#nobody makes me as insane as they do you wouldn’t recognize they sound I make when I see edits in tiktok or insta or here

[slowlyfoggydestiny]

Does people understand this is tumblr not Instagram and you don’t have to reblog or be constant with an specific type of content to “keep” followers or whatever

[ut-obsession]

So, let’s talk about alphys.

(UT/DR SPOILERS)

Yesterday I said that she was neurodivergent but with no explanation whatsoever since I only had time to type that much. Now I actually have time!

Alphys is definitely a shy, introverted character, and that can happen with anyone, but that’s not true when it comes to the way it’s presented.

Alphys shows many common signs, like hyperfixations, and this shows why she talks about them, like with Mew Mew. When Mew Mew is discussed, she talks about it for a while, though her shy trait seems to stop her from going on longer, but anxiety is a trait in ASD, so that’s very important. Hyperfixations occur in almost every neurodivergence. The most common ones are ADHD and ASD (Autism)

The other thing is how she reacts to things. Neurotypicals generally react to things in very “normal” ways. However, when you go on the with her is when this isn’t “normal”, so to speak, although normality shifts from person to person, so for Alphys this behavior cna be entirely normal. When doing the date roleplay, if your undyne, she will suddenly have an outburst. This is a great example of neurodivergence, though I’m sure that sounds like nothing. However this lines up with ADHD and ASD once again.

ADHD and ASD are the two ones I’ve been mentioning, but with no indication on which it is. Now it’s entirely possible to have both, but I don’t think that’s actually the case.

Let’s start with her interests. For example, Mew Mew. In both UT and DR, when Mew Mew is brought up, Alphys starts to talk about it a lot, more than she probably should. When talking, she exhibits an insane amount of hyperfixation, obviously, but also something interesting, one that is 10x more common in ASD. She doesn’t just talk about the plot itself, or important/funny scenes that any media enjoyer would remember. She mentions the smallest details. Little things that commonly nobody remembers. One common trait of ASD is noticing small, minuscule things in shows, books, and every day life. This is very uncommon but possible in ADHD, but very common in ASD.

Another autistic trait that makes me think Alphys has ASD is how she seems to have almost no friends. She’s very lonely, keeps to herself a lot. Plus all her traits seem to limit her ability to make friends. This is extremely important in ASD. This paragraph is to short so I’m just continuing. She also doesn’t seem to recognize social cues often, like during the quiz show when Alphys starts rambling about Mew Mew, not recognizing that she isn’t supposed to say anything.

Final thing I’d like to talk about is her planning. We learn before the Mettaton fight that she had mostly planned our whole journey through the Core. Planning out things like how she did is actually something Autistic people tend to do. Along with this, her struggle to make friends could make her desperate enough for this trait to come out, leading to that part of the game. Alphys doing this is that final piece I need to be 90% sure she’s Autistic.

Remember, this is a well researched but unprofessional theory. Key word is theory. I am interested in a career in psychology and am currently researching it, but am not yet professional enough to say this is true. Without Toby Fox himself’s input, I still wouldn’t know for sure if I’m right.

Today’s recommendation: DR Chara Timeline! It’s a well written and fun read, and it even has its own Weird Route!

Before you comment, please read my boundaries and rules post to avoid commenting any offensive or inappropriate content.

[batsandbugs]

The Great IKEA Game

Chapter 11: Playing the Game

AN: I hope y'all enjoy this non-stop flirt-a-thon, chapter count got increased again, so we'll get back to the plot in the next chapter!

At first, Marinette didn’t know how to act. This was the last route she expected Damian to take. The shock of Damian’s lips against hers turned her body rigid; hands splayed out to the sides, unsure of where to touch. After a second of floundering, she gained enough bearing to place her hands firmly on Damian’s arms. Her once still lips hesitantly moving against his. The closed-mouth kiss stayed chaste, but Marinette found herself fluttering her eyes closed, sinking into the warmth.

Damian stood taller than her, bending into the kiss while she craned her neck. Marinette pushed herself upward, arching onto the tips of her toes, and Damian’s hands wrapped tighter around her waist, deepening the kiss. She readjusted her mouth for a second grabbing a quick gasp of air before diving in again with more fervor. Damian responded in kind, pushing her back fully against the wall, one hand migrating from her waist to cup her cheek.

Damn. Damian was a good kisser.

“What the- Hey, customers are not allowed to be in here!”

Oh, right. The employee. That’s why they were kissing.

Why would kissing be helpful in this situation?

Not that Marinette was complaining, but-

Damian pulled away from her, and Marinette held back a pitiful whine when he turned away and faced the employee.

‘Bad thoughts, Marinette,’ she chided herself. ‘Focus on the mission, not Damian, or his lips, or his eyes, or-’

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that,” said Damian with a bashful smile.

Wait…

Blink.

What?

Marinette dragged herself out of the kiss-induced bliss, focusing on her co-conspirator, and had she been less in control of herself her jaw would have dropped.

Damian’s whole demeanor had markedly changed. His normal sharp posture sunk into a causal slouch; the emotions on his face, generally a mix of sharp observation or practiced disdain, now a mix of charming elegance and, yes, bashfulness. He flashed a wide grin at the oncoming employee, a person in their early twenties, who froze when they saw them.

Or rather, Damian.

Rapidly blinking bright blue eyes gazed at them. “Oh, oh you- you’re-”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know who I am,” said Damian, rubbing the back of his neck. Even the way he spoke changed; careful pronunciation and formality thrown out the window for a lax New Jersian drawl. “What’s your name?” He asked with such a genuine smile, had Marinette not been versed in people lying through their teeth, she would have bought it.

Not for the first time, Marinette wondered how famous Damian’s family was – obviously rich enough, and high profile enough - to be recognized on the spot.

The person paused for a moment, fiddling with a strand of curly blond hair. “I’m- I’m ah… Fey, nice to meet you Mr.-”

Damian cut them off with a laugh. “Oh please, any name with a mister makes me think of my father or my older brother. Call me Dami.” He offered a hand to the flustered Fey. They limply shook it.

“Oh… ah- alright Dami.”

Damian encircled a hand around Marinette’s waist dragging her out of the weirdness induced fugue state she’d fallen into. “And this… well,” he lowered his eyes, catching her attention and winked. “This is my girlfriend Marinette.”

Fuck, this is what he meant by play along.

Fey dropped open their mouth before closing it quickly.

“Oh, I hadn’t read-”

Damian cut the flustered employee off again.

“We’ve kept it quiet.” He waved his hand dismissively. “The papers would devour a story like this,” he said, with a sense of vapid annoyance, although a trace of his normal calculated disdain accented his words.

Note to self; Damian didn’t like the media. Good, Marinette didn’t much like the invasive vultures either.

Fey nodded along, twirling a lock of hair on their finger. “Oh yeah, that totally makes sense.” They paused shaking their head to clear away an emotion… awe? Fear? Marinette couldn’t tell. “But uh, why are you here? Like in the stairwell, not in the store. Because of course celebrities would still shop, right? I mean-” Poor Fey was a stuttering mess. Marinette almost felt bad for them.

She felt like an absolute stuttering mess too, but she would be damned if Damian would carry this lie all by himself.

She was fucking Ladybug; savior of Paris, Guardian of the Miraculous.

She could act like a lovestruck fool.

“It iz so sweet,” she said, emphasizing her accent to add a little more pageantry to this entire scheme. “I just arrived back from Paris, and wanted to decorate my new apartment with ze ah-” she waved her hands around, “Oh, how you Americans put it? Fairy lights?”

Fey nodded quickly. “Yeah, we have a couple of good selections, but-” Marinette continued before they could logic their way out of the made-up cover story.

“I planned to go by myself, but Dami-” at this she moved forward to wrap her arms around his, leaning into his side. The warmth of his body bleeding through his clothes. “He insisted on ‘companying me even though he dozen’t like ze crowds.” She leaned forward with a conspiratorial air. “He gets grumpy,” she divulged with a girlish giggle. Why Damian did a 180 on his personality was a complete mystery, but if he dropped the act, this would make Fey less suspicious.

Fey nodded right along like Marinette’s comment made total sense. “Yeah, I don’t read too many magazines, but damn they must pin you all wrong,” they said to Damian. From Marinette’s position at his side, she felt his body tense the slightest amount. “Gotham’s Ice Prince, yeah right.”

Marinette inwardly quirked an eyebrow. ‘Ice Prince, huh?’ The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on where she’d heard it before.

Damian nervously chuckled again, sounding more authentic this time. “Oh no, I’m a grump when it comes to the media, I fully admit. My, ah,” he looked at her again, an apology flashing in his green eyes. “Angel here puts me in a better mood.”

A rushing noise filled Marinette’s ears, and her heart quickened. She vaguely registered a squeal of delight coming from Fey, but it sounded far away compared to her blood pounding at a thunderous level. Heat flushed in her cheeks, and the confident smile she plastered on her face almost dropped at the pet name.

Angel.

He called her angel.

What level of utter insanity had she dropped into?

“A few disguises later,” Damian continued, adjusting the glasses on his face, and oblivious of the turmoil he’d created in Marinette’s mind. “I thought we’d be able to stay under the radar, I just wanted a day out with my girlfriend,” he said with a put-upon sigh. The emotional, charming actions stood in complete opposite to Damian’s normal demeanor.

Marinette found herself desperately torn between breaking down laughing hysterically or clapping at Damian’s masterful performance.

“You got noticed?” asked Fey.

“We got noticed.” Damian sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. Marinette regretted not touching it while she and Damian kissed; was it as fluffy as it looked? “And Marinette, the sweet angel she is, isn’t used to the whole utter insanity of… you know, dating a celebrity.” He glanced at her, teasing her with a fonder smirk than his usual. Marinette wanted to roll her eyes. Damian had no clue she knew very well the consequences of dating a celebrity.

Never mind she’d only dated Adrian a month before they broke up because his dad turned out to be a psychopathic supervillain intent on plunging the whole of France into an apocalyptic hellscape in an attempt to upset the universes’ balance, and was fully okay with killing the both of them to make it happen.

Being friends after that little debacle was the better option. For both their sanities.

‘Focus Marinette.’ She dragged her attention back to the conversation.

“We kinda ducked in here when nobody was paying attention. I want to keep this away from the media as long as possible, for my angel’s privacy.” Marinette wanted to scoff at how Damian leaned into that nickname. He certainly was laying it on thick. Marinette wouldn’t have bought the act, but that was due to her years of lying and deceiving in the name of super-heroics.

Fey, with their eager demeanor and bright blue eyes, didn’t stand a chance.

“Oh, that’s awful people wouldn’t leave you alone. I bet most celebrities would be familiar with the attention, but for you to look out for Marinette too?” They whistled. “Damn girl, he’s a keeper for sure.”

The blush gracing Marinette’s cheeks was 100% real. “Oh, well, ah, zank you. I know.”

“Well, no one will hear a word from me,” Fey promised. They fiddled with their hands and sent a shy smile at Damian. Marinette’s stomach clenched at the sight, and without her permission, her traitorous hands tightened their grip on Damian’s arm. “Without your family’s scholarship, my sister never would have graduated med school. She would kill me if I even thought of ratting you out to the papers.”

“Oh…” said Damian, his outward appearance of shock mirroring Marinette’s own internal emotions.

‘His family is rich enough to fund medical scholarships?’

“Well, that’s not on me directly, you know,” he commented. “All my father’s doing. I hope- ah… I hope she’s doing well?” Although his face portrayed a bashful and relaxed air, his body language screamed uncomfortableness. Marinette released one hand from his arm and brought it to rest on the small of his back, circling her thumb around. He relaxed, slightly, and Marinette smiled.

“Yeah, actually she is,” said Fey beaming. “She’s working at the new pediatric clinic that opened in Crime Alley.”

“Good for her,” said Damian honestly. “We need more people willing to work to make the city a better place. Money can only do so much.”

“Money definitely helps though,” Fey replied, wryly. Marinette agreed. Long-buried memories of her early years arose. Living above her parents’ shop, where every month they spread their bills across the kitchen table and talked in hushed tones while Marinette sat on the steps to her attic room and worried, even if at five and six she didn’t know what she was worried about.

Those days were long gone. Her parents and their creations internationally famous, with three separate locations across the greater Paris metro alone. But that worry never really went away.

Fey shifted on their feet reading their watch. “Well, you guys stay here if you want until whatever crowd out there loses interest.” They gestured to the door Marinette and Damian entered through. “Or you can come with me if you want?” Pointing to the other locked door. “I’m heading out to the atrium to deal with a problem, but you can continue on with your shopping.”

“Zank you so much,” Marinette replied. “We will go with you if you do not mind?”

“Of course not,” said Fey, walking to the door and pulling out a security key. They opened the door, but Damian held it allowing Marinette and Fey to walk through before he followed. Placing a hand once more around Marinette’s waist.

“What problem in the atrium, if you don’t mind me asking?” he prodded, sharing a look with Marinette.

It could be nothing, but it could also have something to do with his brothers.

Considering their luck today, Marinette would be shocked if it wasn’t the latter option.

“Oh, well it started with the children’s center shutting down. Apparently, the kids got it in their minds to start a dodge ball fight with the workers. Which, you know, totally fair,” confided Fey, as they walked through the back corridors. “Sounded like it was a blast to watch. I was such a shit when I was a kid, I would have joined them in a heartbeat. It wrapped up fairly quickly, but they can’t convince the main instigator to descend from the jungle gym. I think they’re still hunting down her parents.”

Marinette pursed her lips trying to hold back a smile. ‘Oh, Abby,’ she thought, ‘you absolute gem.’

“I only heard about it from Lisa when I got back because I was dealing with a security issue in the back lot.” Fey glanced at them nervously. “Not that there’s anything wrong, we’re perfectly safe.”

Marinette and Damian shared a look.

Jason.

“Of course,” said Marinette.

Followed by a quick, “Absolutely,” from Damian.

Fey relaxed. “So this is, apparently, a whole bunch of workers on strike? They walked out of the back warehouse and congregated in the atrium, spouting on about living wages and corrupt big business, and the effects of verbal abuse in the workplace.” Fey said with a wave of their arms. “And it’s not like I don’t agree, because I do. Jerry, the warehouse general manager, is an asshole.” Marinette and Damian exchange worried glances at the rotund angry man’s name, who they last saw dragging a singed Tim into an office.

“…but it makes my job hard,” whined Fey, oblivious to their compatriot’s inner panic. “And the Starbucks baristas joined them, so their kiosk closed too.” Fey chuckled, “I would avoid the whole area if I were you, especially if you don’t want anyone finding out you’re together.”

“I wonder how zat ended up happening?” Marinette asked hopefully her high-pitched voice conveyed confusion instead of slowly settling in panic.

“They called in saying some guy lead the charge, he’s worked the crowd into a fervor. I’m there to be the HR rep while security tries to remove him. You know, normally my job involves sitting at a desk all day listening to bitchy customers on the phone. I’ve dealt with more in-store problems today since last Black Friday.” Fey chuckled. “What a day, ya’ know?”

Marinette glanced at Damian, his casual mask still firmly in place, although his left eye twitched, and the hand he wrapped around her waist, tightened at Fey’s words.

Fey finally reached another door, pulling out their pass and lead them out into the store’s main section.

“Well, it was nice to meet you Marinette, Dami,” Fey chirped. “Nobody will hear from me about any of this.” They mimed zipping their lips.

Marinette smiled, hoping the strain wasn’t too noticeable. “It waz nice to meet you too Fey.”

“Good luck with whatever is happening in the atrium,” said Damian. They stood at the door and watched them move out of sight. When Fey finally disappeared around a corner, Damian turned to Marinette his casual persona rippling away as if it never existed at all. His hand slipped off her waist.

She did not, absolutely not, want to grab it and put it back thank you very much.

“How much do you wish to wager on Drake’s involvement in whatever is occurring in the atrium?” he asked. Marinette smiled, reassured at the return of his clipped and formal tone. The informal speech felt wrong coming from Damian’s mouth.

“Oh, I don’t know Dami?” she teased. Then again, she couldn’t let this opportunity pass by her. “I don’t think I have enough money for that bet with you.”

Damian closed his eyes with a grimace and sigh. “Do not call me that.” He opened his eyes, an expression just short of pleading radiated from them “Please.”

“I would rather gag, and it sounds so would you.” Marinette covered her grin with her hand, unable to stop a slight giggle at the man’s long-suffering tone. “You pulled off vapid lovesick celebrity well, but why the need to act at all?”

“I have plenty of reference to draw from,” he grumbled, piquing Marinette’s interest; every half aside comment enticing her to dig further at Damian’s life. “I needed whoever descended those steps on our side and my normal... demeanor tends to put people off.” He folded his hands behind his back, a perfect picture of casualness, but the tightness around his eyes and the twitch of his mouth was all Marinette needed to note his self-consciousness.

“Well, I for one find your usual self charming,” Marinette admitted, pleased when Damian relaxed at her words. “You freaked me out acting that weird.”

“It is not an option I use often,” Damian admitted. “My brothers tend to make big productions of themselves. I prefer a far subtler approach, but this required more theatrics to make it believable.” He glanced at her. “I hope…” he paused. She watched his hand flutter and turn into a fist at his side. “I hope I did not overstep your bounds, that is, I mean violate your...” Damian refused to look at her, his gaze firmly planted on a far wall.

Marinette could let the poor man continue but ended up taking pity on him before he dug an even deeper hole. She placed a hand on his arm. “You were fine. If I didn’t want you… kissing me,” she said the words out loud for the first time, reigning in a pleasurable shudder at the memory. “I would have pushed you off, and if I felt violated, which I didn’t, you would have found yourself on the ground in plenty of pain.”

Damian dragged his gaze back to hers, a small smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. “Undoubtedly, yes, you easily could have done so.”

Marinette smirked again, not willing to let the entire debacle slip away quite yet though. “Although I have to ask, where in the world did angel come from? And what on earth made you think it would be a good nickname for our fake relationship?”

Damian lifted his nose haughtily. “It is a perfectly acceptable name of affection for a significant other. What, did you wish for ‘sweetheart’ or ‘doll’?” he asked, drawing out those names with the earlier casual New Jersian accent. Marinette withheld a shiver at his low tone of voice curling those words around his tongue. She may prefer his normal speech, but damn he still sounded unbearably attractive when he dropped that low.

‘Focus, Marinette. FOCUS!’ she inwardly screamed at herself.

“Goodness no,” said Marinette, forcing a pretend shudder. “Something with more class perhaps? Darling, or beloved?”

Damian pursed his lips. “Not beloved. That’s what my mother refers to my father with.” Marinette winced, yeah, that could be awkward. Not that this whole conversation wasn’t a disaster plucked out of a fever dream. Why, why was she debating Damian on the finer points of affectionate nickname giving?

But her mouth continued talking. “Alright, I suppose angel isn’t bad in comparison. Still, it’s a bit cliché. What does that make you? A demon?”

Damian tilted his head with a shrug. “Tt. My brothers do call me that on occasion, yes.” Oh right, Jason called him demon-spawn a few times during their confrontation. With the way Damian rolled his eyes in annoyance, Marinette figured a story lurked behind that particular nickname.

“Regardless, we have strayed dangerously off-topic here. We should head towards the pandemonium in the atrium, yes?” Damian pushed off the wall he’d leaned against, and Marinette followed.

“I thought it was Panic at the Disco?” Marinette teased with a grin.

Damian pointed a finger at her, trying for a stern expression, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “You think yourself terribly clever, don’t you?”

“I think I’m adorable,” she shot back. “But I also think you’re right. It sounds like Tim managed to involve himself. If he’s making a scene, I bet he’ll draw the rest of your brothers there too.”

“You think Grayson will escape the clutches of that ravenous she-wolf?”

Marinette scoffed. “Damian, you’ll insult wolves with that comparison. I thought she resembled more of a hyena myself.” The woman certainly shrieked enough for it. “From what I saw, your brother probably ducked out at the first opportunity available to him.”

“True. Which leaves Todd, and nothing attracts his attention more than a spectacle. Especially when Drake stands chance to make a fool of himself.” Turning a corner they found themselves several yards away from the open-aired atrium. A crowd of people lingered around the railing looking into the courtyard below. Clapping and cheers fill the air.

“Shall we?” asked Marinette, excitement brewing in her chest.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” grumbled Damian. “But I suppose we must.”

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[topazy]

Silent bloom

Pairings: Bellamy Blake/reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood and vomit

Chapter: 2.04

You sat inside the commander's tent shaking, as you stared at the blood on your hands. Raven’s scream echoes in your ears.

Clarke sat down beside you, "Y/N … I don’t know what to say."

You began to frantically wipe the blood off, rubbing your hands against your trousers until Abby and Kane entered. Abby immediately pulled her daughter in for a hug.

Clarke stepped back from her mom and looked at you sympathetically. "They would have tortured him. You did what you thought was right."

"What did I do?" You sobbed.

Before Clarke had a chance to say anything else, Gustus entered. "The commander will talk now."

"Blood has answered blood." Lexa said, stepping forward. "Some on my side say that's not enough; they want the murderer to suffer as our tradition demands. But they do not know that your suffering will be worse. What you did tonight will haunt you until the end of your days. Still, there will be restitution. The body will be given to Tondc. The murdedered and the murderer will be joined by fire. Only then can we have peace."

Kane shook his head, "No, no, we've done enough. The boy should be buried by his own people-"

"Enough? We were owed the pain of 18 deaths, we were owed the righteous kill my village deserves justice." Indra spat.

Your heart hammered in your chest. You kept thinking of the last real conversation you had with Finn. His voice was so clear inside your mind, he could have been standing beside you.

‘I was scared... when you disappeared. I thought I’d never get the chance to say I’m sorry, and I needed you to know that I love you.’

Why didn’t you see the signs then? He was saying goodbye. Thinking back, you knew Finn must have already made his mind up to hand himself in.

It was all too much for you. You jumped up and ran outside the tent to throw up, ignoring the dirty looks you were getting. Nobody could hate you more than you hated yourself at that moment. Once you had composed yourself, you noticed Raven crying over Finn’s body, and slowly made your way over to her.

"Go away."

"Raven," you sobbed. "I'm sorry."

"I said go away!"

The brunette couldn’t even look at you, and you didn’t blame her. "I’m so sorry. They were going to torture him. I couldn’t let him suffer."

"He loved you! He loved you, and this is how you repaid him!" Raven eventually lifted her head to look at you. "He was the only family I have, and he’s dead because of you."

Hearing the words coming from her mouth made your body physically ache.

Clarke placed her hand on your shoulder as she stood beside you. "The commander had now agreed to help us," she said quietly before facing Raven. "I know how hard this must be for you, but I'm leaving with the Grounders and I need you to work on the radio."

The brunette stood up and glared at you. "You agreed to this? Is that why you killed him? For some deal?"

"What? No," you pleaded. "I just … I couldn’t let him suffer."

"We're taking him back to the village where the massacre took place. There's a death ritual." Clarke cleared her throat. "It's the only way to get our people out of Mount Weather."

As the grounders began to move Finn’s body, you jumped back when you saw his eyes open wide. You rubbed at your eyes and then they were closed again. You were going insane.

"Daisy?"

You turned to face Clarke. You knew by the look on her face that whatever she was about to say wasn’t good. But then again, things couldn’t get any worse. "What’s going on?"

"I think you should stay."

"Wait … Have you decided that I'm going to stay here as some kind of punishment?"

The blonde let out a sigh. "No. Look, Daisy, I’d be lying if I said the thought of doing what you did didn’t cross my mind. I understand it, I really do."

"But?"

"I spoke to my mom and she agreed it would be for the best. A lot of the grounders still blame you for what Finn did, and now-"

You finished the sentence for her, "now our own people hate me."

"I can walk you back to camp before I go? I don’t think you should go back alone."

You declined Clarke’s offer. "It’s fine, thanks though."

If anything happened to you, you’d deserve it anyway.

—

"I know why you're hiding."

You glanced up at Murphy as he sat down beside you. You had been hiding out in your room since you thought Finn was sitting across you in the canteen. He was everywhere. Screaming at your dead friend and telling him to leave you alone definitely drew some unwanted attention.

Shrugging, you looked away from him, "I don’t know what you mean."

"When the grounders first took me … no, actually even before that. When I was banished and alone, I used to see her while wandering the forest."

You finally turned to face him. He looked so broken compared to his usual smugness. "Charlotte?"

Murphy nodded.

"I see Finn everywhere I look. A part of me is glad that I’m seeing him; it’s keeping him alive." You stopped talking when you saw the look on Murphy’s face.

After a few moments of silence, you let out a laugh. "Why are you here?"

"Well, the council decided to send a bunch of teenagers to earth-"

You let out a soft laugh. "Don’t be a smartass. I meant in my room, not on earth."

He shrugged. "Like I said, I know how it feels."

You gripped your knees into your chest tighter as you let out a shaky breath. Never in a million years did you think John Murphy would be the only person able to comfort you.

"Why did you come back here? I thought you would have stayed with Finn’s body."

"Clarke and Abby didn’t want me to," Murphy frowned, letting out a scoffing noise. "It would have been more difficult to get the deal to run smoothly with me there, and I think they are right." Raven would have been so consumed by anger towards you that she wouldn’t have been able to focus on the radios. "I just wish I’d gotten to see Octavia before she left."

But not Bellamy. You wouldn’t have been able to look him in the eye.

"You know, I actually wish the mountain men took me instead of the grounders," you sighed. "Finn would be alive, and I wouldn’t have destroyed Raven."

"You're wrong," he replies. "Finn would still have needed to pay the price for what he did. We all do eventually. But one thing would have been different."

"What?" You asked.

"Raven might have traded me. You think you destroyed her? I shot her. I’m the reason she almost died."

"Was it an accident?"

Murphy frowned, "Of course it was."

You let your legs go straight because you're feeling them start to cramp. "You shouldn’t punish yourself for it; what’s done is done."

"You're such a hypocrite!"

"No I’m not!" You yelled back. "You didn’t mean to hurt her, I meant to kill Finn. I meant to kill my best friend." Shaking your head, you stood up. "Thanks for the company, but I need some air."

—

His blood on the ground was still surprisingly fresh looking.

I’m so sorry Finn.

The whole area seemed eerily quiet now that all the grounders had packed up and gone. It was as if nothing happened.

Sighing, you placed your hand against your chest, which now felt bare. You’d lost the daisy necklace that Finn made you years ago, and without it you felt naked.

How would you ever move on from this? You would need to eventually. It would be difficult, but Monty and Jasper still need your help. You would need to push your heartache to one side until your friends were safe.

Hearing a rustling sound, you glanced over your shoulder. Shit. You were stupid to think it was safe to leave camp yourself. Quickly, you started to run towards camp Jaha when a cloud of thick smoke appeared around you. It wasn’t acid fog, it was something else. It was thick, red, and caused you to choke.

—

"Y/N?"

You blinked a few times as your eyes adjusted to the harsh light. You tried to sit up but were unable to. Fuck. White leather straps covering your wrists attach you to a bed. You gave up fighting against the restrictions. You looked to your left and recognized the blonde in the bed next to you.

"Harper?"

Her hazel eyes were now bloodshot red, and her face was puffy from crying so much. "There’s no point fighting, it just makes it worse."

You took in the rest of the room. It looked like a hospital, judging by all the monitors and IV drips. "Mountain men?" Harper nodded. You looked at her worried, "What do they want with us?"

"Our bone marrow."

[ratmonky]

Love Loser

Word Count: 7.7K

Warnings: Obsession, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Chikan, Breeding, dub-con

AO3 Link

“Be careful and don’t forget that a professional sorcerer is going to pick you up from the station,” Gojo hugged both Megumi and you. “Don’t talk to strangers and don’t waste your allowance on junk food.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Megumi pushed him away. “We’re going to ride on the train for only two hours, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“It feels like just yesterday when I met you two…” Gojo smiled, ignoring Megumi, and gave a dreamy sigh, still hugging you. “Now, you’re leaving me~”

“We’re gonna come back,” Megumi mumbled. “You know that.”

“He likes to be dramatic.” You finally broke the hug. “Do you want me to say anything to Yuuji?”

“Tell him to come back!” Gojo pouted his lips, wrapping his arms around himself. “It’s because of him that all of my students are leaving.”

“Wasn’t it you who sent him away to train with that sorcerer?” Megumi didn’t need an answer.

Gojo paused and his arms went limp, falling to his sides. “Yeah…”

“Did they leave?”

A familiar voice made you turn around. There she was, you had thought she wasn’t going to make it. With the biggest smile on your lips, you threw yourself in Nobara’s arms.

“Ahh, listen, listen, (name)! You have to bring souvenirs!” She was practically yelling in your ear and embracing you tightly. “I’m gonna miss you so bad.”

“We’re going away only for a week...” Megumi rolled his eyes.

Gojo leaned to whisper to Megumi’s ear. “They like to be dramatic.”

A loud whistle tore the chatter of the crowd in the train station.

It was time.

While Megumi took your bag from the ground and threw it over his shoulder to give you a little longer time to embrace Nobara, the two of you were giggling over something he couldn’t hear.

Another whistle came, only then you managed to let go of your friend to follow Megumi to get on the train. You stood in front of the closing doors to wave at your teacher and friend.

They waved back, Nobara blew you a kiss and it made you giggle.

