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theasstour · 4 years ago

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𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟑.𝟒𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

A/N: Thank you to the lovelies who nominated Strange Tides, Baby Blue, and moi for the 1D Craft Awards 🌊🐚 If you have the time and feel like spreading some love, go vote for your fave fics and authors here ✨ ENJOYYY CHAPTER 5! x

Tuesday, 7 July

“I’d say you’re doing quite alright for someone who has just gotten into knitting,” Bessie said, looking at Y/N’s creation over the rim of her glasses. “What technique did your mother teach you again, sweets? ‘Cause you’re a natural.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Y/N answered honestly, taking her blue square back. “Are there different types of knitting styles?”

Bessie’s laugh was warm and joyous, looking out at Camila, Florence, and Barb, who smiled at Y/N. Though Y/N had been scared of being judged by these women for not knowing how to properly knit at first, there was nothing but kindness and appreciation in their eyes. It seemed they really were just happy to see the beginning of Y/N’s knitting journey. They had all been beyond helpful, taking their time and being patient with her as she learned the ins and outs of knitting. She was still not sure what she was making, but she was knitting a bunch of squares to start off, and she would see where to go from there.

“So,” Florence said, turning her attention back on the knitting in front of her. “What do you think of St Ives thus far, Y/N? Is it living up to your expectations?”

“You’ve been here a month now,” Bessie said, shaking her head as if she couldn’t quite believe it. And Y/N couldn’t believe it herself. Time had flown by so incredibly fast it did not seem quite real. It seemed like only yesterday she had checked in here and met Bessie, or when she ran into Harry and started their little thing. It just did not seem real that time had gone by this fast. In a month’s time, summer would almost be over and she would have to start thinking about checking out and finding out what to do next. Going back home to Winchester was out of the question, but she didn’t really have anywhere else to go.

Y/N took a deep breath, telling herself not to think about that now. Debating what to do after she checked out of The Roaming Crab Inn could be done at another time, not while she was knitting with four lovely ladies. For someone who had lived her whole life with a plan laid out for her near and far future, Y/N was awfully relaxed about the prospect of the chapter of her life that would start once she left St Ives in August.

“I love it here,” she answered truthfully, finding some red yarn so she could start knitting a red square. “I’ve met so many people while staying here, it’s been amazing.”

“It’s been fun to meet Harry’s family as well,” Barb said. “If your name comes up in conversation when we’re at the chess club, Jessa won’t shut up. She’s so proud Harry’s dating such a lovely lady.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, both because she took pride in that compliment but also because she knew Jessa wouldn’t think of her like that when she and Harry “broke up” later.

“Speaking of people you’ve met, my son tells me you went to the pub with him, Harry, and their little group.” Florence looked at Y/N, smiling. “Did he invite you to his birthday this Saturday?”

“Yeah, Harry told me we were invited,” Y/N said.

“Dax and Harry have been close ever since Harry came to St Ives. He even slept at the lighthouse for close to a month after Harry’s father got lost at sea.”

Y/N stopped knitting. When she looked over at Florence again, the older woman was already knitting so she didn’t notice Y/N’s sudden interest. She looked over at Bessie who only gave Y/N a nod as to confirm what Florence had just said, and in that second Y/N was very happy Bessie knew her and Harry’s relationship was only pretend.

“The day they found the empty boat was absolutely horrible. All of St Ives in mourning. Remember it like it was yesterday,” Camila went on, sighing dramatically. “Devastating time.”

“Let’s not talk about that,” Bessie chimed in. “It is such a sad time to reminisce about.”

“Yes, no reason we should think about such things,” Barb went on. “I’m sure it’s a touchy subject for Y/N as well, seeing as Harry is so close to her.”

Y/N focused entirely on her knitting, not really wanting to say anything in regards to Harry’s dad. She knew he died, but she hadn’t really questioned how that happened. For some reason, Y/N had assumed he had been sick, but knowing something happened to Harry’s dad while he was at sea… she didn’t know how to feel. Was it worse to have a loved one be sick and know the end was inevitable and close, or to have them ripped suddenly and unexpectedly out of your life?

“I’m sorry for bringing the mood down, girls,” Florence said, letting a bright laugh escape her lips. “Maybe we need some tea to brighten up our mood some?”

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Bessie said, getting up from her seat. “Y/N, dear, would you give me a helping hand?”

“Of course.”

Y/N got up and followed Bessie inside to the kitchen, the three others chattering away as the two started making a new batch black tea. Bessie busied herself with finding some mugs, her sugar, and milk, as Y/N just stood beside the kettle and waited for it to finish boiling. With her arms crossed, her mind wandered off to all those times Harry mentioned his dad and his death, not once had he mentioned he was sick, so Y/N didn’t know where she had gotten that idea from. She knew it was not something she should be speculating or thinking about, but right then, she could not help herself.

Instead of thinking about something so tragic, she forced herself to think about Dax’s birthday party the coming weekend. Harry had only mentioned it in passing yesterday, but Y/N was already looking forward to it. There wasn’t much else she did now anyway besides knit, read for the UCAT, and lie about being in a relationship. Throwing some partying into that mix seemed like a bit of fun.

Saturday, 11 July

“I’m about to do it,” Y/N said, eyes on her laptop screen in front of her. Her white summer dress blew a little in the wind from the open window beside her, but the breeze was welcomed, as it always was in Cornwall.

Harry looked up from where he was going through some bills on his couch, wearing his red knitted jumper along with a pair of short dungaree shorts. Y/N was sat on the other side of his tiny house in the windowsill beside his bed. It was big enough to fit her, her books, and laptop, it was kind of her spot now.

“I’m really about to do it,” Y/N repeated, more for her own sake than for Harry’s - who was a little confused and sat with his mouth open, waiting for her to elaborate – because she simply could not believe she was doing this.

“What?” Harry asked after a while, and when Y/N met his eyes, he blinked a few times as if readying himself for whatever she was about to say.

“Apply for the UCAT exam.”

Last week, Y/N had taken Harry up on his offer to study for her UCAT exam at his place. She came over Friday, and upon seeing her walking up to his house around 8:30, Harry walked toward her on the gravel path. She didn’t know why, but she liked that he did that instead of just standing stoic and just watching her. It made her almost feel urgently desired at his house when he did that.

“Hi,” Y/N greeted as they fell into step beside one another. “Report time?”

“Yeah, just walking around and checking everything.”

She smiled. “And so you walked over here to check on me?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

Y/N wanted to laugh, but Harry was looking at the gravel in front of him, lips sucked into his mouth as if telling himself to shut up. He walked her all the way into his house, telling her to make herself feel at home. She sat down by the round table and placed her books out before her, sighing a little to herself as she opened the first one to the page she’d left off on last time. Before going about his day of lightkeeper chores, he made her a cup of tea and told her to help herself to anything in the fridge. He left in a hurry to report, and Y/N didn’t see much of him till two hours later, when he came inside to look through some paperwork.

The rest of the week, she’d popped by almost every single day and then stayed for hours on end. Though she’d mostly been studying, she had also stayed a little longer just to hang out with Harry. She felt safe on Clodgy Point, with Harry, who, once she got him talking about something he found interesting, would talk someone’s ear off. It was so nice to hang out with someone her own age. Someone who would curse and who didn’t need to gossip all the time. There was something so relaxing about Harry’s presence and his little bungalow that attracted Y/N. She simply could not study in her own room anymore, and Harry didn’t seem to mind. He’d meet her on the gravel path and walk her to his house before he went off to report, every single day without fail. She always looked forward to seeing him there, a sight that made the moors around her seem less turbulent and the world a little more colourful.

Though she sat by the door the first two days, she ended up in the windowsill after a while. When Harry caught her there, he asked if her bum wouldn’t get numb from sitting there all day, to which Y/N jokingly said not to worry, she could just bring a cushion next time, though she always forgot. She didn’t mind though; she liked that windowsill so much that her sore arse didn’t bother her. It also seemed Harry liked that his windowsill was being used, because at one point, he brought his Super 8 camera out, taping her doing her work in the windowsill.

On Monday, something happened that took Y/N’s breath away. Harry walked into the house, zipping his mouth shut when their eyes met as if to tell her he didn’t intend on interrupting her. He made himself something to eat for lunch and sat by the round kitchen table, minding his own business and looking out of the window beside him every now and again for some sort of entertainment. Once he was done eating, he washed his plate up and then, instead of walking back out to work, he walked over to his piano. Y/N immediately sat up a bit straighter, resting her hands on her bent knee as she watched Harry open the piano chair, pull a notebook out, and then sit down once he closed it.

Harry’s hands hovered over the keys before he slowly started pressing down on them, producing the softest melody Y/N thought she might have ever heard. He moved along with the piece, feeling the rhythmic waves take over his body and guide him through the history that melody held. It was clear Harry had some sort of attachment to that piece. Y/N didn’t know how carefully musicians played, how much attention and care they gave to each of the pieces they performed, but there was something graceful and almost intimate about watching Harry perform that piece. Y/N simply could not put her finger on it, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Once he was done playing that specific melody, about to start the next one, Y/N opened her mouth, “What’s that piece called?”

Harry looked at her over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows some as if he hadn’t heard her right.

“Is it well-known?”

“No, uhm…” He furrowed his brows some, looking at the dresser stood beside the piano where a few photos were placed. “I wrote it myself?”

“You did?”

“Yeah, it’s a few years old.”

Y/N couldn’t help her smile. “Does the piece have a title?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Saving Grace,” he explained. “It’s got a dual meaning.”

“Which is?”

“Well, I was 20 when Grace was born. Until then I hadn’t really been around babies, so it took some getting used to when Grace was around most of the time. It had only been my dad and me for a long time, then Jessa came into our lives, which ultimately brought Gracie.” Harry looked out the window Y/N sat in. “It had been a very… content life till then. Nothing spectacular, Dad and I really did love each other and were best friends since before Mum left us when I was 6. But…” He trailed off. “But then came Jessa and Grace, and they truly changed all that. They made us so happy.”

A warmness that was not due to the hot temperature outside, made its way like a wave down Y/N’s body.

“Grace became my little person, you know? Though I worked at St Ives Bakery and had friends, I still didn’t know what I wanted to really do with my life. I was about to apply to study music at uni, but… I dunno, I just didn’t. Grace became my purpose for a little while. I earned money so I could take her places and buy her ice cream, or I taught her how to walk, talk, and we did everything together.” Harry turned back to the piano, playing the first few notes slowly. “This melody came to me when I watched her walk without trouble around the moors outside, she was looking at flowers and she was so happy. The melody tries to capture that moment and how perfect that day was.” He stopped, glancing at the sheet in front of him. “She was two years old.”

“So, essentially, you try to capture feelings and moments in your music?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have any other pieces?”

Harry chuckled, looking over his shoulder at her. “You know, the reason I started playing was to help you concentrate. Piano music is great for that.”

“Sod my work, I want to know more about your music.”

“Oi!” Harry exclaimed, turning his body in her direction now. “I’ve never heard you say that word before! Never heard you speak like that!”

Y/N laughed, but persuaded Harry to play a few of his other pieces before he went back to work.

That Saturday when Y/N brought up the exam, Harry hadn’t played any piano. He sometimes would, both to calm himself down, but also to help Y/N concentrate. She would sometimes take breaks just to listen to him, but his playing really did help her focus. Harry was doing some of his work in the house that Saturday, probably to keep her company, but she was very happy he was there. She needed someone to talk this through with.

There was an instant pull to the edges of Harry’s lips, something that he didn’t have to think about, it was instinctive and genuine. A slight breath left his mouth, almost like something of a chuckle, a relief of sorts that made her all hot. He smiled and got up from the couch, a reason for his movements as if he moved a little easier now that he’d just heard that.

“Are you really?” he asked, taking his tea mug and nodding at Y/N’s beside her. She picked it up and handed it to him.

“I mean, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, and I feel like it’s stupid to study for an exam if I’m never going to take it.”

“That makes sense, yeah.”

“So, I’m just gonna do it now.”

Harry put their mugs down, filling up the kettle before making another round. Y/N liked that he just assumed she wanted another cuppa. She liked the fact he made her this hot beverage that took a long time for someone to drink up. That he made her several a day. She really liked that.

“I’m thinking, you’ve been reading for weeks and you clearly know the material, you might as well,” Harry said.

“There’s just… I dunno…”

“What?”

“No.”

Harry was quiet, so when Y/N looked at him, he was already looking at her, waiting for her to continue. Both knew she wouldn’t hold back once she’d already started saying something.

“I’m scared I won’t show up.”

Harry frowned. “Why? That something is gonna come up?”

“No, that I’ll just oversleep on purpose or find any possible solution so I won’t have to go. Maybe my brain will refuse to revise the entire week before it, I tended to do that in school. When I have an opportunity to, I make things hard for myself.”

Harry plopped two sugars into her cuppa. “I won’t let that happen.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “How, you’re gonna carry me out of my room and to your van, then drive me to the exam?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

She laughed, looking back at the laptop in front of her as Harry walked over, putting the tea down beside her.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I think you should just do it.”

“I know I should, but… once I sign up, it’s all happening. It’s not just something I’m thinking about doing, it’s actually happening and there’s a date I gotta work toward.” She sighed. “It’s not just a dream anymore.”

“It stopped being ‘just a dream’ the second you bought those books,” Harry said, sipping his tea as Y/N looked up at him where he stood beside her. “When you started reading, you knew what you were doing and yet you did it anyway.”

She studied him for a second, meeting his eyes the second before she turned back to the laptop. “Guess you’re right.”

“I’m right.”

She flung her arm out, hitting him just across his knee. “Cocky.”

“No,” Harry giggled. “I’m correct. You should try being it sometime.”

“Tone it down!”

Harry laughed, walking back over to his paperwork again. He sat working for a bit longer, finishing his tea before he put everything back in the folder and walked back out of the house and to the lighthouse. When the front door slammed shut, it was like Y/N was slapped out of a sort of trance. She had just been looking at the UCAT website, mouse hovering over the ‘Register and Book’ button, mind somewhere else completely. She remembered what Harry said, how registering and taking this exam wouldn’t make this dream of hers reality all of a sudden, she had done that herself when she started deliberately revising for the UCAT.

She clicked the button and made herself a new user on the website. Reading through everything carefully, Y/N felt her heart picking up speed. It was dawning on her that she was really doing this, despite everything, she was finally registering to take the test. The next few minutes as she took all of this in, she completely forgot where she was. All she knew was the information being fed to her. The wind, the sun, the fly flying around her head, nor whatever Harry was doing was any of her concern. She focused entirely on registering and booking a date. A fee of £75 had to be paid, and though Y/N would never have thought about paying that kind of money before, she hesitated now.

She didn’t have a job, her parents weren’t providing for her anymore because… well, she wasn’t talking to them, so she only had the money on her one card left. Though she was sure she could afford the test fee, there would come a time when she couldn’t. Money had never been a problem until now. This hadn’t been something she thought about before, it hadn’t been a problem then because her parents were filthy rich, but she recognised this now. However, this test had been on her mind for years and it was something she really wanted to do, so spending money on it wasn’t something she needed to feel guilty about. Y/N paid the fee and sat there staring at her screen as a ‘Thanks for your booking’ popped up on her screen. Her test was September 10th. That was in two months. In two months she would be taking the UCAT.

She got up from the windowsill, shaking her clammy hands to dry them some, a shaky breath leaving her parted lips as her heart galloped inside her chest. It didn’t feel real. None of it felt real. She was doing the UCAT exam. This was her first big step into dentistry. She was actually doing what she had been dreaming of doing for years now.

She had no idea what made her do it but she walked out of the house, instinctively walking towards the lighthouse. Harry was already halfway to the cottage from the lighthouse, halting a little at Y/N’s abrupt exit. She stopped when she saw him.

“I did it.”

Those three words took a few seconds for Harry to comprehend, but when he did, he gave her the biggest grin she’d ever seen on his face. His eyes completely disappeared behind his cheekbones, crinkles appearing beside them, and his crooked smile was accompanied with his brilliant dimples that breathed light and meaning into every situation they were present in. The sight of it made her own appear and she put a hand over her chest, feeling her heart still going hard against her ribcage. Harry must have not thought a lot of it, because he nearly opened his arms, but they quickly fell to his side. Next, he went to give her a high five, but that almost seemed inappropriate because it was such a huge moment to Y/N.

But Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about the way Harry had opened his arms for her just now. Couldn’t stop thinking about how he wanted her close like that to congratulate her on what she’d just done. And, the part of her that hadn’t really experienced someone’s noticeable pride in her like this before, wouldn’t mind at all. That’s why she ran towards him, and the two seconds Harry had to prepare, Y/N both saw the visible shock at her sprinting for him, but also a sort of jubilation like it was an honour. Y/N threw her arms around him and Harry quickly wrapped her in his, a breath of relief skimming her neck and making goosebumps run through her entire body. She laughed as Harry picked her off the ground, groaning in triumph at the news of her finally having signed up for the UCAT.

She leaned her head against his, smelling that same perfume on him that she remembered smelling when she wore his knitted jumper a few weeks ago. Her theory had also been right: Harry was an amazing hugger. His grip was tight and she was sure he closed his eyes, really immersing himself completely in the person he was embracing. Fingers spread out across her back, the tips of one just touching her shoulder blade and the other on her waist, squeezing her slightly for a few seconds before letting her down again.

“That’s amazing, Y/N,” Harry said, and Y/N tightened her grip.

When they finally let go of one another, Harry ran inside and came back some seconds later holding his camera, said he needed to document this. Y/N did a few poses that made Harry laugh, then proceeding to run out into the field beyond the lighthouse. She felt absolutely ecstatic as she ran around, grinning and jumping, her arms held up high and her heart soaring. After all this time, she was finally pursuing this. If she was able to do something that terrified and excited her like this, then what else could she do? Part of her felt like she could do anything now.

Porthgwidden Beach was like Harry described it: small. Once Harry and Y/N arrived at the tiny car park above the beach, Y/N stopped for a moment to take in the beach that wasn’t even a fraction of what the other two major beaches of St Ives were. Some Tiësto song was playing somewhere and the beach was crowded, all guests of Dax’s birthday party. The Porthgwidden Beach Café seemed to have been booked for the occasion as well, people around their age all sitting grouped around the table with their bottles and cups. No one seemed to be going crazy on their alcohol, which reassured Y/N some because it had been a while since she had been drunk, a glass or two of anything would make her very lightheaded and giggly. She had brought with her a bottle of wine in her tote bag, Harry seemed to be relying on his mates having brought drinks. If not, Y/N wouldn’t mind sharing the rest of hers with him.

Y/N had left Harry’s place not long after she signed up for the UCAT so she could get ready for Dax’s birthday party in her own room. She wore a dark green column midi skirt along with a white tee shirt and some short heels that she regretted wearing the second her and Harry stepped out into the sand. He looked over his shoulder at her once he noticed her struggling a bit, offering his hand for her to hold so she could take her heels off. While she did that, she took the liberty to study him again. His outfit was simple, yet effortlessly hot. High waisted mid wash denim jeans, a baggy black tee shirt tucked into them, along with some white socks and black Converse. Y/N had a theory Harry would end up taking his own shoes off by the end of the night too.

The two had met on Island Street where they knew none of the other partygoers would venture. That way, people would’ve seen them walk together all the way to the party, assuming they must’ve spent time at Harry’s place before coming here. They had discussed this plan over a last cuppa tea before Y/N left earlier that day, Harry had seemed very happy with himself for coming up with that one. And as they stood there, Y/N holding his hand while taking her shoes off, they heard some loud whistles followed by a “There they are!”

Looking over, they saw the birthday boy making his way over, arms spread wide and the biggest grin on his face. “My boyo!”

“Dax, not now-“

But the man didn’t listen. He hugged Harry to him, causing Harry to take a few steps, resulting in Y/N losing her balance. With a squeal, Y/N almost fell face first into the sand again, but Harry was fast to bring one hand under her armpit and the other to her hip. He dragged her toward him, her torso flat against his. She saw Harry’s eyes on her face in her peripheral vision, felt his breath on her cheek.

