in his brow.

“She asks me about you, which is half the reason I ask about you. When your mom said you never come around for holidays—”

“I wish she’d called me,” he interrupted; but did he mean it?

“You both were busy! She didn’t want to bother you—if you weren’t coming home for vacation, she figured you were doing other things. I’ll let her know you stopped by, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear that you’re in visiting for a bit.”

Hyunjae slowly nodded and allowed your mom to return inside and bid him goodnight before he was turning away on autopilot. A million things were running through his mind—the most important seemed to be what would he say to you when he finally did see you again for the first time? He couldn’t even come up with something good to say even on the spot with you potentially answering the door to your childhood home. For certain he knew that he would be standing there, looking like a fool, stuttering for quite some time—he had no doubt you’d just look at him with that same patient look whenever he couldn’t come up with the right words for you.

After returning, he didn’t have too much to say as he headed up to his room, the same thoughts cycling his mind like a cropped film reel, but it wasn’t distracting enough to stop him from grabbing that same silver-framed photo of the two of you and plopped on his bed to look at it, hoping it would inspire some things to say.

At least he’d have three days before seeing you, finally, but it was fairly unexpected. His family was just getting ready to sit down to eat when there was a knock on the door. As the youngest and spryest, Hyunjae stood from the table to allow his family to start eating, but they were just as curious. An awkwardness loomed the moment his eyes met yours after tugging the door open; of course, he didn’t recognize you, really—it had been a good chunk of time since he last saw you.

“Sorry, maybe I’m at the wrong house,” you tried, a plate of baked goods in your hands as you looked back at Hyunjae before taking a step back to look at the address. There was a screech of a chair across the floor as it was being pushed out, followed by another one before the doorway was crowded by his sister and mother who greeted you enthusiastically. It didn’t take long for you to come to the ultimate conclusion.

Your eyes shot back to Hyunjae’s, who was still looking at you despite all of the commotion coming from around him which inevitably pushed him out of the way of the doorway. Somehow the plate was coaxed out of your hand with a million questions being asked about it and you were being tugged into the house with insistence that you join them for dinner. You couldn’t answer, your gaze remained locked with Hyunjae until the both of them realized that he was your primary focus, and quickly the chatter stopped and silence took over again.

“Well, aren’t you going to say something to her?” his sister asked, prompting him to come somewhat back to life and he shook his head, swallowing hard, but still nothing was in there to say—he wasn’t sure what to say, so he settled with your name. There was a burning within your face that you couldn’t contain, and couldn’t help the way your eyes trailed away from his face.

“Hyunjae… it’s been so long, I didn’t even recognize you,” you finally said, but still didn’t feel comfortable just yet looking back up at him.

Hyunjae swallowed the knot in his throat, and after some prompting from his sister in the background, finally found something good to say.

“Would you… would you please stay for dinner with us?” he asked. You could feel the nerves in the shakiness of his voice, and in the half-step he took towards you which you could only see because you were looking at his feet. “There’s plenty, and you’re not a bother, and… to be honest, I tried messaging you the other day, but I don’t have your number anymore and I went to your mom’s and—”

“I’ll stay,” you replied, finally finding the heart to look up at him with a soft genuine smile. You could hear his sister and mom behind you, but still, you were focused on the grown-up boy in front of you, who had grown so tall since you’d last seen him—you weren’t even heighted anymore. Hyunjae pulled out your chair at the table and got you a plate and some utensils. Naturally, he placed you between him and his sister where you usually sat when you stayed with them for dinner when you were younger.

Conversation ensued quickly between you and the rest of Hyunjae’s family since you were still far more familiar with them. You settled in next to Hyunjae again, and although there was a lot to talk about, a lot to catch up on between the two of you, you enjoyed the fact that the rest of the family was breaking the awkwardness and allowing you and Hyunjae to chime in when appropriate.

The conversation was mostly about you, about school, about how life had been since leaving for college since you and Hyunjae had pretty much broken contact by the end of the first semester. Honestly, it broke both your hearts a little bit, and you could feel the stinging of those same pieces even now. Hyunjae told you what your mom said, about you not wanting to call him, and all of the subsequent lack of communication that led to your complete separation. Conversation seemed to flow a bit more freely between the two of you again, deep somewhere there was an understanding about the hurt that the split caused the both of you. Unfortunately, after that, dinner went quickly and although it wasn’t getting too late, you felt like you needed to go.

“Thank you for the lovely dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Lee, inviting me in so unannounced,” you began, and then addressed Hyunjae’s sister and then Hyunjae.

“It’s always a pleasure to have you over, dear,” Mrs. Lee commented with that same full smile she always had. She always made you feel like a part of the family, like her own daughter.

“Let me walk you home,” Hyunjae offered.

“It’s not far,” you reminded him.

“It’s late and I don’t want you to go by yourself,” he insisted.

He could see the fight in your eyes, the same fight from the number of years ago when he’d say the same thing, when he’d walk you home no matter how much you insisted it wasn’t necessary. The way you dug in was noticeable, preparing to stand your ground against him because, who was he to be so concerned as someone who left? And maybe that was the wrong mindset to have about him because you could feel, even in the way he looked at you, that he still cared for you.

Hyunjae gave you that look where his gaze got a little more tender and there was an almost unnoticeable raise of his brows and a head flick towards the door. It had you swallowing hard, barely even noticing the silence before it was interrupted.

“Please, Hyunjae will walk you home! It’s safer that way!” Hyunjae’s sister chimed in and took a hold of your arm to bring you back to earth. You looked at her, blinking a few times before reluctantly nodding. She gave you a tight squeeze, reminding you how good it was to see you and to not be a stranger because she would always be around and Hyunjae was home for the whole summer.

Out of old habit, Hyunjae extended his elbow to you, and, to avoid being overly awkward, you took it, but not without looking up at him questioningly as he was pulling you out of the door. You walked slowly side by side once getting off the initial porch of his parent’s home, and he reached over to cup over your hand to keep it from slipping away.

“If you don’t mind too much…” he trailed off, asking you to keep your hand around his arm as he escorted you to your home. He didn’t look at you, even when you looked up at him. It was okay, though, because you could hear something in his voice that pained you a bit, so you tightened your grip around his bicep as you moseyed along the sidewalk. The street lamps provided dim light, barely enough to see the cracks in the slabs of concrete. Admittedly, you felt better that he was walking you home anyway—ever since all of the development in the area, it somehow felt less safe year after year that you’d come home for the summer or winter.

Hyunjae was silent the entirety of the walk; the only noise he did make was an occasional rough exhale of a somewhat held breath, and in the off chance that you attempted to sneak a peek of him from the corner of your eye you could see his chest contract with that exhale. Then, you were under the familiar light of your home’s porch before you were ready. You knew the walk was only a couple of blocks, but you’d hoped there was more time with the pace at which you were walking. There was so much stuck in your throat that you wanted to say, so much that probably wouldn’t ever come out unless he spoke first; but it looked like there was little to no intention.

You could feel his bicep flex under your hand, his whole body tensing up next to you as he took another rickety breath. With your eyes still cast down at the ground, you turned your head to him before your gaze fluttered up his chest to his throat and eventually his face; he had gotten so much taller since leaving. The numbers of your address next to it seemed to scrutinize him before he swallowed hard. Hyunjae carefully peeled your hand away from his arm and held onto it as he helped you up the step onto your actual porch landing.

“Hyunjae,” you tried as you turned to face him—leaving in complete silence seemed incomprehensible, unimaginable.

“I’m sorry,” he replied quietly, but his gaze was still cast to the side of you. “I guess just actually seeing you, actually sitting down with you at the table with my family like old times just…opened wounds I didn’t know were there…”

The tone in his voice and the look in his distant gaze was like putting salt in the wounds you knew were there, you knew had been there for years. It took a few moments of silence, but his eyes eventually found yours. He looked at you with a tenderness you’d never seen out of him before, and of course, over six years there was a lot of growing and a lot of changes, but this particular look put knots in your stomach, unlike anything you had ever felt before.

“I think if we’re going to do any mending, that’s a talk we need to have,” you answered, finally noticing the way his hand lingered in yours, the way it had been for the last few moments that you hadn’t registered his fingers playing with yours.

The moment his gaze turned away from yours again, you took a step forward and your hand left his to turn his chin back towards you. “That means you can’t run away again,” you reminded him, as if his first departure away to college was him running away in the first place.

He nodded in your soft grip, but you could see the way his brow ached to draw together.

“Go home, sleep on it, get the right words… we’ll talk,” you told him, hands both dropping back to your sides.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, but this time you weren’t sure what for. Just as you were about to turn towards your door to leave him, he took you around the middle and dragged you into him, hulling you up against his firm chest as his arms tightened against you. Initially, you were surprised. The audacity, but also the guts it took to pull you into a hug when he was stumbling over his words like a dancer with two left feet. Your hands ghosted up his arms, slowly feeling his frame—tall and warm against your own—before your arms draped across his shoulders. Your head was turned to the side, pressed against his collar turned inwards towards the center, and, much to your own surprised, you relished the hug like home. This felt akin to the hug he gave you before you both departed to your separate cities, vowing that he would maintain contact which quickly disintegrated. Honestly, it had tears pricking at your eyes like you were saying goodbye all over again, but also releasing the gates on the emotions you’d stowed away for all those years with no thoughts that he’d ever come back.

His breathing was now even more noticeably rickety with your head pressed up against his chest. A few more times he apologized, still for reasons you weren’t aware of, and squeezed you even tighter for just a moment longer before he was finally releasing you.

“I’ll wait until you’re inside,” he said as you stepped back from him, and even still he wouldn’t look right at you.

“Go home safely,” you replied, stepping backward until your back unceremoniously hit your front door. You were pawing at the handle, watching him wait for you until you finally popped the door to let yourself inside. “Goodnight, Hyunjae,” you added.

“Goodnight,” he replied, and your gaze finally met his before you turned to close him away from you.

Hyunjae spent the next couple of days mulling over your brief conversation about a conversation that still was yet to be had. It was up to him to find you when he was ready; obviously, he had a lot to say to you which would undoubtedly be coupled with a bit of stumbling around for the correct words, no matter how many days he had to think about it.

At least, he attempted to think about it. He slowly kicked his way down the river-front walkway to the dock where you used to play around as kids. The river-front was full of all kinds of neat little local mom and pop shops that gave life to the town, especially when the sun was setting in spring or fall when it gleamed off the river just right and an array of purples and oranges and all the colors in between painted the sky so beautifully. It used to be an empty area, abandoned commercially with the docks left to be perfect ground to play pretend as kids.

He remembered the dock fondly as he stepped off the concrete path and onto the surprisingly preserved wooden boards that looked like they had been sanded and re-varnished recently. Maybe the dock was still in use for smaller boats, or maybe those people who owned the river-front stores kept it looking nice for tourism purposes. Either way, he was happy, because that meant he had to worry less about splinters.

The tide was out, so there was plenty of room for Hyunjae to dangle his legs off the side of the dock as he took a seat, looking out to the glittering seawater which was reflecting the aforementioned sunset colors. He recalled all the fond memories he had of this particular dock with you—it was where you spent most of your time together playing pirates and other silly little kids games and remembered one time very vividly when he was roughhousing a little too much and you ended up tumbling off the dock into the water. He was lucky his older sister was there to pull you out—you were maybe six or seven at the time; he remembered how bad he felt, how many times he profusely apologized and the way you smiled about it, laughed about it even and gave him a hard time for being too concerned. Looking back on it, he wouldn’t have changed anything.

Incessantly he gnawed at his bottom lip, doing a little more thinking of the way things used to be and less thinking about what he would say to you when the inevitable conversation came. Maybe he’d benefit from playing through his memories, and he would have continued to think of them if there wasn’t an iced drink being shaken right next to his ear.

He jumped, a bit startled by the sound, and looked over to a stout iced coffee being handed to him and followed the arm up to your face, where you smiled at him jovially with the straw of your own coffee comfortable between your lips.

“Did you know I would be here?” he asked you and tenderly took the coffee from you and scooted over to make a bit of room for you to sit next to him. You plopped down, hanging your legs off the side of the dock the same way his were for a moment, examining your coffee as you stirred it.

“I had a hunch… and then I stopped by your house,” you told him, implying that they had told you that he went for a walk, but how many places could he possibly go in a city that wasn’t his anymore.

“I’m not ready to have the talk,” he replied quickly as to not get your hopes up about it.

“That’s okay,” you said, “we don’t have to talk about that, we can talk about anything. Or we don’t have to talk at all.”

“But you bought me a coffee—”

“I could see you from the shop,” you laughed, referencing the river-front shop maybe fifty yards away.

Hyunjae just nodded, still too nervous to even look at you again since taking the coffee from you in the first place. He hadn’t even tasted it, just continued to spin the ice around the clear plastic cup as condensation built up on its sides before finally mustering the courage to thank you for the coffee.

A few moments of silence passed--if he didn’t have anything to say, that was fine, but you wouldn’t be the one to force conversation as you kicked your feet back and forth and continued to sip on your coffee. You found the nerves fluttering around in your stomach were also making it hard to look at him, which probably benefitted him anyway.

You wouldn’t, and couldn’t, blame him for being closed off, and gave him a pass for a couple of days ago, the affection and openness after the first time seeing you; the well of emotions was hard to ignore especially when the two of you used to be so close. But now that he had a few days to settle in, a few days to think about that… a different tune was expected. The imminent conversation that loomed in the background of both your minds (perhaps at the forefront of his) was only exacerbating the awkwardness you stewed in.

“Do you want me to go?” you asked after a moment; you had, after all, been the one to come second. It was his dock if he wanted it.

“No, I’m sorry. A million things are running through my mind, and I’m just trying to not say something stupid,” he replied, and finally, the blood rushing through him gave him enough adrenaline, faux confidence, to turn his head just enough to peer at you from the corner of his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to make this trip so hard on you—”

“It’s not you, it’s me. It’s one hundred percent me, and that’s the part I’m grappling the hardest with. I just…” He sighed, taking a moment to compose himself as he ran his free hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead just to let it flutter back into place. “You must hate me, for treating you the way I did. For never bothering to check in with you, or even come back. For just leaving you behind like you were nothing.”

His words stung, indubitably. Although that was the fact of the matter, you’d always tried to make excuses for him, but when he gave it to you in total plainness, you understood his feelings a bit better.

“I was afraid to go, and part of me felt like I would be better off if I just… forgot about here and everything with it.” He paused for a moment, biting that bottom lip harder than ever before, and stifled a growl deep in his throat when he finally clenched his teeth together. “I’m sorry, for being such a… freaking jerk!” His voice raised volume at the end of his sentence, emphasizing the way he assumed you felt about him because that was how he felt about him. “There’s so much more I want to say to you but I just don’t… I don’t have the right words yet.”

He took a deep swig of his coffee to try to cool himself off after winding himself up, but it was mostly so he’d shut up before saying anything else harmful because he could already feel the shift in your aura that wasn’t so jovial anymore. Admittedly, his words clawed at the metaphorical stitch job over your wounds, pulling hard at the threads that closed them up, and you could taste a bit of that initial pain resurfacing. Emotionally, you didn’t want to have that coming conversation, but logically you knew that if you were going to heal completely about each other that it was entirely necessary.

“Thank you for being vulnerable with me,” you finally said after a few moments of silence. You knew how much it took to get just even that out, the amount of pride he undoubtedly had to push aside to admit fault in the first place. The fact that he openly admitted he was afraid was somehow unlike the Hyunjae you used to know.

He couldn’t even look at you again and took another sip of his coffee to effectively polish off the small cup before he discarded it to the side you sat on. Gingerly, you collected it intending to throw it away when you left, guessing it would be before him. The silence that loomed between you had you able to hear the way his fingernails scratched against the fresh varnish of the dock in frustration.

“Why are you even sitting here with me? I wouldn’t even have the patience to talk to me until it was time to hear me grovel at your feet about what a piece of shit I was and how I don’t even deserve you to still be in my life anyway and that it was foolish of me to even go to your house, to begin with, and—”

“Stop,” you interrupted, maneuvering both cups to one hand somehow just so you could set your now free hand down on top of his to squeeze it.

“But I just—”

“Hyunjae, stop!” you pleaded, and he’d finally turned to look you in the eye, entirely, for the first time since you sat down. “You’re not a piece of shit—”

“Only that could possibly do to you what I did; a spineless and weak little—”

“Enough!” you begged—now he was just making you angry, but only because you were hurt with the way he beat himself up harder than you ever would; that was something you found familiar about him. “You know I don’t think that!”

“Don’t sit here and lie to my face like this,” he almost growled. “I know what I did to you, and I would hate me—”

“Great, but you’re not me,” you fired back with matched ferocity, and so you exchanged your look between his eyes, noting the way they shimmered amber reflecting the sunset light off the water, noting the way they looked at you with such intensity, while trying to stave the tears that were pushing against his waterline. There was a bubbling against your throat, words you knew you didn’t want to say that burned like wildfire. You continued to switch between his eyes, knowing the things queued weren’t going to help the situation in any way and so, to avoid saying something you knew you’d regret, and since you knew he wouldn’t stop pushing you, you pushed up from the dock and took his empty plastic cup with you to leave him with the burn of your hand on top of his and that distinct lack of your gaze into his eyes.

Then, and only then, did the tears that threatened have room to fall. His nails scraped against the dock even harder as he clenched his fist, still able to feel the warmth of your hand on top of his as he stared through the ghost of your presence. His jaw was tight, and his tears were hot—they were angry, frustrated, discontent but not with you. The wounds were deeper than he thought, still more tender than he thought, and all that led him to a harsh conclusion—the final talk would be even worse hell than he initially imagined.

A few days away from each other allowed for a bit of cooling off. Hyunjae drafted a few notes of things he wanted to say to you but often scrapped them, knowing that it would sound ingenuous if he was reading off a cue card. Several crumpled half sheets of paper filled his trashcan, a sight that annoyed him even as he lay on his bed with his eyes closed, knowing he needed to get something to stick. It was already two weeks into summer break and while there was plenty of break left, the sooner you had this talk, the sooner he would stop feeling like complete garbage for being in the same town as you.

That’s really what it was; initially, it felt so good to see you again—although you’d changed a lot in six years, the familiar presence made home feel a lot more comfortable. But the more he settled in, the more he thought about it—thought about what you were feeling, thought about how you made him feel, thought about everything that went down before he said what he imagined was his last goodbye and quite frankly, for as much as he cherished and cared about you, the goodbye was sub-par to shit. And he knew it would come crashing down, that comforting euphoria of having you close to him again when those fateful words exited your mouth: that’s a talk we need to have.

He hated the feeling that was coursing through him now, touching every nerve ending he had, absolute dread. Now, he was feeling like it was a mistake to come back, although he was entitled to the town as much as you were as his family lived there also—the biggest mistake was trying to see you again.

