#she thought her heart might physically break from all the sadness the thought brought her!!!

[ofrandomthought]

this is so cute yona is so cute choose me queen ill never cheat on you hypothetically or otherwise

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Wildest dreams, pt. 35 - Finale & Epilogue

Warnings: angst, fluff, sexual innuendos, swearing, GRAPHIC depictions of death and blood

Wildest Dreams Masterlist

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Sleeping alone on their wedding night felt wrong, bringing about a coldness she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Paul has become a weighted blanket she couldn’t rest without, and the shivers his vacancy causes are impossible to ignore.

Picking up his white shirt off the ground, she pulls it up to her nose. It smells so much of him, and a little of champagne Sam spilled on his sleeve. Pressing it up against her bare chest, she lets out an exhausted sigh.

After all the time he’s spent begging her to make this choice, he’s suddenly against it. When did that happen?

Maybe now that the reality of said choice has settled in, Paul’s panicking about all the possible ways it can go wrong, the way she did when he first brought it up?

Either way, he talked her down from that ledge when it felt like her mind was on fire with endless fears being born every second of every day since he proposed the idea. This time it’s her turn to help him accept the inevitable.

If she has to die, let it be on her terms, and with a promise of a second life she could live with him.

Jasper would be the obvious choice, as he’s been the only Cullen she fully trusts and feels safe with. Despite the dangers they’d warn her of, Y/N believes Jasper will stop himself in time. If anything, it could help him with the control issues he faces daily. Facing his fear of killing again might be easier with someone he seems fond of.

Deciding to put on some clothes, she picks up her wedding dress. She can’t wait for Paul to return anymore. Dawn is coming and he’s out somewhere, and this dress has her scent mixed with his. She will find him in the woods, the smell should draw him in, or at least protect her from any unwanted visitors.

Soon, Y/N stands alone on the edge of the forest, the first light of dawn breaking across the horizon. The sky is painted with hues of pink and orange, a beautiful contrast to the turmoil swirling within her. She wraps her arms around herself, not for warmth, but as if trying to hold herself together. The ocean waves crash rhythmically against the shore in the distance, their relentless sound a distant echo to the pounding of her heart.

She walked into the still dark forest, a shiver running up her spine. It didn’t take long before she could see Paul in the distance, a massive wolf pacing restlessly at the forest’s edge.

His fur catches the morning light, a mixture of dark and silvery hues. He keeps his distance, a physical manifestation of the emotional chasm that’s opened between them. She knows he’s struggling, the conflict tearing him apart as surely as it’s tearing her.

The wind picks up, carrying with it the salty tang of the sea and the earthy scent of the forest. It plays with Y/N’s hair, whipping it around her face, but she barely notices. Her mind is consumed with thoughts of the conversation they had and the decision she made. Becoming a vampire was something she never wanted, a fate she swore to avoid. Yet, the visions Paul had seen—the ones that showed her dying a brutal death—were too harrowing to ignore.

She watches Paul, her heart aching. The sight of him like this; caught between his instincts and his love for her, is almost too much to bear. She knows he suggested the change, desperate to save her from the future he envisioned. But now, seeing his torment, she wonders how badly he regrets that suggestion, if the thought of losing her humanity is more than he can handle.

The dawn light grows brighter, illuminating the scene with a soft, golden glow. Tears prick at the corners of Y/N’s eyes, and she blinks them away, refusing to let them fall. She feels a profound sadness, a sense of loss for the life they had planned, the future that now feels so uncertain. The tragedy of their situation hangs heavy in the air, but beneath it all, there is a flicker of hope—a hope that somehow, they will find a way through this.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N takes a step forward, her sneakers sinking into the mossy ground. She walks slowly, deliberately, closing the distance between her and Paul. The sound of her footsteps draws his attention, and he stops pacing, his brown eyes locking onto hers. In those eyes, she sees everything—his fear, his love, his desperation.

“Paul,” she whispers, her voice carrying on the breeze. “We’ll find a way.”

His ears twitch, and he takes a hesitant step toward her, his massive paws leaving deep prints in the mud. She reaches out a hand, her fingers trembling slightly, and he moves closer until his nose is just inches from her outstretched hand. There’s a moment of stillness, a pause where everything hangs in the balance.

Then, slowly, Paul shifts back to his human form, his eyes never leaving hers. He’s breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with the effort of the transformation. She can see the turmoil in his eyes, the conflict that rages within him. Without a word, he reaches out and pulls her into his arms, holding her tightly against him.

Y/N buries her face in his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, and the steady beat of his heart. “I don’t want to lose you,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to die when we could have so much more time together.”

Paul’s grip tightens, his voice rough with emotion. “I don’t want to lose you either. I thought... I thought it was the only way to save you. But knowing what it would mean... I don’t know if I can ask you to do that.”

They stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms as the dawn light bathes them in its gentle glow. The future is uncertain, but in this moment, they find a small measure of comfort in each other, a reminder of the love that binds them.

As the first rays of sunlight break over the horizon, they hold onto each other, silently vowing to face whatever comes together, to fight for their love and for the life they dream of. The dawn brings a new day, and with it, a new hope—a hope that somehow, they will find a way to escape the shadows and create a future where their dreams might come true.

It’s a nice, heartwarming scene…but it’s not real.

Y/N did walk into the woods, her wedding dress white as snow contrasting the darkness she’s surrounded with. Had she waited longer for the day to trickle light on the path she was on, maybe she’d have sensed the danger she was walking into.

A rustling sound catches her attention, and she turns, expecting to see Paul’s familiar form. Instead, her eyes widen in horror as a tall, imposing figure steps out of the shadows - Felix, one of the Volturi guards Renesmee showed her. His ruby red eyes are cold and merciless, his lips curling into a predatory smile.

Before she can react, Felix lunges at her with inhuman speed, his hand clamping around her neck with a vice-like grip. Panic surges through Y/N as she gasps for air, her fingers clawing at his hand, but his strength is overwhelming. The pressure on her throat is excruciating, and her vision starts to blur.

“Your friend betrayed you,” Felix hisses, his breath cold against her face. “The Volturi know about you, and I’ve been sent to deal with the threat you pose.”

The words are a cruel revelation and Y/N’s mind races with disbelief and terror. Who could have done this? Who could have betrayed them?

Before she can form another thought, Felix hurls her into a nearby tree with brutal force. The impact is sickening; she hears and feels the crack of her spine breaking. Agony explodes through her body, a white-hot pain that sears every nerve. She screams, but the sound is choked off by the unbearable pain.

Her body crumples to the ground, and she’s barely conscious when Felix’s foot connects with her side. The blow sends her flying, her ribs shattering under the force. She hits the ground hard, her head slamming into a rock. The taste of blood fills her mouth, metallic and bitter, and she struggles to draw a breath, her lungs burning.

The world around her is a blur of pain and confusion. She can’t move, can’t fight back. Her vision is dimming, but she’s acutely aware of every agonizing sensation. The smell of her blood is overpowering, mingling with the damp earth and the scent of the forest.