Megumi lazily waved at the two through the door’s glass window as the loud whistle once again was heard. The train started rolling forward.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the two until Megumi pulled you toward a seat.

“This is exciting,” you smiled. “I wonder what kind of place Yuuji is staying at.”

“Yeah.”

“Yes to what?” you chuckled. “Is it exciting or-”

“It’s exciting,” Megumi said firmly. “I’m also curious about what the place is like.”

~~~

“Sometimes I wonder if that guy has a brain,” Megumi huffed and put his hand on his hip in annoyance. “I’ve never seen this professional sorcerer before so how did he think we were going to recognize him somehow?”

You agreed with a small chuckle but it turned into a gasp. Your eyes landed on a familiar spiky pink hair. A smile tugged at your lips as you dropped your bags to run forward.

“(name)-?” Megumi stood there in shock as you ran towards the man who was waiting with open arms.

“Yuuji!” You jumped into his arms and as soon as Yuuji caught you, he spun around laughing.

“I missed you!”

Yuuji let you down and held your hand instead as you walked over to Megumi.

He was frowning while Yuuji grabbed all of your bags to carry them himself.

“The sorcerer training me is out of town today. He’ll be back in two days. He told me to come and get you two to his house,” Yuuji simply explained. “How ya been doing?”

“Fine,” you said.

“Terrible,” Megumi groaned.

“Good,” Yuuji snickered.

~~~

A professional sorcerer’s house was more cramped than you thought it would be. Megumi and Yuuji had to share a futon together and sleep in the same room as you.

“You lived like this for a month already?” Megumi grimaced at the messy room.

Yuuji proudly smiled. “What? You can’t handle not sleeping in your own giant private room?”

“Don’t fight on our first day together!” You yelled from the kitchen.

Yuuji entered the room and leaned on the counter, watching you quietly.

You didn’t look up at him since you were cooking but he was oddly quiet. Finally, you asked what he wanted.

“I missed you.”

~~~

The village Yuuji was staying at was located very close to the mountains.

You were checking the map, “Our trail is starting here.” You pointed at the map on the ground, circling the small green spot with a red marker. “That’s our exact position,” you muttered. “We’ll go up to the mountain until this part.” You marked another spot on the map which was very far away from the current position, then slowly tapped the marker on the destination.

You gave a contented sigh, the cool air of the summer breeze was creeping on all of you as you folded the map and looked up, “Any questions?”

“No.” Yuuji jumped on his spot, “Let’s get going.”

You were the only one without a large backpack but you were carrying the necessity bag and the firewood was given into your care. It was all pretty heavy but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

Yuuji was leading the way, while Megumi was at the end making sure that nobody fell behind, which only meant you, since only you weren’t able to keep up with the others’ pace. You were right on one thing, hiking was very difficult and tiring. You were already drenched in sweat and it had been only half an hour. You took a deep breath while trying to walk up the trail, avoiding all the rocks and weird-looking plants.

Yuuji found a nice opening to take a break and eat lunch. The moment he put his backpack down he could see the two of you cheer with exhaustion, he laughed. “We’re going to eat lunch, we’re not there yet.”

Huffing, you sat on a big rock while Yuuji was taking out the lunch from the basket. Megumi handed water bottles to each of you. You took one and drank the whole bottle in one go, wiping your sweat to the ends of your shirt while lifting it, omitting the way Megumi was blushing.

~~~

“We made it!” you cheered.

The large clearing you arrived at was covered by tall trees and there were large rocks laid in a circle in the middle of the clearing. Yuuji claimed that it was from when he came here with his friends from the village before. It was simply a really popular camping spot but Megumi wasn't sure if he only eaned to bring you all here because there was a fire pit ready or for another reason. The plan was to have a nice hike and a picnic before returning back, you weren't going to camp here. 

“You should check the view from that cliff.” Yuuji pointed towards the north with a smile. “It’s gorgeous, I’ve never seen anything like its view, it’s enough to make anyone tear up!”

“Where?” you asked, handing him a bottle of water.

“It’s like ten minutes that way.” He pointed north again. “I’m pointing at it, can’t you see?”

“Well, I thought you were going to give us the exact directions if it was located somewhere tricky and-” Megumi was walking inside the forest slowly without saying anything, “Wait, Fushiguro!” you yelled at him for not waiting and dropped your bags next to Yuuji.

He stopped walking, you caught up to him and you walked deeper into the forest together.

It was dead quiet. If it wasn’t for the shaking of the trees and the sounds of the cicadas, you would feel uncomfortable. Megumi liked the silence, it was peaceful.

Only a couple of minutes of walking later, you realized, the view from the cliff was breathtaking.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before.” You couldn’t hide the excitement in your voice. The sunlight made everything look like a painting, the colors of the trees and grass were an impossible bright orange.

Megumi nodded in agreement. “It was worth the walk.”

“Right? I thought he was overexaggerating but it’s actually prettier!” you gave a light chuckle. “I’m glad we got to see it together.”

“Yeah.” His gaze hesitantly dropped to your hand. A million thoughts went through his mind and he wanted to reach for you, taking your hand in his and holding it tightly. He wondered what you would do, you would just laugh and let him hold your hand as if it was no big deal.

To you it didn’t mean anything to be with him at this moment, enjoying the view and standing beside him. But to Megumi, it was heavenly yet not enough. He wanted to enjoy more time together or even spend years together. He knew once both of you graduated, you would go different ways but he desperately needed to stay with you.

He knew his life wouldn’t be the same without you in it.

“Fushiguro,” you said, voice quiet and soft. “I think I have someone I like.”

His body jolted, gaze lifting up to your face. You were blushing faintly.

“Who?” His voice was faint, not very like him. Clearing his throat, he asked again. “Who?”

You put your hands on your cheeks and closed your eyes with a grin. “Ahh, it’s so embarrassing.”

From the way you were blushing, he knew who it was.

I like you too.

He wanted to say it out loud. Megumi started blushing as well when he opened his mouth. “I-”

“It’s Yuuji!”

Why?

Megumi’s eyes widened, the view he had thought to be gorgeous was turning into a glimpse of hell and your lovely expression on your face nearly made him retch.

Why?

“That’s why Nobara wanted me to come here with you, she keeps telling me to say something but I’m just soooo embarrassed! I mean, I wanna be with him before that happens.”

Why him?

Your words didn’t reach him anymore, even if they did, he couldn’t register what they meant. Each word was something he couldn’t comprehend when put together, it felt like he was going insane.

Why him but not me?

As long as he treasured this time you had together, to him it would be enough. He didn’t have to be with you forever. He was fine just being friends.

Right?

“I’m gonna confess to him, Nobara thinks he likes me and-”

“Don’t.” Megumi turned to face you completely, his head was dizzy.

“Why not?” You were smiling, oh how cute. Knowing why you were smiling like this made his throat clench. “Don’t you think he likes me?”

“No,” he firmly responded. Your smile faltered, lips pressing together in worry. He had to do it. He had to do something. He was desperate to do something. “He likes Kugisaki.”

I love you more than he ever could.

“Oh,” you said, gaze dropping to the ground. “I… I never noticed.”

“I know it because he told me. You shouldn’t get in between him and her.” His tone was colder than ice. He realized how badly his hands were shaking and quickly put them in his pockets to hide them from your view.

“I see,” you whispered. Perhaps, your best friend liked him too. It would be cruel to prevent them from getting together. Yes. Although it hurt, you were fine. Fine.

Your vision blurred with tears.

Ah.

Hastily, you wiped your tears and turned to look at the view one more time. Although your tears didn’t stop, Megumi didn’t want to say anything since he was fighting with his own demons but he couldn’t stand watching you cry.

“(name)?” You didn’t respond, so he took a step closer to you. “Hey,” he tried calling for you again and this time you flinched. You wiped your tears away with your forearms before turning to face him.

“I’m fine.” You beamed up at him despite how red your eyes were.

His eyes fixated on the ground in front of him. He was troubled, unable to look you in the face. “It’s not the end of the world.” His voice was calm.

“It still hurts.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Fushiguro.”

Yuuji was placing big smooth rocks around the fireplace that was already lit when the two of you returned. He smiled at you, “Took you two long enough.”

“Yeah, it was prettier than I thought.” You took a blanket out from one of the bags and spread it on the ground.

“You’re okay?” Yuuji asked, raising a brow. “Your eyes are red.”

Nodding, you brushed it off with a lie, “The view made me tear up.”

He laughed and patted on your back. “Told you!”

~~~

“Todo was very interested in (name) today, huh?” Yuuji said as they were walking to their dorm.

Megumi hummed. 

“I mean, she’s kinda cute, I’m not sure.” He laughed and then stopped in front of his friend, blocking the way. “Actually, scratch that, she’s very cute.”

A disgusted expression settled on Megumi’s face but he shook it off instantly. 

“What do you think of her?”

“She’s my friend.” Megumi sounded… conflicted.

“What’s with the pause?” Yuuji chuckled.

Megumi was trying to walk around him to get to his room so he could avoid this pointless conversation altogether but Yuuji was barely giving him any space to move around the hallway.

“I think I like her,” Yuuji stepped in front of him once again as he had just managed to walk past him, “(name) is pretty and I like her.”

“Do you like her only because she’s pretty?” Megumi’s anger was starting to turn towards his friend even though he wasn’t the reason for his anger. “What do you like about her exactly?”

For a while, Yuuji couldn’t speak. His brows furrowed in anger because he didn’t know what to say. 

“I think we both know the truth now.” Megumi looked down at Yuuji, sending him a warning glare.

The color drained from Yuuji’s face but he tried not to show his shock on his face. 

They glared at each other for a moment before Megumi let out a sigh. “But, you know what Itadori?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I believe she deserves someone better than you.” He walked past his friend and into his room, leaving Yuuji behind, alone with his thoughts.

As soon as he closed the door, he collapsed on the floor with his hands covering his ears. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Why? Why? WHY?

~~~

Neither of you confessed to each other in the passing years.

Megumi made sure of it.

~~~

“Ahh, I’m jealous! You two already kissed?” Yuuji kept whining, hitting his head on the table. “What was it like? Did she squirm a lot? What did she taste like?”

Inumaki flushed red and shook his head, refusing to give him an answer.

“I never thought Inumaki would be the first one between all of us to get a girlfriend,” Panda commented, taking a bite from one of the small rice cakes before he mumbled under his breath. "Especially her."

“You talk as if you were gonna get one,” Yuuji responded.

“That hurt!” Panda held his chest, pretending to be in pain.

“To be honest, I always thought Fushiguro would be first.”

It became silent when Yuuji said that. Everyone was staring at him now.

“What?”

“You’re single, right?” Panda asked.

Megumi rolled his eyes. “Why are you asking?”

“You guys are next to graduate, Fushiguro! Find yourself a girl before sorcerer work starts building up!” Panda let out a noise closer to a groan and turned to Yuuji. “What about you?”

“Unfortunately, I’m single!”

“No, not that! Do you have anyone you like?” For some reason, they were yelling at each other now.

But that wasn’t the yelling that made Megumi almost drop his glass, it was the question.

No.

Don’t answer.

They will encourage you.

Unaware of all the things running through Megumi’s head, Yuuji’s cheeks blushed. “I... do.”

Panda grinned, “Who is it?”

Shut up.

Don’t say it.

Megumi watched Yuuji’s lips move in terror as he said a name he was familiar with. “Jennifer Lawrence.”

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the tension on Megumi’s shoulders eased while everyone else was laughing.

He had to make a move before it was too late.

~~~

When they started running out of necessities in the dorms, it was usually two of the seniors who went to restock them. Since you were all seniors now, it had become your duty which none of you looked forward to.

“We’ll just play rock paper scissors,” Nobara said. “It’ll be fair.”

Yuuji frowned, “I haven’t won a single time playing this.”

“Well, that means Fushiguro will have his Saturday free, unlike you, Yuuji.” You cracked your fingers. “I won’t lose, I need to catch up with my show today.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Megumi sighed.

“I always go with rock,” Nobara said with a grin. You were smarter than to fall for her trick, you knew she was going for a scissor, you were going to pick rock!

All four of you stood together and shouted rock paper scissors in unison. Except for Megumi.

The result was as expected.

While Nobara and Yuuji had gone with paper, both you and Megumi had gone for rock.

Nobara yelled in excitement and turned to Yuuji, the two high-fived and cheered as you stared at your hand.

“I can’t believe it worked!” Yuuji laughed.

“Fushiguro is a lot dumber than I thought! He actually fell for it!”

“I didn’t fall for anything. I always pick rock first.” Megumi noticed how distraught you looked over losing and slapped your fist that was still hovering in the air, “Come on, let’s go before it’s too late. We can come back early if we hurry.”

You nodded reluctantly and then pointed at Nobara threateningly. “Don’t watch the show without me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she brushed it off with a wave of her hand.

Megumi realized the two of you were going to keep on bickering, decidedly, he put a hand on your shoulder to lead you out of the common room of the dorm.

After getting ready, you met up outside the campus. While you wanted to take the bus because it would be less crowded, Megumi insisted on taking the subway train which would be a lot faster despite being extremely crowded on the weekends.

In the end, you relented without knowing his true intentions.

The train was packed, even more than normal. Only then you remembered about Takada-chan’s concert downtown. Ugh, this was truly the worst. There wasn’t any place to hold onto and you were squished against Megumi’s body to the point of his phone in his pants poking your thigh.

The sudden turn of the train made you lose your balance and you held onto your friend. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

“It’s fine,” he said, not looking at you. “Hold onto me and stay close, otherwise you might disturb someone.”

Since he was tall enough to hold onto one of the bars above your head, he was able to hold his balance but somehow his body still managed to move against yours.

“Okay,” you murmured, gripping to his jacket and moving closer to him. “How long left?” You didn’t have the courage to complain about his phone poking you against your thigh but if you moved a little to your left, you could avoid it.

“Five minutes or less.” His voice broke into a sigh when you moved against what you thought was his phone. He was glad you moved away, now, you wouldn’t be able to notice the damp spot.

Getting off the train, Megumi quickly excused himself to go to the restroom. Taking the opportunity, you took out your phone to check out the list you had to buy one more time.

You were buying the necessities for yourself and Nobara while Megumi was going to buy the things the boys needed. It was a rule that helped both parties, boys didn’t know the difference between adult diapers and menstrual pads at the same time girls didn’t understand why boys couldn’t use fragranced hand lotions.

In the bathroom stall, Megumi wiped the inside of his pants and underwear as much as he could but the stickiness was there to stay. He put a paper towel perfectly lined up between his skin and the sticky fabric to spare himself from the discomfort. He had made a good choice to wear black pants today.

“Come on,” you whined as soon as he left the restroom and grabbed his arm. “We have to hurry to the mall.”

“Mall? I thought we were going to the store around the corner.”

“Nobara wants us to buy her skincare.” You showed him the text you had gotten from her and started pulling him towards the exit. “It’ll be fun anyway.”

Megumi let you drag him wherever you wanted, only focusing on how warm your touch was.

The loud chatter of the crowd, bright colors, children laughing, warm weather, and the smell of the delicious food.

“This sure takes me back.” You smiled brightly. “Malls are exciting. It’s like being a kid again.”

Although it was still a little early there were already quite a number of people in the mall.

“It’s too crowded,” Megumi pointed out.

“It’s because of Takada-chan’s concert downtown,” you said, with a quirky tone as you exited the drugstore. “I bet Todo’s there.” There was a pause before you beamed up at him. “Let’s go watch it together, they’re probably still selling tickets!”

He averted his gaze to hide his blushing face from you. “Didn’t you wanna go back to watch your show?”

You hummed. “Well, if we split up and bought everything we needed and met up back here… If we still had time, we could watch the end of her show!”

Megumi wasn’t a fan of that said idol but he was a fan of the two of you being pressed against in a small room as you jumped excitedly, perhaps you would even dance, moving your hips, and then he could get better friction than on the train and maybe-

“Hey!” You were snapping a finger in front of his face repeatedly, “What do you say?”

“O-okay?”

“Perfect!” You checked the time on your phone and looked around. “I already bought Nobara’s skincare so I don’t have much left to buy. I’ll meet you here.”

He didn’t even get to say something before you walked away. Thankfully, his list wasn’t as complicated as yours, it took him less than twenty minutes to buy everything and even had time to try out some of the samples being given out.

While he was looking down from the third floor, he could see you run from store to store, gathering all of the not-so-necessary stuff. His lips curled up to a smile and his phone buzzed.

It was a text from Yuuji, telling him to buy a new charger for his phone that he was going to pay for later.

Megumi lied and told him that there weren’t any phone chargers in the store.

Yuuji’s reply made his brows furrow.

[New Message]

Itadori: (name) called me n said u were in the mall dont lieeeeee to meeee  ):<  btw the concert is canceled cuz of heavy rain so i cant come sorry ); anywayy u should hurry home and buy an umbrella!!

So, you didn’t actually want to go and see the concert together with Megumi. Other than that… you called Yuuji… Why? You never called Megumi, you didn’t even text him.

His hands started shaking as the thought of you still being in love with Yuuji dawned on him.

He had been doing everything and anything to keep you guys away from each other. Purposely losing to be with you, making sure Yuuji was busy on the weekends so you could only spend time with Nobara.

What if you started going out with him?

What if you were already going out with him?

Megumi returned to the meeting point, you were already waiting for him. He tried to listen to your complaints about how Nobara was constantly adding new stuff to the list and how it took longer for you to buy everything or how heavy your backpack was but his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. It was hard for him to hold a conversation when he was unable to comprehend why you were acting the way you were.

In front of the place Takada-chan was supposed to do her show, it was crowded but something was off.

“Why are people leaving already?”

With your remark, he noticed the majority of people walking back the path that was leading to the exit.

After a sigh, he spoke. “It’s canceled. Apparently, there’s a risk of heavy rain.”

“The weather reports never mentioned that,” you pouted and paused momentarily. “Wait… you knew about it?”

“There,” Megumi let out a deep breath, pointing at a sign saying that the place was closed due to the weather.

“Oh.” You looked away from him, mumbling an apology.

“We should hurry up to the station, it looks like it’s going to rain soon.” Megumi turned to you. “Come on.”

The two of you started walking back to the station but as crowded as the station was there was no way you could hop on any of the trains leaving right now. So, you took the bus with the disadvantage of having to walk to the campus once you got off.

“It’s gonna rain,” you whined, stopping to walk.

“Don’t fall back,” Megumi said, offering you a hand. “We’ll walk through the park, it’s a shortcut.”

You took his hand and continued walking in stifling silence until a peal of thunder was heard, loud and long.

Your grip on his hand tightened.

The downpour came after the loud noise almost instantly, it was heavy and rapid.

Megumi cursed and you both started running towards a tree. You still had a long way to go but the large tree would be a perfect shelter from the heavy rain thanks to its size.

By the time you arrived under the tree, both of your clothes were soaked by the rain.

“It’s cold,” you whined and wrapped your arms around yourself. “A sudden downpour is just too much!”

“They say the weather during spring changes rapidly.” Megumi took his jacket off. “This is a problem. I hadn’t brought any rain gear.”

“Nobody did!” you laughed, “The weather report never mentioned once about it raining today!”

He didn’t say anything and turned around on his heels. “Now, what?” He was talking to himself. “We should call someone to get us.” Megumi turned around to look at you. He paused, you were soaking wet. Your clothes were sticking to your skin and your hair was messy.

What’s with that appearance?

“I’m going to call Kugisaki and tell her where we are. She can come here with umbrellas so we can leave.” Megumi turned back around and patted on his jacket’s pockets to find his phone. Once he found it, he called her.

Kugisaki said she would be there as soon as she could but Megumi knew it would take a minimum of half an hour for her to even step out of the campus. That’s why he chose to call her.

“What did she say?” you asked when he hung up.

“She’ll be here but it might take a while.”

You sneezed, rubbing your nose gently. “We’re both going to catch a cold by the time she comes to get us. You should’ve called Yuuji.”

“You can’t even stop talking about him when you’re with me." His eyes widened after he said it, he had apparently said it unbidden.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He tried to move around you but stopped when you quickly laid a hand against his chest.

He couldn’t help shuddering at the contact. He had been trying to hold back all day but now that he had you here, alone with him. All he wanted to do was to press you against the tree, get in between your legs and-

“Are you alright, Megumi?” You looked concerned, completely unaware of his thoughts.

“I’m,” he started, trying to make his tone rational, serious. Stoic, like normal, as always. “I’m f-fine.”

He failed.

You frowned. “Are you sure?” Your hand pressed a little harder on his chest. “Your heart is beating really fast.”

Megumi pinched his eyes shut, taking a slow breath through his mouth. He was focusing on his own control. “Being stuck together like this… I can’t help being conscious of it.” His face was red as he admitted this. “I can’t really keep myself from focusing on you.”

“T-that’s kinda weird to say to a friend.” You took your trembling hand away from his chest, unable to say anything else.

He took a deep breath in and out before speaking. “I don’t see you as a friend.” His voice was devoid of any emotion. He was silent for a while, thinking. His eyes were serious, gazing down at you with desperation. “You’re beautiful,” he finally said. “I’ve liked you since we first met.”

“I… I like someone else, you know that… Fushiguro.”

He will die sooner or later.

He wanted to say it but resisted the urge.

“He doesn’t like you,” he said, his voice threatening to break. “Am I not good enough?”

You froze, seeing Megumi this vulnerable in front of you was too much. He wasn’t like this, he didn’t let his guard down in front of anyone. Yet-

“I just… I know we aren’t meant to be but I like him. It’s hard to give up on the one you like.”

“What about me?” he asked, “What about my feelings?”

At that moment, you got a glimpse of how much Megumi was hurting. Hurting and hurting. You had been acting selfishly, you had even told him your feelings about Yuuji all those years ago. If it weren’t for his warning, you would’ve been in his place right now. Being rejected by the person you liked.

Yuuji would have been gentler, he would have used all the words he knew that wouldn’t hurt you as he told you how he liked Nobara.

You weren’t all that considerate. This was all your fault.

“I-I will try to give up on him and give you an answer.”

“You need to be honest with yourself. How much more time do you need until you realize that he’ll never love you like me?”

His willpower and composure vanished. Everything that was holding him back, whether it be his thoughts or the consequences that might come after he acted without thinking was pushed back to the furthest back on his mind.

All he could think about was you.

“W-wait.”

“I can’t wait any longer.”

You watched him get closer to your face but didn’t move away from shock. Immediately, you closed your eyes shut. Although you couldn’t see him kissing you, the pressure of his lips was more than enough to let you know. Your pulse went berserk as his rough lips pressed against yours, eager and hard. He was firm, a little too forceful.

He placed his hands on your waist, feeling you up while his tongue pressed into your mouth, frenziedly trying to savor your taste.

A sound closer to a moan escaped you when he bit down on your bottom lip before leaning down and kissing your neck, forcing another lewd sound to leave your soft lips. He took a second to press a light kiss against your neck and pressed his hips against you experimentally. Slowly, just testing the waters, he grinded himself against you more firmly and let out a ragged sigh. Though he had already been hard, you felt him growing harder by the second.

“(name),” he whispered, full of passion. “Say my name.”

“Fushiguro-”

“Megumi,” he corrected. His skin was burning up and it felt like he was under direct sunlight, which given the weather, might have been far off. “Say my name.”

“Megumi.”

He pressed his forehead against yours. You were his and nobody else could touch you. He had to make sure of it.

“I like you,” Megumi uttered, he let out a soft sigh, letting his hand reach up to touch your face. He wanted to feel your skin, how soft it was but he stopped himself mid-way when he realized you had been crying.

Ah, so this was a failure.

He should have waited.

However before he could get any more anxious over anything, you got on your tiptoes and then your lips pressed against his.

You tasted sweet, your lips were soft and welcoming, urging him to do whatever he wanted to you, giving him your answer regarding his feelings.

His lips moved slowly against yours and his hands settled, hesitantly on your hips again.

A soft, wanton noise escaped you.

Megumi tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear with his shaking hand as your lips danced in harmony and he tugged you closer. He couldn’t stop himself from pulling you closer and closer. You pressed your chest flush onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He could smell your sweet scent, that scent he had been dying to know what it smelled like in person rather than your dirty laundry. He grinded into you frantically, making you moan into his mouth and allow him to snake his tongue further down your throat.

Your hips bucked against him, you were lost in lust to care about being in public. His eyes widened as another moan forced its way out of your throat. You tugged at his hair, pulling him closer to yourself desperately.

His face was flushed completely red as you kept letting out cute, sweet noises for him. He had to give himself a minute longer, cherishing the moment before withdrawing himself, unable to stop the grin that crawled up his face while a long strand of drool dripped from his lips and another small strand of drool connecting your lips together broke apart.

A soft gasp emerged from your lips as you looked at him dreamily. You were both blushing furiously, lips completely swollen and wet from the kiss and you couldn’t stop smiling at each other.

“You’re finally mine.” He pressed his forehead against yours, his hand on your cheek rubbed circles on the skin with his thumb. You stayed quiet, letting your arms around him stay there as both of you cherished the small moment of silence together.

“Ahem.”

Both of your smiles disappeared and the two of you let go of each other as if you were burned.

There stood Yuuji, holding his umbrella and another spare umbrella. “Kugisaki told me to bring you an umbrella,” His cheeks were flushed bright red because of embarrassment. “I didn’t want to interfere with you two.”

“Itadori!” Megumi took a step forward, his tone was frustrated. “This!-” He stopped, what was this? What was he going to say? Yuuji had most certainly seen you kiss or maybe more. Megumi had no idea of how long his friend stood there and watched you for.

“Even you should be able to fool around with a girl, Fushiguro!” Yuuji forced a laugh and glanced at you. “Are you two, well… going out?”

You glanced at Megumi, he was already looking at you.

His words from earlier came back to your mind. You had to move on, this was for the best.

“Kinda,” you answered.

“Oh, that explains a lot.” Yuuji’s stare found Megumi but then he quickly looked away.

There was a moment of silence.

“Could we just go home now?” you asked, realizing nobody was going to move unless you said something.

“That’s why I am here,” Yuuji beckoned the two of you to follow him.

You followed him to the campus. The two of you shared an umbrella together in silence and once you arrived at the entrance, Megumi hesitantly grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I’ll make you happy.”

It was a promise.

~~~

Passing days were normal, nothing out of ordinary.

You started dating Megumi and forgot about Yuuji.

“Short hair would look better on you,” Yuuji said, overhearing your conversation with Nobara.

“Nooo, her hair is fine as it is!” Nobara argued, walking over to the couch to hit Yuuji’s head. “You just like girls with short hair.”

While the two argued about it, Megumi slowly lifted his gaze up from the book he was reading to watch you blush.

~~~

“Don’t do that,” you whispered, trying to hold back your moan. “Nobara will hear.”

“It makes you feel good.” Megumi pushed his fingers inside your slick heat, lips pressing on your clit, “She knows we’re dating.”

“I-it’s embarrassing,” you stuttered.

“Is it embarrassing to date me?” He pulled back his lips but continued scissoring his fingers in and out of you.

“Noo,” you stretched the word out, biting back a moan. “Y-you know what I mean.”

“Hmm?” He lolled his tongue out and licked between your folds slow enough to make you squirm.

Your hands went to grab his hair out of instinct, trying to pull him back from your pussy. “M-Megumi, please… It’s embarrassing if she hears me do that sorta noise...”

Your words didn’t match your tone. He ignored your empty pleads and lapped at your cunt, his hands pressing on your inner thighs to keep them in place.

Instantly, you arched your back. Megumi’s tongue was hot against your sensitive pussy. It was nothing like when you touched yourself, it made your toes curl in pleasure no matter what he did.

His lips curled up into a smile when a moan escaped you, it was loud enough for Nobara in the next room to hear. He knew she wouldn’t stay quiet about it, running her mouth and telling Yuuji about how loud you were last night.

He sucked on your clit, drawing small circles over the delicate nub with his tongue and using the entire strength of his arm to fuck you with his digits. Your legs shook as your thighs pressed on between each side of his head, you were pulling his hair and moaning but Megumi didn’t stop until the pleasure building in your gut spread and took over all of your senses.

When your high came, it was euphoric, left you panting and exhausted.

Megumi threw himself next to you on your bed, one hand wrapped around his cock, “Turn to your side,” he whispered. Complying, you sluggishly turned to your side, your back against his chest.

Using his hand, he lifted your leg and guided his cock between your thighs. He let your leg fall back to instead use the same hand to cup your naked breast. “Press your thighs together.”

You followed his instructions with a hum. As soon as he felt the supple flesh of your thighs around his cock, he started moving his hips. Although he would have wanted to be inside you right now, he had time. He wanted to take all of your firsts one by one like collecting stamps and make sure to treasure each single first.

His lips pressed against your neck, he groaned softly as he came between your thighs. Turning around, you kissed him sloppily before burying your face on his neck.

