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hrina · 5 years ago

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In The Ring, Pt. IV - Uppercut

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 10.6k REQUESTED: yes!

well lads................this is it 🥺🥺🥺 thank u guys so much for all the love you’ve given this series. i would’ve never expected to receive such a positive response, but u guys rly went above and beyond. i adore u all so much

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

as always, my masterlist and my inbox are both linked in my bio! i worked really hard on this last part! i wanted to make sure it was all perfect, so i hope everyone enjoys it. gentle reminder to reblog the fics you like! it’s a great way to show appreciation as well as give authors more exposure. ok that’s all hehe can’t wait to hear your thoughts! take care 💙💙💙

PART I: Jab

PART II: Cross

PART III: Hook

~*~

March 20, 2021

Harry keeps his promise, and Artie brings your car back around to your place the next day. You sit up straight at the table when you hear the familiar honking of a horn sound from outside. Your feet suddenly seem to have a mind of their own, carrying you out of the kitchen quickly with your father’s confused inquiries ringing in your ears. You open the front door before Artie even has the chance to knock.

“Thanks, Jason,” you tell him, breathless.

He hands you your keys and accepts the quick hug that you bestow upon him. “No problem, little girl. Is everything alright?”

Harry didn’t tell him.

“Yeah,” you lie, nodding. “I just—I had a bit too much to drink last night, that’s all.” Your voice drops an octave. “Don’t tell my dad, okay?”

Artie presses two of his fingertips together and drags them over the seam of his mouth, metaphorically sealing his lips. You smile, your heartbeat returning to its regular pace beneath the confines of your ribs.

You step back, extending an arm and gesturing for him to enter.

“Are you hungry? We were in the middle of eating lunch.”

“Sure,” he says, kicking off his shoes and arranging them against the wall. “Thank you.”

He and your father talk about anything and everything during the meal—boxing, the economy, the basketball game that had aired late last night. You just sit there and eat your food, not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention.

They include you in the conversation for a bit—Artie asks how classes are going, and you tell him that you’re waiting for medical school acceptance (or rejection) letters to start rolling in. Other than that, they don’t bat an eye when you rinse your plate in the sink and politely excuse yourself from the table. You hide behind the fact that you have to work on an assignment that’s due in a week—the paper is worth a third of your grade and it’s crucial that you ace it.

But once you hobble back into your room, you’re crawling into bed and pulling the covers up over your head. You reach around blindly for your phone, snatching it up from where it’s charging on your nightstand. You unlock the device, scrolling through all of the grey messages that pop up right away—sent last night, one after the other, each of them unanswered, growing more and more desperate as the hours pass.

Can we please talk about this?

I’m sorry, please let me explain.

Are you ignoring me?

I know you’re seeing these. Please respond.

And then a final one, dejected and crestfallen, laced with palpable weakness even through the pixels of your screen.

Goodnight.

April 6, 2021

Harry’s on a losing streak.

A five-match losing streak, to be precise.

He’s never been bested this many times in a row. Your father is baffled by it, unsure of why he’s been so distracted in the ring. It’s even more confusing, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s at the gym every single day, lifting weights, practicing his technique, throwing himself into the sport. But once the actual fights roll around, things change. You’re not there, and you’re his lucky charm, and because of that, he finds himself meeting the ground far more often than he’d like to admit.

Your father said that the end of the semester was approaching—as a consequence, you were buckling down with school. Harry supposes that the timing is right, so the pretext must be true. But his opponents don’t know that (nor would they care). Your absence doesn’t stop them from knocking him down with snarling faces and heavy fists. The crowds holler loudly, goading him to get back up, but Harry doesn’t. He refuses to give them the satisfaction of watching him get beaten to a bloody pulp.

He stopped trying to reach out to you a week after the night of the kiss. He composed several texts a day, but each message had been met with silence. He remembers staring down at his phone one time, watching as three grey dots wiggled on the screen for a minute or two before disappearing entirely.

That’s when he gave up. If you didn’t want to talk, fine.

It hurt like hell, though.

And it’s still hurting like hell, even a week and a half later.

You told your father about James. He had mentioned it in passing to Harry, having to end practice earlier than usual because he had to set a court date to deal with some bastard who wouldn’t leave you alone. And that’s comforting, Harry thinks, because at least he knows that you’ll be safe, now.

He just wishes that he could’ve been the one to bring you that bit of solace.

That’s why, when your father invites him over for dinner one night after a particularly strenuous evening of training, he jumps at the opportunity. You’re making lasagna, your father says, having taken a break from studying for exams. Harry agrees to come over, because it’s been a while since he’s had a real, curated, love-infused, home-cooked meal.

And because you’ll be there, too, obviously. But he refrains from letting that incentive slip loose.

His heart is racing nervously when he parks his truck in front of your house. Memories flood his brain, reminding him of what had happened the last time he’d been here—the glint of your necklace under his fingers, the alluring twinkle in your eyes. The softness of your lips against his, the sensation of your nails carding through his hair—

Your father taps on the window of the driver’s seat.

“H?” he says, muffled through the glass. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Harry chokes out, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out of the vehicle. “Yeah, sorry.”

He follows your father up the porch steps, waiting anxiously as the other man unlocks the front door. It swings open; they both step inside. Harry’s eyes widen when your father calls out, “Gioia? I’m home!”

“Hi!” comes your reply.

He freezes when the sound reaches his ears, because he hasn’t heard your voice—much less seen you—in over two weeks. He shuts the door discreetly, removing his shoes and trailing after your father as he pads down the hall. The closer he draws to the kitchen, the more he can smell it—meat, spices, cheese. His stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“Hope you made enough for three,” your father says, entering the room.

Harry lingers behind you, leaning against the wide threshold with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. He’s still a bit sweaty, but he hopes that the lasagna in the oven will mask the musky scent of the perspiration gleaming on his skin.

“Three?” you ask. You’re standing at the sink, your back to them. “Hi, Jason.”

A beat of silence passes, and then—

“Er, not exactly,” Harry grunts.

You stiffen immediately before spinning around. He doesn’t miss the quiet little gasp that leaves your mouth.

Your gaze locks with his, lips parted in surprise, and he can’t help but wonder if coming here was the smartest or the most foolish decision he’s ever made.

~*~

He and your father set the table.

After a few minutes, three plates and three collections of cutlery are laid out over a pristine white cloth. Harry eases into his chair as you carry over a hot tray of lasagna, your hands sheathed in a pair of red oven mittens. You put the pasta down in front of your father, who is sat at the head of the table. He inhales deeply, a small smile forming on his face.

“Smells amazing, sweetheart,” he tells you, nodding in approval. “Even better than your mother’s.”

“That’s a lie,” you tease, chuckling quietly and removing the crimson gloves from your fingers. You cut a large piece from the platter and deposit it onto his dish. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” he says.

He waits patiently as you separate another chunk of pasta for Harry, setting it down on his plate without a word.

“Thank you,” Harry tells you, his voice hoarse.

“You’re welcome,” you say. The response is short, painfully clipped—it makes him wince.

As soon as everyone has food in front of them, you sit down in your chair, reaching for the fork and the knife resting a few inches away from your dish. Before you can dig in, however, you pause, lifting your chin and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Shit,” you murmur. “Forgot the drinks.”

“There’s juice in the fridge, I think,” your father says through a mouthful of pasta.

“No.” You wave his suggestion away. “How about some wine? I’ll grab a bottle from the cellar.”

“Alright.” He nods, but then speaks again as you stand. “Wait—I think the treadmill in the basement is blocking the door. Harry—,” Harry’s head snaps up, nostrils flaring at the mention of his name, “—would you mind going with her? She won’t be able to move it by herself.”

“Uh,” he says stupidly. “Yeah, sure.”

He quickly excuses himself from the table, glancing over at you to register your reaction. Your expression is stony, betraying nothing. You swallow heavily, looking away and marching quickly out of the kitchen. He follows you without another word, hot on your heels.

The basement is dimly-lit, stocked with a few shelves of non-perishable foods and household supplies. Harry remains silent as you make your way over to the far wall, approaching the dark grey treadmill pressed against the door of the cellar. You place both hands on the side of the machine, giving it a firm push and grunting when it budges only an inch.

“You going to help me, or what?” you ask, casting an expectant glance at Harry from over your arm.

He blinks. “Right.”

Together, the two of you manage to ease the treadmill a few feet to the left. It’s enough space for you to open the door of the wine cellar and slip inside. Darkness envelopes your bodies, dissolving only when a small click! echoes through the still air. A moment later, the alcove is illuminated in a dull glow, compliments of the scrawny yellow bulb hanging from the ceiling.

You release the thin string attached to the light, turning around and gasping when you find Harry perched directly behind you. Your chests brush together—the contact sends sparks whizzing down his spine. You spin back around quickly, clearing your throat and scanning all of the different bottles balanced on the shelves.

“Thanks for your help,” you say dryly. “You can go back upstairs, now.”

“I’m good,” Harry mutters.

He clasps his hands behind his back as you trail your index finger along dozens of cream-coloured labels. Your hair is gathered in a low ponytail; a few shorter, wispier strands peek out from behind your ears. You’re not wearing makeup, today—and why would you, Harry thinks, when you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?

“So,” he starts, itching to break the silence, “your dad told me that you’re filing a restraining order against James.”

“Yeah,” you reply curtly. He waits for you to continue, but you say nothing else.

“Feel better now that you’ve come clean?” he questions. Immediately, he knows that it’s the wrong thing to ask. But it’s out there, now, and he can’t exactly take it back.

A hollow laugh tumbles off of your tongue. Behind you, Harry notices the way you shake your head in disdain.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say under your breath.

“What was that?” He cocks an eyebrow challengingly, frowning at your tone.

“I said that you’re ridiculous,” you gripe, whipping around and fixing him with a fiery glare. “Need me to repeat it again?”

“If that means you’ll finally be speaking to me, then yeah, go for it,” he snaps, folding his arms over his chest.

“I—,” you break off, surprised by the bite in his rebuttal. Harry clenches his jaw when you turn back around. Your hand quivers as you reach for a random bottle of red wine. “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“When, then?” he demands, taking a step closer. His front skims along your shoulder blades, and when you face him once more, your eyes widen in shock at the close proximity of your bodies. The little room suddenly feels much smaller, walls looming forward and closing you in. Your chest swells as you suck in a deep breath.

“When are we finally going to fucking talk about this?” Harry presses, meeting your gaze. Desperation drips from every syllable of his query.

You purse your lips, exhaling raggedly.

“Soon.”

A feeble assent.

An insipid shake of your head.

You angle your torso to the side, easily slipping past him and out of the cellar.

“But not today.”

April 10, 2021

Your nose is buried in a textbook when the message comes through.

Cell biology. So much information to remember, so many reactions to list, so many molecules to name. And weeks of studying, just for a two-hour-long final that’ll take place three days from now. If you weren’t so stressed out, the sheer nonsensicality of the situation would have made you laugh.

So when your phone chimes with the alert, you figure that it’s time for a break. A quick conversation with one of your friends, maybe. Something to take your mind off of the looming exam, even if it is just for a few minutes at a time. After that, you’ll get back to revising.

Sadly, nothing is ever that simple.

We need to talk. Come to the gym.

Your eyes widen when the words sink in. As you rub your clammy palms against the grey material of your sweatpants, another text pops up below the first.

Please.

You shouldn’t. You need to study. But even as you warn yourself against it, your brain is already coming up with a multitude of reasons to meet with him. It’s just one night. Your exam isn’t for another few days. You have time. You deserve to take a break.

Your keys jingle cheerfully as you toss them into your bag.

~*~

Harry is going to town when you walk into the gym.

You’re not quite sure how that poor punching bag has managed to stay balanced on its hook. Harry’s coming at it from every angle, pummeling the leather with hard, heavy fists. He’s wearing a black tank top today; deep armholes cut into the sides of the fabric and expose most of his torso. The dark tattoos on his skin glisten under a thin sheen of sweat; a small, stupid part of you expects the ink to run and smudge before you remember that the designs are permanent.

What’s even worse? Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande is playing on his phone. The soft, feathery croons of her voice mix with the low grunts that escape Harry’s throat—sounds that claw their way out of him with each blow delivered to the bag. Under normal circumstances, the juxtaposition would have made you snort.

Now though, it just reminds you of that night all those months ago, when you’d asked him to teach you how to box. This entire train wreck could have been avoided if you’d simply kept your mouth shut.

Harry still hasn’t noticed you. How could he, when you’re standing behind him?

You clear your throat. He freezes mid-strike.

His grassy eyes are wide when he turns around.

“Hi,” he says, surprised. “I—I didn’t think you would come.”

“I was halfway here when I realised that I didn’t text you back,” you reply, scratching awkwardly at the nape of your neck. “But, like…no handheld devices behind the wheel, and all that jazz.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah. Good.”

You cross your arms over your chest, scanning your surroundings. You don’t know why you do that—nothing in the gym has changed. You’re just trying to avoid Harry’s gaze, which is a lot easier said than done.

“You, um…you wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He nods, walking over to the ring and pausing the music streaming from his phone.

He then reaches for two pairs of boxing gloves, nestling one in the crook of his elbow and tossing the other at you. The strap of your purse slides from your shoulder as you catch the leather in your arms. You peer down at the gloves, eyes narrowing in confusion before you train them back on him.

“I don’t get it,” you deadpan.

“Really?” Harry asks. He hoists himself onto the raised platform of the ring and slips through the gaps in the ropes. “Because you’ve been begging to go up against me since January. Are you seriously gonna back out now?”

“Go up against—” The rest of your sentence fizzles out. “I…I thought you wanted to have a conversation, not a competition.”

He shrugs, regarding you evenly as he pulls his gloves on and tightens the straps around his wrists. He then bumps his enclosed fists together, tilting his head to the side.

“Why can’t we do both?”

~*~

You look pretty, Harry thinks.

Standing on the far side of the ring, wearing a black tank top, grey sweatpants, and bright pink sneakers—yeah, you look pretty. You’ve cuffed your bottoms so that they’re rolled up to the spot just below your knees, and your hair has been pulled back into a low bun. There’s no emotion on your face as you stare him down, taking a few steps closer and assuming a fighting stance.

You’ve gotten better—he’ll be the first to admit it. But he’s going to beat you, and you both know it. It’s just a matter of when.

He decides that, for the time being, he’ll go easy on you. The two of you will talk things out, and afterward, he might let you win. Maybe. He’s still on the fence about that.

You both begin to move in a circle. After a long moment of silence, Harry says, “You go first.”

“No, you,” you grit out. He just shrugs.

Fine. Have it your way.

You block the straight, pointed jab that he throws, and pride swells up in his chest. It’s a simple punch to deflect, but nevertheless, it tells him that you’ve learned something over these past few months. And that means that he’s done a good job as your teacher.

As your friend…not so much.

Do friends kiss other friends the same way you’d kissed him in front of your house?

He really doesn’t know.

“Right, then,” Harry starts, nodding. “Let’s talk.”

“About what?” you ask. Your nose wrinkles in concentration as you direct a blow toward his stomach. He blocks it easily. “About how you kissed me back and then told me you didn’t have feelings for me?”

“I—,” he’s stunned, because okay, you’re coming right on out with it. “I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry for lying, but you don’t seem to realise that.

“I was so fucking embarrassed,” you say, lunging forward and throwing a cross at his nose. He bats your fist away like it’s nothing more than a pesky fly. “But I guess that I’m mad at myself, too. Here I am, starting to like you, meanwhile I barely know anything about you.”

“What do you want to know?” he asks, keeping his arms in front of his face.

(Deep down, beneath his stoic exterior, he can’t believe what he’s hearing. You had been ‘starting to like’ him? He’s scared, then, because that means he ruined everything that night in his truck. Do you still feel the same way?)

Harry blinks—shakes his head free of those thoughts and continues. “Ask me, and I’ll tell you.”

“Really,” you reply, though it isn’t exactly a question.

You drop your hands, taken aback by his offer. He’s not usually this open—you should seize the opportunity to probe while it’s still available. You will, he thinks. Over these past few months, he’s learned how you operate. You’re not predictable, by any means, but he knows that you can’t resist inquiring about his personal life when given the chance.

You want to know him. If he thinks about it for too long, his affections become exceedingly difficult to bear.

“Really,” he says.

He steps forward and curves his right arm in a powerful hook. You yelp jarringly when the rough leather of his glove makes contact with your left shoulder. He just shrugs, pulling back.

“Remember: don’t let your guard down.”

You clench your jaw and raise your fists once more.

“Fine, then,” you say, sidestepping another one of his jabs. “Where were you born?”

“Redditch, England,” he answers simply. “Moved to Holmes Chapel when I was a kid, though.”

You nod. The two of you continue to circle each other.

“Got any siblings?” you ask, charging him and attempting to deliver a series of punches to his torso. He deflects each of them with his forearms, never faltering.

“A sister,” he says, unbothered. “She lives back home.”

“And what about your parents?” you press, retreating and watching him with careful eyes.

He swallows roughly, shaking his head. “Dad left when I was seven. Mum died when I was fourteen.”

At that, you pause. You heed his earlier advice and keep your hands in front of your face, but it’s clear that his confession has caught you by surprise. Your gaze softens, and he watches as your lips curl down into a sympathetic frown.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly, your shoulders slouching. “That’s terrible.”

He shrugs. “It’s in the past—can’t change it, now.”

He takes advantage of your pitying nature, springing toward you and aiming a punch for your hip. You barely manage to avoid the blow, jumping back at the last second. His glove scrapes swiftly against your side. The attack seems to snap you out of your emotions, because you scowl deeply and return to your original stance.

“What happened after that?” you ask, breathing erratically.

“They put me in foster care,” Harry says, shaking his head. “It was shit, though. I ran away after a couple of years. Went off on my own—that’s when I met your dad.”

“And he started training you?”

“And he started training me,” he confirms with a curt nod. “Couldn’t actually fight until I turned eighteen, but after that…I was taking up as many matches as I could.” He chuckles warmly at the memory. “Your dad said that he’d never seen anything like it. Told me I had to slow down.”

You smile a bit at his words. Your fondness quickly melts into shock, however, when Harry aims a hit for your face. You block the punch, retaliating quickly and throwing one of your own. Your fist makes contact with the barrier of his chest, and he stumbles backward, his eyes widening in disbelief. You got him.

Only once, but still.

You got him.

“Not bad,” he grunts, squaring his shoulders. “Maybe I should actually start trying, now.”

You grit your teeth, glowering at him. “God, you’re such a dick.”

He flashes you a contemptuous grin before lunging forward. You dodge two of his punches, but the third one catches you right in the stomach, making you double over and cough. Harry retreats, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Done getting to know me?” he simpers.

You shake your head, straightening back up. “Not yet.”

You make a valiant effort, Harry thinks. Your dedication is commendable. But he’s had a decade of training, whereas you’ve only had a few months. Your technique—though improved—is still sloppy. And that’s what allows him to sidestep all of your strikes and react quickly, enough so that he’s got you pinned to the ground in just under two minutes.

You’re panting heavily; one of his forearms holds your crossed wrists down over your head. His other hand is planted on the floor just above your shoulder, the flat front of his boxing glove providing a stable surface to keep him balanced. His knees are next to your waist as he hovers over your stomach, giving you no room to worm out of his grip. You flail your legs in frustration, but he’s perched too high up on your body for the action to do any real damage.

“I win,” he says simply, arrogance dancing in his eyes. He leans down so that your noses are only inches apart. “Any more questions, baby?”

“Just one,” you bite, panting heavily.

He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for the inquiry to leave your lips. Once it does, however, it knocks every molecule of air from his lungs.

“Have you…,” you inhale deeply, “…ever been in love?”

The expression on your face tells him that you know exactly what you’re doing. Your chest heaves with exertion, and when his gaze flickers down to your breasts for only a fraction of a second, your eyes illumine with realisation.

“You want me,” you tell him, breathless. A thin, reflective layer of perspiration has gathered at your hairline. Your arms twitch from where they’re pinned beneath his. Despite the gloves still covering your hands, you grasp at his slippery skin, hoping that the contact will somehow make his already-weak resolve crack and crumble into nothing.

“No,” he says, his voice hard.

His green irises burn into your face. Who is he trying to convince?

“You’re lying,” you wheeze, shaking your head. “You want me.”

Your skin is hot. He can feel you radiating warmth like a fireplace. Heated, cozy, welcoming—it’s everything he loves about you, everything he’s been craving since he first became conscious of how badly he desired you. And, to top it all off, you’re looking at him like that—with eyes that could persuade him to jump from a skyscraper, if you so much as asked.

Just like that.

“Fuck,” Harry spits. He pulls back sharply and stamps his own eyes shut. His nose screws up in frustration. “Fuck.”

And then he’s kissing you.

The elated moan that slips from your lips has his cock twitching fitfully in his shorts. You arch your back to get closer to him, because with his hand still pinning you down, it’s not like you can throw your arms around his neck and bring him to you. The kiss is messy and frenzied and hot and carnal. Harry licks into your mouth, savouring the squeak that echoes in your throat.

You’re vocal—he’s going to fucking die.

When the two of you pull back, no words are exchanged. Harry stares down at you, taking note of how your pupils have dilated immensely. Your chest is still heaving, but this time, it’s for a completely different reason. He releases your wrists from where they’re pinned beneath his forearm, watching you carefully as he sits up.

He lifts his fist to his face and takes the strap of the glove between his teeth. The sharp riiip! that ensues may as well be a starter gunshot.

You both dive back into a sea of teeth and lips and tongue. Harry throws off his gloves easily. You struggle with yours, but he wastes no time, helping you discard them in a matter of seconds. With your hands finally free, you bury them in his hair, pulling at the soft, damp tendrils as he presses several hard kisses to your mouth.

“Fuck,” he mutters, slanting his body downward so that his crotch is level with yours. “You—you have no idea—”

The rest of his sentence fades into a groan when you suck harshly on his jaw. He shudders at the sensation.

Gradually, you bring your legs out from beneath his own, lifting your knees up to your chest and then wrapping your thighs around his waist. It’s an impressive feat, if he’s being honest. And it gives him more room to lean over you, to grind his cock against your centre through the layers of fabric separating your skin.

“Off—,” you choke, tugging at the bottom of his black shirt. “Get this off!”

He complies, sitting back up on his knees and ridding himself of the fabric. You take advantage of his instability, wrapping one hand around his bicep and giving it a hard shove. He topples to the side and you scramble up to straddle him, a small, smug smile ghosting across your face.

“What are you—?” he starts, but you place one finger against his lips, cutting him off.

You start to roll your hips gently into his—he groans, wishing more than anything that there were no clothes in the way. Goosebumps erupt on his arms when you lightly scrape your nails down his bare chest. You settle at the butterfly inked into his abdomen, tracing the insect’s wings with a wondrous look in your eyes. His palms sweep up your thighs.

“Why did you lie to me?” you murmur, keeping your gaze trained on his torso. “You feel the same, don’t you?”

He nods wordlessly.

“Why, then?” you press, frowning gently. “I—we could’ve avoided this whole thing if you’d just told me the truth.”

“Your dad,” Harry says weakly. “I can’t—you’re his—”

“My dad has no control over who I date or who I fuck,” you say. He’s stunned by the crudeness of your claim. “And if I want to fuck you right here, right now, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You—Christ,” he swallows heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“Why not?” you smirk, grinding against him harshly and feeling the stiff outline of his cock in his shorts. “You seem to be enjoying it.”

“Fuck,” he grunts. You shriek when he flips the two of you over so that he’s back on top. His nose brushes against yours as he speaks.

“If we do this,” he warns, hot breath fanning out over your chin, “I won’t be gentle. In every single one of my fantasies, I’ve ruined you—made you drool, made you cry. You name it, I’ve done it. You sure you can handle that?”

“Yes,” you breathe, utterly enthralled. “I’m sure.”

Harry tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear, peering down at you tenderly.

“Look so pretty,” he coos, fingers skimming down the side of your throat. “Can’t wait to wreck your cute, little—” He sucks in a deep breath, weakened by the shamelessness of his own thoughts. “Gonna make sure your knees knock together once I’m through with you.”

And maybe it’s not smart to get you naked in the middle of the gym, where anyone walking by could easily peer inside and witness him fucking you into oblivion. But he can’t find it in himself to care—he’s been waiting for this moment for years, and damn him if he doesn’t seize it while you’re like this: open, inviting, presented to him like gourmet food on a silver platter.

And speaking of food…

“I’m gonna stretch you out,” Harry states. “You’ve got to cum first if you wanna take my cock, understand?”

You nod rapidly.

He shakes his head. “Need to hear you say it, baby. You want it, too, right?”

“I want it,” you confirm, breathless. “I want it, I understand.”

He smiles. His fingers ruck up the material of your tank top, and you lift your back from the ground to help him remove it. Your bra is next, pale pink with a simple bow resting between the cups. He swears when you unclip it quickly, letting the straps fall down your shoulders before tossing it away.

“Christ,” he says, blinking. “Can’t believe you’re real.”

He lays you back down onto the floor of the ring, ducking his head and enveloping one of your nipples in his mouth. You moan. The bud hardens between his teeth, sensitive to his touch. He sucks harshly before pulling off, littering kisses along the skin of your breasts. His head swims with lust, transforming him into someone nearly unrecognizable. You seem to like it, though, so how bad could it really be?

“Next time,” Harry murmurs into your flesh, “I’m gonna get a proper taste. Eat you out ’til you go blind. But for now—,” he dips his hand past the waistband of your sweatpants, “—my fingers will just have to do.”

You shimmy your bottoms down, kicking them off unceremoniously and spreading your legs. And fuck, he nearly loses it right there, because this is what he’s been picturing for months, if not years. Having you laid out in front of him, exposed and ready and willing. Your thighs stretched wide, miles of soft skin leading inward and morphing into sticky, wet folds. He closes his eyes for a brief moment and inhales deeply—the scent of your arousal floods his nose, rendering him utterly helpless. Something akin to a man unhinged.

He rubs you over your panties, first. They’re nothing special—simple black cotton covering your mound and your hipbones. But fuck him, he wasn’t expecting the ocean of excitement that seems to have pooled and soaked through the fabric. His fingertips are damp when he pulls them away.

“You’re drenched,” he groans, shaking his head in disbelief. He hooks one digit into the elastic of your underwear, looking up at you with inquisitive eyes. “Can I take these off?”

“Yes, please.”

He tears the material down your legs, and then you’re naked beneath him, save for the rose-gold pendant resting on your sternum. He sits back on his heels as you spread your thighs wider, chewing on the inside of your cheek. His index finger taps the skin just below your navel, tracing a path down to where you need him most. You whine when he bypasses your clit completely, dropping instead to gather some of your wetness before trailing back up. He smears your arousal over the nub—just to get a steady, slippery rhythm going—and then leans down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Don’t wanna be too far,” he says sheepishly, sweetly kissing the tip of your nose. “Missed you.”

You seal your lips to his.

He makes you cum after a few minutes, slipping one finger into your channel, and then another. The entire time, his thumb stays perched on your clit, drawing expert circles and pulling wanton moans from your mouth. And when you cum—oh.

Oh.

