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heliads · 3 years

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Guns Blazing, Tides Rising (Part One)

When Kaz Brekker announces that they’ll be working with a certain Tidemaker to help with the latest heist, Jesper knows it’s not going to end well. He and Y/N L/N have a fierce rivalry, although feelings may change over a night.

series masterlist / part two

Jesper is almost one block away from the Crow Club when he senses that he isn’t alone.

Technically, he hasn’t been alone in a long time. There is no place to get away in Ketterdam, no alley left uninhabited or room without a listener. It’s certainly nothing like Novyi Zem, where you could find miles of farmland with nobody to talk to and nothing to do. No, the Barrel has never been somewhere to stay away from people.

This, however, is a different kind of presence. Jesper only notices it now, and he has no idea how long the Wraith has been following him. Sometimes he thinks she does it on purpose, walking behind him, footsteps silent as ever, just to see how long it takes him to figure out that she’s there. Jesper halts in his tracks, raising his voice to the hooded figure no doubt a pace or two behind him. “I know you’re there, Inej, and if I turn around just now you had better not do that thing where you wait two inches behind me just to make me jump.”

There is silence, as expected. Jesper turns in a slow semicircle, ready for the inevitable, yet he still stiffens just slightly to see Inej standing behind him. Jesper has been in the Barrel for a long time, and gotten used to the skulking and sneaking of the various goons. He fancies himself at least somewhat capable at figuring out when people are following him, but for some reason, he cannot do the same with Inej. Not at all.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You did the thing.” Jesper finishes lamely. Something almost like a smile tugs at Inej’s lips. “That’s not exactly my fault. I’ve been waiting for you to notice me for a while. I’ve practically been stomping my heels against the cobblestones.” Jesper groans. “You have not. You’ve been as silent as ever, and you know that.” Inej ignores this, jerking her chin behind her, back in the direction of the Slat. “Your Crow Club endeavor will have to wait. Kaz needs you.”

Kaz Brekker needs him. “What a surprise. I’m very useful, as it turns out. Couldn’t this wait a little longer, though? I’ve heard they’ve got a new dealer over at Makker’s Wheel.” Inej just turns around, starting to walk back towards the Slat. No matter how hard Jesper tries, he cannot hear a single footstep echo against the stones. “This is more important.” Jesper raises an eyebrow. “More important than earning the Dregs money by supporting a local establishment? He doesn’t need to worry, you know, I’ve got money.”

Jesper grimaces at the look of incredulity starting to color Inej’s eyes. “Alright, it’s not a lot of money. But it is at least enough to buy a round or two. Besides,” Jesper continues, eager to shift the conversation away from his less than prosperous gambling habits, “Why did Kaz send you? He could have just delivered a note.” Inej lifts a shoulder, even the slightest of shrugs a graceful movement. “I told you, this is important.”

Jesper is intrigued by this. “Whenever you say ‘important’ more than once, it’s always good. Is it another heist? Extortion? Maybe a good clash of rival gangs?” Inej rolls her eyes. “I’m not supposed to tell you anything. That was the whole point of me going.” Jesper sighs dramatically. “You could tell me a little bit. I wouldn’t even mention it to Kaz.”

Inej instead lets her eyes trail upwards, towards the ramshackle glory of the Slat which is visible down the block. “You’ll get your information soon enough.” Her voice grows quiet, quieter than usual. It’s practically impossible to hear over the clack of footsteps on stone as pigeons and gang members alike rush to finish their business before it grows too late and the thieves come running. “I will say one thing, though. While we’re still away from prying ears.”

Jesper leans closer, fascinated. “What is it?” Inej looks up at him, and Jesper realizes that she looks almost regretful. “Don’t be too upset.” Jesper waits for more, some explanation to this excruciatingly vague statement, but nothing happens. “Don’t be upset? What, is Kaz going to cane me to death?” Inej tilts her head to the side. “There’s a plan, and it will involve some things that you won’t be too fond of. That’s all I can say for now.”

Jesper wants to pry a little further, even if he senses that the Wraith will remain silent, but the door to the Slat is already in front of him, effectively stopping any conversation. The Dregs may be Kaz’s gang, but loyalties can always be changed. Jesper has wandered the canals long enough to know that all secrets should be kept to locked doors, and even allies can turn against you. Some conversations are best when they’re not shared at all.

Jesper looks around for Kaz in the main room of the Slat, but he doesn’t see the dark-haired boy anywhere. Instead, Inej inclines her head towards the rickety set of stairs at the back of the room. “He’ll be waiting for you in his office.” Jesper moves to ask her something, anything, about what else is waiting for him there, but before he can even open his mouth to speak Inej has disappeared. It’s fascinating- Jesper hadn’t even turned away or looked elsewhere, yet she had vanished right before his open eyes. He hadn’t seen her go, just witnessed her blink away into the shadows.

Jesper stares at the empty floorboards where Inej had once stood, then, squaring his shoulders as if preparing for a particularly nerve-wracking round of cards, begins to ascend the flights of stairs. He pauses once outside the door to Kaz’s office, touching the hilts of his pearl handled revolvers for luck, then pushes open the door and steps inside.

Kaz is waiting for him, standing at his desk and running through a map spread out across the wooden surface. He looks up when he sees Jesper enter, straightening to nod once in greeting. Jesper’s eyes travel to Inej, who had somehow beat him up the stairs and is now perched, catlike, on Kaz’s windowsill.

Kaz doesn’t bother with pleasantries or questions about Jesper’s day, as per usual, just dives into an explanation. “There’s a mercher living down near the Financial District. He’s like the others- snotty, pretends to be pious, unseasonably rich for someone who just arrived at his title, but he’s strayed too far from his gilded walkways and tried to start restrictions on Fifth Harbor.”

Jesper lets out a snort. “Merchers. Always getting too big for their tie pins.” Kaz ignores this. “Under his new plan, we’d have to pay out reparations to him and also ease back on coaxing pigeons into our establishments. There’s no way in hell that would ever pass, but this mercher just happens to have some pretty significant blackmail on key members of the Merchant Council, and they’ll pass whatever bill he wants so long as he keeps his mouth shut. Unfortunately, we can’t kill him directly, but we can break into his mansion and steal his proof of the Council’s less savory transactions. Without the blackmail, the Council will never pass the bill, and we’ll be fine.”

Jesper raises an eyebrow. “As easy as that?” Kaz lifts a shoulder. “There’s a slight complication. This mercher, Joeri ter Steege, has a certain thing for oceanside views. He’s found himself a nice little inlet near the water’s edge, and access to his mansion is only available by boat. This means that any attempt to access his house would mean we would travel by water, and any boat could easily be sighted by guards that patrol the area.”

Jesper squints at Kaz. “What do you mean, only available by boat? If he’s living in an inlet, shouldn’t there be some dock connecting it to the mainland?” Inej flashes him a smile. “The merch has got himself a moat.” Jesper stares. “You’re kidding me. You’ve got to be kidding me. This merch is so extravagantly wealthy that he’s gone and got himself a moat? Ghezen’s hand, maybe I should become a banker. The things I could do.” Inej hides a laugh. “The moats you could build.”

Kaz’s hand tightens around his crow’s head cane. “Regardless of the merch’s terrible landscaping decisions, the fact remains that access will be practically impossible. To get across, we’d need a boat, and any boat would be sighted by guards. That’s why we need a Tidemaker.” Jesper’s smile starts to drop from his face. Suddenly, pieces are starting to fall into place. Inej’s warning. Kaz’s mention of a Tidemaker. Jesper shakes his head. “Don’t tell me you got the one Tidemaker I’m thinking of. Please say you brought in somebody else.”

Kaz opens his mouth to either condemn this or save Jesper’s skin, but then a voice rings out from the newly opened door and Jesper’s spirits sink into his boots. “Afraid not, Fahey. They’ve brought me.” Jesper turns around, finding himself face to face with a girl just walking into the office, hand loosely wrapped around the wooden doorframe. She tosses him a smile as if they’re old friends, when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

Jesper whirls back around to face Kaz. “You didn’t. You’re really trusting her? Y/N L/N?” Kaz shrugs. “She’s the best there is, unfortunately. We need to remain hidden, and she’s the only one who won’t rat us out or let us drown.” Y/N walks further into the room, letting the door close behind her. “I appreciate the vote in confidence, but don’t worry about me. I can get you in and out, no problem. Well, the only problem will be you, sharpshooter.”

Jesper feels the sudden need to grab one (or maybe both) of his revolvers and let fly with his bullets. Can a Tidemaker wash away a hail of ammunition? Jesper’s assuming not. Kaz taps his cane against the floor. “Let’s not reach to violence just yet, Jesper. Wait until after the extraction is over.” Jesper throws one last glare Y/N’s way. “Trust me, I’ll have no problem with that.” He can wait, after all.

The problem with Y/N L/N is this: she keeps finding a way to meddle with everything he does. First, Jesper was on a heist by himself, breaking into a stronghold of the Dime Lions to snatch up an encoded message left by Pekka Rollins. He was doing fine until a wave of water cascaded in through the windows, knocking him aside and thoroughly drenching the paper. It was useless now, both to Rollins and to Kaz. Y/N had only bothered to toss a wink across the room before leaving, allowing her wave to soak Jesper’s boots while she was at it.

The second time was during a shootout. She’d been hired to the other side, although Jesper hadn’t known it yet. Jesper was just about to fire upon the lousy goon who’d hired her when she’d used her powers again, this time specifically intending to ruin his guns. His precious pearl-handled revolvers, soaked through with water. It had taken him forever to get the saltwater out of every crack and groove in the metal, and during all of that time he’d vowed to himself that he’d be the one to darken her doorway and make Y/N regret ever stepping foot against him again.

Jesper had won the third time. This time, he was the unexpected guest, and she was seconds away from drowning an entire swath of gang members to protect a secret. She was just raising her hands to move the water into place when a gunshot sounded from out of nowhere and she was knocked sideways, hand already raising to the stain of red starting to bloom out from her arm. It wouldn’t kill her, unfortunately, but it was enough to give the gang members time to escape. Some of them were Dregs, after all, and Jesper had some friends to protect. That isn’t to say that he didn’t walk away with a smile, just that he had multiple motives.

Needless to say, he didn’t exactly have the best history with Y/N L/N. And now Kaz was asking him to have her back during a heist? It sounds like a joke. Unfortunately, Jesper has a sinking feeling that there’s no getting out of this. If he’s going to have to depend on Y/N for his life, things might not exactly go according to plan. He has no idea where Y/N’s loyalties lie, he reasons, but Jesper thinks there might be more to it than that.

The group meets up at the water’s edge. The canals bleed into the harbor here, and Jesper can just make out the lights of Joeri ter Steege’s mansion across the glittering black of the waves. He can also make out a slight tension in Kaz’s grip on his cane as he takes in the sight of the undulating water, but that isn’t for him to notice. Y/N melts out of the shadows, a blue lining on her coat the only indication that she might still cling to Ravkan traditions for Grisha. “Well?” She asks, walking past them as if not expecting an answer, “Are we ready?”

Y/N spreads her hands and the water of the harbor flickers and shifts on the surface. As Jesper watches, Y/N steps forward, and the water solidifies under her feet as if she’s walking on glass instead of the tides. She pushes her hands apart, and the area of solid water expands until it’s large enough to act as a bridge. She turns to the rest of the group. “We can walk from here. It’ll be faster than a boat, and far more quiet.”

Kaz nods, beginning to walk after her on the bridge of water. Before his feet leave the ground, his mouth moves once. “No mourners.” Jesper nods. “No funerals.” They won’t be able to speak as freely at the mercher’s island, so this will do best. Jesper considers the unmoving waves one last time, then follows him. He’s half expecting Y/N to let the water liquify under his feet just a little bit, out of spite, but it holds. They continue along the harbor, and if Jesper turns his head he can see the bridge rippling back into normal water after they pass by it. It raises the hairs on the back of his neck to see his escape route disappear so quickly, but Jesper does his best to quiet the voice of warning. Kaz would never bring Y/N in if he thought she would betray them, and even if he did, Kaz would have another way out. That’s just the way Dirtyhands worked.

All the same, Jesper feels a little better when his heels land on solid ground once more. Kaz doesn’t have to say a word, just points at the roof. Jesper nods, remembering the plan. He and Y/N split away from Kaz and Inej, heading towards the roof for their line of entry. When Jesper had heard this part of the plan, he had complained viciously. Why should he have to go scale the building alone with Y/N? Why couldn’t Inej go instead? In the end, it hadn’t mattered- the plan needed them both there, so that’s where they would go.

Jesper doesn’t exactly have Inej’s skill in climbing, but ter Steege makes it easy. There are balconies and handholds practically everywhere, as if the merch is offering free mansion climbing lessons to anyone interested. Jesper supposes that one would be less concerned about robberies if you had a moat, but still. You have that much money, you might as well pretend to make it hard for light-fingered con artists.

Soon enough, Jesper and Y/N are standing on the roof, staring down at the fourth skylight from the left. This is where they’ll enter, once it reaches eleven bells and it’s time to move. Now, however, all they can do is wait as Kaz and Inej get into position. Jesper carefully sits down, letting his long legs prop up against the tiles of the roof. Y/N sits next to him, staring up at the sky. The moon is out tonight, the pale light illuminating her eyes and dusting her cheeks.

Distantly, Jesper realizes that he’s never seen her like this- letting her guard down for once. He’s not shooting at her, she’s not trying to drown him, it’s almost like a peace offering. Y/N must be having the same thoughts, because she turns to face him. The moonlight still stays on her face, as if unwilling to let go. Jesper has the sudden thought that he wouldn’t want to do the same either, if he had the opportunity to linger here, then shakes himself mentally.

Y/N’s voice is quiet, a whisper cutting through his thoughts and scattering them to the wind. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t been fighting when we first met each other? Would we have been friends like you and Kaz?” Jesper chuckles in spite of himself. “If you think Kaz Brekker makes friends, I’m starting to think that you’ve suffered a head injury.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “He trusts you. That’s rare.” Jesper shrugs, conceding this. He keeps speaking, though, even when he has just decided to remain silent. “I think we could have been close. We have similar interests.” Y/N raises an eyebrow. “Money? A good time?” Jesper flashes her a grin, easy as flipping a coin and landing it square in your palm. “Exactly. See? We already understand each other perfectly.”

Y/N lets out a short laugh at that, moonlight still teasing at the corner of her lips. Jesper’s eyes linger longer than they should. Curse his tendencies to start rivalries with the prettiest of enemies- it’s beginning to get him into trouble. Y/N’s head tilts towards the tides below, and then she stands. “It’s time. The bells are about to ring.” Jesper mourns the moment lost, then stands and takes his position by the skylight. He waits for the bells to begin to toll, then grabs his revolver, spinning it back and forth in his palm like a nervous tic before firing four times at the corners of the window, exactly where the locks will hold.

He doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s eyes track the spin of the gun, or the admirative tug of her lips into a half smile. However, now is no longer the time for schoolboy glances, and Jesper kneels at the window, carefully removing it from its frame. This is their entrance, and they would do well to hurry along.

The plan almost goes well. Almost. They manage to break into the mercher’s office, stealing the documents and meeting up with Kaz and Inej to get out, but just as they’re about to cross through the main atrium of the mansion, a loud dissonance of bells breaks out. An alarm. Jesper sees identical looks of panic reflected on every face- this was not supposed to happen. Not at all. They don’t hesitate, just run. Jesper’s lived in the Barrel long enough to remember this one lesson: when you can’t count on gangs or anyone to have your back, your feet always will. Just remember to keep moving.

They’re almost to the water’s edge when the shots ring out. Guards have followed them out of the building and fire even as their feet pound down the beach. Jesper’s revolvers are in his hands before another second can pass, bullets aimed with precision as he runs. They’re almost to the water when he hears a sound from behind him that draws all breath from his lungs. From here, it almost sounds like a cry of pain. It’s soft, as if someone’s trying not to draw attention, but Jesper hears it nonetheless.

He turns around and his stomach clenches with horror as he realizes he was right. Y/N is stumbling, clutching a terrible scarlet stain across her chest. It’s deep, too deep, and far too close to her heart to be safe. Y/N has time to fling her arms up, casting out the bridge of water once more, before she falls to the ground. All of a sudden, Jesper’s vision tunnels. He can only see two things: Y/N, hand limp over the spreading blood, and the guards, pistols still smoking.

Jesper’s shots ring out again and again. He can’t hear anything other than a buzzing in his ears, something that might be his pulse or just a sign that he’s gone mad. To be honest, Jesper’s not sure that he cares. Bullets careen through the air, curving around pillars and corners to reach their targets. His da would panic to see him, grab Jesper by his shoulders and tell him to be more careful. Anyone could know now, could see the way the bullets fly through the air as if guided by an invisible hand and figure out what that means, but Jesper doesn’t think about that for a second. All he can think about is revenge, and making sure that every single body falls to the ground.

Jesper’s haze leaves him, and he realizes that all of the guards are dead. All of them. Then his guns are back in their holsters, and he’s scrambling towards Y/N. When he picks her up, she feels cold. Too cold. Blood is staining his hands now, turning the long fingers red, but he barely notices at all. His heels flash down the beach, then onto the water, which is still solid. It must be killing her to keep this up, but she’s still doing it.

Jesper swore that it took far longer to make the trip over the harbor, but it feels like he’s barely taken a few steps before he’s on the other side and the water bridge is swallowed up by the tides once more. Kaz and Inej have just made it onto the other side, and their eyes widen at the crazed look on Jesper and the bloodied form of Y/N in his arms. Jesper doesn’t have time to consider this, and he shouts at them as he runs. “Get a healer! Get somebody- Nina, maybe. Anybody.”

Inej takes off into the streets, but Kaz remains, giving Jesper a particular look. “I remember you saying something about how Y/N was your rival. This is your chance, you know. The Barrel can be a ruthless place, and nobody would suspect you if she never made it back.” Jesper has the feeling that this is a test, some challenge placed before him to see how he’ll respond, but he can’t find it within himself to care. Jesper has always had an affinity for the odds, but this once, it’s not enough. “No. I’m getting her out. I need a Healer.”

Kaz steps back, allowing Jesper to pass, but not before he sees the appraising look in his eyes. Kaz nods once, briefly, and then Jesper is around the corner and sprinting headlong towards the Slat. A Healer is indeed waiting there, and holds out her arms to receive Y/N. For a second, Jesper’s arms clench around her body, unwilling to give her up, and then he forces his arms to relax and she’s gone, carried away into another room.

Jesper is left with the blood staining his shirt and the decision staining his conscience. If Y/N died, was it his fault? Should he care this much? He’s not sure that question can even be answered. The Healer comes out eventually, nodding at him. She’s not ready to have visitors, or at least she won’t be awake to see them, but that doesn’t stop Jesper from disappearing into her room the second the Healer leaves.

Jesper feels his throat close up when he sees her. Y/N is lying stiff and unmoving on a narrow bed, breath unnaturally slow and eyes closed. It’s strange- he’s seen her fiery and powerful, glowing as a Grisha does after they use their powers, but now she looks seconds from death. Jesper’s feet carry him woodenly over to the bed, and he stands there for a moment before reaching down and taking her hand. He doesn’t expect to feel anything at all, yet there’s a slight pressure and her eyelids flicker open.

“What, trying to finish the job?” A slight smile cracks Y/N’s lips, and Jesper feels like he could cry out in relief. Maybe it’s time he takes up Inej’s saints after all. “You’re alright?” She nods, although even this small movement appears to hurt. “As well as one can. I think I have someone to thank for that, though.” Jesper nods slowly. “Yeah, the Healer was great. We should keep her around just in case.”

Y/N laughs, the sound undamaged even as her blood still stains the bandages. “You’re impossible. I’m talking about you.” Jesper’s cheeks feel hot. “Oh.” Now this is unreal- usually he’s the one eliciting blushes, never the other way around. “I couldn’t just leave you there, you know.” She nods once, smiling, and then her eyelids seem too heavy to stay open and she starts to drift off to sleep once more. If Jesper happened to stay with her even after her eyes shut, and even if a kiss just happened to be pressed to her cheek, well, that was nobody’s business but his own.

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arlert-angel · 3 years

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love fast, die young ☪

♡ jean x fem!reader

❥ you know that at any moment your life could be cut short as a scout, and the last thing you want is to die a virgin, so why not ask your best friend that you’re in love with for some help?

❥ wc: 5.8k

❥ cw: near death experience (reader), virgin!reader and virigin!jean, cannonverse but no plot, loss of virginity, slight size kink, cream pie, aftercare, fluff

❥ note: i was invested in the story of this one lol, it's a lot more romantic than i initially intended. they’re aged up, but the cannonverse details don’t make sense for the plot, so let’s pretend it does yay.

Arriving back from expeditions was always an exhausting feat within itself, sometimes more so than the actual expedition.

Commanding officers had to count their losses, healers had to tend to the wounded, and everyone who was good enough to stand had to report their kills and assists. Of course that was the immediate tasks that needed to take place, but then came the grief. Friends looked for one another, many people cried, and names could be heard shouted all around as everyone arrived at headquarters.

You weren't that different, but you were silent as you scanned the crowd looking for your tall best friend. You knew he was with the best of the best in Levi's squad, so you weren't too worried. However, you also knew the previous best had been wiped out before the new group came.

Anything could happen which made you all the more anxious.

You and Jean were not on the same squad. You first were offered a position on the Levi squad with the rest of your friends, but then Hange handed picked you to help them with their experiments, claiming they needed your mind to work with them. Hange is very likeable and now one of your closest friends, and at the time it seemed impossible to say no to them.

Hange's and Levi's squad tended to work together a lot and definitely trained together, so you didn't miss your friends too much. It was only when expeditions approached and new formations were made, when you had to be separated from the rest of your 104th pals.

You never complained about the separation. It wouldn't last forever, maybe a couple days at most, and then you return to laughing and working with the rest of your friends. You had no complaints until this particular expedition.

You had a close call.

In fact, so close, you might as well have kissed Death on the lips while you were so close to the afterlife.

The mission was going according to plan. It was a simple scouting mission in the mountains that were, for the most part, titan free. Your squad was on the left flank of the formation, near the edge of the mountains. The cliff sides surrounding you guys held a beautiful, yet slightly scary view. The drop had to be at least 300 feet.

You should've known something bad was going to happen as soon as Hange called out, "Hey, Y/N, check it out!" But you weren't thinking that hard, for the day had been so peaceful.

The path you all had taken was so close to the cliffs that the squad was riding single file for safety. There was enough room to pass one another, but you had to do so very carefully.

You rode ahead, passing Moblit. You sent him a questioning look as went by, but he only shrugged, not knowing what Hange was raving over. When you slid off your horse and next to Hange you saw what they did.

A very large cave.

"Should we go inside?" Hange looked at you, clearly excited, but it was an awful idea.

"No!" You tried to sound stern, knowing how they needed a firm rejection or they'd always get what they wanted, "Do you see the size of the thing? This looks like a comfy home for a 10 meter titan, maybe even 15 meter class if they hunched over."

"Do you think they'd crawl around in there?!" Their eyes widened and the familiar look that you've seen so many times on their face appeared. It was their usual expression they had when you conducted experiments with them. You swore to yourself how you fed their curiosity on accident.

"What's going on?" Moblit now arrived, wondering what the hold up was about.

"They want to go inside that death trap," You pointed at the ominous cavern in front of you all.

"You cannot be serious!" Moblit exclaimed in surprise, the volume echoing down the stone and dirt walls. Moblit continued his rant, stating the obvious, but you tuned their debate out. You just stared into what looked like an abyss.

There was no movement, no noise, not even the breeze seemed to reach here.

But for some reason you had a gut feeling. A gut feeling that saved all of your lives.

"Move!" You shoved Hange into Moblit which effectively knocked them both to the side of the cave and used your ODM gear to swing yourself to the opposite side.

The large hand reached out as you tried to get out of the way, but because you helped the others you weren't quick enough.

Luckily, the titan's grasp only managed to get tangled in your ODM wire and couldn’t quite reach your actual body.

Unluckily, the titan was managing to drag you like a ragdoll and if you didn't do anything quickly you would be engulfed in the darkness where it was hidden, and then probably engulfed in it’s stomach.

You had to think quick on your feet and so you drew your blades and slashed the wire on your gear all together. You could've attempted to slash at it's hands, but that was no guarantee. The wire was sliced with a clean snip.

Now you were free, you stumbled back at the loss of momentum. You took one two many steps back, and that last step didn't hit the gravely earth that the others had.

Your foot didn't hit anything at all.

You were about to fall off a cliff.

Ironic to escape death one way only to quite literally fall into its clutches another way.

But, you didn't fall.

Your eyes were squeezed shut in absolute terror, and when you opened them at the lack of free fall, you saw Hange.

They had managed to save you by the front of your shirt, yanking you back on solid ground. Moblit had been keeping the titan at bay, and continued to do so as you and everyone else turned their horses carefully around.

Thanks were shared by yourself, Hange, and Moblit at the different lucky saves. They praised your quick thinking and response. None of you actually saw the titan coming. You just knew. You seemed to recognize the familiar feeling of dread from the presence of a titan that wanted to eat you. Even if you couldn’t see it.

Hange continuously apologized on the way back, but it wasn’t really their fault. It’s not like you actually entered the cave like they wanted. And it was probably a good thing you guys stopped when you did. If the group rode past the cave something worse might have happened.

After that close call you wanted nothing more to find your best friend and have his familiar comfort.

"Y/N? Whatcha still doing out here?" You spun around quickly and saw Connie.

“Oh, hey! I’m just looking for Jean, have you seen him?” You didn’t want to panic, but it was weird to see Connie without Jean.

“Yeah! Mikasa killed this titan that had snuck up right above us and it’s blood got all over Jean it was so funny he screamed like a girl. But yeah, he went to the showers immediately,” Connie explained laughing at the memory. You laughed along and wished you could see it yourself.

“That’s funny, I should probably shower too, this mission felt particularly long,” You grumbled more to yourself than Connie, but he picked up on your off tone.

“Did something happen?” He asked genuinely concerned. You might’ve been closest to Jean, but Connie and Sasha were also very close to you. The four you always had the most fun together, and got in the most trouble.

“Kind of, a titan snuck up on us too, but we were near the cliffs so there wasn’t all lot of room to work with. I almost fell, but on the bright side I overcame my fear of heights,” You laughed, but it was more anxious than joyful.

“Oh shit, that’s awful!” Connie’s eyes widened in horror, “I'll tell Jean to come find you when I see him.”

“What why?”

“You were looking for him right? He’d definitely want to know that you’re okay after that. He worries a lot, you know? It’s always: I hope Y/N okay, where’s Hange’s squad again, I wish Y/N was here, Y/N would love this view. Someone has to tell him to shut up at least once every expedition.” Connie actually did an okay Jean impression as he ranted to you, but you didn’t comment on it.

You were too surprised. You didn’t know Jean worried about you. He never once came to you with any fears about expeditions. He always asked you what happened, but that’s just a normal conversation. It wasn’t too strange for someone’s best friend to think about them when apart. What was strange was the happy feeling you got knowing that Jean couldn’t shut up about you. A weird fluttery feeling danced in your stomach and you felt almost giddy.

Connie noticed your lack of response and noticeably paled.

“Fuck, wait, I didn’t tell you that! Jean’s gonna kill me, Y/N please don’t tell him I told you!” He grabbed onto you, begging. He shook you enough that it got you out of your confusing thoughts.

“Um, okay? I don't see what the big deal is. I think about Jean on expeditions too, that’s not weird right?” You smiled reassuringly and Connie’s whole body sagged in relief.

“Not at all! Have a nice shower!” Connie ran away, actually ran, trying to separate himself from that conversation. He thanked the Walls that you couldn’t read between the lines.

After that odd conversation you got a change of clothes and towel, and then headed towards the showers. You passed Sasha and Mikasa on the way in and they both gave you pleasant greetings, all parties glad to see each other alive and well.

You tried not to overthink, but the hot shower gave you all the time to do so.

Your thoughts jumped from almost dying, to Jean, to these overwhelming feelings you seemed to harbor.

You knew you loved Jean. You both even told each other sometimes. Your mind never wandered further than viewing Jean as your best friend only because you didn’t think that’s what he’d want.

When you first met Jean you had a small crush on him, admiring him from afar until Marco introduced the two of you. Once you grew closer and noticed his infatuation with Mikasa your feelings sizzled out in a bitter simmer. Your bitterness didn’t last long though, you were happy you had someone to rely on no matter what. After Marco passed, Jean was your crutch and vise versa. Romance would only make things confusing and besides you didn’t have any experience in the matter.

But now as you think more and more about him you wondered if those feelings ever went away. You thought about his laugh and stupid tone he gets when he tries to act cocky. You thought about his eyes and how pretty they look in the sunlight. You thought about his ability to read your mind without you having to tell him something’s wrong. He was your person.

You came to the conclusion that there definitely was something more than platonic there, but there was no certainty he felt the same. He would’ve said something by now. When he liked Mikasa he was so obvious, openly talking about her to everyone. You would’ve known something by now if it were the case, right? You knew he didn’t like Mikasa now, he told you explicitly for some reason, stating you needed to know. He also didn’t talk about liking anybody new.

Sighing in frustration, you turned off the shower, now squeaky clean. What was supposed to be a relaxing shower just stressed you out because of your stupid brain’s overthinking.

And it didn’t stop. As you dropped your messy uniform in the laundry, it reminded you of the day.

Today proved that any moment could be your last. Being in the scouts has always been dangerous, and you knew you were a disposable soldier. You didn’t mind it much, but now you realized how little you had experienced. You had never been drunk, your only kiss was with Marco in a game of truth or dare, and you were a virgin.

You didn’t want to die a virgin.

You thought of Jean. You wanted to be with him at least once before you died. You didn’t want to die without knowing how it felt to have everything with Jean. Your love for him definitely wasn’t platonic. You didn’t want to die without him knowing.

Your mind made up, you walked the halls with a little more determination than usual. You wandered around for only a couple minutes before running into Eren.

“Horseface is looking for you,” He pointed around the corner. You gave a quick thanks before quickly going in that direction only to collide with the person you were searching for.

“Y/N!” Jean surprised you by pulling you in a tight hug. As he pulled away he took note of the blush that was now on your cheeks, but didn’t comment. He also didn’t let you go completely, leaving his hands on your shoulders. Unable to help himself.

“Hey, I was looking for you,” You smiled genuinely, only slightly nervous now. Even with the giddiness he gave you, he still managed to calm you down.

“Me too, Connie said something happened with your squad, so I asked Hange about it and they told me everything,” His eyebrows were pulled into a worried furrow, “I wish you were in our squad.”

“Me too, but I like being with Hange too,” You stated honestly, “But it’s alright, everything worked out in the end.”

“Yeah, but you almost fell off a cliff! Y/N if I lost you I’d…” He cleared his throat before shaking himself out of his thoughts, “I’m just glad you’re okay. You said you were looking for me, what for?”

“Oh! Um…” You looked around and saw Eren eavesdropping blatantly with a knowing look, causing you to quickly turn back around, “Can I talk to you in my room about something?” You shift your weight from side to side, visibly jittery.

“Sure?” Jean was confused and noted you looked more flustered than before, but he couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong like he usually could.

You walked side by side, passing Eren along the way who gave you both a smug wave. When Jean wasn’t looking you turned around and gave him the finger. The walk was silent and your hands brushed each other softly.

Once you were behind closed doors you felt yourself relax a little more. It was just Jean, you hyped yourself up. Even if he did reject you the worst thing that could happen is him make a stupid joke out of everything, but you doubt he would. You knew he at least respected you.

“So, what’s so serious that you needed to be away from nosy Yeager?” So he did see that ass listening, you thought.