It took him a while to catch his breath, he carded his fingers through your hair. “I like it like this.” He pressed a kiss against your hair.

~~~

The next day, Megumi was in the common room with Yuuji when you came back from hanging out with Nobara downtown.

He heard you mumbling and your girlfriend angrily scolding you through the halls.

“It’s definitely lipstick,” Yuuji said.

“Last time was lipstick, it’s probably because they bought the same dress or something.” Megumi shook his head with a faint smile on his lips, he was looking forward to listening to you complain about your day as you cuddled on his bed as usual.

“Wanna bet over it?” Yuuji smirked. “The loser has to clean the toilets.”

“It’s gonna be you.”

“I took my eyes off of you for one second!” Nobara was laughing but her tone was still upset as she entered the common room. “I can’t believe you!”

The boys were waiting for the reveal if it was a lipstick or a clothing item you two were fighting over but as soon as you walked in, they realized it was none of them.

“I think it looks good,” you mumbled, hesitantly moving your hand up to feel your haircut. “It was time for a change.”

The smile Megumi had on his face dropped, his eyes were on Yuuji who was smiling. “I think it looks gorgeous,” he complimented. It was a fairly innocent compliment but Megumi thought of it as something else.

“Thanks,” you said, cheeks blushing slightly. You walked over to your boyfriend, twirling around excitedly, “What do you think?”

“It’s shorter.” Megumi couldn’t find the words to describe how jealous he was but he made sure to not show it on his face. “Cute.”

“Aww, thank you!” You leaned and took his hand, pulling him up to his feet. “Now, help me carry the stuff I bought back to my room.”

You dragged him to the entrance hall, omitting the way he was frowning. He grabbed your shopping bags and followed you into your room without saying anything.

“I bought you something as well, it’s an early graduation gift!” You crouched next to the bags as soon as he put them down to look for his present. “I heard you’re going to have an internship in Kyoto and I also applied there so we can go there together.”

“Why did you cut your hair?”

Your shoulders tensed. “What?”

“Are you still in love with him?” Megumi’s tone was upset, he couldn’t hide it. “Is that it?”

Standing up, you turned to face him. “It’s just hair… I wanted to cut it so I did.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying, Megumi. I don’t like him anymore. You’re making a big-”

He pushed you towards your bed, your body slammed against the soft sheets and a surprised yelp left your lips but Megumi’s lips stifled the sound. He was being too rough, his lips were moving as if to devour you whole but it didn’t stop you from wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him back.

His hand went to pull down his sweatpants. Ahh, sweatpants, the great invention of mankind, saving him from the hassle of unbuckling a belt and undoing the zipper to free his aching cock.

“Wait,” you said into the kiss but he shut you up with his lips, his free hand going under your skirt to pull your panties to the side. Using the same hand, he grabbed the back of your knee to make room for himself between your legs.

Megumi broke the kiss slowly so he could gaze down at you. “You’re mine.”

Wanting to assure him, you nodded rapidly.

“Mine.”

“Yours.”

“You’re in love with me.” He positioned himself between your thighs and rubbed the tip of his cock across your slit.

You made a small noise to confirm.

Megumi pushed himself inside you. The feeling of your walls stretching and a sudden pain made a yelp left your lips. He pulled his hips back to confirm if he was your first or not, a sickening smile spread across his face when he saw the proof. Thrusting back inside, he made sure to push himself deep inside your cunt until you could feel the heat and shape of his cock.

As he was trying to find a pace, he hit a spot that made you squirm. With a smug smile, he angled his hips just right to find your sweet spot once again to turn your mind into mush.

With each thrust of his hips stroking your sweet spot, you felt... overwhelmed, that was the only word that could describe how you felt.

Eventually, his steady pace slackened and he planted his hands on each side of your head to start humping you like a desperate dog in heat.

Your toes curled and the pain from your hymen being torn became a faint memory. All you could feel was Megumi’s desperation.

The desperation he felt and his inexperience combining was too much. He put all of that frenzy into his hips. Your bed frame started banging on the wall from the force he put behind each thrust.

Mind going completely numb, your eyes rolled up from pleasure, hips moving to meet Megumi’s brutal thrusts. He growled when your gummy walls clenched around his cock, he stopped moving for a moment as his hands hastily went to the back of your knees to push them towards your chest. Mounting you completely, he started fucking you almost frantically.

In this position his cock went deeper and stroked the gummy flesh of your walls enticingly.

The tip of his cock pressed against your cervix, causing your body to start spasming, legs shaking and mouth drooling. “M-M-Megumi-”

Megumi was too busy chasing after his own release and he continued fucking you through your orgasm. He put his entire weight behind his thrusts, growling each time his balls slapped against your ass.

He leaned forward and buried his face in your neck, his lips parted and his teeth sank on the sensitive skin. Squirming, you moaned as you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him there.

Your pussy clenched around him one last time, squeezing his cock to milk it dry. He managed to steal a few more thrusts before his cock twitched inside your belly. His thick seed filled your womb until it overflowed.

Continuing to fuck his seed deep inside you, Megumi barely managed to pull himself back. He stopped biting your neck, withdrawing himself to stare at how deep he had bitten you. The pain of being bitten wasn’t there or at least it wasn’t there for this moment, you couldn’t feel anything but his cum slowly seeping out from your hole. The warmth in your tummy was leaving your body and spilling onto your sheets instead.

“You’re so cute when you’re jealous,” you giggled, an eerie smile on your lips. “So easy to provoke.”

Thus Megumi became aware of something. You weren’t dumb, you were always calculating whenever you spoke to him, always watching and always doing things that would spur him on.

You didn’t actually belong to him.

He belonged to you.

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

Shower Friends (Miya Atsumu x F!reader)

The dorm you live in has co-ed bathrooms. Why that’s remotely a good idea is beyond you; and recently, your precious shower time is being interrupted by a certain blonde haired setter for the volleyball team. When he lies to his teammates that he has a girlfriend, somehow you get roped into his scheme. 

genre(s): college!au, fake dating, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (kinda), eventual smut (maybe) words: 3.8k

a/n: i got so carried away with this and i don’t even know if Atsumu is in character or not so please be gentle. chapter 2 coming tomorrow 🤗

taglist: @apollochjld @kurosarium @vicassa

Chapter One

All you want to do is shower in peace. It’s the reason why you wait until the dead of night to avoid any unwanted visitors. You don’t let yourself admit that another reason you wait until the entire floor is asleep is that you live in the building that has a co-ed bathroom. Why anyone decided that was a good idea is beyond you. Throwing a bunch of horny, drunk college kids in the same bathroom seems like a disaster to you, but that’s not really your problem.

Thank goodness they had the sense to put two doors in front of each of the showers. One complete door with a lock leading to a small space to dress and hang your towels before a much flimsier shower curtain. If it had just been the curtain you might’ve resorted to taking showers in one of your friend’s buildings that is not co-ed.

Though about five minutes into your shower in the silent bathroom, you hear the curtain of the stall next to you slide open and the shower turn on. Without thinking, you blurt, “Do you have to choose the one directly next to me?”

Atsumu jolts at your voice, forgetting he can’t just assume the other person in the bathroom is a guy. Muffled by his shirt being pulled over his head he retorts, “This one gets the hottest.” Honestly, he wasn’t expecting anyone else to be in here at this hour.

You nearly drop your shampoo at his voice, hyper-fixating on the fact that you’re practically standing naked directly next to this guy, the only thing separating you being the shower wall and the lock on the outer door. It’s just a few weeks into the semester and up until now you haven’t had a problem with someone showering right next to you, most people deciding to leave a stall between you, both of you doing your best to ignore the other. And definitely not speaking to each other.

Though, you suppose you were the one to speak first here when you could’ve kept your mouth shut and pretended like it didn’t bother you.

“Can’t you go one night without burning your skin off?” You say, knowing full well the stall next to you is like water from hell.

Atsumu can’t help smirking despite that you can’t see him. “Nope, already naked.” Something clatters on the other side of the wall and he stifles his laugh that you must’ve dropped something.

Snatching your dropped body wash, you angrily scrub yourself clean and decidedly do not think about the person next to you.

Thankfully, neither of you speak a word to the other for the remainder of your shower.

Though your stomach drops when you both turn the water off at the exact same moment.

“Please tell me you didn’t do that on purpose,” you groan, hurriedly grabbing your towel to wrap your cold body.

“Okay,” he says with a shrug. “I didn’t.” He knows that doesn’t sound very believable, but he’s pretty sure no matter what he said you wouldn’t accept it.

Scrubbing at your hair you try to keep your voice level. “I’m not leaving until you do.”

“Now it sounds like yer tryin’ to get a look at me.”

You ball your fists, resisting the urge to just storm out of the bathroom. Like an idiot, you’d assumed nobody would shower at this hour and all you have with you is your towel. Normally you bring a change of clothes with you, but of course the one night you don’t, you have a shower buddy.

The brooding silence emanating from your stall is enough for him to let out a small laugh, then conceding, “Alright, alright—I’m gone.”

“Thank you,” you breathe, feeling your growing anxiety about this entire situation melt away. At that, you hear his door unlock and the soft padding of his feet walking away. On his way out, he takes one last glance at the final stall where you’re still waiting, then blows a wet strand of his hair out of his face and heads out.

You wait a few minutes after his footsteps have faded then peek your head out of the stall to a blissfully empty bathroom. Letting out a deep sigh, you hold your towel tightly to your chest and scurry back to your dorm room knowing you’re going to go to sleep tonight thinking about the strange boy you met in the shower.

Hopefully you never have to deal with that again.

~

Of course, you’re very wrong. Not even a week later, you enter the bathroom only to ram directly into someone exiting. And this person is shirtless, their lean muscular frame on display for anyone to ogle at, a towel slung around his hips in just the right way that makes your heart pound without permission.

He catches you so you and all your bathroom supplies don’t tumble to the floor and you reflexively steady yourself with your palms on his chest before you realize what you’re doing. He smirks down at you, eyes glinting mischievously and drawling, “Ya know, I think you might’a done that on purpose.”

Immediately, your heart stutters to a halt in your chest recognizing that lilting, teasing voice. Pushing yourself off his chest and slipping into the bathroom behind him you snap, “You wish.”

Atsumu’s eyes widen, connecting the dots. Though the expression is transient, quickly settling back into a smirk that you think is even more irritating than before. “Takin’ a shower at this hour again, you sure yer not looking for me?”

You frown. “I take showers this late to avoid people!” Then you turn on your heel, done with this conversation and step into your favorite stall (which Atsumu astutely notices is the same one as last time). You take a quick and admittedly angry shower, doing a poor job of trying to forget your newfound annoyance.

Something about him is familiar. And you can’t put your finger on it. Not until you get back to your dorm room and your roommate is practically bouncing off the walls. You stare at her confusedly and she exclaims, “Did you see Miya Atsumu on your way to the bathroom? Oh my god—please tell me you did. He was wearing a towel and that’s it!” She squeals and tips back into her bed hugging a pillow tightly.

You don’t know why, but your initial reaction to realizing your shower nuisance is Miya Atsumu, is to laugh out loud. Your roommate gives you a startled expression until you say, “Yeah—yeah I saw him.” While she blabbers about how “insanely hot” he is, you shake your head at yourself. Miya Atsumu, the setter for the university’s volleyball team that lives on your floor and that your roommate is an avid fan of. He also has quite the gaggle of girls that are in love with him. Thankfully, your roommate isn’t so infatuated with him that she’s a member of the fan club but judging from her demeanor right now she’s well on her way there. You huff, admitting that yes—by looks alone he’s a head turner but you can’t imagine that personality being a winner amongst the club. Or maybe that’s his charm, you don’t know.

Though, after attending a volleyball game a week later, you’re certain his fan club is based on his looks alone. You have to keep yourself from snorting when he’s about to serve and raises his fist to silence the crowd, everyone complying except a few fan girls who cheer for him as he serves. Afterwards, he shouts at them from the court, telling them to ‘keep yer traps shut!’. They listen for the rest of the game and surprisingly, are no less in love with him then they were before.

What you find even more impressive than his ability to silence an entire crowd, though it pains you to admit, is that he’s good at volleyball. Really good. And your roommate seems to be the Atsumu fact machine as she tells you that he’s on Japan’s radar to play professionally and is here on a sports scholarship. She tells you she wouldn’t be surprised if he has to stop playing for the university in order to start playing professionally.

“How come you know so much about him?” You ask offhandedly, chin resting in your hand as your eyes are trained on the court below. You forced her to sit with you near the back of the stands in hopes he won’t see you because if you ever run in to him again in the bathroom you’re sure he’ll never let you hear the end of it.

She flushes at that, toying with a strand of her hair and mumbling, “Um, I went to Inarizaki High where he went and uh—kinda had a huge crush on his brother. He has a twin.”

You lift your brows at that information. No wonder she’s squealing over Atsumu, who probably looks exactly like his brother. You decide to prod a bit further asking, “So was the fan club just for Atsumu back then too?”

Now she laughs. “Nope, it was the Miya twin fan club. Terrifying really. Imagine that,” she nods her head towards the group at the front of the stands, “But double.”

“Fun.”

You haven’t told her about your run-ins with Atsumu in the bathroom yet. And part of you wonders if now would be a good time. You’d been holding off in fear that she was secretly in love with him or something, but now that you know it’s very much the opposite, you really want to tell her. As you open your mouth, the whistle blows calling the game, and you’re overwhelmed by the need to leave before the team lines up to thank the spectators in fear the Atsumu will recognize you. It’ll have to wait until later you suppose.

~

The second you hear someone enter the stall beside you, without even seeing him, you know it’s Atsumu. And for a few blessed moments, you’re led to believe he’s going to keep his mouth shut for the duration of his shower.

When Atsumu entered the bathroom, upon seeing that the last stall on the left was occupied at this hour, he could be pretty certain it was you. And who was he if he didn’t take the chance to push your buttons a little bit? You make it so easy for him, it’s hard to resist. Your hopes are crushed when you hear him say, “Enjoy the game last week?”

This time, you fumble with your shampoo not because he startled you but because of all the things he could have said, that was the last thing you were expecting.

“My roommate wanted to go,” you say, glad he can’t see you and your flustered expression. It’s the truth, and you’re definitely not going to admit you were a little curious yourself.

“Oh, did she?” He asks, brows raised as he lathers his hair with soap.

Judging by his tone, he doesn’t believe you. So, some part of you decides to dig your hole even deeper without realizing it, trying to explain, “She went to your high school, so she wanted to see you play again.”

You foolishly thought that would take the suspicion off of you. However, it does the opposite. Now he’s even more interested. “And what did she tell you about me, hm?”

You freeze, scrambling for something that doesn’t make you sound like he’s been on your mind. Though you convince yourself he’s only on your mind because he’s annoying and you try to avoid him every time you take a shower nowadays. “She told me your school was really good and that you have a twin brother.”

He frowns momentarily, unsure how Osamu somehow weaseled his way into this conversation when you’ve never even met him. Instead of letting that piece of rivalry he’ll carry with him forever show, he prods a little further, hoping to get a ruse out of you before you inevitably storm out of the bathroom and he has to wait until your next unplanned meeting to talk to you more. “And what’d ya think? How good am I?”

You laugh, shutting him down immediately. “I don’t know a damn thing about volleyball.”

Though you don’t think you really have to know much about volleyball to see he’s good. That notion backed up by the information your roommate gave you that he’s here on a sports scholarship and is being scouted by professional teams. But you keep your mouth shut, unwilling to boost his ego any further.

Turning the shower off, you step out and start drying yourself off. Not entirely sure why, but you continue the conversation much to Atsumu’s surprise. “I liked watching though, it was fun,” you say quietly, pulling your pajama’s on, regretting saying anything at all instantly and wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

A grin rises to his lips, but before he can get another word in, he hears the door of your stall unlocking and the telltale sound of your footsteps walking away. Scrubbing at his hair, he can’t help wondering what this strange little relationship growing between the two of you is.

~

At this point, you’re beginning to think he’s doing it on purpose. You can’t imagine anyone else wanting to shower this late unless it is solely to come bother you like he seems intent on doing.

“What are you just waiting around for me now?” You groan at the sound of the bathroom door opening, not even waiting for him to enter the stall beside you, already certain you know exactly who it is.

He scoffs, “No, practice went late and I’m tired and sweaty. Maybe I think yer the one waitin’ around for me.”

“Gross.”

“That’s what the shower’s for, sweetheart.”  

“Let’s agree not to talk, shall we?” You huff, intent on ignoring him this time.

“Watch it, I might start to think you like me or somethin’,” He teases, but he’s only met with silence. He lets it go, too tired to care much or carry on a conversation anyways. After washing his hair, he grabs his body wash and realizes to his dismay that it’s completely empty. He can barely get a lather out of it. He stands there for a few minutes debating if he should bother you again, eventually deciding to hell with it.

Out of the blue, he says, “I’m out of body wash.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

He ponders that for a minute, truly not sure what he expects you to do about it. “Can I borrow some?”

“You’re going to smell like a girl,” you laugh, actively shoving down the small voice saying: ‘and he’ll smell like you’.

Without thinking, he replies, “Well, maybe someone will think I’m fucking one then.”

The silence that yawns between the two of you is deafening as you try and wrap your head around what he’s just said. He balls his fists, mentally yelling at himself for letting something like that slip.

“You’re not?”

“Is that hope I hear?” He teases, shifting the conversation back to more comfortable territory.

You groan. “Please.” Then step out of the shower and reach under your door to slide your body wash under his door.

“Smells nice.”

“Shut up.”

He puts forth a valiant effort to not think about you while the pleasant scent fills his shower, forcing his thoughts towards volleyball. Different drills. The new play he learned today at practice. How the ball feels in his palm when he spikes it. Anything but you and this damn body wash that smells like you that he’s lathering across his chest at the moment.

In the end, it’s a pretty futile effort.

And maybe he goes to bed thinking about how he smells like you and he…likes it.

~

Unable to get a hold of his emotions, he refuses to go back to his dorm where he’ll be subjected to the same treatment from his roommate. After all, his roommate is on the volleyball team too. So, the only place he can think of to go to cool off is the bathroom. He haphazardly shoves the door open, the thought that someone else might be in here at this hour—namely you—is drowned out by the rage clouding his vision.

Retrospectively, that was a mistake. Honestly, shouldn’t he know by now?

Regardless, he storms in, yelling “Fuck!” his hands curling into his hair in frustration. Lately, the team has been relentless in their jabs that he can never get a real girlfriend, even with a whole group of them clambering over each other for his attention. And he only made the jabs worse today by somehow pissing off his fucking fan club making the entire team adamant he can never have a serious girlfriend. Not with how much of an ‘asshole’ he is.

He groans, tugging at his blonde strands, regretting everything that came after that. He’d done a stupid thing. A really stupid thing. He’d told them he does have a girlfriend.

And he very much does not.

Atsumu scares the shit out of you, barreling into the bathroom, roaring at the top his lungs in frustration. You were at the tail end of your shower, pulling on your pajamas and at the sound of his voice you banged your head on the towel hook with how fast it whipped up.

Furious, you rip open the stall door shout, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

His head jerks up, landing on you standing there in your pajamas, caught off guard that someone else is in here and of course it’s you. Of all the people to see him like this, you are the absolute last he wants to see. You both stand there staring at each other for a moment before he composes himself, letting an easy smirk cross his features and shoving his anger far enough down that he’s able to reply, “Practice was shit today. Nothin’ to worry yer little heart about.”

His stomach twists into knots as your expression doesn’t change, clearly not believing him. You can’t explain it, but there’s something deeper swimming in his eyes that makes you think he’s lying. And it’s enough for you to press further, doing your best to ignore the fact that you might actually care.

Shoulders drooping, his smile fades and he grimaces, not wanting to admit to you his mistake. But you just stand there, arms crossed, expecting him to give you a real answer and eventually he cracks.

“I did something stupid.”

“Tell me why I’m not surprised,” you deadpan, but continue to stare at him expectantly.

“You could at least pretend to be surprised.”

You’re relentless. “Spit it out Atsumu.”

He blinks, unsure if you’ve ever actually addressed him by his name before. But the thought is fleeting as the embarrassment of what he’s about to admit to you overwhelms him. Knowing you, you’re just going to laugh in face. And what’s the point? He’ll just be solidifying what he’s sure you already think about him.

After a moment, he tells you anyways. “My teammates think I’m too much of an asshole to have a girlfriend.”

He watches your expression morph into confusion. “I don’t see the problem here.”

Gritting his teeth and gripping the edge of the sink, he can’t even bear to look at you. He feels so fucking ridiculous. Why do you even care? Your only interactions with him thus far have been laced with annoyance, why have you now suddenly decided to take interest in his life when you so clearly don’t like him?

“I told them I have one.”

He tries not to groan when you reply, “I’m still not following.”

Does he need to spell it out for you? “I don’t have one,” he manages to choke out, a lot quieter and more pathetic than he’d like.

If this had been the first time meeting him, you might’ve laughed. Hell—you still kind of want to laugh. But seeing him like this is so jarring, you aren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. It’s clear this is something that bothers him deeper than he’s admitting. And a couple weeks ago, you would’ve never thought you’d be standing in a deserted bathroom with Miya Atsumu discussing the failures of his dating life.

“Why don’t you just ask one of the girls dying for your attention?” You ask, feeling a little grimy about the suggestion.

He seems to feel the same. “I don’t…it doesn’t feel right. They’d think it’s real.”

You keep it to yourself that despite what his teammates have said, that is a very non-asshole-ish thing to do.

He keeps staring at you, gears turning his head. Asking someone in his fan club feels wrong to him…but asking someone to fake it seems like a better option. And who better than the person standing in front of him right now? But you can see exactly what he’s thinking, beating him to it and crossing your arms saying pointedly, “No.”

“Aww come on! Why not?”

“Don’t you think that isn’t fair to me?”

He ponders this a moment. “What—you got yer eyes set on someone else or somethin’?”

“N—no! I just,” you splutter.

He has to hook you, otherwise he’s thoroughly fucked. The thought of enduring the brunt of his teammates teasing for who knows how long if he shows up tomorrow empty handed is enough to make him offer, “I promise to stop taking showers at night!”

Your brows lift, turning the idea over in your head. The prospect of taking quiet, uninterrupted showers is too good to pass up. And it isn’t the end of the world to pretend to date him for a few weeks. What could possibly go wrong?

So, with that, the deal is sealed. You and Atsumu are officially fake dating and your story is not far from the truth. You met in the bathroom a couple times and hit it off, it’s believable enough. Your roommate might be a bit chuffed you kept it from her, but she’ll get over it. Probably the second you divulge her in any insider information about Atsumu she’ll forget you were hiding him from her.

He tells you to meet him at the gym tomorrow afternoon. “Wear somethin’ cute!” He shouts at you as you exit the bathroom.

Over your shoulder, you give him a look that unexpectedly makes his heart stutter in his chest as you cheekily say, “Shouldn’t my boyfriend think I look cute in anything?” Then you disappear around the corner and he has to shove the thought that you do look cute in your pajamas to the back of his head.

[existslikepristin]

Bullyrene (chapter 2, "Taken")

Missed a chapter? Here's a handy link to the index!

Tags: Red Velvet, Irene, a bunch of OCs, sexual stuff happens eventually but I wouldn’t call this a smut cuz it’s dark as fuck, if you don’t read stuff with trigger warnings don’t read this story, I’m just not gonna bother listing them all because there’s a lot, abandon all hope ye who enter here

~~~~~

The streets of Seoul were unusually quiet. It was as if the city was mourning. To Irene, though, it was unsettling. The city was mourning, but she didn’t know who for, and it was definitely not for her. She was being carried through a stranger’s funeral proceeding.

Simone had put in a pair of earbuds to avoid the sound of Irene's sobbing, but Irene had long since stopped. Her tears had all but dried up. Her hand hurt. Her tailbone hurt. She was uncomfortable. She felt lost.

“Where are we going?”

Irene waited for an answer, but didn’t get one fast enough for her liking. She waved in the rear view mirror.

“Sup?” Simone asked, popping one of her earbuds out.

“I asked where we’re going.”

Irene recognized the annoyed look Simone gave her. She’d given the same look to countless incompetent employees. “That would be Silje’s manor, as previously mentioned.”

“Who is,” Irene’s tongue tripped over the odd name, so she just said, “she?”

“Her name is Silje. It’s not that hard to pronounce for a Korean. ‘Sill-EE-yeh.’ I suggest you get that figured out as soon as possible. We’re getting close, and she’s not going to be happy if you butcher her name like that.”

Irene huffed. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You know, I’d think you’da figured that out, even if nobody’s told you her name yet.” Simone shook her head, but kept her eyes more or less on the road. “She’s your owner.”

“Nobody,” Irene shouted in staccato, “Owns. Me!”

“Geez, woman. Get a grip. You got concerns? How about you ask a fuckin’ question? I’m not just your chauffeur, I’m one of her slaves too, so we’re equals in thi--”

Irene lunged forward for the steering wheel. Her sense of self-preservation was overcome, but by what, she had no clue. She saw a railing along the side of the street. They weren’t going too fast. She could get out.

Her fingers barely touched the wheel when she felt a pain in the left side of her head. Her field of vision became a blur of motion, there was a ringing in her ears, and suddenly she was staring at the starry sky of the roof of the car.

“Fucking shit! You are one insane bitch, huh?!”

The pain in Irene’s head turned into a splitting headache. She tried to turn over, but Simone’s arm was pinning her to the median between the front seats. She opened her mouth to shout to be let go, but the arm was crushing her neck, so she could only croak in her daze.

When the stars faded from her vision and she could think straight again, Irene panicked, clawing at Simone’s arm and at the seat.

“Stop! Now! I’m going to let you go now, and if you try any more of that bullshit, I will break your plastic nose right in half.”

The mental image was enough to make Irene stop her scratching. Simone made good on her word and let up. Irene slid down to the floor of the backseat. She coughed. It sounded as if her throat was damaged, and it certainly didn’t help the headache.

“She can’t.” Irene’s voice was hoarse. “I haven’t consented.”

“Oooh, listen to that. She’s not totally ignorant after all.” Simone sighed heavily. “You have the right idea there princess. There are rules to this slavery thing, but when all you read are the headlines, you don’t get the full story. You really wanna know what happened, or are you gonna try to get us killed again?”

Irene rubbed at her neck. She tried clearing her throat, but it didn’t stop the pain. “Yes.”

There was a long pause. “You fucking better mean, ‘Yes, Simone. I want to know what happened,’ you escaped asylum-patient.”

“I… do.” Irene scowled, though it was just at the back seat, and Simone couldn’t see it.

“Oookay. Then listen the hell up. I’m only going to summarize this. There are provisions that allow companies to recognize big-percentage sources of revenue as products which can be bought and sold. According to the board of directors, you were important enough to have a price tag on you. And so, bam, you slave.”

Irene had to take some time to put all of it together. “B-but… why?”

“I can’t explain the thoughts of people with the kind of money to fuck with that. It’s pure insanity that they can get away with it, but there’s a certain kind of rich where insanity stops mattering. Any chance that’s why you thought it would be a good idea to crash my car?”

The puzzle came together for Irene. She was a witness to more than a few illegal actions taken by some very important people. But one piece was missing. She was a witness, certainly, but she was complicit in many of the actions. She had always justified the things she was seeing for the sake of her blissfully ignorant group members, but that just meant she had more, or at least as much, to lose as the criminals themselves. Getting rid of her as a witness didn’t make sense to her, given how much money they stood to lose without her.

“And would you look at this? Thank fuck. We’re here. You can get out of my car.”

Irene pulled herself up, wobbling and falling back into the seat. She assumed she would need to figure out what the missing puzzle piece was before she could get out of there.

The car came to a smooth stop at the end of a long driveway. The car doors unlocked, but Irene didn’t get out. She stared at the mansion through the tinted window. It was definitely not built by a local, as garishly huge as it was. A light dusting of snow on the roof made it look even colder than its unnecessary size.

“Look. Irene. Can I call y-- Fuck it, I’m calling you Irene. I know this is gonna be a bitch to get used to. But if you ever want to talk -without trying to get us killed- I’ll be a listening ear.”

“Thanks,” Irene muttered.

“And some real quick advice. Don’t be a bitch to Silje. She ain’t all that bad if you get to know her. She straight up gave me this car. It’s under my name and everything.”

“Hm.” Irene wasn’t especially interested in the ownership of the car. She popped open the car door and jumped out, still slightly dizzy and off balance from the elbow she took to the ear. The cold of the winter shocked her half naked body with adrenaline though, and she ran to the front door of the mansion. It opened shortly before she reached it, pushed by a deeply tanned Asian woman in a white shirt and black pencil skirt.

The interior was just as strikingly contrasted as the woman’s outfit. The floor was dark hardwood, but the walls were stark white. The entrance hall was immense, and in the center was a huge, four-tiered, marble fountain with a square base. Beyond that was a pair of grand staircases that curled up and back in on themselves, forming a small balcony on either side of the room. It was all brightly lit with two magnificent crystalline chandeliers.

On the opposite side of the fountain, Irene could just see a chubby Hispanic woman dressed in jeans and a tee shirt standing next to someone who was sitting on the fountain’s base.

“M-ms. Bae,” said the woman who opened the door, “would you like a shirt?”

“Yes,” is the only reply Irene cared to give, rubbing her arms and striding forward with purpose. She assumed Silje would be the one on the fountain. Her guess was quickly confirmed.

“Don’t worry about the shirt now, Mahia,” said Silje. Her voice wasn’t especially high or low, but she had a thick accent that Irene couldn’t place. “Just prepare a dress for her in her room.”

Irene frowned at the way this Mahia bowed and walked away.

“Irene, then? Is it a habit of yours to go about in the winter with so little clothing?” Silje asked, standing up slowly.