You’re glorious, with lidded eyes and warm cheeks and teeth bared in pleasure. You ride out your high, spasming gently. Harry lays a firm hand on your stomach, feeling the muscles of your abdomen twitch beneath his palm. He continues to stimulate your clit, basking in the little aftershocks that zip up your spine and make your legs tremble.

If you were aroused before…good fucking God. He didn’t know it was possible for a woman to be this wet.

You kiss him as you come down from your orgasm, nipping softly at his bottom lip and sighing in relief. Both of his hands find your face—you seem unbothered by the fact that his fingers are coated in your juices, smearing messily against your cheek. He melts into you like he’s dying of thirst and you’re an oasis, lush and green and good. So, so good.

“Do you—,” he exhales raggedly, “—do you still want to?”

You nod, a soft smile forming on your face. It’s crazy, Harry thinks, how quickly you can oscillate between actual human sunshine and the devil personified. One minute, you’re asking him to fuck you, and the next, you’re giving him those eyes that make him feel as though every cell in his body has been liquefied.

“What were you saying about not being gentle?” you tease.

He chuckles quietly, shaking his head. You gasp when he hooks a finger into the chain around your neck. He takes your pretty pink pendant between two fingers, lifting it up and dragging the cool metal along the seam of your lips. You inhale sharply.

“I don’t have a condom,” he murmurs, sighing mournfully.

“I have an IUD,” you whisper, playing with the curls at the back of his head. “We’re good.”

He groans, dropping his face into the column of your throat. “You’re fuckin’ marvelous.”

You giggle.

He shudders when you begin to push his shorts down. You look up at him with raised brows when his cock slaps against his stomach, completely unrestrained.

“No underwear?”

“Always sticks to my balls when I get sweaty,” he whines, squeezing his eyes shut. “Need to let the boys breathe.”

A loud laugh flops out of your mouth. Harry snickers, too, trailing his nose up over your jawline so that he can catch your lips in a quick kiss. He moans as you wrap your fingers around his length, giving a few experimental pumps. Instinctively, his hips buck into your grip.

“You’re big,” you murmur. “Are you sure that it’s going to fit?”

“It’ll fit,” he promises.

He guides your legs up so that they’re wrapped around his waist, allowing him to slot himself closer to you. You gasp when his hand finds your cunt again, dipping two fingers inside before sweeping his palm over the length of your folds. He then smears your wetness along the shaft of his cock, makeshift lubrication to facilitate the first breach of your channel.

“You ready?” he says, positioning the tip of his dick at your entrance. “Deep breath for me, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You inhale, and he nudges his hips forward. You gasp as he slips into you, inch by thick inch, stretching you out in a way that you’ve never felt before. Harry reaches for your hands, tangling your fingers together and lifting them above your head. You arch your back with the new position, and he’s unsure of whether you’re trying to wiggle away or bring him in closer.

When the heels of your feet press against his ass, guiding him deeper, he assumes that it’s the latter.

“Fuck,” he stammers as your tight heat surrounds his cock. “How—how do you feel this good?”

A wheezing laugh punches its way out of your throat.

“Feel that,” Harry says hoarsely. “So fuckin’ hot and—and wet. Not gonna take any time at all, is it?”

“For me, or for you?” you taunt. He grumbles quietly, and you snicker.

After a brief moment of silence, you squeeze his knuckles reassuringly. “You can move.”

“Thank you,” he moans, capturing your mouth with his. Your breathing hitches as he pulls out before slowly sliding back in. When you sigh in response, he takes it as encouragement to pick up the pace.

Soon, he’s fucking into you quickly, your skin slapping together in a series of brutal thrusts. With each drive of his hips into yours, soft whimpers escape your lips, floating up into the hot air and melting like ice cream under the sun. Harry growls, sinking his teeth into the junction between your neck and your shoulder. The pain makes you writhe—in a good way.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this,” he grunts, laving his tongue over the indents on your skin. Your necklaces clink together—silver and rose-gold tangled in a mess of thin, delicate chains. “My—my hand could never—”

“Neither could mine,” you tell him, breathless.

His spine stiffens at your words, brain overcome with the thought of you lying in bed, your fingers buried between your legs and low whines pouring from your mouth. He groans; his next thrust is hard, keen, unforgiving.

He keeps you close, your bodies never separating. Your skin is slick with sweat, chests gliding together. Adrenaline rushes through Harry’s veins—he drives ahead, plunging inside of you with each fierce snap of his hips. You can’t do anything but lie there and take it, take it, take it.

“I want you,” he gasps, warm air washing out onto your collarbones. His hands are clammy, still locked with yours; he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I want you, I want you, I—” He gulps. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Harry,” you murmur, grazing your nose against his temple. “Harry, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he pulls his face away from your throat. Your eyes are soft when they land on his, forehead shining with sweat, lips swollen and raw. The bun holding most of your hair back has come loose (Harry is certain that it’s due to the way your bodies shift along the ground with every thrust.)

You swallow roughly and shake your head, staring past his features and searching for something deeper.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, nearly crushing his fingers in your grip. “I’m here.”

Your walls pulsate around him, and his rhythm falters. He swears softly, releasing one of your hands so that he can bring his thumb down to rub haphazard shapes against your clit. You moan, surprised.

“Cum for me,” he orders, nodding rapidly. “Cum for me, and then I’ll do the same. Where do you want it, hm? Tell me.”

“Inside,” you pant, your nose screwing up in pleasure. “Cum inside me.”

“Shit, you’re serious?” he asks, awestruck. His stomach twists hotly at your invitation. “Want me to claim your pretty cunt? Is that it?”

“God,” you say. You squirm beneath him, nodding frantically. “Please!”

“Fuck!” he cries, and when you clamp down on his cock, he’s gone.

The two of you ride out your highs together, quivering and grunting in unison. Harry wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest. You dig your nails into his back, clinging to him like a piece of wood drifting through the stormy sea. Colourful spots dance in his vision—he tries his best to blink them away. Your thighs tremble around his hips, caught in an endless cycle of vibrations.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, exhaling shakily. “That was…”

Harry braces himself over your face, keeping you shielded from everything outside of your little bubble.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

A low laugh falls from your lips, but it quickly morphs into a moan when he pulls out of you. He pauses for a moment, watching as white liquid trickles from your abused entrance. The erotic sight nearly has him ready to go again.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He scoops his release up with two fingers and plugs them back inside of you. “That’s hot.”

You gasp at the slight overstimulation, wrapping a hand around his wrist reflexively. He just shoots you a wicked grin, which has you giggling girlishly in response.

“I want a kiss,” you say, craning your neck.

Harry hums, crawling up your body to fulfill your request. You smile against his lips, tossing your arms over his shoulders. The two of you exchange soft pecks for the next few minutes, basking in the aftereffects of your orgasms. Warmth unfurls in Harry’s chest, potent and contagious. It spreads through his veins, dousing his senses in a golden glow.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he tells you, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “And I like you. So much.”

“I like you, too,” you reply, tracing your fingertips over the muscles in his back. “But if you ever lie to me again—” Your expression grows serious. “—let’s just say that you won’t have to worry anymore about your boxers sticking to your balls, okay?”

It’s an earnest threat—he knows that you mean every word—but nevertheless, it makes him laugh. You giggle along with him; he rolls off of you, his spine meeting the floor of the ring, and you cuddle into his side. Your nails tap languidly against his sternum as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. The two of you lie there for a few long moments, enjoying the peaceful silence.

“They’re taking my case against James to trial,” you say at last.

Harry stiffens, lifting his head so that he can look down at you properly.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You nod, refusing to meet his gaze. “But, um…my lawyer said that it might be a good idea to bring a witness to the stand. Just to seal the deal and stuff.”

You peek up at him shyly, and it clicks.

“Oh,” he says softly. “You want me?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with it,” you say hurriedly, resting your chin on his chest. “Please don’t think that I’m forcing you—”

“Hey, no,” he cuts you off, sweeping his fingers through your hair. The action soothes you, makes your eyelids flutter shut and your lips tremble with a nervous exhale. “’Course I’ll testify. I don’t want that piece of shit coming anywhere near you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, pressing your mouth to his skin. You litter a few grateful kisses along his pectorals, and he smiles. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don’t have to keep saying that,” Harry mumbles, chuckling tenderly. He takes your face between his hands, thumbs trailing idly over your temples. “I wanna keep you safe. Or—or make you feel safe, at least.”

Your eyes glisten.

“I do feel safe around you,” you say. Your lips twitch. “Except for when you’re trying to punch me in the gut.”

He snickers, shaking his head. “If you want to start tussling with me more often, you’re gonna have to get used to that.”

“Duly noted.” You smirk.

Harry sighs, letting his head fall back against the ground.

“Speaking of keeping you safe…,” he mutters, staring up at the ceiling. His fingers resume their previous ministrations, stroking languidly through your hair. “You should go pee, yeah? Heard it’s important for girls to do that after sex.”

You laugh, surprised by his words. “How—how do you know that?”

“Sister,” he reminds you. His cheeks dimple as he grins.

You nod, mouth curling into a fond smile. “Right.”

April 26, 2021

The crowd is deafening, encasing him in a cloud of noise. He refuses to let it distract him, zeroing in on his opponent with the intensity of a thousand suns. An experimental jab comes his way, gauging the distance between them, but Harry sidesteps it easily. He retaliates with a right hook, catching the side of the man’s head. It’s not a powerful blow, but it succeeds in disorienting him for a few milliseconds.

He charges forward, then, sensing an opportunity and seizing it before it can fade away. In a flurry of fists (and the odd kick here and there), he backs his opponent up until the ropes around the ring are digging into the man’s waist. He’s ruthless, giving him no chance to react, delivering blow after blow until his rival can barely stand on his own two feet. At that point, he retreats, stepping back and letting his victory come to him.

He needs this win. He needs this win. He needs this—

His challenger falls into the trap, stumbling forward with double vision and throwing a sloppy hook. Harry bats his hand away effortlessly, lunging forward and curving his arm up. Pride flares in his chest when his fist makes contact with his opponent’s jaw, making the man’s head snap back on his neck. He drops to the floor in an unconscious, muscular heap.

The seconds pass by like molasses, but at last, the referee is climbing into the ring and lifting Harry’s hand high above his head. The crowd roars. He closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the praise. When they flutter open again, they’re trailing upward, searching for one particular face in a sea of strangers.

And there you are.

You’re beaming, clapping frantically and pausing every so often to cup your hands around your mouth and amplify your cheers. Harry smiles, tilting his chin upward and letting his head fall back in relief. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from you, even as the referee releases his wrist and crouches to rouse his opponent from the ground.

He hears someone call his name and turns to the side. He finds your father peeking at him through the ropes circling the ring, a wide grin on his face. He beckons him over, a water bottle clutched tightly in his outstretched hand. Harry complies, breathing out a heavy sigh.

Meanwhile, you’re pushing through the throng of people that have now started moving toward the exit. Going against the current is difficult—you murmur quick apologies as you nudge past countless shoulders and elbows—but finally, you emerge from the crowd, unscathed. You see Harry chatting with a few people approximately thirty feet away, but before you can take another step, a big, burly security guard blocks your path.

“No spectators beyond this point,” he tells you gruffly.

“But, I—,” your mouth opens and closes, though no words come out. Instinctively, you point over the guard’s shoulder, your finger pinned on a very sweaty, very shirtless Harry. “That’s my boyfriend.”

You only have a moment to feel shocked by your claim. Boyfriend?

It’s been weeks since that night at the gym, and yeah, you suppose that the two of you are a thing, now. You’re going out. You’re exclusive. Whatever the hell you want to call it.

But you’ve never referred to him as your boyfriend, and he’s never referred to you as his girlfriend. You haven’t talked about potentially putting a label on your relationship, despite the fact that you’re both clearly interested in seeing each other and no one else.

Is it time to have that conversation?

Harry jumps in surprise when he hears you call his name. He turns toward the sound and then grunts when you barrel into him a moment later, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. One of his hands reflexively falls to your bottom before quickly moving away. The feeling of his calloused palm on your ass sends a shiver down your spine.

You bury your face in his shoulder. He’s sweating all over, skin wet and muscles bulging from exertion. You know that you’ve caught him off-guard, because he whispers your name incredulously into your ear and presses a gentle kiss to your jaw. When he finally sets you down, you peer up at him with bright eyes and a large grin.

“That was incredible,” you gush, your hands falling to his biceps. “You obliterated him!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. His cheeks are pink—you don’t think it’s because of the match.

In the periphery of your vision, you catch sight of your father. He’s standing there with raised brows and parted lips, and you suddenly remember that he hasn’t yet been made aware of your…situation. You gasp, stepping away from Harry quickly and draping your arms around your own torso. He seems to recognize your blunder as well, because his shoulders tense and his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

The two of you speak at the same time.

“Coach—”

“Dad—”

“I don’t want to know,” your father announces, holding up one hand and cutting you both off swiftly. His eyes bounce back and forth between you, features betraying no emotion whatsoever. Finally, his shoulders slump.

“I’m gonna call it a night, gioia,” he tells you. He then looks to the left, directing his next words at Harry. “Congratulations on your win, H. Have her home by midnight.”

“Dad, I’m a grown woman—,” you begin to scoff, but he gives you a pointed glare.

“Midnight,” he repeats.

You shrink away and nod.

~*~

Before leaving, Harry decides to take a quick shower in the men’s locker room. You sit on one of the benches, tapping your foot against the tiles as you watch him get undressed. It doesn’t take him long—he’s only wearing a pair of shorts, after all—but you savour every moment, your eyes raking over his muscular back as he bends down to pick his bottoms up off of the ground. He tosses the fabric into his drawstring bag before peering over his shoulder at you.

“Sure you don’t wanna join me?” he asks, a coy smirk playing on his lips when he catches you staring.

You look away quickly, picking at your nails and feigning indifference. “Where anyone could walk in? I’m good.”

He shrugs, snickering quietly. “Suit yourself.”

You ogle his plump ass as he walks away.

A moment later, one of the showers turns on. You can hear Harry humming softly as he steps under the spray. You sigh, leaning back against the wall and fishing your phone out from your pocket. For the next few minutes, you scroll distractedly through social media, bored out of your mind.

You grunt softly and set your phone down, tiptoeing over to the door of the locker room and fastening it shut. The lock above the handle slides into place with a low click!

“Fuck it,” you mutter.

You flick open the button of your jeans, shoving the material down your thighs. Eventually, you’re naked, goosebumps pebbling on your arms. You set your clothes back down onto the bench and grab a spare towel, fiddling with the necklace hanging from your throat. A thought occurs to you; you unclasp the chain, pulling it off and letting it pool in the palm of your hand.

Harry’s idle singing grows louder as you approach the row of showers. It’s not hard to find his cubicle—it’s the only one with the curtain drawn over the entrance. You pad toward it, hanging your towel next to his and calling out, “Harry?”

“Yeah?” His hums stop.

You grasp the fabric of the curtain, pulling it back and peering inside. Immediately, Harry’s gaze locks with yours. He’s completely bare, standing beneath the water with hooded eyes and shampoo foaming in his hair. You slip into the cubicle, not missing the way he gawks at your naked body.

“I changed my mind,” you murmur, peering up at him shyly.

He presses his lips together to fight back a smile. “Yeah. You sure did.”

“Shut up and let me rinse your hair.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Before you can bury your hands into the wet strands, however, you remember the jewellery clutched between your fingers.

“Actually—,” you say, hesitating. “I, um—I wanted to give this to you.”

You scoop the necklace up from your palm, holding it out nervously. Harry recognizes it immediately, and his eyes widen in surprise.

“What for?” he asks, not unkindly.

“It’s my lucky charm,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulders. “I just figured…maybe it’ll work for you, too.”

He kisses you, then, grabbing your face in his hands and crushing his lips to yours. You whimper into his mouth, finding his wrists and encasing them in a tight grip. The kiss is passionate, bruising, fiery—you’ve never felt so wanted.

Harry pulls back once the two of you run out of air. Even then, he keeps his forehead pressed snugly against yours, staying close. He’s breathing heavily, and you’re starting to sweat, the humidity of the stall seeping into every last pore on your body. Harry shakes his head, gazing into your eyes.

“You’re my lucky charm,” he says.

Your heartbeat stutters in your chest.

“But,” he continues, smiling softly, “I’ll take the necklace. It’ll be good to have for when you’re not there.”

You nod wordlessly, and he steps back. His hands find his throat, fumbling with the chain dangling over his collarbones. He reaches over his shoulders, unclasping his own necklace and presenting it to you.

“Here,” he says. “I’ll take yours, and you take mine.”

You nod again.

You turn around slowly, electricity thrumming through your body as Harry guides the silver chain around your neck. The shiny cross pendant rests against your sternum; the warmth of the metal seeps into your skin. When you face him again, Harry whistles lowly, his lips twitching.

“Looks good on you,” he says, nodding proudly. “My girl.”

“Is that what I am?” you ask, peeking up at him through your lashes. “Your girl?”

He pauses. He really does look ridiculous with the white, frothing shampoo slicked through his hair.

“Is that what you want to be?”

A moment of silence ensues.

“Yeah,” you finally say, biting your bottom lip. “It is.”

Harry smiles. He leans forward and kisses you again, softer this time. You nudge his shoulder with the hand that’s still holding your necklace, prompting him to spin around.

“Come on,” you murmur, delivering one last affectionate peck to his mouth. “Your turn.”

~*~

Harry pulls up to your house fifteen minutes before midnight. You unbuckle your seatbelt, modifying your position in the front seat so that you can look at him properly. Your hair is still slightly damp from your shared shower, and your skin is fresh and clean. You smell like him—like the body wash you had both used to scrub yourselves down in the small cubicle. A silver necklace—his necklace—peeks out from beneath the collar of your denim jacket.

The jewellery suits you. He doesn’t ever want you to take it off.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment until you eventually crack a smile.

“You look like you want to eat me,” you say, laughing.

“C’mere, then,” he chuckles, already leaning forward. “Lemme have a taste.”

“Gross.” You stick your tongue out playfully but obey him nonetheless, your lips meeting over the middle console of the vehicle. Harry cups your face in one hand, keeping you close. You sigh into his mouth, and he swallows the sound down—it’s the prettiest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

You carry on like that for the next few minutes, exchanging soft kisses that don’t go beyond him placing a calloused palm on your thigh. When you finally pull away, a breathless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

“Have I ever told you that you’re a great kisser?” you ask.

“Only a dozen times a day,” he replies, smirking gently.

You laugh, carding your fingers through his hair and tilting your head to the side as you stare at him. Your eyes are far away, getting lost in your own thoughts, it seems.

“What is it?” he whispers, even though there’s no one else in the car aside from you and him.

“I love you,” you murmur absentmindedly.

Harry freezes; your confession knocks the air from his lungs.

“What?” he says, his brows knitting together.

At last, you snap out of your trance. Your admission sinks in, and you recoil, shocked at your own boldness.

“I—,” you start, your eyes growing impossibly wide. “I just meant—we’ve known each other for years, now, but I feel like I really got to know you these past few months. These past few weeks, especially.”

You shrug, playing nervously with the silver cross hanging around your neck. Harry’s heart somersaults at the sight.

“I’m sorry if it’s bad timing,” you continue; you’re rambling, now. “And I understand that it might be weird considering the fact that we just put a label on this, but—,” you break off, taking a deep breath, “—I love you. I do.”

He reaches out, trailing his fingers over the faint curve of your jaw. You gasp softly when his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip.

“Did you just apologise for telling me that you love me?” he says. Crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes.

You squeeze your own eyes shut, cringing at his words and shaking your head.

“Don’t repeat it,” you plead. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

“Oh, so loving me is embarrassing?” he asks, smirking slyly.

You frown, batting his hand away and shifting your body so that you’re no longer facing him. You place your elbow against the ledge of the passenger door, resting your chin on your fist and staring pointedly out the window.

“Hey,” Harry coos, though he can’t stop the inkling of laughter that seeps into his voice. “Don’t be like that.”

“I take it back,” you say flatly, refusing to turn around. “I hate you, actually.”

“Really,” he says, but it’s not a question. He unbuckles his own seatbelt so that he can lean over the middle console and nuzzle at your cheek.

“My girlfriend hates me?” he asks; he knows that he’s being insufferable, but he can’t help it. Messing with you is so much fun.

“Yes.” Your response is curt. “She does.”

“That’s not nice,” he says, curling his lips down into a dramatic pout. He presses a gentle kiss to the side of your neck—right against a particular spot that makes you melt every single time. He knows it, and so do you.

“That’s not nice at all,” Harry continues, littering sloppy pecks down the column of your throat. “This how you treat the man who loves you?”

You pause when his words register in your brain.

“Stop lying,” you mutter, keeping your gaze glued to the scenery outside your window.

“’M not lying,” he tells you, squeezing your thigh gently. “Said you’d cut my balls off if I did it again, remember?”

And despite your initial sense of humiliation, you laugh. Harry smiles, placing his free hand on your cheek and guiding you to look over at him. You submit to his wishes, gazing at him through pretty, wispy lashes. He tilts forward ever-so-slightly, nudging your noses together and fastening his lips to yours. When he pulls back after a moment, he pinches your chin between two fingers.

“I love you,” he says earnestly.

“I love you, too,” you whisper.

Your eyelids flutter shut as he slides his palm up your leg; he stops only once it’s resting in the crease between your hip and your thigh, dangerously close to your groin.

“We have—,” he cranes his neck, peering over at the digital clock on the truck’s dashboard, “—five minutes until you have to be inside. Think I can make you cum between now and then?”

You scoff, pushing him away and laughing at his crudeness.

“You’re insane,” you giggle, shooting him a faux-stern glare. “Behave.”

“Fine,” he grumbles, frowning childishly. You just grin, slipping your hand around his neck and pulling him in for a doting kiss. You press a series of rapid pecks along the seam of his mouth, nipping playfully at his bottom lip before retreating. Instinctively, he follows you, but you dig your fingers into his shoulder, stopping him before he can get too far.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, reaching for the handle on the door.

Harry watches with wide, awestruck eyes as you exit the car. You clutch your purse closer to your side, looking back at him expectantly and waiting for his response.

He clears his throat, blinking out of his reverie.

“Yeah,” he nods, nostrils flaring slightly. “Goodnight.”

He peels away from your house only once you disappear through the front door. Subconsciously, his hand finds the rose-gold chain hanging around his throat. He fiddles with the necklace, running his thumb over the smooth surface of your shiny pendant. There’s something unreal—almost dreamlike—about having it between his fingers. He’s spent so long watching you fumble and toy with it—watching it bring you comfort when you’re nervous, or bored, or afraid.

Now, it’s his.

And so are you.

Faint music plays from the truck’s stereo; Harry reaches forward, twisting a knob and turning the volume up to its full capacity. Ariana Grande’s familiar vocal riffs pour through the speakers.

He sings along at the top of his lungs, hollering triumphantly the entire ride home.

~*~

Extra: Knockout [READ IT NOW ON PATREON]

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#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #oh my god i can't believe this is the last part aaaaaaaaaa #i really hope u all like it!#boxrry #harry writing

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ifmywishescametrue · 4 years ago

Note

hnnng, could you please do either “you’re sick and you need to rest” or “you could’ve died” for stevetony? Worrying about an SO is a soft spot for me🥺

thank you for sending me this prompt! hope you like it :) (warning for mentions of torture, btw, but nothing graphic)

In that cave in Afghanistan, Tony keeps seeing flashes of things. Moments from life before all of this come to him in between the shocks of electricity when his head is forced underwater, while he’s sputtering and gasping for breath and can’t understand the words being screamed at him.

He sees Steve more than anything. Sees blue eyes and a bright smile and if he tries hard enough he can almost hear the laugh that comes with it. Sometimes it’s that first day again, with roaming hands and a rush to get off in the bathroom of some party he didn’t want to be at, followed by an easy grin and the promise to do that again sometime. He sees Steve on his couch surrounded by take out containers and the reassurance that absolutely none of it counted as a date. Morning pancakes that supposedly meant nothing, and Steve sneaking under the desk in his office. Pencil scratches on sketch pads that used to wake him up, cold feet pressed against his calves, his favorite muffins from that bakery downtown that used to just appear out of nowhere when he was having a bad day, and the way that Steve would never admit that it was him doing it.

It’s that last night he remembers the most. He can almost hear the words whispered in the dead of night and remembers the ones he held back, because Tony has never known how to be completely honest. He didn’t know how to say that this casual friends with benefits things was starting to feel less like friends and more like love, but when he lays down with his aching chest and bleeding fingers on the poor excuse for a cot at night, he wishes more than anything that he could have found the words before.

So he builds the suit and practices the right thing to say for when he makes it out. If he makes it out. If this ridiculous plan of his doesn’t result in him dying somewhere in the middle of the desert, just another body added to the pile of deaths he’s caused.

He almost doesn’t believe it when he lives. His knees hit the scorching sand, and Rhodey’s arms are right there, and still all he can think about is whether or not Steve mourned at all when they all thought he was dead.

In the plane, after the hospital at the army base and all the IV lines to fix the three months of dehydration and malnutrition, he works up the nerve to ask about it.

“Steve,” he starts, voice hoarse enough that he pauses to clear his throat, unwilling to sound so affected. “Is he - did he -” He stops, settling for asking, “Have you talked to him?”

Rhodey leans forward on his elbows, closing some of the distance that the aisle between them created. He pulls out his phone and taps for a moment before turning the screen to face Tony. Steve’s name is at the top, and Rhodey scrolls through the string of messages with enough speed that Tony can’t actually read any of them, but he gets the point anyway.

“This is just the last couple of weeks,” Rhodey says. “Never stopped asking for updates, especially when we found you. Called so much I told him I was going to put a virus on his phone to redirect him to random strangers if he kept it up. He didn’t listen.”

Tony swallows around the lump in his throat and looks away towards the window.

“We weren’t supposed to be anything,” Tony murmurs, watching the way the sky is fading from orange into blue, clouds obscuring the ocean below them. It’s still a few more hours until California, where he hopes that Steve is still waiting for him. “We said it was nothing.”

Rhodey hums, both noncommittal and suggestive at the same time, and Tony turns his head back to look at him. “What?”

Rhodey shrugs, “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you want to.”

“I don’t spill secrets that aren’t mine to tell.”

Tony’s brow furrows. “What does that even mean?”

“It means he’ll be there when we land, and if you try to pretend that it’s still nothing, I’m putting your ass back on the plane until you find your common sense somewhere.”

Tony bites his lip and shakes his head, staring down at his hands, “I wasn’t going to pretend. I just - I didn’t know if he cared anymore. It’s been a few months, and we weren’t… There was never a promise for commitment. He could’ve found somebody else. Anyone else.”

Rhodey gives him a look, that fondly exasperated one he does so well. “Nice to know you’re still a dumbass.”

It startles a laugh from and makes his abused lungs twinge, but it feels good to laugh again. “Takes more than a few months to knock the dumbass out of me.”

The topic falls away after that, because Tony can’t say what he feels, and Rhodey knows anyway. He switches the conversation over to the start of the baseball season that Tony missed, complaining about the Phillies like Tony’s heard every year since he was fifteen. It’s easy and passes the time until Tony ends up falling asleep for the rest of the flight.

