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retiredteabag · 2 months ago

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soft Toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5 - pt. 6

synopsis: Toji was quite accustomed to objectifying himself for a check. And to be frank, far worse actions as well. Now he’s not sure what to do with himself after meeting the kind and generous owner of the dog he pet-sits for.

read along as Toji grows more comfortable around you despite his past.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Toji had stayed the night at many women's houses. At some point down the line, he started requesting they order him an Uber or something, but in the beginning, he was hardly at his own place. And for a brief period, when he was in a real desperate situation, he stayed with the women because he didn't have a place of his own.

That's why it's so strange to Toji, to feel apprehensive at staying the night in your home.

You won't even be there, what's it matter? He thought.

But then again, that might be why he's a bit uneasy about the whole thing. You were to be gone three days for a work event. And you had entrusted him with your entire place. He had showered and napped in your house, eaten your food and brought in the mail. He was comfortable to the point it felt like a second (much nicer) home. What he had never done, was stay the night. He certainly hadn't slept in your bed...

You had seemed overwhelmed and uneasy about the situation while walking him through everything. You had been on the opposite side of the kitchen island when you had said,

"I know this is so short notice, I'm terribly sorry, I wasn't even supposed to be on this trip, I asked not to go, but the other official called out sick." Your hands made grand and elaborate gestures and your dogs head wobbled as he followed your theatrical hands. "So now, I'm stuck, I have to go." You sounded upset.

"'S not a problem. So, what day does the trash go out, again?" He held back a grin as your shoulders drooped.

"Toji, you're my hero. Thank you. And Wednesday, don't worry if you forget to take it out though."

You had informed him that the dog would probably like it best if he stayed downstairs with him while you were away. Meaning-sleeping in the master bedroom. In your bedroom. On your bed.

Oh...kay...

He shrugged it off as you muttered some, "of course, I'll clean the sheets so don't worry about that..." And explained about the difficult relationship between the dog and the mailman. But he was too caught up in the fact that you were so trusting of him.

There didn't seem to be any uncomfortable air around you, other than your work-related stress around the trip, but you didn't seem to have a problem with this big-ass man spending a few days in at your place.

Toji had lots of appeal, and he had grown to know, the majority of it was sex appeal. And the fact that you clearly had no interest in that aspect of his abilities... made him feel odd. Any time he would throw a compliment at you, you would smile politely, and say something nice about him. Except it was always,

"You're so good at you're job!"

"I'm so glad I can trust you to look after my puppy!"

"I appreciate how efficient you are!"

it made his ears feel hot.

So did the smell of your bedsheets. In fact, your pillowcases had such an effect on him, on that first night you were gone, he found himself rummaging through your things to distract himself.

He meandered through your room, pulling books and sticky notes off dressers and walking through your closet nook. He intentionally did not open any drawers but when he stumbled upon a pair of pajamas lying on a bookcase ladder, he quickly turned around and went to examine the fascinating blanket collection at the foot of your bed.

Staying at your place meant he could sleep in if he wanted to, but that morning he got out of bed earlier than usual. He wasn't going to let his mind wander while lying in the same spot you lay.

He found himself pretending he actually lived in the space. Getting dressed. Feeding the dog. Making breakfast. All in the luxurious home he did not belong in. After some time he realized all of these fantasies included you. He imagined making coffee as you sat across the island, he imagined talking with you, as a normal person, over pancakes, or whatever the hell rich people ate.

Eventually, he had to shake the thoughts from his head as they began to seem too domestic.

One thing that carried throughout the days of your leave, was the photos. You had repeatedly told him to never hesitate to contact you, "And please feel free to send pictures!" So send pictures- he did.

On walks, in the back yard, while booping the dog's nose, after giving the beast a treat. He sent most to you but kept some for himself. You acted as if he was spoiling you with these images of your own canine, the hearted messages and polite, "This really made my day!" stuck with him, when in reality, you were the one spoiling him with how much you had given him for his stay.

Once upon a time, the money he had in his wallet would have already been gone. A real likelihood being that he took the cash and left the dog to fend for itself. Only naive people paid before the service was completed. But he was a different man now. Or so he told himself as he pondered how you must think of him.

You must think highly. To pay so much upfront. You must trust him.

That evening, after walking the dog one last time, he flipped his phone around in his hand while lying down, legs hanging off your mattress. It was late, he was wondering what you were doing and what he should spend his money on when he felt the vibrations of his phone.

He saw your contact pop up and was quick to open the messaging app. What he saw, however, confused him a great deal.

"I would like for you to not involve the police with this. If possible, do keep this event and its handlings between us, I would be unhappy if my colleagues heard about this."

He sprang up in the bed, his feet planted on the floor as he read and reread your message over and over. Confusion filled him, was this message intended for him? If so, had you discovered something about Toji's past? Or had you mistakenly sent the message to him?

What was this about?

He began to write back, only to stop. He wanted to see if you would alter your text, or confirm your mistake. When you didn't and he could not take it any longer. He responded.

"What event are we discussing?"

Immediately he saw that you had read his reply, and quickly he saw an ellipses appear. It faded quickly. He waited for what seemed like forever, unsure of what to say. "I would be unhappy if my colleagues heard about this" he knew you had discussed his working for you before with your co-workers before he distinctly told you he wasn't looking for more work.

Sick of all the waiting, he decided to call you. And as soon as the phone rang, it immediately went to voice mail.

Clearly, you had been in a hurry to avoid his call. Unsure of how to proceed, he texted again.

"???"

He had a sick feeling in his stomach as he rose to pace the bedroom. Finally a message arrived.

"Terribly sorry, that message was intded for my boss. I texted your ontact by mistake."

Toji tried to digest exactly what this meant. He saw the typos in your message and quickly wondered if you had ever been so careless before. He scrolled up to scan previous conversations but decided it was unimportant.

"I see" he began, he wanted to ask what was happening but he knew he wouldn't want anyone prying into him, especially if it involved anything incriminating. He tried to relax himself. Perhaps the comment had nothing to do with him, even so, he decided to call you again to clarify what had just happened.

In a harsh contrast to before, the phone barely had a chance to ring before you picked up. Toji knew he hadn't been thinking straight. But when he saw the call start he realized then that he hadn't planned what he was going to say. It wasn't but a moment later that he discovered that all of his unanswered questions were irrelevant.

He held the phone up to his ear and heard quick breaths from the other end of the call. What he assumed was a frantic exhale, came out more like a sob as he heard pained whimpers.

"Didn't mean to...sorry about tonight. It was my mistake." You were speaking very slowly, in a calculated sort of way. Still, your voice shook.

Toji was impossibly still as he listened to your voice. "What's going on, y/n?"

That night he would lay in bed, trying to sleep, and realize that this particular moment might have been the first time he used your name intentionally. In the moment, however, he was all too occupied to care. He wanted to come off as gentle and friendly, something he was completely unaccustomed to.

The line went quiet. There was a long pause before a throaty squeak came and a warbled, "...sorry" was heard. Just before the call ended.

Toji began to pace again, he called you once more before he decided that it might be best to not pressure you. He ran a hand down his face as he tried to write a text. But he had nothing to say, he was experiencing confusion and confusion alone.

Turns out, he didn't need to start the conversation again, in your never-ending kindness, you sent, "I'm sorry for all of this, this is a small matter with work at the moment and I did not mean to startle you. I see how it might have come off as concerning. I promise this will not effect you. I'm sorry. Please forget this occurred."

Relief flooded Toji faster than he could question it. So this didn't involve him. But what exactly was happening? He gave your message a thumbs up... but something was still stuck eating at his brain.

"Were you crying just now?" He sent.

He expected a long wait before you responded but, to his surprise you reply was prompt.

"Sorry about that."

And a moment later, "I didn't mean to involve you."

That feeling in his stomach sunk further as he stared at his phone. Unsure of what to say, your dog whimpered at his feet and Toji took a deep breath.

"I wasn't asking for you to apologize" he typed, trying to put his intentions into words. "Are you okay?"

He couldn't remember the last time he had asked someone about their wellbeing. So when you responded,

"Yes. I think so." He found himself slowly walking back to your bed. Staring at the floor as he sat on your comforter. He decided he wouldn't press.

He liked your message.

He laid in your bed.

And he tried to get the sound of your shaky breaths out of his mind.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

tags: @sweetpo1son @scorpiosugar @starmapz @toruswrld @your-mum3000 @meow-satoru @animeblr @utarts @roxyyyyy1xx @lilming36 @scandibabeuh @atanasiaaaa @chouzuko @voronii @transsfish @h3llf4iry @lucrea @straewberrysoda @s4m4nth4wrld @storiesbyparadise @pokiona @neiostrike @breenatalle @uwolivia @gothic-fluffycow @luvvmae @justbelljust @voidshoutsback @chaotic-ish @jamzywiththejam28 @definitely-not-leena @kirawyd @kuro-chi69 @smoments @lukabwrry @esmedelacroix @professionalreblogger @yoongluverz @stainednailpolishremover @nappingmoon @lauretsy @noelssprings @bytgefirewbook @koji-ibitsu @wafflefries786 @bearchermer @p1nkfl0wers @sugojosgf @deafeningherofishcash @yeehawbrothers @wil10wthetree @youcantseem3 @poopooindamouf @miakxn @esggs @makosworld @neeshsoodrippedout @momoewn @mooncleaver @avocadomochi @getoisinnocent @femmefatal

taglist is sadly now full! If you ever want to be taken off of the tag list please just let me know :] (if your name is here but you didn’t get tagged. I think it’s either bc your blog is new/blank/empty or you need to check your privacy settings)

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mydadleft471 · 4 months ago

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Envelop Me

Summary: Messmer begins to worry when he realizes he hasn't seen you at all today. Rushing to your chambers, he realizes that you're just on your period and need some comfort.

Spoilers for Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. No warnings, per usual. Just my boi being soft and caring for a fem! reader on her period.

Messmer lovers, I've brought an appetizer!

This fic was requested by anonymous! The request was, "Consider: Messmer x reader on their period, he's like a very large heat pack". GENIUS IDEA. Thank you for requesting, and I hope you like it :D

My requests are indeed open! I'm going to get started on my next request as soon as I post this, so be on the lookout for a new fic in the next few days.

Anywho, please enjoy! Thank you all for reading, liking, reblogging, and commenting on my works! Each and every one makes me wanna kick my feet and giggle fr.

Messmer was beginning to worry about you. Half the day had passed already and he hadn’t seen you out of your chambers. Normally, you’d make your way to him soon after you’d finished breakfast. Even if you planned on spending the day pouring over documents and books in his storehouse, you’d pay him a visit before departing. This was unusual behavior for you. Had he done something to upset you? Did you fall ill overnight? Surely not the latter; his servants would inform him right away of your state and would have taken you to the infirmary.

He decided that he couldn’t sit and wait on his throne for you anymore. He would come to your chambers himself and see what was preventing you from visiting him. Quickly making his way out of his dark chamber, he startles the Fire Knights standing guard outside his door. Taking the steps down two at a time and rushing through the hallways towards your quarters, he notices one of your usual servants standing worried outside your door. Noticing his presence, she bows and steps aside for him to enter.

“Has she come out of her chambers today?” Messmer tries to keep his voice even despite the uncertainty coursing through his veins like fire.

She shakes her head. “No, my Lord. I brought breakfast to her, per usual, and she only ate a little. I asked if she required assistance getting dressed, but she dismissed me and told me she wished to spend the day in bed.”

“And why was this not reported to me?” His eye narrows and the servant shrinks into herself. She looks like she wishes she could dissipate into thin air.

“Sincerest apologies, my Lord. I figured she simply wished to remain alone today. I asked if she was feeling ill, and she said that she was just very tired.”

He sighs. Sometimes, you would prefer to stay in bed all day, but you would come to Messmer’s chambers and you two would laze around together. He cannot recall a time where you would prefer to be alone.

He sighs. “I understand. I will see what bothers her so.”

The servant bows and scurries off, leaving him alone before your door. Never before has he been so afraid to see you. With shaking hands, he raps on your door three times. He hears a faint shuffling of sheets coming from within the room.

“Yes?” He takes immense comfort in the fact that you are responding.

“Beloved, may I come in? I wish to see thee.”

He hears your voice quiver. “I am afraid I don’t feel very well today. I’m not sure I would make good company, My Lord.”

“Whatever is the matter? Dost thou require a healer?” His snakes wrap themselves tighter around his frame, also worried for your wellbeing. They nose at your door, eager to see you.

“No, my love. I’m okay.” Your words come out strained, and his anxiety increases tenfold.

“I wish to see thee with my own eyes to ensure thy good health. Please, my beloved.” He would get on his knees and beg for you to let him in if he had to. He would do anything to know you were alright.

There is a beat of silence before you respond. “Come in.”

He opens the door so fast he almost twists the door off its hinges. He enters swiftly and closes the door, striding over to your side in hurried steps that echo off the marble floors. Messmer’s snakes incline themselves forward and it almost seems like they’re racing him to get to you first. When he arrives at your bedside, the sight he sees makes his heart drop.

You are wrapped in your sheets and comforter with sweat adorning your forehead. You wince in pain and he notices that you are curled in on yourself. You look at him with tired eyes and give him a small smile. His snakes flick their tongues into the air and they taste a hint of blood. Your blood. Messmer erupts in fury and his mind races a mile a minute. His serpents coil and hiss, looking around the room wildly for your attacker.

“What has happened? Who hast dared to hurt thee?!” He roars, summoning his spear. “Tell me now, beloved, and I will ensure they never cause thee pain again.” His voice bounces off the walls of your chamber and he is sure the entire keep can hear him, but he cannot bring himself to care.

You reach weakly for his hand and he immediately takes it, clutching it tightly. You feel the heat radiating off of him. You know you need to calm him down, and soon, lest he burn your favorite blanket to ash.

“No one has hurt me, my love. I’m alright.”

“My serpents smelled thy blood in the air. Who hast hurt thee so?”

“Messmer, I’m on my period. Nobody hurt me.” You wince in pain once again.

He can’t believe he didn’t realize that sooner. In his defense, he thought someone had hurt his sweet consort.

“I see.” He gingerly sits down on the bed beside your crumpled form, still holding your hand. “I apologize if I frightened thee.”

“It’s okay.” You squeeze his hand in reassurance. “You… do know what a period is, yes?”

He raises his brow. “Thou thinkest me a child?”

“No, not at all, I just didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, lightning licks up your spine and radiates throughout your back. You curl in on yourself tighter and breathe heavily.

Messmer’s eye flicks wildly over your covered body. “What wouldst thou have me do? I refuse to stand idly by while thou suffers.”

“Can you come lay with me, please? I just want you to hold me.” Your sweet request has his heart fluttering in his chest.

Wordlessly, he walks over to the other side of the large bed and climbs in. He doesn’t want to ask you to move when you are clearly in so much pain. He shuffles over to you and pulls the blanket up to cover you both. He hovers next to you, unsure of how to hold you. He’s terrified of hurting you on accident.

You roll over and scoot closer to him, your body protesting the sudden movement. You lay your head on his chest and try to get comfortable on your side.

“How dost thou feel now?” He strokes your hair tentatively.

“A little better.” You continue to shift against him.

He sighs and tilts your chin up so you meet his gaze. It’s loving and tender. “Wouldst thou be comfortable laying on top of me?”

“I think so.”

He gently lifts your body until you are completely sprawled out on top of him on your stomach with your head in the middle of his chest. He places a large hand on your back and you feel immediate relief. Between the warmth of his body pressed against yours and his hand on your back, your muscles slowly begin to relax.

“You’re so warm…” You mumble into his chest.

“Dost thou require me to move? Have I made thee too warm?” His voice is laced with concern.

“No. It feels wonderful.” You nuzzle your head into him and sigh, content. He smiles and places a light kiss to the top of your head. His serpents nip at the blanket and pull it over you, then carefully wind over your shoulders and lie down.

“Why didst thou not send for me?” He traces small circles into your lower back. “I grew worried at your absence.”

“I’m sorry. I just felt like I wouldn’t be good company like this.”

“So thou would rather toil in isolation?”

“That’s very funny coming from you, my love.”

He rolls his eye. “Perhaps I am not the best example to live by when one is in such pain, but I wish to be of comfort, just as thou has been for me. I wish to care for thee, my beloved.”

You lean your head up to look at him and press a kiss to his lips. His cheeks redden from the simple gesture, as they always do. “You care for me plenty.”

“I am glad thou thinkest so.”

You shake your head and smile at him. “I know so. I refuse to hear anymore doubts from you.”

“Thou’rt demanding indeed, but I shall not stand against thy wishes, my Lady.”

You chuckle at him. “I also refuse to get up for another few hours.”

“Being late for dinner does not sound like thee.”

Your stomach grumbles at the mention of dinner, and Messmer laughs.

“How much of the day did I spend wallowing away in misery?”

“About half. Dinner is not far away.”

“Good. I’m starving.”

A comfortable silence encompasses you both and all you can hear are your shared breaths. Messmer lazily flicks his wrist and your fireplace sparks to life. The flames hum and sway side-to-side, dancing. The black tendrils delicately wind their way up and around the flame in almost hypnotizing movements. You’ve always found Messmer’s fire to be beautiful.

You could stay here forever, wrapped in silk sheets and cozy blankets with your lover. His dominant hand caresses your back with feather-light touches and it lulls you into a drowsy haze. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Messmer?” Your voice is serene and quiet.

“Yes, beloved?”

“Do you think we could have dinner in bed? I don’t want to get up.”

He laughs genuinely, a sound you’ve grown to love. It makes you smile to see him happy and carefree. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“You might have to wake me.”

“Though it pains me to disturb thy slumber, I shall, just for thee. Now, rest.” He brings his other hand to your hair and runs his nails across your scalp, making you shiver and relax even further into him.

“You spoil me.”

“I know.”