“Well… You know about my close call today… It got me thinking,” You started safely.

“You can think? Like, there’s a brain in there?” Jean acted surprised and grabbed your head teasingly.

“Shut up,” You laughed and slapped his hands away before adding, “It’s serious.”

“Okay,” He took a seat on your bed comfortably, an action that was not unusual, you hung out in each other’s room all the time. He gave you his full attention, no longer joking around.

“I thought about how at any moment we can die, that sounds morbid, but it’s true. And then I thought about all the stuff I haven’t done and all the things I haven’t said,” You explained further, still not getting to the point.

“So, you want to make a bucket list?” Jean tilted his head, trying to follow, “That’d be fun.”

“No,” You rolled your eyes lovingly, “I, more specifically, thought about all the stuff we haven’t done together.”

“Oh, you want to make a bucket list together!” Jean perked up.

“Jean stop trying to guess and let me explain,” You laughed and he complied, pretending to zip his lips shut.

“Jean,” You approached the man, invading his personal space, “I don’t want to die a virgin, do you?”

“No…” Jean blushed at the sudden topic change, wondering why on earth you were bringing that up right now.

“And… I love you, and I know you'd treat me right,” You cupped his cheeks in your hands. You were standing in between his legs now, him leaning back on his hands looking up at you. He was tall, so he didn’t have to tilt his neck that much.

“I love you too, what are you going on about?” His face was drawn in clear confusion, a cute expression, if he wasn’t being so frustrating.

“No, Jean,” You leaned impossibly close, your face right in front of his, “I’m in love with you.”

Then you boldly straddled him before you planted your lips on him.

You were shy, unsure if he would reciprocate the kiss, and it seemed like he wasn’t. You panicked instantly. Your heart was pounding and you pulled away. You were terrified you screwed everything up. You looked at him and he seemed to be frozen.

“Jean?” You worriedly looked at your catatonic friend whose eyes were wide in shock, “I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry! Please don’t hate me!” You began to try to climb off him, but his hands shot to your hips, holding you in place.

“Y/N, you’re in love with me?” He still seemed to be stunned, or maybe he didn’t believe you, but he held your gaze with serious eyes.

“Yes,” You made sure to keep eye contact despite the heat that rose to your cheeks, to make sure he knew you were dead serious.

“Good,” One of his hands left your hips to your cheek. He guided your mouth back to his.

He was kissing you. He was actually kissing you. It was slow and sweet at first. He stroked your cheek lovingly and your lips slowly moved in sync. It was when you repositioned yourself on his lap, accidently grinding into him, when the kisses started to become more feverish. He groaned into your mouth and the hand left your face and found it’s new home on your ass. He squeezed it harshly, making you gasp. He took the opportunity to introduce his tongue to yours. He surprised you when he sucked on your tongue, making a small whimper escape you.

Jean pulled away, taking in your flustered state with blown pupils of his own. Both of your lips were swollen and you both needed to catch your breath.

“I love you too, you know?” Jean pushed some of your hair out of your face with a soft smile, “I figured you didn’t feel the same and wanted to just be friends, so I didn’t say anything.”

“I thought the same, or that you might still like Mikasa,” You admitted shyly, looking down where your bodies met.

“Hey,” He tilted your chin so you held eye contact again, “That was a stupid crush when I was kid, and I told you that ended a long time ago, didn't I? I’m in love with you.”

“We were so stupid keeping it to ourselves,” You laughed and Jean openly admired you in what looked like awe. His gaze made you feel bashful, almost wanting to hide your face with your hands.

“We were, I could have been kissing you so much sooner,” Jean mumbled, already leaning back to you. This time when your lips met your tongues danced together immediately. You knew Jean also didn't have much experience, but with the way he kissed it seemed like he did.

"Did you mean what you said?" Jean pulled away only for a moment to ask before returning right back to your lips.

You pulled away, trying to decipher what he was referring to. "Wha–" Your breath hitched when you felt Jean kiss your pulse on your neck. He began sucking on a particular spot that made you moan, surprising both of you.

"You're so beautiful," He commented then explained, "Did you mean what you said about that virgin stuff?" He seemed shy all of sudden, his hands were sliding from your hips to your thighs, almost like he was trying to soothe himself.

"I meant every word," You said honestly, "I want to experience all of you."

"God," Jean seemed to like that statement, "I don't know what I'm doing, so just know I'm learning as I go. Just tell me what you like and don't like."

"Of course," You gave him a reassuring smile, "I'm not worried, I trust you."

"Good," He said again before spinning you around and lightly throwing you on your bed. He hovered over you, not putting much, if any weight on you. He resumed the make out session, but this time letting his hands wander.

He first tugged at your shirt, which you helped him quickly pull over your head. You hadn't worn a bra, assuming your plans for this evening were eating then just passing out.

Jean seemed to drink your body in, just staring in lust and awe.

"You can touch me," You tried to sound reassuring, but it sounded more like a beg.

Jean took your breasts in his large hands and just felt you. You almost laughed at how mesmerized he looked, but that was when he latched his mouth on your nipple. That action seemed to send a current of electricity straight to the heat in between your legs. You arched your back and let out a surprised moan which made Jean quickly pull away.

"Did I hurt you?" He looked scared.

"No, it feels good," You murmured as you unconsciously rolled your hips wanting friction.

"Oh, that's good," He shot you a grin before throwing his own shirt to the side. He went back to kissing your chest, this time his hand tweaked the nipple he wasn't sucking on, causing even more pleasure. You bit your lip only letting out whimpers, a little embarrassed of moaning so loudly again.

"J-Jean," You stuttered out, gripping his broad shoulders.

"Hmm?" He hummed, he had been having fun leaving purple marks across your tits.

"I-I need…" You didn't finish.

"What do you need, princess?" He asked genuinely, but his deep tone sent shivers down your spine.

"More, I don't know," You admitted.

"Okay, don't worry," He gave you a peck, "I'll take care of you."

He began taking off your pants, helping you get them off your ankles. He stood to take off his own pants as you admired him. His body was so toned from the life of being a soldier. As you took him all in your eyes landed on the bulge that was very prominent in his briefs and for the first time you felt nerves about having sex with him.

"Jean, how the hell is that supposed to fit in me?" You didn't even see it out of it's cage, you couldn't imagine that monster in action.

"It has to fit right? People have sex all the time," Jean looked down at his own dick before looking at your panties with a frown, "I'll make sure to stretch you out with my fingers to help."

"What do you mean?" You blushed as Jean returned his body on top of you, giving you warmth again. This time putting a little more weight than last time. You could feel his restrained cock against you this time.

"You know, fingering, you've done it to yourself before right?" Jean asked curiously.

"I've tried, but I couldn't reach any particular spots that made me feel good, so I mostly just got off with my clit," You explained, a little embarrassed.

"Well, I have long fingers," Jean began to slip off your last item of clothing. You gulped nervously, you now were exposed completely to him.

"So pretty, and you're wet," He groaned and looked back up to you, "Open your mouth."

You almost asked why, but you didn't want to kill the mood, so you complied. Jean slid two fingers into your mouth and you got the message. You wrapped your lips around his fingers and hollowed your cheeks, sucking on them.

"Fuck," He sighed out and you felt him twitch against you.

He pulled his fingers out and moved them back between your legs. He first slowly thrusted one finger inside you, to get you used to the unfamiliar feeling. The stretch wasn't too painful, and he was definitely right. His fingers were longer.

He moved the one finger in and out of you slowly at first, picking up the pace as he continued. When he felt you relax completely he added a second finger. This time the stretch was a little more, making you tense.

"You're so tight," Jean was watching your pussy in wonder and slid his body down, so his face was near it.

"What are you– Oh my God," Jean's lips sucked on your clit softly, then continuously kitten licked it, all while maintaining his finger thrusts.

"You taste good," Jean said it so casually, you'd think he was talking about the weather. He removed his fingers for a moment to get a better taste. He kissed you directly on your cunt before penetrating you with his tongue. He moaned against you, sending vibrations into you. You tried to unconsciously escape the pleasure, your thighs attempting to close, but Jean's large hands held you down.

He returned his fingers inside you and this time adding a third. It stung more than before, but Jean's mouth on your clit made you forget all about the uncomfortableness. He began curling his fingers inside you reaching a spot that instantly had a knot forming in your stomach. Your hands shot around you, one gripping the sheets and the other in Jean's hair.

He latched onto clit again and you gave up on trying to quiet your moans, embarrassment be damned, it felt too good.

"Jean," You moaned his name, which only made him moan back in return, "I-I'm going to…" You whined a little, not quite there yet, but right on the edge.

"You're going to cum?" Jean asked, not even completely pulled away from your clit to do so, "Go ahead and cum on my fingers, baby." He quickened his strokes and returned to your clit. It was just enough to send you over.

You grinded into his hand and cried out. Jean moaned too as if he was being pleasured just at the sight of you or maybe it was because of the sensation of your tight pussy clamping around his fingers. He couldn't help himself and licked up some of your release, making you jump.

He moved back up to you with a content smile, "Did that feel good?"

"Yeah," You smiled back through half lidded eyes, still buzzing from the pleasure.

He gave you a deep kiss and you could taste yourself on him. Tasting your own saccharine flavor was strangely erotic.

Jean pulled away, "Is it alright if I take my cock out?" He asked beforehand just in case you changed your mind.

"Yeah, of course, I want to see the monster that's going to destroy me," You joked and earned yourself a cocky smirk.

Jean took off the only clothing that was separating the two of you. You glanced down and saw his size more visibly now. You were right to be intimidated before, he was huge. Jean seemed to take note of your apprehensive expression so he returned to giving you some kisses in order to soothe you.

“We’ll take it slow and if it’s too much just tell me,” Jean assured you which helped calm you down.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Your eyes met as he began to rub the head up and down between your folds, collecting its wetness. He rubbed it over your clit and back down, making you feel particularly tingly. When he started pushing the head inside you had to remind yourself to not tense up, but it was hard. He was stretching a lot more than his fingers did. His cock added an unfamiliar pressure inside you that his fingers didn’t.

“God, that’s just the head and you're already squeezing me,” Jean threw his head back trying to regain composure. It was also his first time and he did not want to embarrass himself by finishing quickly. Also the gentlemen inside him wanted to feel you cum around him first.

He slowly continued to push further in as you grabbed his arms to brace yourself. When he finally bottomed out you swore you could see the bulge on your tummy. He kept still and waited for you to give him the go ahead even though he had the incredible urge to just thrust forward.

“You alright?” Jean's voice was more strained than usual.

“Yeah, why the fuck you gotta be so big, Jean,” Which only made Jean smile and give an apology kiss. You took a few more moments getting used to the stretch when the pleasure overtook the pain. You felt the veins on his cock inside you. You felt so full, but so good. You grinded into him trying to feel more and Jean noticed.

“I’m going to start moving now,” Jean warned and began pulling back before snapping his hips forward. You both cried out how he filled you up, your walls fluttering around him.

The pace was unrushed and steady to begin with. He withdrew his cock only to plunge it back into you, hitting you deep, in a repetitive matter. You felt the pleasure everywhere, all the way in your toes.

You started meeting his thrusts, moving your hips in order to do so. Jean hitched your leg higher which only made you feel him deeper, hitting a sweet spot that caused you to gasp.

“You can go faster,” You said breathlessly, “Please, Jean, it feels so good.”

“Fuck,” Jean moaned back, his slow deep thrusts turned into a quick pounding. He continuously hit that new spot every time. Your whimpers turned into uncontrollable moans. Not wanting to make too much noise you buried yourself into the crook of his neck, sucking and biting his skin.

You briefly looked down where your bodies met and saw him pumping out of you, your slick covering his cock and your thighs. The sight made your eyes roll back into your head.

“Please,” You moaned into Jean who brought his hand to your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Please, what? What do you want, princess?” He grunted a bit after, not once did he lose his pace.

“I want… Ah… Please, I don’t know,” You felt like you could cry, you were right on the edge. You didn’t know what you needed, but you felt too good to try to figure it out. You figured he was close too by the way he was twitching inside your pussy and his thrusts became a little more desperate.

“Open,” Jean brought his fingers back to your mouth, groaning at the sensation. He kept them there for a few more moments than necessary, just enjoying the way you looked with your pretty lips wrapped around him.

Then he brought them between your legs and began rubbing your clit at the same pace he was thrusting into you.

“J-Jean, I’m gonna cum,” You grabbed his wrist, almost overwhelmed by the feeling.

You cried out his name as your pussy milked him, triggering his own release. He groaned your name as he came. You felt the warmth of him spill deep inside you and it made your pussy tremble all the more. He gave a few final thrusts before slumping on top of you.

“Look at me while you cum, princess, come on, cum on my cock,” He encouraged you. You held eye contact for as long as you could, but when that coil in your tummy snapped you had to squeeze your eyes shut in absolute bliss.

“We definitely should’ve done that sooner,” He mumbled into your hair, making you giggle.

“Definitely,” You echoed back.

He slid out of you after that, making both of your bodies shudder at the loss of connection. You pussy still trying to pulse around something.

“I just showered,” You commented with a frown, looking at the mess between your legs.

“I’ll go get a towel?” Jean offered, and you gave him a nod. He redressed quickly, kissed you deeply, then stated he would be back soon.

You threw your shirt back on while you waited. You felt so sleepy after that. Even though you wanted to feel clean, you wished you cuddled with Jean some more, already missing him.

After a couple more minutes the silence was broken.

“I knew it!” You heard Eren’s familiar voice shout from outside your door and you sat up confused.

“Shut the fuck up before I hit you!” You heard Jean’s voice shout back and then a few more quieter exchanges that you couldn’t make out from the two men. Then your door opened fast, Jean slipping quickly inside, locking it behind him. In one hand he had a warm towel and in the other he had a new set of sheets.

“What happened?” You pointed at the door and Jean scowled.

“Apparently those assholes bet on when we’d finally hook up,” Jean explained before cleaning you up. You blushed as he took care of you. Despite what just took place you still felt embarrassed. Jean noticed and just pecked your cheeks.

“That’s kind of funny, we should’ve placed our own bets,” You hummed and stood shakily, grabbing a new pair of underwear as Jean changed your sheets for you.

“I can’t believe Eren won,” Jean frowned, but when your arms wrapped around him from behind he couldn’t help but smile.

“Will you stay with me? I kind of want to nap,” You mumbled into his back.

“Of course,” You both returned to your bed this time with more innocent intentions.

Jean laid on his back and you threw your arm around his chest and your leg over his, snuggling up into his side.

“I don’t want to die,” You murmured sleepily.

“You won’t,” Jean stated firmly.

“How do you know?” You looked up at him.

“Because we both have something to live for,” He met your gaze softly, before kissing your head again.

You told each other you loved another once again before you both fell asleep. It was a sleep where neither of you had the common nightmare about your untimely deaths.

Instead it was a sleep where you both dreamt of the future you now could have with one another.

#this was so much more fluff than i wanted lol #aot smut #aot #aot jean #jean x reader #jean kirschstein #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein smut #attack on titan #mikasa ackerman #hange zoe #aot eren #eren aot #connie springer #arlert angel

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frombeyondtheblackhole · 3 years

Text

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 8.1

Over the course of the next couple of days Scar helped George and Skeppy get settled in. He introduced them to the other Boatem People. There was Pearl, who lived in the upside down boat house, Impulse, who Skeppy thought looked a lot like a buffer version of George, and Mumbo, who had an impressive mustache and lived in an RV pulling a tiny house.

Scar helped George build a mushroom house in the space between Pearl and Impulse's houses, while Skeppy very quickly got involved in helping Pearl prank everyone on the server by tipping their cows (and every other animal for that matter) upside down. She had to convince Skeppy not to tip anyone's named pets though.

The Boatem hole was opened up to the void. Now that Skeppy could get a good look at it, it kind of terrified him. The never ending darkness. George tried to push Skeppy in, which led to Skeppy chasing George around with a diamond sword for a good ten minutes. Scar fell in several times. He seemed fine, though that could be debatable. Falling in the void had to have some kind of consequences, didn’t it?

Scar got a new, bigger, better hat. Skeppy tried stealing it, trading it back and forth with George as Scar chased them around Boatem begging for them to slow down. Pearl even showed up and joined in the hat trading, but then she made them give it back. There was something under her chipper mannerisms that neither of them wanted to cross. She was nice, but Tubbo was nice, he had nukes, Foolish was nice, he controlled lightning, Puffy was nice, she killed Ant. In their experience, nice meant dangerous.

Grian got bored just sitting around all day and was soon back to his usual pranks. He summoned a giant tree golem with Pearl’s help that tried to eat Mumbo’s van till Mumbo talked to her and calmed her down. His peace, love and plants thing really did come in handy sometimes. Mambo found out that her name was Treesa. Now she just sat watching over Mumbo’s house and humming to herself with the sound of rustling leaves and groaning wood. Sometimes Mumbo could be seen sitting on her shoulder talking to her as she listened, her eye’s closed and her branches swaying in the breeze as she soaked in the sun.

Impulse opened up a shop called I-Soar selling elytra and rockets. Skeppy and George were fascinated by them and when no one was looking they stole some elytra to give them a test run. Skeppy immediately flew into a wall and died, while George fared a little better but died when he tried to land. Everyone's inboxes were buzzing with notifications as a string of death messages appeared in the chat. It didn’t take long for Scar and Impulse to find the two culprits. Skeppy tried to jump off the roof he was standing on and fly away, but he timed it wrong and landed with a splat, his items going everywhere. George started running, he was on the ground and unable to get any air.

Impulse was easily able to catch up to him with his own elytra. When Skeppy returned for his stuff Scar and Impulse admonished them for stealing. Then they gave them some flying lessons, showing them how to use the rockets to give them a boost and how to land without taking damage. They were only fifty percent successful. Though, when they were done they made them return the Elytra. To be honest, Skeppy and George were both quite done with the whole affair and glad to be back on the ground. The novelty had worn off a while ago and Skeppy and George were tired of constantly dying to fall damage.

Grian designed a game of hide and seek that involved the Dragon egg, while George and Skeppy secretly plotted to steal it when no one was looking.

Skeppy also finally decided to build a base for himself. He collected a ton of diamonds. Some of them came from his enderchest (Which he seemed to still be able to access). A bunch of them he got from taking a page from Scar’s book and going door to door, selling the Hermits random junk. He may have also taken all the diamonds from the center of the diamond ore tower outside Cub’s base. They were just sitting there in the open, practically asking to be taken. Using these diamonds Skeppy made a diamond block box house (When he ran out of diamonds he used dirt) in the middle of the town center next to the Boatem pole.

The look on Grian’s face when he saw it was totally worth all that work to get the diamonds. Grian practically begged him to take it down or move it. He even tried bribing him with more diamonds but Skeppy insisted that it was the most beautiful house in existence and he was going to live there forever. He even threatened to move it onto Grian’s front lawn.

This place wasn’t that bad, Skeppy was actually enjoying himself here.

---

Skeppy was nowhere to be found. Bad had searched through their mansion, and at the locations of their various projects, he even looked around the Greater Dream SMP, calling Skeppy’s name the entire time. The Diamond was gone.

This wasn’t the first time Skeppy had gone off on his own for weeks to sulk, only to come back a month later as if nothing happened. But usually he would at least make a big huff about how he was leaving and never coming back and how Bad was a bad friend. This time there was none of that. He had just left.

Bad felt a tightness in his chest as tears pricked at his eyes. Was he really that bad of a friend? What had he even done to make Skeppy run off without even saying anything? They had already made up after the whole egg debacle.

Bad shook his head “No, I’m a good friend. I’m the best friend. He’ll be back any day now, he’s probably just running errands or something,” Bad tried to convince himself... now that he thought about it he didn’t know where Skeppy went off to whenever he ran off.

Without even realizing it Bad found himself standing near the entrance to the spider spawner... the entrance to the Egg’s domain. He stopped. He had been free of the Egg’s influence for several months now. But the egg might know how to find Skeppy. The Egg could find Skeppy. No. Bad tore his eyes away, shaking his head and walking briskly down the path in the other direction. He had tried that before, it hadn’t ended well for him.

Bad felt a pit in his stomach. He genuinely regretted the things he had done while under the Egg’s influence. But the Egg could give him what he wanted. No. it never actually gave him what he really wanted, he knew that now. He knew that then too, he just hadn’t wanted to believe it... He didn’t need the Egg... but... it would be there. As a last resort. If all else failed.

[Notes: This one was inspired by another comment by @the-local-scp, Thanks again. I wasn’t originally planning on writing Bad’s perspective for a while. Skeppy runs off all the time. But then I thought about it and it makes sense that he would notice. He always notices, and this time he has no idea why Skeppy left. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed. This is the end of my pre-written stuff. The next one is probably going to be a bit of a long one so it may take a while before it gets posted, or I may break it up into smaller chunks... we’ll see]

#dsmp #dream smp #hermitcraft #dsmp au #dream smp au #hermitcraft au #hc x dsmp #hc x dsmp au #hermitcraft dsmp swap au #skeppy #georgenotfound #grian #good times with scar #impulsesv #pearlecentmoon #mumbo jumbo #badboyhalo

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mingkii · 3 years

Text

LOVE AGAIN ─✎ 송.민기

❖❳；Pairing; Song Mingi x Fem!Reader (ft. P1h's keeho, itzy's ryujin, and wooyoung)

❖❳；Genre; Greek mythology au, angst, reincarnation au.

❖❳；Words ; 6.2k

❖❳；Warnings; Mentions of death.

❖❳；Synopsis; A mission to find your lover who was reborn in the mortal world became a mission for heartbreak as you watched him fall in love with someone else.

❖❳；A/n; I honestly don't know what happened near the end, very disappointing but oh well. Not very proud of this so im sorry and don't get your hopes up.

❖❳； Note; My entry for @/sleepylixie and @/delicatewerewolfsoul 's hamartia collab. This might contain inaccurate representations of greek gods but for the sake of the story, just go with it. Slightly modernized as well.

The sun rises on the horizon, casting light all over Olympus, waking the gods in slumber, reminding them of the work they need to do. However, you wanted to fight the sun for rising so early. The rays piercing through the depths of the ocean, just enough to peek through the windows of your room.

You stir under the covers, not wanting to get up. The light blinding your closed eyes, preventing you from going back to sleep. You were honestly hoping you won't wake up the next day. You didn't want to wake up in agony knowing there's nothing to wake up to. You still picture his crescent eyes when he smiles, his laugh that echoes in your ears as if he is there with you. His hands that felt soft and warm left a mark on your skin, reminding you of how he held you in his arms.

Every night you see him in your dreams— for a while at least. Your heart was hurt, it wanted to remind you of all the things you could've done, but it knew that if you kept dreaming about him, you would have died grieving years ago.

A loud knock on your door suddenly erupted, a groan escaped your lips. You rolled to the other side trying to bury your head under the covers to drown out the sound. Then, your door busted open, making you sit up in surprise.

"What the fuck," you furrowed your brows, watching your father fix the dislocated door hinge.

"Don't use such language on me, young lady," he leans his trident beside the door. "You have a very important schedule to meet your suitors today."

Your eyes widen, "Suitors?!" You shrieked, your father's face contorts.

“Father, I think this has gone long enough for you to know that I am not interested.” he let out a sigh. He’s well aware of that.

"Look, I understand, but I will not have you sulk for the rest of your life just because that good-for-nothing son of Athena died," your blood boiled at his words.

"No father, I don’t think you do understand," You said with resentment.

You tried to bury the tears back down, not wanting to cry in front of your father. The pent up anger made you want to lash out like what he said was the last straw but your pride was much stronger.

"It's rude to keep them in line, they've travelled far just to get here, so I suggest you make yourself presentable and be there as soon as possible," his last words before shutting your door closed behind him.

The knick-knacks on your shelf shook as your father slammed the door shut. He wasn't mad, he was just….strict, as your father and god of the sea, you are under his territory thus, giving you no choice but to follow him.

You laid back on your bed, pulling the covers, letting out a muffled scream into the blanket. Only kids get treated like this, he acts like you aren't already a hundred years old.

You didn't want to meet another batch of mermen with plastic smiles and fake personalities. They were only after you because of your title, daughter of Poseidon, god of the sea, with a legacy that soon passes unto you. You had sisters and brothers, you didn't understand why it had to be you, but Poseidon himself already had it all planned.

You swam near the big stadium-like structure, with large pillars that were carved so intricately in quartz. The end of the stadium planted Poseidon's throne where he sat so elegantly. You hid behind the pillars, spotting the men that were seated to the side, waiting for your arrival, but you already decided you weren't going to attend. Not this time.

You took the longest route to Olympus, making sure no one spots you, escaping the suffocating vast seas that used to be called home.

"You know one day I could get killed by your dad," Wooyoung set the teacups filled with hot liquid on the dining table where you sat.

It's been a while since you set foot on land, you didn't miss it, the painful after-effects of walking for too long did make you wonder how land dwellers live.

"He won't since I made him promise it," your cheeky smile made him roll his eyes.

"But won't he easily find you here?"

"He will but he couldn't be bothered to travel all the way here," you took a sip from the cup, hot liquid running down your throat.

"I'll be home by sundown, can't have him wash Olympus just to find me," you force out a laugh, wooyoung giving you a sympathetic look.

He knows you are still mourning. Deep inside you are still in pain, but you try to keep it hidden.

"You know, it's been years and he is still bringing me these men I barely even know and he wants me to pick one to marry?" You planted your forehead on the table, hiding your face in frustration. "It's getting annoying." After those annoying years of having to pretend you are ok and just sitting pretty in front of dozens of merpeople, making yourself look like a prize in a glass box waiting for a winner to take you home.

But of course, it's still your choice and you chose to be with none of them.

"Were any of them attractive at least?" You hear the familiar charming voice. You look up to see Wooyoung's mother— aphrodite— adorned in her usual attire, laced with gold sequences, a headpiece in gold, and jewellery that complimented her skin.

You shook your head as you gave her a soft smile, "They always have this forced appearance to look strong and the wide creepy smiles that they think will help attract me to them," she listens to your rant, pouting slightly, "What a shame, you know your father's taste was never that good," she winked. You knew she was talking about your mother, whom you didn't know that well since she is always focusing on your brothers.

"I thought you went out early," Wooyoung questioned. Aphrodite cupped her son's cheeks, kissing the top of his nose.

"I just forgot something dear," you giggled at her ways of babying her son. Fixing his hair and touching up the light makeup he puts on every day. You can't deny how attractive Wooyoung is, you could see the features that he inherited from his mother.

"Poseidon won't stop what he is doing though, I suggest you do as his wishes y/n, or you'll face his consequences," strips of memory to that day cross your mind again. It was truly painful to recall, it made your heart clenched and you wanted to scream your head off.

"Look, whatever it is you want to do, just make sure it isn't something stupid," Wooyoung held your hand in his, rubbing your skin with his thumb. You remembered the last stupid thing you did.

You were grateful to have met someone like Wooyoung, he has always been there for you. Even though your father had been skeptical of him for so long, he still let you be around him.

But you can't promise him this time because another stupid idea just popped up in your head.

"Are you kidding y/n? Didn't we just talk about this?" Wooyoung follows you from behind as you walk through the forest. The last time you were here was the day your world fell apart.

You swore to not cross paths where it reminded you of him but right now, it is important.

"Look, demigods are bound to be reincarnated, there's a chance I could see him again," you explained, stepping on sticks and pebbles, slashing through vines and large leaves with your bronze dagger. Mingi wasn't like you or wooyoung who had both parents that are gods. Like Athena, he was created by her from her mind. He wasn't born….normal.

"And then what? What will you do if you see him?"

In all honesty, you didn't plan that far, all you thought of was to meet mingi in the mortal world. Wooyoung's concern for you just became worse when the silence answers his question. You have no plan, you just wanted to see mingi again.

You ignored Wooyoung's continuous nagging until you reached your destination. The tree that grew sweet magical berries that can only be found deep in the forests of Olympus. The berry that could help the gods enter the mortal realm.

"Y/n…." Worry settles in, Wooyoung knows the side effects of these berries. You weren't as powerful as your parents who were able to visit the mortal realm on your own, you needed help and you were certainly not gonna ask your father.

"I'll be fine," you picked a few handfuls of berries and stuffed them in your bag, "Atlantis won't be that far, If I need to, I’ll just come back." You smiled at Wooyoung.

"I leave tomorrow."

"What about your dad? Won't he get mad?" You two made your way back out of the forest, taking the path of where you came from.

"I just told him I'm sleeping at your place for a while," Wooyoung freezes in place. As expected of his role as your best friend, he's responsible for covering you up.

"You owe me big time."

Arriving at the mortal realm, alone and slightly scared. But the sight of what seemed to be the city made you giddy all of the sudden.

You walked around exploring the beautiful structures of the city. Tall buildings surrounding the area, billboards, and giant screens with lights and flashing colours. You were overwhelmed at first but it was quite interesting. It was nothing like you have seen before.

There were tons of people who wore casual attire, some wore suits as they travelled to work. Big buses and cars drove by in the streets— you almost got run over by one, not knowing the purpose of the blinking traffic light; the horrendous sound of the car horn almost did make your ears bleed.

Settling down on one of the park benches, you took a break from walking. The sandals you brought weren't doing any justice for your feet.

Your surroundings were peaceful, pink flowers scattered across the concrete, different coloured leaves decorating the trees, getting ready for the fall season. Suddenly, you felt a gust of wind. The eerie grey smoke rising in front of you. Chills running up your spine, your mind having a clear idea of where it's coming from.

A cold mischievous laugh emitted from within, your initial reaction was to pull out the dagger from your side, clutching the handle tight until your knuckles turned white.

"Relax, it's me," the same annoying voice you dreaded hearing.

"Ryujin, what are you doing here?" You scowled. She was bad news— the spirit of mischief lives within her, wherever she goes, chaos follows.

"Hmm, are you not happy to see me?" Her Cheshire cat-like smile plastered onto her face as she took a seat beside you, crossing her leg on top of the other. Her hair was shorter than the last time you saw her, eyes still full of mischief.

"I was hoping to not see you again after the incident 20 years ago," you spat, hatred lacing your words.

"Right, the poor boy, died so soon," her face turned into a sad look before smiling once again.

Ryujin was the main cause of his death. Your father just made it happen. Leading Mingi to that place in the forest where she knew your father was there, he hated Athena's children, he wouldn't hesitate to kill one in sight.

You wished there was a way to go back in time to stop Ryujin from leading Mingi to his inevitable death. But as expected, she felt no shame or guilt whatsoever.

"What is it that you plan anyway, there is a reason for you to come here, right?"

You kept your mouth closed, not wanting to possibly give your plan away for the spirit of mischief to take its course. And so, you kept quiet. Ryujin clicked her tongue in annoyance. She wished she could read minds, but that's her brother's power.

"Fine, keep it to yourself," she stood up, grumbling something under her breath, "Just so you know, I am not leaving without having a bit of fun," another gust of wind blowing in your direction leaves swirling in a circle on the concrete just below her feet, the puff of smoke covering her figure as she disappeared.

Your mind was in shambles. Usually, she would try and pressure you into answering but she brushed it off so soon.

You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding, the weight suddenly leaving your chest. Sometimes the presence of Ryujin gives you this uneasy feeling, but it was better than getting a visit from her brother. He is ten times worse.

You finally adapted to the mortal world, got a place to stay all by yourself. There were obstacles on the way but you got over them easily.

You lay quietly on the bed, and to be honest, it was a bit uncomfortable. The covers are placed over you up to your neck. You stared at the ceiling, counting rams in hopes of helping you fall asleep. And on your 1117th ram, your eyes finally grew heavy.