A knock on his door brought him out of his thoughts and his eyes opened to look at it as it began to crack open. His sister had a tray with some cups and a kettle on that she was maneuvering through the door, pushing it back closed with her foot as she set the tray on the large dresser to the left. She looked at Hyunjae before noticing the pile of paper around his small garbage.

“What happened?” she asked, knowing it was something because Hyunjae seldom spent so much time in his room, plus he’d been off for a couple of days since he’d seen you at the dock.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hyunjae replied, gracefully accepting the freshly poured tea his sister was handing him.

“I don’t think that’s what I asked,” she replied—she usually didn’t let him get away with that, even since they were kids.

Hyunjae sighed and blew on his cup of tea for a moment. “Just marinating in the consequences of my colossal fuck ups,” he replied with a fake smile to the emptiness of his room, although the statement was directed at his sister.

“She doesn’t hate you, if that’s what you think,” she replied and took a seat on his bed. “She’s hurt about you; I’d be hurt about you. There’s a lot to process between the two of you right now, a bit deeper than you might expect to find. It’s awkward and tense and tough to swallow, but you have to do it if you want to salvage it. But I know she doesn’t hate you.”

He swallowed hard; he didn’t even want to look at his sister for the time being as he was having a hard time with the things she was even saying—they were true; he knew they were true. But about you not hating him? Maybe he didn’t believe that. He was slipping into his thoughts again before his phone started vibrating in his pocket. It was unusual, because seldom did anyone call anymore, and who would be calling anyway? He finagled it out of his pocket to look at the caller ID to see someone he recognized: Kevin Moon.

Hesitantly, he swiped to answer, leaving his sister to occupy herself about his room.

“Hello?” he muttered unconfidently.

“Hyunjae! I heard you’re finally back in town!” Kevin’s voice seemed a bit too jovial, jolting Hyunjae a bit.

“Ahh… yeah. It’s been a minute, huh?” he inquired less enthusiastically.

“A minute! More like a lifetime; you’ve been gone for six years! Anyway enough about that; I’ve planned a get-together for a bunch of friends from back in the day! You know, our high school group! When I heard you were back, I had to invite you! You should come by, I’m sure everyone would love to see you!”

It would be rude to ask who was invited, and then decide based on that; but there was certainly a handful of people he would do better not seeing again, perhaps. He had an answer queued in his throat, he wanted to say that he wouldn’t make it—

“You better go, you’re not doing anything and you need to get out,” his sister commented, loud enough for Kevin to hear.

The look on Hyunjae’s face dropped in an instant when Kevin confirmed that he heard and looked at his sister with daggers in his eyes.

“I’ll kill you,” he mouthed to her but she just smiled and sipped her tea. He composed himself with a deep breath before agreeing to be there and briefly negotiated the time and place and after Kevin hung up, he let out an exasperated sigh.

“There are so many people who are going to be there that I don’t want to see,” he grumbled.

“But there’s so many people who you do! Plus, people who would love to see you, and you can’t just mope around here all day, I won’t have it!” she exclaimed and took her seat back next to him. “You need to get out; sitting up here and thinking about what you’re going to say will make you age too fast. The right words will come, I promise.”

“I think you’re too confident,” Hyunjae said.

“I need to be confident for both of us,” she reminded him and filled her cup back up before leaving him with the rest of the pot in his room.

It was already late in the afternoon at that point, and Kevin’s party would be starting in a couple of hours. He sat on his bed with his legs crossed as he finished off the pot of tea, taking up another half an hour before finally deciding he would shower for the party and at least try to look more put together than he felt. What did the extent of the old group mean? Because you were technically part of the old group; asking about you outright would be too suspicious. There would be plenty of people there to keep you both distracted from each other especially since they’d undoubtedly seen you far more, which meant it was likely he’d be engaged the whole time.

He set the tray off to the side on his desk—he’d take it back downstairs later—and grabbed some things for the shower with a sincere hope that some hot water would help clear his mind. And perhaps he spent far too much time in there, because by the time he got out and checked the clock it was already twenty minutes passed when he thought it was. He rushed through toweling his hair somewhat dry enough to comb it a certain way and hoped it would stay, tugged on a black button-up and a light wash pair of jeans before he was heading out the door, mentioning briefly to his parents that he was going to Kevin’s, a name they were familiar with, and that he’d be back later.

When Kevin answered the door, it was nothing short of a party right there. It had been a long time since any of them had seen him, so the commotion was understandable, and then an actual genuine smile broke on Hyunjae’s face as he clapped hands with his buddy who was quickly garnering the attention of the other party-goers who had also missed him.

Hyunjae stepped through the door, a cup immediately put in his hand as he greeted all his old high school buddies amongst the dimly lit room. Kevin always knew how to set the mood of a get-together; this was no different, done up with candles and string lights that slowly faded to different soft colors with some low music in the background. There were a couple of yard games going on outside, corn hole and beer pong with tables of appetizers and coolers full of drinks of all varieties.

“Wow, Kev, you went all out,” Hyunjae commented and reached into his pocket for his wallet to try and supplement some of the cost, but Kevin stopped him immediately.

“You’re the guest of honor; you’re the whole reason I put this thing together,” he replied and encouraged him to put his wallet back. “When I heard you were back I knew the guys would be stoked to see you. It seems like you’ve been gone a lifetime!”

Hyunjae laughed nervously and hoped that he wouldn’t be asked why he never came back to visit. It was a thought he was still grappling with; a thought he knew half the answer to but the other half was something he’d rather not visit. He had mentioned it to you out loud that day on the dock and it left a burning in his throat ever since—he couldn’t decide if it was because it was the truth or because he knew he was only telling you part of it. Regardless, he tried to push it from his mind before taking a swig from the plastic solo cup in his hand: a hurricane tasting concoction that wasn’t quite right and a bit too strong.

As he expected, he was fairly occupied with the swaths of conversations, always being caught by someone new he thought he’d never see again to strike up a conversation about what he was up to and so far, he’d avoided the dreaded question about not visiting. It was safe to assume that he was just caught up in things; Hyunjae was always a hard studier; school was very important. In a fairly short time, considering the duration of Kevin’s parties typically, he’d gotten through most of the high school group who had come up to him in small circles to greet him and catch up a bit.

For a bit, he’d been roped into a couple of games of corn hole. It was fun while it lasted, although he couldn’t say he was any good at it. It was the bonding and laughing that counted, especially when someone’s throw was particularly bad and they all laughed at each other for never playing games like this in their college days—it seemed everyone turned out to be quite studious in their time at school and spent less time at frat parties.

When one of the rounds was finally over and Hyunjae’s drink had run dry, he found a replacement for his team and excused himself back inside the house to make something more his speed. There were a few small circles of people who seemed like they were all catching up—turned out he wasn’t the only one gone for an extended period. Hyunjae dug through a cooler for a can of coke to mix his own drink before he was overhearing some drama he probably shouldn’t have concerned himself with, but it was right around the corner from the kitchen and it sounded unwelcomed.

“Please just leave me alone,” a voice Hyunjae recognized sounded quietly. Suddenly his desires were conflicted when could tell they were trying not to make a scene but then recognized the voice as yours. On the one hand, he figured the two of you needed a little more space, but on the other hand, was he about to just stand by and let whoever was bothering you continue to do so?

No, he couldn’t let it go, and set his cup down on the kitchen counter, and carefully rounded the corner of the wall to find you sandwiched between it and Sangyeon, someone he considered to be close friends with at one point in time. The look on your face when you finally opened your eyes to see him was nothing short of desperate, but Sangyeon had you locked in tight.

Hyunjae wanted to verbalize his protest, but the look on your face caught his words in his throat. Instead, he stepped forward and took Sangyeon’s shoulder to pull him away from you.

“She asked you to leave her alone,” he was finally able to manage just as Sangyeon had stumbled back slightly, ready to give Hyunjae a few choice words before meeting eyes with the familiar younger male. In less than a second flat, you’d scrambled off the wall to take Hyunjae’s arm as he protectively tucked you behind him, expecting a confrontation. Sangyeon knew the history between you and Hyunjae well.

“Dude, it’s cool,” he tried, a friendly smile on his face as he reached for you.

“Dude, it’s not cool. She asked you to leave her alone,” Hyunjae fired back, taking a step back, and subsequently stepping you back.

“Babe, just tell him—”

“I’m not your babe anymore, Sangyeon. I thought that was clear,” you spat from behind Hyunjae. Although there was shock in his subconscious, he couldn’t let that display on his face. He kept his expression as stone-cold as possible as he glared down the older male who was gritting his teeth. It wasn’t hard to piece together the situation; you and Sangyeon used to date, you called it off and Sangyeon didn’t like it.

“I got it, Hyunjae,” Sangyeon tried again, as if trying to convince him that it was a situation he didn’t need to be a part of, but he could feel your grip tighten a little bit on his arm and he wasn’t about to abandon you—he didn’t care who to.

��How about you take a walk,” Hyunjae suggested, knowing what Sangyeon was implying. The older seemed shocked by his reply, and rightfully so. “She asked you to leave her alone; I don’t think she should have to do so again.”

There was an uncomfortable silence that loomed between the three of you, and you could see the look in Sangyeon’s eyes that you were pretty familiar with and so tugged yourself closer to Hyunjae. The younger raised his brow, prompting for a reply or for the older to move on. It was clear Hyunjae wasn’t going to back off, especially not as he tucked you just a little bit further behind him.

“Take a walk,” Hyunjae reaffirmed, a growl on the tail of his words and he stood firm until Sangyeon growled, attempting to glare past the other male to get to you, but Hyunjae consistently stepped in his view to make sure that would not be successful.

It hurt your pride a little bit, to be rescued from your ex-boyfriend by anyone at that party, but most particularly Hyunjae who you were not expecting to see, although you were expecting him to be there—and you really weren’t anticipating him seeing that. Surely he knew, and surely he gave you a couple of moments to decide what you wanted to do as you stood against him, against his back, waiting for Sangyeon to clear out and even beyond. Hyunjae’s rhythmic breathing was soothing as he made no moves and only looked forward; he could feel the way your hand still furled into his pressed black shirt, the way your forehead lay against his shoulder blade while his hands dangled at his sides.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a few moments. He was met immediately with a tightness of his shirt, as you gripped it a little harder. “Did he hurt you, physically?” he asked, since he could tell you probably weren’t okay, at least for the time being, and he could feel you shake your head against his shoulder.

“Let’s sit somewhere quiet,” he suggested and waited for you for a moment before you were peeling yourself off his back. You expected he wouldn’t look at you, just lead the way through the house that he had been in more times than he could count as he led you towards the back of the house, but not before being caught by a passerby. Feeling a tug on his arm as you responded to the tug on your arm, Hyunjae jolted to a stop.

“Are you okay?” Younghoon asked you. It wasn’t so far out of reach that you be put in a position you didn’t want to be in, but Younghoon couldn’t know that you’d just been rescued from one. Before you could answer, Hyunjae looked over his shoulder at Younghoon.

“O-oh,” Younghoon stuttered. Everyone around knew about you and Hyunjae. “Of course, I’m sorry,” he apologized, soothed only by the warmth of your smile as you pushed the threatening tears further and further so that you could finally get out of there as you were pulled into a back guest room—you could tell it was a guest room because of the décor and the dust on the furnishings. Hyunjae closed the door behind you as he found the light and flicked it on, giving you space to make yourself comfortable first and he would follow after.

You took a seat on the bed, first, letting everything soak in—starting with Hyunjae and your interaction at the dock for a short time before the situation with Sangyeon, how you would manage to make it through the rest of the party without more problems whether that be between you and Sangyeon, or Hyunjae. You watched as Hyunjae’s dark shoes made it into view in front of you as you looked down at the pristine wood flooring covered by an area rug.

The fray of your distressed jeans entertained your hands, picking at it nervously as you took a few deep breaths. There was an almost silent noise that came from him as he stuck his hands in his pockets, rolling his shoulders a bit before letting out a rickety exhale. He wasn’t sure what to say at the moment; between Sangyeon, Hyunjae’s blow up at the dock, the kind of bad terms you were on with each other.

“May I see your face?” he asked. He hadn’t seen it since the begging look in your eyes and he wanted to wash that away from his memory. Slowly, you raised your head to look up at him, but he wasn’t sure it was any better. The tears were cropped up against your waterline, tears you were desperately trying to fight off as your shaky fingers continued to pluck the threads on your jeans.

His jaw fell open, so many words queued at the front of his throat but none of them felt good enough to soothe the look on your face as you looked up at him, but also looked around him. Trying to decide if staying there or if reaching for you was the better option, he stood there with his fingers furled in his pockets. A few emotions swirled inside of him, feelings he couldn’t quell; he desperately wanted to avoid you once arriving, but the look on your face pressed firmly against his heart because he still cared deeply for you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered, “I didn’t expect it, him, any of it. I told Kevin, he said it would be taken care of and—”

Hyunjae gathered you into the warmth of his chest, wrapping both arms tightly around you to provide you some semblance of safety as he sat to your side on the bed.

“You do not have to apologize to me; I only wish I could have helped you sooner,” he reminded you, rocking with you a little bit before he sat more squarely on the bed and tugged you to hold you more firmly, more steadily, more securely. You hid your face against his neck, and the tightening in his throat at the feel of your warm tears against his skin was incomparable.

“I’ll have a word with Kev—”

“Please don’t,” you begged. “This was supposed to be a party for you and I don’t want it to be ruined because of me, because of Sangyeon; I should have never come, I knew it was a mistake, that there was no way it could be assured,” you explained, somehow finding your way to your feet after pushing away from him.

“Don’t…” he pleaded, reaching out to take your hand as he looked up to you now as you stood before him. “Don’t say that. I’m happy you came.” He was playing with your fingers at this point, not minding that you were looking down at that instead of at him.

“It will be getting dark soon and there will be tons of lights all over the backyard if you’ll accompany me to play some games,” he reminded you. Kevin had hosted many parties in the past with decorations just the same—twinkling multicolored lights hanging everywhere he could get them and then some to really set the mood. Hyunjae had clearly remembered how awed you were by the lights at night from the last parties you’d come to, and that in and off itself set a few butterflies free in your stomach. You looked up to him, meeting his eyes which looked at you so tenderly. It was a tough spot to be in considering, but he wasn’t about to send you back out there knowing uncertainly that Sangyeon was still looming around and would no doubt continue to cause problems if you were on your own.

He waited for your gentle nod before taking your hand fully, cupped flush against his as he guided you out of the bedroom, and shut the light off behind him to take you out to the backyard where everyone was playing games and mingling. Some conversation fell quiet as they watched you pass, others came up to speak with you more openly before he took you to a game you could play standing side by side, and he made a promise to you that he wouldn’t let you out of his sight until he knew Sangyeon was gone.

And thankfully, for both of you, the party passed pretty quickly with a handful of guests bidding farewell to Hyunjae, reiterating that it was good to see him and that he should come back and visit more often because they all missed him—you were not to be forgotten, as they all bid you farewell as well. Some whispers lingered, some sly grins and knowing gazes as they looked at the two of you, seemingly entirely blind to it.

The games had been put away as it got dark out, not even the twinkling fairy lights illuminated the backyard enough to keep the games going, but nobody seemed to mind. The fire pit was lit and a handful of folks sat around it with drinks in hand just letting the conversation flow. You were among those sitting around it, listening to the stories being shared, some about Hyunjae, but others just reminiscing about your high school times and how much some of them missed the simplicity of life back then. Sangyeon, from what you understood, had been long gone, so you felt comfortable sitting by yourself without Hyunjae’s watchful gaze as he fixed you both a drink in the kitchen before emerging with a plastic cup which was put into your line of sight in no time. You took it, looking up at him, but after his hand was emptied it continued to linger. He motioned his head out to the depths of the backyard where more lights were strung about the garden and it would give you some quiet time. Daintily, you placed your hand in his and let him lift you from the lawn chair—there was a missed beat in the conversation for a moment, but continued quickly to try and not look suspicious.

Hyunjae guided you to the exact spot at the foot of a large tree that was upending the wall that housed the backyard and disturbed some other brickwork of the nearby flower garden, but he knew a good spot where the roots dodged just enough for a plush place to sit and placed himself in it first. You looked at him, skeptical for a minute. There was a choice of where to sit, and he looked at you with no expectations that it would be like old times, so he was a tad surprised when you planted your knees in the grass in front of him and handed over your drink for a second to situate yourself, turning and placing yourself in front of him, between the cage of his legs that bent around you, and gently leaned back into the warmth of his body before collecting your drink.

“You didn’t have—”

“I could use some familiar safety right now,” you interrupted quickly, knowing exactly what he was going to say. Besides, he brought you out there for some peace which typically came from safety and you made the choice on your own.

Hyunjae hummed and leaned back against the trunk of the tree to slouch you a little deeper. Your head rested against his shoulder as you enjoyed the coolness of the evening air, the gentle sounds of crickets and other nightlife, the glow of the galaxy beyond, and the twinkling lights in the gardens around. The only unnatural sounds were that of ice melting in your cups, disturbing your drinks when the structure changed, and the way the cups sounded being moved around. It was quiet, and for the most part, you preferred it that way, but you knew another inevitable question was coming.

“You don’t have to tell me because quite frankly it’s none of my business, but what’s your history with Sangyeon?” he finally asked you. Your cup crinkled in your hand, flimsy under your grasp for only a moment while your other hand plucked a handful of blades of grass from the ground with some quiet pops. He didn’t want to make it too obvious that he didn’t like the idea of you and Sangyeon for reasons he could go on about.

“Long story short, we got together for… reasons… albeit not good ones, and he turned out to be entirely as controlling as you witnessed. I broke it off, he didn’t like it, and heard about this party and knew I’d be here… for you…”

“You should have told me,” he whispered, his voice right above your ear and you could feel the way his jaw shifted against the side of your head.

“We weren’t exactly on great terms,” you reminded him, noting the distress of his jeans against the knee, and mindlessly to distract yourself, you fiddled with the loose strands that were fraying, easy to reach with his knees bent to enclose you. “Besides, I heard there was a chance you wouldn’t show anyway. We all kind of determined that you intentionally hadn’t visited. Not that we thought you hated us, just that you wanted to move on.”

There was a tightening around Hyunjae’s heart he hated as you spoke those words. Hearing you say it hurt in a different way than him coming to grips with it himself. His legs couldn’t help but close on you a bit, a frustrated grunt squeaking from his mouth. Not here, he thought, not now. This was not the best place to be having that conversation, but little did you know that was the conversation.

“I owe you all an explanation, truly,” he said.

“You don’t, really. You have your reasons for doing things that are your own. You don’t owe anyone anything,” you said.