There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

#messmer the impaler #messmer x reader #messmer x tarnished #elden ring x reader #elden ring messmer #messmer the impaler x reader #soft boi hours #i need a messmer heating pad smh

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sturniqlo · 4 months ago

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Positive-C.S

summary: y/n and chris find out their expecting a baby

cw: bit angst, fluff, young parent pregnancy, panic attack, crying

an: she's a short one so she's a blurb

masterlist | positive masterlist

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It's been about a week since Y/n started to feel sick. First, she woke up one day and had the urge to throw up so she ran to the bathroom and threw up everything she had the night prior. She thought nothing of it, maybe the food she had eaten sat the wrong way. Then, certain smells she used to once love made her gag, and yet again run to the bathroom.

Her favorite perfume Chris has gifted her for her twentieth birthday made her nauseous. She couldn't bare the smell on her, so she ran to the bathroom, threw up, took a shower and tossed her perfumed clothes in the washer. During this time, Chris was away in Boston visiting his parents and he had no idea any of this was happening until he facetimed her and saw her pale face.

"Hey ba- woah, you're pale. You feeling okay?" Chris said when he saw his girlfriend's pale face and under eye bags. She shook her head. "No, I've had this stomach bug for the past four days. I can't keep down anything I eat besides water and fruit." She pouts. "Was it what we had for dinner before I left?" He asks, shifting in his bed, worrying for his girlfriend's wellbeing. "I think so, it's messed me up pretty bad."

When Chris returned the following week, she was the same, only a bit better. She was able to keep down more foods like a ham and cheese sandwich, cereal, mac and cheese, and smoothies. The day after Chris had came back, he stayed at Y/n's place and made eggs in the morning. She woke to the smell and threw up in the bathroom. For the next hour, all windows were open to air out the smell. That's when Chris started to get suspicious.

Week three, it had been three weeks that Y/n has been with this mysterious sickness. Chris couldn't help but ask. "Are you sure you're okay? Do we have to go to the doctor?" He asked one day that week. "I'm okay, it's probably just my period, it should be coming any day now." She brought her knees up to her chest. Chris came close to her and wrapped his arms around her. She inhaled the scent of his cologne loving it, which is why she bought it for him on a random day. However, this time when she inhaled his scent, she became nauseous. Y/n pushed him off and ran to her bathroom.

"Hey, you're okay." Chris grabbed her hair and formed it into a makeshift ponytail with the hair tie he had on his wrist as she emptied everything she had in her into the toilet. "You want some water, baby?" He asked her as she flushed the toilet and sat against the shower door. "Please." She said, throwing her head back. Chris went to her kitchen, and opened the fridge grabbing his a cold water. As he closed the fridge, she caught eye of her calendar on the fridge door. blood bath begins :( is marked for the 13th of the month. He quickly pulled out his phone and checked the date.

It was the 22nd. He gasped. He quickly realized he was taking too long so he went back to Y/n. "Here you go." Chris opened the water for her and handed it to her. She had moved to the wall across the sink so he sat down on the floor next to her. "Babe, I don't want to scare you or anything but, are you sure you're not pregnant?" Y/n chokes on her water. "What? No, I'm about to get my period around the thirteenth." She looks at him. "Y/n, it's the twenty second." Her face falls. "No- no it's not." She pats on her pockets for her phone but she doesn't feel it. "Look at the date." Chris pulls his phone out from his pocket. Quickly, she grabs his phone and turns it on looking straight up at the date.

It's the twenty second. She has the same reaction as Chris and gasps. "Chris, how- how did I not notice. Oh my god." She puts her head in her hands. "Hey, hey, hey, it's going to be okay. I'll run to the store down the street and buy a couple of tests okay? Whatever the result is you have the final decision okay? And we'll get through it together." Chris brings her to his chest. "Okay." She manages to squeak out.

Chris run his hands through his hair as he power walks to the Walgreens that is luckily down the street from Y/n apartment complex. Back home, Y/n struggles to walk to the couch. Her mind runs through every possible situation that can happen. It can be positive and Chris can leave her and want nothing to do with her or the bab- No! She stopped herself from that thought. He said they'll get through this together. Her breathing get more uneven as she reaches the couch. She struggles to breathe as the tears stream down her face. She tries her hardest to take deep breaths, in 1,2,3, out 1,2,3. That doesn't help. She looks around her living room and tries to spot five things she can see and say out loud.

"Pic- picture of me and Chris on our one year anniversary. Chris' hoodie on the arm- arm rest. My green rug Chris bought me. Tulips I picked out last week." It starts working, her breathing is finally back to normal and she wipe her sweaty hands on her sweats. She takes a couple of minutes to herself before getting up to distract herself while Chris comes back.

What seemed like hours, only ten minutes had passed, Chris finally walked through the front door with a bag in his hand. "Did you get them?" Y/n run to him. "Yeah, I got multiple." She grabs the bag from him and goes into the bathroom. After peeing on all four sticks, she opens the bathroom door and is met with Chris standing right in front. "Now we wait." She lets him in. She automatically wraps her arms around his middle and her his wrap around her neck. Bending his head down to kiss the top of it. "Chris, promise you won't leave me if it's a positive." She lifts her head off of his chest.

"Baby, I promise with all my heart, I will never, okay? Like I said we're in this together." He reassured her. During the next five minutes, Chris tries to distract her, talking about random things. Telling her random facts about animals Matt had told him the other day. "I think it's time, Chris." They unwrap their arms from one another. "Okay." They both grab two and Chris counts down. "We flip them at one okay?" She nods "3, 2, 1." They flip them.

||, Pregnant, +

"Holy shit, I'm pregnant." Y/n places the sticks back down on the sink and begins to well up with tears. "Come here." Chris places the two he had down and opens his arms up for her. "Chris, what are we going to do. We only just- just turned twenty." She cried. "We'll figure it out, alright." He spoke into her hair. "Do you want to keep it?" He asks. "I- Yes, I want to." She looks up at him and slightly smiles and he smiles too. "We're having a baby." He says.

"We're having a baby." She confirms.

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do we want a mini series on this??

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nanamiscocksleeve · 1 month ago

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Someone You Loved

I'm a mess since I finished Xavier's myth and my period came early so now I'm just sad and can't focus on anything else. Headcanons for the men when MC breaks up with them. Warnings: None, but lots of angst because everything SUCKS. Love and Deepspace. Hmph. More like Love and Deep Depression.

In the darkness, Zayne wakes suddenly, his hands instinctively reaching out to pull you to him; only for his grasp to curl into cold sheets and emptiness.

How long had it been? Since he’d slept peacefully? The nightmares never seemed to plague him when you were asleep beside him in his bed, your breath softly ghosting the crook of his neck. He glances up at the ceiling trying to calm his breath. The little dreamcatcher you’d hung so long ago sways slightly and his heart clenches. The bed felt too big for just him. Before meeting you he slept in the middle; now he can’t bring himself to take back your half, leaving it empty, remembering the way your curled form occupied it.

The only time he saw you was when you came in for your checkup. And you seemed fine, which was good, but a part of him is haunted by the possibility that maybe something about him had made you leave him. You had insisted it wasn’t but he can’t help but run scenarios over and over in mind, swirling like a mess of ink in water.

Perhaps his reticent nature had finally driven you away. Or his sarcasm. Or maybe the scars on his hands. Women didn’t like scarred men, did they? He’d wondered about that for too long before Greyson, catching him staring at his hands, said, “Your hands are healing Dr. Zayne. Why do you look at them so doubtfully?”

After those words had been spoken, Zayne had thrown himself into his work. He’d always been a workaholic of course, but it had amplified to a point where he couldn’t go home. It was on purpose. He slept in his office until his superior had caught him, insisting he can’t sleep here.

No one was checking in on him. No one to remind him to take a break or to coax him into taking a nap in between patients. No one waking him up with a smile and a slice of cake that they’d picked up on their way to his place.

The nightmares started after he tried sleeping at home. He hates himself for feeling like a little boy, unable to sleep without a security blanket. But he needed you. The way all living things needed air and sunlight to thrive, he needed you in such a poignant way that it almost stops his blood knowing you’re not in his life anymore.

He knows he needs to sleep. Silently, because that’s what he’d grown accustomed to, silently rolling out to bed so as to not disturb you, he pads over to his closet and pulls out a t-shirt, far too small to be one of his own.

The t-shirt had somehow survived the purge, the day you’d taken all your stuff out of his apartment. It was strange to look at his apartment now because all he sees are the empty spaces you left behind. The spots on the windowsill where your little planters used to be. The blank space on the nightstand on your side of the bed where your phone, earbuds, and hand lotion used to once sit. The cup in the bathroom now holds only one toothbrush.

He brings the t-shirt to his nose and instantly your scent fills his being. He’s thankful he didn’t return it to you as he’d initially planned. The piece of fabric that retained the wonderful smell of your shampoo and the fresh scent of your skin. It calmed him. Cradling it against his cheek, he makes his way back to the bed, laying the t-shirt on his pillow and burying his nose into it as he tries to find a comfortable position.

The t-shirt works its magic, eventually lulling him into a dreamless sleep. The only peace he’s ever known was when he was with you.

It was hard to avoid Xavier no matter where you went. His being your upstairs neighbor and your mission partner made it impossible not to see him. His chest ached whenever he saw you but he masked it with a smile. He never stopped looking out for you. Because he had promised, hadn’t he? So many centuries ago, in a different lifetime, that he’d always be there for you no matter what?

The day of the breakup is always a blur to him. He can’t recall any of the details, but he remembers your face with clarity, remembers the pained expression in your eyes. He had soothingly embraced you, encouraging you to talk to him about what was bothering you, because even his deepest worries never fathomed the idea of you leaving him.

Xavier had frozen when you had tearfully whispered that you wanted to break up. Surely he had misheard you? But no, he hadn’t. You had tried, in vain, to get him to explain where he disappeared to. It bothered you when Xavier disappeared and it didn’t matter if he came back each time. You told him you wanted the truth, and nothing less than that would convince you to stay. Xavier had faltered; he knew he owed it to you, but he didn’t know where to begin.

Philos was a distant dream, probably lost to time and deepspace but he couldn’t help it. The possibility of returning to his own timeline weighed down on him, a heavy burden of duty. If it had been just him, he would have gladly given up months ago, content to stay here with you. But the crew that had accompanied him, dedicated to his cause, stuck here because of his decisions deserved the chance, and he couldn’t give up on them.

Knowing he would never be able to explain without hurting you, he had given you a sad smile, his blue eyes growing misty as he tried to put conviction into his words. “I hope you find someone more worthy.” The feeling of your hands leaving his felt like a rift had divided his heart into two, a chasm separating you both. You left his apartment, and he spent the night on his balcony, listening to your sobs carrying through the air, not knowing how he could take away your pain.

With much trial and error, Xavier now had a cordial relationship with you. He accompanied you whenever you asked. He still hung out with you at the arcade and came out for hot pot whenever you asked. Because hadn’t he promised to love you even when you weren’t his?

Xavier watches you talking to Tara and when you finally catch his eye, you give him a smile and wave, which he returns. Although he wishes you weren’t broken up, it always brings him relief to see you smiling. He had felt the satisfaction of watching you become a happier person, seeing you grow and eventually finding joy around you. And that would have to be enough.

He would settle for having you in his life any way he could, even if you decided you didn’t love him. Because after losing you twice, he’d take anything to cut his losses.

Thomas follows Rafayel around his studio. He can see the state Rafayel is in, the dark bags under his eyes, and the unkempt hair and clothes.

“Rafayel, I think some rest-”

“I don’t need it.” Rafayel picks up a paintbrush, which is already messy from the various hues it was dipped into previously and begins to put strokes onto his canvas. Across the room are scattered paintings and unfinished sculptures, all half-done and looking rather gloomy.

Thomas tries again. “I can book you a weekend at your favorite onsen. Perhaps a massage. It’ll help clear your head.”

Rafayel glares at him, anger in his lavender eyes. “I said I don’t need it. I have work to do. You know where the door is.”

Signing, Thomas takes his dismissal and the studio is plunged into silence. Rafayel tries again to finish his painting then grits his teeth and hurls the paintbrush away. Droplets of paint drip across the marble floor as it clatters some feet away.

It had been a while since you had broken up with him and Rafayel feels like he’s stuck in time. All his works are incomplete, becoming a neverending list of things that he might never actually pay attention to again.

Of late, he’s obsessed with trying to paint you, but each time he recalls your face, something or the other feels off. The shape of your eyes, too slanted to be accurate, the curve of your nose, too round to be correct, haunt him as he gazes at the canvas before him. It was you, yet it wasn’t you.

There’s panic growing in his chest at the idea that he might be forgetting what you look like. His hands and memory seem to be at odds with each other, unable to communicate and translate what he was remembering onto paper.

He traces the edge of your face, the paint smearing his fingertips, frustration welling up in his heart. He feels disappointed in himself. Hadn’t he said to himself that even if you forgot, he’d remember for the both of you? Yet now, he can’t recall the features of your face, like the image of you in his head was behind a pixelated curtain, and all he could recollect were rough features that somewhat resembled you.

He might put himself into a manic state. He hasn’t slept, haunted by the possibility that he may never paint your portrait accurately again. Rafayel pulls out his phone, the light illuminating his tired face and he desperately looks through his photos. A few days after the breakup, in a fit of rage, he’d deleted all your photos off his phone, an action he now regretted.

“Please…please…there’s gotta be at least one…” he prays as he swipes through the pictures. As he’s about to give up, he finally comes across a single photo, a group picture, taken from his art exhibition some time ago. And there you are, all your features coming back to him with painful clarity. With a sigh, he picks up a fresh paintbrush and tries again, feeling relief flood him as your familiar face finally begins to bloom onto the canvas.

Luke and Kieran looked in concern at the closed door of Sylus’s room. Sylus wasn't the type to conduct business remotely. Even with all the henchmen at his disposal, he still preferred going out into the N109 zone to ensure his armories and money accounts were secure. But after the breakup, he had been delegating more and mingling with his associates less.

The missing bottles of whiskey hadn’t gone unnoticed by their keen eyes, and the twins carefully crack open his bedroom door a fraction. He’s slumped over the large desk made of fine oak wood, a liquor bottle cracked open, and a glass in his hand.

His ruby eyes are hazy and it’s clear he’s intoxicated. The little grumpy crow plushie was sitting on his desk, and his unfocused eyes were gazing in reminiscence at it while Mephisto glared at the soft toy in objection.

“Boss?” Luke dares to approach him, and Sylus looks up sharply.

“What?” The irritation in his voice is evident.

“Um…Your meeting with the protocore dealer. He just left a message saying he hasn’t been able to get in touch with you and…” His voice falters as Sylus’s eyes glow like embers in a fireplace.

“He can wait.” The words are snarled as he downs the whiskey in a single gulp before pouring more. “Get out.”

Luke and Kieran retreat but they glance at each other despairingly. This was the N109 zone after all. Dealings with mafia leaders didn’t just get put on hold without consequences.

“Damn it all,” Sylus murmurs. He swirls the whiskey in his glass, and all he sees are your eyes, fixated on him in horror. He was used to the erratic atmospheric changes in the N109 zone but the night you left, it felt like he was being choked by the air, not a drop of oxygen left for him to breathe in. He knew he’d overdone it when threatening the merchant, knew he should have controlled himself from using his evol as cruelly as he had. But he needed the upper hand and the only way knew how to assert himself was through violence.

He’d never hurt you. His precious little dove, his whole heart. But what you’d witnessed had left you terrified of him and his ominous abilities. Sylus had begged; his pride wasn’t so great as to risk losing you. He’d fallen to his knees, his arms locked around your waist, his cheek resting on your chest, listening to the way your heart was beating in your ribcage. It was hard to say how long the two of you had remained that way until you had gently disengaged from his grip, bid him goodbye, and left. He wasn’t deterred at first, calling and texting you desperately, sending gifts and bouquets to your door until you had called him and told him to stop.

He drinks, feeling the heat and the sting of the whiskey as it goes down his throat, the only thing that helped with the pain. You were the sunlight in this dark world and without you, Sylus feels nothing except coldness. You were gone, the only blessing he’d ever received.

@theimmortalbuns @otomegamesforlife @sweets-kozume @supernaturalbaesduh @ladyparamount

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intromortal · 6 months ago

Note

hii nia!! could u do something w needy jungwon and reader on her period? whatever it comes to ur mind abt that! <3

WON GETS NEEDY WHEN YOU'RE ON YOUR PERIOD !

WARNINGS: mdni, well period obv, spitting in mouth, fingering

PAIRING: bf!jungwon x f!reader

You glared at Jungwon and slapped his hand away from your thigh for what felt like the hundredth time that evening.

You did not understand what had come over him ever since the day before, you had never seen him be as needy and desperate to just get his hands in your pants as he was in that moment.

Since you were on your period you told him you would gladly take care of his needs, after all pleasuring him was something you loved doing but of course you hadn't accounted for the fact that there was nothing on Earth that got Jungwon off like seeing you shake underneath his touch. An orgasm he got that he could not reciprocate, was an orgasm wasted in his mind.

“Please? Just wanna make you feel good angel,” he whispered against the sensitive skin of your neck, his teeth nibbling on it occasionally.

“I already told you I’m on my period,” you sighed, your resolve starting to crumble as his soft lips trailed up to your ear, his warm hand going back to its rightful place on your thigh.

“Don’t care,” he said before licking a long stripe on your neck. “Want you to come all over my fingers anyway.”

His words sent hot jolts of need right to your cunt, you were always needier during this time and the soft circles he was drawing on your skin only made your head spin even more.

“What—” you took a deeper breath, conscious of how to word your thoughts. “What if it disgusts you?”

You felt him draw back from you immediately, his breath caught in his throat and anxiety pooling in his stomach at your words. He cradled your face in his soft palms, his eyes searching for yours.

“Why would it disgust me?” he asked, a confused edge in his tone.

“Huh— you know, it is a little nasty if you thin—”

He interrupted your sentence right away, voice almost stern as he spoke, “Nothing, not one thing, about you is gonna disgust me. Ever.”

You stared into his eyes for a moment to make sure he meant what he said before slightly nodding your head, the gesture prompting him to kiss you.

His lips were slow on yours at first, his little smiles tender between pecks.

That didn't last long, the air in the room hotter when he suddenly grabbed you by your hips and removed your shorts and panties, discarding them on the floor absentmindedly. You yelped in surprise and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, hot tongue sliding into your mouth to sensually lap at yours.