Felix’s hand tangles in her hair, yanking her up with cruel ease. She’s barely conscious, her body limp and unresponsive. He leans in, his cold breath brushing her cheek as he licks her skin, a grotesque parody of tenderness.

“Such a shame,” he speaks in a thick Italian accent. “You’d be ethereal as one of us.”

Then he strikes, his teeth sinking into the side of her neck with savage precision. The pain is blinding, a sharp, tearing agony as he rips open her carotid artery. She feels the blood flowing out of her, her life draining away with each pulse. Every nerve is aflame, every breath a struggle.

As the world fades to black, her last thoughts are of Paul. She sees his face in her mind, feels his arms around her, hears his voice as he recites his vows. She clings to that memory – of an almost happy ending, as the darkness closes in.

Felix drains her completely, and the pain finally ebbs away, leaving only a numb, cold emptiness. He lets her body drop to the ground, her eyes wide open, staring sightlessly at the sky. Her lips are parted, as if she’s about to speak, but no words come.

Paul’s heart pounds in his chest as he races through the forest, his paws barely touching the ground. He can feel her—Y/N’s pain, her fear—it echoes through his soul, pulling him like a beacon. His vision blurs with desperation, the images of her suffering he’d seen in his mind merging with reality.

As he reaches the scene, the sight that meets him is his worst nightmare come true. Y/N’s body lies on the ground, her once-white dress is stained with blood and mud, a tragic testament to her violent end.

A strangled sound escapes Paul’s throat as he shifts back into his human form, stumbling toward her. He falls to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as he reaches out. The moment his fingers touch her skin, he feels the coldness that has already claimed her. Her body is heavy in his arms, a dead weight that drags him down with its finality.

Paul gathers her up, pulling her close to his chest, feeling the absolute cold of her lifeless form seep into him. Her skin is pale, drained of all color, her neck bearing the cruel, vicious mark of a vampire’s bite. There is still a trace of warmth in the blood on her neck, a cruel reminder of how recently she was alive. The metallic scent of it fills his nostrils, mixing with the earthy smell of the forest floor.

His vision swims with tears as he cradles her, rocking back and forth. The pain is indescribable, a searing agony that tears at his very soul. It’s as if a part of him is being ripped away, leaving a gaping, bleeding wound in its place. He wants to scream, to howl his grief to the heavens, but all that comes out are ragged, broken sobs.

“Y/N…” he chokes out her name, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry…”

He feels the guilt consuming him, a dark tide that drags him under. He should have been there. He should have protected her. The thoughts and images his brain conjures up of what her final moments might have been - of her in pain, terrified, and alone, will now and forever haunt him, each one a dagger to his heart. He can’t stop seeing it, can’t stop feeling her last moments of terror and agony as if they were his own.

Paul buries his face in her hair, inhaling the faint, lingering scent of her. It mixes with the coppery tang of blood, a blend of love and death. His body shakes with the force of his grief, the physical pain of his heartbreak nearly unbearable. It feels as though his soul is being torn in two, the bond they shared now a jagged, bleeding wound.

He wanted to save her, to keep her safe, but he failed. The realization crushes him, an unbearable weight that threatens to suffocate him. Every breath is a struggle, each one a reminder that she will never take another.

“I love you,” he whispers against her cold skin, his tears mingling with the remnants of her blood. “I love you so much… Please, come back to me…”

But there is no response, no miracle to bring her back. The forest is silent, save for the sound of his broken sobs. Paul holds her closer, wishing with everything he has that he could turn back time, that he could trade his life for hers.

He stays like that, clutching her to his chest, the world around him fading to nothing. All that remains is the overwhelming pain, the all-consuming guilt, and the hollow, aching emptiness where she once was.

Embry emerges from the dense forest, paws pounding the earth, his massive wolf form towering and powerful. His sharp eyes catch sight of Paul ahead, kneeling on the ground. The scent of blood and the overwhelming stench of death hit Embry like a physical blow, and his heart lurches with dread. He follows Paul’s anguished gaze, and there she is—Y/N, lifeless in Paul’s arms.

Embry’s world shatters in that instant. His legs buckle beneath him, and he collapses to the ground, unable to shift back into his human form due to the intensity of his emotions. A howl of pure agony rips from his throat, echoing through the forest. It’s a sound filled with raw, unfiltered grief, a primal cry that reverberates in the night air.

Paul hears Embry’s heart-wrenching howl and looks up, his face a mask of pain and despair. He meets Embry’s eyes, and in that moment, they share the same soul-crushing sorrow. Embry’s normally fierce gaze is now clouded with tears, his massive form trembling with the weight of his grief.

Jasper and Alice arrive moments later, their expressions a mixture of shock and horror. Jasper, who had grown close to Y/N, is struck by a wave of emotions so intense that he staggers backward, nearly collapsing. The overwhelming sorrow, guilt, and heartbreak radiating from Paul and Embry hit him like a tidal wave, drowning him in their despair. He struggles to maintain his composure, but the pain is too much. His face contorts with grief, and he clenches his fists, his knuckles white.

Alice’s usually serene features are twisted in anguish. She falls to her knees beside Paul, her eyes wide and filled with unshed tears. She reaches out a trembling hand to touch Y/N’s pale, cold face, her fingers brushing against the blood on her neck.

“Y/N…” Jasper whispers, his voice choked with emotion. He steps forward, placing a hand on Paul’s shoulder in a gesture of solidarity. The touch is meant to be comforting, but it only serves to amplify the shared grief. Jasper’s pain is palpable, a mirror to the torment etched on Paul’s face.

Embry’s howl tapers off into a series of heart-wrenching whimpers as he watches the scene unfold, powerless to do anything but bear witness to the tragedy before him. He lowers his massive head, pressing his nose to the ground in a gesture of mourning, his body shaking with the force of his sorrow.

Paul clutches Y/N’s body tighter, his tears mingling with the blood on her neck.

“I was too late,” Paul chokes out, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Jasper’s grip on Paul’s shoulder tightens. “We all failed her.”

If he could, he’d scream and he’d wail as loud as he could, halfway hoping she’d hear him screaming on her way to heaven. Maybe she’d turn around and come back to him, but she doesn’t. She gave him the world, a life he never thought he was destined to live – she taught him the meaning of true love…and now, the meaning of true loss.

Alice and Daisy planned the funeral.

The morning of, sky is a dull gray, matching the somber mood of the gathering. A light drizzle falls, the drops mingling with the tears on the faces of those assembled. The forest surrounding the graveyard seems to mourn with them, its usual vibrant life stilled in a respectful silence. The scent of rain-soaked earth hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of fresh flowers that surround Y/N’s casket.

Paul stands at the forefront, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow, as if the very soul has been drained from him. He stares at the casket, unable to tear his gaze away from the final resting place of the woman he loved more than life itself. His hands shake at his sides, clenched into fists so tight that his knuckles are white. He feels Daisy and Embry’s presence beside him, the silent support of his best friends a small comfort in this ocean of grief.

