#on the train a blind man sits next to her and she thinks he is so so annoying bcos he keeps making conversation

[dullahandyke]

Genuinely why the fuck are we studying Cáca Milis it is not a good story I hate it

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

How’s Your Head? | Bucky Barnes x Reader

This has been in my WIP forever and I finally finished it. Once again, I am looking for a soft, kind, Bucky Barnes to take care of me and flirt with me. Is that so much to ask?🥲

This is slightly longer than my usual stuff, just FYI. The WC is 7280. And yes the title is a Drag Race reference. 😂

Warnings: reader injury (not severe), creepy men (jail), blood, vomit, flirting, fluff🫶

Bucky didn’t like the staring. The eyes that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. The old woman just a few seats down from him leered at him almost aggressively, like she hoped looks could kill. And though this was a common occurrence, it still rubbed him the wrong way.

“Another adoring fan…” Bucky thought. 

He shifted side to side along with the rocking of the subway car and did his best to ignore her gaze- but couldn’t stand it any longer. He gave her a nod and a small, forced smile before heading for the adjoining subway car. Hopefully, he’d find an empty seat free from gawkers and onlookers.

But when he opened the door to the next car, he didn’t find the peace and quiet he’d hoped for.

“I’m not interested…” you said to the creepy guy sitting next to you.

“Oh, come on,” the man insisted. “Don’t be so uptight, sugar.” He rested a hand on your thigh and gave your leg a squeeze, his fingers digging into your flesh.

“Fuck off, dude. Seriously?” You banished his hand and stood from your seat, “eat glass, asshole.”

But as you tried to make your getaway, the man grabbed you by the wrist. He pulled you close as you struggled in his grip, his face only inches from yours. “Maybe you should learn some fuckin’ manners,” he threw you to the ground, your head striking the floor.

Bucky flew into a blind rage. He made quick work of your assailant, nearly removing the man’s head from his body. And with the entitled dickhead desperately escaping to another subway car, Bucky made his way to your side. 

“Hey, are you alright?” 

You sat on the floor, slightly dazed. A thick fog settled into every corner of your mind and your ears stung with a sharp ringing. “Yeah, I’m good. Didn’t hurt that bad,” you lied. Yet another interaction with an unknown man. Yes, he’d shooed away your creeper, but you wanted to be left alone. No more strange men, no more men pretending to be “one of the good guys” before showing their true self. 

If you could convince this random guy that you were okay, maybe he wouldn’t bother you. Maybe you’d be able to make it home without being touched by another strange hand. “Thanks for asking, but I’m-”

“Oh- you’re bleeding”. Only then did you notice the rush of warmth running down the back of your neck. Bucky yanked the jacket from his body and reached for your bloodied skull before quickly recoiling. “Erm, can I?” 

You nodded- the motion made you wince.

With cautious hands, he used his jacket to hold pressure to your wound. He stared down at you with genuine concern, his brow furrowed with worry. 

After a few moments, most of the fog cleared and brought you screeching back to reality. The reality in which a man you’d never met held his jacket to your bleeding scalp as you sat on the floor of a subway car. Pain pulsed beneath his touch and shot through your head. Warm blood dripped down your neck. But you didn’t care- all you wanted was to move.

Bucky watched as you struggled to get up and instantly tried to stop you. “Hey, careful. I don’t think-”

“I don’t wanna be on this floor any longer than I have to,” you did your best to stand, but the dizziness sabotaged your efforts. “People do weird shit on the train. I’d probably sitting in someone’s pee.” 

Bucky gave it a thought and instantly reconsidered his cautioning. “Ew. Yeah. You’re right,” the disgusted look on his face nearly made you laugh out loud. He thought back on all the questionable and downright nasty things he’d seen on the subway- he didn’t want you on that floor. “May I?” He offered you his free hand and got you safely into a seat. 

“Which stop is yours?” He asked, settling into the chair next to you. And though he seemed like a perfect gentleman, you gave him a suspicious glance. 

“Oh- I didn’t mean that in a ‘where do you live, I’m gonna follow you home’ type of way. More like, ‘how many stops do you have left before you can go get some rest?’ type of way”

You let out a laugh that sent pain pulsing behind your eyes. Maybe this stranger wasn’t so bad. “Um, I still have like five to go. I think. I’m coming all the way from Coney Island.” 

“Coney Island, huh?” A rush of memories hit Bucky like a train. Riding the cyclone with Steve and watching him puke. Spending all his money to win a stuffed animal for some redhead he had a crush on. 

“Yeah, I got to hang out with a girl I know from college. Haven’t seen her in a while and she’s never been out there. It was actually a pretty great day until that asshole cracked my head open…”

Bucky grimaced. He pulled his jacket from your scalp to give the wound another look, only to be greeted by a continuous flow of blood. “I think you should probably go to the ER. You might need stitches. And there’s a good chance you have a concussion.” 

You shot him only a nonchalant shrug, “I’m not worried about it. Plus, I don’t feel like going into debt so they can give me two Tylenol and an ice pack”.

Bucky liked your sense of humor, your wit. How you could be cheeky and sarcastic after being accosted surprised him. But he clocked the tension in your shoulders, the worry in your eyes. You were uneasy. Your glance darted from one end of the subway car to the other every few seconds; he knew you had to be searching for your assailant. Or the next man who wanted to touch you without permission.

“Hey, would you rather take a cab home?” Bucky said, pulling you from your anxious spiral. “I don’t blame you if you don’t want to ride the train after what happened.”

“Oh, um…”

“I’m not inviting myself home with you-” Bucky shook his head. He was cute when he got flustered. “I just mean, I’ll pay for you to take a cab if you’re uncomfortable.”

How you seemed to meet both the bottom of the barrel and the crème de le crème of men back-to-back nearly gave you whiplash. But this handsome stranger had done enough; you couldn’t let him pay for your ride home. “That’s- wow, that’s really sweet. But you don’t have to. It’s okay.”

“What if I want to? You seem uneasy… like you’re waiting for him to come back.”

You nodded.

“Then let’s get you a cab, alright? Next stop, we’re outta here.” He shot you a wink before once again reassuring you that he was not going to follow you home. “Is there someone who can keep an eye on you, though? Like I said, you probably have a concussion. And if your roommate or, um, significant other can sit with you for the rest of the night, that would be a good idea. Head injuries are no joke.”

“Well, I don’t have a significant other,” you almost laughed. “And my roommate’s out of town. She was supposed to get back around sevenish, but her flight got crazy delayed because of weather- now she’s not getting home for a few hours.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. He checked his watch and saw that it was only 8:04pm. He needed someone to sit with you for the rest of the night. Just in case something happened, you’d need a friend or loved one by your side. And if you didn’t have someone there with you, Bucky knew he’d spend the remainder of his evening worrying about the cute stranger he met on the train. 

Just then, the subway stopped. Bucky offered you his arm and guided you onto the platform and up the stairs- all while keeping his jacket in place against your wound. Getting away from the train eliminated your unease. No longer were you trapped in the tiny space, your blood staining the floor. You had an escort in the form of a good samaritan, and a ride that would get you home without any further abuse.

 But when Bucky hailed you a cab, your anxiety resurfaced.

“Hey, um…” you eyed the car as it approached, “Would you- do you mind riding with me?”

Bucky cocked his head to the side. 

“I don’t know- I’m just a little nervous and I don’t really wanna be in a cab alone with another random man,” you said. “I know it’s probably inconvenient for you- I’ll pay for your ride home from my place.” The taxi neared the curb and stopped in front of you, sending your unease into overdrive. “Do you mind?”

Bucky clocked your wide eyes and shaking hands. Sure, you made jokes and sarcastic quips about what happened. But deep down, you were shaken. And he wanted to help in any way he could. “Not at all- I get it,” he gave you a reassuring look, “and you don’t have to pay for my ride. Let’s just get you home, alright?”

He held the door open for you and helped you into the cab before sliding in behind you- his hand still attached to your bloody skull. The ride was quiet, save for the honking of horns and cursing drivers. But having Bucky with you for the duration eased your discomfort. 

“So, is there anyone you can call to come look after you?” Bucky asked after a while, “A friend, a neighbor, a family member?”

“I don’t really have any friends,” you said. “But not in a ‘I’m a loser and can’t make friends’ kind of way, I promise.” Bucky laughed. You liked his laugh. “I’m just still kinda new here. And all my family lives in across the country. Plus, I only know two of my neighbors. One of them is an old man who always tell me my skin looks ‘so soft’-”

Bucky’s nose wrinkled, “Ew…"

“Yeah. And the other is this girl who told me to shut the fuck up because she thinks my footsteps are too loud? So yeah, I don’t have many connections here yet.”

He sensed a little embarrassment staining your words and aimed to make you feel better, “Well I’ve lived here for quite some time, and I don’t have any friends, either.” 

That didn’t seem possible to you. He was so likable. Quiet, yet endearing. And certainly, a gentleman. He made you feel safe. You wondered how his girlfriend would react when she found out he took another woman home. 

Bucky found himself wondering how you didn’t have swaths of friends. Even after your harrowing experience on the train, you were so charming. Funny. Sweet. It was even harder for him to believe you didn’t have a love interest to go home to. But after what he’d witnessed tonight, he didn’t blame you for keeping to yourself. 

“What part of town do you live in?” You did your best to conceal the optimism in your voice, the hoped that he lived close by. It was embarrassing how smitten you were with this man.

“Brooklyn,” Bucky said. “I’ve lived there for a while- save for some years I spent, um, away.”

Brooklyn. Nothing a quick train ride couldn’t solve. Though you weren’t too keen on the subway after the night’s events. “Well, tell your girlfriend that I apologize for keeping you so long.”

“I don’t have one,” Bucky said. Things inside the cab fell quiet.

“Oh. Well, do you-” you second guessed yourself, but decided to push through. “Do you want to stay with me until my roommate gets home? You know, since you’re so worried about me and my possible concussion and my lack of friends.”

Bucky stopped breathing. “Oh, um. Sure. Yeah. If that’s- if that’s alright. You sure you’re okay inviting a stranger into your house?”

“Well, you’re not really a stranger, Sergeant Barnes”. You shot him a wink.

An immediate ringing filled Bucky’s ears. He didn’t know what to say, how to react.

The rest of the ride was quiet. Bucky’s mind echoed with the sound of your voice referring to him by name. He liked the way it sounded coming from you. But he hated that you knew who- and what- he was. And when the cab turned onto your street and stopped in front of your apartment, he nearly panicked. He reconsidered his agreement to stay with you. But you didn’t seem to mind having the ex-Winter Soldier so close. And he didn’t want you to be alone with a head injury.

Against his better judgement, he followed you to the front door of your building. 

“My great aunt actually lived here back in the fifties,” you told Bucky as you fumbled for your keys. Bucky wondered how you could tell casual stories while dealing with a head injury and an ex-assassin. But as you continued to speak, he realized that he didn’t quite hear what you’d said. He was still reeling from your mention of his name. 

And then he noticed you struggling. You were dizzy after cracking your head open, and a slight shaking rendered your hands almost useless. No matter how many times you tried, you couldn’t seem to finagle the key into the lock. 

“Um, do you want some help?” He gestured to your keys and allowed you to drop them into his free hand. He pushed the old door open with a loud creak and escorted you inside the lobby- his hand still resting on the back of your head. It was quiet while the two of you waited for the ancient elevator to roar to life. And when the doors finally opened, he guided you inside and watched you press the ‘5’ button.

“So… how’d you know it was me?” He asked as the elevator slowly climbed to your floor.

“Well, when I first saw you, I thought you looked kinda familiar. But I couldn’t place you”. You laughed a quiet, bashful laugh, “Then you knelt down next to me, and I thought I was gonna pass out- but not from the head trauma. You just you have like, the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.” The head injury had you a bit loopy, a little too honest. Too confident. “I knew I’d seen those eyes before… and then it clicked. You were so chivalrous, you know? So old fashioned. I mean, who uses their own jacket to stop a stranger’s head wound from bleeding?” 

Bucky shrugged. His cheeks flushed pink.

“I read a book a few years ago about Captain America and his efforts during World War II. And there was a huge portion about Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes… And that’s where I’d seen those eyes.” You flashed him a dramatic wink, “Truth be told, it was my favorite part of the book.”

A shy laugh made its way out of Bucky’s mouth, “Is that so?”

The elevator lurched to a stop and nearly sent you tumbling to the floor. You’d gotten used to the clunky machine since moving into the building, but your sabotaged equilibrium didn’t stand a chance against it. Bucky caught you in a careful, protective grasp before you could tip over. He gently righted you and searched your face for any indicators of discomfort. 

“You alright?”

“All good, Sergeant Barnes.” You gave him a salute.

He rolled his eyes and escorted you into the hall, “you can just call me Bucky, if you like.”

“Okay, Bucky-” you said with a smile, “follow me.” You lead him in the direction of your apartment- with his jacket still plastered to your scalp. The man was determined to help you. You’d give him that.

You once again needed his assistance when it came to unlocking your front door. But when Bucky got the door open, he just stood there. He didn’t go inside. He held the door for you and insisted you go ahead, finally peeling the jacket from your wound. He knew he didn’t belong here.

You noticed how tentative he was about entering your home and beckoned him inside. “You can come in…” you said. “Are super soldiers like vampires? Do y’all need an invitation?”

Bucky laughed, “No. I just… I don’t do this kind of thing very often.”

“Oh, you don’t accompany injured women home from the subway on a weekly basis? I’m shocked.”

You flipped on the light and let the warm glow reveal your apartment. Bucky admired the art covering your walls, the books lining your shelves, the smell of some kind of baked goods lingering in the air. This place was cozy, welcoming. Nothing like his apartment.

While he was distracted drinking in the details of your home, you gave his jacket a once over. Blood coated the leather and smeared the lining. It was enough to make you nauseous.  “Sorry about this mess… here, let me clean it up for-”

“It’s leather- I’m not worried about it,” Bucky shrugged. “I’ll just wipe it off later.”

“Ew, I think that’s considered a biohazard, Sarge.”

Bucky’s laugh echoed through your home- you liked the sound of his voice bouncing around your space. “Well, lucky for me, I’m not susceptible to biohazards. So, really, it’s not a big deal.” He shot you a wink and hung his bloody jacket on the back of a chair. “Let me take a look at your head.”

He gently moved your hair out of the way enough to expose your wound. He was as careful as he possible not to hurt you or make things worse. And using the dish towel you offered him, he wiped away enough blood to get a good look. 

“It’s big, but not deep enough to warrant stitches. And it looks like the bleeding has finally come to a stop.” 

“Perfect. I’m gonna go take a shower” you said. “Make yourself at home. You’re welcome to anything in the fridge, except the kombucha. My roommate will murder you if you drink her kombucha.”

Bucky didn’t even know what kombucha was. “Are- are you sure you wanna go shower?”

“Um, yeah. Gotta get the subway-floor germs off me,” you gave a dramatic shudder. “Some of us are, indeed, susceptible to biohazards.”

“That’s fair,” he laughed, “I’m just a little worried about your balance… I think it’s probably seen better days.”

He wasn’t wrong. The floor did indeed seem to dip and shift under you unsuspecting feet. The room spun on occasion. The walls wiggled. But you needed to get cleaned up. “I’ll be extra careful. Promise.” You offered him your pinky and made him link his with yours. “But I have more blood in my hair than anyone should- I need a shower.” You left Bucky alone in your living room with a promise to be back soon.

It was strange for him, being in a stranger’s home like this. He didn’t get invited places or have friends to hang out with. He had Sam- and that was it. And while Sam was great, he never felt quite like this at Sam’s apartment. Something about your place warmed him, made him feel a little lighter. Or maybe it was you. Who was he kidding? Of course, it was you.

But Bucky knew this feeling couldn’t last. In a few hours, your roommate would return and send him home. And that would be the end of it. Of course, he’d be thrilled to see you again under better circumstances. But assuming he’d get that chance would only lead to disappointment. And so, as he waited for you to finish your shower, he did his best to remember this feeling just in case it was the last time.

“I said make yourself at home and you didn’t even sit down!” you said when you emerged from the bathroom. You found Bucky in the living room with his hands in his pockets, admiring your things as though he were in a museum. Looking, never touching. “Relax a little, sarge. The couch is really comfy, I promise.”

Bucky liked the way you looked with your skin still slightly damp form the shower, your hair wet and a little messy. “Oh, yeah- I just got distracted looking at all your…” he gestured to your bookcase, “your books and your tchotchkes. You have good taste- I like that you have two copies of Fellowship of the Ring.”

“Well, my sister dropped one of them in the lake at summer camp when we were kids…” you pointed to the faded cover and worn spine of the book in question. “She took a hairdryer to it and it’s mostly fine, but my mom made her get me a replacement. I just can’t seem to part with this one, though.” You plucked your water-damaged copy of Fellowship of the Ring from the shelf and flipped through the pages, “too much sentimental value. You know?

Bucky felt a small smile creeping upward- you didn’t mind damaged goods. Maybe you’d want to see him again after all. 

“Can I get you a drink or something? I have water, tea, La Croix, wine…” you looked at him expectantly. 

“Oh, no I’m okay-”

“Well, I’m going to the fridge for some water anyway, so you’re not saving me a trip…” you shot him a wink and began your trek to the kitchen. He followed in your footsteps, too much of a gentleman to let you fetch him a drink. And though he didn’t know what La Croix was, he took the one you offered him with a smile.

He followed you yet again, but to the couch this time. He sat a respectful distance away- as respectful as your small couch would allow- and taste tested the blackberry drink in his hand. It didn’t taste like blackberries. But he thanked you, anyway.

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to check in on you after your shower- he was too entranced by the sight of you in your pajamas. “Hey, how’s your head?”

“Haven’t had any complaints.”

Maybe it was too forward of a joke. Maybe someone from his time wouldn’t appreciate crass humor. Bucky’s cheeks flushed red- and he burst into laughter. You joined him, ignoring the throbbing pain in your skull. 

“It feels fine. I mean, it hurts, but it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before” you said. “Are you just gonna make sure I stay up all night?” 

Bucky cocked his head to the side, “uh, I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Oh…” you grew a little embarrassed. “I thought you couldn’t go to sleep if you have a concussion.”

“You can go to sleep- it’s just good to have someone check in on you now and then,” he said. “And, hey, you don’t have to stay in here with me- don’t feel like you have to entertain me, or anything. If you wanna go to bed, I’ll be fine out here.”

“Well, I don’t know about entertaining, cause I think the concussion kinda fucked up my ability to tap dance,” you laughed. “But I wanna hang out here with you- if you don’t mind the company.”

He gave you a shy smile, “I don’t mind at all.”

Bucky wasn’t anything like the tabloids said. He wasn’t cold or scary or threatening. He sat on your couch, sipping a La Croix and admiring your throw blanket. He was the farthest thing from intimidating. He had a quiet calm about him that brought you peace. Never did you think you’d invite a man you met on the subway to accompany you home. But Bucky made you feel safe. He was sweet, he clearly cared for your well-being. He was, by all definitions, perfect.

“So, what do superheroes do in their downtime?” you asked. “Like when you’re not saving the world, what do you do for fun?”

Bucky shrugged. He didn’t do anything for fun. “Um, I have court mandated therapy appointments,” he gave an awkward laugh. “I read. I hang out with Sam when he’s not in Louisiana visiting his sister. And I have lunch with a neighbor of mine every Wednesday- this old man named Yori.”

“I’m sure he could say the same about you- that he has lunch with some old man named Bucky.”

Bucky’s head fell back in a laugh, “yeah, you’re right. He’s- he’s about twenty years younger than me.” Bucky didn’t bring up the fact that Yori didn’t know his real age or anything about his past. About how the Winter Soldier killed his son. “Um, what about you?” He quickly changed the subject, “what do you do for fun?”

You thought it over for a moment. You hadn’t expected him to ask; most guys never asked what you liked to do for fun. They didn’t ask you anything at all, really. “Well, I also go to therapy,” you said. “My therapist’s name is Angela and I love her. And when I’m not ‘hanging out’ with Angela, I like to read. I like to go on walks. Oh, and I do a lot of baking- there’s a Tupperware of chocolate chip cookies on the island if you want some.”

Bucky’s eyes grew wide. He was off the couch quicker than you could comprehend and returned with the entire Tupperware in hand. But before he could dive in, he offered one to you. He was a gentleman, after all. 

“Oh, shit, these are so good”. Bucky wiped a stray crumb from his lip, “seriously, maybe the best I’ve ever had.”

His praise made your cheeks hot. Bucky Barnes called you ‘the best he ever had’- it was enough to make you sweat. “Oh, I’m flattered. The recipe’s been in my family for generations, though, so I can’t take full credit, but I-”

“I’m giving you full credit”, he said as he finished his second cookie. “These things are incredible.” 

You smiled so hard it hurt. “Well, I make at least one batch a week, so…” This was it, your excuse to see Bucky again. You could simply say that you wanted to bake him some cookies as a way of saying thank you, and then you’d ask him out. It was a perfect plan, really. A flawless, surefire way to guarantee that you’d see him at least once more. But as you tried to suggest baking him a ‘thank you’ batch, your mouth flooded with saliva.

Bucky clocked the way you grew suddenly quiet. He dropped his third cookie and inched closer, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, you okay? Do you need something?”

You did your best to push past the wave of nausea. Breathing in your nose and out through your mouth, you willed your body to cooperate. You made a valiant effort, but it was no match for the clear and present threat of vomit. This was happening- now. You scrambled to your feet and made a beeline for the bathroom, swearing to yourself you wouldn’t puke in front of the James Buchanan Barnes. 

Bucky rushed after you and found you kneeling in front of the toilet, emptying the contents of your stomach. “Oh, shit- here, let me,” he carefully moved your hair out of your face, holding it behind you in an imitation ponytail. His touch was gentle, cautious. He didn’t want to pull too hard and hurt you- you didn’t need any extra pain. 

He watched your body lurch as you wretched over and over, voiding your system completely. It was harsh, almost violent. And when you finally sat back on your heels, black and white spots danced through your field of vision. You were empty. Spent. Exhausted. 

“Hey, do me a favor and sit against this wall, okay?” Bucky guided you backward until you rested comfortably like he asked. “I’m gonna go get you some water, and I don’t want you tipping over while I’m gone.” Even in your despondent, miserable state, he still made you smile. And when he was certain that you wouldn’t injure yourself in his absence, he rushed to the kitchen for a glass of water.

He returned moments later with ice cold water in hand. “Thanks,” you croaked, your throat raw. Small sips of the cool water eased the burning. And a few more swigs rid your mouth of the unpleasant aftertaste. “I’m sure you weren’t planning on watching a stranger puke tonight,” you laughed. It made your head pound. “But I appreciate the water. And you holding my hair.”

Bucky plopped down next to you with a “sure thing” and a “don’t worry about it.” But you’d heard those phrases before. You’d heard them from people who were never a sure thing, people who made you worry about everything they did for you. They’d throw their rare acts of kindness in your face and use them as ammo in an attempt to disprove the pain they caused. It was condescending. Manipulative. Hurtful.  But Bucky meant what he said. All he wanted to do was help. You could tell.

He watched you catch your breath. Watched you drink your water in small sips. But he kept an eye out for another wave of nausea. He wanted to be ready in case he needed to hold your hair again. And he found himself thanking the universe that you’d invited him in; imagining you going through this by yourself broke his heart. 

“How do you feel?” he asked after a while.

“Not the best... but I’ll probably survive.”

Bucky’s laugh filled the room, “well, that’s very good news.”

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence. Bucky’s hand rested near yours. Your thigh bumped against his a few times. You swore electric currents passed between the two of you each time you touched. 

“Hey, if you don’t mind, could you grab me some Tylenol?” 

Bucky was up in an instant, ready to fetch you what you needed. But he found himself lost with no idea where he was going. He was so intent on helping, on making you feel better, that he was ready to run off without a map.

“In the cabinet to the left of the fridge,” you laughed. 

He shot you a wink and sped off. And while he rummaged through your cabinet, you made an embarrassing effort to stand. You rose on wobbly legs, determined to brush your teeth. There was no way you were going to have vomit breath around Bucky- absolutely not. He was the handsome stranger of your dreams. And you couldn’t screw this up; not that you thought he’d kiss a random concussed woman he met on the subway. But you wanted to leave the very best impression possible.

Bucky came screeching own the hall, bottle of Tylenol in hand. “I didn’t know how many you wanted, so I brought the whole thing”, he shrugged. You shot him a smile in the mirror and gave him a muffled “thanks”.

He stood patiently in the doorway, waiting for you finish brushing your teeth. And when you banished the rank taste of bile, you accepted the Tylenol. You tossed back four pills, and before you could reach for your water, Bucky retrieved it for you. He was one step ahead of what you needed. 

With the pills washed down your throat, you gave Bucky an expectant look. “Back to the couch?”

“Yeah, I mean, only if you’re feeling up to it,” he checked his watch. Noticed the yawn you tried to keep concealed. “If you wanna get some rest, please, don’t mind me. You can go to bed- I’ll be fine on my own.”

“No, I’m good. I’m fine,” you took him by the hand and led him back to the living room. “I’m having a good time.” Bucky didn’t say a word; he just let you guide him. He hadn’t held hands with someone in- he didn’t know how long. And holding hands with you- a stranger he’d grown rather smitten with- was enough to stop his heart.

The two of you sunk back into the couch- closer this time- and kept the conversation going. Your thigh rested against Bucky’s; his arm curved around the back of the couch. You could’ve sworn he was playing with a piece of your hair as he talked. But you didn’t want to ask and ruin the moment.

As the night continued, Bucky was shocked. He couldn’t believe you’d only heard of a few of his favorite movies. And he’d never heard of any of yours. “Make me a list,” you said, handing him a pen and a scrap of paper. “And I’ll make one for you. A person’s favorite movies say a lot about them.” 

“Yeah?” he cocked an eyebrow at you. “And what do mine say about me? The ones you know of, that is.”

A sly smile pulled at your lips, “they say that you’re a hopeless romantic.” It almost sounded like an accusation, and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Is that so?”

“That is so!” you told him. “But I’m gonna tell you a secret…”  You lowered your voice, beckoned him closer, scanned the room as though in search of any eavesdroppers. “I’m the same way.” 

Just as you finished your list of movies for Bucky, you considered writing down your number. It would be so smooth, so perfectly timed- but what if he thought it was too forward? What if he didn’t want your phone number at all? You scratched out your area code and handed him the list with a smile.

The two of you continued teasing and joking and learning about each other. You found out that Bucky loved peach cobbler. He learned about your passion for animals. And eventually you asked the question you’d been curious about all night.

“So, where were you headed?” 

“What?”

“Well, you were on the subway. I’m assuming you were going somewhere.” You thought he was probably going to some fellow hero’s house for Super Movie Night. Or maybe a meeting with Captain America and Company. He had something much cooler to do than anything you planned for the night, that was for sure.

“Oh, right…” he cringed. “Um, I wasn’t actually heading anywhere. I was just riding the train to, well, ride the train.” It was embarrassing. More embarrassing than anything he’d ever done or said in his hundred years of life.

You cocked your head to the side, “Hmm. Interesting. So, is that like a hobby of yours?” 

He wished he could take his answer back. He wished he would’ve said he was going to dinner. Or Target. Or literally anywhere. But no, he just had to be honest. “No, it isn’t a hobby. It’s more like… exposure therapy.”

“Shit. Sorry,” you threw him an apologetic look. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“It’s okay, no big deal. I just- I don’t really like confined spaces. Or spaces with a lot of people. It’s a- it’s a long story.”

You nodded. 

“So, my therapist told me two combine the two and force myself to take the train- which isn’t great for my fear of trains,” he let out an awkward laugh. “Anyway, I was just trying it out. Seeing how it made me feel.”

Your heart broke for him. He had so many problems, so much trauma to deal with. And while you weren’t a psychiatrist, you didn’t think combining three of his fears into one nightmare was very sound medical advice. “And how did it make you feel?” 

“It wasn’t great- this lady was staring daggers at me for ten solid minutes. But I did get to teach that creepy guy a lesson, so at least there’s a silver lining.”

You laughed. He loved the sound- wanted to hear it all the time. 

“Thank you again, by the way, Sarge. You really rocked that guy’s shit.”

“I don’t like hurting people-” he shrugged, “It’s just something I’m good at. I try not to engage in violence unless absolutely necessary, you know? But that guy deserved it. Probably deserved a little more, but…” He gestured to you, “priorities.”

A warm rush flooded your cheeks. James Buchanan Barnes referred to you as a priority. 

The evening continued as the two of you swapped stories. You couldn’t believe how funny he was, how many ridiculous things he did back when he was young. In the comfortable safety of your living room, he came alive. You asked for more tales of young James Barnes and his antics with Steve Rogers. 

But as time passed, Bucky clocked the way you sank deeper into the couch. You nodded along with his stories and made comments here and there, but there was no mistaking your exhaustion. You leaned against his body more and more until your head rested on his shoulder. 

And then, you were asleep. Completely out. 

But Bucky didn’t mind. He sat still and quiet. He silenced his phone and yours. After the night you had, you needed the rest. And he was more than happy to help you get some sleep. He held in his laughter as you muttered nonsense under your breath- something about crepes and trench coats. It was perfect. Not the night Bucky expected, but the night he needed. And he’d stay in that exact position for hours if he had to. 