“Oi!” Dax laughed. “Sorry ‘bout that, Y/N. Got a bit carried away seeing this hunk.” Dax put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, causing Harry to jump right out of his trance and let go of Y/N, as if couples didn’t normally embrace each other like this without hesitation.

“Happy birthday, Dax,” Y/N smiled before picking up her shoe, shoving the pair into her tote bag along with her cardigan and Harry’s red knitted jumper.

“Happy birthday, mate,” Harry said.

“You know, I expected you to be the first one here.” Dax crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at Harry.

Harry furrowed his brows at Dax. “What do you mean?”

“Well, isn’t your best friend’s birthday important to you?”

Harry was quiet for a second. “Oh, my word, Dax.”

“I’m just a joke to you.”

“You sure are.”

“Look who it is!” Ellie called, grinning as her and the rest of Harry’s little gang made their way over. “You made it!”

“We were starting to think you two wouldn’t come,” Amir said, his hair in the most effortlessly pretty bun at the top of his head. “Too busy?” Amir wiggled his eyebrows.

“You’re too caught up in people’s sex lives for it to be normal, mate,” Harry said, taking the cup Fatima offered him. “Cheers.”

Something about Harry referring to him and Y/N’s sex life made Y/N’s cheeks feel awfully hot. Even though their joined sex life was non-existent, it still got to her. Maybe it was the way Harry always dodged those questions so the two wouldn’t have to answer any awkward queries they had absolutely no idea about. She didn’t know, but she rummaged through her bag so people wouldn’t see how flustered she suddenly got.

“Just trying to make conversation,” Amir said.

“Well, don’t,” Jo chimed in, their smile mocking and Amir only huffed in response.

“By the way!” Dax exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “We’re going Terraland next week, you coming this year, Y/N?”

Y/N raised her eyebrows in question. “What’s Terraland?”

“Theme park in Helston, we go every year towards the end of the summer vacation,” Jo explained. “Harry here-“ They gestured at the man standing beside Y/N. “-Doesn’t like Terraland.”

“I do,” Harry protested. “I like laying by the pool and not doing shit. I don’t particularly like it when you force me on rollercoasters.”

Y/N smiled. “I’ll come if Harry decides to.”

“Brill! All of us are coming, maybe a few others,” Amir said.

“So, it’s like an adventure park with rollercoasters and such?” Y/N asked

“That and pools, very much the kind of thing you visit when you’re on vacation in, like, Spain,” Harry explained. “But it’s in Cornwall.”

“Good for a group of grown up kids, ey?” Dax grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Come, Y/N, babe.” Ellie linked her arm with Y/N’s, taking Y/N off guard, but she didn’t stop Ellie. She looked at their arms and smiled a little. “Let’s get you a cup so we can get this party started.”

“Love your skirt, by the way,” Fatima smiled as they reached a table with tons of cups and napkins.

“Ahh, thank you. Haven’t worn it in a while, so I felt it was fitting to do so today.” Y/N glanced down at her skirt, running her hand over it before reaching for a cup.

“Ellie and I were saying the other day that you’ve got such a sophisticated sense of style, you need to take us shopping.”

“Could use a few pointers,” Ellie agreed, watching Y/N as she poured herself a glass of wine.

“Really?” Y/N screwed the cork shut before putting the bottle away, smiling at the two girls. “I mean, it’s not that good-“

“-Out of respect for what Harry said, I will stop you before you discredit yourself,” Ellie smiled back.

Y/N laughed. “What about respect for me? Respect me wanting to discredit myself for having a mediocre clothing style.”

Both Fatima and Ellie joined in on the laughing and the three girls walked away from the table so they could hang out by themselves. Though St Ives had around 11,000 inhabitants, Y/N was sure a lot of the guests weren’t locals. Maybe friends from University or friends-of-friends, everything to get a good party going. Judging by what Fatima and Ellie told Y/N, this was an annual thing. Dax Rose held a massive birthday party and absolutely everyone was invited. Bring your own alcohol, bring a friend, and bring a smile, and you were welcomed with open arms. People were sitting in the sand or by the café, others were just standing around, some were dancing, and a group was also taking a swim and joking around in the water. Y/N genuinely liked the atmosphere; it was just really freeing and nice. People wore whatever they wanted, laughter could be heard everywhere, and it just seemed like everyone wanted to have a good time.

Though anyone could come join the party – something that made her look around her a few too many times -, there were still enough people there to notice something suspicious going on.

Fatima, Ellie, and Y/N stood just talking for a while. It was really nice to talk to some girls her own age again, she couldn’t remember the last time she had done that. She had some good friends at school but once they had gone off to University or moved away from Winchester, she fell out of touch with most of them. Y/N knew it wasn’t personal, she quite liked the fact her friends had acquired new lives for themselves, being happier and more fulfilled. But she had missed just standing around chatting nonsense. The conversation didn’t hold much significance, there wasn’t much crucial information going around, or any sort of seriousness attached to it, just some mates having a chat. Y/N found herself wondering if Fatima and Ellie would come if she asked them out for lunch one day.

“I saw this documentary the other day, it’s on iPlayer,” Ellie said. “It was super interesting and disturbing.”

“Oh?” Y/N said, tipsy at this point and just holding the cup of wine in her hand, not wanting to drink more in case it would make her dizzy and very giggly.

“Yeah, it was basically about all these people who committed gruesome murders in the UK, and who go free now.”

Y/N looked up from her cup with wide eyes and at Ellie as Fatima gasped.

“Yeah, I can’t remember what it was called…” As Ellie started thinking, a shadow appeared beside Y/N and she jumped. The tall red-haired man standing beside Y/N only smiled at her, holding a hands up to indicate he was friendly.

Fatima clicked her tongue. “Are you trying to give her a heart attack, Cam?”

“No, I’m sorry, darl,” the man said, looking at Y/N as he held a hand out for her to shake. “Just saw an unfamiliar face and thought I’d introduce myself, is all. I’m Cameron.”

Y/N took a huge breath, meeting Ellie’s eyes before looking at Cameron and shaking his hand. “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he mused under his breath, nodding his head as his hand fell to his side again. “Haven’t seen you around here before, Y/N.”

“I’ve only been here a month now.”

“Too bad we didn’t meet earlier, then.”

Y/N’s eyes widened a bit, the compliment taking her off guard. She only chuckled some, wrapping both her hands around her cup as she looked down at the liquid in it.

“When did you come back, Cam?” Ellie asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Two weeks ago. Are you on vacation here then, Y/N?” Cameron didn’t even spare Ellie a look, his undivided attention on Y/N as she continued to stare at her drink.

But suddenly a pair of black Converse appeared beside her bare feet. She felt a hand on her lower back, a warm and comforting pressure that slowly trailed its way to her waist, wrapping his fingers around her curves and bringing her toward him. Her figure fell against his, fitting against his side as if they’d done this before.

“That’s my girlfriend you’re trying to pull, Cam,” Harry said, his voice steady and a little darker than normal. Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol he had drunk this far or it being late, Y/N didn’t know, but she knew she liked it.

Cameron was quiet for a second. “Your girlfriend? Mate, you got a girlfriend?”

“This is her,” Harry continued.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Haz.”

“Don’t apologise to me, apologise to my girlfriend.”

Cameron smiled, as if he couldn’t believe Harry, but he met Y/N’s eyes. “I apologise, I didn’t know.”

Y/N nodded, not really knowing what else to say or do. Cameron looked at the other three, saying a quick goodbye before buggering off. As he disappeared, Harry’s hand slid back around her waist as he came to stand in front of Y/N. She felt his touch along her forearm, rough fingers caressing her with such sensitivity as if he was afraid of crossing a line. Whenever he touched her like this, she could tell by the rough skin of his hands that he wasn’t used to being gentle like this; wasn’t used to being careful when touching someone else. His work made him have rough skin and maybe even a rough touch, but he was always so incredibly cautious when he reached for Y/N.

He slid his hand into hers, squeezing her fingers as she wrapped them around him. Their eyes met and upon seeing him in front of her, seeing him this close, she felt her eyes widen a bit. Though the entire reason why he was doing this was because there were people around watching them, it still felt like everyone was intruding on a special moment between the two of them.

“You okay? Saw he made you jump a bit,” Harry said, hooded and glassy eyes searching her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just came up out of nowhere,” Y/N answered, offering a smile because she knew Harry’s concern was genuine.

Y/N wasn’t sure if Ellie or Fatima noticed Harry’s slight hesitance because by the sound of it, they were chatting amongst themselves, but Y/N did. Harry leaned in, eyes on hers till he closed them. Every single hair on Y/N’s body shot up as Harry pressed his lips gently against her cheek. He was covering her view of Ellie and Fatima, so the two couldn’t see the immediate shock on Y/N’s face. Their conversation halted, she was aware of that, but all her attention was focused on Harry’s lips and how hot her entire body got in the matter of a second. She closed her eyes, eyelashes brushing his skin. Harry pulled away, resting the right side of his forehead against her left for a few seconds. She wondered if he could feel how hard her heart was beating, how clammy her hands were. Could he tell she wanted to reach for his neck and hold him there, but she was carrying her cup and her other hand was already holding his? Could he feel her breaths on his neck like she could feel his? Did he want to stay like that, safe in each other’s company and unbothered by everyone else, for the rest of the night?

“I’m sure there are taxis driving about town if you two wanna go home,” Ellie said, and Fatima cursed her right away.

Harry took a step away from Y/N, clearing his throat as a familiar redness came to his cheeks. His hand was about to fall away from hers, but she gripped his harder, not ready to let go yet. He gave Fatima and Ellie a tight-lipped smile before meeting Y/N’s eyes again, the muscles in his face relaxing.

“El, I need a refill,” Fatima said, and though Y/N couldn’t read their faces yet, she could kind of tell what that meant.

“Let’s go get you a drink then. See you two in a bit.” Ellie and Fatima walked off, falling into conversation right away.

Harry made sure they were completely alone, that no one was eavesdropping before he said lowly, “Sorry if that was too much, I just… I just thought it’d look good, you know? To kiss my girlfriend- my pretend girlfriend around other people just to underline that we are… you know…”

Y/N nodded, biting her lips together as she watched Harry continue to try and find his words.

“Also, sorry if you wanted to chat to Cameron, I’m… I don’t want this to get in the way-“

“-I didn’t. I don’t.”

Silence stretched on, eyes on one another as the party continued around them. They didn’t have any regard for it as they kept their attention on one another. Y/N had answered so quickly and so honestly that it made her nervous when Harry didn’t say anything. Because it was true that she didn’t want to talk to Cameron, she didn’t know who he was and would probably never see him again. But she knew who Harry was, and she wanted to see him all the time. There was a comfort in his presence that settled over her like a warm, safe blanket. She liked being around him. She didn’t want to be near Cameron or anyone else.

“Do you think people think we’re a couple right now? Are we believable? Is this believable?” Harry mumbled.

Y/N giggled. “Well, you just kissed my cheek out of nowhere, I’d hope it’s somewhat believable and that they think we’re a couple.”

Harry laughed, looking down at their hands. “Yeah, it’s kind of… it’s kind of easy, isn’t it?”

Y/N frowned. “What is?”

“Being like this with you. I might feel like a right idiot when I take your hand or kiss your cheek, but you don’t make me feel like one.”

She smiled.

“It’s natural. Not that… that being in a relationship with you and acting like this is natural, I didn’t mean it like that, but it’s-“ He stopped himself looking up at her again as he bit his bottom lip, shrugging slightly. “-It’s like joking about with a friend and just having fun, feeling comfortable.”

“Yeah?”

“You know… I hope I don’t sound like a melt and I’m probably only able to say this ‘cause I’m a tad tipsy,” Harry said, and Y/N giggled. “But you’ve become one of my best friends. If not best friend, a very good one. Like… dunno, I can talk to you about anything, I don’t feel weird being silent around you, or saying or doing stuff that is weird, and I-I feel like you might feel the same way about me. At least I hope so.”

Her smile widened. “I do.”

He let out a small breath and Y/N chuckled.

“It’s sad that when this ends it’ll look weird if we remain friends, won’t it?” Y/N hated that she was thinking and talking about a time in the future they both knew was coming, but avoided talking about at all costs.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, do exes stay friends without it being weird to a degree? If you start dating someone for example, will our friends expect us to act a certain way, and if they do and we contradict their theory, will that make them suspicious of us?”

Harry furrowed his brows a little.

“I want to hang out with you and it’s sad to think that in August, we might have to part ways and never talk again ‘cause it’ll look… weird. Dunno, I haven’t really gone through this before.”

Harry let out a breathy chuckle. “Neither have I.”

Y/N laughed.

“I mean, I’ve gone through a break-up, but not like this.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t talked to my ex since it happened.”

They were quiet for a moment as Harry digested Y/N’s choice of words. “You haven’t talked to your ex since you broke up either? Like, at all?”

“He, uhm, he’s sent me texts, but I don’t want to talk to him.”

Harry must have noticed how little Y/N wanted to talk about her ex, because he looked down at their hands again and let their conversation end there. Y/N held her cup out for him and Harry took it, looking at it. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking if she wanted any more of it, but she shook her head. He poured it out in the sand.

“You’re enjoying yourself?” Harry asked after a little while, wiping something off the corners of his mouth with his free index and thumb.

“The party?” Y/N met Harry’s eyes and then searched for Ellie and Fatima, she’d have to find them later. “Yeah, it’s nice. I like your friends.”

“There are a couple more who want me to introduce you, so we’ll have to do that later if it’s okay.”

“Of course.”

Harry’s eyes fell to the now empty cup. “And are you enjoying yourself in St Ives?”

Y/N smiled. “I am, it’s fun.” As she laid extra pressure on the last word, Harry looked up and as she raised her eyebrows, he knew she was referring to them and their fake relationship. He chuckled and Y/N watched him.

“Is it everything you hoped it’d be?”

She was unsure what he was referring to, but she said, “More.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she answered, folding her hands.

“So, you’re… you’re staying?” Pause. “Right?”

Confused, Y/N furrowed her brows at Harry, studying his face to try and find some sort of explanation to that utterance. She slowly opened her mouth, and said, “Staying?”

“Here.”

“On the beach?”

“No.”

“In St Ives?”

Something that could be interpreted as a nod happened, but no words left Harry’s lips. Instead, he continued to look at her, eyes searching her face as if he could find her answer somewhere there. A slight breeze blew past them, making a curl come loose and hang in front of Harry’s eye. He quickly pushed it away, not letting anything prevent him from seeing Y/N fully as she realised what Harry meant. Y/N felt his fingers brush her arm on their way down.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Harry didn’t say anything or nod this time around. Their eyes didn’t waver, looking at each other and not daring to look away. Y/N didn’t register till then how close they were standing. When the wind blew from behind Harry, she smelled his familiar scent and it made something inside her flutter. It was instinctive to look down at his lips, just as instinctive to look up and feel her breath hitch somewhere in her throat as she saw his lips part. Unapologetically, Harry’s eyes did the same that Y/N’s had done just a few seconds prior. A fire-hot shiver ran up her spine as he glanced at her lips, taking a step forward so that their hands rested against one another. Y/N wanted to look at his lips again, but she simply could not look away from his eyes. He was so close and she didn’t want to ruin it, didn’t want to look away.

“Do you think we’re believable now?” Harry whispered, his voice hoarse.

Y/N couldn’t bring herself to answer, she was waiting for something unspeakable; something that couldn’t be put into word for fear of the reality of those words being too raw, too true. She felt his curl against her forehead. His breath on her nose. Her body prickling with anticipation and confusion, unable to properly decipher if what was going on was all part of the show or if this was genuine. Harry was too respectable to make a move, and Y/N was too perplexed to do anything. If she kissed him, how would he feel? Would he take it as her being genuinely interested in him, or that they were just doing it to seem like a genuine couple? And if she kissed him, would she interpret it as her genuinely fancying him, or would she do it just to feed into their façade?

Before she could think about anything else, someone shouted something above the music and everyone else talking. It seemed to have caught quite a few people’s attention, because the volume on the beach lowered considerably. Harry tore his eyes away from Y/N and looked in the direction of the commotion. Y/N did as well, craning her neck to see beyond the group of people that were hugging and crowding what looked to be a new guest. Harry froze in front of Y/N and she looked at him, then back at the group.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“My…” Harry mumbled, pausing for some seconds. “Emilia.”

Y/N looked back at Harry. “Emilia?”

Harry nodded.

“Your ex?”

“The one who lived in Munich for two years, yeah.” Harry ran a hand through his hair before he met Y/N’s eyes. “I haven’t seen her since she came back, think she came back sometime last week.”

“Do you want to go say hi?”

“I…” Harry glanced in Emilia’s direction again, clearly thinking it over thoroughly. “I mean… yes, but… she’d meet you as well. She’d have to.”

“Why?”

“’Cause Dax won’t be able to keep himself from bringing up the fact that I have a new girlfriend. Pretend girlfriend, but… you know…”

Y/N nodded.

“If she knows I’m here and I’m with my new girlfriend, she’s gonna wanna meet you.”

She inhaled sharply. “Why would she want to meet the person you’re supposedly being intimate with now?”

Harry’s eyes grew wide for a single second before he composed himself, blinking himself back to reason. “Dunno. Emilia is very sociable. Just like you.”

“But she’d meet the person you’re with now, I don’t see why she’d want to meet them.”

“Maybe she’s happy for me, maybe she wants to meet someone who supposedly makes me happy,” Harry offered, shrugging his shoulders.

Y/N stared at him for a few seconds. “I know you said she didn’t want to be with you ‘cause it affected her mental health, and I get that, but leaving you when you were at your lowest is still an awful thing to do.”

Harry glanced at Y/N.

“And then not talking to you for two years after just sodding off to Munich. She doesn’t know what you’ve been through since then, do you think she’s gonna care now?”

Harry furrowed his brows. “Y/N, I loved Emilia.”

“I’m aware, but the people we love don’t have to love us back the same way we love them. One part always ends up loving more, feeling more, doing more. We can’t choose how much we love someone, and we don’t have a say in how they love us, but the fact of the matter is that if you love someone, you act like it. You let them know.”

Harry didn’t say anything, he just bit the inside of his cheek and continued to look at Y/N.

“I’m fully aware you loved Emilia, probably still do, but it doesn’t sit right with me that she just removed herself like that completely. You’re not a toxic person, you were just going through a rough time.”

“Harry!” Amir shouted, waving Harry and Y/N over. “Harry, mate!”

Harry watched Y/N for a few more seconds, probably either debating what she’d just said or losing every shred of respect he had for her, Y/N didn’t know. He nodded in the direction of everyone and the two started walking there, strolling the distance in silence. She didn’t know how she was supposed to interpret said silence, if it was a good kind or if he just didn’t want to talk to her for the rest of the night because he had taken offense to what she’d said.

When they reached the group, they made space for Harry and Y/N, and the first thing Y/N noticed was the brunette standing on the opposite side to the circle from them. Her blue eyes lit up when she saw Harry and she smiled at him instantly, clearly happy to see him after two years of no contact.

“Hi,” she exclaimed, crossing the circle, and giving Harry a hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“Yeah, you too,” Harry said. “How was Munich?”

“Amazing, I’m moving there permanently after University, I’m sure.” Emilia stepped away from Harry and immediately, her eyes fell on Y/N. “And this must be the girlfriend.”

Harry and Y/N’s eyes met, Harry raising his eyebrows in a quick “told you so”, which made Y/N smile some before turning back to Emilia.

“Yes, I guess I am. And you’re the ex.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he looked from Y/N to Emilia and back again. It was evident that the rest of the group, and quite a few others as well, were watching this interaction with keen interest. They were probably waiting for one of them to start a fight and the other one to feed into it, something Harry would step in to stop and take sides, which would ultimately just end badly. It was clearly something a lot of people thought would be great entertainment. But Y/N kept her cool, not wanting to sound passive aggressive or make Harry uncomfortable. Though she was not impressed with Emilia’s past actions, she wasn’t about to judge her solely on them. Y/N hoped she was right not to.