But to your dismay, your throat decides that it was parched. You sat up from your bed, wearing your slippers, and made your way to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass and filling it up with water, but before you could take a sip, you saw a figure on your couch.

You dropped the glass, shattering across the floor. The figure whipped his head around and you couldn't believe your eyes. Is this a dream? You must be dreaming… You might have even gone mad.

"Mingi?" You stuttered. You haven't called out that name in so long.

"Y/n, be careful you'll hurt yourself," he stood from the couch, making his way to you. You took a few steps back. Mingi's face shows a look of confusion.

He stepped on the glass unfazed by it. Did he not feel that? Of course, this is a dream, he's not real.

"What's wrong?" His arms out to reach for you.

"N-no, I'm dreaming, this can't be—" you shook your head, tears pricking your eyes. You felt warm hands cup your face, it was so real, your knees so close to giving out.

"What do you mean?" His eyes were the same shade of brown. His hair is styled the same way he always has it in.

"You're real?" Your voice croaked, mingi chuckled. The same smile you saw years ago, but as expected, his face started to fade. This is definitely a dream. It was impossible to have mingi physically there, you saw him….die, right in front of your eyes.

"Of course I'm real," his voice was soft, comforting even. You were really hearing his voice, this is his voice. He pressed his forehead against you, kissing the top of your nose promptly.

At this point, you couldn't stop the tears from falling. You sobbed making mingi pull away and look at you with worry in his eyes.

"Please don't leave me again," you pleaded. You wished it was real, your chest grew even tighter. What kind of cruel punishment is this?

"Why would I leave?" He wiped the tear on your cheek. "I'll always be here," he said in reassurance as he pulled you in his embrace. You missed it so much—you missed him so much. The same warmth was still there, but it eventually started to feel cold. Like Hades was paying a visit to take him back to the underworld.

You finally got to see him again, even if it was only a dream, it really felt like he was there, body and soul present. You didn't want to let him go, there's no way you are losing him again.

His image starts to fade, you start to feel the emptiness again. His hold on your body began to feel like nothing, it was cold like ice. You tried to grip his shirt, keeping him from disappearing. You spewed out pleas, begging him to stay. At Least for a little longer.

But then you woke up, hot liquid running down your face.

You were crying, something you haven't done in a long while. Slapping your cheeks, making sure you were really awake.

"Come one y/n, it was just a dream," you said to yourself out loud.

20 years and you thought you were over him. But those agonizing years were torturous. Everything seemed to remind you of him. Wooyoung almost didn't see you for 18 years until you finally decided to visit him. You wouldn't know what to do if wooyoung was never in your life, you might as well have been asleep for the rest of your life.

The clamshell that sat on your bedside table glowed. It was a magic shell that sends messages back and forth in writing. You gave one to Wooyoung so you could communicate from a distance.

"Did you find him?" The letters glowed as they appeared.

"Not yet." you wrote back, watching the writings disappear indicating that he is reading it.

"Time is ticking y/n." Anxiety washes over you again. Soon the berries won't be enough to hold you there and you'll be needing to come back home.

"Y/n, you there?" A voice startled you, making you almost drop the shell. It would be bad if you did, it was a fragile thing, you could risk shattering it and won't have anything else to communicate with.

"In here!" You called out, quickly hiding the shell in the dresser.

"I brought lunch," mina smiled, holding up a paper bag filled with takeout.

The day you moved in, still exploring the apartment that you rented, you heard a knock on your door.

You peeked through the peephole. A woman stood in front of the door patiently, short brown hair— half of it tied into a ponytail— dressed in a leather jacket and denim pants. She looked about 20, maybe 21 but she doesn't look older than 25.

You almost pulled out your dagger but resisted, remembering that they are mortals and you could get in trouble. You slowly twisted the doorknob open, opening it slightly so your body is visible but not the room.

"Hi, I'm mina!" She said in a bubbly tone. Her energy made you slightly overwhelmed. "I'm your neighbour, just next door." She pointed to the apartment beside yours.

You nodded, not knowing what to reply. "Have you finished unpacking?" You tilted your head in confusion. "Do you need help with boxes or anything?"

You looked back in your apartment, body moving aside just enough for Mina to have a clear view.

"Did you not bring any stuff?" You shook your head.

"I only brought a satchel," you gripped the strap that hung across your body. She gazes at the small bag attached to your body.

"Well, it looks like you need help settling in, why don't I cook dinner for you? You don't seem to have any pots or pans or food either." Your stomach grumbled at the mere mention of food.

Mina giggled, making you heat up in embarrassment. "I'll take that as a yes."

Since then Mina has been your source of food and company. She's been a great companion for the past few days. You told Wooyoung all about her and he just replied coldly. The thought of your best friend getting jealous of your new mortal friend made you laugh.

"So, I just started my 3rd year of college, and honestly, I am tired of it— I've been thinking of dropping out but then my mom might whoop my ass…" Mina rants while you sit there, zoned out watching the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

"Earth to y/n," mina waves her hand in front of you, snapping you out of your daze.

"Oh sorry, What were you saying?" The girl pouts, eventually brushing it off to discuss other things.

"Oh right, so I met this guy on campus and he is like, really cute. He is super tall and like, maybe a bit built..." You listened to her attentively but still in the back of your mind you couldn't help but discuss your plans on how to find mingi to yourself.

"Should I ask him out?" You blinked— you weren't paying attention again.

"I'm sorry?"

"The guy I met on campus on my first day, should I ask for his number?"

"Oh totally, you should," you said plainly, you feel really bad for not paying attention but you couldn’t help it when your mind is being occupied with something else. Mina just brushed it off, not noticing your spaced-out expression. She continued rambling while your mind wandered.

Time was running out, you needed a plan.

"Remind me why I am on your college campus again?" You said, mina dragging you by the arm. She woke you up at an ungodly hour just to travel early to her college campus. Few students were walking around campus, on their way to their scheduled class.

"Look, I barely have friends, also do you go to college? You look to be around my age," your eyes widen. Atlantis doesn't have schools, you had to travel to Olympus just to make it to class, but you only had to go until you turned 18. And you are immortal, you haven't been to school for a hundred years.

"I graduated," you just said. Hoping she won't ask further questions.

"Oh so you're older than me then," you nodded. She stopped to sit by a tree in the campus garden, patting the grass beside you. You sat beside her, leaning on the tree.

"I don't have class 'till after lunch, we can grab something to eat before you can go back to your apartment," she took out her textbook and paper to finish what she didn't the day before.

"Sorry for dragging you, You are always locked up in your apartment so I thought why not take you here with me," you were planning on exploring more of the city, just to take note of the possible routes to get around.

"Won't I get in trouble? I don't go here."

"You are fine, besides, it's an open college, anyone can visit here," she explains as she gets back to her work.

Your eyes wandered off somewhere else, spotting the students who were early, sitting on the grass as they got some sleep under the trees. Some were reading books and some were having their breakfast.

It makes you sleepy after a while, deciding to lean your head against the tree, closing your eyes for a brief moment.

A pair of shoes tapping against the grass, crunching the leaves on the way. You didn't bother to open your eyes so you just stayed and listened. Must be one of mina's friends as you hear her voice ushering for them to sit.

They sat on the other side of the tree beside mina, talking about classes and homework but something about that voice tingles your brain. The familiar deep husky voice made your heart ache. You were confused as to why you were reacting that way.

Soon the person left and you were forced to open your eyes when mina shook your shoulder abruptly.

"Guess who just gave me their number," she said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Who?"

"The hot campus boy," she squealed, waving the paper in her hand. "His name is mingi and it's kinda cute and his voice was deep, not that deep, but like...deep."

Your eyes widen, "mingi?" She nodded. You felt like your world stopped spinning. Your mind is in shambles, processing the information. Your ears deafened the sounds around you, muffling mina's continuous babblings.

You thanked the gods that he's here, but then reality hit. He doesn't know you for he is only a reincarnation of the mingi you knew. He is no longer the son of Athena, he is just human.

"Are you sure it's the mingi?" Wooyoung's message appears from the clamshell. You lay on your bed, a book on your lap as you were reading just a while ago.

"Yes, Mina's description fits so perfectly," you bit your lip, anxiously fidgeting with your necklace. What if it wasn't him? You can't confirm that it really is him, he has no memory of his past life.

"Ok, so what are you gonna do now? You found him, what's the next step?" You mentally slapped yourself for being unprepared. You wanted to see him again, that was your main goal, and now that you know he's here, you have no reason to stay.

You want to be with him but it's impossible, you are immortal, he'll age while you stay young. Well, nothing much was changed when he was a demigod, but he had the opportunity to become immortal. It's not like there is some way a mortal can become immortal.

…..or is there.

"I'm coming back," the writing disappeared letter by letter as wooyoung's message appeared right after.

"Really? So that's it?"

You shook your head as if he could see you. "I have a plan"

"Oh no," wooyoung thought. Letting out a deep sigh. "She's gonna get into more trouble isn't she?" Wooyoung wished that somehow something would knock some sense into you.

"Y/n!"

"Mina, hey," she threw herself at you, engulfing you in a tight hug.

"I'm gonna miss you," she squeezed around your neck, restricting your airflow.

"Mina," you patted her back, making her apologize with a sheepish grin, "I'll be back soon though, you don't have to miss me too much."

"I know— wait, are you free right now? I was wondering if you wanna go eat before you leave," you thought for a second. Though it isn't difficult to travel back to Olympus, you're unfortunately on your last berry.

"Sure," you hoped it'll last you for another few hours.

Arriving at a restaurant with mina, ordering food as soon as you sat down. Your eyes wandered around. The restaurant was busy, waiters quickly passing around, trying to get to the customer's table as soon as possible.

"Finally," Mina says, standing up on her seat. You turned your head to the person she was referring to.

"Sorry I'm late, I got stuck in traffic."

"I invited mingi, I hope you don't mind y/n," Mina says with a sorry smile.

"I don't mind at all." That unsettling feeling soon washes over you, seeing mingi stand in front of you, face to face. You find it weird to see him like this like he didn't die. He looks like the same mingi years ago, it just felt….different.

You took your seats again, Mina helping mingi order his food. The three of you waited for your orders, chatting about anything that comes to mind. Mina talking about classes and homework that is due and mingi asking if any of you were free to a party this weekend.

Of course, you can't go.

"So, Where are you from y/n?" He asks you. His voice sounded so natural to you but at the same time, it felt foreign, like you just heard of it now. Technically you did but, the way demigod reincarnations work is they get reborn the same. Meaning they'll look the same, speak the same, and their personalities are most likely the same. Nothing will change once they get reborn— except, they won't remember anything from their past life.

"Atlantis," you blurted out, panic rushing through you. You can see the confusion in their faces.

"Like, the lost city of Atlantis?" Mortals, what are they teaching them?

"I mean Atlanta," you corrected yourself, body stiff as stone.

"America? That's far, do you have a flight?" Mina intervened. You didn't even know where that was, you just so happened to remember that book you read before coming here and the main character lived in a place called Atlanta.

"Uh yeah, sure," you felt cold sweat trickling down the back of your neck. You just hope they won't ask any more questions.

You let out a sigh of relief as the two of them get back to chatting with each other.

Finally, the food arrived and the sooner you finished the sooner you got to go home. And with your last berry, you popped it in your mouth after the meal.

Leaving the restaurant with mina and mingi you were finally able to go back to Olympus.

As you are ready to part ways, Mina engulfs you in a tight hug, cutting off your airflow. "Mina, you're squishing me," you said in a choked out voice. "Be quick ok," she gives you a final hug before walking in the other direction.

You waited until the coast was clear and hid somewhere secluded.

You arrived safely and with just a minute to spare. You were gonna go to wooyoung's place first before going back to Atlantis when you saw a lightning strike. A gust of moist air blows your way, a growling thunder piercing through your ears. Your mind immediately assumed that it was Zeus but when the clouds cleared you saw your father, sitting on a cloud with his trident on his lap.

"Father," you said, greeting him with a bow. Though he didn't look pleased with seeing you at the gates of Olympus, he still gave your hair a ruffle.

"You have me worried sick y/n, where were you?"

You expected yelling, hearing these words and this kind of tone shocked you. Especially even after telling him that you were staying at wooyoung's but still found you at the gates

"Look, I know I may have gone too far— with...you know, the marriage," he admits. Avoiding eye contact with you as much as possible. Not that it wasn't sincere, he just wasn't used to admitting he was wrong. But he loves you dearly and he'd do anything for you.

"It's ok, I actually forgot those happened." there was an awkward silence. Then, Poseidon left, after informing you of what time dinner was gonna be.

You finally arrived at your best friend's house and instead of a worried wooyoung, you were met with a furious wooyoung.

"I knew this was a bad idea, your father almost killed me!" He said. You rolled your eyes at the exaggeration.

"Relax wooyoung, nothing happened," you placed your bag onto his bed, taking out the souvenirs you got.

"Did he say anything to you? You are still alive so I'm guessing you haven't met yet?"

"I met him at the gates and he said he was worried." Thinking back to that moment made you shiver, it's like someone replaced your dad with someone completely different.

"Huh, well ok then— Ooh what are these," he was quick to change the topic as his curiosity fills in. Wooyoung takes the bag of candies you brought, ripping it open to take one of the wrappers with the sugary treats inside. You chuckled, watching wooyoung chew on the candy.

He notices your gaze stuck on the floor while you get lost in your own thoughts.

"Hey, did something else happen there?"

You snap back into reality, taking a while to process what wooyoung just said. You shook your head in response.

"Actually, is there a way to stay there without the berries?"

He stares at you for a moment, he honestly thought you were done and you weren't going back there. It's dangerous for you since you are not as strong as your father. Even with something more efficient than a magical fruit, you are bound to get in trouble.

"My mom has a necklace," wooyoung says, he didn't want to say it but he knew how important this is to you. Eventually you'll stop, knowing mortals and gods cannot stay together forever.

"She used to make me wear it when she let me go to the mortal world with her."

"Can I borrow it?"

"Y/n!" Mina ran to you with open arms, "I missed you so much," you giggled at your friend.

"I've only been gone for a week."

"A week too long," she pouted.

She takes your hand in hers, pulling you to whatever direction. You arrived at the airport, making it look like you got here by plane. Passing security check out and exiting the building.

"You still remember mingi right?" She asks.

"Of course, I left for a week, it doesn't mean I forgot anything that's here," she grinned.

"Why, what happened?" You asked, hiding the hint of fear in your voice.

"Oh nothing," she sing-song, trying to stop her lips from smiling too much.

You both stopped at the front of the main entrance, waiting for you-don't-know-who. Until a car stops in front of you. Mingi came to pick you two up, giving you a ride to your apartment.

"So, what's it like in your hometown," she asks, taking a bite of her food.

"Uh, It's….you know —uh…. there's trees and buildings."

Mina nodded slowly as she continued eating her food.

After you two finished eating, Mina left to finish her college work— probably with mingi.

You didn't want to think the worst but considering mina's behavior around mingi, you couldn't stop the thoughts running around your mind.

You gripped the pendant that was tied around your neck. It's pearly white color glowing due to the light reflecting on it. Its sharp edges indicate that it was shattered into parts.

The other half is with mingi.

Atleast, when he was still with you. It symbolizes your promise to always be together and be there for each other.

But fate just wasn't on your side. And it still isn't.

As you walked out of your apartment to get some fresh air, you spotted the two by the parking lot. Their faces are inches away from each other.

You didn't know why but you felt your heart sink. Tears welling in your eyes. You reminded yourself that this mingi isn't the same mingi that promised to be with you. He wasn't the same mingi that helped you run away from home whenever your parents were arguing again.

That gave you a reality check, you can't be with him anymore. You have to let him go.

Your gaze still stuck on the two, not noticing the sudden appearance of another spirit.

This time, it made you feel chills.

"Keeho," you said in a whisper. You didn't bother to look in his direction.

"Oh, I'm glad you recognize me," he said, a mischievous smile growing on his lips.

"Ryujin would have loved to see this, after all, this was her plan." You curled your fist into a ball, tight enough until your nails dug into your skin.

"Why?" You managed to let out. You didn't want this to affect you but it does. After everything you did, it all didn't matter in the end.

"I don't know, ask ryujin. I'm just here to relay a message."

Keeho pushed himself off the wall that he was leaning on and came over to you.

"Don't try to bring back something that was meant to be taken away, it'll come back to bite you in the ass," he whispered against your ear, sending chills down your spine.

Then he left, disappearing into the mist again.

Even though you just came back, you were already itching to leave. Packing your bag and locking the apartment. Giving the keys to the landlord.

Mina notices you in a hurry to leave, running after you to catch you.

"Y/n! Where are you going?" She grabs your wrist making you stop. You didn't turn around, you stayed rooted to the ground. Swallowing the thick lump in your throat before speaking.

"I'm sorry Mina," you pulled your wrist away from her and left. You felt guilty, she was your only friend and she felt betrayed. You left without an explanation.

"Y/n? You're here, did something happen?" Wooyoung read your expression.

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts as you replaced the sad look with a small smile.

"I'm great, I just didn't like the whole vibe there," you lied.

You removed the ruby crystal around your neck giving it to wooyoung, muttering a thanks. Alongside you removed the pendant that was tucked under your shirt. Wooyoung was shocked as you never took it off and you swore you never would.

You tucked the necklace into your pocket, taking a mental note to put it away when you get home.

Although you didn't accomplish your original mission, you did realize that it's always good to let go of something. Never let anything or anyone tie you down. You are still heartbroken, but you are sure you could get over it soon.

Of course, the siblings that stared at you through the window, mischievous smiles on their faces, will not let you live just yet.

#8makes1teamnet #ficscafe #destinyversenet #fkp-net #knet-bakery #: ̗̀🌺; collab fic entry #❪ 🐿️ ❫ ─ oneshots #ateez #ateez mingi #song mingi #ateez angst #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #mingi scenarios #mingi imagines

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mercurytrinemoon · 3 years

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On houses, house rulerships & how ya'll should stop associating them with signs + a rant on the meaning of the 8th house

This is one of those moments where I'm going to say (read: rant, so heads up, I may sound pretentious) that modern times keep distorting astrology. I’m talking about associating houses with signs/planets (aka the “12 letter alphabet”, briefly mentioned by William Lilly in the 17th century but ultimately it became a product of modern astrologers: first attempted by Alan Leo and decades later popularized and named by Zip Dobyns). Can we just... use a neuralyzer and make people forget that method? It's ingrained in people's minds because, seemingly, it's easier to learn that way - search astro basics in google and you'll see things like "9th house=Sagittarius=Jupiter". This compressed version of astrology seems more accessible and easily digestible for a casual reader and not many newbies try to even question that approach. But there's a reason reputable astrologers these days are trying to erase it from everyone's minds. Signs are traits, planets are vessels, houses are areas of life. Houses are a completely different thing + every person has their own chart with their own house rulers. You can't say Mars is the “natural” ruler of the 1st... well unless, of course, you're an Aries rising, then yeah, your 1st is ruled by Mars, 2nd by Venus and so on.

Sure, some houses share accidental similarities with planets that have been assigned to them by modern *cough*lazy*cought* approach. Example, the 3rd rules communication... oh and so does Mercury. But then again, Mercury has nothing to do with health, injuries, work - all things 6th house. 7th is relationships and 2nd is money & values... and it so happens that Venus shows our attitude towards these things. I would sometimes find myself loosely refer houses to planets, like “oh the 3rd mercurial house” just because SOME of them do fit with the characteristics... and because it's a language that is well-understood (I won't do that anymore). BUT even when I started learning astrology, I had a red light go on in my head when people would straight up go "Moon in Virgo or Moon in the 6th". It never made sense to me. These are completely different things. And I've seen some awesome astrologers who would state things like "oh Aquarius Sun is basically the same as Sun in the 11th", like nah, dude. Because why? Aquarius is the friendly type and the 11th rules friends? Because Aquarius is the big innovator and 11th stands for hopes and dreams? But Aquarius is also a rebel who's stiff in their beliefs. Aquarius is a weirdo, is the 11th house the house of weirdos? No. Aquarius likes to be independent and usually has issues with feeling of not belonging anywhere, while 11th rules communities. THAT'S CONTRADICTORY. Because they're not the same.

Want more examples? Having Venus in Aries is completely different than Venus in the 1st. What do people usually say about Venus in the 1st? That it makes the native charming, lovely, well-put together, with great manners, maybe beautiful, graceful, maybe a bit shallow. When in Aries? None of these characteristics fit, on top of that, it's in its detriment. Our poor gal Venus is uncomfortable and confused in Aries. She's like, "conquer? Swords? Selfishness? Obnoxiousness? Sparring? You're telling me to fight people? What am I doing here???"

I think it most shows in the 8th house, which... *deep breath* has gone through so much (ironically since it rules transformation), like, there's a lot to unpack here. "tHe sCorPioNic HoUse": tell me in what way does Scorpio have to do with inheritance, death, taxes, other people's stuff? These are the og topics associated with the 8th house. And by the way, it doesn't have to be a material inheritance, because I saw people being confused by that. You can have your 10th house ruler in the 8th so maybe you'll inherit that job as a chairman in your father's corporation, along with its renowned name. Or your 6th house ruler is in the 8th so you'll inherit a genetic health condition from your parent.

Now, modern astrology, as per usual, tried to turn it into something positive (and psychological because apparently according to modern notion, astrology can’t predict anything so it’s only psychological *eye roll*) and put its rose-colored glasses on it so they'll say things like: transformation or taboo topics - like okay, makes sense, it's an intense house after all. Like a near-death experience or a metaphorical death will be transformative and maybe hard to talk about. And Scorpios do have the tendency to go through drastic situations in their lives and to dig deep & not being afraid to uncover secrets and all that's unknown and scary for others. There you have it, some convergence. But still, Scorpio and the 8th house are two different things.

Then there's the topic of the 8th house and sex. Actually, side note, a quick history bit, the 2nd century astrologer, Vettius Valens saw sex in the 7th house - because that was the thing that happened after marriage - it represented two people coming together. In medieval times it then moved to 5th house of kids - because children-making requires intercourse, duh. Listen, I get that the 8th, as the follow-up to the 7th, is seen as joined resources; and joined everything, including bodies... or bodily fluids... (tmi?) after you get married or whatever. I don't think that makes sense in the modern times. I mean, go ahead if you want to associate the 8th with sex but after some time of studying astrology, I see it almost exclusively in the 5th as it's the house of pleasures. Simply. Besides, technically you can get yourself off and don’t need anyone else to assist you. My issue, again, comes from the root of the association with the 8th. Modern astrologers started linking 8th with Pluto and Scorpio in medical astrology rules reproductive system and so Scorpio is seen as the fReAky sEx dEMon blAh blaH (honestly, try asking Scorpios about their intimate life and they'll run for the hills abashed). So it turned out that 8th house is the "plutonian one" (I had a moment today wondering if it's plutonian or plutonic and idk anymore) so therefore it must rule sex. Well that logic doesn't make sense because everyone knows that the first and most important planet in the matters of sex is Mars but none of ya'll go and say "1st house is the house of sex because it's ruled by Aries". So no, houses are not the same as signs/planets.

12th house has a similar issue. This one has literally nothing to do with Pisces. Like, I feel bad for Pisces honestly, you guys don’t deserve being dumped into the 12th. It's a rather gloomy house and the most positive thing you could come up with it is being the house of imagination and intuition - because it rules the subconscious and partially your mind. And Pisces is usually characterized by those two. Or you could say that they're both kinda foggy in nature - 12th is the unattainable. But that is literally the closest you can get with them correlating. Other than that, 12th is hidden enemies, succlusion, illness (but mental or chronic, it's a bit different than 6th). There's nothing piscean about it really.

But I get it, open most of the astrology books and you'll see chapters called that way. Why? Because it's easier to publish something that's shorter aka simpler for the reader (actually that was one of Dobyns' reasoning behind spreading that approach). That’s why I said it’s lazy. And someone would argue that it’s easier to learn this way - because the information is compressed into 12 sections (signs) instead of 24 (signs+houses) or even more if you include delineations of every house ruled by each sign. Like, “well if I memorize the meaning of Cancer and Moon then automatically I’ll also memorize the 4th house”. But in fact, it’s so limiting in the long run and then forces you to unlearn what you have learnt, which is actually harder than taking the time and grasping the proper meaning right away. And again, with time it warps the meaning of everything.

Saying house=sign completely discredits the purpose of even having houses. And then on top of that it leads to people not understanding their own charts because they don't know the core meanings of the houses and instead look at them through the lens of signs. "I have planets in Gemini but I'm not that talkative and extroverted". Well okay, where are those planets? Are they in the 7th? Then maybe they're not talking about you but about people you come in contact with? Are they in the 4th? Well maybe it's your fam that has those qualities? The 11th? Are your friends like that? Houses are areas of your life, you can't say "Moon in the 3rd or Moon in Gemini" - Moon is "how", house is "where" - these are not the same things, even if they have a few traits in common.

Ok, rant over, bye.

#wELL tHaT LoGic dOesN'T MaKe sEnSe #why do i sound like hermione granger #anyways #you can hate me now #and you bet i'm going to reblog this post regularly #just to annoy you #astrology #house rulers #astrology houses #8th house #mercurytrinemoon

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an-angel-in-the-garden · 3 years

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My Soulmates A God?! Loki x Fem Reader Part 2

Yay part two I'm really happy to see how many people liked part 1 so here's the next part also I changed alot of the plot from the movie to fit this! CW: some angst, Death mentioned

Reader pov

That night was still vivid in my memories the sight of a god killing a man before telling all who could hear to kneel remains at the front of my mind. However the battle that happened after, the people running is all blurry and the only thing that comes to mind when I think of it was my red string being yanked around as Loki fought. I couldn't move it felt like my body was weighed down and no matter how much my mind screamed for me to run or look away I couldn't. When I could finally move again it was already to late with Loki on the ground hands up in surrender he saw it. There glowing and wrapped tight from his pinky to mine was our string, my body was rigid once more watching his eyes trail over the avenger's shoulder and straight to me when our eyes met all I saw was anger and I fell to the ground letting the world haze around me.

My knees still hurt when I think about it but its been a week one whole week since I was brought to Stark tower since they told me I had to be under surveillance till everything calmed down. It hasn't been easy the isolation was unbearable staff wouldn't talk to me, I never saw the Avengers so I couldn't even ask how long I would have to be here. More then that I wanted to know about Loki he was a god one that was meant to be my companion yet not only was he planning to take over the world he seemed so angry when he saw our string. As much as I hated to admit it I wanted to know more about him. Another week in mostly isolation and I finally got a chance to talk with someone.

Loki Pov

The plan had all been going well, causing a stir had been easy and getting the Avengers to take me in seemed like it would go perfectly until I saw her. Standing only a few feet away looking scared like a rabbit caught by a wolf, hands clutched near her chest and wrapped around her pinky was red string. I had gone so long without caring about it without looking at it yet I couldn't just ignore it this time she was there looking at me and I didn't know what to feel anymore. I didn't truly care what happen next as these mortal's cuffed me and got ready to take me to 'confinement' but then I saw the iron one talking to her, he pointed to the plane and with that I stopped looking. It been over a week now I've been biding my time planning for the moment I would get what I came for and yet I couldn't help but be hesitant and it made my blood boil.

I waited as best I could listening to what they had planned for me keeping watch to study the paths and rotations everyone took and though I feigned disinterest whenever they talked about the woman brought in with me I cant stop myself from listening in on the details. Thor had started making visits to my cell, its been odd he has yet to say anything just waits near it making small talk with a guard. My anger has yet to settle and him being here as only made it worse yet I bite my tongue waiting for him to speak. Today seemed like any other day I paced my cell glared at the guards ready to tell them how useless this all was when Thor came in with someone following close behind, then I saw her again her and that horrid string. He seemed excited looking between me and her waiting for one of us to say something I chose to speak first.

3rd Person

"And what brings you here" " Now brother no need to be so harsh she wished to speak with you" Thor smiles slightly pushing the girl from behind him. " Yes well I have nothing to say to someone like her" Loki sneers lips curled and eyes sharp as he glares at the two. " I wanted to talk to you..I have questions I think only you can answer" Her voice sounded so small and unsure "Well that's too bad I have no reason or need to talk to someone as low as you" " Low who are you calling low I'm your soulmate!" Yes a soulmate I didn't ask for, that I dont even WANT! The sentence hung heavy in the air as both party's went silent " ah I see.... I understand for someone as cruel as you this must like one big joke" Her hands curl into a fist as she lets out a dry chuckle " I wont bother to come back then thank you for bringing me here Thor I'll just wait out the rest of my time" Lady Y/N.." Thor didn't have a chance to finishes his sentence as Y/N left in a hurry the air in the room feeling heavier then before.

When the door slid shut it echoed as the two gods were left in somber silence" Why would you say that" Thor ask breaking the silence as he stepped near the cell " I had no want or need to speak with a mortal like her" You say that as if I hadn't seen the way you would always look at your pinky hoping for something" He seemed almost angry as he spoke" why is it a problem now, she can help give you another chance" And why would I want another chance they cant do anything to me!' Loki laughed his arms spread wide as he gestured at the open room. Thor sighed and shock his head giving one last sad look at his brother before leaving the room.

Reader pov

Its been two weeks since that day and his words never stopped playing over in my head. It wouldn't leave me alone they just kept replaying but even still I just wanted to know why it had to be like that. A few days after I was finally told that it was okay for me to leave , I would still have someone keeping an eye on me but I could go back to a normal life even if I knew it wouldn't be that simple. That monday I headed back to college, no one said anything to me about my absence not my professors or friends but sometimes when we talked I could see the pity in their eyes. It went on like that for a few days I felt sick whenever I saw the looks of sympathy or heard the whispers of "poor girl I bet it wasn't easy to find out" yet I never said anything just smiled and went on with my day hoping that it would past. It didn't.

I let it go on like that for a few more days until I couldn't take it. The whispers they thought I couldn't hear the pity they tried to hide was all to much and after a tiring day I told my professor. "I cant be here right now its to much" I knew that alone might not get the point across but I didn't know what to say" Ill do all my work and send it in through email or something!" He raised his hand up and I closed my mouth waiting to plea my case if needed. " I understand take your time" He opened a note pad grabbing a pen from his desk " What's your email Ill send you what I need turned in along with an attendance book so I know your doing it" "That's it..." I let my hands drop to my sides " Yes that's it look" He sighed" We've been told about it and its only fair that we give you time after that" Its not like I didn't know already it's was clear that they'd been told why I was gone but hearing it was so much worse." Okay thank you sir" I gave my email grabbed my things and left, already planning on how I could speak to Loki again.

Ok so this ended up being longer then I thought I would be so I'm gonna make one finale part and it might be really long it might not but I hope you look forward to it! I have two ask right now and I'm gonna try to answer at least one before I make this last part but idk. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think. Thank you for reading.- Lilly

#reader x loki #loki imagine #loki x reader #x reader #reader imagine

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charming-charlie · 4 years

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Washed Away pt. 5

Title // Washed Away pt. 5

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Mentions of death and a missing kid.

Summary // Who knew hanging out with Buck and Christopher for a day would lead to a life or death situation?

Word Count // 2.5k

Prompt // Hi! Can i request a fic where you were with Buck & Christopher when the tsunami hit? They could be dating or crushing on each other. If nothing comes to mind, then it’s completely fine to ignore this request! Have a nice day!’

Author’s Note // This is the final part of the Washed Away series. || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Tagged List // @aprildecker-blog @coffeewithoutcaffeine @daddysfavoritesexkitten @chenfordlove @comeasyoudar @carnationworld @averyhotchner @evanbuckos

The sun had set. The day was over, but that doesn’t mean the situation is. You and Buck had been wading through the water for hours, heading to the last place someone said they saw Christopher.