The Cullens are there too, standing in a solemn line. Carlisle’s face is etched with sorrow, his usual calm demeanor strained. Esme holds his hand tightly, her other hand clutching a handkerchief to her mouth to stifle her tearless sobs. Edward and Bella stand close together, their expressions a mix of anguish and guilt. Renesmee clings to Jacob, her young face a mask of confusion and sadness. Jasper and Alice are slightly apart, their grief palpable in the way they hold themselves, shoulders hunched as if bearing an unbearable weight.

The pack and their imprints form a protective circle around Paul and the casket. Sam’s strong presence is a pillar for them all, but even he cannot mask the pain in his eyes. Emily stands beside him, tears streaming down her face. Quil and Leah, Seth and Claire, all wear their grief openly, their usual strength overshadowed by this moment of profound loss.

As the rain falls harder, soaking through clothes and plastering hair to heads, the funeral begins. Sam steps forward to speak, his voice breaking as he tries to find the words to honor Y/N. Each word feels like a dagger to Paul’s heart, a reminder of everything he has lost. He barely hears the eulogies, the shared memories, the expressions of love and sorrow. His mind is a blur, lost in the torment of what could have been.

When it is his turn to speak, Paul moves forward on unsteady legs. He looks down at the casket, feeling the weight of every eye upon him. His throat is tight, his heart a shattered mess. He takes a deep breath, the air thick with the scent of rain and flowers and grief.

“Y/N was… everything,” he begins, his voice raw with emotion. “My heart and soul. She was strong, brave, and loved with an unmatched fierceness.” Pausing, he lets out a shuddered breath, “I knew how it would end for us…I knew when I imprinted and still I tried to find a way around it – a loophole, a diving move… I promised to protect her, and I failed.” His voice cracks, tears streaming down his face unchecked. “I failed her, and I will carry that guilt for the rest of my miserable life.”

Paul steps back, unable to say more. He feels Embry’s hand on his shoulder, a grounding presence in this moment of utter devastation.

As the final words are spoken and the casket is lowered into the ground, the rain intensifies, as if the heavens themselves are weeping. Paul drops to his knees beside the grave, his body wracked with sobs. He isn’t dead as they thought he’d be, but he’s not alive either. His wolf is gone, his ability to shift stripped from him. He longed to shift into a beast, spending the rest of his life as a wolf in the forest as Jacob once intended to…he said the pain was bearable for him, that he’d almost forgotten his humanity and the reason he shifted. Paul wanted the release it would give him, but he couldn’t shift. He never will again. He’s a ghost with a beating heart, doomed to a loveless life filled with regrets. And maybe he should feel some kind of relief – it’s over now. No more stressing about Y/N and the dangers. But the truth is, he doesn’t feel relief, he’s angry at her for dying. It’s fucked up, but he can’t shake it. If she had stayed home, she would have been safe, but she was too stubborn to do that. It’s easier to blame her for chasing after him than to accept his lack of control is what got her killed in the end – the way he always feared. The root of the problem is now gone – he doesn’t need control for something he can’t do.

For Paul, there is no comfort, no solace. There is only the unbearable weight of his loss, the emptiness of a future without the woman who was his everything. He presses his forehead to the damp earth, whispering her name over and over, a desperate prayer to the void that now consumes him.

Epilogue

They found Felix not too far from the scene – a blubbering mess of human bones, forced to face the Cullens and Sam who stumbled upon him. Y/N’s blood, even as a human, worked as a cure and Felix was turned – fragile and vulnerable as Y/N once was.

He revealed Eleazar was forced to give up the truth of Y/N’s future to the Volturi in exchange for a full pardon for the Denali coven’s role in the Renesmee debacle.

It didn’t bring Paul much solace when they brought him to justice. Life moved on for everyone else, and in time, he too was leading some semblance of a life – refusing to think or speak about her, terrified of forgetting her. Even hearing her name made his soul tremble with memories, the warmth and the pain. It made his heart break a little more each time he’d look into someone’s eyes that had the same color as hers. He no longer sobbed or wailed, his grief was terribly discreet but as persistent as a bleeding from an unstitched wound.

The Cullens left soon after the funeral. Most of the pack has moved away, with Uleys staying behind. Embry and Daisy moved to Y/N’s family home – it had more room for a growing family. Paul had remained in their home, though he couldn’t sleep in their old room.

At least that’s what Daisy tells her. She’s the only one who visits Y/N’s grave. It’s not unusual, she stops by every Friday, more if it’s someone’s birthday or a holiday. Paul hasn’t been by once. Daisy often apologizes for him, saying it’s just too triggering, but she hopes one of these days he will be strong enough to accompany her.

This time was different.

It’s Jacob who came to visit her. He brought her flowers – sunflowers, the ones they’d lay on their mothers’ graves.

He sits across from her.

“Renesmee and I are getting married.” He opens a box, showing the ring. “I plan to ask her soon. She’ll say yes,” he frowns. “I always thought that I’d get to ask you to stand next to me on my wedding day.”

Jacob looks up at the sky, tears running down his face. Pocketing the ring box, he pulls out a golden rose hair piece and sets it on the ground, right in front of the stone.

“All the bridesmaids will wear these, Alice has already seen it. I wanted you to have yours first.”

He stays a little longer, tells her how he plans to ask her, and of all the things Alice has seen in his future. He mentions Paul – the way they can’t look at each other anymore without seeing Y/N. Jacob plans to rectify it – to invite him to the wedding and have him as his best man. Life’s too short to take steps back from relationships that can be saved.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, bowing his head in anguish. “I wish I was strong enough to visit more often. But I don’t think I’ll be back for a long time. Longer than the five years that have passed.”

Licking his lips, he releases a heavy sigh before standing up. He walks away with a heavy heart, one that will never forget the girl who could light up his darkest nights – his platonic soulmate.

[lilasamaaa]

Miss missing you | Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genres | Angst, Hurt.

Word count | 2.1K

Warnings | Breakup, depressing thoughts, mentions of cheating.

Summary | Reader wakes up the day after her breakup with Charles and reflects on their relationship. Inspired by the song "Miss Missing You" by Fall Out Boy. Author's note | Sorry for being criminally addicted to writing sad things.

Don't panic, no, not yet

The living room shutter is closed. Impenetrable.

She has no idea how long she's been like this, slumped on her couch in the dark, her face irritated by the relentless assault of her tears. Outside, she knows life has gone on without her. She suspects the sun has risen, like every morning. That darkness has given way to light, like every morning. She even heard her neighbors in the hallway, heading to work. Like every morning.

Taking a deep breath, she feels her heart and throat tighten, tears doubling. She didn't even know she had that much water in her body. It's not just an ordinary morning. It's the first of many mornings where she will wake up with her heart in pieces.

I know I'm the one you want to forget

She remembers, a few years ago, listening to Taylor Swift's "Mr. Perfectly Fine" for days on a row. She remembers cursing Joe Jonas, she even remembers feeling so sorry for Taylor. What kind of guy breaks up with his girlfriend over the phone?

Well, Charles, apparently.

She's not stupid, not blind, not even a little naive.