His muscles are stiff and uncomfortable when he wakes with a start a couple of hours later, heart racing and on edge when he doesn’t immediately recognize his surroundings. Rhodey puts a hand on his knee, and Tony jumps initially before calming. It makes Rhodey’s eyes turn sad for a moment, then it’s hidden away again.

“Come on,” Rhodey says softly, gripping Tony by the elbow of his good arm to help him up. “We’re here.”

There’s still a slight limp in his step when he walks off the plane from bruises and scars that are still healing. He sees Pepper first, with her red hair shining in the sun, but his gaze gets stuck on the person next to her.

Steve straightens from where he’s leaning against the black car, and Tony wishes he was in better condition so he could run to him. It would have been romantic, he thinks, like something out of one of those movies he’d never even seen before Steve came into his life. There would have been some grand, sweep-him-off-his-feet moment with declarations and pretty words and violins coming from somewhere.

Instead Steve meets him halfway, with a quivering chin like he might start to cry. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his hair is too long, and his five o’clock shadow is almost an actual beard now.

He’s the best thing Tony’s ever seen.

“Hey,” Tony says, because he can’t remember a single one of those things he planned before.

Steve smiles, and it’s only a little shaky, “Hey yourself.”

Rhodey and Pepper disappear with the shutting of the car door, leaving the two of them standing there in the middle of the empty runway. Steve takes the first step, but Tony takes the second, and then Steve’s chest is beneath his cheek, and his arms are around his shoulders.

Tony holds on to him like a lifeline, fingers clutched in his t-shirt, and he can feel the warmth of him seeping into his skin. Steve’s hands are all over, as if checking to make sure he’s all actually there and in one piece.

Steve steps back a little, a small frown on his face. He reaches his hand up to Tony’s chest, and Tony tenses at the first light press against the reactor case.

“What…” Steve trails off, eyes flickering between Tony’s chest and his face, and Tony undoes two of the buttons on his shirt to show him.

The scars around it are marred and red, with raised edges that serve to make it look even worse than it is. Steve makes a sound like a choked back sob, and Tony grabs his wrist to put his hand on the reactor. It’s a little terrifying to let him touch it, but if there’s anyone he knows would never hurt him, it’s Steve.

“It’s okay,” Tony murmurs. “It keeps me alive.”

“You could’ve died,” Steve whispers, fingers spreading out over the light of the reactor. “I thought you - I didn’t want to think it, but it was hard not to. Rhodey kept saying that you wouldn’t let yourself go out like that. You’d be all or nothing, and it wasn’t big enough. And Pepper, well, she basically said exactly what did happen. That you’d find a way out. I tried to believe it, too, but I just kept thinking that you could be gone, and we’d never - I’d never get the chance to make this real.”

Tony looks up at him, breath catching in his throat. “I thought about you every day, you know. I almost told you how I felt about you on that last night. Came so close to saying it, but I just -”

“I know,” Steve says, and with his other hand he cups Tony’s cheek. “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”

“Yeah?”

Steve nods, leaning in closer, and his lips brush against Tony’s when he says, “Yeah, sweetheart, I know.”

#stevetony #prompts #i literally love you for sending me this #asks #my writing #my fic #stony #superhusbands

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 4 years ago

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* ⚠️ Warnings: A lot of angst. Mentions of sex. A little fluff. People drinking alcohol. ⚠️ This one shot was never meant to be a series. All of your love and appreciation spurred me in to write more. Hope you like this chapter. I cried while I was writing it. Part 5 is the finale.

Plain Gold Ring IV:

You Don’t Know What Love Is

“How could you know how lips hurt

'Till you've kissed and had to pay the cost

Baby, 'till you've flipped your heart and you have lost

You don't know what love is” Nina Simone

———————————————————————

Being on the board of your firm’s charity gala was a huge deal. On top of your normal duties you were in charge of the silent auction. The final auction items had all arrived and you had been busy categorizing everything and preparing for the night that you barely have time to focus on the Andy and Lori situation.

Not that it wasn’t grating on your last nerve. You were so short with everyone at work that it was becoming a problem. Stan had to have a talk with you. You just had to focus and get through this event.

Andy helped as much as he could. He was supportive when you were frustrated and quickly learned when to back off. Sometimes you were up until the wee hours he would literally drag you to bed. He knew how to keep your mind off of work for a while.

You were so busy that you hadn’t even purchased a dress. You and Liz went shopping after work. She was the only person to know about you and Andy.

“What do you think of this one? Think Andy will like it?” You wore a black long sleeved gown with a v that went down to right above your belly button and a slit up to your mid thigh.

“I mean, I’d fuck you.” she deadpanned. This was the dress. You would be comfortable in it all night. You also looked like a powerful bitch who would slit your throat.

———————————————————————

You had to be at the site earlier than the guests so you did your hair and most of your makeup at home. Andy had not seen your dress on purpose. You wanted him to see you when he walked in with Lori. Your petty brain was on overdrive.

“Well you look great” Andy said pointing to your sweats.

“Shush. I’m not putting on my dress and heels until the last second. I pressed your shirt it’s hanging in your closet. I also picked up your tux from the cleaners.”

He slid his arms around you and looked at you in the mirror. “Why are you so good to me?” His hands roamed your body and made contact with your bare skin under your tshirt.

“I am gonna be late.” You swatted his hands away.

“You have four hours. Didn’t you hire party planners?”

“Yes. I still need to get my nails done and set up the auction. You can have your way with me later.”

“But I want to now” he whined. “Please. I’ll be really quick.”

You giggled , “Sounds really fun for me. You know I would never ever miss an opportunity to cum all over your cock…” your face was so close to his your lips were nearly touching. Your hands were on his chest. His were on your hips pulling you closer. “But I have to go. Bye, baby.”

“Tease! You’ll pay for that.” he called after you.

You winked at him as you headed out of the door, “I certainly hope so.”

All Andy could do was laugh. He wished he could spend this evening whisking you around the dance floor. He couldn’t wait to see how beautiful you would look tonight.

In two days you would be on your way to Chicago. The movers were already on the way with your furniture. Your suitcase was in the process of being packed. He hated it. He was taking a long weekend to help you get settled. By Wednesday morning you would have to say goodbye. His heart broke a little every time he thought about it. Every single day he wanted to say he loved you. He was reluctant to ruin what you had knowing there was no way around the inevitable.

———————————————————————

Everything was set. The only thing left was for you to get dressed. You re-sprayed your hair and put on your jewelry. You spritzed Chanel over your wrists neck and cleavage. Last thing was to coat your lips in a matte oxblood to match your nails. You looked sleek and downright terrifying. Just as you planned.

“They just walked in.” Liz whispered from the doorway.

“How does she look?”

“Pretty and appropriate.”

“How do I look?”

“Like a bad bitch. Let’s go.”

You walked out with your shoulders back and your head high. You made sure the gown swished enough to expose your legs and the impossibly high heels you wore. Andy saw you from across the room and stopped dead in his tracks. You looked like you were walking in slow motion. He almost dropped his drink.

You made a b line for Stan and his wife Elaine who were standing directly behind the other couple. He smelled your perfume wafting off of you when you walked by. He almost lost it right there.

“Y/N! What a knockout. Elaine, isn’t she gorgeous?” You kissed his cheek with the side of your mouth careful not to smear your lipstick.

“Christ, Stan. Keep it in your pants. You look beautiful, honey.”

“Thank you, Elaine. So good to see you. Lovely as always.”

“Thank you, dear. Now how is it possible you are here without a date? Stan, you work the poor thing so much she can’t even find a man. That’s why she’s leaving you.”

“And for many other reasons” you joked. You were very much aware that Andy was behind you. “Elaine have you met Andy and Lori Barber?”

You took Lori’s hand and ushered them over. “No, I haven’t. So nice to finally meet you.”

“You get to know each other. I’m going to grab a drink. Can I get anyone anything?” Such a good hostess.

“I’d love a scotch. Elaine wine?” She nodded.

“Andy?”

“You won’t be able to carry all of those drinks. Let me come with you.” Andy patted Lori on the arm. “I’ll be right back.” When you were far enough away he took a long look at you. “How long til I get to rip that dress off of you?”

Your cheeks heated, “You won’t be ripping anything. This dress cost a fortune. It’s far too pretty to ruin especially with panty lines.”

“Fuck. I’m gonna ruin that pussy.”

“Promises promises, Mr. Barber.” He groaned and adjusted his pants.

“Such a tease.”

You delivered the drinks and excused yourself. For the rest of the night Andy only caught glimpses of you. He tried not to make it obvious but Lori could see. Once upon a time he looked at her like that. Except the way he looked at you was a look of complete adoration.

You tried avoiding the Barbers all night. The whole time Andy schmoozed and did his Andy thing, his arm was around her waist. She kept her hand on his chest. They were always finding little ways to touch each other. When he kissed her temple you nearly broke the clipboard you were holding.

Stan stood next to you draining his fourth drink, “You ok there, champ? Sweet couple aren’t they?”

“Yeah. They’re adorable.” You slammed the rest of your Old Fashion.

“Reminds me of me and Katherine . Remember Katherine?”

“Was she your second or third wife? I don’t remember.” Your words were dripping with sarcasm.

“Second. Every time we had one of these things Katherine was on my arm. She was great at this shit. She’d chat it up with the partner’s wives earning me brownie points while I fucked Elaine’s brains out in the John. Know why I married Elaine? She was the best goddamn litigator I’d ever seen. Gets my dick hard every time I think about it. She lit a fire in me that couldn’t be stoked. Kind of like you do for Andy.”

You blanched, “What do you mean?”

“Oh save it. I know you’re fucking. The whole office does. I see how he looks at you. But you can’t see how you look at him. Don’t let the act fool you. He’s stupid for you. Let me keep him for a couple of months before you move him to Chicago ok? He can make us some serious money.” He patted you on the ass and went back to Elaine. She was waiting for him with a big smile that he drunkenly devoured.

———————————————————————

The band started playing. When a slow song came on Lori took Andy’s hand. “Dance with me?”

For possibly the last time he held her. She closed her eyes, rested her head on his shoulder and let him lead her around the dance floor. He wasn’t reciprocating with the same tenderness. His eyes were held on you.

You watched him place his hand on the small of her back. The way he held her hand was a practiced action that he had perfected over sixteen years. When he let himself get lost for just a moment he was overcome with grief for himself and Lori. He pressed a kiss to her lips. Her heart fluttered and she kissed him back. You rushed out of the room when you saw them.

Lori felt her husband’s body stiffen. His hold on her loosened. It felt like he was forcing his body to stay with her. She understood why his mood shifted when she saw you leaving. She looked up at him. His eyebrows were knitted together with worry.

“How long have you been sleeping with her?” she asked quietly.

“A month. Maybe longer.” He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t lie.

“So basically since you left.”

“My second day there. Lori, I’m so sorry. It just happened. I wasn’t looking for anything.”

“No, but you were open to something happening. Does everyone here know? Of course they do. I’m so humiliated. I think I’d like to go home.”

“I’ll get the car.”

“No. I can get myself home. This night is too important for you to leave early.”

“Lori…”

“I don’t want to be around you right now, Andy. I can’t.” She let go of his hand and left. She carried herself with poise and dignity but inside she was dying.

You were nowhere to be found. He spotted Liz who was chatting with some friends. “Where is she?”

“Auctions over. She left.”

“Shit. Thanks.”

“Andy, be gentle with her. Idiots.”

He ran to the valet and jumped in his car to race home. When he got out he noticed a suit case in the back of your car. The elevator was taking forever. He took the stairs two at a time to reach you before you got away.

He heard your heels clacking on the hardwood. Clothes were everywhere. “Y/N?”

“Bedroom.” You were still in your pretty dress. Still all made up throwing things in another suitcase.

“Going somewhere?”

“Hotel.”

“Mind telling me why?” His voice was hoarse like he had been screaming.

“The way you held her…you kissed her.” He grabbed your hands to make you look at him but you yanked them away. “This was stupid. I should have never gotten involved with you in the first place. Married men never leave. Please get out of my way, Andy. I have to go.”

“You think this was a mistake?” Slow tears rolled down his face. He undid his bow tie and sat down. “I don’t. I’m glad we met.”

“Why? Because I feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest. So why are you glad?”

“Because you reminded me what it felt like to be cared for. To feel loved. You showed me what I had been missing for a long time now.”

“Happy to have helped.” You continued emptying drawers.

“Please stop packing. Please.” You wouldn’t look at him. He tried grabbing you several times but you moved beyond his reach. “Damn it! Why? Why do you always run when things get hard?”

“I’m not running.”

“No? So Chicago just came up? Or did you put out your resume the second you heard I got the job you wanted?”

Your cheeks heated. “You know how this business works. If I got passed over this time, they’ll keep doing it.”

“Right. And tonight? The second things get weird you run.”

“You kissed her!” You were trying not to cry.

“I know. I was sad. We’ve been Andy and Lori for the majority of our lives. Tonight felt so final. I know we’ll always have Jacob but, there is nothing else there. Please. I am so in love with you. Please.” He dropped to his knees and hugged you tight around your waist.

“Andy, you have to let me go.” He pressed his face into your stomach and broke down. “Andy? Sweetie? Come on. Let go.”

“Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll let you walk out of that door. I’ll never contact you again. But I know you do.”

“Stop….”

“Aren’t you tired of running?” You were tired. You ran away from your family, former lovers, dead end jobs. You wanted to finally be settled. Leave with a clean break. There was nothing clean about this. If you said you loved him there was no going back. This would be at least three years of a long distance relationship because he won’t leave Jacob. You didn’t want him to leave his son. This would be you exhibiting a level of trust you weren’t sure you had. He fell in love with you so fast. In your absence, what would stop him from falling for someone else? You were so weak when it came to Andy. Fucking perfect at everything Andy fucking Barber. Why couldn’t you shake him? Why couldn’t you just walk away like you have been trying to do since the first time you had sex?

BECAUSE WE LOVE HIM YOU DUMB TWAT. Your brain screamed. You couldn’t make your mouth work. You ran your fingers through his hair, “I love you, Andy.”

He pulled you down onto the floor and kissed you with abandon. “Say that again.” he whispered against your mouth.

“I love you. I love you. God help me, I love you.” A smile was plastered on his face for the rest of the night. Packing could wait.

#andy barber smut #andy barber x y/n #andy barber angst #andy barber #defending jacob

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theasstour · 4 years ago

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𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟐.𝟗𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬

A/N: Massive thank you to my dearest @fromyourstrulyh for the help! You’re an angel sent from above 🦑🌊✨

Monday, 22 June

Y/N walked through the doors to the Inn, placing her red heart shaped sunglasses at the top of her head as she started rummaging through her purse for the keys to her room. It had just passed 10am and she’d been strolling about town, popping by Vintage Divine again. Now all she needed was a small reading session and she’d be ready for the beach later. However, her attention was brought to the sound of voices and laughter coming from the back garden. She remembered how Bessie had been seated there the first day Y/N arrived, how tranquil the garden had looked hidden away behind the Inn.

Curiosity got the better of her and Y/N walked over to the open door, peeking her head through it properly for the first time. Vines ran up and down the white cement fence, the small square in the middle littered with different coloured flowers, a few bistro chairs stood around a round table, a few women around Bessie’s age and the woman herself all seated there chattering away. As soon as Bessie noticed Y/N, she put down the knitting in her hand and grinned from ear to ear.

“Well, hello!”

The other women looked at Y/N and she smiled at them all, recognising Camilla and Florence from before. They all exclaimed various greetings, motioning for her to come over to where they were seated.

“You’ve met Florence before, and Camilla I hear.” Bessie gestured at the two women. “And this is Barbara.”

“Just call me Barb,” the woman in question said, grinning at her. “I’ve heard so much about you, Y/N.”

“You have?” Y/N asked, sitting down in the chair beside Bessie, who had been patting it since Y/N entered the back garden. “All good things, I hope.”

“Oh, all the girls have said you’re just lovely,” Barb reassured Y/N, removing her glasses from the bridge of her nose so she could take a proper look at the knitting in her hands.

“Have you ever tried knitting before, Y/N?” Bessie asked, cocking her head a little to the side as she watched Y/N look around the table at all the four women knitting.

“I tried when I was younger, but I was no good at it,” she said. “My mother used to be a very good knitter. Or, she still is, but… but I never managed to pick it up proper.”

“It’s all about the technique and how you’re taught it.” Bessie moved her chair a little closer to Y/N, bringing a tote bag with her and retrieving some bamboo knitting needles and pink yarn from inside it. Startled by the sudden change of pace, Y/N was left staring at the yarn in her hands, and then back at Bessie, who only continued to look at her. The old lady didn’t wait long, however. She made Y/N look back down at the knitting in her hand again.

“Right,” Bessie started. “Do you know how to cast on, dear?”

“No.”

“Okay, first you need to tie a slip knot, like so.” Bessie took the bamboo needle from Y/N’s hand and showed her how. She did it slowly, letting Y/N really see how she did it before taking the yarn off the needle and doing it again. “Now you do it.”

Dread filled Y/N. She’d fail. She couldn’t do this. She had tried it before and her Mum told her she had no talent for knitting. Why was she letting Bessie teach her this? Sweat started beading at Y/N’s forehead. Bessie gave the yarn back. Y/N took a slow breath, placing her hand and finger as Bessie had.

Y/N swallowed thickly. “I can’t.”

“You can, darling. It’s very easy.”

Y/N shook her head. She was afraid her hands would start shaking. “I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

Y/N couldn’t just tell Bessie how bad she was at knitting. Bessie would be so disappointed if she did, but at the same time, the innkeeper would be beyond sad if Y/N didn’t at least try. Y/N felt like she was choking for a second, as if she was running straight for a cliff, unable to stop. It would be disastrous. She didn’t want Bessie to hate her.

However, she felt Bessie staring her down. She knew that she had to do it. Bessie had given her a piece of yarn and a needle. She could not disappoint. She just couldn’t. As slowly as Bessie had, Y/N managed to do the knot stitch. Her hands were trembling slightly, and with everything within her, she hoped Bessie couldn’t see it. Y/N’s accomplishment was rewarded by a single clap from Bessie and a huge grin on the old lady’s face.

“Again.”

Y/N felt her mouth fall open. Though this wasn’t knitting, she had a long, long way to go still, she’d managed to do a knot stitch. She remembered this was how you started every single project, but she didn’t think she’d be able to do it again. Y/N looked at Bessie, and the old lady was grinning at her. Bessie placed her hand on Y/N’s back and rubbed her tenderly, a silent encouragement to go on. The touch had come as a surprise, Y/N didn’t know why Bessie did it. The hand on her back did wonders to calm her down and tell her she’d manage to do it again.

Slowly, Y/N repeated what she’d just done, feeling her racing heart calm down just a tad when she managed to do the knot again. Bessie rubbed Y/N’s back again, and this time it startled her enough that she jumped a little. Bessie only laughed at the reaction, squeezing Y/N’s shoulder before gesturing at the needles in front of her.

“Well, you saying you weren’t any good when you were younger, look at you now! That’s a good start, my dear.” Bessie tapped the stitch. “Now, since you deem yourself a beginner, I’ll show you the easiest way to cast on. There are multiple ways of doing it, but this was the one I learned. If you don’t understand what I’m doing, please tell me, okay?”

“Okay.” Y/N gave Bessie the bamboo needle back, turning her body so she could better watch Bessie cast on.

“You see this?” Bessie asked, motioning with her head at the needle she was holding out in front of her. Y/N nodded and Bessie put her glasses back on, getting ready to properly teach Y/N how to cast on as easy as one possibly could. Though Y/N hadn’t envisioned herself spending time trying to knit while she was in Cornwall, here she was. It wasn’t like she was going to start knitting an actual jumper or something nice. For today, she focused on that little square so she’d get into it. It wasn’t the prettiest thing she’d ever seen, she didn’t believe Bessie and her ladies for a second when they told her how nice it looked, but regardless, Y/N brought it up to her room with her and put it in her bag.

Y/N Walking from the Inn now xx

Y/N started walking along the Terrace, leaving the Roaming Crab Inn behind as she typed Porthmeor Beach into her Google Maps. It was a fantastic day. The sun beamed down on St Ives as afternoon approached, a slight ocean breeze cooling Y/N down on her way to meet the Styles-Flores family. The wind wasn’t strong enough to make it uncomfortable to walk in her white and orange tie dye culotte trousers or white transparent beach shirt. In fact, she felt very good in this outfit. Her straw hat sat neatly on her head; she was sure Harry would be able to make her out the second he saw her.

Harry Wicked, walk along the Terrace and I’ll meet you on Fore Street 😊

The little emoji made Y/N soft for some reason. She went back to focusing on the Google Maps on her phone, walking along the streets of St Ives, taking in the people that were on their way home from work. It was a little busier than usual now, but that only meant Porthmeor Beach wouldn’t be as crowded as it normally was. Not that Y/N would know if it was since she hadn’t been there yet, but she imagined people were either on their way home or at home making dinner. It just so happened that the Styles-Flores family were eating their dinner on the beach.

She noticed Harry right away on Fore Street, shining in the yellow afternoon sun. Wearing a revere Aztec striped orange, white, red and blue shirt along with denim shorts that reached his knees.He spotted her through his round dark sunglasses and gave her a close-mouthed smile and a small wave.

“Hiya, you,” Y/N said, giving Harry a beam as they got closer to one another.

“Hi.” He ran a quick hand through his hair as they fell into step, strolling back the way he came. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just been walking around and reading most of today, really. What about you?”

“Helped Jessa get everything ready down at the beach, driven all the food there. I think right about everyone’s there now.”

“Am I late?”

Harry looked at Y/N, shaking his head quickly and making his sunglasses slide down further on the bridge of his nose. He readjusted them hastily. “No, no, no. We wouldn’t have started till you’d arrived anyway. Dinner’s not served till everyone’s there.”

Y/N smiled a bit. “I would hate to have-“

“-No, honestly,” Harry smiled back. “That’s how we are, and we don’t mind waiting.”

“Forgot to tell you the other day, but I really like your family. They’re so nice,” Y/N said truthfully, making Harry glance down at the ground before them before looking back up again.

“We’re a bit loud, and a little rowdy sometimes, but they’re my favourite people on earth.”

Y/N looked away from Harry, blinking rapidly. “Can tell they absolutely adore you.”

There was a slight pause in conversation as they turned to walk up The Digey. Harry walked behind her as the cobbled street narrowed, the stone cottages rising up on both sides making it hard to walk side by side.

“By the way,” Harry said as he came up beside her when they walked past Bumbles Tearoom, the tiny square-like opening providing more space to walk on. “There’s… Uhm, there’s this thing on Thursday.”

“Yeah?”

Harry made sureno cars were coming as he let Y/N take the secure pavement while he walked on the side of the road. “My mates have gotten a whiff of what’s going on.”

“Which is?” Y/N smiled as she saw the ocean straight ahead, past the small stone fencing, seagulls flying and singing overhead.

“That my girlfriend’s in town.” He fell quiet for a second. “Pretend girlfriend. But they don’t know that.”

Y/N chuckled. “Alright.”

“One of them sent me a text asking if they could meet you. His Mum… You met her, Mrs Rose? Florence?”

“Oh! She’s so nice.”

“Yeah, suppose. A proper gossip, though. Anyway,” Harry said, waving his hand as if to dismiss what he’d just said. “Dax has been fed all this information by Florence and he’s now proper fuming I’ve never told him about you.”

“Dax is your best friend?”

“Him and Amir, I’ve been friends with them ever since I moved here.”

Y/N nodded. “So, what’s happening Thursday?”

“Ellie’s coming back from visiting her girlfriend in Ireland, so the lot are going to the pub.”

“You want me to come?”

“Dax asked if I could bring you. Rather, he demanded it. He’s quite offended that I didn’t tell him I had a girl- pretend girlfriend.”

The red that creeped along Harry’s cheeks after the stumble/slip made Y/N smile. “I’ll come. Have told you a couple of times already, haven’t I? I don’t have anything to do this summer anyway.”

Harry looked up at her, biting his bottom lip before looking at the beach before them again. “You really don’t mind?”

“Harry, you could ask me to come shovel cow shit at Jessa’s farm, and I’d be there without hesitation.”

That got him. He laughed and it was such a high-pitched boyish exclamation of joy that it surprised even him. His eyes grew wide and he slapped his hand over his mouth, making Y/N join in and laugh herself.

“I’m sorry, sometimes I sound like a hyena.”

Y/N shook her head while still laughing. “Why are you apologising? You’re laughing, you should laugh.”

Harry smiled at her as they crossed the road to the pavement on the other side by the fence along the beach.

“My Mum always said that you never have to apologise for being happy. You never have to atone for smiling or laughing or feeling content or ecstatic. Happiness isn’t permanent, one shouldn’t apologise or feel bad for experiencing it. It’s there ‘cause it’s there.”

“It’s there for a reason, though, isn’t it?” Harry asked, stopping and hooking his sunglasses to the collar of his shirt.

“Happiness doesn’t need reason, does it? It just is. It exists because without knowing it’s there somewhere and it’s attainable - ‘cause it always, always is, no matter how dark the world gets, happiness will be there to bring light when the going gets hard, - there’s no reason to go on, is there?”

Something about the way Harry watched her the next few seconds made her feel important. It was as if he was digesting her words; truly taking them in and listening to her. His eyes flickered between hers and it was only her that had his attention. She wasn’t sure she’d seen that look on anyone else’s face before when she talked.

“Are you afraid of heights?”

The question took her off guard, but she managed a, “No.” Which was the truth. She didn’t mind heights.

“Sound.” Harry sat down on the stone fencing lining the beach, his feet dangling off the far side. “This way is quicker.”

Y/N looked down the road, the stairs leading down to the beach were a bit away, so she understood why Harry was doing this. But… her hat would go flying. There wasn’t much time to think about it, because when she looked back, Harry jumped off and down into the sand. It wasn’t far down, it definitely didn’t scare her in the least, but she’d never jumped from any height like this before. Maybe from the side of a pool and into it, but never like this. That being said, she didn’t want to keep Harry waiting. So, telling herself to get over it, she sat down on the edge of the fence the way Harry had.

“Would you mind taking care of this?” she asked, taking her purse off her shoulder and holding it out.

He nodded, lifting his arms up as she dropped it.

She took a deep breath, watching as Harry caught her purse, and waiting till he’d taken a few steps back before she held onto her straw hat and mimicked what Harry had done a minute earlier. The sand came toward her at a rapid pace, butterflies appearing in her belly at the rush the jump brought, and before she knew it, the sand was right under her feet. The impact took her by surprise, and she fell to the side, an “oomph” sound leaving her mouth when sand got in her face.

“Oh, shit!” Harry ran over to her, sand spewing up behind him and unintentionally falling to his knees beside her, purse hanging from his shoulder. He held both his hands out, as to help her up, though both of hers were still very much holding onto the hat on her head. “You okay?”

She laughed, moving her hat some to look up at Harry, whose eyes were wide and hands still there at her disposal. “If we wouldn’t have looked like idiots, I would demand we do that again.”

A smile of relief washed over Harry’s face, and at the sound of Y/N laughing some more, it widened and turned into a genuine and elated one. “But you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I was just so focused on not losing my hat.”