Exhaustion was starting to settle in. You were sore all over too. It felt like you just finished running up and down a flight of stairs non-stop while carrying a bookbag full of weights. Your shoulders hurt, your legs felt like they were going to give out any time soon, and your body was so dehydrated from soaking up and drinking in a lot of saltwater that you pretty much felt delirious.

Finally, civilization was within reach.

A makeshift help spot was set up near the bakery where you and Buck were headed. Water bottles were being passed out and you reached out to grab one. How could something so common look so precious, like it was made of gold?

You twisted off the cap and downed half of it in three big gulps and handed the rest of it to Buck. He finished off the water, nearly gasping for breath by the end. He was exhausted too. You didn’t even know how long you two were walking and the little help was most appreciated.

The people around you looked worse for wear. You couldn’t imagine the struggles they went through to try and save themselves or what their story could be. You were sure it was similar. Everyone lost someone or something in the tsunami and you knew it was going to be hard to get over that.

Then again, did you really want to?

The whole event gave you a new outlook on life and appreciate what you have. You didn’t appreciate your job enough, but you were grateful now. You were a school nurse and you realized you love those kids that you looked after. You loved Christopher, having seen him and checked on him many times thanks to his worrisome father, and it would break your heart to never see that little boy again.

Now is not the time to think about those things. You didn’t know for sure. Let’s not focus on the what ifs.

For a moment, Buck swore he saw Christopher. He saw a little boy clinging to the leg of some woman, and he let out a relieved sigh, only for his eyes to play tricks on him. It wasn’t Christopher at all.

“Mister, are you okay? You’re bleeding,” a nearby passerby said, and Buck glanced down at his hand.

Sure enough, he was.

There was a cut of some kind, and the two of you didn’t even realize it. You frowned, mentally kicking yourself and cursing yourself out for not realizing Buck’s injury. The ex-firefighter sat down, looking worse for wear and you grabbed his hand carefully while examining it.

You ripped off a strip of your shirt to use as a bandage and Buck’s eyes sort of glazed over. Due to his adrenaline, he probably wasn’t feeling any pain.

“What am I gonna do?” Buck whispered as you tended to him, “how am I gonna tell Eddie?”

You said nothing, because you knew whatever you did say wouldn’t exactly be helpful. However, you were there. Side by side, you were there with Buck and Christopher today and everything Buck did was for that little boy. You never seen someone care so much the way Buck does. He has such a good heart and for once, you were hoping against hope that things would work out in his favor. He didn’t deserve this.

After a bit of a break, including some water to get both of your heads on straight, you two were back to the grind. This time, you didn’t have to walk for long.

There was an old mall or hospital, you couldn’t be sure, that somehow turned into a makeshift triage center not too far from where you and Buck were. The two of you practically dashed over to the building and its tents, being careful since there wasn’t a lot of strength left between you.

Buck was looking in the beds, glancing around for anyone that even remotely passed Christopher. You hijacked a few clipboards, searching for Christopher’s name anywhere you can but you both came up empty.

“Eddie dropped Christopher off with me,” Buck began talking to you and you could hear the defeat in his voice. It sounded like he was fighting the feeling of giving up, but he was on the cusp. “He thought it would get me out of my apartment and… out of my head. And you know what I did? I brought him to the pier. I had him, I kept him safe. And then the three of us were on top of the ladder truck and the water receded, and for a moment I felt like I got this. I had you, I had Christopher, and we would be fine. And now Christopher is gone. We checked everywhere. And now I realize I failed. I’m a failure no matter how you look at it.”

You could hear your heart cracking as you listened to him, and you knew nothing you said would change his mind. He was beating himself up over this situation. He did everything he could, and he was still handed the short end of the stick.

Finding Christopher at the makeshift hospital was the last bit of hope he had and now it was gone. You could see the defeat that wavered in his voice and how it hid behind his eyes.

And if that didn’t help the situation, there was Eddie Diaz, tending to a few patients himself. He wore blue latex gloves, had the navy fire uniform on, and was directing a few people into the hospital. Buck nearly choked back a sob as the realization of what to do next was hitting him faster than a wall of bricks.

He had to tell Eddie, and you were going to be right by his side when he did.

However, Buck dashed behind a white tent, pulling you along with him. Turns out he wanted to hide instead of face Christopher’s father.

“Buck,” you said slowly. Your voice was hoarse from lack of water and from shouting Christopher’s name all afternoon with Buck. You felt like your vocal cords were ripped to shreds at this point, but you soldiered on. Now was not the time to accept defeat. “You have to tell him.”

“How?” Buck answered as he looked at you. His hand slowly slipped into your own, and you squeezed his fingers tightly. “How do you tell your best friend that you lost his son?”

“He’s his father. You have to tell him that Christopher is missing,” you said, knowing this was the only chance he had right now.

Buck shook his head, not wanting to hear it. “No, I need to keep looking for him. I need to find him.”

One of your hands instinctively went up to the side of Buck’s face, caressing him lightly. You still couldn’t believe the man in front of you wasn’t giving up just yet, even though maybe he should. You hated the train of thought you were currently on, but Buck was exhausted, and he lost some blood. Plus, it didn’t help that he was severely dehydrated, much like yourself. The two of you were in no condition to continue searching. You probably wouldn’t make it if you tried. You both needed to rest up and regain your strength.

“Buck,” you heard the voice before you saw who it belonged to and your head whipped around to see Eddie. The man was heading outside to continue helping and he looked a bit surprised to see his best friend standing there. Then his eyes fell on you, and the look of surprise seemed to double. “Nurse Y/N, what are you both doing here? Are you okay? Wait, where’s Christopher?”

There was no time to prepare a giant speech. Eddie Diaz was right there in front of you both, and it was now or never. You let go of Buck as you turned to face the father of one of your favorite patients, ready for what was about to happen. This was a conversation you were dreading, and you couldn’t imagine the internal conflicts Buck must be going through as he mustered up the courage to say what happened.

“Eddie…” Buck interjected in between Eddie’s many questions, and the army vet stopped talking.

For a moment, the two best friends stared at each other, like Buck was hoping Eddie would get the hint without saying anything, but you knew that would be the cowardly way out. If there was one thing you learned today, it was that Buck was not a coward. Not now, not ever.

“Me and Christopher… we were at the beach, and I swear to you…” Buck was choking on his words and you squeezed his hand again for support.

Eddie was nodding, trying to understand, but the look on his face was heartbreaking. It was like if he didn’t hear it, it wouldn’t be true.

“I tried… and I just… but I… Eddie, I just don’t know how to say it. Um, he… he um…” Buck couldn’t get through it. He was stumbling over the words and Eddie’s eyes were brimming with the threat of tears as Buck tried to get the words out.

What made it even worse was that Eddie couldn’t even look at Buck. The army vet was looking behind his best friend, like he needed to avoid eye contact with what Buck was saying.

“Christopher?” Eddie questioned softly, like he needed clearance on what Buck was saying, but your gaze followed Eddie’s. A woman had stepped off a truck, carrying a small child. Your heart almost stopped, and you pulled on Buck’s arm to get him to stop talking.

Eddie slowly walked past you and Buck, and he approached the woman. Slowly, Buck turned around to follow Eddie feeling like this was Eddie’s way of coping with denial.

“Christopher?” Eddie called again, and like music to your ears, you heard the little boy shout for his dad.

The woman was carrying Christopher the entire time, bringing him to safety. Tears exploding out of your eyes once you realized what was going on and you stole a glance at Buck. Buck looked elated, like he was about to cry from relief as well. Christopher was alive and in Eddie’s arms, and there was no greater feeling than that.

“Buck, what happened to you?”

Suddenly, the fire crew of Station 118 popped into view. You didn’t know them personally, but you could venture a guess who from all the stories Christopher was told you during his visits to your little office at the school.

Captain Bobby Nash stood in front of the two of you, and he looked deeply concerned. He looked back and forth from you to Buck before asking, “Are you two okay?”

However, your exhaustion was caving in, along with Buck’s. The two of you practically collapsed to the floor and the fire family scrambled to hold onto both of you. That was the last thing you remembered, passing out next to Buck in the arms of his old crew.

It took a while, but the city was in clean up mode. You and Buck had a nice, extended stay at the hospital, hooked up to fluids and oxygen before given a clean bill of health. You were discharged first, since Buck had some lacerations that needed stitching up but the two of you texted nonstop while he regained his strength.

You went back to your job as the nurse at the elementary school, although you also became sort of a guidance counselor to the kids. Turns out, when you were checking for lice or fevers, they needed someone to talk to and you could just relate to them in a way. You were a familiar face in all the chaos, someone they needed to hold onto in order to make sense of things.

Christopher’s appointments never stopped either. In fact, they seemed to be increasing, only because Christopher wanted to talk to you and hang out with you.

“Honestly Eddie, he’s doing fine,” you spoke to Eddie on the phone about his son. You were sitting at your desk, making your daily calls to parents and Eddie Diaz was no stranger to the phone calls. “He’s in good spirits. Nothing is wrong with him, he’s pretty perfect.”

“You know, I never got to thank you,” Eddie’s voice crackled in your ear, “for what you did. Christopher told me how you and Buck saved him, and you have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

The two of you hung up, although there was promises of talking tomorrow. Talking to Eddie was a recurring thing in your life at this point, and you could use the stability.

“Knock knock,” a head peeked into your office, “these came for you.”

The secretary opened your door and placed a bouquet of colorful roses on you desk. There was a white card attached, looking strikingly clean in the middle of the rainbow of flowers.

You pulled off the card and it only said two words.

Come Outside.

Curiously, you stood up and grabbed your stethoscope, draping it around your neck. You never went anywhere without it now, and you weren’t sure what kind of situation you were getting yourself into. You rounded a corner and pushed open the heavy steel door that led to the front of the school. There, standing in all his glory, was Evan Buckley with the most beautiful smile you had ever seen.

“Thank you very much for the flowers,” you said as you smiled at him in return. “Why didn’t you tell me you were out of the hospital. I would’ve sent you some breakfast or something.”

“That’s part of the surprise. So, surprise!” Buck said happily as he approached you.

You just smiled at him, letting his arms snake around your waist as he hugged you tightly. Your arms draped around his neck and it felt so good. It felt familiar.

As you pulled away, you were greeted with something else. Buck, with no hesitation whatsoever, leaned in and captured your lips in a sudden and welcomed kiss. It was all you wanted, all you were waiting for, and you let yourself melt into his arms as he kissed you with such force and determination, you knew you would be a puddle of goo by the end of it.

“Let me take you out on a date,” Buck whispered against your lips, his lips brushing over yours with each and every word, “a real one this time. Just me and you.”

Your heart felt like it would leap out of your chest and you couldn’t manage to bring any words out. Instead, you nodded as you leaned in to kiss him again.

This was all you wanted. You’ve never been happier. You finally had the moment you wanted with Buck and now, a date on the horizon. With your luck, it would be the first of many, you were sure of it. There was no way you were going to let this man go, ever.

#Buck #evan buckley #buck x reader #buck x you #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley x you #oliver stark #9-1-1 #9-1-1 on fox #9-1-1 fic

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crystaljins · 4 years

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Equinox

Characters: Jimin x Reader

Word count: 7.2K

Synopsis: When it first was announced that the King of Spring was to marry the Queen of Winter, shock and outrage poured across the nation. Now, six months later, Jimin can’t help but feel maybe the Queen of Winter isn’t as evil as she seems.

King of spring!Jimin x Queen of Winter!reader

Notes: This is NOT the huge fic I’m working on LOL. It’s a drabble that turned into a BIG drabble, in dedication to my good friend, who wanted to see a fic where both main characters are royalty.

Well, here we are.

Warnings: Not really any? Pining, maybe, mentions of death and tragedy, and maybe one big kiss?

Jimin has spent an entire three months of the year in the Central Palace every year since his coronation as the King of Spring. Yet, despite his familiarity with the luxurious building, this year it feels particularly unbearable.

It isn’t the palace itself that is unbearable. After all, the Central Palace fulfils any need he could have for luxury and then some, with expansive grounds and an imposing throne room and a ball room that many have only dreamed of seeing. It almost reaches the point where he’s sick of it sometimes- the gold rimmed pillars and the intricate carvings of the stairwell railings and the other numerous unnecessary and excessively decadent detailing.

It’s just... He much prefers his small cottage and the lovely little orchard he looks after. Sometimes children from the local village will sneak in and steal fruit but he merely smiles privately to himself when he hears the peals of laughter filter through the open windows of his home. And ever since he received a letter a week ago informing him that you had made his cottage your current abode, he has been inexplicably eager to return home.

The end of his current stay (which has actually been a six month stay this time around instead of the usual three) draws near, with Spring just on the precipice of Summer. As the reigning King of Spring, it is his duty to oversee the entire kingdom during the season where his powers are strongest, to manage the season and ensure his people prosper, and then prepare the way for the Queen of Summer to take his place for the next three months.

Today is one of the days where his duty feels particularly tedious- he has never particularly minded Haeun and her chatty nature, but today she just seems absolutely asinine. Perhaps it is the fact that she seems uninterested in discussing anything aside from the current status of the Queen of Winter when there are so many more important things to discuss, like the crop maturation this year and how much sunlight would best benefit their ripening, or even the Equinox Ball tonight which marks the official changeover between his season and her’s. Instead, the only words that have been coming out of her mouth are with regards to you, and him, and your fairly recent wedding.

When he had been wedded to you on the Winter Solstice, many had been shocked, but none more so than the Queen of Summer. After all, for the last few hundred years, the one who bears the crown of Summer had always been betrothed to the ruler of Spring. It was only natural, as Spring prepares the way for Summer, and such a pairing enhances the powers of both parties. The kingdom had faced many centuries of prosperity thanks to what was essentially a match forged in the heavens. No doubt in Haeun’s mind, her rightful place was as his bride. And Jimin can’t blame her- for many years, he had thought the same thing. He had assumed his life would follow a similar path to those of his predecessors and that he would inevitably end up marrying Summer. And yet, here he is, married to the evasive, mysterious, and apparently cruel Queen of Winter.

It had been the Elders to make the call to arrange such a shocking match up. To have the Queen of Winter marry the King of Spring was unheard of- ridiculous, even. But you were unlike the rulers that had gone before you- your powers were endless, unstoppable, and the Winters brought by you were unforgiving and cold, and many lost their lives. Something had to be done- your powers had to be balanced since you couldn’t seem to reign them in. And since it has always been Spring to conquer the cold aftereffects of Winter, to warm the earth and coax life back into places where frost had chased it away, it fell to Jimin to take the place as your husband and to prevent disaster striking the Kingdom. A duty which he had taken up with a resigned sense of obligation.

At least at first.

“So are the rumours all true about her?” Haeun enquires. Her question seems innocent enough. For whatever reason, you had always remained frustrating allusive to the others. Locked away in your wintry fortress (or at least, everyone assumes that’s where you must be despite the fact that no one has ever confirmed the presence of a fortress within your domain), everyone reports that you must be ruthless and cold-hearted. Perhaps even evil- after all, when you are seated upon the throne, the harshest and most brutal Winters ever seen in history terrorise the lands.

But the question has Jimin on edge, for he has found that you do not fit nicely into the box of icy and cruel that he had thought you would.

“I would say those rumours do not hold an ounce of truth to them.” Jimin offers mildly, pausing from where he strolls along Haeun to observe a rose bloom that has begun to wilt. Normally, the palace gardens are impeccable, and the gardens thrive during Jimin’s reign, but things always seem to get a bit messy at the transition between seasons. This particular bloom must be the victim of his and Haeun’s powers clashing as she prepared to take the throne for her season. He gently runs his fingers over the drooping petals and instantly the rose brightens, petals curling upwards as it finds new life in response to his presence. It reminds him of the first time you had borne witness to the effect of his powers and the quiet awe on your face. Not for the first time since Spring began, he feels a strange ache in his chest at the thought of you. You’re at his cottage right now, surely. What kind of expression are you wearing as you gaze upon his carefully kept orchard?

“Really? She’s always so haughty at the Equinox ball that I was sure she thought she was better than us. Just because her powers are stronger- does she not know that people die because of her?” Haeun sniffs, clearly displeased by the way Jimin has not joined in her obvious attempts to complain about you.

“I think she is aware of it.” Is all Jimin offers to Haeun, but internally he recalls the way you lock yourself in your quarters for the night whenever word reaches you that another innocent has died at the cold hands of Winter, and the way you spend most of your free time pouring over books and texts trying to learn how you might control your powers and soften your Winters. Haeun makes an annoyed scoff and folds her arms across her chest.

“Being aware of it isn’t enough, Jimin.” She says, and Jimin does not miss the way she uses his name when it is customary to call him by his season. “She needs to control it. We all do! It is the whole reason we take the throne. What use is she, if she cannot manage her own season? If I had were Winter, I would-“

“Haeun.” Jimin says firmly, and her eyes widen because even though she often takes liberties and calls him by his name, he has always been respectful and referred to her as Summer when it comes to the transition meetings between seasons. “It is not my place to discuss the personal life of Winter. And as her husband, I respectfully ask that you do not speak so liberally about my wife again. Unless you have anything further to discuss about the Equinox Ball tonight or about the occurrences during my season, I’ll be taking my leave now.”

He bows deeply, demonstrating the respect her position demands, before turning on his heel.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” She calls out. Jimin pauses, glancing over his shoulder. The sun peeking through the pillars of the pathway catches Haeun’s hair and highlights the softness of her features. Across the land, she is known as the sunlit beauty- warm and gentle and pretty, like the Summer season she reigns over. When he was young and still a prince and everyone had thought she was his future wife, he had even harboured a crush on her. “That you’re stuck with her? All she brings is coldness and death. You were forced into it- I know you were! Doesn’t it hurt to be wedded to her?”

The unspoken sentiment that Haeun does not voice is “when you could have been with me”. Looking at her now, perhaps her sudden interest in you has more to do with Jimin than any real sentiment towards your actions.

And perhaps, Haeun’s words are closer to the truth then he wants them to be. Initially, it had bothered him. Why had the Elders had forced him to marry you? Was there not an easier way to subdue your immense powers? Why could you not just... control them? Even Autumn, free-spirited and lazy as he was, kept his season well-managed. And why did it fall to Jimin to fix something that was your own fault? Haeun was a much better match for him in terms of strengthening his powers, and he absolutely loathed the season of Winter- marrying the ruler of his least favourite season is certainly not something he had ever imagined doing.

He had spent the first three months of his marriage staying with you in the Central Palace fuelled by that sentiment and at first you had made yourself very scarce. It had suited Jimin just fine- after all, he did not bear any particular affection towards you- perhaps he even detested you a little, and if the rumours were to be believed, he’d be better off interacting with you as little as possible.

And then things had changed, for whatever reason. He can’t be sure what prompted you to do it, but one morning you had been sitting across from him in the dining quarters, enjoying your breakfast in silence as had become customary for the two of you, when you had decided to speak.

“Winter isn’t as bad as you think.” You had said softly, taking a long sip of your drink, before fixing Jimin with a level gaze. He had glanced up in surprise- at that stage he could probably count on one hand the number of times you had spoken in his presence.

“I never-“ Jimin had begun, ready to defend himself but you had cut him off.

“You didn’t have to.” You had said, though your tone had not been unkind. You actually have a very sweet voice, one that contrasts with your icy reputation. “But, today I have nothing scheduled, and I wouldn’t mind showing you a few things. It must be better than wondering aimlessly around the palace.”

Against his better judgement, perhaps, Jimin had accepted. Whatever his feelings were towards you, he was sick of wondering aimlessly. He missed his little cottage and he was beginning to grow sick of the giant, draft-y Central Palace. Any change to the lethargic rhythm of his days, even if it meant spending the day with you, was a welcome one.

And you were right. Wintertime is more than coldness and death. As the ruler of Spring, he had always thought of it as such- after all, it has always been his duty to remedy the devastation left behind by Winter. But Winter is also a time of festivities- of huddling in the warmth of a fire along side your family. Its catching snowflakes on your tongue and children laughing as they skate over frozen lakes and form little ice sculptures from snow. He hadn’t known it until he spent those three months with you. And after that first day where you had taken him out to a frozen lake close to the palace and shown him how to ice skate, spending time with you had become more of a regular occurrence.

Which brings him to today.

“I’m not stuck with her.” Is what Jimin finally says to Haeun, who deflates, just slightly. He does not explain any further- he’s not sure he can. He certainly doesn’t feel the burden of obligation that had weighted his every step when he first married you. He perhaps even misses you, after three months of separation. It’s all a little scary and confusing but all he knows for sure is that being married to you is no longer the offensive chore he initially viewed it as.

This time when Jimin turns away, she does not stop him. He is relieved- he is sick of hearing Haeun speak so disrespectfully about you. He’s sick of the way servants whisper in the halls when you walk past. He’s sick of the way travellers tell stories of evil Winter, who takes lives for fun and revels in the cruelty of her blizzards. He doesn’t know why, given that it has only been six months since he married you, and three whole months since he even last saw you in person, but he feels a strange protectiveness towards you. Just the thought of those whispers when he knows of you, curled up beneath the security of a warm blanket on the hearth, with the fire’s glow highlighting your features, still studying away even after a full days’ worth of royal duties so that you can learn to control your powers makes his heart ache. He wishes, just once, that he had been brave enough to curl up beside you and to listen to the steady sound of your breathing, the rhythmic turn of a page, the crackle of the fire’s warmth. Or brave enough to hush the terrible whispers. Anything to wipe that expression you get on your face when you know people are thinking unpleasant things about you. That guarded, reserved expression that he knows is concealing a broken heart.

“My Lord!” Jimin hears a voice call, and he almost curses. He wants nothing more than to return to his quarters and begin packing up. It has now been six months since he has been in his actual home, and when he received that letter from you a week ago informing him that you had taken up residence in his home, he had only been more eager to return. He wants to know what his home looks like with you in it. He wants to know what you look like in the brightness of Summer, away from the grief and cold of Winter. He wants to see you again to the point it is almost alarming. “My Lord!” The voice calls again, and one of the servants skids to a stop before Jimin. It is Namjoon. Jimin recalls his name because Namjoon is one of the few servants you are rather fond of.

“Hello, Namjoon.” Jimin greets warmly, and Namjoon looks surprised and delighted at the sound of his name. “How can I be of service?”

Namjoon is slightly out of breath, and he reaches for the pocket of his trousers, fishing around until he produce a single crumpled piece of paper.

“It is a letter from Winter.” Namjoon says. “She asked me to relay to you that she will not be attending the Equinox Ball and that she shall see you tomorrow at the your domain.”

Jimin’s eyes widen and he quickly snatches the paper from Namjoon’s hand. He does not mean to be quite so aggressive with his movements, but he is shaken at the way you have abruptly cancelled. Without even realising it, he had hyped himself up at the thought of seeing you again after a long three months.

It’s a lengthy apology, neatly written and well-articulated. It basically gives an entire, eloquent list of flimsy excuses as to why you should not attend.

But Jimin sees straight through it. Perhaps in the past, he would have let it be. Let you sit at home and then awkwardly greet you in his cottage the next morning. But now that he knows the way your expression shutters when people mutter rude things under their breath about you, now that he knows the way you lie awake at night, haunted by grief and guilt, he knows that you are running away. After all, the whispers had only gotten worse after your marriage- the Evil Queen of Winter shackling the charming and kind King of Spring is certainly quite the tale to set tongues wagging.

And while Jimin hates the thought of you spending an evening in discomfort when there are about a thousand better ways for you to spend your time, he hates the thought of people thinking of his marriage to you as a tragic event even more. He wants to stroll into the ballroom with your hand in his, to proudly show off that he is not some tragic heroine trapped in a loveless marriage to an evil overlord. He wants people to see you, your kindness and your sweetness. He wants people to realise that Winter can be even warmer than Summer sometimes, in the right circumstances.

“Is she currently in my domain?” Jimin asks softly, but he knows from the floral, woodsy scent of the paper that it was written in his home. Namjoon hesitates before offering an awkward nod.

“I believe so.” He admits. “The messenger who brought the letter was one of the keepers of your orchard.”

Jimin nods, tonguing thoughtfully at the inside of his cheek. A well-cared for horse would allow him to reach his home within a couple of hours. He keeps his own horses at the cottage who would be able to take the two of you back in time for nightfall. He is to give a speech at the Ball and that will be his last official duty until next year. And for whatever reason, he does not want to give the speech if you are not there, amongst the crowd. It’s still possible if he leaves now.

“Ready a horse for me, Namjoon,” Jimin finally says, shoving the letter into the pocket of his trousers. He’ll have to change into gear more appropriate for a long ride.

“But, my liege, the ball-“ Namjoon protests.

“I’ll be there.” Jimin reassures him, though his expression is grim. “And so will my wife.”

Namjoon doesn’t need to be told twice.

Jimin has really, truly missed his home. Nothing quite compares to it. When they had first identified him as heir to the throne of Spring, the Elders had initially planned for him to stay in the castle inhabited by his predecessors. After all, since he did in theory bear their spirit, the castle should technically be to his tastes.

But he guess he differs to his previous incarnations, since he only lasted a few weeks before he moved into the cottage his parents owned close to the castle. It’s not unusual for tastes to change like that with different incarnations of Spring- though he feels that he can recall their previous lifetimes if he thinks very hard about it, they are different people and incarnations. The only traits he shares with those who had gone before is his power over the season of Spring.

Perhaps that is why, despite the fact that previous Springs have deeply loved Summer, he cannot stop thinking about Winter. Especially as the edge of the orchard draws into view.

Oddly, you aren’t in the cottage when he enters. There’s evidence that you’ve been staying there- some of your books are scattered over his work desk and the gardening implements around the back of the cottage are shifted around as if someone has been sorting through them. But it does not take long to locate you deep in the orchard, crouched beneath the orange tree. You don’t seem to have registered his presence yet given that you continue to mutter to yourself as you stab aggressively at the soil with a tiny hand shovel he recognises from the implements he keeps around the back of his cottage.

He’s about to confront you, but the sight of you, crouched down and wearing oversized trousers and an ugly, soil covered shirt he recognises from the very back of his wardrobe, has him completely frozen. It’s hard to explain the emotion- a powerful, roaring wave crashing down on the peaceful shorelines of his heart.

“(Y/N),” your name comes in a exhale of his breath, one that’s not entirely voluntary. It’s his mistake though, because you were absolutely not anticipating his presence, and you leap about a metre in the air in your shock.

Stumbling back a few steps in a sort of awkward crab walk, revealing your handy work. A small hole you had been digging and a handful of withered, lifeless daffodils.

“J-Jimin,” you stutter, and your accidental use of his name when you had previously only referred to him as Spring has his heart racing in his chest for reasons he doesn’t quite understand. “T-this isn’t what it looks like!” You cry. “I was just...”

It takes a moment, but Jimin manages to shake himself out of the trance long enough to realise that the withered and lifeless daffodils just so happen to be his favourite flowers from

his front garden. Immediately, whatever mysterious emotion that had overcome him prior is replaced by abject horror.

“My daffodils!” He cries, stricken with grief. And they had been so young, as well! Such lovely, bright blooms, withered and dried up! Abruptly, you scramble to your feet and dust the soil from your hands and knees, scrambling towards him.

“I was just trying to water them!” You cry, hands outstretched in an attempt to calm him in his distress. “I don’t have any flowers in my domain since the ground is not very fertile and I was just trying to tend to them!”

“They’re dead!” Jimin points out. “How much did you water them?”

You pause, shrinking under his gaze, before holding up ten fingers.

“Ten?” Jimin asks, and you nod. “Ten what?”

You mumble something he doesn’t quite catch. He steps closer in an attempt to decipher your sheepish mumblings.

“What?” Jimin asks, and you sigh before fixing him with a steady glare.

“Ten buckets!” You cry. “I asked your gardener and she told me that these are fickle plants that require constant moisture!”

“So you watered them with ten buckets of water? You drowned my daffodils!” He cries. You deflate, just slightly, glancing forlornly at the fallen remains of his beloved babies. He’d so carefully tended to them as well! They were just reaching the point where he could lift the buds and replant them. There’s a nice sunny spot at the back of the orchard that they would have thrived in, and now... and now...

“I’m sorry for your loss.” You finally offer, stepping forward to comfortingly pat at his shoulder. “They lived a good life, under your care,” you continue. “And once you finish off your duties at the Equinox Ball tonight I’m sure you can...” You trail away slowly, and the hand stroking his shoulder slows its pats. And then you gasp in horror when you register that Jimin is here, in his orchard, grieving over some dead daffodils instead of finalising preparations for the Equinox Ball. “Jimin!” You cry. “The Ball! How can you be here? You’re supposed to be preparing for the Ball.”

“Well,” Jimin snaps, perhaps a bit more grumpy than the situation really warranted, but you also killed his lovely daffodils. “I am supposed to be there, but my lovely wife decided she’d much rather kill my daffodils and hide the evidence instead of attend the Ball as is her duty!”

You flush, a shade that he can’t help notice is a rather endearing shade despite everything. Dimly, he recalls that overwhelming feeling he’d experienced when he first saw you earlier, but he pushes it down. There are more pressing matters to attend to- his daffodils can be given a proper burial later.

“Yes, well, as you read in my letter, I thought it would be far better for me to-“ you begin, clearing your throat awkwardly as you often do before giving a formal address. It only irks him further that you’re placating him as if he’s a random parliament member who needs coddling or a foreign emissary you have to charm. He’s your husband and he’s sick of people- you included- pretending otherwise.

“You’re running away.” He offers quietly, and your eyes widen. Perhaps you had been expecting him to dance around the bushes. After all, three months ago during Winter, though you had grown undeniably closer, there had always been the feeling of treading on eggshells around each other. Like neither of you really knew how to react together. But a lot has changed, in three months. Jimin has had three months to overthink and to pretend he doesn’t know the name for the feelings of longing he can’t shake off and to deny that he misses you and now that you’re finally here in front of him, he does not want to waste another second.

That crashing, roaring wave in his heart will not quieten, and finally he gives it a platform to pour out.

“You’re scared. I get that. You don’t know what you’re feeling and everyone and their mother seems to have an opinion on our marriage and maybe you think it will be easier if you stay out of the public eye,” Jimin tells you urgently. He steps forward as if he is approaching a startled deer. “But it won’t be. They won’t ever stop. So why let them dictate what makes you happy?”

You just stare at him, speechless, and he takes your silence as permission to step a little closer. Every movement he makes is slow and steady- you have to option to pull away at any moment. He stretches out a hand, wraps his fingers around yours and then raises your hand slowly towards his heart, letting you rest your palm flat against the thrumming rhythm.

“I missed you.” They aren’t the words he intended to say. He’s not even entirely sure what words he had planned to convince you to come with him. But those words are the ones that burst forth. He can’t hold back anymore. He feels like he’s spent three whole months trying to prevent a volcano from erupting, and he’s exhausted. He can’t hold back anymore, he can’t keep up the facade that he’s ok, when you took his heart with you when you agreed to move out of the Central Palace at the request of the Elders three months ago. “I want you to be at the Ball with me. If we leave now, we can make it. Please- do this with me.” He begs.

He’s met with silence. The longer it stretches out, the more dread slowly filters into his heart. It takes him a long few moments, but when he finally gains the courage to gaze upon your expression, his heart drops into his feet.

Tears pour over your cheeks. You’re normally so put-together, but with your guard down in his absence, dirt smidges your cheeks and the sun gilds your skin. You’re so heart achingly beautiful. It’s like the sensation of stone giving way, the way he feels a crevice form in his heart at the sight.

“Jimin,” you finally say, and your voice is barely above a whisper. “We can’t...”