But after only forty minutes, a loud crash scared you awake.

Two large pieces of luggage fell to the floor inside your front door. “Fuck Delta airlines and FUCK LAX!” your roommate, Emma, yelled. “I swear to god, there’s a curse on that fucking airport and Delta is the devil’s airline.”

She eyed the room for a moment, taking in the unexpected scene. “Ew, why is there a bloody jacket in the kitchen? And who the fuck are you?”

You stood, begrudgingly leaving your spot next to Bucky. “This is Bucky, that’s his jacket. Some asshole attacked me on the train. I split my head open. He brought me home and kept an eye on me till you got back.”

Maybe she was just in a shit mood because of the travel nightmare. Or maybe she recognized Bucky. But either way, Emma wasn’t having it. “Okay, well, thanks for bringing her home. But I’m back, so you can go. Now. And don’t forget your nasty jacket.”

Bucky gave an awkward laugh. He mumbled a “nice to meet you” and stood from the couch. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, and you wished telepathy came with the serum. If he could only read your mind, he’d know how sorry you were. How horrified you were by Emma’s behavior. You couldn’t believe how rude she was being, how utterly unkind. 

But your mind and body weren’t quite working together. You were still groggy, lost in the haze of sleep. And your head injury only made things more difficult. You did your best to formulate a response to Emma and an apology to Bucky. But before you could say anything, Emma was at it again. 

“Seriously, dude. It’s time for you to go, get out of my house.”

Bucky was so flustered, so uncomfortable that he left without saying goodbye. Without getting your number. He shut down. He simply snagged his jacket from the kitchen and bailed. He heard you arguing with Emma as he walked down the hall. Heard you near-tears. 

He wanted to turn around and say goodnight. To protect you from Emma’s wrath. Comfort you. More than anything, he wanted to get your number. Maybe ask you out. But he was too thrown off by the whole thing. He didn’t expect such a response- he didn’t even get to tell Emma that you needed looking after. He just ran. And it made him feel like a coward. 

He pressed the button for the ancient elevator once. Twice. Five times. And when it finally arrived, he got in and slammed the button for the first floor. Ruining his chances of ever seeing you again. Sure, he knew where you lived. But he couldn’t just show up. You’d already dealt with enough creepy shit from weird men- he wasn’t going to stalk you. 

Bucky spent the entire elevator ride heartbroken. He knew he’d have to go home to his empty apartment; knew he’d think about you for way too long. You’d probably forget about him after a day- maybe two at the most. And he’d spend months trying to get over the stranger from the subway.

But when he stepped out of the elevator, he found you waiting for him.

“Hi, um… what?” He was more than a little confused. “How did you- how’d you get down here so fast?”

“Stairs,” you breathed. “Faster.”

Bucky couldn’t believe you. It was romantic; it was something out of one of his favorite movies. But it was stupid. “That was… that was a terrible idea- you could’ve gotten hurt. You almost fell over earlier when you were just standing still. Why’d you run down the stairs?”

“Cause I didn’t get to say goodbye…” your voice was soft, heartbroken. “And I didn’t get to give you my number.”

Wordlessly, Bucky handed you his phone. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to chance ruining such a perfect opportunity. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him, of all people. That you actually wanted to see him again.

When you finished, you extended Bucky’s phone in his direction- but recoiled as he tried to reach for it. “Promise me you’ll call?”

“On my life,” he said. The answer brought a warm smile to your face- a smile he wanted to see again. As soon as possible. And when you gave his phone back, he took a moment to stare down at your number. This had to be a dream. 

“Do me a favor and go get some rest, okay?” He extended his pinky and linked it with yours, “Drink a lot of water. And even though she seems like she’s in a bad mood, ask your roommate to check in on you every now and then.”

“Yeah, like she’s gonna go for that-”

“Tell her that if she doesn’t, I’m coming back to look after you myself. And I’ll drink her, her um…” 

“Kombucha,” you whispered. 

“Right, I’ll drink her Kombucha!” He laughed and shot you a wink, “That’ll do the trick.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, wiggled your pinky with his, and stepped into the still-open elevator doors. “Thank you for everything. I’m really happy I met you.” 

Bucky blushed. “So am I. Not under the best circumstances, but-”

“Worth it,” you shot him a wink. Just as the doors began to close, the two of you exchanged waves. And just before Bucky vanished from view, you threw a quick “call me” his way. And then he was gone.

You made it back to your apartment, nearly tripping over Emma’s luggage. She apologized as you grabbed a glass of water and nearly cried when you told her the story of your evening. And though you wanted to hear about her airport nightmare, you needed to sleep. 

You got settled in bed and realized- you missed Bucky already. 

And just as you decided to go to sleep for the night, your phone buzzed:

“Wanted to call but figured it might be too soon- seeing as it’s only been about four minutes. I’ll call you in the morning. And just so you know: even without the tap dancing, I found you very entertaining. I’m really glad I met you.

If you need anything at all, let me know. Feel better.

-JBB”

—————————————

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[corvidcrossbow]

~•♡•~ Daddy's Little Dhampir

➳ Summary: All you'd wanted in life was to meet a real life vampire, and by some twist of fate, you got so much more than that (Dad!Vamp!Daryl x Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: Alexandria, picking up at 6 years post outbreak – references to your childhood

➳ Word count: 2.9k

➳ C/W: Mentions of blood and vampire stuff, allusions to typical TWD gore

➳ A/N: I had to dump this rq while we're still on the vamp train, and thank y'all for all the love n 140+ followers I appreciate y'all 🫶

If you could go back and tell your little nine year old self that vampires were real, she'd lose. her. mind.

The nine year old who checked out every book from the library on them and other folklore creatures, and would sit immersed for hours, taking notes and educating herself before falling asleep in front of it all: but picking it all back up the next day.

The nine year old who urged her friends to come exploring with her in the forest after dark, and proudly said ‘Fine. I'll just do it by myself’ when they all declined. Who trekked over dead leaves with a dim flashlight, who's pulse spiked and excitement grew as noises rustled around her and her gaze shot up to the sky to see a bat fly overhead. Who had the widest smile in existence… just to turn and have a blinding light shone in her face and police officers announce ‘We found her!’ – and who pouted when her parents scolded her for sneaking out before wrapping her in tight hugs and saying they were just glad she was safe, and she snapped back with: ‘I don’ wanna be safe! I wanna find the vampires and I was about to and you guys ruined it!’

The nine year old who eventually fell out of her obsessive phase, but always maintained belief. Who retained every bit of knowledge, and would still step outside sometimes in the night, or veer off her path and wander in the woods while walking somewhere. Who traveled to major cities solely to explore nightclubs and hot spots. Who truly believed deep down in her heart and soul that vampires were real.

If you told her, 25 years from then, she'd not only know a vampire, but be married to him, and sit against the headboard in their bed at home with him beside her, head resting on her shoulder as they both stared down at the newborn infant in her arms… you think she'd pass out. Especially if you added the whole part about an unknown virus sparking a massive outbreak that caused people to rise from the dead and turn into rotting, flesh eating monsters, and in return cause the entirety of society across the globe to collapse, leaving only a fraction of the population alive, and that's how she'd even meet said vampire in the first place – and that it's already been 6 years since then.

But while she may pass out, you didn't. It was ironic, how everything you'd ever dreamt about came true in the one way you'd never imagined it. Despite all the negatives, everything you lost; you gained so many positives: the vampiric love of your life, and the daughter you shared.

The smile on your face was wider than the one in the forest that night so long ago, eyes glued to the baby in front of you that slept so peacefully despite the chaos that surrounded her existence. Simply conceiving her was a challenge atop everything else, given the crossing of your species. You tilted your head to the side, resting against the mans, and murmured an ‘I love you’.

To which he shifted his and brought lips to your jawline, returning the admission as a second nature, it having grown so much easier to express such since he met you. And how could he not pour his heart out and remind you every second how madly, crazily, desperately, needily and obsessively in love with you he was – the same way you were in love with even just the concept of his existence – now that you'd carried, birthed, and held his perfect baby girl in your arms.

The newborn wriggled in adjustment, subconsciously cuddling closer to the warmth of your body, fully reliant on you for survival.

“She's gonna be yer little dhampir, Daryl… Daddy's little dhampir,” You spoke softly, admiring the blessing of her life.

“Yea, she is…” He replied, reaching a hand to stroke the side of her face with a gentle finger, which lulled her back into rest. He lived for you, and now he lived for her.

❥-》》—————➣

You loved your daughter to bits, but those books didn't quite warn you how difficult raising a dhampir would be sometimes.

“God, Daryl- What do I do? How the hell do I feed her?!” You asked frantically as the baby screamed and cried so hard in your hold it was concerning. Breastfeeding didn't quench this thirst, yet she had no teeth to bite into you.

“Fuck, jus’-” Daryl sputtered, grabbing a bottle and a knife, and slicing open his palm, flexing muscles to drain it faster into the container before screwing on the lid and shoving it to you to feed her as he spat into his hand to heal over the wound. Crisis averted.

Luckily, she didn't seem to require blood often, and you two created a better system after that: Daryl building an enclosure in the yard and storing live animals he'd find there so you could drain them when needed.

When her teeth did eventually come in, she had the cutest smile ever – small yet pin-sharp fangs poking through the pinkish gums of her mouth.

“Yea? Yer’ah damn lil’ biter, huh?” Daryl chaffed, playfully flicking splashes at her during bath time as you both sat at the edge of the tub.

She giggled, edges of her mouth curling up as she slapped the surface of the water to try and get him back for it – and he'd always dramatically act like he was hit by a tsunami when in reality it was just a few small drops on his arms. Just to hear her laugh.

The moment she was walking, she was outside, stumbling around and soon running, that instinct to be out in nature clearly taken from her father.

“Poppa,” She whined as you set her down at the bottom of the steps outside the house, her turning back and reaching a grasping hand towards Daryl, the other holding yours, as he took a seat on the steps, sun on the other side of the home and shadow protecting him from the daylight, but not the yard.

“Daddy can only watch right now. Remember the sunlight isn't good for him, okay sweetheart?” You cautiously reminded her as her head looked back to you, too young to wrap her mind around the concept.

He'd watch and talk as you two'd sit in the grass and play, sometimes covering best he could and making the sacrifice anyway just to make his daughter happy. And you'd always go out and play at nighttime anyway.

Growing into a toddler and young child, she was an absolute menace, Daryl just fueling her every troublemaking behavior.

“What in the world are you two doing?!” You called from the stairs, wiping sleep from your eyes and catching Daryl and your daughter immediately freeze, having been loudly chasing each other around downstairs with their enhanced agility in the middle of the night – busted.

The child gave an innocent toothy smile, and Daryl a sheepish grin as she pointed at him. “‘Ts daddy's fault!” She always blamed him when it was 100% her doing.

You rolled your eyes and groaned, pinching your brow. “Dixon, get yer damn daughter to bed and your ass into ours.” It was nowhere near the first time they'd woken you up with such.

“Yes ma'am.” And he took the moment of distraction to grab the child as she kicked and squealed in the interlocking cell his arms created.

Then as she aged, she completely mirrored every aspect of his personality, practically a carbon copy of him.

“Shuddup! Yall'ere ah buncha assholes!”

“Ay! Ya better watch yer mouth girl! Ain't nobody tell ya you could be talkin’ like tha’!” Daryl called across the way, catching hints of her civil argument with some other kids – as civil as a Dixon could be.

“That one really is your fault,” You teased him with a smirk, gently elbowing his side as he rolled his eyes and groaned.

“They called me Lucille cause ‘ima bloodthirsty bat’!” She nor Daryl even possessed the ability to transform. That was more fantasy.

He vanished to deal with it before you could finish your blink, leaving just the energy of his protectiveness in his wake.

—

“Hey ma, I gotcha somethin’!” She practically slid across the edge of the kitchen counter, clasped hand held out to you.

“If this is another big ass bug-”

“It's not! It's not!” She opened to a large stone of jasper. “Found it while wanderin’ – inside the walls –, thought ya might want it cause dad always gets ya ‘em, ‘nd yer ring.” She motioned to the band on your finger, adorned with a jasper center. Daryl started collecting them for you after you'd liked the one he found back near the prison.

—

“Nah, ts'only 4.9. Mine's bigger.” Daryl beamed triumphantly as they each weighed cottontail rabbits they'd caught on a hunt. They always had competitions on who could catch more, or the larger game.

“Tha's not fair! Only weighs less now cause it lost more blood on tha way back than yers did!”

“Still counts. Gotta get'ah cleaner shot, babyfangs. Then ya won’ waste so much.”

So many moments were leagues better than what your imagination curated in your youth, full of that real laughter and care and love that you could only placebo before.

But… some moments of it were the hardest, scariest moments of your life.

“Do you have any traces of her at all? Can you smell her??” You asked worriedly through labored breaths as you ran faster than you had from any person or walker or thing before. Fear pumped through your veins, somehow pushing you to keep up with Daryl's vampiric pace as you sped through the forest, bow on your back and crossbow on his, searching for your daughter.

“Yea, she ain't far. Ts’jus’ hard tah pick ‘er out with tha walkers cloudin’ it,” He grunted back, straining his senses to try and focus in on where she'd be. Sunlight seared his skin, having left the house so quickly he had no time to dress in proper attire. He didn't care, he didn't even feel it over everything he felt for his perfect girl.

“Daddy?” That soft, familiar voice ripped you both from your rush, stopping so fast you nearly toppled over and mutually whipped to take hurdles towards your daughter and wrap her in your arms. Now you truly understood your parents – so, so many years ago; that burning, aching dread to do anything and everything for your baby, to exhaust yourself to find them when they were lost, how it felt to have them in your arms again after thinking the worst thoughts one could illustrate. But there were some situations your parents never had to worry about.

“What? What is it?” You asked in alarm, pulling back to look at your daughter's face as tears started to stream down her cheeks and her gaze flicked away, the teenager so reluctant to be honest. “Please baby, what is it!?”

To your every worst fear, she reached up and pulled the neckline of her shirt aside, revealing the distinctive imprint of a walker's bite carved into the flesh on the nape of her neck.

“M'sorry, m'so sorry- I dun’ kno’ what happened I jus’-” She stammered, unable to find the words or will to begin to explain herself. Your stomach dropped so far you wouldn't be surprised if it was down in the molten core of the Earth.

The neck. It had to be neck. If it was the arm, you could amputate it, maybe she'd even have the chance of regrowing the limb, and same with the leg. If Daryl had converted you to a vampire like you'd talked about once many years ago, she never would've been a dhampir, and would never need to care about the risk walkers posed to her – whole vampiric nature making it impossible for the virus to infect them, able to survive bites and just let them heal over. If you'd payed some more fucking attention to what she was doing and where she was going, she wouldn't even be out here. If this, if that. If-

“Am I gonna die?” She sobbed, looking between you two with the most terrified expression you'd ever seen. You couldn't even register her question before her dad answered. He was always better at those split second response times where every extra beat changed the confidence of a statement.

“Nah. Yer not dyin’. Drink.” Daryl tore away his shirt, craning his neck to expose a spot by his left clavicle, close to his heart so it'd pump the most blood the quickest, and he knelt to her level. She was hesitant. “C'mon. Now!”

You watched as she stepped forward and sunk teeth into him, drawing long siphons of his blood. You prayed the purity of it compared to hers would aid her system in warding off the infection, should a dhamir still be susceptible to it. You didn't know. You didn't know if this would even work. Your heart raced so fast you couldn't even feel it anymore, like your body was already trying to shield you from how it may feel if it breaks.

“Daryl, that's enoug-” You started after a long moment, worried he'd just end up killing himself too. You couldn't lose either of them, but especially not both.

“Nah. Drink till ya can't no more – don’ give'ah damn ‘bout how much ya take,” He barked at you, then lightened his tone for her. He was beginning to feel woozy, pressure building in his head as his body's efforts to replenish struggled to keep up with her anxious draws. But again, he didn't care. He would do anything for her. He would bleed himself dry should it mean even the chance of keeping her alive.

But eventually she retracted her fangs, guilt overpowering the rest of her emotions. How could she live with herself if she was responsible for her own father's death? “Daddy, m'sorry, I-”

“Ya needah… drink, moonshine…” He wavered, and you grabbed him steady before he collapsed, resting him back against a tree trunk as you and your daughter sat on either side.

“Shit, Daryl.. c'mon, drink somma mine,” You urged, tugging your own top out of the way and offering to him.

“Nah, m'not-”

“I told ya to fuckin’ drink it!” In the rare times you raised your voice at him, he'd immediately listen: now driving his canines into your body, but taking far less of your crimson than he needed. He was too selfless for his own good.

You brushed the matted hair from his charring forehead, looking back at your daughter who tried to quiet her cries as she couldn't bring herself to look at him, curling into a ball of her own pity and shame.

“Honey, look at me,” You reached out, sliding your hand to cup her cheek and bring it up, her glassy eyes meeting yours. “I need you to help me get him home, okay? Ts’not safe out here.”

She just sat there for a moment, silently looking at you. She didn't want to accept that any of this was actually happening.

“We're all gonna be okay, so long as we get home. I love you.” That motherly tone melted her, and she nodded a little, unwinding and helping you to hoist the archer up and carry him back to Alexandria.

You kept them both in bed with you, nursing Daryl's drained status back to the typical, and keeping close watch on your daughter for any symptoms of the infection. You stayed there hour after hour, only leaving for brief moments to harvest another rabbit or squirrel for your husband, and fluids for yourself to regenerate as you'd been having him feed from you in intervals.

Your daughter spent most of it distant on the other side of the bed, back to you both, but not asleep. And you frowned.

“Babygirl, come here.” She didn't move, prefering to still act like she had nothing to do with any of this. “Sweetheart…” You reached down and forcibly dragged her up to cuddle between you and her father, soothingly stroking her head as she broke into tears again and he wrapped her in a half-dazed embrace.

Daryl was fine, just a little droopy at this point, and you mutually watched and held your girl. You prayed and pleaded and begged more than you had as a child, for a completely different reason. And to your every actually important hope and dream, a fever never spiked. Her skin never grew sweaty and clammy, eyebags never sagged, never grew weak.

Whether being a dhampir alone saved her, or Daryl's healing components pulled the rest of the weight, it didn't really matter. She was alive, and she'd live, and neither of you would ever allow this to repeat.

That customarily fatal bite turned to a scar, then smoothed back out to the unscathed plane it was before. Daryl spooned her as they both drifted into a slumber, a faint smile cresting your lips as you gazed from the opposite side. It wasn't as big as that night as a kid, or when your daughter was born, but it held as much meaning. You were all okay.

You got your vampire, and he got you – and you both got your little girl.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.

[xxnghtclls]

Flickering Lights

Chapter 2: A Tall, Pink Haired Man

Chapter (1/3)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

For tags and synopsis, please see Chapter 1!

Bam!

You slam the door shut behind you. Finally you’re home in your small apartment, still thinking about what happened in your office. Sitting down on one of your two chairs, you absentmindedly tap with your key into the surface of your kitchen table.

Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.

“Who was that?” you mumble to yourself, while your leg is wiggling nervously. “Where and… why? Four eyes and four arms, too?”

A pause.

Tap. Tap.

“HOW?” you blurt out loudly and distort your face in confusion. Your brain is so tired.

Shaking your head, you decide to get up and get a hot shower.

-Monday me- is going to have a huge problem, leaving the office like this.

“This” meaning a broken window, a crack in the floor and the wall. Your computer is for the trashcan, too. A fucking mess.

Motherfucker. 

You kind of hope it was a dream, a hallucination or a lightning. Monday you will get back to your same old habit, going to work and writing emails, lists and calculations. And then Tuesday. And then Wednesday. Thursday. Friday.

Sigh.

Rashhhhh

You close the shower curtain in front of your face and turn on the water. Warm steamy drops are tickling your face and calming your nerves. Sleepiness washes over you with the steamy warmth and you’re quick to finish soaping you up. You let out a big yawn, as you turn off the water and step out. 

“Time for bed.” you sigh, before you brush your teeth and dry yourself. Taking your phone with you, you carry yourself up the ladder to your elevated sleeping space. The perks of living in tokyo.

Mini studio apartments.

Crawling onto the futon, you pull the blanket up to your nose. A last time you peek onto your phone, before your eyes shut themselves.

- 01:38 a.m. -

“Goodnight...” you mumble, before you fall asleep. “Stranger.”

♫ Up with the sun, gone with the wind, she always said I was lazy-

“The fuck?” you breathe into the darkness, still half asleep, as you peek onto your phone, trying not to get blind from your display brightness.

- 6:00 a.m. - 

“Ughhh shut up, Bob.” you groan, as you shut your alarm off. You must have forgotten to adjust the settings in your alarm to workweek only, after you had to get up for an out of schedule meeting last saturday. 

But, today is free.

You close your eyes and think about what you want to do today.

Get new earphones perhaps. Get groceries. Find out who…who…  

Zzzzz…

After a moment, you send another peek to your phone.

- 10:12 a.m. -

“Good morning sunshine.” you grumble to your sleepy self, before you yawn and stretch. “Sorry Bob, now you can sing.” you mumble and put on Bob Seger’s song that ripped you out of sleep earlier. 

-play-

“Travelin maan, love when I caan. Turn loose my hand ‘cause I’m goiingg.” you sing, as you’re making yourself some eggs for breakfast, checking your social media inbetween. You roll your eyes, as you read that there’s some unnecessary discourse over something unimportant AGAIN and you swear to yourself, that you’re going to delete that app sooner or later. It just makes you angry. 

Fucking idiots.

Your eggs are ready and you sit down, take a bite and text your bestie Mio. 

Oy. Akiba in 45 mins?

👍

Good. Need new headphones. Mine broke last night.

No wonder. Get some real ones.

You huff at her text.

“No way.” you smile, as you’re putting your phone away and shove the last bite of eggs into your mouth. You need to get dressed quickly, in order to catch the next train to Akihabara. 

On your trainride, you stare out of the window across from you. Listen to the railway and see the houses passing by, the sun shining onto the roofs, before the train goes underground again. Silhouettes and moving lights run along the window.

Moving lights. Flickering lights.

And suddenly you remember last night. 

What happened?

That creature, that… man. 

How unusual he looked and how his eyes pierced through your soul. 

Uncanny. 

You wonder if you should tell Mio about it. 

Maybe not…

Maybe it was a dream or a hallucination or a lightning after all.

…That rip in space definitely.

But what if he was not?

“Excuse me, is everything alright?” an elderly woman that’s sitting right next to you asks you. 

You must’ve zoned out, looking so concentrated… maybe even, as if you’re constipated or something. 

“No, I’m fine. Sorry- I mean, thank you.” you force a smile at her, before you pull out your phone to look busy at least.

And you start to scroll on your socials. 

And scroll.

And scroll. 

And scroll.

Not thinking anything, just remembering that man’s face. Those tattoos. The nose.

Kinda pretty nose, you think as your lips turn into a pout.

Two slits in his eyebrows.

That mask.

So interesti-

Wait what?

Interesting…?

Sigh.

…He is.

You get out at Suehirocho Station and walk to the next 7-eleven, the point where you’re going to meet with Mio. She’s not there yet, so you decide to walk in and buy an Onigiri. 

Only one? 

No, two. 

For later. 

Of course you open the first one immediately and bite into it. The first bite is always the best.

Goddamn.

You love it. Closing your eyes, to savour the taste, you stand in front of the store, enjoying the bliss.

“Oy, peanut!” Mio’s voice comes up behind you. You turn around and nudge your head to her, shooting her a look. 

“What’s up?” you say with your mouth full.

“Got one for me, too?” she eyes your Onigiri.

“No.” you bite into it another time.  

She cocks her eyebrows at you, probably already knowing that you bought two and that you don’t want to share, before a little pout cracks upon her lips.

“Get your own!” you complain, before she pokes her finger into your arm. 

“I’ll get you some snacks later!” she coos.

“Fine!” complain and offer her a bite of your last piece. 

“Mwuah hah hah!” she laughs deeply in excitement, before she gulps down the whole remaining Onigiri. “I know you love me.”

“Ehhh.” you sigh, letting your shoulders sink, disappointed that she ate it all.

“Sorry.” she brushes off her hands on her jacket. “Anyway, let’s go, my greedy little peanut.” she says, before she hooks her arm into yours. “Did you cut your hair?” 

You laugh her question off, as you both start to walk into the city.

While on the search for new 5000 yen headphones, you both keep bullying each other lovingly, laugh and talk about the week. No matter how exhausting your workweek is, she always manages to distract your mind, makes you feel not as lonely. She really is the light of your week. 

You don’t really know how it came to this. To feel like this in this city of millions. You used to go out, to dance and fuck a guy every now and then. But maybe it was just the start of how you feel now. The nights of clubbing grew rare, the nights at the computer and phone listening to music grew more frequent. Because nothing could really satisfy it. This hole in your heart. Listening to music helps. Spending time with Mio helps, but only to a degree. Because you wish for a change in your life. More than work and eat and shower and sleep. More than everyday life.

However, you decide not to tell her about what happened last night. Maybe you’ve gone crazy after all. Even if you’re not, you still feel odd about it. Feel, like it might be the change you yearned for, an adventure. 

Feel like it only belongs to you.

Quickly you find some new headphones and earn a mocking joke from the side, while Mio continues to buy herself a new phone case. Huge, pink and with little glittery stones and charms.

So ugly.

“Don’t look at me like that, when you’re the one who walked around with a Hello Kitty phone for the longest time!” she complains.

“At least I wasn’t mistaken for a disco ball.” you sneer at her.

You walk to another store to get your promised snacks and after a while, when the hottest gossip is done being discussed, you catch yourself getting silent inbetween.

Because your mind wanders off.

Because you remember.

Those eyes.

Dangerous.

Sometimes she notices and throws you a glance, but you just wave it off, excuse it with sleepless nights because of work. 

And she buys it.

At least you hope she does.

“I need to get home.“ you sigh, as you arrive at the next train-station. “I still need to get some groceries. I’m gonna gonna see you next week?”

She sighs too and stops in her tracks. You turn and look to her, seeing her face turning serious. Suddenly the energy shifts. You halt and frown at her in confusion.

Something’s wrong.

“What?” you ask. 

“I need to tell you something.” she looks to the ground and it makes you worried.

“What is it?” you poke her shoulder. 

She hesitates.

“You’re gonna hate it…” she mumbles and your heart starts pounding. You hate situations like this. Last time she acted like this, she told you she lost the one pair of very expensive headphones you bought in your life. You hated her for it, but you learned your lesson. 

Crossing your arms, you keep staring at her, almost holding your breath, trying to remember what kind of item you possibly could’ve lent her recently.

A pause.

“I’ll be on a work trip.-”

“Jesus.” you complain, as you exhale loudly in relief, rolling your eyes.

“For the next week.” she continues, a smug smirk on her face. So proud, knowing to have you fooled so good. “Coming back on Sunday night.”

You sigh.

“I’ll manage!” you exclaim snobbish into her face, but deep down, you know it’s gonna be hard. You’re not gonna see her for two weeks and you’re gonna miss her. A lot. Next to the fact that you can’t meet up with her next weekend, she’ll be busy too and not be able to text you much during the week either.

She punches your shoulder, before you grab her sleeve.

“Come.” you tug on it. “We gotta wish you a safe travel and return.” you mumble, as you drag her with you.

“Huh?” she exclaims, but gives up and willingly walks down to the underground with you. 

“I didn’t go to the Meiji shrine in a while. Let’s hang up an Ema there.” you fiddle with her sleeve, as you’re both sitting next to each other in the train towards Yoyogi Station.

“Is everything alright?” she asks and you notice real concern in her voice. 

She knows something’s up.

“I think I need to go out more, Mio.” you mumble. “If you’re not here to cheer me up, I need to see someone else then.”

“Sounds as if you’re already have someone in mind.” she jokes and you feel the heat rising in your ears, feel caught.

“Yeah.” you fake-laugh, before you try to change the topic. “Where are you going next week?”

“We’re going to have some meetings in Gifu. But also team-building events, this sort of stuff.” she says, while fiddling with her new phone case and you nod.

“Never went there.” you respond. “Tell me if it’s nice, yes?” 

“Sure, little peanut.” she smiles, before she looks back at you. You smile back before, looking around in the wagon.

“Maybe you should go out while I’m gone.” she says, making you look back at her. “Try to focus less on work and have some fun. Treat yourself.” she punches you in your arm again. 

Hard.

“Ow!”

“It’s just work after all.”

“I shall.” you hiss, while you rub your hand over the soon-to-be bruise, as the train stops at Harajuku-Station.

After a short walk, Mio and you arrive at the entrance of the shrine. It’s busy, just like the last time you visited, but as soon as you walk through the Torii, it grows calmer with each second. You might not believe, that in you’re a city of millions, when you walk through the beautiful area around the shrine. Trees and plants seal yourself off the loud noises of the streets. 

Quiet.

Maybe I need a vacation.

“I’m thirsty.” Mio longingly says, as you walk past the huge Sake barrels. 

You snort at her comment.

“Mio Mio Mioooo.” you squeak like a bird. “You called me greedy.”

“That’s what you are.” she chimes. “I know you still have that second Onigiri in your jacket.”