“I owe it to myself, then,” he retorted, “and I want to start with you. But that’s part of the big conversation and while I know you have granted me gracious time to collect my thoughts… it’s a conversation I’d rather have without prying ears as it only concerns you and me without the speculation of anyone else.”

“Hyunjae…” you trailed off, turning your head to fight against his, fluttering at the feel of the corner of his mouth and nose against your forehead. His eyes clenched tightly, once again trying to fight off the feelings, the thoughts, trying not to repeat the day on the dock. To steel his nerves, he turned to the side and took a large swig of his drink, feeling your hand wrap against the outside of his knee to tug it against your body. If it was one thing about Hyunjae you were really in tune with, it was his emotions—you tended to feel how he felt, to understand without him having to say much—and it held true even with six years apart.

“I don’t want you to feel rushed and I won’t force the conversation, but I know you want to say a lot of things, so when you’re ready…” you uttered, nuzzling your chin under his jaw. You were pushing, unintentionally, at the seams of his packaged distress. He was doing his absolute best to be there, to be the open and comforting Hyunjae he always was to you, and that was his ultimate demise. The very concept of Sangyeon put a pit in his stomach, and it didn’t even have to be Sangyeon, it just had to be anyone that wasn’t him. But how was he supposed to tell you everything? About why he left, about the things, the feelings, he wanted to leave behind without seeming insulting to you; and then how was he to address that those same issues never went away, that seeing you for the first time even after all that time stoked the same fire, if not more so.

But back then he was just a kid, and it felt stupid, all of it. The distance hurt like hell, but after a bit it became refreshing. Each year got easier to not come back; but he missed his friends, he missed his family, he missed you, but he didn’t miss the way he bit his tongue, the way he stowed his feelings, the way he’d dare not ruin the amazing friendship you had over what he called selfishness. He wanted you to be free without his burden, which ultimately started driving his choice to leave.

He never changed; he could still feel the tip of his tongue clamped between his teeth, still feel the churning in his stomach with the attempt to put his feelings away, the lump in his throat which felt like a swollen version of his heart, a hole in his chest which the alcohol wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“I think it’s about time we head home,” Hyunjae commented after a few moments of tense silence. You were trying to understand the emotions you were feeling via Hyunjae, the way he was feeling, the sudden tenseness of his body, the closed-off disposition. “I’ll walk you,” he added, a lulled whisper in your ear.

You both made your way to your feet, discarding your cups in the kitchen after bidding everyone goodnight and thanking Kevin for the hospitality. You all lived close, the same homes from the district which put you in close walking distance. Hyunjae offered his elbow to you the way he always did, and the both of you meandered rather slowly to your home where he could drop you off. You wrapped both hands around his bicep, a million thoughts running through both of your heads, putting you in seemingly different worlds than each other while walking right next to one another.

Needless to say, the two of you arrived at your front porch far sooner than either of you were ready. Hyunjae took your hand to help you up the step onto your landing, but the lingering way he gazed at you let you know that he was feeling the same way; that for some reason you weren’t quite ready to leave now that you were really alone. But it was already late, had to have been past midnight, and lingering on your landing could look suspicious.

Still, you turned to look at him, not so much at his face, but at his throat, at the undone button of his black shirt, at the way his throat shifted as he swallowed hard. His thumbs were hooked in his pockets as he stood as attentive as he could muster, waiting for you like he always did. You, on the other hand, fiddled with the hem of your shirt as you thought of what to say, what to do, if it would be best to just say goodnight and be on your way, or if you had something more to say.

Your gaze finally landed on his face, looking over his features. He must have been able to feel your gaze, because slowly his eyes flittered up to meet yours, glimmering in the dim porch light. With you up on the landing, the two of you were closer to the same height—you smiled, remembering how much he’d matured since you last saw him. It seemed like the only thing that could roll off your tongue was his name, so almost silently it did so once more. You watched his gaze shift between your eyes, his feet shuffled forward to bring himself closer to the landing. Slowly, your hands came up; an innate desire to put them against him had you placing them gently on his shoulders. His breath shuttered against your face, jaw tightening as your brow furrowed a bit.

He was so close to you, your arms were entirely folded at the elbow, you could practically feel the warmth radiate off him, his face had to be no further than a couple of inches now that his eyes were peering slightly down at you and still glimmered like the galaxy captive. It took a second for you to realize that his face was sinking closer to yours, that his head tentatively tilted just as his nose brushed against yours. You took a deep breath, fingers anticipatorily furling against his shoulders as his lips fleetingly brushed yours. He waited a moment for you to object, one of his hands freeing itself from his pocket to place tenderly against your hip while your breath was caught in your throat, but when you did not attempt to move away or verbally object, he leaned in further.

It took only a second for you to fall entirely into his grasp, feet shuffling forward just a tad as he slipped his hand around your back to put your body against his; your arms slid around his neck especially as he stepped up onto the landing, and guided you backward to gingerly press you up against your front door with a few readjustments. You couldn’t quite place the mix of flavors you were tasting, but it was clouding your better judgment—many factors were in play between the kiss, the way his fingers pressed into your lower back, the way he had you arching against him, the Sangyeon panic, the alcohol, the distance, which all made the experience surreal. But you couldn’t deny the way your chest was exploding, the way your nerves were all on end, the way it felt so right after so many years.

You almost sighed, the way his tongue flicked against your bottom lip before your subconscious was pinging on the Sangyeon panic, and your arms retreated from his neck to weakly push against his shoulders. He tugged away, the tender sounds of a broken kiss ringing in your ears like a train whistle before those same warm lips were pressing soft kisses against your jaw, and only after a successful few did you find any words to push from your throat.

“Maybe don’t,” you uttered, more as a sigh as your head tilted back to quietly hit your door, “my breakup is still fresh, and we still need to talk.”

Your voice was a whisper of the wind, but still enough for him to ease off, to pull back and press his forehead against yours after noticing your eyes were closed. His hands tugged your hips into his since your hands were still flittering somewhat across the nape of his neck. Your tongue darted out to flick across your lips, remnants of rum and coke lingered before he took a whole step away from you, and that meant the protective grasp of his hands against your hips was gone as well.

“I’m sorry,” you uttered, “I’m sure I’ve been sending you strong signals all night, and when you stepped in and… your safety and your scent and your touch and charm…”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to come back,” he muttered under his breath, looking up at the cracking paint of your porch covering. He hoped it wasn’t loud enough for you to hear, but unfortunately, it was. You looked at him, queueing a couple of replies in your throat that never seemed to fit the situation and adequately explain how you felt at the same time. You waited only long enough for his gaze to cast back down to you, almost expecting you to say something, but you had twisted the knob to your door and disappeared into the darkness of your home without another word. Could you say it was the best decision? Perhaps not. But in that moment you feared that you would say something that would damage an already delicate situation. If you had just left it at the bit about the breakup and about needing to talk, he would have understood. Everything else just confirmed his fears about you; that you liked the idea of him. He shook his head and turned to head home, ignoring the prying questions of his sister who was surprisingly still awake and, without turning a single light on, closed the door to his room and crawled into bed.

Hyunjae was quiet for subsequent days—too quiet, really, and under the prying and watchful eyes of his sister to look for anything to start a conversation about. Hyunjae was a brick wall. As stoic as anyone could be, almost emotionless, and that, in and of itself, was enough to break the ice about it.

“What’s turned you into a zombie?” she asked, closing the door behind her as she entered Hyunjae’s room. He was reading on the bed, but maybe he couldn’t even call it reading; it was more like his eyes were scanning the same ten sentences a hundred times, never once comprehending what any of it said only to start over from square one again. His brain was scattered, the was no arguing that. But while he thought that his scattered brain would provide him with at least some thought about how to handle the situation, there was no such luck for that either. He had become zombie-like between the lack of emotion and disregarding actions.

His eyes shifted over to her—he looked tired; dark circles around his somewhat reddened eyes, but maybe that was for a reason yet to be clear. He took a deep breath, closed his book, and turned to her.

“The same reason I left in the first place,” he replied, not anticipating that she would have an immediate response—she didn’t. She wasn’t confused, she had a pretty good idea why he left even though she never pressured him to say; he had to do what he had to do for himself and no one would stand in the way of that.

“Should I tell her you’re napping, then?” she finally said.

Those few words dropped on Hyunjae like a bomb. The gears ground in his head for a moment, trying to comprehend how incredibly dire the situation was seemingly suddenly. He blinked a couple of times.

“What?” he asked.

“Did I stutter? Do you want me to ask her to leave? She’s having tea with mom downstairs, I said I would come see if you were available since apparently you haven’t been answering your phone.”

He looked over at the device on his bed, remembering the decision he made right before he closed his eyes for the night to block your number. His heart simply couldn’t bear dealing with anything you had to say, if you did even dare attempt to contact him.

A deep sigh fell between his lips as he stared past his phone and at an undesignated imagined hole in the wall. He all but slapped his book down on his bed and dropped his face into his hands, running his fingers deep in his hair just to tug at it.

“Are you serious,” he growled. Was it not enough, what happened? Was it not clear enough that he wanted to just disappear back into the night like he had never shown back up in the first place?

“Whatever problem you’re having with her, you need to solve it before you leave again, if that’s what you decide to do. If that means closing that book, then do it; but leaving it open is only going to hurt more,” she advised, reaching over to take one of his hands after it fell slack at his side. He looked over at her, but he could tell by the look on her face that she was serious. Not closing the back cover left the wounds wide open and he had already experienced once just how painful that could be.

There was a knock on the door, followed by his mother’s voice, and before he even had time to object the door was being pushed open, and there you stood, looking like you’d slept as much if not less than himself.

Hyunjae let out a disappointed and frustrated sigh as he rolled his eyes away, his sister gave a displeased growl while you looked directly at him. Although Hyunjae’s sister harbored no ill will towards you, she cared immensely for Hyunjae which made the situation that much harder. She couldn’t stand to see him like this, but she also didn’t know the whole story, just that it was about you as so many things had been in the past. She stood and turned to Hyunjae for a moment.

“Do what’s best for you,” she reminded him, glanced at you, and side-stepped you to bring her mother away from the situation.

“Great,” Hyunjae growled sarcastically as he turned to sit on the side of his bed and meet your gaze to the best of his ability. Slowly you stepped in, closing the door behind you. The last thing you wanted was for this to turn into a blowout, but you knew things were rough between the two of you, and you could tell he was suffering just as much as you were about the entire thing.

“Hyunjae,” you greeted, not pleasantly nor firmly. He could see the quiver in your jaw just saying his name, but that didn’t stave off his fiery feelings in the slightest.

He muttered your name back, a greeting somewhat in return.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me—”

“Then why are you here?” he asked, almost barked.

You sighed, slinking against his door. Hyunjae tended to get rough when he was wounded, like a cornered dog who had no choice but to bite back.

“Because I gave you as much time as I could but it obviously can’t wait anymore,” you replied, trying to force confidence into your voice. You needed to stand your ground with him, even if you were never particularly good at doing so.

“You’re right, I don’t want to talk to you. Not only that, but I don’t think there’s anything to talk about anymore. So, sorry you came all the way here for nothing, but I don’t have anything left to offer you,” he snapped, standing from his bed and approached the door, and you, and reached out in an attempt to tug it open.

You pressed against it harder, forcing against his pull to keep the door closed. He scoffed and looked to your face containing the most determined look you could muster since you had arrived. You glared up at him and growled his name.

“You’re pissed at me, and you have every right to be. But we spent many years being the closest of friends, and whenever we had a spat, we always worked it out. And even if things are a bit rocky right now, and it looks like I’m not your friend, I’m at least here as someone who cares so deeply about you—in whatever way you want to interpret that—to try and work through this with you, the way he always have,” you almost pleaded, but with a conviction that made it sound more like a statement for the first time since you’d arrived.

“I know you’re hurting, and I know I’m the cause of that. But to think that I’m here for any other reason than to try and make it right…” you trailed off with the shake of your head, gaze trailing away from his for only a moment, “you know me better than that. And if I know anything about you, you left for a reason, so let’s start there.”

“What is this, freakin’ honesty hour?” he asked, taking a step away from the door, almost attempting to convince you that this was ridiculous, but your reply jarred him.

“Yes, it is, that’s the whole purpose of trying to solve something, being transparent.”

“You want me to be transparent?” he almost roared.

“I want us both to be transparent, Hyunjae,” you fired back, although quite a bit calmer than him.

He paced for a moment, trying to figure out how he was going to approach this—the best way didn’t matter to him, he just wanted to express his feelings at the expense of anyone else’s feelings, because everything to that point had been at the expense of his. You stayed pressed up against his room door, watching him pace, watching him think, watching the frustration build on his face until he finally got some words out.

“The other night,” he started, pausing his pacing to look at you, “when you just let me fall into a bear trap…” He laughed, but it wasn’t because it was funny—his brow was furrowed in disbelief as he looked at you, a hurt on his face you’d never seen before. “I left because I couldn’t take it anymore.”

You swallowed hard, having a good idea what he was talking about already, but you still wanted him to say it out loud—you still wanted to have a conversation.

“Couldn’t take what, Hyunjae?” you asked delicately.

“You,” he replied, jaw clenching for a moment, fists following before he took a deep breath himself. “The way we were. How… connected we were. How open and honest and upfront we were, how deep we were,” he explained, or tried.

“And the other night is related because?”

He bit his tongue, you could see it peek out from behind his teeth before he turned his face away from you, clenching his eyes before his hands found his dresser, holding him up in a sense as he leaned into it. A few deep and rickety breaths followed as he composed himself enough to say something.

“It confirmed the fears I struggled with, suffered with, that you only liked the idea of me. Confirmed the fears that you wanted me in theory, and how strained that made my ability to maintain a friendship with you. I left because it seemed easier to forget about the feelings when you weren’t right in my face. I left because I thought it would be easier to move on. You said the other day you sent me strong signals, and you did. They were strong signals; they were wrong signals—”

“They weren’t wrong,” you interrupted, “I was torn between respecting my relationship space with Sangyeon and being elated that you were back and willing to treat me like we’d never skipped a beat,” you tried to explain in return.

He spun to face you, tears already pushed off his face. His heart hurt unbelievably, fiery but in a negative way, squeezing in his chest as he formulated his reply.

“So you think it’s cool to just lead me on? To not only let me but encourage me to kiss you on your front porch and lean into it like you welcomed it, just to hit me with all that shit about my safety, my scent, my charm and in essentially the same breath tell me that I’ve crossed a line? I’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re just the one I won’t ever get over, but you don’t have to make it so damn hard for me the one time I do decide to come back!”

“Hyunjae—”

“Do not. Do not try to charm me with those pretty little eyes, with the sweet way you say my name—” he growled, unable to finish before you had something to say.

“I’m not!” you retaliated. “I am not trying to get out of what I did! I am not trying to discredit how you feel or play the victim in any way. I know my approach wasn’t great, and I will be the first to admit that. But if we could go back and redo the situation… if you hadn’t kissed me, I probably would have kissed you,” you expressed to him.

“I don’t like the idea of you, Hyunjae. I’ve always liked you. And when you left, it took me a few years to get in the game to try and move on… I got with Sangyeon because it felt, in the beginning, like he understood me. Like he empathized with my loss, which was you, and I had an aching, a pit that needed to be filled that I thought he could fill. But that pit is shaped exactly like you, and I realized that nothing else will ever fit it properly…”

You tried so hard to maintain your resolve, but the way getting all of that off your chest made you feel in combination with the look on Hyunjae’s face, you weren’t sure how long you would last. You couldn’t tell if he thought you were lying or not.

“What a jerk I’ve been to you,” you continued, “This is why I get so mad about you saying stuff like how mean you’ve been to me; like you think I thought you left without a purpose. I didn’t know, exactly, your purpose at the time, but I knew it was one you needed for yourself. So, why would I think you were a jerk for that? When you didn’t reach out, I saw the signs like freeway billboards—”

“I loved you,” he interjected. “And I was so scared that if I had admitted that to you, that I would lose you, but I ended up losing you anyway because I was too weak to swallow the fact that I did love you. That I do love you. That those six years away did nothing to help me move on,” he replied, pouring it all out for you, finally saying what he needed to say for so many years and a weight lifted off his chest, but it didn’t stop the squeezing feeling.

“I got too worried trying to respect the relationship with a man who never respected me; who took advantage of me knowing I was vulnerable without you; and if I had come to that conclusion on the landing that night… Hyunjae, I may have not let you leave. It was like my favorite coffee on a cold day, like the sun on my skin in the late spring, like the spray of the water on the dock—nothing has ever felt more like home.”

Hyunjae let out a deep sigh, blinking back the tears that pushed at the outer corners of his eyes as he slipped to the floor. His gaze looked out but didn’t find anything in particular, clouded anyway. He took a moment to reflect on the way the hardwood panels felt underneath his fingers, the way breath filled his lungs, the way his eyes stung, the sound of you sliding down to the floor yourself against his room door.

There wasn’t much else that needed to be said, so the two of you sat across the floor from each other in relative silence for quite a few lingering moments. The both of you were trying to regulate your breathing, trying to quench the fire that burned deep down.

It took a moment, but he crawled across the floor of his room to sit up in the corner of the wall and the door and asked for your hand only to coax you over to him, between his legs to rest up against him as he settled his chin on your shoulder. From then, it was a matter of time and healing, and he wanted to spend the initial healing time with you in his arms in the quiet of his room as the both of you processed everything that was said.

All that could be heard throughout the room was perhaps gentle breathing, silently the continued refusal of tears that stung both your eyes. Hyunjae dug his face in the crook of your neck, even if you were turned away from him; he didn’t want you to see it. But even if you couldn’t see it, you could feel the way his rickety breath fell across your shoulder, the way he trembled against your back, the warmth of his tears against your skin and even though things were on the mend, that, in and of itself, stung like hell.

Hyunjae’s pain had always been your pain, and vice versa—his happiness, his burdens, his struggles, his successes and triumphs; they had always been shared because of your dynamic, and it was clear things weren’t about to change. It had always been a love the both of you were too afraid to admit because there was a very real chance it would drive you away from each other.

“I love you, Hyunjae…” you muttered. It was the only reassuring thing you hadn’t said.

His arms tightened around you, fingers digging deeper into the fabric of your shirt that furled in his grasp. There was a mumble into your skin—you didn’t hear him, but you had a decent idea what it consisted of.

It was contemptuous to even consider moving for a bit. Relishing each other’s presence seemed cathartic, to a point; it felt as though as you sat there with each other, after laying it all on the table, that the healing was somewhat fortified. As the time passed, your touches against each other were different, softer in a way, more calculated, and genuine. Millions of things were still running through each other’s minds—even though there was nothing left to say, you both were over thinkers to the core, so that occupied most of the silence between you. At least, until there was a knock on Hyunjae’s door. He hadn’t realized the time, or how much time had passed, but he helped you to your feet before tugging the door open to reveal his sister.