“Right,” Harry chuckled, watching as she sat up on her knees. For a short second, his eyes flicked to her thighs, then back up into her eyes. Upon being caught looking, he glanced away, clearing his throat and getting up to his feet again. Y/N couldn’t help a slight giggle as she did the same.

“Never seen you in trousers before,” Harry said, giving her the purse back.

Y/N stared at him for a second before they started walking in the direction of his family. She couldn’t help her smile. “I didn’t know I’d never worn trousers around you.”

Harry let out a breathy chuckle, scratching at the back of his neck. “I, uh… I dunno… I have a good memory, I suppose.”

The two of them walked all the way over to the edge of the beach, right by the green Island that stood lush and majestic above all the houses that lined the beach. Jessa noticed them approaching first, clapping her hands together upon seeing Y/N. Y/N grinned, holding her hand out to Harry’s stepmum. Jessa took Y/N’s hand and Y/N did a tender mano po that got Jessa beaming so brightly it felt like she was singlehandedly lighting up the entire world.

“Y/N!” Grace exclaimed, running over with her arms outstretched. She hugged Y/N around the waist and Y/N quickly hugged her back, taken a bit off guard by the warm welcome. She wasn’t used to hugs, but she wasn’t about to tell Grace that. “You need to sit beside me.”

“Of course, I just need to go and greet your grandpa.”

Jessa put her hand over her heart as she watched Y/N walk over to Harry and Grace’s Lolo. She took her hat off upon approaching, the old man watching her with a look that was neither disapproving nor reassuring. She remembered what Harry said about this being important to him, that he didn’t want the tradition to die completely, so he probably expected her to do the mano po every time she met him as well.

“Mano po?” Y/N asked and he gave her his hand. She brought his knuckles up to her forehead, held them there for a second before pulling away.

Once she did, the old man reached beside him and revealed a hat that looked almost exactly like Y/N’s. He placed it on his head and a tiny smile graced his lips, and the way he looked when he smiled made Y/N see his resemblance to Jessa.

“Would you look at that!” Y/N grinned, putting her own hat on her head. “Great minds.”

“It’s important to keep your head cool when it’s sunny and hot out,” Lolo said and Y/N nodded eagerly, heart beating fast with the possible approval of a highly respected figure in Harry and Grace’s life.

“Y/N is here!” Jessa exclaimed, sitting down on the sand beside her father. “Kain na! Let’s eat!”

That was when Y/N really paid attention to her surroundings. The table they were eating at was low and long, no chairs in sight. The rest of the big family of around twenty , sat down by the table, Jessa and Lolo in the middle. Harry sat down in the sand opposite Jessa, looking over at Y/N and patting the spot next to him. She walked over, sitting down, putting her hat and purse behind her.

“So, this is kamayan,” Y/N said, remembering what Jessa had invited her to that Saturday at Grace’s birthday party.

“Y/N’s first kamayan!” Jessa said, looking so delighted Y/N felt her shoulders relax. She hadn’t known she’d been nervous about this until now. “Harry, where’s your camera?”

“It’s, uhh…” Harry looked at Y/N, the redness in his cheeks showing again as he quickly looked away when meeting her eyes. “In my bag.”

Jessa got up, walked over to Harry’s bag and started to rummage around it.

“Nanay,” Harry said, about to get up and get the camera for Jessa, but his stepmum found the Super 8 Camera and brought it over, waving it in her hand. “Please, be careful.”

“Harry’s quite nostalgic and sentimental, you see. He likes to video everything, especially during the summer when all his family and friends are here.”

“I know,” Y/N smiled, though she really had no idea, telling Jessa and the rest of Harry’s friends and family wouldn’t look good. Especially considering how Y/N was supposed to know everything about Harry.

“Of course you do,” Jessa said, bringing the camera up to her face. “Everybody, don’t mind me, do your thing!”

“Nay, switch the camera to tungsten since you’re using daylight stock,” Harry said and Jessa waved his worries off like she’d already taken care of that, turning her attention back to the camera to focus in on everyone. She started filming down the long table and Y/N looked away from her, first at Harry and then at the table in front of her. It looked unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.

“I usually…” Harry started, his voice low so only the two of them would hear. “I usually film when the family and friends are together each summer. Kind of like… i-it’s something we can look back on in a few years and remember, you know? ‘Oh, that happened that summer’ and ‘I’d completely forgotten about that’, and so on.”

Y/N smiled. “I really like that. Keeping memories.”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, we have to tell you what it is!” Jessa grinned as she sat back down, Harry’s Super 8 Camera back in Harry’s bag. “Basically, kamayan is a feast where we use no utensils, we eat with our hands.” Jessa wiggled her fingers at Y/N, a small laughter emitting from her. “First – so it’ll be easier to clean up after – we put newspapers on the table, even though we only ever use this table for this exact purpose on this exact day every year. The banana leaves that we put on top always leave a faint white residue behind. Then as you can tell,” Jessa went on pointing to the table, and Y/N looked down to see huge leaves covering the table as well. It wasn’t just the pattern of the table; these were actual leaves. “Then we grill banana leaves and put the ridged side up. The ridged side is the waxy side, it’ll keep the sauces from soaking through.”

“You align the spines of the leaves with the table edge so they won’t hang off the side of the table,” Harry explained, looking over at Jessa for confirmation.

She smiled at him, then at Y/N. “I’ve taught him well.”

Y/N smiled. “So, no plates? We just put our food on the leaves in front of us and eat?”

“For the kamayan, we don’t use any plates, we scoop everything up in lettuce leaves, coconut cups, and so on. First, we put down the rice, then around the rice is the pancit bihon guisado, which is rice sticks noodles with vegetables. All of that should be good for you to eat. Harry forgot-“ Jessa leaned over the table and swatted Harry over the head, though the gesture was more out of love than annoyance as both smiled after. Harry quickly fixed his hair again. “Your useless boyfriend forgot to tell me you are vegetarian. I’ve never been more insulted in my life.”

“Nanay, it just slipped my mind-“

“-Shush!” Jessa turned to Y/N. “If I’d known, I swear I would’ve made more food you could’ve eaten last Saturday as well.”

“That’s completely fine, don’t even worry about it, honestly,” Y/N smiled, glancing over at Harry who was looking at the food in front of him with a smile as he listened to the conversation. “I’m just honoured I was invited to this at all.”

“Of course! You’re Harry’s girlfriend!”

Again, a pang of guilt exploded in Y/N’s chest and swam across her entire body. The joy that was so incredibly transparent in Jessa’s voice would be gone when August came. Y/N felt sick to her stomach at the thought.

“Then there’s fried fish, shrimp, roasted eggplant, pan-fried bok choy, barbecued chicken, lumpia – I made them vegetarian this time around so you can eat them as well -, and a mango and some other fruits, but those are all in front of you.” Jessa gestured at the food in front of her. “Made Harry put it all where you two’d be sitting so it’d be easier for you, that way you won’t have to reach around the table for the vegetarian options.”

Y/N didn’t know when her hand had come to rest above her chest, she didn’t know when her heart had started hammering a million miles an hour, but she supposed this was her reaction to people going out of their way to make her feel welcome and included. A smile spread out across her lips as she looked to Harry, who was actually looking right back at her this time, maybe to make sure she was alright. When Y/N met Jessa’s warm eyes, she felt something in the back of her throat almost start burning. This was all so thoughtful. Though she shouldn’t have been surprised, Harry’s family were the type to go out of their way for one another, she just hadn’t thought they’d do that for her. The only person that had done that had ever done that for her was herself.

“Thank you so much.”

“No need to thank us, this is a feast for everyone.”

Again, Y/N was struck by how beautifully the table was decorated. So many colours, so many different dishes; it looked like a piece of art.

“These are edible orchids, by the way,” Harry gestured at the purple flowers that were strewn across the small mountain of food in the middle of the table. “We’re not trying to kill you.”

“Yet!” Grace grinned from beside Jessa.

“Don’t spoil our plan, Gracie,” Uncle Tim said, giving Y/N a nod as their eyes met.

“You lot are being creepy.” Harry got up, walking over to the portable cooler and bringing out a few beers, strolling over to the far end of the table and giving them to his aunts Rachel and Abby and their husbands. Then he gave one to everyone else over 18, handing the seven children a juice each.

“Cider or beer, Y/N?” Harry asked, meeting her eyes as he bent down to get some more drinks. “Or do you want juice? Water?”

“I’ll have a beer, please.”

Harry got one for her, his Lolo, Jessa, and him, before giving one to Uncle Tim, Jack – a close family friend – and Jack’s husband. Grace got a juice as well, making Harry open and put a straw in it for her before she happily started drinking.

“Gracie,” Jessa said, nudging her daughter. “Everyone!” Jessa brought her beer up, grinning at everyone around her and meeting their eyes before she said, “Mabuhay!”

Harry looked at Y/N, raising his beer, and she quickly got the memo, mimicking his movements.

“Mabuhay,” everyone else repeated, then took a sip of their drink, put it down on the ground beside them and finally started eating.

“Is that a toast of sorts?” she asked Harry, watching as he picked up a few lumpias and put them down on the banana leaf before him.

“A Filipino toast ‘to life and to live.’ We always do it before we dig in,” he explained, giving her a little smile before focusing back on scooping some rice into his hand and putting it down on the leaf in front of him.

Y/N mimicked him, picking up some rice with her hand and placing it right before her, she then reached for some of the vegetables and lumpia. She looked over at Grace who was happily munching on barbecued chicken, listening to Uncle Tim as he talked about something that happened in the fishing boat yesterday. Aunt Rachel and her husband were watching their hoard of kids with a smile on their faces, eating the rice and some roasted eggplant. Everyone around the table seemed so at home and completely at peace. It didn’t matter that their hands were greasy or that the sauce was getting everywhere, it was beyond them. All that mattered was the company around them - their family and the people they loved most.

“What did you think of the lumpia?” Jessa asked, hope in her eyes and some pan-fried bok choy in her hand. “It’s Harry’s favourite.”

“Mine too!” Grace chimed in before looking back at Uncle Tim and then Jack across the table, falling into their conversation again.

“They’re absolutely incredible,” Y/N said. “Did you cook all this yourself?”

“We cook everything together,” Lolo answered. “The family makes the food, it’s a bonding experience. We prepare the food the day before and reheat it before we eat it here.”

“And it’s great being on the beach, ‘cause if we spill something or anything like that, it won’t matter, and then we can just wash off with a bath afterward,” Jessa smiled.

“The weather’s beautiful down south, understand why you’d wanna do it on the beach,” Y/N said, taking a sip of her beer.

“You haven’t been to Porthmeor Beach yet, have you?” Harry asked, just loud enough so everyone chatting around them wouldn’t hear them talking. “This beach, I mean.”

“No, it’s much smaller than Porthminster Beach. It’s right by the Inn.”

“This one isn’t as crowded.” He paused for a bit, shaking his head once. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s crowded when tourists come here, but think most flock to Porthminster.”

“Which one do you like most?”

Harry swallowed a piece of roasted eggplant. “Porthgwidden. It’s the smallest one in St Ives.”

“How far is it?”

“On the other side of the Island. So, Porthmeor is on this side, and Porthgwidden is on the other.”

“You there often?”

“This one’s closer to the lighthouse, but I like Porthgwidden better. Dunno why. It was the first beach my father and I went to when we got here.”

Y/N smiled a bit. “I’ll have to go there at some point.”

“If you like the gang Thursday, they might try and convince you to come to a party there in July.”

“If it came to that, I’d be easy to convince.”

Harry only let out a small chuckle before the both of them turned back to eating. While eating, Y/N realised that while partaking in kamayan, you strip yourself of everything. You sit around a table with people who mean a lot to you, catch up on life, and talk about nothing and everything. Using your hands to eat food was a humbling, intimate experience. One felt vulnerable eating like this; using your hands to eat your own food and also handing food to others around you with those same hands. You connected on a sort of deeper level, eating and talking like this. Throughout the meal, Y/N felt closer to the people around her than when they’d started. She understood why this was a tradition in the Styles-Flores family now. If this was her family, it would undoubtedly be something she’d look forward to when summer rolled around.

“Harry, can you come with me?” Grace asked after a little while, her juice box empty and no food on the leaf in front of her.

“You want to go for a swim?”

She nodded at his question.

“Alright.” Harry turned to Y/N as Grace squealed in delight, getting up to take her summer dress off. “You wanna come?”

“I’d love to.” Y/N got up, smiling as she watched Grace get her arm floats on. Harry drank the last of his beer, saying something to Uncle Tim that Y/N didn’t catch. Aunt Rachel and Abby were already by the shore watching their children, so it seemed an appropriate time for the rest of them to go for a swim as well. Y/N took her stuff and walked around the table to Grace, putting her purse and hat with their things so they were more protected against the wind. Though it wasn’t a strong one, she still didn’t fancy her stuff flying off, never to be seen again. She took her trousers off first, then took her white transparent shirt off over her head.

She really liked the mint green colour of her bikini. A square bandeau top and a leg high waist bottom. She’d never worn it before, but in her haste to get away from Winchester, she’d grabbed it. Grace complimented it, grinning as she took it in and “wished she was as old as Y/N so she could wear nice bikinis like that.” Y/N noticed then that Harry hadn’t gotten up and gotten ready with them.

Looking over at where she knew he was seated, she found him already staring at her. With his chin slightly lowered and eyes glancing through his dark eyelashes, it was as if his intention had been to look away. He met her eyes and quickly looked away, his cheekbones flaring up. He coughed and hastily got up from where he was seated, knee bumping into the table in the process, causing some of the rice to go everywhere.

“Sorry!”

“What’s wrong?” Jessa asked, looking behind her at Y/N, and then back at Harry. “Did she make you flustered-“

“-No! No. No, I was not checking her out.” Harry walked over to Y/N and Grace, unbuttoning his shirt and placing it with Grace’s clothes.

“What’s wrong with that?! She’s your girlfriend, Harry.”

“Nay-“

“-You must’ve done it before if you two are together, surely you-“

“-Nanay!”

Grace took a grip of Y/N’s wrist and the two of them started walking toward the ocean. Grace giggled some beside Y/N as they heard more loud chatter behind them coming from their table.

“What?” Y/N asked, smiling down at the seven-year-old.

“Harry was checking you out.”

Y/N huffed, putting her hand on Grace’s shoulder, choosing not to say anything as doing so might make it all worse. She was sure Harry had just been deep in thought, maybe just waiting for Y/N and Grace to be done getting undressed, so he could do so as well without the bag area getting too crowded. No matter what, she was sure it had just been accidental. Regardless, Jessa was howling with laughter behind them now, so it was all forgotten. The girls quickly found out why Jessa had laughed, though.

Harry zoomed past them, running straight for the ocean in a pair of short yellow swimming shorts. Grace yelped in glee, shouting Harry’s name as she sprinted after him. Y/N watched the two of them, walking at a normal pace to let the siblings have some fun before she joined in. Harry ran into the ocean, water splashing up around him before he dove in. When he resurfaced again he whipped the hair out of his face before running a hand over it to get most of the water away.

He grinned from ear to ear at the sight of Grace following him, her small form not being able to lift her feet high enough to run at any proper speed. He walked over to her, lifting her off the ground, and as Grace knew what he was doing, she shifted her weight so she was on his back. Her arms barely made it around his neck with her floaties on. At the same speed as before, Harry ran back into the water, Grace laughing and squealing and clinging to Harry as water came up around them.

The sight melted Y/N’s heart. The two siblings had such an immense love for one another. They communicated so well, always knowing what the other one needed without needing to voice the actual words, and it was so beautiful to see them together. Especially like this.

“I want to jump from your shoulders,” Grace said, reaching for Harry’s shoulder in the water and trying to push him down.

He went underwater, taking Grace’s hands when she was settled, and then resurfaced. Grace screamed in delight, looking over at Y/N with the biggest beam on her face.

“Y/N! Watch this!” Grace jumped from Harry’s shoulders; chin lifted toward the sky as if that was going to prevent her from getting water all over her face. She giggled once she looked over at Harry again, begging him to let her do it again. He did it without hesitation, ducking underwater and letting Grace settle on his shoulders before he came up for air again. Y/N was nearing them now, water up to her ribs, and though it was a tad cold, it was nice to cool down a bit. The afternoon sun was extra hot today, and it didn’t help when they’d just been eating warm food with their hands and were all full.

“Y/N! Look at me!”

Grace let go of Harry’s hands balancing on his shoulders for a few seconds before she fell into the ocean again, giggling loudly. Y/N gave a short applause which seemed to have been the right response as Grace beamed back at her.

“Now you do it!”

Y/N blinked a few times. “Do what?”

“Get on Harry’s shoulders!”

“Gracie, I don’t think Y/N wants to-“

“-Don’t answer for her!” Grace pointed a warning finger at Harry and the sight made Y/N laugh. “Will you? It’s super fun!”

Y/N looked at Harry, putting her hands on her hips, smiling over at him. He smiled back, running a hand over his face to get most of the water off.

He was very soft. His belly protruded some from his swimming shorts and his love handles looked squishy, though his shoulders were broad and strong looking. It was no wonder why Grace always wanted her older brother to carry her, he looked to be a very good hugger. His biceps were beefy and tanned like the rest of him, muscle and a softness to him Y/N wasn’t sure she’d seen on anyone else before. She hoped he hadn’t caught her taking an extra good look at him.

“You think you can carry all this?” Y/N asked and Harry let out a small chuckle.

“Yes.” There was a slight pause, Harry blinking a few times and shaking his head before gesturing at his shoulders. “Yes. Yes, of course. Do you want me to go underwater?”

“No, I’ll just try and climb on.”

Grace watched as Y/N walked over, Harry walking a bit further out and lowering himself till his head was the only visible part of his body.

“Told you not to lower yourself, didn’t I?” Y/N laughed, putting her hands on his shoulders.

“Well, I don’t want you to jump off and hit the bottom!”

Y/N only laughed and she saw a smile on Harry’s face. She did a little jump, putting both feet on his hips before daring to put one on his shoulder. In doing so, Y/N realised how long of a torso this man actually had. Lifting her legs onto his shoulder was a challenge in itself.

“Here.”

Harry put his hands out in case she needed some help. Y/N took them, leaning on them as she lifted her other foot, putting it on his shoulder. She tried to stand, but before she’d even straightened her knees and back out, she felt herself tip backward. She felt Harry’s hands leaving hers and his shoulders disappear from under her feet. A little scream left her mouth before she fell underwater. When she resurfaced again, Grace was laughing and Harry was smiling at Y/N.

“Oh, me falling is funny, is it?” Y/N asked laughter in her voice. “Maybe I should stand on your shoulders next.”

“Nooo!” Grace tried to ward Y/N off, but Y/N walked toward her. Grace tried to run away and Y/N pretended to be running as fast as she could after her. “Harry!” Grace shouted, jumping into the water in front of her brother. He laughed, picking her up and jogging off, then tipping over and underwater, dragging Grace with him. Watching the two of them like that, and being out there, acting silly with them was the happiest Y/N thought she might’ve ever been.

The three of them went back to everyone else a short while after. Y/N and Grace spent a considerable amount of time building an impressive sandcastle, though it collapsed in the end, making Grace so mad she started crying a bit. After that, Y/N chatted some with Uncle Tim and a few other of Harry’s family members, listening to them talking more than anything else. She didn’t mind, though. She quite liked listening to others.

After a little while of Harry playing with his cousins in the sea, he walked up over to everyone else. It wasn’t till he’d dried off a bit and put his shirt back on that he asked if Y/N wanted to take a stroll. She put her loose trousers back on before she joined Harry, the two of them falling into step and walking in silence until all of his family members were out of earshot.

“Been to The West Beach Bakery?” Harry gestured at something that looked to be a restaurant in the distance.

“No, would you recommend?”

“Highly,” he said. “The sourdough pizza with some sangria on the side is ace.”

“Sounds lush.”

“We could’ve gone but-“ Harry patted his stomach and Y/N laughed. “Anyway, whenever you have the time. I would suggest going there.”

Y/N smiled. “Thank you.”

Harry smiled back, giving her a nod before he looked at the sand underneath his feet as they walked.

“Can I ask you a question?” she said as she felt a wave wash over her feet, wetting the bottom of her trousers. As Harry gave a small nod, she went on, “When you eat… your blood sugar levels rise, right? How do you regulate it? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, I don’t mind talking about my diabetes. I did before, but not anymore.” He gave her a little smile before he glanced ahead. “I use insulin therapy. So, for someone who doesn’t have type 1 diabetes, insulin will be produced and regulate your blood sugar levels. After you eat, carbohydrates break down into glucose, a sugar that is the body’s primary source of energy.”

Y/N knew this, but she liked listening to him and wasn’t about to interrupt when he was talking about something that affected his life to such a huge extent.

“Between meals, when insulin levels are low, the liver releases glycogen into the bloodstream in the form of glucose. This keeps the blood sugar levels within a narrow range. But if you have type 1 diabetes, your glucose levels will continue to rise after you eat because there’s not enough insulin to move the glucose into your body’s cells.”

“Ahh.” Y/N nodded.

“People with type 2 diabetes don’t use insulin efficiently and don’t produce enough insulin, while people with type 1 diabetes make little or no insulin. Insulin therapy for me and everyone else with type 1 is therefore vital for replacing the insulin my body doesn’t produce.”

“Gotcha.”

He was quiet for a few moments before he stammered, “I… I-I…” He frowned before he cleared his throat and went on. “I got diabetes when I was 11,” Harry started. “My Dad didn’t know what it meant at the time. He didn’t know that much about it; he went to a seminar at the local hospital to learn more about diabetes. Free for family members living with diabetics.”

Y/N nodded.

“I… I used to be overweight. I know I mentioned it briefly, but… are you comfortable talking about weight and body image, by the way? ‘Cause if not, we won’t-“

“-I’m fine, honestly. Thank you for asking, though,” Y/N smiled, motioning for Harry to continue talking.

“Well…” He readjusted the dark sunglasses on his nose. “I used to be bigger, I had some fat on my body. I knew it, my Dad knew it, and everyone who knew me did. I tried to hide behind baggy clothes and behind my humour, it made it easier for me to find confidence to hang around people.”

Y/N frowned a bit.

“But when I was 11… I started losing weight. It wasn’t intentional, it just sort of happened. I started going to the loo quite a lot, was always thirsty, was very irritable and had a lot of mood changes. That doesn’t happen to me, I’m a pretty nonchalant, calm person. So, my Dad knew something was wrong, especially when he realised how quickly I’d lost weight. We’re talking that I used to have a bit of a stomach and suddenly I didn’t anymore. It was strange for a 11-year-old.”

Y/N nodded. “What happened then?”

“He took me to the doctor, they directed us to the hospital, and they told me I had type 1 diabetes. They said my body had started burning muscle and fat for energy since it didn’t get enough energy from food. I hadn’t changed how I ate at all, not that I ate particularly unhealthy before, but it just happened.”

“How does it just happen?”

“Well, it can be genetic. It’s been running in my Mum’s side of the family, and it skipped her generation but latched onto me,” Harry said. “But basically, what happens is when glucose levels become high, the kidneys work to get rid of unused sugar through urine. This causes weight loss due to dehydration and loss of calories from the sugar that wasn’t used as energy.”

“Ahhh.”

“Kids who develop type 1 diabetes often lose weight even though they have a normal or increased appetite.” They fell quiet for a moment. “Sorry, this is probably very boring.”

“No! I’m studying- Or I’m trying to study for the UCAT, so I find it interesting and necessary to know. Also very honoured you wanted to tell me. Thank you.”

Harry shook his head, as if he was telling her he didn’t mind. He suddenly looked at her, narrowing his eyes. “You’re trying for the UCAT? You taking the piss?”

Y/N laughed and Harry joined in. “No, I’m seriously trying to read for it.”

“I thought you were interested in books. Like, a literature nerd or something.”

“Why, ‘cause I read a lot?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry chuckled, meeting her eyes for a second before looking away.

“Well, that’s more of a hobby, really,” she explained. “I want to become a dentist. Though… I’ve just turned 24, so… don’t know if I’m too old to be following my dreams. Everyone else taking the test is gonna be 17 or 18 or 19, and I’ll literally be the same age as their grandma.”

Harry laughed. “How’s the studying going, then? How are you getting on?”

“Okay. I’ve only read the first two chapters, but… it’s fun.”

He chuckled, buttoning some of his shirt so the wind wouldn’t get it. “Convincing.”

She smiled. “I’m sure I’ll get there. Somehow.”

“So,” he dragged it out, pursing his lips some. “What will you study at uni?”

“Dentistry.”

“Makes sense.”

She laughed. “You asked!”

“It completely slipped my mind that there’s a course dedicated to it.” He smiled at her as she chuckled some more. “Not my fault I didn’t remember it.”

“I’m going to forgive you this once.”

Harry smiled, in the light from the sunset, his skin was a glowing orange and the tips of his hair golden. “Right, as not to trigger anything else uni related,” he said, and Y/N giggled. “What’s your absolute favourite and least favourite book?”

She looked at him. “Ever?”

“Ever.”

Y/N inhaled, bringing her hand to her chin as she narrowed her eyes in thought. “My favourite has got to be Uses of the Erotic by Audre Lorde, and my least favourite is The Alchemist by Pablo Coelho. Though, Uses of the Erotic is an essay, really, but it’s the most profound text I’ve ever read.”

“Right, what’s it about?”

“Audre argues that eroticism, which has been inappropriately relegate to the domain of sex only, should instead be understood as a basic life force of vitality and creative power that guides us truthfully in all interactions. It’s the depth of feeling and engagement with ourselves and others. It relates to sexuality but doesn’t end there. It transcends all domains of life; domains we’ve been instructed to keep in neat, separate boxes.”

“Sounds interesting.”

Y/N smiled, nudging Harry’s arm with her shoulder.

“No! I genuinely mean it. It sounds interesting. I don’t really think of these things, so reading essays about stuff I don’t know much about is fascinating.”

“Exactly!” Y/N said. “As for The Alchemist… might just be that the English translation is bad, but it’s a poorly written book, for starters. It’s too philosophical, it’s full of boring, biased writing which tries to tell you that the world is controlled by destiny. There are also explicit religious themes that are hard for non-Christians to agree with. And the author’s extremely sexist.”

“You don’t believe in destiny?” Harry asked, taking Y/N a bit by surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you said he tries to tell the reader the world is controlled by destiny. You don’t think the universe brings you someplace or something or offers you an opportunity ‘cause it’s got this already calculated and wonderful plan for you, and where you’re supposed to end up?”

Y/N thought about that for a second. “I’m more of a believer of energy and balance. If you give the universe goodness, it will return that goodness back to you. So, if you’ve given negative energy out into the universe and the people around you, you’ll get negativity thrown back to you. You won’t get that job offer, or you’ll have relationship problems, or your house might burn down.”

“Oi!” Harry laughed. “From 0 to 100 real quick.”

Y/N giggled. “But you know what I mean, yeah? You decide your own destiny, but opportunities will present themselves to you according to how you treat the universe.”

“Yeah, I can see where you’re coming from.”