“Shut your mouth.” you smile, while you look up to see the sunlight shine through the branches of the trees, as a gentle breeze flows against your faces. It’s beautiful at this place, but somehow, a weird feeling grows in your gut. 

After a ten minute walk along the shrines nature, you arrive at the camphor trees where the Emas are hanged upon. Mio steps forward, reading some of the wishes that are already hung up. After purchasing a little wooden plate yourself, you tipple to the desks and start writing. 

For my lovely Mio. 

Please let her have the safest travel, a lot of fun and a more safer return to her little peanut.

You draw a little raccoon in the corner, since that’s her favourite animal and turn around, ready to hang it up, only to notice, that Mio holds a little wooden plate in her own hand as well.

“No! I already got one!” you wiggle it into her direction, before you hang it up. 

She steps into the corner of your eyes, hanging her own plate right next to yours. You’re about to complain that she bought an unnecessary one, as your eyes catch what she wrote.

For my lovely y/n.

Please let her have the most fun, good food and a little adventure, until her Mio returns.

“Is this for me?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Bro, it’s your name right there!” she sneers as if you’re stupid, tapping her knuckle loudly against the plate.

Your heart warms up, before you continue in a serious voice.

“You forgot to draw a cat.” 

“I cannot draw a cat.”

“Bullshit. Everyone can draw a cat.” you wave her off and turn around, only to see-

Oh shit.

You freeze in your spot, as you see that tall man from last night standing in front of the holy praying area of the shrine. His back is turned to you, but his height, his black cloak and the pink spiky hair is proof enough.

A sinister energy reaches your feet and crawls up your legs.

“What’s up?” Mio asks, as she notices how you froze in your spot, tugging at your sleeve.

Your heart starts pounding. 

Badum. Badum. Badum.

In the corner of your eyes, you see Mio catching focus on that man herself.

“I’ve never seen a guy that tall-“

“Me neither.” you mumble, while you keep staring. In the corners of your eye, you see many people walking around the mean, peeking and staring and mumbling about his unusual appearance.

He walks up the stairs, shoving a middle aged woman out of his way. She tipples, looses balance and-

Bam!

falls down the stairs, while he’s stepping closer to the doors that lead to the praying area. The huge doors, that now don’t seem to tall in comparison anymore.

“Disrespectful asshole!” Mio exclaims in disgust, as an appalled gasp is heard from the by-standing people and the feeling in your gut grows into a huge lump. Others rush to the woman to help her back up, and Mio wants to go forward too, but you grab her sleeve, holding her back. You stay silent, as you keep watching the man intensely, seeing him lay his right hand on the wooden surface of the saisen-bako that’s placed inbetween the doors. People start to talk to him, try to get his attention, but he is ignoring them, concentrated on doing what he came to do. 

Your eyes are fixated on his hand, a tattooed black ring decorating his wrist. The people around him grow louder and louder, but the sound grows mute in your ears. Almost as if you’re hypnotised, you watch how the wooden surface starts to vibrate, the lines between his hand and the wood start to blur. A deep humming starts to vibrate in your ear, just like last night.

Mio notices your trance and calls you, but you hear without hearing. 

Whatever he’s doing, it has you in his grip.

Mio calls you again, louder and snips her fingers in front of your face to wake you from your trance but you keep being fixated on his hand until-

“Hey!” another man loudly exclaims and tugs on his cloak to get his attention. Without even looking, the pink haired man flicks his left hand and suddenly the throat of the other man bursts with blood and his head falls from his shoulders.

Fwip! 

Pap.. Pap… pap.

Down the stairs it falls and rolls. Your heart drops and everyone starts to scream, as your eyes widen in horror. Blood splatters everywhere, as the head rolls and comes to a halt next to the woman, coating the holy grounds with red essence.

“Y/N!!” Mio calls your name again, now very loud and clear, making your body finally start moving.

You meet Mio’s eyes and grab her wrist, before you run towards the entrance, already seeing security guards run into the opposite direction. Other people run in panic as well, shoving you out of their way, almost make you stumble. For some reason, shortly before you can run through the huge gate, you need to turn around.

Turn around.

The time slows down.

Exhale.

You look.

Focus.

And he turns around, too. Making your eyes meet his for the split of a second, before you turn back forward again, running through the gate.

Inhale.

Sirens are already howling in the distance, as Mio and you and many other people run through the shrine grounds in order to get back to the entrance you came from. Your heart is pounding in your throat and your throat is as dry as sand, as you finally reach the streets. A glance to Mio and a nod from her confirm that you will not separate your ways right now. She’ll come with you.

Bam!

Zschk Zing!

You lock your front door behind you, as Mio sighs loudly, slumping down on one of your kitchen chairs.

“Jesus.” you sigh under your breath, your hands still lingering on the door-lock, your eyes staring into nothing. The image of that mans head rolling down those stairs keeps replaying in your head. 

“Gonna make tea.” Mio says, before she gets up and fills the cattle.

You blink and shake your head, before you turn around and sit down on the other chair on the adjacent corner of the table. 

You have seen some bad stuff on the internet before. Multiple times unfortunately. However it’s still different to see such things in real life.

“The police will get him right?” she asks. 

“Maybe they shot him on sight.” you mumble. “Most probably.” you try to assure her and yourself.

She hums and the kettle starts to whistle.

Louder and louder.

Louder and louder.

Until Mio takes it from the stove and fills your cups with water.

You take a sip and the warmth flows through your body, making you feel better in an instant. 

“I still got no groceries.” you mumble into your cup.

“Let’s just wait a bit. It’ll be safe in a few hours.” she mumbles into hers.

A pause.

And you ponder.

“He wouldn’t have slashed that man, if he let him do his thing in peace.” you sip absentmindedly. “Whatever he was doing.” you add and she glances over to you, cocking an eyebrow.

“If he didn’t shove that woman down the stairs, he wouldn’t have been bothered.” she responds annoyed. “Nothing he was doing can justify this.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

“Doesn’t matter now, they probably shot him.” she sighs. 

Your eyebrows twitch at the thought. Somehow, you don’t feel like it’s true.

A few silent hours go by, sipping tea, trying to calm down. Both of you avoid to read the news, try to distract you from what just happened, talk about anything, except about what happened at the shrine today.

And somehow, it works. They probably shot him after all.

The sun sets and it grows dark outside. Mio taps on her phone.

- 10:13 p.m. - 

“I think I should go now.” she sighs. “Gotta get up early tomorrow.” 

You inhale deeply, knowing it’s the last time you’re gonna see her for at least two weeks.

“Alright.” you exhale, as you stand up and walk her to your door. “Text me when you’re at the station, k?” 

“Sure, peanut. The police is probably still roaming around. And if not they got him.” she smiles at you and leans in for a tight hug. “Gonna miss you.” she whispers in your ear and it almost makes you tear up.

What today happened was a lot for you and now you have to deal with it alone, if the distraction looses its effect. For two whole weeks.

“Gonna miss you, too!” you sniff into her ear and press her against you, before you separate.

“Stop crying, bitch.” she jokes and boops your nose. 

You stick out your tongue and with wet eyes, you unlock your front door. 

“Here you go, your Majesty. Please return safely.” you bow, trying to overact your upcoming crying-session and it makes her giggle. 

“It’ll be fine.” she waves you off and walks down the hallway. “I’m a big girl.”

“Text me!” you yell after her, before you close and lock up the door.

Zschk Zing!

Silence.

Too silent.

You grab your back and pull out the new headphones you bought. In all the hectic you forgot to properly charge them, but luckily, they always are charged halfway up when you buy them. 

You sit down on your kitchen chair and go to your phone’s settings, to connect it via bluetooth with your headphones. 

It worked.

You put them on and scroll through your music library, not sure what will give you the right mood for now. If you want more distraction or if you want to cry. Already feeling an empty feeling spreading in your heart, you scroll and scroll and your eyes keep watering.

Maybe crying it is. 

Mio didn’t text yet and you hope she’s about to arrive safely at the station. It’s just a short walk anyway. You keep scrolling. Being a person who listens to almost everything, it’s difficult to choose sometimes. Closing your eyes, you tap on shuffle, letting fate decide what song to play.

But right in the moment, when the song is about to start, a loud knocking is heard on your door.

Knock. 

Knock. 

Knock.

You quickly look to the door.

Mio? 

Maybe she forgot something.

Without turning off the music, you put your headphones on the table and tipple to the front door.

“Mio, is that you?” you call.

No answer.

You frown in suspicion, before looking through the peephole. 

And your heart drops into your socks, as you see a deformed fish-eye version of a stranger.

A tall, pink haired man.

[dreamwritersworld]

Disconnected… (sully family x reader)

this was inspired by 2 requests sent in so please enjoy! I didn’t link the two requests just cause I didn’t want to spoil it before you read so thank you! 💞

Y/n Sully. I was a happier child…until that light was pulled away and burnt out.

*five year old Y/n*

There was one too many moment where Jake had compared her to her older siblings…

Jake had pulled Y/n by her ear to listen to his words clearly about how she had to heal and be as good as Kiri..

Y/n walked into a separate room clearly in distress while Kiri was calmly sitting down beading a bracelet but she could sense something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?”

“…father keeps saying that I have to be like you but I’m not you.”

Y/n didn’t even give Kiri a chance to talk she knew that whatever she said wouldn’t make her feel better…not even a few moments after both sisters heard their mother talking to another Navi and that just made Y/n more upset.

“Kiri is the most beautiful child ever! We were given her so sudden and I always say to her, Eywa gave me you.”

Whats the softest way to say…you took away my passion…my happiness…what’s the kindest way to say?..you took away my spark.

-*

I had so much potential, had I just been brought up differently given the correct corrections and encouragement I would’ve been something…something meaningful.

*6 year old Y/n*

“Y/n! Hold the knife correctly! Look at the way your brother is holding it! Why can’t you just be smart? Think!”

Y/n was too young to even start early training but…he made her anyways, said “with her like that, she needs at least two years of early training! She needs to think smarter.”

The little girl was buried deep into training when all she wanted to do was continue making friendship bracelets for people…she was such a sweet little girl.

Every time Jake yelled, stood by, or ever so slightly glanced at her she felt slightly scared…it always felt like he didn’t care. Truth was Jake was reckless with her feelings..he didn’t care about how the outcome of his actions would reflect on the young child.

-*

Now I just sit in the comforting silence of the forest.

*8 year old Y/n*

There was one day when I was genuinely scared…terrified of the man yelling in my face..grabbing me, all because I failed at aiming correctly that day..but it was only because he made me stay up the entire night before practicing.

“Why can’t you just think kid?!”

He was pushing for words to come out as tears build up in my eyes.

“You were awful today!”

My own father could sleep peacefully in the fact that he was destroying me. It made him mad, my silence spoke louder than words..anger he wanted to come out of me. All of the sudden a full hand slapped my cheek.

My heart missed multiple beats when I realized what had just happened. That’s the moment I went numb to his actions, I quickly got up..wiped away my tears and went off to train without him. If someone were to ever hit me the way he did that day, I wanted to be ready.

-*

I was dragged through the mud, what’s more to be scared of..? I don’t need them or anyone.

I don’t speak much to anyone…they don’t try speaking to me either so I guess in a way I settled.

*9 year old Y/n*

Jake’s treatment towards Y/n was like whiplash. One second he’d give her slight hope it was ok and then the next second he’d crumble her to pieces.

He put Kiri and Y/n to healing and she was doing really well, until a hard week hit her.

“Y/n. You went from first…to worst in one whole practice! You need to do better, when will you get it?”

All siblings watched as Y/n curled herself in, hiding her head once he left.

They were sad to say they noticed how as the years went by Y/n no longer talked to them…to anyone. Yet all siblings turned a blind eye..maybe it was temporary?

-*

It doesn’t mean that i stay by myself all alone and do nothing, no absolutely not I enjoy adventure, hanging onto life by a thread…

*10 year old Y/n*

I actually used to have a good friend I knew for a short amount of time but sadly…she died. She didn’t know a thing about survival but it was because her father refused to teach her. So I taught her, but i wish I did it sooner, maybe if I did she would’ve lived…

It happened just moments after I taught her how to shoot a gun, she found hidden away.

“You want to see what i found?…will you show me how to use it?”

I was conflicted and confused because i had only learned briefly just once

“Ok…but it is not a toy.”

“I know!”

She pointed the gun up to a random tree turning to me asking what she would do.

“The most important thing is when you go to shoot, take a breathe before you hit the trigger.”

T��lí took this hilarious big breathe, exaggerating it.

“What should I shoot?”

Tílí was so…inexperienced, so much that That she didn’t even know you couldn’t wave around the gun. So I crouched and panicked the moment she aimed it at me unknowingly.

“Don’t do that!”

“I-I’m so sorry i- im sorry!”

Tílí immediately put the gun away but i didn’t even look…i looked at the forest searching for where the walking sounds came from.

“…Tílí..let’s go now.”

I yanked onto her hand and ran, hiding in an old lab, as we ran i could hear the man’s voice,

“Come out! Where ever you are!”

..we weren’t allowed to be in that part of the forest but I followed because she said she wanted to show me the gun.

We both sat down listening to the man whistling…this outsider must’ve been left behind when they were supposed to leave pandora, or perhaps this was the start of them coming back. Adrenaline raced through me that day…I was just a kid.

“I need you to listen to me. we have to go now…are you listening?”

Tílí just sat there, staring at the floor, and scared to move. When I reached out for her again she started talking louder.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. Daddy, I’m scared!”

It seemed as though she was stuck in time…like she believed her father would come right that moment, he made her so dependent..so scared.

“Snap out of it, Tílí!..please!”

My brain fogged up believing I wouldn’t be able to save her, I began to get scared. My head turned to the whistling getting closer and then i did what I believed was best..

“Move!”

Tílí felt my hand slap her across the face..and then she rushed up, I got her out first by holding her up to reach the skylight on the roof and then pulled myself up..as soon as we jumped off we ran but the man didn’t fail to notice us.

I ran with her but when we passed she had fallen and so did the gun but…the man shot her in the arm

“Get up Tílí! You have to trust me, I got you!”

Tílí screamed in pain as I yanked her up, catching the gun, and ran. The man was taking his time in catching us..he knew I wouldn’t want leave her…

She had no chance though, her speed was slower but I had to drag her, it left me no time to make turns so the man wouldn’t have a direct area to shoot. I didn’t even have time to hide us so I could kill him then..He had shot her in the chest.

“No don’t- Y/n! Daddy!!”

“No! Tílí!”

I instantly turned back and hid shooting the man from getting closer…my body went tense as I walked closer to Tíli, her body was shaking and hyperventilating.

“No, please Tílí! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! Your my best friend…I’m sorry.”

I stayed in the forest crying, left with her body.

-*

That trauma didn’t go unnoticed. Mo’at could see that something was wrong with Y/n. It terrified her to see her grandchild’s downfall, she knew that Y/n would one day turn her back on her father for training and giving her pain so many years. Y/n wouldn’t let anyone even touch or stand by her…Mo’at wasn’t even an exception, no matter how much she wanted to heal those little wounds on her grandchild’s rough fingers and knees from training. She could see the pain Y/n was working through, the back pain from constantly doing tricks in training…suppose it was the reason Y/n was the best but it doesn’t mean it’s ok.

Y/n had been sitting on the floor, making medicine while Mo’at observed her…Neytiri walked in the room with medicine Kiri made from home.

“Kiri made some medicine for healing, mother.”

Mo’at hushed Neytiri and pulled her to the side, still keeping an eye on Y/n.

“We must talk..”

“About?”

“Y/n-“

“Oh mother please, no need to worry about that child she-she’s fine. She remains happy at home as well.”

“Really? If that were true, that child would feel safe enough to make medicine from home.”

“Mother. You cannot possibly be insinuating that-“

“Shh. It’s just Y/n, there’s something cold behind her eyes…”

Mo’at walked away leaving Neytiri wondering…she too watched Y/n while she unpacked the medicine Kiri was making from home…

After helping grandmother I had stayed out a little but I only came back late five minutes after eclipse and brought back food that I hunted for. I could feel him and his stares..how he was so fixated on me and what i was doing now that he wasn’t playing ‘olo’ekytan’.

“You staying out late again?! I already told you, your forbidden from staying out! You think bringing food back home will make it better?!”

I couldn’t listen. My hand automatically dropped the food off by my mother and I immediately walked back out the home entering the forest, too annoyed to deal with him…he didn’t stop though.

My feet walked faster, heart began beating louder and my eyes just kept looking forward, not turning back.

“You come back here right now. I mean it Y/n stop!”

I couldn’t..for the first time in a long time..i just wanted to stop, to look him in the eye.

“I’m gonna tell you right now, You’re-“

Sometimes my mind just fogs up and forgets my morals…just like him. I turned right around, banging my hand into a tree just to push him to listen.

“Stop! I’ll walk home sir just- stop.”

He continued mumbling words, yanking me by the ear, i allowed it…im not at my break point just yet. As we entered the home he threw me onto my hammock and i just accepted it, staring at the sky…the other thing about numbness is that it kinda collapses time…suddenly i find my whole days blending together creating this endless and suffocating loop, training is all I do…

“Dinners ready!”

My transit stopped and i got up slowly, sitting in my little corner. There was never space at our dinner area for me..so I just ate alone. Then i did my chores as normal, slowly walked up to my bed sighing at the fact that i didn’t have the warmth everyone else did. Mother seemingly forgot to request a new blanket for me and I didn’t make enough time to craft items to trade something in for it..so I’ll settle on the rough blanket with seeking holes.

The next day I was told to do hunting with Neteyam in the forest…we didn’t talk much, which made it easier for us to hear outside noises..Then a man came but wasn't normal navi, he was an avatar and he held a gun, seemingly scare almost like he got lost.

"Shoot 'em"

Neteyam couldn't pull the trigger, but I didn't have the patience and i shot the man in the leg...then the hip.

I walked slowly to him.

Neteyam slightly tugged on me to just walk away and not interfere...but i just couldn't…something was wrong.

"Cmon let's go."

“Shut up Neteyam.”

He was annoyed but he just didn’t understand what the situation was so I kicked the man repeatedly until he was begging me..and when he did I asked some questions.

“Who are you with? You are not normal Navi.”

Then he spitted in my face mumbling about him swearing and being loyal, I shot him in the head with my arrow.

“Idiot.”

We walked away in silence but i can tell In his face what i had just done bothered him..he’ll get over it though right? He’s supposed to be the strongest warrior. The noises weren’t done..we could hear our siblings voices as we walked away. Neteyam called for our parents but i couldn’t stay put like he did.

Neteyam was behind a tree ready to shoot an arrow but he hadn’t realized a soldier approaching so I jumped down from the branch stabbing repeatedly into the man’s neck quick to make it silent..i hid once again when I saw a soldier head our way..he hadn’t noticed the body, just grabbed Neteyam, snapping his bow into half.

I began killing all 3 soldiers around hidden in the trees pointing guns at my siblings who were on their knees.

My eyes landed on the two fallen guns and i shot 6 while they blindly shot in a panic…i didn’t see anyone else, my siblings had ran into my parents arms. I was covered in blood..fixated on two missing soldiers…

Quaritch watched from a far, he could see Y/n held zero mercy…she was the one who shot their soldier who got lost in the forest. If she was so cold…he’d be able to get to her, get through her head.

He made sure the soldier beside him stood up first, aiming a gun at Y/n and then he shot him…setting up a scene of him “protecting her”.

Y/n held her gun to him…but for a minute she seemed in awe, she was stuck in time..she felt like she knew who this man was, somehow and in some way she heard stories about him when she was listening to her parents conversations…as did he. The reason he knew about Y/n was because before they were sent back to the forest, they discussed the little information they knew about the sully family, Y/n sully being one of them. In all honesty he hoped he’d walk into her, she was a kid who he believed could easily be ended or manipulated, because Jake never loved her, no one did. Hints why back at the fort they referred to her as the ‘the child with no love’.

If he got her on his side, he’d be unstoppable and be able to kill her father with zero hesitation. He knew he needed her trust first so he dropped his gun, left himself defenseless.

“I won’t kill you kid. Those soldiers that you just killed, well I wish it was different I do but they were weak of will and character.”

Y/n was patient this time…this man wanted to actually listen and talk to her but then again she didn’t care, he held let them hold a gun to innocent peoples heads.

“You know what I wish? I wish I had killed you too. I still can.”

“Yet you haven’t, you think any of those soldiers would have the balls to say something like that. There’s no way you could’ve lasted this long by yourself, otherwise.”

He was wrong because Y/n was brutal when she had to be. But Quaritich seems to take the brutal mindset Y/n had to the furthest extreme. However what Quaritch does goes far beyond being brutal he was just ruthless ..And no one who is ruthless deserves to live. Y/n still let the man go on..trying to pick her poison.

“We’re more alike than you think. In fact I think you realize it…but you’re not comfortable with it yet.”

That’s where Y/n ended it she shot him in the leg, aimed right by his lungs…and then her bullets ran out. Jake was watching from afar…he saw the entire conversation…on his way back he saw the bodies on the floor with multiple stab wounds, and he watched how she walked up to him with a knife. Then..he was spotted by Quaritch.

“Jake-“

“Y/n! I’ll handle him. You don’t need to do that.”

Quaritch chucked at the oblivious father.

“That girl’s already seen more than you can imagine.”

Y/n turned to her father, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere. That’s not your decision.”

“Atta girl, she ain’t afraid to look me in the eye like you Jake. You know that feeling you got right now? That's what makes you stronger than the rest of them kid….”

Y/n knew his words were true..but she was getting annoyed at the man who was repeatedly talking..letting all her thoughts out to her father..so she stabbed him in the neck, Repeatedly. Jake watched in horror, it was then that he realized he stabbed her in the back repeatedly as well…he made her a killing machine. She disconnected with the world more than usual and she didn’t even feel affected by it.

Everything felt slow..metal from the knife clinging with the soiled floor..blood covering her body. Y/n looked at her father, she wanted him to see her and the gore she created.

“this is what you’ve made me become.”

!💓!

Fun facts!

Kiri was making friendship bracelets at the age Y/n wasn’t allowed to!

Tílí was a reflection of what Y/n would’ve been if she hadn’t grown up quicker.

I didn’t show much of happier Y/n because her memories would be very faded from that time..she started to grow faster at age 5.

Tag list: @noodlesfics @eywas-heir r @itshype @zatarias-pandora @yeosxxx @arminsgfloll @tsireyak @neteyamforlife @aimsro @elegantkidfansoul l @goodiesinthecloset21 @nikotokitaswife @bucky1235 @detectivesparrow @kikosaurscave @ssc7514 @simp-erformarvelwomen @eirianna @ambria @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @lv9su @luciddasher @dakotali @httpjiikook @tainted-artist4161 @fanboyluvr @bat1212 @mxn14 @innersuitcasehairdoscissors @ducks118 @midnightliacr @osakis-gf @onetwo123three @briannalarae @thirsty4nonlivingmen @historygeekqueen @abbersreads @eskamybeloved @hoodiepandaninja16 @valovesyou @silentlyswimming @r3dc4ndy @onlytays @papichulo120627 @tsamiaxo @wwwellacom @dotheyevenknowmars @midgetpottermills @he110hon @kodzukenwhore @minkyungseokie

[tvgals]

‘ TELL THEM THE TRUTH . ‘

— when they reveal their secret identity as spider-man, it’s too late.

MILES MORALES —

miles was looking all over new york for you. in the alleyways, behind buildings, even inside some of said buildings. but he just couldn’t find you. miles decided to search on foot. he knew it was risky, but so was the chances of losing you. he ignored the plea to take photos or go places with people, he needed to find you first. miles called your phone multiples times, looking for the last location it pinged — in between two shady buildings. miles follows the map and after twenty minutes of searching, miles found you. you were curled up in a ball, trying to run away from the cold that was engulfing your body that no one else seemed to feel. miles drops down next to you and pulls his mask up, bringing you to his chest. “y/n?” miles whispers, gently shaking your body. you let out a weak “hm?” in response. miles sighs and heaves you onto his back.

“stay awake, okay?” miles says, holding onto your hands for dear life. you open your eyes to only a squint, you look to see spiderman.. “miles?” you whisper, earning a faint “yeah?” you put two and two together, realizing that your boyfriend of six months was spider-man. that when he was flaky on dates or not responding to texts, he was saving brooklyn. that even in your last moments, miles was your hero.

HOBIE BROWN —

hobie let his tears fall in the corner silently as he watched you fight for your life in the blinding white hospital bed. this all happened because he wasn’t watching you — because he wasn’t paying attention. hobie sat next to you, biting his lip. “please wake up, love. i know i’ve been distant and we haven’t been talking, and that when we did talk, it was always an argument. i’m saving the world for you, babe. this is all for you. everything i do,” hobie takes a deep breath, making sure no one was in earshot for what he was going to tell you. “i’m spiderman. that’s why i’ve been gone so much, and why i haven’t been home with you. i was planning everything out for our one year — got ya’ pretty flowers ‘nd cute chocolates…” hobie sniffs, draping his lean frame onto your legs.

“i love you, y/n..”

PAVITR PRABHAKAR —

this has never happened on his watch. this WOULD never had happened if he was a good spider-man. if he was as good as everyone else in the spider society. a train had came down from one of mumbai villains, you not being able to move out of the way before gravity weighed down and you were crushed. pavitr searched everywhere for you, between the crowds of people and the rubble, pavitr couldn’t tell which from what. that was until he saw your hand — he knew it was yours from the red and pink bracelet with you twos initials on it — sticking from under the freight train. pavitr wanted to throw up, he wanted to sit there and sob and reign hell on the monster that did this to you.

“y/n? y/n please, please wake up.” pavitr says, holding your hand from under the rubble. he wasn’t strong enough to lift this train himself, so he took almost all of the citizens from mumbai and lifted the train, revealing your bloody and bruised body.

“oh my god.” pavitr whispers, picking you up and running you from the scene, laying you down on an open lot and taking his mask off, tears cascading down his face. “please wake up.” pavitr shakes you, his suit still on for display. “i was gonna tell you today, i really was..” pavitr whimpered, pulling you into his body.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t save you.”

GWEN STACY —

gwen was breathing, she’s sure of it. she thinks so. she might be. but how can she breath when her girlfriend is laid out on the ground bleeding from a hole in her back. gwen covers her mouth and practically runs towards you, dropping to her knees when she’s next to you. she knew this was a bad idea. she knew that getting attached to you was a bad idea. she knew that as soon as you and her got together something bad was going to happen. gwen thought the two of you could outrun it. that the two of you would’ve been together forever.

“wake up, y/n wake up.” gwen cries, shaking you by your arm, “please?…” she whispers, your body cold and lifeless.

“i was gonna tell you i swear. if i told you sooner this would’ve never happened. i’m so so sorry..”

TAGLIST ; — @draculara-vonvamp @therealcees-blog @laylasbunbunny @kisminarii @d7n3 @deadgirlkisses @darkknightpeanutbagel @thecoloredpages @xricly

[dreamcubed]

false god | blaise zabini x reader

song; false god [taylor swift] pairing; blaise zabini x pure-blood!slytherin!fem!reader genre; arranged marriage, angst, hurt comfort, fluff, sort-of-e2l word count; 4,7k timeline; deathly hallows warnings; swearing, references to sex/hook-ups, references to battle injuries, questionable views on muggle-borns summary; you had been betrothed to blaise zabini practically your whole life, and while you moved in the same friend group, he had always avoided you. you tried to understand, you really did, but were you really so undesirable?

happy belated valentine's day!!

masterlist

"they say the road gets hard and you get lost when you're led by blind faith."

——————————————

The ring of plated white gold and emerald jewels had sat comfortably on your left ring finger ever since you had been big enough to wear it. It was worth a fortune, as your parents frequently reminded you, so it would be disrespectful to the Zabini family to not wear it with pride. You obeyed, even though Blaise - your affianced - had not worn his (more masculine) twin ring for as long as you had known him.

Sometimes you would catch the pitying looks of your mutual friends whenever the sun shone just right on the piece of jewellery, catching everyone's attention. They all knew that Blaise avoided you, never spoke to you, but it was an unspoken matter. You did your best to never show your hurt on your face, and be a strong and positive woman, like your parents had raised you to be.

You just wanted to make them proud.

It's not that you were in love with Blaise, not by any means. You would have to have actually spoken and bonded with the man to reach that stage. Regardless, rejection hurt, especially when you had no part in the arrangement of your marriage either. You were in the same position as he was, yet he acted as if you were at fault for the situation he found himself in.

You weren't a bad person, and you were at least decently attractive - was it really so bad to be betrothed to you? Why couldn't he just make the best of a bad situation and try to get to know you?

***

The Hogwarts Express had never been colder, even the warm red seats looked sallow and grey, reflecting the sullen looks on everyone's faces. You let out a sigh, pulling your thick jacket tighter around you and sinking into the cushions. Pansy was sat next to you, chewing on her lip thoughtfully as she stared at the water droplets cascading down the window. You hadn't said a word to each other apart from a greeting.

In fact, everyone on the train seemed to be sitting in silence.

Slytherin was the only house with almost full attendance from its students, as even the families who didn't support the death eaters felt confident in the safety of their children thanks to their blood status. The same couldn't not be said for the other houses, which had lost a good chunk of their students due to parental fears. Especially the muggle-borns - every single muggle-born you knew in your year had not shown up to catch the train.