She had felt it coming. Had noticed him slowly drifting away. The calls were less frequent, and the ones she managed to intercept, shorter. She knows there was someone else. Maybe multiple someones. They'd somehow stopped talking about him, about her, about them. They only talked about races, cars, airplane trips. That's the only thing that seemed to keep them together. The only thing that had brought them together in the first place. She, the daughter of the CEO of one of Ferrari's sponsors. Him, the one who wore the suit with the logo printed on it.

Cue all the love to leave my heart, It's time for me to fall apart

She wished her heart would close. She wished she could block his access to it. She wished she could reclaim it, as one might retrieve the keys to an apartment once shared. But that bastard remains wide open. It's almost embarrassing, the way her heart, cruelly empty, hopes to be filled again. To feel his warmth once more. To beat for him again.

Her mind has stopped functioning, but her heart, somehow, hasn't stopped. It keeps beating, selfishly. It keeps her alive. For what? To feel the hurt, the betrayal, the despair? Honestly, it's not worth the effort. The poor thing should have just stopped.

Now you're gone, but I'll be okay, Your hot whiskey eyes have fanned the flame

She's young. She's had flings, but she's always been the one to end them. Charles was her first serious relationship. The only significant one, actually. She didn't think the pain would be so raw, so physical. She feels like she can sense her heart crumbling a little more each time she thinks of him. She feels it in her chest, swelling, taking up space, trying to escape. It wants to leave her body. To break free from this darkened, wounded brain that suffocates it.

She's not against the idea. It can leave. She can function without it. She's almost convinced of it, if that's what it takes to feel alive again. To feel like her again.

Maybe I'll burn a little brighter tonight, Let the fire breathe me back to life

Her heart isn't the first to be broken. Won't be the last.

She's heard stories from friends, from close ones, who've gone through breakups. Today, she feels so foolish for feeling so little concern about those stories back then. She's always been a listening ear, an unwavering support. She's sat in bars, cafés, bedrooms, listening to stories of betrayal and broken promises, and she simply didn't believe it would ever happen to her. As if she were above the laws. Above all that. She remembers listening to tales of broken hearts like children listen to myths of dragons, of wizards, of magic.

That's what it was for her. Fantasy. Something so unreal, so inconceivable.

Even though it hurts, she has sworn to let herself feel everything. The good as well as the bad. She knows that one day, she will look back on this period of her life, and she won't be overwhelmed by sorrow and pain anymore. But today, she has to go through it, let the flames lick her body to better heal her wounds later.

Baby you were my picket fence, I miss missing you, now and then

She'd never introduced a boyfriend to her family. Never envisioned a future with anyone. Never looked at houses with anyone. But with him, she did. A few months ago, while strolling on the hills of Monaco, she'd passed by a gate behind which a stone path led to a discreet little house. She'd fallen in love with the garden bordered by trees and flowers. She'd liked the color of the gate surrounding the property. She'd even found charm in the slightly crooked chimney protruding from the roof. She'd taken a photo of the "For Sale" sign and sent it to Charles. He had responded with a series of emojis (a face with hearts for eyes, sparkles, a star, the rest she can't remember). He had promised to call to set up a visit.

She would never walk down the stone path.

Chlorine kissed, summer skin, I miss missing you, now and then

She's never been drawn to wealth. She was born into it. Penthouses, luxury cars, diamonds hold no charm in her eyes. She's always been searching for more authentic, more simple things.

One summer when Charles had suggested a yacht outing, the lovers had ended up on a poorly patched-up rowboat that was taking on water. The monacan had complained all afternoon, but she still remembers the sensation of lying against him, against his warm, salty skin, alone in the world in their small boat. A feeling that no amount of money could ever buy. A feeling that no amount of money could ever get her back.

Sometimes before it gets better, The darkness gets bigger

What had begun as sweet and innocent had taken a turn.

Times were tough. His job was demanding. Exhausting. She did her best to support him, to show him he could lean on her anytime he needed. He wouldn't talk. Little by little, she was abandoning more and more things from her daily life to dedicate herself to his. His stability. His success. His worries. Sometimes, she felt like she was losing herself, but she knew it was temporary. She thought she would soon get the old Charles back. Even when he started going out late. Even when he started coming home late. Even when he started not coming home at all.

The endless suffering hadn't brought her anything. In fact, it had taken everything from her.

The person that you'd take a bullet for, Is behind the trigger

She knew the signs, had seen them in her own parents. When they ate together, he could go through the entire meal without meeting her gaze. When she placed her hands on his body, he would sometimes shiver. Not the shiver of anticipation from the early days. The kind that suggested he didn't deserve the display of affection.

Her own friends seemed oblivious to the situation. "I ran into Charles yesterday, at the club," "I saw Charles in town with a friend", "Aren't you with Charles today?". Were they trying to pretend everything was fine to protect her? Or were they already distancing themselves from a situation they didn't want to witness?

Oh, we're fading fast, I miss missing you, now and then

She pinpointed the breaking point as her sister's wedding. How ironic, she'd thought. Celebrating love, respect, and unity when I feel none of these things in my own relationship. Charles had arrived late, his hair disheveled, tie slightly askew. She had felt tears burning behind her eyes, had bitten her cheek to hold back from exploding in the middle of the church. She refused to believe that he had done that to her. That he had disrespected her on this day, in this place. Her entire family had cast a glance in her direction, had observed the way Charles had slipped between the guests to sit next to her. Without a glance. Without a touch. Her sister, speech in hand, had taken a few seconds to start. "With you by my side, I know I can face anything," she had started saying to her husband, letting her eyes meet the teary ones of her little sister.

Making eyes at this husk, around my heart, I see through you and we're sitting in the dark

He told her everything, recounted everything to her. From what he felt in the car during a race to his latest argument with his brother. She read him like an open book, could anticipate every word, every gesture, every thought, even. To joke around, she often said she knew him better than she knew herself. Upon reflection, they got together when they were eighteen. Had she even had time to get to know herself, or had she cowardly built herself around him?

The idea of pursuing her life's journey without him terrified her. She didn't know who she was, who she wanted to be. She didn't even know if she liked herself. She sometimes wondered if he knew her as well as she knew him. If he knew her favorite color, her favorite song, her favorite season. She always ended up pushing those somber thoughts away, reminding herself that these concerns were those of a schoolgirl, and got back to her duties. To taking care of him.

So give me your filth, make it rough, Let me, let me, trash your love

She was gentle, with a calm nature, almost maternal.

She never lost her composure, never raised her voice. But she had yelled that day. When they arrived home after the church ceremony. She would never forget, and he probably wouldn't either, how her voice had broken when she had shouted three words, three little words that had been enough to shatter everything. "Who is she?".

She, who admired him so much, who thought of him as a man of the purest and most sincere nature. She had given him a chance to repent. He hadn't seized it, hanging his head low. That day, facing her anger, the pain of a betrayed woman, she'd found him so small that he was almost ridiculous. He hadn't responded, of course. Hadn't said a word.