You trail away, but it’s enough. He feels a bit like you’ve slapped him. He’d thought... he’d thought it had been the both of you struggling in your separation, but it seems it was only him. He’s a fool- how could be have ever thought he was strong enough to thaw the frozen heart of Winter?

“Right.” He says, humiliated by the way his voice cracks. “Well. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Duty calls.”

He turns on his heel so that you can’t see the way tears sting at the back of his eyes.

You don’t stop him as he leaves.

The Queen of Winter is a dignified woman. Tucked far away in her fortress, the common folk speculate that she does not have a heart.

For a long time, you’d thought maybe it was true, but this constant ache in your chest is proving otherwise.

“Are you just going to watch him go?” Yoongi, your personal guard, asks lazily. He is reclined in one of the cosy arm chairs in the centre of Jimin’s cottage, munching away at one of the apples he stole from the tree at the front of the cottage. You spare him a glance over your shoulder, before returning your gaze to the cantering horse that moves further and further away with each passing moment.

“What else can I do?” You finally ask, tearing your gaze from the window and settling into the chair opposite Yoongi. Unlike him, you sit neatly, with your knees pressed together and your ankles tucked delicately to the side. Yoongi shrugs, crunching through another mouthful of apple.

“Well you could have said no one was home when Summer knocked on your door last week like I suggested. But no. You had to invite her in and make her tea and let her get under your skin and now here we are, missing the feast of the year so that you can sulk.” He grumbles, crunching a bit more aggressively. Normally, Yoongi is a placid, lethargic sort of guy, but he’s been grumpy ever since Haeun showed up unannounced last week. Well, actually, he’s been like this ever since you received the order from the Elders to vacate the Central Palace in case you disturbed the prosperity of the oncoming Spring. After all, their plan had worked- having Jimin stay with you in the Central Palace had been enough to curb your Winter, but they didn’t want to offset his powers of Spring.

“Yoongi,” you begin tiredly, ready to feed him the same ridiculous lines about your duty and your out of control powers that you’re sick of saying, but he cute you off.

“No.” He snaps, the most forceful he’s ever been with you in perhaps his entire life. “You listen to me.”

You’re too surprised by his aggression to retort, which gives him the opportunity to launch off in a furious tirade.

“You finally had a good thing going for you. Finally someone who didn’t blame you for your Winters, someone who was kind and made you smile for the first time in literal years, and now you want me to sit here and accept that a cantankerous, overheated she-witch has the power to take that way with a couple of weak and not very witty jibes?” He demands. “What happened to the Queen of Winter? The woman who ate hearts for breakfast and drank the blood of her victims as wine?”

“She never existed.” You frown. “I faint when i accidentally kill a mosquito-“

“But you let those rumours circulate. You never tried to correct them because you never gave a damn about the small fry, so why are you letting some over-baked half-wit get to you?” He demands, pointing an accusing, half-eaten apple in your direction.

You are silent as you recall the encounter the previous week. You had just finished penning a letter to Jimin to inform him you were looking forward to meeting with him when he returned to his cottage, when there had been an unexpected banging on the door.

Haeun and you have never had a good relationship. Instinctively, Summer and Winter are on opposite ends of the spectrum, but she’d also always loathed the way your powers ran wild. After your cold, unforgiving Winters, she always had to burn hotter, and more intensely during the Summer to compensate, and it probably took its toll on her. And to add insult to injury, you had married the love of her life at the request of the Elders. The knowledge that you had taken something so important from her had been why you couldn’t just slam the door in her face even though Yoongi had gestured for you to do so just out of her view.

He’s usually right though, since he’s quite gifted at reading people, and he was right that you should have kicked her out then and there. Haeun had nothing but poison to spill forth from her lips.

Logically, you know the things she was saying were said with the intent to hurt you. Jimin had proved his kindness and warmth again and again during the three months you had lived together and it had even started to reach the point where it felt like he was your real husband. Not just an assigned keeper with the legal right to receive your belongings if you one day died. It felt like he actually cared- the way he sat with you on long, cold nights, the secret smiles he offered over breakfast, the way he left tea outside your bedroom door when he knew you had been up late studying.

Jimin had done the impossible, warming the cold, frozen tundra your heart had lived in, and what you long for in return is to be the person who brings warmth to his Winters. Who holds him in the cold. Who rejoices with him in the bright months of Summer. You’d spent the whole of Spring in a joyful, happy cloud, remembering the way your Winter had been gentle and soft for the first time in your whole life.

And then you’d heard what Haeun had to say.

“I’m just concerned.” She had told you, dress in a dainty Summer dress that allowed the warm Spring sun to warm her shoulders. She always wears loud, cheerful colours and on that day she had worn a bright yellow to match the daffodils you had desperately been trying to keep alive. “I’m only saying this because I know you care about him too, and I would want to know this if I were in your shoes.”

Yoongi had been watching the whole exchange with an expression on his face like he’d swallowed a sour lemon and he had rolled his eyes when she’d said that. And yet, you hadn’t been able to approach her words with the same disdain.

“You know how beloved Spring is. For him to be wedded to you is causing a lot of distress within the kingdom! And the things people are saying about him- that he’s bewitched by your enchantments, that he’s weak-willed and unworthy to lead.” She gazes at you with a glare and the hardest part of all this is that she’s telling the truth. She really came here out of a sense of duty to Jimin because she wants you to stop interfering with his life. “Why couldn’t you have just learned to use your powers instead of turning his life upside down like this?”

And hadn’t that been the final nail in the coffin. Even now, a week later, you are still reeling from her words. It had been with a heavy heart you had decided not to make an appearance at the Ball.

But you hadn’t expected this to happen- for it to hurt just as much to refuse Jimin’s request to go with him. Why does it hurt both way? Why is it that if you have him, you ruin his life, but if you reject him, he looks at you like that? Like you’ve betrayed him? Like you’ve set fire to his orchard before his very eyes?

“Because I love him.” You admit to Yoongi. He chokes for a moment, surprised by your admission, before staring at you with wide eyes.

“You what?” He demands, and you offer him a weak smile.

“I love him, Yoongi.” You say again, and Yoongi’s gaze softens because he’s known you since you were a child in the Central Palace for the first time and he’s never seen such warmth in your eyes. You aren’t the Queen of Winter for nothing. “I love him so much I don’t know what to do and I just feel like no matter what choice I make it hurts.”

You hate the way your voice chokes, and Yoongi lifts from his chair, walking over to you to rest a warm hand over your own.

“So if your choices are being hurt and miserable and being hurt and happy, why not choose the path that has at least a little bit of good in it?” Yoongi asks you gently. You stare at him, surprised, and he offers you a grin. “There’s a dress in your wardrobe with your name on it and if we leave now we should make it in time for Spring’s Official Address.” He tells you, straightening and stretching out with a yawn. “Better go get my riding boots.” He sighs.

For a moment, you are frozen at Yoongi’s words, but then slowly a grin splits your face.

He’s right. Both choices hurt- so why not choose the one where you get to be with Jimin?

You gaze out the window at where the Sun is just beginning to sink into late afternoon.

You have a Ball to get to.

Jimin isn’t sure how he’s made it this far into the night. He feels like he’s just hollowly going through the motions and it’s a wonder that no one has picked up that he feels like he’s walking around with a stomach full of glass shards. If he’d known a broken heart hurt this much, he’d have long ago cast aside his heart to save himself the pain.

“Are you excited?” Haeun questions cheerfully. She wears a long, golden dress that shimmers and catches the lights of the chandelier overhead as she moves. Her hair is carefully braided over her left shoulder, leaving her collar bones and delicate throat exposed. Yet the sight of the daffodil flower crown woven into her hair atop her head just seems to mock him.

“I suppose.” He answers, with an empty smile. Haeun beams in response. She’s in an awfully good mood today and it only seems to worsen his own mood. “I’m ready for a nine month break from my duty.”

She offers him a bright laugh, and the two of them are interrupted by a firm clap against Jimin’s shoulder. He winces and turns to find Taehyung beaming at him.

“Hello, brother!” He says cheerfully. “I haven’t seen you since the start of Spring! How is your lovely wife? I was just thinking I should pop over to visit her and then I learned that she wasn’t in her domain. Imagine my surprise when I head that she’s been staying in the Spring domain for the past three months. I trust the marriage is going well?” He questions, with a suggestive waggle of his strong brows.

Jimin is unable to stop his expression from falling. All night, he’s managed to at least keep up a facade that he’s ok, but those words hit just a little bit too hard. He just and quickly slips the false smile back onto his face, but the King of Autumn has always been quick-witted, and he does not miss the devastation on Jimin’s face.

“Jimin?” He asks slowly. Haeun looks a little confused at the slow, careful tone of Taehyung’s voice and at the use of Jimin’s name. “Is everything alright?”

Jimin offers him another hollow smile but he is saved the effort of lying when his advisor comes rushing over.

“My Lord!” Seokjin cries. “It is time for your address! Please hurry to the stage.” He clicks his tongue a few times, corralling Jimin towards the stage.

He supposes it is now or never.

The tradition for the handover of Spring to Summer is fairly straight forward- at the Ball, Jimin is to deliver an address, celebrating the prosperity of Spring and wishing Summer well for her season. It’s usually one of his favourite duties- to gaze upon the faces of his subjects, to know that his words kickstart a weeklong festival where people will dance in the streets and sing with joy at the arrival of their long awaited Summer. But today, he feels as if he is made of wood as he takes the stage.

“I thank you all for coming,” he begins. A simple spell cast upon the stage allows his voice to be amplified so that everyone can hear him. “As you all know, this particular Spring has been a big one for me. I have spent not three, but six whole months in the Central Palace, overseeing the seasons.” He offers a fake cheeky smile. “Safe to say I’m a little homesick.” That earns him a little chuckle for he is infamous for his simple and modest home. “But it has been my most triumphant Spring yet, because I...”

No one is more surprised than him at the way his words seem to fail him.

“Because I...” he tries again, but the words are choked off and the audience starts to murmur in confusion.

He can’t do it- he can’t fake happiness and merriment. Not when you aren’t even here. Not when you had been the source of his happiness for the last six months.

“Because...”

And then the doors to the ballroom swing open and he gazes upon the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

You wear a floor length gown. As is custom, your dress matches your season, shimmering blue with diamonds cast upon it that catch the light and dance like floating snowflakes. You hair falls around your face, flushed with exertion and your eyes are bright, even from across the room.

An eerie hush falls upon the room. No one has ever seen Winter so dishevelled; and yet she is by no means ugly or unappealing. No, in fact, for years after people will sing songs about your beauty this night- how your eyes shine brighter than the stars in the sky and how your smile holds a joy no one had ever thought you capable of.

Slowly, you step towards him. The crowd parts around you, and yet it is like you are the only person in the room. Even if he had wanted to speak, he would have been incoherent. The roaring feeling in his heart is now a tsunami- he’s swept away. He’s in love beyond what he ever thought was capable. He loves you- he loves you!!

“Jimin,” you say, smiling sweetly when you finally stop in front of him. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

And then you kiss him, bold and happy, in front of the entire ballroom and Jimin feels his heart may explode.

There is, of course, much to discuss after your arrival to the Ball. Haeun’s words- your fears and insecurities- Jimin’s own feelings. There is so much to discuss and yet that night, Jimin is only capable of one thing. After his address finishes, he holds you in his arms as the two of you sway in a gentle waltz. He presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head and he feels you smile into the crook of his neck.

There is so much to say, and so much to do, but the two of you have your whole lives together to discuss it.

#jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #bts fluff #jimin fluff #park jimin scenarios #writing

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

Text

The Dark Team (part 7)

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

Join the taglist in here (Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman)

Warnings: mentions of suicide and murder, awfully cheesy petnames (yes I have to put a warning on that).

The streets were so cold you had to rub your hands to your neck as you walked. You had only one piece of information that could’ve been possibly linked to that murder, and therefore that stick.

Saying you weren’t worried about being very undercover was a lie; an almost seven feet tall “man” that dressed like a millionaire, and a man with a metal prosthesis and abnormal sized muscles were not exactly the definition of discrete, much less once they were being categorized as “wanted”.

“Are you sure it’s this way?” asked Loki impatiently.

“No”.

“And why…?”.

“Stop torturing me with questions you know the answer of. Shut it and let me do my thing”.

“What is exactly your thing?”.

“Trying to not stab you in the balls, if you keep being this annoying”.

“Alright, guys, keep it down”, mediated Bucky. His role in the team was starting to be more and more like a third wheel in a car that’s trying to break down purposely, and he hated every second of it. “Can’t wait for this mission to be over”.

“Talking about that, we still have a game of cards on hold”.

“We could never play that with Loki, he has mind powers or some shit like that. He’d cheat”.

“Me?” he held a hand to his chest dramatically, “I would never cheat on a cards game. That is dishonest and I would never do such mischievous thing”.

Your phone beeped and the address changed suddenly. You stopped dead on your tracks and both Loki and Bucky, who were walking in line behind you, stumped with each other and almost made you trip.

“Careful, guys”.

“Are you fucking…”.

“Leave it there, Barnes”.

“What happened?”.

“I don’t know, the address suddenly changed. This isn’t supposed to happen”, you hit a few times your phone after it froze, and realized it wouldn’t work anymore. “Well, we’re gonna have to do this the old fashioned way”.

“And how’s that?”.

“How am I supposed to know? You’re the one that's a thousand years old and he’s a hundred and six. I’m barely around the two decades”.

“I’m beginning to think maybe you’re not one for this job. Aren’t you the one in charge of the planning? How did you even get to this Stank Internship in the first place?”.

“Hey, don’t be mean to them. They’ll cry”.

You rolled your eyes and ignored them. Meanwhile, you looked around. You had to find this person. A person who saw the “death” of the man with the pendrive, but the only one who said nothing about it. Only thing you knew was that he was a worker in a coffee shop. Which coffee shop, you’d ask? Well, that’s a good question.

It had to be in the neighborhood, that was for sure. You looked around a bit more, trying to drink in all the information the streets and its habitants could give you.

“The man was killed being thrown off that building. They said it was suicide. It was not”, you finally said out loud, pointing at the direction of one of the tallest buildings of the city. You were too concentrated to even realize you had stopped talking again.

The man you were looking for had to have a full view of the window the guy was thrown off from, so it would be in… that direction. A reasonable distance to see both guys would be less than two blocks. And it happened in an unreasonable hour for a work break, so… it had to be… alright. I think I got it.

“What are we looking for, then?”.

“There has to be a coffee shop maximum two blocks away from one of these three streets, the counter of the bar has to be near the window (or showcase) and the showcase should be tall enough to see the high part of the building, so I’d say at least three meters tall. I assume the man we’re looking for is old and introverted, quiet, not very friendly. Not less than fifty years old”.

“Alright Sherlock”, said Bucky, patting your back. “I’ll write down not to mock your intellect. Now you don’t have to pretend like you just figure that out all by yourself”.

“Okay”, you said, not paying any attention to his words. You were still juicing all the information you could.

“I got lost in the description of the man, how did you reach that conclusion?”, asked Loki, who apparently was reading your mind, following your thought process.

“Well, he’s the only one who didn’t testify at all. The witnesses in this sort of cases go through a polygraph. If all he saw was a suicide, then he wouldn’t be lying, he’d go through the lie detector and go out as if anything happened. Since he saw more, and didn’t say anything, it’s probably because he wanted to protect himself against the law, or just too lazy to go into all the bureaucracy it’d imply”, you explained. Loki had a full blown smile across his face, not even hiding it. “What are you smiling at?”.

“Nothing”, he brushed it off and pretended to fix his tie.

“No, please, do give me your input”.

“I can’t read whether you’re being sarcastic or not”.

“Wanna find out, dear?”.

“Hey, the aggressive pet names are my thing. Get your own passive-aggressive mechanism”.

“Can you concen…? You know what? Whatever. I’m going there”, cut Bucky. He was so done.

You walked as fast as you could down the nearest street out of the three possible ones, and kept rubbing your (now almost numb) cold fingers.

“Buck, do you have a gun with you?”.

“I don’t think this is the best moment to kill yourself. Let us finish the mission first”.

“Though, honestly, I think it could speed things up a little”, added Loki.

“Wow, you guys are especially mean today. We might need something to threaten the guy with”.

“Just a pocket knife. Do you think it could help at all?”, he searched for more weapons in his pockets, but found none. Going undercover, you all had to leave your suits and armor in the hotel room. Loki cleared suggestively his throat and you gasped.

“Really? You can make it out of nowhere?”.

“No, but give me a weird shaped branch or anything similar and I can transform it. Transfigurations have been my specialty lately, though”.

“I love you wholeheartedly”.

“I’d literally marry you on the spot”.

“In fact, I think I might kiss you right now”.

“You guys have no idea how glad I am to know you’re lying”, said Loki, patting Bucky’s back.

To find the place was way easier than you had anticipated. Firstly, because it matched every single aspect you had predicted. Secondly, because it was the only coffee shop in the whole place.

The clicking bell filled the silent place as the scent of fresh coffee and baked goods infested your noses. There was only an old lady reading a paper and the fifty year old you were looking for. Bucky sat down on a table near the counter and you and Loki greeted the man.

“Hi, how are you?” you said with a fake warmth that would assure you his confidence. “We would like a black coffee…”, you looked at Loki, still acting, and he reached your thoughts telepathically to hear your “act, dude; you’re frowning”. He immediately softened up his expressions. “What would you like to drink, dear?”.

“Same as you, darling”, he smiled even faker than you. “So are we pretending to be a couple, now?”.

“Alright, two blacks, please”, you went back to the barista. “Yes, old people get all softies for young couples. Just follow me, we need him to like us”. “And a strawberry milkshake with extra cream and a cherry on top, for the gentleman on the table”.

“Going right up”, said the old man.

“Do you ever take vacations on mocking people?”.

“Never. It’s a true blessing”.

“So, what’s the plan?”.

“Same as it was before, except we can’t actually cause any harm while threatening him, if we do”.

“Why?”.

“Old lady at twelve o’clock?? Man, you really lack any empathy for innocent civilians, don’t you?”.

“Only with mortals. Don’t really care for them”.

“You’re probably lying. I know behind that shell there must be a big soft heart longing for...”.

“Alright, shut up, here comes our order”.

“Thank you, ah, wonderful”, you said, grabbing the cups. You pretended to just notice the news behind the counter, and Loki made the illusion of a highly realistic periodistic note on the suicide of the man with the stick. “Oh my… is that what I think it is?”.

The old man raised his eyebrows, intrigued.

“Uh, is just… don’t watch that, darling. It’ll make you feel sick”, said Loki tenderly, caressing your shoulder. “We sort of saw that… happening, you know?” he explained the old man.

“Oh, really?”.

“Yes, it was really close from here. Oh God, we saw it all happen, this poor man”.

“Very disturbing. Never seen such a gruesome situation in my short, very, very, very short life”, added Loki.

“Alright, we get it, humans live short lives”. “Believe me, you’re so lucky you didn’t have to see that”.

“Really?”, said again the barista, visibly nervous. “That terrible?”.

“Well, it’s a common tragedy, to be honest. But, you know, the cops and investigators were on our backs all night long”.

“Finally free now”, added Loki, still with his arm protectively wrapped around your shoulders. “You’re truly lucky to miss it”.

“Oh, yes. Sounds terrible. Glad didn’t see it, then”, he lied. And he was a bad liar. You didn’t even need Loki to tell you what you could so clearly see.

“And you know… I didn’t think it’d work, but we…” you chuckled innocently, as a kid telling their devilry to a friend, “we sort of lied to the lie detector, and it worked”.

“Love!”, gasped Loki, and lowered his voice “we shouldn’t be telling this to anyone. What if it spreads around?”.

“But, honey, have you seen this man? Why would you think he could wrong us?” you pointed at him and he, as you predicted, blushed with a smile.

“What did you lie about, if I may ask?”. He fell into the trap. You bent over the counter and lowered your voice.

“We saw it was not a suicide”.

Your expressions drew all seriousness and a terrifying look on your eyes gave the man the trust that you were being honest with him. He bent down on the counter too.

“What do you mean?”.

“We saw… oh God”, you started saying, but your eyes watered and Loki didn’t hesitate to hold your head to his chest, comforting you while you sobbed.

“I know, sweetheart, it’s terrible. I know”, he cooed. “We don’t know what to do with this piece of information. The man was thrown off violently, and the things they did to him before…” Loki hinted. The man swallowed hard and started sweating. Loki muttered nonsense, and you continued his empty explanation with sobs that sounded like words but nobody could actually figure out what you meant.

“That sounds awful, wow”, said the man, pretending he heard. Truth was, he didn’t need to insensitively ask for you to repeat yourself. He knew what had happened.

“We wonder what kind of deals could be behind all that, you know?”.

“Yes, very strange, to try to strip the man like that” started saying the old man, too affected by the situation to actually notice he was spilling the true tea. “It sounds like all a very weird business”.

“And that thing they pulled out of him!”.

“Ah… yes”.

You and Loki had started to lose your patience, and figured the man would be harder to interrogate like this than you’d expected. Loki squeezed your shoulder.

“My love, we should get going, don’t you think?”. And with get going he meant knocking the guy off and getting into his memories through Loki’s magic.

“No, my dearest, let’s stay here”, you insisted, without wanting to cause the fuss this was going to make. Ever since you came into the coffee shop, three other family groups had entered and were waiting for their order.

“But, sweet pie… I think we’re shocking the man enough”.

“Oh, please, I just want a normal day, honey bunny. Let’s stay and drink a cuppa here”.

Bucky chuckled at the pet name war you two were having, and the old man looked at you suspiciously. You sighed.

“Alright. Fuck it”.

“You’re cops, aren’t you?”, asked the old man. You fell off your character.

“No… but sorry anyways”, you said, kicking him on the face and smashing his head against the counter, leaving him unconscious.

“That was unnecessarily violent, I could’ve made him sleep with seiðr”, stated Loki, watching the man drip blood from his nose.

“Guys'', said Bucky, watching how all the clients were running away in fear, “I thought we said ‘keep it low, threaten discreetly’. What happened?”.

“For Fuck’s sake, just get into his head already, sweet muffin”.

“Hold his head, baby cakes”.

#loki #loki x reader #loki headcanon #loki laufeyson #loki x gender neutral reader #loki fanfic #loki fic #bucky barnes #bucky #james buchanan barnes #loki odinson #barnes #avengers #marvel #mcu loki #loki mcu

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tomboyneedshercoffee · 4 years

Text

Lovedust Pt.5 || Peter Parker x Stark Reader

Summary: Y/N invites Josh over to work on a project while Peter goes back to his Spiderman duties which sends Y/N into a spiral.

Word Count: 4.6k

Author’s Note: WOWIE I really stayed up all night to finish this ha. Anyway! This gives more backstory about Y/N and what happened with her biological parents and ughhhh things are moving yall! Also leave comments if it’s good and if it’s bad also leave comments 🥰

Warnings: Mention of blood, death, panic attack, ANGST

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six ||

part seven || part eight || epilogue

Even though the Avengers Complex was your home, it was much more than a place where you crashed after school. You had to keep in mind that to any normal person, the idea of seeing alien technology in use or friends from galaxies away wasn’t an average Thursday.

You never thought any of this was particularly strange until now as you got the text from Josh that he was parked in the back lot of the building like you had told him to.

Since you and Josh were partners for anatomy, you thought it would be obvious that you would be staying at his house to work on your project but your dad had other ideas.

The sheer thought of you going to a boy’s house to “study” was absurd, especially since Josh’s parents were always out of town for business. You never thought your dad would ever let any of your friends into the complex, especially a boy but in the name of science, it wasn’t too hard to convince him.

You quietly opened the side door as Josh slid in behind you and let out a low whistle.

“ Not too shabby Stark, although I gotta say, the lawn is looking a bit wild,” Josh smiled as he readjusted his backpack straps,” if you need me to come over to cut it, I charge $9.00 an hour.”

“ In that case, your first shift starts next week,” You teased as you led him to the main set of elevators in the building.

You couldn’t help but feel on edge as Josh followed close behind you. You had never brought anyone over and you were scared that bringing Josh would make things turn into a big deal. You knew how protective some of the other Avengers were of you and you just prayed silently that you wouldn’t run into any of them, especially Peter.

You weren’t sure how Peter would take it if he found out you and Josh were getting closer.

Peter was in a fragile state and who knew what little thing could set him off. You were even more worried that Peter would find out about the party tomorrow night because it wasn’t like you could invite him along.

The idea of mixing hormonal teenagers and alcohol was a recipe for disaster but the damage that could be made from Peter’s self-destructive state could be even bigger.

As much as you knew how badly things could turn out with Josh in the complex, you knew you couldn’t let Peter’s actions affect what went on in your academic life and at the end of the day, Josh was just a classmate.

Josh looked all around him, taking in everything from the colorful array of gadgets neatly built into the walls to the natural light coming from the sleek windows.

“ I feel so out of place- am I underdressed?” Josh asked as a few lab technicians walked past giving you and Josh an odd glance,” and how do you not get lost in a place this big.”

You pressed the elevator button and gave Josh a reassuring smile,” Trust me, they’ve seen weirder things around here. Like, way weirder things.”

When the elevator doors opened, the two of you walked in and you started pointing to the elevator buttons,” So a quick tour! We’re on the main floor which basically is used for important meetings and conferences, the second floor is for the gym and pool, the third is where some of the bedrooms are, fourth is strictly for the scientists, the fifth is the labs, and the other floors are for S.H.I.E.L.D agents. Also, the basement has all the cool gadgets I’m not allowed to play with but I’m convinced it’s just where the guys all hang out and drink.”

“ You have an indoor pool?”

“ That’s what caught your attention?” You laughed as Josh nodded enthusiastically.

“ Well yeah! Do you even use it? I vaguely remember that when you were twelve, you almost drowned in 4ft water at someone’s pool party,” Josh said as you pressed the third button.

“ It was 5ft but yes I know how to swim...my dad made me take lessons after that,” You mumbled as you remembered that experience vividly,” I tried lifeguarding last summer at that super fancy hotel near Greenwich but the training was too expensive so I just took a CPR course at the YMCA and lifeguarded there.”

“ Did you ever have to save anyone?” Josh asked curiously as the glass elevators moved up towards your floor.

You nodded as Josh’s mouth dropped,” Yup, I had to give CPR and everything. Lucky for them, saving lives runs in my family.”

As the elevator doors opened up to your floor, you made sure to carefully scan the hallway before stepping out. Peter was supposed to be up in the labs all-day so that gave you enough time to work on the project with Josh while keeping Peter at a safe distance.

As you were approaching the door to your room, the fridge door in the kitchen closed and revealed Peter with an IV pole on his left side and an apple in the other hand.

“ Peter!” You said nervously as you took a small step in front of Josh, almost as if you were covering him up from Peter’s line of vision,” What are you doing here? I thought you were up in the labs?”

Peter looked past you and eyed Josh up and down before holding up the fruit, walking towards the two of you,” Um, I needed something to eat- Who is he?”

Peter was constantly feeling some type of distress whether it was chest pains or headaches but now that he clearly caught you hiding a boy from him, the pain felt off.

You had never brought over any of your friends to the headquarters before so to Peter, this was already a red flag. Peter felt like his body was on high alert as thousands of scenarios were going through his head.

Josh stepped forward and held his hand out for Peter to shake,” Nice to meet you, Peter, I’m Josh. Y/N and I go to Manhattan Prep together.”

Peter looked down at Josh’s hand for a moment before shaking it hard. Josh winced but played off his pain as he pulled his hand away and stuffed it back into his pockets. You could feel the one-sided tension between the two as you looked over to Peter to try to ease him but his eyes were glued to Josh.

You cleared your throat as you turned to face Josh,“ Peter is a part of my dad’s internship program so he spends most of his time here at the complex. He’s pretty much a part of the family and he’s a really good friend, right Peter? ”

Peter nodded as he tried to calm his nerves down, his quick glance to Josh was almost as if he was begging his body to put his guard down. He couldn’t control his body and this was the first time the lovedust had forced him into a territorial state.

“ No kidding, that’s awesome man. My buddy from Midtown was telling me that he knew a guy who was accepted into the Stark Internship,” Josh said as Peter stood up a little straighter.

“ Oh really? Who?”

“ Flash Thompson, do you know him?” Josh asked as Peter looked over at you, almost as a warning.

While Josh was trying to be civil towards Peter, Peter couldn’t help but feel the pit in his stomach sink lower and lower with the thought of Josh even associating with someone like Flash.

“ As a matter of fact, I do know Flash,” Peter said smoothly, his speech hardly hesitating,” you sure know how to pick friends.”

You and Josh could tell that Peter was giving a dig towards him but Josh quickly let it go as he tried to ease the situation.

“ Well... it was nice to meet you Peter, any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of mine,” Josh said as he gave a genuine smile,” I’m sure Y/N already mentioned this to you but if you’re not busy or anything, my friend is throwing a party tomorrow and you should come out.”

Fuck.

Peter looked at you for a moment before returning a small smile to Josh,” Thanks, I’ll think about it.”

“ Um Josh, can you just wait in my room for a second?” You asked as Josh looked between the two of you and nodded.

You didn’t want to be upset at Peter for feeling hostile towards Josh because you knew he really couldn’t help himself. It was eating away at you that you were the reason Peter was acting so jealous but come on, did he really have a reason to?

Once Josh closed the door behind him, you turned back to Peter and looked down at the IV that was in his arm.

“ Is everything okay?” You asked as Peter looked down at his arm,” that looks pretty serious.”

“ Yeah… I’ve been having some problems but nothing your dad can’t fix” Peter deflected softly before looking over to your bedroom door,” so Josh...is he a friend?”

Peter knew he was walking on thin ice asking about Josh but he couldn’t bring himself to just go back in the labs and worry about the two of you all day.

“ He’s just a friend Peter, we have a school project and we’re partners,” You reassured him as Peter felt almost relieved,” and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the party, I didn’t think you would want to go but I should’ve asked.”

Peter studied your expression for a moment before looking down at his feet. It was hard to tell if you were telling the truth, maybe you didn’t want him to come. School project or not, Peter felt threatened by Josh, even if Josh was trying his best to be as nice as possible.

“ It’s okay, you’re right. Parties aren’t my thing anyway,” Peter shrugged as you bit the inside of your cheek.

You weren’t sure why you felt so guilty but whatever you were feeling, you hated how much it was stirring inside of you. You never wanted Peter to feel left out and you could easily tell that it was bothering him as much as it was bothering you.

“ Maybe if you’re not busy tonight, we can watch a movie together. I checked the kitchen this morning and there’s a ton of frozen pizzas if you’re up for it?” You suggested as Peter tapped his fingers against the side of his leg.

Peter wanted to jump at the offer, any excuse to hang out with you alone literally set Peter so close to having a cardiac arrest in the best way possible. While he was getting the hang of controlling his words around you, it felt like the more time you spent with him, the more he felt himself fall for you.

“ I’m actually going to patrol tonight,” Peter said in a low whisper as he looked back at your bedroom door,” I haven’t been on the streets in a long time and I think I feel well enough to go.”

“ Are you sure you’re ready? You’re literally hooked up to an IV bag Peter,” You said as Peter subtly pushed the IV pole behind him as if he could hide it.

“ I won’t do anything crazy, I’ll be okay. I’ll only be out for a couple of hours and we can hang out when I get back,” Peter said as you hesitantly nodded.

You understood that being a superhero meant that you couldn’t take sick days but this was an extreme circumstance. To you, Spiderman could wait but for Peter, that was a large part of his livelihood that he had put aside for too long.

You wanted to tell him not to go, better yet, if you could hide every single one of his Spiderman suits you would. It didn’t sit right with you that with everything going on with his health that he would jeopardize it but you knew it wasn’t your call.