It wasn't a mystery as to why: showing up to the school that was now overseen by Voldemort as a muggle-born was a death wish.

Despite its pure-blood status, your family didn't support Voldemort. That's not to say that they didn't have prejudices against muggle-borns, or that they would let you marry one, but they certainly didn't wish death upon them and would likely be okay with you befriending them. Just as long as you kept your bloodline pure.

The L/N family had remained a neutral party during the First Wizarding War, and were doing the same now during the second.

"Have you seen Draco?" Pansy asked, not even looking at you.

"I think I saw him at the platform at one point."

She hummed, and the silence fell again.

You began biting your nails.

***

The reign of Severus Snape as headmaster of Hogwarts had officially begun, casting an even more intense shadow over the school. As a Slytherin, this was actually quite good news, but you weren't so selfish that you could disregard the wellbeing of the other houses. Plus, the subject changes like Defence Against the Dark Arts becoming simply- the Dark Arts- were quite jarring.

"Can someone pass me the roast potatoes?" the emotionless voice of your fiancé rang out, signifying that he was talking to you. Normally, when talking to your other friends, he would smile, say please, even laugh. But when he was talking to you, he would do so indirectly and without emotion.

Sure enough, you were the person closest enough to the roast potatoes, but you decided to hold back in fulfilling his request, instead locking eyes with him. "Say please."

His eyes bored into yours for a few moments, before he scoffed and said, "Please."

"Was that so hard?" you mumbled, passing over the potatoes. Your friends had gone silent during the exchange, some of them sending pitiful glances your way. You were sick of being treated this way, both by Blaise and your friends, even if your friends did have good intentions.

You resumed your meal, aiming to at the very least enjoy the food of your last ever welcome feast at Hogwarts.

***

All you knew about Blaise was what your parents and friends had told you.

He was a pure-blood, and the son of a beautiful witch who had been widowed seven times under suspicious circumstances and become richer every time. As far as you could tell, it was highly likely that one of these dead husbands was Blaise's father. Admittedly, it made you nervous to marry into such a family, so perhaps it was a good thing that Blaise was so unwilling.

But your mother had told you that you had nothing to worry about, as Ms. Zabini only ever married bad men, and used it as a means to eradicate them.

"A noble cause."

Still, you had the rights to be nervous.

"Back to school party tonight," Millicent bounced up to you and announced, "Just us Slytherins."

"A party?" you had forgotten that such an event existed, given the misery of the world.

"I mean, yeah, we all need a pick-me-up," she shrugged, "It'll be in the common room. Bring firewhiskey."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, but ultimately decided that drunkenness was just what the doctor ordered.

***

In your defence, you had started off slow with the drinks, mixing with lemonade and gradually sipping over a long period of time. However, once that system had (slowly but surely) gotten you drunk, all bets were off.

"Shots!" someone had shouted, and next thing you knew you were downing your sixth shot, after however many mixed drinks you had.

You stumbled away from the dancers to where some of your friends sat chatting, having the sudden feeling that you weren't too far away from passing out.

"Pansy..." you slurred, flopping on to the sofa next to her.

"Salazar, Y/N, how much have you drunk?"

Ignoring her question, you mumbled, "I feel amazing."

"A little self-control next time, yeah?"

You waved her off, no longer feeling like you were about to pass out so stumbling to your feet. You looked around the room with your eyes squinted, deciding that another drink was an excellent idea.

As you were on your way over - your friends calling after you - your vision became blurrier, until you bumped into a hard chest.

"What the fuck?" you cursed, narrowing your eyes and looking up at the person who inconvenienced you.

"Zabini," you muttered.

"Should you be getting another drink?" he asked.

You blanked him, "Does it kill you to be nice to me?"

He said nothing, biting on his inner cheek.

That was when the feeling of passing out returned, only this time in tenfold, making you drop forward. Your eyelids were heavy, you had to close them, and your body was heavy too, too much effort to remain stood up...

The only things you remember seeing after that were flashes of the stairs down to the dormitories - but you weren't walking, so how was that possible? And then throwing up in a toilet bowl, with your hair for some reason out of the way.

And then cushions, and quilt. But not yours: they smelled gorgeous, so you nuzzled your head into the scent and sighed dreamily.

***

When your eyes slowly peeled themselves open the next morning, your head was pounding and you were quite disoriented. Initially, you seemed to be tucked up in your own bed, but upon closer inspection you realised that the forest green decor was not in the usual place of the Slytherin seventh year girls' dormitories. In fact, this was a room that you had never seen before.

"You're up."

Your eyes shot towards the entrance to the connected bathroom, and every limb in your body froze as you laid eyes upon Blaise Zabini, already showered and dressed even though it was a Saturday.

"What- I-" you stuttered, sitting up in bed. You were relieved to see that you were still in the party clothes from the night before: you weren't opposed to a hook-up, but you would've liked to remember it.

"Relax," he sighed, "You blacked out last night. Carried you down here because I can't go down the girls' stairs."

You nodded slowly, trying to piece together the events, "Right..."

He said nothing, moving over to the dresser to spray a fragrance on his wrists. He truly was your typical classy rich boy. You took this opportunity to look around at the other beds in the room, seeing that the curtains were drawn around one in particular.

"Your beloved Pansy is in there."

Salazar, had she and Draco had sex while you were sleeping in the same room?

"At the very least they put a sound-proofing charm on," Blaise confirmed that thought, and you couldn't help but remark that this was the most he had ever spoken to you.

"Where did you sleep?" you had to ask.

This time, Blaise blanked you, his dark oak eyes void of emotion.

"Next to you," he eventually said, making your breath hitch. "Like we're not engaged, L/N," he scoffed, making you scowl.

"Since when have you acted like it?"

He didn't reply, and you decided that if you let it escalate to an argument, you might wake up the others. So, you forced yourself out of bed, picking up your shoes and leaving without another word.

Walk of shame, here you come.

***

Typically, if one of the girls in your dorm stumbled in the morning after a party in their clothes from the night before, there would be immediate questions of what happened and with who. But, when you entered your dorm, you were met with silence. Partially because half of the girls were still asleep, but mainly because the girls who were awake avoided looking at you.

Daphne was the only one forward enough to say something. "I saw Blaise carry you down."

To be fair, that would explain the lack of questions about hook-ups. They hadn't suspected that the two of you had sex. You simply hummed in response, just wanting to strip yourself of your clothes and makeup and crawl under your own duvet.

But Daphne still wasn't forward enough to ask if that meant your engagement had become a less cold one, as that would be entering the territory of the unspoken agreement to never mention the elephant in the room of Blaise's unwarranted disdain for you.

So, you were able to settle into a new slumber unhindered.

***

The party had been a pleasant but unfortunately temporary distraction from the miserable atmosphere that was Hogwarts. Learning the dark arts made you feel dirty, unclean - like you were announcing to the whole world that you were a death eater. You knew you weren't, and that you would never receive the Dark Mark, but you couldn't help but feel like a bad person.

You knew, however, that being a Slytherin meant the other houses looked at you with disdain, and also that many of your friends weren't entirely opposed to the Dark Lord's cause. It was something that made you sick to your stomach, yet you refused to voice these thoughts to anyone.

Not even Christmas could cheer you up, when before the colourfully decorated castle walls had filled you with a joy like no other. It didn't even feel like Christmas, it was as if all the saturation in the world had been lost, leaving behind a cold, dull grey hue. You had never been so sure of the fact that you would go home for Christmas than you were that year. At least your home wasn't shadowed by the rule of Voldemort, even if it was a tad cold and empty.

"I'll see you in the new year, yeah?" Daphne said to you, pulling you into a hug, "Have a good Christmas."

"You too," you returned the embrace, "And happy new year."

She smiled at you, and that was when you caught sight of Blaise in the corner of your eye. You hadn't spoken since the events of the Slytherin party, primarily because you had avoided him. But, he was walking towards you.

"Merry Christmas," he said monotonously, and Daphne took that as her cue to disappear.

"Merry Christmas," you said curtly back, picking up your trunk as you prepared to get off the train.

"Our families are having dinner together over the holiday."

You hesitated in your movements upon hearing that, but decided against replying, instead leaving him stood there with an expressionless face.

***

It wasn't that your parents didn't love you or care for you by any means, you knew that if you refused to marry Blaise Zabini they wouldn't disown you. But, they were raised with certain values and customs, and you had been raised into them as well. You wanted to make them proud - you just wished that the husband they had picked for you was a more willing participant in the arrangement.

So, when Blaise Zabini and his recently widowed (for the millionth time) mother arrived on your doorstep, the smile on your face wasn't entirely false. There were some truth to your emotions, despite the current state of the world.

"As you know, Blaise and Y/N are in their final year of Hogwarts," Ms Zabini spoke proudly once you were all sat around your dining table, "I believe it's time we start planning the wedding."

"I couldn't agree more," your mother replied, "It should be an elegant affair."

"That goes without saying."

You chewed on your lip.

"Y/N, what colour theme would you like?" your mother asked.

Your breath hitched, as you tried to scrape together a daydream of your dream wedding.

"Maybe pastel green?" you suggested timidly, "Since we're both Slytherins."

Ms Zabini nodded her head approvingly, "Is that agreeable to you, Blaise?"

The man shrugged, "Whatever Y/N wants."

"That makes things easy," the widow said, "It shall be a wonderful event."

***

After dinner, your collective parents had left you and Blaise to your own devices, suggesting that you show him your room. Part of you was surprised they were allowing a boy into your bedroom with no supervision, but you supposed some formalities were wavered due to your engagement to be married.

Blaise snorted when he entered your room: covered in moving posters and animated Lego sets, your four poster bed being pink and frilly with enchanted butterfly decor all around the wood.

"It's a bit mismatched," he said simply.

"It's home."

He raised an eyebrow at that, and silence consumed the both of you. The tension that hung in the air was thick, making you feel like you would go insane if you didn't say something.

"I'm not that bad, you know."

Blaise turned to face you from where he was sat at your desk, meanwhile you had perched on the end of your bed.

"I get that being tied to someone not of your choosing is a bit suffocating - believe me, I know - but you could make it easier for yourself by actually trying to get to know me."

"I do know you."

You rolled your eyes, "You know what I mean, Blaise," his first name was a foreign taste on your tongue, "You could have a worse wife than me."

He appeared to ponder your words for a while, stewing in the dampening tension of the atmosphere meanwhile you anxiously awaited his response. It was as if every action he took was intentional in making your nerves spike.

"The truth is, Y/N, I resent you."

You sat, stunned.

"My freedom to choose has been taken away from me."

Your blood boiled, making you stand up, "And I'm to blame for that? I'm in the same situation as you are, you knobhead."

He said nothing.

"I wasn't the one who made the decision. Stop acting like you're the only one here who's having a hard time."

Blaise went to open his mouth, but you carried on.

"Not to mention, there are people out there dying in the war right now," you vaguely gestured towards the window, "You should count your lucky stars that the biggest problem in your life is having to marry me!"

You scoffed, watching as he stared wide-eyed at you. After you realised he had nothing to say, you left the room to head down to the kitchens. Salazar, you needed a cup of hot chocolate after that whole ordeal.

***

The dark grey clouds cast a grim shadow over the once buzzing atmosphere of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and they only seemed to get gloomier by the day. It was all you could do to stand on the sheltered bridge as you watched rain pour down, even though it was meant to be Spring. The mood of the wizarding world had always had a strange effect on the weather.

Your gloveless fingers were beginning to grow numb in the cold, but you didn't move, nor make any attempt to warm them up. You just wish that you could say that your low mood was for something as selfless as the current danger muggle-borns were in. But, no, you were egotistically thinking about your own qualms - i.e. your upcoming wedding with a man who hardly looked your way.

Ever since the argument at Christmas, he had gone back to disregarding your existence, apart from the few occasions you would catch him staring at you when he thought no one was watching. Aside from that, both your mother and his were frequently owling you about decisions for the wedding, which was making the whole ordeal seem a lot more real than it did before.

"L/N," the last voice that you expected to hear called out from beside you.

Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to turn around, as if you were paralysed.

"You'll freeze to death out here," he spoke again, this time closer to you, "Everyone's wondering where you are."

Slowly, you turned your head to look at Blaise Zabini, your sallow eyes boring into his.

"They're looking everywhere for you."

"Tell them I'm fine," you eventually spoke.

"I don't think you are, though," he sighed, "You look like you're one minute away from hypothermia."

You shrugged, "Nothing magic medicine can't fix."

Blaise rolled his eyes, grabbing your hand, "Fuck, you're like ice."

That was when he started dragging you back to the castle, and you didn't have the energy to resist at all.

"What are you doing out here, anyway?"

You scoffed, "Like you couldn't guess."

He didn't reply to that statement, instead saying, "We're getting you warmed up."

He sat you in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room, wrapping a forest green blanket around you and placing a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hand. Your friends gathered around you, asking questions about where you had been and if you were okay, but you replied to none of them. Eventually, Blaise urged them all to give you space, letting out a sigh in the process.

Your heart twisted, and you attempted to suppress the pain by sipping on the drink.

It burnt your tongue.

"Careful," Blaise murmured, sitting on the sofa behind you.

You didn't even have the energy to scowl.

"We have our NEWTs soon, you have to take care of yourself."

That wasn't the only thing you had soon.

"You don't have to pretend like you care," you eventually forced out between chattering teeth.

You paused - waiting for him to say something. Anything. Part of you was praying to the gods above that he would say he wasn't pretending, that he did truly care. Instead, his silence was deafening, and your heart twisted and turned all that more. Why couldn't you just hate him?

Who would have thought it would be such a curse to have feelings for your fiancé?

***

Dust swarmed your senses, wrenching at your lungs and causing you to cough horrifically like you were a seasoned chainsmoker; you could barely see a metre ahead of you, and it was all you could do to shield your eyes with your arm as you progressed forwards. Through the crumbles and cracks, you could hear yells of Latin, thrown aggressively and with raw passion that had your blood spiking.

As far as you could tell, you were still in the dungeons - but you needed to get out of them, as they appeared on the verge of collapsing. You hadn't particularly engaged in any duels yourself, both because you were a coward, and because you lacked duelling skills. However, you had aided some students against the death eaters here and there on your progression through the castle.

You couldn't take a completely neutral stance like your parents.

You coughed harder, spluttering as your feet found stairs and began to climb up them - stumbling, but not falling.

"Help," a strained voice called out, making you assess the situation around you as best you could. As you inched further towards the left, you could make out the figure of someone stuck under rubble halfway up the staircase. You moved even closer.

"Blaise?" you croaked out.

A groan.

"Fuck," you mumbled, quickly muttering a spell to lift the rubble off of him. You saw the blood staining his clothes and gasped.

"It snapped my wand," he said, wincing as he tried to move.

You did your best to help him up, letting him rest his weight on your shoulders as you continued to push up the stairs.

"The dungeons are about to collapse," you said, carefully navigating your way around the corner once you finished the stairs.

"The whole-" he groaned, "-castle is."

You grimaced, "You need a healer."

But getting to the makeshift hospital ward without getting caught up in a duel would be quite a challenge. Then, it suddenly hit you.

"Which side are you on?" you quickly asked.

He scoffed, "Which side do you think? I'm still here." He then hunched over with an even louder groan than before, you swiftly moved to support his weight more.

Most Slytherin students who were either neutral or on the side of the death eaters had abandoned Hogwarts instead of staying to fight. You were a coward, but you would never have been able to forgive yourself if you had left. Instead, you found yourself stuck in the dungeons, some way, somehow.

"You stayed to fight," you murmured.

He went to say something, but another sharp pain coursed through him.

"Fuck," you cursed.

***

By some miracle, you reached the hospital ward with minimal further damage, and managed to get Blaise seen to instantly. You were amazed that they didn't question two Slytherin students being on their side, but you supposed it made sense: they were the good guys.

As you watched them take his shirt off to assess the damage, a glimmer of something against his chest caught your eye. It was connected to a thin silver chain that dangled around his neck, showing slight signs of wear and tear, implying he didn't even take it off when showering. When your vision cleared, you realised that the shimmery object along the chain was none other than the white gold band of green jewels that was the matching pair to the ring on your finger.

A lump caught in your throat, "You're wearing it," you choked out.

Blaise's eyes were shut, but he smiled tiredly, "Always."

Tears pricked at your eyes.

***

Eventually, what would be known as the infamous Battle of Hogwarts ceased fire: Lord Voldemort had fallen at the hands of Harry Potter. But there weren't cheers.

There was only devastation.

The wreck that the once majestic Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had become, and the subsequent deaths of thousands of kind-hearted people who had so much life to live. It was the epitome of bittersweet to watch people going around clearing up after the battle. You were grateful to be among the living, sat next to Blaise as he slept restlessly on a mat on the floor.

There wasn't really anyone else for you to talk to in the aftermath after all: Slytherins were quite isolated from the other houses, and hardly any Slytherins had stayed.

You allowed yourself the luxury of taking Blaise's hand in your own and squeezing it gently, letting a solitary tear cascade down your cheek. Was it relief? Was it hope? Was it happiness? Or was it sadness? Melancholia? Regret?

You didn't know, you simply allowed the feeling to wash over you.

"I didn't stay to fight," Blaise said out of nowhere, his voice gruff and quiet.

"Hm?"

"I stayed because you stayed."

Your heart jolted at his words, "Really?"

"Of course," he peeled his eyes open, "'Til death do us part."

You squeezed his hand again, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you act like you hated me?"

He sighed, appearing to be gathering as much energy together as he could, "I resented you, yes, but I- I was also scared of hurting you. You know what everyone thinks of my mother - that she's a-" he coughed, "-serial killer. Killing her husbands."

You admired his smooth face, despite its cuts and gashes.

"I was scared of becoming her, and I didn't want that to be your fate."

You reached out a hand to graze his prominent cheekbone, letting the tiniest of smiles tug at your lips.

"We'll be okay, Blaise," you murmured softly, "You're not like her."

He smiled slightly, wincing in the process. "No arranged marriages for our kids?"

You nodded, "No arranged marriages for our kids."

***

Your parents walked either side of you as you made your way down the grassy aisle, the summer heat blazing down on to the prettily flowered meadow. In your hands was a bouquet of white and pastel green peonies, and on your figure was a gorgeous princess ball gown that cost a small fortune. All your family and friends were stood up from their seats, gazing at your every move. Blaise, proudly stood at the altar in a black suit with a mint coloured waistcoat, was no exception. His eyes were trained into yours, making your heart flip tenfold.

Meeting him in front of the officiant, you passed your bouquet off to Pansy before allowing yourself to truly smile in your fiancé's presence. He took your hands into his and squeezed ever so slightly, as the officiant began to speak.

It felt like forever before the vows.

"I, Mr Blaise Zabini, promise to take Miss Y/N L/N to be my wife, and to love and cherish her, in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part."

He slipped the ring on to your finger, where it settled above your engagement ring.

The attention was then on you.

"I, Miss Y/N L/N, promise to take Mr Blaise Zabini to be my husband, and to love and cherish him, in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part." You pushed the larger ring on to his finger.

"I now, by the power vested in me, pronounce you husband and wife."

Blaise swooped down to kiss you warmly on the lips as cheers erupted from the crowd, and you found yourself smiling into his lips.

"I love you," he whispered. Words he had never spoken before.

"I love you too."

'Til death do us part.

—————————————

masterlist

written; 27/12/2023 —> 15/02/2024 published; 16/02/2024 edited; —/—/——

[echantedtoon]

Haishira Polycule Au Rambles P2

@lavenderdrxp

This is a more in depth drabble for this au and I've been thinking hard about it. This would most definitely take place in a modern au. College au if you will. All of the Haishira are majoring in what they would be teaching in Kimetsu Gauken Academy Minus a few people I switched around because it's an au and I have a few ideas.

Although the major difference would be that Shinobu is the one majoring in Chemistry/Sciences to become the chemistry teacher and Obanai is majority in medical/health and later becomes the schools nurse. No offense to Obanai it's just that I feel like Shinobu is a better fit for a chemistry teacher.

There is the main couples of:

Sanemi x Kanae

Mitsuri x Obanai 

Tengen x Wives 

Giyuu x Shinobu 

And Rengoku is single minus the Polycule.

(Debating on whether or not to add Gyomei)

Despite the main couples, they are all in a healthy polyamory relationship minus of course any Kanae x Shinobu (they're sisters you weirdos). Y/n is a daycare worker who works with Gyomei at the college's daycare where single parents who are students can drop off their kids while they attend classes for an extra small fee. Sanemi uses it a lot to help out his mom watch his youngest siblings while she's working, he's at college, and the older kids are at school. Still debating on whether adding Gyomei to the Polycule, but they become very good friends working at the daycare and he eventually introduced them to his friends/partners (if I decide to add him to the Polycule) when they visit him. 

Eventually Y/n will start casually dating either Rengoku or Gyomei (if I decide to add him). She's not sure about joining a polyamory relationship but she respects their already established relationship and they're not really in a relationship (yet-) it's just a date every few weeks or so. But slowly everyone else starts falling for her. First ones obviously being Rengoku and/or Gyomei as they're the ones who first meet her. 

Rengoku absolutely LOVES her. ADORES her even. This man knew from the start he wanted a big family so seeing her act so sweet to all the kids and Senjuro when he comes to visit him makes him swoon. He likes to see Y/n smile with so much kindness in her heart. He can't help but blush every time she gets over seeing the bruises from training at his father's dojo on the weekends.

Gyomei (again if I decide to add him -) like Rengoku also falls for her motherly sweet nature. He's blind. There's no way around it. He either likes or dislikes someone from hearing their voice and listening to their actions. He comes to love the way she sits in the play area and reads the children bedtime stories or sings the babies back to sleep when they wake up and how she giggles when this massive man lets the kids climb all over him. It puts a smile on his face that lasts for hours

The next two are surprisingly Sanemi and Kanae. 

Sanemi's baby siblings adore Y/n as she takes care of them in the daycare and that sparks Sanemi and Kanae into becoming friends with Y/n, and eventually fall for her motherly nature. Sanemi cannonically in Kimetsu Gauken respects women and little kids but most are really intimidated by his presence so meeting someone outside of those who know him great him fairly is a big part of him being able to connect to someone. Sanemi literally goes- "Oh no... She's cute" once he realizes his feelings.

Kanae is simple. She likes how nice and caring Y/n is. She likes how she treats her Sanemi. They both become fast friends. Both are sunshine friendlies and it's just a cute pairing. Especially if Sanemi gets flustered by both of them at once.

The next ones are Mitsuri and Giyuu. 

Mitsuri and Y/n get along quite well with one another and it doesn't take long for this sweetheart to fall for her. It helps that Y/n compliments her on how pretty she thinks her colored hair is, and how cool she thinks her strength is! Both are highly energetic and can bounce off one another easily.

Giyuu is often left out and a lot of people outside of his friends and family don't approach him, so imagine his surprise when not only does Y/n walk up to him on her own accord but is genuinely friendly and nice to him. It doesn't take long for him to fall for her sweet attitude and nature. He often visits frequently with Shinobu or one of their other partners/friends with him and watch him just stutter or try to give Y/n small gifts or just to talk to her. He doesn't have any other relationship this close other than Shinobu.

Tengen and his wives are all a package deal. He's very upfront about it too. This man will just go up to Y/n and straight up ask startling everyone else-

"Do you want to be our girlfriend?" "TENGEN!! WTF?! YOU ALREADY GOT THREE WIVES!!" "OH. Right. Right. I forgot. Let me change my question- Do you want to join our polycule?"

He says this in front of literally EVERYONE who gets very flustered and embarrassed about Uzui's bluntness except for Shinobu who gets annoyed instead and Kanae who just sighs and shakes her head. He likes what he sees. He likes how she treats his wives and friends/partners. This man has no shame in outright flirting with you and making his intentions clear compared to everyone else. Suma likes how you don't yell at her and calm her down through her emotions. Hinatsuru likes how calm and level headed Y/n is making her feel less crazy. Makio loves how instead of telling her to get over it, she understands her annoyance suggests doing something else to relieve the growing tension.

Shinobu and Obanai take the longest time to come around.

It's not that Shinobu dislikes Y/n. She's just not used to getting close to new people or opening up, but she does admit Y/n is a very nice and kind person to everyone and treats them all with equal respect. She does like how Giyuu is treated by her and that's good enough for her. She slowly falls for her as Y/n doesn't push her and instead respects her boundaries but remains friendly towards her. It takes much longer for her to fall for her compared to everyone else but she gets there.

Obanai actually falls under the same reasons as Shinobu. He's happy Mitsuri likes you and he respects how nice you are but does the same thing as Shinobu as Y/n respects his decisions. He likes how nice he treats him despite that slowly liking you too. But what really submits his affection is when she gifts him a medical mask from the daycare's first aid kid when his own mask breaks. She doesn't ask questions. She doesn't say anything. She doesn't make fun of him. She only quietly hands him the mask without questioning him on anything with a smile and not bringing it up again. That's it. That's all it takes. This boy is as smitten with you as his beloved Mitsuri is.

Ultimately though it's up to the reader to decide what happens.

[bakuettes]

Kill Bill

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒! : toxic!reader, toxic!bakugo, mentions of drugs, reader smokes, lots of cursing bc what’s a bakugo fic if he isn’t cursing????, slight infidelity?, alcohol consumption and lots of spelling errors 😭

Tonight you were supposed to chill out with Mina and Momo in the dorms but word got around that Jackson Wang was hosting a party at a frat house off campus..so obviously you got your ass up and put on the cuntiest outfit you could find in your closet. You had originally wanted to talk with your boyfriend (who’s not your boyfriend but everyone knows he’s your boyfriend) about what the hell you two even were. there would be days where you wouldn’t even get a text back, not a ‘hi sorry i’m busy’ or a ‘let’s talk later im in a training session with kirishima’ literally nothing.

You were fine with it, honestly. If he wouldn’t give you attention then there’s a whole campus of guys that would. It sounds terrible but you’ve learned that it is what it is and you’re on what he’s on. No way in hell would you ever beg for his attention.. at least not anymore. You looked good, you know you did. Tonight was supposed to be filled with good times and (bad decisions) fun memories. He said he was exhausted after hours of grueling training and that we’d talk tomorrow morning. So why is it that you see your boyfriend sitting on a couch outside the frat house with some girl whose name you don’t even know on his lap?

momo stopped all three of you in your tracks, glancing over at you. “y/n, we can always just leave? i’m sure another frat is hosting a party.” should you leave? it’s not like you haven’t seen this from him before. countless nights you spent crying, wondering why you weren’t enough for him to show some effort. fuck, you even wondered if he liked you at all. “what?! no way, why should y/n leave just because he doesn’t know how to keep it in his pants? we came to let loose!” mina disagreed with momo from the opposite side. he hasn’t noticed you guys from a far. sitting there with a red solo cup in his hand, man spreading for the whole block to see and looking as cocky as ever.

fuck no, you were not leaving. he no longer gets to ruin your fun. “it’s cool momo, we’re not leaving. i want to have fun and drink a little before exams start kicking our ass next week.” she looked at you a little unsure but started walking in the direction of the house once more. mina cheered with a shit-eating grin on her face, happy that you chose to stay. walking with a little more confidence in your step, you made your way up the lawn and straight to katsuki. you pursed your lips, faking a look of understanding “exhausted huh? yeah, i’d be exhausted too entertaining all these other bitches. it must get hard trying to keep count, no?”

there was something about seeing him with another girl on his lap that made you want to crash the fuck out. sure you’d hear stories of him jumping from girl to girl while you two were on breaks. a break doesn’t mean you’re completely over, a break mean you two put a pause on your relationship. you still expected loyalty and trust but even that was wishful thinking. the girl was sat on his lap, arm around his neck, giving you a one over. she looked (in the nicest way possible) cheap and tacky. not because she wore the smallest dress known to man but because of the way she carried herself. she had a look of arrogance and a serious case of lash blindness. you were not a bully by any means. you got along with majority of the girls on campus, always gave out hero advice or fashion advice. you’d lend your lip gloss to girls you’d meet in bathrooms if they asked. you truly loved the feeling of having so many friends who can lean on you and vice versa.

But what you hated most were girls who thought that they were superior to others. ones that didn’t respect boundaries OR relationships. you hated this girl.

the smile fell off his face once he heard your voice, probably thinking that you were at the dorms in bed. “y/n, what the fuck are you doing here?” he has such a punchable face, fortunately for him you never believed in putting hands on your significant other. the audacity of him to question you when he was the one who lied? “what the fuck am I doing here? no, what the fuck are YOU doing here? you said you’d be asleep but you’re at a party and laid up with some girl on top of that? you have no right to question me.” you scoff, looking them up and down. you said you wouldn’t let this ruin your night and it won’t. if he wants to act single then you could too. momo and mina follow behind you, throwing dirty looks at both of them. “you ever heard of girl code? bakugo will drop you as soon as y/n calls his name.” momo says and drags mina inside. tonight you’re gonna let loose and let go.

______________________________________________________

𝐚/𝐧 !! okay so this hasn’t been proof read so there may be mistakes but let me know how you like it so far!

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (53)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, violence, character death ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

As soon as her husband walked into their chamber she knew something was wrong – she could see it in his gaze, in his tense jaw, his hands clenched into fists. He wasn't looking at her and that was a bad sign. She rose from the chair and put her book down on the table next to her, walking slowly towards him.