I will sing to you everyday, If it will take away the pain

She'd stayed. She wasn't sure if love made her do it. Perhaps it was out of habit. Or masochism. But she had stayed, and life had resumed just as it was before, for a few weeks. They had started waking up side by side again, sharing their day over a meal again.

Making love, again. She hadn't even realized they had stopped touching each other, desiring each other. How long had it lasted? A week? A month? Six?

He played the piano in the evening, proclaiming a love strong and indestructible over the keys, letting his fingers glide from white to black, filling the apartment with sounds and colors that had disappeared. Of feelings that had disappeared.

Oh, and I heard you've got it, got it so bad, 'Cause I am the best you'll ever have

She had let herself dream of the life before.

A life where Charles had only touched her, only tasted her. A life where she didn't discreetly grab his phone every night when his breathing indicated he was asleep. A life where she didn't send messages to Carlos at all hours of the day and night to find out where he was, with whom he was when she wasn't there. A life where her sister didn't regularly tell her how worried she was about her, finding her too thin, too stressed, too distracted.

So, she had left. She had left the spare keys he had given her on the dining table. She had fled his apartment and returned to hers, the one she had just planned on returning the keys to the owner, ready to move in permanently with him. She had spent three days alone, spending entire days in the dark. Ignoring the messages and calls of her mother, her father, her sister. Carlos, too.

Baby you were my picket fence,

By the end of the third day, he had finally called, and after three rings, she had picked up.

Neither of them had spoken for several seconds.

Then, he had done it. For the first time in months, he had been honest with her.

"It's not working anymore," he had sighed into the phone. "I can't do it anymore."

She had hung up.

Lain down on the sofa.

Waited for the day to save her from the night.

I miss missing you, now and then,

Now and then.

[topguncortez]

Eyes Wide Shut

Spring Break Kickback | Masterlist

synopsis: You are an Aviator and go down in a crash, now Bob is trying to convince you to wake up and help you complete your bucket list

prompt: [ BEDSIDE ] : sender waits by receiver's bedside as they recover from an illness or an injury.

warnings: medical inaccuracies (I got my medical degree from Shonda Rhimes University), description of injuries, failed ejection, mentions of death, angst, Bobby Boy being sad

word count: 1.5k

It was quiet, except for the incessant beeping and soft hum of all the machines gathered around her bed. They were the only things keeping her alive. Keeping oxygen and blood flowing through her body. The annoying beeping was the constant reminder that her heart was still beating in her chest. It had been days since she had opened her eyes, and Bob feared she might never again. 

He had been sitting in the readiness room, reading through some military magazine when the distress call came over the radio. He stood up from the couch and quickly ran over to the radio, where Nat and Payback were crowding around. You and Hangman were in the air, doing a routine, or what should’ve been, hop against Javy and Rooster. Everyone had started to believe that Hangman had changed his ways, but it seemed as though everyone spoke too soon. 

“You need to eject! Punch out! Eject! Eject! Eject!” 

You were out there for two days. Your parachute carried you farther from the wreckage of your jet than the rescue crews had estimated. You were found barely breathing, dehydrated, and in a pool of your own blood. They took you straight to the hospital, rushing you into surgery to repair the broken leg you had sustained in the crash. But the doctors had feared that they were too late. That even though they had fixed your leg and internal injuries, that the mix of severe dehydration, blood loss, and swelling in your brain had caused irreparable damage. 

“Mav went ballistic on Cyclone today,” Bob said, as he held your hand, “You would’ve loved to see it.” 

Bob hadn’t left the side of your bed since you had been brought into the ICU. You weren’t allowed more than one visitor, in case you did wake up. The doctor said low stimulation was going to be the best for you. The brain was an organ that took a while to heal, and a quiet setting was ideal for patients like you. The doctor also told Bob that studies had shown that talking to comatose patients often helped their brains heal even quicker. 

“I don’t even know why Cyclone would bring up something like. . . bringing in a new pilot,” Bob scoffed, “That’s just fucking ridiculous. You’ll be back soon. And then you can tell Cyclone yourself that his idea was fucking ridiculous.” 

But, Bob knew that it wasn’t all that too ridiculous that Cyclone was searching for your replacement. You’d never fly again. The doctor had already told Bob that. You would never pass a physical to get cleared to fly. It was hardly ever that pilots who had crashes as bad as yours found themselves back in the air. They said it would be a miracle if you even stayed in the Navy, more than likely going to get a medical discharge. That depends on if you wake up. 

The thought ran through Bob’s head again and sent a shiver down his spine. He clenched his jaw, and sat forward a bit in his chair. He picked up your hand and held it in both of his. He pressed a kiss to your fingers, feeling tears well up in his eyes. You had to wake up. You just had too. There were too many things that you hadn’t done yet. You had hardly lived, being only twenty-seven. You had a bucket list, a lengthy one at that, that you wanted to complete. 

“Remember the other day. . . when you said that you were half way through your bucket list goal of eating chicken strips in every state?” Bob sniffled. He had laughed when you first said that, but then you showed him the map of all the states you had eaten chicken strips in, “Well, if you wake up, I promise that I’ll help you complete that. You hear that? You gotta wake up so we can cross that off our list.” 

The tears in Bob's eyes were now streaming down his face as he held your hand to his lips and cried. He was never one to cry. His father had told him once that crying makes you weak. But in this moment that was all he could do. He had run out of prayers to say. Run out of scripture passages to read. And now, the hope that he had in his body was also starting to run thin. 

It felt good to cry. It felt good to get all the pent up feelings he had in his body out. It had been eight long days of sitting by your side, holding your hand, being woken up every hour on the hour by doctors and nurses coming in to check your vitals, and hearing that constant beeping of the machines. Bob gently sets your hand back down by your side, running his thumb over the back of your skin. 

“And when we get to that fiftieth state, which I really want to be Alaska, cause it’s beautiful,” Bob took a deep breath, “I’m gonna ask you to marry me.” His blue eyes looked up at your rested face. 

Your relationship had been kept on the down low, fearing that one of you would be moved away from the unit if the higher ups found out. Somehow, you had been able to keep it a secret for nearly two years, but Bob reckoned that everyone knew now. It had taken Payback and Rooster to hold Bob back from charging at Hangman for putting you in the wake of his jet wash. They had never seen the quiet WSO so angry, nor did they know that he had a nasty right hook. Jake was still supporting a black eye. Everyone had confused looks on their faces when Bob ran from the shared office space and out the door on the day they had found you. Slowly, the pieces had been falling together. 

“I got a ring and everything,” Bob said, “You just gotta open your eyes. Alright,” Bob sat up in his chair, “You open your eyes, and the ring is yours. I am yours. Please, please.” Bob clasped his hands and rested his elbows on your bed in prayer, reciting the Our Father again like he had several times already. 

It felt like a jackhammer going off in your head. The idea of even attempting to open your eyes sounded like the worst thing in the world. It’s like seeing the bright light of morning shining through your window, and trying to stay asleep. But there was a pull, like a magnet, that was pulling you to just open your eyes. It was like hearing your mother call you home after the street lights had turned on. You knew that you needed to. That you should. But what was stopping you? 