“I am, it’s been so long since I’ve seen Harry.” Emilia looked back at Harry, considerably smaller than him, looking up at him through her lashes. “That rain check you were talking about, you could make up for it by walking me over to get a cup?”

Y/N looked at Harry, about to open her mouth and ask what rain check Emilia was talking about, but she realised it was none of her business. And questioning Harry like this in front of everyone would just feed into everything everyone wanted. So, Y/N just crossed her arms over her chest.

“Actually, we’re about to leave,” Harry said, giving Emilia a small smile.

Emilia pouted. “Really? It’ll only take you a minute.”

Harry opened his mouth to inhale hugely, looking over at Y/N who hoped he could tell she didn’t like this. But Harry met Emilia’s eyes again, taking a step back and Emilia grinned as the two started walking towards the table in the middle of the beach with all the cups. Y/N watched them, how easily they fell into conversation and how eager Emilia was to talk to Harry again. While witnessing this, Y/N kept reminding herself of what Harry had said earlier, about her becoming one of his closest friends. She hoped repeating that moment to herself would prevent her from getting hurt and sad and angry, but it didn’t. When turning back toward the gang, she realised both Ellie and Dax were watching Harry and Emilia as well. And upon taking a look around, she realised Jo, Amir, and Fatima were as well. Y/N didn’t know for what purpose, but if Dax’s tense jaw was any indicator, it couldn’t have been for a particularly good reason.

Why would Harry do that? Though Y/N wasn’t in a relationship with him, it was still embarrassing for her to have to stand there and wait for him. She felt ridiculous when Fatima met her eyes again, giving her an apologetic smile, one Y/N – Harry’s fake girlfriend – didn’t deserve, but she appreciated it nevertheless. Because despite everything, this hurt. She dug her nails into her upper arms as she stood there, mad at Harry for the first time ever. Though it had been gormless of Emilia to ask in the first place, Harry hadn’t really needed much persuasion.

As Emilia and Harry’s voices got louder, the gang started up a light conversation that Y/N pretended to be part of. She only gave Harry a slight glance before looking back at Dax who was talking, the guy not giving the returning two any of his attention either. Y/N wondered if Dax thought the same way about Emilia’s behaviour as she did, but then again, it wasn’t like Y/N could take Dax aside and ask him that. If Y/N sought Dax out to talk about Harry’s ex, it wouldn’t look good.

“Ready to leave?” Y/N asked, reaching into her tote bag for her cardigan. Some of her passive aggressiveness was detectable in her voice, she hoped no other than Harry picked up on it. She was still tipsy so she blamed her incapability to hold back on that.

“Yeah,” Harry said, standing very still as he watched Y/N put her cardigan on. Once it was on, she smiled at everyone, and then looked at Harry as he directed a “See ya, yeah?” at everyone. Though Dax was visibly sad the two were leaving, he seemed to know why they were bailing because he didn’t ask them why or stop them. Y/N put her shoes back on and the two started on their way back up the hill that led to the car park.

It was unexpected when Harry reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers so slowly and so deliberately that she felt it in every single one of her cells. Though it was nice to feel him there, she had to bite her lip from saying anything as they walked up Burrow Road. The second they were out of sight and alone, Y/N let go of his hand. This wasn’t something Harry would’ve usually paid much attention had he not heard her passive aggression just a few moments earlier.

“Is it Emilia?” Harry asked.

It was stupid how the only time Harry managed to be blunt and upfront was when he knew he was in trouble or if someone was annoyed with him. At least Y/N thought so.

She straightened her back, wrapping her cardigan tighter around herself. “What about Emilia?”

“Is that why you’re all… mad? Dunno if mad is the best word.”

“Think it describes how I’m feeling perfectly,” Y/N said. “’Cause I’d say I’m mad with a dash of disappointed.”

Harry looked over at her, frowning again. “Why?”

“Why am I mad you walked over there with Emilia?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders exaggeratingly. “Call it intuition, call it paranoia, call it whatever you bloody want, but I think she wants you back now that you’re not broken up about your Dad anymore.”

Harry took a few seconds to say, “I’ll call that stupidity.”

The laugh that left Y/N was anything but friendly and warm. “Fine. Do whatever you want.”

“Why are you so mad about this anyway? It’s not like we’re…” Harry stopped himself, looking over at Y/N who refused to look at him. “It’s not like we’re a couple.”

“It’s still embarrassing. I was left standing there while my boyfriend walked off with his ex. You don’t even want to admit that what you did was stupid.”

“’Cause it’s not, we just walked down to that table so she could get herself a cup.”

Y/N sighed, running her hands over her face. “Yes, it’s an innocent act and I probably have no right to act like this, but I’m being a friend. I’m trying to look out for you.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Being a friend, looking out for me?”

Y/N looked at him, seeing his set jaw and piercing eyes. “Why wouldn’t I look out for you?”

“Right now you just seem mad I hung out with my ex.”

She glanced away again, so frustrated with him that she felt like screaming. They reached Back Road, Y/N walking straight ahead to take the quickest way back to the Inn, Harry was turning right to Clodgy. “Interpret it any way you want, Harry. I’m being truthful when I tell you I just want what’s best for you.”

There was a pause as Harry watched Y/N cross the road. “You’re just gonna leave like that? You don’t wanna talk it out?”

“You don’t understand where I’m coming from, Harry!” Y/N exclaimed as she faced him, turning her back on the dark alleyway behind her. “What’s the point?!”

“Y/N, it’s not like I’m making out with Emilia in front of everyone!”

“I know, but that small act of just walking down there has a lot of meaning! She wants to make up for lost time!”

“You’re just reading too much into this!”

“And you think the best of people who hurt you!”

“She left for her own good, don’t blame her for that!”

“I’m not! I just think it’s odd to not check up on you in those two years following your breakup when you were clearly having a tough time when she left!”

“Oh, my days, Y/N.” Harry ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

“I know you want to see the best in everyone, but I’ve experienced people fucking me over ‘cause I gave them the benefit of the doubt. Multiple times. I’m not doing that again, I’m-I’m just not. And I don’t want to watch that same thing happen to you.”

Harry blinked when Y/N cursed, but quickly regained himself. “I can take care of myself!”

“I’m just being a friend and looking out for you, I’m sorry if-“

“-And what if I don’t want you to look out for me as a friend?!”

Y/N was about to answer, but she felt something brush against her back and then a figure moving out of the dark alleyway behind her. Her heart skipped a beat and the next thing she knew, she felt it in her throat. She jumped out of the way, stepping just in the crack between two cobblestones and stumbling away from the stranger. The man looked at Y/N as she regained her balance, about to reach his hand out to help her when Harry rushed across the road. Y/N managed herself, but she took another step away from the stranger who genuinely looked baffled as to what had just happened. Y/N put a hand over her heart, feeling it beating furiously. Calm down, calm down, calm down, she told herself, feeling safer the second Harry put a hand to her upper arm.

“You alright, miss?” the man asked, looking at Harry who was standing beside Y/N, making sure she was okay.

“Sorry,” Y/N said, doing her best to give him a smile. “I’m just a bit jumpy. And a tad drunk.”

He laughed joyously before continuing on his way, and the second he turned away, Y/N’s face fell. Harry noticed and turned her to face him, squeezing her shoulders so she’d look at him. She balled her hands into fists as she felt her heart beating hard, calming down from the sudden rush of adrenaline.

“You’re okay,” he said, recognising her reaction from that first time she read to him in the grass beside the lighthouse.

Y/N nodded, meeting Harry’s eyes and telling herself it was all fine. She would be fine. Harry was here and nothing would happen to her while he was here. She continued to look at him till she was calmer, but the thought of walking down that dark alleyway now made her want to hurl. However, she didn’t have any other place to walk and she had to get back somehow. Maybe she could call Bessie and talk to her, or maybe she could find another and maybe longer route back. But then she’d be out in the open longer than she initially wanted to.

“Have you always been like that?” Harry asked, the question curious and without any hint of judgement.

“Like what?”

“Paranoid.”

Y/N smiled a little as if that would brighten the mood that had fallen considerably. Slowly, she nodded, averting her eyes from Harry’s. “I like being prepared for anything, for any possible outcome.”

Harry didn’t remove his hands from where they rested on her shoulders.

“So, I either make them up, or if something happens unexpectedly, my brain does this thing where it tells me that the worst possible thing is happening, and I need to escape.”

“What’s the worst possible thing that can happen?”

“In any scenario?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N watched as someone turned every light in their flat off, wishing she was in her bed right now. “That my Dad finds me.”

Harry stayed quiet.

“He terrifies me. Always has. I know he won’t hurt me, but… he’s a bad man, Harry. A very bad man.”

“He won’t come here, Y/N. You’re safe in St Ives.”

Some part of her laughed at that, but when she met his eyes, she knew he genuinely meant it. If Harry was there, he would not let anything happen to her. No matter what. Even if they had a disagreement the second before her Dad showed up. But her father knew where she was and if he wanted her back, he would do what he could to get her back. A lighthouse keeper wouldn’t stand in his way.

Y/N felt her bottom lip starting to wobble at the thought of it, and she put a hand in front of her mouth when the back of her eyes started to sting.

“Hey,” Harry said, squeezing her shoulders. “Let’s go back to mine, yeah? You won’t have to be alone.”

She met his eyes, blinking a few times as she processed his offer. “Yours?”

“Yeah, if you’re a bit shaken up, I thought you might… might not want to be alone.”

Without really registering what she was doing, Y/N was nodding her head to answer his question. “If you’re sure I won’t be a burden in any way-“

“-Flower, you’re never.”

She almost thought she heard him incorrectly. Flower. She had never gotten a nickname before. Her friends back home used to call her ‘babe’ and her mother would sometimes call her ‘sweetheart’ and Bessie referred to her as ‘dear’, but never this one. She suddenly felt a little lightheaded.

Harry wrapped an arm around her and held her to him as they walked through the city. He hummed to The Power of Love as they strolled, keeping the empty and quiet streets of St Ives alive as long as they were walking through them. Y/N looked about them, staring down alleyways and streets, sometimes being too afraid to even to study the shadows or look to make out silhouettes in the darkness. Harry’s humming kept her grounded and reminded her that she wasn’t alone. Once they were walking along the road up to Clodgy Point, Harry let go of her, letting her walk by herself. It was starting to get a bit chilly when the winds of the moors started up around them, so Y/N reached for Harry’s knitted jumper in her tote bag and gave it to him. He was a bit taken aback by that, seemingly having forgotten it was there, but he thanked her, the only two words being uttered at all on their 30-minute walk up to the lighthouse.

Harry unlocked the door and walked in first, turning the light on the coffee table on as Y/N locked the front door. He opened a window to let some air in, then took his jumper and shoes off. Y/N did the same, wrapping her arms around herself. She was aware it had been Harry’s idea for her to stay here, but she suddenly felt like she was intruding. This was his space and his bedtime routine. They had walked off most of their drunkenness, so when Y/N tripped over her own feet a bit, it was purely from exhaustion. Harry was almost about to reach out and catch her even though he was across the room, but his dedication to help her made her chuckle a little. Harry smiled at the sound of it.

Y/N put her tote bag on one of the chairs, putting her cardigan over the back of it as well.

“I…” Harry started, making Y/N look over at where he stood by his dresser. “I have a few shirts and stuff if you wanna freshen up some.”

Y/N chuckled. “What do you mean?”

Realising he probably didn’t make sense, Harry let a breath escape his lips as well. “I meant, if you wanna have a shower, I’ll lend you a tee shirt.”

The thought of showering in Harry’s space seemed almost a bit surreal, but for some reason, also completely normal. She spent so much time here and with him that in a way, it was weird that she hadn’t showered here before. She slowly nodded her head, and Harry opened a drawer, pulling out an old tee white shirt with a small Elton John logo on the chest.

“Towels,” Harry said, walking over to his tiny bathroom and turning the lights on for her. “They’re here, and I got everything you might need in the shower. There’s an unused toothbrush in the cabinet under the sink.”

“Thank you.”

Harry gave her a smile before closing the door. Taking a breather first, the next thing Y/N did was get undressed and take that shower. She washed away the argument with Harry and the reason why it was cut off so abruptly; tried to soak herself in everything else that happened tonight that made her entire body warm. When Harry kissed her cheek; the way his hot lips felt against her skin, how the thought of that moment alone made her feel some type of way. She knew Harry only did it so everyone would think they were a couple, but her cheek was tingling.

She got out of the shower, drying herself off, and putting Harry’s tee shirt on, her skirt under it. Yes, the two were starting to get comfortable around one another, but she wasn’t sure if they were just there yet. Last thing she wanted to do was walk out there in her knickers and one of his tee shirts, then make him uncomfortable in any way. Though she felt like a raisin since she was not doing her usual post-shower skin routine, nor any hair products for her hair, she told herself she’d do it tomorrow when she was back to the Inn.

She walked outside to see Harry laying in his bed, his small telly that was stood by his couch, turned around so he could watch a rerun of an old Would I Lie To You episode. When the bathroom door opened, he instantly looked in her direction, placing his hands on either side of his form as if he got ready to get up. Their eyes met and his eyes fell to her tee shirt, where the material hugged her waist firmly. He met her eyes again, swallowing thickly before he gestured beside him at two glasses of water.

“One by the window is yours.”

“I’m literally so thirsty, thank you.”

Harry smiled, walking past Y/N and into the bathroom, going to take his own shower. Y/N sat down in Harry’s bed, nuzzling under the covers and taking a hold of her glass. She brought it to her lips, sipping it till it was empty, watching the telly as she did. She got up for a refill, drank half, and then just continued to watch the telly for a bit. The light in the room was dim enough so she could easily fall asleep, and she almost did drift off against the headboard, but then Harry exited the bathroom and woke her up with a start.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

She smiled, sinking down into the pillow. “Almost went off to dreamland there.”

“Soz.”

“I’m a light sleeper, it’s not your fault.”

Harry nodded, walking over to turn the lights off, the only light in the entire little cottage now being the light from the telly. He strolled over to the fridge and took a cucumber out. Y/N watched him as he brought a knife out, cutting it up in half.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Just brushed my teeth.”

“So did I, but after I’ve been out, I usually eat half a cucumber before bed.”

Y/N stared at him.

“What?”

“Just… just a cucumber? Nothing else?”

“What else? Do you spice your cucumber? With what?” Harry looked at his little box of spices by his stove. “Onion granules?”

Y/N laughed, placing her hands on the duvet above her stomach.

“I actually had jalfrezi leftovers after we went to the pub a few weeks ago,” Harry said as he came over to the bed, giving Y/N half the cucumber. “So I dipped my cucumber in that and ate it.”

Y/N grimaced. “Were you still pissed?”

“No,” Harry chuckled. “I just like cucumber and Indian food.”

“Fair enough.”

Harry picked up one of his quilts and sat down in bed beside Y/N, draping it over himself so she could have the duvet for herself. He bit into his half of the cucumber, completely unfazed as his eyes fell on the telly. Y/N tried not to laugh, but he looked so incredibly cute, munching on his cucumber and smiling at something Rob Brydon said. He must’ve noticed her not eating, because he looked down at where she laid in bed, raising his eyebrows.

“You weren’t hungry?”

“It’s not that.”

“It’s honestly refreshing.” Harry took another bite. “I love it.”

That made her smile and she took a bite of her cucumber as well, Harry watching her as she chewed and then swallowed.

“Well…? Your verdict?”

“It’s just a cucumber.”

Harry rolled his eyes, making Y/N laugh again. “You’re humiliating.”

“Says the person who eats half a cucumber before bed!”

“I’m quirky!”

Laughing again, the two fell into comfortable silence as they watched the rest of the Would I Lie To You episode. Though the idea of eating half a cucumber hadn’t been very appealing to begin with, it did make her feel a bit better. She didn’t know she’d been hungry till now, the cucumber and the two glasses of water had done a well enough job to fill her stomach up before bed, so she didn’t bother asking Harry if she could make herself a toastie. Instead, Y/N found her eyes falling shut, her entire body relaxing completely. All the worry and the paranoia and the fight earlier all came together now, making her so tired she could barely stand to keep her eyes open. Her entire body ached with the effort it took to stay awake. She stayed as close to the wall as possible, where she could look out across the dimly lit lightkeeper house.

Y/N felt the move as Harry reached out to the windowsill. He sat back, screwing the lid open, revealing a balm of some sort. He rubbed his middle finger in it, slowly sliding it along the thick balm till his finger was wet with it. Y/N bit her bottom lip. For some reason, she thought he was going to smear it across his own lips, some sort of cream to help keep his lips moisturised. No, instead Harry dragged his finger under his eyes. Not directly under his eyes, but along his cheekbones, slowly and gently.

“What’s that?” Y/N asked through a yawn.

Harry looked away from the telly and at her. “Face cream.”

“You put it on before bed?”

“It helps me sleep, it’s made of lavender and apricot. Both are supposed to help you fall into a deep sleep.”

“Can I try?”

“Yeah.” Harry handed it over, leaning his head back against the headboard, watching Y/N as she smelled it.

“Lush.”

“It is.”

Y/N rubbed her finger in it, putting it along under her eye. She was aware Harry was keeping an eye on her, but she pretended to find the programme incredibly interesting right then. She heard a slight chuckle.

“Not directly under your eyes,” Harry said. “Not there.” He leaned over, taking a delicate grip of her wrist and moving her hand down. “Here.” His hand moved upward to cup hers, his little finger, ring finger, and middle finger hooking themselves tenderly between her thumb and index. His index rested on top of hers as he guided her hand slowly and gently, tipping his head to the side to rest against the headboard while he concentrated. She didn’t dare look away from the telly, too overwhelmed to do anything but let him help her.

“Then the other eye,” he mumbled, telling her what was going to happen next. Because without warning, he dipped his finger in the balm Y/N was holding, swirling his finger slowly around till it was moist. When he did that, she simply could not help herself, and her eyes fell to look at his hand, taken aback by what was happening. However, she didn’t move or tell him to stop when Harry brought his hand up, sliding it over her cheekbone. Soft, slow, graceful. A prickling hot sensation followed where he touched, slowly spreading through her entire body. She looked away from the balm and at Harry, the second she did, he glanced back at her. A slight breath left her lips, Harry’s eyes falling to them. She sat up, finding the lid and placing it back on the balm. She handed it back to Harry.

Harry took it, placing it back in the windowsill before he got up from bed. Y/N lay back down, quickly checking the pulse on her neck because she knew her heart was beating hard. If it beat hard enough, would it somehow make the bed creak? Was it possible her heartbeat made her entire body shake like that? Just in case, Y/N switched so she was laying on her side. She watched as Harry turned the telly off, the room falling into complete darkness. Y/N closed her eyes, realising for the first time in a minute or two how sleepy she actually was.

It took a second or two before she felt the bed move and creak as he sat down. He shuffled till he was comfortable laying on his side facing her. Only reason she knew that was because she heard his content sigh and felt his breath on her face. It had been quiet for a minute or so before Harry whispered her name.

“Hm?” she asked, opening her eyes slightly. She could not make out much, but she thought she might’ve seen him looking at her. That might also just be her imagination playing tricks on her.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said, his voice a whisper.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“I know you’re just looking out for me and I’m sorry if it was embarrassing for you when I did that.”

“I’m sorry I criticised her for leaving you when it was bad for her mental health, I just know that it can’t have been easy to have been in your shoes just then, so that break up can’t have been easy to deal with on top of everything else.”

Silence stretched on for a few seconds. “It wasn’t. But I don’t blame her for leaving if that was what was best for her.”

Y/N closed her eyes again. “Okay.”

She felt the bed move again as Harry found a new position that was more comfortable. The pillow she rested her head on moved a bit, she reckoned he slung his arm over the top of her head.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry said, voice slurring now as well.

“Night.”

“My alarm will go off at 3am, by the way.”

She smiled. “I know.”

She heard him let out a slight breath, sounding like a small chuckle, and the next thing she knew, she was having the slumber of her life.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 27 September, 9PM GMT!