“We’re getting ready for dinner, you’re welcome to stay…” she hesitated, noting the look on both your faces. Your eyes were noticeably still red and swollen—you never had a quick recovery after crying, even if it was somewhat tame. Hyunjae was still pushing at his own tears, too.

“Thank you, but I should get going,” you replied, a sad smile on your face as you looked to Hyunjae who understood that not only would it be incredibly awkward, but that you both probably needed some time alone with your thoughts. He nodded encouragingly, agreeing with your conclusion before he began ushering you through his door. After following his sister down the stairs, you quietly greeted both of their parents, thanked them for the offer for dinner, and had Hyunjae show you out.

“I’ll walk you,” he asserted, but you quickly shook your head.

“Your dinner is hot, you should stay; it’s still light, I’ll be okay on my own,” you replied as you turned to face him, to look up into his somewhat swollen eyes, to catch the fleeting tremble of his lip as he looked back at you. Before he could nod in reluctant agreement, you reached out to take his hand and gently squeeze it. You used that hand to pull him closer to you, the half a step distance you needed to stand high on your toes to press a soft kiss against his cheek; it was sticky but you didn’t care. His eyes fell closed as you lingered there for a moment then you drifted back to the flats of your feet, gave his hand another squeeze, stepped off the landing of his house, and turned down the street. A few trickling moments passed before his sister collected him at the door, encouraging him back inside to try and eat something even if he wasn’t hungry. Surely, he would hear from you soon enough.

It was a weird type of limbo to be in, unknowing when it was appropriate to contact the other, and sheepishly waiting around for the other to do the dirty work. This inevitably led to another few days of silence, but that didn’t stop you from calling up Younghoon—your new closest friend since your falling out with Hyunjae—to ask for his advice, since he never seemed to give it unsolicited.

Nervously, you turned your iced coffee between your hands as you sat across the café table from him. Patiently, he continued to wait for you, never forcing a word out of you or a move of any kind. When you had called him up saying that you wanted to talk to him about Hyunjae, especially considering the look he gave you at Kevin’s party after Hyunjae had helped you out of a precarious situation, he was eager to meet with you—not because he had dirt or anything to spill, but because he knew, somewhere in there, you agonized over Hyunjae; sometimes in unhealthy ways. You had always been friends with Younghoon, so he was the natural next best to Hyunjae; expressly since he’d watched your friendship at its peak and watched the way it splintered into nothing—admittedly, he was the only one with your actual best interest in mind, particularly when you concluded that Hyunjae’s absence crushed you in ways you couldn’t explain initially.

“Sorry,” you muttered, a rickety diffident to your voice with another shaky exhale.

“I’m in no rush, you know I’m here for you,” he replied. “Why don’t we start with this; you mumbled hurriedly over the phone about how things had been solved, and then unsolved,” he prompted, giving you somewhere to jump off from since it appeared you were having a hard time finding somewhere to start.

A tough swallow broke down your throat as you thought about the instance in which he reached for your arm and asked if you were okay, your hand laced with Hyunjae’s.

“About that—he caught Sangyeon being… well, Sangyeon,” you answered. Part of you figured Younghoon would be offended you didn’t tell him about the incident with Sangyeon, and you honestly weren’t even positive he’d been seen by Younghoon or Kevin for that matter.

Younghoon’s eyes perked a little bit; the situation was a little different now that he knew you had been in Sangyeon’s clutches only to be rescued by Hyunjae. It seemed right, in all fairness.

“We’d fought a couple of days before—not really a fight, a small disagreement, and weren’t on the best of terms. It was a weird situation that went from bad to good to bad all in one evening…” You had to trail off, thinking about the events as they replayed in your mind. But it was salvaged now, right? You blew off your steam with each other and found a ground with equal footing, but things were still awkward.

“The point is, I’m here because we finally had a talk, and while it wasn’t really talking and more like yelling at each other and then breaking down into mutually pathetic messes, I came to ask you what you think is the best way to approach him now. We haven’t talked in a couple of days, I think we’re both kind of hinging on the other being the first to reach out for contact,” you explained.

Younghoon sat in contemplation for a moment. There was no correct answer to your question, and he couldn’t even say there was one approach that was better than the other. Even something as simple as texting him to ask how he was doing could be enough to open the door, so he didn’t take long to come up with that to say to you.

“I suppose you think it’s weird to just text him to ask how he is.” Apparently, the situation was a little more complicated in your eyes than he initially thought.

“I had six years to do that,” you replied, your plastic cup crinkling under the pressure of your fingers furling against it.

“Of course,” he answered, understanding the situation a little better. “To be completely honest with you, you both have overcome a lot already, if you consider. Between the frontages, the distance, the coming back together, and all the drama that came with all that, you both have managed to sort something positive out, right? I’m sure there’s nothing you could say that would have a negative impact short of telling him you wish he’d leave again, and I doubt you’re going to say that.”

A slight laugh escaped from your throat, but it could have been mistaken as a scoff just as much. It was ridiculous for Younghoon to even suggest that, because he was completely right—only if you became possessed would you consider saying that to him.

“I know it feels like a delicate situation, but I’m positive it’s far less delicate than screaming at him in the middle of his bedroom about how dumb you both were being after re-shattering his still splintered heart.”

“Ouch,” you responded, even if it was true, and it was never like Younghoon to pull punches when you needed to hear something. And he had always known of Hyunjae’s feelings for you, so that didn’t make this conversation any less brutal.

“Also, I’m not saying it will be instantaneous, but I’m also certain that deep in there he’s elated to have you back, too, and in the state he’d battled with himself about for some time. You might be best off asking to meet on neutral turf so there’s no awkward looming—I know how nosey Hyunjae’s sister can be,” Younghoon laughed and took a swig of his coffee, relaxing back into his chair which, inevitable, had you relaxing back into yours, letting his words sink in as you picked up your phone to type a message to Hyunjae about meeting up the next day.

The late evening sun glimmered off the water, stretching left and right as far as you could see. The soft ripples of the water catching the light to produce a river of diamonds while your legs hung off the edge of the dock. Your phone was tucked deep in your pocket, an unread message about Hyunjae being on his way to meet you sat in your notifications bar. There was an unexplainable tightening in your chest, but maybe it was just because it was the first time you were getting to see him after the tipping point. An unreasonable voice called from the back of your mind to back out; that it had already been a rough time with him, maybe it was better to just let it go—a voice you had to really try to push away.

Another rigid breath—how many had come in the last few days, you would have a hard time counting—as you steeled your nerves, clutching the edge of the dock as you tried to wait patiently, at least until a small cup jingled with ice from the side of your face. Hesitantly, you looked over and slowly followed the arm up to a familiar face. He smiled delicately, his lips barely tugging at the corners to produce it, but it was detectable by your trained eyes.

“Hi,” he almost whispered as you faltered a bit in taking the flavored iced tea from him; it was a little late in the evening to be having coffee—not that it had ever stopped you in the past. He took a seat next to you, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the dock next to yours. To say that he was sitting comfortably close was an understatement; his hip was effectively pressed up next to yours, just like old times, but there was a new sense of comfort that washed over you from the fact, even if the nerves were bundling in your throat.

“Hi,” you choked back, eyes never breaking their contact with his being even when he settled. “I’m going to apologize in advance if this is extremely awkward.”

“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing to you,” he laughed, looking out over the water to notice the same sea of diamonds you’d been entertaining yourself with since you took a place on the dock yourself. “Can’t say I’ve been through this before, so it’s definitely new and rocky terrain.”

“You seem jovial, nonetheless,” you replied.

“One of us has to try to keep a good spirit,” he joked, elbowing you in the side, reminding you that you weren’t exactly the mood-maker of your duo, before he took a swig of his tea. You followed suit, uttering your gratitude, before forcing a bit of confidence into your bones. All of the times you’d sat on the dock with him in the past in this very setting came rushing back to your immediate memory, and with it, all the times you’d begged to loop your arm around his. So, with a bit of hesitancy, you moved your tea to your hand opposite of him and swiftly stuck your hand under the crevice between his arm and torso to wrap your hand around his bicep, additionally leaning your head against his shoulder to avoid the imminent gaze that would no doubt scout your embarrassed features in half a second flat. Hyunjae did, in fact, turn to look, a more noticeable smile tugging at his face as he pulled that arm tighter to his body, acknowledging your courageous display of affection, and gave you the satisfaction of relishing it without some signature sassy remark from him as he leaned his head against yours.

The way you clenched your hand against his bicep was indicative of looking for something to say, scrapping any ideas you had in your head a handful of times. He knew you weren’t the best with words, especially after having a fight—that’s what he’d call it, because it kind of was—but that didn’t stop him from waiting for you to say anything. Instead, you opted to nudge your head up a little bit, wedging it between his head and shoulder a little further before a somewhat exasperated noise slipped from between your lips.

Hyunjae discarded his tea gently against the finished dock, turning his full attention to you. His slender fingers gently prodded against your jaw, prompting you to lift your head from his shoulder. It was always like him to take control of the situation, and to be completely honest, you had banked on that for this entire meeting. You were pleased to look at him per his will, tilting your chin up so that his face could slip by yours and press a lingering kiss against your cheek, the way you had to his at the end of your last meeting. Perhaps the most important meeting.

Again, you wanted to speak with nothing really to say. Your eyes fluttered at the feel of his supple lips against your cheek and remained closed when his delicate fingers flittered away from your jaw and his hand cupped against the back of your neck, craning up only slightly to place another kiss against your forehead, and another against your cheek—you had to chuckle, nervously nipping at your bottom lip as you tried to read his intentions.

“Just let me marinate in the fact that I have dreamed about this for eight years, and I’m finally here,” he mumbled against your skin, knowing that you were laughing at him.

“I’m laughing at you because you keep missing,” you replied, eyes fluttering open to meet his as he pulled back. The gentle smiles fell from both your faces as your gaze teetered between each other’s eyes, noting their glimmer, their depth, the absolutely homey look you gave each other. Your breaths mingled just a few inches from each other between the two of you before you noted the way his tongue flicked out to moisten his lips—in nervousness or preparation, you couldn’t tell. When he noticed the way your eyes fell past his nose, he couldn’t help but speak up.

“Is that so?” he asked nearly inaudibly.

“As a matter of fact…” you trailed off, anticipating the way one of his hands reached across you to help you settle your tea against the dock so you could place that hand wherever you’d like as his mouth descended on yours, delicately eclipsing yours in a softly meshed kiss that felt worlds different from the one on the landing of your home after Kevin’s party. It felt like a plug had been pulled, and all the tension that culminated between the two of you was swirling away into the abyss as you melted into his touch, gingerly cupping your cheek until his lips broke away. A silent protest came in the form of an exasperated exhale, that shy smile returning to your lips noting he hadn’t pulled far enough away to be out of reach, so you took it upon yourself to lean in for another quick peck.

“Somewhere deep in the back of my mind,” he began, waiting for a moment for your eyes to open so he could look into them once more, “I had always hoped I would get to kiss you on this very dock with the sun going down and glimmering against the water, exactly the way it is.”

You placed your hand down over his, which was pinning you somewhat against the dock as he rotated to face you. The look on your face was enough, he didn’t really need a reply; everything that needed to be said had already been said. Even still, you had something for him.

“Me, too,” you replied, leaning up to nuzzle your nose against his for just a moment, “so, I’m glad you came back to figure it out. I needed you more than anything.”

Hyunjae chuckled; the thoughts he had been battling with for so long about why he was returning all suddenly made sense, like a message in the stars, a secret nudge from the universe telling him there would be something special about him coming back, pushing through the dread he had cut with your hometown. He remembered letting it marinade for a week after the idea first crossed his mind. Maybe he was feeling homesick, admittedly he missed his parents and his sister, but he could tell there was something more.

“Something in the vast infinity delivered your call,” he whispered to you.

“I owe whatever mystical message that led you back to me a great debt.”

“Why don’t you just say you missed me?” he teased.

“The way I missed you is beyond anything I could string together with words, Hyunjae,” you replied, pushing him back a little bit to put him physically on the defensive for only a second before he took the opportunity to pull you across his lap so he could have you as close as possible.

“And showing you feels a little more vulnerable; maybe we needed that all along, instead of putting on that tough face for each other,” you told him, your smile saying something different as your hand gingerly stroked through the tresses of hair on the back of his neck, tilting his head to look at you before your foreheads met, eyes fluttered closed once more.

A moment relishing this closeness was much needed and long-awaited.

#deobiwritersnet #hyunjae scenarios #hyunjae fic #hyunjae oneshot #tbz scenarios #tbz fic #tbz oneshot #hyunjae fluff #hyunjae angst #tbz fluff #tbz angst #hyunjae #tbz hyunjae

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idreamofplaid · 4 years ago

Text

Forget Apple Pie

Summary: Dean is living the apple pie life. The reader has a hard time accepting it, and is it what he really wants?

Characters: Dean x Reader; Lisa (barely); Sam mentioned

Word Count: 3344

A/N: I wrote this years ago in a Writing Challenge and Follower Celebration called The Seven Deadly Sins Challenge hosted by @waywardbaby & @aint-t-bovvered. My sin was envy and my prompt was “This will not turn out the way you think.” It remains one of my favorite things I’ve ever written.

It was everything you had ever wanted for him. The sight of Dean in an actual backyard with a fence, trees, and flower beds was something you had hoped for in the deepest, quietest part of your heart. But this was just wrong. You were sitting on his deck half heartedly sipping a beer. Dean was a few feet away from you standing at the bar-b-que grill flipping burgers. He’d given up wearing layers of clothes, like he had in his hunting days, opting now for t-shirts only.

The short sleeves hugged his biceps. Dean’s muscles were still prominent. He hadn’t gone soft, in spite of his civilian lifestyle. Your mind wandered back to the hunts you’d gone on with Dean. You’d had each other’s backs then. Now, the monsters were yours to face alone.

Lisa came out of the house carrying an empty tray. She walked over to Dean, whispered something to him, and kissed his cheek. He smiled down at her and lifted the meat from the grill piling it on the platter. You put your bottle of beer down a little too hard on the table and got up to go find somewhere you could get away from the cozy domestic scene and the happy neighbors. You heard one of those neighbors say to Lisa as you were leaving. “You’re so lucky to have a man like Dean. You’ve turned him into absolute husband material!”

The first escape hatch you found was the door leading into the garage. It was easy to picture Dean in here surrounded by tools and spending hours working on his Baby, keeping her in mint condition. Baby. There she was. Her silhouette was unmistakable under the tarp covering her. A tarp. She’d been forgotten. Dean didn’t drive his car anymore.

You walked toward her in a sort of daze. You’d been here to Dean’s new home only a handful of times, and you hadn’t entered the garage during any of those visits. This was the final blow. You ran your fingers up the edge of her windshield, and something inside you broke. Everything you’d held together for so long just cracked and shattered.

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

You were standing in the same spot you’d stood in earlier in the day. You’d waited until almost midnight before picking the lock and slipping back into the garage. It had been surprisingly easy to get in here even after several shots of whiskey. Maybe Dean was going soft after all. You approached Baby again. This time running your hand along the edge of her roof. You whispered in the empty garage. “You don’t deserve this.”

You placed your hand on that hateful tarp and closed your fists around it clutching two large handfuls. You snatched the cover off revealing the Impala still gleaming and beautiful. “What are you doing?” Dean’s voice was low and steady. He had added another shirt over the clothes he had been wearing this afternoon.

Your mind was fairly fuzzy, but some things were perfectly clear. The wrongness of this situation was still glaring to you. “Why did you leave her here, Dean? Why did you forget about her?”

Dean walked closer to you and the car. He was staring at you intently. “I didn’t forget her.”

“Really? Do you come in and say ‘hi’ between backyard parties?” You teetered a little but managed to fling the tarp to the floor without falling on top of it.

Dean squinted his eyes. “What? Wha…”

“How long will it be before you get an SUV, maybe a minivan? Have you joined the PTA? A bowling league? Neighborhood watch?” Your eyes flashed at him. He just looked confused.

“What are you getting at? We talked about this. All the time. Having a normal life.”

Your voice lost a little of its edge. “Yeah. We talked about it.” In the silence that followed, whiskey inspired courage took hold of you. You moved close to Dean and touched your lips to his. His response was to put his hands on your waist and step back.

“Y/N…”

You rolled your neck to look up at the ceiling and shook your head. Your heart twisted, and you could feel the actual tightening in your chest. “You’re acting just like every man I’ve ever known. Chasing after the yoga instructor with her tight little ass.”

Tears gathered in your eyes. You swiped at them and carried on. “Come on, Dean. What’s wrong? Nobody has to know. We can do it right here in the garage. Just a little something on the side. Then you can go right back to Lisa and crawl into that bed you share with her. I bet it’s nice and big, pillows all over it, down comforter to match the sheets, and a big wooden headboard. So very married, that bed.”

You looked at Dean then, cocked your head to one side, and pointed your finger in the direction of his chest. “Tomorrow morning you can have a nice breakfast at your kitchen table with fresh squeezed orange juice and Belgian waffles with real fruit and pure maple syrup.” You dropped your finger, and your voice got soft. “I’ll be at one of those nondescript diners we used to go to, drinking cheap coffee. Maybe I’ll have scrambled eggs with soggy bacon, or if I’m feeling really festive, a stack of pancakes with some of that fake strawberry goo on top. While I eat I can enjoy watching all the people around me who aren’t alone.”

While you were talking, the tears had started to stream down your face. Dean stepped nearer to you and lay his hand on your arm. You shook it off. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare pity me, Dean Winchester!” You stumbled back and caught yourself on the Impala.

“Your life is so perfect now, isn’t it? Here you are in the suburbs with a mortgage. You don’t belong here, Dean. You’re playing house with a woman who doesn’t really know you. This will not turn out the way you think. You can’t forget about what matters to you, what…” You turned and braced yourself on Baby’s door. Your voice was broken and just above a whisper. “Just go back to thinking with your dick.”

Dean walked up behind you and put his hand on your shoulder. You let it stay. There was no fight left in you. “You’re drunk, Y/N. Get in the car. Let me take you home.”

You laughed. It was a humorless sound. “I don’t have a home.”

Dean turned you around gently to face him. His eyes held a soft expression. “Then let me take you to where you’re sleeping tonight.” You didn’t protest when he led you around to the other side of the car, opened the door, and settled you inside. You dozed on the ride to the motel where you were staying. When you got there, Dean helped you inside. That was the last thing you had a clear memory of until the next morning.

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

In spite of the curtains being drawn, the light seeping in around the edges was harsh to your eyes. You rubbed your fingers over your forehead. “How do you feel?” You opened your eyes at the sound of Dean’s voice. He was sitting next to you on top of the covers, legs stretched out, back against the headboard.