Ever so slowly, you blinked your eyes open. The lights were bright, and you couldn’t quite focus your eyes on anything. The pounding in your head grew worse as you could somewhat make out a shape of a person sitting by your bed. You should’ve known it was him. You tried to turn your head the best you could, but you weren’t sure that you had any control over your body. You thought you were moving your hand to reach and grab his clasped ones, but you were no more than just moving one of your fingers. 

But somehow Bob felt that barely there brush against his forearm, and looked over at you. 

“Oh my god,” He grabbed your hand. Every fiber in your being felt like it had been lit up in flames as you used whatever strength you could muster and squeezed his hand, “I love you. I love you so much.” Bob moved forward and pressed his lips to your forehead. You squeezed his hand again and slowly your eyes fluttered shut. 

Bob pulled away from you to look at you again, when a loud flatlining sound filled the air.

I know longer have a taglist! follow my library page for notifications on when I post:) @cortezslibrary

[jm-2406]

Hi,

I was wondering if I could make a request for a matt murdock x reader idea. You could make it into a headcannon or a dribble I dont mind ✨.

Basically I’ve always found interesting the idea of matt either loosing his powers or his hearing senses (like in season 3)

So id think about something like that happening to him and the reader helping him found himself in his new routine without his vigilante identity.

(insecure and « in need of love » matt is my weakness jsjs)

Lots of angst but a happy ending if possible

(Also its preferable if reader is just a civilian too)

Thanks 🦋

Love me tender.

Summary - an unfortunate accident almost cost your boyfriend's life but you are there to help him recover, even if he gets emotional and says stupid things.

Pairing - Matt Murdock x teacher!reader.

Word count - 855.

Note - I'm sorry for being so late in delivering this, I got my exam results and it was not good. I was upset, so I couldn't get anything done.

Warnings - rushed ending, mentions of accident/injury, Matt and reader having a heart to heart.

Requests - open || find my work - here.

It came as a shock to you when a phone call disturbed your sleep at 3 a.m. informing you about your boyfriend's accident. You were the only person on his emergency contact and the hospital staff were quick to inform you. When you reached the hospital gates, a fear gripped your heart. You were not sure what happened with Matt exactly but you could make out that it was something very serious from the nurse’s words.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N], I am here to visit Matt Murdock.” You informed the receptionist. She typed something on her computer and directed you towards the ward. That night, you had the biggest shock of your life as you waited for the doctors and nurses treating Matt.

“It was quite a fatal accident, Miss [Y/L/N]. We're lucky that he survived but he might take some time to recover and from what we have gathered, he might have some problems with his external auditory canal.”

“But… he'll be okay, right? He will recover, right?” You asked him. The doctor nodded his head and left because of another case. It was all up to you now, to let him know. You knew how upset he felt if treated with sympathy, you felt like that too. You just wanted him to recover completely before taking any risks with his life.

A few days later, when you were sitting quietly in the living room and grading the test papers, you heard a cracking sound. Rushing to the kitchen, you saw your boyfriend standing and in front of him, a broken glass. “Are you okay? And what are you doing here?” You carefully reached him and brought him back to your room.

Before you could scold him for being so careless and not resting enough, you saw him sitting quietly, too quietly like a statue. He was holding his mask in his hand. It was high time now, you needed to talk. You placed your hand on his shoulder and got his attention. Matt was still quiet.

“You can't carry on like this, Matt.” You said after a moment of silence.

“I don't know what to do. I'm lost, okay. This feeling… the feeling of being helpless and staying at home all day… it kills me. I feel like I failed.”

“No matt. Please don't say things like that.” Your voice was thick with emotions. “We can go through anything if we are together. Please don't shut me out.”

Matt gave you a sad little smile and you knew that you had a long road ahead of you.

A few days passed with you and Matt adjusting to the new life without his vigilante identity. It was a struggle in the beginning but slowly, he recovered… at least physically.

One evening, you were sitting on the couch, watching one of your favourite films when you noticed Matt standing in the corner, lost in his thoughts. “What happened, babe? You alright?” You rushed to him and to your surprise he jerked your hands off him. That had never happened before.

“I think we should take a break.”

“What?” To say you were shocked would be an understatement. You didn't know what came over him suddenly.

“Yes, [Y/N]… we should.” He sounded serious.

“But, at this point? I don't understand Matt. What happened?”

“Because I can't give you a normal life, [Y/N]. Why is it so difficult for you to understand that? You were sitting there, all peacefully, watching a move. We couldn't do that together, or anything normal couples do. How many times we had to cancel our plans because of me being daredevil and trying to save the city. You don't need to go through all of this. You deserve better, [Y/N].” He breathed hard after his confession, sightless eyes following where your figure should be.

“Leave it to me to decide what and who I deserve. I love you, Matt. I know that I never said it before, I didn't want to push you away. I don't want ‘normal’, I just want you.” By the end of it, you had wrapped your arms around his neck and forced him to sit down. It was one of the few raw moments you shared.

“I'm sorry.” He said after a few minutes of silence. “Promise me, you won't do anything stupid like this again.” You asked, gently massaging his scalp. Matt just nodded his head. You knew that you had a long road ahead of you but you were satisfied with the journey. In the end it's just you two, together.

THE END.

[ragingbookdragon]

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story

Lindir x Reader

Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: :( --> :')

**********************************************************************

Their journey back was quiet. She knew all three of them were in a particular state of mourning, she for Fili and Kili, Bilbo for Thorin, and Gandalf for all three of them. The old wizard had felt particularly responsible for the deaths of the three, even though it hadn’t been his fault in the slightest. Usually, when someone she knew had passed, her calling as a songstress had her performing ballads of their lives and greatest deeds, but this time, she couldn’t find it in herself to sing such songs just yet. The wounds still too fresh, memories of her dearest dwarven friends still too heavy a weight on her heart. She knew if she tried, she’d break down in tears. Still though, she kept her hopes high, and her grief hidden enough to comfort the other two on their journey back.

She wasn’t sure where she’d end up. Thorin’s company had simply crossed paths by chance and that was how she’d gotten along, but now, Bilbo was going home, Gandalf escorting him, then he was off to who knows where doing who knows what but only the old wizard. That left her where she had been before—simply wandering. But she’d seen the west, seen the great heights of the Mirkwood trees, seen the low valleys of Lake-town, and the majesty of Erebor. What else was there?

Her thoughts continued to plague her all throughout their travels back, through Lake-town, through Mirkwood, and back through the mountains until they’d come back upon the elven settlement, Rivendell. She couldn’t deny that it was a sight for sore eyes, the comfort, food, and care had been greatly remembered and desired ever since she and Gandalf had departed after the company those months ago.

Lord Elrond and his council were already waiting for them when they finally crossed the bridge and the elf looked rather disheartened when he greeted them. “Welcome back,” he murmured, carefully taking in both Bilbo and her expressions of sadness. “Word has already come from the west.” Elrond looked between them all. “My most sincere sympathies go to you all for your losses.”