"What is it?" She asked uncertainly. He didn't answer her, his lips tightened into a thin line, his gaze fixed somewhere in front of him in worried thought.

"Aemond."

"Aegon wants to marry your sister." He said coldly.

She froze and burst into sudden, uncontrollable laughter that horrified both her and her husband. She shook her head in disbelief feeling like she was about to throw up, clasping her hand over her womb.

No. He could not be such a fool.

"That's impossible. Royce would never agree." She said with certainty. Her husband snorted at her words.

"My grandfather didn't agree either. He is no longer Hand of the King." He said with emphasis on the last sentence, throwing her a menacing look.

She felt herself faint and grabbed onto the pillar of their bed. Her husband approached her quickly, frightened by her condition, holding her arm, helping her sit up.

"What are we going to do now? This is ridiculous. I need to speak with Floris." She mumbled, feeling the realisation of what Aegon wanted to do crush her more and more with each passing second.

"No. I have spoken to Helaena. I believe she will talk Aegon out of this idea." He said, forcing himself to be calm, and she looked at him in disbelief.

"Why must she always be the one to suffer for us? Why should she have to beg the man who caused her so much harm?" She asked in pain, her husband's lips tightening at her words.

"This is about the safety of her children and my nephews." He said coolly. "If she fails, I will have to deal with the matter."

Determined.

She lifted her gaze to him slowly, feeling a shudder at the sound of his words, the way he said them.

Cold, firm, calculating.

"What are you planning?" She asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer. She saw that he swallowed with difficulty and moved away, heading towards the lit fireplace.

"Don't think about it."

They spent the rest of the day together being as if in limbo – her husband didn't come out for his scheduled training even though it was his daily routine.

She thought he was making sure she didn't meet Floris.

Since she was staying in the Red Keep, Aegon had decided that she would take her old chamber, as she was actually living in his brother's room.

She was furious, but there was nothing she could do.

It frightened her how desperate Aegon was, how easily he allowed himself to believe that having her sister as his wife would make him happy in any way.

She didn't understand how he could be so blinded, why he clung so tightly to the vision that he could find love by force where there was none.

She hid her face in her hands at the thought.

In the morning, Lyanna came to comb her hair as she did every day – a smile was painted on her face, which surprised her; since Floris' appearance, the whole of the Red Keep had lived in constant suspense. She glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.

She squirmed in her husband's arms all night – she felt that he too was awake, merely lying with his eyes closed.

She knew that his thoughts were once again engulfed in darkness and she feared what lurked in the recesses of his mind.

"Has something happened? Did you meet a nice boy?" She asked lightly, and the girl smiled wider, a blush on her face as she wove more curls of her dark hair together.

"No, my Lady. But we all rejoice, for the Queen has spent the night in the King's chamber for the first time in months. They are now eating morning meal together." She said lightly. She and her turned towards her in shock, only to cast communicative glances at each other a moment later.

She felt an unpleasant shudder at the thought.

Was he hurting her again?

She and her husband had been tense all morning, waiting for any news, however, to their surprise, Helaena had not left Aegon's chamber. They were surprised when, after some time, a servant entered their quarters announcing that the King wished to see her.

"Me?" She asked uncertainly, feeling a tightness in her throat. Her husband clenched his jaw and turned his head away, furious.

"You don't have to do it. I'll go there." He said, moving towards the door, but she stood up and stopped him with a gesture of her hand.

"No. I can manage." She said and nodded to the servant that she was ready.

She looked intensely at Helaena wanting to recognise any signs of suffering or harm that might be coming to her, but her face was calm and content.

As she stepped into the chamber she saw Aegon and Helaena sitting behind the table – they were discussing something quietly leaning towards each other.

Only after a moment did she see Royce sitting on the other side, looking at her with the same confused look.

What was happening?

Helaena stood up seeing her puzzled, concerned look and pointed with her hand to the seat in front of them.

"Sit down, please. Do not fret." She said softly and she nodded, trusting her completely.

She sat in the chair next to his brother, watching them with her heart pounding hard. Aegon looked at his wife and then at her, fiddling with the ring on his finger.

"We need your advice." He began suddenly, and she blinked, feeling that she was holding her air with stress, and looked uncertainly at Royce.

We?

"My words said in the chamber of the Small Council were hasty and caused by my confusion, however, they were not announced officially. I know that my decisions have brought great harm to your family and your name, for which I wish to make amends. I want to give your sister in marriage."

She looked at him with a blank stare, wondering if she had understood correctly.

I want to give your sister in marriage.

Has he changed his mind?

She lifted her gaze to Helaena, her face calm and gentle.

What had she done to him?

Did she threaten him with something?

She swallowed loudly and shuddered when she heard her brother's voice.

"The kind who want to be indebted to the King. Most of them are not after their lady-wife's maidenhood, they are after influence. I can provide it. I plan to make my brother the Hand of the King, and his position on the council will become vacant. Your sister's future husband could occupy it." He said calmly, and she twisted in her seat, feeling the sweat on her neck, not believing what she was hearing.

"You shamed her and made her your whore. She is not without fault, but what self-respecting lord will want her?" He snorted impatiently and angrily.

Aegon pressed his lips together at his words and nodded, adopting an attitude of humility that shocked her.

I plan to make my brother the Hand of the King.

Silence fell, she and Royce looked at each other quickly, all tense.

She could see that her older brother was thinking the same thing despite his rage.

It was a good offer.

A very good one.

There was no other option.

Royce lowered his gaze and slowly nodded.

"Yes. That will be the best solution to this unfortunate situation." He said through clenched teeth, struggling to force himself to be calm. Aegon nodded, pretending not to see it, and lifted his gaze to one of his servants.

"Bring Lady Floris."

She looked curiously at her older sister's face as she walked into the King's chamber, evidently thinking that he wished to spend time with her in private again, and saw the whole assembly.

Aegon grunted quietly, looking down at his fingers intertwined on the table in front of him.

She saw her pupils narrowed in fear and uncertainty, saw her turn pale and stop suddenly, swallowing loudly.

She felt an immense amount of satisfaction and power at this sight, knowing what was about to happen.

"My Laddy, I wish to apologise to you in the presence of the head of your House and your sister for the wrongs I have done you." He began, Floris looked at him in disbelief, her breathing quickened in horror. "I promised you that I would erase your disgrace by taking you as my wife, but I cannot do so. Me and my wife have jointly concluded that I must now unite our subjects, not divide them, and this event would surely turn many against us."

He said avoiding her gaze – Floris was breathless all over, the realisation of what was about to happen to her slowly beginning to enter her mind.

She felt her face express calm contentment.

"Me and your brother have decided to marry you off to a lord equal to you in status, one to whom marriage will not hurt your honour." He said calmly, and Floris swallowed loudly, hard.

"Who will want me now that the whole kingdom knows you have taken me to your bed?" She asked in a trembling voice, apparently wanting to save herself by arousing remorse in him. Aegon twisted restlessly in his chair.

"That is all? You promised me. You told me you loved me." She mumbled. Aegon looked at her impassively.

"Anyone I make a member of the Small Council in return. That is already decided. I will leave the choice to your brother and with him consult on the matter. That is all." He said and nodded at her.

Floris laughed at his words, but she could feel the desperation in her voice.

"I love four women. My mother, my sister, my daughter and my brother's wife. Unfortunately, you are not like the last one enough, although I had hoped otherwise."

Floris looked at her with wide-open eyes, the corner of her mouth twitching in a gasp of disbelief.

Did she really think that he had chosen her because he was fond of her?

That something about her captured him?

She watched with amusement as her sister struggled to understand what had actually happened, that she was merely a substitute for his fantasy of her, her sister, nothing more.

"Nevertheless, my Queen's opinion is most important to me." He said and looked at Helaena in a way from which she swallowed silently, unsure if she was really seeing it.

He looked content and calm, something had changed between them.

Something had happened.

She thought Helaena had not threatened him with anything at all.

Could it be that they had somehow communicated?

Her heart struck harder at that thought with a kind of hope.

Floris walked out of his chamber like a storm, but no one stopped her. Aegon grunted, glancing at Royce uncertainly.

"Lord Greyjoy demands that you take his granddaughter as your wife in the Great Sept in King's Landing." He said uncertainly, fiddling with his fingers, clearly afraid to test her brother's patience. Royce swallowed quietly at his words.

"So it's all settled."

"I know, she told me about it herself. Since I'm here, so be it." He said indifferently, looking to the side.

Her lips tightened at the thought of them speaking, and she didn't even have a moment to ask him what he thought of her. Aegon nodded.

She and Royce left the king's chamber together, shocked and uncertain, walking through the cloisters together, analysing what had happened. She was snapped out of her reverie by her brother's low voice.

"She is intelligent. Reena. That's her name." He said calmly, and she looked at him quickly feeling her heart pounding.

Reena.

"It's a fine name." She said quietly, playing with her hands, involuntarily stroking her slightly rounded abdomen. "What do you think of her?"

She asked, and Royce shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know how I should behave on our wedding night. What do you think?" He asked, and she swallowed loudly, the noise of the conversations of servants and ladies of the court all around them.

"She knows what she wants. She wishes to fulfil her grandfather's will and she has come to terms with what is to happen, albeit with difficulty. She said she's relieved now that she sees I'm not an empty, rich lord caring only about fine robes and rings. I think I'm relieved too." He confessed, pressing his lips together.

She could see that he was tense, that he himself no longer knew what he thought of this marriage.

"Ask her what she desires." He said calmly, her brother snorting at her words.

"What if she tells me not to touch her? Without that, our marriage won't be fully valid." He said visibly torn internally, his voice trembling at his last words. She swallowed quietly.

"It would be better for you to take her later than by force." She said dryly. Royce looked at her out of the corner of his eye, anxious, tense.

"No. But we both later regretted that our first time was not different. However, we made amends after he took me as his wife a second time, in the tradition of Old Valryia." She said, a smile appearing on her face at the thought. Royce looked at her uncertainly and grunted.

"…did your husband take you by force?" He asked uncertainly.

She noticed that he hadn't used his title, his disrespect towards him after still feeling pain in his heart that their father had died for him.

She looked at him with tired eyes.

"He must be really attached to you, if he wanted to marry you a second time." He said thoughtfully. She laughed under her breath and stroked his arm.

"We have both matured into our roles." She said softly, feeling a warmth in her lower abdomen at the thought. She suggested he eat supper with them, but he said he needed to rest.

She wondered if he would go to see Reena.

When she walked into their chamber her husband stood up immediately, tense, approaching her quickly. She saw how pale he was, his hands clenched into fists.

"Speak." He said, clearly thinking he didn't have time to form full sentences. She sighed loudly at his words.

"What?"

"I don't know what Helaena did to him, but he's going to marry Floris off to some lord in exchange for your seat on the Small Council, and make you Hand of the King." She said calmly, herself not believing what was coming out of her mouth.

He blinked as if he didn't understand what she said and he shook his head, laughing with forced amusement.

"He invited me and Royce. Helaena was at the conversation. He told us his plan, and then he summoned Floris and announced his will to her. It's over." She said touching his cheek. He tightened his eyelid and laid his forehead on her shoulder, his body slowly beginning to relax.

"If Helaena hadn't… if it hadn't worked out and he hadn't changed his mind…"

"… I know." She said, not wanting him to finish, her hand running through his hair.

Her husband needed to relax and quickly found comfort in her arms, sitting up together with her and letting her ride him, his face snuggled between her breasts, both of them panting loudly. He whispered her name responding with deep, sure thrusts to the rolling of her hups, his fingers clenched on her sweaty back.

"– I'm here, my love –" She whispered kissing the top of his head, stroking his hair with her hands, lifting and falling onto his fat erection with a sticky, loud clicks of her moisture, his length pushing her walls apart with each of his thrusts, the heat intensifying in her lower abdomen.

"– it's all right now – it's okay, my love, fill me with your seed –" She whispered feeling him hold back for her, his manhood pulsing greedily. He came with a loud, helpless moan at her words, panting heavily, trying to melt into one with her, seeking refuge in her arms.

She kissed his hair and stroked his head until he calmed down, and then she came having him still deep inside her from the lazy strokes of his thumb around her puffy bud.

She gently freed herself from the embrace of her husband sleeping a strong, deep sleep and moved silently barefoot towards the door. She ran across the cold stone floor to the chamber next to them and was surprised to find that the door to her quarters was ajar.

Even though everything had resolved in her favour, she wriggled in his arms, unable to fall asleep – unintentionally, she kept thinking about Floris, about what had happened.

She thought she wanted to confront her, to tell her everything she thought of her.

She thought she deserved it.

She felt a squeeze at the thought that Aegon was still visiting her.

That he had not changed at all.

Her eyes were wide open, her mouth parted.

She quietly walked closer and looked inside – there was no candle burning in the room and it was completely dark, nor did she hear any sound. She walked inside slowly, approaching her bed unhurriedly, seeing that she was alone.

She wanted to touch her arm to wake her, but when she noticed her body in the moonlight, she froze.

Her throat slit.

She ran out immediately thinking whoever had done this to her sister was still there and ran ahead following the cries, heedless of the guards who rushed up as she did. The screams led her to Helaena's chamber, who was kneeling in the dark rocking back and forth, something small that looked like a doll lying in front of her.

She felt herself begin to tremble all over, only now realising that the black spots around her body were not shadows, but blood.

Her breath caught in her throat and she couldn't move for a moment, frightened, she jumped when she heard a loud, almost inhuman scream in the distance.

And then she realised.

It was her son.

Her daughter was trembling all over, hugging her mother, who was looking ahead with absent eyes.

"– good gods – Helaena –" She stammered, looking around fearfully to see if whoever had done that was anywhere in the chamber.

"– we have to get out of here, please –" She said walking towards her, grabbing her arm but she didn't move.

"I came to check on the children and saw him. He said: I came to take your beloved stag and beloved dragon. That this was the price the Queen had set. He cut his throat. He didn't even make a sound." She whispered looking at the white-haired boy lying in front of her, stroking his hair, her whole hands dirty with blood.

She tried to stop the bleeding.

Aegon and her husband came running over a moment later hearing the commotion – he grabbed her in his arms asking her what had happened, what she was doing here. Aegon stepped down beside Helaena and dropped to his knees – for a moment he just stared at what had happened with his mouth wide open.

He whined loudly, sobbing, pressing his face into his son's shirt.

Her husband, when he noticed this, froze, his hands clenched on her body so tightly that it caused her pain, but she thought nothing of it.

I came to take your beloved stag and beloved dragon.

The assassin acting on Rhaenyra's behalf was mistaken.

He thought she was asleep in her chamber.

He mistook her for Floris.

_____

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @tempt-ress @ahristata @menaosama @queenofshinigamis @dark-night-sky-99

[lovelybeesthings]

Quick like a bunny Ch 2

Coriolanus Snow x reader

Warnings: none I think

Word count: 1.8k

Ch 1 & 3

Mansion

Why did he have to say such hurtful things all I’m trying to do is to care for him is that not enough? What does Lucy Grey have that I don’t she's a poor tribute form that distracts 12 from what he's doing he can end up killed or hanged! *I cry into my pillows as I try to find a way to release my feelings and emotions as tears find a way to escape from my sniffs and efforts push them away* “Yvanna dear come down for dinner!” *I hear my mother call as I get up in my pink pastel long puffy Lacey dress with my hair in curls*

Training

The next day I attended the Academy sitting threw my classes and lessons with focus but I couldn't help but look at Coriolanus his beauty his curls his looks- I stopped myself from looking and continued to focus on ways to take advantage of the games. As the lesson soon ended I came across my tribute as we practiced one-on-one trying to think of how I could better his odds even though he has the brown I would like to give him the brain.

I shortly walked away to get some Items to see how Reaper works with them and I soon came across a tribute his features were beyond what I'd seen from the Capitol his eyes sea green, his hair bronzed color his skin the color of gold if possible whatever he came from they had been keeping him well.. I felt a rush of warmth from my cheeks this tribute quickly noticed my luring eyes. “Fenwick Odair District 4” his smile was a bright pure one he knew he was handsome and showed it* “Did I scare you little bunny?” he said as I quickly regained my thoughts and answered “No, I was just impressed I believe you have a good chance of winning I think the odds are surely more in your favor” he looked at me hand on his chin smirking “That so little bunny?” “Better watch out then this bunny is quick” I smile as I flirt a bit with him and quickly return to Reaper to continue our training.

Unnoticeable to me Coriolanus was watching our interactions on his way to Dr. Volumnia's lab he felt his heart clench with bitter thoughts surfaced in his head what did he do to that tribute from District 4- no what did he think he was here to learn more knowledge to find a better way for Lucy to better her odds for his odds.

After hours

I spent my time brushing my silky (c/h) as it didn't have any tangles or any worries in my long healthy hair as I think about my encounter with Fenwick his love is his charms make me blush still, I hope he wins the game is know I should try to win but Id like to spend more time with him.

I heard a sudden knock on my door and I got up from my vanity in my pink lacey nightgown opened the door got my candle lamp to see who had visited my room in such late hours Maye a maid “y/n” Coriolanus speaks I'm shocked to see him here this light at night “what happen why are you home are you alright is Tigris okay?” I say confused and worried soon his cold hands reach my face and hold my chin I look completely lost to his sudden affection.

He pushes his way inside my room and preps me down on my bed I'm blushing and not sure what he's planning to do “What are you doing Coriolanus?” I say as his piercing blue eyes look at mine like a wolf looking at a poor rabbit to slaughter in minutes, his response was his lips on mine I'm surprised I mean this man was my fiance but he never really showed me an ounce of affection like that and since our last words, I wasn't sure he wanted to be in my life.

I respond with his kisses as he’s on top of me vulnerable to his lips how could I shut him down his mop of white blinding curly hair he just does it for me though in the back of my mind I think of Fenwick and gently push snow off “what are you doing..?” he looks at me a bit surprised and confused “What do you mean y/n I'm showing my affection and love for you” he looks at my eyes then lips then back up to my lips “No this doesn't feel right you don't….Are you okay this doesn't seem like something you think about clearly” I know I want his attention and his kisses but it feels like he's thinking of someone else..not someone Lucy..

“You don't want this you think you do but you love her..” I say “Right now you don't know what you want to be what makes you happy” *I say as I hold a smile and angle face holding tears back pushing the one I want to be happy “Lucy will cherish you as much as I will” he nods and slips out of my room my house like he was never even there the only reaches left were the stolen kisses of mine.

How do we think about this chapter? Is it good for your guys' standards I'll try to make the third one a time skip to after what goes down in the book and snows return back to the Capitol.

please like 😘

SHOUTOUT TO @edb954 for some of the inspiration and @watercolorskyy

[dangerkittenclaws]

plight of pandora pt2

johnny x simon x reader

word count: 2k!

warnings: hospital setting, barely there violence, brain injury, memory loss, swearing, fluffy ending, eventual poly smut - MDNI +18

a/n: woohoo, chapter 2! sorry for the long wait - i have little time that i get to myself these days, but i promise they'll keep coming!

In the helicopter, the medic was inserting an IV into your arm.

“-az? Where’s Gaz?” you slur a bit.

“He’s right behind you.” Price reassures you.

“I’m here. You’re doing so good, Panda.” You feel Gaz put a hand on your hip. You try to look over to him.

“I…’m sorry ‘bou the mission.”

Price answers for him, “It’s done and over with, don’t worry about that now Sergeant.”

“You heard the Captain.” Gaz smiles at you softly, ending all arguments from you.

Kyle is your buddy. You had met and gotten close to him first when you joined the 141. He had introduced you to everyone on base, accompanied you to trainings and sat next you in the mess hall until you were comfortable and had found your place. You learned quickly how to banter back and forth with him and the rest of the guys. Now you were ruthless and smart with your retorts, the worst of all of them.

You squeeze your eyes closed as the helicopter hits a bit of turbulence. It's the one thing you weren’t exactly fond of, flying. Your head pounds again. You can feel the blood in your brain pulsating from the beat of your heart. If the guys hadn’t reassured you, you would have thought your skull was exposed. Gaz’ hand squeezes over your hip again. You’re sure he was frowning without having to look.

“I’m going to give you some morphine, okay?” the medic says to you. “It might make her a bit sleepy but nothing too strong for now until we touch down.”

You weakly nod in appreciation.

You can feel a small flash of cold run through your arm from the saline flushes he uses. Its almost enough to make you shiver.

You realize there should be two more bodies in the helicopter. Your eyes shoot open to look down at your feet. There they are. Johnny and… that other man.

Johnny is watching you like a hawk, eyes full of shadowed panic. 

He reaches out to you, “20 more minutes, lass, it’ll be over.” He knows you hate flying, more so probably in a prone position.

You try to focus on the other man as if he was going to disappear. He’s looking down at his clasped hands that are resting in between his knees. He looks like someone important. He looks sad. Because of me?

Your eyes start to feel heavy again but it feels different. It's not on your brains accord this time.

You glance at Price, asking silent permission to close them. You still don’t remember the man sitting at your feet. You don’t remember the mission. You barely remember your expertise. You’re scared that if you let yourself close your eyes you won’t remember anything.

You wake up to a barely lit room. It's easy on your head. Two black shadows are sitting next to you.

You instantly panic. They were surely the enemy waiting for you to wake up, waiting to interrogate you.

Your heart can’t help but speed up and it's heard clearly on the monitor next to you. You’re giving yourself away!

Your brain doesn't respond to your berating, only panicking more.

Oh fuck, one of them is moving slowly.

You hold your breath, maybe they’ll think you're still asleep and spare you.

They come closer to touch your wrist.

Your fist reacts before your brain can comprehend it.

“The fuck?” It says. The other figure jerks.

“Huh? Panda, it’s okay. It’s okay. Simmer down lass. It’s just us.” This one gets up fast.

The light blinds you. This is where they torture you, you’re sure. 

You feel a warm hand on your face as well as tears. Again?

You open your eyes, scared to know the truth.

Oh.

It’s Johnny…and the man. He’s holding his chin over his balaclava. Shit, did you really hit the guy?

You wonder if they ever separate. Are they.. together?

Wait. Aren't you together with Johnny? You think hard about it. Maybe?

“Bonnie, you alright?”

“She checked me and you’re asking how she feels?” The man says laughing. At least he isn't angry.

“I.. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Tears wet your face. The man walks back over to you. You feel guilty when he doesn’t touch you.

“I know, baby. It’s okay. I thought you were having a nightmare.”

“No.. I mean, yes, kind of?” You weren’t dreaming but it wasn’t real.

“Looks like someone is awake. Nice to meet you, Pandora. I’m Doctor Halverson, sounds like you’re a little confused,” A tall gentleman walks in taking careful control of the room.

You nod, surveying him as best as you can.

“Your brain CT scan shows that your head caught your fall pretty good, here, you’ve concussed and ended with a brain injury.” He points to the black and gray image on the computer screen he’s pulled up. 

“Brain injury?” Johnny starts up.

“These things can be tricky with what you remember and what you don’t - but usually you will regain everything within the next few months. I’m going to send in a neurologist to have him go over some things to do and look out for. In the meantime, your wounds seem to be on the right track, your team did an excellent job.” 

Simon's face falters, but quickly resumes his usual schooled expression. He glances at Johnny for reassurance.

“Will I… remember everything? I’ll be better?”

“Normally yes, we’ll put you on some medication to help cognitive function first, see how you do with that before we start anything else.” 

You incline in agreement, trying to wrap the neurons in your brain around a situation that’s floating away.

Soon, you’re being taken carefully back to the condo the three of you share near the base. Johnny, Simon, and you.

It makes you nervous even though you know that the old you was comfortable here, living with two men. You had learned when you were in the hospital that indeed, you all were in a relationship. You weren’t opposed to the idea, they were after all, very attractive men. Simon, you learned, told you that they would take everything slow and make you comfortable as possible, to take it a day at a time.

“How about ordering in for a movie night, lass?” Johnny suggests, setting his and your bag down by the door as he toes his shoes off.

“Sure.” you say. It’s not really a wholehearted response. You’re tired of thinking and you want the decisions made for you.

Like he knows, Simon comes over and gently puts his hands atop your shoulders and starts to move them in a magical way that makes you slump into him slightly. You can hear the smile in his voice, “Sit down, love, you just try to relax for now.”

You nod again and sit down on the couch, sitting in the middle, not knowing that it was your favorite spot and had been molded to your frame over time.

“How about that little Indian place down the road? They have your favorite - butter chicken.” You glance back at him, brows drawn. 

The confusion comes first, you don’t remember that. You don’t remember your first time having that delicious dish with the two of them on your third date. 

Anger now heats up in your belly. Your glance turns into a cold glare, and again before you can properly breathe, you’re standing up, going into what you hope is the bathroom and slamming the door. Was he not in the room when the doctor uttered the words brain and injury? 

Your anger simmers as you look up to yourself in the mirror. The moment your eyes reflect back, they fill with tears. Defeat replaces anger quickly within you. Your mind swirls with flashes of moments you assume were once important and meaningful. 

“Panda, I’m sorry, please, I didn’t realize,” Johnny pleads behind the door. You can hear Simon whispering to him, telling him to give you space. You send a silent thank you to him and shut your eyes.

Breathing out, you turn the shower handle over and start to strip. You at least remember how to do basic tasks. Just don’t ask me to name parts of a gun or how the three of us met.

Your shower is as nearly as hot as it would go, turning you pink as you scrub your skin as if underneath the layers would be some sort of recollection. Your tears had long washed away, but the bitterness you felt lingered on your tongue. You realized you still had a bandage covering your abdomen. It wasn’t big, but the bruising around it was a hideous shade of purple.

The water finally turned frigid and goosebumps appeared on your skin. You took a deep breath and let it out, trying to breathe out the last few days of stress along with it. Opening the shower curtain, you see clean sweatpants, a tanktop and panties folded neatly on the counter. You grab a towel from the hook and dry off well before peeling off the wet bandage and replacing it with a new one from the box that was set behind your clothes. Eagerly, you put on the comfortable items. The sweatpants were a size too big, you noticed, just like you liked them.

You open the door to smell the warm, spicy aroma coming from past the living room. You inhale, trying to savor it, hoping it gets locked away in an active brain cell for later.

“There she is. Make yourself a plate, baby.” Simon looks to you from the couch, the two of them already half-way through with their own. Johnny looks down to his plate and back up to you, giving you a sweet, shy smile. You return it with a small upturn of your lips, granting him forgiveness even though you know it was really your own doing and hope he understands.

You’re grateful for the chance that Simon gives you to do things yourself. You nonchalantly pile your plate high with rice, rich and saucy chicken, and warm naan and make your way to the middle of the couch. 

You arrange yourself to sit cross-legged as Johnny turns on House, MD. You do remember that. It’s your favorite TV show. It’s just engaging enough to watch intently but you’d seen it plenty of times to let it play as background noise if need be. You give him a big genuine smile this time, “I do remember this, though, Johnny… thank you.” 

You feel less like a stranger tonight as you get settled in between the two of them and start to eat. Hours pass into the night with light conversation; some added blankets and a few episodes later, the three of you cuddle into each other like any other night. You lay on Johnny’s chest with your feet over Simon’s lap. The darkness behind your eyes gets heavier by the minute as does the fear in your heart. You start to anxiously rub your feet together until Simon puts his hand over them.

A few minutes pass by as you fidget until you give up your words.

“What if.. What if I don’t remember it all? What if I don’t remember you or my job or-” you whisper, breaths coming quickly now. Johnny instantly sits up a bit bringing you along with him. “Bonnie, it’s not going to come in an instant. I know you want it to. I know you’re scared but you heard the doctor. It’s going to be a minute and we’re going to be here with you every step of the way.” Your breath hitches at his first words, anxiety running through you. His hand rubs your back up and down in an effort to get your breathing calmer.

“Johnny’s right love. It’s not going to hit you like a mack truck one day. It’ll be bits and pieces until the puzzle is back together. I promise, my Panda.” Simon lifts your chin up to look you in the eye, and wipes away tears that had escaped. You fall in love with his lips again as he speaks to you, you remember them from the night he stitched you up. 

You acquiesce and Johnny lays you back down on top of him. Your eyes start to close again and you reach out to grab his forearm and bring it to your chest. You are far too tired to remember, but you had always slept with your hands around his arm, snug against your chest. 

Taglist: @glossysoap, @bookobsessedram, @ohworm-writes

[namjoonscoffeeshop]

Karmic Soulmates | JJK

Chapter 2

✧ Pairing:Jeon Jungkook x reader ✧ warning(s): explicit language, knife/gun use, violence ✧ word count: 3.1k

prev | next

You bit into the sandwich, the room was lit from the fireplace as you sat next to namjoon who just stared at the flames. "I could get you another blanket " he says not bothering to look at you. 

"I'm fine" you were already wearing jungkook's hoodie and had two heavy blankets on you another one would make you start sweating for sure. "How much longer" he says to jungkook who was studying the parts he had already drawn. 

His method was intense, he didn't pass the entire map into one paper. Instead he drew it by parts in different sheets, this could be confusing to anyone since only he would know the right order of the papers this way no one else will be able to have a copy. 

glancing at the man who was standing next to the fire place as he stared at the sheets of paper in his hand, with his nonchalant face he looks up at my brother "I memorized a good part of it already" he folds the sheets in his hand as he pulls the mantel away from the fire place throwing the sheets into the flames. 