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it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream · 4 years ago

Text

Going, Going, Gone (Spencer Reid x Reader) Chapter 5

Warnings: Mentions of death and injury/much angst

Word Count: 2k

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-Spencers POV-

His heart stopped. There she was. Right there, if only he could climb through the screen and grab her, shielding her from further harm. He was angry, she looked so small, from what he could make out on the screen you were tied to a bed, bound by chains, blood and wounds scattered in different shapes and sizes over your almost naked body.

Spencer heard a gasp from behind him, turning he noticed JJ staring at the screen seeing exactly what he was. He didn’t have time to deal with peoples feelings, he just needed to figure out where his girl was and quickly. Emily had joined him back at the laptop.

“Oh my god.” Her voice was full of panic and hate. Then her eyes went wide when she heard Rossi’s voice travelling up the attic stairs.

“Spencer, did you find anything yet.” Spence turned to look at the man and then back at the screen, angling his body so it was in front of Rossi’s line of sight. Emily was trying to get him to go back down stairs but he was having none of it, pushing passed her to get to the source of the commotion. Spencer couldn’t bare to listen to the angry cries of his colleague, the angry, broken cries of a father. He was too focused on taking in everything he could, trying to look passed your broken and beaten down, still breathing body, to figure out if there was anything to lead them to you.

Spencer hit a button on his mobile, a direct line to Garcia who was anxiously waiting for anything back at her cyber lab.

“Go boy wonder what have you got for me.” Penelope’s joking voice faltered when Spencer informed her of their findings. He sent the video clip of Y/N over to Penelope to analyse further. Her voice quivering as she promised Spencer she’d be found.

Spencer took a look at the screen again, noticing marks up the algae covered walls. They were water marks, which told you how high the water sometimes flooded inside the building. He let Garcia know so she could narrow her search to a building that would be underground near water and it took her mere seconds to come back with a location.

“It’s an old underground bunker, the Unsubs father was some kind of doomsday preparation nut, it’s next to the Teal River, i’ve sent the exact location to your phones.” The team were out the door in seconds, hoping and praying that this is where they would find you alive. They needed to find you alive.

“Were coming for you sweetheart just hold on, were coming.” In that moment Spencer did something he never did, he prayed.

-Un-Subs POV-

“It’s almost time. Almost time to get rid of the girl. She put up a bigger fight than I thought she would. A few more stab wounds and cuts aught to do the trick, let her die slowly in her cell, die slowly just like my girl did. They will pay, they will all pay.”

-Your POV-

You coughed. You could hear that your breathing was getting worse and it felt like the air was slowly being sucked out of you. You knew you didn’t have long left. You would have liked to cry, feel sorry for yourself, for the fact that you’d never have a future with Spence, never see your father again and never see the team you called family again, but you were too dehydrated and your body couldn’t even function enough to produce a single drop. You slumped against the sticky cold wall, dry blood smeared across your face and in your hair. Your leg was still bleeding but you’d managed to stop it slightly by using some dirty cloth from the mattress you were sitting on. An infected leg was better than bleeding out.

Your eyes closed and you thought about Spencer. How his mind would be working over time trying to piece together the clues and find you before you met your demise. You wanted to believe they would find you in time but your hope was slowly fading away with your consciousness.

You thought about your father and how he’d been in the BAU for so long, founded it with your godfather Gideon, how it was basically his whole life, as well as you. You hoped that when you were gone he’d be able to move on, that he wouldn’t hurt for too long and hopefully one day he’d re-marry, god knows he could use a strong woman in his life after your mum died.

You thought about your friends.. family at the BAU. Your best friend Luke Alvez who treated you more like a little sister, always taking you under his wing and giving you advice even when you didn’t need it. You hoped he’d stay at the BAU, that if you died, it wouldn’t effect him too much and he’d be able to get back to some kind of normal life. You wish there was a way to tell him he could have your baseball card collection, he’d always wanted it. You laughed a little, a sad laugh, already grieving for the people you were going to lose. Thinking about all the things you still wanted to do in life. They say that when you die you life flashes before your eyes, they were wrong. It’s before that, it plays through your head like a movie, going over all the things you’d never get to see.

In your mind you pictured what your wedding day would be like. Spencer would want a small wedding full of close family and friends and you’d agree. The perfect setting your fathers large back garden, flowers everywhere, surrounded by the people you love. The gentle exchanging of rings and the kiss he would give you that would still make your toes curl even when you were old and grey.

Children. You wanted at least 4. You wanted so many children with Spencer because you knew he’d make the most amazing father, even if he’d be scared they’d carry the gene for schizophrenia. They’d have his curly hair and your eye colour, his calmness and his smarts while they had your artistic nature and kindness. They’d love to stay with Grandpa, who would tell them all kinds of stories of his time in the FBI, obviously leaving out the heavy stuff. Your friends would come over and you’d always have big dinners and get togethers, BBQ’s in the summer, your lives full of life and laughter and there would always be him. Right by your side. Your Spencer. You’d grow old together, still love each other as hard as you do now. Until your last breath. You pictured going out like the scene in the notebook, old and in each others arms. The world would always be right, if you had your Spencer Reid.

You could feel your breathing slowing, the sound of heavy footsteps running down the echoing corridor. It was too late. You were sure the Un-sub was coming to finish you off once and for all, leave you somewhere for your family to find, another body in another case the BAU would eventually solve. But it was too late for you. The door swung open and your eyes closed. The pain was gone and so were the chances of seeing your Spence one last time.

-Spencers POV-

The SUV’s came to a screeching halt outside the bunker. There was a gravelled path that lead towards the doors that were hidden behind shrubs. It was one of those lucky by chance things, the team arrived and the Un-sub was outside, about to go into the bunker. While Prentiss and JJ read him his rights and stuck him in the back of the car, Spencer, Rossi and Luke threw open the metal doors and made their way inside cautiously. Spencer wanted to throw all caution to the wind. Guaranteed the two other men he was with wanted to as well. All they wanted to do was get their girl back. But sometimes looks could be deceiving and more danger could be lurking up ahead. In this case, there wasn’t.

Spencer ran down the long echoing corridor, medics behind him. The cells were empty apart from one.

“Y/N! Y/N! Can you hear me? Were here Darling just hold on okay, i’m here baby i’m here.” Spencers voice was full of panic as the three men used all their strength to open the tightly sealed bunker door. Spencer could faintly see through the porthole door, the grime and condensation obstructing his view slightly. You weren’t moving. He started to panic even more and when the door hissed and flung open it was if the world was moving in slow motion.

You were pale, eyes closed, dry blood across your practically naked body. Dirty cloth wrapped around your blood soaked thigh and cuts littered your body in all shapes and sizes. One of your hands was handcuffed to a railing next to the rusty spring covered bed and you looked smaller than you’d ever looked before. Spencer was on you in seconds. Luke had bolt cutters and had snipped the handcuff from the railing. Rossi was frozen in his spot, his daughter lifeless in front of him. Spencer lifted you carefully in his arms laying you on the ground.

“She has no pulse! She’s not breathing! She’s not breathing!” He started pumping your chest, 1,2,3,4…. check, no sign of breathing. He held your nose and blew into your mouth twice, Luke took over chest compressions as the paramedics set up the defibrillator. More Paramedics arrived, pushing the two FbI Agents away so they could work on you more thoroughly. Some tended to your still bleeding cute, needles attached to you for IV bags and then.

“Everyone clear!” The defibrillator sounded up. The shocking noise and the thud your body made against the cold floor seemed to echo all around. They shocked you a total of four times before they managed to get a weak pulse.

The ambulance ride wasn’t long, especially now that you had a police escort and most of the flashing lights in the city. You died and came back 3 times in the ambulance. Spencer hadn’t stopped crying since he found you bleeding and lifeless.

On arrival to the hospital you were instantly taken to surgery, some of the stab wounds too severe to be treated normally. The BAU occupied the waiting room, Rossi sat numbly staring at the floor, Spencer paced back and fourth, Luke kept on asking the Dr for updates every ten minutes and the rest of the team just waited for any news at all.

——————————————————————————————————

-Your POV-

You hadn’t remembered your cell being this bright. Maybe your captor had taken you outside. Maybe you hadn’t died in time to be spared of the cruel torture that was about to follow. What was that dreadful beeping sound? You blinked, your eyes taking their time to adjust to your surroundings. You were defiantly somewhere else and you started to panic, the beeping got louder and faster. You tried to sit up.

“Spencer! Spencer! Wake up she’s awake!” You couldn’t make out the voice clearly, it sounded like… your dad? But how? Were you dreaming. Maybe this was your body in its final stages playing a cruel trick on your subconscious.

You tried to talk, but your throat was dry and you were hit with a wave of pain. Someone pressed ice chips to your lips, slowly but surely you accepted them, the coolness coating your vocal cords.

“Please, please tell m-me this isn’t a d-dream.” A tear leaked from the corner of your eye and rolled down your cheek only to be kissed away by… your Spencer.

“Baby, it’s not a dream, I found you, we found you. You’re safe now and I’m never letting you go again.”

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Welp, There we go. The final chapter! I hope you liked this mini series! If you like Criminal minds or want me to write for anyone else.. maybe Luke Alvez... let me knowwww i'll consider it ;) Please Reblog/follow/like <3333

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sparring-hyena · 4 years ago

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the time of our lives.

this one was kinda requested/suggested by @cloakanddaggerthings. they’ve also been a great help in hammering out the finicky details. thanks heaps, mate!

OR, the one where it takes a year for these two goofs to realise they’re in love.

i. New Year’s Eve.

naturally, this is where they start. although, start in a very loose sense of the word. because they were something before tonight. something fiery and intense, but certainly not something real.

they were midnight rendezvouses, sharp remarks that lacked any real malice, and moments that somehow meant nothing and everything. but what they were is irrelevant. because Poppy’s got a reputation and parental expectations, and AJ doesn’t fit into any of that.

so, they stand in the front yard of some frat house, a New Year’s party raging on inside, and fight. they shout and cuss and say things that don’t at all mean but that make this whole thing easier.

it’s with ten seconds of the year left that Poppy says, “i hate you,” and feels something break in her heart.

“i hate you, too,” AJ says as the countdown finally reaches zero.

there’s cheering from inside and then AJ leaves and now Poppy’s standing alone on the front lawn. she ignores the tears that fall down her cheeks and tries to tell herself that everything will be fine.

so, yes, that’s how they start: in the final ten seconds of the year with an i hate you that actually means something else entirely.

ii. Valentine’s Day.

she sees AJ sporadically throughout the day. and that irritates Poppy like nothing else ever has. figures it would be today of all days that she sees her everywhere.

first it’s at the crack of dawn as she walks home after a one night stand that she spots AJ on a jog. they’re on opposite sides of the street, but it’s empty so they see each other.

AJ stops in her tracks and looks right at Poppy, not exactly irritated but certainly not pleased. Poppy fixes her with a glare that says what are you looking at? AJ shrugs and starts up on her jog again, and Poppy huffs and continues on her walk home.

then they see each other on campus way too many times—in the café, on the quad, and in the library. and each time, Poppy’s glare is met with a shrug from AJ.

the last time she sees AJ it’s late. the sun has long since set and there’s a chill that’s set in for the night. she’s on her way home from dinner—some blind date Veronica had set up—when she spots AJ across the street, laughing and walking hand-in-hand with some girl who looks vaguely familiar.

Poppy watches them until she can’t see them anymore, and wonders if AJ saw her this time, too.

iii. spring break.

she goes to Miami for the week with Veronica and Chloe. her intention is to have a fun and carefree week where she doesn’t once think about AJ.

it’s two days into her trip when she finds herself scrolling through Instagram late one night. curiosity nibbles at her restraint until she’s typing AJ’s name into the search bar.

she finds AJ’s profile and the first picture she sees is some candid shot of AJ and that same girl from Valentine’s Day looking at each other with ridiculously cheesy smiles. Poppy switches her phone off and doesn’t dare touch it for the rest of the night.

Poppy goes to a party the next night and hooks up with a girl who looks a lot like AJ. Veronica and Chloe point this out a few days later, laughing over cocktails. Poppy scoffs and tells them that’s complete bullshit and tries to hide her blush by taking a long sip of her drink.

iv. summer break.

the academic year ends and Poppy sighs with relief as she collapses onto her bed. she’s got three months until her final year starts, and three months where she doesn’t have to see or think of AJ.

it goes well at first—the not thinking about AJ. she spends a lot of time shopping and partying and lounging by the pool of her parents’ beach house on Long Island. but there are only so many hours of the day where she can keep her mind busy. so it’s at night, when she’s in bed trying to fall asleep, that her mind wanders back to AJ.

the first time it happens, she groans and rolls onto her side, and tries to flush all thoughts of AJ from her mind. that works. but then it happens again and again, and before Poppy really knows it, it’s halfway through August and she’s thought of AJ every single night since the end of June.

she lays awake in bed and watches the fan on the ceiling spin in lazy circles. her brain summons a long and near forgotten memory of a night a lot like this. she closes her eyes and sinks into the warm embrace of the memory:

she was in bed with AJ. it was either late or early, Poppy can’t quite remember. she decides it probably doesn’t really matter. they were talking and laughing under the quiet blanket of night. and Poppy suddenly remembers how she’d reached for AJ’s hand and never wanted to let it go.

Poppy opens her eyes and glances to her side. the bed is empty beside her, the sheets untouched, and she can almost feel the ghost of AJ’s touch on her hand. she squeezes her eyes shut, trying not to cry, and realises she never did hate AJ. she was probably just scared.

v. Halloween.

there’s a party on campus—isn’t there always? a frat party with costumes and decorations and cheesy music that starts to sound alright after three or four drinks. Poppy slips in later in the night, when everyone’s teetering on the edge of tipsy and drunk.

she moves through the throng of people towards the kitchen to pour herself a drink, and bumps into AJ for the first time this semester.

“hey,” AJ says, awkward and unsure, and Poppy silently regrets everything she’s put her through.

“hi,” Poppy says, smiling and really meaning it.

that seems to loosen AJ up a bit, and she returns the smile in kind.

“haven’t seen you in a while,” AJ says, leaning back against the counter and sipping her drink.

“been busy,” she lies even though that’s something she’s trying to stop.

and AJ seems to understand the lie for what it is. “you wanna go outside for a bit?”

Poppy only nods, afraid that if she speaks, she’ll ruin whatever’s happening right now. it’s quieter outside, the cheesy music and chatter nothing but a gentle murmur. they stand out on the front lawn of some frat house and Poppy gets a strange sense of déjà vu.

“i wish things had been different, y’know?” AJ says, her voice a gentle reassurance.

“me too,” Poppy says, and then: “i’m sorry that i said i hate you. because i don’t.”

a moment of silence passes, uncomfortable and almost tight like a rubber band pulled to its limit. because it looks like AJ’s about to say something important that’ll put them on a better path. but then the front door of the frat house flies open, and a few drunk students stumble out into the yard.

AJ offers Poppy a smile, almost sad and longing. “it was nice seeing you again.” and then she heads back inside.

vi. Thanksgiving.

Poppy doesn’t plan on visiting her parents this year. and besides, they’re going out of town for the holiday. so if she has to be alone, she’d rather it be in the sorority house than in some stuffy brownstone on the Upper West Side.

it’s late in the afternoon when Poppy gets a text from AJ. all it says is are you at the sorority? she stares at it for a moment, debates deleting it and carrying on with her day. but something tells her to respond, so she does.

she says that she is and waits for AJ’s response. she waits five minutes, then ten and nothing comes. Poppy scoffs and tosses her phone onto her bed. it’s not long later when she hears a knock on the front door. Poppy doesn’t think much of it, so she answers it without checking.

she finds AJ standing on the front stoop, grinning like she knows something Poppy doesn’t.

“what are you doing here?” Poppy says. “i thought you’d be on your way home by now.”

“i’m getting an early flight tomorrow.” then AJ holds up a plane ticket, grinning like this has been her plan all along. “and i was wondering if you’d want to come with me.”

“what?”

“come home with me. my parents always cook too much food, so really, you’d be doing them a favour.”

Poppy folds her arms over her chest and studies AJ for a moment. “don’t you want to take your girlfriend,” she says, and maybe she wants her words to hurt a little bit.

“we broke up over the summer,” AJ says, simple and easy.

“oh. sorry.”

“don’t be. it wasn’t working out and hadn’t been for a while.”

“are you trying to use pity to get me to come with you?” Poppy says, and she knows AJ wouldn’t, but it’s kinda fun to mess with her.

“no, of course not! i just wanted to be upfront with you. so, come home with me. please.”

Poppy plucks the ticket from AJ’s hand and says, “i’m only doing this for your parents.”

“of course.” AJ winks and grins. “i’ll see you bright and early at the airport tomorrow then.

the flight is uneventful, although Poppy decides AJ is much too cheerful for seven o’clock in the morning.

when they step inside AJ’s childhood home, Poppy’s immediately struck by just how warm and lived in it all feels. AJ’s mother tells her to mind the mess as she ushers them both inside, and AJ’s father greets them and says hugs’ll have to wait as he gestures to his dirty apron.

they all cram around a too small table in mismatched chairs that creak and rock back-and-forth. Poppy doesn’t care that she’s sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with AJ and one of her sisters. dinner is loud and fun, and AJ’s parents insist on sharing stories from AJ’s childhood. and as dinner winds down and dessert is served, Poppy reaches for AJ’s hand beneath the table and knows that she’ll never let go.

vii. Christmas.

it’s close to midnight on Christmas Eve when AJ appears on the front stoop of the Zeta house. she looks distraught and like she hasn’t had a good night sleep in days. so Poppy steps outside and asks, “what’s wrong?”

AJ looks at her, really looks at her, and Poppy feels something shift in that moment. and then AJ’s talking, words tumbling from her mouth, and it doesn’t look like she can stop herself. then she says i love you and everything goes still.

it takes a moment, but AJ seems to catch up to what she’s just said. her eyes go wide, and Poppy can see that she’s gearing up to apologies. but Poppy doesn’t let her. she surges forward and hug AJ tightly because oh god, i’ve missed her so much.

Poppy doesn’t say the words back, not yet anyway. but she holds onto AJ and tries to show her that she loves her, too.

viii. New Year’s Eve.

naturally, this is where they end. although end in a very loose sense of the word. because they will be something after tonight. something supportive and challenging, but most importantly something real.

they will be promises of forever, witty remarks that are just an i love you in disguise, and moments where the rest of the word falls away and it’s just the two of them together. what they will be terrifies Poppy. because she’s got a reputation and parental expectations, and AJ doesn’t fit into any of that... right?

maybe. but maybe it’s good that AJ doesn’t fit into that. maybe it’s good that AJ had upended everything she thought she knew. maybe that’s what makes what they will be so damn perfect.

so, they stand in the front yard of some frat house, a New Year’s party raging on inside, and finally admit what’s been there all along. they talk and tease and say things they mean with all their heart.

it’s with ten seconds of the year left that Poppy says, “i love you,” and feels that final piece of her heart heal.

“i love you, too,” AJ says as the countdown finally reaches zero.

there’s cheering from inside and then AJ steps closer to Poppy, smiling so bright and warm, and Poppy twists her arms around AJ’s neck and doesn’t once care that she’s probably smiling like an idiot in love.

so, yes, that’s how they end: in the final ten second of the year with an i love you that means exactly what it claims.

#my writing #poppy x mc #poppy min sinclair #queen b #playchoices #this story 100% ignores canon #it also combines a number of holiday related requests i've gotten but just didn't get around to writing #hope that's all good :)

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cajunquandary · 4 years ago

Text

Hands that Heal

Link: (coming soon to Ao3)

Summary: Sometimes all you need is a little push the right direction...

Created for: @negans-lucille-tblr SPN Secret Santa Fic Exchange

Rating: 18+ only

Pairing: Dean x OFC (Jay)

Warnings: Jealous Dean, fluff, smut, smidge of angst, medical IV (briefly), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap the willy)

Wordcount: 3.8k

A/N: Happy Holidays, @jay-and-dean! I was so ecstatic to have received your name and hope that my ramblings make you smile a little.