The way he kissed you so slowly sent electric jolts coursing through your body, and any worry you had about your period left your mind as he worked his hands all over your curves.

He placed you on his lap, facing away from him, and pushed your legs open to get easier access to your pretty cunt, a hum of delight leaving his lips when you were finally all spread out for him.

He went to slide two fingers into his mouth to wet them but you let out a noise of protest, his head turning to you with a lopsided smirk adorning his features.

“Almost forgot how messy my sweet little angel is,” he mumbled adoringly in the crown of your hair. He instantly knew what you wanted and without missing a beat he cupped your face. He gathered some spit and let it dribble in your mouth, some of it dripping to your lips. He promptly collected it with his fingers before pushing them to rest against your tongue, the mixture of your spit coating them.

He brought the fingers down to your mound and slid them between your folds a few times, his mouth hanging open in a silent moan as he felt your blood smear on his fingers, fascinated with the sight.

“Thank you for letting me do this baby,” he whispered as his eyes were glued to your pussy. “So hot.”

He slid his fingers in finally, and you threw your head back against his broad shoulders in ecstasy, hips immediately trying to take in more.

“So greedy too,” he teased. “To think you were acting so shy just earlier.”

You whined in his hold, desperate to have him move faster. “Please Won, more.”

He chuckled darkly before angling your inner thighs upwards, his attack on your neck resuming. This time his kisses open mouthed, the wetness of his tongue on your skin making you squirm in his lap. He set a faster pace, his brows knitted as his cock strained against his pants at the obscene sounds both you and your cunt were making. The angle at which he was finger fucking you made it so his palm slapped against your puffy clit with every single flick of his wrist, the continuous little hits making you shake against him. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth to silence your moans, and Jungwon did not like that.

He gave a few harsh slaps on your inner thighs with his other hand that made you yelp, the sting somehow still sending pleasure cursing through you.

“I wanna hear all of your sweet noises baby.” His thrusts slowed down but deepened, his thumb finding your clit in delicious circles. You babbled against the side of his neck, pleasure too overwhelming to form any coherent thought.

Tears started to cloud your vision and toes curled when his fingers found the spot deep inside you that always had you seeing stars, sending you straight over the edge, white searing pleasure crashing down on you.

“That’s it angel, so good for me,” Jungwon sweetly mumbled next to your ear, his fingers riding you gently through your orgasm.

You swatted his hand away when his touch got too much for your oversensitive cunt, small noises of complaint making him chuckle against your skin. He relented, drawing his hand back and finding himself enamored with the sight of his digits dripping in both your essence and blood.

He noticed you getting up with shaky legs to retrieve your shorts and immediately grabbed your forearm, making you fall into his lap once more.

He gently lapped at your lobe, grazing it with his teeth, “What do you think you’re doing?” he whispered, his breath raising goosebumps all over you. “We are far from being done, my angel,” he said, his grip on your thigh almost painful, the blood that soaked his hand smearing everywhere on your skin.

a/n: idk if i like this anonnie i'm sorry if it's not up to standard☹️ i wasn't gonna write this yet but i needed to write smth that's not not enough omfg anyone that talks to me out to tumblr knows how bad that has been kicking my ass

#enhypen smut #jungwon smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen #jungwon #enha #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #⤑ hard hours #⤑ won

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sgt-tombstone · 12 days ago

Text

When Soap caught a glimpse of the red and white app on Ghost’s phone, he wasn’t sure he saw it correctly. It was the quickest flash, out of the corner of his eye, in a dark and crowded pub the night after one of the longest ops they’d been on in a long time. Surely, it wasn’t…

But then he saw it again, a few days later, when Ghost pulled out his phone to message Price about something inane, Soap sitting next to him like always. And there it was: Clue Period & Cycle Tracker.

He knew he’d recognized it the first time; it was the same app that his sister used when she and her husband had been trying for their second child, and he’d know the app logo anywhere with how often she’d shoved her phone in his face, complaining about fertility windows and PMS. But, contrary to popular belief, John MacTavish knew when to keep his mouth shut, so he didn’t mention it, despite the questions crawling up his throat like ants.

That didn’t mean he didn’t acknowledge it at all, though. It was a little hard to come to terms with, his hulking lieutenant being trans, but it didn’t change how he felt about him, the smoldering lust (and love) that he felt just by being in the same room as him. He needed to show Simon that it didn’t bother him, that he’d be supportive of him no matter what. That he would love him no matter what.

So, in typical MacTavish fashion, he started talking. Small stuff, at first, comments about how fucking stupid anti-trans laws were or how he’d always prioritized the people he loved over whatever was in their pants. It was awkward at times, and maybe a little heavy-handed, but he was trying his best. All it gained him, though, were confused looks from everyone around him, Ghost included. At one point, Gaz even pulled him aside and pointedly asked if there was anything he wanted to tell him, but Soap didn’t dare out his lieutenant, so he stammered through a denial and beat a hasty retreat.

Maybe he needed to be more explicit. The on-store base sold the bare minimum of period supplies, and he didn’t know anything about Ghost’s cycles, so he grabbed what he vaguely remembered his sister mentioning, along with some chocolate, pain killers, and a heating pad. It wasn’t much, woefully inadequate and almost comically small in the only box he had in his room, but… he was trying his best.

He knocked on Ghost’s door that night, box under his arm and heart in his throat. When Ghost opened the door, he practically shoved the box into his chest, his face burning with embarrassment, and Ghost leveled him with a questioning look as he waved him inside. The last thing Soap wanted to do was have this conversation, but he stepped in anyway, heart hammering as Ghost closed the door behind him.

“What is this, Sergeant?”

For once, Soap didn’t know what to say. Maybe this was a bad idea. How did one tell their superior officer that they were aware of and fully supported their gender identity, despite said superior officer never having actually told them about it? They didn’t, that’s how. Except that’s exactly what Soap had to do, somehow.

“I, uh,” he stammered. Great start. “I just wanted tae-“

“Why are you giving me pads, Soap?”

Soap wanted the floor to swallow him whole and leave nothing but a soot stain on the floor to indicate his swift descent into hell. Ghost had opened the box and was looking over it at him, one eyebrow raised in bafflement.

“I just,” Soap said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Was it hot in here? He felt sweat drip down the valley of his spine as Ghost continued to fix him with that same expectant stare. “I just thought ye might-“

“Do you think I have a period, Soap?”

It wasn’t said with an air of disgust, or even derision, just earnest curiosity, but it prickled something defensive in Soap anyway, and he rushed to explain himself.

“Ah saw ye had an app on yer phone and it’s the same one my sister uses so I figured ye were trans and just hidin’ it well so I just…”

He drifted off, words petering out when he registered Ghost’s chuckles. In fact, he was full on laughing, curled slightly over the box still in his arms, one hand raised to his face, pulling off his mask to wipe at his eyes. Hot rage swept through Soap at the sound.

“You bastart,” he cried. “Ah was just trying tae be supportive and yer laughin’ at me-“

“I’m sorry, Soap,” Simon said, schooling his expression slightly, but Soap could still see mirth dancing in his eyes. It was a good look on him, and it was hard to hold onto his anger in the face of it. “I’m feeling very supported, thank you.”

Hard, but not impossible. Soap glared at him through narrowed eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

“If yer gonna mock me, I’ll take the box back, ye bampot,” he muttered, but Simon pulled the box closer to his chest, protective of its contents.

“It was a gift, Sergeant,” he said, shaking his head. “No take-backs.”

“What are ye, five?”

“Thirty-five,” Simon corrected, a glimmer of mischief in his smile. “And not trans, either. Though I’m sure every trans person is very appreciative of your wholehearted support.”

“Fuck ye,” Soap said without heat. The tension drained out of his shoulders and he slumped slightly where he stood in the middle of Simon’s room. “What’s the app for, then?”

“It’s to keep track of the side effects of my medications,” Simon shrugged, putting the box on his desk and stepping back over to his bed, but not before Soap noticed him pocketing the chocolate. “My psychiatrist recommended it. Works well, even if it gets confused that I never actually have a period. Good for keeping track of trends, though.”

And that… Made sense, all things considered. He knew that Simon took a small handful of pills everyday when they were on base, medications to help with his anxiety and other PTSD-related symptoms, but he’d never thought about the side effects that they might have. His confusion must have shown because—in a jarring moment of deja vu—he abruptly had a phone being shoved, albeit more gently than his sister had, in his face. He immediately recognized the app’s calendar, tracking various symptoms in colored tabs on each day. Most of them were orange, having to do with mood or sleep or energy levels, but some were blue or green, and he wasn’t sure what those were for. None of them, notably, were red.

“Oh,” he said dumbly, a little shocked at how forthcoming Simon was being about all of this. “Ah guess… Ah can take the stuff back then.”

“Don’t you dare,” Simon said quickly, a little teasingly. He put his phone back in his pocket and stepped unsubtly between Soap and his desk. “When your sergeant shows up at your door with chocolate and pain killers, he’s not allowed to leave with them, too.”

“Surely ye don’t need the pads, though, LT,” he said, cheeks heating with embarrassment again.

“I’m sure they’ll come in handy the next time you get shot in the field,” Simon smirked, dodging Soap’s badly-aimed smack with a chuckle.

“Ahm sorry,” Soap said quietly, not letting himself get swept up in Simon’s good mood. “Ah didnae mean tae assume-“

“Johnny,” Simon said quietly, suddenly in his space, his bare hand rising to tilt Soap’s chin up, forcing him to meet Simon’s eyes. They were soft and genuine where they bore into Soap’s, and the sight made his breath catch in his throat. “Thank you. You were wrong, but I appreciate the thought.”

“Yeah?” Soap said, embarrassingly breathless. When Simon nodded, he risked placing his hands on Simon’s hips, heat searing through the black fabric of his shirt.

“You noticed what no one else did and tried to be supportive the only way you knew how,” Simon continued, gaze still pining Soap in place, and Soap really needed him to step back or else he’d be very aware of exactly what effect his voice had on Soap.

“I always will, sir,” Soap breathed, and then abruptly stopped breathing at the darkened look in Simon’s eyes.

“You always take care of me, Johnny,” he rumbled, and the dam broke. Within a heartbeat, their lips met, a slick slide of teeth and tongues and pent-up desire, their hands sweeping across each other’s bodies, touching everything in reach. Soap felt one hand tangle at the base of his mohawk, the other splayed across his lower back, a radiating heat diffusing across his skin. His own hands were clenched in the back of Simon’s shirt, holding him as close as possible as he pushed himself up and forward, as far into Simon as he could get with layers of clothes and skin and muscle between them.

After an indeterminate amount of time—Soap couldn’t have guessed minutes or hours for all the money in the world—Simon gently broke them apart with a palm on his cheek, his hand so big that it covered the entire side of Soap’s face, and the thought made him whine even as he let himself be pushed away. They didn’t go far; Simon pressed his forehead against Soap’s, both of them gasping each other’s air as they caught their breath.

“Fuck, sir,” Soap panted, eyes pressed shut as he struggled to process what had just happened.

“Want to find out what exactly you were wrong about, Johnny?” Simon asked. Soap looked up at him, eyes flying open in confusion, then glanced down when Simon tilted his head with a smug smile. In the scant space between them, he could see the clear tent in Simon’s pants, and he couldn’t have stopped the moan that ripped out of his throat if he’d tried.

“Fuck, sir,” he repeated, looking up again, his eyes dancing with excited lust.

“I was hoping to,” Simon replied, and his laughter echoed around the room as Soap shoved him down onto the bed, his grip on his sergeant pulling them flush.

Later, as Soap laid on Simon’s bed, sprawled and strung out, the scent of sex heavy in the air, his limbs even heavier, he couldn’t help but to be glad, for the first time in his life, that he’d been wrong.

Read it on ao3 here!

#did I download clue just to write this? no comment #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #tombstone's epitaphs #tombstone's ficlets #long post #unedited

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secular-jew · 1 month ago

Text

From a real Lebanese (Phoenician).

‎I realize that when I speak my mind as a free human being, there will be responses. I can handle that.

‎However, people who are of the opposite conviction (mostly from the medieval Middle East) always respond with the same modus operandi... Every single time someone disagrees with them, they answer by calling us names like Donkey, Pig, or Dog (حمار، خنزير، كلب hmar, khanzeer, or kaleb) which they intend as big insults. They also call us either 'Zionists' or 'traitors' or 'agents'.

‎They simply have no logical answer, and they are so pathetically childish.

‎My feelings are not hurt. Far from it. But seeing so many here in the US chanting "I am Hamas" causes me to see the need to enlighten those who don't know the detailed history of the past 50 years.

‎Why do we oppose terrorist and don’t agree with their terrorism and savagery?

‎Here is the long history recap, told from my personal perspective.

‎I grew up in Lebanon with friends from all faiths: Druze, Muslim, and various Christians. We laughed and played and got along. Lebanon was generally peaceful and safe.

‎We welcomed the Palestinians as refugees to Lebanon.

‎The border between Lebanon and Israel was generally quiet compared with other Arab nations. Many Lebanese did not want war. Instead, we desired to live in peace and tranquility. We wanted prosperity, trade, tourism, and banking. The Lebanese used to be known as having joie de vie and some of the most fun people to be around.

‎Lebanon was referred to as “the Switzerland of the Middle East” for its beauty and its desire to remain peaceful and neutral and a bridge between the east and west.

‎Lebanon was also called “the Riviera of the Middle East”, "California on the Eastern Mediterranean", and “Green Lebanon” because trees covered the hills and mountains and there was no desert.

‎Beirut was known as "the Paris of the Middle East". Lebanon's Golden Age was a period characterized by its natural beauty, including snow-capped mountains, warm beaches, and a pristine coastline. Beirut was a glamorous city with luxury hotels, nightclubs, and a vibrant cultural and intellectual life. It was a popular destination for movie stars.

‎Tourists flocked to Lebanon. They went snow skiing in the morning then drove 2 hours to Beirut to water ski in the Mediterranean the afternoon of the same day. It was on everyone’s bucket list.

‎Tourists were safe and they had so much fun that they did not want to leave. Many came back year after year.

‎Over time, the Palestinians created a state-within-a-state and there were areas where they prevented even the Lebanese army from entering. Which country would accept that? Knowing the trouble it will eventually cause, the Lebanese started to become bitter about the situation.

‎Egyptian president Gamal Abdel Nasser wanted to make Lebanon part of the United Arab Republic, causing a civil war in 1958.

‎I was in Middle School when the six-day war erupted in June of 1967. School was nearing summer break. We went out for our lunch break and heard that war has started. I saw Israeli fighter jets dog fighting with Syrian jets overhead. the Syrian jets lost.

‎Because Lebanon is very small, we could catch AM radio stations from the surrounding countries. All the Arab stations repeated the same lie: "Our forces have destroyed the enemy's air force, and we have reached the outskirts of Jerusalem." All lies and propaganda from Radio Egypt, Radio Damascus, and Radio Amman. Same garbage from each station. Propaganda in the news continues to this day. If a radio station does not toe the line, the regime will shut it down.

‎To hear the truth, we turned to Radio Israel, Voice of America, and the BBC.

‎Three years later, the PLO started fighting against the King of Jordan. Their headquarters were in Amman, Jordan and even though they were refugees in Jordan, they tried to overthrow King Hussein. The king's forces surrounded them and almost killed every single fighter. The world called for a cease fire and forced King Hussein to relent. That was a major mistake. The same mistake is being repeated these days when the world asks Israel to stop firing. When the world does that, the problem never ends. It only becomes a bigger problem. The world had repeatedly made that mistake in the Middle East.

‎The PLO relocated to Beirut. They started firing at Israel from Lebanese territory, causing Israel to retaliate against Lebanese territory. Who would blame them for retaliating?

‎Again, we did not want war. We wanted peace.

‎Knowing that civil unrest was on the horizon, I went to America to study medicine hoping that by the time I completed my studies, the situation would have calmed down. Little did I know what the future held.

‎In 1975, the PLO caused the devastating civil war that engulfed Lebanon for 15 years. My parents were displaced and lost everything. So did many families. The toll was horrendous.

‎The town where I was born was located in the mountains outside Beirut, only about 30 minutes by car. My family could not go there because of the civil war and lost access to our house for over 10 years. Because it was a house owned by Christians, it was hit on more than one occasion while other homes nearby were OK. The roof had a hole in it from artillery shells. It was repaired, yet more shells hit it, sending the message not to return to town.

‎Our orchards used to have apple trees, peach trees, cherry trees, olive trees, sumac, artichoke, pine trees, mulberry trees, fig trees, and other trees. Not being tended to nor watered, they all died. Even the stones used for terracing our orchard were looted. Thus, our neatly terraced land became a worthless desolate wasteland.

‎My brother was kidnapped, other friends died. We had an apartment in Christian East Beirut. The area was besieged for a while and there were times when there was no bread. Artillery fired from Muslim west Beirut was so intense at times that even crossing the narrow street to the bomb shelter was incredibly dangerous. My mother developed heart disease and Parkinson's from the stress and fear.

‎My family were on the run from Beirut to the Metn district, then to the Bekaa, then to Cyprus, then back to various areas in Lebanon. The war had made them nomads.

‎There were so many other stories that my family endured, but I will omit them for brevity's sake.

‎The Syrian army entered Lebanon as ‘peacekeepers’ and destroyed Lebanon. For many years, the Syrian army occupied our house in the mountains and used it as their headquarters in the town. To remain warm and acting like uncivilized primitives, they lit fires inside the house on our ornate ceramic-tiled floor in the living room.

‎In the 1980's, Hezbollah came to existence and wanted Lebanon to be part of the Iranian Islamic caliphate.

‎Syria occupied Lebanon ruthlessly. Many Lebanese were taken to Syrian jails and tortured. Many never returned.

‎The war "ended", and all factions were disarmed except Hezbollah. Syria and the Shiites were in control and dictated that. Hezbollah kept getting stronger due to intense backing from Iran. For years, Lebanon remained an occupied country. Syria plundered Lebanon and became rich.