"You better have memorized it" you glare at him "If you forget part of it or fuck up don't come looking for me once I leave. I'm serious" he couldn't help but chuckle at you're threats "Don't worry I was trained for this, trust me"

"as long as you trust yourself, I don't care" taking in the last part of your meal you stand up "lets do the next part, the suns almost up. I want to be out of here before tonight" 

maybe I should grab the rest of my savings and move, buy a new place somewhere else where not even they will find me. move from country? sitting on the stool once more I chuckle to myself like a mad person, move from country? I'm getting ahead of myself for sure.  turning on the lights once more, they shut the blinds and jungkook begins to work on copying down the next part. 

It was almost 8pm when jungkook propped himself off the fireplace and moved the mantel once more tossing the papers into the flame. "finally" I sigh in relief, I was starting to get a cramp on my leg from sitting there all day since I told them we couldn't have breaks anymore. 

"I don't understand something" jin speaks up from the sofa where he was sleeping just a while ago. 

"what it is" namjoon was rubbing his temple clearly tired. 

"she said we had to get rid of her map, how the fuck do we get rid of that" he points at me with a raised brow as if he really thought I was a crazy person or probably just stupid. and it had slipped my mind that I had told them that, in truths I really wanted them to forget because what I had in mind...I don't think they'd agree. 

after my legs adjusted to standing again I walked towards the fireplace, my hand still covering my front as I held my shirt tightly against me. picking up the flatter piece of the poker sets I move the mantel, pressing the end of the stick into the flames. As the end shined a glit of redness I turned towards my brother and extended the handle to him "keep your promise" in a daze he grabs it and stares at me in disbelief. 

rolling up a towel that was thrown aside I roll it up and place it between my teeth. "woah woah what the fuck" jin shrieks and stares at namjoon with widen eyes "you aren't planning to go through with this are you" he yells. jungkook was shocked nonetheless, "are you crazy, we can find another way..i'll change the desi-"

"and waste more time? No I want to leave today" you spat, irritated at them. turning to your brother he feels you boring your eyes at him but his sight never left the end of the poker that was still a shade of red "are you going to do it or should we bring in someone who has the balls to do it" clenching his jaw he looks at his sister "i'm not doing it and i'm not letting anyone else do it either" throwing the poker to the ground he picks up the blanket that you had dropped and covers you with it "there has to be another way" 

covering yourself you secure the blanket as you stand "there isnt!" no one was willing to mark your back, their reluctance made your eyes tear up from the anger that boiled inside "your pathetic namjoon, father would be so disappointed in you right now" laughing you shake your head but the stern cold emotion on his face did not change "you're not willing to destroy the map but you're willing to grab someone and put it on their back without any say in the matter?!" picking up the poker you turn to jungkook "do it" 

jungkook stared at you with pleading eyes as he shakes his head "I can just ov-"

"no, I want it gone. I want everything gone" you yell pushing the poker onto him as you close the distance between the two of you. "don't be a fucking coward" you try to intimidate him but he stared at you with pity in your eyes. 

"forget this" putting on your shirt not caring that you basically exposed your breast to jungkook, you get completely dressed and gather your items "are we done here" you turn to namjoon. his lips part and close as if he did not know what to say. raising a brow you scoff "are you sure this is the life you want, you don't seem fit-"

"it's you y/n, how can I ever be sane when it comes to you" he gives you a weak smile "you shouldn't leave until we figure out what to do with the map" jin speaks up, trying to be the more reasonable person in the room with no strings of emotion attached to you. 

"yeah well I gave the solution and you don't want to do it" shrugging you swing the door open and march out without looking back. namjoon chases after you, stopping you turn to him "no, this is it. I don't want to ever see you anymore"

"it's not saf-" interrupting him you give him a big smile "I hope you live a long and healthy life and I hope that you find someway to be happy" not caring for the words that were going to come out of his mouth you walk out the same way you came in with jungkook and did not look back

it had been five days and there was no sign of your brother or jungkook. you were surprised that they had backed off so willingly. you were at the cafe planning a way to get the map destroyed this weekend which meant you had to get everything ready for monday after being gone the entire weekend. you were bringing in a few boxes from the storage when the bell ranged indicating a customer had entered. cursing under your breath since you forgot to lock the doors, taking the box you head to the front "i'm sorry but we're close" you place the box on the counter. 

not hearing a response you look up to find a man in black clothes standing at the entrance. his face had a gross scar on his right cheek that began beside his eye and ended above the corner of his lip. taking in a deep breath you smile at the man who turns around to face the exit.

watching him hesitate you begin to back up to the sink where you had left knives. before you could reach the sink the man turns quickly and dashes towards the counter literally scared the shit out of you but you moved just as fast, picking up the knife from the sink as he shoves the box to the ground and swiftly climbs over in a matter of seconds he was in front of you. 

He had no weapon or at least had not pulled one out, but you didn't let your guard down. "what the fuck do you want" you speak clearly showing now fear but the man did not budge nor did his eyes wonder his creepy state made your hairs stand as he bored his eyes into you. it felt as time stopped and you glanced behind him to see if there was anyone outside who could see this assault but the street was empty. 

you stare at the man and neither of you moved, it wasn't until the phone suddenly ranged which caused you to loose focus cause of the sudden sound. taking advantage of the distraction he launches himself at you gripping your wrist as he twists it making you drop the knife. letting out a scream you clench your fist and swing at him but he lets go quickly kicking the knife out of reach. gripping your wrist your eyes tear up from the pain. 

he did not wait and launched himself at you once more but this time you dodged him,  kicking his back. the fight did not stop there as the two of you began to swing fists at one another, him not letting you no where near the sink. you felt the impact of him kicking your ribs throwing you against the counter. groaning as you grip your side you look at your surroundings and see the kettle of coffee you had just done, waiting till he was closer to you. picking up the kettle you throw the hot liquid at him, the man groans as he wipes his face. taking the chance you roundhouse kick him in the face which slams his head into the counter. 

catching your breath you don't waste a second to run over the counter grabbing your bag. without looking back you dash out of the cafe and run down the street. you grip your side, the pain causing you to run out of breath quickly. without stopping you rummage through your bag taking out the phone. "fuck" cursing under your breath you felt irritated that it had come to this, flipping the cover up from the flip phone you dial the first number in the contacts. the phone rings but there was no answer. 

"fuck namjoon this isn't the time!" you yell, running into a dark street. you had planned for this, incase someone came looking for the map. your senses were on full function you knew this street wouldn't be someones first choice but it was the least crowded street because of the lack of street lights and the perfect cover for one to run from a murder and for one to commit murder.

You then hear a second pair of footsteps hitting the concrete floor and quickly turn behind you since the sound was echoing but there was no one behind you. that when you saw him, it was a different man in fact a taller one and he was running at the same pace as you but across the street. anyone else being chased would be shitting bricks and no lie you were too but unlike him you knew where you were going. 

you watch him as you see the dead end coming into view, he sees this as a great moment to take you and pulls out his gun just as you had suspected. but unlike his side where he only had buildings you had the forest. making a sharp left you jump over the gate and enter the forest. tumbling over some branches you gain your footing and ran the path you knew by memory. you could hear him in the forest too but you knew that unlike him you had the advantage. 

the moonlight was the only thing lighting your path. you finally made it to your tree that had a hollow place inside. crouching down you pull out the bag getting a hold of your gun. you look around, your eyes already adjusted to the dark. making sure it the mag was full you slip the bag and the one you were carrying into the hollow space of the tree. dialing namjoon once more you watch your surroundings as it rings. 

checking the contacts you dial jungkook's number but it also only rings. "fine, fuck you" you begin to tread slowly to the place you had fixed for this situation. when you hear a branch snap close and too close for your own luck. hiding behind a large tree you hold your breathe. 

listening carefully you swallow hard when you hear more than one person "where the fuck did she go" the first man curses"she can't be far, I saw her using a phone. she's probably calling him" the other responds. they weren't close but you were both definitely in each others eye sight. meaning if you stepped out from behind the tree either you see them first or they see you.  "even if she called him, she told him that day was the last day she wanted to ever see him. the moment she left jungkook wanted to run after her but namjoon said that he would honor her request"

"meaning?"

"he ain't coming to rescue her" you cover your mouth stopping you from gasping 'he's a traitor'

just as you were about to move from tree the phone rings, giving away your spot. dashing from behind the tree you run, instead of chasing you one began to shoot "are you fucking stupid, we need the map" the other yells and the shooting stops. you answer the phone holding it up to your ear as you run. 

"hello?" namjoon says on the other end 

"fucking bitch why won't you answer me" you yell as you hear them running after you "you sai-"

"but it's the emergency phone" you cry out, turning to look back you trip over a branch making you tumble down the small hill that you had not noticed. you laid on the ground catching your air as you heard namjoon yelling through the phone. getting up slowly you reach for the phone, using the small screen to light the floor you find your gun. "y/n!" he yells 

"fuck" you groan, you held onto your side and took a deep breath "someones after me" you say weakly, tears falling from your eyes as you were having a hard time breathing. 

"are you near the cafe" he asks and then yells to those around him to get the car ready "not really, i'm at xxx forest" you quietly say. 

"the forest? what the fuck are you doing in a forest" 

"it doesnt fucking matter, there's two of them and one of me and the first guy that I fought at the cafe really gave me a beating and it hurts to breathe"

"can you get anywhere near a road" you hear the door slam of the car, lifting your self from the ground you look around. you knew where you were. you start walking towards the road "yes, theres a big sign" you stop to take in some air "fuck" you look up to the moon and notice it wasn't just your eyes playing tricks but you were loosing conscious. "y/n whats wrong? can you get to the road or not"

"i don't think i'm getting to the road" you quicken your steps but everything began to spin and you lost your footing making you tumble to the ground, he keeps calling your name. gaining some strength  you get back up and lean against a tree. "everything is fucking spinning" 

"fuck" he curses, yelling at who ever was driving to go faster. you kept moving, not knowing where the will to move was coming from. "there she is" someone a good distance from you yells. "fuck they found me" you mumble into the phone. turning to the man who's running right towards you, dropping the phone you lift the gun and fix your posture. the man clearly couldn't see you well because he did not flinch nor move and kept running towards you. 

pulling the trigger you don't hesitate, successfully wounding him on the leg he falls on the ground. you quickly pick up the phone and walk towards him. the man screams in pain as you stand above him "fucking bitch" you hear his partners footsteps. picking up the phone to your ear "oh and brother, one of these men are yours. they knew about that day" staring at the man you chuckle "it's the bastard that was at the door" pointing the gun to his head you pull the trigger "he's dead" 

you tug the phone into your pocket as you kept both hands on the gun and make your way behind a tree at a distance from the body. you could feel your body swaying and you could taste blood in your mouth. your head tilt back against the tree you waited to hear his partner approach. 

"y/n get to the road, we are close" groaning you hold your side once more as you take in a deep breath. you begin to run across some trees before a gun goes off and you hear the tree beside you get struck by a bullet and you stumble to the ground again. you hear namjoon yelling your name.  you quickly stand and begin to run again, the road not so far from you. "honk" you say 

"what?"

"honk" you repeat 

you could see the road, and a car driving towards where you were running to, wanting to make sure it was him and not from the other side you wait behind a tree. 

the car begins to honk and that was your sign, you hold your side as you run at full speed. "stop" you say into the phone when the car was right in front of where you were running "hurry" you tell him. 

you could hear the man behind you and his harsh breathing as he tried to run faster towards you. turning you lift the gun and begin to shoot at him not trying to wound him but rather slow him down. falling onto the ground this was the last time, you knew you wouldn't get up. 

you kept shooting the gun at the man until the gun jammed "fuck" you cried. laying completely on the ground you stare at the moon. suddenly you hear gun shots and namjoon yelling your name right before everything went black. 

[pedroscurls]

chance encounters | pt. 3

character(s): Frankie "Catfish" Morales, fem!Reader, and brief cameo of the rest of our Triple Frontier boys at the end summary: It's your best friend's birthday - the first one without him. For the first time since losing him, you reach out for help.   word count: 4.7k a/n: This was honestly a really tough chapter to write... Hope you all enjoy. warnings: grief, mentions of death and alcohol abuse, subtle mutual pining between Frankie and Reader, mentions of a toxic relationship series masterlist | ultimate masterlist

You haven’t slept. Your mind won’t shut off. Tomorrow’s your best friend’s birthday and the first one without him. You can’t stop crying, can’t stop thinking of the possibilities of what you could have done differently in the weeks leading up to your best friend’s death. You had sent Benny a text saying that you wouldn’t be able to come in for tomorrow’s training and then turned your phone off, tossing it to the side as you lay on your bed. 

You can’t handle the texts or calls you’re sure you’re going to get tomorrow. 

You can’t bring yourself to even speak with your best friend’s parents, not wanting to reminisce about how good of a man he was, about how he was taken too soon, about how he should still be here because you think about this daily. Every second of every day, you think about him. Losing him has left a gaping hole in your heart that you’re sure won’t ever be filled. 

Fighting has temporarily distracted you, but when you’re not at Benny’s gym or competing, you’re stuck. The grief and loss comes at you full force when you’re alone. Your best friend had plans for his birthday; in fact, you were both going to take a trip out West to visit California and now, you’re sitting alone in your apartment. Without him. 

You’re still so angry at the world. How could life go on for everyone else when you’ve lost your best friend? All you can think about is the phone call you received from your best friend’s mom to tell you the news. It was early in the morning and you had plans to see him later that day. But you remember the sound of her voice, the tremble and shakiness, followed by constant sniffles. 

You knew it was bad news. 

“He got into a car accident last night and didn’t make it.” 

Even now, six months later, that dreadful feeling in the pit of your stomach lingers. Every time your phone rings, you’re expecting bad news and you’re always so quick to answer it. 

You should have reached out to your best friend that night. You should have put aside your dislike for the woman he was seeing to at least check in on him, should have should have should have.

You’re not only frustrated, but you’re filled with so much regret. So many things you wished you could have said, but now will never get the chance to. 

The woman he had been seeing leading up to the night of his death had been such a bad influence on him. You would be lying if you said that you and your best friend were on good terms when he died. In fact, you had gotten into an argument with him just a few weeks before the car accident, trying to talk some sense into him that the woman wasn’t good for him. You knew it. His family knew it.

But he was blind to it. 

He always did fall hard, oblivious to the most obvious of things. 

The regret you feel in the pit of your stomach continues to linger, a reminder of the fact that you didn’t even get to have a proper goodbye, that you didn’t even get to say you were sorry. 

When you’re alone, it’s all you can think about. If your best friend was happy with the woman he was seeing, wasn’t that enough? Wasn’t him being in love enough? 

No. 

The woman was – She wasn’t a good person, getting him to skip work just so that he can take her out, which almost always ended up with the both of them drunk and blacked out. Since meeting this woman, your best friend stopped training, stopped fighting. He wanted to do anything to make her happy, even if that cost him everything. 

—

The next day, you’re seated on your couch with relentless thoughts swarming your mind. Today doesn’t feel the same without your best friend. On his birthday, you’d usually show up on his doorstep with a box of donuts and spend the morning together before you both go to work. But this birthday, without him, is hard. After six months without him, today feels much more lonely and you feel more empty than you have since you found out the news. 

When you turn your phone on, you see the endless amount of missed calls and text messages from both your best friend’s parents and also from Benny and the rest of the guys. You see Frankie’s name and without thinking, you dial his number. 

By the time it’s on the second ring, you begin to think that calling him is a mistake for plenty of reasons. One being that it’s way too early that the sun hasn’t yet even come up and second being–

“Hello?” Frankie’s voice sounds deeper over the phone and you realize in that moment that he’s provided the comfort that you didn’t know you needed, didn’t know that someone could ever provide for you after losing your best friend. “Everything okay?” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call so early.” You say quietly, taking a deep and shaky breath. “That offer still stand? If I need you–”

“I’m here,” he interrupts all too quickly. “I mean, we’re here. The guys and I. Benny told us what today is and we wanted to give you your space.”

“Would it be okay if it’s just you?” you ask softly. “If that’s too much, then–”

“Send me your address. I can bring coffee and donuts. That okay?” 

Tears already sting your eyes, threatening to spill over as you feel your voice catch in your throat. “Y–Yeah, that’s fine. Are you sure it’s okay?” 

“I’m positive. Give me twenty minutes. I’ll see you in a bit, hermosa.” 

You’re dressed in shorts and an oversized hoodie by the time you hear the knock on the door. Your eyes are red, tears dry on your cheeks, but when you open your door and you see Frankie standing on the other side of it with a box of donuts and a holder with two cups of coffee, you feel… Relief.

“Hey,” he says so softly. 

You open the door even further for him to step inside and he crosses the threshold, turning back to watch you shut the door. You gently take the cup holder from him to set the two cups of coffee down onto your coffee table. Frankie’s quiet, careful not to push too much, but he had noticed the look on your face when he opened the door. He knew that look all too well and he removed his shoes before setting the box of donuts on the coffee table. 

As he turns around to face you, he lets out a quiet breath when he feels your arms wrap around him so tight that it actually makes him feel warm inside. Your face is buried into his chest and Frankie carefully wraps his arms around you, feeling your body begin to tremble. After a few seconds, he feels his shirt stain with your tears and he holds you tighter, using both hands to run along your back. 

“Let it out,” he whispers. “Let it out.”

There’s something about Frankie that makes you feel like you can be completely vulnerable, that you can finally let go of everything that you’ve been holding onto. His strong arms around your trembling frame grounds you, ensuring that if you were to physically fall, he’d be there to pick you up. You feel one of his hands move to the back of your head, gently stroking your hair back as you continue to cry into his chest. 

A few minutes pass before you slowly begin to pull away from him, just enough to wipe the tears from your face. Frankie releases his hold on you, but lets his hands rest gently on your hips, ready at a moment’s notice to pull you back into his arms if needed. 

When you finally look up at him, eyes red and brimmed with unshed tears, Frankie feels his heart break. He always enjoyed seeing the rare instances when you would let out a quiet laugh or allow yourself to smile, but now… Now, you look completely broken and he realizes how much you had kept from him, from the rest of the guys. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper quietly. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I just–” you sigh, taking a step back and watching his hands drop back to his sides. “I’m sorry.” 

“Stop,” Frankie says quietly. “Stop apologizing, hermosa. It’s okay.” Then, he gently takes your hand and leads you to your couch. He sits down next to you and reaches over the coffee table to grab the cup of coffee to hand it to you. He sees the distance in your eyes and it’s a stark contrast from the woman he had gotten so used to seeing, always training so hard and always so focused. 

“Want type of donut would you like?” You hear Frankie ask, looking over at him as you allow the cup of coffee to warm your hands. “I didn’t know what you liked so I got a bit of everything.” 

“Glazed,” you whisper. “I like glazed.” 

“Simple,” Frankie smiles. “I like it.” 

He grabs a napkin and then places a glazed donut on top of it, setting it in front of you. The silence fills your living room and Frankie isn’t sure what he should say to make you feel better; he isn’t even sure that there is anything to say to make you see that things will get better. He’s dealt with his own demons, with his own grief, especially in an unhealthy manner, so he wasn’t the person to tell you how to deal with yours. All he could do is just be here for you. 

“Do you–” Frankie begins and then shuts his mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.” 

You bite your lower lip. “Can you stop saying sorry?” you ask genuinely. “I– I’m tired of hearing it. It’s all I hear since losing my best friend.” 

Frankie nods and takes a sip of his coffee before setting it back onto the table. “Okay, hermosa. Tell me,” he sighs. “Tell me what I can do to help then.” 

You shrug, setting your cup onto the table and taking a small bite of your glazed donut. “I don’t know, Frankie.” 

Frankie bites his lower lip. He knows you’re hurting, knows that your mind is anywhere else but here with him, but he can’t help the way his heart flutters at the sound of his name leaving your lips. “Well, do you wanna talk about it? About him?” 

“He died in a car accident,” you begin. You know you need to talk about it because keeping it bottled in is becoming more and more difficult. “I– I failed him. He had always been there for me when I needed him, but when he needed me, I wasn’t there.” Tears begin to well up in your eyes again as you think about the last few months before your best friend’s death. All you could think about was the last conversation you had with him, asking why he was calling and if everything was okay and you knew, you knew that things weren’t and yet, you still decided to keep your distance. He had become a different person since he had gotten with the woman he was seeing and you didn’t want to be around her, around him, around them when you noticed the effect she had on him. 

“I should have stayed by his side. I should have–” you feel your breath catch in your throat as you keep your eyes focused on your lap. “I didn’t even get the chance to say that I’m sorry… didn’t even get to say goodbye. One minute he’s here and the next, he’s just gone.”

Frankie listens intently. He wants to tell you that he understands exactly how you’re feeling, that he and the other guys would be able to relate to you more than you think. During his time in the military, Frankie and the rest of the guys had lost plenty of men and with each loss, there was always a sense of guilt, regret, and failure that came with it. Guilt because they should have been more careful. Regret because maybe they shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Failure because they had lost men when they promised that it would be okay, that they would be safe. 

But instead, he remains quiet. He moves to rest his arm on the back of your couch, only lightly brushing his thumb across the back of your shoulder. He hopes that it’s enough of a reminder for you to know that you aren’t alone, that he’s still here. 

“How can life go on for everyone else?” you whisper quietly, voice trembling as you bring the sleeves of your hoodie to wipe away fallen tears. “I hated the fact that the day after he died, life just went on… How can that be? How can the world just continue? How can things just keep going when I’m here, stuck and without him?” You finally allow yourself to voice the thoughts that haunted you whenever you were alone. Saying it out loud made it seem so insignificant, so trivial. Of course life was going to go on. The loss only happened to you. Not everyone else. 

Frankie lets out a sigh and it’s enough for you to finally look up at him. His deep brown eyes are staring at you, soft and almost glossed over from unshed tears. You remember Frankie telling you that he and the rest of the guys were prior military and how they had lost a close friend a couple of years ago. Part of you wants to allow yourself to ask him, ask them how they can just continue their life after losing a friend, but another part of you doesn’t want to know. Because even after they lost a friend, they seem… Happy. 

And you don’t even think you’d ever get to feel that way ever again. 

“He died…” you say quietly, eyes staring into Frankie’s. “He died alone. He died without knowing how grateful I was for him, for our friendship. He died without knowing how much I cared for him, how much I would have done anything for him. He died without knowing how sorry I was that I… that I abandoned him.” Tears continuously stroll down your cheeks, eyes now red and lower lip quivering. You bunch your hands into fists, your nails digging into your skin as you feel the anger and frustration run through your veins. “It should have been me. He had so much left to live for, so many people that cared for him, and I–”

“And you do too,” Frankie finally interrupts. He reaches out to take your hands into his own. He can see the anger racking through your body, can see the white in your knuckles from how tight you were clenching your fists. He gently runs his thumbs across your knuckles, silently begging you to unclench your fists because he’s sure if you continued, you’d probably draw blood. “It’s hard to carry that guilt and regret around…” he continues. “It’s debilitating, wishing that you could just change things but knowing that you can’t.”

You nod in agreement. Every waking moment, you try to think of things that you could have done differently, things you should have said, and you’re always left to wonder if it would have made a difference. 

If you hadn’t created your distance and set your boundaries, would he still be alive? 

If he had just listened to your advice and broken up with that girl, would he still be alive? 

Would he still be alive? Would he still be alive? Would he still be alive? 

Thoughts swarm your mind and you pull away from Frankie to look down at the box of donuts, biting your lower lip. “I’m never going to get over this,” you whisper. “I’m never going to forgive myself. I’m never going to forgive her.” 

“Her?” Frankie asks. 

“His girlfriend. She–” He sees your hands bunch into fists again. “She’s the reason why we stopped talking, the reason why I distanced myself from him, why I couldn’t just be around him or them. After so many years of friendship, he chose her and it fucking hurt, Frankie. He couldn’t even see how toxic she was…”

“I’m sor–” Frankie stops himself, remembering what you had told him earlier. “Have you… Have you talked to her?”

“No.” You say with gritted teeth. “She was the reason why he got into that car that night. They were drinking and she–” You stand up, beginning to pace in your living room, fists at your side. You wanted to hit something. You wanted to scream. You just wanted your best friend back. “If I ever see her again, I’m going to beat the living shit out of her and–”

Frankie interrupts you and gently places his hands on your shoulders to stop you from pacing. You’re fuming and he can see, clear as day, that your grief from losing your best friend is not only stemmed from your guilt and regret, but also your hatred for this woman. It was a bad combination and he’s seen plenty of times what that can do to someone. 

“Did he love her?” Frankie asks.

“That’s not the point.”

He sighs and repeats, “Did he love her?” 

“He said did.”

“Was he happy?” 

“He said he was.” You bite your lower lip and stare up at Frankie. “My best friend… When he falls, he falls hard. He would have done anything for her and she– She just couldn’t stop drinking and eventually, he decided it was better to be with her than to lose her. So… He started drinking, just to keep up with her. How could that be love? How could he have been happy? He sacrificed everything just to be with her!” 

“Love makes you do stupid things,” he shrugs. 

“Yeah, well, look where love fucking got him,” you spit out. “He’s dead. He’s dead because of her. He’s supposed to be here, we’re supposed to be celebrating his birthday today and instead… I’m here without him.” 

Frankie pulls you into his arms again and almost instantly, he feels you lean against him as your body begins to shake. You’re crying again and this time, it won’t stop. Your sobs filter the entire living room, echoing down the hallway and into your bedroom. You don’t remember the last time you cried - maybe when you first found out your best friend died. You wish you could say that this was cathartic, that it felt like a relief to be able to let it all out, but it does the opposite. It’s not a relief. It’s not cathartic. All you can think about is your life without your best friend. For so long, it had always been just the two of you against the world. 

And now, you’re all alone. 

“Well, how about,” Frankie whispers, rubbing your back. “How about we go and do something he would have done today?”

“We– We were supposed to go to California, take a trip out there,” you whisper. “He wanted to see the west coast sunsets. Every week, we’d go to the beach, bring some food, and just watch the sunset.”

Frankie nods and pulls back enough to bring his hands up to wipe your tears away. His hands linger, cupping your cheeks before he lets them drop to his side. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.” 

—

You and Frankie were watching a movie when you fell asleep against him. It was the first time in a very long time that you felt like you could rest without the nagging thoughts. Talking about your feelings and your grief with Frankie did help, but it helped just enough to allow yourself to sleep. 

He looks down at you and sees you sleeping, lips parted slightly and he thinks it’s the first time he’s ever seen you so… peaceful, like you’re not being weighed down by your thoughts. He remembers what you had told him earlier.

We’d go to the beach, bring some food, and just watch the sunset.

Slowly, Frankie stands from the couch and watches you lie on your side on the couch. He grabs the blanket from the back of the loveseat to drape over you before he grabs his phone and walks out to your patio. He had gotten to your apartment so early in the morning that he didn’t even realize he missed breakfast with the rest of the guys. So, when he finally looks down at his phone, he sees the missed calls and text messages from Will, Benny, and Santiago. 

Where are you, Fish? 

Getting a little bit worried here, hermano. 

Call us when you get the chance. 

Frankie knows that while he has been sober for over two years now, there will always be the concern and worry in the back of their minds that maybe he would relapse. He couldn’t even blame them; he had put them through so much in the last ten years. 

Dialing Santiago’s number, it rings only once before Frankie hears the other man on the other end.

“You missed breakfast. What happened?” 

“Do you remember what Benny told us today was?” 

There’s a long silence, followed by a quiet “shit” from Santiago. 

“She called me super early this morning and asked if I could come over and keep her company. I’ve been here ever since. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, it’s just– I couldn’t find the best time.” Frankie says with a sigh. 

“Is she doing okay?” Santiago asks, concern laced in his voice.

“No,” Frankie answers immediately. “Not at all.” 

“Shit,” Santiago repeats. “Well, I’m glad she called someone and I’m glad she called you. Are you doing okay too?” 

Frankie shrugs to himself. “I don’t know, if I’m being honest, Santi. Bringing back a lot of memories, but I– It’s hard to see her like this.”

“Do you want us to come over? Do you think she’d want us there?” 

“Maybe not at her place, but I have an idea. Can you and the rest of the guys meet me at the beach this afternoon? Buy a couple of pizzas. No alcohol. Get some blankets set up for all of us?” 

“Of course, Fish. I’ll call Benny and Will right now. Anything else?” 

“Flowers. Any kind. I’ll leave that up to you guys.” 

“You like her, don’t you?” Santiago says softly. “Haven’t seen you like this in– Well, you know, I don’t think I’ve actually ever seen you like this.” 

Frankie chuckles and turns around. He can still see you sleeping from the patio and there’s a warmth that he feels settle in the pit of his stomach. “Too early to tell, Pope.”

“Always been a bad liar, Fish.” Santiago chuckles. “But okay, we won’t push it. We’ll see you both later.” 

Frankie hangs up the phone and walks back inside. He sees you stir and bring your legs to your chest, leaving space open at the end of the couch for him to sit. When he does, you stretch your legs back out and rest it against his lap. Frankie bites his lower lip and gently rests his hands on your ankles as he turns his attention back to the television, not even paying attention to the movie that was playing. 

