#keep in mind i was coughing and on the verge of fainting while i was drawing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

harrys-titties · 3 years ago

Text

Y/N adores books and her boyfriend and Harry falls in love.

17K+

Warnings: Hinting at an abusive relationship and smut smut

(A/N this is based off a tiktok by @abbey.freeze, but in saying that, these characters are my own, I am in no way insinuating anything about her past or present relationship so please keep that in mind!! Idk bout this one, but I’m excited about my next piece, so take this as a crumb while I write the next one. Let me know what y’all think)

-masterlist-

9th December 2021

It was the first time during the whole day that Y/N felt like she could truly breathe. All morning a weight had settled upon her lungs; each huff of air she attempted to fill her chest with was heavy and laboured.

An ache had settled upon her chest as soon as she’d woken up to her alarm, blaring at her a whole hour after she had initially planned to wake up for work. The pressure on her ribs was immediate as she had flown out of bed, tugging on a top and a pair of jeans she’s sure should’ve been washed at least three days ago and pulled on her sneakers.

Her head felt as if it had been filled with all the air her lungs were struggling to find, leaving her dizzy as Xander, her boyfriend, grouched at her for being too loud “at eight in the fucking morning,” undoubtedly still in a sleep-induced haze. Y/N threw an “I’m sorry, I’m late for work” over her shoulder, only hearing a groan and potential eye roll behind her in response as she slammed the door shut.

Her fingertips started to feel numb as she fumbled around her dimly lit apartment for her pair of keys, usually easy to spot with the plush koala bear she’d bought from her trip to Australia three years prior dangling from the ring and the mix of brightly coloured keys, each coordinated to a different part of Y/N’s life jangling around.

(Red for home, blue for her car, yellow for work, purple for Xander’s car, and green for her parents home. The keys were painted with tacky nail polish she had brought from the convenience store on the corner block a few streets from her house, designed to help in moments precisely like this one, except obviously they weren’t helping enough.)

When she does finally find them and attempts to use the blue key to start her car, her heart rate begins to slow down with the lack of oxygen, because of course the key wouldn’t fucking work, the vehicle only emitting a choked cough before leaving her in silence once again.

Y/N begins to feel on the verge of fainting as she hails a cab on the street, too concerned with the lack of energy firing in her nerve endings and finding one to realise she was definitely getting wet in the rain, only noticing when she sits on the leather seat of the yellow car with a befitting squelch.

It’s only now, as she steps into the shop that had formed part of her personality through her teenage years, can she take a proper breath. Her screaming lungs are finally silenced at the rush of oxygen entering them, the smell of new books and pressed ink unknotting the tense muscles in her shoulders, allowing the pain to seep from her veins into a puddle at her feet.

She catches the sympathetic gaze of Max, the old bookshop owner whose leathery hands and woodsy cologne had helped raise her as much as her own parents had. Motioning her behind the counter, he excuses himself from the lady he was currently discussing what looked to be one of Bukowski’s poetry books with to lead Y/N to the back room, his familiar hands rubbing her shoulder kindly and his eyebrows knitted in worry.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” His tone is gentle and soft, just as it always was. In the seven years Y/N had known Max, she didn’t think she’d ever heard his voice rise above a whisper, his calming tone always one of reason against Y/N’s often chaotic thoughts.

She works hard not to cry, looking up to the ceiling and pursing her lips gently. She knows by the way he squeezes her arm gently that he notices but doesn’t say anything, simply waits for Y/N to exhale a shaky puff of air and nod her head slowly, “yeh just been a bad morning, y’know?”

He nods slowly, the movement sending more of his cedar wood perfume in her direction, “of course. I understand. Maybe make yourself a cup of tea and relax for a little bit, take your time. Are you still okay to close tonight, or did you want me to call Laura in to cover you?”

She’s quick to shake her head, knowing that eight hours of work would probably do her good. She could use the distraction and comfort the old book store always provided her with. “Nah, I’ll be fine. Just let me catch my breath, and I’ll be out to help you.”

Max squeezes her shoulder one last time, giving her a friendly smile, wrinkles forming around his eyes and mouth, the movement clearly familiar and well-practised. “Of course, Y/N. I’m here if you ever need anything.”

With one final squeeze of her shoulder, he disappears out the front, leaving Y/N to calm her breathing and sip on her tea.

----

The rest of the day goes by relatively smoothly, a lady comes in looking for a children’s book for a baby shower present, a teenager asks about books on romance (specifically any enemies to lovers stories. Y/N quickly recommends ‘The Unhoneymooners’ by Christina Lauren) and an old man asking for any books Trump had written, which Y/N has to force herself not to sneer at and politely explain they didn’t stock those by choice.

While the day seemed dreary, with grey clouds constantly making it feel as if it were late afternoon and the rain pattering against the window panes of the homey old store, Y/N didn’t mind. She had always loved the feeling of being inside, reading and tucked away from the stormy weather, and work proved no different. The smell of earthy covers filled with thousands of pages pressed with ink served as a source of comfort for Y/N, and half the time, if there was no one in the store, she would make herself a cup of tea and continue reading one of the many books their shelves stocked.

While the day initially looked as if it would be one of those where she could relax and try to finish the book she was currently reading, it proved to be slightly different. A shipment of books they’d just received (almost double what they usually would due to Christmas being just around the corner) meant she had spent most of the day unpacking boxes, adding them to the system before stacking them on shelves, only pausing to serve customers and to eat a sad turkey sandwich she had purchased from the corner shop at lunchtime.

By the time ten to six had rolled around, Y/N had successfully put all the books away, tired from her efforts and definitely looking forward to a warm bath and dinner. However, the aching resistance in her muscles reminded her of the good job she had done, and she revels in the hard work that had effectively distracted her from her stressful morning.

Usually, Y/N used the last ten minutes of her shift to wash the numerous cups she had used for her tea during the day, which now sat stacked neatly next to the sink in the back room. Still, her plan is somewhat ruined when she hears the telltale ring of the bell attached to the front door just as she reaches her hands into the soapy water. She quickly wipes her wet hands on the front of her jeans and checks the time on her way, noting the 5:55pm blinking at her on the computer screen.

She notices a man walking towards one of the shelves to her left and greets him cheerfully, “hi there! Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with today.” And while it felt like she had finally caught her breath nearly eight hours ago, when his piercing green eyes met hers, it felt as if she had lost it once again.

He was extremely handsome, with a mop of brown curls flopped over his forehead, beautiful eyes and tan skin, all accompanied by a charming smile adorned with slight bunny teeth and a deep dimple. His voice is deep and melodic as he answers, “will do, thanks.” He gives her a gentle smile, looking away towards one of the shelves of books before glancing back at her again, making awkward eye contact with Y/N, who was very much still staring at him.

She quickly looks away and coughs slightly into her hand, turning onto the computer and clicking aimlessly around, almost sure that at this point her face was aflame with a cherry red colour.

It’s only when she hears his footsteps steadily approaching the counter a few minutes later does she brave looking up once more.

He’s standing in front of the desk, the same coy smile he had when he walked in filling the bottom half of his face, and Y/N does her best to tear her eyes away from his lips, meeting his intense eyes instead. She does her best to give him a genuine smile despite her heartbeat pounding away through her ears.

“Uh, I was just wondering if you sold used books here? Or d’you just sell new ones?” Y/N takes a moment to reply, still surprised at how his honeyed timbre feels falling against her ears. Eventually, she shakes her head lightly, “no, sorry, we just sell new books, unfortunately.”

He tuts, nodding in acknowledgement, “was scared you were gonna say that.” Laughing, she steps away from the computer, giving him her full attention. “Sorry to disappoint. What book were you looking for in particular?”

Y/N watches as tiny crows feet form at the corners of his eyes as he smiles at her, the expression bringing a sense of warmth to the girl’s face. “Can’t be a real bookseller if you don’t sell second-hand books… but I guess I’ll let it slide.” Y/N scoffs, recognising his teasing tone, before rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. The man in front of her rolls onto his toes lightly, moving his arms to mirror her current position, giving her the same goading smile and eyes, trying to prompt her into teasing him back.

He continues when he notices her silence, “I’m looking for ‘Love is a Mixtape’ by..”

“Rob Sheffield,” Y/N interrupts him, blushing when she realises what she’d done. His widened grin encourages her to continue. “I’ve heard that one is an interesting read. We definitely have it in stock, but can I ask why it has to be used?”

The man distracts himself by playing with the ‘I heart NY’ mug filled with pens that Y/N had collected a few years ago, pulling at a particular blue ballpoint and clicking it in his hand.

“You’ve never read it?” He looks shocked, his fiddling briefly stopping as he looks at her in disbelief, before he smirks, “now you really can’t convince me you’re a real bookseller.” Y/N raises her eyebrows and smirks back at him, refusing to play into his baiting.

When she doesn’t respond again, he only continues unphased, still as confident as the moment he walked through the door, “interesting is one way to put it,” he briefly smiles and looks up at her, blinking as a chunk of his hair falls into his eyes. “I don’t know, don’t you think it’s more fascinating that way? When the book is second-hand, I mean.”

Y/N ignores the flutter in her chest at the direct eye contact and shrugs, “how so?”

He doesn’t drop her eye, and Y/N begins to feel slightly intimidated by the direct gaze as it almost becomes too much to handle, the temptation to look down at her feet like a lovesick middle schooler proving difficult to ignore. “It’s as if you get to see someone else realise the profound intricacies of love and loss while you discover them yourself. Don’t you think?”

A laugh spills from her mouth, “how could you experience someone else reading the book like that?”

He shrugs “the dog eared pages, underlined words, notes they’ve written. All homages to the epiphanies they’ve made along the way, no?”

She nods, deeply intrigued with how much thought he’d put into something so trivial; it was almost endearing. “I guess I’ve never thought of it that way, very…” she pauses to think, “philosophical. Well, like I said, we only sell new books here, but there’s a second-hand bookstore a few blocks down on Perry Street. I think it’s open till six-thirty.”

Humming in acknowledgment, he looks back up at her, standing straight and dropping the pen back into the mug. “Hm, thanks. And what time do you close?”

Turning back towards the computer, Y/N checks the time on the screen, “about five minutes ago, actually.”

For the first time since he had walked in, Y/N sees an indication that the man before her was slightly frazzled. His cheeks flush with a gentle pink, and his hand comes to rub at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.”

Y/N laughs, immediately allowing a sense of relief to flush into the man in front of her, “it’s fine, don’t stress!”

“I’m Harry, by the way.”

It was so befitting, boyish and charming but somehow timely, perfectly matching the handsome face in front of her, and if it wasn’t for Xander, Y/N is sure she would be infatuated.

Harry takes the hand she outreaches, his touch warm and soothing. “I’m Y/N.”

“That’s a pretty name.” Y/N feels her face heat up, but before she can craft an appropriate response, Harry speaks again, “so what’s the plan for after work, Y/N?”

“Um, nothing planned yet. I’m working tomorrow, so I’ll probably just order some pizza or something and have an early night.”

Harry nods along as she speaks, “well, that does sound fun. There’s- um, there’s a really good pizza shop just down the street. Did you wanna go get some together?” For the first time since he’d walked through the door, the speed in which he spoke increased, his words no longer dripping out of his mouth like honey but spilling from it, erratic and unrehearsed. “Just so, you know, y’don’t have to eat alone.”

All at once, Y/N felt her heart fall. She wanted to say yes so badly, wanted to drop everything and have dinner with him. She wanted to hear more about his philosophical way of thinking and probe into his obsession with used books. She wanted to watch his mouth form around her name again and again, and she wanted to see his eyes light up again when he realised she was looking at his lips rather than catching his gaze.

But she was with Xander, and it wouldn’t feel right to go out for dinner with another man, even if that man was Harry, so she shakes her head and watches as the hope in his eyes dims like a flickering lightbulb. “I’m really sorry; I just don’t think it would be appropriate.” She looks down at her hands clasped together on the counter as she continues, unable to see how her admittance would affect him, “I have a boyfriend.”

To Harry’s credit, he takes it well, smiling reassuringly and nodding in a way that told Y/N he didn’t take it all that personally. “Oh, that’s fine, not surprising at all! I’m sure he’s a lucky guy.”

A sinking feeling seeps into Y/N’s gut, and she works seriously hard to ignore it, swallowing again and again, trying to force the idea of going with Harry down and away from her brain. She wouldn’t entertain the idea of this mysterious man, and she wouldn’t entertain the idea of betraying Xander. Their relationship may not have been perfect, but she would never stoop that low; she knew how much that would hurt him.

“I’m sorry. You seem really sweet, I just… yeh I love him.”

Harry’s not sure if she’s trying to convince him or herself. Reaching across the counter, he squeezes her wrist once before quickly retreating, the touch zapping Y/N’s skin, “please stop apologising; there’s nothin’ to be sorry for. Now it was lovely meeting you. I hope you have a lovely night while I go find this book.” She nods, thanking him quickly before watching him pick up the bag he had dropped while talking to her and heading out the door. Stopping in the doorway, he looks back at her, sending a cheeky wink her way, “enjoy your pizza.”

She can’t help but feel a sense of loss as his mop of curls disappear down the street as if she’d just thrown away the first thing that had brought butterflies to her belly in years. Once again, she swallows, attempting to down the feeling, grappling around her throat. Grabbing her handbag from behind the desk, she heads out the door, locking it on the way out.

On her way home, Y/N replays the brief conversation they had over and over, thinking about how his thoughts had spilt over his tongue so simply and confidently. He had an aura about him, a quiet, self-assured presence that immediately allowed Y/N herself to feel comfortable.

A song playing on the radio snaps her out of her stupor, the familiar beat bringing her back to the first time Xander had kissed her. It was the night of her eighteenth birthday, and she was drunk, having spent the night around a bonfire with too much vodka and orange juice swirling in her belly.

This song was playing as Xander had kissed her, tasting of cheap bourbon and Coke, with just a little too much tongue and not enough feeling. She guesses it was a fond memory, a marker of the many years she and Xander would spend together, during which his kissing ability had definitely improved.

She starts to wonder how the years had gone by so quickly, feeling as if one year she was graduating high school and getting drunk with her friends and the next she was working full time at a bookstore, living with her boyfriend and only calling her mother once a week.

She’d never felt a specific attachment to music, but this particular, shitty upbeat pop song, brought her to a place of feeling she had never experienced before. A sense of nostalgia and longing for a life she had never had but clearly wished she could achieve. She can hardly even remember what her dreams or aspirations had been at eighteen. She’d wanted to travel around Europe and get married on the beach, open her own bookstore, live in a flat with three of her best friends and fall in love with someone she couldn’t have even imagined would be so perfect for her.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t achieved some of these things. She had gone on a few road trips and met Xander, who she imagines she’ll marry eventually. It just wasn’t quite what she’d expected from adulthood, but she guesses most people her age felt the same way.

Was adulthood always accompanied by the sinking feeling Y/N felt in her gut?

But just like that, the song was over, the last notes of the guitar fading into silence, the same air conditioner she always turned higher was still blasting on her flushed face, and she was still driving down the same roads she’d been driving for the last few years, as lost and confused as she’d always been, no closer to her adolescent self’s idea of a perfect life and no closer to her current self’s idea of that either.

——

How Y/N’s day had ended worse than it had begun, she had no idea. She really didn’t think it could get worse, genuinely believing that sitting on a damp leather seat in the back of a taxi, late for work and on the verge of tears was the lowest someone could get, that was until she’d walked into her apartment to be met with a disgruntled Xander looking through her MacBook.

“Xander? What are you doing on my laptop?” The slam of the computer closing scares her more than it should, and she lets out a sigh as she catches the irate look on Xander’s face. “Maybe you should tell me why I need to be.”

Y/N would be confused, and she really wishes this was a scenario she was inexperienced and shocked by; however it was not. At the start of their relationship, Xander and Y/N had struggled with Xanders insecurities, constantly battling with fears of Y/N leaving or cheating on him. While they’d never actively discussed it, Y/N believed it came from his previous ex-girlfriend always being a bit shady, but she’d tried really hard to ensure these irrational fears were put to rest.

However, these insecurities had caused a strain on their relationship, so much so they’d almost broken up on multiple occasions. Y/N stupidly always thought they had finally gotten over it, but it seemed every few months they reappeared, always causing as much havoc as the first time.

Y/N didn’t know if she could handle this today. She loved him, she really did, but there were some days when the emotional toll of convincing someone she wasn’t sneaking around behind their back became exhausting.

“Xander, come on, we’ve spoken about this. I’m not cheating on you.”

He scoffs, and the noise brings her blood to a boil, “I didn’t even mention cheating. Why would you bring that up?”

It’s Y/N’s turn to scoff, “because it’s what you accuse me of all the time. I understand that this must be frustrating for you, but it’s just not true.”

She can see the tension rolling off of his shoulders, and if this routine hadn’t become so frustrating for her as well, she would empathise with him. “I just… I can’t trust you.”

Around this time in their fucked up regimen, either Y/N or Xander usually began to cry, but Y/N thinks she’s too angry to even entertain the thought of shedding a tear. “Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” The words come out strained and slightly harsher than she had intended.

“How do I know if you’ve never told me?” Just as Y/N suspected, Xander’s tone matches her own, clipped and short. Clearly, anger was brimming under the surface, just waiting to explode out in a slew of criticisms and nasty names. She sighs and shakes her head, walking past the couch into the kitchen to turn on the kettle. “Y/N! Don’t walk away from me!”

Grabbing a mug from the cupboard, Y/N takes a few deep breaths in and counts to five, willing herself to relax and diffuse the icy fury travelling through her veins. “Xander, I can’t do this today. I had a horrible morning and really just want to relax and eat dinner. I know this is upsetting for you, but there’s only so many times I can tell you I never have and will never cheat on you. If you don’t believe me, so be it; there’s nothing I can do.”

Xander’s voice is poisonous when he speaks, and the words even take Y/N by surprise.

“Fuck you.” With that, he leaves, swiping the keys off the kitchen bench and slamming the door behind him, and it’s only then that Y/N allows her tears to fall.

She had never felt further from the person her eighteen-year-old self wanted her to be.

----

6th January 2022

Y/N had always believed in new beginnings and always loved the idea of renewal and change. Luckily, the new year of 2022 provided that for her. While Y/N didn’t necessarily believe in the concept of new year’s resolutions, choosing to believe she could change at any time in the year, the new year happened to bring a multitude of improvements.

She had become the manager at the bookstore, having been offered the position a few times over the years she’d been working there but constantly rejecting it. She didn’t want the added pressure or stress and feeling like someone else had always been more qualified and responsible. Plus, she was younger, still busy with parties and unrealistic dreams for travel and change. But when Max had offered her the position for the fourth time, she thought it through and eventually accepted it.

It came with a slight pay rise, and hell, she wasn’t doing anything else with her time. If she wanted to have her own bookstore one day, she supposed this was the first step towards it.

She’d moved out of her old apartment, opting for a place only a five-minute walk from the store, allowing her to walk to work in the mornings, grabbing a steaming cup of green tea and a chocolate croissant from the corner store on the way.

She’d seen Harry a few times, once when he had come into the bookstore with a friend, quickly explaining that “they insisted on buying a new book, can you believe it?” To which Y/N had responded with a laugh, jesting about how insane they were to read anything that wasn’t second hand while holding her own, fresh off the press novel she had been reading before he entered the store. His familiar smirk and wink had left her with a pit in her stomach for days, something, not even romance novels could fix.

She’d also seen him at the grocery store, which led her to wonder if they’d ever walked past each other before, and she had never noticed. She finds it hard to believe she wouldn’t have paid attention to his rogue curls and boyish charm, hard to ignore even if you weren’t the one having a conversation with him. He clearly hadn’t seen her, busy chatting with a girl by his side and pointing animatedly at the cereals. Y/N had torn her gaze away from him, quickly grabbing the carrots and potatoes she was planning to add to the soup she was making for dinner.

And she’d finally broken up with Xander. The night that he’d stormed out had been a breaking point for both of them, it seemed. He’d come back the next day, waking Y/N, who had fallen asleep on the couch after eating the pizza she’d ordered, with a less than gentle shake. Claiming he was “over his own girlfriend not giving a shit”, he began to collect his belongings from the house, seeming to have woken her for no other purpose than a dramatic exit.

“Xander, I do give a shit. Of course, I do. It’s just really hard when you don’t trust me, I don’t know what to do anymore or what you even want me to do.” He wouldn’t even look at her, standing with his arms crossed and gaze set on the floor like a petulant toddler.

“Our relationship has always been rocky because you refused to commit fully.”

Y/N had taken a deep breath and counted to ten at this. He was referring to her not wanting to move in with him when he had first asked her. She had been twenty at the time and felt like she was too young to be moving out, still comfortable living off her parents’ backs for the time being. He had insisted she move to his dingy apartment shared with two of his mates, and they’d almost broken up when Y/N had refused, claiming his apartment at the time was too far from work and her own home.

It was only a year later when they compromised, Y/N picking an apartment close to the bookstore and her parents’ house that Xander could also move into, but he was never happy about it, claiming she wasn’t as serious about their relationship as he was, which looking back may have been true.

“We’ve had this fight a million times, Xander. I’m not entertaining it anymore. I love you, and I want you to feel happy and comfortable in our relationship, but if you can’t do that, no matter how many hoops I jump through, then I can’t help you anymore.”

Xander screwed his nose up, “hoops? What,” he mimics quotation marks in the air, “hoops are you jumping though.”

Anger began to froth through Y/N’s veins, desperate to explode from her mouth, and she swallows, tasting the blood from her lip, broken from biting down so hard on it. “You’ve got to be fucking joking.” She seethed.

“I stopped going out for dinner with my girlfriends on Friday nights because you thought I was seeing another man. I’ve allowed you to view my location on our phones and even read through the messages with Mel’s boyfriend when he asked me what to get her for her birthday! Worst of all, I have this stupid fucking discussion at least once a month and constantly work to convince you I’m not going behind your back when I’ve never fucking done anything for you to lose any semblance of trust in me.”

After her outburst, she found herself gulping air in like fury had taken up all the space in her lungs that air would usually occupy. Xander did nothing but watch her, his beady and squinted eyes reminding her of a lion about to attack.

It was then his facial expression had changed, his eyebrows furrowing in grief, not in anger, his eyes slightly watering and his mouth pouting in a stiff display. “Go on, break up with me then.”

It would be around this time when Y/N would usually hug Xander and whisper in his ear how much she loved him and would never break up with him, but instead, she takes a deep breath and stands with her arms crossed, beginning to nod slowly. “I think that would probably be best, don’t you?”

Xanders face switches once more, the anger returning to his features, “what?” he spits.

“I think it would be best for us to break up,” she repeats calmly as if talking to a rabid dog about to bite her out of fear.

It was then that Xander had lost it, cursing and screaming as he gathered his phone and keys, spitting an “I’ll pick up my things tomorrow morning,” as he’d left. Y/n had immediately texted her parents asking if they could come over tomorrow while Xander collected his things, as she had work and fully knew that her mother scared Xander more than anyone else could.

They’d agreed, of course, and Y/N had spent the day working, feeling a lot more weightless than she had in a long time. She was sad of course; Xander was a huge part of her life. But she just couldn’t help but feel like he was a massive part of her life that had also been dragging her down.

For the first time in almost five years, Y/N was humming while working and smiling at every person she walked by, even if she’d come home and cry in the shower while looking at photos of her and her ex-boyfriend.

She guesses it was therapeutic, her own version of mourning a relationship she’d always wished was akin to novels. She supposed there were only so many ways to shove someone into a version you’d painted as ideal.

----

The bookstore had been quiet all day, so slow it felt like Y/N was getting paid to sit at the counter and read her favourite book rather than actually serve customers. Max had gone home an hour before, prompting her to “just close early if it stayed so quiet,” and Y/N was planning on doing just that.

She had only served two customers, one woman around her age, with striking red hair who was looking for a book by Murakami, and a man, with the most soulful and deep brown eyes she’d ever seen, who was interested in purchasing a novel from the ’50 Shades of Grey’ series.

Other than that, the store had remained quiet and still, a peaceful escape from Y/N’s busy life, allowing her to sit quietly with her own thoughts. These thoughts are only interrupted when a package arrives at the store. Boxes came quite frequently to the bookstore, it was nothing unusual, but the oddity with which this package was delivered garnered Y/N’s attention.

A delivery man walked through the front door, package in hand, not struggling to lift the weight of hundreds of books, instead carrying it easily in one gloved hand. The parcel was not taped and beaten up but wrapped carefully, with brown wrapping paper and rope looking string.

It smelled faintly of eucalyptus and lemon myrtle, and the strangest part of it all, it was addressed to her, not the shop or Max. Her name and the store’s address were scribbled on the front in scratchy and messy writing, faint lines running through most letters as if the author was in such a hurry they could barely manage time to lift their pen off the paper.

Y/N sits back down behind the desk, grabbing a pair of scissors slightly too small for her hand to be comfortable, and cutting the ribbon as well as along the seams of the box where tape holds it together.

Upon opening the box, she sees a book, not just any book, but ‘Love is a Mixtape by Rob Sheffield, and as she picks it up, she notices the edges are frayed, the pages slightly yellowed and the fresh book smell no longer present. When she opens the pages to get a closer look at the fading printed letters, a piece of paper folded in half falls out the bottom.

Opening up the letter, she sees it is written in the same hand as the address written on the box; however, the note is longer and personalised to her this time.

If a bookseller has not read this book, she’s not a real bookseller, but just in case.

I know you said you were taken, but I’d be kicking myself for the rest of my life if I didn’t at least leave my details with you. You don’t have to use them, but feel free to contact me if you ever need anything, even if it’s just for a chat.

-H xx

She moves her thumb, noticing it was covering more writing, and her heart stops when she realises at the bottom of the page are a set of contact details. His phone and email to be more accurate.

Butterflies immediately erupt from her stomach, the feeling of her tummy churning making her feel sick as she realises who this is from. Harry.

She wouldn’t lie and say she hadn’t thought about him since their few odd meetings. In truth, he had continuously been popping up in her head over the last few months at the most random of times, but she’d always push it back down, clearing her throat and trying to focus on herself and whatever she was doing at that moment. Honestly, she didn’t want to give herself the false hope of imagining him as a romantic interest. She genuinely believed the night he’d come into the store would be the last time she’d ever see him, and the few other times she’d run into him, mere coincidences, bubble wrapped with Y/N’s own fear of getting attached to him and she supposes Harry’s own knowledge and respect of her partner.

But for this package to come after she’d broken up with her ex and was feeling so comfortable, it felt a little bit like fate. She rereads the note again and tries to tamp down the rising excitement forming, doing so easily with her own anxious thoughts.

What could she even say if she did message him?

Did she want this practical stranger to have her number or email?

Was she moving on too quickly from her ex-boyfriend?

Did she even want to start something new at the moment?

Y/N was overthinking; she knew she was. Instead, she takes a deep breath and counts to ten before grabbing the box with the book and note inside and putting it behind the counter with her bag.

It’s only an hour later when she makes up her mind, deciding she would be stupid not to message him. This surety came from a man walking in with the same curly hair and lanky but muscular build that Harry sported, her eyes briefly being tricked. She had laughed at herself, playing off the way her stomach dropped and her heart had begun pounding, before realising exactly what that meant.

Y/N took that as a sign.

She was clearly interested in Harry if the mere sight, scrap that, the potential sight of him was enough to send her into a frenzy. She quickly serves the Harry look-alike (who, upon further inspection, had hair that was a little shorter and lighter in colour than Harry’s, and whose face was nowhere near as handsome either, his nose a little smaller and his eyes not equipped with the same shine.)

Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she attempts to craft a message to send to the handsome man, but nothing seems to come to her. Everything was either too formal or not formal enough, and she’s briefly brought back to how easy her ex-boyfriend had come to be her partner. He had messaged her the night after they had kissed at the bonfire, asking her if she’d like to go out for dinner at the diner near her house.

Thinking back, she can’t recall the feeling of ants crawling through her tummy at his message, not the way she feels them now. Currently, she feels as if she were to let her thoughts run wild; the ants would crawl up her throat and into her mouth, leaving a trail of fire and tingling through her veins.

“Hello Harry, it’s Y/N.” She erases that almost immediately.

“Harry… it’s the best bookseller you’ve ever known, Y/N.” Doesn’t quite feel right either.

She slowly but surely crafts a message, humming and ahhing at each punctuation mark and wording choice. Nothing feels right, but she honestly doesn’t know if anything she writes ever will. What would that even feel like when Harry was involved? She honestly wouldn’t know.

Eventually, she has a small paragraph written out that she supposes will do.

“Hey Harry, it’s Y/N from the bookstore. I’m not sure if you remember me. I just wanted to thank you for sending the book; I hope you enjoyed it. I can’t wait to read it! Maybe I’m not a real bookseller... but I’m working on it! Got promoted a few weeks ago and am now managing the store, so fingers crossed, I’m on my way up there. Hope you’re doing well x”

Her painted thumbnail hovers over the send button before she backspaces slightly, changing the kiss at the end to a smiley face instead. She didn’t want to come on too forward. God knows what he was expecting her to send to him.

She counts down from 10 before pressing send, immediately locking her phone and tucking it into her bag, hoping if she pretends she hasn’t sent it, the anxiety from doing so wouldn’t eat her alive while she works.

Although, it doesn’t quite work. She spent the rest of her shift thinking of the reply she would get if she even would receive one and then what she would say back. She thinks of every negative possibility while she sweeps, having to calm the blush from her nonexistent embarrassment as she imagines he types back, “sorry, who is this?”

While she organises the new shipment of cooking books they just got in, she imagines how fast her heart would beat if he were to reply and admit his love to her in his first message.

A customer chatting her ear off lends her to get lost in a daze of what she’d reply if he asked if she had any other recommendations for him to read.

She spends the rest of her shift like this, losing her own mind in swirls of her imagination, each one a little scarier and more daring than the rest. On her drive home, she briefly wonders if she’d rather he didn’t reply at all to save her the anxiety of forming a reply back to him.

It’s only when she’s getting out of the shower that night, does she hear her phone vibrate with the telltale sound of her text tone. While the shower had allowed her to relish in a state of complete and utter relaxation while she stood under the steaming jets of water, her phone’s ringtone immediately spikes her anxiety, the calming effects that had allowed her heart to slow and breathing to even, completely reversed.

Standing in front of her bed in just a towel, Y/N checks her phone.

“Of course I remember you, Y/N. You’re tough to forget.” Y/N briefly pauses, taking time to roll her eyes at the corny gesture that somehow still forces butterflies to run riot within her stomach.

“I do apologise for the note; I know you’re dating someone. I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I never tried one more time.

Look at you! I’m proud of you; it sounds like things are going well for you. I’m glad to hear it. x I am doing well thanks, have just changed schools (I’m a lecturer at a uni, don’t know if I ever mentioned it) and am loving it. Teachers are a lot nicer, and students tend to listen to me more, could be a coincidence, though…”

Thinking about it, the job fit Harry perfectly. From their brief interaction, Y/N could tell he was intelligent, particularly around books- she wonders if he was an English lecturer?

He had the type of tone and draw to garner attention from a whole room, and she could imagine he would be the lecturer everyone was secretly pining over during class. She laughs slightly at his noting of students paying more attention to him, thinking that if she were a student in his class, she’d be all ears (and eyes, for that matter.)

She continues reading, “please, let me know what you think of the book, and if you love it as much as I do. I look forward to hearing from you again. x” Y/N can’t help but let her eye linger on the kiss he’d left after his message, notably when she’d specifically omitted the same thing from her own one. Allowing herself a brief moment to think about what that meant, Y/N shuns it from her mind. She wouldn’t allow herself to get caught up in such trivial things if it really meant nothing.

Quickly getting dressed, Y/N begins writing a reply.

“You’re cheesy. But wow, honestly, I could’ve guessed that the job suits you perfectly. What do you teach?” Biting on her thumb, Y/N thinks of how she could tell him she had already read the book, second hand and all after he’d come in asking for it, too intrigued in his wonderment of this specific book in its used state, to not. She supposes she could reread his version. What did he say about being able to experience someone else who had read the same book or summat? She decides not to tell him, choosing instead to take on board his philosophy. Maybe it would be different reading it after he, specifically, had.

“I can’t wait to read it. Thank you again for sending it. You really didn’t have to! I guess I should also tell you, I don’t have a partner anymore.” Preparing to hit send, she pauses. She hadn’t been without a partner in a long time, and she wasn’t all that comfortable being single just yet.

While she felt ready to jump into something with Harry, she’s aware this may be her squashing the grief of her past relationship and trying to move on, which she also knows isn’t the healthiest way to cope. She deletes the last part of the message and clicks send.

----

Harry was never one to use his phone much. If he was candid, he could probably throw the thing out and not even realise (apart from missing the odd phone call with his mum, of course). But this week was different.

He found himself needing to have the device near in case Y/N replied. Constantly he heard buzzes and chimes, but when he checked his phone, they proved to be nonexistent. Harry would always be picking up the thing, finding himself staring at the screen, waiting for something to pop up. It was so unlike him, so exasperating.

Even during his lectures, in which usually he would approach his classes with a laser focus, if a vibration was heard from his mobile, his attention would be instantly drawn away, causing him to stutter more frequently, to lose his train of thought, to one time (embarrassingly so) say her name in the middle of a sentence while talking about Orwell’s, ‘1984.’ Harry was a man possessed, and he had no cause to stop it. It seemed the only way to cure his bumbling brain was if she replied to him, which, if you were to ask Harry, didn’t happen nearly frequently enough.

Each scrap of information he received from her may as well have been liquid gold, he would pore over, comparing it to his own experiences and wishes, finding that while they were very similar, they were also very different.

Harry found out she had worked at the bookstore for most of her teenage years and was extremely close with the owner.

After asking about her favourite movies, he discovered she loved horror and romance but hated Disney, while he hated horror and couldn’t say no to watching ‘Bambi.’

They both loved falafels, but hated tomatoes and both loved reading.

Most importantly, after discussing how she’d met her partner around a shitty bonfire, surrounded by shitty music, after sharing a shitty kiss, Harry discovered something that made his heart sing.

Y/N and her boyfriend were no longer dating.

He can tell she was nervous about sharing the information, tacking a “by the way, my boyfriend and I broke up a few months ago,” on the end of a message after agreeing with Harry that no one should be forced to kiss while smoke billowed through their hair and seeped into their eyes.

Harry had hardly believed his eyes and watched as the three dots indicating she was typing popped up and disappeared at least three times as he took in the information. They weren’t dating, and she was messaging him. Did this mean what he thought it did?

He makes a split decision, pressing the call button and holding the phone to his ear, each irritating trill of the dial tone poking the wound he was scared would open if she didn’t answer.

Eventually, he heard her melodic voice sing through the phone, a shy “hello?” raising at the end in question.

“Hi, thought I’d call to celebrate because I just heard the best news! You’ll never guess what it is.”

He hears her cackle through the phone, a sound he honestly didn’t know he was missing until he heard it again, before a groan sounds from the receiver, “you are so fucking dramatic.”

“Well, pet, what did you expect me to do? You’ve kept this crucial bit of information from me, and now I have no choice but to celebrate with champagne and balloons.” The conversation is replaced with silence, and Harry knows full well she’s preparing to explain herself. In all honesty, she didn’t need to. He heard that she dated her ex for a long time; he can’t blame her for being scared of something new.

“I’m sorry I kept it from you. I just- I don’t know, I didn’t know how to handle the situation, I’m not all that familiar with being single.”

Harry can’t help the smile that creeps upon his face, “you don’t need to apologise for a thing, Y/N. I understand. Doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate, though, does it?”

She laughs again, “no, I guess it doesn’t.”

----

It had been a funny few months, funny in the way that Y/N wouldn’t have expected it. If she had thought her mood had increased tenfold since breaking up with her ex, well, now it had grown far beyond that. She had noticed it in almost every aspect of her life, and she guesses it was due to just being genuinely happy.

Rather than counting down the minutes until the end of her shift, she would happen upon it, sometimes even accidentally working fifteen minutes past closing, too wrapped up in singing and dusting shelves.

She was calling her parents willingly and asking old friends to catch up, reforming connections she hadn’t realised were severed.

Her book club even noticed a change, with her coming to their meetings with enough enthusiasm for the whole class, ready to discuss the key themes and characters she’d already had the liberty of discussing with Harry. She even started annotating and highlighting her books.

And the most significant change of all, Harry had started to visit her at work. It had started as him just coming in to browse books (which she knows was a lie, the pompous, ‘has to be second hand’ bastard) that also led to them sitting down, tea in hand and discussing the intricacies of Shakespeare’s work, but had quickly become a routine. Harry would visit at least twice a week, each time with a different pastry in hand or a cup of tea for Y/N to sip on, and each time he would bug her, questioning if she had finally started reading the book he had sent her.

She was busy finishing a different series, which according to Harry, was exasperatingly long. Still, she was determined to finish it, even if it meant listening to Harry whining (which perhaps she secretly enjoyed.)

Today was no different, apart from the fact that when Harry had waltzed through the door, almond croissant in one hand and tea in the other, Y/N was sitting, with her head stuck in the book he had gifted to her.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Have I been tricked again?”

Y/N looks up, rolling her eyes at his antics, trying to keep the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth at bay, “fuck off, Harry.”

He acts surprised, his mouth dropping in faux shock, “is that any way to treat the very handsome man who brought you breakfast?”

Y/N’s eyes immediately widen, and her attitude changes entirely while she makes grabby hands at the bag in his grip, “Harry, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He continues to hold the bag out of her reach, cocking his head and ear towards her as if expecting more. “And you’re very handsome.” Immediately he drops the bag into her still outreached hands, enjoying the way she immediately tears it open and rips the croissant in two, handing him the other half without thinking.

“So, you’ve really started reading it, hm? Thoughts?”

If she was honest, she’d only read the first few pages, the most notable of Harry’s annotations was a tick or cross next to the songs in the playlist on the first page- which she can assume represented songs Harry both liked and disliked and one highlighted line, “you know what I’m doing- just follow along!”

“It’s good so far.” She knows it gets better in the middle, but she wouldn’t tell Harry that.

“Yeh gets better in the middle, to be honest. What do you think about my notes?” She laughs, a mouth full of croissant, meaning a few crumbs fall from her lips, quickly swallowing she responds, “very cute.”

Harry smiles and tries to hide the slight blush forming on the top of his cheekbones, taking another bite of croissant and fiddling with the same cup of pens he did the first time he came here.

It’s then that Max walks out from the back, instantly spotting the flushed man standing in front of the counter, “Harry! How are you?”

While Harry had become comfortable in the little store Y/N worked at, he’d become even more familiar with the old man who owned it, knowing full well he was something akin to a father figure to Y/N, evident in the suspicious brow and line of questioning he had received the first time he’d met him. It was apparent by the big hug he received from Max that he whittled his way into the old man’s heart, just like Harry seemed to be able to do to anyone he met. “I’m good, Max! How are you?”

Max grumbles along, something about his daughter visiting that night before he turns to look back at Y/N and then Harry, “you’re not distracting her too much, are you?”

Y/N shrinks at how Harry looks at her, his eyes an adoring green and smile bright and genuine. “I’d never. Although I do have to leave for class, so you can have her full attention again.” He winks, picking up his bag and giving Max another hug goodbye.

Y/N finds herself staring at the door and watching out the windows as he leaves, still finding herself drawn to the last place she saw him and feeling a longing deep in her chest like she wished he had never left.

She picks up her book, blatantly ignoring the stare coming from Max, which she knows if she were to look, would resemble that of a stare from a knowing father. He doesn’t quite let her get away with that, coming and standing directly in front of the desk and leaning so he’s right in her line of vision. “He’s a good boy.” Y/N attempts to hold back the smile tugging at her cheeks, “yeah, I know.” She makes eye contact with the man standing in front of her quickly before bringing the book up higher once more, primarily to hide the evident flush spreading across her skin.

Once again, this doesn’t quite cut it, Max letting out a scoff before placing his fingers on the top of the spine of the book and pushing it down so he can see her face once more. “He’s a good guy who clearly likes you, Y/N. I know your relationship with Xander has scarred you a bit, but please believe me when I say, people can still be good. You just have to let them show you they can be.”

Y/N feels her cheeks heating up further, but not due to her embarrassment. It was the type of flush that sits right behind your eyes, that you feel streaming down your face like it’s creating a trail for the tears about to fall to reach the ground safely.

Her silence is met with Max’s warming presence as he lifts the book closer to her face once more, “Our lives were just beginning, our favourite moment was right now, our favourite songs were unwritten.”

She instantly recognises the quote from the book she was holding and looks up at Max, slowly nodding. She knew what he was trying to say, knew he was trying to convey his own wisdom from past mistakes and tell her that it was okay to move on, to trust again.

She guesses that deep down, she already knew that, but how could she move on? Xander was a huge part of her life. They had spent so long together that it was as if she hadn’t been a woman and loved anyone else. Her growth had occurred alongside his; her life and circumstances had changed, keeping him in the middle of her circle while everything else spread outwards. It felt as if she had shed a million layers, and no matter how quickly she did so, he was stuck to her skin like glue.

Scrubbing at her arms in the shower didn’t get rid of him, drinking didn’t get rid of him, distracting herself with work didn’t get rid of him. The only thing that silenced his nagging voice in the back of her mind was Harry, and she couldn’t tell if it was because she was so enamoured by him in general or if she enjoyed spending time with him so much her brain filtered out all the useless sediment floating at the top, like Xander.

Either way, Max was right. She had tried so hard to move on from Xander by completely distracting herself from thinking about him that she hadn’t realised she was mucking the mess he’d left from the bottom of her shoes, everywhere she went.

She looks down at the book in her hands, flicking through the pages randomly and feels an immense sense of warmth flow through her, the scrawled writing, underlined words and marked pages allowing her to breathe deeply and calmly. She knew it was silly, but it was almost like she could feel Harry’s presence through the pages, hear his voice reading the quotes aloud in silly voices and then jokingly asking her what was funny when she laughed.

He was surrounding her, and that didn’t feel suffocating for the first time in her life, only comforting.

----

Y/N had delved into ‘Love is a Mixtape’, finding herself in the familiar territory of reading where the outside world was nonexistent, only the words on the pages surrounding her, every other word lining up with her heartbeat.

“Any thought I had boom boom, of not falling in love with her boom boom, had went down in some serious towering inferno flames boom boom. It was over. I was over.”

Each highlighted word or scribbled note left her breathless for a second before her body took over the natural rhythm her mind had forgotten to follow through with. She was lost, hopeless, only able to focus on the pages in front of her- which she’ll admit was probably not ideal considering she was working. Each customer she attended to only served as a distraction to the story she wished to delve back into, and she found herself acting ditsy and vague like she was drunk.

Her stupor is interrupted only by the sound of her phone vibrating against the wooden desk, replaced only with the hope of a lover, desperate to hear from her partner- in this case, Harry, her (what she wishes) soon to be partner. Instead, the jumble of numbers she didn’t recognise lets the feeling sink through her tummy and down to her toes as she registers the vague message from someone she didn’t know.

“Hey.” She stands perplexed for a moment, looking down at the device. Who could this possibly be? There wasn’t anyone she could think of that wouldn’t already have her number (or a better means to contact her with) that would have sent this. Perhaps it was a wrong number?

“It’s Xander.” Y/N feels every good feeling Harry had dredged up over the past few weeks, leaving her system entirely, the heavy scent of dread filling her nose and scouring through her veins to replace them. She’s about to delete the message and lock the phone when another message causes a buzz to shoot through her hand.

“Do you have my dad’s watch? I think I left it at your place last, and now I can’t find it.” Y/N pauses for a second. There’s a real chance it’s somewhere in her apartment, but where she has no clue. She remembers the piece, a beautiful brown leather band, with a black face, accented with a gold rim and hands- if the roles were reversed, she would want Xander to look for it. She knew how much it meant to him. She just needs to find the strength to message him back. Feeling her hands shaking as she clicks in the text box, she takes a deep breath, counting to ten. “Hey, I’m not sure. I’ll see if I can find it tonight after work.”

“Alright, I’ll come pick it up whenever.” As the conversation had progressed, Y/N’s initial terror had slightly dissipated, but at the sight of the most recent message, it skyrocketed again. She didn’t want to see him, didn’t want the pain of looking at the face she’d loved and been let down by so close to her again. How was she to know how he’d react? The last time they spoke, he was aggressive and hostile, and Y/N didn’t want to deal with that again.

She feels the panic rising from her feet, seeping through her veins and into her pores, till it felt as if every hair was standing on end. Taking a deep breath, Y/N counts to ten, waiting for the soothing feeling of calmness to overcome her, but it doesn’t. The panic only rises.

Was she being dramatic? Yes. Did she have cause to care? No. Hell, she might not even have the stupid watch, but she wasn’t about to shame herself for feeling fear and unease around a subject that had certainly made her feel like that in the past. Instead, she sits down and grabs the book Harry had given her, skimming over paragraphs, imagining it was his soothing voice reading it to her instead. A chunk of highlighted text and the notes scribbled next to it catches Y/N’s attention, and she pauses to read the words.

“It’s the same with people who say, ‘Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ Even people who say this must realise that the exact opposite is true.” And next to it, Harry’s addition, the words turning upwards and being squished by the end of the page. “It’s bullshit. You’re allowed to be hurt by the past.”

Y/N can hardly control the tears welling at the corners of her eyes, spilling out and down her cheeks, the saltiness on her lips bringing her fingers to fiddle with her mouth. God, it was like he knew, there’s no way he could, but it was easier than ever to hear his British drawl speaking to her, to hear him telling her that it was okay that she felt the way she did. It’s only by imagining him next to her does she begin to feel the panic recede, practically feeling it ebb off her brain and down her face.

Taking a deep breath, she closes the book, deciding that tonight she would look for the watch, and if she found it, she would be ready to face Xander. She was a mature adult, and so was he. She could do this.

Her phone buzzes against the desk once more, but this time, the message only brings a smile to her face and a comforting feeling to settle in her lungs.

“So I know you’re a grinch who hates Disney, but I feel like you’ll actually like ‘Soul.’ You free tomorrow to watch it?”

The door rings at the front, signalling the entrance of someone into the store. Y/N quickly wipes away the water from her face and sends a quick reply before giving the customer her signature greeting.

“God, when will you give up on the Disney thing? This is your last chance, loser. Come to mine at 7.”

——

Y/N had never felt an attachment to items. Why would she? She’d spent her whole life pouring over words, finding meaning within paragraphs and filling voids in their spaces. She preferred memories, hearing whispers of songs and feeling brushes of emotion from better days. The only items she bothered tethering to were her books, in which it wasn’t the object itself, but the stories that had wormed its way into her imagination, characters that seemed so real, half the time Y/N had to reach her hand out and ensure she would not feel their silky skin against her fingertips.

But when she felt the shock of Xanders watch in her fingertips as she reached between her bedside table and mattress, Y/N felt the same swell of feeling she does when reading her favourite story. Only this time, she isn’t flushed with excitement or interest but dread.

All at once, Y/N felt every emotion she had forced down, pin pricking into her skin, every pore splitting with ink, spelling out ‘Xander, Xander, Xander’ sketched red and hot on every spare inch of skin.

Whether Y/N liked it or not, Xander had scarred her. She felt it every time she went into the kitchen, remembering the time he had thrown the freshly baked muffins Y/N had made against the wall in fury after he’d discovered Y/N had been alone with Max’s son in the store for longer than an hour.

She felt it each time she stepped into her room, remembering all the tears she had shed tucked into her bed, every door slam and screamed threat.

Y/N felt it in the bathroom, in the laundry, sitting on the couch watching her favourite show. Every memory she had was stained with Xander, and she couldn’t remember what it felt like for her hands not to be soiled with his very presence. It felt as if her fingers were dipped in paint, and each time she touched something, another part of him would be smeared all over it.

She remembers what Max had told her in the book store, what he had insinuated when he quoted the same book Harry had left her. It felt as if Y/N hadn’t realised how lowly Xander had made her feel until she realised how happy Harry himself made her. It wasn’t even the way she felt by Harry’s words or presence; it was as if she was a different person, someone so much happier and content with who she was and how she lived her life.

Maybe it was due to her finally being surrounded by only good. She couldn’t help but thrive while being constantly watered and nurtured- it’s now she wonders how much of her growth was stunted by Xanders presence.

All at once, she feels her eyes well up with tears, the hot burning trace of them leaving her sight blurred. She feels them stream down her face, each drop a symbol of Xanders words and toxicity leaving Y/N’s overwhelmed brain. She was so sick of the back and forth, of feeling confident and fearless one minute and the next the mere touch of an item of Xanders bringing her hurtling back to earth.

Picking up the watch, she walks back to the couch, sinking down into the soft pillows she’d so often found comfort in. On the table, Harry’s book sits, the cover worn and slightly bent in two of its corners, containing all the words she wishes he’d say to her in real life.

Instead, she settles for the alternative, reading his chicken scrawl along the binds and paragraph breaks. Rubbing the edge of the watch, Y/N picks up the book and begins to read, slowly feeling her eyes dry up and her skin return to her normal appearance rather than the flushed and blotchy pattern she assumes it was 15 minutes ago.

Each word written by Harry brings her a sense of comfort, little funny comments and anecdotes being added to random phrases and words, some highlighted with a yellow marker that is sometimes mixed with the blank ink of the words creating an ugly brown. He switches between a blue pen that seems to run out of ink, the letters becoming blotted with the colour of the page beneath them until the words become written in black instead.

It’s around this point that Y/N sees a specific paragraph highlighted that causes tears to well in her eyes once more and her breath to stop for a second.

“Some people aren’t worth the trouble of being kind to, because they have neither the brains nor the power to make something for themselves out of your kindness.”

Instantly her mind travels to Xander, the very person she’d spent years of her life dedicating her kindness to, only to get the complete opposite in return, and she’s left shocked, staring at the page and pursing her lips for a second.

She thinks of when Harry had mailed the book to her, way before he’d even known she’d broken up with Xander, way before he’d even known the circumstances of her relationship with him in general. She doesn’t know if Harry had some third sense of how she felt, or if he just happened to relate to the exact quotes as Y/N seemed to, but it was as if he’d reached into her brain, taken the memories latching on to her for dear life, and wrote each note and highlighted section as if directly speaking on them.

It was as if Harry had known her better than she’d known herself at the time, and all at once, the comfort the book brought her seemed to triple its calming effect.

She puts the book back down on the coffee table in front of her, leaning her head back on the cushions behind her and taking a moment to close her eyes and breath deeply. Bringing her hands up to her eyes, she rubs lightly at the still swollen and sensitive skin there, feeling its puffiness and wondering how long it would last. For Y/N, crying didn’t happen often, but when it did, it felt more like an ordeal, as if all of the tears had been filling up this cup inside of her drop by drop until it finally overflowed, all the liquid within it pouring out at once.

A knock at the door brings Y/N out of her stupor, and she stands up quickly, checking her reflection in the shiny border of a picture frame hung on the wall in the hallway, quickly deciding nothing she could do in the five seconds she was walking to the front door would change her appearance drastically.

Instead, she smooths the few flyaway hairs that had spread around her face and rubs underneath her eyes once more before opening the door, shocked to find Harry himself standing before her. He brings his hands up in front of his face, showing a few books in his left hand and a bag of mixed sweets in his right.

(Y/N briefly remembers mentioning her love for these, explaining how they brought a sense of nostalgia to her, remembering years of her grandma offering her these each time she went to her house, giving her a handful behind her mother’s back with a quick wink. They’d become her favourite then, and it was only solidified when Max, who was basically her grandfather anyway, brought them into work, the snack pushing her through many a shift through her teenage years.)

Upon looking at Y/N’s swollen and tear-stained face, Harry’s hands drop, a pout gracing his lips instead of the cheeky grin that they had previously been set in. “Oh bunny, what’s happened?”

Y/N spends the next half hour explaining what had happened; from the text from Xander to her crying on the couch reading his book, she shyly recalls how she felt reading his commentary. She takes a moment to enjoy the gentle flush that forms along the ridges of his cheeks as she mentions how grateful she was for it and how it often felt as if he could read her mind.

From their position on the couch, Y/N can feel Harry’s heat beside her, the gentle scent of his cologne ringing through her nostrils. When she feels tears well in her eyes once more, Harry’s arms grab her and pull her into his chest. For a moment, Y/N pauses but quickly lets herself sink into the feeling of his sturdy chest beneath her, allowing a few extra tears to shed before she sniffs and counts to ten, breathing in deeply. She doesn’t move away, though, finding Harry’s strong arms around her, a presence she missed without ever feeling it properly.

The gentle curve of his shoulder and slightly jutting feeling of his collarbone holds her head up. She realises her lips are mere inches from Harry’s neck, his cologne, clearly sprayed against his pulse point, is even stronger here, and Y/N has to stop herself from inhaling the scent deeper to source its familiar and comforting essence.

They had been quiet for a while, Harry giving her the comfort she needed while still allowing her the space to think and breathe, but Y/N breaks the silence, whispering a quiet “thank you,” her lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his throat. If they weren’t so close, Y/N would’ve definitely missed the gentle hitch in his typical pattern of breathing, and if his arm wasn’t wrapped around her and resting comfortably against her hip, she would’ve missed the rows of goosebumps rising from his inked skin.

She sits silently, instead resting in the knowledge of the effect she had on him, not willing to break the pleasant aura they’d surrounded themselves in by pointing it out. Instead, she listens to him swallow and clear his throat gently, his voice coming out slightly hollow, “let’s read for a bit, hm? I bought a copy of ‘Pride and Prejudice,’ could go with that?”

Harry feels Y/N’s head shake against him, the baby hairs framing her face that she so often tried to brush down tickling his neck, causing the goosebumps he’d just spent two minutes willing away to rise again. Y/N’s voice comes out hoarse, “can you read ‘Love is a Mix-tape,’ please?”

“Sure,” he whispers back to match her tone. Leaning forward, he pulls Y/N tighter against him to keep her against his chest and grabs the book, settling back against the pillows behind him. With a gentle sigh, he opens the book up from where she’d dog-eared one of the pages, choosing to let that fact go due to the tears currently sitting behind her eyes, unwilling to trigger anymore and begins to read instead.

Y/N relaxes further into him, enjoying the gentle intonation of his voice, the way his mouth skewed some sentences into his usual accent and the way he’d lick his lips and clear his throat each time he needed to turn the page.

Harry feels Y/N sigh against him every so often, trying to keep his voice quiet and smooth as to relax her, enjoying the way her arm rested against his stomach, gently tracing the butterfly that was just visible under the slightly sheer fabric of his white shirt. It feels so good, but Harry almost wishes she’d stop, the tickling sensation against such a sensitive part of him causing a pit to form in the bottom of his belly, each stroke of her nail sending a brief shock to his inner thighs, shocks he has to fight himself not to act on. He wasn’t going to take advantage of her when she was so vulnerable and fragile, he wanted so badly to be with her, but he’d rather wait a million years than act on his wishes at a time like this.