‎Syria and Iran, using Hezbollah and their own agents, began assassinating any leader who opposed them. They killed Christians and Sunnis alike. In 2005, Bashar Al Assad 'summoned' Prime Minister Rafik Hariri (a Sunni Muslim) to Damascus and 'ordered' him to do something, threatening that if he did not toe the line, Assad would 'break his head'. Hariri did not toe the line and was assassinated in February 2005. Hezbollah were the ones who committed the act.

‎The cowardly Iranian regime had established Hezbollah as a proxy to fight Israel. In essence, cowardly Iran used Lebanon to fight Israel, causing the destruction of Lebanon while Iranian territory remained safe.

‎So back to my first thought. The opposition cannot handle the truth. The only thing they can do is call us names.

‎I have thick skin. We have gone through a lot of trials and tribulations and adversity wreaked upon us by these savage terroristic animals.

‎Thank you, Israel, for Nasrallah's demise. It may create an opportunity for peace, but only if Lebanese leaders have the courage to seize the moment.

‎I will repeat what the terrorists and their supporters don’t want to hear: The Iranian Regime, The Syrian Regime, all proxies of Iran, Hezbollah, Hamas, Houthis, ISIS, Al Qaeda, The PLO, Islamic Jihad, PJ, PFLP, Syrian Baathist Party, all the Communist parties, all of these and more have been CANCERS in the World. They oppress their own people and us alike. They are savage animals who are stuck in the seventh century with the mentality of brutal conquests and war.

‎Call me what you like. I was born a Phoenician, not an Arab. The terrorists took away my county, but God gave me America. I am grateful and I am blessed.

‎I'm going to have an awesome day, and the terrorists are going to get their rears kicked. Have a good night.

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disneyprincemuke · 9 months ago

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i'm not pregnant

“wait,” you blink. “lando, what did you just say?”

lando stares at you, gaping wordlessly as he tries to find his words for a response. he presses his lips together into a thin line as he sighs. “you heard me. don’t make me say it again.”

you tilt your head and scrunch your nose. “okay… but why?”

surely lando isn’t the type of guy to say he loves you after spending a night together, right? a night in bed doing things that would ruin both of you if it ever got out. it would surely ruin your reputation, your relationship with your brother, and then lando’s friendship with said brother.

“um,” lando hums. he scrunches his nose and looks up at the ceiling. frankly, he’s got no idea where that came from either. “you know…”

“i actually don’t.”

you try and figure out where he’s coming from. prior to hooking up that night you spent in the club, you didn’t really talk much. it was all friendly, smiling at him when you would pass him, but never much actual conversation that would make you consider him a friend.

to you, he’s just your brother’s teammate.

and you know that he feels the same way. because the morning after you spent the night together, he woke up groggy and started rambling about how oscar should never find out about this.

despite being his older sister, oscar is oddly protective of you. perhaps it’s the close relationship you’ve got that made him feel like it’s his duty to make sure your life is never hard. and lando knows that the day would finally come that oscar flips shit if he ever finds out that he’d slept with his sister.

lando always thought you were cute, sure, but he was well aware of the fact that you’ll always be oscar’s older sister to him. the older sister that he desperately always wanted to be friends with but could never muster up the courage to hold a proper conversation with. but he doesn’t like you like that.

when he did eventually muster up the courage, it was only unfortunate that it happened when you were all in the club together. he had flown too close to the sun, unexpectedly dragging you into bed with him. that’s not what he had planned, for the record. he just wanted a kickstart to your friendship.

“i overheard you when you were on the phone the other day,” lando starts softly, swaying side to side as he sighs. “something about missing your period and throwing up this morning.”

your eyebrows remain furrowed, still in confusion with where he’s going at. “you were eavesdropping on my phone call?”

“no! absolutely not!” lando flails his arms in the air to clear your accusations. “no! i happened to be walking by oscar’s driver’s room at the time. and, well, i was just worried, you know? that is, assuming i’m the last guy you’ve been with in the past month.”

“so you’re saying that i sleep around?”

“no!” lando cries, hands going into his hair to tug at the roots. “that’s not what i meant at all! i-”

“then what do you mean?”

you almost want to laugh at the panic that’s taking over lando. and you would, if there isn’t some point of contention with the miscommunication you’re currently having. if you were more sure about the point he’s trying to get at, you’d be more receptive of the funniness of the situation.

lando looks at you, waiting for you to connect the dots yourself. he hums after a couple seconds of silence. “you could be pregnant?”

“oh!” you feel stupid for not noticing sooner. you throw your head back with a soft laugh and shake your head. “no. no, i’m not. i missed my period because i suddenly started exercising more, and i threw up because i was genuinely sick the other night.”

“oh,” lando sighs in relief, hunching over with a hand on his chest. “oh, thank god. really? you’re not pregnant?”

you nod as you feel a laugh bubbling from your stomach. you’ve finally caught up to lando’s agenda. “yes. i’m for sure not pregnant. is that– is that why you said what you said?”

he drops to his knees, nodding his head. “i didn’t know what to do. it just came out before i could ask you the question,” he laughs, shaking his head. “how chaotic would that have been, right? imagine if you really were?”

you put a hand on his shoulder. “let’s not dwell on things that shouldn’t happen.”

his panic is absolutely understandable, and saying that he loves you is mild compared to what else he could have done. and you’re glad. “you look kinda shaken up — do you wanna go and grab some coffee?”

@cashtons-wife @darleneslane @happy-nico @nikfigueiredo @namgification @sakuramxchii @kissesandmartini

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke isily

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1d1195 · 4 months ago

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Most II

Read Most here | ~8.6k words (whoops)

From me: So I was worried I wasn't going to have enough for this part. Especially from our MC's POV. I started with Harry first and then I wrote her POV and I think this got a little out of hand as I always manage to do--but hopefully you'll see what I was aiming for.

Warnings: angsty af, some fluff too; my hope is you'll cry when you least expect it

Summary: Leaving nearly killed her; but if Harry was happy, it would be worth it. Harry thought he would never get out of bed ever again after she left. But he did. He's really glad he did, too.

*Three years later*

“Thank you, Harry!”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Peterson. Same time next week?” He winked. The woman was older, in her sixties, she smiled politely at Harry and waved from her doorway. It seemed Mrs. Peterson constantly had issues with her alarms and being that she was older and away from family, Harry was happy to help her.

It helped that he lived next door to her as well. A tiny little house, two bedrooms, one bathroom. But it had a nice yard and Harry thought that maybe in the future there would be a flower garden and maybe one day there would be two kids who would find a bird’s nest among the flowers. But more than likely if they had two kids they would need a bigger house, a new yard, with a different garden.

The first year was the worst.

It felt like she died. The grief was so overwhelming it was hard for him to get out of bed. His mum even said things like, “Harry, she wouldn’t want this,” and “honey bunny, you have to keep living,” and Harry was mean about it. He was grumpy, sour. He told his mum it wasn’t living if she wasn’t around. He was sure he sounded like a lovelorn teen who knew nothing about love and life, but he did. Because she was the love of his life; and she was gone.

Gemma was better at getting him out of bed. Mostly because she physically dragged him out, but he was up and out all the same. She took him to get lunch and made sure he attended his classes. She watched him mope and live this half existence. Gemma wanted to hate her. She really did. But she couldn’t. As connected as she and Harry were, it felt like Gemma had a connection with her as well—maybe it was only by proxy of her brother, but she felt it.

“I think she’ll be back,” Gemma had taken Harry to the park for fresh air. They watched people run through, dogs chase after squirrels, and kids swinging at the playground. Life kept moving even if Harry felt like he was at a standstill.

“Gem,” he sighed. His eyes were tired, devoid of tears any longer. “I don’t want...”

“What? To hope?” He didn’t answer her, kicked at the rock near the bench they were sitting on. “I’m not saying you have to get back out there or anything,” she rolled her eyes. Harry snorted. The thought was laughable. There was no one else for him, he was certain. “But some hope would be good,” she suggested.

“Why d’you have hope?” He grumbled not looking at his sister.

“Because I want to hate her guts,” Gemma said knowingly. “I want to claw her eyes out for making my baby brother cry and tear her hair out of her head.”

“Gem,” he grimaced. Even hearing her talk about injuring her made him nauseous.

“Yeah, exactly. The thought of it makes me sick too,” she turned to face Harry on the bench. “She broke you and your sweet heart, Harry,” she reminded him. He turned away from her, afraid he would cry. “Because she thought it was for the best and I believe she would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. I think she really believed this was for the best. Have you ever seen her do anything she didn’t believe in?” Gemma reminded him.

He hadn’t. Harry, for a brief period of time, really wanted to run a marathon and she helped him schedule and train as if he was going to win a marathon. She hated running but she was up at six in the morning, waiting with a tired, beautiful smile. “Ready?” She yawned. He smirked at the memory. Mostly because when he told her the marathon dream was over, she punched him in the arm for making her like running and getting out of bed so early.

“No,” he sighed, shook his head. Harry let the pause consume the two of them for a few moments. The sound of laughter from the swing set and chatter from the owners to their dogs was warm. Like Harry was there all the time and it was comforting. “I miss her,” he whispered. “I miss her for everything for a lot of reasons... but maybe mostly as m’best friend.”

Gemma smiled sadly, wrapped her arm around his shoulders, and nodded. Harry was her little baby brother, but he was a head taller than her, and he had to squish down to rest his head on hers. “I miss her too,” she sighed. “But don’t worry...” Gemma agreed. “She’s gonna be back,” she assured him. “I can feel it.”

So, the first year was without hope. Harry focused on EMS classes, the classes for his psychology degree, and applying to be a volunteer firefighter so that he could get some of what he wanted whether she was there or not.

The second year, he helped with fire safety and the local primary school. He told little boys and girls how to make safety plans and encouraged them to chat with their parents so they could be safe in the case of a fire.

“Have you ever fought a fire?” A little girl asked him.

He chuckled. “No, but m’friend and I made a campfire and it spread a little more on the yard than we’d like,” he explained with a smile. “Had t’put it out ourselves.”

“Weren’t you scared?” She whispered.

Harry thought about the two of them in his backyard, waiting to roast marshmallows and thinking they could do it without his mum around. They were pretty successful, but a gust of wind threw them for a loop. She was ready to call the fire department. Fortunately, Harry was prepared and had a bucket of water to stop the spread of the flames from licking all the grass away.

“Aw, my hero,” she cooed sweetly, and Harry smiled, feeling happy. He was only eleven or so at the time, but he loved the thought of being her hero. It was worth the grounding and worth the yard work to fix it after. All for that cute girl he already adored in his tween years so very much.

“No,” he shook his head, smiling as he answered the little girl. “No, I wasn’t scared. S’important t’remain calm,” he explained.

“But what if my stuffy gets stuck inside?” She looked at Harry, wide-eyed with horror. It was nearly identical to the same horror the sweet girl had when the backyard was close to burning.

“I bet your mum and dad would have a plan, love. M’sure they’ll be able t’tell you what y’need t’do t’get you and your stuffy out,” he winked at her.

She nodded knowingly. “My little brother too?”

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded firmly. “Little brothers gotta get out too.”

It was like the little girl could predict the future because year three was the year of Harry finishing his degree (early—since he had nothing better to do than study and study some more). He was a staple at the fire station. Helping the town the way he always dreamed of helping.

And fighting real fires.

One of the major restaurants in town had a greasy fire that had him and his department racing to put out the flames before the building next door followed the same fate. Even though he didn’t do a whole lot other than hold the hose (it was a pretty relaxed fire, all things considered) he felt a swell of pride, pure happiness in his chest.

When he was at the local primary school again for a fire drill that same sweet little girl made her way to him, told him all about her plan and how Mummy and Daddy said they would save her stuffies if they could, but they weren’t nearly as important as her. He grinned. “I told you they’d have a plan,” he gave her a fist bump.

“This is my friend, he’s going to be a fireman too,” she pointed to the little boy beside her. He looked a little shy. But he smiled politely.

“S’cool, lad,” he gave him a fist bump as well. “Can’t wait t’have you on the team,” he winked. “Y’gonna train and take care of our little town here?”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“He’s going to marry me,” the little girl said. It was casual. Like breathing. There wasn’t any fanfare about it, it wasn’t hope. It was pure fact. She sounded certain she was going to marry her little friend. “And he has a plan for all my stuffies too.”

Now Harry felt a pang of jealousy. Or nostalgia. Perhaps it was a combination of both. How on earth could a twenty-two-year-old man be jealous of a nine-year-old?

But nine was the year she was a pirate for Halloween. At the time, Harry thought his best friend was so pretty and he wasn’t supposed to think girls were pretty, but she was. Even though Harry didn’t know why he thought she was pretty, suddenly, he wanted her to be in his life. So that he could soak in all her beauty and make her happy as long as he possibly could. He cleared his throat. “S’good, love,” he agreed kindly and as silly as it was, he walked away from the little ones because if he stayed a moment longer, he would break down crying jealous of the little love that he used to have that bloomed into something so much more and then disappeared.

That first year was truly the worst.

Mitch had Mondays, Niall on Wednesdays. Louis took mornings, since he and Harry jogged together around town. Sarah took weekends, making sure he went to the coffee shop that played quiet music while college students studied just near the university. Eleanor was constantly on call and that usually meant she talked him through the loneliness when he got home from his classes or work—he chatted about his day and told her what he was going to have for dinner.

Anne was compassionate. Always. “Honey, don’t you think—”

“Mum,” he sighed, he didn’t want to hear the end of the sentence. He already knew what it was going to be anyway.

“Couldn’t we look for her?” Anne asked. He shook his head.

“She...left,” it felt like acid in his mouth to say it. But maybe if he had followed after her that first week things would have been different. But he didn’t. So, she was gone and if she wanted to be gone, then what was Harry supposed to do but listen to her? At the heart of it all, he wanted her to be happy. Even if it made him miserable and sad.

But maybe Gemma was right—of course he hoped she was right.

“She’ll come back,” he mumbled. It was still hard for him to say. Even harder for him to believe.

But he did. It took two of the three years she had been gone for him to feel that way, but he believed it. Believed that she would come back because she was his soulmate.

Even though he didn’t believe in those.

“Harry,” Anne sighed. “Don’t you think—”

“Mum, m’jus...something happened,” he sighed. “I don’t know why but...something scared her away. M’not gonna make her run further by looking for her. Begging is only going t’make it worse,” he had given the spiel a thousand times over. “You can’t hate her, Mum.”

“Honey, I love that girl almost as much as you do,” she assured him with a grin. “I just don’t want you to stop living because of her.”

He knew she was right. All of them were right. So, he went to class. He went to work. He saved money to buy his house (and got some help from his kind mum too). He did so many overtime shifts, his coworkers thought he was being a suck up. His mum and Gemma worried about him. His friends worried about him. Harry tried out a plethora of ridiculous hobbies to keep him entertained enough and “lived” even though he didn’t want to.

Because living without her didn’t really feel like living.

But that part of Gemma that felt she would be back made him hope, in the deepest parts of his heart. Made him want to live even when he didn’t think he could because if she came back, he did think she might be mad he tried to stop living.

So, he lived.

Harry got home from his overnight shift at seven in the morning. He was tired. Didn’t sleep well the day before so it felt like he was going to fall asleep the moment he closed his front door—he wasn’t going to make it to the couch.

“Harry?!”

It was the exhaustion playing with his mind. He wanted to just go inside, not fiddle with Mrs. Peterson’s smoke alarms or make small talk. “Hey, Mrs. Peterson, good morning,” he answered, making his way across the yard to hers. “Everything alright?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Harry,” she started.

Harry felt guilty for not wanting to help the older woman. Regardless of how tired he felt. “No bother, Mrs. Peterson, really.”

“I think this house is cursed! Remember when the water heater exploded?!”

Harry smiled politely but wanted nothing more than to just go to bed. But Harry pressed anyway. He knew she was lonely. Harry knew loneliness like nobody else. “I do; what is it this time?”

“The sink is backed up—I think something’s clogged in it. I’m so sorry to bug you. I know you just got home—"

“It’s fine Mrs. Peterson. I’ll take a look,” he made his way through her home to the kitchen. Harry knew where everything was because he had done so much maintenance for her over the last year. Harry glanced at the sink for just a minute and then headed to her supply closet to get a bucket and the tools he had set in there for the very likes of this situation.

Once he had his materials, he laid back on the floor and crawled below the cabinet to get a look at the pipe curving out from the sink. All he wanted was to go home and fall asleep. But every once in a while, his thoughts kicked into overdrive—perhaps it was tiredness wreaking havoc on his brain.

Out of nowhere, this wasn’t Mrs. Peterson’s house.

It was the house he was supposed to be sharing with the love of his life. She would be hovering over him, making a joke about plumbing and pipes that would bring a blush to his face. Something he never expected the sweet girl to say but was enamored with her comedic timing. He would fix the issue and hear her say “my hero,” again. She would kiss him and probably convince him (although he needed very little convincing when it came to her and any desire she had) to have sex with her on the kitchen counter.

It took a minute for Harry to notice the water stopped leaking into the bucket. Carefully, he stuck a screwdriver into the pipes to make sure everything was clear and ready to be put back. “Alright, then,” he cleared his throat and slid back from the cabinet and stood to test the sink.

“You know Harry,” Mrs. Peterson began. “A handsome, kind, intelligent young man like you,” Harry was back below the sink putting the pipe back together. “I have a granddaughter your age. She’s very smart. She wants to be an engineer and she’s going to work—”

Harry smiled kindly. “Thank you, Mrs. Peterson,” it wasn’t the first time she had brought it up. “But, y’know m’happily taken.”

The first year was the worst.

Fortunately, her mom didn’t put up too much of a fight when she went home and said she wanted to move away. The car accident she was in really did a number on her and her mind. In turn, it messed with her daughter as well.

Mom said she planned on moving when she went off to college anyway. In a moment of clarity, a good day she was having, she explained she wanted to be closer to her sister so that she could let her live her young life the way she was supposed to and not have to worry about her addled mind. At the time, she was devastated. The thought of not having a house near Harry seemed horrifying. Grounds for a tantrum she never threw when she was young. She was going to drag her feet and keep hold onto Harry like she was being told she had to leave a theme park.