He knows Santiago was right, though. Frankie does like you and he feels like maybe - one day - you will feel the same way. He wishes he could take away your pain, could just hold you and tell you that things will be okay, but he can’t. All he can do is be there for you, in any way that you’ll have him. 

—

“You ready?” Frankie asks, seeing you walk down your hallway to meet him back in the living room. You had spent the rest of the day sleeping on the couch, only getting up to go to the bathroom or curl against Frankie. He can see how much you needed this, how much you needed the rest. 

“Where are we going?” You ask, grabbing your bag and draping it over your shoulder. You had changed into a pair of jeans, but keeping the oversized hoodie on. 

“You’ll see. You hungry?” 

“I can eat,” you reply, following him out of your apartment. You lock the door behind you and reach out for Frankie’s hand, finding that you like having him close, like feeling his touch. “Sorry.” You’re about to release his hand until Frankie tightens his grip around yours, pulling you closer to him.

“Don’t be. Come on.” 

You’re seated in the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck, staring out the window as you feel the wind blow in your hair. The sun is about to set in just over an hour and the temperature dropped drastically. You can feel Frankie’s eyes on you every time he stops at a red light, but with you keeping a hold on his hand the entire ride, it eases his mind. 

When Frankie pulls into the parking lot of the beach, you bite your lower lip and notice Benny’s truck when he parks right next to it. Slowly, you climb out of the car and turn to look up at him once he shuts the car off and climbs out as well, tears already beginning to well in your eyes. 

“You said you and your best friend would watch the sunset and eat some food, right?”

You nod. 

“I figured this is the closest you can get to feeling like he’s still here with you,” he says softly. “But if it’s too much–”

You interrupt him with your arms wrapping around him once more. You’re crying quietly into his chest, but this time, you feel a sense of happiness wash over you. Since losing your best friend, you had avoided going to the beach, avoided watching the sunset because you didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t realize that this was what you needed. 

“And the guys are over there, waiting for us,” Frankie whispers into your ear. “We got pizza, got some blankets set up, and we can all watch the sunset together.” 

You nod and pull away from him, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. Frankie takes your hand and laces your fingers together slowly, leading you onto the sand and walking towards the rest of the guys. You feel a warmth wash over you, like maybe things could get better, like maybe you could get through this. 

Santiago, Benny, and Will all wave in your direction and once you’re within reach, you release Frankie’s hand to hug each of them so tight. 

“Thank you,” you whisper after pulling away from each of them. “Today was just–” Tears slowly trickle down your cheeks and you bring the back of your hand to wipe them away. “Just thank you.”

“All Frankie’s idea,” Benny smiles and hands you the bouquet of flowers. “We’re here for you, always.” 

You take the flowers in your hand and clutch it to your chest, staring at the four men who have made a home in your life and you feel the gaping hole in your heart slowly begin to mend with the help of Benny, Will, Santiago, and especially Frankie. 

“You’re our girl,” Santiago says. “You won’t ever have to be alone.” 

Will nods in agreement. “And we’re always here to listen. This is something you don’t have to deal with alone.” 

You bite your lower lip and pull the four of them into a group hug. With their strong arms holding you so tight, you feel so much hope that you could get through this, that maybe you could move on with your life, that maybe this was your best friend’s doing… Sending these four guys into your life after he passed. 

“Can we eat now?” Benny chuckles, pulling away and plopping down on a blanket and opening the box of pizza. 

Santiago and Will join him as you take a seat on another blanket, bringing your legs to your chest. Frankie rests a hand next to you and he feels you lean slightly against him, head resting on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Frankie,” you whisper. “I didn’t realize that I needed this.”

“Like Santi said, hermosa,” he says quietly, looking down at you and into your eyes. “You’re our girl.”

[cringe--is--dead]

formally asking for part two of misguided hearts, please!! it was an amazing read!! I'm so excited to see what will happen next :) your writing is absolutely phenomenal ❤️

A/N: We are gonna pretend it hasn't been for forever since I've not only posted on here, but done anything with DBZ. Anyways! Here we are!

The Blind (No Longer) Leading the Blind (Part Two)

Misguided Hearts (Part One)

"I still think you should let Gohan and I spar."

Trunks was on the same topic, pouting, though he'd argue he wasn't, as you fussed over your hair and your makeup, finally settling on an outfit with your mom's help. You sighed, turning to where he was seated on your bed.

"And I told you-- no fighting my friends."

"He made you upset though," He was looking at you as if you were the one who made no sense in this situation.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head fondly at him, "Gohan didn't upset me."

Though he didn't believe you, "I could stop being friends with Goten?"

You moved to sit across from him, watching as he held one of your pillows to his chest, glaring at your comforter.

"Trunks I appreciate you being ready to fight on behalf of me, but you don't need to. And you especially don't need to drop your best friend for me." You ruffled his hair, and laughed at the offended noise he made, trying to bat you away.

"Whatever. If you come home crying I'm gonna tell dad."

You narrowed your eyes at him, all affection leaving, "You wouldn't."

You hadn't even told your dad you were going on a double date. The man would more than likely have a conniption. The first time a guy showed interest in you he declared no mortal good enough for his daughter and declared anyone after your heart and your hand needed to beat him in a match. You had been thirteen. It was embarrassing. Yet part of you had reveled in his protectiveness of you.

"I would."

You heard your mom shouting your name downstairs, and the jitters that had mellowed out hit you full force. You stood, motioning for Trunks to do the same.

"No hanging out in my room when I'm not here, brat."

He stuck his tongue out at you, "I don't wanna be in your dumb room anyways."

He dodged the smack you sent towards his arm and left you alone. Taking a deep breath, you forced a light expression on your face. Delaying the inevitable wouldn't do you any good.

"You at least look lovely honey," Your mom comforted you, and you smiled at her.

"Thanks, mom."

You made your way to the door, grabbing a thin jacket in case it got nippy, and opened the door, unprepared to see Gohan, Videl, and Erasa at your front door.

You blinked for a moment, staring at the three of them-- Erasa was your date for the double date?

Interesting.

"Sorry," Gohan rushed to apologize, "Erasa insisted we all went together."

The blonde beamed at you from where she stood, and though you were dreading this interaction, you could never dread hanging out with Erasa, and her happiness was always contagious.

"It's alright," You smiled back, shutting the door behind you, "Let's just hurry before dad finishes with his morning training."

Gohan shuddered at that, and the four of you moved to head off. Erasa was practically bouncing as she walked, far more excited than she had been earlier this week. Videl was with her, moving every so often to keep her from drifting into the street or getting distracted by something near by. You couldn't help but smile at the pair, Videl was always so soft with her friends.

"So," Sucks that it meant Gohan had to be stuck walking with you instead of his date, but hey, you'd soak up the time, "My mom says hi. And that you need to come over for dinner soon."

"Well, I'll never pass up an opportunity for Chi-Chi's cooking," He smiled at that, a bright look on his face as you continued, "We still have that project due soon so I could come over some time this week?"

"Yeah! That'd be great. Sorry in advance for how mom will be." He paused, "And dad, come to think of it."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, "I've known your parents since I was a kid, Gohan. I know how they'll be."

"Yeah, but this will be different. Well not really, for us I suppose. But for them. Mainly mom." He sighed, as if already exhausted by the dinner that hadn't even happened yet, "And dad's just excited that that gives him more excuses to hang out with Vegeta."

"That it-- what?"

He laughed as if your confusion was not only expected but entertaining to him, "I know. I told him that just because we're seeing each other it doesn't mean he gets to go over and bug your dad every day. Not to mention I think it'll just be another reason for Vegeta to not like him. Or me."

Your mind was reeling, and you felt yourself slowing down your walk, trying to process and make sense of what he was talking about. Gohan seemed almost too lost in his mind to notice at first.

"I wonder if there's some Saiyan tradition he's going to make me partake in. Or-- hey, what's up?"

He turned, and you realized you had gone from slowing down to not walking entirely.

"Gohan-- what are you talking about?"

It was his turn to look confused. "Well I mean, dad doesn't know a whole lot about Saiyan traditions so he never really did anything special with mom. I figured Vegeta would probably remember more so if there was one he'd force me to do it. It probably has something to do with sparring, knowing him."

"Why would-- why would you need to know about Saiyan traditions regarding-- what does my dad have to do with this?"

By now both Videl and Erasa had turned to look at you two, confused as to why their trip was pausing. Gohan looked from you, to the pair of them. The cafe was within sight, so he told the pair to go ahead, and you two would catch up in a moment.

Head tilted, he looked at you curiously, "Because if I'm taking you out then he's either going to have my head or make me partake in some... Saiyan courting ritual I know nothing about." He grinned slightly, joking as he said, "I'd like to get a head start on it so I don't lose against him."

"Why would you need to fight my dad in a Saiyan courting ritual to date Videl?"

You were met with silence as Gohan stared at you, mouth parted slightly.

"What are you talking about?" Before you could respond he stepped closer to you, "I'm-- I'm not interested in Videl? I asked you on this date?"

"No you didn't!"

"I did!" The pair of you seemed to be growing almost frustrated with each other.

"When?"

"When we were working on the project in your room-- I told you about the double date and you said you wanted to come!"

"Yeah, you said you and Videl wanted me to come on a double date. Meaning you and Videl were one couple, and I was--"

"Oh my God," He muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes under his glasses before pausing, looking at you with the biggest puppy eyes you had ever seen on him, "I messed this up."

He stepped forward, gently taking one of your hands into his, and you found yourself unsure of what to do or say.

"I... was asking you out. I wanted to come here with you. Videl had managed to get herself to ask Erasa out, but was too nervous for a one-on-one first date. So the agreement was I had to man up and ask you out."

"You... didn't do that well."

He laughed quietly, "I'm realizing this now." He paused, "Does this mean that... your answers changes now that you--"

"No!" Your voice was louder than you intended it to be, "No, no I... God, Gohan I was practically heart broken that I thought you were into Videl. I love her, don't get me wrong but I've had the biggest crush on you since we were kids."

His grin grew, becoming soft and almost dopey looking, "That's funny. I've had a crush on you since we were kids, too."

You could have face palmed then and there, could have cried or screamed with the amount of emotions you were feeling. Apparently, despite taking after your genius of a mother, you were an idiot.

"Oh," You blinked, "That's why Trunks was mad at you."

"What?"

"I was..." Moping. "Upset cause I thought you liked Videl. He heard me complaining to mom and wanted to fight you."

"Oh," He looked contemplative, "That... checks out. I'm just glad he hadn't told your dad yet."

You giggled, "He said if I came home crying he would."

"Well," He took your hand in his more securely, tugging you gently towards the entrance of the cafe, "I suppose I just have to make this an excellent first date."

[elioslover]

Grapejuice (fic) Part Three

Premise: To your dismay, an Italian reunion with Harry seems impossible to avoid, and it's time to start facing the music- after all, it seems you are the one who can't stay away.

Word Count: 9.7k

Warnings: Alcohol use, mind-blowing banter. Use of She/Her.

Part One Part Two

Fashion Board - Fic Playlist - Other Writing

-

You were still at a loss for words, soul sucked out of your throat - straight into his hands. Perhaps if you said nothing, this would remain a figment of your imagination. 

But he was as real as he had been between your thighs, as he had been when you were beaming up at him, eyes doey and desiring to please. 

You suddenly felt insecure – thrust onto a stage, the spotlight so terribly blinding. Harry was politely keeping his eyes trained on yours, awaiting a response he would never receive. 

Savina, who could clearly sense you had just been sent straight into a torture chamber, quickly sits up, tossing her hat to the side and extending a warm introduction. You hadn’t noticed the man standing beside him but Savina recognised him from the first encounter outside the café, so she extended her welcome his way. 

He introduced himself as Jeff, and before you could even think to protest, Savina invited both men to set up and join your little beach session. A kindness you hardly ever saw her express, and Harry accepted far too quickly for your liking. 

Naturally, he chose to set his towel next to yours; and to make matters worse, he sat directly facing your side, legs bent forward, almost touching your hip. You slightly shifted away, aware that he would notice but not address it. 

Savina took the liberty of keeping the light conversation flowing, prying on how Jeff knew Harry, what they were doing here, where they were staying and for how long. You heard not a thing; head thumping, chest burning. 

Harry was particularly quiet, chiming in every so often, putting forth his best side for Savina, encouraging her to change her mind- or at least opinions on him. Harry was certain you had only shared vague details about him – even vaguer about your relationship. 

And he tried to avoid being disappointed, still completely overwhelmed by finally confirming that he was, in fact, not crazy - you had been the person he saw running in the opposite direction – twice. 

Harry was yet to understand why he found it so challenging to stay on planet Earth when in your presence. He had to keep himself grounded, trying his hardest to keep his gaze directed away from you,

“Of all the places…” you built up the courage to snap at him. 

Harry took this with a grain of salt- knowing you well enough to expect rejection and complete weariness. For now, he deemed he could deal with those feelings when you weren’t fearsomely sitting across from him. 

Savina ensured no gaps of silence settled, asking all the right questions – general and friendly. Jeff was eager to engage and happy to be in the company of others- the last day and a half consisted of only physically communicating with Harry. Harry, who had spent his hours mulling about, stuck in his head, totally distracted. Jeff didn’t know what his problem was- starting to ponder if this was how Harry behaved during his downtime. 

You were still focused on regulating your heart rate, ears ringing, eyes staring blankly at the sea,

“So, Y/n, how do you and Harry know one another?” Jeff asked, startling you back into reality. Your lips parted, mind blank, and as you struggled to formulate a simple response, Harry stepped in and, to your surprise, helped you out, 

“She’s Jack’s little sister-”

“Older sister.” you scoff, eyes rolling. 

Jeff nodded along, having been around your brother in the past. He made the same face everyone made whenever Jack was mentioned; a look of approval after flashbacks of your chaotic-good, riot-of-a-time brother came to mind. 

“Where is he staying this summer?” 

“Alps.” both you and Harry spoke in sync. 

You glanced his way, already sure he was smiling as a result. And he was - cheekily. Just as rapidly as before, your heart was beating against your chest. It was loud – orchestral; ears screeching, body-quaking thumps, waves crashing against the sand, and the chatter of the three people situated around you - they spoke with clarity, but you heard only mutters- feeling like a bomb had just detonated beside your head.

After applying extreme focus, the ringing in your ears dulled and replaced itself with the sound of talking- comprehensive conversation. The last thing you wanted was to give Harry a reaction. After all, it was what he lived for. But you both knew that it bothered you– Harry knew before he even said hello.

Your stubbornness kept you going – always had – and from extensive practice, you were sure you could tune out his existence– at least for the time being.

“He plans on staying until August.” you scoffed – your brother was a moron who always seemed to forget how much the snow displeased him, 

“Bet he’ll last a month, tops.” Harry decided, and you briefly looked over in acknowledgement, 

“A week.” you felt certain – remembering a phone call yesterday where Jack whined for far too long about another incident on the slopes.

“Wanna put money on it?” Harry tempted.

“Money? We’re not children.” Instantly regretting your choice of words.

“Is that a fact?” 

“Don’t start.” Yet again, your anxiety surfaced- hot under the invisible collar of affection he clearly wanted to swaddle you with. 

“So, no money?” 

“No money.” You dismissed, breaking eye contact. 

Harry thought about it for a while – certain he could find a cheeky consolation prize for his failed attempt at striking up some friendly competition. 

“Doesn’t he hate the snow?” Savina pondered.

“Does it even snow there during the summer?” Jeff joined in.

“Some places snow all year round…surely?” Harry was sucked right into the confusion.

Your body was on fire, a headache threatening to split your forehead in half, and everything sounded like noise, sensory overload in full swing. 

“You can still ski in some places in Switzerland during the summer. Christ, next thing you’re gonna ask where snow comes from.” the longer you stayed put, the sooner you found yourself setting alight. 

“You already gave me that lecture in seventh grade.” Harry reminded.

“You thought snowflakes were a myth.” 

“At least I didn’t take it upon myself to spend all week preaching safety tips.”

“I’m older. I know better.” you scoffed.

“Slanderous lies.” 

“It doesn’t matter. Clearly, all of my warnings went in through one ear and out the other because you sprained an ankle and lost one of your ski sticks.” 

“You bumped into me.” Harry leaned forward, ready to argue to the death.

“Fuck right off. You cannot bump into someone who is behind you. And you were certainly behind me, you fuckin’ klutz.” You reclaimed the nickname, amazed that you were still having this argument. 

Harry always refused to let it go. It was one of the first times he learned that listening to you was probably a wise move. He remembers how frantic you had gotten- yelling at him for not listening, for hurting himself, and for finding it so amusing. But your eyes were so sweet, filled with concern, hands soft as they helped remove his gear. 

“Oh please, you came out of it practically unscathed.” Harry scoffed.

“I still have a chipped tooth!” you couldn’t believe how incredulous he was.

“Well, my heart still hurts after you called me, ‘Dickhead. You foolish dickhead. Are you trying to get us killed?’” Harry had memorised it like his favourite song.

He deserved it then, and he deserves it now, you thought. And though Harry’s recklessness was anxiety-inducing, you couldn’t help how fun the day was – before and after his fall – there was minimal argument, plenty of laughter, and the best hot chocolate you’d had to date. 

“I was being nice.” you offered. 

“Oh, I know.” Harry said smugly, “Until recently, it was the nicest thing you’d ever said to me.” 

A choral of your voice - singing sweet compliments his way, intent on luring him closer – made your stomach churn; the many, many pretty praises pointed straight at him. And just like that, all calm and collectiveness were sucked back into the Earth's core, replaced with only remorse and dread. There were no walls, and yet they were certainly closing in; you felt all eyes were on you now, burning into your skin with newfound curiosity- you couldn’t bear to look anywhere other than directly at him. 

And he was looking right back at you, waiting to see if he had struck a chord, hoping to get more than just a dismissal. But he was sorely mistaken – underestimating your need for control, becoming more overwhelmed by the second. 

Harry hadn’t the faintest clue about how he made you feel – how could he really? Your poker face could earn millions; your expression never faltered, no noticeable twitches, your body rejecting the ache to stiffen. But you could feel the cracks starting, threatening to shatter, spill all of your nerves out right into his lap, and if you stayed here a moment longer, you were sure to break. 

With that in mind, you startled the group by standing abruptly, your book falling from your lap, hitting the towel, causing Harry to look away for a moment- enough time to gather your cool, pulling your shades back over your eyes, hiding sheer panic. 

You turned to Savina, who was already looking at you puzzled, your words jumbling together, refusing to come out coherently. You searched desperately for an excuse- for some damn reason to get out of this mess. But all you could foolishly muster was both weak and faulty, 

“It’s fucking swelting. Think I'm gonna go for a swim.” You turned with whatever confidence you could scrape to the surface, walking off toward the ocean– your guard only retreating once the sea enveloped your ankles, cooling you down in more ways than one. 

You kept on forward, letting the salty water twist and wrap your thighs and belly- letting yourself sink into its embrace, dipping your head back until your hair dampened, fresh and comforting to your swelling brain. 

As you straightened, letting your body bob between the waves, hands coming up to cup your face, hiding your embarrassment from even yourself. This was not your definition of summer- you were sure this was nobody's ideal vacation. 

Harry was punctually proving that spending even ten minutes with him was a grave mistake. And you decided then and there that designating your time to avoid him was your best bet- your only guarantee that whatever vacation remained would stay sacred. 

Your skin was pruning by the point of your begrudging departure from the water, taking your time and returning to where you had left Savina, Jeff, and Satan himself.

And a wave of relief, bigger than those you had been bobbing in, washed over you with fresh revival at the realisation that the men were no longer here, only Savina, deeply invested in The Old Man and the Sea, perched in one hand, the other strewn across her hip.

You reached down for your towel, wrapping it loosely across your shoulders,

“Y'know, reading that book is kinda foretelling.”

“Are you calling me an old man?” Savina turned, instantly shutting, and discarding the book. 

“No, no. I think you’re struggling with the language barrier.” You teased.

“I speak better English than you.” Sshe reminded. 

You scoffed, folding and putting your towel back down, sitting cross-legged. There was a moment of pause, an itch to ask what had happened after you went for a swim- but the relief you had felt suddenly intertwined with slight disappointment. Why had they left? 

“They had lunch reservations.” Savina informed. 

“You did not need to invite them to join us.” you reprimanded. 

“And I didn’t need to invite them out for dinner tomorrow night, but I did.” She said matter-of-factly. 

Rage, confusion, anxiety, and a little excitement. You couldn’t decide which to act on- instead, your jaw went slack, lips parted, eyebrows raised, 

“You bitch.” 

Savina chuckled, picked her book back up and continued reading. 

🍷

Lunch had been a quiet affair; Jeff did most of the talking, and Harry did his best to listen. If it weren’t for the steaming serving of Shrimp Scampi keeping him sane, Jeff probably would have left Harry to his own devices for the day. 

But, after eating had long passed, and the sun had set over the sea, Harry was still in a funk- one that Jeff had failed to see from him so far, which, in itself, was odd. Jeff was usually first witness to Harry going through the motions; stressed, anxious, overwhelmed or overjoyed.This mood is hard to pinpoint though. It almost seems like Harry is so deep in thought he has become dismissive of all surroundings. 

Mid-way through the evening, when Harry unintentionally sighed for the third time in ten minutes, Jeff looked up from his phone, paused his round of Sudoku, and decided an investigation was in order,

“Is this how you behave on all holidays?” 

“What does that even mean?” Harry shrunk back in the sofa, shading his wariness behind a surprised façade. 

“You’re acting weird.” Jeff said, one brow arched, and as an afterthought, he decided to get straight to the point, “Is there something going on between you and Y/n?” 

“Why would you say that?” 

Harry ignored the little cupid’s dancing within the walls of his stomach, swallowing hard and staring out past the closest window, watching the sandy shores welcoming waves, the sea sparkling under the waning moon.    

“For starters, I don’t think I’ve seen you get this flustered around someone before.” Jeff tested, “Which is… something.” He was too observant, which obviously didn’t help soothe the little stars and hearts swirling around like a halo above Harry’s head. 

“…Don’t know what you’re on about.” He murmured timidly.

Jeff couldn’t comprehend why Harry seemed so reluctant to talk to him- surely if the two of you were purely platonic he would have no reservations just clarifying. Right now, Harry could barely look at Jeff, forehead compressed in an intense moment of introspection. 

A phone notification pinged, distracting Jeff momentarily, and Harry was back to his belligerent thoughts of yours truly. The knots in his stomach were ones of excitement and anticipation, but his head was advising him to halt, to be realistic for once in his life, even if a piece of his heart took a hit along the way. 

“So?” Jeff sternly pressed on, dropping his phone back into his lap.  

“So… what?” 

“Is there something going on between the two of you?” 

“No…Maybe…I don’t know.” Harry exhaled mercifully, only perplexing himself further.

“What’s the problem?” The muddy waters were only worsening- Jeff had never heard of you, and now he was hooked on figuring out exactly why that was the case. 

“She’s Jack’s sister, for starters.” Harry stressed, finally sharing his apprehension.

“Does he care?” honest curiosity.

“Probably not.” Harry hadn’t really thought about that part. 

“Does she care?” Jeff worded.

“Oh, for sure.” He knew that for sure. 

🍷

Harry was lying in bed now, the window ajar, salty summer breeze mixing with the lull of waves crashing in the distance. A secret sliver of the moon peeked through the sheer curtains, dancing across his face, illuminating his features, flickering like a flashlight above his shut eyelids. 

With a huff, he grabbed a fistful of the thin cotton sheet covering his torso, crinkling it between his palm, tugging it along with him as he turned over, facing his back to the moon., 

Harry couldn’t fall asleep, and even if he could, he wasn’t letting himself. His thoughts were on a sugar high, replaying the entirety of today on repeat; hyper-focused on the moments that included you, the sun crisping your edges, sunscreen turning to golden gloss atop your soft skin. 

And though he felt tremendous relief knowing he was, in fact, not delusional. You were as real as you had been the last time he saw you - sweetly slobbering, just for him – Harry felt you slipping further away. Especially after your less-than-stellar reception to his arrival- it could have been chalked up to the fact that you were surprised to see him, but something in Harry knew better. 

And when you jumped up off of your towel, body seeming scorched, scalded and scathing - desperate to separate from him- he easily confirmed you were running from him. 

Harry felt a pang in his heart each time he thought of you walking away, unable to drift off peacefully knowing that you were so close, and he had blown the opportunity once more. He would sell his soul to find out what went on in your head-especially regarding him. Harry thought he would gladly doze off into slumber, wrapped in the soothing comfort of your headspace. 

Yet here he was, his mind and body riddled with inertia- swallowed and swaddled by the sheets- he felt lonelier than he would have liked to admit. Harry knew just how well your body fit so snugly with his own, considering the feeling of tugging you closer, tangling yourselves into one whole being. 

Never in his right mind would he have actually expected to see you here. He had sooner accepted that he was slipping into delusions- and somehow still easier to pretend that was the case. At least then he wouldn’t be trapped in this limbo. 

As you walked away, Harry quickly glanced over at Savina, and they shared a brief but curious exchange. Jeff, none-the-wiser – reminded Harry that they still had that lunch reservation. Though he wished to stay, feet buried within the sand, relief rushed through his veins- frustration for, once again, being unprepared in your presence. 

He hadn’t expected you to be so standoffish, a hint of discomfort seeping through your usual style of banter. Harry worried it was because of him- because you truly couldn’t stand being near him.

Punctured with confusion, but almost certain that you had meant it when you were asking for him with such a needy craving that night in his bedroom, Harry still felt he knew you- knew not to take it too personally when you sent such frigidity his direction. He couldn’t – and wouldn’t – let it get to him.

His neck started to ache, threatening to spasm if he didn’t punctually readjust. And with that being the case, Harry lifted himself up and swung his legs over the mattress- feet softly thudding against the hardwood. 

Waiting on his eyes to adjust to the darkness, his hand blindly roamed the nightstand in search of his phone. Coming out successful, he unlocked the screen, glancing at the time, 01:13. He decided this was still a reasonable-enough hour, going to recent calls and pressing dial- knowing the man on the end of the receiver was still awake- confirmed when the call connected after two rings,

“Talk to me, baby.”

“Why are you still awake?” 

“Why would you call unless you thought I was?” Jack starts to think, offended that Harry would have called whether he was asleep or not.

“And why didn’t you tell me Y/n was in Capri?”

“I didn’t think you’d care.” He says nonchalantly.

“Well, you thought wrong.” Harry tries not to snap. 

Either Jack can’t tell that his friend is currently rather moody, or he can tell and just doesn’t care. Considering that their consistent friendship spans two decades, there’s a high likelihood Jack made a more-than-conscious choice to dismiss Harry’s demeanour. Instead he takes the opportunity to do what he does best, complain,

“Dude, I’m freezing out here. I fear I might have hypothermia, and I burnt my tongue on a cup of hot chocolate first night here- barely have any taste buds left. And, for some reason, I have this feeling I’m gonna get caught in an avalanche, I know, I know, that might be irrational but-”

“Stop whining. Go somewhere sunny. Go to the sea, I’m already looking forward to hearing you worry about hyperthermia instead.” Harry griped petulantly.

“Not a bad idea…” Jack considers. 

It sounds like Jack has started busying himself on the other end of the line, shuffling around as Harry contemplates bringing you up again. But, sleep will be hard to find if he chooses not to, and he’d kick himself for backing out, 

“Your sister doesn’t seem very keen on me being here…”

“Yeah, she didn’t sound too impressed.” 

“You spoke to her?” Harry almost sits up fully, soft sheets pooling at his waist. 

“Well, she sent me some rather colourful texts earlier.” Still, in the midst of doing something, Jack definitely has the phone on speaker now, veering further from Harry’s evident curiosity. 

“What about?” posed with caution, 

“Same as you. Wanted to know why I didn’t tell her you were coming.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t know why you’re both suddenly so interested in one other. I could just send you her number- would help stop me from having to be the messenger.” Jack groused.

“Not necessary.” Harry quickly dismissed, his nerves untangling as relaxation began to wash over him. He liked the idea of you being interested in him. For now, that was enough to lull him into a state of sleep, “You are the worst messenger, though.”

“And you love me, bitchboy.” He sang with silly spirit, voice nearing the speaker. 

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t think insurance will pay out if you die on the slopes... Maybe keep that in mind?” 

“That’s it. I’m getting out of here, man.” 

“Good for you.” Harry affirmed, yearning for a yawn.

“Tell Y/n I say hi!” Jack merrily tormented. 

“Fuck off.” He chuckled lazily, eyes visited by the Sandman. Throwing in an, ‘I love you’, promises of their next dialogue happening during daylight hours, and a threat of coming to visit, the call came to an end. 

Harry released a lengthily postponed sigh, palm pressing to his forehead, before his phone emitted a startling ding, Jack’s name lighting up. Attached are the words, 'I think my fingers are freezing. Will they fall off?', as well as your name and number. 

He wanted to roll his eyes, dusty rose coating the apples of his cheeks- shyness coursing through him, and great relief that Jack had dismissed his protests- swooning at the digits belonging to you, feeling a little closer- nearer.

Customizing your contact details, gifting you the title of Klutz with a wine glass emoji for finesse, Harry’s eyes finally swell shut with sleepiness, body soothed back into the sheets, already drifting into dreamland by the time his head hits the pillow.