Instead, he takes a few deep breaths and imagines his grandma or his childhood dog while he reads, barely noticing her reaction to his words until he hears a sniffle and then a choked sob from her. He becomes alert then, rereading the paragraph he’d just read in his head, trying to figure out what exactly had triggered her before he finds it; he’d even highlighted it. He briefly wonders if he did have some sort of cosmic connection to her. It seemed each word that impacted her, he’d highlighted, adding either a serious piece of commentary or a joke to lighten what he’d thought may have been too heavy.

“Tonight, I feel like my whole body is made out of memories. I’m a mix-tape, a cassette that’s been rewound so many times you can hear the fingerprints smudged on the tape.”

And underneath it, his note,

“Do you ever feel like you’re livin in the past? Feel like sometimes I need to wipe those fingerprints off and move on.”

He quickly puts down the book beside him, reaching down to draw Y/N out from his chest, where she’d somehow buried her face deeper so he couldn’t see it. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear and uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe away the tears falling past her cheeks and dripping down her neck. He’s silent, only speaking when she braves looking into his eyes, a sniffle jerking her shoulders up gently.

“It’s okay to move on Y/N. It’s okay to wipe those fingerprints and move on.”

He watches her bottom lip tremble, and she nods, this time wiping her tears away with her sleeve, long enough that it’s tucked over her hand. “I know, I’m just scared, I think. Scared to let go of him, even if he was a dick. Guess if I let him go, I’m letting myself move into a completely new stage in my life, one I’m really unfamiliar with. It’s just all so scary.”

He nods along, gently brushing his thumb against the soft skin of her temple. He briefly tries to draw a quote from the back of his mind, one from ‘Love is a Mix-tape’ or maybe even something, Murakami before he decides against it. While Y/N loved books, Harry’s not sure that’s what she needed at the moment, thinking maybe she just needed confirmation that he was there with no influence from books, empathised with her and was willing to provide comfort in whatever form she needed. Instead, he continues to brush her temple, chewing on his lip slightly while he thinks of how best to say exactly what he was feeling.

“No ones saying it’s not scary, it’s bloody terrifying, no one can blame you for thinkin’ that. I think you need to believe you’re stronger than you think, and while you may believe he formed this huge part of your personality, which I don’t know, sure he may have formed part of it, you’re amazing on your own.”

He pauses to scratch the back of his neck, now not too keen on looking her in the eye while he speaks.

“I saw it the first day I came into the bookstore, you may think you’ve changed a lot, but who you are, you’re calmness and stubbornness, you’re cackle laugh, and you’re nervous ticks, your sense of humour and love of all things books, it was all there before, and it still is now. He might have been a huge part of your life, but you are your own person. Whether he impacted that or not, you’re still you, and everyone loves you for those parts, not the ones that were stained by him.”

It’s Y/N now that pulls Harry’s head up from his chest, her hand cupping underneath his chin, and then bringing it down to his neck when he focuses his gaze on her. She leans forward and presses her lips against his gently, feeling him quickly push back against her, moving slowly and calmly against her, even if the turmoil in his stomach told him to do anything but.

Her lips still tremble slightly beneath his, and he can’t help comparing her to something akin to a baby deer, so fragile and perhaps a little bit broken but still so sweet and willing to trust the world around her, even though it had consistently proved it didn’t have her back. He admired her strength and ability to feel the pain and look inside it, acknowledge why it was occurring and breathe through it.

Harry feels electricity flow through him as he realises he’s finally kissing her, finally feeling her pressed against him in the same way he had imagined so many times before. He’d imagined it the moment he’d walked through the door of the bookstore, the second he’d seen her doe-like eyes staring at him as he pretended he knew exactly what he was looking for on the shelves before him, the way her cheeks had turned a completely different shade as he’d caught her staring.

He realised for him, it had always been her. While he was reading and annotating a book about love, she was the only person he could think of. Once he’d sent off the package, he thought every day of what her reaction would be when she received it. He imagined her reading the exact words he had and her mulling over things he’d written down, wondering if she’d agree with them or not.

He could hardly contain the butterflies in his tummy each time he received a message from her, so keen to see exactly what she’d written just for him.

He was smitten from the moment he saw her, and his feelings had only grown, mutating and twisting into the all-consuming feeling flowing through him now.

Harry’s the one who pulls back first, opening his eyes to see Y/N in front of him, brow slightly furrowed as she blinks her eyes open, confused as to why he had stopped their kiss before it actually led anywhere.

His crooked smile and a quick thumb brushing over her forehead caused the creases to smooth out, quickly becoming more concerned with how good looking he really was and how quickly she could kiss him again, this time in a more intense manner. Instead, he presses one long kiss against her, pulling back before she could open up further and pulls her towards him once more, hugging her while tucking her head into the crook between his neck and shoulder.

“I wanna do this, just maybe not tonight.”

Y/N nods, understanding what he meant. Even if it was the complete opposite of what she felt right now, she understands it may not be the best decision for her to make when she’s in such a vulnerable position emotionally. Instead, she decides she’ll enjoy the feeling of being pressed against Harry this way and the tickling feeling of his fingers rubbing up and down her back, each downstroke getting closer to her ass, sending a million lightning bolts springing through every nerve ending.

Y/N feels herself slowly drifting off, jerking back awake at every unexpected sound every few minutes until Harry’s heartbeat finally lulls her to sleep, and she’s pulled under the waves of exhaustion from the day.

——

When Y/N wakes, it’s with a start, the sharp trill of her phone piercing her eardrums, causing a deep groan to leave her chest as she feels blindly for it on the table behind her, much too comfortable with her head still tucked into Harry’s neck and flush against him.

Finally giving in, she opens her eyes, glancing slightly above her to see Harry still asleep, some of his hair flopping in front of his eyes and each deep breath he lets in filling his chest before releasing a steady stream of air out of his nose. He looked handsome, even without his award-winning grin and dimple combination adorning his face.

Another ring from her phone breaks her attention away from him, and she quickly finds it, fallen off the table and half-tucked under the couch they were currently on. Without even looking, she clicks the green answer button and lifts the phone to her ear, mumbling a quiet “hello,” while rubbing her face, her voice thick with slumber.

The voice on the other end wakes her up entirely, along with sending a shiver down her spine. “Y/N? Were you asleep? It’s only 10?”

“Uhh, Xander… hi. I- yeh, I must’ve fallen asleep on the couch.” She tried to even out her voice, feeling the distinct voice of panicking trying to scream into her ear, but she was tamping it down, trying desperately not to let it win out. She was safe. He wasn’t her partner anymore, she was in Harry’s arms, and there was nothing Xander could do.

God, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so comfortable with someone so quickly. Looking back down at Harry, she can see him blinking awake slowly like he was fighting to stay beneath the surface of consciousness but losing the battle. She felt so strongly for him already. Looking at him brought the same giddiness as looking at a new puppy, all excitement and freshness, forcing herself not to squeeze him right then and there.

Instead, she smiles down at him as he meets her eye, quickly returning the sentiment, before yawning while stretching, causing his shirt to be pulled up beneath him, the hem being held down by Y/N’s tummy against his own, his arms raising above his head causing the stretch.

Y/N can briefly hear Xander still talking in her ear, but she’s much too distracted looking at Harry, who is currently checking the watch on his wrist, his eyebrows briefly raising in surprise as he takes in the time.

“Y/N! Y/N? Are you even listening to me?” She’s jolted back into reality, feeling as if she was flying above the clouds lost in Harry’s little world, before the sobering reality of Xander on the phone pulls her back down to earth.

She tries to reply, she really does, but Harry’s thumb brushing against her temple causes some type of silencing serum to rush through her veins, the movement causing her to get lost in his eyes, which are currently flitting over her face, the indents from the pillow they were sharing imprinted onto her forehead. He was enamoured.

While Xander had stirred up all sorts of turmoil in her tummy, Harry’s soothing touch worked to settle it.

“Y/N! For fucks sake, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Fuck- sorry. Um, what were you asking?” Y/N brings her hand, not holding the phone up to Harry’s wrist, stopping him from drawing his hand back, and he scoffs, moving instead to stroke along her jaw, massaging the notch before her ear gently.

“My watch? You said you’d look for it.”

Finally, for the first time, she realises understanding how little she really had been listening to him.

“Yeh, I found it.”

She hears him scoff on the other end of the phone, and while Harry has done so in amusement, it’s clear Xander is doing so in disbelief. “And you didn’t think to message me or?” He exclaims, drawing out the and saying it in such a sarcastic tone Y/N has to take a deep breath.

“I- I’m sorry.”

He answers with another scoff, “whatever, I’ll come pick it up now.” Before he can even finish his sentence, Y/N is interrupting, “no!”

At her panicked tone and the look in her eyes, Harry becomes more alert, his eyes reflecting some of the anxiety she was currently flashing at him. He takes both of his hands, brushing her hair behind her ears and doing his best to soothe her without actually knowing who or what was on the other side of the phone. “Are you okay?” He mouths at her, his concern causing a furrow to form in his brow, and Y/N hates it, hates seeing him so worried about her.

She nods, brushing him away gently before returning her attention back to Xander, who had yet to reply to her outburst, “uh no- Just send me your address, and I’ll send it to you.”

Y/N feels her bones strengthening with each word she states, feeling the courage seep through her veins like blood. Y/N had never been good at setting her boundaries, part of why she guesses Xander and herself had spent so long together. She imagines with Harry that she was learning slowly when to set them and how, better yet, to respect them. From the second he’d walked through the door, Y/N had rejected him, with her boyfriend in mind. The following few times she saw him, even if her boyfriend was no longer in the picture, she was forced to think of herself, look into exactly how she was feeling, how Harry contributed to that and what was best for her.

Better yet, he’d respected this. Understood when she withheld information because she wasn’t comfortable sharing it, comforted her when he felt she needed it and gave her space when she requested it. He wanted to know her before he knew she was single and wanted to learn everything she was willing to show him.

Y/N had never felt as powerful in the face as Xander as when she hung up on him, just as he was about to force her boundary, “what? No, I’ll just-.”

She throws the phone on the side of the couch, smiling at Harry despite the fear that had just previously filled her. The realisation of her own strength, her own courage, was enough to alleviate it, like a soothing wave of water atop a blazing fire.

Harry can feel and visibly see Y/N relax against him as she throws the phone, and he grabs her hands once more, lacing their fingers together. “Who was that?” When he feels her tense slightly again, he instantly understands that whoever was on the phone was not someone she was comfortable with and more than likely not comfortable discussing either. “Uh… just-,” he squeezes her hands lightly, “it’s okay. Don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” The way her face lights up tells Harry he did the right thing, and it’s only confirmed when she leans forward and presses her lips against his hastily.

Instantly he kisses her back, giggling at her haste, the sound dripping down Y/N’s throat and sinking into her belly, spreading like whiskey and warming her skin from the inside. She opens her mouth, silently begging for Harry to lick against her, and he does so immediately, nibbling gently at her lower lip before soothing the sting over with his tongue, meeting Y/N’s as she presses it against him.

Y/N feels herself shuffling forward, Harry’s hands coming to her waist, pulling one of her thighs over his lap, leaving her straddling him. Harry groans out as Y/N slips even further forward, the radiating heat of her crotch dragging over his semi-hard cock. Instinctively he grabs her hips, pulling her harder down against him and Y/N continues the movement, rolling her hips and whining when she feels him hardening even more beneath her.

Both had read of desire and pleasure, perhaps even felt it in their waking life too, but currently, Harry feels as if he’s about to burst. With each roll of Y/N’s hips, each hitched breath he hears in his ear, each suctioned kiss to his neck works him into a frenzy till he can hardly control it. His inner thighs burn with it, he can feel his cheeks flush, and a sweat works its way from his forehead down his temple. Harry’s throat closes over, and he is forced to pull Y/N off him the second she notices and licks at the sweat drop falling down his cheek. She wanted to taste every part of him, every drop of sweat, feel every pulse of his heart. She could hardly control herself around him.

She startles when he pulls her off him, bringing her hands up to his face, her brows drew together in worry immediately, “are you okay?”

He huffs, his laugh filled with self-deprivation and disbelief, “more than. Was about to cum, didn’t want to before I’ve even gotten a proper taste of you.”

She shudders above him, feeling the effect of his words travel straight from her ear down her spine to between her legs. He seems to notice, pressing against the front of her shorts with his hand and swallowing the moan she releases when she joins their lips once more. Sweeping his tongue across her jaw, he brushes his hands up and down her back, feeling the goosebumps pimple under her skin as he kisses down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there.

Y/N’s eyes roll to the back of her head, each sensation multiplied and more intense than ever. She feels herself grabbing at Harry’s shoulders, his hair, his neck, anything she could get her hands on as he kisses her skin, leaning her head back so he could have full access, being rewarded with a press of Harry’s hips up into her own. Gentle fingers feel at the hem of her pyjama shorts, sweeping along the soft skin of her tummy and snapping the elastic back against her skin, the action bringing a whine from deep within her throat.

“More,” she breathlessly begs, unable to add any strength behind her voice, too desperate for him to slip his fingers into her. He doesn’t hesitate to comply, pulling the hem back with his thumb and slipping the rest of his hand in, startling slightly when he’s not met with cotton but her silky skin immediately. His head falls back against the back of the couch, a groan erupting from his chest, “Jesus, are you tryin’ to kill me?”

She laughs, the sound a weak chuckle, taking the time to admire his strong jawline and tanned throat, the skin mottled with stubble just short enough that it still felt prickly to touch. Y/N looks down, watching the veins and muscles in his bicep and forearm bulging with the movements of his fingers within her, each time the movement corresponding with a jolt of pleasure as his ring and middle fingertips press against the spongy spot inside of her.

On their own volition, her hips begin to swivel, pressing down harder on each rotation. If Harry notices, he says nothing to it, only continues his own movements observing her with his eyes slightly squinted and his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

Tearing away from him suddenly, Y/N shuffles back, undoing the button of his pants and slowly bringing the zipper down, pausing to relish in the hiss Harry lets out above her at the sudden movement. Each inch exposes more of the material of his briefs and a bit more of his cock straining against it. Y/N could see the mouthwatering outline of him. Even without pulling his underwear down, she could tell he was thick and long, bigger than anything Y/N had ever experienced before.

Because Jesus Christ, of course, he was. She guesses he couldn’t very well go walking around like he does, with his perfect hair and perfect eyes. With his eccentric outfits and quirky sweaters, ranting on about books to anyone who would listen and too willing to offer his opinion on how disgusting he found coriander. He couldn’t go walking around with the biggest heart Y/N had ever seen and not back it up with what was in his pants. She’s yet to find a fault in him, something that would turn her away because so far, it all seemed too good to be true. He seemed too perfect, too suited to her.

Her mouth waters as he pulls his boxers down himself, probably fed up with her taking her time to do so herself, letting out a huff and a gentle whine. And god, if she thought he was perfect before, she didn’t know what to think now. He was big, just as she had predicted, his tip a gentle flushed red and glistening from the precum flowing steadily from it and a thick vein running right up the side. When she gets him in her hand, he’s stiff and warm, and Y/N almost cums just thinking about him inside her.

Pressing himself down, Harry quickly pulls the loose material of her shorts to the side and begins to rub the tip against her, his swollen head parting her lips and tapping at the sensitive skin of her clit. Each time he brings it closer to her hole and doesn’t go in, Y/N could almost scream, becoming more and more impatient with his teasing antics. If she couldn’t feel the puffs of breath spilling from his nostrils, Y/N would almost say he looked unbothered, his arms and shoulders relaxed and a pretty flush of pink sitting atop his cheekbones. The only visible sign against it was the clenching of his teeth, his jaw going tight each time he pushed his head a little bit further into her weeping cunt on the downstroke.

It’s when he finally enters her that Y/N cries out, the stretch sudden and brash, but she quickly feels her walls accommodating him, fluttering around his length in such a heavenly manner that Harry feels as if he could cum already. He takes a few deep breaths, rubbing his nose along her jawline before finding her lips again, using the soft touch to centre himself once more. She does the same, slipping her tongue against his while she fully adjusts, and it’s only when Harry feels her hips tilting back and forth slightly that he realises she’s desperate for him to give her the go-ahead to move or to very well thrust in her himself.

Instead, he grabs her hips, watching as his fingers indent slightly in the stretch-marked skin of her hips and pulls her back and forward, silently giving her his blessing. The way Y/N reacted was as if Harry had yelled it, immediately picking up her pace and swivelling her hips against him, groaning as she feels him so deep inside her it almost hurt.

Instead, she begins to move, lift herself up and down, and properly ride him. Harry brings one hand up to rest against her cheek while the other remains placed on her ass, subtly encouraging each drop with a push against it. “God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

If Y/N didn’t have him balls deep inside her, she might have had the good grace to blush. Instead, it spurs her on moving faster against him, the sharp thwack of his balls against her easily resounding through the sparse walls of her living room. Each moan of pleasure from Harry causing a similar sound to echo from her own chest, the intimate act they were initiating in causing her to feel even more connected to him as if each bout of pleasure was her own, each desperate tug of her hair and nudge of his own hips was a piece of her own desperation flowing through him.

It can only explain why he holds her against him, leverages her up by the bottom of her thighs and begins to thrust up into her the second her legs start to give out. She was too close, dopamine flowing through her veins so readily it was causing her legs to shake and feel like jelly, and his sharp pushes into her weren’t helping in the slightest.

She feels her orgasm coming from a mile away, the feeling creeping up through her hips and shoulders, her pussy clenching and spasming just waiting for the inevitable release. It feels as if each thrust sends her a little bit closer to the edge, until finally, she’s free-falling, every neuron in her body firing, signals of pleasure and joy sparking over synapses, running from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

At the exact point she becomes too sensitive to continue, Harry pulls her down on him completely, burying himself inside of her as he cums, each spurt of cum causing a tiny jolt to go through him and in turn a small gasp to leave Y/N as she fights the urge to pull away from the overwhelming pleasure. She played with his hair and scratched at his scalp as he calmed down, his head buried in her neck, leaving open mouth kisses against her collar bones.

“Fuck me, that was good.”

He chuckles, humming his assent into her neck, the vibrations tickling the sensitive skin and causing her to pull away, giggling. He only smiles and pulls her towards him, kissing her gently and sweetly.

Who would’ve thought the night would end like this. It had been such a roller coaster of emotions. The exhausting numbness and frustration surrounding memories with Xander were superseded by the intense rush of emotions associated with Harry, and it was a little jarring. She had gone from the lowest of lows to the highest of highs, wading through territory too familiar to be comfortable, into territory that was so new and invigorating it caused her teeth to chatter.

She was confused but happy, sad but relieved, exhausted but revitalised. And for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt whole. Not because of Harry himself, but because she had come to terms with herself, she thinks. Had let go of the past, of the heartbreak, the anger and frustration and had truly embraced the future.

She didn’t know where they were headed or what would happen, but there was one thing she was sure of.

Love sure was a fucking mix-tape.

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry #harry styles writing #writing #fuck this piece HAHA #you know how you start something and then hate it but you're too far into it?#Yeh I present **her**

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jujutsubabe · 4 years ago

Text

Sleepover w Itadori

Itadori invited you to sleepover, but it’s awkward and you two just. Cannot cuddle cause it’s so awkward.

Word count: 1.3k

A/n: I couldn’t go to bed until I wrote this, so it’s not proof read🙄 I’m having Itadori brain rot. I will see you all in the afternoon, gooday.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah,” there was a shuffle, you wiggling around until the blanket covered just over your feet and wrapped around your arms. “It’s warm.”

“Do you want me to turn on the air?” He sat up, one leg out the bed and with every intention to hop out at your word.

He looked so worried, he was fidgeting under the covers and wouldn’t wrap an arm around you. It was like laying next to a shaking chiwawa.

You pushed him back into his pillow, kissing his shoulder. “I’m fine, relax.” You smoothed his hair out his face, trying to erase the crease between his brows.

He glanced over at you, still not giving into your touch, almost restraining himself from relaxing all the way. He turned his head back to the ceiling with a shaky sigh.

“Okay.” He tried to loosen his body with a breath, but it seemed as though he was only getting stiffer with each one.

His hands, arms, and legs were nowhere on you. He barely glanced at you the whole time you got into the bed. Respectable? Yes. You appreciated the gesture.

But was this how you wanted to spend your first night with your boyfriend...? Not really.

You were surprised he didn’t hop on you and slobber you down with kisses, or pull you into a deep suffocating hug the second you laid down.

Your expectations sat in the back of the room, awkwardly seeing its way out. It didn’t look like he would be cuddling, much less looking at you anytime soon.

A quiet silence passed by, but it felt so awkward. The both of you on the verge to say something.

“Are you comfortable?” You asked this time.

“Y-yeah.” He gulped down, and if you didn’t know any better you were sure sweat was pouring off of him.

He was a horrible liar. You quirked a brow, giving him a once over that he noticed at the corner of his eye.

“Are you sure? You look...” you gestured to his demeanor, “A little stiff.”

He coughed out a laugh, “No no I’m fine! This is fine.”

He turned his body away from you, his back now facing you, “Goodnight!”

He practically curled away from you, and you didn’t feel such a large yearning towards your boyfriend until now. He was right there, but he only flinched away from your touch, giving you a nervous smile every time, how could someone be so close and so far at the same time?

You knew he was nervous about messing up your first sleepover together, but this felt excessive. He didn’t need to hold himself back from you this hard, it looked like it pained him to not surrender to his wants.

It hurt you too, it made you feel weird having him reject everything you initiated. Was it something more than this first sleepover? Did he feel uncomfortable around you or something?

You shook your head before you could ponder on any longer, if you continued to think you would definitely start getting insecure.

You tapped his shoulder and he nearly jumped out of his spot to turn to you, his eyes wide open, making you think he wasn’t even trying on sleeping.

“Is everything okay?” He sounded breathless, like he ran a marathon, “Did you need some water?”

You smiled down at him, extra careful with the tone of your voice. “Yuuji, I’m fine. I just wanted you to face me.” Your hand grazed under his chin until his face was next to yours.

“I’ve been wanting to see you all night my love.” You kissed his nose and his face lit up.

If his heart were to burst into a million pieces at any moment it would be now. Sirens played and his mind played images of exploding fireworks over and over, he internally screamed at Sukuna to keep quiet as he laughed at the poor boy.

Itadori’s heart was in your hands, you were always so careful with him, always so patient, even when he freaked out over the smallest things you would be there for him.

This whole night you didn’t get mad at him once for being so nervous. He had a hundred apologies welled up in his chest for even thinking about facing the other direction, he didn’t mean to make you feel awkward with him, this was literally so embarrassing, Sukuna was going to make fun of him forever.

Who does that, when someone you love is laying next to you in the bed, who turns around to face the wall?

The longer he stared into your worried eyes, felt your hands graze over his cheek, the more guilty he felt. He didn’t mean to move away whenever you touched him, he just couldn’t handle the way it made him feel.

His heart was all bouncy and his throat just about closed up whenever you touched him. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable at all, he wanted to restrain himself from doing something dumb, but he didn’t know you were waiting to see his face all night.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, relaxing his hand on top of yours. His thumb running along the back of your hand as you squished his cheek.“I lied. I mean, I am kind of nervous.”

“I could tell.” You scooted closer and he could feel sweat raining down his hands. How were you so calm about this? “What has you so nervous?”

Maybe the fact that you were in his bed.

Or maybe the fact that you were in his bed and holding his face.

Or maybe the fact that you were in his bed, holding his face, mixing his scent onto your clothes, while looking really comfortable in his blanket, while also keeping calm with the very close proximity of your faces to each other.

“You. Or um, making you uncomfortable? I want you to feel safe around me. I don’t want you to feel like you need to hold me or kiss me or something.”

He blushed by the end of that sentence, his skin hot and nearly about to melt off as he looked at your eyes for some kind of reaction. Being open was such an awkward feeling.

“Oh, well I feel safe around you.” You pulled yourself into his chest, arms wrapped around him “I just want to be close to you.”

He nearly fainted. His mouth propped open as you snuggled yourself into his chest, his heart beat so loudly he just knew you could hear it. It felt like his body was out to betray him, his mouth decided to go dry and his hands wanted to be clammy.

You were giving him so many butterflies, he couldn’t help the excitement that ran through his arms. He never loved someone so much, not until he felt the way you melded perfectly into his arms.

You grinned, tightening your arms around him, and he finally relaxed under your touch. Fixing himself into your form, and squeezing onto you like a kid who just got their first stuffed animal.

He kissed the top of your head, multiple times as this feeling coursed through his whole body, with his heart pumping so fast, he couldn’t tell what the pattern even was anymore.

You felt right on him. Your arms and legs wrapped around him felt loose and secure, his hold on you only tightening whenever you did so as well.

Your legs all tangled underneath the covers, Itadori’s warm body surrounding you, and the firm grip he had on your body was just how you wanted to end the night.

You propped your head up once more to kiss his neck. “Goodnight.”

He smiled down, pulling your face up to kiss you on the lips, now giving you a proper and well timed “Goodnight” back.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fluff #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #yuuji x reader #yuuji itadori #yuuji Itadori x reader #Itadori yuuji x reader fluff #Itadori x reader fluff #sleepover bleh bleh 🤪#that emoji is actually kind of funny #I like it tbh #🤪🤪🤪#it looks so cool #like a poptranica character

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years ago

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Jung Hoseok and the Magic to Happiness | 06 | End

; Hufflepuff Teacher!Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, smut

; Word Count: 7.5k

; Warnings: Penetrative sex, potion influence (? what’s the correct term here), unprotected sex (kinda), creampie, Hoseok licks his fingers...

; Synopsis: An unexpected issue with your Ministry of Magic job leads to you taking the role of Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts. It’s here that you meet your best friend’s younger brother for the first time in years, the Hufflepuff Head of House, Jung Hoseok. While you contend with seeing him once again, Hoseok tries to show you that he’s very much a man and no longer the gangly teenager you once knew.

; A/N: Final chapter! We’re finally here. I bet you didn’t think I’d actually finish this series, haha. Two series down though! SO...I’m very rusty with smut. I haven’t written it since like...October so please be gentle with me! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and have liked reading this series! Please reblog it so others can find it and send me comments/reviews/feedback via an ask or by reblogging this! :D I love to read them all and your support has helped to encourage me to keep going.

Last Chapter ;

Surprisingly, you don’t see Hoseok for a few days after the Winter Solstice Ball. He’s not present at any of the meals, nor do you see him around the castle either. It simultaneously confuses and concerns you as you worry that he’s feeling too awkward to be around you.

Seokjin, at a pre-Christmas meal at his house, had tried to confirm that he wasn’t avoiding you but instead was simply busy with preparing the magical creatures for the Christmas break. There were exchanges with other schools around the world that occurred at Christmas, meaning that Hoseok was constantly travelling with his creatures and taking custody of the foreign creatures which would be used for the next semester.

You’d viewed that with suspicion as you didn’t recall Hoseok nor Jisoo telling you that, but it did seem like a logical reason. Chaeyoung had backed the argument at the time, her mouth half full of roasted turkey. Given your suspicions about their involvement in trying to get Hoseok and you into a relationship had caused you to watch her suspiciously though.

It was only when Jimin, who had also been present for the meal, had confirmed it with a nod of his head that you’d finally believed them. As far as you knew, Jimin had no involvement and he’d genuinely fascinated with how close the two of you had been at the ball.

So even though it made you feel a little paranoid at his sudden absence after the kiss, you chose to trust your friends and believe what they said. You were already concerned about how to just interact with him when you saw him, you certainly didn’t need to obsess over the fact he ‘might’ be avoiding you.

Instead of letting your mind focus on that though, you instead throw yourself into any work you can do. The Christmas break sees most students gone and only a handful remaining behind. Some of those were because they wanted to continue studying or they didn’t want to leave their friends, others were because they didn’t have a stable home to go back to.

It made your heartache to know that some of your students had such poor home lives but it wasn’t something you could do anything about. Instead, you help to organise visits to Hogsmeade for the students so they can get to enjoy some of their break by just having fun and experiencing some of the Christmas cheer.