She smiled, looking down at her feet as another wave ran lazily over them. “How do you like being a lightkeeper?”

“I love it,” he answered honestly. “I didn’t want to become one at first, but… but then my Dad died, you know. It kind of forced me to take over after him ‘cause I was the next one in line. Before he died, when I was 18, I moved into the lighthouse keeper residence. It was empty, Dad continued to live with Jessa until he died two years ago, I don’t blame him for it, to be fair. It’s very lonely living out here and Jessa loves people, but you know this.”

Y/N smiled.

“I was already living at the lighthouse, already kind of looking after it when my Dad wasn’t there, so it made sense for me to do it. And, after like a month and some of doing it alone, I found out that I didn’t mind at all.” He shrugged. “Not that I had to ‘settle for being a lightkeeper’ or that I felt ‘forced’ to do it, I wanted to. I realised that it was something that suited me well.”

“You don’t need to be there all the time?”

Harry beamed. “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

She chuckled.

“No, I don’t. I just need to make sure it’s in good condition.”

“What do you do then? You got any hobbies?”

Harry scrunched up his nose.

“What?!”

“You think I’m this boring bloke that just stares off into space when I’m not around people?”

Laughing, Y/N shook her head, making Harry chuckle some in response. “No, of course not! But surely you have hobbies, yeah?”

“Yeah, I play a bit of volleyball with some mates every once in a while, also really like watching volleyball matches on the telly. And I play the piano. I actually wanted to study music at uni before I decided I’d become a lightkeeper, I applied and everything.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, when we were teenagers, Dax, Jo, Amir and I made a band. Dax knows the guitar, and Jo wanted to sing, so Amir said he’d do drums, and I didn’t know what instrument I’d do, so I just chose the keyboard. My Dad had a piano as decoration at home, so I started just playing it, and I didn’t realise how much I enjoyed it till I was in a bookstore looking for piano books with my Dad.”

She smiled. “Do you still have the same piano at your house, or did you buy a new one?”

“My Dad got me a new one when I moved out. The old one’s at the farm.”

“Harry!”

The two of them turned around to see Grace running toward them, waving her arms and jumping up and down. She gestured behind her at their family packing up and Harry turned around, motioning for Y/N to follow him.

“Guess we’re leaving?” Y/N asked, though the sun setting and some of Harry’s younger cousins were asleep, so the family departing made sense.

“Yeah, it’s been a long day, hasn’t it?”

Y/N smiled. “A good one.”

Thursday, 25 June

The Kettle and Wink was a three-minute walk from the Inn. With the help of Google Maps on her phone, Y/N found the way very easily. With her green floral wrap dress and a pair of white Vans and some white socks, Y/N thought she looked pretty casual. The frill edge of her dress blew against her thigh as she walked down the Terrace. She hadn’t brought a cardigan as she didn’t think she’d need one, but now she hoped they’d be sitting inside seeing as the dark mixed with the ocean breeze would get a bit chilly as night wore on. She hadn’t expected it to be this nippy, so she’d just have to bite her teeth together and survive tonight.

Y/N wasn’t really sure what to expect from meeting Harry’s mates. She was sure there would be an abnormal amount of questions, both about her and their relationship. She didn’t know how much detail Harry was used to giving his friends and if they expected juicy gossip neither she nor Harry would be able to provide. Judging by the way Harry acted around her, she’d say he most likely didn’t like giving up every single little detail of his life. Some things he seemed to like being hidden, he wasn’t likely to open up about everything and that was okay.

The man himself stood by the entrance to Gabriel Street, his phone in his hand and a concentrated look on his face. He was wearing a pair of tall black Converse with white socks just visible under the cuffs of his light-washed loose denim trousers. He was wearing a wool-knitted carmine jumper, it wasn’t the thickest wool jumper Y/N had seen, but it looked light and perfect for the weather and temperature that day. A white tee shirt was visible under it, probably there in case he got cold later on.

“Hi,” Y/N greeted, smiling at Harry who jumped a little at the sound of her voice.

“Hi,” he said back, putting his phone in his pocket. His eyes travelled down her body automatically, taking in her summer dress and probably thinking to himself how stupid she’d been for wearing something that would undoubtedly have her freezing by the end of the night. “Ready?” He nodded his head up the street, probably in the direction of where the pub was.

“Yeah.”

The two of them started walking up, Harry opening the door for her when they reached The Kettle and Wink. It was fairly busy, but Y/N remembered how her father often went out for drinks with his friends on Thursdays and Fridays. Maybe that was something people did.

Upon entering, the bar was straight ahead, groups of people standing by the counter to order. Tables and booths were littered about the place, dim lighting making it so the dark wooden interior was hard to differentiate between the tables and the floor. There was a pool table that a group stood around, laughing loudly and each a pint in their hands.

“Harry!”

It came from the left side of the room, a table in the middle of a couple of others, a group of five sat there waving their hands and beaming from ear to ear. Harry turned to Y/N, giving her an apologetic smile.

“Listen, I know I keep saying this, but they’re a bit intense. I dunno why I keep befriending people that are,” Harry said, walking in front of Y/N to shield her from the worst of the comments and exclamations from his mates.

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

“Don’t tell them that, they’ll-“

“-Come here, you bugger!” A blonde bloke came into view, throwing himself at Harry and hugging him. Y/N quickly realised she’d seen him before. “You’re late.”

“It’s called taking our time.”

The blonde pushed away from Harry and turned his attention to Y/N, his brown eyes lighting up. “Good to see you again. Didn’t catch your name the time before.”

Harry’s head whipped around in Y/N’s direction, then back at the blonde, a furrow appearing between his brows. “What’s this?”

“Jo and I watched her stuff when she went for a swim, few weeks back, that,” he explained, smiling at Y/N. “No idea you would be Harry’s new beau.”

“Nice to see you again,” Y/N smiled.

“And you.” He brought his hand out, smiling at her. “I’m Dax.”

She took his hand. “Y/N.”

“Let’s see then, Haz! Move!” someone else shouted and Harry sighed, sitting down in one of the free seats, dragging the other free one closer to him to reserve it for Y/N. Dax motioned for Y/N to sit down and she did, giving him a smile as he took the seat beside her. Taking the purse off her shoulder, she placed it in her lap and looked around the table at Harry’s friends.

“Y/N, these are my friends. Gang, be nice. This is Y/N.”

“What do you mean ‘be nice’?” Dax asked, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, Y/N, you’re very much welcome here and we want you to feel like one of us, alright?”

“Sounds lush,” she smiled.

“So, what pronouns do you use?”

The question was so unexpected and thoughtful that Y/N was left gaping at Dax for a bit, a smile spreading out across her lips finally. “She, her.”

“Wonderful. I use he, him.” Dax gestured to the person sitting beside him to say something next. It was the blue-haired person Y/N had seen along with Dax at the beach. Both were pale, Dax a little broader and taller than his companion beside him, but they were seated close enough to each other so that Y/N knew they must be amazing friends.

“I’m Jordan, but you can call me Jo, I go by they, them.”

“I’m Amir! He, him, please,” the brown bloke beside Jo said, giving Y/N a little wave. He had his curly dark hair in a bun at the top of his head and a pair of round glasses on his nose, looking like the relaxed hipster type.

“I’m Ellie, I go by she, her, as well.” Short blonde hair tucked away behind pale ears, some of it coming loose when she grinned at Y/N. She reminded Y/N of a fairy.

“And I’m Fatima, she, her.” Harry sat back in his seat, revealing a brown-skinned golden princess, giving Y/N a small wink before she sipped her drink. “It’s so nice to meet you. H has kept you a secret.”

“I have not-“

Fatima nudged his leg with her knee under the table, raising her eyebrows at him. “Yes, you have. Dax hasn’t been talking about much else since.”

“What do you do when your best mate lies to ya?” Dax said, sounding very dramatic. “You wallow in sadness and cry yourself to sleep, that’s what you do.”

“Oh, come off it, Dax.”

“What were you doing hiding her from us anyway?” Jordan asked, picking up their pint and taking a sip. “Lovely to see you again, by the way, Y/N.”

“And you, Jo.”

“Right, I’m getting us something to drink.” Harry glanced over at Y/N. “Beer?”

“Yes, please.”

Harry gave her a small smile, and in it she could see a slight apology mixed with a short ‘good luck.’ She assumed he was afraid his friends would tear into her once he was gone, and though she was sure they were only eager to get to know her, she was kind of afraid of the same thing. They all seemed so lovely, but she was terrified she’d answer a question and contradict something Harry had told them or make it hard for them to believe her and Harry were a thing. These were such important people in Harry’s life, she didn’t want to disappoint them or Harry.

“So,” Ellie said, leaning her elbows on the table. “Why aren’t you living with Harry in the lighthouse? Judging by it, he still needs to blow some steam off.”

“El!” Fatima hissed, shaking her head at her in disbelief. “You’ve just met this person.”

“I’m curious!” Ellie turned her attention back on Y/N. “He’s so uptight sometimes, I just think he needs to relax for a bit. Blow a load.”

“Oh, my days.” Amir took his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Maybe they haven’t had sex yet.” Jo shrugged their shoulders before looking at Y/N. “Sorry ‘bout this.”

Y/N smiled. “Oh, don’t even worry about it. But we live in separate places ‘cause the both of us need our space, it would overwhelm us to be around each other all the time. Especially when we haven’t really done so before.”

“I get it,” Fatima said, nodding her head. “You don’t want it to be too much too fast. You living with him for the summer would be like skipping five major milestones in your relationship, and you’d just jump to moving in with each other.”

“Exactly.”

“Harry’s also very private,” Dax continued. “No offence, Y/N, but he generally just likes being alone. He can play his piano, and write his songs, and work on his car, and be Harry.”

Y/N’s immediate response was to ask Dax if Harry really wrote songs because she hadn’t heard anything about that before. But asking that would be very suspicious and be a major give away. His girlfriend of all people would know if he writes songs, what kind of songs, and if he sings. He’d only ever mentioned that Amir sang in their band when they were teenagers, but he hadn’t told her if he himself sang some as well. She instantly started thinking about how his singing voice would sound.

“Harry told me you lot were in a band at one point,” Y/N said, causing Jo to howl with laughter and Amir to grin from ear to ear. “Care to elaborate, ‘cause he hasn’t.”

“That wanker, he really doesn’t like fun.” Dax leaned forward in his chair. “Right, so we were all big fans of Muse at one point, yeah? Proper wanted to perform at Wembley and be viewed as sex gods by every single person on Earth, that kinda thing.”

“I heard ‘sex gods’,” Harry said, putting a pint down on the table before Y/N. “And now I’m afraid.”

“Just tellin’ Y/N here how we used to be in a band.”

Harry looked from Y/N to Dax. “Then why were you talking about being sex gods?”

“First of all, shut up. Second,” Dax said, bringing his hands out and raising an eyebrow as he met everyone’s eyes one after one. “I’m right. Tell me I’m right.”

“You’re not right,” Ellie said, sipping her water.

“Astronaut Lions would’ve been immense if Jordan hadn’t decided to fuck off to uni,” Dax continued, sitting back in his seat.

“Amir can’t sing, so we were doomed either way,” Jo said.

“If it hadn’t been for our gig at Porthmeor Beach that summer, Harry wouldn’t have met Emilia.” Dax shrugged his shoulders. “That’s all I’m saying. We did work some wonders, did ‘cause some scenes, did make some magic. Cultural reset.”

“Oh, speaking of Emilia,” Fatima said, tapping the spot on the table close to Harry’s pint. “She’s coming back.”

Harry was quiet for a second. “Coming back?”

“Yeah, from her year abroad in Munich.”

Harry fell silent, then slowly started nodding his head, eyes falling to the pint he’d only taken one single sip of. Y/N tried not to frown as she watched Harry for a few seconds, tried not to get offended. Surely Harry would’ve told her who Emilia was if he felt comfortable doing so, but he hadn’t, so she shouldn’t feel like she was entitled to that information. But… she still felt left out. If someone around that table asked her about Emilia right that second, she wouldn’t know how to react or what to say. Glancing away from Harry, she kept her eyes on her pint for a few seconds till Ellie started talking.

“Is Munich big?” Ellie asked. “I imagine every single city in Germany to either be like, big like Berlin or a small village. That being said, it’s the most beautiful country in Europe, hands down.”

“Depends on what kind of big you’re talking about,” Y/N said, Amir making a ‘ooo’ sound under his breath and a cheeky grin on his face that caused Jo to give him a firm slap at the back of his head. “City population, it’s definitely in the top five. If we’re talking about big by area, it’s in the top three.”

“Had no idea,” Ellie said.

“I might be wrong, though, so don’t take my word for it,” Y/N said, quick to wave her hands around to dismiss the knowledge she’d just served.

Harry shook his head. “Don’t take her seriously when she says she might be wrong or when she tries to discredit herself. She wants to become a dentist.”

Y/N didn’t know where the correlation there was, but she was sure the sentiment was lovely.

“Wicked! Would we get a discount?” Amir grinned, bringing his pint up in a cheers before sipping it.

“Oh, my word, Amir,” Fatima sighed, and Y/N chuckled.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. Harry’s friends were so incredibly nice. They asked her questions, but made sure not to be too invasive or make her uncomfortable, something she really liked. They were already pretty tipsy, and as the evening went on, they all got drunk. Y/N and Harry were the only two who couldn’t be arsed to drink that much, so they rather watched over the gang as the volume got louder and the laughter more constant. The focus quickly shifted from Y/N and to everyone in the group, so Y/N sank back in her seat and just watched them interact.

As she zoned in and out of the conversation, she started thinking about Emilia. She hadn’t heard anything about an Emilia before. The thought of Harry maybe having dated before she arrived hadn’t crossed her mind once. She didn’t know if they’d even dated, but by the way Dax and Fatima talked about Emilia in relation to Harry, and the way Harry had reacted, made Y/N immediately draw the conclusion that the two had meant a lot to each other at one point. She tried not to think about it, knowing that it wasn’t really any of her business anyway. If Harry wanted to tell her, he would.

At one point, Dax tapped Y/N on the shoulder and when she looked in his direction, he had a big grin on his face, chin resting in his hand while he leaned his elbow on the table.

“Wonder what an average bloke like Harry did to earn your attention,” Dax said. “Don’t get me wrong, love the bloke, but you’re obviously… way out of anyone from down here’s league.”

She smiled. “In what way?”

“Wealthy.” Dax shrugged, as if it was a given. “Think Harry knows he’s in way over his head.”

Y/N frowned, not able to hold a slight chuckle back. “Pardon?”

“No! Didn’t mean it in a bad way, just that he’s never dated anyone that’s not from Cornwall before. But you probs knew that.”

Y/N hoped Dax didn’t notice the slight pause before she uttered a small, “Yeah.”

“Anyway, don’t wanna talk about that now, I don’t wanna make you feel bad in any way. How are you enjoying Cornwall?”

“It’s nice. Haven’t spent much time here, mostly travelled outside the UK.”

Dax nodded, blinking a few times as if he was confused. “But you… you met Harry in Newquay, yeah? So-“

“-Yes! Yes, I did.” Y/N felt her heart hammering fast in her chest, reaching for her pint and taking a quick sip to calm herself down. She couldn’t reveal actual information about herself, this was not the time. She had to lie. “Met in Newquay last summer.”

Dax nodded again, reaching over and tapping Harry on the arm. “Mate, when did you go to Newquay last summer?”

Harry’s mouth opened, but then quickly closed again. Y/N suddenly realised they’d said Harry’s trip to Newquay was a lads trip. That was the lie they were going with for how they met on the beach there. But Harry’s ‘lads’ were everyone around this table. Again, a spike of hot adrenaline exploded in Y/N’s chest. A sudden sense of horror took over and she racked her brain for what to say.

“Don’t remember you going to Newquay, was it a short trip, then?” Jo joined in, a furrow to their eyebrows.

“Yeah.” Harry cleared his throat. Y/N sensed the panic in Harry’s demeanour and hoped no one else did. “Yeah, Uncle Tim and I went.”

“Uncle Timmy?” Dax frowned as well, pursing his lips as he thought. “Alright. Yeah. Yeah, you were gone for about a week?”

“Five days,” Harry said. Great detail, Y/N thought. If the two of them were specific and detailed then no one could tell them they weren’t being truthful.

“Maybe it’s just cos you don’t leave your bloody house that we don’t remember,” Amir laughed. “Who knew a five-day holiday in sodding Newquay would leave you with a girlfriend?”

Harry looked at Y/N, the two of them sharing a look she wasn’t able to properly decipher. However, looking back, she was sure she could see some sort of gratitude in there somewhere, mixed with relief that they managed to get out of a situation that could’ve been much stickier hadn’t they kept their heads somewhat cold. The conversation quickly shifted to something else, much to both Harry and Y/N’s satisfaction.

Y/N started yawning at one point, both a reaction to the small amount of alcohol in her system and her early start that morning. It didn’t take long for Harry to join in, though it took about 30 minutes for them to actually look at one another and nod towards the door. Harry announced their departure to boos from his friends, but they were quick to wish them both a goodnight. Fatima made Y/N promise she’d hang out with them again soon; the gang had barely gotten to know her, and they were very eager to. Y/N promised, knowing fully well that because of the intoxicated state of which the lot around the table were in, they would most likely have trouble remembering most of the questions they’d asked her and what they’d been talking about anyway.

Harry held the door open for Y/N, giving his friends a wave before the two of them started walking back down the same way they’d come. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, her shoulders shaking for a second as she realised how cold it was out. She supposed it was both the wind and how tired she was that made her have this reaction to the evening chill. Once again, she cursed herself for not having brought a cardigan. She composed herself, looking at Harry as he came up beside her.

“You cold?”

“The Inn is just a 3-minute walk from here, I won’t die-“

But Harry didn’t seem to bother listening to her. Instead, he reached for the hem of his jumper and brought it over his head in one swift move. He gave it to her, his hair an absolute mess and lips parted in anticipation of her reaching for his item of clothing. Biting her lip, she took his warm jumper and put it over her dress. Upon dragging it over her face and letting it settle on her, she was hit with an overwhelming smell of mixed cardamom, saffron, sandalwood, and vetiver.

“Better?”

“Thank you,” she said, giving him a smile as they took the turn down towards the Terrace. “But you really don’t have to walk me home. The lighthouse is so far off, plus it’s in the opposite direction.”

“I’ll call someone, and they’ll drive me home.” Y/N gave Harry a look at that and Harry only let out a small breathy chuckle, shrugging his shoulders as if the next statement was an obvious indicator enough as to why he was walking her back. “It’s dark out.”

She smiled at that and looked away. They were quiet for a second before the question that had been eating away at Y/N all night finally slipped from between her lips. “Emilia, your ex, right? She’s coming back to stay, then?”

Harry shrugged, a slight redness appearing around his neck and cheeks. “Dunno. Haven’t talked to her since she broke up with me.”

Y/N furrowed her brows. “She broke up with you?”

Harry smiled a little. “You sound shocked.”

“Don’t know… I don’t know how your relationship ended or why, but you seem like a nice lad.”

“Cheers,” Harry chuckled, Y/N couldn’t hold her own back. “Nice lads can be broken up with, though.”

“Yeah, I suppose they can.”

Harry fell quiet, shoving his hands into his jean pockets as he thought for a few seconds. “She… She broke up with me around the time my Dad died.”

That made the frown in between Y/N’s brows deepen. The blush in Harry’s cheeks got redder and Y/N looked away, not wanting to overwhelm him by staring him down while he was talking.

“Said she couldn’t be with someone who was so depressed, it affected her own mental health. Which is all very valid, so I’ve never been mad at her for it. If me being sad and depressed affected her in any way, then she had every right to walk away. Last thing I ever wanted to do was be a negative factor in her life, you know what I mean?”

Y/N nodded, opening the door of the Inn and walking inside, stepping onto the stairs as Harry closed it after himself. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Harry followed her up the stairs as he spoke. “After Emilia and I broke up, that’s when Jessa and Grace started obsessing over me and how I was always alone in the lighthouse.”

Y/N smiled a little at that, getting her keys from her purse. “At least they care about you, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry leaned against the wall beside Y/N’s door, hands still in his pockets. “At least they do.”

She only shook her head some, unlocking her door. “Thanks for following me all the way back.” She gestured at her room. “Literally.”

He let out a breathy chuckle. “No need to thank me, Y/N.”

She bit her bottom lip, stepping into her room as Harry pushed off the wall. “Thanks for tonight.”

“Yeah, it was fun.”

She leaned her head against the door. “Goodnight.”

He nodded in response before turning and walking down the stairs. Y/N closed the door and when she went to take her purse off, she gripped into wool. She was still wearing Harry’s jumper. Standing by the window, she saw Harry on the phone with someone, walking at a nonchalant pace and smiling at something the other person said, his dimples already showing. She turned around, looking at herself in the mirror beside the dresser, an overwhelming scent of cardamom, saffron and sandalwood surrounding her. The carmine was almost completely black in the darkness of her bedroom, the oversized soft jumper hung to just under her bum, nearly covering her entire dress, and for some reason, she liked the sight of the woolen jumper on her better than the green summer dress underneath. It wasn’t knitted and crafted for her, but wearing it felt almost natural.

However, it wasn’t hers. She took it off, folded it, and placed it on her desk. She’d have to pop by Harry’s with it in the morning, but for now, it would have to lay safe and folded neatly in her bedroom.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 30 August, 9PM GMT!

A HUGEE thank you to my amazing and beautiful beta readers! 🌊 @aileenacoustic 🌊 @bopbopstyles 🌊 @fromyourstrulyh 🌊 @harrys-creature 🌊 @honeydearly 🌊 @summerfeelng 🌊 @watermelonsuger 🌊 @withallthelove-a 🌊

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #1dff #LETS GOOOO ST NATION 🏄✨#PLS DO COME CHAT ONCE YOU'RE DONE READING ILYSM 💖

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undermattsun-archive · 4 years ago

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japan national team x reader | w.c 1.3k

a/n: omg guys here’s the super cute epic collab fic i made w all my frieednsies <33 we all worked superrrr hard on this so pls don’t be mean!!!!!!!!! pls enjoy its xoxox and don’t forget to follow everyone here on this kidnapped by hq collab <33333333333

warnings: not proofread bc who does that xD (guys pls free me from this hell i’m in so much pain i didn’t even look at this i skimmed over it i left it as is, gg)

Read this while lsitening to the best song evar!!!!!!!!!!!1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a_cXhBy78T4&ab_channel=JonasBrothers if you dont listen whil reading ill eat ur family MONCH MONCH MONCH

i go dwnstars, yelling ‘by mum!’ bfor laceing up my wite convrrse hightops (NOT blck becauz u cant sharpi on it) wth 1d lyrics scribbled on it. i rmb to draw a directioner infinite sign on mywrist. perfect, i think to mysdlf.

I never thot i would get to go to the olympics all the way on the other side of the planet in toky o japan! It was a dream come true for a simple, average, run of the mill girrl like me, who is 5’7 with naturally wavy hair, that’s not curly or strait and eyes as blue as the dark blue part of the ocean.

I been dreaming of the olypoics since fetus. I just knew I had to be here, but I never thought it would actually happen. The only thing that would make it better is if I had a smezxy smexy boyfrwend! (A/n: Tee-hee! Maybe even two! (Or five! <333) haha! Aren’t I so quirky? <3)

I’m Wearing A Mint Green Crop Top That Ties In The Front And Some Denim Shorts With Black Converse. I Don’t Need Makeup Because My Skin Is Naturally Smooth And Clear And My Lips Are Already Red #wokeuplikethis And I Listened Only To MCR And P!ATD On The Plane Ride. I Bet You Dont Know Who They Are, THey’re My Favorite Banxds And Are Super GOod And Like Underground Bands. (A/n: Okay But If You Don’t LIke Welcome TO THe BLack Parade GTFO Of My FIc I Don’t Need YOu Here xoxo)

ok so like,, im on my way to the olympics but then like, i get kidnapped !!! the car i was in was like super expensive and i cant see anything with the blindfold on. i hear voices of men all around me though, for like, a whole 30 minutes before they bring me somewhere and tie me up? "Take Her BLindfold off," one of them say, i hear. and im so nervous. but it's like a dream when they tug my blindfold off and im met with the prettiest emerald orbs ever looking back at me.

my stomach knotted in fear (more like an angry swarm of butterflies fluttering around ) i feel like screaming or squealing or both bc those eyes belong to someone so gorgeous . even more gorgeous than harry styles. hes like a god. i woukd so worship his foot. or something. (squee omg i can’t believe this is happening. i bet you wish that it was you huh?)

bro who tf has emerald orbs green eyes im blanking rn

^ yo i was gonna ask i cannot for the life of me remember who

his #afff14 sppheres peered into my soul i really just felt seen. i took a deep breath before fainting he was just so pretty. *one hours later* i woke upa nd saw the pretty viridescent peepers staring into mine. like he was literally two inches away from my face omg i could feel his minty breath on my lips it smelled so good.

“My name is atsumu miya,” he said gruffly, the gruffness in his voice so gravely. “And me and me mates here think yer the most gorgeous girl weve ever seen. I blink up at him, orbs gleaming amd full of tears.

“What do u mean, i’m just a normal quirky girl?” I say shakely, biting my lip. I bit my lip as the piss blond man spoke.

“You don’t know ur beautiful.” YOUR INSECURE DONT KNOW WHAT FOR YOUR TURNING HEADS WHEN YOU WAlk THROUGH THE DO OO OOOOOR

“U may be a normal quirky girl but ur OUR nroaml quirky girl now” his friend said with a deep voice. It was so deep that i almost thot it was like the ocean, he had curly balck hair and his eye were sooo mysterious (a/n i loooove sakusa i can’t believe him and his friends kindapped me omgggg XD)

“Stop it go away” osamu said (hee hee i can never remmber tell which twin is which LOL i think its osamuuu) “no u have to share” sakusa responded angrily. I starred at them and didn’t know what theyd do next!

I looked over to he side ans see sakura pulling out hand sanitizer passing it around to his teamates. The green orbed boys huff as they put it on. i wished i could see his whole face hes so sedy, look over here pretty girl, i gasp pulled from my thoughts by their captain kita walking into the room with his hands on his hips and was theat aran? “You look even better in peroiusn” aran said to me, walking over to me “how do you know who i am?” i ask.

“listen bbygurl...” he yealls, pulling out a chair to sit acros from me. “you dont get to ask the questions, we are your new masters, and you shall do as we say.” i gulp nervously, my stomach feeling like a sharkndao is happening inside. “we hope u will be worth every penny we payed foru.”

“M-m-m-masters?” my head felt like it was spinning in a teacup from disney land as i thought about what he just said to me. what did this mean? was i gooing to miss the olympics?? I wanted ot hate him with his super smug look on his face but i cant deny that he looks kind of hot and i’m into guys who look just like him,, the other guys r also relly attractive it makes my heart race. I look around trying to find answers when i make eye contact w a really really reall y tall guy who i thinks name is gao only to see another really really relly tall guy next to him,, hyakuzawa?