“No! I--” Irene started. They were still several meters apart, but Silje’s height alone was enough to give Irene pause. Including a pair of short heeled pumps, she estimated Silje was nearing two whole meters tall.

Silje turned to face Irene. Her blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun, and she was dressed in a lab coat, open over the top of a red button-up shirt and black pants. Her soft facial features were undercut by how the ends of her thin lips curled into a mockery of a kind smile. But most striking were her eyes, sunken slightly to create the effect of a dark ring around them, and with the palest blue irises that Irene had ever seen. She put Irene on edge.

“Come on then. I know you have a voice. Mr. Lee waxed quite poetic about it during our negotiations.”

Irene’s blood boiled. The thought of Lee Soo Man himself having some part in her predicament made the ringing and the pain in her left ear worse, and made her want to scream. But she didn’t. She lowered her eyes. “My bodyguard took my shirt. They said I bought it with company money.”

There was a moment of silence. “That seems,” Silje said eventually, “unnecessary.”

Irene wondered if that was all she was going to say on the matter.

Silje spoke again, but it was in English. The only words Irene caught were “Ada,” presumably the Hispanic woman’s name, and “schedule,” after which Ada gave a smile, responded in English, and walked away. Silje’s attention turned back to Irene.

“You’ll find your room there,” she said, pointing up the staircase to her right, “Take a left and it will be the last door in the hall. It has been labeled for you. I apologize that I don’t have the time to get to know you right away, so we’ll have dinner together tonight. Get cleaned up and I’ll send someone along to ask what you’d like to eat. You’ll have a few hours to decide.”

With that, and without waiting for Irene, Silje left. Her footsteps faded away down one of the oversized hallways.

Irene didn’t have anything left to say though, so it was just as well. All she had were her thoughts and physical pain. She looked back at the front door. She assumed she could just walk through it and leave. She was alone, with nobody in sight or even hearing that could catch her.

But she couldn’t think of where she’d go. She couldn’t get back into Red Velvet’s dorm without a key. And she assumed that’s the first place they’d look for her, if she made it back safely in the first place. Not knowing where she was -in or out of Seoul- made the prospect even harder to consider.

Instead of trying to escape, she made her way up the stairs, and to the room Silje directed her to. As promised, it was labeled with her name. It wasn’t locked. In fact, the door didn’t appear to have a lock on it. Irene scowled at the lack of privacy.

The room was large, but simple. The flooring and walls were just the same as they were in the entrance hall and everything else Irene had seen so far, broken up only by a massive window facing out to the driveway, partially covered by thick black curtains. The bed was large enough for two, and had a deep navy comforter on it with four matching pillows. There was a large, empty standing wardrobe made of some mid-tone wood, but no closet. There was a desk made of the same wood as the wardrobe with a comfortable office chair, and a sleek laptop on top of it, but the computer would not move or turn on. And finally, there was a door leading to a windowless bathroom, which contained a toilet, sink, mirror, towel rack, and standing glass shower.

Irene paced the room several times before undressing. Next to the sink was a pack of makeup wipes, a bar of soap, and small bottles of shampoo and conditioner, reminiscent of the ones she would see in hotels, but that she had previously refused to use. But without a better option available, she did.

She spent a significant amount of time in that shower, letting the water beat down on her with far more pressure than she would have preferred. The near-sting of the water distracted her from everything else she was feeling. At some point, she dropped to her knees. She stared at the stream coming off of her hair and down the drain. She didn’t let her thoughts race. She didn’t let them start. She let her mind go blank.

Only when the shower water started to come out cold did she get back up and exit. On the bed, a simple black dress had been left for her. It was definitely her size, and was modest, reaching down to her knees.

It seemed to Irene that now all she could do was wait.

[permanentcrossfics]

Blurred Lines: Until They Met Again // h.s.

Italics sorted (someone tell me why Google Docs doesn’t love me like Microsoft Word did by letting me copy italics?)! Happy reading, all. See you next time x

“So, m’going to be back in New York soon.” Again, you said nothing, and after a beat he continued. “Just for a night or so — I’ll be flying into Philadelphia and then out to LA for some work stuff.”

“Philadelphia to New York to LA?” you asked.

“London to Philadelphia and Philadelphia to LA.”

“So—” Bless whatever and whoever it was that’d sicked the cat on you to catch your tongue before you could ask him why he was coming to New York if he was flying into and out of Philadelphia. “That’ll be nice.”

He cleared his throat again and you dropped your phone from your ear to take a deep breath, suddenly hot.

“Yeah, so,” he began, “I was thinkin’, y’know. If you’re free or you’d like to….”

You’d like to laugh, because this whole thing was wildly fucking funny. Harry Styles was dialing you for a booty call after a one night stand from months ago. Harry Styles was going to detour into the city for one night just for you, and it wasn’t because you’d had such riveting conversation last time.

“When?” Your fingers twitched at your side.

“When’s good for you?”

Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad // Read the extended ending only on Patreon

So, the truth was: you’d had sex with Harry Styles and forgotten all about him. 

No — seriously. You’d had sex with Harry Styles and forgotten all about him. 

Honestly, it was all more like a fever dream than anything. It’d happened to you — with you — and even you didn’t buy it. Because why would Harry Styles go to a hole in the wall burger place in the middle of New York City? Didn’t he have people to see at much nicer places with way better food? Especially after one of his own concerts, with people wanting to celebrate him?

And the sex…. It wasn’t even the night of that made your toes curl the most. The morning after, in the forty or so minutes it took room service to get to your hotel room? He’d fucked like his life depended on it. You’d been on your belly, and he’d been in it, skin slapping and both of you wheezing and sputtering your ways to the end because in the morning hours, they might care. In the morning, there might be someone who could recognize his voice or who would wonder if you cried out his name — you weren’t the only one who’d grabbed a hotel for the show, after all. Remembering the low, rumbling groan that’d echoed in his throat as he pulsed inside you and pushed his hips just so against you made you clench if you thought about thinking about it.

He’d left, you’d left, and you hadn’t told a single soul — not your friends, not your Instagram, and definitely not your mother. Not because he’d asked you not to, or because you couldn’t, but because it was the right thing to do. Only the worst of people had busy fingers and thumbs to take fishing selfies and post stories that created more talk than their mouths ever could. And honestly? It was easier to pretend it hadn’t happened, because that was absurd. The whole of it from top to bottom was the most hysterical insanity, and if you’d read it in a blind item column, you’d laugh your way around the world and fall off if it was flat.

(But it wasn’t flat, and as it was, you’d go round and round in circles, and where you’d stop, nobody would know.)

So, you had to forget all about him. And it’d worked, too. The end of June bled almost indiscernibly with the beginning of July, the blazing sun of which made all but the most touristy of tourists want to crawl underground. August brought enough relief to make you throw your windows open and lie naked on your bed, hoping a breeze would blow through, but it wasn’t until September you knew peace.

And then you’d picked up the phone. 

It was an unknown number, and you were a 21st century person who routinely ignored any call from any number they didn’t know (and, sometimes, the ones they did). Maybe you knew — maybe that was why, despite your hiss of annoyance, you slid your thumb on the screen. “Hello?” Clipped in anticipation of either a robotic voice or a sales pitch, you barely held the phone to your ear, poised and at the ready to hang up as quickly as you’d picked up. You leaned across your sofa to grab the remote you’d thrown onto the cushions at the opposite end at the start of the film you’d put on. 

“Hey, it’s uh—” The owner of the voice on the other end cleared its throat, but you were already frozen, tense and in shock, prickles erupting on your scalp and up your arms. You didn’t need him to say who he was. Even as quietly as he was speaking, the cadence and lilt were familiar to you anywhere. As was the smile you could hear in his voice. “It’s Harry.” 

You jammed your thumb on the pause button several times until it finally took. 

“Hi.” Flat, dull, and totally uninterested, which was not true or accurate. “Hi,” you repeated breathlessly, hoping he could hear the difference. “Hi, I didn’t— sorry. I thought it might be a spam….” You took a deep breath. He didn’t care. Hell, you didn’t care. “How are you?” 

Harry’s cough sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “M’good,” he said. “Y’know, m’doin’ well, just… keeping busy. Working.” 

You hummed but otherwise stayed silent, waiting. This wasn’t exactly a phone call you got any day and every day, and you doubted he was calling to check in with you.

“So, m’going to be back in New York soon.” Again, you said nothing, and after a beat he continued. “Just for a night or so — I’ll be flying into Philadelphia and then out to LA for some work stuff.” 

“Philadelphia to New York to LA?” you asked.

“London to Philadelphia and Philadelphia to LA.” 

“So—” Bless whatever and whoever it was that’d sicked the cat on you to catch your tongue before you could ask him why he was coming to New York if he was flying into and out of Philadelphia. “That’ll be nice.” 

He cleared his throat again and you dropped your phone from your ear to take a deep breath, suddenly hot. 

“Yeah, so,” he began, “I was thinkin’, y’know. If you’re free or you’d like to….” 

You’d like to laugh, because this whole thing was wildly fucking funny. Harry Styles was dialing you for a booty call after a one night stand from months ago. Harry Styles was going to detour into the city for one night just for you, and it wasn’t because you’d had such riveting conversation last time. 

“When?” Your fingers twitched at your side. 

“When’s good for you?”

For a moment, everything went white with the headrush from the overwhelming power flooding you. He was waiting on you — fares and change fees probably didn’t matter to him, if he paid much for anything at all with how many airline miles he’d probably racked up in his life. 

“Next Friday?” you asked. You’d need a full two days to recover from the shock alone. “If that’s good for you.” 

“Should be,” he said. “I’ll let you know.”

You smirked slightly. Trying to regain a little control? “Sounds good,” you murmured, fingernails digging into your knee. “If not this time then another time, maybe.” 

Needless to say when he texted you ten minutes after hanging up, Friday worked perfectly. 

You didn’t hear from him again until closer to the date. Part of you was wondering if he’d forgotten, but when he asked you on Thursday if you were still on, you stared at his very formal message for a good fifteen seconds just… absorbing the fact that he was coming into town just to see you. 

To have sex with you. 

He wanted to meet for dinner first — God, did you have to? It made the whole thing so much more… you both knew you were winding up naked at the end of the night, anyway.  When you looked up the restaurant, you just about died right there on your sofa. It was, in a word, expensive. The type of expensive that didn’t have the prices listed online but that Yelp was all too happy to spill. Stress mounted in you and you blinked in the dim blue light of your computer, shellshocked, scrolling through the reviews with your hand pressed tightly to your cheek. 

It was a drop in the bucket, maybe, but he didn’t have to do this. He knew that, didn’t he? 

More than once you wrote out a message to cancel — you didn’t feel well, a work thing came up that you couldn’t get out of, someone from somewhere was flying into town and you had to see them. Every time, though, you deleted it all. For months, you hadn’t thought about him, but now… you wanted to see him. Badly. You wanted to see if it was as good and normal as the first time. If it crashed and burned, fine, but at least you’d know and wouldn’t wonder what would happen if you got to see him again. 

Dinner was late that Friday night. He’d asked if you were ok with that, and while part of you wanted to rip the bandaid off, the other part knew — or imagined to know — he had his reasons, especially when the name he told you to give when you got there wasn’t his. Suddenly, it clicked — people could see you and him, together, and he was trying to take precautions to avoid that as much as possible. Maybe for your sake as much as his. 

The inside of the restaurant was dark, and you gave the name as discreetly as you could, trying not to fall right over from how your nervous knees were knocking together. Each step through the maze of tables full of diners clinking wine glasses, sharing pizzas, and cutting into massive steaks that were bigger than the plates they were on made you a little more nauseous, and you were seconds away from turning around and bolting on jellied legs when there he was. Alone, huddled behind a plant in a dark corner that was more secluded than the rest, with a basket of bread in front of him along with a bowl of butter and a bottle of olive oil. He was typing on his phone when he looked up and did a double take with your wave and feeble smile. 

“Hi.”

Harry stood slightly and only sat down after you’d done the same in the chair that was pulled out for you next to his — albeit too clumsily and too soon. 

“It’s good t’see you,” Harry said, quietly and warmly but still audible over the clang of the dining room. 

“You too.” You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. You didn’t remember eye contact being this intimidating with him — you’d had sex with him and managed it better, not to mention the conversation and shameless way you’d flirted with him during the show in a way that would show up any seventies groupie.  “Good trip?”

You should take your coat off. You should put your purse somewhere, and you should maybe try not to look like you had a stick up your ass, but all the common sense, human nature things that you’d usually do without thinking suddenly took a great deal of effort to remember. 

“It was ok, yeah,” he said with a shrug as you gingerly set your bag down and tried to get out of your jacket without hitting him in the arm. “Here, let me….” 

Harry stood and hooked his fingers into your jacket and pulled it down your arms to drape it over the back of your chair. 

“Thank you,” you said, still hot despite shedding a layer. “How’ve you been since…?”

Since we last had sex?

“Good!” he said. “Good, y’know… busy, but good. Getting some different things done.”

“Anything I can know about?” you asked, managing a smirk at last.

A mistake, because he returned it, and his looked better. “Not yet,” he said. “Couple of things might come out soon.” 

You held his gaze a fraction of a second too long, and you felt its impact. Clearing his throat, Harry picked up the menu card in front of him. He looked like he was fighting a smile, and there was a very faint flush in his cheeks. “So, the ah, linguine in vodka sauce is very good and there’s a vegan version if that’s somethin’ you’re interested in.” He flipped it over. “And the affogato—” You bit your lip to contain a smile of your own, the flare of an attempted Italian accent over his Manchester accent cutting through influences from London and America alike comical in a way it shouldn’t be— “is nice if you don’t have to be up in the morning.” 

Before you could think about it, you said, “Sounds great.” Harry looked at you from the corner of his eye, mouth twitching, and coughed into his fist to hide it. Jesus — could you say or do anything that didn’t make you seem a sort of way? “Is there wine?” 

No, apparently, you couldn’t.

He nodded, lips still quivering annoyingly. “Ordered us a bottle — hope that’s ok, it’s….” He gestured just as a waiter approached with it. 

“That’s good,” you said. 

“Sure?”

You nodded and he gave his own to the waiter who busied himself with uncorking the bottle and pouring you each a glass. Harry held his, hovering in midair when you picked yours up. 

“Oh—” Belatedly, you clinked yours with his before taking two deep sips. He didn’t even try to hide his laughter, then, and his eyes crinkled over the rim of his glass. 

“So,” he said. “How’ve you been?” 

Since you last had sex.

“Well,” you said, running your finger over your glass. “Working, mostly.” 

“What is it you do?” 

You stared, but his green eyes were wide and endless waiting for your answer. Nowhere on his face was a trace of irony or disinterest — he’d asked because he genuinely wanted to know. “I—” You stammered a bit before getting it out and he nodded, a flicker of recognition passing over his features.

“Tell me about it.” Just as authentic and sincere. 

“It’s… I mean….” 

With some coaxing from him, he dragged the details out of you — for how long, how did you get into it, was it what you’d always wanted to do, did you like it, what were the hard parts, did you think he could do that if he put his mind to it. And, eventually, you stopped feeling like your teeth were being pulled, whether in thanks to the wine, the pasta, or his charm — charm you’d known about but that was lightyears worse when it was directed right at you in the corner of a restaurant with your knees touching under the table — you couldn’t tell. He spoke about himself, too, and every now and then while listening to his slow drawl, it was hard to connect the fact that the voice speaking owned these stories. It was like you were eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation with him and being told things you shouldn’t know and had no right to know, but it was he, himself, and he was telling you of his own accord. 

“Would you like dessert?” he asked when your plates were cleared. 

“We could,” you said. “If you’d like — the affogato?” 

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Not planning to get any sleep tonight?”

The bottle of wine had been described as bold, and apparently you’d absorbed some of that along with the alcohol. “You tell me.” 

Harry pressed his lips together, rolling them thoughtfully as you smiled at him as the waiter approached, ignoring your racing heart to hold his gaze. 

“Will there be anything else tonight?” 

His ball, his call. 

With only a quick glance to the waiter, he said, “One affogato to share, please.” He turned to you again. “And the check,” he added without breaking eye contact. 

***

The hotel was intimidating — not somewhere you could ever stay on your own, and, for that reason, not a name you recognized, but you knew by the name emblazoned on the carpet outside the doors that it was the sort of hotel you should know. Hand on your elbow, Harry nodded and greeted the doorman with warmth and enthusiasm acting as the smoke and mirrors to allow you to slip into the lobby ahead of him. You paused, watching him through the glass, and seconds later he was through the door after you. 

“This way,” he said, eyes darting to the elevator bank. 

“Nice place,” you said as he waved the back of his wallet over a black magnetic pad attached to a column before pushing the call button. 

“You like it?” he asked, watching the floor numbers above the elevators. He gently took your elbow again and pulled you towards one descending faster than the others. When the doors opened, it was empty, and you both got on with him mashing the close button until the doors rattled shut and locked you both in with an almost eerie silence.

“Thank you,” you said. “Again. For dinner — and dessert. You really didn’t have to.” 

Harry pressed his floor, but his smirk was warmer and his eyes softer than they had been since you’d both left the restaurant and gotten into his car. The jittery, tingling sensation in your hands and belly had nothing to do with the espresso from dessert. 

“Thank you for coming….” Flames surged in you, up through your torso and over your chest and neck, and you held your breath as his cheek dimpled, the pointed phrase lingering between you. “To dinner,” he added, grinning wider as if he’d displayed some revolutionary wit instead of the most basic— “You don’t have to either, you know.” 

He was still smiling, but it was impossible to miss his pointed message acknowledging the power imbalance between you. You didn’t have to do this, dinner or no dinner, and as much as you knew that, it seemed he needed you to know he knew that, too. 

“I know,” you said, voice catching in your throat. “You’re welcome,” you added with a quirk of your mouth, holding eye contact with him as if your knees weren’t quaking. 

The doors opened and you followed him into the hallway, but he came to an almost immediate stop in front of a door he again waved his wallet over. “After you,” he said, holding it open. On purpose, you were sure, because he looked smug when you squeezed by him, chest-to-chest. 

Oh, wow. 

It was a suite — you were pretty sure that was the only way something this huge could be classified. There was a king-sized bed off to one side, with an overstuffed armchair and a luggage rack with his suitcase on it, and to the other there was a sitting area with a sofa, more chairs, and a coffee table. Beyond it, a chandelier hung over full dining table surrounded with chairs, and a closed laptop with a couple of books sat on top of it with the cord stretched to an outlet. Combined, all of it was bigger than your entire apartment. “Hotel room’s better than mine,” you mumbled, looking around from corner to corner, floor to ceiling. 

Harry laughed and strolled past you, gesturing towards the sofa. “Can make yourself comfortable,” he said. “I’m just going to pop in there for a bit,” he said, pointing to a door. “I’ll be right out.” 

“Sure!” you said. “Sure, take your time.” 

He disappeared through the doorway and you only just caught a flash of tile and mirror when he turned the light on before shutting the door. Seconds later, the sound of water running reached your ears, and, exhaling, you dropped your bag on the coffee table and unbuttoned your coat to drape it over the arm of the sofa before taking your boots off. You crept over to the window and pulled the gauzy curtain back. Below, cars zipped through the city streets, looking like festive ants from this height. You couldn’t hear anything except for the air conditioner — a bit chilly, but you stopped yourself from changing the temperature. You didn’t know how he liked it, and it might turn out to be… necessary.  

The running water from the bathroom cut off abruptly and when you turned around, Harry emerged. His cardigan was gone, and his face looked scrubbed clean with his hair damp and pushed back like he’d raked his hands through it. “Sorry about that,” he said, quietly, grinning as he got closer, and you caught a waft of peppermint toothpaste. “Coffee and all.” 

“It’s ok,” you said. 

Harry stopped in front of you and your throat tightened when he slid his hands up your neck, palms soft and warm. Tilting your head back, you stayed very still as he rubbed the apples of your cheeks with his thumbs with an almost intimate tenderness, and your lips parted with anticipation. You could smell his cologne and you could feel how warm he was, but when he leaned in, you inhaled sharply and turned your face. “I should probably do the same,” you murmured almost regretfully. You wanted almost nothing more than to kiss him right then — you’d been waiting all night for that and more — but you could taste the espresso on your tongue, and you wanted to be able to kiss him right. 

Harry looked like he was going to say no, and if he had you might’ve gone through with it, but finally, licking his lips, he nodded and let go of you. “Sure,” he said. “You can— go ahead, I’ll….”

“Thank you.” You smiled softly and slipped away, shutting the door behind you. Once you were in, you let out a breath and your shoulders slumped. The bathroom, like the suite, was massive, with a bathtub and a shower with a rainshower head stuck to the ceiling. Only one of the double sinks looked like it was in use, with his deodorant, a bottle of cologne, a comb, and a razor half out of a kit lying next to it along with a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. 

You gulped, staring at it, before patting underneath the counter and looking around the room. There had to be a complimentary…. Aha! The toiletry bag from the hotel was perched on a shelf over the toilet and you opened it, sighing with relief when you found a toothbrush and a microscopic tube of toothpaste. 

“Can use my toothpaste, f’you want.”

You nearly dropped the whole thing into the sink when you jumped, holding your chest and looking at the closed door. 

“I—” Swallowing your nerves, you nodded. “Thank you,” you called back. You unscrewed the gap from his tube with shaky hands and spread a bit on the bristles, and as you scrubbed, mouth foaming, you stared deep into your eyes in the mirror under the soft vanity lighting. Just sex — it was just sex. And yet, there weren’t enough words to say how surreal this was. 

Teeth, tongue, and gums done, you splashed cool water around your neck and forehead before patting dry and evaluating yourself. Legs? Fine. Stomach? Full, but not uncomfortably so. Teeth? Fresh. That was it, then. Tapping the light off, you opened the door and stepped out. 

Harry was on the edge of the bed, head hanging and hands on his knees, but he looked up when you came closer, a sharp snap of his neck, his glinting eyes reminiscent of a starving man.

“I’m sorry!” you rushed. “I’m sorry.”

“S’ok,” he said, standing. “Don’t worry about it, c’mere.”

No more pretense. No more waiting. 

Cupping your face again, Harry slanted his mouth over yours and you moaned softly, circling your arms around his shoulders. For all the anticipation, it was slow — he was taking his time kissing and coaxing your lips open, groaning his appreciation between quiet smacks while you languidly pulled your hands across his back. He was warm through his shirt and every muscle seemed to tense and release under your wandering fingers. He really was broad, too — he didn’t look it sometimes, but he was, and strong. Minty kisses matched yours, and every now and then you caught a whiff of the same rich and delicious smell you’d determined earlier was his cologne. Breaking, you pressed your lips to his jaw and then his neck, moaning when you got a concentrated dose of the scent. Harry moaned and you felt the vibrations in your mouth through his skin, and he squeezed your hips as you kissed up and down his neck.

“That’s nice,” you murmured between kisses.

“Thanks,” he said, voice strained. You grinned. “Just be—” Harry swallowed. “Just be careful, please. Sorry if that makes me a dick, but….”

Be careful with—? Oh. Marks. “Don’t worry,” you whispered with another one. “I get it.” You were on his throat when you added, “No one will know I was here.”

He laughed, full and deep, and you grinned wider. “Come back here,” he said, tilting your head back so he could kiss you again, and you stilled to return it, though every now and then one of you smiled and broke the rhythm. Drawing your hands down his torso, you stopped at his waistline and felt along until you found the button for his trousers. “Tryin’ t’get into my pants?” he crowed under his breath. 

“Made sure I wouldn’t be able to sleep,” you said. “Might as well do something.” 

The whole world turned when Harry spun you suddenly. You gasped, nearly shrieking with startled laughter when he dropped you on the bed, and you were still giggling when he unbuttoned your jeans and pulled your zipper down. 

“Gonna hurt m’feelings if you keep laughin’ at me,” he said, the warning softened by his grin. 

“No, I won’t,” you said, eyes rolling up with a sigh when he slid his hands underneath your shirt. You sat up a bit until he brought it up over your head and tossed it away before he bent over your chest.

You’d had sex with Harry Styles and forgotten all about it, but he was doing his damndest to make sure you remembered. 

Oh. Right. He was good at this — ridiculously, absurdly, eye rollingly amazing. Each kiss down your over your breasts was simple but carefully placed. He suckled every patch of skin into his mouth with a thoughtful hum and a grunt of conclusion, and when he reached your sternum, he sighed hotly. 

“God, y’smell good.” You laughed breathlessly and nodded your thanks as he made his way down your belly. “Smell so—” He pressed his nose to your hip and inhaled deeply— “good.” 

He said it so deeply, so slowly, so deliberately, that if you didn’t know better you’d think he’d never meant anything more. 

“I’m gonna take these off,” you said, voice sticking in your throat. You sat up and he did, too, pulling his shirt off while you stood on wobbly legs to shed your jeans. He stared, unabashedly, and it was again one of those moments that was so surreal you couldn’t believe you were living it. “Do you have condoms?” you asked, nearly toppling sideways as you kicked your ankles free. 

“In the drawer,” he said. 

He’d really detoured to New York out of Philadelphia just to sleep with you and he wasn’t even pretending he hadn’t had this in mind.

You took a step towards it but he grabbed your wrist. “Hang on,” he said. “Know you can hardly wait—”

You gasped. “Me?” You almost wanted to smack that smarmy grin off his face, and when he nodded, you reminded him, “‘When’s good for you?’” 

“Flexible schedule,” he murmured, pulling you down onto his lap. Straddling him, you held his shoulders to keep from teetering backwards, mouth hovering over his. “We’ve got all night,” he said, kneading your hips with a cocked head. “Don’t we? Not getting any sleep?”

An electric thrill shot through you. His lips were twisted at the corner in an almost coy smirk, and his eyes were endless, full of a level of confidence that made you tingle. You gasped, soft and sharp, and his smirk widened into a grin when you grasped his chin and kissed him, hard, as he dropped back onto the bed and brought you crashing with him. 

Again the world spun when he turned you over, and your eyes rolled as he trailed kisses down your cheek and neck — greedy ones with chins colliding and teeth scraping skin as he held you by the jaw to keep you still. You only barely managed to shift on your back when you felt his hand sliding underneath you, and seconds later the pressure of the band around your ribs released and your bra straps loosened on your shoulders. Harry pushed the flimsy material up over the swell of your breasts, and your mouth fell open when his closed firmly on your nipple. He released it with a soft noise before pulling it again with slightly more pressure, and one of your hands fell into his hair. 

“Leg up,” he rasped against your breast, pushing one of your knees gently but firmly. You did as he asked and bit back a moan when he fit his palm over you through your underwear, its radiating heat making you throb. Up and down he stroked, tentatively at first and then with more certainty, thumb dipping into your slit over the fabric. “Ok?” he asked. Barely able to hear him through your ringing ears, you nodded, and, with the permission, he hooked his fingers under the thin scrap of fabric with a quiet groan. “That’s nice,” he said as he explored with such a careful, barely there touch, you almost couldn’t breathe waiting to just feel something. Swallowing hard, you let out a slow, deep breath, eyes falling shut as you turned your head to the side, knuckles brushing over your mouth as your heart raced out of control. 

“Don’t have t’be quiet,” Harry said almost lazily as he descended lower and lower on your stomach with spongy, stubbly kisses and carefully opened you with his fingers. “Don’t have to—” He laughed when your legs jerked as the pads of his fingers slid over your clit. “S’ok,” he continued. “Relax for me… s’it feel good?”

You nodded, gulping. 

“Is this ok?” 

He pressed his finger onto your clit and you took a deep breath. “Yes,” you said, voice sticking in your throat. 

“That’s good, then,” he said. “Anything y’don’t want me to do you just tell me, right?”

You moaned, then, low and long, and you lifted your hips from the bed as you squirmed. “Yes,” you repeated, slightly louder and pitchier. “Yes… oh,” you sighed, toes curling when he laved his tongue over your nipple while stroking your clit, each breath deep and full, your belly warm. “Fuck!” you whispered, sucking in sharply. The last time you’d felt yourself get wet like this — slippery, soaked — had been… well, with him. 

You laughed under your breath. It’d been with him. Of course it had. “Oh!” you gasped sharply when he circled faster, gripping the back of his head with one hand while the other slapped down on his shoulder. 

“Can hear it, can’t you?” he asked. “Can hear how wet— oop—” His finger slipped out of his rhythm. “There we go,” he muttered. “Easy…. Gotta make sure your pussy’s open for me, don’t we?”

“I am,” you said, back arching. “I am, I’m….” You clenched your teeth together and your head tossed against momentarily as you dug your toes into the sheets. “Mmm….” 

“Sure?” he asked tightly. “Gonna be able to get inside?” 

“I am,” you whispered. “Please, I want you inside me.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked. 

“Yes!” You were hot, everywhere, almost feverishly, and you couldn’t stop moving, fidgeting, trying to do anything to just…. Sucking in sharply, your lips barely moved when you uttered, “Oh, my God, I’m gonna cum,” in one soft breath, digging your fingers into his shoulder more. Your whole body was tense and your stomach muscles kept clenching and releasing, the warmth in your belly spreading through your legs and up your chest. You were going to cum, you were— so close, almost laughably so. Whimpering, you pressed your trembling lips together to stifle a louder moan bordering on agony, and you were just starting to feel the relief of those first flutters when, suddenly… he stopped. 

He stopped?