It’s a funny thing, the way everyone goes on about the eyes being windows to the soul. Of course, they can be very telling, and if you ever catch yourself getting lost in those of the Winchesters, how could you believe anything else? Or perhaps you are more like Jay.

Jay has been with the Winchesters for quite some time. She’s been lost in those eyes. And she’s been found. The pure green folds of Dean’s have scooped her up, swaddled her, saved her. So have Sam’s hazel, but not in quite the same way. Not that either brother knows. Only Cas.

Cas has seen the way her deep brown eyes linger just a little longer than they ought to, can feel the ache in her chest. There are times when Jay meets the angel’s gaze just afterwards but looks away just as quickly. They both know, but they won’t talk about it. And that’s okay.

But for Jay, she can see beyond the green. Beyond the freckles and blushing pensive lips, the curve of his jaw, the gently rolling hills of his chest and arms. She traces the majestic waves and ripples beneath his warm skin with only her eyes and her heart. They come to rest just past strong wrists and fall like weighted feathers upon Dean’s weathered hands.

You see, that’s where the soul really reveals itself closest to visible flesh. Each scar and busted knuckle tell a story. The pattern of freckles and tan lines speak of years in the sun. The calluses of his palm and fingertips disclose a rough life, a tough job. They are toned with skill, accurate in all things. They can field strip a gun and put it back together in the blink of an eye, tie complicated knots with dexterity, bait a hook and cast a line without hesitation, and even mold and create custom parts for Baby as they fix her up.

And yet, the skin between those marks is soft, no longer as elastic as it once was, but still full of life and love. The very muscles that hold together the bone and sinew have the capacity to both take life, and give it. Jay has watched them rip apart monsters and gently caress and hold victims within the same minute.

Such an extreme duality shouldn’t be so neatly wrapped up in one man, but it was. It was both Dean’s light and his curse. Jay shivered as she hesitated just a moment too long on the fantasy of those thick muscled, deadly, yet oh-so-gentle hands, imagining how they might tickle as they might glide over her smooth skin. Of course, Dean notices.

“There’s no way you’re cold, Jay. It’s a hundred friggin degrees outside!”

Right. Jay had to remind herself that they were on a case. No distractions. “Yeah, I-I’m good. Just got a chill because, ya know, we’re next to human refrigerators.” She swallowed hard and clenched her teeth to help ground herself back to reality.

It really was hotter than a witch’s tit out there and not much cooler inside the mortuary. Dean continued to read silently from some forms on the coroner’s clipboard before licking his thumb and index finger to turn the page. Heat washed over Jay, spreading like drunken honey from her scalp all the way to her toes. She tried to steady her breathing, remain in persona as a stoney FBI agent, but the hot red of her cheeks was giving her away.

She tore her gaze away to inspect the body. Not that anything she made mental note of would stick at this point. Dean cleared his throat and pulled the clipboard closer to his face before setting his thumbnail between his teeth the way he always did when he was laser-focused on something. She only caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye, but it was the final bit to break her.

With a huff, Jay exclaimed a little too loudly, “There’s nothing here for us, Dean. I’ll be in the car.” Her legs carried her much too quickly out the swinging doors and up the stairs.

“Um, okay?” Dean grumbled to himself before setting the paperwork back in its place and following Jay. “What the hell got into her?”

Jay was glad to leave Texas. Mid-July heat drained her, along with every plant and tree scorched under the unrelenting and searing white sun. The world around them was bleached and bathed in the almost-eerie too-bright light. Well, everything except what existed in the shadows of the Impala. The sparse countryside rolled away mile by mile as time ticked by with every song on Dean’s favorite cassette.

The air conditioning just couldn’t keep up, so Dean rolled down the windows. Jay tied up her locks in frustration, leaving a messy excuse for a bun resting on top of her head. The leather seats did nothing to help as she sweat through her shorts until she was nearly sliding off the seat.

“How much longer until Oklahoma?” She sighed. For the third time that hour.

Dean shot a glare in her direction before settling his attention back on the highway. The heat was getting to him too, and even with sunglasses on, spots were gathering in his vision and impairing him with every piercing flash of the sun off of the windshields of passing cars. “Jay, I swear if you ask me ‘are we there yet’ one more time, I’m going to friggin pull over.”

“Ugh, FINE.” Jay wished to be nearly anywhere but here. Resignation set in and she slumped in the seat and let her bare feet hang out the window, crossing her arms.

Dean turned the music louder, trying to drown out his own misery rather than her. He began to belt out slightly off-key to “Dazed and Confused.”

Jay cracked a half smile but hid it from Dean.

He rapped out the solos on the steering wheel, his hands keeping perfect time as they danced upon the taught leather.

Maybe pulling over wouldn’t be a half-bad idea, Jay thought.

She closed her eyes, allowing the steady rumble of the engine to echo through her as hot wind whipped through the cab. She cracked them open again just long enough to witness the stretch of tight skin over Dean’s knuckles, the way the washed out wilderness blurred past behind them and accentuated the tan he’d gained from driving.

The image was burned into her mind. To help pass the time, Jay granted herself permission to linger on it, explore it. Despite the heat outside, a new, different heat grew steadily in her core, stirring somewhere deep between her heart and soul.

Not too long after, the Impala slowed and turned into a run down gas station--the first one in an hour. As Dean filled up, Jay took the opportunity to find shelter in some air conditioning and hopefully an ice-cold drink. Inside the store was no better. In fact, it was worse. The air was still and thick with humidity from the cooler, which buzzed and whirred as if it were possessed.

“Sorry, Miss. Cooler is out. Hot drinks only,” a disheveled and sweat-drenched employee slouched over the register.

“Thanks… got any pie?” Jay decided that if they had to drink hot water, they may as well have some comfort food.

“Whatever we got is over there.” The clerk motioned with his eyes, no strength to even lift a finger.

Jay stalked back to the car empty handed and more pissed than ever. If the summer heat was something tangible, she could just strangle it. Kick it, punch it. Anything to fight it.

Dean finished up just in time, careful not to touch the scorching black paint and chrome on the car. “What, you go pee and come out with nothing? I’m dyin’ here!”

Jay snapped. “NO DRINKS. NO PIE. NOTHING. K?!”

Dean was taken aback by the outburst. It was then he noticed the sunken look and dark circles under her eyes and the red sheen over her face and neck. She was getting pale and wasn’t sweating anymore.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” His brows knit as he drove slowly through the town, hoping for a decent motel to rest at for a while. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait but a few blocks before The Moonlight Motel came into view.

Pay by the hour may not be the greatest, but at least it was cheap and would likely be empty this time of day.

Jay was losing touch and the following events were a blur. The next thing she truly could grasp and remember was lying mostly clothed in a cold shower. Dean sat facing her atop the closed toilet seat, a worried face perched upon clasped hands. Still a bit out of it, Jay relaxed into the cool water as it slowly washed the fever down the drain. The world slipped away, replaced by a gentle, dark nothing.

When Jay stirred, the room was too dim to still be day and shadows were held at bay by only a small lamp on the far side of the dingy room. She couldn’t remember how she got there at first, but as she woke, things gradually came back to her.

Dean had practically carried her to the room. He’d carefully set her in the bathtub and removed her belt, overshirt and boots. He’d turned on the cold water and at first, she’d protested, but slipped in and out of consciousness. He’d retrieved ice from the machine down the hall and poured it over her as he constantly monitored her vitals and temperature.

He’d withdrawn her, a soaking wet dead weight, stripped away the sopping clothes while careful not to look where it would make her uncomfortable, and buttoned her up in the softest flannel he had.

Jay glanced down at her right hand, as it felt stiff and sore. A needle was taped there, no longer hooked to the empty bag of saline, taped down and left in place just in case. Jay wiggled slightly when she realized that her other arm had gone quite numb beneath her and--Dean?

His soft snores disrupted as she shifted, equally mortified and elated to be nestled into the crook of his arm. Dean woke and rubbed his eyes, as if pretending he’d been awake the whole time. His voice was low and gravely from sleep.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He looked down at her, so small in his arms, furious with himself for not taking better care of her.

“M-good,” Jay choked out, completely entranced by being so close to the hunter. Close enough for their breath to mix and his cologne to shroud her senses. Close enough to see the flecks of golds and blues and dark greens in the folds of his irises. Her breath caught and she shivered. Again. Jay mentally kicked herself for that tell. “Thank you… Sorry I was being a brat.”

“No. No, this is on me. You were sun-sick. I’m sorry. I should’ve--”

Jay put a finger to his parted lips with only the intention to stop Dean from blaming himself (like always,) but the touch sent electric pulses through her fingertips and set fire to every nerve in her body. They were impossibly soft and warm.

Dean caught her hand tenderly in his before she could pull away and planted a slow kiss on her knuckles. He watched anxiously as her pupils dilated and her breathing became more shallow. Pulling their hands out of the way, Dean leaned forward just slightly and planted a firm, reassuring kiss to her forehead.

Jay’s mind was a mess. This was more than familial. Were they crossing a line? Or maybe it just meant that Dean was comfortable with her, and concerned. But even as the thoughts swirled, her lips had a mind of their own. As Dean traced his nose down hers until their heads were pressed together, Jay angled upward to meet him.

When their lips locked, there was no more question. Jay loved Dean, and he knew and he loved her back. It was soft and sweet, with their eyes shut tight, just exploring and tasting and sucking gently.

The remainder of the trip back to the bunker was spent with Dean humming, a stupid smile plastered on his face, and Jay resting across the front seat, her head in his lap. Dean stroked her soft, brown hair adoringly. The night was much cooler and comfortably dark with only dim, scattered stars to blanket the hunters.

Everything was different after the motel. The kiss.

Almost six months had gone by and for the most part, they’d been wonderful. Jay spent more time in Dean’s room than her own, and the hunts had been good so far, like old times.

Until this one.

Jay, Sam, and Dean were doing a bit of recon at a local bar to dig up some answers, or at the very least, a lead. Jay had dressed to stun, as usual. (After all, men’s lips tended to be a bit more loose around a pretty girl.)

Dean was hovering. Everytime Jay got close to some useful information, Dean would scare off the burly locals with a death glare.

Until this one.

This man was built like a tank. He towered even over Sam by a few inches and dwarfed Jay in comparison. Sam eyed her uncomfortably from a few tables over, but he always got like that when someone was bigger than him. Dean didn’t adjust his tactics at all, and when the big guy had enough of Dean dancing around him and bumping his chair with an insincere, “sorry, man,” the guy stood up and puffed out his chest. Dean moved to both protect Jay and get in a prime fighting position, but Jay yanked him away by the collar of his jacket faster than he could complain.

She didn’t stop until they were completely outside the bar, then shoved him into the soot-covered brick wall. Dean opened his mouth to spout something pigheaded, but stopped himself as he felt the chill of her glare more than the chill of the snow flurries swirling around them.

“Would you just trust me to do my job? What is your problem?”

“I do! I just--” Dean waved in a flustered motion, unable to find the words. All he knew was that when she got a little too... comfortable... with anyone, he saw red.

Still, Jay seemed to understand. She reached up and held his face firmly between her palms, forcing him to maintain eye contact.

“I’m yours. I know that you worry, what you fear. I’m not going to leave you. Ever. No one can ever take me from you, either, because I’ll haunt your ass and you know it.”

Dean’s bottom lips quivered just barely, and he quickly bit it back. “Don’t you even joke about that,” his voice broke.

“De- I’m right here, okay?”

He nodded and leaned into her until his face was buried in her neck. He squeezed his arms around her, never wanting to know what it would feel like to have to let go.

A muffled “let’s go back to the motel” emanated from somewhere within Jay’s scarf and she nodded in response.

Dean grasped her hand as they walked the short distance back to the rented room. Jay stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide and pointing over to the edge of the woods. A startled “Dean!” escaped her, and Dean dropped her hand and withdrew his gun, ready for a fight. His plumes of hot breath on the air slowed to nearly nothing as he steadied himself and visually searched the area.

What had she seen?

Before he could ask, something hard, round and icey struck the back of his shoulder with decent force. He spun on his heels and lowered his weapon to find Jay wide-mouthed and laughing, another snowball forming in her hands.

“Son of a bitch! You want to play dirty, huh?” Dean howled. He holstered the pistol and raced to close the distance between them. With a squeal and a grunt, the two ended up in a heap in the wet, mushy snow.

Jay managed to end up on top of him and leaned in for a deep kiss. She could feel the smile on his lips as his tongue graced across hers. When at last they came up for air, Dean was moving his arms and legs haphazardly.

“A slush-angel?” Jay giggled at the sorry creation.

“What, my art not good enough for you?” Dean retorted while wearing a shit-eating grin. “And no, actually, it’s a Yeti.”

The wet chill began to sink into their bones, so they hurried onward. Dean fiddled with the key card but the lock gave him fits.

“C’mon, Dean! I’m freezing to death!”

“Yeah, yeah, me too. Hold your horses.”

At last, the door swung open and Jay rushed inside, leaving Dean to close and lock the door behind them. She’d already started stripping off the wet outer layers when Dean approached. With every step bringing him closer, his heartbeat rose and he wrestled out of his own layers.

Jay moved to lift off her shirt, but Dean covered her hands with his, intertwining their fingers. He stood against her, and in one swift move, wrapped both of her wrists in a single firm grip behind her, and with the other, pressed an open palm against her belly.

Jay gasped, her knees going weak with what she knew was coming next. Despite the weather, his touch was toasty. Coarse skin slid over her soft flesh, causing a friction that left Jay needing more. Heat flushed her cheeks and pooled deep in her stomach. Dean melted with every shuttered breath of hers as he stroked up and down beneath the fabric of her shirt, making sure to linger over the more sensitive areas as she twitched and bit down on her lip.

Dean massaged her breasts with skilled fingers for a few moments, but a sensual twist of her nipple sent Jay reeling backwards, supported only by Dean’s other arm. With her head tilted back, Dean took the opportunity to kiss and suck and nip zig-zagged lines over the most delicate parts of her neck and along her collarbone.

Jay squirmed and panted with lust-blown pupils and a cry just on the tip of her tongue. Dean’s grasp only steadied her against him more until he found himself grinding into her, faint moans already filling the air. The growing bulge in his pants drove Jay mad. She wanted to be covered by him, skin on skin, needed him inside her.

“D-Dean please, please…” Jay whimpered and attempted to wiggle out of his hold once more to no avail.

“Please, what, pretty girl? Tell me what you want.” Dean breathed against her ear, just above a whisper. He sucked and nibbled in the hollow behind it.

A shudder wracked Jay, but this time, she didn’t mind the tell. She had him. He was hers. But right then, she needed more and she knew he was holding back. “Unnghh, please… need you, now,” she managed.

“Okay, Baby,” Dean crashed his lips to hers and shifted until Jay was suspended in the air and straddling him as he walked them towards the bed. He dropped her playfully and they scrambled to see who could lose their remaining clothes the fastest.

In a fray of scattered clothing, Dean climbed on top of her, comfortably crushing Jay into the lumpy mattress. He let his full weight rest upon her.

“Stop it,” she giggled as his scruff tickled her cheek.

“Why don’t you make me?” Dean grinned between planting kisses everywhere he could reach.

Before he could react, Jay had him rolled onto the floor. She straddled him and tried to concentrate despite his hard cock resting perfectly between her hot, dripping folds. Her hair created a curtain around their faces, blocking out everything but that moment and the sensations it was riddled with. Dean’s eyes closed and mouth opened like a fish out of water. His breaths were shallow and shaky. Jay fought the urge to lift her hips just so, knowing that if she did, and she came back down upon him, his throbbing dick would line up just perfectly… and they’d end up on the floor for the remainder of their romp.

She rose to her feet, grasping his hand and pulling him up with her. Dean’s eyes were full of question, longing. His cheeks were flushed and hot to the touch. He was melting at every touch and could do nothing about it but wait for her.

Jay led him over to the chair and pushed him into it. He nearly tripped on his way down. That stupid smile she loved so much spread across his face again as he dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her onto him. She let out a yelp as the broad head of his large cock spread her entrance, dripping with precum, and buried itself deep inside until her walls stretched almost uncomfortably. The shock of his size was something she’d never get used to. Each time was like the first, the same butterflies swarming in her stomach, the same jolts of pure lust burning through her veins.

Dean gasped and held her close to him, trembling hands roaming her back and squeezing her ass. Jay carded her hands through his hair and pulled just slightly at the nape of his neck as he whined in approval. Those laments made her head swim and her limbs weak. Drunk on Dean, she adjusted her position until he was sunk deep into the spot that was just right, then began to move back and forth, slow and steady. Dean’s breaths stuttered and his head fell back, leaving his neck open for Jay to take into her mouth.

“Fuck--Baby you feel s-so good,” he stammered between increasing moans and grunts. She could see in his eyes that he was losing control.

Jay cried out as he began to fight her movements with his own, pounding up in all the right spots. She arched her back as the coil wound tighter… higher… tighter… higher... until she shattered in his arms, his name and curses spilling from her gaping mouth.

He held her through it and chased his own orgasm, sucking a mark onto her chest before he spilled into her. Everyone would know she was his, and only his. Her walls clenched in waves and he pulsed within them, his delicious sounds filling her ears as she came down.

Jay crashed her lips into his, and he returned with fervor until they were both completely breathless. Wrapped there in Dean’s arms, Jay was home.

No, nothing was ever the same after that first kiss. And that was okay. It was amazing.

WAYWARD PEEPS:

@carryonmywaywardcaptain @manawhaat @supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79-blog @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @taste-of-dean @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby @wonder-cole @itsangelpie @thinkinghardhardlythinking

ANGST BABES:

@trexrambling @abbessolute @emptywithout

ALL ABOUT THAT DEAN:

@akshi8278 @will-winchester

@waywardbaby* the smut was heavily inspired by The Scene. Tagged as promised lol

Tag List now open!

#spnsecretsantaficexchange #hands that heal #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x ofc #dean x jay #fluff #smut #supernatural

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taeyohonic · 5 years ago

Text

Just a Taste – Chapter Three

Summary: Being asked to take a blood test just to work at a merchandise booth should have been the first read flag for you. But you just gave them a sample of your blood in exchange for a very much needed paycheck and a summer job during BTS’ world tour. After the youngest member of the popular kpop band finds himself in a difficult situation, you come to realize that this wasn’t the last time you shed blood for your idols. or: You becomes the new donor for seven bloodthirsty idols, who seem to be way too interested in their new food source.

Pairing: OT7xfem!Reader

Genre: Fantasy, Smut, (Fluff)

Warnings: some profanity

Words: 3 k

Chapters: Prologue, Chap. I, Chap. II, Chap. III, Chap. IV, Chap. V, Chap. VI, Chap. VII

“Okay, there is no way this guy isn’t on drugs”, Joo-Won snorts as he jokingly nudges your shoulder. You can’t help but chuckle, eyes trained on the maknae… smiling radiantly in the camera. It’s such a striking contrast to his rude stone-faced smirk the day before. Of course, Joo-Won would notice.

Hell, you don’t even want to imagine the fansites and all the twitter threats dedicated to the youngest’s mood shifts. Jungkook’s eyes sparkle and his steps are light as feathers. He has such a carefree aura surrounding him – it’s enticing.

To clear your head, you take a hefty swing of the beer your friend has sneaked into the backstage-room. It was sheer luck that you met up – with your phone mysteriously vanishing and you no longer working at the booth. But it seems your … promotion was the gossip of the whole pre-concert team, so of course Joo-Won was up-to-date.

It’s not that uncommon to help out during tour, when there’s a shortage of employees. For you to move this far up in such a short time? Okay, granted, that does raise a few questions. But after your explanation, your friend was convinced, that everything was fine and dandy. When in reality…

“Or maybe he just got laid”, he shrugs, and you cough on the alcohol in your mouth.

“Damn… Woo… Why?”, you wheeze, and your friend tries not to laugh at your red face.

“Oh come on, don’t be a prude.”

“I am not”, you defend yourself, taking another sip to calm your body. The alcohol Joo-Won provided, after finding you starstruck in a dimly lit corridor, helped you getting over the fact, that sweet summer-child Jimin was a shadow. The thought alone makes you empty your bottle.