“what are yo going to do to me then?” ((*lenny face))

you ask, stomach bubbling. maybe i shoudnt have ateen that stale pizza earlier and washed it down with watermelon-lemon minute maid because now i felt like it was gonna come up. ((ew gross um tw vomit mention hehe)

“Dont worry were going to grab seme din din soon lil one,” one of them says. His name espapes me. Hes a ginger. They wont answer me for some reason and i suddenly miss my freedom when i would go to school (i go to an expesive private school for rich kids ahahah).

“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH ME??” i yell again batting my fists against the ginger but he doesnt even blink. Ive decided hes hot but in a short king kinda way. His hair reminded me of of like cheeto coloured fine thread woven into waves.,,, like the ocean xD (ans...this has an ocean theme)

sudenly there was another voice it was yalling “BOKE HINATA BOKER” i looked with my stricking dark blue orbs and there wasd inother pair of stricking dark blueor bs like the ocean and blck hair. his voicde was veryy deelp an sexxcy (a/n lololol i luv u gakeyama kun *w*)

theres suddenly a loud voice in ur ear screaming directly into ur eardrum " BAKA KAGYEAMA BAKA" (wtf our they communicating ???? ? ) i cringe at the yellign and another pair of strong arms bulls me away . i land against a hard, solid chest, i can feel the six pack thru his track Suit.

and then my alarm clock playin what makes u beatyful goes off n i woke up.

amen.

i rub my eyes wakng up, starrn into the mirror at my super borng brwn ugly eyes and brsh my equaly borng brwn hair. i lok up at m wall and see harey stylz and niallr starinf back at me on t walls. i sigh dreamily. they wud twll me my brwn uairs beatufil.

#i'm gonna kermit #my eyes hurt #my brain is dying #where am i #kidnapped by hq #tw wattpad

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jiikyu · 4 years ago

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Taste of Marigolds In Bloom

Herb of the Sun — Or Marigold was often used during the Middle Ages as a love charm. Carrying one of these brightly colored flowers was thought to bring love. Though be warned for they are also poisonous. Chapter IV. Sitting in the back of a police car was not how you anticipated your night ending — And certainly not with Mirios arms wrapped around you all the while. You’re not sure how you got here. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ All characters are 18+ Yandere!Mirio x Fem!Reader(AΩβ) Y/N = Your Name F/N = Your Full Name E/C = Eye Color H/C = Hair Color

Warnings: Yandere / Unhealthy Behavior / Delusions / Angst / Possessiveness / Violence and uh Fluff? First Chapter Here❦ Previous Chapter Here❦ Next Chapter Here ❦

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ “Oh hey!” Mirios leans his arm against the doors frame. “Isn’t this a lovely surprise.” “Hey, do you wanna come to Nabezos with me?” Your question takes him by surprise and he feels his arm slipping. It’s raining. “Sure, let me grab my jacket.” ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ The little droplets from above mean the sidewalks are clear of people, it’s not often you practically get the city all to yourself. When Mirio agreed to come with you to the popular restaurant off campus grounds, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. It wasn’t like you to swing by unexpectedly, at least not without some form of prior acknowledgement. Like a text. What’s even stranger was that you wanted to go to Nabezos, in the rain. Maybe it’s nothing to be get riled up over... The conversation flows in it’s usual lighthearted manor with you both throwing in the occasional jab. It’s normal. But if that’s truly the case then — Why won’t his heart stop hammering violently against his ribs? Somethings not right. He just knows it. Mirios pace starts to slow to a crawl, and little by little it all together stops. And you had been so close to making it to Nabezos, maybe two blocks down the sidewalk? Suddenly his appetite is gone. When there’s no respond to your corny joke do you turn to see the blond fallen behind. Everything about it feels so very wrong. Standing like motionless his yellow umbrella rests loosely in his grasp, shoulders slouching forward. But — You catch sight of something that freezes the blood in your veins. Tears threaten to spill from those blue pools. How had this happened? Only a few seconds ago were you chatting like normal. This proves all of your fears and suspicions, that there is something deep troubling Mirio. That’s why you were doing this right? You were going to do your best to gently coax out whatever was bothering him. Had you already messed up? The gap made between you wasn’t large by any means but by gods do you close it fast. Abandoning your umbrella to ground below as shoes splash against the wet pavement, now your standing before him in the rain. “Wait Mirio what’s happening? Why are you crying?” “Y/N...” His voice has been reduced to a rasp whisper, the usual optimism drained and you can see the bottom of the well. “Are you leaving?” Huh? The question confuses you even further. That cannot be the root of the problem, a small idle conversation between you and your friend could not have been the cause of this. “What? Of course not!” As much as you want to stay in Musutafu — Your words are not quite the full truth, are they? “Well I... I don’t actually know yet.” Do not make promises you cannot keep. The way he kneads his lip with his teeth, suffocating any sound from escaping, it does nothing but further shatter your heart into tiny fragments. If this continues you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to put the pieces back together. You’re about to speak again when the blond does the unexpected. Taking a deep breath he exhales, then the corners of his mouth upturn. It is nowhere near as radiant as his signature smile, and you know it’s not real. But now it’s his turn to close the gap. Taking the step forward Mirio dips the yellow umbrella so it no longer hangs over his head but yours. The thrumming of his heart drums against his ears, he’s sure you hear it too. “Y/N, what if I told you I don’t want you to go?” Oh. Wait? Does that mean? Oh. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. “I —“ The soft pitter-patter of raindrops against the umbrellas canvas matches your own heartbeat. Fast and light, like suddenly you’re floating. You watch the collar of his gray gym shirt start to darken with moisture and droplets catching in that sunshine soaked hair. You swallow down your shame because — You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. “I would say, I feel the same.” You’ve never seen someone visibly light up the way Mirio does when those words leave your lips. The very words he oh so desperately needed to hear. Was that all it really took? No, he must be dreaming. “Really?” The single word is laced with so much hope it’s palpable, it’s followed by a sniffle as he brings his thumb to wipe away a stray tear. “Of course idiot!” Your own eyes start to blur and you blink them away before it’s too late. “Now stop it, you’re gonna make me cry!” Your fingers grab a hold of the umbrellas metal handle, just above Mirios hand. You push it towards him, so it’s no longer covering only you. “There, now we can both stand under it.” Sure, both of you have a shoulder that’s going to get absolutely drenched, but do you care? No. Mirios eyes go big when you do this and you swear you see literal stars dancing in those pools of blue. You’re so blissfully unaware that everything you’re doing only furthers you both down this spiral. He’s staring at you like you’re his entire world. And he wouldn’t change a single thing about you, for anything. “Aw you’re such a softy Y/N.” “Wha — You were crying first! You started it.” It’s not fair. He really does have the most contagious smile you’ve ever seen. Hand in hand you and Mirio continue to make your way to Nabezos, your own umbrella is left forgotten to the rain. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ Dinner had gone so well that you’re left giddy and boy, does it show, your smile never once falters. Not even when the scent of cigarettes and alcohol starts to overflow your senses. Currently you’re leaning against the outside of Nabezos, the buildings bricks now having imprinted into your back. Awning overhang keeps you dry from the rain while your eyes stay trained to the bright screen of your phone. Sun having started its descent the color slowly begins to fade from the sky. But you’re not worried, campus is only a few blocks away.

And you have Mirio.

Now you’re just wait on him, who, being the forgetful man he is forgot his wallet at the table you had eaten at. Never in a million years would you believe someone as breathtaking as Mirio would return your feelings.

Your happiness leaves you blind to the world.

“Hey are you d-deaf or do you just think it’s cute to ignore someone talking to you?”

Huh? Only when you look up from your phone do you realize there’s a man, who you don’t recognize, staring directly at you. Your mouth is suddenly dry. The stench of booze and smoke is so strong your nose is set ablaze. You can’t help but take shallow breaths. When had he gotten so close? Were you really that oblivious to your surroundings? Your pulse is racing but you don’t move, maybe if you continue to ignore him he’ll leave you be. What a stupid idea. Suddenly your wrist is grabbed, phone slipping from your grasp and it falls to the pavement. And now you’re trying desperately to yank yourself from of his grasp. But his fingers have an iron clad grasp around your limb. “What sort of game are you trying to play?” He’s shouting at you and you have no idea what he’s going on about, you just want to get as far away from him as possible. Your eyes barely catch the flash of yellow that appears over the drunks shoulder and before you know it he’s no longer holding onto your wrist — Or rather he was flung off you by an impact to the gut. The stranger lets out a cry as his back slams against the hard concrete below. You listen to him cough and sputter for air, but you don’t look — Your eyes stay glued to your savior. Mirio. Besides the loud grunting coming from the man who just got his guts rearranged, it’s eerily silent. You cannot see the blonds face, so you can only guess what expression he wears... But something feels off and that scares you. You finally tear your eyes away from Mirio when you hear the other stand. The stranger regained his footing but why isn’t he running away? Isn’t it enough? Mirio hasn’t moved an inch since landing the first strike, standing between you and the man. A shield. Neither move for a while, just staring each other down and you can see the sweat beading down the strangers face. You never would have expected Mirio to be the one to break the stalemate. Basically just straight up breaking into full sprint towards the stranger before banking a quick left. “Oh shit —“ Is all the man manages while raising his right arm, taking shaky aim at the blond, some sort of liquid ejects from his fingertips? Mirio makes it look so incredibly easy to dodge, the inky black substance lands somewhere in the shadows. Forgotten. The man does not get a second shot. An earth shattering blow lands under his chin and you swear you hear an echoing crack of bone against bone. And just like that it’s over — Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Anyone would be knocked unconscious by the sheer force. But Mirio doesn’t stop. What if I told you I don’t want you to go? Those are the words that come to mind as your E/C eyes follow Mirios fist. Over and over again it connects with the strangers face. Time slows like some form of torture, you watch the man take each crushing blow. As you watch the blonds knuckles begin to turn a dark crimson. And you do nothing but stand frozen, a bystander, a participant. Even the ability to speak is lost to you. Only when the terrible sound of blood starts to bubble up from the man’s throat does Mirio finally release his white-knuckled grip from the shirts collar. Without the Alphas hold the unconscious body rag-dolls to the pavement below. God, does the sickening thud make you shudder in disgust. Now it’s just you — And the man who has only ever showered you with warmth and overbearing kindness. Towering over the bloody pulp of a man he stands with his back towards you, chest heaving as he attempts to recapture his breathing. Your mind is so vary far away right now but somehow, somewhere in your anxiety riddled state are you able to produce a single cohesive repeating thought. It’s something that comes so naturally it almost terrifies you, you might even loath yourself later for it... You cannot help but be frightened, not for the beaten man lying against the cold pavement, no your fears are for Mirios safety. For his sake. When he turns to face you you’re met with the burning blue of the ocean. And within seconds you swear you see the raging sea already starting to simmer. Your feet stay planted as your hero takes the first step towards you. Even if your life depended on it you’re not sure you’d be able to move an inch — Though it’s too late for that now, isn’t it? By the time you notice he’s practically all over you, but there is an invisible wall of tension that keeps him from touching. With the back of your shoulders pressed against the brick wall there is no escape from the cage of muscle surrounding you, thick forearms having rooted themselves on either side of your head. Every instinct screams at you, to run, to submit, to hide, to do anything useful. Maybe you’re broken. Instead, you find yourself entranced, E/C eyes trace along the scars of those very forearms keeping you trapped. The healed skin darkened where deep gashes once bled. Following the perfect blemishes to the meat of his shoulders you accidentally meet deep iris pools, completely and utterly awestruck. The expression Mirio wears is one you’ve never seen before. You want to tell yourself that it’s the shadows casted down by the looming cities walls — Or that’s it’s just the dark clouds raining down on you. But... You’re having a difficult time convincing yourself. “Are you hurt?” A low breathless whisper pulls you from muddy waters, dredged up from the murky depths of your mind. Was that Mirios voice? He’s close, so close, his ragged breathes ghost across the bare skin of your neck. Your eyes fall to the filthy lot concrete, where you’re barely able to make out the motionless mans shape. Why is it so hard to see? You hadn’t even noticed your eyes gloss over, fat tears already rolling down your cheeks. “M-Mirio you —“ The pain in your voice has his chest twisting in agony. Sharp thorns digging into the delicate flesh. Seeing you like this hurts worse than the searing ache in his knuckles. But it’s okay. Because you’re safe. The thin threads holding him back finally fray and snap. Mirios arms abandon the wall behind you, pulling you flush against his broad chest, muscled arms wrapped around your frame. “It’s okay. I’m here now.” His head rests atop your own, you feel his lips move against your locks as he continues to reassure you. “I’ll always be here — I promise.” You won’t ever have to be worry again. Being held only makes the flood tears worse, when your body melts against his so does the last bit pf willpower holding the dam together. Slowly you begin to hiccup into his shirt, your arms shakily wrapping around his neck, falling further into the embrace you feel his arms tighten. And now your balling in a empty public restaurant parking lot with a bloody unconscious body only a few yards away. The dying rain isn’t strong enough to wash away the scent of copper. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ Blinding red and blue lights flash across the cities walls. When you speak with the police — Well actually, it’s not so much you speaking with them as it is you listening to Mirio tell them the details of what happened and offering a weak nod when they wanted your input. You haven’t spoken much since exhausting your lungs and draining a lakes worth of tears onto Mirios shirt. His eyes keep darting to meet yours between every couple of words. You watch on as the blond speaks clearly and calmly with the officers, you envy his ability to do so. He’s even able to smile as if nothing happened — You finally tear your eyes away, choosing to look at a lone anthill, inches from your foot. The weight of his jacket keeps you semi-warm as you stand under the overhang of Nabezos, the smell of ocean and sun clings to the leather, you pull the fabric tighter around your shoulders. You had watched as three first responders wheeled the stretcher to the waiting ambulance. As soon as its doors slammed shut the siren blared to life and the vehicle sped away. It was a good sign you tell yourself. A sign that the man was alive. The invisible weight on your shoulder lifts, if only by a hair. “Do you need a ride home?” The question snaps you from staring at the pavement. A male officer, possibly a Beta? It’s hard to tell in the rain, he has kind eyes. There’s no time for you to search for an answer before a firm hand finds itself planted the deputies shoulder. Mirio now stands behind the rather startled man, all smiles of course. Though something about the curve of his lips doesn’t sit well with you. “That would be great actually, can you give the both of us a ride?” It takes you a second to realize he’s answering for you. “We’re both headed the same direction.” “Of c-course.” The officer shakes away his initial fright by the time he finishes speaking. And you still have yet to process what’s happening. ∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ Sitting in the back of a police car was not how you anticipated your night ending — And certainly not with Mirios arms wrapped around you all the while. You’re not sure how you got here. But what you are sure of is that there isn’t an inch of you that doesn’t smell like the Alpha. He’s been scenting you ever since entering the vehicle, practically pulling you into his lap. It’s not so uncommon amongst friends — Although, you’re no longer just friends, are you? His hand could wrap around your wrist two times over. The blond has a delicate touch as he traces the pad of his thumb over your skin, he holds you as though you’re porcelain. The entire time your eyes are glued to the red busted skin of his knuckles. An uncomfortable clearing of a throat breaks the moment. You had almost forgotten about the police officer who so politely offered the ride home. You blame it on overactive instincts, that this is probably the norm, it’s a lousy excuse and you know it. And a part of you, one that you’re desperately trying to drown under the surface until there is no oxygen left, knows instincts are not the only thing at play here.

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘ When Mirio told you he’d be staying the night at your place you thought it had been an offer. Not a fact. You remind yourself that you know Mirio. Know that he would never hurt you, that he’s only looking out for you. That’s why you agreed.

So what if your every attempt to convince him you’d be fine staying alone was disregarded. Right?

You stare into the mirror, letting the sink fill with water. Paying no attention to the temperature you soak a hand towel into the ice cold liquid. Bringing the damp fabric under your eyes you wipe away the last remnants of tears marks. The soft knock on the door startles you from your haze, looking over you notice the shadow of what can only be a pair of feet peeking under the thin frame of wood. “Are you okay?” Mirios voice may be muffled behind the wood but it’s impossible to ignore the worry bled into every syllable. “Yeah.” Your own voice is still raspy from your crying, it reminds you how weak you truly are. “Just give me a few minutes... Okay?” “I’m here.” What you can’t see is the large hand pressed into the creases of door. “When you’re ready.” The outside noise seems to die down with that and you listen to the static of the running water as you strip out of your soaked clothing, peeling the wet material from your skin. The jacket that had kept you warm now hangs off the tubs edge. ... Mirio stands guarding the entrance of the restroom. Like a good boyfriend. Foot tapping nervously against the carpeted floor. This is all so new, usually the hero is in full control of his actions. But now — Every passing second is another nail plunged into his coffin, he might have really screwed up big time... And just when the two of you had finally become official. He doesn’t know what took over. But he does. When saw you cornered by some low life — He only remembers the feel of white hot burning rage coursing his veins and the look of terror in your eyes. He really dropped the ball hadn’t he? He doesn’t regret it. Not even for a second, he’d do it again, for you. His only regret is scaring you. Suddenly his foot stops its anxious drumming. It becomes apparent to him that — With you in the bathroom he has full range of your dorm, unsupervised. Not that he would do anything fishy, of course not! It’s just the first time he’ll get to appreciate your little temporary home.

A glimpse at the future you’ll share.

Waiting by the door for another minute he takes the first experimental step away from his post, waiting with bated breath. Nothing. The only sound is the continuous running of a faucet. It’s the only sign he needs to continue onwards, down the hallway. By all means it’s not a long journey, in only a few of feet does the blond find himself in front of a cracked door, a dim light streams through the gap. With a featherlight touch he pushes it open to reveal what he’d hoped for. Your bedroom. He’s not disappointed, the room is so very you. It smells like you. Even when Mirio’s absolutely drained he can’t help but admire every little detail, even down to the lone sock lying forgotten in the center of the floor. A tired smile makes its way to his lips as he goes to pick it up, tossing it in the hamper sitting only a few feet away, a smile resting pretty on his features all the while. How forgetful you were. He doesn’t mind this, in fact quite the opposite — He can’t help think it’s quite domestic. Who knew he’d windup such a hopeless romantic? Before the blond knows it he starts to wonder what living together would be like. It really can’t be helped.

Mirio can almost envision you seated at his table waiting while he cooks your favorite meal, it might take him a couple of tries to nail but he’s anything if not persistent — Or perhaps, waking up to morning kisses with your legs tangled in knots. Maybe one day a couple of children that share both your and his qualities pop into the picture. He understands how silly it is all is, that he can’t help but feel as though he’s already been living this life with you. Too bad it doesn’t last. The sweetest of daydreams are cut to shreds when blue eyes catch the unmistakable flash orange and white of a bottle. On your nightstand are your suppressants, sitting carelessly for all to see. After staring for what is probably considered far longer than normal a not so innocent thought just sort of floats its way into his system and... Suddenly Mirio’s being crushed under the weight of something tremendous and hideous. Guilt. He could never. Everything’s falling into place, just the way it’s meant to. But — Some stranger had basically gone and flipped his world upside down in the matter of seconds. That drunk bastard leaning in close you, probably whispering dirty words to you... His fist clenches into a tight ball, knuckles still burn from the impact of skin against skin. God only knows what that creep was gonna do? That filth had tried to take you from him, there is no mistaking. Was it some sort of cruel joke, turning the best day of his life into one of the worst? A bead of sweat breaks along his brow as blue eyes continue to stare down the bottle of white pills. Fear has got Mirio in a chokehold and right now it’s a losing battle. You are someone he wants — No, needs to protect, that’s why he can’t stop but think... What would he do without you? He doesn’t notice his fingers have started moving on their own volition. Mirio cannot picture a world without you.

#mirio x reader #yandere mirio #bnha mirio #yandere bnha #mywriting #SO EXCITED TO POST THIS YA'LL #it really should have been split in two but whatever #theres one☝️ chapter left this is ur warning☺️

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333dolans · 4 years ago

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If By Chance Pt. 2 // E.D

Part 1

Summary: It’s been 2 years since she’d last seen him, what would happen if by chance they were to meet once more?

Sorry for being gone for so long! Ive been super busy and just haven’t had any time to write. I’ll hopefully post a bit more regularly this year! I love you all mwah!!🥰

4:35pm, Great.

It was the first time she would be seeing Gray in what felt like eternity and she was already late, Classic Rory. In her defence, he had agreed to pick her up but a meeting running over later than expected meant she was left to fend for herself. The fact that she didn’t know her way around LA yet paired along with her general lack of time management left her here, outside of the adorable, little cafe Gray had sent her the address for.

She felt the explosion of butterflies erupt within her stomach at the sight of his car and pulled in next to it. She took a moment to compose her thoughts that seemed to be racing along with her heart. Taking a final deep breath, she climbed out from her car and made a start towards the cafe door.

From the very moment she laid her eyes on his tall figure, nothing could of slowed the pace she ran towards him. She called out his name and as he glanced up from his phone, the widest smile took over his face. Opening up his arms just in time, he caught her in his warm embrace. It felt good to be home.

“I missed you so much.” He sighed contently, spinning her around one more time before placing her body back firmly on the ground.

“Missed you more Grapeson.” She replied with a smirk.

“Wow... that’s gotta be a record, we’ve been together what? One whole minute and you’ve already said it.” He rolled his eyes, coaxing a giggle from Rory.

“I said we were bringing it back my love and i meant it!” She grinned smugly up at him before grabbing his hand and leading them into the coffee shop. As the little bell chimed, they were greeted by an older woman who beamed their way.

“Hello Grayson! Your usual i assume? And what can i get for you sweetheart?” She asked with a warm smile.

“Ill go get us a table, i know the best seats.” Grayson told her before wondering off to a far corner in the store.

“Ill get a hot chocolate please.” She replied graciously with a shy smile and the woman was quick to get started on the order.

“I’m Genevieve by the way but you my dear, can call me Gen! You know Grayson never mentioned he had a girlfriend, you’re absolutely gorgeous.” She began to make small talk as she poured Grayson’s coffee into its cup. Rory choked on air at gen’s words, gaping at her in shock.

“Were- were not together, just good friends.” She said with a deep blush.

“Oh my bad! You two would make a beautiful couple if i might say.”

Rory couldn’t help but smile at Gen’s bluntness, she loved her already. After some more casual conversation, Rory said her thank you to Gen and headed off toward the table Grayson had saved, gently placing their drinks on the tabletop before sliding into the booth seat. These seats in particular looked out onto a beautiful landscape and Rory couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as she sank lower into the leather of the seat, this day couldn’t have gone any better. Nothing had changed between her and gray and she couldn’t be more thankful.

The two sat and talked for hours as the sun began to set on the city that awaited them just outside of the window. They filled each other in on everything and anything they could think of, from childhood memories to the launch of wakeheart. It was inevitable really, that they would eventually end up on the topic of a certain twin brother. No matter how much Rory had tried to change the subject, he always found a way back into the conversation, she knew shed have to face the music someday anyway, may as well bite the bullet sooner rather than later.

“He misses you, you know? He may be an absolute idiot and too damn stubborn to ever admit it but i know that he does. He still reads through your old messages and looks at old photos. He still checks your socials every now and then, I’ve seen him.”

Rory sighed with a small shake of her head.

“Gray, he dropped me remember? No one told him he had to do that, he got a girlfriend and she became more important. That’s life i guess and I’ve dealt with that knowledge for years now. He prioritised her over me and that’s on him.” She let her gaze drift from his face to the window beside her, now littered with stray raindrops from the light drizzle that had began.

She allowed herself to breathe deeply, basking in the feelings that a crisp fall breeze always managed to stir within her. God, did she love autumn. Nothing could compare to the sight of the leaves changing to colours of fire and passion before her very eyes. Along with the colder weather came rainy days, and with rainy days? Time she could spend huddled up in front of a window reading whatever book she’d chosen for that week. Everyone who has ever known Rory, would know full well she would would be half way through that book within the space of a few hours.

Something about the rain had always enticed her, she felt a strange comfort within the damp weather that left most people feeling miserable. She thrived in it, wanting nothing more than to cozy up in fluffy socks and warm layers of clothes and watch droplets race along the panes of the nearest window.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Slightly startled from his sudden appearance, she beckoned her breathing to calm down to a steady pace once again. She allowed her eyes to trail up his tall frame, soaking him in as much as she could. There stood Ethan in all his glory along with a piping hot mug of her favourite, hot chocolate. Rory was never much of a coffee drinker, always having a sweet tooth and preferring the chocolatey taste to the bitterness a cup of coffee would leave in her mouth for hours. Besides, no one likes coffee breath. She allowed her gaze to retreat back to its fixed spot, staring out into the forest that lined the perimeter of the Dolan’s backyard.

“Then I hate to break it to you E but you’ll be short of quite a few pennies by the time you’ve heard all of the thoughts that are running around my mind right now.”

She allowed a defeated sigh to slip past her lips, filling the silence that had fallen between the two. It was true, her mind had been all over the place ever since the moment the twins had told her of their plan to pursue a career in Los Angeles. She felt like her world was collapsing in on her and in a way, it was. Her whole life as she knew it consisted of Ethan and Grayson Dolan, she had spent practically everyday with the pair for as long as she could remember and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that chapter of her life to be over.

“A hot chocolate instead? Please Rory, talk to me. I know this is going to be a big change for you, but it is for me and Grayson too yeah? Were all going to be feeling the same emotions in the next few weeks, we have to be there for each other and I can’t do that if you wont open up to me.”

Sliding down opposite her small frame on the cold hardwood floor of his childhood home, Ethan couldn’t help but become overwhelmed by his emotions. This had been his home for many years, it contained so many memories. These very walls had been witness to the life of the three best friends and the idea of leaving this part of his life behind, leaving his best friend behind? It tore Ethan to pieces but he was also optimistic for this exciting new chapter. He tried to remain positive and think of the new adventures they will get to have in the city of angels. The memories he can make with the ones he holds closest.

“Everything is changing E. I don’t think I’m ready to move on from this, I don’t want to be left behind again. I’m going to be so alone here, you guys are the only real friends I have. I don’t want to lose you, or Grayson.”

A stray tear made it’s way down her cheek as the rain continued outside. She looked up to meet the eyes of her best friend, the boy she’d always love. His hand reached out for hers and clasped it tightly in his own. She saw a flash of hope flash across his beautiful brown eyes that she adored so much.

“You could come with us you know? There’s a spare room in the apartment and you know I...we would love to have you there with us. We could go on so many adventures and explore California and we could-“

“E, as wonderful as that sounds, you know my mom would never let me just drop everything and go. What about school? College? You know what she expects of me. I really wish it was that simple.”

In that moment, Rory swore she saw a small piece of Ethan’s heart break away before her very eyes. She forced her tears back, choking slightly from the lack of air that seemed to be escaping her lungs. Why did this have to be so hard? Ethan paused for what felt like eternity before speaking once more.

“I’m going to miss you so much my little lion, so fucking much.”

He outstretched his arms, his warm embrace calling her name. She crawled over to him, closing the small gap that was between them. She clung to his torso as he stroked his fingers through her hair soothingly.

“Nothing is going to change between us Rory, absolutely nothing.”

“Why don’t you come back to our place? I’m not ready to say goodbye yet anyway and I know he’d love to see you. Please, just for a little while?” Gray’s words snapped her back from her reminiscing. He looked into her eyes with such hope, she just couldn’t say no to him.