“ Okay, but please text me updates so I know you’re safe. Things have been so crazy lately and I-”

“ Don’t worry Y/N, I’ll be okay,” Peter interrupted as he felt his heart grow heavy,” I promise I’ll keep you updated.”

You didn’t know why the thought of Peter going out was so scary but before you could think things over in your head, your feet stepped forward and you pulled Peter into a tight hug. You rested your chin against his shoulder as you inhaled deeply as if hugging Peter would calm down your nerves for the rest of your life.

Without a second thought, Peter drew his arms over your body and held you close to his chest. His heart beat even faster than usual as he closed his eyes, holding you even tighter than before.

----------

You checked your phone for what seemed like the millionth time in the last hour as you grew more and more anxious.

Peter had been gone for hours to go patrol while you and Josh were still working on the project. It was eating away at you that Peter wasn’t back yet and every time another minute passed without an update, you felt like you were closer to losing your mind.

Even before Peter made contact with the lovedust, you would still secretly pray that he got home in one piece. When everyone you knew and loved had a career that put themselves in the line of danger, thoughts of not having them around anymore plagued you whenever you had a quiet moment to yourself.

You had lost people before to freak accidents like your biological parents who had passed away when you were old enough to know how death worked. You couldn’t imagine not having Tony as your dad but some nights whenever you were filled to the brim with anxiety, you wondered what your life would’ve been like if your parents weren’t killed during that home invasion.

When you’ve lost people, it never gets easier, terror plagues you. The fear of someone you know getting hurt was by far scarier than anything Hollywood could recreate with CGI and yet, it was slowly looming over you.

Superheros were literally your life and you weren’t mentally prepared that one day, something bad could happen and you could lose them forever. With Peter, you weren’t sure if it was because of how close the two of you were now but the fear of losing him was bigger than any other scenario you had crafted in your head.

“ Is everything okay? You seem a little out of it,” Josh said as you looked away from your phone and back towards your laptop.

“ Yeah, I’m good, my body just feels so tired. I’ve read so much medical terminology within the past couple of hours and now everything is jumbling together,” You sighed as you looked down at Josh who was sprawled out onto your bedroom floor with a textbook resting against his stomach.

You never realized how comfortable your floor was but seeing Josh on your floor looking as effortless as ever was a shock to your system. When Josh caught your gaze, you turned back to your laptop and rested your cheek against your palm to try to cover the blush that was creeping onto your cheeks.

As you rested your cheek against your propped up hand, you could feel your eyelids get heavier with each passing second. Josh noticed from his spot on the ground and sat upon his hands, watching you ever so intently.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed once you closed your eyes but once you felt a blanket drape across your shoulders, you stirred quietly.

You held your breath as you waited for anything else but all you could hear was paper shuffling around. You peeked your eye out and saw Josh crouched down on your floor, carefully putting his textbooks and notes into his backpack, being careful not to wake you.

Instead of waking up to say goodbye, you pretend to be asleep as if you were too nervous to even confront Josh this late. The papers stopped shuffling and as you tried to keep your breathing patterns even, you felt Josh’s hand rub your shoulder softly before walking out of the room.

Once your bedroom door had closed, you hesitantly opened your eyes and gave a quick peek to make sure Josh was really gone.

You exhaled loudly, not even aware that you were holding it in all this time. You let the blanket fall onto the chair before walking over to your large window that pointed towards where Josh had parked.

You knew you should’ve walked him down after everything he had done for your project but the least you could do now was to make sure he left the complex in one piece. After a few minutes of patiently looking out the window, you saw Josh’s car pull out of the long driveway and headed down towards the front gate.

Your mind instantly traveled back to Peter as you checked your phone again but this time you went back to your messages and looked at all of the unread messages you had left for him.

5:12pm || Y/N: update me when you get to your post!

5:29pm || Y/N: oh don’t swing and text loser!!!!

6:01pm || Y/N: you there yet?

6:36pm || Y/N: don’t make me spam text u nerd

6:57pm || Y/N: im gonna just pretend you’re too busy to txt me back-be safe!

7:40pm || Y/N: helloooo?!?! Is everything okay

8:00pm || Y/N: i will leak your identity fool txt me back

8:40pm || Y/N: whatever idc anymore

8:44pm || Y/N: still haven’t heard back from you, you dead?

9:06pm || Y/N: ur freaking me out dude, any updates?

9:33pm || Y/N: there was a fire near the museum are you okay?!?! The news said you were there

9:35pm || Y/N: peter????

9:50pm || Y/N: call me im worried

10:02pm || Y/N: ur scaring me pls respond

You cursed under your breath as you pressed the call button and placed it to your ear. After a few rings, Peter’s voicemail came on and you didn’t even bother to listen to it all the way. You had already left so many voicemails and at this point, there was nothing you could do but wait for him.

You were filled with dread as you scooted back into your bed and refreshed the news pages on your phone.

Spiderman Stops an Armed Gunman Outside Plaza

You knew that it wasn’t healthy for you to keep scrolling online but you needed to know if Peter was safe. You hated the feeling of not being kept into the loop and Peter wasn’t the type to completely ignore text messages unless that meant he was in real trouble, what could you do to help him, you don’t have any powers you’re just a teenager-

You took a deep breath in as you shut your phone off and stared up at the ceiling to clear your head.

Peter is smart. He’s fast. He will be fine. You kept repeating it over and over again like a lullaby and with some luck, you could feel your eyelids get heavier and heavier by the second with Peter being the last thing you thought before falling into a deep sleep.

You held your hand over your mouth to try and stop the sobs that rocked your body from underneath the bed. You could hear your dad begging, pleading to spare his wife before the sound of a gunshot went off.

It was louder than you remembered almost as if the sky let out a roaring thunder that shook the whole house. You could hear your dad struggling with the gunman before another shot rang out, this time even louder.

The glowing stars that were stuck to your ceiling shook off once your bedroom door had slammed opened and you prayed silently, wanting the nightmare to end.

You did your best to be quiet as you watched his feet walk slowly to the bed, almost at a teasing pace like he knew you were underneath there. Everytime the nightmare played in your head, the attacker took on a different appearance. Sometimes it was someone you knew, other times it was just a passing face on the street.

But everytime you had this nightmare, one thing never changed. The shoes, black sneakers with white laces and depending on how terrible the nightmare decided to be, you could spot the splatter of blood against the heels.

You watched as the man walked behind your bed and you let out a scream as you felt his hands wrap around your ankles, pulling you roughly against the carpet. As you scratched at the attackers face, your sob got caught in the middle of your throat.

The attacker always took a different appearance and this time, it was Peter.

You kicked and screamed as hard as you could as he tried to pin you down, his weapon pressed into the side of your rib as you sobbed uncontrollably. You knew it was a dream and you were so used to letting it ride out or until you fell out of bed but with Peter staring at you as he dangled your life between his fingers, all you wanted to do was wake up.

All you could do was continue to fight back through your tears as he kept saying your name, taunting you.

“ Let go of me!”

“ Y/N! I got you!”

“ It’s me Peter!”

“Y/N!”

You shot up from out of your bed, almost knocking heads with another figure as you let out a choked sob. You didn’t realize your fists were still swinging until you felt a pair of arms wrap around your body, cradling you.

The memory of the attacker was still so vivid in your head and all you wanted to do was get away,“ Let me go!” You screamed as you struggled against their grip as they held you even tighter,” get off of me!”

“ Y/N! Y/N! It’s me! It’s me! You’re okay!” Peter shouted as he let his grip go before cupping his hands on either side of your face,” open your eyes! Hey! It’s me, you’re okay!”

You squirmed from his lap as you opened your eyes to see Peter in front of you, the actual Peter. As relieved as you were, you felt your chest tighten as you continued to cry and without a second thought, you leaned into Peter’s chest and buried your wet face into his t-shirt.

Peter held you tighter as he rested one hand against the back of your head and the other was snaked around your waist. He smoothed down your hair as he made soft shushing noises to try and calm you down,” It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here, I got you.”

You hadn’t felt so relieved to see anyone until now and as you tried to control your cries, you felt yourself slowly transitioning back into reality. You inhaled his scent as you dug your face into his neck and you never thought a smell could bring you so much peace.

Relief wasn’t even what you were feeling, it was more than that. You couldn’t put it into words and it was heavier than the idea of weight being lifted off of your shoulders. Release. To sob into someone’s embrace where you knew you would be safe no matter what felt heavenly and with every sob you let out, you felt yourself separate from the nightmare altogether.

Peter had to hold back his own tears as he held you and slowly rocked your body back and forth like a baby. He wasn’t sure if it was comforting you but it definitely put Peter at ease.

Just minutes ago, he had just checked on you to see if you were still awake and once he saw that you were sleeping, he went back to his room to get ready for bed. It wasn’t until he was putting on his pajamas when the hair on his arm stood up seconds before you actually let out a scream only he could sense.

Peter literally scrambled to your room and had his web-shooters ready because from what he could hear, he thought someone was attacking you. It wasn’t until he saw that you were having a nightmare that he quickly threw his web-shooters to the side and tried to wake you up.

It was one thing to be in love with someone and to go through the motions as if it was a normal occasion but this was different. Seeing you so vulnerable and completely terrified utterly broke Peter in half and he knew for sure that it wasn’t all because of the lovedust.

“ You’re safe Y/N, you’re okay.”

“ Don’t worry I got you.”

“ Just breathe for me, okay?”

For what seemed like forever, Peter cradled you and whispered into your ear to let you know that you were okay and that he was there for you. He wanted you to tell him everything about the nightmare and what had triggered it but he knew that it wasn’t just an ordinary nightmare with the occasional boogeyman.

You thought back to your nightmare one last time as you pictured a hazy Peter attacking you and it almost sent you into another panic attack. Peter could feel how tense you got and his grip loosened so he could look back at you.

Your eyes were puffy from crying so much and your cheeks were flushed red but Peter thought you were absolutely beautiful. You weren’t sure what you wanted to say to him, there was so much to say yet so little at the same time.

“ Thank you,” You whispered ever so softly as you craned your neck up and pressed a soft kiss against Peter’s cheek.

You both knew that it wasn’t an ordinary thank you but for Peter, he didn’t need to analyze it any further. You closed your eyes and listened to the sound of Peter’s heartbeat that rang throughout his body.

From pure exhaustion of crying and anxiety, you felt even more tired than before and Peter could feel you slipping back to sleep. He didn’t want to let you go, if he could, he would hold you in his arms forever if it meant keeping you safe and sound.

Once Peter heard your soft snores, he held you for a second longer before carefully laying you back down into your bed. Like second nature, Peter pulled the covers back over your body and tucked a strand of hair that was danging in the middle of your face behind your ear.

Peter ignored the sore feeling that was lingering in his back and forearms from holding you up and lightly dragged his fingers across his own cheek. He was way into deep now.

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adorehs · 4 years

Text

changing your tune

Hi I just wanted to mention that a lot of this might be inaccurate. This is based off of my time in my city's youth orchestra so while I’m sure some things transfer, but not everything. Kinda bad at the end per usual <3

Summary: Classical Musician!Y/N has created a simple life for herself consisting of herself, her music, and the boy she loves. Friends to lovers. (15.6k words)

Warnings: mostly fluff, slight angst, mentions of smut, minor character death.

“I just think I need to have a fuller tone to really get the dark undertone of the music. Like, it’s so clearly meant to be this dark, horrible travesty but if I can’t get the tone right then it’s just this light and airy travesty. But I can’t bend the note just right, my air is, like, gone,” you vent out.

Harry watches you intently from where he sat in your study with a hand holding his chin up and an elbow on his knee, “I think it sounds great.”

You look at him unimpressed, “It’s all chalumeau. Of course it sounds good, it just doesn't sound right.”

“Right, so it’s in the lower register,” he mentally reminds himself, “What’s it supposed to sound like?”

You let out a sigh and pick up your clarinet from the stand it rested on, “It sounds kind of different without my custom, but the r13 will work for now,” you mumble, adjusting the reed and ligature on your mouthpiece, a nervous tick you picked up in school.

Your eyes flicker up to Harry, waiting for his glance of approval before you start. Your cheeks expertly swell and decompress in size as you circular breathe through the measures, your mind concentrated on the smooth transitions between rhythms and the registers, cutting the triplets short as you’ve written them.

The soothing noise of your clarinet fills the large room immediately, your forte becoming all too loud to process any thoughts. The victorian-styled room had low hanging lights that streamed a warm orange tone over the patterned chairs and built-in bookcase that held hundreds of music books with etudes you’ve mastered since your youth.

Though the warm tones made the room feel homely, the curtains were drawn back and the windows were opened ajar allowing a short breeze to flow in every two minutes. You knew better then to turn on a fan around your hand-crafted instrument. You understood the fluctuation it would cause if the temperature changed drastically day by day. This is why you were careful to turn the air conditioning off before you opened the window, keeping the temperature relatively steady through the day.

Harry watched you in pure concentration- he was truly enamoured by the way you lost yourself in music. He wanted to understand what you were saying but it was hard- he enjoyed music but was completely deaf when it came to describing the mood of a piece.

He worked with numbers, and loved it. A born accountant in your presence, watching you play your clarinet with what seems to be ease. But you seemed so distant from him. A whole world away. And how was he going to sweep you off your feet when he can hardly understand your career?

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly as the technique became more difficult, effectively making you let off your clarinet and huff a breath of disapproval. Your heart was clearly pounding after the page you played at full tempo for effect, but you tried not to show the effect the music had on your body.

You reached for your pencil before erasing a note you had written and writing another one in, a higher register G#. The graphite smeared on the yellow-tinted manuscript book that sat on the music stand before you, everything shaking lightly as vigorously colored in the line and drew in a staccato articulation above the sixteenth note.

Forgetting Harry’s presence, you picked up your clarinet once again and played the same measure in sets of five, increasing the tempo by four beats each time, before deciding it is satisfactory for now.

Your face only showed a slight upturn, as you wrote in a new measure, testing how the chord would resolve with some soft air and incomplete vibrations through the wooden block. Minor chord or major? you asked yourself.

Harry’s eyes watched yours as they darted across the room from your clarinet, to your manuscript, to your metronome, which was silently flashing a red light at a tempo of 180 and a subdivision of eighth notes.

He wondered who taught you so harshly- he’d never seen someone so critical of their own work. You liked to make everything very perfect in a meticulous way- you knew just when to linger on the seventh of a chord to leave an uneasy feeling in the pit of one;s stomach and you were stellar when it came to expressing a story and emotion through your music. At least that’s what Harry thought.

“So where does your tone need to get fuller?” he asks again.

You looked up at him, slightly shocked. You had forgotten he was there, “When I get higher, like, near the F#. It has no depth to the note and it sounds like a playground piece,” you explain softly, watching as his eyes furrowed in confusion.

“So you want it to sound darker when the octave goes up?” he confirms one more time.

You nod, “Yeah. Want it to sound more emotional and thoughtful. It also makes me sound like a stylistically competent player,” your eyes flicker back to the page in an instant.

“I think your style is good. You have a good variety in the symphony, too. They’ll like this one. Get the solo down and then ask some people to come and play with you,” Harry comments, rubbing his hands on his corduroy pants as he sits back further in the chair. The heavy fabric makes a dissatisfying pulling noise as Harry moves around in the chair, resting his hands on the dark wooden arms with ornate carvings on the ends.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “They haven’t taken my last three. If I can just make one good one, I can take some more risks and possibly compose a whole symphony,” you pause, making eye contact with Harry again, “But that’ll take years. Probably only when I retire from the orchestra.”

“They are good,” Harry argues weakly. He doesn’t know how to convince you because all he knows is that he likes it.

“Well clearly they’re not as good as you and I think,” you counter with a huff, picking up your clarinet once more before playing the same piece from the beginning.

After an overextended work week, Harry was excited to go out and have some fun with his friends. He was still a ripe twenty-six year old, working long and hard hours as a starting budget analyst, hoping to be promoted higher within the job and lighten his workload- at least that's what everyone promised will happen. Nevertheless, he still enjoyed the simple pleasures of going out and celebrating his friends.

It was an all too familiar setting- a sticky, trashed bar with little to no care given to the seats that were falling apart at the seams. He found himself thinking of the frat parties you had described to him when he asked what Greek Life was.

But, he was there to celebrate one of his colleagues' birthdays. It was her twenty-fifth, so he found himself understanding the want for a big party. The bar might have been trashed but it was large and suitable for the hundreds of people she seemed to invite.

And among the hundreds, he only viewed one. You.

You wore a dress that you pulled from the back of your closet and hadn’t seen the light of day since you were in college. You wore it to special events and networking parties, but you found it all too nice to wear to most other situations you found yourself in.

Harry had definitely forgotten your connection to his colleague, or better known as your sister. He watched as you greeted her with a wide smile and a kiss on the cheek, an awkward side hug was exchanged as everyone around you both cheered in excitement. You were pretty loved.

“Happy birthday Mon,” you repeat for the second time that day, “Hope the year treats you well.”

Your sister smiled in response, “Off to a great start,” she eyes the party reviving behind you, “I’m glad you could make it. Thought you’d have a performance tonight.”

You shook your head, “Nope. Requested this day off a year ago. Couldn’t miss my favorite day of the year!”

Your sister glances at you with a look of amusement, “Happy Monica day is your favorite of the year?”

“Yup, love happy Monica day,” you reiterate.

Monica opened her mouth to reply but was swiftly cut off by a deep British accent, “Happy birthday Mon!” you hear from behind you.

You turn around quickly, side stepping to allow Harry into your conversation. He leans into your sister before granting her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, “How are you?” he asks, replacing your spot in front of her.

You smile at Monica and halfheartedly wave a goodbye as you slowly make your way over to the bar to order some food. You decided a year ago that you were going to stop drinking. At first, it was a hard choice to make. You were used to having a drink in most social situations, especially being a young adult working with people of all ages. It was a common scene to find you in- an after party with hundreds of musicians having a glass of champagne or white wine in celebration.

You sat yourself on a deep crimson stool, swirling slightly as you waited for your sliders to be given to you. Watching as people met and reconnected was isolating for you. You knew very few people Monica worked with and found yourself just shy of saying hi to someone who looked friendly every time you were at a gathering such as this one.

Nodding a silent thank you as your sliders were placed in front of you, your attention shifts. It was the loud talking and blaring music that made your brain want to go into overdrive, never quite getting used to noises you couldn’t control.

“Hi, Y/N,” you feel a body slide into the seat beside you. You couldn’t exactly pin whose voice it was at first listen so you shift your body towards them and slide the plate between you two as a peace offering.

“Hey,” you reply, making eye contact with one of Monica’s friends you met when she first started working at the firm.

“How’ve you been? Haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I’m alright, Louis. And yourself?”

“I’m quite alright. Been working a lot. Itching to get promoted,” he lets out a small laugh, “But who isn’t.”

You shoot him a grin, “Not sure, I love my job.”

“When’re you playing next? Love to come see you play. Haven't been to the new show yet,” he leans in towards you and takes a slider before leaning back again.

“Play Thursday to Sunday every week until November. Then we switch to Christmas ballets,” you tell him with a grin, “I recommend Thursday or Sunday, though. Best prices and best crowd.”

He nods in confirmation, “I’ll have to take Harry with me, know he’s been bugging me to go with him for a while.”

“Yeah, bring him! It’ll be fun, we can all go out after too!” you counter, dismissing Louis' comment about Harry’s insistent nature. That was just him, you thought.

“Definitely,” he agrees, “Plus it’s a nice way to unwind. I’ll definitely see if I can come soon.”

“Oh, please! I love seeing a familiar face. Feel like I play better,” you laugh, “Still get nervous, but Harry always tells me I’ll do amazing.”

“Harry’s good at that,” Louis agrees, “Always makes sure you don’t undersell yourself. And he’s right! You’re amazing.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment, “Thank you! He’s definitely everyone's biggest cheerleader,” you joke. Turning around entirely in your stool, your eyes sift quickly through the crowd in search of Harry. “See, there he is,” you chortle, “Hyping up Niall as he chugs a,” you squint.

“A beer, probably,” Louis completes for you.

You both laugh and watch as Niall shoots up from his spot on the ground in victory before immediately falling back onto the ground with great dramatics. The room roars as Harry helps his friend stand back up and walks him over to the bathroom before swinging the door back open, “Ladies and gentlemen,” he pauses for effect, “The boy lives!”

The room once again falls into a unison form of laughter as Niall appears behind Harry moments later, “Where’s the beer?” he shouts over the laughs, which quickly turn into cheers at his sportsmanship.

While Louis lets out a loud laugh at his friend's antics and moves towards the crowd to see more clearly, you looked up towards Harry. He dressed himself impressively well considering his lack of knowledge in the arts. Though he wore a simple outfit consisting of a red button up and black jeans, his confidence soared higher than anyone else’s you’d seen in a while.

His smile was infectious and seemed to fill his whole face and as his eyes raised to meet yours it grew to a tenfold. Speaking with his body language, you somehow sensed that he wanted you to get up and join him.

You shook your head with a smile and mouthed ‘I’m fine here!’ only to receive a ‘What!?’ in response. You shook your head in defeat and stood up, mouthing the same phrase only slower.

Harry replied with a look of realization and instantaneously, a pout replaced his smile. You frowned at your effect on him, not wanting him to feel upset because of you of all people.

You stood up and slowly started making your way over to him, allowing the smile to rediscover its place on his lips. He was watching you near him, when his head suddenly snapped towards a high pitched scream coming from your sister, “It’s midnight!” she shouts.

Harry chuckles at her dramatics and smiles when he feels your body press up against his side. He didn’t have to look to know it was you, he could smell your distinct perfume as you neared him and he was happy knowing you found comfort around him- though that should’ve been clear from the nights upon nights you spend together, him listening to your music and you listening to his rants.

Monica was handed a bottle of champagne and she stepped into the middle of the corner you all occupied, people filing in suit around her and forming a circular crowd.

“Hey everyone! Uh- thank you so much for coming- I mean it. It means a lot to me to be surrounded by a bunch of people I love on my favorite day of the year!” She jokes, earning some light laughs and a few words of endearment thrown back at her. “No, seriously, thanks a lot, and,” she trails off, her thoughts too blurry for her planned speech, “Here’s to twenty five!” she cheers, shaking the champagne bottle, allowing it to pop and spray all over. She quickly spins in an attempt to spray everyone, but the champagne bubbles over and only gets half the group.

You and Harry both laugh, shaking your hands to get the sticky substance off your bodies. “She tries every year and never succeeds,” you tell him.

He chuckles in response, “She gets too drunk to remember.”

“Or she just thinks that she’s sober enough to get it this year,” you laugh back.

Harry laughs and nods, “Definitely. She thinks she’s perfectly fine,” he points at Monica who is going around the circle and hugging everyone in thanks. “To be fair she looks okay,” he adds.

“She always does,” you agree with Harry.

The two of you fall silent and you stand back watching your sister make rounds. Harry’s hand creeps onto your back as he steps closer to you, bringing you in front of him. He hums along to the song you couldn’t remember the name of that was blaring on the speakers and he basks in the glory of being in your presence.

Soon enough, your sister had made her way over to the two of you, hugging you both and exchanging her thanks for coming and just as quick as she came, she left you two alone.

“So, uh,” Harry starts.

“Hey, um, I’m gonna leave. Got an early start tomorrow,” you tell Harry, pointing at the door.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. Yeah, you should go,” he stammers.

You smile at him, “Okay, cool. I’ll see you later?” you asked, stepping towards Monica to say a final happy birthday and goodnight.

“Yeah, definitely,” he nods in confirmation.

You wave before finding your sister and saying goodnight, then driving yourself back home.

Harry was sitting in bed with his laptop on his lap and a blanket covering his legs. He was doing some research in an attempt to find books that could teach him about music theory.

He told himself he wanted to be more involved in his friends' lives and further his education in one of his weakest subjects- music. But in reality, it was clear to those around him that he wanted to impress you and be more involved in your life and yours only. They had never seen him pick up a book on physical therapy or take a quick online course on python- he was doing it all purely for you.

He was contemplating if he should invest in a book or just take a free online course, both seemed like viable options but he wanted to optimize his time. He wanted to make it click faster.

He decided he’d try the online course and take his chances and if he still didn’t understand he would invest in a book.

So there he was on a Tuesday evening sitting in bed with his headphones in learning how basic chords were made. He wrote notes as if he was still in school and studied them after each lesson. He wasn’t fully immersed in the world like you were, but he felt as though he could carry a bit more of a conversation with you about music, especially when compared to before.

Harry was learning slowly but surely and in about a week he could, in theory, explain how to develop a minor chord from it’s major among various other basics (that you would probably think were common knowledge) but he had no recollection of learning.

As per usual, he spent every Monday and Wednesday evening with you. On Mondays, you would have movie night and on Wednesdays, he would get some work done in your office while you played. It never truly distracted him, either. Honestly, it made him feel very peaceful and he found that the routine was more about being in the presence of each other rather than making memories.

One Wednesday, he had completed his work early and as usual, he would sit and see what you had composed to help give his limited input on your compositions.

Typically, he would sit and listen silently with a slight tilt to his head while he thought up a thoughtful comment about your playing. You would always sit there anxiously, with your posture beginning to slouch since you were not playing anymore, waiting for a comment that you both knew would be neither helpful or negative.

Harry was good at that. He was good at making you feel like you were doing good with absolute sincerity and not a single waiver of his voice. His face would stay straight and he would find the good in it all. It was probably your favorite part of the man who sat with you on the particular day.

This time, unlike the last, your window was shut tight and you were trying your hardest to keep your hands steady. You couldn’t make the piece sound right. It sounded okay but that would not get you signed. It needed to be calculated and perfect in a theoretical standpoint. It also needed to be simple enough to split into parts for larger groups but difficult enough to have solo excerpts from each instrument- in case a full orchestra didn’t work.

And that was difficult to accomplish.

Harry knew that and he agreed- how could one person who hadn’t ever been signed make such an elaborate piece? He thought it was absolutely absurd that to maximize your chances you had to make the piece a combination of just about everything.

You sat with the same face as you usually did, one pleading for some sort of advice or criticism. What you weren’t expecting was for Harry to deliver.

“Think if you made it a minor chord instead of a major and ended on the seventh it could bring some edge,” Harry eventually says.

Your eyes widen slightly in confusion, “Yeah, uh, let me try that,” you stammered.

You covered what you had written with a sticky note, drawing on the new scale. You showed Harry the note and asked him if that was what he was thinking, to which he replied yes. You nod lightly and play the piece once again from the beginning, swaying slightly as you approached lyrical bits and narrowed your air stream to control your volume.

Harry nods along with your playing, pausing slightly in places he could tell you didn’t like much. Eventually, he watches as you play what he had suggested, anxiety rising up his throat in fear of not being accepted.

“Think I like it. But I need to fix some of the other stuff too,” you told him once you finished. “It would definitely feel right that way.”

Harry nodded and stood up. He rounded the long desk and joined you where you sat by the window in an uncomfortable chair made to help keep your posture near perfect. He crouched down so he could be eye level with your music and furrowed his brows.

You watched as he read the notes carefully, taking his time as he took in each technically challenging measure and the lyrically soft measures in contrast. You grew anxious for his approval so you busied yourself by taking the sticky note off of the manuscript and erasing and redrawing the notes for the new scale Harry advised you to add.

You took your time, slowly coloring each eighth note, the graphite crumbling down the page, leaving a light smear as you wiped it away with the side of your hand.

Harry looked up at you, “I think you should change this,” he points, “Make it flat and get rid of this note entirely,” he spoke slowly. You watch as his finger indicates each note and you nod along softly.

“Okay, I’ll try,” you agree.

He nods in response and rests his hand on your thigh, you hardly notice the action that felt natural in the moment.

You temporarily wrote in each suggestion and played the piece again from the beginning, a process the two of you were becoming increasingly annoyed with. As you approached the measure he had pointed out, your mind wondered: how did he know all this and why didn’t he mention any of it before?

Your air slowed down as your mind wandered and your fingers followed closely after, a ritardando, Harry noted. He hadn’t mentioned tempo but he found that bringing the piece down to cut time brought a new feeling that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Abruptly, you stopped, and Harry knew you didn’t realize. You both sat in silence for a moment before Harry stood up and moved back over to where he was sitting previously. He cleared his throat, “I’m gonna head out. Good luck Y/N,” he rushed out.

You shook your head in disbelief. You truly didn’t understand what just happened. But, you shook it off and tried again, keeping the ritardando.

Harry on the other hand, was in a state of panic. He had realized what he had done and he thought she did too, resulting in her abrupt stopping point.

Harry had begun to understand that he was in love with you. And he didn’t know until just then. But he had done everything just for you.

The following Sunday Harry finally managed to drag Louis out of his city apartment and downtown to the Meyerson Symphony Center where you were to perform Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Neither Harry or Louis have seen you perform this particular show so they were late to learn that you had auditioned for and successfully got the clarinet solo in a particular piece from the Symphony named Scherzo.

You had explained to Harry your appeal to this particular symphony- you found it to be unique of all the others that accompanied Shakespeare's work. Instead of relaying a difficult emotion or putting a satirical spin on a human issue like his other works did, you found Midsummer to be a pure romp into romance and the abnormalities of love.

And though you hadn’t been in love for a while, you found yourself feeling the emotion wholly through both the piece and music in it of itself.

Harry had read midsummer before- in fact he had seen it live with his mum and sister when he was younger, but he never understood the effect the music had on the play. He never looked into the contextualization of the play, let alone the deeper aspirations of it.

He understood music theory but he still had trouble analyzing music itself. He couldn’t pinpoint moods by just listening- he needed to see it written out which he believed hindered his ability to enjoy music to its fullest extent.

Needless to say, Harry entered the theater with Louis with a thought of determination. All he wanted was to find a way to understand the music and appreciate it as you did. They were both clad in matching suits, a simple black and white for the symphony, and made their way to the middle where their tickets directed them. Harry sat in the aisle and Louis sat right next to him, whispering in excitement of the show.

“I fucking love this story,” Louis says.

Harry lets out a quiet laugh, “I hardly remember it.”

Louis joins Harry in laughter and shrugs, “Oh well, it’ll still be good.”

Harry nods in agreement and turns away from Louis as the curtains open and the lights dim.

It wasn’t the first time he had seen you on this stage, but he found himself mesmerized as he found you with his eyes. He watched as you scanned the crowd quickly, your eyes jumping past him and Louis a few times before you recognized your friends. You shot them each a relieved smile and sat up straighter in your chair.

The conductor cast a smile at everyone before beginning the first piece, the Overture making its debut in the room. Just as Harry was used to, the melodic sounds filled the room to the brim, every last corner feeling the pure emotion that was put into the piece.

Harry couldn’t describe the feeling but he knew he was proud. He understood that watching you in your element is probably the worst thing he could do for himself, but he had to. It was pure torture to watch you fall in love with something that wasn’t him, but he loved the way it happened.

You lost yourself so easily and he felt as though you were the loudest in the room. He could hear your sound over everyone else's, your instrument being isolated from all the others in his mind. Harry could swear he had never been so proud in his life to see someone do what they love.

As the overture came to a close, his hands met in applause and he felt the need to stand up just so you would know how much he loved it. But as quickly as he started, he stopped his applause and the next piece was beginning.

No. 1 Scherzo. It was the second piece on the track and your personal favorite for reasons you would not disclose to Harry. He had heard you practice it a few times before, nodding along as he recognized fragments of the piece.

It was around three minutes into the piece when Harry learned why it was your favorite. Because it was just you. You were the only one playing- your solo bringing tears to his eyes. It was just that moment when you looked up and made eye contact with Harry, him nodding with a large grin on his face with reassurance, you’re doing amazing, it read.