You’d also got through all the essays that you had to mark and the first month of the new semester had already been carefully planned out for when the students all returned. This meant that you’d done nearly all your work though and there were only so many books you could read without getting bored.

So you offered your services to the other professor’s who had remained behind, figuring that you could help them out while also reducing your boredom. This is why you were currently in the potion storeroom doing a stocktake; recording how many of each ingredient was left, if there were any that were running low or had run out completely, what potions were stored away and how much of each one.

It wasn’t the most interesting job but it helped to take your mind off things and you felt a little useful at least. You’d only been doing it for half-an-hour before you’d quickly realised why no one liked to do this job, though. The storeroom was bigger than it initially appeared and contained multiple shelving units, with each shelf packed full of ingredients, potions and spare potion-making ingredients.

There was a stale smell to the air which mingled with the faint remnants of potions that had been created in the many cauldrons that littered the room. Alongside that, there was so much dust in the room that you genuinely wondered if anyone used this place. Whilst you weren’t one to advocate using magic for stuff that you could just do by hand, there was no reason to not just do a quick cleaning spell in here.

Then again, you’ve never been amazing at potions so maybe that kind of spell might do something to one of the ingredients. So you just carry on, occasionally sneezing whenever you cause a small dust cloud to appear.

You end up so in the zone that you don’t hear the door open and close, nor the soft footfalls of someone walking in closer. This means you shriek in surprise when you hear your name in a familiar, low voice. Jerking forwards, you knock into the shelves in front of you and wince at the sound of glass hitting each other as bottles wobble dangerously.

“Shit!” Cursing, you miss the bottle with a mother-of-pearl sheen that teeters from the top shelf dangerously. Hoseok, obviously concerned with how he’d surprised you, rushes forward to help stabilise the bottles that are on the verge of smashing all around you.

As he grabs one that’s rolling towards the edge, you reach out to stop another one at the exact moment the top bottle drops. It hits your hand hard, bouncing before hitting the shelving unit and shattering. The potion inside splatters all over you, Hoseok and the shelf. Spiralled steams immediately begin to rise from where it impacts and you vaguely remember that amortentia looks like this.

But then you’re cursing loudly, sputtering as you get a mouthful of it. Without meaning to, you swallow it all and cringe as you feel it slide down your throat. The sound of Hoseok choking causes you to look over and you realise he’s got a mouthful of it as well, his face pinched as he sticks his tongue out from the taste of it.

“What was that?” He asks, blinking rapidly before wiping away what has splashed onto his face. For such a small bottle, it had managed to almost everywhere and even some stray strands of his hair were wet; steam rising slowly.

“If I remember my potions correctly...amortentia.” You say, lips twisting as you stare up at the top of the unit. Why this potion had been stored up there was beyond you as there was nothing else up there but dust. At least no other bottles had broken.

“Ah,” He muses before pausing, eyes widening as something clicks in his head. “Wait, isn’t that the love potion thing?”

“It doesn’t cause people to fall in love. If you remember back to your own potions lessons, no potion is capable of causing true love. Instead, it causes intense infatuation or obsess-oh…” Now your own eyes widen as you stare directly into Hoseok’s, warmth curling within your gut and rushing through your veins until your whole body feels hot.

Almost instantly, the two of you look away from each other. Coughing awkwardly, you shift to the other side of the storeroom, a hand pressed to your cheeks in a futile effort to cool them. Instead, they just feel even warmer.

What happened if two people took it? Especially if those two people already liked each other anyway? Did it just negate itself?

The slow burn within you said no and you let out a shaky breath, resting your forehead against the cool wood of the unit next to you.

“I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me coming in...I wasn’t being quiet or anything.” Hoseok mutters and you glance over, noting the rosy pink gracing the apples of his cheeks. You wonder if it’s because he feels embarrassed or if it’s because he’s experiencing the same, intense feelings that you are.

Inhaling deeply, you tried to calm yourself only to realise that all you could smell was Hoseok. His scent was so strong that it was like he was standing right next to you instead of being on the other side of the room. Almost immediately, you knew it was the potion.

From what you remembered, amortentia caused those feelings for whoever administered it. Considering neither you nor Hoseok had been the one to serve it, you would’ve thought that it would just negate itself. Instead, it seems to have decided that you’ve both administered it to each other.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. I was too deep into my work,” Giving him a nervous laugh, you try to reassure him so he doesn’t get too worried that he’s done something wrong. “How come you’re here? I haven’t seen you in days.”

“Err, yeah...sorry. I’ve been really busy. I forgot to tell you that we usually start doing magical creature exchanges around Christmas to help educate our students on foreign creatures while also allowing other nations to learn about our creatures. It’s been a little hectic as I’ve been exchanging hippogriff’s, bowtruckles and nifflers with Castelobruxo in Brazil. Which as you can imagine has been a little stressful because I think I’ve almost lost about six niffler’s and almost lost a hand to one of the hippogriff’s.” He turns away from you to tidy up some of the shelves, missing your sigh of relief as you realise everyone has been right.

He hadn’t been avoiding you.

“I’m finished now though, for the moment. It took me longer than I liked as the fire slugs we got from Castelobruxo have been continuously burning their cages but I have that completely fixed now. I thought that I’d come to find you as we haven’t talked in a few days and I got told you were here. So...here I am.” Giving you a weak smile, Hoseok turns to look at you while shrugging.

He looks slightly uncomfortable now; a sheen on his golden tan skin while his face looks redder than normal. His hands grasp at nothing on his sides and you find yourself hyper fixated on them. Have you ever really noticed how long and slender his fingers are?

Almost immediately, you imagine those fingers somewhere else and almost moan out loud as you clench inner muscles around nothing. Was this a normal side effect of amortentia? You didn’t know what was happening and you weren’t the best at potions so this was all foreign to you.

At least you’d come to terms with the fact that you were attracted to him and would like to perhaps try a relationship. Otherwise, this would’ve been even more awkward. Not that he knew that yet, which is probably why he’s looking a little distressed.

You don’t feel that it’s the best moment to blurt that out though. Sure, it would reduce any uncomfortableness between you both but was it a good idea to admit you find him attractive too when you’re both suffering the effects of amortentia?

Probably not.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. A few of the others told me that you’d be busy doing this. I didn’t even know that magical creature exchange was a thing!” Cheerfully, you smile at him when he glances at you.

“Still, I should have told you. I’m really sorry.” He mumbles, reaching out to gently brush a scratchy pouch idly. His insistence at apologising causes you to smile and shake your head amused at how genuinely remorseful he is that he’d forgotten to tell you this one thing.

“Honestly, it’s fine. It’s your job, don’t say sorry for doing your job, okay? You’re a great caretaker for the magical creatures and I’m not surprised you forgot to mention it to me. I don’t tell you stuff about my job all the time because you don’t need to know it! So don’t stress.” Reaching for the checklist that you’d been running through earlier, you note down the broken amortentia potion with a small reprimand for the untidy storeroom.

As such, you don’t see the way Hoseok’s face twists as he forces himself to remain quiet.

The two of you remain silent for the next five minutes or so with you attempting to carry on counting the ingredients and potions on the shelves while Hoseok merely lingers in the background. He was so cute.

It would have been a comfortable silence between you both, like you always had with him, if not for the lingering awkwardness of the untalked kiss and the flaring desire of the potion. Shifting awkwardly, your thighs squeeze together in an attempt to relieve some pressure. It doesn’t work and you have to stifle a groan at the small sharp jolt of pleasure.

“Merlin,” Hoseok whispers, causing you to open your eyes and look over at him. His face is even more flushed and you note a slight sheen to his skin as if he’s too hot. If he’s even remotely as warm as you are then it’s entirely understandable and you wonder what you look like to him.

Blowing out a breath, he attempts to fan his face before pinching some of his shirt and pulling at it to get some cooler air. You can tell it doesn’t work because you’ve been subconsciously doing that for the last minute and all it’s done is cause you to imagine Hoseok’s lips brushing along your chest instead of the poor imitation of a breeze.

What finally tipped you over the edge to deciding you’d done enough counting today was yet another glance over to Hoseok. His tall and lithe form has been almost hidden beneath his robes all this time, but an uncomfortable shift causes him to reveal more of his body.

You weren’t normally such a blatant person but you couldn’t help the way your eyes drag down his body, taking in every crease in his crisp white button-up. The key moment that told you to get out of the room now was when your eyes trailed even further below, taking in the leather of his belt.

And the obvious tent in his trousers.

Swallowing so hard that you choke, you quickly move towards the door. The rush of blood throbbing in your ears drowns out Hoseok’s call of surprise, your focus solely on getting out of the overwhelmingly hot room.

The room with the man you’d very recently had decided you were attracted to both romantically and sexually. Not a good combo when you were almost burning from within with lust for him, especially when you know he’s turned on right now.

Running a hand down your face as you rush through the corridors, you can’t stop the quiet groan that leaves your mouth as you do so. Your clothes feel too tight for your body, almost suffocating and the aching need for fingers or something more between your legs is becoming unbearable.

“Y/N, wait!” Finally, Hoseok’s voice breaks through, causing you to falter as you almost pause. Even shouting, his voice is low and sends shivers through your body. A tiny whine escapes and you push forwards, almost jogging now in your effort to get back to your quarters.

Maybe a shower would get rid of this. A very cold shower, or a cold bath. You’d make a potion to counteract it but you’re nowhere near good enough to combat an advanced potion like that.

As your door finally comes into view, and for a moment you marvel at how fast you’ve managed to move from the dungeons that house the potions classroom and the store you’d been working into your quarters.

Not quite fast enough though as Hoseok’s long legs finally let him catch up, his hand reaching out and gently grasping at your arm. He’s touching you through multiple layers of clothing and yet your skin is almost burning, the desire to have him against your bare skin stronger than ever.

You get the feeling that he’s experiencing the same as he suddenly retracts his hand, almost as if he’d burned it and lets out a hiss. The sound is sibilant and low, his breath escaping him quick and you feel a strong urge to hear it once more.

Still, he doesn’t let his surprise or shock stop him. A look at his face shows you that his expression is a mix of concern and worry beneath the flushed cheeks of lust and glassy eyes of desire.

“I’m sorry, did I do something? I didn’t mean to if I did. Please don’t run away from me!” He begs, one hand moving out towards you almost like it has a mind of its own. The way he looks at it, with a scowl like it’s doing something wrong, almost makes you laugh as you can understand his frustration.

You’ve had to stop yourself from reaching out to him at least twice now.

Instead, you give him a tense smile and try to ignore the fact that he’s standing a little awkwardly. It takes far more effort than you’d like to not look down because you know it’s because he has an erection that is probably uncomfortable. Something he likely doesn’t want to bring attention to.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay. I promise. I just...I just needed to get out of that room, you know.” You let your words trail off awkwardly, fidgeting with your hands and trying desperately not to look at his crotch. As usual, though, the temptation to look was made all the stronger by your knowledge that you couldn’t just ogle his groin openly.

“Ah...yeah, er, right. It was quite...quite warm.” He pauses in his sentence though, looking a little conflicted and you follow where his eyes are staring. Right down to your chest, which is currently covered by a soft, cream-coloured jumper that you’d happily pulled on this morning.

It feels more than a little stifling right now though.

As soon as he registers where he’s looking, he sputters and starts to resemble a tomato. An absurdly handsome, tall tomato. The longer you let your thoughts linger there then the more stupid they begin to become.

Still, his blatant want fuels your potion addled senses and you start to speak without thinking.

“Do you like me? Romantically and sexually, you know? I’m pretty sure you do. I’m sorry that I didn’t realise, I’m dumb apparently. I know you’ve been trying to subtly tell me for ages now but I finally did! And I liked our kiss and I really want to do it again. Actually, I wanna do more than kiss you-” Hoseok cuts you off by reaching out for your hand, his fingers slightly calloused but still so damn soft.

And hot against you.

“Yes. I like you, a lot. More than you probably realise. I just didn’t want to push you or make you feel awkward-” Now it’s your turn to interrupt him, twisting your fingers until you can thread them through Hoseok’s.

A slight tug has him following you with wide eyes, the door to your classroom being pushed open and closed as soon as he’s inside. Without another word, you push him up against the wood while grasping at his shirt to tug him closer.

Your lips connect with ease and this time, it’s nothing like the previous kiss. Where that was chaste, this had the flames of lust burning deep within and you moaned out as Hoseok licked into your mouth, stoking that heat within you even further.

Pressing yourself to his body, you let one hand trail along his shirt and sigh as you finally get to confirm that he is exactly as lean and toned as you’d initially thought. Your touch causes him to shiver, breaking away from your lips to press open-mouthed kisses to your jawline almost desperately.

“Hoseok,” Whispering into his ear, you let your other hand run your fingers through his hair before tugging on some of the black strands. “Ah, please.”

You’re not sure what you’re asking him but you don’t care either. Anything he can give you, you’ll take.

His fingertips scorch your skin as he lets them dance over your waist, slipping beneath your jumper with a hunger he can only show. As he does so, he captures your mouth once more and kisses you with such passion and strength that you’re momentarily left breathless.

Trying to kiss him back with equal fervour while your fingers move to unbutton his shirt, losing grip on them as you refuse to move away to look down. It causes him to laugh into it, the sound pleasant and light, before he gently pushes your hands away.

Pulling away from the kiss, he presses his forehead against your own and gives a breathy smile. Glassy eyes and dilated pupils greet you while his breath hits your skin with each puff as he tries to centre himself. And then he almost looks sad; his brow creasing and the corners of his lips turning down.

“We shouldn’t...not like this. I...I really want, oh fuck I want you so bad. But this wasn’t how I imagined...you deserve better. More romantic or some-” Reaching up, you gently place a finger on his lips to quiet him. He does so instantly and you’re pleased that he doesn’t look annoyed at your interruption.

“It’s not what I imagined either but I’m not turning it down. If anything, I’m glad that potion is helping to bolster my confidence because I doubt I’d have got the courage to do anything. So, please, don’t worry about me. I want you and I’m fully aware of myself. All that potion is doing is bolstering my feelings.” You hadn’t known if that was something he was worried about and you wanted to soothe any fears he might have.

It’d be understandable because part of you is also worried that he’s only doing this because the amortentia potion is fuelling an insatiable need within. The way his eyes widen at your words before his whole body relaxes let’s you know that has been a concern of his, causing you to smile, and reach up to cup his cheeks before pulling him into a quick kiss.

“Now, please carry on and don’t stress. We’ll talk properly after, okay?” Hoseok nods and you bite your lip, trying not to laugh at how eager he looks once more.

He doesn’t kiss you again though, instead turning and tugging on your hand. Brows rising, you follow him before watching in astonishment as he sweeps your desk clear of any papers or stationery. Part of you wants to complain, but the thought instantly vanishes when he backs you up until you can feel the solid wood against the backs of your thighs.

“Hoseok! My desk? Seriously?” Giggling, you glance around your classroom and feel a little scandalised. The door to your quarters is only a few metres away but he has an almost playful look in his eyes when he grins back at you. You’d protest doing something like this in your classroom louder if it wasn’t for the fact that you were desperate for him.

He doesn’t respond to those comments though, instead reaching out and ghosting his fingers over your cheek. It makes you shiver as you feel that touch all over.

“Once more...you want this, right? You’d want this even without the potion influence?” You wonder how much amortentia addles the mind but you reason to yourself that you’ve thought about this with him for the last week. About him between your thighs, deep inside you and pleasing you.

“I want it. I’ll want it after, too.” Purposefully lowering your voice, you look at him from beneath your lashes before reaching out and hooking your fingers around his belt. Now he’s the one laughing, the sound low and husky as he lets you pull him forward.

As if you’re magnetically attracted, your lips meet his once more and you sigh into his mouth as he pressed himself against you. Whimpering, you slide your hands around his waist and try to pull him closer. A wiggle on the hard surface has Hoseok’s erection pressing onto your clit, causing you to moan out.

He mirrors the noise, the sound hoarse from his throat and you find yourself grinding against him as well as you can. It doesn’t quite work as you have nothing to brace your legs with but neither of you seems to mind. Thankfully though, Hoseok seems to understand and begins a slow roll of his hips that drives you wild.

But it’s not enough though and you shift away from him, dragging your hands down his front and enjoying the way he moans as your nails scrape through his shirt. Reaching his belt, you fumble to undo it and frown in frustration as you struggle with it.

“Let me,” Hoseok says, undoing the buckle with practised ease and slipping the leather through the meal. The sound of it sparks something inside you, causing you to writhe on the desk and beg him to hurry up. A quirk of his lips tells you that he’s amused at your insistence.

Before he does anything else though, he reaches forward and pushes your skirt along your thighs. The soft material only adds to the overstimulation of your already wired body, causing goosebumps to form all over.

His fingertips on the freshly exposed skin feel even better though, the sensitive skin of your inner thighs sparking fireworks of pleasure and delight at his touch. Letting your head fall back, you just let yourself focus on the feelings and whine softly, pussy clenching around nothing.

Under normal circumstances, you would want to explore all of Hoseok and have the favour returned in full. You’d want the full experience with plenty of foreplay; his mouth and fingers delving into places that only he’s allowed to see.

You’re too desperate though and you pull your skirt up, shifting until you’re laying back on the desk and trying to tug your underwear off. It’s hard to do on the desk though and you’re thankful when Hoseok takes over, his fingers hooking into the soft material and then you’re feeling cool air.

“Fuck.” He curses, eyes focused solely between your legs. You’re almost embarrassed to realise how wet you are, the underwear in his hands sporting a prominent damp batch that has a shiny spot you can see even from here.

Being this close to him and now being half-naked, you want him more than ever and you try to grasp at his wrist, needing him to touch you down there. Anything you can get, you’ll take. Hoseok lets you take his hand, guiding his fingers until they’re pressing against the hardened nub of your clit.

The sound you let out is obscenely loud as you move his hand until he’s touching you in just the right way to send arrows of pleasure through your body. Letting go, you let him carry on and enjoy the heat of him on you, sighing in relief at finally getting what you wanted.

It’s not enough though and you try to shift your hips, lifting them in an attempt to line his fingers with your entrance. He can tell what you’re trying to do though and grins, the expression causing his cheeks to rise while his eyes sparkle down at you.

“Do you just want to do it? You’re already really wet.” He asks, raising a brow and you nod quickly. You don’t want to waste any more time and the thought of having his cock in you is more than you can bear. It doesn’t stop you from whining in displeasure as he takes his hand away to finish undoing his trousers.

To try and combat that, you let your fingers take over from where he was. You know your body better than anyone and almost instantly you’ve got a good rhythm going. The sight of him before you, cheeks flushed with his hair looking ruffled and his shirt creased, is unbelievably erotic.

Unzipping his trousers, he pushes them down his thighs alongside his underwear. You don’t even get to see what kind he wears but you find that you don’t care. Beneath the ends of his white button-up shirt, a prominent erection stands proudly towards you. The tip is swollen and red, unsurprising given how long he’s had it for now.

He’s not the longest, nor the thickest, but you don’t care. Hoseok’s cock is quite possibly the most perfect thing you’ve seen at that moment and all you want is for him to be inside you.

Before you can vocalise that though, he’s suddenly grabbing his wand before his trousers fall to the floor. Resting the tip on your belly, he mutters a quick spell and you realise that he’s got more control of himself than you do as he’d remembered to cast a contraceptive spell. A second spell on both you and him protects you from any diseases or infections, after which he practically throws his wand to the side.

You’d protest his lack of care about something so fragile but you can’t bring yourself to care when he moves forward, letting the tip of cock rest against your pussy. The weight, almost surprising given how it defies gravity, is delightful on your clit and he presses it down, moving in a slow roll that has you sighing.

More wetness coats your pussy, which in turn coats him and you grasp one of his hands. Linking your fingers together, you pull him a little closer and mewl as he slides against the sensitive bundle of nerves once more.

“Please, Hoseok. Please” You beg, causing him to smile with satisfaction.

Placing his free hand on your left leg, he pushes it up a little and out to the side, stretching you open a little more for him. Shivering as the air cools the slick excitement between your legs, you go to protest. It’s cut off though by the feeling of him penetrating you, the blunt head of his cock slipping into you with minimal resistance thanks to how wet you’ve gotten.

Moaning loudly, your eyes close as he stretches you with each inch. It’s been a long time since you’ve slept with anyone and the ragged cry Hoseok pulls from you is directly caused by how good he feels inside you. It’s like you can feel every inch of him as he slides deeper within, the nerves in your walls firing sparks of pleasure continuously until he finally bottoms out.

For a moment, the two of you simply stay in position and bask in the beautiful feeling. You’re panting a little and trying to resist the urge to shift your hips to encourage him to move. One glance at Hoseok tells you to let him move at his own pace.

His face is pinched, brows knitted together and his jaw looking sharper than ever as he clenches his teeth. The fingers wrapped in yours squeeze tightly and after a few seconds, he lets out a guttural groan that sounds as if it was ripped from his gut.

“Shit...Merlin’s beard, you’re so...I don’t know if I’m going to last,” He admits, his cheeks burning redder than ever. “I’m sorry if I don’t. I’ve imagined...this is…”

Grunting, he slowly pulls out before sliding back into you with one fluid motion of his hips. A broken cry escapes your mouth at the pleasure and you reach down to rub at your clit. You’re just as desperate as he is to orgasm, to feel him thick inside you as you convulse around him while waves of pleasure leave you boneless.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Just...move. Please.” You reassure him, trying to smile before your eyes roll back into your head at the second thrust. Still, your words let him gain some confidence and he continues to move in slow and steady snaps of his hips, each drag of his cock better than the last.

Lifting onto your elbows, you risk a glance down to take in the sight of him thrusting into you. His cock is soaked with your wetness and you realise suddenly that it’s causing lewd sounds every time he moves. You’d be embarrassed at it but the sound is strangely erotic to you; the knowledge that he’s caused you to become this wet and experience this much pleasure intoxicating.

The two of you don’t speak for a minute or so after that, far too caught up in just enjoying yourselves and all the feelings that course through your bodies. You suppose the potion is a little to blame for the almost selfish nature of the sex, but there’s also more than enough longing and desire on his side mixing with eagerness and attraction on your own.

“Fuck, I think-I think I’m gonna cum.” Hoseok pants out, his whole chest moving as he gasps out from the strenuous effort of sex. His face has a sheen to it and the damper patches on his white shirt indicate how much he’s sweating from it. Probably also a little from just how warm you’d both ended up.

Moaning out in response, you tip your head back against the cool wood of your desk and let your hand do its work. The combination of his cock inside you and your fingers playing on your clit blend together perfectly and you writhe wildly.

“Ah...shit.” His entire body going rigid as he pushes into you as far as he can get. Watching him, you cry out at how beautiful and sexy he looks as he orgasms; his jaw tightly clenched to show off that beautiful line of bone while the tendons in his neck strain. The hand entwined with yours squeezes harder than ever and he seems to just inside you in tiny movements, almost like he’s extending his pleasure without wasting too much effort.

You can feel the subtle twitch of his cock deep within you and the knowledge that he’s orgasming inside you has your fingers swirling on your clit harder and faster than before. Tightening your inner muscles, you relish in the strangled moan Hoseok lets out and the increase of feeling.

Not long after he lets out a final sigh, deeper than anything else, and he strokes his free hand down your thigh. It’s almost an encouraging touch and even though he’s finished, he moves in you with a slow and lazy stroke. The slight wince he has tells you that he’s probably a little overstimulated but he doesn’t complain and you cry out as your whole body tenses up.

Back bowing and head pressing into the desk, you tighten your eyes closed as high pitched whines and breathes escape your throat. Hips rolling in a circular motion, you continue to stroke at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs until the sensation becomes too much. Pulling your hand away, you’re surprised when Hoseok grabs at it suddenly.

He slips out of you, his cock rapidly becoming flaccid nows that’s had his fill and you shift at the sensation of liquid that’s slightly thicker than your excitement beginning to leak from you. The knowledge that it’s come from him is surprisingly arousing and you try to push the thought away.

Something not helped by the fact that Hoseok takes the fingers that had been so busy with your clit and licks them clean, groaning out quietly as he finally gets to taste you. It’s probably not the way he imagined doing it, but Merlin, it’s certainly an attractive way.

“That was good,” He finally says, letting your hand drop and you miss the feel of his tongue already. “Better than I’ve ever imagined...and I imagined it a lot.”

He’s flushed from the intense exercise but the bashful look to his eyes tells you that some of that pink tinge is also from his shyness. You can’t help but grin at the fact he’s getting quiet after just fucking you so hard on your desk.

Sitting up slowly, you stretch and enjoy the satisfying feeling of multiple muscles in your body and the overall sense of contentment that washes through you. Reaching forward, you wrap your arms around his neck after he’s tugged his trousers and underwear back up before kissing him gently.

“How flattering, Professor Jung. I feel honoured.” There’s a hint of teasing in your voice but you keep it light enough to know that you’re not being mean to him. Instead, you’re pleased by his admission that he’s thought of you sexually. Perhaps you don’t want to know about what his teenage fantasies were but you’ll happily accept his adult fantasies.

It works to make him snort a laugh and shake his head, stroking his hands along your waist.

“And as amazing as the sex was...I’m feeling a little tired and sore from the desk. So let’s take this into my quarters, shall we?” Pushing him, you hop off the desk and let your skirt fall back into place. It’s creased now and there’s likely wet stains on the back alongside what will eventually become semen stains too.

Hoseok doesn’t follow you as you move towards the door leading to your bedroom, causing you to turn and give him an arched brow in question. Opening the door without looking at it, you smile brightly before winking.

“Well? Do you want me to be alone in my bed?” Turning away from him, you quickly pull off your shirt and throw it out of the door for him to see. It’s only seconds before you hear the sound of him following quickly, causing you to smile to yourself.

Yawning widely, you stretch out your arms and almost hit Hoseok in the face. Toes brushing against his leg as you do so, he lets out a laugh that’s more movement than sound. The rumble of his chest beneath your cheek is comforting and you sigh deeply in contentment. It had been only half an hour or so since you’d had sex and what was likely only three hours since you’d both fucked the first time.

You had to give Hoseok credit; he knew exactly what he was doing.

Just the thought of the frantic sex on your desk had you heating up in dual embarrassment and desire. Embarrassment because...well it was your desk! In your classroom. How were you ever going to look at the table without remembering what had happened on top of it?

The desire was a more obvious, and expected, emotion though. Experiencing that again would be very welcomed on your behalf and you suspected that Hoseok would be just as open to it.

Nuzzling your head into him, you took in a deep breath to get a concentrated dose of Hoseok mixed with sex. It was a heady scent and you squeeze your thighs, feeling the wetness that was still there.

Despite the horny monster he’s released, you feel a sense of tired contentment between you both. Hoseok hasn’t said anything since you’d both collapsed onto the bed after a rigorous second round and you hadn’t wanted to interrupt it yet. It was nice to just enjoy the tired aftermath of sex without the pressure of talking anything out.

Even if you knew that you both had to.

As if he can tell what you’re thinking, Hoseok takes a deep breath that has your head rising.

“I didn’t intend for...well for this. I swear,” He says, his voice a little nervous and you can tell he’s uncertain about how you’re going to respond now the potion has run its course. “I’m sorry for knocking the potion over, it was stupid of me.”

Pushing up onto your elbow, you reach up and place a finger against his lips to stop him from saying anything else. He looks at you, his cheeks adorably full from this angle and his eyes dark while he waits for you to say whatever you’re thinking.

What you’re thinking is that his lips are so soft beneath your fingertip, plush and swollen from the frantic kisses. Before you can think of anything else, you shift forward until you’re kissing him once more, the movement slow enough for him to stop it if he didn’t want to.