You pulled yourself up slowly, eyes blinking. “You stayed here all night?”

“Yeah.” He swung his legs off the side of the bed and disappeared in the direction of the bathroom. He reappeared in less than a minute carrying a glass of water and some aspirin. He sat down on the bed and handed you both. “Take those and drink all the water. All of it.”

You swallowed the pills and drank a few generous sips of water. “Shouldn’t you be home? Won’t Lisa wonder where you are?”

Dean took the glass from you and placed it on the bedside table. “I sent her a text. Told her not to worry. She probably thinks I’m with Sam.”

Bits and pieces of last night drifted through your mind, the things you’d said to Dean. Daylight had a way of making things embarrassing that seemed like the thing to do in the dark. You took a deep breath. “Dean, about what I said…”

Dean turned from you, made a fist on his lap, and grasped it with his other hand. “What you said was true. I have done a lot of thinking with my dick…but never with you. And I didn’t start last night.”

“Dean, I shouldn’t have…”

He turned back around, put his hand on your shoulder, and looked directly at you with his deep forest green eyes. “It would have been easy for me to accept your offer and take you right against the car or in the backseat if I slowed down long enough. I’ve wanted to for a long…long time. But you are not a quick roll in the sheets to me. You never have been. Know that.” Dean slipped his hand from your shoulder and looked away.

There was a hitch in your breathing, and absolutely no words would come to you. After a few seconds of heavy silence, Dean spoke. “I need to go. There are some things I need to take care of.” He reached for the notepad and pen on the table. He wrote something down, tore off the piece of paper and gave it to you. “Will you meet me there Wednesday night?” You looked at the address in your hand and nodded.

Dean crossed the room to the door. When he put his hand on the knob, he looked over his shoulder. “Y/N, you’re not alone.”

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

More than once you wondered if you were in the right place. The long driveway meandered its way through the trees, big sturdy evergreens and oaks. There was a clearing at the end of the drive, and in that clearing sat a cabin situated by a lake. It was immediately clear to you it wasn’t a hunter’s cabin. It had rustic charm but looked way too polished to be the kind of place where a hunter would seek shelter.

You gathered your purse, dropped your car keys inside, and made your way to the front door. You lay your palm flat against your stomach, took a deep breath, and knocked. Dean opened the door wearing one of the plaid shirts you remembered so well. You tried not to notice how handsome he looked, but that was a fight you weren’t going to win. It would be easier to take down a vampire.

Dean smiled when he saw you. It was almost shy, just a slight curve of his lips. “Come on in.” He led you into a large open room. There was a kitchen to the right, the cabinets were made of light wood, and there was a window overlooking the lake. Just off the kitchen there was an open door which you assumed led to a bedroom. To the left, there was a living room area with cream colored furniture and a large rug in warm hues of copper, red, and gold. There was also a fireplace which you could imagine added to the coziness of the room during the winter months.

You searched for the right words and settled on “‘This is a nice place. Is it yours?”

Dean laughed a little. “No. Construction doesn’t pay that good. I rented it. It’s where I come when I want to get away, do some fishing, and think.”

You surveyed your surroundings again and quietly asked, “Did you bring Lisa here?”

Dean stumbled over his words. “No. Too far from civilization for her, and she hates fish.” He started to wave toward the sofa, his hand floundered in the air for a second, then he dropped it to his side. “Do you want something? A beer?”

Your thoughts returned to your last experience with alcohol. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

“O…okay.” Dean motioned again toward the living area. You took a seat at the end of the sofa, and he sat in the chair to your side. He leaned over, elbows on his knees. “Look…um…” He sat up, back against the chair, then leaned forward again. “Something happened to me, Y/N.”

Dean rubbed his hand across his mouth then stared off into space like he was searching for what he wanted to say. “ I mean you. You happened.” His eyes sought yours; and there was a calmness in them, a certain kind of peace. “The other night when I stayed with you I was awake most of the night thinking about what you said. The stuff about not belonging where I was. I did try to fit into that world. It was what Sam wanted me to do, so I did my damnedest to do it. I didn’t even fire a gun that entire year. I didn’t scan the internet looking for a case. And sure it was normal, but there was this hole in me.”

Dean glanced down for a second and ran his tongue over his bottom lip before looking right back into your eyes. “You filled that. I know you were drunk and you don’t remember, but I do. You curled into my side and put your head against my shoulder. I held you while you slept. What I felt…I just wanted to protect you from anything that would ever hurt you, but the main thing that had hurt you was me.” His eyes were pleading with you to understand, to forgive him, to believe in him again like you once had, to trust him. “I thought I was still there for you. I didn’t know…I’m sorry.”

You looked away, your eyes landing on the wrought iron fire grate. While you stared your mouth fell open a little, and you closed it back. “Dean…I…” You looked back to him; he hadn’t taken his eyes from you. “What about Lisa?”

“There is no Lisa. The whole time I was with her I never felt anything like I did when I was holding you.” He paused. I ended it. I moved out, Y/N. I moved out because I love you.” Tears were shining in Dean’s eyes. He had shed so many tears because someone or something had died, but this time it was because something was alive. The same thing was living in you.

You reached for him. “Dean, why are you so far away?” He moved to sit beside you, and you wrapped your arms around each other. Dean held you to him like you were the air he needed to breathe to live. His hand cradled the back of your head, and he buried his face in your hair. You held each other until time ceased to exist. You’d been in that spot forever, and no time had passed at all.

When Dean finally moved, it was to take your face in his hands and kiss you. That awkward first kiss in the garage was forgotten; this was the one that mattered. He eased his tongue into your mouth claiming you with a gentleness only love could inspire. You held onto him through the kiss, and when he pulled away you opened your eyes. Your breathing had gotten shallow with the sweet intensity of that kiss. You brushed your fingers through his hair. “I love you too, Dean. I didn’t think you wanted to hear that from me.”

Dean stood and lifted you into his arms. He carried you into the bedroom and lay you down on top of the bed. He pulled off his shoes and socks before lying down on top of you. He started kissing you in the hollow of your neck, made his way up to your ear and back to your collarbone. You moaned releasing a little of your pent up need for him. You pushed at his shirt trying to get it over his shoulders. He finished taking it off, and it fell somewhere on the bed behind him.

Dean’s lips sought yours again. This time his kiss was more insistent. Your hands slid under the back of his t-shirt touching the warmth of his skin. The weight of him on top of you made you feel so safe, made you feel so cared for. The taste of him was so comforting and stirred every passion in you. The sound of his moans while he kissed you ignited all the emotions you’d pushed down and denied. Everything about what was happening overwhelmed your senses, and you started to cry.

Dean stopped, and his eyes roamed over your face. “Y/N? What is it?”

The tears were still falling down your face. You placed your hand on his cheek. “Will you just hold me for a minute?” He rolled a little to the side and circled his arms around you. It was hard for you to catch your breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Shhh. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Dean kissed the side of your head and whispered to you. “I’m here, Sweetheart. I’m right here. I love you. It’s okay.”

He kept whispering the same things to you over and over. His voice was soothing, and it calmed you down. Once your tears stopped, you kissed him without holding anything back. You let go of the loneliness you’d felt without him, the torment of the nights you’d known he was with another woman, and the anguish you’d felt believing he’d never know how much you loved him. You pulled and tore at his t-shirt practically ripping it off him. “Dean, make me forget the last year. Please make me forget.”

He discarded the rest of his clothes and took yours off slowly, taking the time to kiss every spot of your exposed skin as he did. Dean kissed your shoulders, stomach, hips, and thighs. He kissed each of your fingers and along the curve of your breasts sucking each nipple into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue until you were calling his name. He entwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand while he kissed a line down your jaw, lingered over your mouth with deep kisses full of desire, and moved up the other side.

He let go of your hand to move his own between your legs. Dean glided his fingers through your folds feeling how wet you already were for him. A whimper escaped your mouth. “Dean. Please.” You felt the tip of his length touch your opening. When you felt him push into you, your eyes locked on his. “I love you.”

His thrusts were slow and rolling at first. The feel of him stretching you made you gasp. And every sound you made, he answered with one of his own. As his thrusts became faster and deeper, the sounds gave way to your name. “Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.” He was so beautiful. His face held a look of totally focused bliss. His full lips mouthed your name without a sound right before he yelled your name with one final deep thrust and came inside you. His hot release filled your womb. Your walls tightened around him with your own climax, and Dean kept coming shooting rope after rope of his seed into you. Dean rolled off your body and lay on his side next to you catching his breath. He was still panting when he pulled you close to him. “I promise you I won’t do anything to mess this up. I will make you forget. I’ll do everything to make you happy, and I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

You kissed his shoulder wanting to hold this moment forever before you spoke. “What about a home? You had a home.”

Dean kissed you slowly, deliberately. Then he pushed your hair back from your face. “I have a home. My home is with you.”

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @jules-1999 @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @volleyballer519 @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @lovealways-j @mrswhozeewhatsis @spnbaby-67 @wayward-and-worn @asthesunwentdown @vulgar-library @petitgateau911 @thinkinghardhardlythinking

Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee @flamencodiva @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @focusonspn @akshi8278 @ladywinchester1967 @sgarrett49 @wingedcatninja @coffee-obsessed-writer @adoptdontshoppets @ellewritesfix05 @weepingwillowphoenix

#dean angst #dean smut #dean fluff #dean x reader #dean oneshot

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midgardsbest · 3 years ago

Text

Imagine: You feel a bit off today and the argument with your boyfriend Loki doesn’t make things better. What happens when a Steve who doesn’t understand British slang and an overprotective father ruin your sweet plan to get him back?

N/A: Hello dearests, enjoy this new Loki x reader imagine and tell me what are your impressions about it. If you wanna. If you don’t then DEATH. TO ALL OF THEM. Jk. Hope y’all got that reference. 🤟

Warnings: BestFriend!Natasha, Thor is lovely as usual, Dad!TonyStark, Boyfriend!Loki, Language, Fluff, Angst and more fluff, a bit of passion, and British reader/use of British slang (pretty easy and self-explanatory)

Words: 1953

Waking up that morning was tremendously hard. You stumbled against any piece of furniture installed inside of your room by your father, Tony Stark. Well, he was your stepfather, technically, but you weren’t particularly fond of the use of that word.

Yawning your way into the kitchen of the compound, you avoided meeting eyes with Steve. He had been more stressed than usual in the last few days, probably given the upcoming mission. He lashed out at you the day before, or at least that's what you thought was happening.

"I think a cuppa would serve you right."

"A what?"

You looked at him as if he were stupid, but you knew it couldn't be that. "A cuppa? It's.. a cup of tea. You don't know that?" Given his expression, either he was a bit dumb or was just done with you for that day. "No. I like coffee. But thank you."

You weren't mad at him, of course. Nonetheless, ignoring him for a bit did sound like a better idea than trying to cheer him up with your British manners, if you could say. He did not look happy about that.

Staring at the emptiness of your black coffee (and almost gagging at the rough taste), you swallowed the smothering ache in your heart. What was it you were yearning for?

You couldn't place in your mind the exact reason behind this suffering, but you soon grew tired of it. With a pair of eyes following your figure left unnoticed, you dragged yourself up to your room to somehow get ready.

"What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know man. Shouldn't you be locked up in your room like Stark- and he's gone. Thanks for the chat, popsicle."

This was boring, wasn't it? It was raining outside. Perhaps if you were in a rom-com you'd be soaked wet, lightheartedly dancing with a cover of dreamy clouds in the sky, glancing at your boyfriend from time to time, pretending you didn't see his "this is the woman I'll marry" eyes consuming you entirely. However, you weren't the protagonist of a rom-com, much less of a poorly written fan fiction. Additionally, your dear boyfriend wasn't officially... well, your boyfriend, and he'd been ignoring you completely. Which hurt, but your pride defeated your consciousness and you didn't want to talk to him about it.

Then, an idea took place in your mind. You had an opportunity to get back your not-much-of-a-boyfriend, the Captain's shy smile and your fun. Some might say even something more along the way.

"I AM DONE. COMPLETELY, UTTERLY DONE."

You slammed the door of Natasha's office, ignoring the frightening look she gave you and pointed to the chair right in front of you with questioning eyes.

"You slammed my door shut, might as well."

Your eyes dropped unnoticeably. Someone would have noticed though, only he wasn't there.

"I gotta do something. Would you help me with it?."

"What would I help you with, exactly? Y/N, if this is one of your unsettled plans..." She leaned back on the chair, tapping the desk with her bare fingernails.

"No! You can trust me on this, Nat. Please do. I'll buy you some nail polish."

"What?"

"WHAT?" Tony on the verge of an anxiety attack wasn't exactly how you thought this plan would go, even though him finding out was not part of it as well.

"Boss, your heart rate is increasing critically."

"Vacation's over. FRIDAY, let's go back to the compound."

You could hear their voices on the other end of the line.

You still didn't utter a word, already having made the mistake of asking your dad when he was bound to return from his "job thing" in Rome. You shouldn’t have said that, because "you never care about it", so it was either a party you were planning or a date. Besides, you might've mentioned the mission that you later remembered, you weren’t supposed to know about.

Your leg was trembling now, having realized the crap mistake you made. "Well shit."

"Y/N!"

"Oh, forgot you were still on. Love you, Dad, bye."

Natasha gawked at you, shaking her head slightly, arms crossed in front of her. This plan was a massive mistake. But it was your plan and you wouldn’t give up on it.

Around noon, Stark made his entry into the structure and went straight to your room, knocking on the door half a time and anchoring his feet to the ground with every step. Hiding your uneven breath, and thanking Nat for her wise advice ("just play sick", she said), you raised the sheets over your painted red nose.

Your dad searched for you in your cosy bedroom, just to find your teary innocent eyes full of greed for success. Maybe you did have a fever.

"Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me you were sick? I thought you were gonna run off to a party or something you kids do."

You shifted under the covers. Shit. That was the plan after all. You were going to coerce Steve into partying with you somewhere you knew Loki would find you, like perhaps that club just around the corner where he wore that leather jacket once. Big story. Regardless, it didn't mean much now that he just vanished from your life.

"I wouldn't have gone anywhere."

An aching cough caught your breath. You tried to keep your eyebrows from furrowing at the actual symptom. You never got sick. Not really, at least.

Tony's eyes were clouded with worry, not liking the sight of you in pain.

"This is what we'll do, kid. You get some rest and I'll have Steve make you some tea."

You sniggered: "Just don't call it a cuppa."

As soon as he left the room, Natasha came out of the bathroom. Your eyes felt heavy, but your mind was still somewhere else.

"You'd make a great actress, has anyone told you that?" she grinned. You liked Nat, especially when you knew she was comfortable enough to enjoy spending time with you. She was your first real friend here at the compound. Your father would keep you hidden here when you were younger, and even though he tried his best to never make you feel like you were alone, he wasn't around much, and always left you with Pepper or Happy, who you now knew as your mother and uncle.

You coughed once again, this time harder, and brought a hand on your chest.

Nat stared at you for a little while.

"You're ill."

"Yeah. And the sun's coming out. This day just couldn't get worse. Did I just manifest getting sick?"

When she stood up from the little chair that was at the side of your bed, she gave you a comforting smile, and then she left, leaving you in Morpheus' arms to fall asleep.

"Do you think perhaps it is best to wake her?"

"Don't be foolish, brother. She is much better like this."

"You mean she's comfortable?"

"I mean she's bearable."

"Ughh."

"Perfect! Lady Y/N, you seem to have awakened."

You looked at the Norse brothers standing at the feet of your bed, still feeling dizzy from your remarkable nap. You hadn't slept this good in a while.

"Thor. Yes. Woken u-uh..p." You stood up. You looked at them. You glanced at them once again.

"OH MY GOD." You quickly covered your face with your hands. Gods, Loki was in your room. He wasn't looking at you, but he was in your room. You could feel his coldness reaching up to your veins - and heart, not only making you feel sick in your stomach but also causing a complementary shameful headache.

"Is uhm... something wrong, Y/N?" Thor's warm voice grounded you slightly but never enough.

With a shallow breath, you released your hands, dropping them along with your head. Looking at the silk white sheets, you wondered if strangling yourself with them would solve anything.

"No, thank you, Thor. Could you just give me a minute to uhm... I need to uh... powder my nose."

He smiled. "Ah yes of course. We'll be in the kitchen."

Your breath hitched. You had to do something.

"Wait!" They altered their steps, this time you looked directly into Loki's ice-blue eyes. "Gotta speak. I mean- I- 'd like to speak to Loki. For a minute. If possible."

Thor adjusted the weight on his feet and then nodded, sizing the room with his comfortable aura.

The instant he left, that same energy vanished, leaving you and that subjugating man to war. A conflict formed of rivalry, an uneasy sense of fear for all that was yet to be said and a deep, desperate need for each other in all ways known to your kind.

You soon grew tired of the dreadful silence. "Are you gonna say anything or shall I speak first?"

"Speak." He kept on staring at the window.

You debated if getting out of the bed would be better for this argument.

"Don't. And there will be no such thing as an argument. I'm not going to force your decision."

You blinked at him. What? Did the ice get to his head?

"Pardon? What decision? And who gave you permission to read my mind, Loki? You left me. Alone. You didn't speak to me for a week. Like... out of nowhere. Just like that- What. Decision." You did get out of bed, now showing your white lace robe to him. If he were looking at you, you'd have felt naked under his gaze.

He kept silent for a while and you did not once stop beholding him.

"I thought you wished not to see me again." He finally witnessed you, completely, entirely, just like you knew he would. Just the way you longed for.

"Why? When did you ever get that impression from me? If I did something wrong please tell me but don't just... don't go away from me."

He attentively took a few steps closer to you. It looked menacing but you knew he was just calculating your next move. He was the prey. But it was you who kept still.

"The bar." The bar?

"What bar?"

"Last week, you brought me to a place. I wore a leather jacket."

Your eyes instantly watered a bit.

"Loki..."

"No. My actions were unnecessary and I shouldn't have- I-."

You broke, fully. You gave in to your heart and hurried to him, still too far across the room. You wrapped your trembling hands around him and almost fell whilst doing so. But he held you mightily, adapting to your action like a lock when it finds its key.

"Lokes... why'd you think that?" You tucked your face in his green and golden armour. "I lo- I know you didn't mean that. You didn't do anything wrong. Please. Is that why you weren't speaking to me anymore?"

Glancing up at him, your gazes met, lost in each other like you could both find your way home. "Yes."

You smiled softly. "Don't do that again. Just talk to me next time."

"There won't be a next time". At that, you frowned. Would he never go out with you again?

"What d'you mean?"

He caressed your cheek, hidden emotions revealed by the trembling of the movement.