At the time, Harry wiped her tears away, kissed her gently on the forehead and assured her she could live with him until they got a house of their own.

She never thought she would willingly ask her mom to leave their lovely town.

Fortunately, the day she asked to leave her eyes were bloodshot, but her moms were clear. “Are you sure, sweetie?” She combed her hair back and kissed her forehead the same way Harry had in the exact opposite reaction. “What happened?”

She inhaled sharply, shook her head, and turned away. “No,” she sniveled. “No.”

So, for a few moments, her mom was her mom. The one that was kind and lovely. The one who’s mind was fully intact and didn’t get angry for no reason. “Oh sweetie,” she frowned and held her while she cried.

When they arrived at her new place, a small little house her mom was renting just a few miles away from her aunt, they reminisced about the photos and trinkets she grew up with. They laughed and she felt like she was at home even though it was the furthest from home she ever could have imagined.

“You know, when I’m mad, it’s not about you, my love. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” her mom told her. “I’m sorry I’m not the mom you used to have.”

Her dad had ducked his responsibilities shortly before her mom’s water broke so it had always been the two of them. For a very long time, it was perfect. Her childhood was perfect. The best mom who never made her feel like she couldn’t do something.

Then, post-accident, it felt like just one and a half of them.

Sometimes, she didn’t know who the half was.

But one thing she could count on was that Harry would make her whole.

“I’m worried that I won’t live my life because of her,” she whispered to Harry. They were laying under the stars in his backyard. It was before they were together; but if you asked her, there was never a time they weren’t together. Being boyfriend and girlfriend in school was a label for everyone else, not for them. “It makes me feel selfish,” her voice creaked.

“You are the least selfish person I know, kitten,” Harry reached out and grabbed her hand. Squeezed it. “Your mum is still your mum,” he promised. “She doesn’t want you t’take care of her. S’not your job. You have t’live your life for her.”

Harry was a year older than her, but it often felt like he was ages older. He was wise beyond reason, and she was so grateful he was in her life. Not just because he was easy to look at and she adored him so unbelievably much, but because he was right. He was there. And he always made her feel better.

She was turned on her side, so she could properly stare at him. The car accident was years ago at that point, and it still felt fresh. Part of her lost a chunk of her mom that day and sometimes the aftermath was more painful than the day her aunt came to get her at school and bring her to the hospital. She and Harry usually walked home from school and the poor thing nearly had a panic attack not knowing where she was.

How no one, including themselves, figured out they were meant for one another long before they were together, seemed crazy to look back on.

When she realized her mom was different, Harry was there to balance the craziness. He helped her cope and assured her that everything would work itself out. He helped her through the screaming matches that ensued and all the frustration she felt from not being the same mom she once had. Things would be okay—he would make sure of it.

It was ridiculous that two teenagers could think in absolutes like that. But she believed him so completely; neither of them had money—well, no more than their retail jobs offered. Harry couldn’t support her anymore than she could support him. But given the chance she was certain he would. And she wanted nothing more than to be there for Harry the way he was for her.

But without Harry, she felt numb. Trivial stuff didn’t matter anymore: a broken dish, mom yelling at her, a car repair, or a cut on her finger from slicing veggies for dinner. Waitressing mishaps and stressing for finals felt completely different without Harry by her side.

Her mom forgot a lot of stuff. Where she put bills, where she left her glasses, or how to get to the grocery store. But she never forgot Harry.

“How’s Harry?” She asked.

“Good,” it was easier on her heart and her mom to just say he was fine. It wasn’t worth reliving the experience over and over. It killed her that she didn’t forget. Hearing his name made her stomach flutter. But they were closer to her aunt now. So she was able to help with the things her mom was forgetting more frequently and the chronic pain and anger that she suffered from due to the accident. It was why she was able to live in apartment with a friend from school.

How she was able to make a friend at all was a miracle.

Addie was a history major and but took so many dance classes she could have double-majored in it. She was graceful and beautiful. She was loud and fun—always knew people who threw the best parties and always managed to find a guy to help move their stuff in and out of their dorm and apartments.

Part of her wondered why Addie even liked being friends with her. She wasn’t anything like Addie: bright, vivacious, life-loving. All she did was go to class, go to work, and mourn the loss of the love of her life even though it was her own fault.

After some coaxing and friendship building (and a thunderstorm mid semester that took out the power in the middle of the night and simultaneously woke the pair of them) she told Addie all about her past life. “Sweetie,” Addie shook her head and spoke into the dark room as if she could see her. It felt like she was yanking directly on her heart. “You could have him again,” she promised. “There’s no way he’s not waiting for you.”

“But Addie... he deserves more.”

“Well, he probably doesn’t want more.”

“Addie,” she shook her head. “I’m not...”

“Not what? Everything you just said made it sound like you’re his soulmate.”

She felt like her vocal cords had been pinched together. She was glad the darkness hid the tears. “Harry didn’t believe in those,” she whispered.

“Well, respectfully, sweetie…he’s as dumb as you are, then.”

She laughed. It started quietly and built and built. Her giggle into unfiltered pure joy. It had been months since she laughed like that. It was warm and made Addie laugh alongside her. She didn’t know how much she missed laughing. It didn’t make it better because God, did she miss Harry and her old life, her old friends, and everything about that wonderful, beautiful town. But it made her think that maybe, if she could laugh, Harry would too. That’s what she wanted, right? At the end of the day, it was why she left. Give Harry the chance to have more when she felt like less.

Addie took a writing class with her in their second semester. An intro class—but it was one of those ones that was ridiculously hard for no reason at all. Luckily, she enjoyed writing, but if someone took this class as a hopeful, easy elective, they were in for a rude awakening.

Their professor had just finished reading one of the assignments from the previous week. It was riveting, a short story about a girl who felt this undeniable pull to jump off a bridge in the town she lived in. It wasn’t a tragic kind of jump. It was like a reset, something hard to explain. That there were a lot of things she felt it would help—if she just jumped once, it—no everything—would be okay. She described the bridge, the rocks, the water with so much rich vocabulary, it was like everyone in the class was there at the bridge. The protagonist hated heights though, and jumping was dangerous even if it wasn’t tragic. The back and forth of pros and cons as to why she should jump, why she shouldn’t. The humor, the warmth, the nostalgia hit the entire class like a tsunami.

The final paragraph read about the girl going to the bridge. She had just decided, finally she was going to jump. She set her belongings down and climbed the railing. She was alone and brave. No one was going to stop her, and she felt so good. She wasn’t going to stop herself. She breathed in the salty air, didn’t look down, and listened to the sound of waves crashing over the rocky shore. It was peaceful. No cars around, no people. Just her and the water. It was exciting, Addie felt for the character wanting the reset more than she wanted to breathe. It was going to work; she was going to feel better. Addie was proud of her for wanting to do it and getting what she wanted.

A reset. To fix everything. Their professor read.

Then, she climbed off the railing, picked up her stuff, and went home.

How was anyone supposed to remain in this writing class if that was what they were competing with?

“I hope she publishes that,” Addie whispered.

Their professor wrote the assignment on the board. Another short reading and then questions to go over it. The room was silent while people read, and then quiet chatter started as they worked in pairs on the assignment. At the same time, their professor shuffled the previous writing assignments and returned them to their authors.

The paper titled Jump slid onto the desk beside Addie. She stared at her friend like she was possessed. “Are you kidding?”

She quietly tucked the paper below her new assignment sheet and shrugged, cheeks blushing at the notion. Addie was in awe and unnerved that she didn’t seem to care. Over the next several classes, she kept an eye on her friend so she wouldn’t miss any more brilliance. She wrote answers to questions her professor asked in her notebook. “Why don’t you answer?” Addie whispered.

“Shh,” she hushed.

“Are you a genius? Like a prodigy or something?”

“Shut up,” she hissed, worried her professor would say something about their rude and ridiculous whispering to them.

After class, they headed back to their dorm for a nap. It was like they were toddlers, but they didn’t care. “So, Prodigy—”

“Addie,” she laughed. “Stop.”

“What’s your plan? A book?”

There was a small pause. Reflective almost. Then she nodded. “Yes.”

They were quiet. Addie waited for her to elaborate but it never came. “Sweetie, you’re brilliant.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, still not elaborating. That was the first time she felt like her old self in her writing. It was the first piece of something that was sentimental and her that she had written since she left. It had been 231 days since she saw Harry. Last week when they had been assigned the homework to write something like Jump, she finally felt like it was worth writing.

“Hey,” Addie stopped her, a hand on her arm as they approached their dorm. “Can we just...take a second? You wrote something so brilliant and beautiful. Maybe you and Harry were used to that kind of brilliance, but I’m only just learning about it,” Addie said Harry’s name so casually. Like she had known him just as long as she had. Harry would love Addie, she was sure. “You should enter that in a contest,” she told her. She snorted and shook her head. “I’m serious! It should be published. You hooked me in, and it was what, five thousand words?”

She nodded; shrugged nonchalantly. “More like four thousand, actually.”

Well, it felt like ten thousand to Addie and she still loved it. “Why did you write it?” Addie asked. Biting the inside of her lip she shrugged again. But she knew. They both knew. “Sweetie, you can go back to him. You can jump,” she said reassuringly. Tears filled her eyes and she looked away. “Harry would under—”

“I know,” she croaked. “I know,” she sniffled. The chill in the air wasn’t helping. Harry’s birthday was only a few days ago and it was the first one in years where she didn’t send him a message at midnight. She had been the first one to wish him a happy birthday for the last ten years—since she was old enough to text him. But Addie was right. Harry would understand. It was ridiculous that he would. He would forgive her instantly. But it was barely half a year. It was too soon...it wasn’t enough time to let him... breathe without her.

Even if it felt like she was suffocating without him.

“Aw, babe,” Addie sighed and wrapped her arm around her friend’s shoulder. It took her a second to notice she was crying, sniveling more than was necessary as she remembered his birthday wishes. “I’m sorry,” she said and ushered her the rest of the way into their dorm. “We can talk about it another time.”

She sniveled and wiped her eyes. “S’okay. Thank you for being so nice, Addie,” she said truthfully. A different friend might have told her to quit crying and it was her own choice. But Addie was different. Because as brilliant as she was, Addie had a knack for this kind of emotion, this kind of understanding that someone as graceful as her could only understand.

“Of course,” she held the door open for the lobby. “That’s what best friends are for.”

She worked a lot from the moment she set foot on campus. She waitressed at a restaurant that was flooded with locals and plenty of college students. For years the only one that flirted with her was Harry. She was surprised when guys asked her out while she was working. It was a little uncomfortable at first. “I’m actually—”

“Of course she’s taken,” one of the guys at her table said to his friend.

And honestly, she hadn’t thought of that. Fortunately, she still felt taken. Very much so. She wasn’t sure she would ever be able to move on from Harry. “You are?” he asked with a frown.

“Happily,” she sighed softly. Because it was true—partly. She was smitten; completely taken by and with Harry. Whether he was physically around her or not. There wouldn’t be anyone else. Couldn’t be.

It didn’t stop the flirtations, but it made it easier to take them on because she could say her heart was taken. Happily, taken.

So, the first year was the worst. Figuring out how to live without her best friend and so she focused on school. She focused on work. But Harry invaded her every thought. In fact, she started writing down things that happened to her. Like a list because maybe, in the depths of her subconscious, she wanted to go back. That’s what Jump was about. She had to go back. Even if it was to see that he had moved on and if he did, that was good. He deserved it.

Harry was in her blood. He was written in her notebooks as if she had it tattooed on her skin.

“Do you want to get an apartment?” Addie asked. “You’re staying the summer, yeah? What was your plan for that?”

She wasn’t sure, honestly. It was April and the semester was coming to close in just a few weeks. She thought she would just sleep in her car or something and shower at the gym. Visit her mom for a bit of time about an hour away. Or maybe even commute from there. But she hadn’t thought about it, because it honestly didn’t matter. She would continue working and moving. Trying her hand at silly hobbies to entertain her mind and keep her from spiraling and being sad all the time.

“Yeah...um...no...no plan. An apartment?” the sale of her mom’s house gave her a pretty penny. It was kind of her mom to give her anything. Well...you know. Her mom shrugged. An unspoken sentence about inheritance and the like.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have air conditioner that worked when we wanted it to?” Addie sighed dreamily. “Or heat? Like why are these dorms even allowed to run without heat in the middle of a snowstorm?”

The chilly night they spent snuggled in bed beneath every blanket they owned and every sweatshirt they could possibly put on was now a fond memory that made them smile. Although it was anything but fond at the time. “And if the smoke detector goes off, we don’t have to run out necessarily,” Addie continued. “You can feel not guilty about writing into the night in your own room.”

“Are you trying to sell apartment living or are you flirting with me?”

“Whatever gets you to move in. My parents know someone so the rent will be cheap—just have to pay the utilities and a little monthly fee. The only thing is we’d have to move twice. They have this place for the summer but we’d have to go to a different one of their places at the end of August.”

With the tips she was making, plus the tutoring she did at the writing center, it seemed completely doable. But a huge part of her hesitated because she always dreamed her first apartment would be with Harry. He would help her move furniture and let her decorate it however she wanted even though she asked every time if he liked it. What if I want pink walls with yellow polka dots? She asked him. Then I’ll get m’paintbrush. What if I only want blow-up furniture? She wondered. Then I’ll buy an air pump.

“We’ll have to go furniture shopping,” she said instead.

Addie squealed.

She was sitting in the auditorium watching Addie’s dance recital. A guy sat beside her. “Hey,” he said sweetly. “I’m Carter,” he stuck his hand out. She offered her name quietly.

Harry would love Carter. Clearly a bright personality—outgoing and sweet. “I saw you sitting alone and figured I’m alone too. Are you waiting for someone?” He asked. She shook her head. “I think we have a class together,” she didn’t immediately recognize him. Harry would love him. Would love how sweet he was to get ready to just chat and make her feel comfortable without being creepy. Even though she did not want to talk to him. Not because he made her feel weird but because she was grumpy, sullen and sad. “Do you know someone in the show?”

She cleared her throat. “My best friend; my roommate. Addie,” she pointed in the brochure showing a picture of her that she had to submit a week ago and they spent hours going over photos of her.

She watched him look at her picture. For a moment it was like looking in a mirror. She knew what Carter saw because she experienced it every time that she looked at Harry. Unwittingly, she had just shown Carter the first image of his soulmate.

“Oh... oh wow... she’s... she’s like... really pretty,” he swallowed his eyes widening, drinking in her portrait like she was the only thing that mattered. “Sorry,” he shook his head and turned away briefly. When he turned back to continue the conversation, he had a bright smile on his face. But she was already mentally gushing about the way he had fallen for her friend just from a mere headshot in a program. “My sister did dance for years and I’m really far away from home so I thought I would come check it out. I used to complain about all the recitals, but now I miss them. Isn’t that weird, how you take it for granted?”

She didn’t feel like talking. Especially about things that were taken for granted. She had spent most of the day packing up her dorm room and scouring Facebook Marketplace for cheap furniture. She and Addie were going to as many thrift stores and yard sales this weekend as it took to furnish their two-bedroom place. She was tired and overwhelmed.

Maybe I should suggest blow-up furniture.

But Carter clearly wanted to chat, and they still had a few minutes until the show started. Obviously, he liked her friend already, so she needed him to like her because she couldn’t stand to lose another person in her life. Even of her own doing. “Yeah,” she sighed. “It’s like you... you forget all the little things,” she murmured. “Like I remember the big things, like the hugs and the vacation memories, all the popcorn we shared at the movies...” She smiled fondly. “You don’t remember like the way they left the kitchen a mess or shoes by the door covered with snow.”

“Yeah... yeah, exactly,” he smiled sadly. “Do you have a sister?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I... I had some really close friends though. We... I,” she swallowed. Admitting it was all her fault, out loud, was an entirely different thing. “I left them behind... because...” she shrugged. “Y’know.”

Carter watched her curiously for a moment. It was clear he didn't know. “The writing class—we’re in that writing class together,” he recognized.

Then she knew, he sat by the window. His partner incorrectly answered a lot of questions. “Oh, that’s right,” she nodded.

“Do you have any theories on who wrote that Jump thing? My partner in class and I have been trying to figure it out for months. It’s been published you know.”

She did know. She had been paid fifteen hundred dollars for its publication after Addie insisted that she submit it to a magazine two months ago. But she didn’t pay much mind to it. It hurt a lot. She thought about lying though. Maybe even saying it was Addie. She had two siblings at home and Carter was very cute. She would probably fall in love with him without even trying. She couldn’t wait to introduce them after the show. “Yeah, um... I actually... I wrote it.”

His eyebrows rose to the middle of his forehead. “Wow... wow,” he was staring at her like she did jump off the bridge she wrote about. “You know...that makes sense. I’ve never heard you talk, but... now, I’m not surprised... You speak the way you write.”

“How’s that?” She wondered curiously.

“It’s just... gentle, I guess,” he shrugged. “Like I feel like I want to tell you everything; I wanted to tell you everything after our professor read your story and I didn't know you,” he chuckled. “I met you what, three minutes ago? That's not normal.”

She smiled fondly. “I get that a lot.”

Harry told her all the time she was too nice—but not in a bad way. It was more so that she had an open, adorable face and just had the sweetest demeanor. You could talk a man into bed if y’wanted, kitten. He winked. Y’wouldn’t even have t’say anything; he would do all the talking.

Gently, he put his hand on her arm. “I hope you jump,” he said quietly, with a little squeeze as the curtain fell closed, and the lights dimmed. Her heart fluttered. He was meant for Addie.

“Can I introduce you to Addie after the show?” She whispered right as the emcee stood center stage with the microphone ready to get the show started.

“Good evening,” she said. "Our dancers--"

“Yeah?” He smiled so brightly she could see it in the dim light, whispering back to her. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Someone deserved a happily ever after anyway.

They were so destined for a happily ever after.

Carter wouldn’t leave her side. Brought her flowers every week and made sure she always had a jacket that he would carry in case it was cold. When she was studying, he would literally feed her dinner to make sure she had food in her stomach.