He lets you though, one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck in support, and opening his mouth to deepen it. A quiet moan leaves your throat as you slant your mouth against his, tilting your head to find the perfect angle and shivering as he slips his tongue into your willing mouth.

Any hint of a conversation disappears between you both, his free hand running down your naked back in a slow stroke that’s so sensual it has you quivering. But you know that he understands that you’re not annoyed at him; actually the exact opposite.

Pulling away, you lick at your lips and note the unfiltered lust in his eyes as he watches you do so, before smiling at him. Brushing some of his dark hair away from his face, admiring just how handsome he was.

“Don’t worry about it, honestly. I was fully aware of myself and wanted it. I already told you that and I meant it. The potion just helped me to get over my inhibitions. Trust me, I was already considering this after the Winter Solstice Ball. I just didn’t know how to get over the hurdle of being nervous about it.” Now it’s his turn to comfort you, his fingertips tracing across your face in a featherlight touch.

It’s almost painfully tender and the sparkling warmth in his eyes tells you that there’s something much deeper there for him. But you don’t push and he doesn’t spill. He’ll tell you when he’s comfortable with it, and you’ll be there to hear it.

Instead, he opens up with an entirely different kind of vulnerability. The confidence he’s shown so far disappears and you note fondly that it makes him look younger. Something he’d probably hate you saying.

You’ve finally figured out why he never likes conversation about the age difference between you both, at least.

“Really? Do you really mean that? I mean, about considering it?” Hoseok sounds awkward, his voice pitching higher than normal at one point and causing him to cough while his cheeks darken. The urge to coo is unbelievable.

“Yes, I mean it. I was a little taken aback when I first came here and I saw how much you’d changed since I’d last seen you. But you became one of my closest friends and the last few weeks has had me looking at you...in a slightly different light. You were...unreal at the ball and it made me realise a lot of things. And the kiss spurred that on, too. I talked with Jisoo and she helped me to see that...you’re not just her little brother. I’d been putting that label on you in an attempt to keep you at arm’s length, but I don’t want that now. I don’t need to, because I’ve accepted that I find you attractive and I would be open to more if you wanted it.” The words fall from your mouth in a rush, taking advantage of the confidence you had to get this out.

“I want it.” You don’t even get to say anything else because Hoseok interrupts you with those three simple words, the syllables fast as his enthusiasm takes over. Snorting quietly, you kiss his cheek affectionately and enjoy it when it pinkens once more.

“Someone’s eager.” Teasing him, you roll onto your back and let out a sigh as you stare up at the blank ceiling. There’s a slight chill in the air, common in such an old castle as Hogwarts, but you feel your nipples pebble from it. Shuddering, you go to tug the blanket over your naked body and Hoseok’s.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a while, so yeah. But we can talk about that more later if you want?” Looking over at him, you smile at the happiness on his face and note how he seems so much lighter than before. The knowledge that you’ve done this to him is a little overwhelming, causing you to let out a sudden breath.

And then you notice that he’s not only happy in the metaphorical sense but also in the physical sense, a prodding against your thigh causing you to peek under the blanket. Sure enough, his well-endowed erection was very prominent against you.

Raising an eyebrow, you look up at Hoseok with a mix of exasperation, amusement and admiration.

“Already? Three times in an evening?” Now Hoseok is the one smirking, the palm of his hand pressing flat against your stomach before slowly creeping down your body. The low lying flame of desire that had settled burns back to life now and you subtly wriggle in your bed, thighs opening as your body tries to get those long fingers where you want them.

“One of the benefits of a younger man,” Wiggling his brows, he grins when you chuckle before pushing at his chest. “If our age difference is ever mentioned again then I want this to be the thing you remember most.”

And with that, he flashes his teeth in a mischievous smile before disappearing under the blanket, ignoring your shriek of laughter at how his fingers tickle. That laughter soon dissolves into a moan when he reaches his destination though and as you grasp his hair tightly, glad that you finally took the plunge and realised what a wonderful man Jung Hoseok is.

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porcelain-soupspoon4 · 4 years ago

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You’re Not So Bad (Isaac Foster x Reader)

A/N: I finished Angels of Death a few weeks back, and it was so good! I just had to write a short story about it. I’m not the best writer, but hopefully my first writing of this anime is somewhat close to Zack’s character.

Warnings: Cussing, Blood Mention (it’s Zack)

You never expected to meet someone like Zack until he arrived on Floor B2. You assisted Reverend Gray, acting as another guardian of B2 after he took you in when he found you as a homeless teen, sleeping on the outside steps of his building. He wasn’t the best father figure you could’ve had, but he still treated you better than the streets did. When hearing the elevator on your floor ding, you wanted to see who was there, but Reverend Gray stopped you, warning you to be careful of the people you may meet. When you asked why, he described the people that held the names Isaac Foster and Rachel Gardner. In all honesty, you didn’t think they were actually as bad as he made them sound, considering that he over exaggerates his descriptions of people to you to keep you safe. Also considering the other psychotic people he had as guardians on the other floors, you could trust your own gut when you met the duo. You stayed hidden in the background while you watched Reverend Gray journey with Rachel to Dr. Danny’s floor. Watching them leave from the end of the hall, you saw a man in a dark brown hoodie and a scythe laying on the ground. That must be Isaac Foster. You could tell that he was bleeding out badly, a pang of guilt and empathy coursing through you. You were hesitant to approach him, remembering that the Reverend said he was dangerous to meddle with and there was a high chance he could react violently to you if you dared to try and talk. But seeing him looking on the verge of death, you couldn’t help but walk slowly toward him. It may seem unreasonable to walk right into danger, but you knew you could take care of yourself. Reverend Gray provided you with a weapon of your own, a basket-hilted sword. He helped you to perfect every swing and stab. Not only that, but you weren’t too bad at fighting hand-to-hand either. Luckily, Isaac Foster appears to be too injured to try and fight back anyway. I honestly don’t think my sword would be able to block his scythe well, I hope he doesn’t use it on me, you thought. As you got closer and closer to the strange man, he fidgeted a bit. You paused your movements, clutching the handle of your sword in its scabbard. He weakly turned his head towards you, his eyes opening slowly.

“Who the fuck are you? You gonna try and kill me?” he questioned, a sharp tone in his voice. You noticed he made no effort to reach for his scythe, so you let go of your sword’s handle.

“No.....I wouldn’t try to kill someone if they’re already dying,” you responded. He let out a dry laugh.

“I hate to break it to ya sweetheart, but I’m not dying any time soon. Monsters are hard to kill. Besides, good ‘ol Rachel’s gonna fix me up. But enough of the chitter chatter, you didn’t answer my first question. Who the fuck ARE you? I thought there’s only one guardian on each floor, unless Reverend Shithead cheated,” he spat. You let out a small chuckle, finding his way of talking a throwback to when you were a teen. Although, he seemed to be around the same age as you, twenty or twenty-two years old. His bandaged face looked confused to your lighthearted reaction. He scowled, “Hey, what’s all that laughing for? I didn’t even say anything funny.”

“Oh nothing, just thinking of my teenage days. But to answer your first question, I am another guardian of this floor. My job is assisting Reverend Gray on this floor, though I’m not really allowed to interact with the people who come here. But I uh, couldn’t help feeling a bit bad for you, seeing you bleed out like that,” you finally confessed. Letting out another dry laugh, he looked at you with a smirk.

“Feeling bad for me, huh? Not the best decision. Don’t know if you can already tell, but I’m a cold-blooded serial killer. If I wasn’t feeling shitty at the moment, I’d cut that pretty head of yours off. Seeing you this calm around someone like me really pisses me off,” he said. You only let out another small chuckle, which irked him even more.

“I’m sure you would, Isaac Foster. Although, I don’t think a fight between the two of us would end so quick. My weapon may be smaller than yours, but I can hold my own very well. If I could survive majority of my childhood and teen years being alone in the streets, I think I could survive you,” you calmly said. His temper apparently sky-rocketed because the next moment, he was yelling.

“The name’s Zack, you bitch! Don’t go being so confident in yourself, it’s sickening to watch. I bet my ass could ruin all that confidence with just one land of my scythe. I’ll have you begging for your life, just you wait ‘til I’m in a better state to kill ya. Ugh, now I have two bitches to kill!” he groaned, then coughed loudly, more blood oozing out of his wound. You felt guilty again, wanting to at least stop the bleeding for a little while.

“I carry some bandages and patches with me in case there’s a time I ever need to fix myself. If you need some I can-”

“Just leave it alone, will ya? I already got Rachel getting shit for me back on the other floor, I don’t need your damn help! Why the hell does everyone wanna help me?”

“M’kay, but you’re bleeding pretty badly, by the time she comes back, you’ll most likely be passed out-”

“I said leave it alone! Stop tryna play nurse, your stuff probably won’t even do shit.”

“But it’s better to stop the bleeding as soon as-”

“Will you shut up? You’re gonna make me go into shock.”

“I just wanna help-”

“I said I don’t want any damn help!”

“Well you won’t be much of a monster by bleeding out all over this damn floor! If you wanna at least live long enough to kill that girl Rachel, you could at least be somewhat decent and let me patch you up before you go all out, getting your own self killed instead! Now shut the fuck up and let me help! Geez! How does that blonde girl deal with you?” you shouted. Your yelling got him to close his mouth and shut up, surprised that he got someone as calm as you to get angry. How can I get her angry, but not scared shitless? It’s like she wasn’t even phased by my damn appearance, he thought. There was a short silence in the hallway, until Zack finally spoke up. “Didn’t know you had all that anger in ya. Heh, to be honest you even got my crazy self startled. I have no clue how Rachel deals with me, but all I know is her messed up head wants me to kill her. So I’ll do it. If I want to keep my promise to her.....I guess you should do what ya want. But don’t be a pervert about it.”

A small smile formed on your face as you took out your supplies in the small medical bag you carried around.

“How the hell are you smiling after all that? Sheesh, I’m starting to think you’re even weirder than Rachel is,” Zack let out noises of disgust. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his childlike behavior.

“Tell me something.....,” he began to say, “why haven’t ya mentioned anything about my appearance? I’m literally covered in bandages and burnt underneath. Don’t I freak you out at all? Why aren’t ya scared?”

“Well, I’ve seen crazier. I also don’t like to make a judgement about someone based on only their appearance. Sure you’re not ordinary looking, but I know there’s more about you than what I see on the outside,” you replied. Everything that you needed to help him was taken out. You didn’t have any type of alcohol or a sewing needle and thread to fully cover what you believed to be a deep gash in his abdomen, but it was all that could be done for now until Rachel got back. You reached over towards his wound, but hesitated. You looked him in the eyes, as if you were silently asking for permission. He nodded slightly, his breathing hitching a bit when he saw the look your eyes held. You looked so genuine, not one hint of fear in you. Was that.....kindness? No, it couldn’t be. Why would anyone show kindness to him? You unzipped his hoodie, a faint blush on your face. Sure he was an asshole, but it still felt.....somewhat intimate? Not in an inappropriate way, just in a trustworthy way. The fact he had so much trust in one stranger to help him like this.....it was odd. You undid the bandages already on him that were worn out. His wound was revealed, and so was his skin. Wow....is all of him burned? You shook your thoughts away. You grabbed a bunch of gauze sponges you had and grouped them together, beginning to apply pressure to his wound. Zack hissed at the pain, saying almost every curse word you think is in the dictionary. You let out a soft “Sorry” as you continued to clean up the big amount of blood on his body. Once you began to bandage him up tightly, Zack started up another conversation.

“You’re different from the other guardians.....why aren’t ya trying to kill me? Isn’t that what you guardians do?” he asked curiously. You showed him another small smile. That damn smile, why does she smile so easily at me? It’s not like Rachel’s forced ass smile. What’s up with this bitch? Why is her smile so.....familiar?

“Well, like I said before, I just assist Reverend Gray on this floor. He’s the main guardian. I’m just someone he happened to take in after he found me sleeping on the steps of this building. Heh, teenager me. Homeless after my parents abandoned me as a toddler. I’m not sure what made Reverend Gray want to keep me. Sometimes he acts like a father, but then I remember how self praising he is,” you sighed, “I know the people on the other floors kill so you expect me to be the same, but I don’t want to kill someone if they aren’t totally out of their mind.”

“So is that why you didn’t try to kill me? Cause ya think I’m not totally out of my mind? Heh, well I’m pretty sure me killing people for fun isn’t sane either. I hate seeing people happy, sooooo I kill ‘em. What’s not psycho about that?” Zack stated.

“Well for starters, I didn’t try to kill you because you were already injured, so it wouldn’t have been fair. And you can’t be totally out of your mind if you let me help you with your injury.” Zack scowled at your reply, knowing you were right. Even as a serial killer, he had morals. He hated lying, and he himself would never tell a lie.

“You remind me of him too much,” he grumbled. Your head perked up.

“Did you say something?”

“I said you talk too much.”

“No, you definitely said something else.”

“No I said you talk too much.”

“Doubt it, tell me what ya really said.”

“That is what I really said.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Zack.”

“Ugh, I said you remind me of him too much,” he said softly.

“Him?” you questioned. Zack sighed. “There was this man I met when I was younger, a blind man. He let me stay at his place for a couple days. Even after I told him I killed a guy, he still had that dumb smile on his face. He always had that smile on his face around me. It was annoying, him being so calm around someone like me. Pissed me off, but I didn’t kill him. He fed me and everything. I mean he already died cause of something else, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Are ya done with my bandages yet? It feels like it’s been hours!”

You rolled your eyes at his commentary. “Well, whoever that man is, he had quite the patience with you.”

“Hey! I was giving you a compliment! Geez, way to be rude!” Zack crossed his arms, turning away from you. You only chuckled once more. You finally finished wrapping enough bandages as you could, making sure it was snug enough.

“Happy now, angry boy? I’m done. They’ll still get bloody, but at least the bandages are fresh and not worn out,” you said, giving him another smile just to annoy him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “I never caught your name. Since I told ya mine, it’s only fair you tell me yours.”

“It’s (Y/N),” you said.

“Well (Y/N),” Zack rubbed the back of his head. “You’re not so bad.....maybe I’ll keep ya alive.”

#angels of death #angels of death zack #isaac foster #zack foster #isaac foster x reader #isaac x reader #zack x reader #angels of death x reader #zack foster x reader #angels of death imagines #isaac foster imagines #isaac foster fluff #anime #isaac foster fanfic #angels of death fanfic #aod #aod x reader #satsuriku no tenshi

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amenomiko · 4 years ago

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Thank you for the request @lareina2501 ❤❤❤❤❤ It's an honor to be your fav writer (∩´﹏`∩) 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕 I will do my best more and more ∩( ✧Д✧)∩✨✨✨✨✨✨✨!! As for this request I've changed the storyline to match with the angst and happy ending, if you don't mind >3< ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤! Hope you like it!

Come Clean

Pairing: IkeSen Mitsuhide x MC

Type: One Shot

Rated: Angst + Happy End

🦊💙🦊💙🦊💙🦊💙🦊💙🦊💙🦊💙🦊

"This game ends here."

If travelling into an unknown place, an era with endless war, a timeline she have to wipe her tears but to survive...

The words that he uttered to her on that day hurts the most.

Everything was a gameplay to him. With that teasing smile, gradually changed into a hateful look, he pointed the gun that he always use to end someone's life to her. "I was just using you all the time. Who would've known you even give all of yourself to me-- to think that you shed enormous drop of tears just from Yoshiaki's words.. Aren't you the fragile one?"

Liar.

"Was it sated enough for you?"

Liar.

"Did I satisfy you?"

Liar.

"You are beaming with happiness just from a kiss? Such lonely girl you are."

"Mmmf--"

Waves and waves of swirling stirred inside of her, causing her to stumble to the side, of where she nearly bumped upon the edge of the wall if it isn't because of the support on the table nearby.

Mitsuhide..

She gasped, tears pricking within her orbs,

Mitsuhide..

Vomiting out everything that she could throw,

Mitsuhide..

Her coughs slowly emerges into a sob, and it grew stronger when she rub her belly.

Why did you lie..?

.......

It was a spur of the moment. It could be. It might be.

From a slow, loving kiss on her brow, her lips found his, where they exchanged their body heat with one another. Kisses, groans, soft moaning, endless marks all over her body, genuine confession towards each other-- it is such a blissful moment and memories for her.

To think that he choose to lie for the sake of her safety--

To think that he would use his weapon to threaten her..

So that she could stand in the light, and him, always in the abyss of darkness and evilness. And furthermore,..

To think that just from that one night, she had bear his child...

Oh she had tried to be with him. But he pushed her away. Many times. He even use another woman to make her believe that he was just using her all along--

...He even announced his marriage to the same woman to get rid of her completely--

And then..

She gasped again, now clenching on her stomach-- "K-Kana--..!"

Her maid bursted into the room, "Princess..? Princess!!"

-----

And then..

The wedding celebration were held joyfully, he even announced to the public of his happiness. He even laughed, smiled, nuzzled on his bride's nose, just to show how much he love her. Right in front of her, in front of her eyes, that clearly were decorated with nothing but a swell.

"I am happy for you, Mitsuhide."

Oh how it killed her.

It's as if she has taken a knife and stab her own chest.

"Well, to be honest.. I am having his child..! He is kind enough to marry me for the sake of our child..!" His bride whispered to her, from a gleeful voice that suddenly changed into a menacing ones,... "Now it's clear to you, isn't it? You are NO princess, so you should learn where do you stand, don't you think so?" Then it was again replaced with a smile the moment her husband called for her.

Ah.. So this is how they played it.

If it is like that, it's fine.

If it's for the sake of her child, then she will do it too.

Yes, she should learn her place. So she will leave everything. From a place where she didn't belong, a place where people wouldn't know, a place where people will forget.

With the help of Sasuke,...

That very same night she had faked her death. She had brought her most trusted maid with her, leaving no trace behind. Changing her appearance together with her maid, she made it as if she had never existed.

She made a promise with Sasuke as well. To keep it a secret, to never see her and to never associate with her. It was beyond his agreement, as she is his friend, but he have no choice.

------

"Princess.. You overexert your body again. It's not good for the child, as it will be born soon."

Smiling weakly, she caresses her growing belly. "I'm sorry.. I can't help but to remember that night. Especially when it was snowing like this."

Kana and MC wheeled their head to the garden, watching how it become white all over from the falling snow. "I don't know, Kana. It was not even snowing when he said those words, but maybe, just maybe, that night has become cold when he choose to lie."

"...Princess..."

"My apologies. I'm being very melancholy am I?"

Kana shakes her head. "Please don't say that, Princess. Here, have some water before you rest, alright?"

She nodded, leaning against the reclining chair before turning to see the white garden once more.

..To think that snow could make you feel this lonely. But she is not alone, she will be with her child. Even if her existence has faded to other people.

--------

There is no other day that he feels empty.

Staring into nothing in an ample silence, the feeling of the metal in his hand has been forgotten.

Such metal; the hairclip he had given her, is still smeared with blood, the blood of hers on the night she had gone from his life forever.

Lying is never enough for Mitsuhide. But it was more than enough for her. He lied for her own good. He hurt her for her happiness. He cast her aside for her safety. He trampled her feelings and love for him, for her best.

Even though everything had went well-- ending Yoshiaki's life, and gained another peace for his Lord, he is not satisfied. Faking a marriage, faking a love just to make her believe he didn't need her anymore-- it is the biggest sacrifice and self torture for him. More than the torture that he get in the cell when he was accused as the traitor back then..!

Her death is the ultimate torture of his life..!

Why did this happen? How could this happen?

What have he done to her??

"...Kh--"

And again,

There's no other day that he feel empty. There's no other days he will shed his tears while holding the hairclip close to his heart. He have seen it. He have seen her jumped off the cliff, right in front of his eyes. He had been searching, high and low, every places, to no avail. He had refused to believe, he nearly went crazy just from this..!

Is this..

A punishment for him? Yes. Indeed it is. For trampling her genuine and sincere love for someone like him..

"My lord."

He didn't answer his vassal. It was until Kyubei hand him a letter that makes his heart thump so loud in his chest.

-----

"Princess..! Princess..!! Please..! Please stay awake..! Your child needs you..! Please..!!"

"Give it your best, My lady..! Push with all your might..!!"

She couldn't feel her grip around the cloth in her palms anymore. She had tried all she could, but she sees nothing but whiteness. Her eyes narrowed-- she is in verge of fainting once more. "No..! You can't faint!! My lady!!"

'Ahh.. Mitsuhide.. Where are you.. Will you be here..? Will you come to my rescue just like you use to do..?'

Her hold around the cloth loosened, and the voices next to her couldn't be heard anymore, when..

"MC!!!"

The door burst open, revealing a pale looking Mitsuhide. Pale and thin, weaker than ever.

She must have been dreaming. For Mitsuhide to come and to found her like this, just like how she secretly wished. "MC..! Please..! Don't leave me..! Don't leave us..!" He squeezed her hand tight, patting her face lightly for her to stay awake. "I am here..! I will be here..! So please..!"

His facade broke. Tears after tears streaming on his face, wetting the surface of her cheek. "I love you.. Please. I'm begging you.." He grit his teeth to fight the upcoming tears, kissing her brow and temple over and over.

"Mmf--"

Her grip has tightened once again, eyes shut to give her all, especially for her unborn child.

Hours has passed, and by nightime..

A beautiful, melodic sound had filled the house.

-----

"....."

Mitsuhide has been staring at his daughter for quite some time. She is now nestled in his arms, sleeping peacefully as her father rub her cheeks gently.

He had stayed awake the whole time, even until MC had woke up. Both of them didn't say anything, only exchanging a silent look to one another.

Then after a while..

He rose and settled next to her.

There's no words were uttered, but he pulls her close with his other arm, burying his head in the crook of her neck where a silent cry could be heard, and an endless strings of apologies were said.

Throughout the time when she lived in seclusion, her maid has been exchanging letters with his vassal secretly. Both of them updated each other's situation, and when it is the perfect time for their masters to meet again, that is where the letter were given to Mitsuhide.

He had brought her back, to everyone's surprise. Things had been cleared between them; a happy ending for both of them. No lies, no facades, just the truth.

And....

*Extra*

"THIS, is WHY, I've TOLD you, to NOT do EVERYTHING, ON YOUR OWN! JUST LOOK WHAT HAD HAPPENED?? JUST LOOK!! THE MOTHER OF YOUR CHILD HAVE TO GO THROUGH ALL OF THAT HELL THANKS TO YOU!! AND JUST LOOK AT YOU?? YOU ARE LIKE THOSE BEGGAR ON THE STREETS!!"

"My, my, how rude ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡^)."

"OH HELL YES, I AM. SEE? SHE EVEN HAVE TO FAKE HER WHEREABOUTS BECAUSE SHE'S HURT!! AND--"

"....Mmmnnnn..."

"Oooh, oooh, my baby angel, Uncle Hideyoshi ish here (❁´◡`❁)🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸~~~ WHERE ARE YOU GOING MITSUHIDE I'M NOT DONE YET (　☉д⊙)!!"

"MC needs help, so I will leave my daughter with you for a while ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡^)."

"Oh okay-- wait- WAIT! YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO SEE HER. YOU ARE GROUNDED MITSUHIDE! G R O U N D E D!!!"

"Mmmnnn.. Eeehhheeee QAQ!!!!"

"Aaaaahhh my baby angel QAQ I'm sorry!!!"

"Oh my ( ͡^ ͜ʖ ͡^)."

"Just give her konpeito, she will stop crying for sure (˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵)." - Nobunaga

"MY LORD NO (　☉д⊙)!!"

#ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide one shot #ikemen sengoku akechi Mitsuhide

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phati-sari · 4 years ago

Text

Arshi FF: Tere Bin - Chapter 7

Read from the beginning | Chapter 6

Chapter 7: Mehrama (listen while reading)

Arnav

Khushi was silent as he pulled out into the road. The confines of the car magnified her floral scent. His memory had not done it justice.

“Where am I going?” he asked as they approached a junction with a much busier road.

“There’s a place I can catch another auto there,” she gestured vaguely to the right. “Just drop me off.”

Arnav rejected the idea after a brief consideration — he was not going to leave her alone at night. He turned towards the river.

“I said I’ll drop you home. Just tell me where to go.”

“I don’t need your help!”

“What was it you said to me? Your family worries about you. Your Jiji cries when you’re late. Think about them.”

A necessary cruelty, he told himself as she fell silent.

He took a bend slightly too fast, felt the force push him towards the centre console. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Khushi press against her door as she clutched the handle for support.

She wasn’t wearing her seat belt.

“Put your belt on,” he snapped, concentrating on finding a way back over the river.

When he didn’t hear the click of her belt a few seconds later, he flicked his eyes in her direction to find her struggling with it. Irritation burned hot and bright in his chest as he pulled over with a curse. She startled as he unsnapped his belt. His pulse stuttered as he noticed the sheen of tears.

Damn it. Why do I always make her cry?

He leaned over her, yanking the seat belt across her body as he spoke. “It’s late. You’re alone. But I can turn around if you really want.”

She seemed to have stopped breathing altogether. A hunger awoke under his exasperation, turning his glare into something else as his fingers tried to linger. He clicked the belt into place.

“No,” Khushi voice trembled as he eased back into his seat. “Keep taking this road. Turn towards the market where the shop is.”

“You live near the shop?” he rejoined traffic smoothly.

“Behind it. It’s called G-Gomti Sadan.”

He remembered enough about Lucknow’s roads to guess they were twenty minutes away.

Not long enough.

He slowed, noting the tension uncoil from Khushi’s body as he did so, and felt irrationally angry at her fear.

As if I’d let anything happen to her.

The unwelcome memory of her fall from his cabin’s window rose to the surface of his mind.

“What were you doing out here?” he asked to distract himself.

“I … uhh … I was visiting a clinic.”

“At night?”

“N-no. It was afternoon when I got there but there was a misunderstanding about Babu— about something … and now I’m late.”

Khushi gazed out her window, “Amma will be worried.”

“Don't you have a phone?” his own worry sharpened his words. “Do you want me to call someone for you?”

“You broke my phone, remember? I was using Babu-ji’s but the battery died.”

The way she spoke — words glum and tone resigned — prompted him to study her at the next traffic light. Her shoulders were drooped, her eyes fixed on the twist and untwist of her hands in her lap.

A hollow opened somewhere in the region of his chest. He’d been thinking of her father in the abstract — the illness something to be handled and fixed — but now it dawned on him that she might be on the verge of losing a parent.

Her adoptive father, he recalled the gossiping women. She’s gone through this before.

“Khushi …” his tone was gentle. “Are you alright?”

She twisted in her seat, her mouth falling open, and he was surprised to see that her cheeks were dry. “I … yes … I’m fine.”

The jut of her chin reminded him of Teej.

“Have you eaten?” he asked suddenly.

“No.”

He swung onto a side-street without a word, heading towards a late-night cafe he knew and liked. Predictably, Khushi objected.

“Where are you going? You said you would take me home!”

“I’ll take you somewhere to eat first.”

“No!”

She reached out, maybe to place her hand on his arm, but faltered before making contact.

He pushed aside his disappointment.

Not yet. Just a few more minutes.

“I don’t want you to faint on me again,” his words were clipped.

Khushi turned away with a huff, crossing her arms across her chest as she mumbled something. He caught the words “Laad Governor”. His question died on his lips as she squealed and pointed to something on the other side of the road.

“Gol gappe! Let’s go there.”

Her eyes were bright, her smile wide in childish delight. Without a word, he found a place to turn around and parked near the stall she’d pointed to.

She was out of the car in a flash, rounding the front to speak to the vendor. When Arnav reached her, the owner was already smiling at Khushi’s enthusiasm and letting her taste his wares for free. She popped one into her mouth, eyes closed in ecstasy as she savoured the taste.