“No!” you said. “No, please, no, why?” you asked breathlessly, bordering on a cry, hand clapping to his face and forehead bumping his when he popped off your breast. “Why?” 

He laughed, but it was a strained sound. “Sounds too pretty to let it end just yet,” he said. “Got… got all night, don’t we?” he asked. “Got all….” He grimaced and rocked backwards. “Shit.” 

You stared at him, sluggish mind slowly catching up. He was still in his trousers — they’d never made it off somehow — and he was very obviously hard. “Come here,” you breathed. “Come….” 

Harry grunted when you pushed them down his hips. Awkwardly, limbs tangled, you climbed over and around each other until he was on his back and you were on your shaky knees, tugging them down and off him completely. A pair of red boxer briefs fit him perfectly, hugging his thighs, hips, and the cock straining in them. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath and you felt his eyes on you when you lowered down, pressing kisses to his knees and up his thighs, his leg hair tickling your nose. You were at the edge of his briefs by the time you were feeling blindly along his waistline, and you sat up when your fingers slipped inside to pull them down. Locking eyes with him only briefly when they were tugged past his thighs, you grinned impishly before lowering down and he touched the back of your head with a barely there graze when you licked a stripe up the underside of his cock. 

“Oh, shit,” he breathed blissfully above you. From under your lashes you could see him grinning with his arm over his eyes, and you licked again and again before ducking lower and pulling one of his balls into your mouth with a delicate suck. His answering groan made your hair stand on end and you wrapped your hand around his cock, running your thumb up and down near the head. 

You had all night. Last time had been frantic, rushed, with an invisible timer that wouldn’t stop tick-tick-ticking, and you hadn’t known what you wanted, or were allowed, or how much of it you could have. Now, though, you were enjoying touching him, holding him, experimenting with what you knew and what you were figuring out from every moan and sharp breath above you. 

“Is this good?” you asked between sucks.  

“Yeah,” Harry grunted, nodding his head belatedly. “Shit… s’real good.” Gently, then, he grabbed your hand to move it higher up his shaft while you licked one of his balls. “Y’can… f’you want to—” 

Hand in his, he moved your hold slowly up and down, and the throbbing sensation that’d been lingering between your legs grew. Holding your breath, you watched him jerking himself with your hand, each downward tug pulling his head out a little more. His nostrils flared and he gulped, throat bobbing visibly, and you licked your lips, head spinning. Unthinking, you lifted up and wrapped your mouth around the tip, sucking firmly with a breathy moan, and you felt his thighs trembling beneath you for a moment as his hands faltered. Up and down you bobbed, stretching your jaw slightly more each time to try to get more, but when you felt a click, you pulled off abruptly. 

“Sorry—” You slurped wetly and laughed, horrified. “Sorry!” 

His loud laugh joined yours, warmer and more delighted than yours. On fire, you dug the heels of your hands into your eyes until he pulled your wrists. 

“Come here,” he said, still wheezing. “Come….”

You whined, stretching out next to him, and he chuckled, cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss. “S’ok,” he said, body shaking with suppressed laughter. “Got me a little wet is all,” he teased.

You grunted when he rolled you onto your back and you melted underneath him as he kissed you — first on your mouth, then your neck, your shoulder, and inside your elbow, before he pushed up and opened the bedside table. The box of condoms wasn’t the hotel’s, but what had to be his own preferred brand, and you must’ve made a noise, because he glanced at you sharply, then.

“What?” he asked.

Smiling slightly, you shook your head. “Nothing,” you assured him. 

He chortled, tearing one open and pulling out the flimsy, wet rubber. Biting your lip, you watched him pinch the end and smooth it down before he cleared his throat.  

“D’you wanna get on your…?”

You stared, waiting for him to complete his question. Harry licked his lips and jerked his head. 

“C’mere,” he said. “Turn over, like….” He coaxed you onto your hands and knees before pressing down on your back between your shoulder blades. “Little lower… there y’go,” he said when you bowed, arms outstretched ahead of you and ass high. “That good?” he asked and you nodded.

“Yes, please,” you mumbled. He laughed quietly behind you but gripped your hips and you closed your eyes.

“Deep breath in,” he said, smooth and warm. “In and out, in and—”

Face contorting, you grunted under your breath when he thrust, shallowly at first but gradually deeper until his pelvis was flush with you. “Oh, fuck,” you wheezed, back arching. It was good, but a bit of a pinch and stretch — had it been this way last time? Maybe you hadn’t noticed as much from the adrenaline rushing through you.

“Ok?” he asked. 

Still grimacing, you nodded, hands fisted in the sheets. “Good,” you managed. “Good, good… oh!” you cried out when he thrust with heavier weight, hands bruisingly tight on your hips. That right there — that was good, the angle and the depth, and if you brought your legs together just a bit—

“Fuck!” he groaned behind you. “Fucking….” 

Faster, steadier, you muffled your noises in the sheets as you rocked back against him. Pathetic — you were pathetic whining and pushing into him, but he’d left you hanging and you were trying to get it back because you’d been so close. 

“That’s it,” Harry grunted, laughing breathlessly. “Fuck my cock.” He took a rattling breath. “Fuck yourself on my cock…. Shit, y’got no idea how wet it looks right now.” He stilled suddenly and you paused, heaving.

“Harry!” you whimpered, twisting, arms too weak to lift up. 

“What?” he asked, and you could hear the smug smirk in his voice. “S’wrong?” 

You let out a keening moan, face flat on the bed, before you tightened and pushed back on him. His answering groan was guttural, and he held you fast when he went silent, only the slapping noise of your ass meeting his pelvis and the sound of the bed thunking filling the air. Good— not bad— not enough, though, either. Stopping short, wheezing, you reached behind you to tap one of his hands. “Let go,” you said, tapping it again. “Both….” 

Immediately, the pressure released and he backed up without a question, slipping out of you with a wet drop. Gulping, you forced yourself up and sat back on your knees to steady yourself before turning. “You ok?” he asked. “You good?” His cheeks were red and his chest and arms were sweaty and shining, lips swollen and bitten up, eyes dark but sharp and attentive on you. 

“Mmhm.” You pushed him by the shoulders and he teetered in his surprise before he fell on his back with a muted grunt. Hands on his chest, you swung one leg over him and lowered down to rest on the underside of his cock. His nostrils flared and his eyes bounced from your face to where you were sliding back and forth on top of him. 

“What—” Harry cleared his throat. “What’re you doing?” 

“Told me to fuck myself on your cock,” you reminded him, inhaling sharply when your clit bumped his head through the condom. “Didn’t you?” 

Again he cleared his throat and ran his hands up and down your thighs. “C’mon, love,” he muttered. “Please. Don’t leave me hanging?” 

“Why?” you said, laughing as his head fell back. “Have all night, don’t we? That’s what you told me.”

“M’fucking balls are gonna explode,” he said, groaning. “Seriously, I’m like….” 

Still laughing, you lowered your chest while lifting your hips, and with your mouth on his, you guided his cock back in. One of his hands clapped down immediately on your ass and held you there when you began to rock again, finding a steady rhythm. Sloppier, rougher, but your clit was against him and the pressure was perfect. 

“Oh my God, you feel so good,” you said between kisses. “You’re making me feel so— oh!” you exclaimed breathily.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Making y’feel good? You feel good? You feel….” Harry swallowed conclusively. “Fuck me, look at y’riding me like this!” 

The hazy part of your brain hoped it was as good for him as it was for you, because this was amazing for you. 

“Jesus, y’so….” Harry groaned, a deep, helpless sound. “Lis— listen to me,” he said. “Can y’do that? Can y’let me make it good for us?” 

You didn’t answer at first, caught off guard. 

“Trust me, darling,” he mumbled. “I can make it so good for you, I promise.”

“What? What, what—?”

“When I say stop,” Harry said. “Y’gonna stop.”

You whimpered.

“Just for a bit,” he rushed on. “Just for a bit, love, only for a moment.” He kissed you hard and quick. “S’gonna feel so good when y’cum,” he said. “I promise you, you’re gonna feel so good when you cum. Right?” 

Rolling your hips, you huffed against his mouth. You were exhausted — your muscles were sore, used, and felt like they’d been stretched taught to the point of snapping more than once from the tremors rippling through you. 

“Stop,” he whispered. Eyes squeezed shut, his cock pulsed inside you. “Stop, please—”

Whining, you came to a still, panting and dropping your head onto his shoulder, heart beating in your throat. 

“That’s good!” he said, hand slipping up your sweaty back. “Good girl, just… just for a moment.” 

“I wanna cum,” you admitted, more broken and needy than you liked. 

“Promise,” he said, patting your shoulder, “y’gonna cum. Gonna take good fucking care of you.” 

Again and again, you stopped and started, each stop happening sooner and sooner with both of you so close. You could feel how swollen you were from the repeated almosts, but even without finishing you knew he was right and that when you did finish it would be indescribably intense. He’d rolled you onto your back at one point and pulled out, trembling from head to toe with a glazed over look in his eyes as he fought to pull himself back, but by the time you were asking him to please, let you cum — you were tired, you wanted it, you just wanted to cum — you were back on top.

“Please, don’t stop,” you breathed. “Oh, please, oh—”

“So cum, then,” he groaned between his teeth. “Fucking cum.” 

A cramp shot through your foot right when every muscle in you tightened, and you were pretty sure this was the ugliest you’d ever sounded when you came since the time you had your first orgasm and hadn’t had the ability to process the new sensations, but it felt… incredible. Hot, like everything in you had snapped and crackled and was shooting through you in fizzling tingles, and seconds later, he thrust up with a strangled sound in his throat and you felt his cock throbbing in you with each stream of cum. Shaking, his head dropped back off the side of the bed and he wheezed through each breath. Dropping your forehead to his shoulder, you gulped for air, trembling, ears ringing. The whole world might as well have been spinning for how steady you felt.

“Holy shit,” he breathed at last. “That was—”

“Yeah,” you said, relief flooding you. Him too — not just you. “Gimme a minute and I’ll….”

“S’ok,” he said, patting your ass. “Can take your time.” 

***

You didn’t remember falling asleep. You didn’t remember much at all after the sex, honestly — how you’d gotten off him, or when he’d gotten rid of the condom, or if you’d even peed — although you did have a fuzzy memory of him calling down for room service and getting it despite it being after hours. 

Waking up now, though, every bone in your body felt like they’d been fused together and then cracked. You rolled over, stretching and shaking, and your arm dropped to the side and swiped through the empty sheets — warm — as you listened to the shower running. When you finally opened your eyes, it was pitch black save for the crack of light coming from the bathroom. The blackout curtains had been pulled — he must’ve done that — and you twisted to look at the alarm clock next to the bed. 

“Morning.”

Harry approached the bed, already wearing his trousers and t-shirt, hands full of the items from the bathroom countertop. His hair was damp at the ends but not washed, only his clothes evidencing his walk of shame. 

“Morning,” you said.

He grinned crookedly. “How d’you feel?” he asked. “Y’know — with all that… wine and caffeine.” He smirked as if in on a private joke and you pressed your lips together. Pointed, and not at all about the wine and caffeine. 

“Fine.” Amazing. “You’re up early.” 

Still smirking, he said, “Have to leave for the airport in a bit.” 

Already? That was… fast. Surprising, but not at all. The opposite of last night that’d felt like it’d gone on forever, but that was ending in a blink.

“It’s early,” you said, repeating your earlier sentiment.

“Headed to Philadelphia.”

You deflated. Right. “I’ll get dressed,” you said. You sat up, sheet tucked under your arms and across your chest.

“Don’t.” Harry dropped his items in his open suitcase on the overstuffed chair in the corner and a quick glance at the table revealed the laptop as well as the rest of his personal items had been swept from the suite. “Room’s mine until noon. I can call for a late check out, too, if you’d like. But you should stay — get some rest, order some breakfast.”

You shook your head. “I can’t, I—”

“Please?” he asked. “Paid for it, it should go to good use. ‘Less you got somewhere to be.” 

You didn’t — you’d purposefully picked Friday to be able to take as long as you needed to the next day, but you’d thought you’d need the time to pick up where things had left off, not to lounge in a suite without him. Sighing, you smiled softly, and he nodded his satisfaction. 

“Good,” he said as you leaned back against the headboard. “Take your time — sounds like you had a busy week.” His hands were hidden in his bag as he shuffled around inside. “This was fun,” he added quietly, the sound of his suitcase closing explosive in the silence.

“Mmm.” A vague sound, but you weren’t brave enough to say anything of substance. 

“When I fly back to London, I’m going to be stopping in Philly again,” he said. “If you’re around— maybe I can call you and see?” 

Not a dream — he was really standing in front of you asking if he could come up to see you sometime. When you didn’t respond, he looked at you from the corner of his eye, and you took a deep breath, snapping yourself out of your reverie. 

“Sure,” you said as nonchalantly as you could. “If I’m around.”

“If you’re around.” 

Jacket and cap on, Harry picked up his bag in one hand and held what looked like his passport and a boarding pass in the other. “Just gotta do one thing,” he muttered, and as he got closer, your lips parted. When he bent, though, he picked up the phone with one hooked finger and jabbed 0 with his knuckle. His necklaces dangled from his neck and he was so close his breath tickled your nose, eyes twinkling with mischief even as he mumbled a sorry. 

You were just about to playfully whisper that he did know it was a cordless phone, right, when you heard a pleasant, clipped voice on the other end. “Good morning,” he said. “M’calling because I’d like to see if it’s possible to get a late check out?” You shook your head but he ignored you. “Yeah— great, thanks. 2:00pm?” You rolled your eyes. “That’s perfect. Thank you so much, have a great day.”

“I won’t stay that long,” you said when he hung up.

“But now y’can if you want to.” 

Harry grinned even as you shook your head. 

“You have a plane to catch.”

“Kickin’ me out?” 

You shrugged and he chuckled. “Had a good time,” he said with the same quiet sincerity from before. 

“Me too,” you whispered. 

“Thank you. I’ll call—”

“Ok—”

You saw it, then — the faintest glimmer of hesitation and uncertainty, and honestly? You didn’t blame him. He’d flown in for a trip that, as far as you could tell, was for work, and he’d made a detour into the city for sex. The sex was done, and so was any physical intimacy, but it would feel… off to end the night with a handshake. 

Before you could think to say it was ok and he didn’t have to, though, he mumbled, “I’ll see you,” just as he leaned in. Short but not quick, you leaned into it, and then, just like that, it was over. 

***

You genuinely thought he’d forgotten about what he’d said. He was busy, and getting some wasn’t a priority, but when your phone rang with an unknown number some few weeks later, you paused and had half a second of questioning before picking up.

“Hello?” 

“Hello,” he returned it, sounding amused. “Y’not sure it’s me?” 

“I don’t have your number,” you reminded him. 

“Is now a good time to talk?” 

“Sure?” More of a question than an answer, but he went on before you could correct yourself.

“M’gonna be flying out tomorrow,” he said. In the background, you could hear noises like zippers and snaps, and he had a distant echo in his voice that made you wonder if you were on speaker. 

“Already?” you asked.

Harry laughed, loud but very far away. “Been a month or so,” he said.

“Really?” 

“S’almost the holidays, love,” he said. 

He was right — they were closer now than they were farther away, but it felt like only yesterday you’d been sweating and sharing a meal in a hole in the wall restaurant. 

“Are you free tomorrow night?” he asked. You bit your lip and your prolonged silence must’ve made him falter. “If you’re not, it’s ok,” he said. “Just wanted to ask, cause I know I said maybe… if—” 

“You’re flying to Philly from LA and then driving to the city?” 

Harry cleared his throat. “Actually… s’more like I’m flying into the city and then I’ll head on out to Philly… after….” 

After seeing you.

It was out of your mouth before you could think better. “You could stop by mine.” Silence greeted you and you kept talking to fill its void. “If the airport— I guess it depends— but even if you flew into Jersey you’d still have to go— except— I mean—”

He laughed on the other end and you groaned.

“I owe you dinner,” you said, face warm but a sheepish, unseen smile pulling at your mouth. “You’ve treated me twice.”

“Ok,” he drawled. “F’you wanna get me dinner, I can come by yours.” 

“I’ll text you the address — I have the thread.”

“And I’ll text you my number,” he added. “You should have it.”

Twenty-four hours later, you were rushing around your studio trying to make it feel like less of a shoebox. Stupid — you should’ve just asked for his hotel. He had to have one! This was sex, it wasn’t a you get this tab and I’ll get the next one sort of arrangement. The sheets on your bed were freshly changed, pillows fluffed (fluffed — who knew you’d ever fluff pillows), and you’d swept and wiped the floors down in the living-bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom alike, but everything still felt small and not enough. You’d lit some candles to try to compensate, but you’d gone on and off with them, blowing them and relighting them a handful of times as you went back and forth on whether or not they lent a feeling that didn’t belong in this sort of situation. Now, though, they burned and flickered on your coffee table, and you were just connecting your phone to the speaker when a knock on your door made you jump and spin.

“Coming!” 

You spared a cursory glance through the peephole before twisting locks and unhooking chains, his hulking figure filling your doorway.

“Texted,” he said apologetically. “But—”

“I was just cleaning up,” you said, opening the door wider. “Sorry— come in.” 

He shuffled past you with his printed luggage in hand, and your heart sank, ensnared in nerves, as he walked into the apartment that looked even smaller with him in it. Ears ringing, you could barely hear the notes of whatever album your phone had selected to autoplay. It was small, but it was yours — all yours — and if it didn’t meet his standards, then he didn’t have to stay.

“It’s—”

“Nice place,” he said slowly, and the upbeat lilt told you he wasn’t being facetious. Your shoulders fell with relief and the tension relaxed out of your neck. “That’s a nice candle,” he added, sniffing the air. 

“It’s a little smaller than your hotel room,” you said.

“Been on tour buses, love,” he said, setting his luggage down. “There’s not really much smaller than a bunk racing across the country.” 

Smiling, you squeezed your arms as he unzipped his coat and took his cap off. “How was your flight?” you asked.

“Dunno, really,” he said, running a hand through his mostly flattened curls. Unlike last time, he didn’t have his rings on, and his fingers looked longer and more slender without them. “Slept through most of it — had a bit of turbulence over Colorado or Utah or wherever, but it wasn’t tha’ bad.” 

“Good,” you said. “If you wanna… um….” You jerked your thumb towards a door. “Bathroom’s there, if you need to clean up or anything.”

He nodded. “That’d be great, thanks. In there?” 

You stepped aside to let him by, catching the distinct waft of plane and warmth and the spicy vanilla smell you’d come to associate with him. When he closed the door behind him, you exhaled and again spun through the apartment, shoving shoes under your bed to finish your tidying before carefully pulling the coffee table away from the sofa — his legs were longer, he’d need the room. You’d just smoothed out the rug when your phone buzzed and you grabbed it, seeing both the texts he’d sent you before that you’d missed in your focus as well as the one from your delivery man letting you know the food was outside. Perfect. 

“S’a good album,” Harry said from the bathroom doorway after you locked up again. You jumped, gripping the bag with a knuckle-popping hold. You didn’t think it was possible to be quiet and sneaky in a place like this. “Sorry,” he said, snickering.

“I like it,” you breathed. “Dinner’s….” You lifted the bag on your way past him and heard him trailing after you. You set it on the coffee table and sat on the sofa as you popped the staples on the paper bag. “It’s nothing amazing.”

“That’s a review,” he teased, sitting next to you. “Now I can’t wait.”

“Shut up,” you said and he laughed loudly. “It’s just this place that’s nearish — El Diablito — they’ve got really good nachos and burritos.”

“Mexican, then?”

“Yeah.” Fuck. “Probably should’ve thought of that since you’ve just come back from LA,” you muttered.

“S’fine,” he said. “Didn’t really have much Mexican.”

You arched a brow and he coughed into his hand. 

“So, d’I get a burrito?”

You nodded and pulled a hot, foil-wrapped item out of the bag. “Careful,” you warned, purposefully busying yourself with pulling the rest of the food out of the bag as he unfolded it.

“Looks good,” he said. From the corner of your eye, you watched him adjust his grip and angle his head before stretching his jaw wide to take a bite. You looked away quickly, almost overwhelmed by how comical it’d been, but when you looked back you found him chewing thoughtfully.

“You can have some of my quesadilla if you don’t like it,” you said quickly. “And the nachos are for both of us to pick at.”

Still, he didn’t say anything, until at last he swallowed and his lips smacked several times. “S’good,” he said thickly. “Like, that’s….” He peered at the corner he’d bitten into almost in disbelief. “That’s really good.” Again he stretched his mouth almost comically wide, tongue out, and this time you did laugh. Mouth full, he glanced up at you with unblinking eyes and mumbled a muffled, “What?” through his bite. 

“Nothing,” you said, grinning and unwrapping your own food. “Go on, eat.” 

“All right, calm down,” he said. “Have the whole night ahead of us.”

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

The Baby Project | Julie Molina

Requested: Yes/No

hold on wait because I’ve got something here— julie x fem reader— and like you know how school pairs you up with people for the whole ‘take care of a baby project’ or whatever it’s called— that with Julie molina and like she and reader develop feelings— oh yeah

A/N: This was kinda hard, not gonna lie! Thanks @calamitykaty​ for sharing your ‘experience’ with baby projects in high school lol. Love you! 

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Julie Molina

Song(s) used: Heaven cover by Boyce Avenue 

Warnings: Just a bunch of fluff! 

Words:  2,914

“Julie and y/n.” You perked up at the mention of your name, even more so at the mention of the name of your crush. 

Julie Molina. Los Feliz High’s rising star. She went from not singing a note for a year to opening for Panic! at the Disco at the Orpheum with her hologram band Julie and The Phantoms. You were aware of what she’d gone through with losing her mother and with it, her love for music. For years, you’ve admired her from afar, watching her blossom into this young rockstar that just belonged on the stage with those three cute boys by her side. You’d never even dared utter a word to her, even if your best friend, Amy told you to at least say hi. A star like Julie wouldn’t have the time to even talk to a ‘nobody’ like you, let alone go out on a date with one. 

So, when Mister Adams called out both your names for the baby project for your Child Development class, your insides heated up while your heart started beating faster. Especially when the Latina girl turned around to look at you and give you an acknowledging smile. The world seemed to stop all at once, and it made you wonder if you were even still alive at all. 

“You have the rest of the class to start getting to know your babies and partners and begin thinking of names together. You’re going to make a birth announcement for your child together and it will be the first assignment you’ll be graded on,” mister Adams’ voice droned on about the project, but your mind had already wandered back to Julie. 

She had her head propped up in her hand, her long, elegant fingers disappearing into the mop of curls that beautifully laid over her shoulders. You had always admired how healthy Julie’s locks looked. Her hair was so glossy and clearly taken care of. And her style. Her style was impeccable. Today, she was wearing your favorite outfit of hers. A baby blue, ditsy floral dress with a white T-shirt underneath it and a fuzzy bear coat thrown over it. Paired with her white doodled-on sneakers, it was the prettiest outfit you had ever seen. But your all-time-favorite thing of hers, looks-wise, was the little gap between her teeth. It made her look so innocent and perfectly imperfect. 

“Get to it!” mister Adams clapped his hands together, waking you up from your hazy daydream. Before you can properly register what’s happening, Julie had reached your desk already and taken a seat next to you with her gap-toothed smile plastered on her face. 

“Hi,” she greeted. 

Your hands started to shake as you stumbled over your next words, “Hey. I--I’m y/n.” 

A giggle erupts from Julie’s mouth as she placed her hand on top of yours. For a second, you swore you could feel a spark of electricity going from her hand to yours. Julie didn’t acknowledge it, so you must’ve imagined it, you thought. 

“I know,” she said as mister Adams came over and handed them their baby in the black carrier. “Thank you, mister A.” The forty-something man smiled down at the two of you before making his way to the next duo. 

Julie turned to you, “So, how shall we name this little rascal?” she asked. 

Her golden brown eyes bored into you, expectantly, awaiting a good answer from you. So, your brain slowly started to get into first gear, going back-and-forth on names you’ve always liked. 

Olivia, Clementine, Alexis, Charlie, Lara, Mason, Alex -- uhm… Olivia could be cute. Or Rose! No, not Rose, that’s Julie’s mom’s name. Uhm… 

Your eyes wandered from Julie’s face to her backpack she had put in front of her on the desk. The silver dahlia pin reflected in the artificial light of the classroom, shimmering and tugging at a thought in your brain. “Dahlia,” you blurted out, not even thinking about it twice. 

Julie’s eyes widened slightly before darting over to the little pin on her backpack. A small smile tugged at her lips as her index finger carefully caressed the metal. At first, you thought you’d said something wrong and had the urge to apologize profusely until she looked up and said, “I like that. Dahlias were my mom’s favorite flower.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. You knew the flower had some sort of significance to Julie as  you saw pins on her jackets and backpacks all the time, and even noticed some in the background of her Instagram pictures. But you didn’t know the significance had something to do with her mother. 

“We don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. My eyes just fell on your backpack and--” Julie’s hand reached for yours again, shutting you up with the beautiful sound of her laugh. 

“Dahlia is perfect, y/n.” 

Chills ran down your spine at the tone of her words. So warm. So comforting. Like a fluffy blanket was being wrapped around you. It melted away any insecurity and nerves and any other scrutinizing thoughts of self-doubt. 

You tore your gaze away from Julie’s before you’d drown in them indefinitely and grabbed a piece of paper from your notebook and a pencil. “So, I was thinking to maybe have a little dahlia as a card for the announcement?” you suggested as your hand skidded across the paper, sketching the outlines of the flower. 

Julie’s eyes widened at how quickly you could put a nearly perfect flower onto a piece of paper. For a moment, she just let you sketch out your ideas, admiring the passion and determination behind your actions. 

“Something like this?” you slid the piece of paper in front of Julie, who picked it up to look at it up close. Her mouth dropped open as her eyes darted across, taking in every single detail you’d managed to get out in such a short amount of time. The decorative letters that spelled out the baby’s name and the details in the flower itself. 

“Y/N,” Julie breathed out, her eyes finally meeting  yours again. “This is gorgeous! You are insanely talented!” she placed the sketch back on the table in front of you. A blush crept to your cheeks as you stared at the grey lines on the white surface.

“I--it’s not perfect,” you shrugged, scratching at the wood of the pencil. “And I’m not half as talented as you are.” You mumbled the words in hopes she wouldn’t even hear them but she definitely did. Placing a hand on your shoulder, she opened her mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by the bell ringing. 

“Come over to my place after school?” she suggested as she grabbed her backpack and the mechanic doll in the carrier. “We can brainstorm some more over the baby announcement and arrange a schedule for who’s gonna take her home when and stuff?” You slowly nodded your head, your brain still going over the words that came out of her mouth. 

Julie Molina wanted to see you after school. Julie Molina. You. After school. 

“Okay, cool. See you tonight then. I’ll take Dahlia with me for the day?” 

“Uhm, yeah, sure. See you tonight, Molina.” You didn’t mean for it to come out as flirtily as it did. But it seemed to have some sort of an effect on the Latina girl in front of you as her cheeks tinted a scarlet red. 

Julie had messaged you on Instagram with the address and her number, which you immediately saved to your phone before heading down to the homey two-story house a few blocks away from your own. 

I’m here

You texted her as you stood on the driveway, your bike on the kickstand next to you. The nerves were surging through you as you looked around. Green plants and trees surrounded you as did all the pretty yellow and pink flowers. One of which you recognized: Black Eyed Susan. According to your grandma, they symbolised encouragement and motivation. Which was something your family needed, and Julie’s too after the loss of her mother. 

“Hey, y/n,” Julie greeted as she exited her house through the front door, shutting it behind her, “We’re gonna go to my mom’s studio ‘cause I’ve got band practice after.” She hooked her arm with yours while the other carried the baby doll’s carrier. 

She retreated her arm from yours and used it to pull one of the white doors open, revealing a spacious area filled with instruments, couches and three boys you recognized as the rest of Julie’s band. All three of them looked up from their spots on the couch and armchair with either a pen in their hand and a notebook on their lap or an instrument -- or part of the instrument in the blonde’s case -- in their hands. All looking like deer caught in headlights. 

“Why’s your band here?” you asked, your eyes darting from the musicians to your project partner. Julie opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. “Wait, I heard rumors about them being ghosts, that’s not true is it?” 

A squeaky sound came from all four of them as they looked at each other for help on a good excuse until Julie placed Dahlia on the coffee table near the boys and turned to you, placing her hands on your shoulders. She said, “You have to promise not to tell anyone.” 

“I promise?” 

Julie sighed, dropping her hands from your shoulders and instead putting them into the pocket of her fuzzy coat. “Then yes, they are ghosts.” Your eyes scanned Julie’s face for any sign of a joke, but you couldn’t detect anything. 

“Weirdly not the strangest thing I have ever heard,” you shrugged as you placed your backpack on a chair near you and dug your notebook out of it. “I hashed out some details for our baby announcement during French class.” 

Confused, Julie glanced at the boys and back at the girl in front of her. “You’re not gonna run away and never come back?” she asked you, which made you stop in your tracks, your fingers between the pages of the book as you were trying to get it open. 

“My grandma is into very spiritual things. So ghost chats are quite familiar to me,” you explained and resumed your movements. 

The three boys got up from their spots, notebooks and instruments left on the cushions, and made their way towards you. 