"I'll do my best to not do you wrong ever again. It is a promise I'll keep as close to my heart as a dagger."

You giggled dreamily. "Please don't put a knife to your heart."

He moved you closer to his touch. "I won't. But if I do it'll be you who holds the handle."

"You cheeky bastard." And to that, he kissed you ardently, air unneeded for your lungs to work.

N/A: Any idea on what might’ve happened at the club? Also… Loki in a leather jacket.

#loki friggason #loki imagine #loki laufeyson #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki fandom #marvel imagine #mcu x reader #marvel #marvel movies #thor the dark world #thor odinson #tony stark #natasha romanoff

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markandlexies · 4 years ago

Text

The One With Will and JJ’s Wedding - Part 1

Summary: Based off of 7.23 and 7.24 of Friends! Will and JJ’s wedding is approaching and troubles arise when Will starts to panic and doesn't want to go through with it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (Female)

Word Count: 5,115k

A/N: This is my first time writing anything like this but I love Friends and Criminal Minds and this is one of my favorite plot lines ever. I could make this a series if anybody is interested, again I’m new to this and barely even know how to use Tumblr lmao so pls be nice!!! There isn't all that much pairing of Spence and reader here but I really loved writing the relationships between the characters and I’ll def go more into detail in later chapters! If you guys have an Friends episode you would wanna see written with the criminal minds characters, feel free to send me a request! Enjoy!

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

“Do you guys realize that this is the last time we’re all going to be here in O’Keefes as all single people?” JJ sighed, fiddling with her thumbs. You smiled at this, leaning on the arm of the couch, JJ sitting to your right. Emily sat on the couch also, squeezed in next to Garcia. Reid nursed a cup of coffee on the love seat to the left, while Hotch, Rossi and Morgan sat around the small table listening intently to their friend.

“Why, what’s happening to O’Keefes?” Garcia questioned, not understanding what JJ was trying to say.

Everyone just stared at her, used to this kind of behavior, and waited for the lightbulb.

“Ohhh! Right!”

“I cant believe in just two days I’ll be Mrs. LaMontagne. God, it’s just- we’ve been waiting for so long and now the day is finally here,” JJ smiled to herself, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“I’m so excited for you, Jaje,” you smiled, resting your hand on her knee and giving it a light squeeze. She placed her hand over yours, “I just can’t help but be nervous, you know?”

“Of course, that’s normal! But actually, it’s been statistically proven that men are more nervous about marriage than woman. About 60% of men get cold feet-“

The sentence was cut short with a yelp as you kicked Spencer in the shin, urging him to stop.

Morgan cleared his throat as JJ laughed nervously. “But that’s not gonna happen... right?”

“Hey, don’t look at me...” Rossi chuckled.

“N-no of course not!” You stammered, trying to calm the bride to be’s nerves. “Spence, what are the statistics of couples that actually end up happy together?”

“Well actually about 50% to 60% of marriages end in divorce, but that doesn’t count factors such as death-“ he started.

“Well would you look at the time, we gotta go!” Garcia said, putting an end to this conversation before it could get any worse.

“Where are you guys going?” Hotch asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“We’re going to pick up the wedding dress and then go have lunch with my Mom,” JJ exclaimed as the girls all stood up to gather their belongings. Morgan got up with them, leaving Spencer, Rossi and Hotch to exchange questioning looks.

“Derek, you’re having lunch with JJ’s mom?” Rossi asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“No... I just heard lunch...”

After lunch, the girls sat around the apartment as JJ went over her list of things that still needed to be done in order for her big day.

“So what else do you have on that list?” Emily asked as she delicately applied a second coat of polish to her right hand.

“Oh, this is a different list. This is my list of all the things that could go wrong at the wedding,” she said as she wrote a couple more notes on the paper before her.

As she was met with silence she continued on, “You know, that way I could be prepared.”

“...Well, what do you have so far?” Garcia chimed in.

“So far I have, my bridesmaids dresses won’t get picked up, my veil gets lost or I don’t have my something blue-“

“Hey! Those are all the things I’m responsible for!” You interrupted, putting your coffee mug down.

“I had to do with the odds, Y/N/N!”

Before you could interject again, Will waltzed through the door. You all greeted him with a smile as he stood behind JJ’s chair, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“What are you guys up to?” He asked, his hands finding their way to JJ’s shoulders.

“Just finishing my list of all the things that could go wrong at the wedding. You can never be too sure,” she shrugged, making a couple of more notes.

Will shook his head laughing, “Oh, relax! Everything will be perfectly fine.”

“Yeah!” You chimed in. “Stop looking for things to go wrong, you don’t want to jinx it!”

“Exactly!” He agreed, walking over to the fridge to grab a beer. “So, who’s excited for 7:00 tonight?”

You all just stared at him as Garcia walked behind JJ, tearing the page off the notepad. “You might want to start a, ‘What Could Go Wrong at the Rehearsal Dinner’ list. One: Will forgets the time.”

“Will! I told you a thousand times it’s 6:30!” JJ huffed immediately scribbling down on her new paper. You grab the notepad and clutch it to your chest. “Will you stop it? He’s just messing with you! He knows it’s at 6:30!” You turn around at his wide eyed figure. “Right?”

“Uh- yeah! I knew it was 7:00 I was just kidding-“

“6:30!” You all yelled in unison.

“That’s what I meant!”

“You’re killing me here, Will!” You whispered before turning back around to your best friend. “Jaje, everything will be perfectly fine! Everything is going to go as planned!”

“She’s right! You need to stop worrying!” Emily laughed, blowing on her nails.

JJ nodded, “Yeah, you guys are right...” She stood up walking to her fiancé, “Can you believe that tomorrow we’re gonna be married?!” He smiled at her before giving her a quick peck on the lips. “Yes, and I’m so excited for you to finally be Mrs. LaMontagne.”

You all smiled at the interaction, none of you could be happier for the pair in front of you.

“I just cant believe we made it!” She swooned, grabbing his hands in hers.

“Well, you don’t have to sound so surprised!” Will scoffed.

“It’s just- never mind.” She started, walking to put some dishes in the sink.

“What?” Will laughed, following her as she walked.

“Well... honestly,” she started, “... ever since we’ve gotten engaged I’ve been waiting for something to... you know, flip you out.”

You all giggled, silently agreeing. It was no question that Will loved JJ, but he had a tendency to overthink.

“Honestly, me too... I keep waiting for something stupid to come up that’ll make me freak out and go all... Will. But nothing has.”

She turned around and smiled at him, caressing his face. “I’m so glad. Thank you so much for staying so calm during all of this.” She placed another kiss to his lips before slipping into the bathroom.

You all sat in comfortable silence for a moment before the phone started ringing. Before anyone could volunteer to answer it, it had stopped, automatically going to voicemail.

“Hi! If you’re calling before Saturday, you’ve reached JJ and Will! But if you’re calling after Saturday, you’ve reached Mr and Mrs. LaMontagne! Please leave a message for the LaMontagnes!”

The girls all giggled, having been there when JJ recorded it, assuming Will had heard it already. You all continued what you were doing and missed the look of panic that was only being discussed not too long ago. Will started to sweat profusely and loosen his tie a bit, feeling he was being choked to death.

The LaMontagnes.

The rehearsal dinner had gone smoothly for the most part, nobody realizing the panic that had been struck into Will just hours before.

Before they knew it, the night had ended and their big day had begun. The girls had been sitting around like they were the previous day, eating breakfast and chatting, excited for what was ahead. JJ was prancing around the apartment, nervously fluffing pillows and moving magazines in a straight line, she had so much adrenaline and didn’t know what to do with it.

Little did she know that across the hall, Spencer and Derek were tearing the apartment apart looking for the groom to be. Will had been staying with them the night before, being that JJ wanted the wedding day to be as traditional as possible, which meant they were not to see each other until she was walking down the aisle.

“Will! Come on, buddy. Time to wake up!” Morgan huffed, knocking on the door.

After no answer, Spencer called, “Will...”

No answer again. The men exchanged questioning looks as came to agreement their next move was to just walk in. Opening the door, they were met with a neatly tucked bed. They looked at each other confused. Derek walked in going to see if there was an trace of where he went as Spencer walked towards the kitchen.

He stopped in his tracks as his eyes met with a piece of yellow paper sitting on the counter. “Morgan...” He started, walking over to read what it said.

“What is it, Pretty Boy?” Derek asked his, standing next to Reid.

“Oh no.”

The boys ran across the hall, knocking feverishly on the door in front of them. They were met with your smile, “What’s up, you guys?”

Your smile quickly faded as you saw their worried faces.

“Is JJ in here?” Morgan asked in a hushed tone.

“She’s steaming her dress, why?” Garcia answered coming behind you.

The boys walked in the door a little further. Spencer looked up at you, pulling the paper out of his pocket. “I think Will’s gone...”

You reluctantly took the paper out of Spencer’s hands, Garcia looking down to read it with you.

“Tell JJ I’m sorry.”

You met Spencer’s eyes with disbelief of what was in front of you. The group had soon enough caught Emily’s attention and she walked over.

“What’s up?” She asked as you placed the note in her hands.

“Tell JJ I’m sorry,” she read aloud. She looked up at Morgan, shoving the note in his hands, “Tell her yourself!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose as she attempted to walk away, grabbing her by the forearm and pushing everybody outside the door.

“Oh my God! Will just left her?” You cried, running your hands through your hair.

“Okay, yeah! But maybe it’s not what we think! Maybe it’s, ‘Tell JJ I’m sorry... I drank the last of the milk!” Morgan said, desperately trying to convince himself also.

“Oh!” Garcia nodded excitedly, “Or maybe h- he was writing to tell her that he’s changed his name, you know! Uh- Tell JJ I’m ‘Sorry.’”

You and Spencer looked at each other in annoyance before Spencer whisper shouted, “I think it means he freaked out and left!”

“Don’t he so negative! God, isn’t it possible ‘Sorry’ is sitting in there right now!” Garcia whisper shouted back at Reid.

Spencer put his head in his hands and before it could escalate any further you put your hand on Garcia’s shoulder and said, “Okay, I-I think Spencer is right. What are we gonna do?”

Spencer sighed, “Well, me and Derek are gonna have to go find him and bring him back.” You all nodded in agreement.

“You guys make sure JJ doesn’t find out, okay?” Morgan added, clearly stressed.

You all started to go your separate ways as you noticed Garcia following you and Emily back into the apartment.

“Oh! No you don’t!” Emily started, blocking the door with her arm.

“W-what-“ Garcia stammered confused.

You called back to the boys who were walking out of their apartment again, jackets and phones in hand, “She’s coming with you guys.”

“Good call,” Spencer laughed.

“What are you talking about?!” Garcia huffed looking back and forth between the group.

“Pen, we need JJ to not find out! You’d blow our cover in seconds!” You said nudging her towards the guys.

“Oh, come on! That’s not fair-“

“Babygirl, you know you can’t keep secrets-“

“Oh, fine!” She rolled her eyes, walking away with them.

You and Emily walked back into the apartment as JJ excitedly ran out of her room with wet hair and a robe clinging to her body. “I’m getting married today!” The sentence ended with a yelp as she fell to the floor, you and Emily running to her aid but quickly coming to a halt as she picked herself up, not even phased.

“Think I just cracked a rib...” she started, her smile still intact. “But I don’t care because today’s my wedding day! My day is finally here! I’m gonna start getting ready!” She ran back into the room clapping and squealing.

“You know... she might not even notice he’s gone,” Emily shrugged, attempting to lighten the mood.

Tears prickled at your eyes and you put your head in your hands. “She cant start getting ready! This is too awful!”

“Shh!”

“She’ll be in the gown, and then he won’t show up! And she’s gonna have to take off the gown! It’s gonna be so awful-“ You started, panic running through your veins.

“Y/N, stop it! You cant do this out here!” Emily rolled her eyes, pulling you into the bathroom.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It’s just so sad!” You cried, gripping the sink and shaking your head.

“You have got to pull yourself together! JJ cant see you like this or else she’ll know something is wrong!” Emily urged rubbing your shoulder in an effort to calm you down.

“I know, I’m sorry. God, there’s no tissue!” You groaned looking around the sink, “Can you grab me some toilet paper?”

There was no toilet paper either, Emily looked down into the trash can. “Oh... I found some...” She hesitantly reached into the can, pulling out some crumpled toilet paper and handing it to you.

“Thank you, Em,” you sniffled, wiping away your tears, “Can I have another one?”

Emily scratched the back of her head, cringing as she looked down at the trash can again. “Sure...”

She pulled the sleeve of her shirt up before reaching in again, pulling out some more. “Need some floss?” She suggested, shaking it in front of you with her hand.

You ignored her as you continued with your tears, “I just cant imagine what is going to happen if Will doesn’t show up.”

Emily continued to look through the can.

“I mean, she’s gonna be at the wedding waiting for him! And people are gonna be whispering, ‘Oh, that poor girl!’ You know! And then she’ll have to come back here and live all alone,” you shook your head, turning to face the previously steamed wedding dress hanging up on the shower rod.

“Oh my God.”

“What?” you asked, eyes never leaving the beautiful dress that you hoped to see your best friend in later that day.

“There was a pregnancy test in the garbage and it’s positive.”

Your eyes widened as you turned to face Emily and the little stick in her hands.

“JJ’s pregnant.”

Your hand instantly shot up to your mouth.

Emily sighed, “So I guess she won’t be totally alone.”

“Oh my God,” you whispered.

“Can you believe it? JJ’s gonna have a baby!” Emily said in disbelief, “Hey, can this count as her something new?”

You were at a loss for words, this was bad.

“Do you think this is why Will took off?”

You shook your head, biting your nails, “No, she had to of just taken this test. I took out the trash last night.”

Emily looked back down at the little stick, “This is turning into the worst wedding day ever! The bride is pregnant, the groom is missing... and I’m still holding this!” She shuddered as she dropped it back into the trash.

“Em...” you started, meeting her eyes, “we cannot tell anyone about this.”

“Right... yeah. Okay,” she nodded standing up from her spot on the toilet seat, you following her movement to the door.

“Wait do you know what kind’ve birth control she was using?”

“No, why?” you asked.

“Just for the future, this is hardly a commercial for it!” You tried to laugh but nothing came out, you were screwed.

“Anything?” You asked as you walked into Spencer and Morgan’s apartment.

“Nothing! And we looked everywhere!” Garcia groaned from her spot on the couch.

You all shook your head in disbelief, this was a nightmare.

“I am going to kick his ass when I see him! I’m starting to think we don’t really even know this guy! I mean think about it, does anybody else ever really understand him when he’s speaking?” Morgan huffed, looking around for an answer.

You rolled your eyes, “Shut up, Derek! He’s just freaking out! We should’ve known this was gonna happen sooner or later!”

Reid sighed in a agreement as he met your eyes, “This is bad, you guys. I don’t know where else we should look.”

You ran your hands through your hair, “We’re gonna have to just tell her that he’s gone!” you said as you turned around to walk towards the door.

Spencer jumped up from his seat, “Y/N, no! We can’t!”

“Spence, she’s gonna start getting ready soon!”

“Cant you at least stall her a little?” He pleaded, walking over towards you. “We can go back to some of the places we went last night!”

You looked up at him, he was grabbing your forearm lightly. You could never say no to those eyes.

“Alright,” you sighed, “...how much time do you need?”

“How much time until she absolutely has to start getting ready?” Derek interrupted.

“One hour.”

“Okay, give us two,” he replied, gathering his things from the counter.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, “Then why do you even ask?!”

You all started to walk towards the door. Emily decided to join them, being that they needed all the help they could get. Hotch and Rossi were now in on the plan too and they agreed they should all split up in groups.

“Y/N! There you are!” JJ giggled as she excitedly walked towards you as you entered the apartment. With her cosmetic bag in hand, she sat down at the kitchen table, already spilling out the contents, “So I thought we’d start with my makeup and then do my hair!”

“Okay... uh...” you stammered, “before we do that... I-I need you to talk to me...”

“About what?”

“Um...” you were already cringing at the words about to come out of your mouth.

“I’m never going to get married!” You cried, placing a hand over your face.

JJ rolled her eyes and looked up at you, “Yeah, you will! The right guy is just around the corner... Okay, are we done with that?” she said quickly and continued to look through her makeup bag.

“JJ, I’m serious! Maybe I should just forget about it! I’ll become a lesbian or something...” you rambled on, faking more tears and sitting down next to her, trying to get her attention again.

However, it didn’t work. JJ didn’t even look up at you when she scoffed, “Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

You mentally face palmed. This was getting pathetic, and you couldn’t believe what you were about to say next.

“Maybe it would make me feel better if I just slept with Derek.”

JJ immediately stopped what she was doing and put a hand on your shoulder with wide eyes and a concerned face. “Oh my God, Y/N, are you okay?”

You shook your head quickly and stuffed your face in her shoulder, letting out fake cries.

“What are you doing, man?” Derek huffed as he stood besides Hotch and Penelope in front of Will’s desk at the station.

“I cant believe you guys found me! I knew I should have hid somewhere more secretive!”

Penelope rolled her eyes, “Will! What the hell are you doing?

Will shakily ran a hand through his hair, “Panicking...” he pointed to laptop opened in front of him, “Also trying to prove on the internet that I’m related to JJ.”

The trio was unamused.

Will got the hint quickly and asked, “How is she?”

“She’s fine. She doesn’t know you’re gone,” Hotch spoke up, getting closer to the desk, “and she doesn’t have to know, okay?”

Derek nodded in agreement, “Yeah, come on. We’re going back home-“

“I-I can’t! If I go back, we’re gonna become the LaMontagnes!” Will cut him off, shaking his head, “I can’t be the LaMontagnes!”

“What’s wrong with being the LaMontagnes?” Garcia questioned, clearly not following.

“The LaMontagnes have horrible marriages! All they do is yell and fight, and it never ends up well!”

Hotch, Penelope and Derek looked back at Will, finally understanding. He didn’t talk about it much, but Will and his parents were not close, he was too scarred from what they had put him through growing up to ever reconstruct their relationship.

“Man...” Derek began in an effort to calm him down, “You are nothing like either of your parents! You and JJ would never put each other through anything like that!”

Will thought about it for a second before saying, “I mean, look at Rossi! It’s just been divorce after divorce-“

“Will! Listen to me!” Penelope interrupted walking over to the side of the desk, “Right now, no one has a lower opinion of you than I do... but I totally believe you can do this!”

Will looked at his hands before saying, “I want to. I love her so much. But I’m afraid... this is... too huge.”

“You’re right, it is huge,” Hotch chimed in. He remembered when he was the one getting married and started to sympathize with the nerves of the man in front of him. “Just take it one step at a time. Forget getting married right now, can you just come home and take a shower?”