🍷

You would sooner face the guillotine than admit how long you took to choose an outfit for dinner. Throwing clothes in your suitcase the morning of your flight- ‘it’s not like I’ll have anyone impress’ mixed with ‘I put off packing to binge-watch Kitchen Nightmares’- was now biting you in the ass. Why the fuck did you bring so many socks? When would you even use them? 

When you had finally settled on something- consisting of a white tee tucked into a high-waisted coral and pink mermaid-esque skirt, paired with white latex ankle boots, a cream belt and a matching mini baguette bag- it was time to start fussing over hairstyles and by the end of that, it was a miracle you hadn’t ripped out all of the hair on your head. It was only when you caught a glance of yourself in the mirror that your confidence returned, and you mustered up as much of it as you could to get through the next few hours. 

The chosen restaurant was spacious, built with cobblestone, and decorated with dark green vines and eclectic hardwood tables. Harry and Jeff were already waiting on the sidewalk. Greeting you warmly, the sudden kiss Harry pressed to your cheek was startling but welcomed, and you hoped he wouldn’t see the way your cheeks flushed wishfully.  

Settling in, Harry makes it very clear that he intends to sit next to you- forcing Jeff to the end of the table without a chance for choice. It had been expected, but still, you felt the familiar bubbling of anxious uncertainty within you. The only promising factor was the chance to eat- something you had been too distracted to do all day. 

An awkward silence lulled over, only amplifying the splitting headache you soon faced. Harry looks at you as if he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else in the world. Gaze happily settled on your own- and your lack of comfortability- clearly revelling in it all. If the wine you had ordered would just arrive, perhaps your nerves would settle. 

“Thanks for inviting us, Savina.” Jeff started after a subtle clearing of the throat, and everyone was more than grateful for it. 

“Oh, of course! It’s such a coincidence bumping into someone Y/n knows from home. We just had to have dinner.” She shot a cheeky glance your way, and you hoped to God that the dim lighting would mask the blush rushing across your cheeks, 

“Well, we didn’t have to.” You mumbled, regretting it as Harry’s ears instantly perked up,

“Cancelled another hot date, did you, Y/n?” With each word, he seemed closer and closer, pricking at your emotions, stirring frustration back to the surface each time it threatened to settle down. 

“Do I sense jealousy?” You felt yourself shifting forward, arms resting impatiently atop the table. 

“Just curiosity.” He shrugged, relaxing back into his chair, arms folded across his chest with nonchalance, 

“What are you, a cat?” You dismissed him, turning both your attention and body to face the others, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jeff.”

“Likewise, I’ve heard plenty about you.” 

“Hope I live up to my reputation then.” Shrugging, you glance over at the loved-up boy from your childhood, and he's already looking at you longingly.

“Oh, trust me, you already are.” Jeff chuckles with certainty, 

“Really?” you pondered, mirroring the curiosity that flashed across Harry’s features.

“I can’t help but enjoy seeing Harry being put in his place.” Jeff shrugged, sending a reassuring wink across the table.  

“Ah, you’re the designated babysitter?” You quizzed heartily.

“I hardly need a babysitter.” Harry defended in an instant.

“Hardly.” Jeff emphasised. 

“You make it sound like I’m a child.” Harry worked hard to remain still- tempted to act out with a pout and a soft foot stomp.

“All I’m saying is, it’s refreshing.”

“To see me being scolded?”

“The constant praising is great but…” Jeff’s face scrunched sympathetically.

“Tiring?” Savina tries.

“Exhausting?” you add. 

“Alright, alright.” Harry shushed with a playful eye roll- mostly directed at yourself.

The waiter arrived with a newly opened bottle of Merlot, gesturing for confirmation to pour a tester into the large glasses you were each designated. Savina approved, taking the liberty of tasting for the table. With a delighted suck of the teeth and a nod, the waiter went on to fill each glass. 

“So, Savina, what line of business are you in?” Jeff asked between his first sip- pleased with the bitterness greeting his pallet. 

Savina knew exactly what she was doing as she blocked her courtesy and left you with the challenge of creating some form of communication with Harry. He proved to be kinder, however, taking the opportunity to show signs of life, 

“What’s good here?” he made no effort to check out the menu, 

“Everything.” no effort on your part either. 

“Narrow it down.” 

“Well, you can never go wrong with Risotto alla Milanese…you’d probably really like Parmigiana- but either way, we should get the Olives Ascolante as an appetizer, they’re incredible, and I know you love olives…”

“Look at you, so astute.” He was trying not to grin back at you, heart silently swelling at the subtle affection you had let slip, 

“Shove off.” You prayed he would let it slide. 

Thankful for the return of the waiter, you took the liberty of ordering appetizers accordingly- glancing over at Harry to confirm he was satisfied with your choices. As an afterthought, you asked for a side of Rice Arancini.

Harry was enjoying his vacation more than ever, unabashedly sending a smile straight to your heart, hairs rising up the back of your neck, 

“What?” You asked when it was clear he was in no hurry to look away, 

“I like it when you’re assertive.” 

“Yeah, why am I not surprised?”  

“Guys?” In sync, your heads turned to the other two, “Should we also order some Focaccia for the table?” Nodding- in sync- Savina was quick to ignore you once more, “Got it. I started in Milan…” 

Twirling your index finger around the glasses rim, you had unknowingly prompted Harry to finally reach for his own wine, taking a curious sip. Wine was something he hardly humoured, even during his previous stays in Italy. His eyes lit up with adorable surprise, and a wave of endearment washed over you, the familiarity of Harry reappearing for the first time since even before your… incident(s),

“This is good.” He praised, lips glossed over, reattaching to the glass for more.

“I know.”

“No, like, really good.” He tried to emphasise entirely

“I know.” You sent him a cheesy smile, reciprocating the need to completely confirm that you two were on the same page.

“If the wine back home tasted this way,” his eyes still wide, going in for a third sip, “I’d have stopped with the scotch years ago.”

“Please, you love your Johnny Walker too much.” You tried your best not to pay attention to the stray droplets staining his bottom lip- it would be too easy to kiss away all remnants.

“Fuck, this is so good though.” Harry felt unnecessarily revolutionary, “made in Italy?” putting his glass down to reach over and grab the bottle, 

“I would hope so.” “Siena. Thank fuck.” 

“With this many vineyards nearby, it would be criminal to drink anything else,” you engaged your own glass, taking savoured sips, lashes unintentionally fluttering their way into the crevices of his heart.

“Been to any good ones so far?” Harry asked, leaning nearer with the excuse of the restaurant being a little loud, looking at you like he had loved you far too long- something you mistook for boyish fascination, it had always been just that, right? 

“Wineries?” You asked for confirmation he granted with a soft nod, “Oh, of course. Did a tour from Modena down through Bologna. At some point the trip did turn a bit blurry… but from what I recall, the wine just kept getting better and better.”

“I’ve never done a wine tasting before.” 

“You’re kidding.” 

“No?” he had never even thought about it before.

“Too much business, not enough pleasure?” You prodded, and as usual, you were correct. Harry had definitely spent plenty of time travelling- for the purpose of work. 

You knew this without him ever needing to tell you, though you typically minimized the importance of his career, you were one of the only people who understood this- and he wasn’t sure why you did… but it only helped reinforce the certainty he felt about the two of you, you just understood him, and you would never, ever admit that you knew he understood you too. 

“Exactly.” He agreed with subtle satisfaction, and a settled silence grew between yourselves, as you took another sip, swirling the rouge for a moment more.

“…Better change that then.”

“Yeah?” Harry’s entire body perked up, hoping you would lead him directly in your trap, and everything in you wanted to go with him, to spend time with him. An invitation ached to slip from your tongue, fighting contradiction, just dying to tour wine country with Harry. But in true fashion, you tracked back on every feeling of affection and offered.  

“I’m sure Jeff would love to go.” 

And Harry was lured straight into disappointment, having already indulged in the idea of spending time with you- ideally at your own suggestion. He was sure it looked like you were willing, if not pretty eager, but there was no way the frown accompanying your conflicting thoughts could go unnoticed. Harry knew this face well enough; you had sported it through most of senior year. Every time it seemed you were about to reconsider, to give in, a sudden reality check seemed to pull you back, retreating into nothing but a bowed head and twiddling fingers. 

The aroma of the appetizers finally arrived, scattered across the tabletop with the threat of mouth-watering bite-sized pieces of heaven. The conversation is almost completely forgotten to you, your senses elated with the promise of food, and your hands are moving every which way, grabbing one of everything, piling your plate plentifully. 

And even though the sight of your eyes rolling back, lips parted, as you taste a spoonful of, clearly entices him to try some for himself, Harry still thinks back to your last words, taking over your habit of overthinking. He can tell his brows are furrowed, can’t help himself from shifting his chair to face you, his arm resting across the table,

“How long are you gonna keep this act up?” 

You glanced up at him, Arancini half-chewed, eyes wide and heart thudding. Taking extra time swallowing, pushing it by reaching over for a sip of wine, you felt scorched by his stare and attempted another aversion, 

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about...”

“We both know you’ve done damn near everything in your power to avoid me.” 

“Now that’s just not true.” You try. 

“Oh, really?” His forehead raised. 

You were trapped in a stare-off; Harry was clearly keeping you there by the challenging glimmer of his pretty green eyes. But, you don’t lose, 

“I haven’t done everything in my power…” 

“Oh my god, you’re infuriating!” Harry has to stop his hands from flailing around dramatically, 

“And you aren’t?” You defended, unable to commit to keeping your hands at bay, and Savina glances over with a brow raised in suspicion. 

Quickly detaining your outward display of displeasure, your hand finds the wineglass once more, taking a hefty gulp as Harry obtains the opportunity to get closer, eyes darting to the two diners across the table, engaging in a mild debate. His voice lowers, 

“At least I didn’t almost get hit by a Vespa trying to run away from you.” 

Almost choking on your wine, withholding a cough, spluttering out in utter surprise- and undoubtedly shameful understanding, 

“You know about that?” 

“I do now!” Harry exclaims, shocked that his suspicions have been confirmed. 

“I didn’t almost get hit.” 

Attempting to turn your attention back to the act of dining, Harry finally reached out and grabbed an olive and popping an olive between his teeth, crunching down on it, his smile mixed into one both of enjoyment for the food, and sheer amusement for your attitude. 

“What’s your plan, Klutz? To be the cause of pileups all summer?” 

The sheer suggestion of spending the rest of your vacation avoiding him and the ever-increasing fondness you felt whenever in his presence. And looking over at the man who seemed only capable of enjoying your company, you only panicked more,

“You’ll be here all summer?” 

“Well, if my staying will keep you this riled up, I think it’s my obligation to.” He was taking this less than seriously,

“Harry, I swear-”

“Man, my name never sounded so good being chewed out.” He’s met with only sternness, a glare that had him feeling like a scolded schoolboy. And he didn’t like your stare- not when you could be coating him in sweetness, so his features soften, his taunting tone turning tenderness, “We’re friends, Y/n, I’ll make sure I don’t get on your nerves…more than usual.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” you ask meekly, shoulders relaxing and soothed by his surety, but still too sceptical to believe him. And when Harry sees this in the way your eyes stay squinted, he wants to reach over and soothe every frown line with soft kisses, 

“Trust me, I would hate to see your arms and legs covered in bandages…would be such a shame.” 

He takes a long sip of his wine, savouring the way it tantalizes his senses, before reaching over and popping another olive into his mouth, chewing and talking consecutively, 

 “Besides, I have plenty of sweet nothings lined up for you… can’t bear to keep them all in.”

“Bet?” you fail to resist falling for his promises of future-fondness.

“Might fuck around and writing another song about you.” He shrugs candidly.

“Another?” 

Head racing, hurriedly scanning through the roller deck of songs and memories that pertained to Harry, you couldn’t begin to highlight a moment or song worth writing for your sake. You want- no, need- him to say more, to give you something to soothe the idea that Harry might have been right about his feelings all along- that this ‘thing’ between the two of you was nothing new, only brushed aside. 

“Y/n, Harry. Are you guys ready to order the main course, or do you need a moment to finish flirting?” Savina interrupted, amusement showing in both her tone and her taunting smile. Your defence was back and bigger than ever, and you bit back with dismissal,  

“We were not flirting.”

“Well, one of us was.” Harry mutters.

“That’s your problem.” You shut him down sternly, sliding your chair an inch further from his intensity, you focus all attention on the question at hand, “I’m ready to order.”

🍷

Wine glasses are empty, the bill is taken care of, and you can finally admit that relaxation has set in. With no further incidents during dinner, there was finally space to enjoy Harry’s company. Though that only reminded you of how fond you were of him, the night was young, and Harry was sure to resort to naughtiness. 

Glancing between the group, Savina made certain her next suggestion wouldn’t result in you retreating to a coffin. And with one more smile of endearment from you- directed at Harry’s detailing of an event he attended- she decided it was a safe bet, 

“Should we check out some of the bars?” 

With a collection of cohesive nods, the restaurant was left behind in search of a place with dimmer lighting and louder music. 

Standing on the sidewalk, the air was warm, but when Harry’s boot accidentally knocked your own, your skin had an eruption of goosebumps. 

“I remember this little one on the corner of Regazzi. Very nice for dancing.” Saved by Savina, you had an excuse to take a step away, ensuring no further bump-ins with Harry. 

“Lead the way.” Jeff agreed, and with that, you were all headed off down the street. 

A quaint but bustling location, already filled with enthusiastic guests grooving along to a song you faintly remember playing in a nightclub in downtown Rome? The energy was infectious, bobbing and weaving between those dancing. It took a moment to source a small table for the group to gather around. Instead of occupying the seat next to you- which you swear you hadn’t hoped he would select- Harry stayed standing, addressing the collective, 

“What are we drinking?” 

Savina was quick to name Sangria, Jeff offered to join Harry, and you were about to order your classic Gin and Tonic when the memories of Harry taking care of it for you came flooding back, and your feelings of bashfulness were asking to be fed once more,

“Surprise me.” Batting your lashes, his eyes lit up, confirmed with a nod; Harry, with Jeff in tow, made their way through those dancing in search of the bar.

They were hardly out of earshot when Savina gently grasped at your wrist, giving it a shake, her smile growing,

“He’s fabulous!”

You scoff as the last person on your side seems to be switching teams, leaving you open to feeling crazier than you already did. He was fabulous, but you swear you aren’t wrong in finding him aggravating,

“You’re just saying that because he’s Harry Styles.” 

“You know I don’t care about that.” Savina dismissed.

“Yeah, well, I wish you would.” She was right. You knew there was no reasoning. 

“C’mon, he’s cute! A little puppy!”

“I don’t want cute.” Griped through gritted teeth.

“But you do want him?” She already knows the answer.

Who were you fooling? Either you were miserable at hiding your attraction for Harry, or it had gotten so strong that the mere energy between the two of you was telling. Probably both, and neither would gain your admittance any time soon, 

“No. I told you, it was a lapse in judgement.” 

“No such thing.” 

“He’s annoying. He’s famous- and childish- and he’s fucking everywhere I go! Can’t close my damn eyes without his pretty little face popping up like a Jack-in-the-box.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Jack-in-the-box.” That cleared up nothing. Savina’s gaze is perplexed.

“… Your brother is in a box… in your head?” 

“No. Those boxes that sing when you wind them up,” You used your hands in an attempt to describe the boxes shape, “and then a clown pops out of nowhere, and you’re like, ah! Why didn’t I see it coming?”

“Oh my God, yes!” Savina almost cheers with comprehension, “My cousin loved that thing… what is this universal fascination with clowns?”

“Like, who is their demographic?”

“I’ve never met a child who likes clowns.” This was taking a real detour, 

” Plus, they don’t have the greatest rep.” 

“Always trying to eat children… yeah, kids are definitely not the demographic….” Savina thought about it a moment, and you were sure you had successfully managed to divert the conversation from Harry until Savina did a one-eighty, “Anyways, stop running. Let him take you out. It could be fun.”  

“That would make me a clown.”

“You’ve been acting like one since he got here, no?”

“No.” You had been acting nothing but rationally; hiding behind a tree was perfectly normal under the circumstances… right? Or did you really need to run when you saw him from the sidewalk? There’s no way he would have spotted you. Turns out, you had been acting anything but rationally, “Oh God. I have, haven’t I?” 

“A little.” Savina smiled sympathetically, grateful you were finally catching on to the bizarreness of your behaviour these last few days. 

“I almost died trying to avoid him!” Your eyes were wide with embarrassment, absolutely mortified. 

“I, for one, would like to see you relax.” She confessed, “It would help me do the same.”

“You took two naps today.”

“Because I needed to relax.”

Across the restaurant, Harry waited anxiously for their round of drinks, trying his best to seek you out within the movement of other patrons. He was granted quick glances before bodies moved to the beat and blocked you once more. 

“You really like her." Jeff observed, 

“Obviously.” Harry thinks anyone who spent even five minutes with you two would be able to see the wishful fondness he felt for you.

“Why am I only finding this out now?”

Harry really didn’t want to get into it- especially since you clearlydidn’t want to. 

“Because I’ve barely seen her the last five years.” He concedes, and when Jeff only looks at him like he’s speaking gibberish, Harry is forced to go on,

“It’s like she’s suddenly everywhere. I mean, she’s always been everywhere, but now she’s like… everywhere… y’know?” 

“Sure…” It’s becoming rather evident to Jeff that Harry isn’t sure when he stands with you, and as the conversation hits a dead end, the drinks arrive, and they busy themselves with making their way back to the table.

🍷

Your drink- long finished- forms a large part of being the reason you wanted to dance- so badly that your boots basically stood up on their own and made their way over to the make-shift dancefloor, slipping in between bodies vibing along to the beat.

It felt good to relax- as Savina would suggest- and you felt the release of all pent-up frustration as it left your body and disappeared into the crowd, no longer your burden to bear. The rest of the group had scattered, and for a while, that went unnoticed as the dancing held your undivided attention.

Harry was simply a thing of the past until you did a little twirl, and unbelievably, he was in your direct eye line. Leaning against the wall, an almost empty scotch in his hand, he seemed to be comfortably observant. 

The checked overshirt he donned was doing a half-hearted job at covering his chest- most of which was on display due to his choice of a low, low-cut white undershirt. His pants were a peachy-pink hue, not unlike your skirt, and like you, his sneakers were white to match. He’s dressed good. So good that you aren’t surprised when a girl starts to approach him. That doesn’t stop you from almost choking, insecurity suddenly invading your free spirit, and it killed you how much it bothered you to see him tilt his head to hear her better, a smile as she spoke, leaning in even closer.

Determined to stay sane, you continued to dance, looking anywhere but the scene of what you deemed a crime. But when you were about to explode from the need to let your eyes wander back to him, you looked over, heart sighing with liberation, when it became clear he was alone again. 

That wasn’t enough, though, your target had been set, and the need to dance was done and gone. Your body didn’t want to sway; it wanted you across the room, trapping Harry against that stupid wall. So, you let that ambition carry you across the dancefloor, dodging dancers, focused on reaching his unsuspecting figure. 

Harry followed the trail of your shoes up to the determined look plastered across your face as you seemed to be suddenly bounding over. He hadn’t managed to spot you, searching the crowd for as long as he had been standing in this corner. 

Before he could blink, you were before him, slotting your feet in the space between his own. The gap between you was small, but you gestured to it anyways, finally acknowledging the fact that you happened to be dressed similarly,

“I like the way you dress.” 

“I get it from you.” His head bowed to see you better, smile beaming down at you like you were the only person in the world. 

“I thought about the bet….” You started, chest tilting into his own, brushing up against him. 

“Ready to put money on it?” 

“No.” 

“Then?” He wondered, hands finding their home on your hips, tugging you a tad closer, his eyes flickering back and forth across your features, loving the fact that you looked like you wanted him.

Your palm flat against his chest, the other resting on his forearm, only seemed to confirm Harry’s suspicions. Pushing up on your tippytoes, lips lining with his ear, your voice, low and sultry, threatened to turn Harry to mush. But that wasn’t your plan, 

“If I win, you have to stop with all your little flirty remarks-”

“Why would I agree to-” His eyes augmented with horror.

“If you win, I’ll go on out with you... on a date.” 

Harry wanted to laugh. You had stumbled into a trap he hadn’t realised was set the moment he had phoned Jack last night. But his body was in a shamble of shivers and goosebumps, hands pressing into your hips, pulling you closer, your chest bumping into his own.

“Do you hate my compliments that much?” He cooed, hoping to charm you closer.

“No. I just want to wipe that smugness right off of your lips.” You slide your hand out from the trap of his chest and your own, wrapping it around his shoulder, nails raking across the back of his neck. 

“Deal.” Harry hardly held back his enthusiasm, pupils swallowing the swirls of mossy-green whole. 

“I’m sticking with one week.” You ignored the way his reaction sent a rush of encouragement straight up your spine and instead indulged in the feeling of him melting under your touch- like a magnet to your presence.

Harry’s face was closer now, his forehead threatening to brush against your own. Your grip tightens, hanging on to anything he might say next.  

“Three days… max.” He was almost aching with adamance. 

“Better get the last of those compliments in, Styles. Make ‘em count.” You tried to warn, putting all available energy into maintaining control, but it was hard when he was still inching closer, his voice husk and for your ears only, 

“Even if you win, I have a feeling we would both miss those compliments terribly.” 

Unfortunately, he was far from wrong. This was a last-ditch attempt on your behalf- and you knew that going into it. You could have easily dismissed the bet altogether- easily dismissed it even now, instead of pushing on with fervour.  

“You don’t know that.” You swallowed, trying to remain factual- hating the way he made you feel so submissive. Your comfortability of being the older, mature one was almost non-existent the moment he opened his mouth. Cursing yourself for this sudden willingness to let him take the reins. 

“I’m almostcertain I do.” he wouldn’t budge. It only made you want him more as you unconsciously lilted into him, leaving no gaps to be found, 

“You’re far too hopeful.” 

“Only when it comes to you.” 

“Cute.” Sarcasm masking the way your heart did a hurdle- threatening to jump right into his arms. 

“I know you are, but what am I?” Harry’s words brush over you with a mix of musk and mint, breath fanning over your cheeks, making your eyelashes flutter,

“Annoying.” 

“What else?” He’s so close now, jaw tilted and taunting you to reach out and grab at him.

“Insufferable.” 

“And?” His eyes are blown-out, one of his hands slipping from your waist and wrapping around your lower back. Trapped in his hold- and never wanting to leave- your former frustration was nowhere to be found, nudging your nose against the nape of his neck, lips brushing the warmth of his skin,

“And, sometimes, I want to just fuck the brattiness out of you.” 

Pretending the words that you had uttered were ineffective, Harry struggled to breathe; his brain scrambled, ready to be seasoned and served on a platter. His grip only tightening at your tantalizing warning, ready to do whatever it took to make it a reality,  

“Might take a couple tries….” 

You breathe out at his suggestion, soft laughter tickling at his neck. You’ve never enjoyed being in the arms of someone more- and you ensure it stays that way, arms wrapping around him with warmth, pulling him impossibly closer. You press a soft kiss to the slope of his jaw and inform, 

“Would be worth it.”  

🍷

Jack doesn't mean to, but he sneaks up on you- consumed in overwhelming thought, staring blankly at the copy of Crime and Punishment strewn across your lap.

“Miss me?” His voice was sharp, slicing through the silence, sending a shockwave your way. 

Your legs jolted- gravity dragging the heftiness of Dostoevsky off of your lap and onto the floor. But it was long forgotten, bent askew atop the tiles.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You spat, seething at your brother as if you were sure that he was here just to spite you.

“I’m here to make this the best summer ever!” He hollered, embodying the energy of a teen on spring break.

“Does Harry know you’re here?” 

“I’m not digging this lack of enthusiasm…” He half-pouted.

“Jack, respectfully, I will pay you to leave.” You bargained with the panic within, threatening to trap your tongue between teeth.  

“Keeping the bit going, I love it!” Jack was hardly listening to you. Instantly falling into the routine of sibling comradery.

“I’m not doing a bit. You have to leave before Harry sees you!”

“Well, it’s too late for that.” His creased brows met in the middle, looking at you as if you were suddenly alien.

“What?” Panic was fizzling over, foaming at the gums.

“I called him before my flight, and he gave me all the details.” He shrugged.

“Details?”

“Yeah. I’m staying with him. He said he thought you wouldn’t be overjoyed having to host me, which is rude, by the way.”

It was as if you were simultaneously thinking and not thinking at all. The inside of your head was suddenly a jumble of letters, an amalgamation of nonsensical emotions. The rug had been ripped from right under you.   

“So… he knows that you’re here?” 

“Gee, Jack. It’s so good to see you. I missed you too…” He mocks, having expected better reception. Whatever was brewing between you and Harry was not going unnoticed. 

“I’ll deal with you later.” You huffed, turning on your heels.

Your head was a pot, thoughts bubbling and boiling over, steam surely sputtering from your nostrils as you stormed out of the house and onto the sidewalk. Taking two steps at a time, almost tripping, shoes scuffing the paving as you muttered your frustrations aloud. 

The day was joyous- and you hated that – raindrops swirling within a cloud floating atop your head just as a crown would. It was more than obvious that Harry had been playing you all along. The part of you that felt mortified had rushed all heat to your blushing cheeks, and the part of you that felt so silly- so gullible- had you picking up your pace until abruptly arriving.  

“Harry!” Fists thumping against the hardwood as if it was personally responsible, 

“Harry.” Louder- thudding harder- indisputably sending your frustrations his way.

He took his time, bare feet strolling along the porcelain tiles. Running a hand through his hair, he unhooked the latch and smiled as your flared cheeks and kissable pout finally came into view. 

He smiled knowingly, opening the door fully before leaning lazily against the frame, eyeing you up and down with endless patience, noting how lovely you looked in lilac; skin soft and shimmering under the sun, hair pulled back and certainly warm to the touch. He thought for a moment more, lips spreading into a smirk, and then shrugged,

“There were no rules stating I couldn’t make use of the information Jack provided.” 

“It’s- that’s- what you did was totally unethical!” You reasoned, pushing past Harry into the villa, arms across your chest, owning the entire entrance hall. Harry only looked more entertained, enjoying the flashes of frustration in your eyes.

“Unethical?” 

“Yes!” you settled.

“I won fair and square-”

“Not fair. Not square.” You all but whined, and a shiver shook at Harry’s spine; scenes of you pressed up against him, pleading for his affection. 

“Wow, Y/n. I’ve never known you to be a sore loser.”

Harry was pushing buttons for sure, seeing how much closer he could bring you, guiltlessly loving the attention you were paying him- even if it was lacking positivity, if it was all you were willing to give, he had to have it. 

“I am not a sore loser.” You defend, accusatory finger pointing directly at him, “You tricked me.”

“I hardly tricked you.” He scoffed, eyes rolling fetchingly.

“You omitted very important details.”

“We both knew he was on the brink of leaving.” He rationalised, “I simply gave him a little nudge.”

“You’re unbelievable.” 

 “I could say the same about you.” He challenges.

“This is like blood money or blood diamonds, I don’t know.” Coming to terms with the catastrophic choice to indulge in this bet, you hadn’t thought this far ahead- you hadn’t actually thought about it at all. What happened next? 

“Oh, please.” He mused. But when you only seemed to look more upset, Harry softened, guilted and regretted putting you in this position, “If you want to back out, I won't judge. We can forget the bet ever existed.” 

He meant it with all sincerity, but the words whisked over your head, hopelessly mistaking his sympathy for torment. This man had to be up to something. There was no way he would give you such a hard time only to retreat at the first sign of resistance. So, instead of taking him at face value, you switched up your tactics- whatever they were and tried a different defence, 

“Ha. You’d just love that, wouldn’t you?”

“No, I would not, missy.” 

Harry laughed the words your way, arms folding atop his chest, almost totally distracting you as his muscles constricted against his flimsy t-shirt as it threatened to shift and expose the pleasing sight of the soft skin belonging to his hips and pelvis. Taking a step nearer, your next sentence would send Harry into a world of excitement,

“We’re going on that date,” You said it straight, but when Harry shifts, and his stomach peeks past the thin cotton, you add for your own sake and reminder, “and I’m gonna make damn sure you regret it.”

“Is that a threat?” He tries to move even closer, but you take a step back and then another, preparing to turn on your heels and put him behind you. 

“Yes, Harry Styles.” 

It’s time to get out of here before you say more things you can’t retract, and there’s plenty of leftover angst you can project onto Jack, whom you only now acknowledge is probably still aimlessly wandering the grounds of your villa, waiting for an explanation.

Nodding your head with finality, this was your chance to finish on a high. You were already out the front door, sneakers angrily scraping the gravelled pathway, when Harry swung himself around the door frame- holding onto it the way you would wish farewell by hanging from the side of a moving train- projecting unnecessarily, and sending you home with some wise food-for-thought, 

“It would take a miracle to make me regret spending time with you, Y/n.”

---

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Lord have mercy, I am so nervous and hope you guys like this! This series is near-and-dear to my heart, living in my head rent free for the past few years lol. Anyhow, thank you for reading! I know my updates are less-than punctual, but I really do appreciate all the love and support 🥺 -Emmy. xo 💞