She cleared her throat, bowing slightly. “Thank you, my Lord Elrond. It is a most kind gesture. We…the journey there and back have been long and arduous, physically, mentally, and emotionally.” She said nothing more, feeling the tears coming to her eyes as she blinked them away and gently placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, squeezing it for comfort; the hobbit merely reached up and squeezed her hand in return, unable to speak, for his wounds were the greatest.

Gandalf looked at the two close together and asked Elrond, “My old friend, might we find refuge for a day or two before traveling back?”

“Always,” Elrond said and turned, leading them up the stairs and into the courtyard; he looked at the elf standing to his left. “Lindir, take our songstress and hobbit and show them to some rooms. I need to speak to Mithrandir.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Lindir replied and waited for the two travelers to meet him. “Has the journey back been beset by any trouble?” he asked her as he led them.

She inhaled. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.” She tried to smile at him. “How has Rivendell faired since we’ve been gone?”

“As usual. Other than his lordship leaving to Dol Guldur.”

“Ah yes, I heard quite a fearsome battle occurred between the forces of evil and good.” She smiled this time. “Perhaps I shall ask Lord Elrond for the details and compose a ballad. Do you think Lady Galadriel would allow me to perform it for her?”

Lindir laughed quietly. “I would not see why not.” As he brought them to two secluded rooms near the edge of the house, he opened the first door for Bilbo. “Here you are,” he said to him, and Bilbo nodded, finally managing to look up.

“Thank you,” he murmured quietly and looked over at her. “I think I’m going to rest until evening dinner.”

“I understand,” she replied and watched sadly as he disappeared inside and shut the door behind him. It was only but a second then she turned to Lindir in tears and whispered, “My heart aches so deeply for him.”

Lindir gazed at her sadly, and instead of leading her to the next door, he took her to a secluded area of the garden beneath a grand willow. She put her pack down beside the bench and sat down, tucking her legs underneath her as Lindir sat down next to her.

“I’m sorry that you have lost your friends,” he said softly. “Though I did not know them well, I did sense honor among them.”

She nodded, barely able to keep the tears at bay as she looked towards the setting sun. “Bilbo will not speak of what happened before Thorin died. He will only tell us that they parted in friendship.” Tears dripped down her cheeks. “But the boys,” she whispered. “Fili and Kili were just boys. They didn’t deserve this as a fate. They deserved to grow up in their homeland. Find loves and have families.” She looked at him. “It isn’t fair, Lindir.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Her expression pinched. “I survived. A useless trobairitz who couldn’t even swing a sword or draw a bow and three battle hardened dwarves didn’t. What kind of fate is that? Why me? Why useless m—”

“You are not useless,” Lindir interrupted with a rather harsh look for the reserved elf. “You survived because it is what fate wished. You survived because fate has not come calling for you yet.”

She frowned and swallowed thickly. “But I wanted them to survive as well.”

“Yes,” he sighed, reaching over to take her hand in his slender one; he gently brushed his thumb over the back of her thumb. “That is our greatest ache. The ones who did not join us at the end.”

Her gaze met his. “Truthfully, Lindir, I don’t know where to go now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bilbo is going home to the Shire, Gandalf I assume is going to off doing what wizards do…but for myself?” she shrugged. “I am back to traveling the land singing for gold and fame.”

“You have no home to go back to?”

Her eyes were humored but had a sadness to them. “The home I had as a girl is long gone. A songstress knows no home but the next stage.”

Lindir gazed at her, mouth opening and closing for a moment before his cheeks tinted pink and he asked, “…perhaps you could make Rivendell your home?”

She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

He shifted in his seat. “You have no home, but you acted wonderfully as an ambassador between the elves and the dwarves.”

A laugh escaped her. “You mean I mothered them and glared until they obeyed.”

Lindir smiled. “However you managed it, it worked. I could not imagine a better place for you.”

“An ambassador? Lindir, I am a singer. My role is to compose and sing the songs of our heroes. The ones who live, the ones who die. I am simply their storyteller.”

“Yes, but the people respect you for your role in Thorin’s company. You represent a great position amongst other races. I am not naïve to assume that your voice does not have sway too. You could be the connection between our races.”

She gave Lindir a look. “Something tells me, you wish me to stay in Rivendell more than anything else.”

Lindir swallowed thickly, took a deep breath, and admitted, “I…have been hoping that you would come back to Rivendell.”

“Oh?”

His cheeks warmed. “Meleth nîn…”

“Oh, there are those words again,” she teased. “Lindir, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you have not been thinking I would return so much as you have been thinking about kissing me.”

Lindir looked like a startled deer, red cheeks, a bit frazzled if she were honest and he tried to splutter out some form of a reply but ceased when her laughter reached his ears, like twinkling stars and he gave her a heartfelt smile when she scooted a bit closer and leaned closer to him, nuzzling his cheek.

“If it soothes your wild heart, I have long thought about you, Lindir.”

He turned slightly, their noses brushing, and he murmured, “I have been talking to Lord Elrond about your possible staying here if you ever returned.”

“Uh huh, and what did he say?”

“He would think about it.” Lindir blinked. “That answer usually means yes.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that’s what he would tell Lady Arwen when she was a child and she asked for something only to give it days later.”

“Oh? So, my stay is already promised?”

“I truly enjoyed your singing.” He cleared his throat, adding, “we all enjoyed your singing.”

She smiled at him, gently pressing her lips to his cheek, and she said, “Well guess what? You get to hear it whenever you want.”

“You will stay?”

“If you’ll have me,” she chirped and Lindir’s face split into a handsome smile.

“I would have you with me forever.”

“That sounds like a marriage proposal.”

“I…had planned on trying to court you…if you ever returned.”

She blinked, staring at him, then she shifted across the bench and laid down, putting her head in Lindir’s lap. “I think I would enjoy that greatly, Lindir.”

“O—oh?” he replied, fumbling with himself on where to put his hands until he settled for resting one on her hip and the other gently in her hair.

“Mhm…a lot.”

“I’m glad,” he said, smiling down at her as the tension began to ease from her expression and body, eyes slipping shut as they enjoyed the setting sun together.

[rd0265667]

Sullyoon x Reader: Rain

TW! Infidelity

A/N: Just wanted to write a short kinda sad piece, idk why

You felt the rain, hitting your back and soaking your shirt. It didn't matter though, nothing really matters, does it? 

It's hard to think that anything matters anymore, when just half an hour ago, everything that ever meant anything to you, shattered. Broken. Left in pieces. You wandered aimlessly in the rain. Where could you go? She was your entire life, everything. You couldn't go anywhere, without a glaring reminder of what she did to you.

Still, try as you might, you couldn't escape reminders of her. Walking past a small alley next to a beautiful garden, you peered in, grimacing as you reminisced on memories that once brought you so much joy. Now, all of it seemed like a cruel, elaborate joke. A trick the universe wanted to play on you, for sins you didn't know you committed.