Their love was so pure she was jealous. She could only imagine how Harry would have taken care of her on nights she had to stay up all night. He probably would have turned the pages of her books or read to her out loud when her eyes were tired. Hell, he would have written essays for her only for her to rewrite them and correct them just for fun.

Carter helped them move their stuff from their dorm to the apartment, and then to the second apartment. Then when Addie’s parents’ friends asked if they would be willing to move to a different apartment so they could have an elderly couple move into the lower floor place he helped move them again.

“Hey gorgeous. How's my favorite matchmaker,” Carter winked at her as he walked into the apartment. He was a staple. So very much in love with Addie he walked in whenever he wanted and truly, she didn’t care. “Addie’s on her way home, I was going to make her mac and cheese, do you want some?”

God, Harry would love him.

“No thanks, I’ve got a shift in a bit. Just finishing my rough draft.”

“Awesome, well, let me know if I’m making too much noise.”

God, she loved him.

“Do you want... to hear it?” She asked. Harry used to read and listen to her poems and her prose. Her writing was like doodles on the edge of her notebooks but it felt like she was reading Harry a bedtime story. He would beg to hear something, anything. Sometimes she would just reread old stuff when she hadn’t written anything new, but he listened to it in awe like it was the first time he heard it anyway.

“Do you want to share?” He asked. Surprise coated his tone. He pulled the dishes out he was going to use and looked at her over the half wall between the kitchen and living room. “I’m game if you are. I just figured it was private.”

She ignored him and began to read. Recently she had been inspired to write about love that was hidden but love all the same. Something that Carter said back in the auditorium really resonated, made her want to write the way she used to. The way she wrote Jump. She talked about dance recitals that she hated and the way the people left muddy shoes on the floor. She wrote about how sometimes when she least expected it, she thought of the love that resided in the bathroom, a sticky note on the mirror telling her to have a good day. Putting a glass of water on the bedside table because she had a late night. Giggling at a message that was sent two days ago but made her smile as if it was sent a minute ago. How love was green eyes and dimples that always knew what to say even when she was down. She talked about love that was quiet and perfect because love didn’t need to be loud.

It took a moment to notice that it was silent in their apartment. She looked up and realized she couldn’t see Carter because her eyes were filled with tears. “Wow,” he murmured. “You’re uh...” he shook his head. “You’re going to write the world’s greatest love story,” he smiled.

She snorted, laughed, crying still. "Yeah...yeah, no..." she wiped below her eyes unable to say anything else.

Carter walked over to the couch, set her precious notebook on the coffee table that had a heart on the inside cover with someone's name she shouldn't have written any longer. Then she sat beside his favorite matchmaker. He rubbed her back and told her it would all be okay.

She thought about how she hadn’t seen the love of her life in 382 days but she felt it as if she had fallen in love for the first time yesteday.

The first year was the hardest. But at least she could write again.

It made the second and third years pass in the blink of an eye. Aching for a love that was in her notebooks and in her head.

Harry’s coworker was waiting for him outside the coffee shop. His shift was over, but he had plans to finish his latest creation that morning. A caffeine jolt would be just what he needed before he headed home.

“Hey Lauren,” he smiled sweetly.

“Hi Harry,” she answered with a bright smile. Her voice was cheerful, and it reminded Harry of the girl he wanted to hear from more than anything.

“Any word?”

There were plenty of coffee shops in town. But Lauren was extremely helpful in his need for information—or at least she tried. He just wanted to know she was okay. Lauren had worked there for as long as they were old enough to have jobs. While she was always just on the other side of Harry’s circle of friends, he thought that she could get away with seeing Lauren and Harry might not ever know. He chose this one coffee shop, slightly out of his way, because he thought maybe if she was passing through, it might be the one place she chose—just to see an old friend.

Lauren was extremely helpful at first. Harry had stopped by the shop shortly after Gemma had talked to him in the park. It seemed like fate that he would run into her. Tried reaching out to her, trying to help Harry figure out why. In the end, it amounted to nothing. Not a word came back.

“No word,” her voice was quieter. Like she felt bad that she hadn’t heard anything.

So, he stopped asking. But the habit of visiting Lauren, it made him feel closer to her. In some small way.

He had two trays of drinks that he brought to Louis and Eleanor’s place. They were situated around the coffee table, waiting for a football game to start on TV. It was quiet while they listened to the pregame show and Harry found Sarah staring at him. “What?” He asked.

“You can’t fall in love with Lauren,” Sarah said.

Everyone groaned and agreed with the sentiment.

“Jesus Christ,�� Harry muttered as he took a sip of his drink.

“I would castrate you myself,” Eleanor assured him.

“M’not—”

“Harry wouldn’t do that,” Niall said defensively.

“Yeah, that was one of her best friends,” Mitch chimed in as well.

“I don’t—”

“I’m just saying,” Sarah said defensively. “I don’t want you to fall for Lauren just because she’s like her.”

Harry looked at his lap and shook his head. “M’not falling in love again,” he assured them. “As far as m’concerned... m’heart is taken.”

It was a stop light. The music beside him was loud. He scrolled through his phone aimlessly. Something he never did before she left. Why would he need to scroll when she was there? They created their own fun and entertainment. Now, it was the only thing that kept his tired mind occupied. Everything was to pass the time. He laughed when he was supposed to, smiled when he was supposed to. When he needed to move or help someone, he did.

But Harry was undecidedly different. He didn’t laugh the same way. He didn’t love the same anymore. How could he?

The music playing was a hit from ages ago—a song his mum loved and played a lot while he was growing up. If it wasn’t one of his favorites of his mum’s, he might not have looked up from his phone screen. But he did. Thank God, he did.

He dropped his phone. It clanked between his boots against the floor of the truck. His jaw fell slack. “Kitten?” He called instinctively. Her music was too loud, though. Plus, she was singing along. Tapping the steering wheel to the rhythm of the instruments behind the lyrics. Harry’s heart started to race. Like he was in a five-alarm fire. He opened the door without thinking and stepped into the stoplight traffic.

“Harry!” The light was still red, but it wouldn’t be for long. He knocked on her window causing her to jump and double-take as she looked toward him. It felt like Harry had sprinted a marathon in his gear. He was sweating, his breathing erratic.

How long had she been home? Was she home?

God, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

It was like the Earth flipped back to the correct magnetic field. All the pieces of his splintered heart slammed back together. He was overwhelmed with love for her. The 1,127 days that he had counted without her hadn’t passed since he last saw her—it was just yesterday that he saw her, right? She looked the same, beautiful as ever. She smiled; it was small. Almost like she didn’t mean to smile but it was a reflex. Harry smiled back—a reflex of his own at the sight of her. She never failed to make him smile. Even in his memories, the good, the bad, the awful day she left, Harry couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her. His knuckles were still pressed to the window, refusing to move away from the piece of her that was finally physical and real in front of him. It felt like no time had passed. As if it was the very same day that she broke his heart, and they were just lucky to happen to bump into one another while running errands later that day.

“STYLES!” Shouted from behind him.

He blinked, the sound of horns honking returned. Her small smile disappeared, and she waved ever so slightly and started through the intersection. The line of cars beeping behind her. The line of cars behind the truck agitated and beeping as well behind his waiting partner.

Harry hopped back into the truck and watched her turn right at the next streetlight. As they passed the street, his eyes stayed glued to her turn, long after they passed the street. His coworker cleared his throat. “Was that...?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. The breath felt new; like he hadn’t really ever taken a deep breath in a really long time. As if he had been holding it for the last three years and he forgot what oxygen really felt like as it entered his lungs. “Yeah,” he repeated to himself.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissinthekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @madstyles3204

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

#harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #harry styles #most #best friend!harry #second chance romance!harry

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koolades-world · 4 months ago

Note

Thank u for writing my request, I rlly liked it :)

Can I req one more?

MC who sings a lot, like to pass time when they’re doing something/when they’re happy/to comfort themself when they’re anxious/sad.

And then, (if you’re comfortable writing this) they have a bit of a depression episode, and they stop singing for weeks/months. What would the 7 brothers do? And/or how would they react when MC starts singing again?

🫐

hi again! great to see you :)

enjoy <3

Singer Mc who starts singing again after a depressive episode

Lucifer

music has always been something he treasured and enjoyed

so when you came into his life, he knew the two of you would get along quite well

during the period where you weren't singing, he still kept music in your life and made sure to be the comforting presence he knew you needed

when you sing for the first time again, he's happy that you're feeling better again and you're doing what you love

Mammon

he initially found your singing habit a little odd, and was always asking questions about what song you were singing and why

soon he learnt it was just you, and he wouldn't have it any other way

he found himself humming the tunes you'd sung around him, and it made him smile every time he realized he was doing it

throughout your episode, he sung to you everyday, so if you weren't feeling up to it, you could still enjoy it

Levi

he understands your habit of singing, since he himself has many habits of self soothing and such

he wasn't sure he'd ever grow used to it, and he told himself he didn't have to since you'd only be in the same house as him for a year

but, he grew to love your voice and it was something he preferred any day over the sound of silence

when you finally start to sing again, he realizes how grateful he is for you, and goes to seek you out to tell you his feelings

Satan

he always thought you were something right out of a movie with the way you sang

a disney princess, if you will, and he loved that little habit of yours

the first time he hears you sing again, he feel a sense of comfort creep over him that he hadn't even realized he'd been missing

he's quick to follow the sound of your voice and embrace you like he'd never before

Asmo

he's easily the first to fall in love with your voice out of the brothers

just something about it is so enchanting and every time he hears a song he's heard you sing, he thinks of you

he will always be there when you need him, and did his best to keep your spirits up

hearing you voice again was like a breath of fresh air to him and made sure his evening was free to spend time with you some more

Beel

whenever you sang, he couldn't help but be reminded of his time up in the celestial realm

from time to time, he'd take you down a trip on memory lane and he appreciates you for taking that time with him

when you start to sing again, he's so happy for you and that you're feeling better

he takes a quick trip to the store to buy all of your favorite snacks to gift to you, just as he had been throughout your episode <3

Belphie

when he was locked up in the attic, he would always hear your voice and found it comforting despite the fact that it was coming from a human

during your episode, he was by your side every day, making sure you ate and drank, and was practically glued to your side

he was asleep the first time you sang again, but it woke him up

a warm smile spread across his face upon the realization he'd made, but he laid there for a little while longer just so he could enjoy your voice before he interrupted you

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me asmo #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me belphie #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

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lunajay33 · 8 months ago

Text

Change

•🩰🎀🩷•

Summary: Y/n is a loner but loves ballet but her family doesn’t have enough money for her to dance at the studio, Daryl is a redneck who hates people and prefers bikes, until one day these two run into eachother and their lives change drastically, will Daryl toughen her up? Will y/n soften Daryl? Or both? How will things go when people start coming back from the dead

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

A/n: This is going to be a series, it’s gonna start with how they met eachother and their lives before the apocalypse, eventually it’ll blend with twd story line!!

•Masterlist•

I’ve always wanted to dance, to strap on pretty pink ballet slippers and wear the tights and everything, ever since I was a little girl and first watch Swan Lake, watching how there was a light beautiful side but how also a dark side to a person it hooked me, but that dream was quickly crushed when my parents refused, saying they didn’t have enough money to put me in ballet because my older brothers football was more important and they couldn’t afford both at once

It’s always been like that, whatever my brother wanted he’d get within a reasonable price, but when I asked for the simplest things they would get mad and always turn me down, saying I should get a job if I ever wanted anything. So that’s exactly what I did, I got a waitressing job at the little diner in town, working after school and on weekends just hoping to be able to save enough for ballet classes, but balancing school and work everyday is exhausting and having a terrible home life ontop of that doesn’t help

My older coworker told me to make some friends and that might help things, help distract myself for a while and have a person to relay on for once but it wasn’t so simple, if you weren’t drop dead gorgeous, or had nice clothes and money in my school then the girls treated you like a ghost

So here I am sat at my usual bench under the wilting tree behind the school for lunch, sitting in the cafeteria all alone at a whole table felt pathetic, embarrasing, plus it was more comforting here, no pry judgemental eyes, plus the air out here smelt of fall, fallen crisp leaves, the towns forest right behind the school, it was comforting

I finished my lunch putting the book I was ready away in my bag and made my way back for my next class, biology and today we were getting a new seating arrangement, one I’ve been waiting for the whole month since I was sat next to one of the mean girls, I took my seat right as the bell rang

“Okay class today we are moving around, so find your spots” she said as she projected the new seating up on the board, I found my name at the second table to the back on the left, I made my way noticing I was sat with Daryl Dixon. He was quiet, usually kept to himself kind of like me, people would always talk bad about him but never dared say anything if his older brother was around, I remember the times my brother would complain about how obnoxious Merle Dixon was….as if he wasn’t the exact same

I plopped down next to him taking out my books and pencil case

“Hi”

“Hey” he said keeping his eyes on the table

That’s all we said to each other the whole period until the end of class

“Okay everyone, whoever you’re sitting with is now going to be your new lab partner, you’ll be working on this project together outside of class and it’ll be due at the end of next week, so I advise you figure out a time and place to work on this” she said as she handed out papers seeing it was a project on the cycle of frogs and their habitats

There was 10 minutes left in class for us to figure out how to get this project done, I turned in my seat looking at Daryl, up close I noticed he was actually kinda cute in a mysterious way

“Would you like to come to my house tomorrow so we can work on it?” I asked as tomorrow was Saturday

“Sure” I wrote down my address and gave it to him right when the bell rang

I was getting ready for Daryl to come over, I don’t know why I was so nervous maybe because I’ve never really had many people over and that my parents and brother were psychotic and mean and I didn’t want him to witness that. I looked in the mirror brushing out my hair that I’ve combed through a hundred times already, hoping my outfit was nice enough, a whiteish sweatshirt that had a hint of blush pink to it, paired with black leggings just wanting to be comfortable but hopefully still cute, that’s when I heard a knock at the door

“ILL GET IT!” I screamed not wanting anyone else to answer especially not my brother since he knew Daryl was Merle’s brother

I stood infront of the closed door huffing out a breath to calm my jitters, I opened it and there he stood, hands in pockets with his usual gruff demeanor

“Come in” I said stepping aside for him to come in

“Do you wanna work in my room?”

“Sure” he said as he kicked off his shoes

I lead the way to my room, it wasn’t a big house so it wasn’t like we had to go down hallways to get to my room, I closed the door when we got in as he dropped his notebook on my bed looking around my room which made me anxious, my walls had little framed photos of Swan Lake, little painting of ballet slippers, my room wasn’t much since my parents put so much into Jackson’s room but these photos were all I had to keep me happy

“Nice room” he said with a smirk

“You don’t have to lie” I said smiling as I crawled on my bed sitting up against the head board as he followed to sit at the foot of the bed

“I ain’t, it’s…..different, do ya dance?” He asked looking back to the pictures I adored

“No, I’ve always dreamed of it though”

He looked at me with a strange look I couldn’t read

“Well why don’t ya?”

“My parents won’t let me, said Jackson football is my important and will lead to something” I said shrugging my shoulders, if anyone could understand brother problems it would be him

His usual glaring eyes softened but I didn’t want the pity, I thought about my crushed dream enough I didn’t want to think about it more so I flipped open the text book to the section we needed and we got to work, it was silent for the most part and I welcomed it, until we took a break

“Merle says yer brother is always runnin his mouth, talks bad about ya” my heart thumped in my chest, Jackson could say anything about me and I’d have no way to deny it since no one really liked me and he had his whole football team full of guys who only thought with one thing

“What does he say?” I asked nervously

“Says yer a weirdo, says ya run around sleepin with every guy on his football team” my heart felt like it stopped and shrivelled up

“What……..I would never, I can’t believe he would say that, I don’t know why he hates me so much” I said as my bottom lip quivered try to control myself, not wanting to cry infront of him and make him uncomfortable

“Merle an I, we don’t believe ‘em……..plus it ain’t like everyone else in that damn school ain’t like that” he said looking back down at his note book, fidgeting with his pencil

“It would be better if I had friends that would believe me and be on my side” I said huffing a little sarcastic laugh

“I can be yer friend” he said so quietly I almost didn’t hear him

“You don’t have to pity me, I know you don’t like people” he looked back up at me with he glaring expression but for some reason it didn’t bother me

“I ain’t pitying ya, yer one of the few people that don’t annoy me at school, yer nice and keep to yer self” he said bluntly making my heart flutter

“Okay, I’d like to be friends then!” I said smiling as we both went back to work

After 2 hours of going back and forth working and talking we got the project done, I led him to the door standing there as he laced up his shoes, I opened the door as he stood back up

“So uhh, ya wanna hang out again tomorrow?” He asked gripping his backpack strap

“Sure, I have a shift at the diner in the morning but you can come by and we can eat there after I’m done, I get a discount!” I said excited

“Sounds good” he said about to leave before I stopped him

“Wait, here’s my number, it’s for my room phone so you can call anytime if you want” I said handing him a piece of paper with my number

“I’ll call ya later then, see ya” he said in his gruff voice as he left watching him disappear up the side walk

It was the next day and I was almost done my shift, I’d covered a lot of tables and was now just wiping down the counter waiting to see Daryl walk through the door, the door bell chimed and I looked up excited but instead it was Jackson and some of his football team members, they came in loud and obnoxious as usual

They came to the counter, filling three seats along the counter

“Jackson what are you doing here?” I asked putting down the rag I was using

“Oh come on sis we’re just hungry” he said sarcastically as his friends laughed with him

I sighed taking out my pad “well what do you wanted?”

“I wanna see you bent over my truck” his friend said, I was disgusted but I wasn’t good with this kind of thing

“Cute little thing like you mmmmm, what I wouldn’t do” his other friend said

I was beyond embarrased I just wish someone could help me, and as if my prayers were answered someone came in to intervene

“Leave er alone jackasses” I looked down to a seat further down the counter seeing it was Daryl, he must have just came in

“Oh ya and what’re you gonna do Dixon?”

“Just get outta here” he said sending a glare that could kill, they huffed and got up with a commotion

“Whatever, we’ll see you around bitch” they said to me before they left, I made my way to where Daryl was seated my face felt so hot

“Sorry you had to see that?” I said giving him a glass of water

“Do they do that often?”