“Maybe this would be more believable, when your face doesn’t look like a tomato”, he teases and you are glad that color is returning to your face. After last night’s blood loss, every form of healthy blood flow makes you think of yesterday’s attack as a smaller incident than it was.

“Argh, stop it, Woo”, you say, punching his arm in mock anger. You two stay like this, glued to the screen and watch the concert. All the idols seem to be in great spirit – joking amongst themselves and performing to their full capacity.

It makes you wish to erase the last hours – meeting most of them in terrifying situations. Their music means a lot to you and now it will forever be tarnished by the blood and secrets spilled in the last hours.

“Want another one?”, your friend asks, after the concert finished and the people around you are again running around, packing up. Tonight, you’ll have dinner with seven vampires.

“Of course”, you answer.

***

“_____-ah!”, Jimin’s voice is extremely familiar from the hours of Spotify-loops you listened to during their last comeback. But the sweet voice is way too near and way too authentic to be coming out of your nonexistent earbuds. You turn around, the beer bottle in your guilty hands as you see the singer running towards you. His steps are es excited as his exclaim and you brace yourself for impact, his sweaty body colliding with you in no time.

The embrace feels alien, his figure roughly the same height as yours – his nose brushing against your own, warm, sweet breath meeting your skin. Wow. Jimin seems to feel way too comfortable around you for your first meeting. Well, if you count getting introduced to his shadow as well, it’ll be your second meeting. But still, invading your personal space so carefree makes your heart race. He smells so amazing, you’re not even bothered by his sweat against your brand new clothes.

“Jimin-ssi”, warns a hard voice behind him and your stare meets Taehyung’s cold eyes. They don’t stay on you for long, fixing on something behind you instead. If it’s even possible, his eyes defrost more. You remember your friend exactly at the same time Jimin’s soft embrace morphs into an uncomfortable grip. You try to turn around, but the idol doesn’t let you move an inch.

“Who are you?”, he asks. The air feels cold against your skin as a shudder travels across your body.

“Uhm, Joo-Won”, there is a short silence, “I... manage the lightstick booth.”

“I don’t see any ARMY bombs here, Joo-Won”, Taehyung answers, stepping closer to the three of you. You can clearly hear the stern tone in the way he pronounces the stranger’s name. What you can’t hear, are the profanities and treats coming out of the vampire’s mouth – too low for human ears to detect.

“Uhm, Jimin-ssi?”, you ask, awkwardness coloring your question as you – again – try to move out of his embrace.

He complies wordlessly, but doesn’t let you get far away, an arm draped around your shoulder is keeping you in place – by his side. Now you see Joo-Won’s eyes screaming for help and you feel an instant guilt resting in your stomach.

“Joo-Won is a... friend of mine", you start to explain - missing the hissed not for long as you gesture nervously around the boys. Your movement shifts Jimin’s arm from your shoulder blade to your neck and you feel his fingers flex against your skin.

Taehyung has fully joined you, having moved to your other side. Both idols flank your figure almost protectively. It’s... weirdly exciting.

“Is that so?”, the deep-voiced asks and... offers your friend his hand. Joo-Won looks at Taehyung’s offer like he has never heard of shaking hands. Before the silence gets out of control though, he grasps his hand. The lights flicker as you see Joo-Won wince in pain. What the hell?

A sickening ash complexion travels up his outstretched arm and you panic. What is Taehyung doing? In two quick steps you manage to break the handshake by moving between them. Jimin seems too enthralled by his bandmate and lets you out of his hold by accident. Now you turn your back against Joo-Won, facing the adored duo of Vmin, while shielding your friend.

“You’re here to get me for the work dinner, right?”, you say with more meaning behind your words. Both look at you with an unreadable expression. Then they nod, as if they just remember where and who they are.

“So... let’s go!” You step around both of them and head towards the exit, not even daring to turn around. The sound of hurried footsteps confirms, that both idols are following you. If you had known it’d be the last time you ever saw your friend, you might have turned around to memorize his handsome face.

***

“Where are we going?”, you ask as the two vampires hush you into the tinted van. They sit facing you and spread their legs comfortably. Taehyung’s shoes rest against your feet and his face looks so relaxed, you wish he could lend you some calm.

“To our hotel”, Taehyung answers. Jimin adds: “They have an amazing cook.”

“And a private room”, Taehyung finishes.

They do complete each other in a harmonized way, that makes you feel... very excluded.

Your hands are resting in your lap and you watch the car drive away from the concert hall. Two more events, then you’ll leave. You remember that the group stays in one of the most prestigious hotels of Tokyo. A stark contrast to your hostel. And far away from it as well. It´ll be a pain in the ass to get back later. Especially without a room key, or even a cellphone.

“Do you guys happen to know, where my cell and my key card is?”, you ask and look in the eyes of a smiling Jimin.

“Oh, Gug should have them with him.”

Yeah right, Jungkook should be there. The vampire, who sucked your blood last night. Cool, cool, cool, co-

“What do they say, ______? They are more afraid of you as you are of them”, Taehyung says reassuringly.

“That’s what people say about animals – not vampires”, you snort.

“Some say our kin is more animal than human, so...”, Taehyung shrugs and you muster him curiously.

“And what do you say?", you ask.

“Ah, don't get philosophical on our first date, _________”, Jimin whines and you do not even want to think about the word “date”. Instead you still look at the younger singer. He seems to be conflicted, before answering.

“It’s more of a balance. And sometimes it’s... more fun to agree with these people.”

You don't like the way he thinks, always believing that humanity is the only solution to live in content.

“There we are!”, both boys exclaim at the same time and you shrink in surprise. Are these two for real?

Without missing a second, Jimin opens the car door, and motions for you to step out of the vehicle. With one hand he covers his face with a mask, and you do the same. It would be more practical for him to get out first. Then you would have more room to move. But he is still as stone, as you stumble out of the car, brushing against his rumbling chest in the process.

You are at the back entrance of the five-star hotel and you can see the open door with a fidgeting waiter. After a few quick steps and two vampires behind you, you enter the building. The young staff member bows formally and you do the same – both idols not even thinking about returning the greeting. So, the good manners are just for vlives – good to know.

Soon you step into the private dining room, the air thick with anticipation as you make eye contact with the maknae. His exciting body moves at lightning speed and you are glad the waiter stepped out of eye side. For the second time today, you collide with a strong body. Jungkook’s nose dives instantly to the crook of your neck and you feel his hot breath against your earlobe.

“_________”, he murmurs and lets his nose travel up and down your pulse. You shiver in response, the recurring invasion of your private space making you feel terribly uncomfortable. Flashes of last night, the pain, the helplessness, the fear... all emotions are rushing back to you and you feel tears in your eyes.

“Jungkook. Enough”, Jin commands and the youngster whines, not moving.

“Jungkook”, the eldest tries again, this time with more volume to his voice.

Before a tear can fall, the vampire lets you go and takes a step back. His excitement crumbles when he sees the unshed tears in your eyes.

“_________?”, he asks, and your name sounds starkly different to the first time he happily called you mere moments ago.

You take a deep breath and you think you're losing your sanity, because you swear you can ... smell them. The odor doesn’t even scare you; it’s weirdly calming. With two more breaths of air you feel grounded enough to let your eyes travel across the table.

There they all sit. Jin – half standing, ready to intervene. Namjoon is watching you closely, is expression full of curiosity. Then there are Hoseok and Yoongi. The duo looks at you... in disdain. The younger rapper with rumored sunshine in his heart musters you like you are a cloud, hiding the bright orbit behind you.

And Yoongi’s eyes are filled with... dissatisfaction. You don’t need to be a mind reader to basically hear his scream “YOU DUMB HUMAN!”. Yeah, you didn’t follow his orders. But how could you not agree to Namjoon’s offer? You don’t even have to do a thing; just be there. But as you feel seven sets of inhumane eyes on you, you’re not sure, if this is really easy money.

“Alcohol!”, Jimin shouts behind you, making you jump in place. Damn, the two singers move with leisure steps forward; pushing you to the group, cold hands against your back.

Jungkook jumps away from you, creating more distance as his sad eyes linger. Why is he so upset? What did he expect? He attacked you not even twenty-four hours ago. How fast were you supposed to overcome such trauma? His bite under the band-aid burns as you self-consciously take a seat next to Jin. No way in hell will you sit next to Hoseok or Yoongi; it’s easier to face your opponents than rub against their side while eating. Before you are fully seated, you feel Jungkook take the place on your other side.

You eye him with suspicion, but the young man looks at you with big, innocent deer eyes, you can’t begin to compare him to the vampire version of last night. Maybe it’s for the best if you don’t even try. You are only here, getting paid handsomely, because of this boy. You are the leftover he needs around.

“Is that okay, Noona?”, he whispers as he – again – leans close to you. You shiver; this time not in fear, as you nod silently. Across from you Hoseok chuckles humorlessly. You ignore the blunt mockery and look at Namjoon for any form of leadership. He still just observes, now focused on the youngest as Jungkook smiles. You accepted him next to you. And he can’t smell fear on you anymore – maybe a bit apprehension, but no fear. He is getting even more excited now that your warmth radiates against his cold, dead body.

“Uhm – … did you mention alcohol?”, you ask, no longer able to stomach the thick silence. Jimin, sitting next to Taehyung, laughs freely as he brings out a few unopened soju bottles from under the table. With ease the young singer moves your favorite – strawberry flavor – in front of you and you thank him with a kind smile.

The others soon join, Hoseok being the only one without a fresh bottle, still managing half of his last one.

“It seems this isn’t your first today”, Yoongi comments, cold eyes on you as your cheeks redden – making Jungkook groan in satisfaction.

Is your drinking with Joo-Won this noticeable? You hold your alcohol well, and you are sure you didn’t stumble or slur in the last ten minutes, so how c-

“It’s your breath”, Namjoon explains unsolicited. A hand flies to your mouth. They… can smell the alcohol in your breath? How? You chewed gum before Taehyung and Jimin collected you.

“We have a heightened smell”, he adds, “all our senses are improved.”

“That makes concerts extremely fun”, Jimin says toasting his bottle in your direction. “The lights, the screams, the sweat and all the blood-bags in a stadium – it’s intoxicating.”

Your eyes widen at being called a blood bag. But before you can voice being offended, Yoongi repeats his question, rephrased.

“You pre-game, when you know you have dinner with seven vampires?” There is belittlement in his voice and you feel shame.

In your college days it wasn’t unusual to participate in daydrinking, or just an after-lecture beer. But now – faced with idols, who performed relentlessly for hours in tiering conditions – it makes you feel cheap. And watching the sadistic pleasure in Yoongi’s eyes makes you think, that this is exactly what he wants.

“I- it was just a drink with a friend”, you defend yourself and don’t notice, how the movement in the room stills.

“What friend?”, Namjoon asks icily, as he freezes your time, while looking at Taehyung and Jimin.

“A low leveled booth worker was all around her, when we found her”, Jimin starts and tries not to move too much, so you won’t get a whiplash when being in sync again.

“I took care of him”, Taehyung finishes and takes a swing from his non-alcoholic beer. He didn’t like alcohol when he was alive and he sure as hell doesn’t care for the intoxication now that he is dead. But that doesn’t mean the vampire doesn’t adore Jimin’s drunk stumbles and Jungkook’s alcohol infused exhibition.

Every single vampire at the table knows what the vocalist means with his words. The uncontrolled power to extract life-light through touch equals a disaster. But after many years of training Taehyung can control and dosage his ability to… everybody’s benefit. Joo-Won will be weak, ill and even thinking he wants to die. But the few seconds of power extraction wasn’t meant to kill – it was meant as a warning.

“Did anything else happen to her while you were supposed to look after her?”, Jungkook hisses sarcastically and looks at his brothers. Both avoid the venom in his eyes.

“If you can’t remember, we were actually with you on stage during the concert. How could we control her whereabouts, when we were hip-thrusting next to you? Hm?”, Jimin responds and the room fills with confrontation. Jin shifts uncomfortably in his seat – the emotions in high drive from his brothers. He is very thankful that the leader froze you, otherwise he couldn’t manage all the feelings in this group.

Jungkook stands abruptly, ready to pounce on the smallest.

“If you had let me keep her with me, this conversation wouldn’t even happen.”

“Ha”, Yoongi laughs darkly, “If we had left you with her, you’d be sucking her nipples by now.”

The lights flicker and Namjoon – again – just observes instead of intervening.

Hoseok moves suddenly, circling around the table until he stands directly behind your still form. He stares at you with dark curiosity.

What the hell where you doing with them? What could be so fascinating about you to make Jungkook this mad at Jimin and Taehyung? What made Yoongi leave his bed last night?

Why isn’t Namjoon stepping up as leader? Why can’t Jin control the room?

Why is he standing behind you? Why is he bending down to your face? Why is he craning his neck to face you – supporting himself with a hand on the table? Why are your eyes deeper than his desire to eliminate you as the thread you are?

And most importantly: Why are you blinking at him?

“What the hell?”, Namjoon and you exclaim at the same time as you stare at Hoseok’s surprised eyes, which are closer than logic would permit.

_______________________

AN: Sub, people! I’m sorry for the late post, covid-19 is a real b**** and my workload has doubled over the last few weeks. Thank you so muc to every single one, who commented, rebloged, liked, read! I am still very touched to hear, which parts/characters/storylines you enjoyed!

What did you guys think of “eight”? I’m a deep rooted shawol, so the MV in particular hit right at home.

I hope you all stay safe and happy! Let me know what you think! All the best, Dana

#ot7 x reader #bangtan fanfic #bts x reader #vampire bts #bts x you #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #hoseok x reader #yoongi x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #bts smut

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worldserasingandcreatinginmymind · 5 years ago

Text

The Intern | Part Two

Summary: You move to New York to focus on your art but end up working as an intern at Stark Enterprises

Chapter Summary: you get an surprise visit on your day off

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Word Count: 1600 and something (kinda short but i’m already half way through writing part three)

A/N: for the purposes of this story Stark Enterprise is set out like an office building in New York and the story does not follow the same timeline as the movies. Reader does not know Peter is SpiderMan. Also, spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :)

Masterlist Part One

- - - - -

It had been a week since your meeting with Tony and since then the two of you had become quite good friends. Tony would make sure he came to the desk everyday or found you at lunch with Peter to catch up with you both.

Today was your first day off in a while and it was much needed. You’d spent the day in your loungewear, doing some painting and listening to old 80’s rock music. In the evening you decided to order pizza, and do some baking while you wait for it to be delivered. You were just getting the ingredients ready when someone knocked at the door. ‘Pizza is early’ you thought as you put down the flour and headed to answer the door.

“Wow that was quick- oh” you said opening the door surprised to see Tony on the other side.

“Sorry were you expecting someone?” He asked.

“No no, just thought you were the pizza guy” you laugh awkwardly.

“No pizza here I’m afraid. Just me. Wanted to check in, see if you’re okay? Didn’t see you in work today”

“It’s was my day off. I’m back in tomorrow”

“Ah right. Good. Well, that’s great then” he turns and goes to leave.

“Would you like to come in for a drink, and maybe some pizza? Seeing as you came all this way.” You ask, surprising yourself with your sudden confidence.

“I don't want to intrude..”

“you wouldn’t be. Ive been on my own all day, it would actually be nice to have some company.”

“Thanks” he smiles and walks past you. You shut the door, silently cursing yourself as you realise that your boss, THE Tony Stark, has now seen you in your paint stained loungewear. You follow him into the open plan kitchen/living room of your apartment and wish you’d cleaned up first. Your paints, brushes and sketchbook still all over the coffee table from earlier and the kitchen messy with baking stuff.

“Sorry about the mess” you apologise, fiddling with the messy bun you’d thrown your hair into this morning, attempting to tidy it up a bit.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not that bad”

You raise your eyebrow at him.

“no really, I’ve seen rooms in much worse states than this after some of the parties I used to have back in the day”

You both laugh and Tony walks over to look at one of the paintings hanging on your wall “this is nice” he says pointing at it and you walk over to stand next to him. The painting is of a beach with the sun setting over the ocean, the orange glow reflecting off the waves and ripples in the water.

“its the beach I used to visit every summer when I was a kid. Some of my favourite memories happened there” you stare at the painting daydreaming about the past. Picnics with your parents, playing fetch with your childhood dog, swimming on really hot days. Tony watches you out the corner of his eye, smiling when he notices the content smile that has appeared on your face. When you suddenly take a breath and snap back into the present he turns his attention back to the painting.

“this is actually one of the first paintings I ever did-“

“you painted this?” Tony interrupts, turning to look at you and you give him a shy nod. “wow, you have a real talent. When you said before that ‘painting didn’t pay the bills’, I presumed that just meant you weren’t very good”

You burst out laughing his blunt honestly which takes Tony by surprise.

“no, no what I meant was, the art world is a hard one to get into as an unknown artist. I couldn’t risk waiting around for that big break.”

Tony nods, looking at you thoughtfully.

“can I see some more of your work?” He asks.

“yeah sure, I’ve got some stuff in a folder in my room” you say as you run off toward your bedroom. When you come back out carrying the folder of paintings you notice Tony sitting on the sofa looking through the sketchbook you’d left on your coffee table.

“these are really good y/n, really I mean that.” He says, turning the pages and you take a seat next to him “you’ll have to paint something for me to hang in my office, that place needs brightening up a bit-“ he stops when he reaches a pencil sketch of Steve Rogers and you feel your whole body cringe. “this guy? really, you drew this guy?”

“what, I, uh..” You stutter “..he’s got a good jaw line. It’s very satisfying to draw” you shrink down into the sofa wishing it would swallow you whole, then theres a knock at the door.

“ah that will be the real pizza guy” you say jumping up to walk to the door but Tony stands in your way.

“no let me get it. You get us some drinks. I’ve been here a full five minutes and you’ve still not got me one” he winks at you and you roll your eyes playfully.

As you get glasses out the cupboard and put them on the counter you notice Tony is acting suspiciously. He walks slowly and carefully toward the door, and takes a long look through the peephole before finally opening the door. You presume he’s just always on high alert because of who he is. Being a high profile business man and one of the best known superheroes must mean he’s used to having dangerous people lurking around every corner.

After pouring two drinks you move over to the sofa and place the glasses down on the coffee table and hiding your sketchbook under the sofa. Tony appears with the pizza and you quickly move your paints off the table to make space for him to put the box down.

“thanks for grabbing the pizza, you’ve saved me the embarrassment of anyone else seeing the state of me right now” you say gesturing to your clothes, as he takes a seat next to you and you hand him his drink.

He looks you up and down, shrugs and says “I’ve seen worse” and winks at you. He holds his glass up for you to toast and you hold your glass up too.

“to you, and your weird fascination with Captain America’s chin” he teases you and you shake your head at him.

“I am not toasting to that” you laugh

- - - - -

An hour later you’d both got through the whole pizza and almost a whole bottle of wine, talking and laughing the whole time as Tony told you about some of the things he used to get up to pre Iron Man. You get up to carry the empty pizza box over to the bin in your kitchen and refill both your glasses.

“hey what’s for dessert” Tony shouts over to you.

“well I was just about to start making brownies before you arrived”

“I was only kidding about dessert but actually I would kinda love some brownies right now” Tony says, getting up and walking over to join you in the kitchen.

“well I guess we could bake some?” you say half joking but Tony grabs your apron off the hook on the wall and ties it around his waist which makes you laugh.

“what are you laughing at, I'm ready to learn”

“wait, you’ve never made brownies before? Not even as a kid?” You ask in disbelief and Tony shakes his head.

“my family weren’t really into that sort of thing” he shrugged.

“well then Mr Stark, I am about to change your life” you say, handing him a wooden spoon and he smiles at you.

Tony mixed together the melted chocolate and butter with the eggs and sugar while you measure out the flour into a bowl. You handed him the flour to add into the mixture but as he poured it in he dropped some of the flour onto the arm of his suit and you laughed covering your mouth with your hand.