When you looked back up at your music, your eyes narrowing in concentration, you failed to notice the look on Harry’s face. His phone had buzzed and he found himself confused- he was sure he put it on silent. The feeling that was elicited was nothing but good, so he decided to go check just for some peace of mind.

He stood up, pointing at his phone when Louis questioned him silently, gaining a nod of approval as Harry exited the theater in a rush.

The second he exited the room that was beginning to become overly stuffy and constricting, he took a deep breath and told himself you’re probably just overreacting.

Harry was anywhere from overreacting. It was that exact moment that he had received a text that was pushed through do not disturb. The text was from his mum and read nothing but horrible news. The five words that found themselves on his screen that illuminated his face as he stood right next to the door called him a coward. They read: This contact has dialed 999.

Harry understood the severity of the situation but he didn’t know what to do. All he knew is that she called- he didn’t know why or where she was. He didn’t know if he had to book a flight back home or not.

Just as Harry was getting up and leaving for his own agenda, you had finished your solo. You looked up once again, hearing the applause and searching for Harry once more. But this time, you found Louis sat alone with a large grin creeping across his face and his applause filling the space next to him.

You had never felt as hurt as you did in that moment. He had left you. Harry, the man you now realized you love, found something more important than you and your aspirations, and there was no physical way that it wouldn’t sting. What you didn’t know was that as your heart was breaking, Harry’s mum’s was.

It had taken two hours for someone to answer the phone. Two hours for Harry to spend most of his savings on a red eye to the London airport. Ten hours for him to touch down in London. Three to make his way to the hospital next to his childhood home.

He was distraught to say the least.

He had left without mention of what was happening, his phone exploding with texts from Louis and Monica making sure he was okay, but not a word from you. He felt betrayed, but he understood. You had things going on too and he wasn’t the center of your universe.

The hospital looked sterile, not a single thing out of place. The walls were coated in a pristine white color that nearly blinded Harry’s bloodshot eyes, and he spent a few minutes catching his breath before he asked where his dad was.

He walked sluggishly onto the elevator, the weight of reality crushing him as he waited for what seemed like ages but really was hardly forty seconds for the elevator to jolt to a stop. When it stepped off, he saw what he imagined to be organized chaos.

People were walking quickly up and down the lengths of the corridor and he found himself passing by far too many crying people to think anything good could ever happen in a hospital- not revival nor birth.

He walked the length of the corridor in silence, taking in his surroundings. He was in shock- he could hardly even process that he was in England, let alone why he was there. It was only when he stopped shortly at the sight of his mum and sister sleeping, their heads resting on each other's, that he realized the severity of what was happening.

And so, with a deep breath, he sat down on the floor before them, resting his back lightly against the leg chairs and he rested his forehead on his knees. It didn’t seem like his life that he was living- he felt like this was all a vivid dream, but it wasn’t. It was less than twenty four hours ago that he was with Louis watching your performance and now he sat with his family outside of his father's hospital room praying he would be okay.

Harry was one of hopeful thinking and that was made apparent when a doctor exited his father's room with a stack of papers.

Harry was the first to stand, followed by his mother and sister, who were unsure of when he had arrived. He shook hands with the doctor, who he learned was named doctor Wilson. He was clad in the same scrubs as every other doctor but Harry found his to be a special type of unattractive- or maybe that was his subconscious distracting himself from the situation at hand.

Doctor Wilson cleared his throat as Anne made her way next to Harry, Gemma shielding herself from the news from behind him, “So,” he cleared his throat “Mr. Styles came in about a year ago to have his lungs screened, as you may know, and he was diagnosed with small cell lung cancer,” he nodded.

“Well, Mr. Styles seems to have,” he left a pregnant pause in his sentence, “He seems to have the cancer cells spreading rapidly. We would like to put him on a self contained respirator and monitor him closely to give you some more accurate information about his cancer and give you some answers within a few hours,” he says slowly.

Harry shook his head in disbelief- his father had never mentioned cancer let alone a screening.

“Thank you doctor,” he heard Anne speak from behind him. He sent a last glance at the broken family and moved back into the room.

It was the first you had heard from him in about half a week. He had called you on Wednesday after not answering your messages asking if he will make his way over on Monday for your movie night.

“Hi,” you answer softly.

“Hey- uh,” you heard some shuffling, “Hey.”

Your eyes furrowed in confusion, “Are you coming over?”

There was a long pause on Harry’s end and you just about opened your mouth to confirm that he could hear you when he replied, “No,” he said shortly. “I- uh- I’m at home.”

“Do you want me to come over?” you asked in confusion.

“No, like, I’m in the UK,” he quickly corrected you.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, leaving a pregnant pause on your end, “Oh,” you replied.

“Yeah, I-” you could hear a few other voices in the background and you imagined they were his mum and sister, “My dad- he’s not doing so good. He has stage four lung cancer.”

“Oh,” you let out again. “I- uh- sorry, I really just don’t know what to say right now.”

Harry let out a breathy chuckle, which you could tell had bitter undertones, “That’s alright… don’t exactly know what to say myself.”

“I- uh- I’m really sorry,” you tell him sincerely, “God I feel like such an ass,” you expressed.

Harry’s eyes furrowed in confusion and he looked up at his mum to ensure she wasn’t listening, “No need, I promise it’s fine you don’t have to say anything.”

“I just- I was so mad at you for leaving and not saying anything and ignoring me. Thought I did something wrong or you were mad at me,” you explain. “Didn’t know what was going on and I was scared that I lost you.”

“Couldn’t lose me if you tried,” Harry laughed softly, you joining his laughter momentarily.

“Are you still mad I didn’t tell you I was going?” Harry asked after a long moment of silence.

“No- not at all. Was mainly just worried,” you reassure him, “I totally understand,” but you didn’t. How could he not tell you? Did he not think you deserved to know why he left when you were playing for him?

“I’m really sorry. Kinda just fell off the face of the Earth for a few days. Was anticipating the news and trying to stay strong for my mum and Gemma,” he explains.

Before you could reply, Harry starts again, “Hey, uh, we’re going back to the hospital so I’ll talk to you later, alright?” he says quickly before hanging up and leaving you alone in your study, clarinet in front of you.

You truly didn’t know how to cope with what just happened- it felt like heartbreak on two spectrums- family and lover. But he was neither, which hurt even more.

You picked up the piece of handcrafted wood that sat in front of you and tried your hardest to pour your heartbreak into the piece- adding pain, edge, and suffering to the nearly- done piece in an attempt to exert your feelings into something productive.

It worked like a charm, which was something you felt bad mentioning. You found yourself falling in love with the piece, fractures of your heart making up every line and the composition falling right into place as your muse fell right apart across the world.

It was the next morning when you received the message from Harry: He’s gone. In his sleep. I’ll be home in a week. Gotta sort some things out. -H

Harry arrived home that following Tuesday and he was exhausted but grateful to be back to his tiny townhouse in the middle of a city with his friends surrounding him.

He felt as though coping wasn’t an option anymore- he had taken up a whole week for that and in this moment in time he felt as though he had already done enough coping.

There was a memorial service the weekend after his father died and to say Harry’s family were crushed would be an understatement.

Anne, Gemma, and Harry each had prepared a speech for the service and none of them felt as though they could do the senior Styles any justice. He was a good man and they couldn’t even begin to explain that to everyone there. Nobody could understand the pain in the same way as they did, so they did their best to remember him in the best light.

Harry was mainly happy for one thing- the following day was Wednesday. He had taken off the rest of the week so he could recover from any jet lag and start the new week back with a fresh start, so he knew that tomorrow would be a great day to catch up. With work and with you.

He hadn’t seen a single person since he was back but upholding the tradition was important to him. He favored you over most all his friends anyway, so when he parked his old car in the driveway of the large house you inherited from your grandparents, he was excited.

He knocked twice and rang your doorbell once,queuing you to open the door in shock less than a minute after. “What are you doing here?” you ask confused, pulling Harry into a long hug. You had missed him on his ten days of abstinence from you.

“Got back yesterday, can’t skip out on tradition,” he shoots you a smile, letting go of your warm embrace. You took a moment to look at him before deciding he wanted a distraction from everything going on in his life.

You open the door further, beckoning him to come in, “Well come on, I need your opinion on my piece,” you gesture towards your office dramatically.

Harry chuckles and bows in thanks, “After you,” he says with a posh accent.

You both laugh, heading inside to where your things were set up and ready to go. He sat down in the same chair as he always does and you round the desk to sit where your clarinet was standing and your manuscript laid.

“Okay, so I added, kind of a lot, while you were gone,” you warm him.

He nodded and gestured for you to play, “Well go on then. Show me what you added,” he crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair.

You glanced at Harry and your music a few times each in an attempt to correlate the two in your mind- this was your Harry and he would never hurt you. You began to play the piece that you had become sickly familiar with but Harry found himself utterly perplexed at the sound of a new beginning. You had nearly changed the entire beginning and Harry loved it.

He found it to be oddly comforting to listen to you for what felt like the first time ever but in reality it was just another sense of stability in the world you two had created- the world that was exclusively Harry and Y/N.

The moment you reached the end, a bit he had helped you with, you found yourself stumbling over your composition, making Harry's brow furrow together. You were a perfectionist when it came to music- you loved the control that came with being able to play flawlessly and change how it all came together and he found it odd that you of all people were messing up something you had written in for weeks.

“Sorry,” you let out a huff, running a hand through your hair, “I’m really stressed and it’s really making this all worse.”

Harry nodded in understanding, “You should take a break,” he tells you with full seriousness.

You look at him with a blank face for a moment before bursting out into laughter, “You can’t be serious.”

Harry looked at you confused, “I’m serious.”

“Harry this is my job. This is equivalent to me getting a promotion. I can’t stop!” you explain harshly.

Harry nodded, “I understand. Just-” he paused, “Just come with me, okay?”

“No, Harry, I can't, I have to do this,” you stood your ground.

“Y/N,” he spoke firmly, “If you hate this and want to kick me out for a week and let you compose on your own after this, you can. Just come.”

You let out a sigh and deliberated your options, “Fine. But there is a high chance you’re not showing up at my door for a week,” you point an accusatory finger at Harry.

He raises his hands in defense, “Okay, noted. Let’s go slowpoke,” he teased.

You flashed him your middle finger and a toothy grin before packing up your clarinet and setting it on your desk. You follow Harry out to his car and get in the passenger seat as he starts the car and makes his way out of your neighborhood.

“Can I ask where we are going?”

“Patience is a virtue,” Harry replied, making you roll your eyes dramatically.

“You’re so annoying,” you reply.

“You love me,” he states smugly, making your eyes grow the size of saucers.

“Not right now I don’t” you tease once you recover from your previous state of shock.

Harry shakes his head and says, “Home Depot. That’s all you’re getting out of me.”

You wondered why he could be taking you to Home Depot of all places- not getting food or going shopping to find another piece of clothing you don’t need.

Harry parked easily before exiting the car, you follow after him in a haste. You have to job to catch up with Harry who seems to be walking a mile a minute to get into the building, “What the fuck are we doing here?” you ask again.

“We,” Harry says, pointing at the two of you, “Are going to paint that white wall in your office,” he says with a smile.

Your face mirrors his, a grin of your own making its way across your face. You had mentioned to Harry months ago that you were itching to paint the room but you never made the time for yourself to do that.

This time, it was you who took the lead, teasing Harry for taking too long to make his way into the store. You find your way to the back of the store where you see a few employees mixing paint for customers and you find your way to the pantone swatches, Harry immediately picking up a brown one, “I think it’ll match the wood, no?”

You laugh and shake your head, “No I want it to be your hair color.”

Harry’s mouth opens in realization before grabbing another strip. He squints, reading the name aloud, “Werge,” he says confused.

You fall into a fit of laughter before moving down the wall to look at the blues, the color you were actually hoping to get.

With Harry’s unwillingness to be serious and your contagious laughs, it took you forty five minutes to find the color you had seen online a few months ago and had screenshotted on your phone.

You make your way over to an employee and ask for a gallon of the deep navy color, paying and making your way back into Harry’s car within a few minutes.

Your knee was bouncing in anticipation on your way home and you didn’t realize until Harry rested his palm on it, asking you, “What’s got you so nervous?” to which you reply:

“Not nervous, just excited.”

Harry chuckled and kept his hand there for the rest of the ride to your house, which you found to be far too close then you wanted it to be.

You both found yourselves in your garage loading your arms with painters tape and tarp to ensure your room is painted to perfection and not too messy afterwards.

You spilled some paint into the tray and used a roller to begin putting the fresh paint on the middle of the wall. Harry gasps when he sees the color in contrast with the wood that covered every other wall in the room, “It matches so well,” he comments, using a smaller brush to begin on the bottom strip of the wall where the painters tape stuck.

He sat on the floor, his legs crossed beneath him, and you stood a few feet to his left, the paint sitting between the two of you.

You nod, “I know, it compliments the wood really well.”

Harry shakes his head, “Not the wood. I meant it matches my eyes,” he draws out.

You roll your eyes and let out a shut up before looking at him.

“Seriously,” he persists, setting his head next to the gallon that sat on the floor.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded slowly, dipping your roller back onto the tray, allowing the residue to fall off before you rolled a bit on his face and shirt.

“What the fuck?” he laughs, sitting up immediately.

“I had to check!” you exclaim innocently. “You know, now that I look, I think you’re right. It does match, we should use more,” you conclude.

“Now that I look,” Harry starts, with an evil glint in his eye, “I think this is the color your shirt is missing,” he concludes, flinging his brush in your direction allowing the paint to fall on your face and shirt.

“Oh my god!” you shout as Harry doubles over in laughter.

You bring your brush into the paint once more, taking a threatening step towards Harry. He flinches, making you chuckle and redirect the paint onto the wall again, making him breathe a sigh of relief.

He begins again on the bottom edge and before you could think you're safe, Harry gets paint on your ankle from where he sat on the floor.

You let out a loud gasp, “This is war!” you exclaim.

“Or you can just admit that you needed a break,” Harry shrugs, “It’s quite simple.”

You narrow your eyes and look at him, “I am going to cover you in paint. It’s quite simple,” you mock him childishly.

He shakes his head with a laugh before painting the rest of your ankle, making a ring around your foot.

It had taken two hours to complete painting the wall and to complete your paint war. You and Harry found yourselves in your backyard while your sprinklers were spraying the grass.

“Best way to clean,” Harry breathed out.

“You say you’re one with nature but what are you going to say when my grass is blue?” you ask him as you scrub at your legs to get off the paint.

“I’ll say part of me is really with nature this time,” he says shaking the water out of his hair as he walks towards the hose that was attached to the side of your house.

You shake your head in disbelief, “I don’t think that’s how it works,” you say, looking at Harry as he walks towards you with the hose gushing water out.

You step towards him and let him spray you down and you watch as the paint falls off your skin and into the grass, your shirt clinging to your body.

Harry tries to keep his attention on your face and not on the black bra that begins to show from your wet shirt that stuck to your body like a second skin.

You fiddled with the fit of your shirt, trying to make sure you were comfortable, before scrubbing your arms and legs clean.

Harry and you had decided after the first hit that you would do your best to avoid each other's faces just to make everything easier when it came to cleaning.

You rinse your hair fully before deciding you're as clean as you’d get without using a proper shower (which you didn’t want to turn blue from the paint), so you stepped towards Harry with your arm extended towards him.

“My turn,” Harry says softly, handing you the hose before spreading his arms out and letting the water hit his entire body, “This feels nice,” he comments.

“You’re crazy,” you reply. Harry shakes his head and takes his shirt off in an attempt to get everything off and you almost look away instinctively- you weren’t supposed to see your friend like this.

He allows the pressure of the hose to get most of the paint off his body but he seems a bit carefree about the cleanliness of his body at this point- you’re assuming this is the distraction you both needed from your mundane lives.

Harry finishes off with the hose and you run inside to grab the two of you towels, opting to stay outside for the rest of the night.

You both sit outside on the back porch swing that sat in your yard, wrapped in towels so you don’t get too cold in the autumn air. “You were right,” you mutter, leaning your head onto his shoulder.

“About?” Harry edges you on and you can practically hear him smiling through his words.

“I needed a break.”

What felt like a year was only two months and in those two months you had accomplished what you had been attempting since eighteen. You finished what seemed to be the perfect piece from a technical standpoint.

It told a story of betrayal and heartbreak and it included a plethora of twists in tone and changes in tempo and unresolved keys to add edge and lead the listener on. The piece, in theory, was among the most perfect ones written.

At least that's what Harry told you and that's what you tried to tell yourself.

You had just finished the process of getting it all recorded, recruiting some of your friends from the orchestra to take home your manuscript that you wrote in harmonies and new melodies to.

You spent a week editing the music together, sending recordings back, asking for retakes, and adjusting volumes, tempos, and tone before you were satisfied with the music.

All in all, it was a musically complex and fundamentally difficult piece that could be extended into a show or turned into a series of simpler solos- whatever would get your music sold to a publisher, you were willing to do.

You had contacts from your previous attempts at selling your compositions, contacts that rejected you but told you to come back if you had something new. You did not take the suggestion lightly.

You had mastered an email with your pitch- stating your name and your credentials, attaching a file of the piece, along with the score which separated individual parts and showed their dynamic together. It was your life's work and a story you were excited to sell, and that is why you were particularly excited when you received an email back the following week.

The email, in short, explained that a publisher would like to meet with you and is interested in helping you publish the music and help you get on the radar of a symphonic orchestra.

You were a giddy mess leading up to your meeting, your leg shaking in anticipation and your heart beating so loud you swear you could feel it in your throat. So, when it arrived it felt surreal.

You stepped into the tall building in a haze, your hands clutching onto your score and your body clad in your favorite orchestral dress that you find to be the one you wear to the majority of your auditions. You call it your good luck charm.

The receptionist was short and directed you to the fifth floor and gave you strict instructions to wait to be called in by Flynn Bradford’s assistant. You sat in the waiting room with a warm overcoat covering your body in the meantime.

When you got called up your hands began to sweat. You find your way into Bradford’s office and with a nervous step forward, you take your jacket off and sit down on the small chair before his desk.

“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you introduce yourself with a handshake, Bradford immediately recognizing your name.

“Flynn Bradford, a pleasure,” he returns with a friendly smile.

He was a middle aged man with a few silver hairs peeking through, but he wore a friendly smile and seemed very composed nonetheless. He took your score and opened it immediately. He looked over it in silence for a few moments, you sitting on the edge of your seat.

“I do have to say, Ms. Y/L/N, I was waiting to meet you so I could go over this with you. I think you’re a brilliant composer,” he speaks slowly.

You swallow harshly, “Thank you so much,” you gush, “I’ve been at it since I was a kid so I’m glad you liked it.”

He nods again, sifting through the pages, “And I have to say I’m impressed by the tone in the demo and the overall markup of the piece. I think there are a few minor changes that we’d like to see done but all in all I think it’s good.”

You nod your head quickly, “Of course and I was expecting to do so. I- uh- how many changes are we thinking about here?”

“Well it’s still your piece, so quite minor ones just to increase your chances of having it sold to a school or a symphony. Or, you could keep it how it is but that might not be the easiest to sell.”

“Right, so hypothetically, if I get all the changes done and we’re satisfied within a few weeks, it can go off to you?” you ask in shock.

“It seems to be that way, yes. I’ll send you a contract and some markups once I get to talk with my team about this. It would be best to get your own lawyer to look over this for copyright purposes and to make sure you’re alright with all the fine print,” he advises.

“Yes, I will definitely do that, yeah. Thank you so much,” you reiterate.

He hums a reply and hands you back your score with a tight lipped smile, “So this meeting was a bit quicker and the other might be too depending on what you like and want. Remember all the corrections we send are suggestions so you do what you want and we’ll be alright with whatever you choose to do,” he reminds you.

You nod and shake his hand once more, leaving the building with bright eyes and a winning score in your hands.

The first instinct you had as you sat back into your car was to call Harry but you were so overwhelmed with excitement you decided that going to see him at his house would be a better idea.

After all, he deserved to be the first person to know because he helped you so much when it came to the composition of this piece.

You were smiling incredibly wide as you made your way over to his townhouse in the city. His complex was very modern, a clear juxtaposition to your victorian styled home, but you welcomed it warmly. You enjoyed the prospect of having a place to go that is more minimal in comparison to your cluttered property.

It was hardly fifteen minutes before you parked outside of his home, your car finding its normal spot in the driveway of his garage.

Your legs carried you faster than you could have imagined, rushing you to the front of his house and your hand pounded against his door with a sense of urgency.

Harry took his time making his way downstairs, a towel around his waist and an impatient girl he had hardly met waited in his bed upstairs.

He opened his door slightly, allowing his head to peek out of the small crack he created, “Hey!” he exclaimed when he realized it was you.

“Hi! Can I come in?” you ask excitedly.

“I’m not exactly decent,” his hand scratches the back of his neck, “Can you wait down here as I get some clothes on?”

“Sure, take your time,” you nod in understanding, allowing Harry to make his way back upstairs.

“Who’s at the door?” the girl asks from her spot on his bed as Harry changes quickly into some sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

“Just a friend, she should be gone soon,” he replies.

“You sure? She seemed really excited to see you.”

Harry lets out a sigh, “Logan, I promise she's just a friend. And what does it matter anyway?”

“Well I don't want to be the other woman,” she pouts, “But if you say she’s just a friend then I believe you.”

“Thanks,” he called over his shoulder briefly as he made his way back downstairs to where you were waiting on his sofa.

“So whats up?” he asks, “Want anything to drink?”

“No, I’m alright. I have some news, though,” you say, enthusiasm raising once again.

“Okay, lay it on me,” Harry joins you on the sofa.

“So I met with Flynn Bradford today,” you lead on, hoping Harry could understand what the news was.

“No way,” he exclaimed after a moment of silence. “He picked you up? That’s amazing holy shit! Congrats!”

“Thanks! You helped so much, I thought you had to be the first to know. And on Wednesday you can help me decide what corrections to add, too. This is all so exciting! It’s happening so fast!” you ramble quickly, standing up and pulling Harry into a hug.

“No you did that all on your own! I knew they’d pick you up, too. So fucking talented,” he mumbles, returning your embrace.

“Thank you oh my goodness! Okay, I just wanted to come over quick to tell you that. I have to work on some audition music so I’ll head out in a few,” you say.

Harry opens his mouth to reply when you both hear his bedroom door open. Harry’s eyes widened in realization and your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Harry?” you hear an unrecognizable voice, “You done?”

You feel tears begin to well up in your eyes as you start to realize what was happening. He was with someone. He found someone and it wasn’t you.

She walks down the stairs and your head immediately turns in the direction of the girl. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your tears in the ducts of your eyes as you see her in a t-shirt you know Harry absolutely loves.

“Hey, uh Logan. This is Y/N,” he trails off lightly, waiting for you to introduce yourself.

“Hi,” you smile falsely and extend your hand for her to shake.

“Hey, I’m Logan. You’re Harry’s friend?” she presumes, looking at the two of you.

“Yeah, we’re pretty close,” you pause, “Sorry, I didn’t know H was seeing anyone. This was kind of unexpected.”

“Oh that’s alright, I was going to leave soon anyway. Have to meet some friends for dinner,” she shrugged carelessly.

“No, no, you can stay. I feel bad. I can be out in a few minutes,” you tell her with a soft smile.

She looked at you and Harry intervened before she could get a word out, “That’s alright, you can both stay if you want?” he suggested.

“I really do have to go,” Logan trailed off.

Harry quickly jumped at this, “Oh! Sorry, love. Yeah, go ahead, don’t mean to keep you here if you need to be somewhere.”

“I’ll just grab my stuff,” she smiles at the two of you and heads back upstairs to where you assume she was staying in Harry’s bedroom.

You and Harry stand in silence for a moment, “Sorry I should’ve asked to come over. I’ll go, you can spend some time with her before she leaves,” you finally stammer with a slightly wavering voice.

“No!” Harry exclaims a bit too loudly, making you flinch at his tone. “You can stay,” he whispers.

“That’s alright, I have to practice anyway,” you say in a rush, leaving his house at once without looking back at him.

It was two days later when Logan showed up at Harry’s house with a soft smile on her face and her eyes filled with lust.

Not only two minutes after Harry opened the door, his lips were on hers and they were making their ways upstairs to his bedroom. Logan had come to Harry’s for a quick fuck and Harry was there to provide.

It had taken them a few weeks to get into a flow and get a general idea of each others bodys and needs and now that they were getting good sex, they didn’t take many moments to stop and catch their breath.

There were a few moments, though where Logan knew she fell short of your company. She could tell with a quick glance at Harry that he was a lovesick puppy when it came to you and it became more and more apparent the more time they spent together.

When they weren’t fucking, he spent most of his free time talking about you. The girl of his dreams and the funniest, prettiest, nicest, person he’s ever met.

She had her hands in his hair and he had his hands tugging on her waist when his phone began buzzing from his bedside table.

Logan sat up from where she laid, straddling Harry’s lap. He let out a soft groan and ran and hand through his hair as he checked who had called him.

His lips fell into an effortless smile as he answered your call, leaving Logan breathless and unfulfilled. She resulted in getting up from his bed and walking out of his house once she realized it was you he was talking to.

That following Monday, you watched as Harry made his way into your home, an uncomfortable silence encompassing the two of you as you sat on your sofa.

“How was your date with Logan?” you ask eventually.

“Oh, it was- it wasn’t a date,” Harry tried to describe, leaving you confused. Harry wasn’t one for casual hookups.

“Then what was it?” you ask timidly, hoping for an answer you can understand.

“Just meeting an old friend from college,” he coughs.

“A friend?” you ask confused.

“Yeah, uh, a friend,” he emphasized.

“Oh,” you let out softly, “Why’d you get back with her?” you ask.

“I don’t think the girl I like likes me back, so I wanted a distraction” he replies vaguely, turning on your TV in search of a new film to watch on Netflix.

You swallow the lump in your throat before replying, “I don’t see why she wouldn’t.”

Harry looks at you for the first time that day, “Well she doesn’t act like it at all, so I think I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me.”

“I think you should tell her how you feel,” you shrug, “What is there to lose?”

“A person who I value a lot in my life,” he replies almost instantly.

You didn’t reply after that, allowing the film Harry chose in a haze to begin and you sink further into the sofa.

It had been an eventful week. You had sent back your manuscript twice between today and your original week and yesterday you had auditioned for the live orchestra for the annual Nutcracker production.

This had been your fifth year playing in it- you were very confident in your ability to get a spot in the orchestra- but it was the solo that brought you grief. Every year, each section had a competitive fight between musicians for the solos that are littered through the production.

You found that the busy week that had followed you around became the main reason you were able to get your mind off Harry. No matter what you did he meandered his way into your thoughts and you were beginning to feel pathetic that your mood relied on him.

It was when you came home from auditions on Tuesday evening when you got a phone call from Harry. You hesitantly picked up the phone and allowed him to speak first.

“Y/N? You there? Can you talk for a second?” he asked.

“Yeah, what’s up,” you reply.

“I need your advice. I think Logan wants to start seeing someone but she won’t admit it to me so I don’t know what I should do because I don’t want her to hold back on it just because of me,” he pushes quickly.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Well why wouldn’t she admit she wants to see someone? She probably likes you, H, don’t worry. She’ll talk to you if she likes someone else.”

You heard a heavy sigh come from Harry’s end of the line as you picked up all your belongings from your car, your phone sitting between your shoulder and ear. “Yeah, I just- I don’t think she wants to tell me for some reason.”

What you didn’t know was that Harry was trying to prolong this call in an attempt to see if you would tell him to cut it off with Logan. It had only been a few weeks, and to be fair he hadn’t hooked up with her more then three times.

He knew he loved you but he needed confirmation that you liked him back. Logan insisted that you did but he didn’t trust her judgement as much as he trusted his own.

As you learned through numerous conversations with Harry, he is a charming man, but he is also a confusing one. He isn’t direct and he seems to beat around the bush when it comes to serious things in his life.

“Okay,” you say, confused, “Well just tell her that if she can’t be honest then she’s never going to be able to break it off with you. And if she says the same thing and you still don’t believe her just cut it off,” you advise selfishly.

You wanted to help Harry, you truly did, but you were also a human. You were selfish and needy and you wanted Harry to yourself. So, you did what a selfish, and jealous, girl would do and you hinted at breaking it off.

“Thanks,” he let out a huff of air, “Sorry, I have to sort some stuff out and I’m really stressed so I wanted your opinion about this,” he apologizes.

“It’s alright. Let me know how it goes, yeah? I gotta run some errands but I’ll see you tomorrow?” you confirm.

Harry hums in agreement and you hang up first, leaving him with the dial tone on his phone.

The first thing you do when you get in your office is check your email. You were waiting on a reply from Bradford- you had just sent in another round of corrections and asked him for minor technical critiques to finish off the piece. You were proud of where it was and you were thoroughly in love with it.

Just as you opened your laptop, you saw the taunting icon saying you have an unread email. You attempted to calm your nerves before opening it, preparing yourself for almost all senders.

But calming your nerves turned into a loud scream. Bradford had replied and informed you that he loved the piece and accepts it as your final draft. He also mentioned that he will fax over the legal documents to look over before meeting with him officially and signing all the necessary contracts.

Just as he said, later that night you received a thick stack of papers to sift off to your parents to help you look over and make sure everything was alright for you to sign.

You bind all the pages together with a few paperclips and make a quick drive into the suburbs to give your parents the good news and ask them to help you find someone to look over all the papers for you.

Your parents weren’t the most enjoyable people to live with but they were great to see in moderation. It was a large showcase of love every time you or Monica came home- they cooked, cleaned, and helped with just about everything you asked.

So, when you arrived home, you got the full treatment. Your mom had cooked a nice dinner for you all and your dad helped you look over the contracts in their entirety as you waited for dinner to be served. You deemed the papers safe and the three of you decided you could sign on them as soon as possible and get all the proper licensing.

You were overjoyed on your drive home and the moment you arrived back, you sent Bradford a quick email from your phone saying you can meet anytime to sign and that you had looked over the contracts.

The following morning, you had gotten back a response stating he was free later that afternoon and you took him up on his offer to sign on the fine Wednesday.

You met him back at his office, similar to the first time, and you had brought all the papers he had sent you, giving him a solid rundown of what you were expecting and negotiating royalties.

You had taken half an hour to settle on a final deal and Bradford had gotten the contracts readjusted for you to sign.

It was nerve wracking but exciting to be holding the pen in your hand and you signed page after page, ensuring your music could be sold and would be given proper care and proper copyright laws.

“Last one right here, Y/N,” Bradford encouraged you. Your wrist grew tired but you refused to complain considering how much you wanted this and how long you waited.

“Okay,” you grunted, signing your name sloppily and allowing Bradford to pull all the papers out from under your hold.

“So, what this all ensures from our relationship standpoint is that we are the primary distributor and we will be helping with copyright and making sure you get your money's worth,” he briefs with a chuckle. He straightens out the stack and stands up with a smile on his face.

You follow in suit and stand up at the desk, straightening out your pants, “Thank you so much,” you gush.

“Thank you for thinking to work with us,” Bradford countered, making you shake your head.

“Of course,” you say kindly, “And I appreciate all you’ve done for me these past few weeks. Been a huge help.”

“Oh it was our pleasure, Y/N. You're a wonderful artist. I think we all enjoyed working with your piece.”

You shake Bradfords hand and exchange pleasantries as you exit his office with a smile on your face.

It was the rush of relief that went through your body that helped you realize the gravity of what just happened. Your music has been sold and now has the opportunity to be in music shops, orchestras, and played all across the globe. And that was a great feeling.