Morgan nodded in agreement, “Yeah, that’s not scary, right?”

Will slowly started to stand up in agreement and the trio in front of him couldn’t help but smile.

“The nights are the hardest...” you cried, looking down at your hands. JJ rolled her eyes. “But then the day comes... and that’s every bit as hard as the night. Then the night comes again-“

“I get it, okay? The days and nights are both hard!” JJ snapped in frustration. “Look, Y/N, I’m sorry but I have to start getting ready. I am getting married today,” she emphasized.

“I know... at dusk. That’s such a hard time for me.”

JJ stood up, not being able to take anymore of your pity party. “Okay. I’m gonna go put my makeup on. We have to be at the hotel in an hour.”

As she started to walk towards the bathroom you jumped up, “W-wait! Let’s go to lunch!”

“I can’t go to lunch!” She shrieked, running into the bathroom.

You were starting to run out of ideas. Throwing yourself to the floor you yelled, “Oh good God, I’ve fallen down!”

JJ stormed out of the bathroom, crossing her arms and looked at you sprawled out on the floor. “What the hell is going on?”

“Alright, JJ, listen...” you said standing up, feeling the tears ready to spill. “When I tell you what I’m about to tell you I need you to remember we’re all here for you and we all love you.”

JJ’s gaze softened, “Y/N/N, you’re really starting to freak me out...”

You looked down at your shaking hands as you whispered, “We can’t find Will...”

And just like that the door opened to reveal a smiling Emily Prentiss holding two big thumbs up.

“...s vest. We cant find Will’s vest-“

“How can that be are you serious?!” JJ cried.

Emily caught on and shut the door walking towards you two, “Found the vest! Well I mean we have to keep an eye on it. You know, to make sure we don’t lose it again!”

JJ instantly relaxed and started laughing, “Oh, thank God! Don’t scare me like that, okay?”

You both started nervously laughing as she started to walk towards the bathroom to finally do her makeup.

“For a minute there I was like, ‘Oh my God, the worst has happened!’ Phew!”

You and Emily both looked at each other with a sigh of relief.

Derek stood behind Will in the mirror, smoothing down his tux. “See, that wasn’t so scary was it? You put on a tuxedo!”

Will laughed nervously, looking at his reflection, “No... I guess not.”

Spencer smiled, “See, just a little bit at a time.”

“So what‘s the next little bit?”

Derek and Spencer looked nervously at each other, knowing they had to choose their next words very carefully.

“Just uh,” Derek stammered, “Getting married-“

Will let out a girl-like shriek, putting his head in his hands.

“W-woah, relax! You can do it! Just like you’ve done everything else!”

He lifted his head, nodding at Spencer’s words. “You’re right... I can do it. Just excuse me for a minute,” he sighed walking towards the door.

The men shared a skeptical look before Will added, “I’m not gonna run away again! I just need some fresh air.”

The boys reluctantly let Will out of the door and he paced the halls, trying to let all the nerves out. Hearing familiar voices around the corner, Will walked into one of the empty rooms on his left, trying not to be seen. The last thing he needed was to run into JJ in her dress before they were married and ruin this day even more than he almost already did. He soon recognized the voices as Y/N and Emily.

“I just cant believe JJ is pregnant! We gotta make sure we don’t say that too loud in here, you know they frown on that,” Emily said, referring to the church.

Pregnant?! How could it be? They used protection every single time?

All Will could hear was your humorless chuckles and wordless responses to what Emily was saying.

When your voices were gone, he popped his panicked head out of the door and started pacing the other way.

“Hey...” Derek nervously laughed as he entered the bridal suite. He was met with the eyes of JJ’s family members and gave them all a quick wave. “Have any of you seen Will?”

Penelope was fixing her hair in the mirror and quickly turned around, “I thought he was with you!”

Suddenly everyone’s attention was on Derek. “Well... he was,” he awkwardly looked around. “We’re playing a game of hide and seek.”

Penelope’s shoulders relaxed, “Well you can’t ask us, Chocolate Thunder! That’s cheating!” She turned back around scoffing, to continue pulling at little pieces of hair to frame her face. The rest of the room was clearly uncomfortable.

Derek gritted his teeth, “You’re right. Thanks for keeping me honest, Babygirl...” he smiled at the rest of JJ’s family, trying to make sure they didn’t suspect anything.

Walking towards Penelope to tell her Will was actually missing, he immediately came to a halt as JJ and Emily walked in the room.

“JJ, you look beautiful,” he smiled, giving her a hug.

She hugged him tightly and thanked him before asking, “How’s Will?”

Derek paused.

“Great. He’s doing great. Don’t you worry about Will!” he nervously chuckled before turning his attention back to the other side of the room. “Penelope, Emily, will you help me with something outside?”

The girls nodded and followed him out, Penelope closing the door behind them.

“Will is gone again!”

“Oh my God!” Penelope cried, “Why would you play hide and seek with someone you know is a flight risk!”

Derek rolled his eyes before turning his head and seeing the man of the hour walking with a small gift bag.

“Hey- There he is!”

“What-“

Without thinking Derek sprinted towards the man, tackling him on the floor. “You’re not getting away this time-“

“What are you talking about- I’m not trying to leave! I-I know about JJ.” He groaned, pushing Morgan off of him and standing up.

“You know?” Emily asked in disbelief.

“Know what?” Garcia chimed in, matching Derek’s expression of confusion.

“I heard you and Y/N talking...” Will answered.

“Talking about what?” questioned Derek, looking around confusingly.

“Oh my God... You know.” Emily whispered.

“Can someone tell us what the hell is going on right now-“ Penelope exclaimed.

“JJ’s pregnant.”

The pair looked at each other in shock, and broke out in smiles as Will pulled out a tiny onesie.

“Anything this tiny can’t be so scary.”

The ceremony had begun and all the guests had taken their seats. Rossi took his rightful spot in the center, being that he would be the one to officiate the wedding. Will was accompanied by his parents down the aisle and one after the other, the bridesmaids and the groomsman met in the middle and followed. It went Emily and Hotch, Derek and Penelope and then it was time for you to meet Spencer. It was the first time you had seen each other dressed up. The day had been so hectic you hadn’t had the chance to run into one another. He looked handsome in his suit, his hair so perfectly messy, and it took everything in you to not sprint over to him and run your hands through it.

Spencer was speechless, He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of you walking towards him to meet in the aisle. You looked gorgeous in your light blue bridesmaid dress that hugged you perfectly. Your hair was pulled back on the sides, a few pieces hanging and your makeup was elegantly placed, highlighting all the features he loved.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered as you met up and linked arms. The blush spread through your cheeks like a wildfire and you prayed the camera couldn’t pick it up.

“Thank you,” you whispered back. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

As it came time to part from him, you slowly unlinked your arms and walked to your respective sides, but not before giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He smiled at that.

JJ had walked out and tears were brought to not only Will’s eyes, but everyone else’s. She looked gorgeous and you couldn’t help but feel ecstatic for her as you knew she had been waiting for this moment her whole life.

Rossi had soon announced them husband and wife and everyone had cheered as they kissed one another. It was truly a moment of bliss.

“I love you,” Will whispered while cupping JJ’s cheek, “and I know about the baby too.”

“What baby?” JJ laughed.

“Our baby.”

“We have a baby?”

“Emily found your pregnancy test in the bathroom-“

JJ looked at him confused, “I didn’t take a pregnancy test...”

“Then who did?”

You, Emily and Penelope stared at the two in awe.

“Just look at them, they’re so happy.” Emily gushed.

“And they’re gonna have a baby!” Penelope smiled.

You nodded nervously, the wave of nausea hitting you like a ton of bricks.

“Wait- Penelope knows now too?!”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds au #friends #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds friends au

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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Would You Be My Little Quarantine (one-shot)

Synopsis: As the mandatory quarantine hits, the Reader is stuck in a cabin in Utah with the boys from 5 Seconds of Summer. Turns out another person is stuck in a hotel nearby. Hijinx ensue as does romance.

Pairing: Harry Styles x f!Reader

Genre: fluff pretty much just pure, teeth-rotting fluff.

Warnings: it’s my first time writing for Harry as I was never really part of the fandom, but damn does Watermelon Sugar do things to a person, so please be kind. This is defo not my best work, but I’m slowly getting back into the groove of things, so bare with me :D

Word count: 6061

TikTok had become Y/N’s new obsession. She’d stayed away from it as long as she could, being a true Vine generation child, she felt loyalty to the deceased app. But one night, after a long recording session, she caved. And then stayed giggling on it until the early morning when the birds started to chirp… or until Calum had taken her phone and threatened to throw it in the jacuzzi if she didn’t go to bed.

The girl and the four guys from 5 Seconds of Summer had been renting a cabin in the middle of the Utah woods to help them escape the distractions of the city as they recorded their respective albums, and given how they were good friends, they decided to collaborate on a few songs, and it made sense to just chill together as well.

Which had started off Y/N’s own TikTok series, having ‘borrowed’ the idea from the Irishman living with two girls.

“Alright, gentlemen.” She slid inside her bathroom pulling the focus of her camera on the reflection in the mirror. “I live with four guys, and I have some things to say. Why do you always, and I mean ALWAYS, leave your socks around the house? The dirty ones. You know you could just throw them in the wash… there’s an idea.”

“We do!” Calum yelled

Y/N turned her face to the door and hollered, “Only after I’ve asked you to!”

“Do not!” he countered.

“Do too!” she exited the bathroom and into the hallway only to be met with the man standing there with his hands on his hips. “Then how.” Y/N pointed the camera towards the living area you could see from where the hallways overlooked the room. “Do you explain that?” And when she zoomed in, there, in a small pile laid two brown socks, all crumpled up and almost pushed underneath one of the three couches, as if someone was trying to hide them from sight.

Calum stammered for a bit. “Those are NOT mine.”

Y/N flipped the camera and looked at it like they do in the Office. “Help me,” she mouthed and finished the TikTok, pointing with her hand at him. “Ya disgustin’!”

Just as maturely as she had reacted, so did Calum by crossing his arms and sticking his tongue out, but their little bickering about whose socks they were and whose job was it to put them in the dirty wash (they were Ashton’s, and it was his job), Luke poked Y/N’s side as he came out from his room.

“I know might seem weird, but is there any chance another person could join our quarantine group?”

Y/N’s eyebrows rose. Sure, the house was giant, mostly because whatever production she was a part of on Broadway, after a successful season, she invited all of them there to get away from the bustle of New York and just chill. It was in the middle of the forest, encased by gorgeous mountains and at the side of a lake where they’d go jet skiing and cliff diving.

“I thought people can’t visit one another?”

“They can’t,” Luke confirmed. “That’s the point. The unfortunate soul just got stuck at a hotel not too far from here, and all the flights are cancelled. Two weeks of quarantine without symptoms have been concluded, but, knowing how impossible it’d be to get to London, when you know, as I said, there are no flights, I offered a place to stay.”

“So,” Y/N dramatically rolled her head. “You already offered to stay before asking me?”

“Well, I knew you’d say ‘yes’ because you’re a kind, generous, amazing, smart, talented, compassionate person and wouldn’t leave someone on the streets when you know you could help.”

“Mhm, keep talking.” Y/N squinted her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

“Incredible, best musician I’ve ever met, how you haven’t won all of Tony’s I’ve got no idea. Your acting skills are impeccable and the movie industry is missing out on a once in a lifetime kind of a talent by not castin-“

“Alright stop.” Y/N busted out laughing. “As long as you promise I won’t wake up with an axe in my head, ‘s fine.”

“Promise.”

“Good. Also, could you please get me three bottles of that wine I like?” Y/N hollered before skipping downstairs and to the kitchen where Ashton was brewing the tenth cup of coffee. “I have a deadline in two weeks and have literally no idea where to go with the story.” She referred to the second book of her series she was writing, and now with the lockdown going on, her literary agent was breathing down her neck, and it didn’t help she hadn’t written anything in like a month and didn’t remember half of the already exiting story.

Luke lifted a brow and hissed through his teeth. “That bad?”

“You have no idea,” she sighed and left for the living-room where she could harass the boys for their fries and procrastinate some more.

***

The few hours, while Luke was away, were quite uneventful. All of them sat around on the couch pit, wrote some music, lil bit of lyrics and Y/N almost cried seeing as her characters had decided to live their own life and not obey to her story.

“Why do you have to be such an idiot,” she mumbled under her breath and furrowed her brows as she wrote herself into a new plot hole.

Right as Y/N was about to delete the whole chapter, the door slammed open and she heard grunting. “We’re here!” Luke hollered, and the thought of wine made her giddy, making her leap over the edge of the couch, and rush to the front door only to stop dead in her tracks.

Y/N’s mouth hung open, not because of who the person joining their quarantine group was, but because of what the person was. “A fifth GUY?! You didn’t tell me it’d be a guy!”

“I didn’t think it’d matter!” Luke yelled back.

“There’s already four of you!” She pointed back to the living room hearing loads of ‘hey!’ being shouted back.

“Would you leave him on the streets if you’d known he was a dude?”

“No, of course not!”

“Why are we yelling?”

“I don’t know!”

“I mean, I can leave.” Harry Styles said pointing at the door, not really knowing what to do. He certainly hadn’t expected that sort of greeting. “But I do come bearing gifts.” He lifted a black bag where a clinking of glass could be heard.

“No,” she sighed. “It’s fine... I just… I just miss the company of vaginas.”

He raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Vaginas?”

“People I can rant to. Honestly, it doesn’t even matter if you have a vagina, as long as we can have a good rant. Especially about the gross things like having all of your dirty socks thrown around the house.” She threw Luke a look that screamed ‘I know you pushed all of them under your bed, and it’s stinking up the whole place.’

Harry shook his head. “Ya not gonna find me leaving my clothes like that. Besides, ‘s disgusting.”

“No,” Luke whined, “come on, man! You’re supposed to be on our side!”

“It’s two against four,” Harry snickered, throwing his hand around Y/N’s shoulder, who gave Luke a smug grin, and it made her mimic the same expression.

“It’s evening out. Maybe you should actually invite some other people to quarantine with us. Say, Harry, is maybe Niall in need of a place to stay?”

Luke rolled his eyes, and shook his head, going into the kitchen and placing the food bags he’d been holding. “I hate you so much.”

Y/N’s smile just widened.

***

“Yes, I’m still stealing your series Irishman.” Y/N zoomed in on her face. “Because now…” she looked up at the ceiling in a manner ‘someone please save me’, “I’m living with FIVE dudes. Yes, FIVE. We have an addition. And if someone doesn’t come and kill me, I will kill them.”

“We’re not that bad!” Michael hollered form out of frame, to which Y/N yelled back, “Yes the fuck you are! Boys are gross. You do realize you’re allowed to have more than one towel. Like you DON’T have to wipe your face with a towel that’s soaked up your ball juice.”

“It’s economy.”

“It’s disgusting! Also.” Y/N turned the camera to Harry who was climbing up the stairs with a cup of coffee in hand. “Say ‘Hi’ to gremlin number five. He’s stolen all of my nail polish.”

He gave a cute wave with an adorable smile, muttering an unintelligible ‘Hello’ as his mouth was stuffed with a piece of bread and a very muffled ‘You don’t even use them.’

“Yes, but that’s not the point. Anyway,” Y/N pointed the camera at herself. “Tune in for an update whenever, as long as I haven’t strangled anyone, and pray to the heavens you don’t see my face in the papers cause the next time you do, it’ll be my mugshot for a quintuple homicide.”

“Is that a threat Y/L/N?” Harry smirked, as Y/N walked past him and took away his cup of coffee.

“No, it’s a promise.” She threw him a wink, leaving the Brit with his mouth open at the woman’s audacity, as she stopped the recording of the TikTok.

“That was my coffee!”

“Not anymore!”

He shook his head, turning back around and going to the kitchen, seeing Y/N perched on one of the stools, neck stretching over to where Ashton was watching a video on his phone, the black liquid in his cup now a creamy beige. Harry smiled. Maybe quarantine wasn’t going to be so bad.

***

Y/N’s head popped from the side of the door, bringing all of their attention to her. “You guys need to record anything right now?”

Luke shook his head, signifying the band was alright before turning to Harry who mimicked him, the tapping of his pen stopping. “Why?”

“Just got a call from Laurence, he said something’s wrong with the ‘Candy Store’ audio from yesterday. Need to rerecord it and send it over. Something about a faulty export or whatever.”

“ ‘S all yours.” Ashton motioned to the recording booth. “Oh, but can I be Heather Duke?”

“And can I be Heather McNamara then?” Luke piped in.

Y/N chuckled. “Not to burst your bubbles, but you do know you won’t be in the final version?”

“No, but we could be in THIS version. It’d be for our private files. And it’d help you.”

“That sounds so wrong.” She grimaced. “How would that help me?” Y/N plopped next to Harry on the floor. “You’re the biggest distractions I’ve ever met.”

Luke scoffed. “How dare you! We offer you our services of being backup singers, and you… you’re such a meanie. You’re such a Heather Chandler!”

“It’s 2020! If Leslie Odom Jr. can play Aaron Burr, then I can play one of the Heathers! Don’t be sexist, Y/N!”

“I never said a dude can’t play a Heather, don’t put words in my mouth. I just said last time we tried to record anything together we ended up playing SIMS for like seven hours, but… come on you two divas, get your asses inside then. But I swear if Laurence or Kevin call because one of you whispered something dirty in the background of MY parts, I will strangle you in your sleep.”

“How little trust do you have in us?”

“Very,” Y/N deadpanned, showing the two men inside, leaving Calum, Harry and Michael to man the production table. “If you mess with anything, your asses will be grass.” She pointed at the three and all of them put their hands up in surrender. “ ‘S bad enough you ruined my single.”

“It’s called giving it flavour,” Calum said through the microphone.

Y/N just responded by sticking her tongue out.

Michael lifted his fingers, counting down from five to one, giving her the cue to start.

“Are we gonna have a problem?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, already immersed in the character of Heather Chandler. “You’ve got a bone to pick? You’ve come so far, why now are you pulling on my dick?”

Harry swallowed hard.

“I’d normally slap your face off, and everyone here could watch,” she slightly motioned with her head to the audience behind the screen, a mockingly sweet smile on her lips. “But I’m feeling nice, here’s some advice, listen up biatch.”

When her hips started moving from side to side to the rhythm of the song, Harry swore he’d never found someone being mean (even though it was mock mean) so hot.

“I like,” Y/N raised her voice before dropping it. “Looking hot, buying stuff they cannot.”

There was no sight of the sweet and bubbly girl Harry had met. This was Queen-B of Westerberg High in flesh. He was transfixed.

“I like drinking hard, maxing dad’s credit card.”

She didn’t need anyone’s credit card to pay for her things, given how she was one of the top paid Broadway singers of their generation, and something in Harry skipped a beat at how confident she looked.