“oh you think thats funny do you?” He says and he takes a hand a handful of flour and chucks it at you, laughing. You gasp and wipe some of the flour off yourself before grabbing a handful and throwing it back at him. He grabs your hand mid air and pulls you slightly but you trip over your own feet and stumble into him. He catches you and the laughter dies down as you both look into each others eyes, faces dangerously close to each other. His eyes flicker down to your lips and he moves in slightly. But then he stops, and lets you go. Clearing his throat and taking a step back. You take a deep breath and brush some flour off yourself.

“well, uh, this was fun” he says, slightly awkward “but, I should probably be going now”

“yeah, yeah..” you agree walking him to the door “it’s getting late”

He stops at the door and turns around to smile at you.

“thanks for the pizza, and for the baking lesson”

“no problem” you smile “i’ll bring some of the brownies in to work tomorrow”

“Good night y/n” he says walking out the door

“Good night”

You close the door behind him and press your forehead against it, replaying what just happened in your head. Did you really just almost kiss your boss? And did he almost kiss you back? Did you overstep your boundaries even inviting him in tonight? Would things be awkward tomorrow?

You let out a frustrated sigh and go back to the kitchen to finish baking and tidy up the mess from your flour fight. You know there’s no point thinking about it tonight but you also know that you won’t be able to think of anything else.

Part Three

Taglist: @brownbuble

#marvel fanfic #iron man x reader #iron man fanfic #Tony Stark imagine #iron man imagine #Robert downey jr #tony stark x reader #tony stark #tony stark fanfic #the intern

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hogwarts-no1whore · 4 years ago

Text

Warnings- mention of injury, fainting, small mention of eating, written really badly but it’s my first attempt so we move

Summer loving...

Oliver wood x reader

Your POV

I hate Summer. Its too hot. Not to mention its exam season.

This summer is particularly horrible. It's arguably the hottest one to date. And yet here I sit, or rather here I hover above the ground, as Oliver Wood drones on about practice. Yet again he insists on forcing the entire team onto the pitch in faint worthy conditions, he said something about being better than Slytherin with all the extra practice. Whatever it was I wasn't really listening, my thoughts lay elsewhere, specifically by the black lake basking in the cool waters. Or at breakfast and how I was wishing I'd eaten something before rushing out here.

How I wish he wasn't so obsessed with Quidditch, how I wish he'd take notice of me for more than my ball handling skills or my passing ability. To be considered as a person rather than a player on a team. Still one can but dream of such a time when Oliver Wood is not infatuated with the broomstick sport.

"hey Y/L/N, you gonna join us or just sit there" George shouts at me taking me out of my daze. I look around to see everyone else high above me waiting for me. "erm yes coming sorry" I hastily reply soaring up to join the rest of the team. I fly up next to Fred and wait for Oliver to release the balls, in all honesty I hope this is going to be a quick practice, I feel as though the heats becoming unbearable. "Right everyone, take up your positions and lets go" Oliver utters before releasing the bludgers and tossing the quaffle to me.

I speed off towards the goal where Oliver is now situated pretending to be the opposition. I pass the quaffle to Johnson who slips it into the left hand hoop. "Come on Olly, pay attention" I mock with a slight smile. He simply scoffs at me and turns his focus elsewhere.

After what feels like an eternity of flying up and down, dodging bludgers and the like I see Ginny flying down at something, I really hope she's got the snitch because I simply cannot take much more of the heat....

"Y/N" someone shouts but I don't hear them.

And then it all went black.

Olivers' POV

"Y/N" I shout but it's too late, she's falling from a dangerous height. I don't think I just act, flying directly for her, hoping and praying I can reach her before she almost certainly hits the ground. I can't make it, she's falling too fast, I pull out my wand and utter "Arresto Momentum" to slow her fall. She hits the ground with a soft thud and the entire team flies down to her aid. I cannot help but feel guilty about making her train in the heat. It's quite apparent she's fainted from heat exhaustion, watching her swoon and fall like that, I could never have lived with myself if the fall had been fatal. My dear sweet Y/N.

"Oliver???? Helllooooo earth to captain?" Fred interrupts my thoughts. "infirmary now!" I shout picking her limp body in my arms and rushing towards the medical wing. My feet carried me swiftly towards the looming castle, she felt so light, so delicate, like if I dropped her, she'd smash into a thousand pieces. I had never run so fast in all my years of being at Hogwarts, never had I felt the need to run and to cry more so now. I ran through the court yard which was thankfully empty and pushed on down the never-ending corridor leading to the infirmary. The rest of the team were trailing behind me yelling at me to slow down. But I couldn't. How could I when the girl I have loved since I was 13 was lying limp in my arms? No, I had to keeping going.

The doors to the hospital wing came into view but they were blocked by some irritating first years giggling about god knows what. "move!" I yelled. Surprisingly they did just that, I'm not sure if it was me being so angry in my tone or the fact I was carry a body, either way I was glad. "I need help" I yelled as the white doors swung open hitting the walls as they did. The smell of disinfectant and healing potions filled my senses as Madam Pomfrey came rushing over to me. Her eyes flew from me to Y/N, worry laced her eyes as she ushered me to a free bed where a carefully laid her. After I explained what happened, Madam Pomfrey set to work running tests and to my utmost horror the next words out of her mouth were "there's nothing magic nor I can do, its heat fatigue, she will come around on her accord, in the mean time she will need to rest and stay here"

It's funny. She looks so at peace like this. It reminds me of a muggle story my mum used to read to me, sleeping beauty. Only true loves kiss can awaken the sleeping princess. Worth a shot right?

I leant over her bed, gently brushing some loose hair out of her face and let my lips softly graze over hers. They were warm and soft, she tasted like cherries which I assumed was down to her lip balm. She was never without it. I let soft scent of cherries engulfed me. I was in such a daze I didn't feel her start to kiss back...

Your POV

Someone was kissing me. That was my first thought upon regaining my ability to be aware of the world around me. Broomstick wax. The leather of a brand new Quaffle. Cinnamon gum. They were the first smells to captivate my nose. I knew who was kissing me instantly and so without much need for further thinking I kissed back. I don't think he realised at first but once the kiss was broken as my need to breath took over I heard him gasp.

Third person POV

Oliver gasped as the kiss was broken. He watched carefully as your Y/E/C eyes fluttered open and a large smile was plastered to your face. "Y/N im so sorry I wasn't thinking and..." he trailed off running a hand through his already messed up hair. "Oli" you began. "Don't be sorry ive been wanting to do that for years" You shyly confessed. A deep red blush crept over your face as you met his eyes. His gorgeous brown eyes that were filled with astonishment flickered from your eyes to your lips and back.

He lent in again and whispered "me too Y/N, me too" before crashing his lips into yours again. The kiss was full of passion and hunger and only broke when Oliver could no longer take the burning in his lungs from lack of oxygen.

"I can't believe it took Y/N almost dying for this to happen" a red-haired boy spoke up from the foot of your bed. You look up and blushed a crimson red when your eyes landed on the entire team who had no doubt watched that whole exchange. "shut it Fred why do you have to ruin a perfectly good moment" Oliver fired back. Everyone burst into laughter before leaving the 'happy couple' alone.

Maybe summer was about to be your favourite season after all.

#hogwarts #quidditch #oliver wood #summer #injury #weasley twins

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therainbowwillow · 4 years ago

Text

https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/639917088173113344/alright-its-been-a-hot-second-since-ive-written -Part 1

Okay, Hadestown Fanfic With Crossovers Where Orpheus’s Terms are Different and Also ✨Olympus Drama✨Part 2/???

I think my greatest struggle in writing is... posting it. And deciding on a consistent plot. That too. Expect changes. Edit: Well, well, well, there’s a draft feature on this website? I might just migrate to Tumblr.

I may make an overview post at some point so you don’t actually have to read this. A long TL;DR probably, because it is written by Miss What-Is-Concise. My TL;DRs need TL;DRs of their own. Anyway, I’m rambling, so let me actually get started.

Preemptive:

-Orpheus is Apollo’s kid in this version, as he is in many retellings. He is raised by Hermes.

-Hermes works for Hades, bringing souls to the underworld. He resides away from Olympus to fulfill said duties.

-Dionysus’ parentage is by Persephone and Hades. (Because there’s no way Persephone’s screwing Zeus in the other room. Also this is his more underworld-connected family ties.)

-You drink from the River Lethe, according to some ancient authors, to forget your past life. And if Virgil can blatantly rip off Homer, I’m stealing ideas too.

-Would you look at that? This “short” AU fic is expanding by the minute. Hades and Persephone’s are true to the musical and that’s about it at this point.

Eurydice drags Orpheus to his feet. He leans against her. “Eurydice...” he mumbles. “I... I’m so sorry.”

“I signed my life away. That wasn’t up to you. We need to get going.”

Orpheus nods. “Why’s he letting us go? I don’t remember... anything really. I sang. Then I...” he turns away. “It felt like I was sitting in a fire. I couldn’t sing, I couldn’t think. It was unbearable.”

“I’ll never let them lay a finger on you again.”

“You didn’t answer me. Why’s he letting us go?” he asks, softly.

“He’s not,” Persephone mutters. “He wants you to fail. Then he’ll have a canary for his mines.”

Orpheus shudders at the thought. “My song... I thought... Persephone, I think I rewrote every note a hundred times. I lost the love of my life for that melody. And... it failed.”

“Just walk, okay? Please. Once we’re out of here, none of it matters,” Eurydice pleads.

“H-how far?” He’s almost afraid to ask. The original walk had been a grueling task. This one, he thinks, might be a hundred times harder. Whatever Hades had done to him... the effects hadn’t faded. Eurydice must already think he’s a selfish, naive, worthless idiot, he’s certain, so he plans to stay quiet. Unless it gets bad. Only if he needs to tell her, he decides.

“A mile, maybe a little more,” Persephone replies. “We’ll rest in my old greenhouse. It’ll be a roof over our heads at least. Don’t look back,” she warns. “Hades’ servants will follow us. Don’t give them a reason to think we’re afraid.”

Eurydice wraps and arm around Orpheus’s waist. “Tell me if you need a break.” He nods.

———————————

Hades sinks into his office chair. A painting of his wife hangs on the wall. He’s posing at her side. They’re smiling. She’s holding a bouquet of flowers. He rises and storms over to the portrait. He rips it of the wall and it crumples to the ground, torn in two.

He glances out the window. He’s viewing his realm from the highest point in Hadestown. The landscape is as flat as a sheet of paper. No hills, no mountains, only rivers, flowing by some force that is not the gravity of the overworld. His tower is the only peak. And the smokestacks of his factories.

This is his realm. All of it is his. Every inch of dirt, every scrap of metal and gemstone beneath the ground. Every sullen face of every tortured worker who’d sold his soul away. The wall is his too. And the Styx, which wraps it 7 times over. He’s a king and his castle is protected by the highest of palisades and yet... that boy... that son of Apollo had taken it all from him. What is a king without his iron fists? Now he had shown softness, now he’d shown weakness. A crack in the wall will bring the whole structure down, he thinks to himself. But what else can he do? Persephone is his wife. She is *his*. To imagine a thousand winters and springs and summers without her...

The underworld is lonely. He cannot lose her. But he cannot let the boy escape. Nor his lover, nor his traitorous workers. If he shows them an inch, they’ll take a mile. Worse, the traitors were right. Orpheus is alive. Orpheus is not his. That poet is all that stands in the way of his kingdom. And like any barrier, he will fall. How? Hades wonders. How can he kill the boy, break his spirit and punish him without losing Persephone? What blinds his wife? he asks himself. That silly little song had manipulated him, taken hold of his heart like alcohol. And Persephone loves it. She believes, truly believes, that Orpheus deserves to live for the very reason he must die.

Hades slams his fists against the window. Perhaps she was right. He ought to follow in his brothers’ footsteps. Forget his wife. That simple action would be enough to fix everything. If he let her go, she’d have nothing to hold over him. He wouldn’t be her puppet. He’d kill Orpheus, chain up the boy’s foolish lover and send Achilles and Patroclus to the darkest mines, and force them to work day and night apart from each other. Sure, the bunch of them would whine like kenneled puppies, but he could take their cries. They’d forget everything if he could get them to drink from the Lethe. Orpheus would be easy. Threaten his pretty little muse and he’d be scrambling to his knees. Eurydice would be nothing without her poet. Achilles would resist. He’d fight a millennia before he or his lover bowed before their king. But they too would fall.

Only Persephone stands in the way, he knows. He likes to imagine he has her under his control. But he knows it’s a lie. The food of the underworld she’d eaten, it didn’t confine her as well as he’d hoped. Sure, her time above ground would be made unbearable, but she would still be out of his grasp. She could leave. She would leave. He knows her threats aren’t empty. So he’ll find a way around her. He needs her to come back. Without Persephone’s warmth, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

He watches the crowd of shades begin to disperse and it dawns on him. Orpheus gives them hope, but he makes them afraid. How many deceased reside in Hadestown? It’d take a hundred thousand mortal lifetimes to count. And how many had stepped forward to help the poet boy? Two. Among that crowd, he knew, were great heroes. Heroes who once resided in Elysium. And still, only two shades had betrayed him. Two out of a trillion. Hades smiles. He won’t need to kill Orpheus. One of his workers can take the fall. Even Achilles won’t succeed in standing against an army the size of his. And Hades will win. His wife will see that some dead man has killed the singer to appease his king. She’ll suspect, but without proof, what does she have on him? Eurydice will see she has no choice. Once the boy belongs to him, Orpheus is his to manipulate. She’ll be trapped. Achilles, for all of his strength, is nothing alone. Without his dear Patroclus, he’ll give in. And so Hades plots.

————————————

Hermes, god of roads and messages, receives word of his adoptive son’s predicament with astounding speed. And he fears for Orpheus. But Hermes guides souls to the underworld, to Hades. To betray the king of Hadestown by helping the boy would be to lose his work and by extension, his freedom to live on the railroad. Without an excuse, he’d be back on Olympus, listening to Zeus and Hera’s endless bickering, watching Ares and Aphrodite humiliate themselves, and helping Dionysus comfort Apollo over the death of the mortal pretty boy of the week. And they wonder why Artemis avoids the damn place at all costs. In fact, he’s stuck on Olympus right now, called to the counsel by Zeus? Athena? He can’t remember. Some mortal breaking some rule.

Orpheus is more important than the meeting. His messenger had interrupted the counsel meeting to bring him word of the poor boy’s situation. He’s not sure how to cover this one up. No one was meant to interrupt important matters as this. Plus, he’d given the kid directions straight into Hadestown, which was the opposite of what his contract with Hades had said. He wasn’t allowed to barter for the return of mortal souls and he wasn’t allowed to assist mortals in doing the same.

“Hermes!” Zeus booms. “What is the meaning of this?”

He rolls his eyes. “Begone, messenger.” He slips a note into the man’s hands: ‘Tell Orpheus I’m coming.’ “Nothing, father. Just... matters of work. You know how Hades is. And don’t get me started on Thanatos! I’m late by half a second and-“

“Enough! I’ve half a mind to banish you from this counsel.” Hermes smiles. His excuses have succeeded.

Dionysus laughs, considerably beyond tipsy on his own wine. “You mind if I go too? I’m sick of this awful alcohol and I’ve got something far better back home.”

“Dionysus, wasn’t there an agreement we made?” Athena inquires, icily. “You cannot come to our meetings drunk.”

He smiles. “Well, you see,” he snaps his fingers and shakes his head, washing away his intoxication. “I didn’t come drunk. I *got* drunk while here.” He raises a flask and shakes it, refilling the canteen instantly. “There’s a difference.”

Athena grits her teeth. “Father, one more of these counsels and I swear...”

“And husband,” Hera pipes up, “We were going to address that nymph girl you’re always hanging around?”

Zeus flushes a deep shade of red. “Out. All of you. We’re done here.”

Hermes rises, forcing himself to keep his composure, at least until he’s out of sight. He steps into the sunlight that dazzles Olympus, treks the road to the edge of the mortal realm and... “Hermes?”

“Gods have mercy,” he mutters. He turns. “Apollo.” The god is puffy-eyed, probably from crying. Even Hermes had to agree, his latest lover had been gorgeous. Hyacinthus, was his name, if he remembered correctly. Apollo himself had called the counsel to beg for mortality when the boy had died and he hadn’t found another for what? Seventeen years? Spare for Orpheus’s muse mother, of course. Still, this was unusual, even for Apollo’s mellow dramatic self.

“You’re afraid.”

“Don’t... don’t do that, would you?” Hermes snaps, recoiling. “Yeah, yeah, medicine and all, but I don’t want you telling me what I’m thinking.”

Apollo dips his head in acknowledgment. “It’s my son, isn’t it?”

Hermes shakes his head. One word to Zeus and... all Prometheus did was hand over a spark. This was treason. “No, just work.”

Apollo tilts his head. “You’re lying.”

“What cause would I have for lies? I cannot keep Hades waiting, now.” He whirls away from Apollo’s gaze.

“Perhaps... treason?” Apollo inquires. Hermes’s eyes widen.

“Strong accusations.” He forces his voice not to shake.

“I won’t turn you in.” Liar, Hermes thinks. He wants to get on Zeus’s good side. A chance at getting his lover boy back.

“Correct. You wouldn’t have anything to turn me in for,” he tells the son of Leto.

“Orpheus’s wife... no, fiancée. No... I don’t know! The girl. She’s dead. Orpheus’s song is a failure. I heard it from Olympus. Lovely, really. But not nearly enough to convince Hades to let her go. Nothing is.”

Hermes turns again to face his half-brother. “Keep your voice down, would you? If Zeus hears a word of this-“

Apollo cuts him off. “And you helped him. You broke your contract and you know Hades better than anyone, other than Persephone, if they still talk these days. He’s crueler than he once was. They say Elysium itself is no more, that there’s only Tartarus now. You’re afraid of his wrath. And you’re afraid of Zeus. He’ll punish you too. You saw what he did to Asclepius. Struck by lightning for treason against Hades. And that was before this... winter,” he says, softer now.

“I don’t want a lecture, Apollo. What do you want?” Hermes glares at the god.

“I want a deal.”

Hermes narrows his eyes. “What kind of deal?”

“You break me in to the underworld-“

“No. I’m in enough danger as is.”

“Hear me out.”

“I said no!” Hermes steps back onto the road. Apollo grabs his wrist.

“I can get you out of trouble. Dionysus!” The wine god steps out of the woods.

“I’m due to visit my mother. Hades won’t prevent me from entering his realm, I’m his son,” Dionysus explains. “You and Apollo are there on Demeter’s ask to learn why Persephone is late. You, because you’re the god of messages and Apollo because he was available, on leave from his duties to mourn.”

Hermes groans. “The walk is far. Even if you’re me. Days on end of moping and drunken ramblings for a plan almost certain to backfire? I said no.”

Apollo smiles. “Then I’ll turn you in,” he says simply.

“You won’t. Orpheus is your blood. You’d put him in more danger. He knew of my contract and he let me break it. You’d add a charge against him. And it’s me. You cared once, didn’t you?”

“You know I would. You said so yourself. I visited the poet boy twice, maybe. And you? Ask yourself: when was the last time you optionally visited Olympus? But Hyacinthus, I loved for years. If I turn you in, I’m one step closer to him. On Zeus’s good side again.” Hermes shifts on his feet. “It’ll be good to have a doctor at the boy’s side too, seeing as your instructions just about starved him to death.”

Hermes glares at him. “Don’t.”

“You know it’s true. So? Let’s go or you trade places with Prometheus.”

“Fine,” he mutters, through a clenched jaw.

“Good. Now, this is on our terms, Hermes. I will aid your son because you’ve always been good to me and because he is my blood. If he gets in my way, he belongs to Hades.”

#hadestown au #orphydice #hadestown #hadestown fanfic #therainbowwrites

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peachyteabuck · 5 years ago

Text

study buddy, part iv

series summary: after crushing on you since freshman orientation, Natasha finally gets the guts to ask you help you pass her postmodern lit midterm, to which you agree.

chapter summary: for the first time in her life, natasha romanoff freaks out about a test grade. luckily, you’re there to coach her through it.