“God damn those puppy eyes” she cursed under her breath, causing a smirk from Grayson who sat opposite her with a triumphant look on his face.

“I better not regret this Dolan.”

Tags: @rhyrhy462 @evergreendolan @dolansficsandpics @fangdolan @livexdolan @blindedbythelightt @baby-grayson @prettyboydolan @delightfuldolan @sosweetgrethan @episkygrant @resilientdolan @pineappledols @vinylhazza @hydrograyson @velvetdolan @baby-turtles @szadolans @cutestdolans @brockdolan @mercurygrant @abstractstardiva @guiltydols @blazedgraysons @blackpinkdolan @vintagedolan @babeygray @babey-gray @dolanpornhub @onlyyyariii @voidmalfoy @glossydols @graysonsdolansbabygirl @spideysimpossiblegirl @lovingdolans @bubsdolan @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @dolansbeanies @graydolan12 @dolantissue @thecharlietomygillespie @dolandolll @boujeeethan @softethan @risedols @evreths @everydaydolan

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writingsbychlo · 5 years ago

Text

more ways than one (01)

word count; 4951

summary; your first meeting with the stranger you rescued doesn’t go as smoothy as you’d hoped.

notes; I remind y’all that Stiles was possessed, but it veers off and it goes away, it’s not really mentions how, but the nogitsune never splits from Stiles. Allison is still alive, and Malia and Stiles are not a couple. Oh, and Derek is away travelling with Cora. That’s about it.

warnings; violence, choking, aggression.

You chewed on the straw in your mouth absentmindedly, your gaze trailing off into the distance as the girls talked constantly around you. You were vaguely following the conversation as they spoke, the girls chatting loudly about everything you had all been through lately, as though the supernatural was public information and they didn’t care about the opinions of those tables around you all who could easily eavesdrop if they bothered to listen closely.

Your eyes were squinted a little, the sun shining down and giving a warm feeling over the day, despite the storm that was due to set in later on in the day, and Lydia had texted you all this morning and told you to be ready to go for a late lunch while it was warm. She claimed that after everything that had happened with Stiles’ brief run-in with possession, and the year of supernatural crap that had gone down during your sophomore year, that you were all well overdue a lunch date to chat. That, and she was taking the opportunity to introduce Malia to the world of once again being bi-pedal and human.

Said strawberry-blonde snapped her fingers in front of your face, calling your attention to her and your thoughts snapped away from the nightmare you had somehow landed yourself in, your eyes focusing in on her as you pulled your milkshake away from your mouth, smiling as casually as you could as you looked at her. Her eyes were narrowed, lips pursed as she studied you carefully, before her lips were twisting up in a smirk.

“What’cha thinking about so hard there, girly?”

You cleared your throat, shaking your head and smiling casually as you lifted one of your fries to your mouth, chewing on the soft potato as you shrugged at her, trying your best to play it cool, but the four sets of eyes on you were throwing you through a loop. “Nothing.” You watched them carefully, swallowing the milkshake before taking a long sip of your milkshake, the chocolate flavour filling your mouth and she merely hummed, Allison was snickering as she turned to whisper to Kira, and Malia simply watched the interactions, taking the last bite of her double-cheeseburger and licking the sauce from the edge of her mouth, humming happily around the food.

“So, you’re not thinking about a pale and male-covered boy with brown hair and bright eyes?” You practically choked on your drink as Allison questioned you, your eyes wide as you wondered whether they’d found out about the lookalike you’d stashed at Derek’s loft, and you sputtered for an explanation, your cheeks heating up with a red flush, Kira cracking up and slapping the huntress on the arm as the two curled into each other in a fit of giggles.

“She’s totally thinking about Stiles, look at her blushing!”

You felt relief seep into your body as the tension slipped away, your body slumping in the seat as you rolled your eyes, your racing heart calming as your secret remained safe, for now. “Wait, am I missing something? Why would I be thinking about Stiles?”

Lydia picked at her acrylic nails, not even bothering to look up at you as she spoke. “Maybe because you’re totally into each other?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on. You know the two of you have gotten super close, lately!” Allison insisted, and your brows rose as you glanced around the other girls, and Lydia mumbled her agreement as she sipped at her water, a half-eaten salad sitting in front of her.

“When I first met you guys, I thought you were together,” Kira added, and you rolled your eyes, nibbling on your lower lip as embarrassment flooded through your system, the copy-cat male you’d hidden away yesterday slipping from your mind as thoughts of the original filled your thoughts. You loved your best friend, you truly did, and you couldn't deny how much closer you’d gotten to him lately, but it was only because he’d come to you when he started to feel the effects of his possession, confiding in you long before anyone else had. “I think you’d be cute together.”

“Are they not together?” Malia muttered, looking intently at the uneaten food on your plate, and you giggled as you offered it up to her, a bright smile taking over his face as she accepted the plate ad placed it down on top of her own empty one, quickly tucking into your leftover food.

“C’mon girls, he’s totally in love with Lyds, since like third grade. You know this, he’s not exactly subtle.” You teased, knowing it was true. The boy spoke about her all the time, and while he hadn't quite been as vocal about it, you knew he was still pining for the red-head girl.

“Everyone’s a little bit in love with me, but not everyone holds hands with their best friend.” You snorted unattractively, giving her a side-eye and leaning back, your legs crossing proudly as you thought about it.

“When have I ever held hands with Stiles?”

“Uh, like six times over the past three months?” Kira objected, the others all making various sounds of agreement as you watched Malia finish your meal too, a proud smile on her face as she leaned back in her chair, legs parted and hands sitting on her stomach as she groaned happily at the feeling of having a full stomach.

“Three of those times he was unconscious, one of those times he was going into a bathtub full of ice and one of those times he was checking into a nuthouse.” You pointed out, and the banshee counted them off on her fingers, wiggling a finger at you as she smiled.

“That makes five, what about the sixth time?”

You shrugged, deciding to bait them a little, a sigh falling from your lips. “You’re right, me and Stiles are totally and madly in love. You caught us out.” Their jaws dropped as they leaned forwards, a collection of squeals sounding as you tried to keep a straight face, eventually cracking up, and one by one they caught on as they scowled at you, Allison flicking you in the arm and Lydia pinching the other one, and you jumped away from both of them, rubbing your arms as you all but cackled at having fooled them.

The conversation moved on as they began to focus on other things, and you pulled your phone from your pocket, two messages flashing up on the screen and you clicked on the first, rolling your eyes as you opened the message from Stiles.

[batman 🦇💛] bring me ur leftover pizza back from lunch?

can’t, malia ate it, whoops x

[batman 🦇💛] >:( I can’t believe this, does 12yrs of friendship mean nothing to u?!

You grinned, rolling your eyes and tuning out the taunts and whistles you got from the group around you as they realised you were texting your best friend, your fingers flying over the screen as you typed out your reply, checking the time before you did.

according to the girls, it means we r in love x

[batman 🦇💛] ha. funny. ive seen u eat sand. couldnt kiss u now.

shut up, dumbass. I was 6 and u dared me x

[batman 🦇💛] kinda sad to kno the girl i'm in love w/ thinks i love u but that's my luck.

You cooed, rolling your eyes and promising that you’d text him later as you swiped out to the other text, your stomach churning as you realised it was from Derek. Admittedly, he was only asking about his loft, and whether you’d been over to check everything was okay, but it still made guilt twist at your guts before you sent a half-true reply, choosing instead to cover up the real facts.

Instead, you chose to tell him that you had definitely been over to check and that everything was tip-top okay, neglecting to tell him that you were stashing a supernatural double of your best friend only two weeks after he was mysteriously possessed and released, and that he was cut up and injured and arrived from a weird storm. Minor details.

Clearing your throat, you pulled out a handful of notes from your purse, placing them down in the amount that you owed as you excused yourself from the table, balancing the strap of your bag on your shoulder and smiling at the complaints of your friends as they encouraged you to stay, but it was already nearing the late afternoon and early evening, and you needed to grow the courage to return to the scene of your crime.

The pharmacy was only a quick walk around the corner, and you’d made sure to park your car outside of it so that none of them would see you leaving and entering the building with a suspicious amount of medical supplies, and you pulled the crumpled paper with your list pulled on out of your pocket. Smoothing the crumpled item out in the palm of your hand, the bell above the door jingled, the air conditioning washing over you immediately and you shivered at the sudden temperature drop upon entering the shop.

Peering at your own writing, you smiled uneasily at the cashier who was watching you, a kid who’d graduated just a year or two earlier, and her eyes narrowed on you as you moved through the shelves. Plucking one of the plastic shopping baskets from the side, you held it carefully in your arms, avoiding their scrutinising gaze.

Paper Stitches.

Your eyes scanned over the shelf, a surprising number of options displayed before you, and even the first option was already showing you the impact that this little shop was going to have on your bank account, and you simply prayed it would be worth it. Taking the largest size and strongest strength in your hand, you shrugged to yourself, dropping it into the basket and scanning the other ones. You could always pick up another size of you needed them, but you were definitely going to need at least two boxes of these ones for now.

You couldn't help the scowl on your face as the sum total began to add up in your mind, moving along the aisle to the wrapping sand covers,

Bandages. Gauze.

There were far too many options of bandages and covers, a jumble between compression wraps, light and thick material covers and thick and padded gauze. You could barely tell the difference between any of the options, and you began to think that maybe you should have paid a little more attention to the quick google search you’d done earlier as to what you actually needed.

First up, a collection of thick, cotton wool paddings to place over the large gashes the man had obtained, followed by gauze and bandages, a hand rubbing over your forehead as the collection began to gather up in the bottom of the basket. Your fingers brushed over the rolls of medical tape, and you dropped a roll of that in too, knowing you’d need something to fasten the material to his torso with.

You skirted around the corner to the next set of shelves, your cheeks flaring in a blush as you caught the suspicious gaze she was giving you, and you cleared your throat, holding your head high as you ignored the judgement hanging on her sights.

Antiseptic Wash. Hand Sanitizer. Cotton Balls.

100 cotton balls in a bag for three dollars felt like a good enough offer for you, and you dropped it into the basket, humming to the tune playing over the radio above your head as you swiped a large bottle of antiseptic wash from its place, and finally, a few of the small bottles of hand sanitizer, because you’d been needing some more of that anyway.

You hadn't quite been ready for the odd glare the ex-peer had given you when you placed the basket on the counter, and her eyes moved slowly between the items and your eyes, a sarcastic smile on her lips as she slowly began to ring them up, placing them all in a paper bag for you and ensuring they would all fit.

In a bid to avoid the wight of her stare fixed on you, you let your eyes scan over the ‘last-minute-purchase’ options on the counter, adding a packet of strawberry bubblegum to the collection and she scanned it through, reading your total to you and you jammed the card into the reader, wincing at the price that was displayed on the small screen. Your fingers punched into the buttons as you bit your tongue, taking the card and the bag as soon as you could and you darted from the shop, barely pausing to take your receipt from her as you fled.

Placing the stuffed paper bag on the shotgun seat, you rounded the car, letting out a deep sigh as you strapped into the seat and stuck your keys into the ignition. Digging into the bag beside you, you fished out the bubblegum, taking a stick from the packet and unwrapping it, popping it into your mouth and letting the chewing motion and sweet flavour soothe you as you started up the car and began the well-ingrained journey to the loft, anxiety riddling your body.

The radio played quietly in the background as you made your way along, the only sounds filling the car being that of the quiet hum of the latest chart-toppers, and the occasional pop of the bubblegum in your mouth. You weren’t really too sure why you were still keeping this secret from everyone, you had the perfect chance at lunch to tell the girls about what had happened, to get help and confide in someone.

Stiles.

Deep down, it was about protecting Stiles. The ripples on the surface of the water had only just smoothed back down, and you weren’t willing to throw the next stone in a situation that you were absolutely certain you could handle yourself. How dangerous could someone who was 147 pounds and unconscious be?

That was the only thought that was strong enough to force you up and out of the car, your feet carrying you forwards as you unlocked the main door, clicking it shut behind you as you made your way toward the stairs, choosing to walk all the way up to the top instead of taking the rickety elevator. You could use the time to calm yourself down, work out what you were going to do if the stranger you were harbouring was now awake.

Your hands were shaking so much that the keys were jingling as you walked, and you clenched them in a fist, taking a deep breath as you reached the final level and pausing before the silver metal door. With a deep sigh, you unlocked it carefully, sliding it out of the way and looking inside carefully. Natural light was flooding in through the huge bay windows at the other end, the concrete room lit up with warm light that almost made the monochrome grey space look welcoming, and your eyes zeroed in on the space that had once occupied that man you had rescued.

Nothing seemed out of place, the room wasn’t trashed and rummaged through, and everything was still and calm as you took a first cautious step inside. By the second step, you were sliding the door shut behind you, your brows furrowing. By the third step, a cold hand was sealed tightly around your throat, pinning you up to the wall as the tips of your toes brushed the ground.

The bag in your arms fell away, the items within it scattering across the floor as you squeaked, coming up to grab at the wrist holding you so tightly to the wall as you struggled to drag in any breath at all, your gaze meeting the furious one of the face you knew so well on the person you didn’t know at all. Those familiar honey-brown eyes were scanning over you interrogatively, and the long fingers wrapped around your throat flexed, tightening for a second before you were released, and you fell to your knees, eyes watering as you took in burning breaths, rubbing soothingly at the skin on your throat as the man merely stood and watched you for a second, before spinning on his heel and walking away.

You watched him go, shaking your head as he stormed away, and once your breathing had finally calmed and your heart had stopped racing so had on your chest that you thought it may burst out, you began to slowly gather up the items you had dropped, stuffing them all haphazardly back into the now torn paper bag and standing it up. Sitting on your knees, you took a moment to gather yourself, your eyes locking with the narrowed brown ones watching you, goosebumps rising over your body and you tried to seem strong, not to let him know quite how terrified you really were, as you took the back, standing on unsteady legs and holding your head high as you stared him down.

Making your way over to him, you placed the bag down in front of him, raising your brows as you moved slowly, the warning growl in his throat being acknowledged as you held up your hands, palms out to him to show you meant no hard, despite the fact that he'd attacked you only moments prior. Instead, you slowly tipped the bag upside down, allowing all the contents to spill out across Derek’s plain black coffee table, the man’s eyes scanning over it all, his face twisted in confusion as he looked at each item.

You stood with him in silence for a moment, letting him look at all the items, before he was stepping away from you, a snarl on his lips as he moved as far back as he could while still being able to watch your movements, track what you were doing. With a heavy sigh, you backed away yourself, never taking your eyes off of him out of fear of what he might do once you did, and for each step backwards you took, he moved forward one, and you slowly guided him toward the kitchen.

He lingered in the doorway as you moved around, never taking your eyes off of him for more than a split second as you searched through his drawers and cupboards, a small sound of victory leaving you once you found something you could work with, and you slipped two packets of the instant-noodles from the collection, dropping them on the counter as you continued your hunt on your meal-making task.

He flinched each time a pot or pan clashed, his eyes once again narrowing menacingly, and you had to suppress a chuckle because it was no longer focused on you, but instead on the source of the loud sounds, as he glared at a frying pan that had shifted and fallen loudly on another one. Selecting a pan big enough for the job, you quickly filled it with water from the tap, deciding that using the hob was definitely the safest bet, as you worked with this. Tearing open each packet, you held it up to show him as you watched on curiously, and you dropped the solid blocks of noodles into the water, waiting for it to begin to bubble over the flame.

There was nothing in the fridge that you could use, he’d gotten rid of everything perishable before going away, and you made a mental note to buy food, your heart once again sinking at the savings-draining task you had taken on. Maybe if you told Lydia, she’d give you her card and allow you to pay using her platinum, but you highly doubted you’d get away with telling her now without having to endure a long sit down talk and a lot of disappointed looks, which you weren’t ready to deal with. Lydia Martin could be scary when she wanted to be.

The silence hung heavily in the room between the two of you, and you tried to school your face into a stoic expression, despite the stormy scowl that was being directed at you, his body shuffling as you looked at him, his shoulders rolling from the discomfort of his injuries and he looked like he was going to try and dash at any moment. Taking two dishes from the lower cupboard beside your legs, you placed them out on the table gently, a fork beside each one and you stirred the noodles, the pasta soft and flimsy as it circled around, the savoury smell filling the air and you quickly dished up the food after switching off the hob, placing a fork in one bowl and pushing it across the countertop toward him.

He stepped forward as you took a seat on one of the stools, and you watched as he lifted up the instrument, pushing the pasta around the dish, a growl leaving him as he dropped the fork back into the bowl with a clatter, and you raised your eyebrows as you ate your own food, fixing him with a judgemental look and shaking your head. He used a single, skinny finger to push the bowl toward you roughly, some of the soup sloshing over the side and you let out a sigh, continuing to eat your food as he glared at you.

You had never felt quite so intimidated while in the presence of a bowl of noodles, and had you been anywhere else, in any other situation, you might have found this situation funny, perhaps even laughed at it, but right now, you worried you may actually choke on the noodles from stress. When you finally finished, and he was still twitching from foot to foot in front of you, his nervous shuffling giving you anxiety, too.

“What? You don’t eat, then?” He merely snarled at you, despite the rumbling in his stomach as the delicious smell drifted through the air and you raised a brow at him, shrugging and taking the bowl, his eyes watching as you snatched the food from in front of him. You made sure to make a show of tipping it into the garbage disposal, his eyes watching as the food slipped away into the drain and his jaw tightened, twitching as he ground his teeth together, his body jerking in shock as you slammed your hand down on the button on the wall and the loud grating filled the room, before you finished it, a smug look on your face as you cleared the dishes into the sink to clean later.

He stalked from the room as you did, his nostrils flaring at your actions and you wanted to stomp your foot on the ground and groan, but instead, you merely clenched your fists by your sides, following after him as he whipped his head around to see you following him, choosing to make his way over to the couch and poke through the items spilt out on the coffee table.

He picked up the bag of cotton wool balls, looking at them curiously before dropping them and you cleared your throat, his hard gaze directed back to you as you crossed your arms over your chest self-consciously. “Those wounds on your back are bad, you should let me take a look at you.”

He blinked at you, twice, eyes wide and his face didn’t move, giving you no indication that he was actually understanding a thing you were saying and you took cautious and slow steps toward him, his body tensing up as you did and you plucked the item from his hands, meeting little resistance as you held it up.

“These are for cleaning the wounds. On your shoulders?”

You placed the item down, motioning to your own shoulders as you tried to make him understand, and he twitched at the motion, his features falling from their hard glare a little his eyes softening and he swallowed thickly, his gaze dropping from yours for just a moment as he adjusted his arms. A wince was clear on his face as he moved his arms back, his lips parting and a quiet groan left him.

Your own shoulders slumped as you watched him, and you picked up another couple of items, deciding to offer him a small smile as you held it up, jiggling the packages before him, and the crinkling caught his attention. “These are for wrapping and padding the cuts, because those are really bad, and they’ll get infected.”

He pursed his lips, but for once they weren’t fixed in a heavy scowl and you felt as though perhaps you were making some kind of progress with him. Placing them down, you moved through the rest of the items, lifting each one slowly and telling him what it would be used for, only receiving the same blank looks and lonely silence as he stood before you, his gaze flicking over both you and the room multiple times. Despite the lack of verbal confirmation, you were choosing to believe that he understood you, because his posture had loosened, his body slumping forward a little and he seemed a little less like he was preparing to fight for his life at every turn of events.

It wasn’t until you’d finished talking to him and moved toward him that his defensive stance returned to him. He jerked aggressively away from you as you took a step toward him, and you lifted your hands, reaching out to him carefully as you motioned towards his back. “Let me take a look at your injuries!”

He stepped back again, his legs hitting the edge of the couch and he went rigid as you closed in on him, a low growl sounding from his throat, the noise rumbling from his chest in a warning and his eyes were practically burning with rage, his anger having built in seconds and your jaw dropped.

“We just talked about your injuries! I told you what I need to do!”

You tried one final time, reaching for him carefully and he took your wrist in his hand squeezing so tightly that your knees buckled as you released a cry, and he growled once again, this time predatory, as if to tell you to back off or it would get worse. Then, he was using his grip on you to push you back as you stumbled over your own feet, just about stopping yourself from tripping up and falling on your ass.

“Fine!” You snapped, your arms flying out to your sides as you shouted at him, and his eyebrows raised at your increase in volume, his eyes wide as he watched you, your own jaw clenching and you pointed at him angrily. “Go ahead, die of fuckin’ osteomyelitis for all I care!”

Your cheeks were flushed, and you fixed him with the harshest glare you could, before letting out a deep sound of anger, a groan that rippled through your body as you threw your head back, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to calm yourself down. Taking a series of deep breaths, you calmed your racing heart and the heat that was curling up your cheeks died down.

You mumbled curses under your breath, turning back to him to find him staring at you intently still, and you ran a hand through your head, grimacing as the tension in the air hung thickly. “Look, I’m going to go and get some warm water, we really need to sort out those gashes or you’re going to get really sick.”

You nodded at him, hoping that he understood before you were rubbing your hands together and turning on your heel, making your way into the kitchen. Fishing out a fresh bowl, you turned on the tap, running the water over the inside of your wrist to test the temperature, and when it became too hot for the skin there, you knew it was the perfect temperature. Gathering enough in the bowl, you placed it on the side, searching through the drawers for some clean rags.

When you first heard the metal of the door sliding, your brows furrowed, and it took a second before the realisation of what that particular grinding of metal meant, your eyes widening and you squeaked, dropping the material on your hands as you dashed from the kitchen, your eyes scanning over the empty loft area and your heart raced, bile rising in your throat as you guts twisted. “Shit!”

Your eyes focused on the open loft door, and you ran towards it, your feet moving quickly down the stairs as your tried not to fall, your blood pounding in your ears and you let out a panicked and frustrated yell as you noticed the main door now hanging open too, his taller stature and head-start ensuring you wouldn’t catch up to him even with his injuries, the area surrounding the loft still and empty, as though he had just disappeared.

Your legs buckled under you as the consequences began to run through your mind. Worry, fear and anger flooded your system as you kicked at a rock on the ground, tears lacing your eyes from the overwhelming floods of emotion bubbling over inside of you as you tried to work out what the fuck you were going to do now.

The sun was almost setting, dark clouds moving in over the sky and threatening to break at any time as the sun sank lower and lower on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking screwed.”

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prompt-master · 4 years ago

Text

Whisked Away

Everyone was getting settled for bed at the moment. They hadn't managed to find a proper safe shelter, instead they found an overpass to sleep under. While the rest of the survivors were cleaning and setting up their shelter to be as safe and homely as possible, Byakuya was doing one last survey of their surroundings to make sure everyone would be safe. If an emergency broke out they could always try and get Syo out, but why even risk what can be avoided? Not only that but…

Makoto had been sick lately. It had started with a small fever that Kyoko theorized was just his exhaustion catching up to him. But even after being able to rest often the fever only grew. Her theory changed, now she thought that there was a possibility of infection from the dumpster that she'd missed in the heat of the moment. The logistics didn't matter much to Byakuya though, the damage had already been done and soon they had to carry a feverish and concussed Makoto wherever they went.

Byakuya a few weeks ago was still able to keep up the show that he wasn't bothered by the ailment, but now it was hard to keep his worry at bay. Not when Makoto's fever had started to cause him to be delirious.

Byakuya pulled himself from his thoughts, after seeing no sign of danger whatsoever he decided to bring himself back to their shelter. He'd managed to find some more food, and even a little manga he thought Hagakure would enjoy. At least his venture wasn't for nothing.

He stepped under the overpass, seeing everyone hunched over. That was strange. He was expecting them to be settling down by now. Then again, these commoners had quite possibly the strangest behavior he'd ever seen. Maybe this was how plebeians talked to each other.

He opted to ask a question that had been on his mind, "How is he?"

He expected the answer to be the same as always. "Not better". But instead he was greeted by Kyoko lifting her head and meeting his gaze with one of….

Pure worry.

Byakuya nearly stepped back at such an open display of emotion. "What's wrong?"

There was a pause. Now that he noticed everyone looked scared or worried. Yasuhiro was going through their supplies while a pot of water boiled over the fire.

"Answer me, dammit, what's the problem?"

"Naegi hasn't stopped throwing up."

What?

"What? What do you mean?"

"He-h-he can't hold anything down" Aoi sniffled, her shoulders were shaking in worry but he could tell she was trying to stay strong. "He's been throwing up the entire time you were g-gone…"

"But that would be…"

Toko was fidgeting badly, looking like she wanted to curl into a ball as her hands pulled and tugged harshly at every joint one by one, "h-h-h-he...h-he threw up w-water too…"

Byakuya felt cold.

"That can't be allowed right now!"

"We know Togamichi! But he can't keep ANYTHING down we've tried even just a few sips and nothing works!"

He allowed himself to pace inward to be a part of the group. So he could finally get a good view of everything. He could see Makoto lying propped up against a large chunk of broken car, and he looked...awful. His face was scrunched up, the ordeal of constant throwing up had made his stomach and body burn. His face was free of all color, making his fever stand out strong. He was trembling badly, so badly it looked like an unnatural jitter. Kyoko was kneeling in front of him with a hand on his face, trying to keep his head up. Every time she tried to pull her hand back his head wobbled forward or to the sides, unable to muster up the energy to do it himself. His breathing sounded almost wheezy from how out of breath he was. Each breath was sharp and thin.

"Naegi" Byakuya spoke before he could stop himself, "can you hear me?"

No response.

Kyoko shook her head, "I think all the sudden vomiting put a minor shock on his system. He's been in and out of an unresponsive state."

Shit.

"What do we do?"

The worry in her eyes was suffocating. Byakuya felt as though he was standing in a dry sauna, water bleeding out of the air and leaving nothing but cracked skin and an uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

"He needs to be hydrated." Byakuya found himself saying without really thinking.

Kyoko had a hand over Makoto's chest, feeling the racing pace it had taken. It felt like it could give out any second now. "We can't. He won't keep it down. If we had an IV maybe but…" Kyoko took a shaky deep breath, "we need to lower the fever."

Byakuya kneeled down by the two, now even closer he could see the lack of sweat on Makoto's face. Painfully dry. Painfully hot. "Take off his hoodie."

She nodded, beginning to pull the zipper. Byakuya put his hand to Makoto's neck. He wanted to hiss and pull away. That sort of heat….Makoto's brain had to be bubbling up crudely at such high temperatures. Soon all that would be left would be a charred black sludge. He could feel the rapid pace of his heart beat, without even trying to find his pulse point. Yet for all the speedy thumping it had there was hardly any pressure in the beats. His heart barely had anything to give.

"Naegi" he said, as Kyoko finished stripping off the rest of his hoodie. "Naegi you need to wake up right this instant."

Nothing. His mouth was slightly parted. And strangely enough his eyes seemed to be active behind his eyelids. Fluttering around irregularly. It...startled Byakuya in ways he didn't want to admit.

He heard a snotty sobbing cry, oh...that's right the others are. He had completely forgotten. Aoi's cries were choked, "i-is he going to die!?" she had said between hiccups, but no one had an answer for her. Or rather...they had their suspicions, but not the will to voice the possibility.