“I like skipping gym, scaring her, screwing him,” Y/N rolled the ‘r’ deeply in her throat, and he had to collect himself before his thoughts went to an unsavoury place.

“I like, killer clothes, kicking nerds in the nose!” With a smile, Y/N pointed at Luke who only rolled his eyes. “If you lack the balls, you can go play dolls, let yer mammy fix you a snack,” she emphasised the ‘K’ after having mockingly sung the bit before. “Or you could come smoke, pound some rum and coke, in ma Porche with the quarterback.”

As weird as it was to have the two boys be her fellow Heathers, Y/N hated to admit it did help her. It reminded her more of what it was like to be on stage before the pandemic had started and the production had to be shut down. And she missed them. All her fellow actors just as much as she missed the rush of getting on stage and losing herself in the role and atmosphere.

“You can join the team –“

“Or you can bitch and moan,” Y/N’s ‘Heathers’ sang in a nasally voice

“You can live the dream.”

“Or you can die alone.”

Harry snuck inside the recording booth, picking up a pair of headphones by the drum set.

“You can fly with eagles,”

“Or if you’d prefer,”

“Keep on testing me,”

“And end up like her!”

And that’s when Harry joined in, reciting the lines of both Veronica and Martha, and when he saw Y/N keeping a palm over her mouth as she tried to keep a mean face while inevitably hiding a smile. The whole of the song, despite how Ashton, Luke and Harry had tried to make Y/N break character (she came close a couple of times), the woman stayed on the line, not missing a beat, and especially enjoying the moment where she looked at Luke, who was about to hit the high note and screaming ‘shut up, Heather!’

Harry couldn’t help the smile splitting apart his face. When Luke had first picked up his call, having known he and the gang were somewhere in the Utah region, he had thought he’d be living with just the guys, and when he found out it was actually Y/N Y/L/N renting the cabin, the girl he’d admired for so long for how brave and utterly unapologetic she was of being herself, Harry had just thought he’d gain a new friend, not have romantic feelings spring up.

And all of it had happened in the span of two days, not even that much. He’d arrived the evening before, had met the woman, and now it was three PM on day two and was already in love.

It was an exhilarating and terrifying feeling all at once. Some studies said it takes men eight seconds to fall in love, which Harry now could pretty much confirm, while it takes women generally fifteen days to fall in love. And he could only hope Y/N might have some feelings for him as well, otherwise, he’d have to scold his heart for falling quickly once again.

***

It was the middle of the night, wind slamming against the windows when Harry got awoken by people talking behind his door. At first, he was ready to fight, thinking immediately that intruders had come into the house, but when he heard a ‘fuck off Michael’ and a ‘you fuck off, you’re gonna ruin this’, he understood everything was fine. And he was just about to lay back down on the soft pillows, but as the saying went – curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, so he threw off the covers and lightly went to the door, where a bleary Harry appeared on the stairs making Y/N and Michael whip their heads towards him and freeze on the spot.

“What are you two do-“ but he didn’t get to finish the question as the two co-conspirators shushed him.

“You’re either in,” Y/N whispered harshly, “or out. Choose Styles.”

A beat. “What kind of trouble’re we getting’ into?”

The smile which spread on her face was nothing short of wicked. “Revenge,” Y/N hissed.

“Be quieter than a mouse,” she whispered to him, and now the trio moved downstairs.

“Who are we getting revenge on?” Harry spoke as quietly as he could, as they rounded the corner and exited the cabin through the back door. It was colder than he thought, seeing how the wind wasn’t warm at all, and he was grateful he’d fallen asleep in his favourite rainbow cardigan. How Y/N and Michael didn’t even shiver in their barely-there pyjamas he didn’t understand.

“See, Luke here thought it was a good idea to not heed my warning about not messing with my recording.”

Harry’s eyebrows scrunched up. “He didn’t.” He knew Luke hadn’t, he was there the whole time and listened back to what they’d sung with everyone together.

“No, but he did rename a different file with the same name I had for the 'Heathers'' recording, on MY computer, mind you. And well, let’s just say, it was not what anyone wanted to hear.”

Harry had to swallow, as his mind went to unsavoury places, and as Y/N shimmied open the lock of the window to the studio bathroom part of the house, she looked over her shoulder to see his expression. It would seem, despite him being in ‘Dunkirk’ and having been confirmed to play Eric in the live-action ‘The Little Mermaid’ he wasn’t as good of an actor as he thought.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” she snickered and pulled herself inside the house through the window, Michael handing her a black duffle bag Harry hadn’t first noticed. “It was a conversation I had with my friends while we were all drunk. Some tea, some very personal tea was spilt, and so.” She unzipped the bag slowly and took out a whipped cream can. “I’m going to spill something else.”

Canned cheese was one of the most disgusting things ever created by a human in Y/N’s opinion. So, squeezing nine cans worth of the stuff inside all of Luke’s socks, jean pockets and everywhere else possible was good enough revenge for her.

“Why are we in the studio though?” Harry asked as the trio crept towards the bathroom door and peeked through the open sliver. It was pitch black.

“Because Luke teds to forget his favourite things here,” Michael explained and motioned for them to follow as he checked that the hallway was clear. It was go-time.

Together they all snuck back inside the recording studio, and much like Michael had said – Luke’s favourite jean jacket, a woollen jumper, three pairs of boots and shoes were all scattered around the place. He hadn’t even noticed it while they’d hung out there, but now Harry understood what Y/N was talking about while whining about the boys being messy.

She uncapped the can and squeezed, the artificial smell of cheese wafting through the air, making her almost gag. “That’s for being a bad friend,” she muttered while filling up one shoe. “That’s for making bad jokes.” She filled up another. “And that’s for saying ‘Dancing in the Moonlight’ is an overrated song.’

It was hard for Harry to contain the giggles, as he uncapped his own can and started filling up wherever Y/N pointed to. Did he feel bad? Sure. But was it fun to feel like a teenager in a university dorm during a prank war? Abso-fucking-lutely. And it didn’t help that he was desperately falling in love with Y/N with every second they spent together. Like she could’ve asked him to hide Luke’s corpse, and he’d say he’d take the blame for the murder if it came to it.

“Why did we have to sneak around the place like that?” he suddenly asked, brows furrowing in concentration as he squeezed the smelly contents inside the inside pocket of the jacket. “Why couldn’t we have just walked through the house?”

“Because Luke always and I mean always comes to the studio at 3 AM,” Y/N stated.

Harry looked at the clock. It was 2:45 AM already.

“But before that, he goes into the kitchen, makes himself a double espresso, a sandwich and eats it before going into the storage where we keep all of the instruments, which is where he is in right now. Had we snuck through the normal way, he would’ve seen us and stopped this. And that just wouldn’t fly.”

However, it was like Luke had a sixth sense as right at that moment the light flipped on, and like deer in headlights, the trio’s heads shot up and eyes widened.

“What the fuck!” he whispered hand extended in the direction of the already six empty cans on the floor.

Y/N snapped out of the adrenaline induced frozen state and shrugged. “I told you not to mess with the recording.” She put her finger back on the squeezable part. “And you. Didn’t. Listen.”

The cheese squirted out with a splutter, and all of them stood still as the final bits dropped into Luke’s black boot. “And that’s payback.”

With a sway in her hips, Y/N exited the room, leaving the three men to gawk after her.

God was she a hurricane, Harry thought to himself. And he’d never been as happy to be caught right in the eye of it all.

***

The next few days all of them spent lounging around the house, recording a few songs, most of them by Harry seeing as a huge wave of inspiration had hit him, making him write more than one love song. He even asked Y/N somewhat shyly if she could do some of the backing vocals, and he swore the song went from a 3 to a 100 the second he heard her voice weave his lyrics into a symphony.

By that point, they’d been quarantining for a week and a half together, and a heatwave was coming up. The cabin had both an inside and outside pool which they’d all had to learn how to maintain, seeing as no one could come and do it for them, and a jacuzzi tub on the terrace. As much as the boys tried to prove they knew how to keep the places clean, ultimately it was Y/N who saved all of them from chlorine poisoning and algae overgrowth.

So, it was right when she pulled out the pH indicator and said it was good for use when with a scream, Luke rushed forward Y/N, rugby tackling her by the waist and plunged both of them down to the water below.

“You asshole!” She splashed at him, laughing and choking out a bit of water as they resurfaced. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“That’s payback for the cheese.”

She went silent for a second, but then shrugged. “Can’t say I didn’t deserve it. But you did deserve the cheese.”

“So,” Luke extended his hand for a shake. “Do we call this even?”

Harry exited the cabin right as both of them completely soaked to the bone jumped out onto the wood floor. He stopped mid-walk if only to control where his eyes went seeing as Y/N’s white shirt clung to her body and well… didn’t leave much for the imagination anymore.

“Do I wanna know what happened here?” He raised a brow.

“Retribution.”

“Though I do gotta say, you have a funny way of getting revenge.” Y/N smirked at Luke, making him squint down at the girl.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she drawled out, a mischievous smile on her lips, “that when I filled your clothes with the cheese, my stuff didn’t get stinky. And yet, from your end… I’m not the only one wet.”

A beat passed.

“God fucking damn it.”

“Hey!” She pointed a finger at him. “We called a truce!”

Luke waved her off. “Yeah yeah, whatever,” but Y/N grabbed Luke’s hand right before he went inside and squeezed it.

“We good?”

He sighed and smiled. “We good, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, gave Harry a quick ‘see ya later’ as well and disappeared through the glass doors.

Harry didn’t know what’d happened to him. He’d always been a helpless romantic, falling in love, and maybe a bit too hard at that, but this time, even without Y/N knowing about his feelings, his heart felt safe.

Sure, the side of her he’d seen was a complete headcase, and she had more energy than a bull with a red flag in front of it, but the utter love exuding from the woman, even while she complained about her four, well five counting him, housemates was palpable in the air. The way she hugged and made sure everyone had whatever they needed, the way she let them know if anyone needed to have a chat, she’d be there to listen, and the small little things of how she always knew what preferences they’d have for their pancakes or breakfast in general, made his heart melt.

“Luke’s a lucky guy.” Harry swallowed before saying that. As much as seeing Y/N be affectionate with everyone, him included, made him feel all fuzzy, a little jealousy monster did bubble up in his stomach when he saw her snuggled next to the lead vocalist of the band. He didn’t have any right to, but no matter how much he tried to repress the green beast, it still lurked somewhere deep in his heart.

“Hm?” Y/N lifted her head where she’d been looking at the water as she squeezed it out of her shirt and up at Harry.

He motioned with his chin to where Luke had disappeared. “He’s a lucky guy to have someone like you.”

“Oh, we’re not together if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I –“ he stammered. “I didn’t mean to offend y-“

But Y/N waved him off. “You’re not the first nor probably the last person to say that. I get it. They asked me one time to surprise their fans at a concert in Connecticut, I think, and when their photographer sent over the pictures, I kinda saw what everyone kept saying, but I’ve never looked at any of them as more than a friend. Best friends, brothers maybe, but nothing more.”

“How’d ya get so close?” Harry enquired, his chest feeling a bit lighter.

Y/N huffed and plopped down to the ground, patting the place beside her which Harry took. “When I first went solo, right after being on ‘Beetlejuice’ I was fucking terrified. Didn’t really know anyone in the music industry like that. Being on Broadway’s different.” She shrugged. “And the award shows are different as well. Like with ‘Tony’s’ or ‘Oliver’ awards it’s you know – musical and theatre geeks. My people. But the first time I went to VMAs I almost shat myself.” She chuckled, and Harry did the same. “Didn’t know anyone at all, was petrified to even find my seat because someone told me I’d have to sit between Lady Gaga and Rihanna, and my heart was not ready for that. Ashton saw me at the edge of the carpet, creeping around the entrance and kinda…” Y/N bit her lip looking for the right words. “I dunno. They kinda took me under their wing, in a sense – if you need a friend in the industry, we’re here, that sort of thing. And ever since then, we’ve been best friends. Luke and I just got the closest because we got stuck in an elevator once for like eight hours once, and well, boredom and thinking you’re gonna die in a four by four-foot box brings people closer.”

Harry almost choked. “Eight hours?”

“Yep.” Y/N popped the ‘p’ and gave him a sarcastic smile. “It was like soooo much fun,” she said sarcastically. “I totally didn’t think the elevator was about to drop from where we were up on like the sixtieth floor, and both of us were gonna get our bones smashed to pieces, and I only had two protein bars, and you know how I get without food,” she stated. He nodded.

“Cranky.”

“Exactly. But.” Y/N chuckled. “We didn’t die. Which’s great, not complaining, and I gained one of my all-time best friends.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t die.” Harry gave her a warm smile and nudged her foot with his. “Wouldn’t have gotten the chance to meet you otherwise.”

She nudged his foot back. “ ‘M glad I didn’t die either. And I gotta say – you’ve made this whole quarantine bearable. Sometimes it’s like fighting with four toddlers, and that’s always a futile battle. Happy to have another wrangler with me. Also an accessory to my crimes.”

He inched his hand towards hers, and when Y/N didn’t pull away instead liked her pinkie with his, a warm feeling rushed through him.

“Happy to be of help.”

***

It was two nights later or full two weeks since the six of them had been together when things took a turn.

Y/N’d always been a light sleeper, especially when her life was mainly placed in New York, but now, living in the middle of nowhere, she’d been able to catch up on some sleep. That was when the sound of her door being opened made Y/N shot up in her bed, sheets clutched at her chest in a panic. “What? What’s wrong? What did Calum set on fire?”

“Nothing.” Harry’s eyebrows scrunched up, but he decided not to ask. There was the morning for that. “This might seem weird, but could I uh could I possibly sleep in your room?”

She blinked a couple of times, because her brain was still processing his words and if they were even English, but once they registered, Y/N nodded, pulling back her blanket and scooting over. “C’mere.”

“Again, I’m sorr-“

Y/N shushed him, as Harry climbed in the bed, placing the duvet underneath his arm and twisting to see her, as she mumbled, “less talk, more sleep.”

He hummed in agreement. His eyes were heavy, in fact, they’d become heavy the instant his head had hit Y/N’s pillow, but it was like his heart, the same poor heart that’d had to deal with the newfound emotions for the whole time he’d been there, the same poor heart that didn’t know better and always gave itself away to the person it deemed to be worthy, no matter if in the end it ended up broken, took over the control of his eyes and mouth, and while slamming against Harry’s ribcage, he whispered his confession.

“I really like you… As more than a friend.”

A second passed. He felt Y/N stir as she turned towards him, brow furrowed. “Sorry?”

“I said…” He let out a shaky exhale. “I like you. I fell for you pretty much the second I entered the house and you threatened to throw me out because I was a guy. And then I fell for you when I saw you let loose in the studio. And then once more when I witnessed what your wrath entails.”

Y/N chuckled. “Cheese.”

“Yeah…” He let out a little laugh. “Cheese.”

A gentle palm went to brush away the hair stuck to Y/N’s face and he swore he could just melt as she leaned into his touch. “And then I fell for you when you said yes to singing my song… when you sang the lyrics, I dedicated to you… and every second I fall for you even more… I just… I thought you should know…”

“Well, I can only hope that you’ll take this as a compliment then, when I say I kinda like you too, Styles,” she mumbled snuggling deeper into her pillow. “Though I didn’t think I was your type.”

“What’s my type then?” he mumbled back, letting his arms wrap around Y/N’s waist when she shuffled closer. Not only was he now fully in heaven because he was covered by the softest duvet in the world, head resting against a literal cloud, but also because his nostrils were invaded by the gentlest of smells, and the body against his was the warmest of comforts.

“Well, not girls like me.”

“You mean talented, beyond funny and absolutely breath-taking?”

“Introverted, house hermits who don’t wash their hair unless they have to go somewhere with a perchance of self-destructive behaviour. Unintentional that is.”

Harry’s eyebrows lifted. “Would’ve never taken you for an introvert.”

“Mmmh,” Y/N sighed, feeling his fingers skim her skin. “That’s because I’ve known those guys for years, and they’re like my brothers. Couldn’t be uncomfortable even if I tried with them. We’ve seen too much of each other. But I’m definitely an introvert. Almost had a panic attack the first time I had to make my own doctor’s appointment.”

“You didn’t seem shy with me.”

“That’s because for some weird reason I… I didn’t feel awkward around you. And I mean, you did bring wine.”

She could feel Harry’s chest rumble as he laughed. “Well, I hope it helped with inspiration.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she huffed, but opened her bleary eyes and were met by Harry’s green already staring back. She couldn’t contain the giggle, and it only grew in power as he chuckled himself, making her bury her head in his chest.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head. “Just never thought I’d date someone from 1D.”

“Are we below you or something?” There was no trace of malice and hurt in his voice. He knew Y/N wasn’t like that.

“No, ‘s just my boy band phase was ‘Good Charlotte’, ‘Panic at the D!sco,’ ‘My Chem’ and the sort.”

“So, you weren’t fainting while listening to ‘You Don’t Know You’re Beautiful’?” Harry mumbled in Y/N’s hair, sleep slowly overtaking him.

She shook her head. “Sorry, no. Panties definitely weren’t dropping then.”

“Are they now?”

“According to ‘Watermelon Sugar’ you’re the one pulling all of ‘em off.”

“Damn. Guess it’ll have to be my new challenge.”

Y/N’s eyebrows scrunched up as she looked at him before promptly falling asleep. “Making my panties drop?”

“Yep. But this time because of me, not Gerard Way.”

“Bold of you to assume it was just Gerard Way. I’m a slut for all of those wizard dads.”

By the time she slurred out the last sentence both of them had drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

***

“They were right!” Harry shouted jumping up in the bed, startling Y/N awake once more as if something was breaking down on their heads with how urgently he jolted. “It does take women two weeks to fall in love and men 8 seconds.”

A pillow met his face. “Fall back asleep.”

He leaned over her still horizontal form, a smug smile on his face. “Are you gonna make a TikTok about it?”

“Probably ‘bout how I murdered the boyfriend I was with for three hours if he doesn’t let me sleep.”

He didn’t argue. With a smile on his face, Harry drifted off once more. Who knew that getting stuck in a hotel somewhere in Utah would lead him to the love of his life?

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A/N: So... I know I’ve been gone for quite a while, but that’s because I have a job now (I’m trying to get a different one that actually would involve my degree, because this one is absolutely killing me), so please be understanding with the spare posting. I still love writing fics, and as evident, I’m kina branching out into other fandoms :D

There’s a lot of things going on in my life, so if you wanna follow me you can do that on Instagram @dinnusa or @read_with_dee or on my blog dinnusa.wordpress.com :) I also have a TikTok @dinmasters

P.S. feedback is always appreciated :)

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