It was indescribable, to say the least. It had taken over a year to compose the piece and you had multiple failed attempts prior to this one. The piece you named Domicile was quite literally a love letter to your life.

The piece went through the ups and downs of love. Domestic love, platonic love, romantic love. It was all encompassed in the piece you titled home.

Written from the back of your mind, you had no idea how to articulate how proud of yourself you were. It was self expression and it was beautiful.

Later that evening, Harry arrived at your home as he usually did. He held a small calculator and his laptop in his arm as he abandoned his car in your driveway and made his way up to your door.

He knocked before opening it, knowing you always forget to lock it when you came home from work, and he followed the noise of soft jazz down the hall and into your office.

The paint smell had finally vanished the room and he found you sitting comfortably on the floor with your legs folded beneath you. “Hey, how was your day?” He asks, walking in and sitting across from you on the floor.

“Really fucking good,” you grin, making eye contact with him.

“Care to explain?” he asks with wide eyes and an encouraging smile.

“Yes,” you say dramatically, “I, Y/N Y/L/N, am officially,” you pause for effect.

“Oh come on,” Harry groans in anticipation.

“I am officially a signed artist,” you squeal in excitement.

“No fucking way,” he says softly, “No fucking way!” he yells. “I knew you would oh my goodness! This is amazing! We have to celebrate-” he rambles on.

“Harry!” you exclaim with a giggle, “No need to celebrate this is enough!” you assure.

“No, no, no,” Harry says, “We gotta do something. Even if it’s just a dinner with Mon and I. We gotta.”

“No,” you reiterate firmly.

“Fine,” Harry says, “But you’re coming with me,” he says standing up. He extends his hand out and helps you stand before leading you to your living room.

He gently tugs your arm towards him and he presses his chest up against yours. “Play it on the speaker, love,” he whispers.

“Okay,” you say softly, pulling back and using your phone to play the symphony over your speaker system per Harry’s request.

Harry smiled at you and gently put his hand up to yours, interlocking your fingers and holding you tightly. “Dance with me?” he asks with a cheeky grin.

“Of course, sir,” you tease, stepping into his hold, his arms wrapping around your waist and your hands draped over his shoulders lightly.

“I’m really proud of you,” he whispers, swaying back and forth.

“Thank you so much,” you hum, “Seriously, you helped with so much of it. I really appreciate it.”

Harry ducked his head in a bashful manner, unsure of how to reply to your high praise, “I’d do it again if I had to.”

You shake your head, looking out the window next to you two. The sun was setting and the sky was a painting of oranges and pinks, “God, Harry.”

“What,” he chuckles, following your gaze.

“I cannot believe you’re real,” you whisper, you hand moving to meet his jaw. You graze your thumb over his skin in utter disbelief.

“Harry?” you call out softly. He was zoned out, staring at your profile.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Course.”

“Can I kiss you?” you breathe out timidly. You don’t know where exactly you got all the courage that consumed your body at that current moment, but you were thankful for it.

Harry swallowed thickly before his eyes met yours, “Yes please,” he whispers back at you.

Your hand that rested on his jaw caressed the skin for a moment before you leaned into his warmth. Your lips met his lightly, you pulling away too quickly for his liking. Harry looked at you once more before leaning forward and allowing his lips to meet yours heavily.

You smile into his mouth, absolute joy coursing through your veins as he kissed you so carefully but so harshly. Your bodies stilled into the kiss, your mouths moving in sync slowly, absorbing every inch of each other.

Harry lets out a small groan as you grind slowly against him, his head threatening to roll back if it weren’t for your hand holding his head still.

His hands moved along your back comfortingly making your body melt into his expertly. You pull away again, Harry looking at you with dimmed eyes, you completely out of breath, “Songs over,” you whisper.

“So restart it,” he replies with a small grin.

Harry ended up seeing the full performance of Midsummer the last night it was performed at the theater. He apologized profusely and insisted he’d see the last of the show if it was the last thing he did, so you let him come and sit right in the front as he wished.

Just as the first time, he sent you smiles of luck before your solo and a few more afterwards to show he was proud of you. Just as you anticipated, he is the best person to cheer you on during a performance.

You knew Harry would be waiting for you in the lobby, so you held off on putting your overcoat on and allowed yourself to step out of the backstage area with your black dress and short heels, your clarinet and jacket in hand.

He held his arm out for you once you became close enough for him to wrap his fingers around your waist and you walked into his hold, “I got something for you,” he tells you.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” you ask with a smile creeping its way onto your lips.

Harry smiles at you before handing you the flowers that sat in his other hand. It was an assortment of long stem red roses, what he read to be the traditional rose to give after a performance.

“Thank you,” you whisper in awe, your eyes meeting his as he looks at you.

Harry hums in response and tugs you closer to his body before leaving a quick peck on your lips and pulling away just as fast as he approached you.

You and Harry were confused to say the least. You had both confirmed you liked each other the night you got signed but you found it difficult for the two of you to label what was going on. Harry wanted it to be exclusive and you wanted to give it a trial run to see how it would work. And though you did give it a trial run, the two of you were yet to discuss what was going on.

You assumed this would be like any other relationship you had been in- after a few months and a handful of dates, you’d consider yourselves partners- but this was vastly different. You have known Harry for a few years now and he has always been a part of your life. So what counted as a date and what was as normal?

Well, tonight constituted a date. Harry had told you before he arrived that he would be taking you out for a nice dinner after your show and to be ready for the best night of your life. You rolled your eyes at his antics and humored him by showing him the outfit you had picked out- the dress you found yourself wearing every Sunday- and a different jacket then you usually wore- this one more flattering for the body.

Harry nodded in approval at this and made his way to the theater, you asking one of your friends to give you a ride so you could go home with Harry later that night.

Now you sat in Harry’s car with his hand resting on your knee, your hand covering his as he drives you both to dinner. He was clad in the same suit he wore the first time he saw you and it subtly matched the black dress and white coat with pleats that you wore next to him.

Harry informed you when you got in the car that he would be taking you to his favorite (fancy) steakhouse in the next city over. Before you could protest her told you it was in celebration of your final performance and being signed, therefore your protests would only further encourage him.

“Will these flowers be alright sitting in the car during dinner?” you ask him.

“Not sure,” he chuckles, looking over at you, “I’ll get you new ones if they aren’t.”

“No!” you’re quick to stop him, “You don’t have to do that.”

“Well what if I want to? You gonna stop me from fulfilling my inner desires?” he asks you teasingly.

You roll your eyes at him and look out the window. The soft sounds of Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac fill the silence as Harry exits the highway and turns into the parking lot of Del Friscos, the steakhouse.

Harry exits the car first, rushing to your door so he can open the door for you. You smile at him as you step out of the car and walk in the building hand in hand.

The restaurant was dimly lit and had high, round booths around the perimeter of the room, tables with pristine white tablecloths among the center. Harry met the host with a small smile and a, “Styles, party of two,” before being led to a corner booth with you in toe.

You smile at Harry as you slide into the booth, your hands making their way to the hem of your dress and tugging on it, “This place is really nice,” you comment your voice laced with insecurity.

“Yup, that’s why we look really nice,” Harry reminds you.

“I feel like this is normal,” you chuckle, “I wear this every Sunday.”

“My girl looks this nice every Sunday and I never knew? Might have to make a pit stop Sunday nights too,” Harry compliments.

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks, “I’d be alright with that.”

Harry smiles at you as a waitress comes over and asks what drinks you’d like.

The dinner was filling and well-made, you found yourself laughing harder than you ever had and eating the best food you’ve had in awhile.

Harry held your hand as you left the steakhouse and he opened the passenger seat door for you, rushing to the other side to turn the heater on for you, “One more stop before I bring ya home,” Harry tells you.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Alright, where?”

“Oh, Y/N, you should know by now that if I don’t tell you it’s a secret!”

“Well it was worth a try,” you shoot him a smile, your hand finding its place in his.

Harry hums in agreement, “Just know if I want you to know, you’ll know.”

You let out a laugh at his stubbornness, “Alright sir,” you say in a posh accent.

Harry lets out an exaggerated hey before saying, “That’s what I sound like when I talk to my boss.

You burst out in laughter and Harry goes on to tell you an embarrassing story from the first time he met his boss.

When Harry’s car reverses into a spot, your eyes shoot up in surprise at your arrival at the hardly-built riverwalk in your town. It was a new location and half the restaurants were still in the process of being built but it was still a nice place to go.

You catch the door before Harry can, you send him a smug smile and take his hand as he tugs you gently towards the ice cream shop he seemed to be eyeing.

The location was dimly lit with blue tinted lights and a few wall sconces that gave a warm orange glow.

“How did you know I wanted to come here?” you asked him finally, coming to a stop and stepping inside the building.

“It’s just about the only thing you’ve talked about for about two months,” Harry teased you with an accusatory finger.

Your lips curve upwards as you exhale a laugh, “Okay, you got me there.”

Harry smirks at you as you look at the menu before you, stepping up to the teen worker who looked far too tired to be awake, “Can I get a scoop of chocolate? And he’ll have,” you point at Harry.

“Uh- I’ll have a scoop of vanilla with graham crumbs please,” Harry gives the worker a cheeky grin and wraps his arm around your waist as you wait for your cones.

You smile in thanks as Harry pays, heading out of the building almost immediately to be met with a gust of wind and a lit up river beside you.

Harry stays by your side as you both walk in silence taking in the scenery, eating your ice cream peacefully. It was a really nice way to spend your evening and you found yourselves enjoying each other's presence more than each other's conversation.

“Okay,” you swallow the last bit of your ice cream, “What’s your dream travel destination?” you ask.

Harry's eyebrows raise in amusement, “What, did you look up first date questions?”

You stifle out a laugh, “Maybe, I didn’t know if it would be awkward.”

Harry lets out an exaggerated, “Ha!” before redirecting you back in the direction of his car, “That’s cute that you care so much.”

“What and you don’t care?” you tease.

“I care just not enough to google first day questions,” he pokes your side playfully.

You laugh out a “Fine!” and redirect the conversation to your performance from earlier that night.

It was a full week apart from Harry and you were excited to reunite with him. Your week had been full with auditions for different parts in the Nutcracker every day so you found yourself unavailable to spend your Monday and Wednesday with Harry, having little to no time to yourself.

Now, the following Sunday, the only thing between Harry and yourself was your front door.

Harry was officially invited to your orchestra’s gala in celebration of completing Midsummer. You both had decided that Harry would arrive promptly two hours before you needed leave and you two would get ready together.

He was lying down on your bed as you leaned over your bathroom counter in an attempt to perfect your eyeliner, “Don’t know why you bother with that,” you hear him grumble.

You let out a chuckle and stood back to decide if it was even enough, “Me neither it’s too fucking hard.”

Harry lets out a snort, “That's what she said.”

You rolled your eyes and looked at him through your mirror, “You sure you’re not fifteen?”

Harry smiles, “You sure The Office is only for fifteen year olds?” he shoots back.

Your face matches his and you lean into the mirror once more to perfect your eyeliner before moving to your closet to change into your dress for the night, prompting Harry to begin getting into his suit as well.

Today, for the nicer event, you wore a nude dress with navy accents towards the bottom and a leg slit Harry thought made you look absolutely ravishing. And, in perfect coordination, Harry wore a navy suit with a white half-buttoned shirt underneath and his favorite red boots that reminded him of an old western movie you’d watched a few months back.

He held your hand as you stepped out of your closet and let out a dramatic “Oh damn!” at first sight before spinning you around so he can get a full idea of your outfit.

You fall into a fit of giggles and collapse into his hold and he sways back and forth, “I really like you,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” you reply with a grin, “I like you a lot back.”

“Well how lucky am I?”

“So damn lucky,” you tell him as you let out a silent giggle, “Come on, let's head out.”

The drive to the theater seemed all too short for the both of you. You were sitting in a comfortable silence enjoying each other's company on the way there, stealing a few kisses at a red light or a longing glance while Harry was concentrating on changing lanes during rush hour.

When you arrived at the hotel the gala was held at, you both found your way inside and to the tables that were set up with your names on small place cards. You both sat there in soft chatter as you awaited the arrival of your friends who were to sit at the same table.

Eventually, you were met with a crowd of people around your table and your voices raised in volume and excitement. It was merely 8:00 when your ears were greeted by the sound of a disconnected microphone.

“Hello, everyone, I’m Jordan Pennington, the conductor of the Midsummer Night’s Dream orchestra performance and I’m here to recognize each performer for their outstanding work over the course of these past months,” his voice cut through the room like glass.

Jordan then went on to state each performer and his favorite memory with them through the course of the orchestral production.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Jordan introduced, an image of you as a baby and you now making their way onto the screen behind him, “Y/N is a strong clarinetist we are blessed to have in our group. She works very hard in the theater and outside and has recently been signed as a composer so I’m hoping I’ll be conducting her work soon,” he paused as people congratulated you. You didn’t publicize your signing, so a lot of people were in shock and impressed.

“She’s been with us for a while so we have a few good memories with her at this theater but I think everybody's favorite is just about any time Y/N brings lunch,” he pauses as everyone starts laughing. You bury your face in your hands as Harry looks at you with a confused smile.

“When Y/N brings lunch she without fail trips on one of the steps and spills something,” Jordan informs. You let out an exaggerated groan, eliciting more laughter and Harry covers his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter.

“Can we move on?” you call out.

Jordan lets out a laugh and obliges, moving onto the next person on his list.

You glance at Harry who is taking a sip of wine and you raise your eyebrows at him, making him nearly spit out his drink, “Sorry, love,” he coughs out, bringing you in for a hug, “Just sounds so much like you it’s impossible,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes at him and continue to listen as Jordan goes through the rest of your orchestra.

When he finishes, your food is devoured and the middle of the room is opened to allow people to dance. You glance at Harry and take his hand, reminding him of the night you first kissed, “Come on,” you mutter.

He allows you to take him to the center of the room where some of your colleagues have begun to conglomerate and dance slowly to the tune of Ed Sheeran’s Thinking Out Loud, you two joining in the mass.

Unlike last time, you knew exactly how to act, your arms immediately finding a home around his shoulders and pulling him close so your flesh is against his.

Harry smiled at this and squeezed you at the waist as a silent way of saying I love you, his head leaning in towards yours and your foreheads resting against each other.

“How is it that we always end up dancing?” he asks you.

“Not sure, I was never good at it either but here I am,” you chuckle a reply.

Harry’s eyes shoot up in disbelief, “There is no way you weren’t a good dancer.”

“Swear on it,” you say, your lips tugging upwards to make a smile.

“No. I refuse to believe that, you’re so good,” he says, his eyes shooting down to your feet and then back up to your eyes making you giggle.

“Nope,” you say confidently, “Just found you and you were good. By association I’m good.”

“So what you’re saying is you found the right partner?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You fall into a full belly laugh at his antics before agreeing, “I found the right partner.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shots #harry styles oneshots #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic

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popurikat · 4 years

Note

Newtmas essay when?

Finally getting to this, thanks for waiting, I needed to go over a few bookmarks. (Warning, this post contains spoilers from the MAZE RUNNER book and FEVER CODE book, so if you haven’t read either or yet and want the jist of my analysis; just know that in general the fandom interpreting Newt as gay before it was revealed on a twitter post was not just a random headcanon and that Thomas in general is portrayed to have very strong unconditional love for Newt throughout the series; and it shows. To the point that even the director for the movie has stated that Newt and Thomas have a strong bond and portrays that in the movies. I will also preface that I am NOT adding personal opinion anywhere here, these are just backings from quotes and how they are thus meant to be taken/read as. My words are taken as a reader who is currently reading Scorch Trials has yet to fully read Death Cure or Crank Palace.) Anways, without further ado at 3AM today, I’ll try my best to explain how even though Dashner tries his best to make Thomas have other, female love interests; he creates a not so subtle gay subtext for Tommy boy here when in the context of interacting with Newt throughout the lore. Apologies beforehand for any grammar mistakes along the way.

To commence, I am going to start with FEVER CODE, as its supposed to act as the story’s preface to the actual events that play out later. Newt and Thomas upon meeting each other describe their presence as “familiar” and or as a “long lost friend” and they genuinely hit it off from the start to the point that Newt is okay with having Thomas see him cry over the fact that he and his sister are separated since he is doomed to be WCKD’s control analysis as he’s the only one lacking immunity from the flare itself. Once Newt is done being emotionally vulnerable we get our first instance of his personal nickname for Thomas: “That’s the way things are Tommy,’ he said his voice not quite steady. ‘The world outside’s gone to hell. Why should we expect any different here? [...] He said it as if they’d been friends for years” (ch. 14). An interesting note here is that Thomas doesn’t bother to correct him or stifle the moment by feeling that all this information was too much, he genuinely wanted to hear Newt out and is fine with seeing this side of him; if not slightly taken aback by how natural it is that they can converse about such aspects of their lives. In fact, Newt makes such an impact on Thomas that Thomas ends up that same night dreaming of him: “Throughout his shortened night, he dreamed of Newt and Sonya. Of Newt and Lizzy“(Ch. 14). The thing with Thomas though is that the idea of comfort and connection is very foreign to him as he’s been basically isolated all his life with only the adults like Ava to talk to and the one exception being Teresa as his only kid companion. So Thomas didn’t even think he could make others like him for being himself unless they were vital to the overall production of WCKD. Seeing this portion right before the end of chapter 14: “Alby, Minho, Newt, Teresa. Thomas had friends.” shows that Thomas really had to deep dive to see how he deals with personal connections and why he was excited about the notion of friendship. He could’ve been happy with just Teresa, but only fully cemented her bond to him as “friend” when his circle grew and these kids he got to hang with taught him he can be himself, a concept he didn’t realize was possible when all his life was dictated on what he was supposed to learn or do. It becomes especially clear just how controlled his life is with the aspect of sentiment when later on Teresa’s mental communication evokes physcial pain and fear in Thomas. I’ll get back to that later as its more of a small tid bit of Thomas’ view on his forced love interest, Teresa. And yes, I say forced because multiple sentences with Thomas have him even wish he could cease all communication with her. Moving on, let’s talk about mimicking for a second. As humans, we mimic as a behavioral response to become closer to the person we care about. It’s the reason why yawning or laughter is contagious and or why we copy the posture of the person we converse with face to face. Thomas is seen to do this the most with Newt’s quirks. I’ll give the example in chapter 15: “Newt has been promising them that he was saving something special, and he did that annoying zipped-lipped sign every time [...] the little light in his eyes showed he enjoyed every second of their torture” versus Thomas: “Thomas did Newt’s zipped-lipped gesture, and that got him a sharp poke in the ribs”. So, we know enough that Thomas’ mannerisms are developing as a sign that he wants to be closer to Newt and to continue this sense of playfulness they both enjoy from the other. This is the start of their budding bond and a clear indication that they hold each other at greater fondness than the rest through this unconscious copying. Through this copying, they also pick up on emotional cues the other lets up on. Newt is especially good at noticing small things like when Thomas is anxious or overthinking: “He was just shocked that with all their exploring, the others hadn’t already discovered it on their own. And there were supposed to be TWO mazes. How had Newt and his friends not stumbled upon either one of them? ‘Tommy?’ Thomas realized Newt was staring straight at him, eyebrows raised. ‘Sorry,’ he said embarrassed, ‘wandered off for a second there what did you say?’ Newt shook his head in admonishment. ‘Try to keep up, Tommy Are you ready to see the grat outdoors?” (ch. 15). Also in chapter 23: “Tommy?’ It was Newt, breaking him out of his thoughts. ‘I can see your wheels spinnin’ up there.’ He tapped the side of his head”. This furthers Newts perceptiveness on his friend and Thomas’ ability to pick out when he is being looked after. And they bounce off each other really well in that aspect. To the point that Newt can crack a joke he knows will land right on Thomas’ sense of humor: “Newt waggled his fingers in front of Thomas’ face [...] A laugh exploded out of Thomas’ mouth that sent a spray everywhere. ‘Sorry’ he said, wiping his lips on his sleeve” (ch.15). It’s enjoyable to know that at least at a surface level, they have fun together and can cheer the other up if needed or know when to ground the other to reality. It is also through these instances that as a reader I pick up that Thomas’ nervous ticks perhaps allude to an anxiety disorder he has; of which Newt is aware of and never puts Thomas down on for exhibiting. He in fact understands it and deals with it accordingly as he himself has a similar circumstance. SO, what does all this paying attention lead to? Thomas’ devotion to protect Newt. Yeah, thats right I said devotion. Thomas’ actions are influenced by his developed instinct to protect Newt at all costs. Here is the biggest example that comes to mind: “What in the world happened to Newt? -- Less then two hours later, Thomas had spliced together a series of camera clips [...] Thomas turned off the feed. He couldn’t take it anymore...Newt, Newt, Newt, Thomas thought, feeling as if the very air around him were turning black.”(ch.52). Essentially, Thomas seeing Newt plummet to his near death by falling from the maze wall as a result of Newt’s ongoing depressive state, this is the moment that makes Thomas realize WICKD isn’t as good as they seem and that he is going into the maze to save Newt. Its admirable how much self sacrifice Thomas does for someone he cares so much about, to the point that their name is like a mantra. Thats a sensible area of passion and fighting spirit for someone who is “just a friend”. Oh and, the feeling of fondness is mutual mind you if I haven’t been clear. After experiencing the horrors of cranks for the first time, realizing Newt was not immune, and watching Newt until they entered the pits it has been months since they last interacted; this is their first reunion: “What’s up Tommy?’ Newt exclaimed, his face filled with genuine happiness at the pleasant surprise that’s been sprung on him. Thomas couldn’t remember exactly how long it’d been since he’d seen Newt. ‘You look bloody fantastic for three in the morning” (ch. 23). I need to preface this that Newt DOES NOT mean that sarcastically and that out of all the people in the room (Minho, Chuck and Teresa are there in this scene), Thomas only reacts this way specifically toward seeing Newt is okay and back. The characters are also not afraid of being physically close. “Well, look who the bloody copper dragged in,’ Newt said, pulling Thomas into a big hug” (ch.31), “They shook hands, and then the two of them set off...” (ch. 31), and my favorite: “Thomas jumped at the sound, then stumbled. Newt tripped over him, and then they were both laughing, legs and arms tangled in a pile on the ground”(ch.32). I don’t think this far in the novel, Thomas has been AS (emphasis on as) comfortable with touch with anyone else other than Newt. And thats a big step forward on the aspect of trust in a relationship, being able to be comfortable with the presence of another person enough to be as intimate with them as shown here. And all this, is just fever code itself. Mind you this is not the MEAT of the novels as it came out later. But even without it, lets look at Thomas in Maze now, I’ll try to keep this segment a lot more brief. Here’s Thomas looking respectively at boys his age: “A tall kid with blond hair and a square jaw...a thick, heavy muscled Asian kid folded his arms as he studied Thomas, his tight shirtsleeves rolled up to show off his biceps [...] Newt was taller than Alby too, but looked to be a year or so younger, His hair was blond and cut long, cascading over his T-shirt. Veins stuck out of his muscled arms”(ch. 2). Thomas’ initial reaction to being surrounded by boys is to deeply analyze their rugged good looks and heavily emphasize their best physical traits. When reading this the first time, my mind immediately thought this boy at the very least is supposed to be portrayed as bi, especially when later down the line Teresa gets a similar descriptor: “...despite her paleness, she was really pretty...silky hair, flawless skin, perfect lips, long legs.” So right off the bat, we know that be it boy or girl, Thomas emphasizes how attractive someone looks in his eyes when he truly does have a sense of attraction to them. Case closed. Within the same chapter we get Thomas also immediately clinging onto Newt for a sense of grounding, it is now ingrained in him at this point that the boy is his lifeline, a person to rely on. “Thomas looked over at Newt, hoping for help.” And help he does, Newt in this chapter helps ease his worries, explain a general idea of what the glade is and even pats him on the shoulder a bit to ease tension. And Thomas doesn’t bat an eye in the same way he’s weary of literally everyone else. In fact, he’s eager to stay put with him as shown with; “If Newt went up there, then I wanna talk to him.” And if none of that seals the deal, we got early bird Newt being so touch starved he flattens himself next to Thomas to wake him up at the crack of Dawn in chapter 6: “Someone shook Thomas awake. His eyes snapped open to see a too-close face staring down at him, everything around them still shadowed by the darkness of early morning...’Shh, Greenie. Don’t wanna be waking up Chuckie, now, do we?’ It was Newt --the guy who seemed second in command; the air reeked of his morning breath. Though Thomas was surprised, any alarm melted away immediately”. This whole scene follows firstly by Thomas once again impressed by how strong Newt is and then Newt giving him a rundown of what everyone else was too afraid to show Thomas, the grievers. And you know, this scene could’ve ended well and everything as totally platonic, but then we have “Newt turned to look at him dead in the eye. The first traces of dawn had crept up on them, and Thomas could see EVERY DETAIL OF NEWT’S FACE, HIS SKIN TIGHT, HIS BROW CREASED.” Now, look me in the eye and tell me there is a hetero explanation on looking at your best bro like they are the sun reincarnated themselves. But let’s not hog all the homosexual undertones with Thomas here. Wanna know what Newt’s initial reaction to having a girl in the glade was? “It’s a girl,’ he said [...] Newt shushed them again. ‘That’s not bloody half of it,’ he said, then pointed down into the box. ‘I think she’s dead” (ch.8). It’s actually a stark contrast to the other gladers eagerly wanting to know her age, how pretty she looked, and calling dibs to date her; Newt isn’t interested in any of that, he’s more perplexed on her status and not even bothering to remark on her looks, he was the only one not to and even remarks a few other instances that girls are more Thomas’ domain. For instance, he makes a joke in fever code when Thomas remarks that the girls in the institution were going to tackle him down, Newt proceeds to point out sarcastically something along the lines of “wait, isn’t that YOUR dream though?” So Newt is pretty out spoken of his disinterest in girls, and his full admiration and attention on Thomas. Oh, and yes, Newt immediately switches over to “Tommy” the moment Thomas mentions he hates being called greenie, and once again it just becomes a thing between only the two of them. Newt is also the one to be straight forward about the whole Runners business. He warns Thomas about the dangers and doesn’t necessarily turn him down on his desire to be one, he in fact encouraged him to just wait until the right moment. “No one said you couldn’t, but give it a rest for now”(ch. 15). So once again, Newt is the voice of confidence and reason for Thomas to prosper. In turn, this time around Thomas is the one to catch when something is bothering Newt. For instance, “Newt chewed his fingernails, something he hadn’t seen the older boy do before...he was genuinely concerned -- Newt was one of the few people in the Glade he actually liked ”(ch.16). Interesting how we went from fever code “friend” to “like”. And also, when Newt explains his concern about the runners not coming back yet, Thomas pieces together how scared Newt is of the Maze without being told and goes to stand next to him as a physical presence to ground Newt as they wait near the entrance. In fact, this piece is trivial to understand why Thomas does what he does next. When everyone else had given up on the Runners still outside with 2 minutes left til closing, and Newt was escorted away from the entrance, Thomas waited. And when Thomas saw them, he yells to Newt, realizes he’s too far to do anything, and makes a decision himself. He KNEW how much Newt cared about his fellow Gladers, they were like family or “kin” as its said in the book, so what does he do? “Don’t do it Tommy! Don’t you bloody do it!’ ... Thomas knew he had no choice. He moved. Forward. He squeezed past the connecting rods at the last second and stepped into the maze”(ch.16). Yes, Thomas does this because of his empathy for the Gladers, but the chain reaction of Newt’s concern is what sets his decision in stone. And yet again, Thomas enters the maze for Newt. And that’s pretty much the constant for the rest of Maze Runner the book, Newt just sticking up for Thomas and Thomas in turn just being happy that: “He was at least relieved that Newt was there” (ch.17). And thats basically their entire dynamic. Newt just going: “If you really did help design the maze Tommy, it’s not your fault. You‘re a kid -- you can’t help what they forced you to do” to ease the survivor’s trauma Thomas has, as well as saying “I actually believe you. You just don’t have an ounce of lying in those eyes of yours. And I can’t bloody believe I’m about to say this...but I’m going back in there to convince those shanks we should go through the griever hole, just like you said”(ch.51); and I think thats the most romantic thing to hear from him. Just right out being all for supporting Thomas no matter what happens as long as he stays alive and continues to fight, he doesn’t care about what happened before. And Thomas eats that up because it fuels him even more to seek out a means to escape for the people (Newt) that deserve a life outside of running from monsters forever. So essentially, I’ll state again, it’s always been Newt the catalyst for Thomas to run head first into the Maze and seek freedom. And with all this I can clear that these two are shown to if not be romantically involved, at least have unconditional love for the other that transcends the author’s original intention. And with that in mind, here’s the thing with Teresa as a love interest. I can list here quotes of every time she mind speaks to Thomas and how that affects him, but then this would be too long. And this is a newtmas post gosh darn it. Teresa is gleeful to humiliate, control, hurt, and force Thomas to believe they’re in love. In multiple instances we get her barging into his mind unwarranted making him understand that she has full access to his inner most thoughts. Theres nothing romantic about that, and I think its why Thomas ends up being so perceptive to the smallest of gestures that allow him to think on his own and feel like his own person. Something I’ve seen Brenda do later in scorch, and something I’ve seen Newt do since the very beginning is that they allow Thomas to come to his own conclusions in order to create his own opinions on the matters at hand. Thomas’ love language revolves around words of affirmation. He likes it when people confirm his thoughts are valid and that remind him that WICKD can’t hurt him anymore now that he has the power to be his own person. This is where Newt comes in very handy. He allows Thomas to grow in ways his female love interests have yet to show, sorry Brenda but I’ve heard you were trying to unite all immunes together to the safe haven by the end and in a sense still only using Thomas to get by; I still think she was the better call than teresa of course and I have no remorse for Teresa getting smushed by a boulder. But essentially my point here is that, how do you fail to make your initial love interests clash so badly where one has no real care about the others well being so long as everything goes according to WCKD by using a form of gaslighting and manipulation? AND THOMAS HAS STATED HIS DISCOMFORT ON THIS MULTIPLE TIMES, but the narrative always erases these instances from his mind in place of pity for Teresa’s well being (as you can tell, Teresa through this becomes my least favorite character, I can rant about her some othe time though with proper backing). The narrative in turn treats it all like a joke. I understand there are scenes where Thomas is worried about her and looks out to make sure shes ok, but even then he doesn’t know how to react with mental images of her kissing his cheek or when she screams the next minute that she doesn’t know who he is or how hes speaking into her mind. And thats because they can’t properly communicate their emotions to the other, not even in fever code could Thomas give a forward answer if he loved Teresa or not, she just assumed. Come to think of it, Thomas really doesn’t show much affection to Teresa of his own accord. So then, how DOES Thomas show his affection? Thomas provides acts of service as his love language, if he cares about you enough he will risk his life for you. Why? Because Thomas values putting the people he loves foremost knowing full well they are what help him have purpose and succeed in continuing on. In a way, Newt and Thomas’ dynamic works in this instance because they balance the other out and because they have seen each other at their worst and at their best. In a way, that's why knowing the ending of the books makes it harder to accept that Thomas would just easily take the shot...when all his life clung to Newt’s survival. But that’s a story for another time where I compare the movies (of which let me make that clear, yes I prefer) over the books. For now just know that the book may have done this by accident, maybe not, but at the end of the day theres solid proof that Thomas and Newt care about each other in a way that is separately portrayed from their connection to the other glade members, and have this consistency of soft moments running through the entirety of the series. In conclusion; newtmas. Newtmas. NEWTMAS, etc.

#Newtmas #long post #Skquill #ask #The ending gets a bit ranty with Teresa I must admit #but for the most part its just me recalling the best newtmas moments from the novels I've currently read #Please add on more newtmas proof to the thread

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