A strange burnt leathery material was placed onto Makoto's head. Wait...no...that was skin. The ruined hands of Kirigiri Kyoko. Byakuya looked up at her, hoping to ask with his eyes only. For Kyoko to take off her gloves so suddenly..

"My hands are always a low temperature" she said, her bottom lip wavered, "the damage is so bad that they are never a human temperature...I thought that maybe it would help…"

Makoto's eyes fluttered again. The whites of his eyes flickered between the eyelids until his pupils rolled down into the picture. The fluttering of his eyelids didn't stop, but now he seemed to be drifting his attention around. Byakuya's own heart was rabbit paced as he wondered if Makoto could even see anything.

Kyoko's voice cracked, "Is he responsive?"

Byakuya shifted the hand still cradled in the crook of Makoto's neck. He lifted his head up slightly, watching as Makoto went from staring behind him to staring directly at him.

"......n…..nmm…"

Makoto felt like someone was jamming a burning piece of metal into his stomach. The pain was so twisting and seering that he couldn’t even bear to cry. He could do nothing but experience the strange flashes of hot and cold, unable to move with the dried up pain inside of him. He may have not been able to move, but the pain in his stomach was well alive. It was a wiggling squirming thing that you could never get used to. It was like a worm that travelled too far into the street after rainfall. A lost and helpless little thing, rolling around until the soles of a shoe grinded down without a passing thought. No...that was too merciful. This pain was much slower, it was more like a worm caught by a fisherman. His stomach was a worm gutted for bait by a child, held at end to end and pulled until the center flesh tore. Hardly even usable after death, left down onto the table until brown sludge gushed from its slimy husk of a body with the slightest bit of pressure. How he wished he could cry.

Maybe if he could manage to fall back unconscious he wouldn’t have to feel the twisting of the fisherman’s knife tearing into him. Maybe if he closed his eyes he wouldn’t see her hands shaking over the hilt as he lay limp in the shower. He could never forget how she looked at him, her eyes an untold madness of fury and fear. He couldn't handle it, he had to pry his eyes away. He could barely see past the fluttering of his eyelids as he tried to look up at the sky. That dull red peeking behind blackened clouds. It was supposed to be a reminder of the world’s state, but looking at it right now it almost seemed like Heaven. It felt like someone could reach her hand out and whisk him away to a better world. It was the polar opposite to the complete suffering he couldn’t escape. Was all this pain he felt what she felt? Is that why this was happening to him? If he could bear the burden of her death...would he get to feel peace? And then...well then he would get to see all his friends again, right? That made sense. It had to make sense. The sky was so close, such a comforting red.

Makoto lifted his hand - how long had that been there? He’d completely forgotten - and tried to reach for Sayaka’s hand. For everyone’s hand. Instead of a warm embrace something rippled and cold wrapped around his palm. What was that? It held his hand with a gentle cradle, he could let his arm go loose and let it do the work for him. He trusted this strange embrace, but it wasn’t the one he’d expected.

“M’zno?” Why was the world made of spirals? He felt sick.

“...No Naegi, it’s not Maizono. It’s Kirigiri, do you remember where you are?”

“...Hi Kiri”

“Hello Naegi.”

“This is a waste of time, what good is this doing?”

“Shush, he’s barely even aware.”

“Indulging his delirium will not make his fever go down.”

“I know that.”

Byakuya crossed his arms as if that would somehow protect him from his uselessness. He refused to accept this. They couldn't just watch. They were no longer those same trapped students helpless to the horrors around them. They could do something now. He just...needed to figure out what.

“Hi T’gmi” his voice was cracked and soft from the lack of moisture. It must have been torture, not even being able to swallow anymore. Despite that, he still sounded happy to recognize one of his good friends.

“.....tch, Hello Naegi.”

He didn’t like how Kyoko looked. Holding his outstretched hand with a calm, solemn expression. Kneeling by his side without the rush of adrenaline all the other survivors had. It was the look of someone who had already given up.

“Do something.” Byakuya hissed. Kyoko didn’t move. “He needs help.”

“He needs comfort,” Kyoko whispered, “he needs rest,” Sayaka said.

Kyoko tried to lay Makoto down more comfortably, using his balled up hoodie as a makeshift pillow. She smoothed his hair out of his face. If she would lose him soon then at least she got to touch him with her bare hands before he went. He was still looking up at the sky, fingers just barely flexing like he was trying to take hold. She squeezed his hand, heart aching at how little he seemed to recognize.

“Kirigiri-”

“I just want to be by his side.” she said, “if he doesn't make it...I want to at least be there for him.”

“So you’re giving up.”

She rubbed her thumb in circles on the back on Makoto’s hand as he whimpered miserably, “No, but I don’t want him to be alone either.”

Byakuya turned to the others, barking out orders to search again for something - anything - that could help. Painkillers, fever reducers, survivors, cold clean water. He needed them to search every nook and cranny of this god forsaken world. His last moments spent with Makoto would not be like this.

Kyoko squeezed his hand again, “Naegi, if you can hear me, can you please squeeze back?”

It was weak...but the fingers curled up.

She smiled, “Good. You’re doing a great job. One squeeze for yes, two for no ok?”

One squeeze, he still looked at the sky. Sayaka watched him, but she said nothing. Why didn’t she look happy to see him?

“Are you in pain?”

One squeeze. That was exactly why he wanted Sayaka to whisk him away. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. He’d been dealing with the retribution of allowing her murder to happen this entire time, surely she would take him with her?

“Ask him if he can talk.”

Two squeezes. Sayaka didn’t look angry. She didn’t look scared. So why had she pulled her hand away, why was she looking at Kyoko instead? Why did she look so sad?

“Is this ok?” Kyoko asked, pressing a kiss to his hand. It wasn’t much, but he seemed more relaxed now. And any bit of comfort right now was worth the world to her. Byakuya came back and held Makoto’s other, dismissively staring at the ground. “...Does this really help?” he asked.

Makoto gave one squeeze to both questions. He felt exhausted through his pain, his energy seeping away with each and every breath. It was nice, he had to admit, to know that whether he died or not he wouldn't do it alone. He somehow felt safer, even when he was so unsure about his own fate. He would fall back into an unresponsive state soon, having to trust his friends to take care of them as well as they had been. Something about the way Sayaka looked at him made him feel the slightest glimmer of hope again. Maybe instead...maybe it would be Kyoko and Byakuya who would whisk him away.

#danganronpa #fanfic #makoto naegi #byakuya togami #kyoko kirigiri #naegirigami #naegamigiri #naegiri #whump #i&i #does this satisfy you heathens?#not sure if i should cross post this tbh i kinda hate it but then again i hate everything i write so.#if people want it on ao3 ill put it there #let me know if this needs more tags too #whisked away

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marauder-exe · 5 years ago

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Christmas break- Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: 84 & 92 from the 2nd prompt list with Fred Weasley

Prompts: 84. “No, mom, don’t tell him/her I said that about him/her!”

92.”I love you in every possible way.”

Word Count: 2k

a/n: The confession scene under the stars was inspired by a fic I read a while ago where Fred proposes under the stars near the burrow! Although I cant remember the name:/

also i’d love some feedback if you guys don’t mind, you can drop it in my asks or inbox or whatever, i feel like my writing is getting a little repetitive

During Christmas break you had arranged to stay over at the Burrow with the Weasleys. Your family had decided to go on a cruise for your parents anniversary, so Mrs. Weasley gladly took you in for the break. You hadn't told Fred though, you wanted to surprise him. It was actually surprising he hasn't noticed you where keeping it a secret from him. He usually figured out your secrets within 0.2 seconds, having been best friends for the last 5 years, it wast really a surprise. So, just before your parents left for their cruise, they had driven you to Ottery St. Catchpole. Being muggle-born, they where very wary of you using magic.

So, as you pulled up to the burrow, you gave your parents a hug and a quick kiss, saying goodbye. You where far too excited to spend your Christmas break here. You had spent the previous night imagining all the scenarios that could happen over the next few weeks. It made you sad to be honest, knowing that they most likely wouldn't happen. But you could hope. You hurriedly knocked on the Weasleys door, waving a final goodbye as your parents got into the car.

Inside the burrow, Mrs Weasley was cleaning up from cooking, her family sat at the table eating, when she heard the knock on the door, she could only assume was you.

“Aww, Fred get the door please, im busy” Mrs Weasley huffed while all his siblings giggled at the table. Did he miss something? He gave his twin a confused look but brushed it off.

“Who is it, we aren't expecting anyone?” He wondered aloud.

“(Y/N)” She stated promptly, throwing a smile at him, preparing for what he would say next.

“WHAT!” He jumped from his seat. The last thing he wanted was to spend his Christmas break with her. Not in a mean way, he loved her and all but that was the problem. He was in love with her. He usually spent his Christmas fantasizing about what it would be like to be in a relationship with her, love her wholly and fully, have a life with her. He was excited, obviously to spend his Christmas with her, but Christmas meant gifts, then he had to get a gift that conveys ‘Ive been secretly in love with you since the day I lay eyes on you but I don't want to tell you in case I ruin our relationship so im going to wait for any smidgen of a hint that you like me, so I don't screw anything up and if that doesn't come then ill wait it out till you get a boyfriend, then ill cry and eat chocolate with George and try to get over it’ vibes, which was hard.

George interrupted his panicked thoughts. “Yeah! Mum invited her over to tell her all about how you drool all over her and daydream about herrrrr ”

“And how her eyes are so god damn dreamy” Ron and Harry had joined in and soon the whole table was reciting Fred's love lines.

“No! Mum don't tell her I said that about her!” He insisted. This had been going on for around 5 minutes while you where still stood outside, so you gave another quick knock on the door, as it was snowing and bloody freezing.

“Get the door!”

“Yeah, don't want to keep the love of your life waiting” Ron said dreamily, but Fred just threw a bread roll at him. He trudged towards the door, conflicted emotions but heart beating with excitement. He opened the door, there you stood, beanie on, snowflakes in your hair, basking in the moonlight, more beautiful than he had ever seen you. He was snapped from his trance by you, enthusiastically throwing your arms around him.

“Freddie! Surprise!” You hugged him and held tightly, having missed him.

“Blimey” He stumbled back from the force of your hug, but grabbed you protectively. “Its only been a week, you missed me that much?” He was right, your break from Hogwarts came about two weeks before Christmas, meaning one week to go. You subconsciously glanced at your case, wondering if he'd like your present.

“Of course I have Freddie! Couldn't live without my partner in crime!” She stated enthusiastically before they heard George shout from the kitchen. “What about me?!” You two laughed it off. You walked into the kitchen, Fred offering to carry your bags.

“How are my favourite gingers doing, and of course Harry?” They cheered as you walked into the kitchen, they all hugged you one by one, and you thanked Mrs Weasley profusely, but she just brushed it off.

“You'll be in the twins room” She smiled, Ron quietly wolf whistled in the background, causing Harry to laugh and Ginny to smack him on the shoulder, hiding a small smile. Fred nudged you.

“Wanna put your stuff upstairs?” He questioned and you nodded, he grabbed your stuff and started heading upstairs, with whoops and cheers behind you from the boys, while Mrs Weasley tried to calm them down.

When you where close to his room you asked the question that had been on your mind. “What was all the cheering about when they mentioned me sleeping in your room?” You questioned innocently.

“uh...” Fred felt a blush creeping up his neck. “its just, they know we’ll be sleeping in the bed, and you know how boys are”

It had never occurred to you that you'd be sleeping in the same bed, the thought made your heart speed up, you assumed you'd be sleeping on the floor.

“Unless of course you don't want to share a bed, id be fine sleeping on the floor” He said smiling.

“Don't be silly, of course we can sleep in the same bed, come on!” You raced him to the top of the stairs, both laughing like crazy.

The next week leading up to Christmas went crazily quickly. And the first night sleeping in Fred's bed with him was possibly a Christmas miracle, at least that's what it felt like. You guys where cuddled up, obviously George had given you the ‘no shagging while im asleep next to you two’ talk. But honestly, it felt right, being there with him. You tried to convince yourselves you where just friends, but that was never the case.

And so the day of Christmas came, and the entire Weasley family and their guests where so excited. Molly had helped Fred pick out something he knew you'd love. So the crackers where opened and candy canes eaten, and it was time to open the presents, you and Fred had waited last to give yours to each other. After everyone had finished giving gifts, they turned to you two expectantly. You ran to your suitcase, gently picking up the box, and Fred went to get his present. You'd returned to the living room, adorned In your own honorary Weasley jumper, clutching the present.

“Ill give yours first?” You asked, he nodded and you handed over the present. He carefully unwrapped it, savouring every moment. He flipped open the lid, and stared at the glinting ring.

“See, its a ring, but it has the first words you ever said to me on it” You giggled, the ring had the first words he had said to you on that train in first year. ‘Blimey, your gorgeous. Wait, what?’ The Weasleys laughed at the fond memory, and Mrs Weasley recalled all the letters she received that year, about the pretty Gryffindor that he was enchanted by.

“(Y/N), i-” He was honestly speechless.

“Oh and also!” She bounced excitedly “Its charmed to show a different picture of us and glows every time you think of mwah!” She giggled and mockingly flipped her hair. God she was perfect. He hugged her, tighter than he'd ever hugged her before. He whispered a quiet ‘thank you’ in your ear, you kissed his cheek and giggled, adding an ‘of course Freddie’. They pulled away and it was Fred's turn to give you his gift. Mr and Mrs Weasley where already tearing up at the scene in front them. Fred delicately handed you a similar box, you slowly ripped away the gold wrapping. Flipping the lid of the white box, sat a ring similar to the one you gave him, but as well as gold it had a purple stripe (your favourite colour) and a green stripe (his favourite colour). You stared at it, it was so beautiful.

“Its a promise ring” He began to explain. “i promise to always be...” He paused, breath hitched in his throat. Your faces where astonishingly close. “Your best friend” He breathed out. It honestly felt like a dagger in the chest, for both of you. You stared into each others eyes, desperately waiting, wanting, willing something to happen. Until you snapped away at the sound of Ron couching and Mrs Weasley shouting everyone for dinner.

Later that night, after dinner and the sun set, You and Fred had decided to go and watch the stars. A comforting act in itself but felt suddenly romantic with Fred. You two lay on a hill at the back of the burrow. Your head on his arm, cuddled up into him. You pointed out a star, Sirius.

“See that one?” You pointed towards the brightest star in the sky. Fred reached past your hand and pointed somewhere in the sky, that was definitely not where you where pointing.

“That one?”

You grabbed his wrist and moved to point it at the star. “See, Sirius, my uncles named after that star, ya know. Isn't it beautiful?” You questioned but Fred wasn't listening any more. Any thoughts of the stars had been discarded, he was only looking at you.

“Yeah, yeah it is beautiful” A small smile lit up his face as he stared at you in the moonlight.

You giggled as you saw Fred's ring glow brighter than any star in the sky. “Freddie, you rings glowi-” You turned to look at him but he was already staring. “What's up?” You questioned, a concerned look on your face.

“i love you in every possible way” He was still staring, a peaceful glint in his eye. Your heart stopped, your breath hitched. What did he just say? You sat up on your elbows and turned to look at him.

“What-” you whispered quietly.

“i love you (Y/N)” He matched your position on his elbows. “Ive loved you since that day I stepped foot into your carriage on the train and accidentally called you gorgeous. Ive loved you since you stood up against that Slytherin in second year. Ive loved you since you played that prank on Snape in third year. Ive loved you since you gave Hermione advice about her crush on Draco in 4th year. I love you under the sun and under the stars, in the Burrow or in Hogwarts or anywhere. I love you now and ill love you forever. I don't care if it ruins our friendship any more because I want you and only you.” You where brought to tears by his speech, and so where all the Weasleys who where watching from the kitchen windows. You threw your arms around him and kissed him. Pouring all the tears and bottled up feelings into the kiss.

“Of course I love you back Freddie, you idiot!” You jumped on top of him and he began giggling, you burst out in a fit of giggles. Mr. and Mrs Weasley watched from the kitchen, knowing his son had finally found the one. That was the most magical and memorable Christmas of your life.

#fred weasley #fred #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #dramione

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donaidk · 4 years ago

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Rhythm of Time - Part III

New year, new part, new banner, same old me with my ramblings... Not gonna make it long, just the usual quick thank you for reading this and all the other parts/stories and hope you guys will enjoy this too :) Part II | You’re here | Part IV Masterlist

„ What do you want? ” I asked immediately not to give him any time to start talking about anything else. He always had a reason to search me out, and it was never about anything usual for a lovely father-daughter chat. It was never that simple.

„ Congrats for the job with Haas. I knew they will realise your talents. ” He said, a smile getting on his face, which made my stomach turn. „ Don’t really know what you think of me. Can’t I congratulate my own daughter? ” He asked back, making me roll my eyes. I was just relieved that Mick already left and this was a private conversation.

„ You mean your personal slave? ” I bit back, crossing my arms in front of my chest while not taking my eyes off his ones. „ You never want to just chat. There’s always something ” I shook my head a little, as not one bit of my body wanted to be in his vicinity.

„ Oh, even you know that was only a misunderstanding. I would never do something like that. ” Dad let out a sigh but he could never make me rethink my decision about any of his business offers. They were all dirty traps, well covered by his connections.

„ Just like you would never hurt anyone else either. Right. ” His words made me roll my eyes again, and it didn’t help that I saw nothing like regret in his eyes after my question. „ Look, I have a real job to do, not like others… I would appreciate it if you could just get out of my way and not try your dirty tricks out on me. I know you too well already. I’m immune. ” I shook my head, rather walking back to the paddock, to get a car with someone else from the team, as I didn’t want to waste one more driver’s time for just one passanger.

„ Mona… Don’t be like this to your own dad. ” He came after me immediately, but as soon as I felt his hand around my wrist anger pumped through my veins and I tore my hand away from him.

„ Don’t you dare play that card. You lost your right to do so years ago. You have nothing to do with me, and I would be the happiest human on this Earth if I could never see you again. I rue ever getting to know you. ” I glared at him, turning back just so I could push him back from myself. I never felt so much hatred towards a family member prior to the day I realised all his wrong doings. Him calling my name again just restarted the fire inside me, once more. „ I don’t have your name for a reason. Do me a favour and forget me finally. You should be fucking grateful that Mum still believes you. ” I poked his chest before turning on my heels so I could finally get to our garage as soon as possible, where I knew he wasn’t allowed in.

I let out a sigh as soon as I was finally inside and sat down next to Pete who was still going through data before they would have to get the garage packed up. The car was already back in it’s place and even though it was covered on most parts you could see the broken suspensions sticking out. I knew they would have to start fixing it for the next race, although they had more time for it as the next one was in only two weeks time. It was probably lucky that it wasn’t during a race that was followed by another immediately. Made everyone’s job easier and gave them time to completely fix it and get it back where it was before. With a sigh I looked back at the screens even though I knew I couldn’t really help them in any way. This wasn’t really my field and I would have probably either messed up everything or I just wouldn’t even be able to comment on any part of the data if they ever asked for my opinion.

In the end I stayed until they all were done and gladly helped packing up as I really didn’t feel like going outside of the pitlane, and giving a chance for my father to try talking to me again. I didn’t know if he had the balls to stay right until he would be kicked out with the last few visitors, or if he gave up after my response to his approach. Maybe I was giving him too much credit with the second option, but I wanted to believe that it was possible. It would mean I was getting closer to finally getting fully out of his grasp. The media coming up with rumours involving him and I twice a year was truly enough for my mental health. I didn’t need him giving them even more to report on, breaking down my reliability day by day, pushing me further away from my goal of working in the sport without being connected to him. changing my name was one step, but I knew quite well it wouldn’t solve everything and people will still know who I am and who brought me up until my realisation that he was no good as a parent and I could finally take my own decisions.

It was already quite late when the car that took Pete, two of the mechanics and myself, back to the hotel arrived at the destination and we could get out. I dragged myself to the elevator, taking it up to my level where I separated from the guys and went to my own room. The little LED on the lock just turned green and I was about to push down the handle when the door two down from mine opened and I turned towards the sound, getting caught off guard by the movement I saw from the corner of my eyes.

„ Hello. ” Mick greeted me as he stepped out of his room, making me nod in his way. „ Are you coming to dinner? ” He asked again, making me stop in my tracks and step back before I would be inside my own room.

„ I already ate, but thank you. ” I lied and shook my head a little, but before I would have stepped inside I forced myself to look up at him. „ Sorry for the car situation. He can time his ’visits’ quite terribly. ” I added with a sigh hoping that bringing it up won’t just make it even more awkward. There was only silence after my apology, making me want to take back everything I said. I was just about to do that when he was quicker and spoke up.

„ Do you want to talk about it? I mean that usually helps… if you talk it out with someone. ” He surprised me, as I anticipated him trying to get out of the situation rather than offering help. „ It doesn’t have to be me though. You probably have your own friends who usually help you with these things. ” He shrugged a little, almost leaving for the diner when I nodded my head.

„ I would appreciate that. ” I added to my gesture so he would know for sure what I meant. „ Only if you have the time to do so. I don’t want to take up your free time. ” I spoke up quickly again, realising I had no right to change up his whole schedule with my own problems. He probably had better things to do than listen to my rambling about my dad being an asshole.

„ I’m completely free. I’m just gonna get dinner and head back here. Take a shower until then. ” He offered, making me nod again and finally enter my room as soon as he was further away from me, already at the end of the hallway to get into the elevator. Before he would turn around and see me still standing there, I stepped inside closing my door.

His idea did plant a seed in my head, and even though I didn’t plan on it, I took a warm shower, putting my hair up in a towel in the end as I got some clothes out of my suitcase, to change out of the robe. I would have probably just got my pajamas on, but knowing I will have someone over I thought it would be better to get normal clothing out. I was just about to brush through my hair when there was a knock on the door, making me confused for a second, before I got to the door and opened it up. Mick with two containers of food wasn’t a sight in front of me that I anticipated. As soon as I stepped aside he came inside, handing me one of the containers.

„ Robert sent it, knowing you didn’t eat at the track and wasn’t going to do so here if you didn’t come down with me. ” He answered my silent question that my risen eyebrow held, making me smile a little. Some of the crew knew me too well, I guess. „ So, a movie or just chatting? ” He asked, making me look up to see him take a seat on the couch like it was his room we were in. Somehow it still didn’t make me feel abashed as it felt strangely normal.

„ We can start something if you want. Won’t promise that my mind will take it in though. ” I let out a sigh, getting the remote from the TV in front of the couch before sitting down on the other side opposite to him. I watched him take it from my hand before switching it onto a channel that was playing the highlights from today, making me chuckle. „ Guess that won’t strain my poor brain. ” I shook my head, opening the top of the container to see one of my favourites inside.

We watched the replays on the screen as we dived into our food, although there wasn’t really anything we haven’t seen before. I felt myself tense up when they showed the only crash of the race, which was of course Mick’s, but I was glad to see that wasn’t one bit affected by it now. They usually got over them easily, if it wasn’t anything serious or life changing. I was about to finish my meal when they changed to some interviews and immediately felt sickness take over me when I saw the name Jason Hackett written out on the screen and just seconds later the camera turned to show my dad with a full on grin, standing in front of a microphone. They were asking him about rumours of him bringing back the Hackett name into F1 and even though he denied to have any plans like that right now he did hint on having talks with one of the teams. My stomach turned in a way I thought was impossible, at the idea of my father getting to work with another team after how the last occasion like this ended a few years ago.

„ Guess we know why he was there today at least. ” Mick sighed next to me, although I couldn’t break my glance away from the TV until he went off screen finally. „ Although it’s quite a bold statement that someone would like to work with him, taking the outcome of his last sponsorship with a team into account. ” He added with a scoff, making me nod in agreement. I really didn’t know what to think about this all together.

„ You know he’s my father, don’t you? ” I asked him when I was finally out of the trance the interview caused me to fall into. „ Stupid question. Probably everyone knows, however hard I’m trying to keep it from them. ” I poked at a piece of a chicken angrily, almost poking myself in the hand through the material of the box.

„ I wouldn’t say everyone knows. Your friends for sure do, but for example the mechanics probably never even thought you have a connection to him. Only way if they really looked into the cases back when they happened. ” He shook his head a little, mostly just looking at his own food, which wasn’t the sign I was looking for. I had to make myself remember that he was still the one to bring this up and come to my room. „ You’re not running around telling everyone, and also joined the team after all the changes, so they didn’t even have your ’real’ name to start off on. ” He added with a shrug looking back up at me, my worries fading away about him feeling trapped in this conversation.

I had to agree with him, as I really didn’t give myself away for everyone. Why would I? My only dream was to finally get out of his shadow so I could be my own person finally and not just a puppet of his. We stayed in silence watching the TV as they changed to some biking footage from the previous day, while I was still in my thoughts mostly. It was probably one of my worst traits, spending at least two quarters of my time inside my thoughts, completely shutting the outside word out. It gave me the chance to work things out inside without getting anyone worried about me, but I mostly stressed about things that weren’t worth it anyways, making me waste my time.

„ Did you know back then? When I still had his name? ” I asked him, still looking straight at him as I really didn’t want to miss his expression so he couldn’t lie to me. He took a deep breath, probably debating how he should put his words.

„ They made sure I knew. They told us who he was as the accusations were quite fresh back then. But I didn’t know that you’re his daughter. ” He shook his head, looking quite truthful and I believed him. He didn’t give me a reason to do otherwise. „ When I woke up, I had texts from the PR managers that there were photos of the two of us talking with a group of people. They asked me to keep clear of you until I had my contract signed, so photos like these won’t bring my future team an unsure feeling about me. ” My hand stopped in the middle of lifting the fork to my mouth, resting the silverware down on the box again. That wasn’t something I thought about.

„ That’s lovely. Although, I understand their fears. Even I know how messy he leaves everything he touches. There aren't many who can steal millions and still stay out of jail. ” I rolled my eyes, closing the top of my box as I lost most of my appetite. „ Lucky that I stood up against him, isn’t it? At least I’m not someone in their eyes who may interfere with things for him. ” I sighed, crossing my arms in front of my chest. It was the only thing I feared, losing all the respect I worked for in the past few years just because they think I’m here thanks to him.

„ How did you end up at Haas actually? You never mentioned that before. ” He questioned me, making me look up from the floor again.

„ Erica was a family friend of ours who stood up against my dad when he was accused of stealing money through sponsorships. Back then she was still in F2, and then she helped me get my voice heard after he messed up again just with an F2 team. ” I started my story that I never actually told anyone before. Not many were curious enough to actually ask. „ Then when I started university but realised it wasn’t what I wanted she took me as a trainee and helped me get my education in PR management in a way that was compatible with our travelling, so I would have the qualifications if I wanted to look for something outside of Haas in the future. ” I finished up with a smile on my face from the memories. I could only thank Erica for me. She was almost more family to me than my own blood. She trusted me, even when they considered me a wild card in the media.

„ Guess everyone needs a mentor in their life? ” He asked with a similar smile on his face and I could only nod in agreement. Having someone guide you wasn’t too bad of a thing, until they only had good intentions. If someone, Mick probably understood my position the best out of the team members we had.

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