“I’m Luke,” the brunette with the greenish hazel eyes introduced himself, smiling at you. 

Before you could chime in, the boy next to Luke piped up, raising his finger. “Reggie! Hi!” You couldn’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm before your eyes landed on the blondie last in line, assuming he’d introduce himself too. 

“Alex,” he said with an awkward giggle. 

“It’s nice to meet you guys. I’m y/n,” you said just as the robotic sound of a cry sounded through the room, indicating Dahlia needed something. “Excuse me.” You pushed past the boys, as they stepped aside so you didn’t have to go through them. 

“She’s my partner for this baby project thing,” Julie explained to the boys. They shot each other a helpless look, wondering if the others are as lost as themselves. “It’s where you have to take care of a mechanic baby doll for a week.” 

Julie walked over to you as you cradled the doll in your arms, trying to get it to stop crying, and the boys followed suit. They were intrigued by this whole baby project ordeal. 

“Have you fed her yet?” you asked Julie when the baby wouldn’t stop crying. 

“Yes, I did. The second I came home,” she replied as she softly tugged at the doll’s shirt she’d put on her. It was an orange long sleeved shirt with a big yellow smiley printed on it. You knew Julie had a sweater similar to this, which is why Julie had chosen to put this one on. 

“Diaper check?” 

“Was doing that when you arrived.” 

The boys watched this interaction like a tennis match, their heads bobbing back and forth. To Alex, it seemed surreal a teacher would put two girls together for a project like this. If this were a thing back in his high school days, he would’ve never been paired with another boy. 

“Why else do babies cry?” you asked whilst racking your brain on possible ideas to make her stop crying. 

Luke sprung into action then and grabbed his six string from the stand behind them, putting the strap around his shoulder. He strummed the instrument a couple of times into a beautiful, familiar melody. 

Julie seemed to recognize it too, because no sooner, her voice floated through the shed. 

“Oh thinkin' about all our younger years There was only you and me We were young and wild and free Now nothing can take you away from me We've been down that road before But that's over now You keep me comin' back for more”

Her eyes locked with yours as she sang, a soft smile plastered on her face while you stared back at her with an endeared expression resting on your features. You loved the sound of her voice and you loved the way it was able to calm you down in an instant. Which also seemed to be the case with the robotic baby in your arms whose cries had quieted down. 

Luke’s voice coming in didn’t stop Julie from looking at you either. 

“Baby you're all that I want When you're lyin' here in my arms I'm findin' it hard to believe We're in heaven And love is all that I need And I found it there in your heart Isn't too hard to see We're in heaven”

The crying had now completely stopped. A quiet calm resting over the entire studio space as you and Julie kept looking at each other. Of course the boys noticed this and couldn’t withhold the smile finding its way to their lips. 

“Is it me or do they look like a cute family?” Reggie whispered to his best friends. 

He wasn’t wrong. Though neither you and Julie would ever admit it, there was a definite spark between you, and it only grew as the week went on. 

You took turns taking Dahlia home and spent lunches and every other hour possible together with the mechanic doll that had become the vessel for your expression of your love for each other. It became such a routine that by Friday, the two of you dreaded turning Dahlia in. Neither of you wanted it to end. Neither of you knew what was going to happen if you didn’t have Dahlia to take care of together. 

Were you just going to go back to how it was with you admiring Julie from afar and her completely ignoring your existence? Or were you going to stay friends? 

Neither of you knew even though both of you had the same questions. 

“Just ask her out on Friday when you’ve turned Dahlia in, y/n,” Amy said as you sat in French together and she had noticed your sighs of desperation. You looked at her as if she’d just said something really controversial. “Y/N, there's chemistry between the two of you! Have you seen the way she looks at you? That is not how ‘just a project partner’ should look at you!” 

You let Amy’s words sink in your brain as you went on with the rest of your day after French class until the moment of goodbye came around. 

You and Julie handed Dahlia back to mister Adams, along with your entire report you had worked on until two am last night in Julie’s garage, the boys all but helping you out. 

The weight on your shoulders should’ve been lifted now that you’d reached the deadline and could actually hand something in. But it weighed down even harder. Mostly because you were anxious it was going to be the end of you hanging out with Julie. It didn’t have to happen, but you were scared it might. 

Everything you want is on the other side of fear. 

The old saying your grandma always muttered to herself haunted around in your brain as you and Julie made your way towards your desk in the back of the class. Neither of you said anything for a while until you both turned to each other and opened your mouths. 

“I wanna ask you--” / “Can I ask you--”

Your words mingled and lingered in the air as you both giggled at the simultaneousness of your thoughts. 

“You go first,” you said, offering Julie the floor. You couldn’t help but feel anxious yet curious about what she was going to say. 

“Can I ask you if maybe we could like, I don’t know… Study together later tonight?” 

Your eyebrow raised in surprise as did the corners of your mouth while a bright pink flushed your cheeks. “I kinda wanted to ask the same thing,” you admitted, which made Julie light up entirely. “So, yes, definitely.” 

You had definitely found yourself on the other side of fear. On the contrary. You had found yourself on cloud nine with flutters in your stomach and clammy hands from the nerves as the date grew closer and closer. 

Crazy how a stupid mechanical doll can bring two unlikely people together.     

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[raineydaywrites]

Step-Son Zone

Inspired by the TAZ Crystal Kingdom graphic novel and all the amazing jokes about Lucas being Lucretia’s stepson that I have recently seen.

 "Package for you, Luce!" Lup said, entering the family room. She'd gone to get the mail hoping for a package she'd ordered, but sadly, it had not yet arrived. She loved Faerun and everything, but she had to admit she still missed package tracking. Having to go to the actual mailbox every day to figure out if her things had gotten here yet? Like an animal? Gross.

Letters were not an uncommon thing to find in the mailbox, a lot of which were fan mail. Saving the multiverse made one pretty popular after all. When the letters had first started coming, they were an onslaught, though now, months after the start, they were less frequent.

Still, it wasn't exactly unusual to find something  from an address they didn't recognize in their mailbox these days. It was a little more unusual for the mail to be addressed to only one of them, but far from unheard of. Plenty of people liked to address their fan mail to some particular favorite in the family.

That didn't mean that Lup wasn't still pretty curious to see the package, but she had boundaries! She'd at least let Lucretia see it first, before she swiped it for a peek.

"Thank you, Lup," Lucretia smiled up at her from the couch as she took it. Some of their other family members- Taako, Barry, Merle, and Magnus- were also gathered in the family room, but there was still plenty of room to sit down, since they'd designed this room knowing exactly how large their family was and with decades of frustration at the relatively small size of the Starblaster common room in mind. Lup still plopped down immediately next to Lucretia anyway. All the better for reading over her shoulder, and it wasn't like any of them had much respect for each other's personal space anymore.

Sure enough, Lucretia didn't even look over at her at the invasion of her space, just shifting slightly to the left to make a little more space for Lup between her body and the arm rest.

Instead she looked down at the package, read the address it came from, and immediately turned and threw it in the garbage.

"Oookay," Lup said, curiosity even more raging now. "What the hell was that?"

"An admittedly nice gesture that I have no interest in reciprocating," Lucretia said crisply.

"From who?" Magnus asked, glancing over at the trash bin as if he wanted to dart over and grab it, but was restraining the impulse.

"Lucas," Lucretia said, with a long-suffering sigh.

"Miller?" Taako questioned. "What's that dick writing you for?"

"The holiday, I presume," Lucretia said, waving her hand vaguely.

It made zero sense to Lup that Lucas would be sending Lucretia something on holidays, and the weirdness was only compounded by the fact that she couldn't think of any recent holidays that she could be referring to. Glancing around at the confusion the rest of them were displaying, she was pretty sure it wasn't just because she was the least familiar with Faerun holidays of their group.

"What holiday?" Merle asked, scratching his head in confusion. "Only holiday I can think of around now is Mother's Day, but obviously it's not that."

Lucretia's mouth opened and closed in confusion for a moment, before her eyes widened. "Oh. Right. I'd forgotten you didn't know."

"Didn't know what?" Barry asked, head tilted to the side in curiosity and confusion.

"Lucas' mother Maureen and I- we were together. Married, actually," Lucretia said, glancing down at her hands in her lap as she said it. "It was pretty common knowledge, at the Bureau, so I thought you would have known- but I guess I assumed wrong. Which isn't that surprising, really, since nobody mentioned it too much after Maureen's death-"

Lup's had automatically reached out her arms when Lucretia started to sound sad, turning her lean into an embrace before her shocked mind could catch up with what had been said.

"What the fuck, Lucretia! How do you forget to mention the fact that you were married?" Taako squawked, even as he came over to them and gave Lucretia a quick, tight hug.

"I really thought you knew! It doesn't come up much with most people; I assumed it was the same here!" Lucretia defended.

"You thought we wouldn't have anything to say about the fact that you had a wife and she died?" Taako asked, still incredulous.

"Most people don't bring it up. It makes them awkward and uncomfortable," Lucretia said.

"Uh, yeah, obviously, but we talk about Julia with Magnus sometimes!" Lup said, wincing immediately afterwards and shooting a concerned look at Magnus. She hadn't meant to be so flippant about that.

Magnus looked a little shaken and wide-eyed, but he threw her a smile and a careful thumbs-up, so Lup knew she was okay.

"That's different," Lucretia said. "Magnus has been always been less private about his emotions than me."

They all knew what she wasn't saying. And also, Magnus didn't do what she did. And yes, those things were true, but like fuck was Lup going to let Lucretia think that they would just leave her to deal with her trauma and grief alone, just because she had betrayed their trust. They loved her way too much to do that to her.

"So? Being a private person doesn't mean your family isn't going to hug the living shit out of you when you lose somebody!" she said, squeezing her arms tighter to prove her point.

Lucretia chuckled softly, and her eyes got very soft and warm. "Thank you, Lup, but I promise, I'm okay. Now, anyway. Maybe we can talk about it another time?"

"Yeah, alright," Lup agreed, not totally loosening her hold.

"Wait, fuck, okay so it is Mother's Day? That's the reason Miller's sending you shit?" Taako asked, his face shifting from irritation and concern to a shit-eating grin.

"Presumably," Lucretia said. "He's done it before. And usually, when he writes me, it's just a letter, nothing more."

"Oh my god, he's your stepson," Magnus snickered.

"Yes, that is what it means when you marry someone's mother," Lucretia agreed, an indulgently amused look on her face.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us! We've been missing out on some choice goofs because of that, Lucy!" Taako said, faux indignant.

"Again, I thought you knew! I figured you didn't bring up Lucas being my stepson because he is, you know, terrible."

"Solid reasoning, but not quite," Barry chuckled.

Lup let go of Lucretia to push herself up and move toward the package in the garbage.

"Lup?" Lucretia questioned, watching her.

"Just 'cause he's an ass is no reason to throw out free shit before you even know what it is! Come on, Lucy, use your head! Might be something nice, and you don't gotta talk to him to accept free stuff," Lup explained.

Lucretia laughed, taking the package from Lup's outstretched hands. "I suppose you have a good point."

She opened the package and inside was a set of paints.

"Oh," she said softly. "These are- These are my favorites. Maureen used to get me this same set all the time."

"See! Nice!" Lup chimed. "You can just toss the letter and keep the paint!"

"Yes," Lucretia nodded, "you're right."

But she didn't move to throw the letter away.

Instead, after several long moments of internal debate, she said, "Lucas wasn't always such a dick. When he was younger, he could be a real sweetheart. When he wanted."

"Why don't you look at the letter, Lucy?" Merle said, soft. "Seems like you really want to."

"I don't," she said, firmly. "Lucas used the Philosopher's Stone in a way that was insanely risky. He didn't care about how it would affect anyone but himself and Maureen. And that was hardly the least of it, either. Maureen- wasn't always the most cautious when inventing or researching, but she only ever put herself at risk. She didn't hurt people. Lucas was grieving, yes, I understand, but that's not an excuse. And it certainly doesn't excuse what he did to the bugbears or- any of the other incredibly inethical things he did! Maureen would be disappointed in him. And so am I."

Even with the tirade, she hadn't tossed the letter.

"Yeah, that was fucked up," Magnus chimed. "Nobody's going to make you read it or talk to him ever, you know that, right?"

"Uh huh," Lucretia nodded. "I think- I think I'll take these to my room."

She waved the paints as she said it, and only the paints, but she still took the letter up with her. And when she came back down and threw out the mess of packaging on the floor, she didn't have the letter anymore.

(Notes: Okay, so I personally can't really stand Lucas, especially in the podcast with the whole, uh, enslavement debacle, but in a fandom that has so much focus on family and forgiveness and redemption and hope and moving on, it felt weird to just completely shut off any chance of Lucas redeeming himself and being less of an asshole and rebuilding that relationship so. I left it open-ended. Feel free to assume he never does though, if you want!

Additionally, I really wavered on whether to go with podcast canon of the control chips and basically enslavement of the bugbears or the graphic novel canon of intelligence enhancing chips, because the latter is less uncomfortable for me personally, but also the fact that the former is a thing is part of why I wrote Lucretia feeling so harsh towards Lucas, so I decided basically to leave it vague. You can assume the bit about what Lucas did to the bugbears refers to either podcast canon or something shitty in gn canon depending on your own preferences.)

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Knitting You a Home - 1

Pairing: Wolf Hybrid Namjoon and Human Reader

Word Count: 2k

Genre/Rating: Hybrid AU - Established Relationship - Angst - Fluff - Smut - PG-13

Overview: Things have changed for you and Namjoon. It’s been a year since the two of you got together, and despite a rocky start, it was impossible to deny the bond and love you shared for each other. But ever since Hoseok had been separated from his Mate, Namjoon has been withdrawing himself from you and doesn’t come home until late at night.

With questions far larger than either of you imagined, you can’t help but wonder if he’s let his past and old fears come back to haunt him. You had shown him that it was possible to have a home and be loved once before, but will you be able to do it again?

Warning: Besides a storm, none. Maybe a few editing mistakes.

Playlist:

Main Master List:

Knitting You a Home Master List:

Mated Love is Never Easy Master List:

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - ?

©thatmultifandomhoe Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

June 2018…

The wind howled while rain pelted your house as the storm refused to let up. You softly groaned, scrunching you nose up as you tugged the warm blankets tightly around your body, burying your face into the pillow. It was a weak attempt at trying to fall back asleep, but it was necessary since you had to be up to open the shop at nine in the morning.

It was silent in your house with the exception of your room, where you had a playlist of instrumental music playing. Absolute silence unnerved you and the music served to help sleep at night when the shadows haunted you as you slept. Tonight however, the soothing notes of the violin did nothing to ease you back into your dreams.

You squeezed your eyes shut as thunder rumbled overhead, wishing once again that you hadn’t woken up during the storm. Living on your own had its perks, but going through storms all alone wasn’t on that list.

Lightning cracked in the midnight sky, lighting up your room briefly just as your phone vibrated against the nightstand. Groaning, you forced yourself to roll over, blinking until you were able to read the numbers glowing from your alarm clock. It was almost four in the morning. Why the hell was someone calling you?

It took a few tries, but after fumbling around you nabbed your phone and successfully swiped the green icon.

“Hello?” Your murmured, huddling back under the blankets.

“Thank God you answered; I need your help.”

Frowning in confusion, you lifted the phone up, squinting as the bright screen came back on. The number wasn’t one you recognized. “Who’s this?” You asked instead.

“It’s Luna,” the voice answered. In the background there was rustling and multiple voices talking over each other. “Listen, I know it’s wicked late, but I’m at the Homeless Center and I have a huge favor.”

You turned the lamp on as you sat up, pulling your knees up to your chest as you tried to listen easier. “Luna? What’s wrong?”

“I’m at the Homeless Center for Hybrids,” Luna answered, raising her voice to be heard over all the noise. “This is probably me asking too much, but I have a hybrid here and with the storm we don’t have much space left. I was thinking and I thought you had a spare bedroom but I couldn’t remember…is there any way you’d be willing to let a hybrid stay with you? It wouldn’t be forever.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” waving your hand as if she was here, you leaned your head back against the headboard. Outside, lightning flashed again making you flinch. “It’s four in the morning Luna.”

There was a bang and at first you thought it was just another clap of thunder, but on Luna’s side you heard whimpering. Her voice was hushed as she reassured someone that it was going to be okay. “I know, but I wouldn’t be calling unless I thought it was important.”

It was insane to be going outside during the storm. Glancing out your window, it was obvious that it wasn’t letting up anytime soon. The best thing to do was to just stay inside where it was safe. That was the sane idea.

“I’m leaving now,” you said instead. Throwing the blankets off, you hurried to your closet to throw on some warm clothes as Luna informed someone, most likely the hybrid, that you were coming.

Time was on the line so you hurried to dress in the jeans and sweater that was thrown over the chair in the bedroom. Despite the lack of information you were given about this hybrid, you nabbed some towels and two umbrellas. In a matter of a few minutes your rain jacket was even thrown on.

“This is absolutely insane,” you muttered, rushing back to your room for the purse that you forgot contained your car keys and everything else. But even as you thought that, you tied the bag that you had stuffed the towels in so they wouldn’t get wet, and after throwing up the hood on the jacket, hurried out to the car.

You didn’t live in the center of town and with the storm still going wild, you were forced to go slower than usual, but it gave you plenty of time to think. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Luna to call you during the middle of the night, sometimes when it was extremely important you would wake up to her banging on the front door until you answered. Out of everyone she knew, you were the only person who would answer her calls, even if it was at a time like this. When she did give you a heads up though, you were sure to have coffee or tea on the stove by the time she arrived.

It wasn’t unusual for her conversations to turn to her place of work, but this was the first time that she called you to let a hybrid stay at your place. Shaking your head, you increased the speed of the windshield wipers and glanced at the tall pine trees, hoping that the lightning wouldn’t hit any of them. Luna would explain once you got there.

When you entered the Homeless Center for Hybrids, you didn’t see Luna anywhere. Instead, various of Hybrids filled the building as the staff ran around. It didn’t take a genius to realize that this was a result of the storm, which wasn’t unusual and typically everyone was prepared for times like this, but never before had you seen it this wild.

Cots were everywhere in the building, and not just in the large open rooms they typically had set up for Hybrids to sleep in. The waiting room and hallways had cots lined up everywhere with names written on makeshift signs to show that they were taken.

Nobody spared you a second glance as you tried to find the office. Hybrids who were soaking wet with towels draped around the shoulders and dry clothes in their hands were heading to the locker room to change, and staff workers were rushing around with arms laden with various supplies and Hybrids in tow.

“Hey!”

Spinning around, you spotted Luna standing in the middle of the room, a stack of blankets in her arms as she waved to catch your attention. You raised your hand and gave a little wave, watching as she made her way to you, passing out blankets to Hybrids she passed along the way.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” Luna greeted you, a tired smile appearing on her face when she finally reached you.

Nodding, you looked around when the sound of a baby crying filled the room. “So, where’s this hybrid?” You asked, looking at her.

Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail and the shoulders of her shirt were wet. Despite how early in the morning it was, Luna was wide awake. “He’s in the office. All the noise and smells were overwhelming him.” Gesturing for her to follow you, she led you through a hallway passing Hybrids who glanced up from making their cots. “That’s why I called you. You live away from the center of town, which is perfect for him, and it’s quiet so he’ll be able to relax.”

“What kind of hybrid is he?”

Luna glanced over shoulder, slowing as you stopped in front of the office. “He’s a wolf Hybrid.” She didn’t give you a chance to answer before softly knocking on the door a second before poking her head in. “Hey there, is it alright if we come in?”

You didn’t hear a reply, but apparently it was okay because Luna was walking into the office, holding the door open for you. The office was small, with only one desk in the corner with a computer on it, a row of file cabinets labeled A-Z, a mini fridge in the other corner, and along the wall to the left of the door was a green couch.

He was sitting on the couch, silently watching as you carefully closed the door behind you.

“Namjoon, I want you to meet my friend. You’re going to be staying with her for a while.” Luna smiled as she introduced you, not minding how quiet Namjoon was.

Softly smiling at Namjoon, you waved as you stood next to Luna. He didn’t say anything else, simply glancing at you before his eyes focused on the bag in your hands. “Oh,” you said, opening it. “I wasn’t sure if you had been caught in the storm or not, so I brought towels.”

When you looked up however, the words died out. Namjoon had raised an eyebrow and looked down at himself, more specifically, his clothes. His jeans had dirt stains on them and his once white sneakers were grey. His white t-shirt was in the same state as his jeans with the addition of a few holes in odd places, and the leather jacket was well worn out. But he was completely dry.

“Namjoon came here a few days ago,” Luna answered. “But with this storm, it’s been so chaotic and loud…”

You nodded in understanding, glancing at Namjoon’s Hybrid ears. They were twitching and flickering back towards the hallways. The door only muffled everyone’s voices. You could only imagine that if it was loud for you, it had to be painful for him.

“Alright,” you breathed out, gaining the attention of Namjoon. “If you want to stay with me at my place, I think we should leave soon. I don’t know how it was here, but the lightning was bad up by my place, and I really don’t want to get halfway home and find a bunch of trees knocked down.”

Luna settled a hand on her hip, smiling at Namjoon like his silence wasn’t unusual. “Like I told you earlier Namjoon, I wouldn’t have suggested staying with her unless I one hundred percent knew you’d be safe. I trust this girl with my life.”

Rolling your eyes at her joke, you ended up grinning anyways. “You’re just saying that because I make you stuff.”

“Don’t you try and steal my thunder here.”

You giggled, but when you looked back at Namjoon, you were startled to see that he was already staring at you. It was a little odd, but you mentally shook it off. He came to the Homeless Center for Hybrids, and from the lack of a collar around his neck, anything could have happened to make him suspicious of humans.

“Namjoon, do you, want to come with me?” You gave him an encouraging smile, hoping that it would help him to feel more comfortable around you. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but you’re more than welcomed to come home with me.”

The spot between his eyebrows crinkled as he frowned, his lips parting for a second before he pressed them together. He looked back at Luna, who gave him an encouraging nod.

“We’re not going to make you do anything you don’t want to,” Luna softly answered. “Here, Hybrids have free will. You, get to make the decisions for yourself Namjoon. Not me. Not my supervisor or boss, and not my crafty friend here. It’s up to you.”

It hurt to hear Luna explain that, but it was common around here. Hybrids came in from all different backgrounds either finding their way here on their own, or were abandoned by owners who no longer cared or loved them. When it was cases like that, the road to moving on and trusting another human took a long time.

With the two of you watching Namjoon, it didn’t go unnoticed when he stood up with a nod. There was a rip in the green fabric of his backpack, but he slipped it on his shoulder and focused on you, waiting for you to lead the way.

Opening the bag, you handed him an umbrella as you zipped up your jacket. “I parked as close as I could, but it’s raining like cats and dogs out there.”

He didn’t say anything, his face remaining neutral and unwavering, but his hands were gentle as he accepted the umbrella. For a brief moment, his eyes softened when his fingers brushed against yours, only to become guarded once you took your hand back.

“Well then,” you said, unaware of how that touch had affected him. “Let’s go home Namjoon.”

[wicked-mind]

Spark: Chapter Three

Summary: Y/N and Damon were apart of a Hydra experiment for over a decade until they escaped. When power outages through towns along with bodies of murdered Hydra agents start popping up across the country, Y/N becomes Bucky’s mission.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Bits of violence, memories of torture

Series Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

*gifs not mine

Chapter Three - We all need to talk

Bucky managed to watch the rest of the movie unmoving, not wanting to disturb Y/N who was still sleeping on his shoulder. He watched the credits roll along the TV screen, reading each line as they passed. He didn’t want to move, he didn’t want to ruin the moment he was stuck in. Bucky felt almost normal for the first time in his long life as he sat there on the couch with Y/N asleep on his shoulder and a dog on the other side of him. But he quickly snapped out of his daydream when Sarge perked his big fluffy head up, “What’s up, boy?” Bucky asked the dog in a hushed tone as to not disturb Y/N.

Sarge stood on the couch, looking at the curtain covered window behind Bucky for a moment before jumping off the couch and going to the door. Bucky quickly noted that the hair on Sarge had stood up, making his brow furrow. He scooted himself up and away from his spot on the couch, gently shifting Y/N into a laying position without disturbing her sleep. Bucky walks to the window and moved the curtain to peak out, seeing a black van sitting outside. The owner of the van must’ve seen him peaking out the curtain as well because the van sped away down the road. It was at that moment Bucky decided he would be spending the night at Y/N’s house, concerned about who was in the van and what could’ve happened to Y/N if he wasn’t here. He walked over to Y/N’s DVD collection, finding the second movie of the Alien series and popping it into the DVD player as quietly as he could. He pushed play on the remote before taking Sarge’s spot on the couch, looking over at Y/N as she slept soundly before returning his focus to the TV knowing he wouldn’t be able to get much sleep tonight.

It was early morning hours, about 4:30 AM, when Y/N woke up with a gasp. Even the presence of Bucky couldn’t keep her nightmares away. She sat up, staring wide-eyed at Bucky as if she didn’t recognize him. She fell off the couch in an attempt to get away from him, scooting herself into the corner of the living room and curled up into as much as a ball as she could facing away from him. Sarge, knowing what was happening, kept his distance as to not be shocked but close enough that he could whine gently at Y/N to calm down.

The sudden jolt of Y/N waking up made Bucky jump as well, he wasn’t expecting her to be awake so suddenly. He watched her as she looked at him with terrified eyes, standing quickly when she fell off the couch and scooted away, “Hey, Y/N.” He said gently with his hands up to show he was non threatening, “It’s me… Bucky.” He said as he slowly walked towards her curled up figure.

Y/N looked up at Bucky still wide-eyed, shaking her head quickly, “Please…” She whimpers out, “Don’t take me back… Don’t hurt me…” Tears had started to form in her eyes and started to slowly drip down her red cheeks.

Bucky had never seen someone look so terrified as Y/N was curled up in the corner. It made him angry that something had happened to make her go into a frantic state like this, it was the total opposite of what she was usually like. He kneeled down in front of her, “Nobody is taking you anywhere,” He said, reaching a hand out to touch her, “I promi-“ As soon as he touched her, he felt a jolt of electricity go through his body that made him back away quickly from her. Yup, she was definitely an enhanced human with the ability to create strong currents of electricity. Bucky quickly realized touching her wasn’t going to work to snap her out of it and he would have to try something else, “Okay, no touching.” He muttered, “Hey, Y/N, remember last night? I brought you some soup and we had some drinks together. Then you showed me your favorite movie, Alien. I watched the second one without you, I hope that’s alright.”

Y/N was breathing hard as she looked at Bucky, her finger tips crackling with streaks of blue electricity. She tilted her head slightly at him as he spoke, then looks back to the TV to see the main menu for Aliens on the screen. It slowly started to come back to her where she was and what was going on, but then she snapped her gaze back to Bucky as the electricity from her fingers sizzled away, “Oh my god, Bucky! I’m so so sorry!” She said softly, uncurling herself from the wall and leaned towards him a little, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Bucky sighs in relief as Y/N seemed back to normal, not knowing what else he could try if that didn’t work, “I’m alright, just a little shocked literally and figuratively.” He told her, holding his hand out to help her up from the floor and guided her back to the couch where Y/N took a seat. Bucky sat down by her, watching her curiously. At least now he could ask her questions about being an enhanced human and maybe more about how she was tangled with Hydra, “You literally electrocuted me, how is that possible?”

Y/N bit her lip, knowing questions were coming. She sat still on the couch, her eyes flickering between Bucky and her hands, “I don’t know.. It started when I was about ten years old…” She began, watching him for his reactions, “My parents got rid of me after they found out, sent me to a psychiatric facility when I was thirteen because they thought I was a witch or possessed. I got discharged and put into foster care and eventually adopted… It all went downhill from there.” She muttered out the last part, not really wanting to get into it unless he asked her. She didn’t know what she would say. How could she tell Bucky, a guy she was currently having a crush on, that she had been given up by her adoptive family to be tortured for an organization that seemed made up? Y/N didn’t want to sound crazy and scare him away. She chewed on her lip persistently, waiting for him to speak.

Bucky nodded, knowing the story already from the briefing he had before he came into Y/N’s life but it was good to hear her version, “You said don’t take me back… you looked traumatized saying don’t hurt me. What happened, Y/N?” He asks, curious to hear what really happened while she was gone after she fell off the grid. He needed to know more about her and especially more about Damon. He needed to understand how Y/N got mixed up with Damon and why he was murdering Hydra agents.

Y/N sighs, that was the question she didn’t want asked and hoped with just the small amount of information would be enough to suffice Bucky’s curiosity but somewhere inside her she knew it wouldn’t, “When the adoption was finalized and social workers didn’t need to come check up on me anymore, these men with accents took me to Washington. They put me in a cell in a bunker with a silver collar around my neck to steal the electricity I could produce… When they needed electricity to power the facility and their experiments, the collar would have sharp prongs that’d dig into my neck and cause me to create electricity….” She gently touched the scars on her neck from the prongs as she talked about them before continuing, “I was there alone for a long time until Damon and Stefan were put in the cells across from mine, they were brothers. The people who brought me there would take Damon and Stefan away sometimes… One day Stefan didn’t come back and we were told he died as part of an experiment. We were there for ten years together, isolated and alone.” She looked down at the floor where Sarge had came to lay below her, “Damon said they injected him with something that enhanced every ability he had including speed and strength and then he told me they were talking about brainwashing him… I panicked and released a large surge of electricity until the power blew in the facility and Damon and I escaped…” She slowly turned her gaze to Bucky, knowing she must sound insane to him, “That’s why Damon is in Washington, he goes to look for Stefan’s body every year. And ever since we escaped, the people who took me have been trying to get Damon and I back.”