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: 4,253

trigger warnings: talk of past drug abuse, mention of sexual assault, heavy smut, fluff, unhappy childhood mention

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part one, part two, part three

You’re already soaking when Nat teased the head of the toy at your entrance, your arousal evident by the sounds of the silicon as it rubbed against your slick, smooth folds. With each drag a whine escaped you, each second that passed by met with another flood of heat across your skin. “Ple-ease,” you sniffled as fat tears welled up in your eyes and your voice broke from overuse. “Please, Mommy, please”

Natasha just let out a hearty laugh, moving the strap away and replacing it with her fingers. As she spoke, she just barely dipped them inside of you. “Oh, c’mon baby girl. Was that not enough for you? Do want Mommy to give you more? Huh? Are you such a greedy little slut you can’t appreciate what your Mommy gives you?”

You nodded furiously, your “yesyesyesyesyes”s just above a low whisper as you rolled your hips. Your words slowly but surely turned to babble. “yes mommy yes please I’m your little slut I want more please give me more.”

Natasha laughed again as she leaned forward to invade your line of sight once more.

“Mm, might have to be careful and fuck you nice and slow,” she mumbled into your collarbone, the bruises still deep purple. The thin layer of sweat that had formed there made her smile. “Don’t want to break this perfect little thing I’ve been gifted.”

You shook your head violently, grabbing at the sheets so hard your fingers went cold and where each bone met the next ached. “No, no no please, please fuck me Mommy please please touch me please fuck me please.”

Natasha remained unconvinced by your whining. “You poor little thing. I just neglect you so much. Don’t I?” You struggled to speak as she moved to straddle your waist. The heavy toy moved as she did so, occasionally hitting your stomach as she sat upon you. “Hm. Maybe you should get yourself off if you don’t want to answer me, is that a fair punishment?”

You still didn’t respond with the words Natasha wanted, mind too fucked out to sob properly, let alone speak. Still, the fear of disappointing her cut through the fog, and you nodded weakly.

The woman above you smiled, the eponymous image of something wicked that wanted to make you come in whatever way she saw fit. Beside you, placed expertly by Natasha with equal distance between each toy, rested at least four different vibrators of varying strength and shape. If you were lucky enough to get off at your own hand, it’s unlikely Natasha would allow you to choose which weapon will lead to your destruction. Somehow, that thought is worse than anything else she could do to you; forced to bring yourself to the edge (or deny yourself such release) without the dignity of choice but ultimate control over choice of action seems like stories of ole, when disgraced knights caught in their desertion were forced to sacrifice themselves in front of large crowds with the weapon chosen by their ruler.

Empty promises of autonomy, spiritless last chances at reclaiming pride…that’s what they all were.

But you still can’t find it in yourself to complain when Natasha slipped the most powerful of the set into your hands – a battery powered Hitachi colored a matte black – and told you to edge yourself. Your throat burned by then, each breathy moan felt like it’d been ripped out of you with acrylic lesbian porno nails. That sure as Hell didn’t stop you, though, from moaning with each roll of your hips as the woman above you flipped it on.

It didn’t stop Natasha, either, as she cradled your tear-stained face with her pussy-wet hands and told you not to stop until she said so.

“C’mon, baby,” she cooed. Her lips grazed across your cheek as she did so. “Do what you’re told, lemme watch you. Show me how cute you are when you get yourself off.”

It’s so much so quick, every sensation making your whole body shake violently. Natasha mocked you as it became too much, sneering when she pulled the toy away from your center and you screamed in protest. “Can the little slut not take it, hm? Does Mommy not letting you cum make you sad?”

You didn’t say anything, terrified of worse punishment.

Natasha slapped your chest, leaving your breasts angry and hot. “Answer me.”

“Yes!” You cried. “Yes Mommy I want to cum, please let me cum!”

Natasha just rolled her eyes. “What you need doesn’t matter. And keep whining like that…” she paused to pinch one of your nipples and ignored your wails. “I’ll really give you something to cry about.”

This continued three, four, five more times (how many you still can’t exactly be sure), each worse than the last. You’d get there, right at the peak, right at the edge of the mountain, right before one jumped into an ocean, and then-

“Stop. Now. You’re done.”

And then you’d cry and whine high in your throat and thrash around. Somewhere between your lip starting to bleed from you biting it and your drool forming a pool on the sweat-slick pillow she started to fuck you, a horrible and terrifying slow pace that was steady and painful and holy shit you didn’t even know they made fake cocks that big.

Natasha laughed as a particularly poignant thrust almost made you lose feeling in your hands and feet, your strangled weeps sounds that only encouraged her. “There we go,” she murmured, reaching over to grab a bullet vibrator before she turned it on and slipped it under the strap on. She only got more feral, fucking you harder as the vibrations gave her more pleasure than she expected, more pleasure than she ever could’ve dreamed of.

It was almost too much, the feeling of your body under hers and the sounds of your moaning and begging mixed with the soreness in her muscles of her abdomen and the tightness just beneath that, the sweet vibrations on her clit and the sight of you – all stretched out with your knees pressed to your heated ears and jaw slack and eyes scrunched shut and hair wild against the pillow and something, something incoherent but still so beautiful falling from your swollen lips.

Some words, not most, but some, she could decipher. “Mommy, mommy, please please don’t stop I’m gonna cum please make me cum.”

And oh, did she make you cum.

It didn’t feel the same as the last time, doesn’t feel as sudden. Deeper almost, earth-shatteringly so.

Natasha’s wearing the same shit-eating grin, though her eyes are much more hazy and tears prick the corners of them as well as your own.

“You keep soaking my sheets like this, babygirl, Mommy’s gonna have to make you pick up the tab,” she chuckles as she pulls out of you.

For a moment you just laid there, twitching and gasping as the aftershocks rolled through you, as your pussy clenched around nothing and as your eyes cried without any tears. You couldn’t speak – each time you tried the words fell away from your brain before they could be said.

“You good, baby?” she cooed, rubbing her thumb over your chin and bottom lip.

All you could do is mmm as the world slowly rebuilds itself around you. Natasha chuckles at that, laughed as she pulled the strap-on off and tossed it in the bathroom to be cleaned later. At that moment, she simply grabbed what she needed for aftercare – including the special lotion she had bought for you when Sam had dragged her to Bed, Bath, and Beyond a few days prior.

She cleaned between your legs with a washcloth dampened with cool water – something that normally made you flinch and hiss, but then did nothing as you laid there and panted with your eyes firmly shut.

“You’re always so good for me, baby,” she cooed once she was done. You were too tired to do anything except give a soft smile in response. “You want to take a nap before we gotta leave?”

You were asleep before Natasha could finish her question. She chuckled nonetheless, and kissed your temple before throwing the cloth in her dirty laundry bin (one that you bought her when you had discovered – horrified beyond what you thought was possible – that she just piled all of her dirty clothes into one corner “like some sort of thirteen year old boy at summer camp,” as you had said). She curled up under the thick, heavy blankets with her legs around your waist and arms around your chest.

It was nice, the silence. Natasha welcomed the sleep that pulled at her eyelids, and soon the two of you were asleep just as the rest of the world roared to life.

The alarm – one of several you had in your phone that go off at oddly specific times – woke the both of you with some loud jingling that may or may not be the music box version of some hit emo song that was popular around the time Natasha and you would’ve been in middle school.

It’s almost an hour after that when you finally regained control over your body, heart returning to a normal pace and legs not aching (too badly) every time you tried to walk. As you slipped on the easiest clothes possible (see: a hood of Natasha’s and some old sleep shorts of yours), you finally noticed Natasha offering you your phone.

“Let me walk you to class?” she more suggested than asked.

It was sweet, and you grinned widely at her and nodded wordlessly as you reached for your phone before you grabbed your backpack and she grabbed her own. It was an interesting juxtaposition, to see your powder blue Jansport artfully stuffed to brim with colored pens, notebooks, sticky notes, highlighters, and your laptop with exactly one (1) sticker (of a cat trying to climb an adorable small cactus) verses Nat’s beat-up backpack that only held one five-subject notebook, a pencil case with five (5) black ballpoint pens, two Mountain Dews, three Monsters, and a half-drank carton of orange juice. Maybe it was dorky to giggle as Nat’s thumb rubbed circles onto the back of your hand, but you didn’t really care. Little butterflies populated your stomach and limbs, but they aren’t nervous. They were too excited to be nervous, preoccupied with the intimidating pretty girl who had accepted you into her tight personal bubble.

The walk to campus wasn’t far, cliques of freshman with lanyards around their necks and frat boys wearing Supreme became more frequent as you neared the on-campus housing area.

When you breach the official campus it’s another ten minutes until you make your way into the hall where your class is being held. Just as the two of you sit down in your seats way in the back, the professor comes in, calmly places his light brown leather briefcase on the table at the front of the class, and then coolly announces that the class will be having a “surprise assessment.”

“You’ll get forty-five minutes once you hear the sound of the timer starting, any unfinished assessments will receive a failing grade,” the professor said with some paradoxical mix of apathy and malice. With each passing second, the lecture hall becomes more and more ablaze with increasing heart beats and sweaty palms.

Immediately, you could feel Natasha tense next to you. As the TA helped pass the quizzes out, you tried to take a moment to grasp her shaking hand. As you wrap your fingers around hers, you tried to reassure her. “It’ll be okay,” you mouthed. “I promise.”

Natasha doesn’t say anything, just sucks in a deep breath and clicks the (your) mechanical pencil to push the lead forward before writing down her name and the date onto the misleadingly thin stack of perfectly stapled paper.

The TA is a dick, even you’d admit that. But she sure does know how to perfect mundane tasks.

As you start on your own quiz, you realize that this isn’t that hard. It’s a few multiple-choice questions, a short essay about Lacan’s influence on Butler. Most of the short-answers questions focus on Baudrillard’s theory about the Gulf War – specifically the role of the media. You’d studied for this, you’ve studied with Natasha for this. Sure, the question on Zizek’s death drive might be a bit tricky, but you’re sure she can figure them out – she’s smart, you’ve explained this to her several times.

With that final thought, you began.

The finished “assessments” were dropped off on the long oak desk set in the center front of the lecture hall, the messy collection of hand-written essays balanced precariously on top of each other – not unlike a late-stage Jenga game with a $1500 an hour fee.

Your walk home with Natasha was just as tense as expected, just as silent and robotic as you’d think she would be.

“For what it’s worth,” you said as she opened the door to her homestead. “I think you probably did well.”

Natasha, in all her dismalness, said nothing.

It didn’t take long for her to rid herself of her pants and position herself on her side of the bed with her laptop opened on her stomach and bottle of alcohol opened in her hand.

She furiously refreshed her grade portal exactly once every 10.76 seconds - just long enough for the page to load, her to log back in, see the lack of grade, sigh, take a swig of dessert wine, grimace at the cheap taste of said dessert wine, and refresh the page again once more.

You were sitting next to her on her bed, trying to proofread and edit the day’s biostatistics notes. Mostly you were putting formulas in their proper formatting, redoing graphs, and color-coding headers and vocab – something you did all the time.

Though, now this relatively-easy study technique had become much harder to do than normal because you were doing it one-handed, your non-dominate one resting under the soft, white t-shirt of the anxious redhead – trapped between the heat of her skin and the fabric adorning her body. Occasionally, you’d run your thumb over the knobs of her spine as an act of comfort, but you’re not sure how helpful the gesture is.

Eventually, you tried to reason with her.

“You know the prof said he’d have them by 8:30 tonight and it’s…” you checked the small clock in the corner of her laptop screen. “Five. Fifteen. And fifteen, sixteen…why do you have the seconds showing on your clock?”

Natasha sighed before taking a particularly long drink of the overly sweet alcohol. “I just…” she shrugged. “I’m just super worried about this, okay? I don’t want to do poorly on this assessment. It’s just important to me.”

You nodded silently before you closed your designated biostatistics notebook, placed it under the nightstand, and curled up into your lover’s side. You were wearing a light pink sweater with a matching headband, black cotton panties, and fuzzy white socks. Natasha placed her face into your shoulder and inhaled the complementary, flowery scents of your deodorant and body wash, pressing her skin into the comforting fabric.

“I get it,” you told her. “You want to do well. Do you want a distraction, or…?”

Natasha sighed, shut her laptop, and pushed it to the carpeted floor. “I don’t even know. I feel like if I don’t think about it then I don’t care and then I’m gonna fail because the magical almighty karma I’ve delicately balanced will tumble on top of me like a Jenga tower.”

For a moment you didn’t speak, unable to find the precise verbal response to such a poetic string of words.

“I just meant ‘do you want some head’ but,” Natasha moved to laugh into your shoulder as you tried to finish your thought through your own giggles. “Yeah, that works, too.”

As you both barked laughter into each other’s skin, all the worries that had surrounded her halo of deep red hair seemed to have vanished, dispersed to bother some other college student with a lifetime worth of debt on their shoulders. With the corners of her lips and the thick of her cheeks sore from the sudden happiness, Natasha curled herself into your side with her chin where your arms met the rest of your body. As easy as pre-algebra, your hand found its way through her stress-mused hair and your fingers worked out some of the knots that have found themselves a home atop Natasha’s head.

It’s silent, the only sound in Natasha’s ears the lazy thump, thump, thump of your heart and the occasional rustle of covers as your legs became entangled like the complicated French braids you’d put in other girl’s hair on the rare occasions your mother let you sleep over at a friend’s house. One of the rare childhood memories you don’t need a therapist’s house to reconcile, a smile spred across your face as you remember how your thin, nimble fingers became worth more than gold to the group of long-haired twelve year-olds who couldn’t quite emulate the fanciful hairstyles they found in American Girl magazine.

“Whatcha laughin’ at?” Natasha asked as she ran her fingers over the seam of your sweater.

You shrugged – carefully, as not to displace her head. You said nothing.

Natasha prodded. Whether it was to take her mind off the impending doom of the surprise grade or because she was curious, you didn’t care. “C’mon, you know you can tell me anything, right? Just tell me what you were laughing at!”

Again, you shrugged. “I don’t know, middle school I guess.”

She grimaced, you could feel her scrunched nose even through the thick fabric. “Ugh, middle school. What’s so funny about the worst three years of your life?”

“I had worse years,” you told her honestly. “Had a few good times, is all. Was thinking about the dumb shit I liked and did.”

Natasha immediately pushed herself up, wide eyes bearing into yours. “You, the sweetest and most innocent and wonderful nerd this university has ever known did dumb shit?”

Before you could respond she was pushing into you, bouncing you against the pillows under your back with reckless abandon.

“Tell me!” She nearly screamed. “Tell me! Tell me! Tell me! Tell me! Tell me! Tell me! Tellmetellmetellmetellme!”

You were laughing much too hard to fight her off, simply pushed at her with weak hands ad you hoped the much stronger woman would let up. “Give me as second to breathe and I’ll tell you!”

It took a minute for you to catch your breath, face hurting from such pure happiness.

“My mother was super overprotective and overbearing, but every once and awhile she’d let me go to a sleepover. And I figured out if I could do intricate braids all the girls would want to be my friend, and some of them turned out to be super nice,” you tried to calm your mouse-like heartbeat with deep breathes to no avail. “I was just thinking of those good times.”

“That was a lot more tender than I expected,” Natasha admitted with a huff before she fell onto your chest once more. “I thought you were gonna tell me you like, did drugs or something, like sneaking out at night or whatever.”

You rolled your eyes, your hand resuming its position in her hair. “Nah, I’ve been this way my whole life.”

A beat passed after Natasha released a small humpf and resigned herself to cuddling with someone she would barely hesitate to call “boring.”

You’re the one to fill the silence, hoping to bridge the space between the versions of you Natasha does and does not have the (dis)pleasure of knowing. “You know, you’ve never told me about what you were like before college.”

Natasha shrugged, as she knew what to say but not how to say it. “I don’t know. I wasn’t like, cool or anything. Just super depressed and spent a lot of time doing drugs and coding.”

In a move incredibly unexpected, you touched the pad of your first finger to her nose. Natasha, struck by the sudden intimate contact and your undeniable cuteness, did not know what to do.

“It sounds like you were as boring as me,” you giggled. “Just a lot less sober.”

Natasha let out a small laugh, pushing your hand away. “Boring is a good word,” she mumbles. She’s staring off into space now, thinking about how much that time in her life sucked. Once she skipped school for three days straight to take Adderal and snort coke and hack into a nearby tech startup, a CEO of which had groped a friend of hers at a party a few weeks prior. A few years older and she might have been a member of Anonymous, but instead she was stuck in the basement of her house wishing whatever upper she’d bought from that sketchy kid down the street would kill her.

“Babe,” you said with a low voice. It cut through the thick of her thoughts but didn’t free her from their deathly grasp. “You okay? You need anything?”

Nat visibly snapped out of it, turning back to you with a small smile. “Yeah, I’m,” she exhales deeply. “I’m fine.

She flicked your bottom lip with her thumb and stared at your face with focus you’ve only seen painting her features when she’s typing code or working out the kinks of a program or whatever the fuck it is she does. You’re normally too distracted staring at her to fully process her long-winded explanation of what she does for her internship and classes and job.

She’s too pretty, you couldn’t help it.

“You have the softest lips I’ve ever felt,” Natasha mumbled. Her eyes skipped between your glassy eyes and shallow breaths. “Somehow, every day I find myself more and more enamored by you.”

A lump – in the time Natasha had spoken those first and last words – had formed and lodged itself in your throat. Still, you attempt to find your post-verbal footing in your shared affections.

“That’s the sweetest and most sexually charged thing anyone has ever said to me.”

The pair of you immediately fall into a fit of giggles that has both of your bellies and cheeks aching with pure joy that comes from such a statement. Soon your fit of laughter dies down and a quiet settles over you, one that comforts rather than urks you. It’s a canyon’s worth of time later that Natasha moves back up so your faces are nearly touching.

The kiss she gives you is tender, much more so than any other touch she’d graced you with. It’s not so much a surprise – it’s not as if you had never kissed before – but it is…different.

Your hands are still tangled in Natasha’s shirt, and hers have found themselves on either side of your face.

“This,” she only speaks when you pull away to breathe. “Is an excellent distraction, by the way.”

Again, you release a small giggle that is soon silenced with kisses that soon turn deep and desperate as she pushes you down further into the shitty mattress with her now-displaced hands.

But, as your kisses get keeps and her hands travel South, Natasha takes a moment to come up lay small pecks on your cheeks and nose.

A few moments pass with the pair of you gazing into each other’s eyes as if there were complicated algorithms behind them.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?” she asks – whispering low as if you’re some feral cat she’s trying to trap…or maybe something less morbid. You should probably stop thinking any person trying to give you affection is doing it to ensnare you in a complicated plot for more views on their Snapchat story. Still, as Natasha pushes herself up to kiss you – you can hear the guffaws of the popular senior girls from beyond the bathroom stall you cried in.

“Baby,” Natasha’s voice cut through the memory in jagged motions, enough so that your eyes aren’t screwed shut but your hand still feel the cold of the stall door’s nearly-broken lock that keeps said door closed – the only barrier between you and your tormentors.

“Baby, are you okay?” her voice was genuinely concerned – and the lack of ulterior motive had you sobbing. “C’mon,” Natasha held you close, pressed to her and her soft shirt. “Baby, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

It’s hard to do anything but cry – loudly – as she pets your hair and peppers your face with kisses. Her smooth voice is calming, almost enough to stop the tears from soaking your cheeks – but each trauma from elementary to high school still cut into your blurry vision.

You don’t know exactly when you’re able to stop the flow of tears, but it seems to culminate with your eyelids fluttering shut and body slumping against the woman who holds you so tight.

This, Natasha thought to herself, is heaven.

The woman stayed awake for a little longer, wanting to savor the sweet moment a little longer.

Still, the darkness with your steady breathing and blissfully warm skin soon coaxed her into falling into a sleep deeper and calmer than anything she’d ever experienced before. Somehow, she didn’t even shoot awake when her laptop PINGed when her grade updated. But, then again, how could anything like that matter when she had you?

@stuckys-whore

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