And he forgot his own name.

Recovering himself with a small cough as she opened her eyes, he bought two servings.

“You don’t have to …” the beginnings of her protest faded away as he walked off with both.

He felt his lips curve in amusement as Khushi stared after him and only called her name when he reached the car.

“What?” her irritation was clear in her tone.

“You don’t want to eat?”

She was still scowling when she joined him. He passed some over, watching as she used the bonnet of the car as a table. She ate two pieces before looking up at him.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

“No.”

Shrugging, Khushi went back to her plate. When she was done, he silently handed her the second, ignoring her confused outburst. She ate slowly, pausing often to glance up at him, but her thoughts remained a mystery.

His own words kept getting lost on the way to his tongue.

“Get in,” he inclined his head towards the passenger side once she’d eaten it all.

Khushi stepped around him with a nod. Her shoe slipped on the loose gravel, and she reached out with a yelp. He caught her on instinct, his hands wrapping around her waist as she clutched his arm. The slight breeze fluttered her hair around her face as everything inside him seemed to come to a standstill.

Weeks of not seeing her, of barely hearing her voice, had turned him into a starving man. Arnav was hyper-aware of every point of contact between their bodies. His heart hammered, heat expanding from his chest to his fingertips. Khushi blinked at him slowly, her chest rising and falling as her breath came in sharp pants. He watched the way her eyes drifted to his lips before flicking back up. Her bottom lip trembled before she pulled it between her teeth. Barely stifling a groan, he dared to hold her closer, sliding a hand across her back. She tightened her grip on the sleeve of his jacket in response.

It felt like absolution.

The flow of time only restarted when she made to pull away. Releasing her with great reluctance — and wanting nothing more than to somehow prolong the fragile moment — he watched Khushi toy with the hem of her suit as she recovered her composure. It was only when she glanced downwards that he realised his hand was still in the air. He lowered it slowly, profoundly aware she was not his to hold.

In the car, their silence was only broken by her softly spoken directions as she led him to her home. She navigated him to a narrow alley, and they reached a large sign that proclaimed they’d reached Gomti Sadan too soon.

Arnav parked the car, his mind busily generating ways to convince her to stay another minute or two.

She spoke before he could. “ I … I mean … th-thank you.”

He acknowledged her with a nod. “Do you want me to drop you inside?”

“You don’t have to—”

“—I didn’t have to do any of the things I did tonight,” he said simply.

Another silence.

It shouldn’t be this hard.

But it was. Not for the first time, he wondered how things would be between them if their beginning been completely different. Gentler.

Would we get along?

Would she say my name?

A part of him understood that Khushi was unaware of just how profoundly things had changed for him. He had no name for what he wanted, only the knowledge that he burned with wanting it. But her heart and mind lingered at the guesthouse, unable to process the rescue she’d all but given up on while her father remained ill.

The gates to the residence opened, revealing a blue-clad figure that bent to get a better look inside the car. Arnav realised his time was up.

“Khushi,” he spoke moments before she opened her door. “I have an idea.”

She glanced back at him as her sister approached, “What?”

“Well, it’s just that you like arguing so much, and we argue so often …”

The curiosity on her features morphed into outrage, but he continued nonetheless. Outside, her sister froze as she recognised him.

“… I think we should keep in touch.”

A speechless Khushi Kumari Gupta was a sight to behold.

Chapter 8

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #arshi #ipkknd ff #arshi ff #iwrotethis #mine #ff: tere bin

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effymaybe · 4 years ago

Text

Once you get a taste

Pairing: Jennie x Rosé

Prompt: Rosé whispers a secret Jennie finds herself quite interested in. Under the weight of soft music, dim lights, and a few glasses of soju, the groupmates get to know each other better.

Warnings: Slight mature content

(cr: pinterest)

“…And the guy asked me to jump. In the middle of the photoshoot. In eight-inch heels. Wearing jewelry four men with surgical gloves had just put around my neck as it was, I don’t know, made of crystal or something. I swear I don’t know who looked at the photographer with the most ‘fuck no’ expression: me or them”.

Jennie chuckles vividly, titling her head back in a sharp motion.

Slightly tipsy Rosé is always a wonder.

They are celebrating their first free day after long months of work in the dorm, just the two of them. Lisa had taken advantage of the relieving weekend to see her parents and Jisoo had done exactly the same, eager to spend time with her nephew to teach him invaluable lessons, she had claimed. Jennie had wondered faintly whether she was talking about true values or some secret curse words, and she had quickly decided that her friend intended to do both.

The big house seemed somehow empty without the loudest members, but Rosé’s casual singing and their short conversations, the ones that have flowed between them swiftly since the moment they met, were enough for the upbeat atmosphere of the place to remain strong.

Their recent success was of course of great help. The boost they received both from fans and critics gave the group a warm shower of confidence that made their smiles grow larger still every now and then. They worked hard, and their efforts did not get wasted.

That is the reason, mainly, why Jennie and Rosé are currently sitting on a soft mattress on the floor, soju glasses filling and emptying on the sturdy coffee table just in front of them, both girls laughing openly at shared stories that make their chests spurt affection.

“So, did you jump?” Jennie asks then, happy tears prickling at the corner of her sharp eyes, leaning forward intentionally and letting her shoulder bump against her groupmate’s.

“Fuck no, I- don’t laugh! It was difficult!”

Jennie breaks out laughing again, squeezing the glass she’s holding on her left hand and using the other to grasp Rosé’s arm as if to anchor herself. The silver-haired girl follows suit, sharing the shortest girl’s pure excitement, somewhat glad to be the source of such demonstration of contentment.

“God. I would’ve loved to be there. Remind me to go with you to your next photoshoot”.

Rosé keeps smiling, now her expressive eyes growing softer.

“I will”.

There is a moment of comfortable silence filled by the deep beat of a slow, electric song. The girls have decided to give in their indie cravings just half an hour ago, and now the chosen playlist is serving as an enjoyable background for their encounter.

“I like that”, Rosé comments softly, turning her head up to stare at the thousand colorful dots tracing patterns on the ceiling.

“A fan gift. One of my favorites. I use it when I can’t sleep”.

The silver-haired girl admires the light for a while longer, feeling a fuzzy sensation crawling up in her stomach.

She feels so, so fitting.

She turns around to talk to her friend, and she is kind of surprised to find the brunette her staring mutely into her eyes. Jennie’s cat-like stare burns somehow, caressing her features tenderly.

Something flashes in her coffee gaze, a bright emotion that catches Rosé out of guard, like a soft pang making her heartbeat pick up.

Just as it comes, it leaves quickly, and Jennie smiles lazily again.

“You have your own galaxy”, Rosé jokes weakly, then, rushing to drown the soju that still waits in her cup.

The shortest girl lets her hand run through her own silky dark locks still grinning, almost as if for herself, and reaching forward to catch the definitely too expensive bottle in front of her, she turns towards her friend almost as if on the verge of revealing a secret.

“It’s ours, now. Isn’t it, Rosie?”

Rosé might have as well chocked on her spit only by hearing Jennie’s low voice, but now, with alcohol dancing daringly through her veins, she merely blushes slightly before giggling in sudden joy.

“True”. The blonde watches Jennie’s delicate hands refilling both their glasses with a delicacy she firmly believes can only be inherited, and then lets her ears catch on the soft tune vibrating from the speakers. “How are you, by the way? I’m surprised you didn’t want to say home tonight”.

With home Rosé means home home, as in her mother’s home, and Jennie seems to understand perfectly.

“It seemed just right to stay here. I prefer it, sometimes. It’s familiar, too”.

The silver-haired hums in agreement, letting bold liquid run hot through her throat. “Me too. I love my parents, but this also feels right. After all we went through… well…” she looks down at her glass and then lets her coffee gaze meet Jennie’s intense stare. “I don’t know. I like spending time with you”.

“Almost like sisters…” Jennie comments, but her voice comes out a bit too breathy to appear certain. It’s more like a question, exploring, like her hand inching closer Rose’s thigh.

The tallest girl licks her lips unintentionally, her body sinking deeper against the feet of the couch.

“Yes, but… Not quite, really”, there is a tense pause, and Rosé can almost hear the faint beat growing deeper, “right”?

Jennie hums in a sound that comes closer to a purr and finally lets her fingertips press against Rose´s exposed skin.

The tallest girl suppresses a surprising shiver as she wonders whether she should have worn a longer dress.

Or a shorter one.

“Not quite”, the brunette agrees, still staring at her friend with a sparkling stare.

Rosé swallows, feeling a hot flush heating up her neck, and rushes to drink a bit more of the transparent beverage already making her limbs feel lighter.

There is no way, Rosé. Come on. This is fucking Jennie, dam it.

There is another pause. The dim lights change slowly, creating another pattern that becomes bluish. Jennie inhales deeply, feeling pleasantly warm, the fabric of her simple white shirt sticking against her collarbones, and she takes another sip before analyzing her friend’s features again.

Gorgeous, she thinks, and lets her fingers caress a bit more of the tender skin of her thigh.

“Do you miss Australia, Rosie?”

The silver-haired girl tilts her head as if pulled away from her own thoughts. She looks at Jennie with pensive eyes and a cute pout drawing on her reddened lips.

“A bit… some things”, she whispers.

Jennie catches the sound of one of her favorite songs. Rose’s scent flowery grows somehow stronger, dazzling.

“Like what?” the brunette asks.

Rosé squirms almost imperceptibly. A thought, an unwanted one crosses her mind immediately. She scrunches her nose in an attempt to put it away, to find a reasonable answer to Jennie’s enquiries, but the soju has already started to occupy her mind with a pleasant yet undefeatable mist.

“Oh... Uh- the climate”, she blurts out, putting a strand of hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture.

The shortest girl licks her lips as her sharp gaze turns predatory. She tries to soften the immediate smirk that reaches her mouth, observing as Rosé twitches in her place with terribly concealed nervousness.

“Oh, come on. You must miss something else. A country with such different culture… I’m sure there’s a call burning inside you. Tell me”, she speaks softly, trying to keep her tone light, “I can keep a secret”.

The silver-haired girl lets her wide gaze fall on her friend’s calm expression, trying to ignore the sneaky fingers caressing up her upper thigh.

There is something that she has been missing, definitely. Something she was never courageous enough to bring up. Something that she has buried deep in the back of her mind to keep it there until her career is secure enough.

But Jennie’s cat eyes are still tracing her features in affectionate patience, and her nails are now scratching circles in her waist. She feels light, slightly dizzy, with alcohol warming up her cheeks comfortably. The night is stiffy and the bright shapes on the ceiling are so beautiful that she feels as if secluded, safe in the refugee they created whilst breaking in giggles.

She considers that she can trust Jennie. There is very little she has heard the brunette judging other people for.

“I”, she starts with a cough, “There is something. Back in Australia, when I was still a teenager I had this… friend. Female friend”.

Jennie hums as pure amusement begins to dance in her stare.

“We would… you know. Just… explore… each other”.

“Oh”, the brunette murmurs, and Rosé turns to face her eyes in a mixture of embarrassment and fear. The fingertips caressing her waist move to her left hipbone. It feels nice.

Jennie’s expression, rather than showing disgust, drips interest as she tilts her head softly. When her light-brown hair falls onto her shoulder, the pale expanse of her neck is displayed like a prize. The tallest girl needs to remind herself that she doesn’t do it in purpose.

“Yeah. It was… fun”

The brunette snorts lightly. Rosé sips onto her glass once again.

“I bet it was, darling. I thought you were a church girl, though”.

Rosé, suddenly animated both by her friend’s heady voice and the liquid burning through her veins breaks in a slow smirk.

Jennie licks her lips again, gazing into enticing red.

“Yeah… where do you think I met her?”

Jennie gasps slightly before letting out a surprised chuckle. It sounds deep and satisfied, and it mixes perfectly with the slow beat playing in the room.

“My, my, Rosie. Aren’t you… risky?”

Rosé shrugs, smiling in sudden pride. She feels Jennie’s hand twitching against her hips, so she decides to caress the length of her arm in return.

“I don’t know. It was quite natural. Then I got here and… well. It’s not like I could continue”.

There is a moment of silence that, although not uncomfortable, is suddenly charged with a shift in the air. It gets hotter. The lights turn red and purple. Rosé’s heartbeat starts to gain speed against her chest, as now unrepressed memories of playtime hours with her childhood friend swirl in her hazy mind.

“So you’ve never made out with any of the other trainees back when we were living all together?”

Rosé stares at Jennie almost as if confused. Her blunt nails trace the path marked by the brunette’s veins. She feels the way her touch raises goosebumps.

“Huh, no… did… you?”

Jennie’s eyes burn into Rose’s coffee stare.

“No. As a matter of fact…” she is showing off that damn smirk and the tallest girl can barely hold it together, “I’ve never kissed a girl. I’m curious”.

Rosé makes an effort not to squeeze her thighs together. She sees how Jennie’s pupils grow darker, wider, more cat-like than ever. She is enjoying herself openly; everything from her bold body language and the way her fingers run through her friend’s inner thighs makes wild desire bloom in the silver-haired girl’s stomach.

In any other situation, Rosé would be blushing madly, making her way out of the room hastily.

At that moment, with the heavy atmosphere attaching hypnotically against her skin, she decides that she might as well give Jennie what she seems to be asking for.

“Oh, it’s wonderful”, she plays, smothering her voice in a very appetizing tone, “soft and sexy. Very feminine”, she lets the warm pads of her touch run up her friend’s arms, sliding across her pointy shoulders.

“Rosie…” Jennie answers breathily, shinning with her pulse running high, “Shouldn’t you share with your unnie some of your vast knowledge? Seems only fair…”

She inches closer to her friend, her face tilted captivatingly, already letting her gaze fix on the tallest girl’s lips.

“Unnie, of course”, Rosé answers, and lets her worries drown in the alcohol blazing her blood, “Anything you’d like”.

And just like that, Jennie leans forwards to catch Rosé’s open mouth in a deep kiss.

It is immediately heated. The tallest girl’s warm, ragged breath invades the brunette’s space like a spell. A firm hand grasping her neck keeps her in place, and a slim arm wraps around her waist urgently.

In response, Jennie feels her own pulse palpitating against her eardrums. She lets her hand caress her friend’s collarbones before sliding them into her rich silver hair when the tallest girl angles her jaw differently.

The lights grow darker in a blissful moment and the brunette finds herself being guided by Rosés insistent indents. Her thighs come to trap Rose’s as she seeks comfort on the tallest girl’s lap. When the silver-haired girl sucks lightly on her lower lip, Jennie grinds down instinctively, a mewl-like sound bursting from her throat.

They both know that they should be thinking about their current situation further. It’s a thought shadowing the very, very back of their hazy minds, but it’s difficult to give it presence when the warmth of their bodies grows steadily in a boost of pure want.

Jennie has to gasp when Rosés plump lips descend lower, grazing her cheek, her chin, her jaw. Her fingers tangle in soft blonde hair as she tilts her head up to grant her more access, asking her silently to comply with the deep desire that has just born low in her stomach.

Rosé does not need to be told twice. She runs her mouth down her friend’s throat, delighting in her expensive scent, running blunt nails through luscious thighs.

“Oh”, Jennie murmurs, and it’s enough for the blonde’s foggy mind to find some clearance.

She pulls away almost as if terrified, her movements put into a halt. She feels the tickles of panic and slight shame heating up her cheeks.

In exchange, the brunette opens her eyes lazily, revealing a stern expression behind her sharp eyes, her mouth curling downwards in visible annoyance.

Rosé is about to beg for forgiveness, but Jennie speaks first.

“What’s going on?” she asks, her hand pressing against the tallest girl’s nape, “Thought you were going to be my teacher”, she adds then, her voice searching for a lower, much more suggestive tone.

It takes the blonde two seconds to catch on with the reality that Jennie wants this, too. Very much so, given by the way her hips grind down again, almost as if on their own accord.

Rosé smiles, then, slow, and dangerous, feeling the last shreds of the self-control she was so desperately holding into getting looser in her chest. Her hands inch forwards, nails slipping under the hem of the brunette’s shorts. She looks up at her with an analyzing stare, delighting on Jennie’s compliant expression.

“Well, of course”, she answers, her words coming breathier as her wide eyes reflect a playful darkness, “but I must warn you, this might be a long lesson, unnie”.

Jennie finds herself chuckling lowly, closing her eyes as Rosé’s teeth run just sharp enough against her shoulder.

“Of course”, she lets out, and forces herself to choke a whining sound when the blonde tongues her stuttering pulse point, “I’ll be a good student”.

Rosé just smiles widely before pulling the shortest girl down for another toe-curling kiss.

Jennie turns out to be quite a brilliant student, indeed.

#blackpink scenarios #blackpink fanfic #chaennie #jennie x rosé

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chris-evans-indian-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Longing

Chapter 1

Description: Chris Evans becomes obsessed with you when he realises he can't have you. Eager to be with you in some form or the other, he starts writing fanfiction, where both of you are passionately in love with each other. But what happens when his imagination starts to merge with his reality in his subconsciousness?

Warnings: This entire mini-series will contain smut, bad language and angst. ONLY PROCEED IF YOU ARE 18+

This first chapter is inspired by the GIF below from @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 's ShamelessHoesForChris writing challenge. Click here to know more

A/N: I do not know Chris Evans personally. This fic is a work of imagination and should only be used as such. It doesn't comment on Chris or anybody else personally. It is also not meant to destroy his reputation or paint him in a bad light. I admire the guy and he really seems like a genuinely nice person. Again, I repeat, THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION SO TREAT IT AS SUCH!

A/N 2: I did search quite a lot on the internet and didn't come across a fic like this. Which makes me nervous and also kind of excited that I get to do something unique? Please please give me your criticism and feedback on this! Would love to hear your thoughts.

A/N 3: I have used a few big words throughout the series because this fic is from Chris' POV and we all know that he's a bit of a wordsmith 😅 I had never even heard these words before in my life. So please let me know if I have used them in an incorrect manner.

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr and AO3, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

The best thing about shooting Defending Jacob? Chris got to stay in his house in Boston. The worst part about working on the set? He was currently stuck in a room engulfed in hot, angry flames of fire. The fire had abruptly started due to a short circuit and spread across the set in the blink of an eye. Coughing, Chris doubled down on the floor, his breathing becoming more laboured with each second.

The smoke stung his eyes as he looked around for a fire extinguisher. He tried calling for help, but only small grunts managed to escape his lips. Just as he was on the verge of losing consciousness, he heard a voice. Your voice.

"Is anyone here?" you called out, your voice faint in his ears. "Hello?"

Chris tried to shout again, but only sank further towards the floor.

Luckily, you opened the door of his room and found his almost crumpled body on the ground. Using the fire extinguisher, you managed to douse as many flames as you could, while also covering Chris with a thick blanket. As the room was still filled with smoke, you pressed a wet towel on his face, asking him to breathe through his nose.

Slowly, you managed to drag him out of the room and into the corridor, the fire reduced to embers in most places thanks to your fire extinguisher. Chris being a heavy man, you tried your best to support his weight as much as you could, your body almost stooping to form a right angle.

Just as you thought you might be in the clear, you heard a crack from above. Looking up, you realised that the ceiling was about to cave in and so, on impulse, you pushed Chris out of the way, as portions of the false ceiling fell on you, knocking you unconscious.

Chris, in his state, vaguely realised what happened, before he lost his balance and fell to the ground a few feet away from you, his left arm stretched towards your limp body, as if reaching out.

Sirens of the firetruck and the ambulance filled the heavy air. A deep groan escaped his lips as he attempted to crawl towards you, a failed effort. Where did it all go so wrong? he thought. I was supposed to be the one to save you angel! You should be falling in love with me!! And break-up with your good for nothing fiancé!

Overwhelmed with emotions, Chris started drifting off to sleep, your name leaving his lips in the form of a desperate whisper.

🔥

8 MONTHS AGO

Chris met you for the first time at the table read for Defending Jacob. You didn't strike him as anyone special. Being the Junior Assistant Scriptwriter for the series, you were just in the room as a formality. It was your job to jot down the minutes of the meeting, and have the parts of the script marked which were supposed to be changed slightly.

You managed to stay invisible for more such meetings. An introvert by nature, you kept to yourself even when the shooting started.

It was in the Week 4 of the shooting when Chris actually started to notice you. He realised you were always absent from his house parties, never stayed around on the set for after-work shenanigans and, you never hung out with any of your crew-mates for a drink.

What really drove his attention towards you were your random acts of kindness. He once saw you feeding a homeless man in the alley behind the set. Unknown to you, it was where Chris often hid from his cast and crew to smoke.

Then there was the bit with setting up of a mobile blood donation camp on the set, which was completely your idea. He had also seen you distribute fliers for animal adoption centres and NGOs who fought for climate preservation.

You always made sure everyone on the set ate before you did, and the ones who couldn't due to work, you were sure to help them and share their load so they could have lunch.

But one particular incident made him see that you were no ordinary woman.

It was a particularly tough day on the set. They were shooting the 35-second sex scene between him and Michelle. While these scenes looked easy on the screen, they always made Chris feel uneasy about himself. "What if my body is not upto the mark?" , "I don't want to hurt Michelle in any way" , "God I hope I don't touch her inappropriately by mistake" and more such troubling thoughts clawed at his mind. After the scene finally ended, he felt the lustful eyes of the crew feasting on him, admiring his body on display.

He hurried towards his van, avoiding to look at anyone, until his eyes met yours for a total of 5 seconds. He expected to see the same smirk to be reflected in your eyes as everyone else's. Instead, he saw a completely different emotion. He saw sadness, sympathy, and most importantly, recognition of his discomfort etched on your face.

After that, Chris started to keep a close eye on you. You always wore comfortable clothes, with loads of pockets. Yet somehow, they always fit you well. He also noticed that you always got your own lunch, refusing to eat the food available on the set.

A few days after filming the sex scene, he decided to try to speak with you. Palms sweaty, he headed towards you and gently said your name.

"Hi," he said, and stopped.

"Hello Mr Evans," you greeted him back, a little surprised that he knew your name.

He continued to look at you, bright cerulean eyes bearing into yours, apparently lost. You blinked twice, unfazed, and a little uncomfortable, "Can I help you sir?"

Chris shook his head slightly. He was so used to women fawning all over him, that your utter lack of excitement on seeing him deterred him a bit.

He cleared his throat, a little flustered, *Ahem yeah… I wanted to ask… something… karaoke!" he managed to mumble, "It's karaoke night at my house. Tomorrow. Will you come? At night?"

"Umm… No Mr Evans. I am sorry I will not be able to make it," you politely declined while taking a small step back.

"Oh. Uhh… well we can have it any other night if you want," he cleared his throat again, sweat starting to gather on his forehead as he noticed your movement, "You never visit any of my house-parties."

You smiled a bit, "I like to go home early. I want to spend as much time as I can with my fiancé and my cat."

Chris raised his eyebrows at that revelation, "Fiancé? I… I don't see a ring."

"That's because there isn't one," your smile widened as you pulled the chain around your neck and revealed a locket. It was an intricately carved sunflower locket, with small, delicate curls nestled inside the petals.

Chris glanced at it with disdain. It looked hand-made, cheap, "Is that… is it made from clay?"

"Yes Mr Evans," you beamed at the locket, admiring it with love and pride, "My fiancé is a potter and he made this himself. It took him over 6 hours just to carve all the petals. But he still made it because he knows how much I love sunflowers."

"So he's too poor to give you an appropriate ring?" Chris snapped at you.

Offended, you looked at him in shock and anger as he continued. "You deserve someone who can afford to give you an expensive engagement ring. Not some cheap craft project."

You grit your teeth at his comment, "Unlike some people, I don't look at the price of the gifts, I look at their value. While this," you held the locket in front of his eyes, "is worthless for you, it is priceless for me."

You placed the locket back inside your shirt and walked away. Chris stood rooted at the spot, biting his cheek hollow. He hadn't meant to drive you away. He had just wanted you to see him as a prospective partner.

As he turned towards his trailer, an idea popped into his head.

🔥

Next Friday saw you and your fiancé walk into the bowling alley. The production house had organised a "Bring Your Partner to Work Day" and you both were excited to step out of your routine lives.

A few people on the set recognised your fiancé Aiden from his YouTube channel. Kenneth, an Assistant Set Designer, drooled over him, "Maaahhnnn! I love your pottery videos! They are so calming dude. How do you make them so relaxing?"

The ever shy and soft-spoken Aiden gushed at the compliment, turning a shade of red which you always found adorable. Aiden was almost the same height as you, with a lean figure and a kind, freckled face. Your friends always told you that Aiden's looks were nothing to brag about, but you disagreed. Because for you, this man was the most handsomest, cutest and sexiest person in the world.

And you knew he felt the same way about you. That's why, even after being together for almost 5 years now, you two still looked at each other with heart eyes.

As the party progressed, you made sure to avoid Chris, and so far, you were successful. That was until he softly said your name.

With dread in your stomach, you and Aiden turned around to face the man. Aiden knew of your previous encounter with Chris, and tried to square his shoulders as much as possible, but Chris' towering physique and personality literally made it impossible for Aiden to appear tough.

You gave Chris a curt nod and received a sweet smile in response.

"I believe I owe you an apology," he confessed, "I am sorry. My behavior that day was inexcusable." He paused for reaction, but looking at your hesitant faces, he continued, "It was quite a hectic day on the set and I guess I took it all out on you," he looked towards you, "You know I am capricious by nature. It takes me some time to become gregarious. But," he raised his hands in the air, "I repeat, the way I acted was inexcusable. I am sorry."

He extended his arm towards Aiden, "You are a porter I believe."

"Potter, sir," Aiden corrected while shaking his hand and introducing himself.

You bit your tongue, knowing that Chris was mocking you with his false apology.

He invited Megan to join the conversation, "Megan loves handmade ceramics. Maybe she would be interested in your work."

Introductions were made again, and as the conversation pursued, it arrived at the topic of your marriage.

"Have you guys decided on a date yet?" asked Megan as Chris looked at you.

"We are planning to get married as soon as the shooting ends for DJ," you smiled.

"Oh really? Wow that's… unusual," Megan tried her best to hide her surprise.

"We don't know exactly when will the shooting end," Chris said with a frown on his face.

"That's not an issue Mr Evans. We are actually planning to get married at the courthouse," revealed Aiden.

"You know if money is an issue then we would be more than happy to help you guys out," Chris offered in a sincere tone.

"Oh no no Mr Evans. Money isn't an issue," you clarified, "We have decided to donate the money we had intended to spend on the wedding."

"But thank you so much for the generous offer, we really appreciate it," Aiden added with a sincere smile.

"You know a lot of couples are doing that nowadays. It's a trend I believe," Megan commented, "Where are you going to make the donation?"

"The local orphanage where I grew up. We both love kids and, it just seemed to be the perfect choice," Aiden beamed at you.

You mirrored his expression while Chris scowled. "I think everybody should get the wedding of their dreams, and you" he stated, pointing towards you, "deserve much more than a courthouse wedding. Don't you want to get married in a beautiful church? Walk down the aisle in a gorgeous white gown? And get married to a man who can actually fulfill your wishes and desires?"

Squaring your shoulders, you looked at Chris dead in the eye, "I am marrying the man of my dreams Mr Evans. The wedding ceremony doesn't matter to me. What does matter is the beautiful life we will begin together. Now if you will excuse us," you linked your arm with Aiden's, "we need to leave."

Chris watched you leave as Megan tried to distract him with something else. Tonight did not go the way he had anticipated.

He left the party shortly after you, directly heading for his home. Standing under the cold shower, he tried to reason with himself. He was acting out of character. There was no reason for his behavior. You had made it ample clear that you loved your fiancé and that nobody in the world could sway you.