Bucky slowly nodded at the story. He finally had answers as to what happened to Y/N and from the sound of it, Damon was a super soldier like him. He couldn’t help but feel anger and sadness for both Y/N and Damon. He had been in a similar situation before when he was taken by Hydra, turned into a brainwashed super soldier experiment and forced to kill but at least Y/N didn’t have the guilt of murder on her hands, “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Y/N. I’ve been through some similar things…” He thought about his next words carefully before deciding he had to say something true about himself, “I was also a Hydra experiment, Y/N. That’s the people who did those awful things to you.”

Y/N narrowed and her brow pulled together at his words, tilting her head, “You… You were an experiment too?” She repeats his words before her eyes widened slightly, “Is-is that why you’ve been hanging out with me? Pretending to enjoy my presence?” She stood suddenly, taking a few steps away from Bucky, “Are you here to take me back to them or for your own use? Because I’m not a battery! And I won’t ever be a prisoner again!” She shouted towards him, her finger tips starting to spark electricity again.

Bucky quickly threw his hands up in a non threatening manner again at her sudden hostility but he understood where it came from. During the most important years of Y/N’s life, she was taken prisoner, kept isolated away from other people and taught not to trust anybody besides Damon, something nobody should have to go through but yet Y/N came out alive and kind which fascinated Bucky even more, “No, Y/N!” He told her in a stern voice, “I honestly like hanging out with you. I definitely do not work with Hydra in any aspect. I was sent here because somebody has been ripping out Hydra agent’s hearts and snapping their necks which I figure is Damon’s doing. I had to come see if there was a problem and why Hydra was snooping around.” Y/N clenched her jaw a little, her teeth gritting together slightly as she listened to him. But something about the way Bucky was looking at her made her trust him. He had pain in his eyes as well and it reflected the own pain that was inside of her, “Damon was just trying to protect me… They don’t stop, they never do. They’re always waiting around every corner and find me anywhere I go.” She told him, the electricity in her fingers disappearing as she calmed down. She moved back to sit on the couch beside Bucky but continued to watch him carefully.

Bucky felt relief again as Y/N seemed to calm down and her hostility towards him seemed to fade. The last thing he wanted to do was become an enemy towards her and someone she couldn’t trust in her life, “I know, I was chased for a long time too and Hydra made me do awful things.” He sighed, feeling like he had to share his story now to show she could trust him, “In the 19040’s, I was taken by Hydra. They had already turned me into a super soldier, like your friend Damon, but they brainwashed me successfully and used me as a weapon for decades until 2014. I’m 106 years old, doll.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped at Bucky’s words, “Oh my god..” She managed to say before giving him an apologetic look, “I’m so sorry, Bucky. That’s awful. I’m sorry.” She said, reaching out a hand to squeeze his arm without realizing what she was doing. It was just instinct for Y/N to try and be there for others, be kind and Bucky Barnes was no different.

Bucky’s lips curved into a small smile, he couldn’t help it. The way Y/N was instinctively kind made him feel some sort of hope inside him for something better for him. If she could live through the trauma she went through, maybe he could too and come out a better person like Y/N had. Just as Bucky was about to speak, the moment was ruined as Damon strolled on in through the door.

Damon’s eyes flickered between the two, narrowing at the sight. He wasn’t expecting this, he had expected to see Y/N alone curled up with her dog. Then he noticed the dry tear trails on Y/N’s face, causing him to frown and in an instant he grabbed Bucky by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against a wall, “What did you do?!” He growled out at Bucky.

Y/N’s eyes widened as Damon slammed Bucky into the wall, “Damon, stop!” She yelled at him but Damon didn’t back off. She quickly stood, watching it unfold. Bucky used his vibranium arm to grab onto Damon’s wrist, twisting it and pushing him away. That didn’t stop Damon from coming at Bucky again which caused Bucky to land a punch to Damon’s cheek causing him to fall backwards onto the floor.

“Bucky!” Y/N yelled this time, watching as Damon got back up and walked towards Bucky with anger all over his complexion. Y/N got between the two dark haired men before they could make contact with each other again, placing her palms on each of their chests to stop them from getting any closer to each other, “Hey, knock it off or I swear to god I’m going to shock both of you to the point you see tweety birds around your heads.” She turned to Damon, “I’m fine, Damon.” Y/N turned to look at Bucky, taking a deep breath, “I think we all need to talk.”

__________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @wooya1224 @big-galaxy-chaos @buckys2thicc @allidoiswritewritewrite

[shadowayne-deactivated]

dancing with your ghost

Melinda stands in the open doorway, a duffle bag slung over her shoulder with nothing in it but a collection of Polaroids, a ring, and his shirt.

Artificial light filters into the room from the hallway, bathing what is in the doorway’s path with a dim yellow light. The unmade bed is illuminated, untouched since she left a week ago.

It has been two seconds and also three months since she’s been gone, yet she knows she’s aged a hundred years.

Melinda’s exhausted, but she can’t curl up into the sheets, achingly alone, laying in cold sheets without the sound of his weak breathing in and out next to her. Not without his hand gently held in hers, fingers twitching occasionally.

She hasn’t slept in weeks. She spent every second listening to his heart beat and falter and beat and falter and beat, until it didn’t do anything at all.

The idea of laying in bed with no soft, strenuous beating under her hand- it feels more vast and empty than even the nights she spent in the tiny apartment after Bahrain; ghosts and guilt and hate replacing the spot where Andrew used to lie next to her.

Melinda closes the door behind her, the door that separates her and her ghosts from everyone else.

She has thousands of ghosts haunting her, but none of them are Phil.

The room is pitch black, but she doesn’t turn on the light. She lets it sit, the inky darkness swirling around and seeping into her body as she closes her eyes and breathes in deep, faltering slightly when the memory of his bloodshot eyes and rapid loss of speech float through her mind.

She uses vague muscle memory to light the same, unscented candle that has been sitting on her small desk since early in their time in the Lighthouse. Daisy found a short break day to deliver them each a small gift soon after they returned from the future.

Daisy’s gift for Coulson was a boy hula dancer, to match the other one sitting in a storage building with Lola. Daisy joked about finally being allowed to drive the precious car, and Coulson just shrugged with a small smile and an odd look on his face.

Now Melinda knows what the look meant. He already knew, even then.

She drops the bag on the cement floor and it lands with a hollow thunk. She pops open the bottle of beer that was pressed gently into her hands when she stood in the center of the common room on shaky legs barely holding her up as Daisy clutched her. She didn’t cry, just held on tight like Melinda would blow away.

Maybe she will.

Her stomach is full of rocks and she sits down on the chair next to her desk, gripping the back of the chair with her free hand, looking down at the ground because she can’t see her room without being hit with a memory of him.

Everything has Phil in it.

He is in Daisy’s earnest face. He is in the maroon couch where he explained to the team that he was leaving for good. He is in the small collection of cooking utensils hung on the wall in the cafeteria area from when he insisted to cook them a meal at least once every couple of days for morale, even when the world was falling apart around them.

Now she knows, can see what he was doing. He was trying to hold onto something he loved to do because he knew he was running out of time. He knew, so he tried to spend that time with them while he could.

Once, Daisy and Jemma joined him. The three tried making lasagna but it was mainly Phil cooking while Daisy and Jemma ate the ingredients and messed with him. They were going through their own personal hells, yet they were smiling and giggling, the unfamiliar sound of joy ringing through the lighthouse and lifting the mood of the entire base.

It was one of the only times she saw him smile recently, before Tahiti.

He smiled a lot in Tahiti, at least when he was awake.

Melinda still marveled. He smiled until the end. He smiled when she talked, when she laughed, when she brushed soft kisses to his lips as she cradled his head when he couldn’t stand anymore.

She asked how he could smile when he about to see nothing ever again. Be nothing.

“I won’t be nothing, Lin,” he replied. “I’ll be your memories of me. And I smile because I see your love, for me and for Daisy and for the team, and I know that you will live. And that’s all that matters.”

He said it so simply, so matter of factly.

Melinda wonders if he’d be smiling if he would know she can’t live without him. Won’t.

She’s nothing without him, nothing without her better half holding her away from the edge of the pit of mania and darkness and sickness, the kind that creeps over your mind so quickly that you don’t notice it until you’re gone.

Without him, she is silently drowning, thousands of hands grabbing at her skin and ears and eyes, rough, unlike his careful caresses.

Without him, she is dying.

Melinda takes another sip of the beer and rests her forehead on her desk, for the first time noticing the sheen of sweat that is sticking some of her hair to her face.

There aren’t five stages of grief. Whoever came up with that was wrong.

Everyone experiences loss differently, but the one thing that stays the same for every person is that the loss never leaves. It stays heavy inside a person, creating a chasm of emptiness. Every new loss adds to it, making it deeper and wider until there is more emptiness than there is human.

Melinda is nothing but empty.

They danced together, before he was barely able to tell her he loved her.

The radio was playing faint tunes as he sat at the dining table, reading a book. (Not Ulysses. They didn’t have enough time to get it for him.) He had a cannula running up around his ears and tucked inside his nose, trying to feed to him the oxygen he fought every day for.

A song came on that Melinda recognized. It had played at her 19th birthday, her first one celebrated at the academy. Phil had dragged her out to a club near the base, and slow songs had played over the speakers as he got her a sundae and offered to pay but she refused to let him.

The lyrics played, but she didn’t pay attention to what they said, not back then.

Oceans apart day after day

And I slowly go insane

Phil, with his endless energy, had bounded up and held out his hand. “Dance with me, Cadet May?” he had asked in a teasing tone.

She’d grinned. “Sure, Cadet Coulson. Show me your moves.”

If I see you next to never

How can we say forever

In Tahiti he’d gotten up, less energy than even a few weeks before, and held out his hand to her, his giddy smile exactly the same as thirty years ago in that club, somehow untouched by time. “Cadet May?” he prompted.

She suppressed a grin. (She wishes she hadn’t. She wishes she let herself be free with him, be happy without any boundaries, but she still wouldn’t, couldn’t.) She took his outstretched hand and got up.

Wherever you go

Whatever you do

I will be right here waiting for you

They stood together, her mostly supporting him, and they were barely moving, simply swaying, but Melinda was looking in his bright blue eyes that were getting hazier by the hour and felt like she was back in their undercover missions, getting spun around and twirled so quickly she was lighter than air.

Whatever it takes

Or how my heart breaks

I will be right here waiting for you

The song ended, and Melinda was brought back to the present, where the sun was setting and Phil was sagging in her arms. She murmured that he needed to sleep, and helped him into their bed.

He didn’t get up again.

Waiting for you

The whole time they were in the magical place, he promised her that the pain was bearable, but when her back was turned he’d grimace and make fists so tight his knuckles would turn white.

He’d never been good at hiding things from her.

He hid the scar tearing through his soul, though, for months. Maybe she couldn’t read him as well as she always thought she could.

The middle of their first night he woke up still half asleep, crying that he didn’t want to die. The opposite of seven years ago, when he’d pleaded with Fury to let him.

She held him, softly kissing him on the head as she soothed him back to sleep, his head on her thigh as she sat against the backboard of the bed.

“I don’t want to die either,” she whispered in the dead of night, after he’d fallen asleep and couldn’t hear her anymore. After nobody could hear her anymore.

waiting

“I will love you for the rest of time,” he always said. “You won’t hear it, you won’t see it, but you will feel it, and you will know.”

She remembers his words, but she’s sitting alone in a tiny room lit by a scented candle and the alcohol in her throat doesn’t burn enough to abate the emptiness.

She isn’t angry anymore. Or sad, or upset, or even scared.

She isn’t anything at all.

“You will feel my love, even when I’m gone,” he said.

Melinda sits and she drinks until the bottle is empty and the wick of the candle burns down into the molten wax and extinguishes the flame, leaving her in the dark black well of grief.

“You will feel my love,” he said.

And she doesn’t say out loud what she knows deep down.

Because the darkness already knows too; knows because of the glistening tracks on her cheeks and the empty bottle clutched tightly in her hand, soon to be replaced by another.

She doesn’t feel it.

And she’s not waiting anymore.

[kimistorm]

My Heart Gone Missing [Chapter 6]

Fandom: Studio Ghibli (Howl’s Moving Castle)

Pairing: Friendship! Howl x GN! Reader

Warnings: Marius is unsupportive and angsty as usual~

Masterlist

You were back outside in the waste next to the lake where the hole extravaganza had started. “Years of training at the academy.” You angrily grumbled, “and for what? Nothing!” you turned to the blank expanse of the land and shouted, “what even am I supposed to do! What do you want from me!” there was no reply except for the wind that swallowed up your words.

There was silence and then the hum of a plane made itself known. “What?” you murmured to yourself. Planes weren’t a common occurrence. And this plane had an ugly loud roar. You squinted up into the sky and looked at the plane. It didn’t look like a leisure plane that insanely rich people would use. You frowned and tried to think about it, then it hit you. It was a fighter plane. Your eyes widened in surprise and you found yourself taking small steps backwards towards your home. These planes rarely come out, and typically the emergence of these planes means war.

“Marius!” you screeched and ran back towards your home, “Marius!” you slammed open the door and the water demon choked and spluttered on something from your sudden appearance.

“What is it now (y/n)?” Marius asked in annoyance, “you want to use my power for some crazy grand scheme? Or maybe,” his voice perked up, “you’ve realized how futile everything is and are ready to call off this deal!”

“No no, it’s not that.” You shook your head and closed the door behind you, “it’s war.” The magnitude of the word seemed to settle on your shoulders and you shouted, “war! It’s war Marius! There is going to be a war.”

Marius snorted, “right. And how would you know that?”

“Fighter plane.” You pointed straight up as if you were pointing towards the sky through the ceiling of the house, “there was a fighter plane up there. They don’t come out, unless we’re on the brink of war.”

“Humans.” Marius scoffed, “always fighting over petty things.”

“I need to find that spell.” You declared urgently to Marius, “do you know something, anything, that could be of use?”

Marius rolled his eyes, for a ball of water he was sassy, “I’m not a wizard, and even if I was. I wouldn’t tell you. You’re-”

“Awful, I know.” You interrupted the sassball, “thanks.” You leaned over the book again and flipped to the back. “There was an index this entire time?” you screeched and resisted the urge to flip the table. “Invisibility, invisibility.” You muttered under your breath and used your finger to help you keep track of where you were looking. “There.” You quickly flipped to the page where the spell was written and read it over.

“Okay.” You breathed after a moment of silence, “okay.”

“You broken over there?” Marius voice called.

You walked over to one of the shelves and grabbed a piece of chalk from the tin of chalk you kept. You shoved aside chairs and tables to make a small clearing in the center of the room.

“You’re going to do the spell in here?” Marius asked, “you’ll blow the entire place up!” he shouted.

“I’ll have you know I did go to the Academy.” You turned to his bowl and spun the white chalk in your fingers, “and I graduated.” You grabbed the book and squatted down to draw the image, “top marks too.”

Marius snorted, “really?” he asked.

“Yes, really.” You answered politely as you swirled the chalk around to make the surprisingly simple image. It was a circle, with multiple circles and triangles placed in what seemed to be in random places. “There.” You placed the chalk down on a table and clapped your hands together to get off the dust. You stepped into the center of the circle and held the book in your arms. You took a deep breath and read aloud the incantation from the book. The moment you were done, you tossed the book onto the floor outside of the circle and did a few hand signals before slamming your hands onto the circle.

Immediately, a beam of white light emerged from the drawn image and encompassed your body. You closed your eyes and let the magic do its thing. In the background, you faintly recognized that Marius was screeching.

The light slowly died out and you opened your eyes to see that the house was still intact. Much to Marius’ chagrin.

“They almost killed us.” Marius grumbled.

You looked up to the ceiling to make sure that the light hadn’t affected it and it looked fine. “What are you talking about?” you asked Marius in confusion, “who’s they?”

Marius jumped and let out a startled yelp, “I thought you teleported somewhere!” he crossed his arms and any inkling of concern was immediately washed away, “and here I thought I had the place to myself.”

“You will.” You jumped up and checked the mirror. Sure enough, the spell had worked and you were completely invisible, “don’t burn down the house while I’m gone!” you shouted and tore open the portal to the town.

You stepped out into the sunlight and made your way down to Jenkin’s shop. As it turns out, walking while invisible is extremely difficult. You had to make sure that you didn’t step on any toes, or run into any people, since they obviously couldn’t see you. Luckily, the shop wasn’t too far from where your portal spat you out.

When you found the building, you sat down next to the door to wait for someone to go in. As much as Marius would argue that you didn’t have any common sense, you did, and a door opening on its own is not something normal.

Minutes, hours passed and while the street was bustling with people, nobody wanted to go into the building. You twisted around from your uncomfortable spot on the ground to read the sign. Yup, it clearly showed ‘The Great Wizard Jenkins’. You sighed and rested your head on your hand.

The sun was beginning to set and you felt your stomach growl from hunger. You stood up and stretched your stiff limbs from sitting in the same place for so long. It was clear nobody was coming. You patted yourself down to get rid of any dirt that was clinging onto your clothes and began to move to find some food. However, you were stopped from going anywhere when you noticed somebody turning towards the building. You felt excitement leap in your chest. This was it.

The person briskly walked to the door and knocked.

“Hello.” The same kid as before opened the door.

“Hello, is it possible for me to find a gift here?” the person inquired.

“What sort of gift are you looking for?” the kid asked in his fake old man voice.

“Something unique, mind if I come in to search for something?” the man decided. You let out a silent cheer. Once the person went into the building, you’d slip in behind them and bam. You’d be in.

“I don’t really have a store.” The kid denied access and just as quickly as hope had risen, it fell. “You make an order, and then I deliver the order.”

The man’s shoulder sagged forwards, “ah, I see. My apologies for disturbing you Mr. Jenkins.”

You felt your own shoulders sag along with the man’s. There was no way you could get the spell now. Then an idea struck.

“Is there anything in particular that you were looking for? Perhaps I could help.” The kid probed.

“No, no. I was just waiting for inspiration to strike.” The man shook his head, “thank you for your kindness though.” He turned around and began to walk back to the busy street.

Quickly you summoned up some magic and caused the entire street to get caught up in a sudden windstorm. Everything went flying. Papers. Food. Hats. Anything and everything. Amidst the confusion you burst past the man and the kid at the door into the shop. You kept up the wind for a little longer. Enough to cause papers to fly into the doorway to distract the kid, and let the wind stop.

“That was rather sudden.” You heard the man laugh and you made your way around the interior in search for the spell. Aligning with what the kid had said, the inside didn’t look like a store at all. In fact, it looked like any normal house. You glanced back at the entrance and noticed a wheel with four colors. You deduced that they must’ve been portals.

The door shut behind you and the kid’s mop of gray hair transformed into significantly shorter red hair, “what was up with that sudden gust of wind?” he murmured.

“Now, this is just hypothetical,” you jumped when the fire beside you started to talk and you knocked over a book. Luckily you were able to catch it before it made a loud sound and neither the kid nor the fire seemed to notice. “But that could’ve been from magic.”

“Magic?” the kid echoed, “I didn’t see Mr. Howl out there.” Howl? You put a hand up to your mouth to conceal the gasp, could this be Howl’s house? It didn’t seem too far-fetched because there were the four portals, and it could be a similar situation as to the one that your own house was in.

“There’s more than one wizard out there.” The fire clicked its tongue.

You looked between the fire and the kid. You came to the realization that there were a couple flaws in your plan. First, how were you supposed to get the spell with people in the house? Add that to the fact you weren’t sure where to find it, and that results in a precarious situation. Second, how were you going to get out undetected? You wanted to slap yourself, perhaps Marius wasn’t completely wrong.

The kid pondered over what the fire had said, “that’s true.” He agreed, “oh well.” He shrugged and continued on his business.

“That’s all you’re gonna say?” the fire looked up at the kid, “you don’t get the creeping feeling that there’s a wizard in here?”

“How would they get in?” the kid asked, “we’d have seen them.” He said and jumped up to sit on the ragged couch.

“Invisibility spells, seriously Markl, do you not know magic?”

You were still frozen in your place. The fire demon was on to you, and you hadn’t even started to look. You looked at the bookshelf and the table in front of it with papers strewn all over it. You figured that that was your best bet. There was also the wizard’s room, but you couldn’t risk climbing the stairs. You and Howl might’ve been best friends before, but there was no guarantee that he’d remember you. Or that this was Howl’s house.

The door burst open and another person entered the building. It was a blond man with bright blue eyes. You slapped your hands over your mouth to keep from gasping audibly. It was Howl. You weighed your chances of getting the spell from him, but you were almost certain that he wouldn’t recognize you. You had changed a lot since the last time you saw him. It was too risky.

“Wait, who are you, and what are you doing here?” the kid demanded and looked straight at you.

Taglist: @pogpixelz

[escapewithbts]

Would you do a jungkook request of him and his crush going for a late night walk by Han river when he needs to get out of the dorms and wants to feel normal and she confesses to him amidst attempting to cheer him up?

Thank you for the request! Here you go, I hope you enjoy it :) <3

*

Midnight Stroll - Jungkook

————————————————

“What do you want to do now, Kookie?” You asked as the credits of the movie the two of you just finished watching rolled on the screen.

Jungkook shrugged as you looked down at your phone to see the time. 12:33am. The other members in the dorm had long gone to sleep so it had just been you and Jungkook left alone on the couch in the living room. You didn’t mind though, it was so nice having quality time with your best friend. It was rare these days since he was always so busy being a famous idol and all.

However, when you had arrived at the dorm earlier this evening you instantly noticed something seemed off about your friend. He was quiet and didn’t joke around with you as much as he usually did. It worried you and hurt your heart, since you cared about him more than anyone else in the world.

You watched as Jungkook sank further down into the couch and played on his phone. His eyebrows furrowed and he bit his lip before letting out a large sigh.

“Okay, that’s it,” you rose to your feet and walked over to where he was sitting, “let’s go.”

He peered up at you quizzically.

“Go where?”

You shrugged.

“I dunno, but we have to get you out of the house. Are you coming or not?”

Jungkook cocked his head and thought for a moment. He ran a hand through his newly blue hair before standing up.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go I guess.”

You left the dorms in Jungkook‘s black Mercedes. The streets of his neighborhood were quiet and empty with it being so late. The usual bustling city of Seoul was almost desolate, and as the two of you drove through its streets you couldn’t help but notice Jungkook begin to relax. You rode in a content silence, just the sounds of the wind from the open windows letting in the cool early Spring air and the soft tunes of Jungkook’s music coming through the speakers. There was something so calming and magical about a big city at night and you loved experiencing it with your best friend.

“Hey, (y/n)?” Jungkook suddenly spoke while you were stopped at a red light.

“Hmm?”

He turned to you, his brown doe eyes wide.

“Could we maybe go take a walk along the river?” he asked, “I haven’t been able to in ages.”

You smiled and nodded. It sounded like great idea.

“I’d love that Kook.”

Once he parked the car in the lot of one of the riverside parks, the two of you got out and headed towards the path that followed the river.

It was absolutely beautiful this time of night. All the colors of the city lights reflected on the water’s surface, creating almost a perfect mirror-like effect. You could hear water lapping gently against the sides of the wall below, and the faint sound of the few cars driving across the bridges above. The breeze was laced with the smell of flowers that had recently bloomed in the trees and on the ground. There was no one else in sight as you and Jungkook continued on the path together.

“It’s so nice to be able to walk along here when there’s no one to recognize me,” Jungkook said, “Is this how you feel all the time?”

You let out a small chuckle and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I guess so. I’m just a nobody so no one really pays attention to me.”

Jungkook shook his head, his hair bouncing against the sides of his face.

“If I saw you I’d notice you.”

You felt butterflies in your stomach, a common occurrence when Jungkook complimented you.

You hooked your arm in his and grinned up at him.

“Aww thank you Jungkookie.”

There was a pause as you continued walking.

“Is that what’s been bothering you?” You suddenly asked, hoping it would get him to talk to you about the sad mood he seemed to be in.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked at the ground.

“Aiiish, kind of. I guess so. I don’t know.”

He turned toward the river and continued speaking,

“Sometimes I just wish I could live like a normal person, you know? Do things like this without having to worry. I feel trapped because I know if I go out or say something or do something wrong it will just come back to haunt me. It’s hard sometimes, and scary.”

You frowned.

“I’m so sorry, Kook. I don’t know at all what that feels like but I can imagine it sucks.”

He looked back at the ground.

“It’s all I’ve ever known in my adult life. And I know I shouldn’t whine, I’m so lucky, with my hyungs and big hit and how successful we have gotten because of army’s around the world and not having to worry about money. But sometimes...” he hesitated, “I question it, if it’s worth it, not being able to do these kinds of things.”

The two of you stopped at the railing that overlooked the river and leaned on it. You studied Jungkook’s handsome profile as he stared at the city before you, the bright lights creating a soft yellow glow on his pale skin and in his dark brown eyes. Wind whipped his hair over his eyes and he flicked it away with his tattoo covered hand.

“And? Do you find it’s worth it?” you wondered quietly.

He fiddled with his fingers before answering.

“I do, yeah. I love what I do and I love my fellow members. But that doesn’t mean I can’t avoid thinking about the what-ifs.”

You shook your head in agreement.

“No of course not.”

He looked at you and smiled for what felt like the first time today.

“I’m glad I have you though, (y/n). You make me feel like Jungkook-friend, not Jungkook the golden maknae of BTS. It’s like you keep me grounded.”

You smiled back and nudged his shoulder with yours.

“You’re welcome, Kookie, I try.”

He let out a sigh and stared at his hands.

“It sucks, I can’t even go on proper dates,” he mumbled, “And I always have to worry about their intentions...”

You suddenly couldn’t help feeling a little jealous at his mention of being with other women, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside in order to be there for your friend.

“Ahh no, Jungkook-ah. The right person will like you for you and will understand your life. I wouldn’t worry about that.”

He hummed in response and paused.

“You like me for me, right?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. What exactly was he getting at? Did he just want a confidence boost?

“Well, duh,” you chuckled, “Kookie you’re incredible. You’re hilarious even if you don’t think so; you never fail to make me laugh. You’re insanely talented at almost everything, it blows my mind. You have such a huge and sensitive heart and you use it well. You never stop working hard to get what you want. And through all that you still manage to stay modest and humble which is so admirable.”

You hadn’t even noticed the rant you had gone on until you looked back at Jungkook, a huge embarrassed smile on his face, a new red tint across his cheeks.

Your face got hot with embarrassment, too, an emotion you rarely felt around your best friend.

“I mean, it’s all true...” you finished quietly.

He muttered a thanks under his breath and gave you a shy smile.

You looked away and nervously picked at your nails. Taking a deep breath, you stood up straight and turned to face Jungkook.

“Jungkook?”

He did the same, standing up and looking at you.

“Yeah?”

You stared into the handsome face of the man in front of you. The adorable mole under his bottom lip, his round tipped nose, his big brown eyes that squinted at you waiting for you to continue, his long hair that framed his cherubic face. You really did love everything about him. And you felt maybe it was time to tell him.

“I-I,” you sighed, “I think I like you. As more than a friend. No, no, I definitely love you. Yeah. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way, I just don’t want to lose you as-“

Jungkook cut you off by placing his soft lips on yours in a passionate kiss. You melted into him, the whole world around the two of you becoming nonexistent as you wrapped your arms around his strong neck and shoulders.

You fit together perfectly and loved how familiar but exciting it felt to kiss him.

You pulled apart and Jungkook cupped your cheek in his hand, rubbing it gently with his thumb. Your lips tingled from the kiss.

“(Y/n), I’ve loved you since the day we met. What started out as a small crush developed into so much more over the years, but I was so afraid to tell you. But, I love you, (y/n), too, so much.”

You smiled widely at him, hardly being able to fathom what you were hearing. You just wanted to kiss him again. So you stood on your tip toes and did just that.