“Ya usually when I’m working on the weekend, they think it’s funny”

“I can get Merle, set them straight” he said making me smile

“Nah it’s not your problem but thank you, I’m kinda use to it by now, even though it incredibly embarrassing” I said covering my cheeks

“Anyways, I’m done now so I’ll go clock out and be right back” I said trying to change the subject, I walked to the back taking of my waist apron and got my purse

“You done for the day sweetie?” My older coworker May asked

“Yeah, but me and my friend are going to have some lunch here”

Her eyes lit up “Friend? Did you finally manage to snatch someone up” she said twirling her pen as she smacked on her cherry gum she always had in her mouth

“Yes, he’s just easy to be around”

“HE?”

“Yes May my friend is a boy don’t get all crazy, but he’s waiting so I have to go before he thinks I left” I said blushing as I went back out and sat next to him at the counter

May took our orders and left to attend to the other few customers that were still here

“So why do ya work here?” He asked

“My parents said if I ever wanted anything I needed to get my own money, plus I’m trying to save to be able to afford ballet classes, it may be stupid but it’s my dream”

“It ain’t stupid, yer workin fer what ya want, I get that” his voice was kind but the grumble to it made me tingle

“Thanks, do you work anywhere?” I asked as May gave us our meals, my strawberry milkshake and grilled cheese, and Daryl’s coke with a burger and fries

“Sometimes I work on fixin people’s bikes ‘round town ta make some extra money, Merle said I’d make more if I did what he did but I don’t wanna fall into that crowd” I knew what Merle did, the whole town did

“Maybe one day we can get outta this town where people won’t judge us and we can have actual good jobs”

“Ya maybe”

With that we silently ate our food until we finished and May gave us our checks with my discount then we were leaving heading the door bell chime

We walked down to my house as neither of us had cars, until we stopped infront of the house awkwardly

“Lunch was nice, thanks for coming bye, you can come anytime”

“ ‘course, I’ll……I’ll see ya tomorrow then?”

“Ya I’ll see you tomorrow Daryl” I said smiling as we went separate ways, I closed the door to the house my heart thumping against my chest

I finally had a friend

Part.2

This will be a series so if you like to be added to the taglist and get notified of the next part comment below!!:)

Taglist: @deansapplepie

#twd fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl #daryl dixon #twd x reader #twd fluff #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon smut #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon series #daryl dixion smut #pre apocalypse Daryl Dixon

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jaylver · 2 years ago

Text

YOU ARE IN LOVE — S.JY

SYNOPSIS: one summer. two idiots. what could possibly go wrong? you swore this was finally going to be a memorable summer, one where it'll be filled with adventures just like coming of age movies. but then jake sim just had to ruin it. how so? by taking over your head.

PAIRINGS: childhood bestfriend!jake x afab!reader

GENRE: childhood bestfriends to lovers, angst, romance, pining

WARNING(S): miscommunications, parties, alcohol, profanities

WC: 4.7k

A/N: this has been rotting in my docs for AGES before i even created this account 😭 i wanted to free it so here we are 👹 apologies in advance if it's tacky/lacky writing since this short fic was written when i was starting to get out of my burn out >.< lmk your feedbacks as always! <3

Summer is the best thing to ever happen to mankind.

Trips to the beach, ice cream dates, late night drives, house parties, the list goes on and on. And who else to spend it with? Of course, your one and only best friend and neighbour since you were four years old, Jake Sim.

Every summer was practically filled with him and him only. Ever since you were kids, you did everything together. Writing up lists and going on adventures, spending nights watching movies et cetera. But this summer, it seemed … different.

Maybe it was the problem of being seventeen. Seventeen is an awkward age. Period. But other than that, you couldn't understand the way he was acting.

Summer always started and ended with him. Always. But this summer, he wasn't anywhere near you. Occasionally popping by and disappearing after nightfall, declining late night movies together or beach trips. Rude!

It just felt weird without him. So, you found yourself turning up in front of his house one day, tapping your foot against the hard floor as you knocked impatiently on the door.

"Y/N?" Jake appeared in front of you, his eyebrows scrunched with confusion.

“Jake,” you smiled innocently at him, which only made him look at you with more confusion.

“Y/N it’s 10 pm?”

“I just wanted to see you,” you admitted, to which you cursed at yourself for letting those words escape your lips so shamelessly because it was something you couldn’t deny.

You could see the way his gaze softened, then proceeded to let out a sigh. “Is it … because I barely hang out with you these days?”

“So, you’re self aware this whole time?” you couldn’t help shooting back, wrapping your arms around yourself as the cold wind brushed past. But even without the wind, you felt your body freezing up from the sudden burst of nerves.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been busy,” Jake frowned, guilt evident on his face. “Wanna come in, we can hang?”

Just as he finished his sentence, his phone buzzed, a notification popped up. Your eyes averted to the screen of his phone, catching a slight glimpse. “1 new message from Grace”

Your heart dropped. You knew Grace. Hell, everyone knew her, she was the cheerleader of your school after all. Miss Popular, Miss Crowned Queen. And Jake was texting her? Your Jake?

“So, Grace, huh?” Was this what he was caught up with all along? You mentally scolded yourself, wondering why you were even thinking about this when it wasn’t even your business to care about in the first place. This unreadable feeling was brewing in your stomach and you didn’t like it at all.

“It’s nothing, really. She texted me lately, that’s all,” he shoved his phone into his back pocket, giving you a reassuring smile. “Still up to hang?”

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s getting late anyway. Tomorrow?” You didn’t know why you said this. It was never too late when it came to Jake.

“Sure. I–uhm–heard there’s a party hosted by this guy called Ethan? Wanna come along?”

You considered for a moment, then nodded. “I’m down.”

“Sweet,” he flashed you that goddamned smile, the one that charmed you until you felt light headed. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow,”

“Cool,” you smiled a little, feeling the air turning still for a second once you locked eyes with him. Your heartbeat quickened, it was as though air was sucked out from your lungs and all you wanted was him.

“W-Wanna come over watch a movie with me tomorrow before the party? I’m home alone all day and we haven’t hung out properly for a while now,” Jake offered, stumbling over his words as he fidgeted his fingers, ears turning slightly pink.

You grinned. “How about the new Spiderman movie?”

He let out a small laugh, returning a big grin back. “You know me too well, huh? Deal.”

“See you tomorrow then, Jakey,” you reached over to ruffle his hair, but before you could fully pull away, he took hold of your wrist.

“I’ve missed you, can’t you stay a little longer?” he whined, swinging your arm gently.

You cursed at him, at his words and the amount of butterflies they’ve caused. “You can’t just say things like that,” you murmured under your breath.

“Hm?” he hummed and you looked up at him.

You dismissed your previous words, hoping he didn’t catch on to them. “Tomorrow we’re hanging out the whole day anyway. By then you wouldn’t be missing me anymore,”

“I miss you every day, though. Stick to my side like the old days?”

“How could I say no, Jakey?” you sighed, your heart thumping louder and louder as seconds passed. “Now, go sleep dumbass, we need to wake up early.”

“Alright, alright,” he threw his hands up in defeat. “Goodnight, Y/N. Don’t stay up too late too, or else you’ll get premature wrinkles.”

“I’ll beat you up.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

It felt natural.

You were resting on Jake's chest, his arms around you, a bowl balanced on your stomach, a movie blaring in the background, the lights dimmed. It was natural.

"Peter's pretty dumb sometimes, isn't he?" You spoke up, hand reaching into the bowl of popcorn, feeling Jake's hand brush against yours to get some as well.

You tried to excuse the fact that you were about to choke at the slight contact, playing it cool as you chewed on your popcorn.

"Totally. Why would he even do that?" Jake huffed.

You looked up at him from his chest, admiring his face slightly, not even caring about what misdemeanours Peter Parker was committing.

Jake could feel you staring, and he decided to look down at you, your gazes meeting. This was what you two always do whenever you're watching movies, it should be normal by now, but why in hell were you suddenly nervous?

"Mum wants you to come over for dinner," you whispered to him, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from his eyes.

"I'm more than glad to do so," Jake pursed his lips, watching your movements closely.

The tension seemed to grow thicker and the movie started to fade into the background as the two of you stayed in this close proximity. You unconsciously glanced at his lips, swallowing thickly once you noticed him reciprocating the same action.

"Y/N-"

"Jake!"

You almost let out a groan, but instead you looked away, clearing your throat and removing yourself from Jake's body. You were absolutely flushed, thinking of the endless possibilities that could've happened. But in the end, nothing did anyway. And that was why you were about to strangle Park Jong Seong for interrupting.

"Jay?" Jake fumbled to sit up, his eyes turning to you before refocusing on Jay. "Is it time to leave already?"

"Duh," Jay rolled his eyes, casually dropping onto the couch beside you. "How are you, Y/N? Been enjoying summer?"

"Quite," you simply shrugged. "Someone over here left me alone after he promised a summer full of adventures," you nudged Jake and he smiled apologetically.

"I got caught up with some things!" He defended but Jay raised an eyebrow at his words.

"Some things or some one?"

"What?" You turned to Jake, trying to mask your disappointment with sheer interest. "Is it Grace?"

"So … you knew?" Jay's eyebrows only raised higher.

"I only found out yesterday, indirectly as well." you said, clearly unimpressed.

Jake rolled his eyes, sighing deeply. "Come on, guys. She only texted me once or twice. I was busy cramming my work, okay?"

"That's true too," Jay nodded in understanding. "You practically procrastinated everything and now it's a pile,"

"Must you remind me of it?" Jake groaned, his attention to you, taking notice of your sudden silence. "You alright there?"

You blinked at him, humming in response. How could you tell him that your stomach churned with jealousy whenever Grace was mentioned? How could you even admit that you're currently harbouring some god forbidding liking towards him? Your childhood best friend? The one who once spilled chocolate milk all over his shirt? The one who cried when he was forced to go back home after a whole day together with you? Jake Sim?

You were fucked. You liked Sim Jaeyun. And you had zero idea what to do about it.

The house party was basically like every other one you've been to. Passed out drunks here and there, the dance floor crammed to the max, the music booming loudly in your ears. Overall, you felt regretful coming here.

What made things worse was Jake abandoning you to talk to Grace. Yup, Grace. Even after all the denial he fed to you and Jay, he's still laughing and talking merrily to her, leaving you stuck in the middle of an unfamiliar house.

What a great Friday night!

It was almost midnight, so you decided to storm out of the house for some fresh air before declaring your leave, but Jake somehow caught you sneaking out.

"Leaving so soon?" He was leaning against the wall, watching your tired figure semi-passed out on the chair.

"God, Jake, you reek of alcohol," you pointed out, scrunching your nose at the stench. "Also, I'm not that inconsiderate. I won't leave you behind … unlike someone over here," you grumbled.

"Look, Grace dragged me away the moment I entered. Plus, I think I got to start avoiding her now," Jake groaned, sitting down next to you.

"Broke her heart?" You assumed. It wasn't uncommon to see Jake reject girls and break their heart growing up. Well, look at him, it was a fact that he got girls lining up for him. But you found it weird how he's never had a long term relationship before, which only made you more wary about your feelings for him.

"I wasn't being a douche about it!" He threw up his hands in defence. "I kindly rejected her, that's all. She seemed cool about it though," he shrugged and you felt his shoulder brush against your arm, his thigh making contact with yours.

"Look at you, all grown up and no longer breaking girls' hearts!" You smiled sarcastically at him.

"Hey! I literally rejected all of them in a nice way. I'm a kind man, you know?" Jake huffed, stretching his body, then proceeded to slyly place his arms around you.

You were genuinely trying your hardest to remain the best poker face you could even manage. Yet, you knew the facade would eventually fade. "Sure, sure, Jakey boy."

He turned his body to face yours, a challenging expression written all over his face. "Do you remember the time when we were five and I gave you my legos? I still remember how many hugs you gave me every day after that. So yes, I am kind." Jake insisted.

"You remembered?" You grinned at him, feeling your heart rate increasing once you saw the fondness in his eyes.

"Of course I remembered," he said softly. "You give good hugs anyway."

"Want a hug?" You chuckled, not expecting Jake to actually dive into your arms and hold onto you tightly.

"You smell like strawberries," he murmured against your skin.

You swallowed thickly and started breathing heavily. "A–are you drunk?"

"Just a bit," he pulled away from your body, his brown eyes meeting yours, his hands slowly travelling up to your face.

"Have I ever told you how pretty you are?" He whispered.

"Don't do this," you mumbled, your hand reaching for his wrist.

"What?" He breathed, his warm breath fanning your cheeks.

"Don't make me fall in love with you completely," you stared into his eyes, slight hurt and regret painted your expressions.

"Fuck, why did I say that?" you laughed pitifully at yourself, removing yourself from his arms and stood up. "It's getting late, let's go," you said, ignoring Jake's lingering gaze.

"Y/N," he held onto your wrist and you stood rooted to the ground, not knowing what you could even say or do. You felt like an idiot. "W–what did you mean by that?"

"It's nothing," you dismissed his question, feeling yourself sinking into a deeper hole. Jake furrowed his eyebrows, clearly frustrated. The moment he got up, he stumbled slightly and his words slurred. The alcohol has finally seeped in.

"Y/N, come on," he urged, desperation in his eyes. All you could do was sigh.

"I'm sorry, Jake."

So you did what you always do every summer. You ran from your problems and hid from the fact you had lingering feelings for your "best friend".

You found yourself avoiding Jake after that night.

It was ironic how you complained about him disappearing in and out of your life during the start of summer, but here you were, doing the same.

He came over to your house a couple of times, but you chose the cowardly choice of hiding away. All of his texts and calls were half answered.

You hated doing this, you knew it was hurting both you and him. But what could you do? Confess? Well, it was the most obvious way to solve the problem, but you were unwilling to risk a life long friendship with him. Pathetic you were indeed.

The weekend rolled around the corner and you just had to face one demise after another. Jake and his family were coming over for dinner and there's zero chances for you to dodge him this time. Thank you, Universe, you thought sarcastically.

Your palms felt clammy and sweaty as you set up the table. Before this, your mother had specifically requested you to present yourself more formally instead of wearing your typical sweats, so now you were stuck in a black skin tight dress, just appropriate enough to not be deemed as slutty.

"They're here!" your mother announced, clapping her hands in excitement. You, on the other hand, were only filled with nothing but dread.

The door flew open and hugs were exchanged. Your mother squealed happily when she saw Jake and for a moment, you were about to do the same.

His hair was slicked back, only a strand was left hanging in front of his face. He was wearing a formal black suit paired alongside a simple black tie. He was about to be the death of you.

"Y/N." He nodded at you, lips pressed in a straight line.

"Jake." You replied back, hands kept behind your back, trying to conceal the fact that you were actually fidgeting.

"You kids are matching!" Mrs Sim pointed out, laughing delightfully.

You felt Jake's eyes on your body for a tense moment, sensing them scanning you from top to bottom. You met his gaze once he finished checking you out so blatantly, and all he did was smile at you innocently. Jerk. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Why don't you kids go hang out yourselves?" Your mother patted your arm.

"Sure," Jake shrugged, smoothing out the fronts of his blazer.

"Great!" Your mother beamed, then leaned down to whisper to you. "Don't do anything weird, okay?"

You grimaced. "Ew." Must your own mother put the mental image of you doing something 'weird' with Jake into your mind?

You turned around, practically dashing up the stairs towards your room. And as always, Jake followed you like a lost puppy. Once he shut the door to your room, he faced you with a blank expression, devoid of any signs of what he's about to say.

"So? Are you going to explain why you were ignoring me?" Jake leaned against the door, his hands in his pockets as he stared at you, unimpressed.

"What if I don't?" you replied, sitting on the edge of your bed.

"I'll force it out of you somehow, you know I always get my way," he replied nonchalantly and you only rolled your eyes at him, knowing how he wasn't completely wrong.

Jake seemed to have noticed your silence and decided to break the ice first. "I remembered that night, Y/N. You can't hide away from me forever just because of what you said."

You groaned, burying your face into your hands, completely flushed with embarrassment. "Must you remind me?"

"How can I forget about it when my best friend literally told me she loves me?" He kneeled in front of you, taking your hands in his. "Can't you just tell me how you feel? It's been days and nights since I felt at peace after what you'd said to me. What's worse is that I couldn't even remember it precisely. So please, just make it clear."

"Fine. Jake, I–"

"Y/N!"

You wished you could blow up right this instance. Out of every second, every minute, your mother just had to call you when you were about to come clean about your feelings. If you could, you would've liked to reach for the nearest pillow and scream into it.

"Well … next time, Jakey boy. Dinner calls!"

Before Jake could respond, you exited your room quickly, ignoring your thumping heart as you replayed everything in your mind.

Dinner was awkward.

Parents asking about each other's kids' situations and having deep conversations about life while Jake and you, on the other hand, were avoiding each other's gazes. Not ready to face whatever that had just happened.

You thought your torment was finally over when dinner ended and you found yourself dipping your legs by the pool when Jake silently joined your side, following your actions.

"You okay?"

You turned to look at him, kicking your legs slightly, you felt your shoulder brushing against his, thighs touching. "I'm fine. Just a little tired. Why?"

"Nothing. It was just that you were barely speaking all dinner and I got concerned," Jake pointed out and you shrugged nonchalantly.

"Everything's … complicated these days," you said.

At your words, Jake shifted a little. He knew what your "complicated" meant, it was about you and him.

"What even are we?" Jake spluttered out and you froze beside him, the water temperature suddenly dropping to 0 degrees.

"You really want to talk about that now?" You mumbled, frowning.

"Then when can we even face it? I'm tired of you running away and me being in the dark," Jake argued, turning his body to face you.

"Jake …" you were rendered speechless, your body still, guilt clawing its way into your system. "I just don't think I'm ready yet, okay?"

Jake seemed frustrated at your comment. "Y/N–"

"JAKE!"

It was his mother calling out for him and you heard him swearing under his breath. "Next time, Y/N. I'll wait for you."

With that, he left, leaving you completely dazed. He'll wait?

"Can you please come? They literally have a pool!"

Thursday night you found yourself at peace knowing nothing will ruin your weekend, until Jay's phone call. Being the party goer he was, he's now trying to convince you to tag along to some guy's party.