Then why was he so hell-bent on claiming you as his?

Because she's perfect for you, a voice answered him.

Yeah, but she belongs to someone else, he argued.

So what?, the voice urged, Fight for her. You saw her wimp of a fiancé. You can break him into two pieces without breaking a sweat. She is made for you. Just you, and nobody else.

"I… Just… No," Chris stammered loudly as he shook his head, trying to get rid of the voice in his mind.

He tried to meditate, but it didn't work. Dodger too, was unable to distract him. Even his books on self-help and mental health were of no use.

As a last resort, he opened his laptop, but his fingers halted at the search bar, the cursor blinking back at him.

He was too tempted to search for you again. The last time he had Googled you, he had been satisfied with the results. You often volunteered with a few NGOs, coordinated multiple donation drives, visited orphanages and taught underprivileged children. His heart had melted at a particular photograph- you were holding an 8-month-old girl in your arms, while looking over a painting drawn by a 4-year-old boy as the child looked up at you with a toothy smile.

It reminded him of everything he wanted to have, but still couldn't.

He closed his eyes and started kneading his forehead with his palms. Everybody he knew always only had the best things about him. Right from Scarlett to Mark to Olivia to every fucking person he had ever worked with, everybody said he deserved to have a loving wife, a stable family.

And yet, here he was, on a Friday night, home alone with a beer bottle, on the verge of anxiety.

Was it just anxiety though?

Who the fuck is Aiden and why does he deserve to be with her? the voice in his head was back.

They love each other, they want to get married, Chris reasoned.

He doesn't hold a candle next to you, the voice persisted, People love money more than they love others. She will come to you. But you need to let her know you are available. You need to take her to-

"No," Chris interrupted the voice loudly, "No. This is unhealthy. No."

Reaching for his phone, he searched for his therapist's number, when the voice chuckled, You really think a shrink is going to help you with this? Eh? They are only going to ask you to fuck another pussy, or read more books. And I will be damned before you touch another book about trees.

Chris shook his head again, but in vain. Unable to find the number in his contacts, he turned to Google for the second time that night and started searching for therapists in his area. The voice tut-ted, Yeah, as if the psycho doctor is going to shut their trap about Chris Evans crying over a girl.

Chris almost crushed his bottle in frustration. He couldn't let the voice take over. Not now. Not after working his ass off to get where wanted in his career. Taking a deep breath, he looked at the screen again and came across the headline- "Why Do People Write Fanfiction?" The word fanfiction seemed vaguely familiar to him. He was going to ignore the article and scroll downwards, but the brief underneath the headline made him stop- …mostly, people write fanfiction to stay in touch with the characters they love," says leading Psychologist Andrea Williams.

Intrigued, he opened the article and started reading. Then he opened another, and another and by the time he was done, he had read 6-7 articles on the concept of fanfiction and what it entailed.

Sighing, he opened a new word document. He was reluctant to type a letter, let alone a whole fictional story. He had tried everything and yet, you chose to occupy a rent-free space in his mind.

Now all he needed was a reference.

He minimised the document, and opened a new tab on his browser. His hesitant fingers typed the words - Chris Evans Fanfiction - into the search bar, and he instantly winced.

Millions of search results were displayed before him, and as he read the descriptions of each one of them, he realised that 99% of these stories were porn. There was no sugar-coating it. On the 5th page of the search results, he luckily found a story sans the erotica. It was a cute one-shot about him going on a first date with the reader. He read it with squinted eyes, afraid that a sex scene might jump out of the blue, but luckily, nothing of the sort happened.

Chris liked reading it. It was an innocent story filled with romance.

But the only problem? It was written from the reader's point of view. He checked a few others, and realised they were all written from the women's perspective, not his.

He sat back in his chair, turning his head such that he was looking at the ceiling, contemplating his options.

You want her, the voice whispered.

Reluctantly, he typed the first word that came to his mind. Your name.

Chris rested his chin on his palm, wondering where to start. If this were fiction, would tonight have gone different? Would you have visited his house for karaoke that night?

Tapping his fingers on the desk, he bit his tongue in thought. Thinking it was better to start at the beginning, he started typing from his POV-

The first time I saw her I thought she was pretty. I saw her during meetings and the shooting. Then one day I saw her giving food to a homeless man-

Deleting his words, Chris shook his head. This was insane! Right? You were a real human being and it was unethical of him to write this! He needed to learn to handle his feelings.

If you don't have the balls to fight for her, then be with her in the stories you write. Grow a spine Evans, whispered the insulting voice.

Hesitating, he tried to write another paragraph, which ended up getting deleted.

Try again, the voice coaxed him. Pour your heart into this. Write better.

Taking a sip of the beer, Chris started typing again-

It was lunchtime when I saw her arranging some equipment on the table. Her back was facing me as I carefully approached her, afraid to startle her. I breathed in her scent, light, floral and fresh, before whispering her name.

She turned around, a bit surprised to see me, but she smiled nevertheless. Oh gosh her smile. I had seen her smile a few times on the set, but in person, it took my breath away.

"Hi," I managed to greet her shyly. She matched my response.

"I was wondering if you would like to sing karaoke with me? There's a karaoke party tonight at my house if you would like to come," I asked her hopefully.

Her expression turned remorseful as she apologised, "I cannot come Mr Evans. My fiancé won't let me."

Imagine my surprise when I found out about her fiancé. "I didn't know about your fiancé. Why won't he let you come?" I asked her, concerned as she started sniffing a bit.

"He's… he's very strict Mr Evans. He doesn't like it when I go out with my fri-friends or co-workers," she shared between her light sobs.

My heart broke into pieces on hearing her confession. I had often noticed her taciturn behaviour on the set, but I had no idea about the reason behind it.

I raised my hands to cup her face. I was itching to wipe her tears with my lips, but instead, I used my thumbs.

"I want to help you. Please let me," I requested.

"Nobody can help me Mr Evans. I am stuck with a monster." She pulled a chain from underneath her shirt and I got a glimpse at the marks on her neck. "Aiden gave me this chain and locket instead of an engagement ring. He said it will be better than a ring. And now he-" she started sobbing harder. I pulled her into my chest, running my right hand through her hair as my left hand soothed her back.

"And now he uses it as a leash," my angel whispered, horrified, "he says I do not deserve a ring."

I hugged her tighter and thankfully, she buried her face in my chest, "You are no longer stuck with him. Are you listening to me?" I bent my face to bring my lips near her ears, "I will make sure that you are free of him."

She shook her head, reluctantly pulling away from me, "No Mr Evans. I cannot-"

"Yes you can," I interrupted her. "You are going to come to my house for karaoke tonight. Message Aiden right now, and tell him that I will be dropping you home. Okay?"

After some coaxing, she agreed. I held her close as she typed out the message, her hands shaking around her mobile phone. Finally she clicked on the SEND button.

I brushed a kiss on her forehead, "Wait for me in the back alley after the shoot, okay? I will pick you up from there."

She nodded gratefully in response.

I couldn't wait for the shoot to be over that day. In my eagerness, I even messed up a few takes, mumbling over my lines like an idiot. But eventually, I got through the day.

I was excited when I picked her up after the shoot. I could see she was nervous and maybe a little bit scared, but she still entered my car anyway. So I made small talk with her and tried to put her mind at ease.

Finally, when we reached my house, she was in awe.

"This is the most beautiful house I have ever seen Mr Evans," she gasped as I led her inside, "I don't think I have ever seen anything like it before!"

I chuckled, "I am happy you like it. It… it just feels empty sometimes, you know? I find loneliness ubiquitous in this house."

You looked at her puzzled expression and smiled. "Ubi-what was that word Mr Evans?"

"Ubiquitous," I replied, "it means something that is present and is found everywhere."

"Ahh okay," she nodded, "thank you for teaching me."

"I will accept your gratitude only on one condition."

She tilted her head ever so slightly, "And what would that be Mr Evans?"

I smiled as I slightly bent down and held her hand, "You need to start calling me Christopher."

Visibly flustered, my angel looked down at her feet. "I-I can't Mr Evans," she said in a low voice.

"Why can't you?"

"I respect you too much sir," she confessed.

"Hey," I gently nudged her forehead with mine, "I want you to say my name. Please?"

I stared into her eyes as she met mine. God.

There was something about her eyes that was absolutely riveting. The depth of her eyes pulled me in towards her as I read the plethora of emotions hidden within them. Her gaze searched my face for malice, deceit, but only found love and trust in return.

I slowly cupped her face as her breath hitched in her chest. I could feel my own heart race. Bringing my face as close as I could to hers, I whispered, the distance between our lips fast closing, "Please."

She parted her lips ever so slightly. I felt her warm breath on mine as she obliged, "Christopher."

I closed my eyes as I heard the most melodious symphony, my name draped in her sweet voice.

I dipped my head to kiss her, feel the shape of her lips, but she stepped back.

"I-I am st-still engaged Chris-Christopher," she stammered.

I straightened myself, my hands no longer cupping her face, "I understand. I am sorry. Would you like-"

Before I could finish, a car honked outside. While I was curious at the intrusion, her eyes widened with fear.

"That's him," she gasped, "Aiden is here. He found me."

"How is that possible?"

"He has a location app installed on my phone through which he tracks my location," she revealed, visibly shaking at the thought of greeting her fiancé.

"Stay here. You will be safe inside. Let me handle him," I said, squeezing her shoulders.

I walked out of the house and towards the car. The vehicle didn't look in good shape, it's owner even more so.

Aiden manually rolled down his window and spat on the ground. Fumes of cheep alcohol and stale cigarette smoke escaped through the window. "Where is she?" he hollered.

"That's not your concern anymore. She's breaking up with you," I crossed my arms and stood facing him. "If you know what's good for you, you will leave her alone and stay out of her life."

Aiden exited the car at that threat, the door of the vehicle rattled as he opened it. "She said that?" he scoffed, "Color me surprised, I thought the little mouse had no fight left in her. Bring her out here. I want to hear," he wriggled a finger at me, "whatever the fuck you are saying from her own fucking mouth."

"Not going to happen Aiden. You followed her here against her own wishes. Now scoot off before I call the cops," I warned.

"You think I will be scared of some Hollywood prick who shits diamonds?" he sneered.

"No. But you should be scared of the law. You are currently harassing the owner of this private property, not to mention you have clearly abused your girlfriend mentally, emotionally and physically. So be sensible," I took a step towards him, "and fuck off."

"STOP," she shouted as she trusted towards us. She stood in front of me, as if to guard me from her monster of a fiancé, "Please don't hurt him. I will come with you. Just let him be," she pleaded with him as he smirked.

Before he could react, I pulled her behind me, making sure my body was shielding her from Aiden.

"She's a gold-digging bitch. You stay away from her," he pointed at me as he tried to reach her.

I pushed him away once and kept my hand on his weak, thin torso. Turning my head, I asked her for the last time, "Are you sure you want to go with him? I can save you. I will protect you, provide for you and keep you happy!" I urged her.

She looked at me with hope and helplessness. Slowly, she glanced at Aiden who looked like he was ready to commit murder. Sobbing uncontrollably, she removed the chain with the sunflower locket and threw it at his feet.

"Leave me alone," she managed to mumble at him.

Furious, Aiden growled and tried to pounce at her. Fortunately, I intervened on time and punched his sorry excuse of a face into the ground.

She gasped as Aiden fell with a thud. Embarrassed, he slowly got up and dusted himself, muttering under his breath as he sat inside his wreck of a car.

"Don't bother coming back to gather your stuff! I am burning it all tonight you cock-sucking bitch!" and with that outburst, Aiden was finally gone.

She was sobbing and shaking uncontrollably at what had just transpired. I wrapped her in my arms to let her know she was safe. Within moments, I felt her ease into my body.

I closed my eyes and smiled, my nose buried into her hair. My angel was safe. My angel was mine.

Chris blinked his eyes as he re-read his story. He already felt a whole lot lighter, his anxiety at ease, and mind exhausted. Clicking on SAVE, he finished the last of his beer and went to sleep, hoping that this was the end to his problems. Little did he know about the horrors that awaited him, behind the door he had just opened by writing that fictional story.

__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__--__

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Chris Evans and his characters taglist: @onetwo3000

This story: @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @carpediemm-18

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Taglists are open! Just comment, send an ask or a message!

#ShamelessHoesForChris #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chrisevans #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #dark!chris evans #chris evans rpf

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halpertstuna · 4 years ago

Text

someone to stay - jj maybank pt.2

summary: an abandoned child who felt unwanted since day one got adopted once again and was required to move to the outer banks to live with a lovely elderly woman, but just as she started to feel happy, something had to go wrong and as a result she took a job where she met none other than the blond busboy, jj maybank.

A/N: this is part the second part of my imagine “someone to stay”, if you haven’t read part one yet you can read it here

paring: jj x reader

word count: 2,171

warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of cancer, death, mentions of abandonment, almost a panic attack? probably typos

-> masterlist <-

{2/2}

(gif credit: @sebastianstahn )

The next morning you were woken up by the ringing of your phone.

“Hello?” You answered, your voice raspy. “Hi, am I speaking with Y/N Y/L/N?” a woman’s voice chimed on the other side of the line.

“You are” you replied still half asleep, trying to focus.

“I’m calling from the hospital, Dr. Brown has some news to give you about Noreen Lewis, but it’s not for the phone. Can you come here?”

As she spoke you felt your heart begin to pound out of your chest, is Noreen okay? What did she mean when she said it wasn’t for the phone?

“I- I’ll be right there” you blurted out hanging up.

You quickly brushed your teeth, showered without washing your hair, got changed and ran to the hospital.

When you got there you went up to the receptionist’s desk, asking for Dr. Brown.

You were told to go to Noreen’s room, Dr. Brown waited outside the door for you and ushered you to the chairs in front of the room. He signaled you to sit down and you hesitantly obeyed.

You tapped your foot rapidly whilst looking at him anxiously, waiting for him to talk as you played with the ring on your finger, the one Noreen gave you for your sixteenth birthday.

“there really isn’t an easy way to say this...” he started, “the chemotherapy... it wasn’t affecting the way it was supposed to-“ “what do you mean it wasn’t affecting?!” You interrupted cutting him off, your face and body radiating off infuriation and disappointment.

He continued “we did another MRI scan and found out the cancer had already progressed to stage 3B by the time we started treatment”.

You were overwhelmed, in absolute shock, you didn’t know what to say.

An exasperated look spreading across your features entangled with sorrow.

He gave you a sympathetic look, which only irritated you more.

Growing up as a child that was abandoned by their mother, meant always being pitied and looked at with sad eyes and as much as you hated it, you eventually got used to it.

But this time was different.

This time you felt absolutely useless, you despised it.

Him giving you that look only made it worse.

“Where is she? I want to see her.” You seethed through greeted teeth and furrowed your eyebrows once you noticed how much remorse his eyes held.

“Now.” Your voice firm and filled with rage as you got up.

You followed him into the room and rushed to her bed, she was asleep. “When she wakes up, it’ll probably be a good time to bid your goodbyes” Dr. Brown calmly noted exiting the room.

You sat next to her bed until it got dark, crying as you watched her sleep, lost in your thoughts.

It reminded you of that one stormy night when you were 12 and couldn’t fall asleep due to the noise of thunders, so you snuck into Noreen’s room.

You didn’t want to wake her up, but didn’t want to be alone either so as a result you just sat on the small mint coloured sofa chair near the bed, while you watched her sleep.

About half an hour later she woke up, looking at you.

“Hey” she rubbed her eyes “how long have you been sitting there?” You shrugged. “Were you watching me sleep? Cause it’s kinda creepy” she mentioned sarcastically and you snickered.

“Well, are you gonna keep sitting there or join me, muffin? I guarantee you the bed is more comfortable”.

She shifted making space for you and you quickly climbed into the bed, tucking yourself under the comforter.

You fell asleep right away, knowing you were safe.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a cough, her eyes slowly flattered open and you shifted in your seat the second you noticed she was awake.

“Hey...” you whispered with a faint smile.

She mirrored it and you felt your heart swell, even in times like these, her smile still managed to melt it.

“I’d ask how you’re feeling but that’s a stupid question” you tried laughing at your comment but instead a sob escaped your lips.

She lifted up her shaking hand and rested it on your cheek, wiping the fresh tears with her thumb

“d-don’t cry, I want my last view to be your beautiful smile” she mumbled and you giggled, nodding your head.

“Does it hurt?” You asked. “A bit” she replied nonchalantly, as if she had only fallen down slightly scraping her knee and wasn’t on the verge of death.

You reached out and held her hand in yours. You couldn’t help but shed another tear, knowing she was in pain.

“All I ever wanted since the moment I met you, was to make sure you knew how loved and cared about you are. How worthy you are of a beautiful life. I hope you know that.” You sniffed and nodded.

“I’ve lived a spectacular, full life. And I am thankful for every moment. I’ve had the privilege of knowing you, getting to watch as you turned from an inverted child who isolated her heart from all of humanity, into this incredible, caring, not to mention immensely funny and talented young woman. Who is honest, never afraid to say what’s on her mind and is completely selfless. And for that, I am thankful.”

The tears you desperately tried holding back were now streaming down your face.

“It’s ok, everything’s gonna be okay” she said in a calming tone squeezing your hand but you averted your gaze from her, unable to face her. “hey, look at me” her words soft, you turned to her with puffy red eyes, you didn’t want her to go.

“I’m going to be okay. And so are you. You’re going to achieve everything you want. Don’t be afraid to let people in my love, and from what you told me, I better be seeing you with that JJ living the happily ever after you deserve” you chuckled in tears.

She let out a series of loud coughs and you felt your heart sink.

She looked up at you with loving eyes “I’m going to join Jasper now, and I’ll tell him all about the daughter I was blessed with” you held her hand tighter as if it would keep her here, with you.

“We’ll be watching you, making sure you’re okay. I’m ready to let go now. I will always, always love you muffin” she confirmed and you nodded quickly “I love you too, thank you for everything, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you” you sobbed out.

She smiled at your words, then closed her eyes.

You felt the grip on your hand loosen, a few seconds later an audible, long beep came from the ECG.

You refused to believe the scenario in front of you, you had to get out of there.

You sprinted out of the hospital stepping into the cold, dark night.

You started running, you didn’t know where, you just knew you had to leave.

A series of heartbreaking sobs left your slightly parted quivering lips, rocking your body as you felt your heart crumble into a million pieces.

Your vision was blurry from tears and you couldn’t see a thing.

Out of breath you came to a halt, resting your hands on your knees as you tried stopping the tears.

Your chest heaving, your breathing only intensified as you felt rain drops fall on your skin.

You didn’t even notice you were stood outside your house until you looked up. The rain got stronger and the wind blew through your now wet clothes.

You were a sobbing wreck. You grasped the hem of your shirt in pain, balling your hand into a fist and felling to the ground, the other hand tangled in the roots of your hair, pulling slightly.

You felt helpless, cold and alone, that was until two arms wrap around your small frame, shielding you from the rain.

Your eyes darted up in fear, but once you recognised the scent of JJ’s cologne which you memorised from all the times he drove you home, you relaxed in his touch.

“it’s okay, it’s just me” he cooed rubbing circles on the small of your back. you cried into his chest in which you found comfort.

“It’s not fare” you whimper, gasping for air.

You couldn’t breath, you felt your chest heat up.

You started choking, coughing as the air just didn’t seem to find it’s way to your lungs.

“Hey hey hey, look at me” he demanded in a hush tone, holding your shoulders in arm length, “everything’s going to be okay, you just have to breath” you looked at him as if he was speaking a foreign language.

He pulled you back to him, placing your head on his chest which rose and fell in a steady pace “breath with me” he stroked your hair gently.

It was hard but after a few minutes you managed to steady your breathing back to normal.

He helped you up and into the house, then let you shower and change into dry clothes, whilst he sat on the other side of the door.

He was too scared to leave you alone, but still respected your privacy.

When you finished, JJ took the liberty to make you hot chocolate and you wrapped yourself in a blanket plopping down on the couch with him beside you.

“Thank you” you broke the silence, “anytime” he gave you a closed mouth smiled.

“what were you doing here anyway?” you questioned.

“I was really worried after last night and when you didn’t show up for work today I knew something was wrong, so I finished my shift and came straight here to check up on you” you looked at him with a surprised expression as he confirmed he genuinely cared.

‘Don’t be afraid to let people in’ the words echoed through your mind.

You scooted closer to him on the couch and hugged his side. He didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you and hold you close.

“My best friend died tonight. She was all I had. She saved me but I couldn’t save her. When I was ten she adopted me and a few weeks ago she got sick. I took this job to pay for treatment but unfortunately, it didn’t help. She didn’t deserve this. And now I’m alone again. This is why I don’t let people in... they always leave.” You spoke through unshed tears.

He only held you tighter, clueless of how to respond. He knew how it felt; being unwanted, distancing yourself from others to avoid the ache you feel when they leave.

“I know how it feels, you’re lost and hurting right now, it’s okay” He showed you empathy, “and I promise, i will never leave you”.

And for the first time in a while, you felt relieved, not alone. His words gave you hope and that was a promise he intended to keep.

“Do you want to tell me about her?” He asked squeezing your shoulder gently, you didn’t even know where to start.

You went on a rant, telling so many stories and memories.

“She sounds amazing” he noted “she was” you remarked.

“Too bad I didn’t get to meet her” he regretted his words the second they left his mouth, afraid he said the wrong thing.

“She said the same thing about you!” Your voice slightly louder than you intended.

“Oh so you talked to her about me? What else did you say?” A self-satisfied smirk played across his face as he tried to lighten the mood, succeeding.

“Don’t let it go to your head Maybank” you warned nudging him lightly, an amused laugh escaped his throat.

The two of you talked for hours, it was nearly 3am and you started feeling drowsy.

“Will you stay?” You pleaded “I’m tired of being alone”.

“Of course” he swiftly responded “I’d never leave you” he promised.

You didn’t bother going to your room. He laid down on the couch and you placed your head on his chest.

His hands found your waist and you found home in each others embrace.

He kissed your forehead, lingering for a bit longer than he should, and you dozed off in his arms to the sound of his heartbeat.

The sight of your smaller figure wrapped around his looked so natural to him. He couldn’t comprehend how someone could leave you.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed it was morning.

Your eyes flattered open and you greeted him with a croaky “hey”.

A smile spread across his face as he greeted you back.

“Were you watching me sleep? Cause it’s kinda creepy” you sarcastically marked and he chuckled.

The two of you gazed silently into each other’s eyes for a few minutes before both falling asleep.

He helped you through your highs and lows after Noreens death, always by your side. He was there for you when you needed someone the most, someone to stay.

And he did.

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headoverjojo · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Errm if your ask box is still open can I ask for a hc of La Squadra who have to wake up their s/o (or crush) for a mission while knowing that she has been very sleep deprived lately??? I hope it does make sense ^^''''' also if your not comfortable with it then don't mind the request, I don't want to force you!

Hello there, dear! Oh gosh, I’m terribly sorry for this MASSIVE delay ç.ç I hope these hcs may make amend for all this waiting! I hope you’ll like them :3

La Squadra di Esecuzione have to wake their s/o up for a mission while knowing that she has been very sleep deprived lately

(Under the cut for lenght!)

Risotto Nero

When it comes to sleeping habits, Risotto and his s/o are very much alike. They can sleep a decent amount of time just when they’re together, basically nestled in each other’s arms. Unfortunately, Risotto never had a decent sleeping schedule, mostly due to his many duties as leader of the Squadra. The last period, in particular, had been really hectic, and he couldn’t stay in bed with them as much as he would have wanted, and this, unfortunately, affected not only him, but his s/o too. She couldn’t sleep, and she could barely do the basic things during the day. Risotto couldn’t see her like this; but, at the same time, he couldn’t neglect his work. They found a compromise: she would have slept on his chest while he was working, at least for a couple of days, to allow her to recover a little. For the first days it worked: she was finally waking up with pale circles under her eyes and not as dark as they were before. But, of course, this couldn’t last forever…

They had a mission, a sudden and urgent one. The Boss had sent an email, requesting his immediate services. Risotto had no alternative but to wake his s/o up; he gently kissed her cheek, slightly shaking her, in order to wake her up. His heart almost broke when she whimpered, annoyed, and tried to go back to sleep, but she really couldn’t. He shook her again, this time with more energy, and she finally woke up, still tired; however, when he explained why he had so “cruelly” woken her up, she got up, to get ready to go. The sooner the mission was accomplished, the sooner she would have gone back to sleep, and with her Risotto too, all in all.

Prosciutto

Prosciutto’s s/o had a very light sleep, and a bit louder noise could wake her up. And, unfortunately, right near her and Prosciutto’s bedroom their neighbors were particularly… noisy. She felt she could become crazy hearing that endless loud snoring. It seemed like a bear with a cold! She tried to bear it as much as she could, but, soon, the lack of sleep became evident. She fell asleep even while mixing her coffee, while watching the TV, one time even during a meeting,even if Risotto closed an eye on it… In the end, at least until their bedroom would have been soundproofed, she decided to sleep at the HQ. And, finally, she managed to recover a little, to Prosciutto’s immense relief. She really needed it… she was on the verge of breaking down. She was nervous, tired and snappy… and how couldn’t she be? She couldn’t sleep even two hours per night, it was ridiculous! Unfortunately, her decent sleeping nights didn’t last as long as they both would have liked to.

One night, Prosciutto came to wake her up. He nagged her shoulder, calling her name until she grumbled that yes, she was awake, she was awake… what was that? She listened to Prosciutto’s explanations with a foggy mind, still sleepy and tired. What timing… she sighed, closing her eyes, missing Prosciutto’s upset face. He hated to have to do it, to bother his beloved s/o right when she was finally sleeping… but a mission was their priority, and no one was available; he would have surely asked someone else, even Ghiaccio, to come with him, but it wasn’t possible. Luckily it didn’t seem a long or tiring mission… if they were lucky, they would have been at home in a few hours and she would have been able to go back to sleep soon.

Pesci

For Pesci’s s/o, having a cold means getting immensely tired, because she can’t sleep. Her runny nose, coughing and hoarse throat keeps her awake all night long, and they torment her even during daytime. Pesci, while sleeping in another room -she wants him to do so; she doesn’t want him to lose precious sleep because of her and to risk to get a cold too, she’s more than enough-, tries to do everything he can for her, from buying her proper medicines to always refilling her with tissues, water and balsamic candies to soothe a little the hoarseness in her throat. More than anything, he tries to give her tranquillity, to allow her to sleep during the day, if her cold finally allows her to do so. Eventually the cold became weaker, and she could finally start to recover all the lost sleeping hours; it was such a relief to see her sleeping with a serene look, after days that seemed an eternity… the last thing Pesci wanted to do was to bother her, but we don’t always get what we want.

Risotto had called him in the middle of the night; he had to set off immediately for his and F/N’s next mission. Everyone else, including Risotto, was busy, and Risotto still didn’t think that Pesci was ready enough to handle a mission alone, so he wanted him to be with his more expert s/o. Pesci sighed, going to his s/o, who was, finally, sleeping peacefully. He hated to do it, but Risotto’s orders were unquestionable… he kneeled next to her, gently tapping her shoulder and calling her. His heart clenched when he saw her sniffing and grumbling, annoyed, but he couldn’t do otherwise… however, when he told her why he had woken her up, her tiredness seemed to disappear; they had a mission to accomplish, it wasn’t time to sleep!