*

Masterlist

[meetevieinthehallway]

just harry.

in which harry is a prince but craves normalcy.

this is all insane.

insane: a word only used for the outcasts of this god forsaken kingdom—god bless the king and queen!—that were deranged enough to be put away and imprisoned within their rights and their own minds.

harry grew up believing he was one of the insane. because the insane were shipped away for having qualities deemed too different to be socially acceptable, so much so that they were deemed inhumane: locked away for life and considered a danger to society.

it’s insane for someone to ponder outside the realm of the king’s religion and it’s insane to visit a neighboring kingdom and it’s fucking insane for you to not bow and break your spine and bruise your knees and hands for those who sit upon the throne.

all they did was think a little differently— all they did was not conform.

and there was always something different about harry—something nonconforming—that he couldn’t place his finger on.

nobody could. and that was a problem.

he was different— would prance around the palace singing and humming and proclaiming he wanted to be a florist or painter with cherub cheeks and messy curls and a twinkling in his eyes.

and apparently, that was enough of a danger to the kingdom—to the king—when he would eventually take the throne.

i’m going to leave my kingdom behind to what? music and flowers and— something disgusting? you’re soft, harry. you’re an ungrateful brat who needs to grow some skin, and be a man.

but how could he grow more skin when it was whipped off in sections across his back?

too soft too soft too soft, it was always the same tirade from his father and harry didn’t comprehend why his love for music and art and animals was considered as a thing of abnormality.

of insanity.

and as a boy, harry didn’t understand. he had no concept of his role in this god forsaken kingdom, or how embarrassing it was to the king that his son embodied some form of anything than what his father wanted. he wasn’t enough to his father, never would be, never could be.

all he was enough of was dangerous: to everything about his family and their place in the world.  

dangerous enough to where he was locked away from being himself and a burden on the reputation of his family.

i didn’t raise you this way. you are not my son.

a burden. that’s what he was.

a burden as burdening as the crown that laid upon his head by the time he was four— the one that bent his neck out of shape and twisted the bone structure of his back and his ribcage and with enough gold and silver to blind him when he looked at himself in the mirror.

every time he looked in the mirror he didn’t recognize himself.

this wasn’t him— this poised, royal, locked away self was not him.

a crafted crown fit for a prince like his crafted self— leaving certain parts in, eliminating others, because all he was to be was a beautiful, groomed, shiny exterior that his people gawk at— something that they lower their eyes to.

why look at the empty hole in the middle of the crown when the jades and rubies glisten? the ones that show the strength of his status?

the only jades that never held entitlement and refinement are harry’s eyes—but only if you bothered to look close enough—that hardened as he aged. twinkling eyes turned to crushed, broken jades sorrily held together, like how the impossibly stoic stone imprisoned the sword.

he was helplessly imprisoned from the inside and out.

harry had known to imprison his own feelings at a very early age. although he was a burden, it was never showcased, only forced to be repressed and repressed and every “negative” deep into the core of his being was grounded him so intensely that he was stuck. always fucking stuck somewhere he didn’t want to be— in this stupid crown and cape or at the royal table or in the presence of the people or his father or—

no.

repress the feelings like we oppress the insane and the people of this kingdom who are just the peasants we look down upon—

the crown he wears is not much heavier than his tears.  

you are to rule with an iron fist, boy. what good will compassion do for these people?

maybe his crown was heavy in accordance with the weight pressing down on his shoulders.

harry was called insane for disliking war and dominance and carrying no respect for his father—the fucking king of this stupid fucking kingdom—

and the insane are kept locked away until some other bullshit authority takes them out and away and he is really just a burden— trapped in his own lonely swirling head and becoming dizzy with the thoughts of wanting to flee and escape this all or cry or— or die— 

i-i’d be free.. wouldn’t i? and wouldn’t my father be happier?

but although his despair held enough strength of its own to pull the sword out of the stone like the legend itself— he was never brave enough to plunge it into his chest.

maybe he was too soft. too pitiful for his own good. 

harry has come to believe in past lives.

he isn’t sure exactly where or when the idea formulated among the chaos in his mind, but he believes—he hopes—that past and future lives are real.

he knows they are; they have to be. he prays they are.

(that’s why he’s always been tempted to die at his own hand— take some control and be the one to send his soul into a new life already.)

he has always considered himself an old soul, deja-vu common but disheartening, and he never rationalizes why— other for the reason that he must have an older life still lingering in his body.

maybe that’s why he feels so out of place in this lifetime.

another book was probably crammed down his throat at some point in his suffocating youth— one with the idea of rebirth and reincarnation and how the soul is separate from the body so much so that it keeps moving when the physicality of a person dies— probably from some philosophy, some theological text—some middle-age epic poem that clogged his lungs with dust and imbibed pages of bullshit in his head.

even though he didn’t know where or when this thought came into his head, he sure knew why it did.

there isn’t a possibility that he hasn’t lived a different life before this time.

and he dreamed for the truth of it.

there is a taste of normalcy dancing along the tip of his tongue and the edge of his fingertips— too far in reach to fully grasp and be absorbed into. he’s met other princes and nobles and duchesses and queens— he’s met the love they have for their titles and status and it creates a film in his mouth he wants to spit out for hours. those people would rather die than live a normal, commoner life— wouldn’t he be that way too if there wasn’t some part of him holding him back?  

between the mess of words and allegories and praises within the books he read and the poems he penned endlessly—the ones he’s hid from his father—something about the idea of multiple lives lived by the same soul stuck with him.

he wanted to be normal. common. he dreamed of it.

and if there was a chance his soul could be at some point, harry would leave this life soon. or at this point, at least suffer through this one for the hope of the next.

he hoped and he prayed and he dreamed for the sake of his sad, locked away soul that it would get to live a life at some point.

this wasn’t a life— he’s never had one.

harry saw for himself the way kids his age ran and shouted and chased each another when he traveled into the cities or the countryside, and he longs for it— the normalcy of it all— the beauty and simplicity and bliss.

he remembers reading about god when locked into the library for the day after he saw those children—tears dripping off his nose and splatting on worn pages and he’s sniffling at the words and he wonders when he will see god, for real. he wants to—needs to—see if there’s a purpose for him, for this life. if there is a god, he wouldn’t do this to him— make him fall to his knees and to his feet for a life so foreign to him, but familiar to his soul.

god, if you’re there, just fucking take me now, please.

but god didn’t answer.

maybe he was even burdening to god.

and harry wiped his tears and what was left of his heart had dissipated. 

but then, an angel was sent to him.

he doesn’t remember the exact emotions he felt when he first saw her, but he knows that he believed his heart to reconstruct itself.

since his fingertips couldn’t grasp the normal life dangling in front of him, he was brushing them against the rose petals as he walked through the gardens. he liked how they felt against his skin— soft and pliant and delicate and this is why he liked june.

for the color. the feelings.

the feel of warmth from the sun on his cheek and the breeze through his hair and the gentleness of his humming swirling around him. the feelings of being lost and being free and being one with nature.

not that he could voice that.

but the older he grew the less his father scolded him— it was embedded in the both of them and the scars on harry’s skin that he was the way he was. it was easier when he pretended to be alike his father in front of the public— in private he could be what he wanted.

that’s why he roamed the gardens at sunrise— nobody would find him here and nobody would correct his lack of being proper.

or at least he thought nobody was there.

“ow! silly thing— was trying to be nice!”

harry had jumped when he heard the gentle voice— and although he couldn’t see who it came from, there was an annoyance in the tone that caught him off guard and dragged his vision towards a rosebush. his eyebrows dropped over his eyes in confusion, and he released the petal between his fingers and moved slowly towards the voice, which was still mumbling in disgruntlement.

and he’s walking towards the sound and thinking about who else would be here at sunrise—“um.. hello?” and he was responded with a gasp—and he’s walking around the bush and he—

he sees eyes.

beautiful, beautiful eyes.

and he thinks he may have finally died because he forgets how to breathe.

they’re glistening up at him, wide and bright and unmoving and he doesn’t know how his expression looked because he was so lost.

so incredibly lost in those eyes.

her lips are parted and his eyebrows raise and he’s staring down at her and the wind blows at the hair draped across her neck.

and it’s silent for a long moment that he can hear the bees buzzing.

“y-you… your highness i-i am so- … so sorry please forgive me i—”

he’s shaking his head as she looks down at her knees and she’s rambling and spewing apologies and bowing low to the ground and he can see her start to literally tremble and he’s so enamored and confused.

“are you alright?”

it cuts her off. i shouldn’t have spoken unless he did first. she sits up again and she’s still looking down in respect and he hates that he can’t see her eyes anymore. she’s silent and still.

“miss? are you okay?”

she sputters. she bows her head lower if that was possible and he slowly crouches so he’s at her eye level. and then he lowers completely and he sits next to her on the grass of the gardens, running a hand through his hair and she’s still shaking and she’s so confused. why is he stooping to a commoner’s level— i’m no ‘miss’—

“i-i’m so sorry, your highness i-i—..”

“miss?”

she sputters again.

“please look at me.”

she chokes but keeps it in the back of her throat. he wants me to look at him? is it so he can get a better description of my face for when he reports me o-or has me killed—

“you can look at me. it’s not a crime.” there’s a softness to his voice and she doesn’t understand why she isn’t being scolded or condemned or imprisoned at this point.

“.. your majesty..—”

“this is no trick, can you… will you please look at me?”

and her eyes flicker up hesitantly, her head still slightly bowed and she meets his eyes again. and she falls in his gaze and he melts in her’s.

and she realizes how utterly beautiful he is. she’s only ever seen him from afar— but up close his lips and skin are smooth and soft and his eyes… they look—… kind.

“there you are.” he gives her a small smile. “beautiful eyes, you have.”

she’s beautiful. prettier than any rose he’s ever seen and he wants to fiddle with her lips between his fingertips and slot them between his own.

“can i ask what you’re doing?” he murmurs, keeping his voice soft and she shivers under his gaze and his low voice.

“i was just… trying to…—” her eyes move in front of her lap and harry sees that there’s one of the garden rabbits in between her and the bush. he chuckles softly.

“tryin’ to pet him? they can be fiesty little buggers sometimes.”

but he leans over and scoops the bunny up easily and holds him to his chest, petting between his ears with his fingers and moving his eyes back to hers.

she’s in awe; she blinks and looks away, shifting in her position.

“you’re timothy’s daughter, no?”

she blinks at him again, nodding slowly, tentatively. how would he know the palace gardener by name? is he mad? will he tell father—

he grins. “like a friend to me, your father. he used to bring your brother around when i was younger too.” he’s still petting the bunny and she’s in awe. “used to play with him. jack, yes?”

she nods again.

“mm. used to help them plant tulips when my father wasn’t here.”

she wonders why her father never told her about him— how different he seemed than his father. she only looks down at her lap and fiddles with her fingers.

“you’re awfully quiet. think this little thing is louder than you, love.” harry smirks at her.

love.

he calls her love.

she blushes when she hears it and can’t help but crack a small smile. she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and chews on the inside of her cheek in apprehension.

“what is your name?”

so she tells him softly— as calm and gentle as the morning breeze and the sun is just beginning to peek out and illuminate her skin.

and with a smile, he takes the bunny and places it on her lap.

her fingers move to nestle between its ears and she smiles softly.

and then his touch melds with hers.

because he takes her other hand in between his two and lifts it to his lips. and he kisses her skin once as if she were royalty, and her lips part as his do from her hand.

“i’m harry. just.. just harry.”

—

that was when they were eighteen.

they fall in love so deeply and so quickly—of course they do—and harry knew he would fall in love with her the moment he saw her and he detests god for not sending her to him sooner.

but he lets it slide.

because she loves and cares for him so wholeheartedly that harry’s frozen and broken heart has thawed in his chest and his stoic eyes have softened.

everyone can see it— but nobody could put their finger on what had happened to the sad little boy that was whipped into refinement for so long. the palace workers are shaking their heads at him fondly again, murmuring how he seems to be back in the clouds and it’s become normalized again by the time he’s twenty-three. he’s asking for paints and instruments and spends hours writing poetry and he feels like himself.

harry feels bliss.

pure blissfulness and it’s all from falling in love with the pretty girl in the garden who loves him authentically. not for his title— not for his riches— just him. just harry.

his flower, his rose, his pretty love who he calls his and identifies himself within parts of her.

he finds solace in her touch and sees her glowing cheeks in the sunsets and he wants to wrap himself in her heart.

he writes her poems and songs and paints her face and eyes and lips and she gets emotional when he does— kissing him endlessly and murmuring how in love she is with him and he can’t help but grin into her skin.

he says it back with a fire in his eyes and he could drop dead from her smile shining his way.

he’s happy. he’s so utterly and unbelievably happy.

even though it’s all a secret.

as much as he wants to shout from every rooftop and into every face of his royal family— she is his, the one thing he has that is his, the thing he cherishes most. and it’s not that she’s a dirty little secret— he just loves that he feels ultimately comfortable and normal around her; he doesn’t need to act.

she’s the taste of love and happiness and normalcy he’s begged and prayed for for all these years.

his fingers are lost in her hair and skimming along her body and he soaks in her smiles and her laughs like they’re rays of sunshine and he could spend the rest of his days basking in her presence. he sneaks out to watch the stars with her in the countryside and they dance in the pouring rain and they bask in the sunrises that appear bright above the kingdom’s horizon. he’s had dinner with her family in their small cottage at the late hours of the night— feeling like he belongs to a family. they’re the only ones who know— kind enough to treat him as their own and allow him to stay the nights or cry on their shoulders when it’s been particularly hard.

he’s attained the normalcy he’s always craved— and it’s all because he’s fallen in love with his flower.

“you’re the love of my life, y’know.”

she whispers it into the space between them in her bed, fingers caressing his bare chest while harry drifts in the floaty space between being asleep and awake. he hums, low in his throat and he feels her lips sponge on his neck.

he shivers.

“and you are mine.” he murmurs, and she’s smiling into his skin and nipping at it softly.

she sits up, rubbing at her eye as he stares up at her from his place on his back. her hand then finds the top of his head, rubbing through his curls and he could easily forget everything and drift back asleep. her sheer curtains let the light pass through from her window and the golden hue that falls on her skin makes him want to kiss every inch of her.

“want to take a bath, love?” she asks softly, watching his eyes flutter.

and he sighs, “can’t. have to be back before they notice i’m gone.”

she frowns, “stay? just a little longer?” she whispers.

“hey,” he speaks softly, eyes opening to see her lip trapped between her teeth. “promise you we won’t have to cut our time short anymore. soon, okay?” he stares at her intently, sending his promise through the sharpness of his eyes.

she nods, looking down. but her hand falls away from his hair.

she’s used to the sinking feeling in her stomach but that doesn’t make it feel any better. she’s sad— it’s easy to tell. she wants to love him openly and outwardly— paint each other in the garden and kiss and dance in the ballroom without being questioned or scrutinized. she hates that it makes her upset—she doesn’t need validation or the attention of being the prince’s new woman! (only ever woman, actually)—but she gets paranoid that he’s ashamed of her. no matter the countless times he’s assured her of the exact opposite or the endless evidence of his character that he doesn’t care about that stuff, it still pangs her insecurities and she finds her reflection judging herself.

she wishes she was poised and elegant and proper and beautiful and enough— enough to where harry could be seen as fitting with her.

but she has dirt under her nails and messy wild hair and it hurts her every time he leaves or every time he smiles at her from his balcony while she’s helping her father tend the garden. seeing him so high up only reminds her of the distance and the difference of who they are.

she wishes his parents could be proud of him and of who he loves.

she also knows that that will never happen.

“love?” he murmurs, his hand finding hers, “upset with me, are you?”

she shakes her head and meets his eyes. “just wish it was different.” she shrugs.

he nods, “yeah.”

“wish i was born into royalty or something—” she takes her hand away from his and tears spring to her eyes. “then i’d get to have you.”

“hey.” he frowns, “you do have me.”

her laugh is mixed with a small sob as she doesn’t meet his eyes.

harry reaches for her touch again, cupping her cheek and turning her face.

“all of me.”

he’s looking at her intently but it’s silent and his heart twitches because there’s something there. she’s holding something— holding something back and away from him and he can tell.

he furrows his eyebrows. “what is it?”

she shakes her head, eyes fluttering around her room and her face falling away from his touch— she’s studying the size of her room, how everything is cramped and small and how everything isn’t as grand as he is.

“i know when you aren’t telling me something.”

she looks at him, chin trembling and he falters at the sheer emotion she’s showing.

“it’s nothing, harry.” she whispers.

“love.” 

her lip trembles. you have to tell him.

“what’s going on?”

she meets his eyes.

they’re piercing and confused and she hates that this may be the last time she’ll be able to see them like this.

“they’re marrying you off.” she whispers.

and it’s silent.

she sighs and a sob forces its way out and he’s quiet.

he doesn’t look mad or upset— she doesn’t know what he’s thinking or feeling and so she has to look away. there’s a sudden coldness in the room.  

“what d’you mean.” he doesn’t ask, he states, his voice monotone.

she wipes her cheek.

“dad overheard. they... your parents know.”

“...they know..?”

“they know you’re in love with someone they wouldn’t approve of.” she smiles sadly at her ceiling, wishing her tears would soak back into her. she sniffles, “just didn’t say that it is me. said a guard caught you leaving and they found some of your poems.”

he’s shaking. harry’s hands are shaking and he fumbles to hold hers.

“dad told me last night after you fell asleep.”

he swallows.

and then she speaks quieter than he’s ever heard. “i have to leave.”

his heart drops.

“...l-leave?”

she meets his eyes and there’s tears welled at his waterline and she hates that she’s put them there.

“your parents want me dead.” her hand squeezes his. “they’ve.. started investigating who you’ve been seeing all this time. want her dead o-or.. gone before they marry you off to the princess a few kingdoms over.”

and then her lips tremble.

“... i think they intentionally said it so casually—outwardly—in the garden because.. they knew dad would be there. t-they—”

he’s shaking his head because he knows what she’s going to say.

“i think they know it’s me, harry.”

“n-no.. but they can’t do that—”

“you know they can.”

“i-i.. i won’t let anyone hurt you. especially not them.” he swallows. “you… you know that.”

“i know. but that’s not...—” she shrugs. 

it’s not enough.

his tears have started to fall.

“you can’t leave.”

she knows he’s not talking about the kingdom.

her hand touches his cheek.

“i was never enough for you anyways.” she cries.

“don’t say that—”

“i’m not who you should be with.”

“that’s not true—”

“you deserve to be happy a-and… this is who you are. you’re meant to be ruling a kingdom and not with some commoner girl who—”

“stop.” he sobs, and he’s leaning into her touch and grasping at her hands and any other part of her he can. he’s losing her through his own hands.

he’s shaking and crying into her open palm and she’s holding everything back because it really is just not enough. she wants to wrap him in her arms but she knows that that will make this so much harder.

“i’m happy with you and not in my role. you know that.” he’s saying it around a bite of frustration.

he stutters for a moment but can only sob, and he holds her wrist and starts desperately kissing at her fingers and her palm and her wrist and her arm, and she’s sobbing into her own lap. he’s hiccuping and muttering pleas into her skin and it’s undeniably pathetic of him.

“don’t leave me. please don’t i-i—...” he’s begging. 

but he knows his own father would have her executed without blinking.

“harry.” she says his name like a mantra and his forehead is pressed to her knuckles. “you know i’d die for you. you know that but— i can’t have you dying for me.”

“that isn’t fair.”

“i know, i-i.. i know.”

harry’s throat is burning and he’s trying so hard to think. his head is swirling and hot and he can’t find a way out of this fog that’s trapping him in this fucking nightmare. 

he can’t do this— god he really can’t.

this is worse than a knife to his chest and this is more troubling than the thoughts that contemplated his own existence and this is all blinding him— cutting off his senses. he can’t lose her. he wants to bring her in front of his father and mother and give them an ultimatum— but he knows that wouldn’t work— either way she is endangered because of him and—

“i’m sorry.”

he meets her eyes, his two hands holding her one. 

then he lets it fall to her bedding, and his eyes follow in shame.

“this is all my fault.”

“h...”

“who i am is the fault of this all.” his tone is stoic and unwavering.

“you know that’s extreme, harry.”

“is it?”

his love swallows.

“where will you go? will you be safe?” he’s asking her without looking at her, a wave of desperation coaxing through the monotony of his voice.

she nods, “i’ll be a few kingdoms over.”

harry pauses. he bites on the inner part of his lip and shakes his head. “what if… what if i talk to them, huh? get them to-to.. to see and.. understand and—” she’s shaking her head and he swallows and he wishes he never lifted his gaze. “i-i was going to talk to them eventually, love, i-i…” harry sighs. “planned on marrying you soon, anyways.”

her eyes lift to his slowly and her lips part, “really?”

“i told you that you have all of me.” he looks down on her ring finger, “just wanted to make it official.”

her mouth is dry and coated in shock and she doesn’t know what to do. she looks at him desperately.

“love.” he then says seriously, and she nods slowly. “i-... there’s a small cottage in Pratetus. you know where that is, yes?”

she nods again, confused and trembling and her eyebrows are hovering over her eyes.

“used to belong to one of my nurses before she passed. told me it was mine when she died. i want you to go there.”

“harry—”

“listen.” 

she does.

“it will take a few days travel. i will give the directions to your father so he can take you safely. go there. nobody will find you there.”

she swallows.

“okay?”

“i- okay.”

“promise me.”

“...i promise.” she whispers. 

his authoritative voice fades into a softer one. “i will return to the palace to pack my things and then i will meet you there.”

she jumps. “meet me there?! what?..—”

“i’ll grab riches and jewels and we will live there, together.”

she’s staring at him incredulously.

“harry—”

“we-..we will sell the riches and live off the land.” and he’s smiling now. it’s sad, and cracking and watery but he’s finally looking at her again. “can get married. properly. change m’name or something. a-and we can have kids, like you’ve always said. and animals and—...” his eyes are shining. “we’ll live happily, yeah? together and happily, and we’ll be safe.”

“harry, no.” she breathes. “i will not let you give up your life for me.”

“you know my life is one i’ve never wanted.”

“i—”

“you know that better than anyone. i am not leaving anything behind. i will not be leaving behind a life of happiness, and i am not leaving you behind to pursue my title.” he says it sternly. “i am not going to lose you. i cannot and will not lose you.”

she’s hesitant. her eyes drift away and suddenly his shirt on her body is making her hot. she stands up and off the bed, pacing a few steps as her hands come to rub her face. 

it’s quiet.

harry panics. 

“do you not wish the same?” he whispers, deducing her hesitancy to to an answer that will break him. “it.. it’s okay if you...— do you not want that?”

“of course i want that— you, harry!” she says it incredulously, her hands falling from her face. he’s staring at her from his place on her bed, crestfallen and desperate and she’s never seen him this small. 

“i..i couldn’t ask that of you— couldn’t live that life knowing you gave up your other one.”

“but i’d finally get to have you.” he says it sadly and quietly. “you’ve had all of me, but i’ve been... trapped in this all. i don’t have all of you and not because you won’t give yourself to me.” he murmurs. “it’s because i have failed to commit to sacrificing privileges for what i truly want— and out of fear. i am a coward, and have always been.” he shakes his head at her and she feels a tear fall down her chin.

“but i am no longer afraid. i will give up anything i have if it means that i would be free and with you and i’d get to live with you in the way i’ve always wanted. we could live and.. and build our own garden.”

she can see his eyes longing for her.

“let’s live what we’ve talked endlessly about. i’ll beg you if i must.”

she sniffs and her chin trembles.

“please. i know it’s selfish. i know. b-but...”

another tear escapes and falls to her jaw as it clenches. she moves forward and sits back down on her bed, and takes his hands. 

“i want you, too. we’re both selfish.” she whispers. “just me and you?” 

his smile is watery and happy, “you and me.” he affirms. 

and harry’s love nods slowly.

“yes?”

she sobs in mix with her emotional laugh, nodding faster before launching herself at him and wrapping her arms around his neck. her face lands on his shoulder and her tears splat against his bare skin as she squeezes him tight.

“yes.”

—

“what do you mean you’re leaving? what is this nonsense, harry.”

he looks his father in the eyes. “you’re in my way,” is all he says, brushing past him and grasping for his paints that he was standing in front of.

“harry! i’ve asked you a question.”

“and i believe you know the answer.”

harry’s eyes match his father’s with the malice they carry. harry is challenging him in his expression, looking at him with disgust and carelessness. he was always told he carries a resemblance to his father. 

“should’ve done this a long time ago. saved the family from some embarrassment, no?” harry quips at him with sarcasm and his father has nothing to do but glare. “you really don’t know what love is, in any capacity. do you?” he asks, laughing in incredulousness. “you didn’t marry mother out of love, nor were gemma and i conceived out of love. and you still never loved any of us in life, especially me.” harry’s laughing at this sick joke of his father and the older man steps closer to him.

“you really haven’t matured at all, son.”

“oh, really?” he’s fake pouting, finding this all too amusing.

“knew you would never be a man; i guess my lessons didn’t teach you enough.”

“maybe you’re just a prick.”

“excuse me?”

“i said it quite clearly. you were the one who did teach me to stop mumbling.” harry walks to the other side of the room to continue packing. 

“you’re making a fool of yourself.” his father speaks again after a long pause. 

“learnt from the best!”

“harry—”

“guess your ‘lessons’ weren’t all too bad, hm?”

harry’s heart is pounding with adrenaline and freedom. all the quick wit and i’m-sick-of-your-shit feelings are pouring out of him, having flooded his insides for far too long. 

“why am i a fool, father? because i’ve put up with you for this long?... or—”

“you are a disgrace to the royal name.”

“guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“enough!”

harry did shut up at his father’s yell, but not without a sick grin plastered on his face.

the tension in the room pulses.

“father.” he speaks again, half-laughing. “i’m happy and in love, and i can’t live the rest of my life not being with her.”

the king’s face reddens. “you have a duty to this kingdom.”

harry throws his bag to his feet and points a finger towards his father. “as if you would ever let me rule. we all know the crown will go to gemma.”

“maybe it’s because you’re weak. weak as a son, a prince, a man. have you ever thought of that?”

“how could i forget with you telling me since i wasn’t even a man!?” he laughs.

his father falls silent because he truly doesn’t know what to say. so instead, harry speaks again.

“i know you hate me.” he says, “and i’ve long accepted that. but..” he looks at him intensely, “you hate me so much that.. that you won’t let me be happy? you genuinely wish for me to live miserably? i am still your family.”

the king breathes out. “it is not that—...”

“then what is it?”

silence again. because the king still doesn’t have an answer.

harry bends down and grabs his bag again, and then stands tall. “you’ve made my life hell, for fun?” 

“i was making you into a man who could hold authority.”

“just like you, i bet.”

his father grins evilly. “yes.”

“well look at me now” harry grins. “i’m leaving, and nobody can tell me otherwise, especially you.” 

harry starts to walk towards and out the door where his father is standing in front of, but the king’s gruff hand hits harry’s chest with a thud. harry looks down, unimpressed. and his father’s eyes narrow.

“and you think you’ll make it out of here?”

harry’s eyebrows lift as he brushes his hand off. “is that a challenge?”

the king’s face hardens.

harry grins.

“guards!”

and that’s when harry’s smile cracks.

—

he’s taking a day longer than he said it would.

she’s worried.

the sun has long set and the fire has been roaring with heat for hours, and is now only charcoal and ashes. the crickets have began to sing, and she can’t help but decide that it sounds incredibly solemn.

it doesn’t help her nerves one bit.

she’s been pacing for hours across the floor of the cottage, giving up on trying to distract herself by putting things away or cooking dinner for her and her father and harry, as she had hoped.

and yet, despite her hopes, the third plate at the table was untouched and cold and none of this is helping her nerves.

“honey, he’ll be here.” her father has been trying to soothe her for the hours he’s been late. internally, he’s just as worried— harry was like another son to him and he’s concerned that something terrible is keeping him from being here— not that he’d ever voice that.

“dad, i—...” she chews her lip and turns towards him, “what if he’s hurt? we’re so far away and..” her mind starts to wander dangerously. “what if he’s been imprisoned? you know how cruel the king can be!..—”

“he wouldn’t want you to stress in this way. he’ll be here. something is just holding him up.”

“yes! maybe chains at this point!”

her father sighs and leans back in his chair. he needs to get back to the kingdom soon, or people will grow suspicious. but he won’t leave his daughter when she is distraught.

“it took us three days to get here and he planned to leave a day after we have and it is now creeping into the fifth day and—”

“it’s late. you should rest.”

“i will not until he arrives. i need to know he is safe and—” she trails off, biting her lip. “if he isn’t here in one more day i am going back.”

“you can never show your face in that kingdom again.”

“i don’t care. i need to find him—”

“you’ll be killed for treason if you go back!”

“better me than him!’ 

the door creaks.

the tension and volume in the room drop to silence, and her eyes lift to the door, as do her father’s.

boots hit the entrance’s floor with a soft thud and the door is pushed open more.

and he’s there. and she can breathe.

he’s bruised and bloodied and there’s sword cuts littering his body, but he’s grinning.

“oh.. oh god, harry,” she rushes to him and holds his face, and he’s smirking in glory and pride.

“y’still love me if i’ve hurt people?” he laughs. “he surrendered after i defeated fourteen of his guards. even helped me load my things.”

she laughs sadly, and her eyes are watery as they scan the wounds on his figure.

“harry.. i— let’s get you fed a-and.. and cleaned up—”

“one thing first.”

harry’s eyes shift and fall to her father’s face, who is just as relieved to see him as she is. harry’s hand falls to her stomach, silently telling her it’s okay, and he stumbles towards him grinning, the older man placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“sir,” he grins mischievously, “my name is harry.”

her father quirks an eyebrow but is smiling simultaneously. “...yes?”

“i come from days away and am exhausted from my journey,” harry says softly, his smile creeping towards his eyes, “i’ve come because i am so in love with your daughter, as she is my light and makes me so incredibly happy.”

her tears drip to the cottage floor but she rolls her eyes fondly.

“do i have your blessing to offer her my hand in marriage? will you let her marry a lowly man like myself?”

timothy chuckles loudly, laughing with his belly and throat and with his eyes shining he nods towards his daughter. “gonna take care of her?”

“with my whole being, sir.”

“eh, a low-life like yourself? hm... think she may be able to do better--”

“you both are idiots.”

and harry’s laugh get mixed into her kiss.