"What if I said no?"

"I don't take 'no' as an answer,"

"Tough luck, champ,"

"Come on, Y/N," Jay whined. "Everyone is going. I mean, Jake is, and that cute guy you mentioned from school — Heeseung — was it? He's there too. You can shoot your shot!"

You thought about it for a moment as you cursed Jay for being way too convincing. "Fine. Since you asked so nicely."

"I know I could always count on you."

Safe to say the party was going considerably well and you weren't about to leave just after arriving for only a solid 15 minutes. Jay remained by yourself for the whole time, conversing with his own circle of friends while your eyes searched for a specific somebody among the sea of people.

“I’ll go for a dance,” you nudged Jay, trying to get his attention.

“Be safe.” he simply said, but his words were filled with genuinity.

A couple cups of drinks definitely boosted your confidence as you shamelessly swayed your hips to the music playing in the background. The blinking lights blinded your sight, alcohol clouded your thoughts, unknowing to someone sliding close to you. Thankfully, your sixth sense never failed and you turned to meet the gaze of Lee Heeseung.

“Hey,” he casually greeted.

“Hi,” you breathed out, sudden shyness taking over.

“Wanna dance?” he offered and you nodded meekly. “Follow my lead,” he held onto your arms, circling them over his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” Heeseung whispered and you nodded once more.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. The cute guy from school was in fact dancing with you. You let yourself let go as you closed your eyes and swayed along to the beat of the music. This was heaven.

No matter how you tried to shake off that weird feeling, it never went away. You knew someone was staring at you, burning little holes into the back of your head intensely. You opened your eyes, letting them adjust to the startling lights and almost immediately, you locked gazes with him.

Lo and behold, Jake Sim, sitting across the room, his jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed. He was clearly unhappy about whatever you were doing, and you loved the effect you had on him.

You smiled innocently, leaning close to Heeseung's ear. "I'm going to take a break. See you at school?"

Heeseung grinned at you. "Sure thing. I had fun dancing with you."

"Likewise."

Thankfully, you managed to waddle your way through the crowd alive and made your way out of the house for some fresh air. The atmosphere inside of the house was too heavy and the smell of sweat and cheap alcohol stuck in the air.

"Running away from me again?"

A voice came from behind you and you knew who it was immediately.

"Not everything is about you, okay?" You grumbled, hugging your arms around your body for warmth as you sat down on the front steps.

Jake joined your side, placing his hands on his knees, glancing at you from time to time. “Care to explain why you’re actively avoiding me?”

“I’m not,”

“Liar.”

You remained silent, not knowing what to say next.

“You were dancing real close to Heeseung tonight,” he pointed out.

“Great observation, Sherlock,” you finally dared to turn to look at him. “Can we head back in? I’m craving for a drink,”

Jake only nodded soundlessly, following your movements as you stood up to head back in. You felt bad, guilty even, at the way you’re acting towards your lifelong best friend, but you couldn’t help it, your emotions were basically choking you hard. You tugged on Jake’s shirt, ready to say something.

“Jake—” Just when you two entered, Jake was pulled away, not even sparing a second for you to process, so now you were alone.

“Great,” you mumbled unhappily under your breath, making your way to the drinks in the kitchen. Maybe they’ll console you instead. You genuinely wondered who’d cursed you countlessly whenever you were trying to confront Jake.

To your dismay, the kitchen was filled with drunk teenagers who were all busy mixing their new anecdote for the night. Plan B, not the kitchen.

You left for the living room instead, grumbling in annoyance since you couldn't get a drink. As you were about to turn a corner, you heard voices, very familiar ones and immediately halted your steps.

“You ditched Grace?” Park Sunghoon, the notorious figure skater who everyone was pining for, hissed.

Jake hummed.

“Is it because of Y/N?” Sunghoon asked, an undertone of suspicion laced in his voice.

"I don't like her like that," Jake murmured under his breath.

You froze. This couldn't be happening now, right? Out of any day, any place, it just had to be in a house, in the middle of an ongoing party. To be frank, you've already prepared yourself to face rejection every time you imagined confessing to Jake. But overhearing Jake's negative confession was surely not in your list.

"You're serious?" Sunghoon poked on.

"I don't know, man." Jake sighed in defeat. "Can we not talk about this now?"

You blinked away the confusing feelings you were currently having. Was it anger? Was it sadness? Was it hope? You couldn't tell. All you wanted was to be home, in your cosy bed.

There were many things you were afraid to do in life, such as talking to boys your age, socialising, confronting your crush and so on, but today, right now, you had zero regrets as you continued your steps, walking past Jake.

It was all white noises in your ears and blissful ignorance. Jake was calling after you, trying to reach you, but the crowd only ended up swallowing him whole.

Once you were out of the house, you found yourself finally breathing again, suddenly thankful for the fresh air. But there's a rather unfortunate problem for you, Jake caught up with you.

"Y/N," he breathed.

"Fuck off," you snapped, an overwhelming wave of emotions clawing in your body.

"Listen to me, I didn't mean that," Jake's voice rose unintentionally.

"Yeah? So you're expecting me to be totally fine as if nothing happened?" You frowned. "Well, hi Jake, how was the party? Not good? Why-"

"Stop! Why are you even acting like this?" Jake grabbed ahold of your shoulders, making you stare directly at him as he could tell you were about to flee at any minute.

"Because–" You shrugged his hold away. "I like you, Jake! Ever since we were fifteen. But you were always so clueless to tell. And this summer, you were basically too hung up over Grace to spend time with me, then that night when you said those things to me, do you expect me to act oblivious after that? And today, you said those words … how am I supposed to know how you feel?"

You couldn't tell what Jake was thinking. He practically had a poker face on, seemingly trying to take in everything you've just said. "Y/N …"

"What do you want from me, Jake?"

Jake took a deep breath, his features ridden with frustration as he burst out.

"I want you. Okay? Happy now?"

To say you were stunned was clearly an understatement. You didn't know what to say or act, staring at him with your mouth ajar.

"I–I have liked you since we were kids and I don't think I realised until this summer," Jake went on, clearly rambling in distress. "That's why I avoided you, Y/N. I was scared. I didn't know why I felt like that or what I should do. In the end, I figured it was you. It was always you, no matter what."

"Then have me, Jake."

"What?"

It was one of those moments where it felt entirely out of a movie. Jake could only stare at you wordlessly while you breathed heavily, a million thoughts running through your head and you’ve finally accepted it.

Oh no, you’ve fallen in love.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” you grumbled under your breath, taking his face into your hands and pulling him in for a kiss.

When your lips touched, it felt as if countless emotions and unspoken words from over the years passed through like a connection. It felt right. Jake slid his hand around your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss. This was absolute bliss.

You put your hand on his wrist, pulling away gently, eyes not leaving one another for even a second. The two of you pant softly, trying to catch a breath from the kiss and you started to shy away, in disbelief that this actually happened. Jake noticed, smiling a little, leaning down to press a gentle peck against the side of your mouth.

“Wanna stay over at mine tonight? I can drive,”

“You already know the answer to that.”

Laying in his bed with the lights off accompanied by the whirring of the A/C played in the background, his arms wrapped around you, the beating of his heart against your back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, it was something familiar yet so new.

You turned around to face him, watching as he rubbed his eyes, stirring awake slightly. It was still dark outside, but Jake couldn’t fall asleep, finding himself treasuring your presence instead. You were brushing loose strands of hair away from his face when a strange look appeared and he spoke, voice sluggish.

"You're my best friend."

Somehow, you understood what he meant and you knew what it was. He is in love.

—

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bosbas · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter 13: I thought we had no chance

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 2.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, insane amounts of pining, idiots in love!!, the slow burn is slowww burningggg i'm so sorry

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

August 4, 1816 – It is with a touch of disappointment that I must report the utter lack of excitement brought by the Montclairs this season. The French family arrived in London with a promise of brilliance, only to leave us wanting in the absence of any true spectacle. One would expect that such a distinguished and intriguing family would set the ton ablaze with stories of romance and intrigue. Yet, all we have is a chill in the air and a longing for what could have been.

Young Louis Montclair may still be too green to set hearts aflutter, but Lady Y/N Montclair, with her grace and charm, should have at least gifted us with a simple love story, if not the grand epic we so eagerly anticipated. But there is still time for her to find a match, and with so many eligible bachelors in Mayfair, the possibilities are endless.

You scoffed at the gossip column in your hand, scandalized.

“I’m not that boring, am I?” you wondered aloud.

Eloise snorted, looking up from her book as she sat across from you in the Bridgerton sunroom. “I assume you read Whisteldown? She was particularly ruthless this morning, I will admit. It is your first season, after all!”

You grumbled in annoyance, once again displeased by the expectations this mystery woman had placed upon you. It wasn’t like anyone knew who you were before you arrived in London. It wasn’t until her column that people started spreading rumors and believing you had something to offer that the rest of the ton did not.

But alas, what were you to do about it? If everyone in the ton expected you to have a magical love story and find the love of your life, they could have been so kind as to provide you with someone to fall for.

And that had not been the case so far. You had not found anyone to grow feelings for yet. No one suitable, at least, you mentally corrected yourself as you looked at Colin, who had just walked through the door. But it wasn’t like you actually had feelings for him. He was just Colin, the man who regularly drove you insane, initial misunderstanding or not.

“Are you ladies ready?” he asked, placing his hands behind his back politely.

You smiled to yourself at his gesture, but quickly shook the thought away as you looked at Eloise.

“Thank you again for chaperoning, Colin,” she said, smiling a little too wide for someone who was simply going to a gallery with her friend and her brother.

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “I still don’t understand why we needed another chaperone. Elizabeth is quite enough on her own,” you said, referring to your lady’s maid, who was going to come with you as well.

“Each of us needs a chaperone,” Eloise responded as if it was obvious.

Not entirely convinced, you raised an eyebrow archly and turned to look at Colin, who just shrugged in response.

“And you wanted to come? Willingly?” you asked him.

He laughed, highly amused at how suspicious you were of him. “I promise you, I was not forced to come against my will.”

“Well, let’s go then,” urged Eloise, hooking her arm in yours and dragging you out of the room.

---

Colin looked around the room, eyes searching for you. It had become second nature to look for you in every room he was in, and he could freely admit to himself that you were too captivating to look away from.

Being friends with you might not have been his first choice, but it was yours, and he was more than happy to comply. He would find love again, eventually. Or maybe he wouldn’t. But he would rather respect your wishes and never be with you romantically than pressure you into something you could never want.

At present, you were standing very still, eyes wide and looking at the painting in front of you. Colin walked over to look at the work, and you inhaled sharply as he neared you.

Looking curiously at the painting, Colin recognized the French landscape, painted in the winter. He felt you breathing steadily next to him, and it was all he could do not to reach out and hold your hand.

“Is that what it really looks like?” he asked softly. He had only ever been to Paris, but he knew your family was from the countryside.

You nodded, blinking and turning to him. Smiling, you pointed to a chateau in the background of the painting.

“That’s in Tours, it’s very close to my home,” you said, fondness and nostalgia evident in your voice.

“I’d like to- I’ve never been there,” Colin stuttered out. Perhaps telling you that he wanted to go with you to your childhood home might be slightly too forward.

“You should go, it’s lovely in the summer,” you replied, nodding toward the painting. “I haven’t spent a summer there in many years.”

Hearing the wistfulness in your voice, Colin had to cross his arms to resist the urge to pull you into his chest. Usually, he was happy to be your friend. But sometimes, during moments like these, he wished that he could do away with social norms and simply hold you.

But alas, it was not meant to be.

“Do you ever wish you had stayed in one place your whole life?” Colin settled for asking.

You shook your head, biting your lip as you turned to smile at him. “Do you ever wish you had stayed home longer instead of traveling?”

“I suppose not,” he conceded, thinking of all the experiences he would have missed out on if he had stayed in England. “But I do feel a bit guilty when I come home and see that Hyacinth suddenly is a master at the pianoforte, and I realize that I missed all of it. Or that Gregory joins us on hunts now and I had no idea.”

“I do often miss my siblings now that they’re married and no longer live at home,” you agreed. “But traveling made you who you are, and it wouldn’t do Gregory and Hyacinth any good to have you home but not yourself. I am certain they know that you love them very much, regardless of whether you’re home all the time or not.”

“I wish I had someone to travel with,” Colin blurted out before he could stop himself.

Cringing, he looked at you nervously. But you only turned to him, smiling.

“I rather think the same,” you sighed. “That was what I wanted when I first began the season. A husband who would want to travel with me, or at least let me leave the country every now and then.”

“And was that really so hard to find?” asked Colin sarcastically, knowing that the men of the ton were not quite as adventurous as he was.

“Well, finding one who also had a fortune and was titled was certainly an impossible task. I don’t really know what I was thinking,” you chided yourself, shaking your head at your own naivety. “I was certainly setting myself up for failure.”

“I’m certain that’s not true!” rushed out Colin, desperate to make you feel better, no matter how much he despised thinking about you with someone else. “I’m sure some man or another will show face as the perfect candidate.”

“I think what I want and what my parents want for me are two fundamentally opposed ideals. But perhaps my luck will turn in Spain next season.”

“Spain?” asked Colin, feeling his heart drop to his stomach at the thought of you leaving.

Though it had to happen eventually, with your father’s expectations as to who your husband could be, Colin still got a stabbing feeling in his chest when he thought of losing you forever. He had only known you for four months, but already you had completely changed him. He was more sure of himself now, he felt completely understood by someone for the first time, and most importantly, he knew what it felt like to be in love. The thought of it all slipping from his grasp at the end of the season was almost too much to bear.

“I was thinking I might give Spain a try and see if I have better luck in finding a husband there,” you said, attempting a carefree laugh but not quite succeeding at it.

“Oh,” responded Colin, not quite sure what else to say on the matter.

You had clearly made your decision, and he wasn’t sure what else he had to offer to make you stay for a little while longer. Nothing that would convince you, he thought. No title and no fortune.

Perhaps his mother had been wrong. Perhaps his love was not always enough. Especially given the fact that you were not interested in him in the slightest, that much was clear.

The best he could do for you now was to be your friend. And to never let you know that he loved you. Colin knew a confession of his feelings would only weigh on your mind heavily, adding nothing and taking away so much.

Realizing he had been staring into your eyes for a bit longer than was appropriate for two people who weren’t courting, Colin cleared his throat uncomfortably and turned to face the painting once more.

“I believe I saw another of his works down the hall. Would you care to take a look?” he offered, holding out his arm for you to take.

On the other side of the room, Eloise stood with Lady Danbury. The two had been deep in conversation for the better part of their time at the gallery, but neither had forgotten to keep an eye on you and Colin. Laughing to herself when she saw her brother follow after you like a lovesick puppy, Eloise turned to Lady Danbury, who was already looking in that direction.

“They make quite a pair, don’t they?” said the older woman. “I never thought I would see the day that Colin Bridgerton was ready to fall at the feet of a woman. And one he isn’t even courting, at that!”

Eloise laughed. “Me neither. However, I have been trying to get him to do something about it. Hence why I brought him here as my chaperone. Rest assured he would not have been my first choice otherwise.”

---

A few days later, you were sitting in the garden with your sister, Charlotte, and her husband. It had been a rainy few days, and at the first hint of sunshine, you had rushed out to enjoy the good weather, wanting to enjoy any moment when it wasn’t raining.

It seemed the rest of your family had a similar idea. Your father, accompanied by your brothers, had all marched boisterously outside, guns in hand as they prepared for an afternoon of shooting.

“Lovely weather, that,” said Louis, greeting Edward with a clap on the back.

“I don’t know how you and Charlotte do it,” said Jacques, who usually lived in sunny Tuscany. “I don’t think I could handle the constant dreary and rainy summers.”

Philippe, your brother, joined the conversation. Talking to Charlotte, he said, “You should come to Spain with me and Leonor. The summers there are delightful compared to this.”

You squealed in delight. “I can already picture it, the whole summer full of sunshine and warmth. I simply cannot wait.”

Edward, unaware of your plans for the following season, turned to you with confusion in his eyes. “And since when are you going to Spain?”

“Since every eligible man in London seems to be the devil incarnate,” you said, a light tone to your voice. “I am hoping Madrid might provide some better prospects than what I’ve encountered this year.”

“But why would you go all the way there?” pressed Charlotte, who also had not known that you were planning on leaving and was rather enjoying having her family nearby after living away from them for so many years.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “As I said, I haven’t found anyone suitable. I will have to wait until next year to find someone.”

Your father cleared his throat, leaning against an empty chair in the garden. “Well, if you wanted to marry this season that would be acceptable as well. Some gentlemen are well suited.”

“Well suited?” you said, disbelief clear in your voice. “And who, pray tell, meets your incredibly exacting standards?”

“Colin Bridgerton, for one,” your father said nonchalantly, busy polishing the gun he was holding.

“Colin?” you sputtered, startled by your father’s change of heart. “But Colin isn’t even… he’s not… we’re not…”

“Aren’t you?” replied your father, an eyebrow raised at you.

“I hadn’t even considered it!” you said defensively.

This was only a slight lie. A partial truth, more like. You had certainly considered the possibility (he was an eligible bachelor, and you were a lady of marriable age, how could you not?!), but there was never any real intent behind those thoughts. It was more of a distant concept, so far from reality that it wasn’t even worth thinking about too deeply.

“I hadn’t considered it,” you repeated, although no one had spoken since.

As you watched your father and brothers move away to begin their afternoon shooting, you couldn’t help but feel like an entire world of possibilities had just opened. As you had very unconvincingly told your family, you had never seriously considered Colin Bridgerton as someone you could marry, let alone this season!

And whenever you had had those… thoughts… it was only because you knew that there was no chance you would actually marry him. He was safe. You didn’t have to worry about all the minutiae of whether he would be a good husband because there was simply no reason to. Or at least there hadn’t been until now.

But could you really like him? Could you grow to have feelings for him? You weren’t sure, and you certainly weren’t ready to sit down and think about it. What you had with him now was good, it was comforting. He was your friend, and you wanted nothing more than to continue having him in your life in that capacity.

—

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