Formaggio

Formaggio and his s/o, when they’re not busy murdering their targets, are often assigned to reconnaissance and espionage missions. Thanks to Little Feet, they can shrink down and comfortably spy their current target from a high spot. However, being shrinked for so long kinda messes the body up; both their eating habits and sleeping schedules changed randomly. Formaggio was used to it, by now, but not his s/o, who, even after days, still suffered from insomnia and general tiredness. She tried everything, from sleeping pills to white noises, but nothing seemed to work. She could sleep at most for one, two hours per day, absolutely not enough to be well rested. Even if she was so tired that she didn’t feel like even taking a nice walk in the garden, sleep just didn’t come to her. Luckily, after a few more days, she seemed to finally be able to sleep at least a decent amount of hours… but, of course, missions always come at the wrong time.

Formaggio sighed, watching closely her sleeping face. She had dark circles under her eyes, and even in sleep she seemed tired. For a long moment, he was honestly tempted not to wake her up, to go alone… but he knew she would have complained a lot. She hated to be left behind… and she always wanted to keep an eye on him. Not like she didn’t trust his abilities -she knew he was more than good in his job-, but… she wanted to be sure he was safe. So, peppering her face with tiny kisses, he woke her up, apologizing for the ungodly hour. However, she knew that he wouldn’t have woken her up just for fun, so she got up, mulbing and yawning, searching her clothes. She would have slept after the mission, maybe for a couple of days straight…

Melone

Melone and his s/o have a lot in common; one of those things is their love for research and experiments. Melone has a pretty fucked up sleeping schedule, and so he works a lot during night, and during daytime he naps a lot. His s/o, however, isn’t used to be a nightowl, and this affects her a lot. Even if Melone always tells her to sleep at night, she doesn’t listen to him; she wants to stay up and to work with him, not to check his datas in the morning! As much as Melone loves to work with his s/o, he’s also worried about her health; he sees her growing more and more tired, and she simply doesn’t listen to him! So stubborn… And, just to aggravate the already bad situation, during daytime she can’t sleep, even if she tries hard. In the end, Melone managed to convince her to sleep just when she was about to fall asleep during an important team meeting. That night she was finally in bed and not perched on a chair near him, and he could hear the quiet and reassuring sound of her deep breath. She was sleeping… but not for long.

While he was working on a new research, the faint beep of a mail echoed in the room. After reading it, he sighed, rubbing his eyes, and he turned to his sleeping s/o. It was so cruel to wake her up now that she was finally resting… however, there was no choice. She would have hated him for not waking her up for a mission, and, well, he needed her, her brain and her stand. They were supposed to go together right because they completed each other; he would have been way more vulnerable without her. So, even if his heart was heavy, he kneeled next to her, gently taking her hair away from her face, kissing her cheek and calling her. She sighed, tiredly opening her eyes, just murmuring a “Mission?”. Melone nodded, and she sighed, slowly getting up, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Well, work is work… They just had to finish it as soon as possible!

Illuso

Among the members, Illuso and his partner are the only ones who never need a safe house, as it’s enough for them to jump into a mirror to be safe. Because of this, they are often assigned to long missions, but this, after a bit, isn’t good for Illuso’s s/o. Illuso, being the Man in the Mirror’s user, isn’t affected by the mirror world’s different physics laws, but his s/o is. Staying a lot inside the mirror world messes up with her body and habits, leaving her tired and even disorientated. When she comes into the real world, she can’t even sleep well for a lot of days! And this happened that time too; it was already four days since their last mission -and escape in the mirror world-, but she still couldn’t sleep more than one, two hours per night. She tried to nap during daytime, but it wasn’t really effective, not when Ghiaccio and Formaggio were around making noise. But, when she finally started to settle down and finally sleep a decent amount of time, an unexpected mission was thrown at her and Illuso. Of course.

Illuso was still a bit tired too, after such a long mission. And his s/o… she was still recovering from the last mission and permanence in the mirror world, he couldn’t ask her to come with him, to tire even more her already exhausted body… he sighed, watching her shifting under the covers, like she was feeling his turmoil. No… he couldn’t do it to her. She would have hated him and herself, if he had taken care of that mission alone. He gently shook her arm, calling her name more times, until she opened her eyes, with a low and tired mutter. She sighed, recognizing the “mission look” in her boyfriend’s eyes, and slowly got up, lightly slapping her cheeks in order to wake up for real. Well, they were murders… their life was like this, all in all.

Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio’s sleeping habits were weird, to be honest. There were times when he slept all night, still, without moving even a single hair. There were times when, instead, he was just restless. He slept too little, he always rolled and tossed in the bed, nervous, until he finally got up, when he was too angry at his “stupid body” to lay down. During the “restless times”, Ghiaccio’s girlfriend too couldn’t sleep a lot. It wasn’t easy doing so when next to you there were continuous movements and grumbles; it almost seemed to be on a boat during a storm! Even so, she never blamed him; she knew he had anger issues and it wasn’t his intention to keep her awake… still, this took a heavy tool on her body. She felt weak and tired, and barely managed to go through her daily routine. Ghiaccio noticed it and, not being stupid, he knew it was his fault, and this just made him even angrier at himself. To allow her to sleep at least a decent amount of hours, he decided to go to sleep, at least until he was calm again, in another room. Even if she didn’t like to stay away from him, she had to admit that now she could finally sleep and recover; her sleeping bliss, however, didn’t last long.

He just stood in front of her bed for a while, not knowing what to do. Had he to wake her up? Or just accomplish that sudden mission alone? He stared at her sleeping face, at the darc circles under her eyes… and then he saw her angry face, and he already knew what she would have said to him. That they were partners, that they had to go together… he rubbed his forehead, grumbling, but then he sighed, finally coming to a decision. It wasn’t right to leave her behind; he would have hated it, in her place. So, gentler than usual, he called her, caressing her hair, sighing when he saw how tired she still was, when she opened her eyes. However, when she heard they had a mission, every trace of tiredness seemed to vanish from her face, as she got up; time was running and they had to run even faster than it!

#jjba #vento aureo #la squadra di esecuzione #risotto nero #prosciutto #pesci #formaggio #melone #illuso #ghiaccio #fem s/o #s/o who is sleep deprived #headcanons #sfw #anon ask

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lstories · 4 years ago

Text

Timor and Cole

No Fear story (part 1)(fearplay)

"The dragons of emotions, feared and respected around the world. The family was most respected in China and Japan as most of the world doesn't believe in the supernatural. The part's of the world that do belive make offers of everything the dragons might need as to not offend or upset them. The dragons lived in peace with the humans but never showed them there true form unless they needed to feed. Every dragon fed off the emotions and feelings of humans to keep the emotion tied to them in check for the world. If they didn't feed off of their preferred emotion or went too long without feeding the area around them would become corrupt with that feeling. That doesn't mean the dragons didn't feed of regular food as well but they didn't need to feed off as much as their size should've needed. All the dragons were respected for what they did, be it help or hinder the world. Some religions called them monsters and some called them God's. People everywere told stories and legends of them, some of great kindness from some and terror form other's. In China a whole year was named after them but it only encouraged there already massive egos, and because of that they tried to live in the most special parts of the world. The tallest mountains, the oceans, in cityscapes where they would pretend to be human or in dense forests where humans would dare each other to trek. Story's of old have been falling out as the age of technology was setting in and people believed less and less. This ment less hiding and more spectacular acts from the dragon's for all but a few.

A younger child named Timor, was the dragon of fear. He could change his form to anything he wished and create monsters and structures out of seemingly nothing so he could more easily scare humans. Because of a disagreement with his family, they banished him from coming back to the temple but this had happened before. Timor had to travel the world to find a new home, it took him nearly weeks to find a nice forest to make overwhelmingly scary in a almost empty town in (sigh)...... Oregon. A small town surrounded by forests with a smaller forest in the middle of the town where he made his temporary home. There is about a few thousand people here but it is fun to mess with them sometimes. A few missing animals found on the other side of the middle forest, a few missing road signs, and scarring the occasional drunk lingering outside the bar for a quick meal. An adult always makes for a bigger meal than a child but a child's fear always tastes better.

After he left his family he got quite lonely. No amount of minor fun he could have in his forest could compare to just talking to his family. So that's why I'm here, talking to you." Timor said, boredom covering his face after his story. The small orange ball with a crude mud face drawn on slightly shifts and falls on its side. "Great comedic timing Garrett" the dragon said with a small grin. "I'm hungry. I'm going to get a snack from town, you want anything while I'm out" he said while stretching his back "....." "Fine I'll get you sushi" He said trying not to sound upset. As he got up, he let the trees he was holding with his tail go and as they flung up into there original position pine needles sprinkled over the slightly burned ground. As the moonlight came back to the forest his black scales shone bright enough to light up the surrounding ground of the forest that would usually be covered by the trees. "you always want something fancy and its hard to get it back here before it breaks" he said under his breath without looking at the ball. "........" "Yes, you do. You always do" he yelled back at the ball with a single claw pointing at it. "......................" "NO I DON'T! You know what, I'll just get you a fried salmon" he said fully yelling at the ball while walking away. "....." "Oh screw off and I'll see you later"

Cole's POV:

"What I thought was going to be a nice Friday has now turned into that day" Cole thought. Every month it's something new. The 3 boys that always tormented him were his classmates. Everyone calls them Butch, Brock, and Brutes because no one knew there real names. He just decided not to call them by there real names anymore. Last time, they where framing him by breaking into the arcade and locking him in the extra prizes closet. Now there dragging him by his arms while riding there bikes. Only 2 of them were dragging him while the 3rd was tailing behind. Cole's jeans where ripped and his knees where bleading since he had to alternate between his knees, heels, and the sole of his foot. His brown hair was a tangled mess in the wind and his jaw was going numb from holding it tight for so long. He was on the verge of screaming but he knew that if he screamed or called for help they would start dragging him by his legs. They've been dragging him for almost 20 minutes and his legs felt like they were going to burst into fire.

Cole knew were he was but he had no idea where the were taking him or what they would do to him this time. Cole couldn't hear a car, no shouting neighbors, not even someone walking on the sidewalk. The only thing Cole could hear was the laughter of the 2 boys carrying him everytime he struggled to lift his feet up or maybe break free of there grasp and a few dogs barking when they passed a house with some. He tried talking about it but his teachers never cared about anyone except the teachers pet. His parents were only concerned about their daughter who was now the CEO of some big business and there drug addicted middle son. There wasn't a lot going on with Cole that his parents knew of so they didn't care to much.

Once they started to stop Cole began to open his eyes and see they were at the public pool. As they got there they dropped him flat on his face directly onto the cement. Butch picked him up and pinned him to the fence while Brock ran off to the edge of the nearby woods. Brutes, the one tailing them was more or less the ring leader. He carried a lot of tools including a par of bolt cutters he used to break the lock off the chain link gate. They dragged Cole to the edge of the pool and started to talk like Cole wasn't awake "hey I think his legs need some medical attention" Butch said with a wicked grin. "Ya, we should clean it off" Brutes said while walking over to the janitors closet. Brutes reached into his backpack and grabbed a mallet that he definitely stole. After a few swings he was able to break the entire door handle off and get into the janitors closet grabbing the nearest cleaning supplies he could. "This should do it" Brutes said while walking back over to Cole and Butch, cleaning supplies in both hands.

A minute later, Brock ran in and stumbled dropping all the rocks he was carrying for the group. He seemed scared to his core but he was hiding well enough from the other 2 but not enough to hide it from Cole. He knew what was coming and tried to get away but was still being held down by Butch. Brutes began to pour the cleaning supplies into the pool, grabbed Cole and jumped in. As they got to the surface, Cole couldn't move his arms and his legs and feet were being destroyed by the extra chemicals in the water. Brutes didn't feel a thing, he couldn't, he was born without most of his pain receptors and would always do the painful things for the group. Coles needed to keep his mind off the pain, it was the only way to get threw there torture. The forest always calmed Cole down. He memorized most of the outer edges of the woods neer the pool but this time when he looked back it was different. A few of the big branches were gone and he swore he could see some faint lights near the base of the trees. He didn't get a long look at the forest before he started getting pelted by rocks. As he jolted by the new pain in his chest he looked back to see Butch and Brock getting ready to throw more rocks. Stone after stone was thrown at Cole and Brutes, a few of the sharper rocks cut into Coles arms and hands with the water immediately surrounding it. After about 20 seconds of rocks being thrown at him he heard Brutes tell the others to stop. Cole could feel every impact point and his legs being burned from the inside out. Cole didn't have much time to think or react as Brutes pulled him under the water.

Cole tried to fight him but he didn't know he was going under and didn't get a full breath before being pulled down. He didn't want to let out the little air he had so he barely fought back. As he was fighting with what little he had left in him, Brutes grabbed Cole's head and opened his eyes to the chemicals. Cole tried to scream but couldn't with the little bit of air left in his lungs gone he had to get to the surface. Before he could move thow Brutes climbed onto his shoulders and jumped out, pushing Cole deeper down. As Cole finally climbed to the surface he was gasping for air and coughing up water struggling to move his lungs enough to breathe. Cole heard the bikes begin to move but couldn't open his eyes to see them.

The pain was started to get to Cole. It hurt to have his eyes open and he needed to get the chemicals off of him. Cole knew that there was medical supply's at the bottom of every life guard tower, he just had to find it. Cole looked as shut as his eyes could be. After a bit of searching and stumbling he found the supply box and forced it open. He found some eye drops in the with the rest of the supplies that anyone at a pool could need and more. Once he was able to force his eyes open enough to put the drops in all he could feel was euphoria from a lack of pain. Then the pain of his legs kicked in. The burning was unbearable but luckily there was bandages and gauze in the box too. He was used to this, those 3 would always do this sort of stuff. Cole wasn't the only one on the receiving end, there were 4 others the boys would go after. Logic dictates that they would all be friends and go back after the bullies like in books and movies, but not even the outcasts would be friends with Cole. "He's to cold and he doesn't seem feel anything. He's unnerving and unsettling and bad things seem to happen all around him." That's the other kind of stuff they said. Cole never bothered to memorize what they said because they would just say it again some other time. As Cole got the second bandage on his other leg he knew he had to get the chemicals off himself as soon as possible.

Cole found a small water fountain and hose by the side of the concessions stand people used for filling up water balloons that he had to use to wash cleaning supplies off himself. As he finished up washing as much as he could he felt like he was going to pass out. Cole needed to take a full shower to get the rest of the bleach of his skin and he really wanted to sleep, he needed to get home as soon as possible. His home was over 2 miles away from the pool and that was by going thru a forest. He knew if he went around the forest he would probably pass out so going thru the forest was the only option he had if he auctly wanted to sleep comfortably tonight and not have chemical's sleeping into his cuts. The water was starting to freeze on him, it might be July but the nights are still cold. Cole got up and walked out of the gate, he thought back to the fire works he saw a few days ago. His family very rarely ever got together but it was still nice when the did, everyone marvelling over the lights in the sky. He was walking along the outside of the fence, his mind raced back to the lights he saw in the trees. As he walked onto the edge of the forest he saw the broken branches, gashes in the trees, and large holes definitely made from something sharp and long, and very recently. Cole was never really afraid of anything but this was probably as close as he was going to get as his mind raced thinking of what could have made this. He used the thought of what could have made them to keep his mind off the pain and cold and soon he could see them, deep in the forest were the lights. Intrigued by the lights he knew he had to follow.

Timor's POV:

Timor's new favorite place to get food was at a small building that had some very tastey food covered in some crinkly coating. The building was next to a lake with some not so great tasting water so, he found another pond to drink from that was still in his forest. There are some fish in there too that he named and liked to talk to. "Grace, Gina, Gemma Gwen, and Genny with a G" he said just before taking a drink from the small pond. The fish were swimming around the pond rapidly as Timor came closer and further to the the pond. He talked to the fish as if they were close friends finding each other while shopping. "Ya, nothing big's been going on for me either but I did finally finish moving in with Garrett." he said while looking at the shiny fish before taking another drink. As he took one final sip he accidentally drank one of the fish while it was swimming by. He had to admit to himself that it felt nice having something moving around in his mouth, and it tasted great. Hunger almost got the better of him and he almost ate the fish whole. He let it swim in his mouth for a bit before letting it out "Oh, uh, s-sorry umm Gemma". As he said that he realized he was apologizing to a fish. At this point he knew he had fully gone insane. So he just walked away without saying anything else. He was fully alone.

As Timor was about to exit the forest he saw a group of humans. Three of them were on a small movement machines and the fourth was being dragged by his arms and bleading from his legs and feet. Timor was able to blend in with the forest just before anyone saw him. He tried to watch what they were all doing but there were to many branches in the way. One of the kids were running over and all Timor could think of was if the kid saw him and about how hungry he was for both food and emotions. When the kid came to the edge of the forest Timor was already halfway up the tree but the kid was just picking up rocks. Timor needed to feed off someone's fear so why not. He couldn't just roar at the boy otherwise the other's might hear him. He also couldn't have the boy scream or else the other's might hear him, but he could tempt the boy further into the forest. Timor started to break a few branches off of the trees trying to get the boys attention and after a few branches the boy looked up to see but saw only the trees rising and a dark night sky. As the boy was about to start running back Timor began to claw at the back of the trees while still invisible but the boy didn't seem to notice what was happening. As he ran back to the other humans, Timor saw that they somehow got into the the small lake that was surrounded by metal.

Timor watched as two of the boys jumped into the small lake. One of them seemed to stare directly at Timor and soon the two outside the lake stated to throw the rocks at the two in the water after a bit the two in the lake went underwater but only one came out for a bit. The second one was coughing up a lung as he crawled out. It started to freak Timor out so he ran back off into the forest. He watched the minor action from a far. After a minute the three left and the last one was stumbling towards one of the large towers next to the small lake. Once he got to it he began to open the small box on the side and began putting something in his eyes and putting some cloth over his knees but he ran out before he could cover his feet. The boy got a small rope and sprayed more water into himself. The boy walked out of the small lake sand got to the edge of Timor's forest and so the boys trek began, threw the forest where nightmares lay in wait and horrors untold lurk.

Timor knew his eyes glow in the dark and he would use that to start. Timor thought the boy would follow his eyes and he was right. The boy followed, trying not to fall while just walking. Timor would help the boy but only after he got his meal. Timor knew he had to be scarier and floating lights weren't going to cut it. Timor started to climb the tree behind him backwards while never taking his eyes off the boy until he reached the near to where all he had to do was close his eyes. Timor was able to stop the noise he made from jumping off the tree to the ground and started a spell. Timor watched as the boy walked past the tree where his eyes disappeared. Timor had to get in front of the boy before he could start his nightmares. It wasn't much of a problem as the boy seemed unfazed by the experience. Timor thought that anyone of his monsters could scare the boy, so why not a monster created in a mental hospital.

Cole's POV:

As Cole walked into the forest the lights he saw never moved or faltered. It was like staring at headlights of a still car but they didn't give off any surrounding light. The forest was still the same dark black and the ground was mushy and covered in pine needles but still not fully visible due to the dence trees. The lights were like a laser pointer, only shining into his eyes. As Cole drew closer to the lights started to go up one of the trees and vanished near reaching the top. He didn't have time to think of it, he knew he had to get home as soon as possible. Looking into why there were lights in the forest wasn't something he could afford to do right now, but he couldn't stop thinking of them. What were they, where did they come from, why did they leave. At least thinking about it kept his mind off the pain. While his mind raced he heard something to his left. A tall slender human thing was standing not even 10 feet away. Cole immediately ducked behind the nearest tree for cover but he didn't know if it had seen him. It had to be at least 8 feet tall and its arms and legs were out of proportion in every way. Its hands were too big, almost cartoonish in a way but it was covered in flesh like the rest of its body. Its forearms were slender, it didn't have any feet, its chest was just a ball with no features. It had no head but it had long thin legs. It wasn't bright enough to see the creature more clearly but Cole could tell it didn't have any skin and it was red everywhere. He didn't know what the crimson monster was but he knew he had to get out of there.

Cole studied the creature for a minute, but it just stood there. It was slightly swaying, barely even moving and it didn't seem to be able to stand uprite without help from something. Cole couldn't hear breathing or a heartbeat, the only sound it made was a small rustle when its nubs moved a bit over the pine needles. Cole tried to steer it away by throwing rocks in different directions but the creature never moved. Cole had no other options than to run or fight. Cole wasn't going to try to fight a monster, even if he wasn't feeling like an ice pack and the bruised cut it was trying to soothe. Cole needed to sneak past the monster, trying his best to stay out of sight and hide from the monster before running. As he tried to slip away the creature seemed to immediately notice him and without warning or preparation the monster barreled towards him. Not even the monster seemed to know what it was doing until it started to gain speed. Cole started to run as fast as he could with road burned legs and feet. With every ounce of strength he had left, he used and for once he started to feel frightened. As they ran, Cole could still only hear the nubs of its feet on the muddy ground. Cole looked behind him and the monster was gaining on him, not even a foot away but as he turned away he ran directly into a tree. Cole thought that one mishap would be the end of him as he started to turn around and slump against the tree. As he looked up the monster was gone. Nothing but his foot prints and small holes left by the monster. His leg felt like it was broken and he couldn't feel his chest. All the wind was knocked out of him and the feeling from the needles and pinecones tearing into his feet were becoming worse.

The pain was almost unbearable and he couldn't focus on anything for more than a few seconds. He was starting to realize how cold he was, the midnight air and the wind rushing past him froze the water still clinging on him faster. As he looked into the deepest parts of the forest trying to forget what was happening he saw movement. The canopy started to sway harder in the wind and the shadows of the branches seemed to move and cover the light. As the darkness began to set in, the last shadows of the trees seemed to move and make a tunnel of darkness. The last bits of light began to fade just as his eyes were getting used to it. Once the forest was pitch black and the tree Cole was leaning on became colder than when he sat down, there they were, the lights. The two orbs came closer and closer to him never faltering and never swaying the world was silent for a moment. No wind, no heartbeat, no breathing. It was still. And when the lights were right in front of him they seemed to talk. "Why are you not afraid" they said in a deep booming voice, but it almost sounded... fake?

Timor's POV:

Timor had one of his monsters chasing the boy thru the forest. A schizophrenic nightmare made real he found tormenting some hospital back in china. He had the monster staying right after the boy but just behind. The boy had barely felt any fear at all, he seemed to feel was the instinct for survival. Timor would not be denied some food by a kid. As they ran the boy looked back at the monster to see if he was alright and the split second he looked, the boy ran directly into a tree. As the boy slid down the side of the tree the monster raised a meaty hand and was about to kill the boy before Timor vaporized it, turning it back into a sort of dream essence. Timor looked back at the kid, bloodied, beaten, and freezing and knew he had to help now. Timor blacked out the sky and the forest, crouching so low his neck was almost touching the ground to be at eye level and stalked closer to the boy. This type of thing had happened before with his victims of fear, someone hurts themselves and are to badly injured to go anywhere and need help. He puts them to sleep and heals them with some magic his family taught him. Once they wake up there in bed and it all seemed like a bad nightmare. Timor never had problems scaring anyone, let alone some small kid before, so why this one he wondered.

Timor needed to know why this kid wasn't afraid of what just happened. "Why are you not afraid" he asked in a deep voice. trying at the very end to get the tiniest amount of fear out of the boy, but instead the boy started to chuckle while still shaking up a storm. "What's so funny" Timor said angrily still in a deep voice. The boy began to laugh "I-I'm about to d-die and the lights t-that take e-everyone away is t-talking to me in a f-fake voice". Timor was growing increasingly angry and was about to speak, but before he could the boy said "a-am I the star o-of a h-horror g-game or is this a n-nightmare" he said about to start laughing again before clutching his side in pain as a small drop of freezing water rolled down the injured skin. Timor grew furious and reverted back to his true form. The darkness that enveloped the two of them drew back and reverted to normal shadows. Timor's scales started to shift at his nose first and became visible again, and like a wave the rest of his scales started to shift and turn until his while body showed. "Y-your... a d-dragon" the boy said still shivering. "I am the dragon of fear mortal" Timor said in his normal voice.

Timor saw confusion come over the boys face but still not fear. "Could the boy not feel fear" he thought still angry that the first warrior to beat his monsters at there own games of fear was a child. "W-What do y-you want f-from me" the boy said, unable to sit still any longer. "I want to feast" Timor said while trying to look unfazed. "And you will do for a light snack" Timor said, now bearing his teeth and getting up to pounce. Hunger had finally set in as he had nothing to eat food or emotion wise in over a week. Timor had to get some fear from the boy, anger and hunger filling his mind only stopped by his reasoning. Timor only had to take 2 steps to finish the distance between him and the boy. Timor picked the boy up, lifting him high into the air. "If I ate you right now, no one would know and the nightmares haunting the forest would stop anyone from looking. So scream, beg for your life because you will be dead soon" Timor said trying to get any fear out of the boy before he would heal him and take him home. "I-If you were g-going to do a-anything, y-you would have d-done it by now. Your j-just stalling" said the boy with a smug smile, his teeth still clattering. Timor was fully engulfed in anger and hunger, and a human was mocking him and denying him food. Timor's mind was filled with the thought of food and he needed to eat. With the boy still raised, Timor open his mouth and dropped the boy headfirst into his maw.

Cole's POV:

The shadows seemed to pull away, slowly falling back on the branches that owned them. The lights in front of Cole started to gleam and just in front of the lights the air started to move. Scales started to flip over from nothing and become visible to Cole. A head was created out of nothing it seemed, the lights were the eyes of something huge. The boy could almost fit entirely in the jaw of the monster. It had thin needleish spines going along the back of its neck and as it began to back away and sit thin Cole noticed the monster's silver chest. Cole saw wings appearing from the top and filling out the air before tucking into it's back. The claws where sharp and long, deffenetly the thing that made the holes by the edge of the forest. The monster was a dragon, it was stoic and regal but its eyes seemed distracted. "Y-your... a d-dragon" he said trying not to shiver. "I am the dragon of fear mortal" it said in what Cole could only assume was it's real voice but, it still didn't seem right.

Cole's mind raced as thoughts filled his mind. "Are dragons auctly real. Was the monster he saw made by the dragon. Why would it show it true form now." The dragon watched Cole as he thought, and it knew what Cole was thinking. That made Cole wonder tho, "If it's the dragon of fear, why isn't it scary". The dragons face was still the same so there was no mind reading. "W-What do y-you want f-from me" Cole said before trying to move to run away. "I want to feast" the dragon said. Its face didn't change but its eyes were showing all the emotions Cole needed to see. "And you will do for a light snack" the dragon said slowly standing onto all four of its legs while bearing its teeth. It didn't even have to take a full two steps before it was right in front of Cole. The dragon picked him up with its... hands? Paws? The dragon held Cole between its claws and the pads of its front feet. They were warm and surprisingly not covered in mud or pine needle's. It would almost be comfortable if he wasn't almost 20 feet in the air with something sharp on his chest. "If I ate you right now, no one would know and the nightmares haunting the forest would stop anyone from looking. So scream, beg for your life because you will be dead soon" the dragon said, its claws pressing down harder.

Cole knew the only way to escape was to make the dragon mad. It might drop him in anger, or it might kill him also in anger. "I-If you were g-going to do a-anything y-you would have d-done it by now. Your j-just stalling". Cole knew this would probably be the tipping point for the dragon. Cole read that dragons were driven by the emotion they were connected to. As long as Cole didn't show fear witch wasn't hard, he could try to escape while it was mad. Cole was great at making people feel the emotions he wanted them to, and it seemed to work too well. The dragons eyes were burning with rage and its face was angry like Cole never seen before on anything. The dragon opened its mouth and turned Cole upside down, dropping him head first in the dragon's gaping maw. Cole fell, trying not to hit the sharp teeth of the dragon, landing directly onto its tongue. It was warm, and very wet. The pink walls surrounding Cole were pulsing and a constant heartbeat was audible further down in the dragons body. Cole tried to escape pushing back at the dragons mouth and trying to pull himself out with his feet. "This is the worst Friday ever" Cole said while in the mouth of a dragon.

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