Walking in the suffocating rain, you couldn't stop thinking about what you had witnessed. How could she do this to you? How could she break every promise she made to you? How could she betray you? It burned you to your core, the anger, anguish, rage, but most of all, hopelessness. To say that you had imagined a life with her wasn't an overstatement. You wanted to take care of her after her hard days recording music videos, you wanted to be by her side whenever she felt sad, or tired. You wanted to spend your life with her. You wanted to get married to her. Start a family with her. Have kids together with her. Have her. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe you were the problem. You wanted too much, and the universe punished you for your selfishness, in a way that hurt, a way that stung you. To the core. Ripped your heart out, and curb stomped it

As you walked, your legs gave out, knees buckling and collapsing under not just the physical, but emotional torment you had gone through in the past half hour, falling to the ground as you pushed yourself up against a pillar.

All of a sudden, the rain stopped crashing on your head, but the rain still fell all around you. You lifted your head, seeing a figure standing before you, through your cloudy vision. She stood before you, an umbrella in her hand as she sheltered the two of you, a look of remorse on her face.

"Y/N...I'm sorry." Sullyoon whispered, extending her hand to you.

You scoffed, slapping the hand away.

"Go away Sullyoon, I don't want to talk to you." You could barely whimper, averting your gaze, not daring to look into the eyes of the woman who you still loved.

"Y/N, please." She said, remorse evident in her eyes, but what was remorse going to do? Wipe away the betrayal? The pain? No, didn't think so.

"How long?" You mumbled, a swell of rage bubbling in your chest

"Y/N plea-" Sullyoon pleaded, trying to avoid the question

"HOW LONG!" You couldn't hold on any longer as your rage exploded from your chest, bolting up at Sullyoon who recoiled in the shock.

Her head hung low, averting her gaze as the guilt of the situation rushed through her

"two months" She whispered, as you chuckled bitterly

"Two months. Two months you let me believe that you were faithful to me. Two months you told me you loved me and only me. Two months you lied." You seethed, before Sullyoon dropped her umbrella, both hands holding your hand as she cried

"Please, Y/N, it was a mistake, you're the only one I love! Please! Can you give me another chance? For all the happy memories we have, Y/N. Please." She tugged on your arm, as you felt your heart melt a little.

But as fate would have it, as you turned to look at the woman you loved, as you looked into her eyes, gone was that sweet innocent girl you fell in love with. All you could see now, was the pain, the torture, torment and betrayal she had put you through

She looked pleadingly into your eyes, the two of you under the pelting rain, before you shut your eyes.

"Memories. That's funny. We always thought our happy memories would last forever, living forever in our memories, then the memories of our children. The happy memories that we swore to never forget, memories that helped us through tough times. But a fickle thing, memory is. It's remembered as long as it's treasured, and our memories were, treasured. I hoped I would always keep those memories, but thanks to you and your actions, all those memories, all the moments we shared, all the love I had...all the love I have for you, will be lost in time.

Like tears in rain"

[dxfiedfxte]

Yet another thread relocation because this editor breaks too damn much lately T_T || @tacitusauxilium

✦✦✦~ Fuuka

“…I…lost Juno.” Fuuka whispered hoarsely, her eyes squinting in fear of Akihiko getting ready to yell at her. She clasped her hands together, trying to feel for her. She made sure Akihiko couldn’t get a word in as she continued speaking. “M-minato saved my life and it cost me my Persona. Minato’s shadow attacked me–through the chest–” Her hands shot to her chest, wincing in pain as she could feel the pain and lowered her eyes. “–a-and I can’t sense no one anymore! I-I can’t sense if anyone is in pain, if anyone is lost–I-I don’t want to be removed from the Shadow Operatives!” 

Akihiko listened to Fuuka’s woes; he was surprised that Juno seemed to have disappeared from Fuuka’s mind–heck, he didn’t know how Personas work but that they appeared. He quietly thought, and feared, that maybe the shadow that formed from Minato stole her Persona? He had never heard of it happening before–at least Mitsuru was getting the full story from Minato at this moment. Akihiko put a hand on top of Fuuka’s head and shook his head. “You won’t be removed–I’ll be sure of that. Fuuka, you’ve done so much for everyone then and now. I know Juno will come back to you. And if I am wrong, I’ll be sure to stop traveling the world and focus on college.”

Fuuka sniffed her nose, feeling a tickle of a laugh wanting to escape, but it stayed inside of her chest–she only nodded to his promise. Fuuka wouldn’t know how to act like a normal adult–go to college, become a doctor to satisfy her parents goals, and watch her lover have the freedom she couldn’t? She mentally shook the thought from her mind as Akihiko moved to reach for her water and snack and handed it to her. “…thank you.” Was all Fuuka could say as she clenched them closer to her chest.

Akihiko nodded and lowered his hand from the top of her head. “Come on. Let’s go back to the room–I’m sure Minato and Mitsuru want to talk to you and see you. Besides that, you need a bed to sleep in. Wouldn’t want Minato to get jealous of me carrying you to bed, right?” He joked, noticing that Fuuka didn’t really react quickly to the joke, and felt his heart twinging in sadness at how badly she was. Fuuka nodded slowly and felt Akihiko’s hand on her back, guiding her back to Minato’s room while feeling like an empty shell of a person. She was there physically but her mind was somewhere far away.

As he greeted her, the redhead kept her expression serious, but slightly gentle. While this was a serious discussion, it was still good to see him again, despite the bandaged and healing wounds, still in decent health. There was a lot to talk about, so Mitsuru would get right to the point of her visit and get Minato's full account of what happened, and what led up to him being in a hospital bed and recovering from a successful surgery, She had gotten the brief description of it, but she would need the full report, to better help assess what happened and what would possibly come next.

Booted heels click on the ground as she makes her way towards a chair by his bedside so she can listen. Besides, she was sure that this would be a bit of a long talk, so she figured she might as well sit down as they go over the event that had brought them here in full detail.

[{ ♕ }] - "As expected, you seem to be recovering relatively well. I'm glad. Unfortunately, I don't have enough time for a more adequate visit, so I'll get right to the discussion at hand. For now, let's start with when this shadow appeared, and what led up to the confrontation."

It was a bit of a shame that this wasn't a normal visit, Mitsuru had become a very close friend of his from their circle of friends, and everyone held a special place in parts of his heart, but Mitsuru wasn't just a close friend, she was also a mentor to him as well, she even went out of her way to ensure that the graves of his parents were being well-maintained and cared for to continue to respectfully honor their memory and that to Minato, meant so much. So, he wanted to give her all the details he could to help her further her investigation into the matter.

Taking a deep breath, Minato sat up a bit, albeit slowly given that he was still very early into the healing process. Closing his eyes, he begins to think, projecting the scene of everything that happened clearly in the back of his mind, grey-colored hues open, and he begins to explain, playing back the experience like a movie on a big auditorium screen.

[{ 🦋 }] - "I had just gotten back from a podcast, and Fuuka wasn't at the house, so I got worried. Only to get a picture text from her phone, but it wasn't Fuuka, it was the shadow... my shadow." One short pause as he revealed to her the identity of the aforementioned shadow that had been responsible for the state Minato was currently in.

[{ ♕ }] - "Your shadow? And you're sure it wasn't just taking your form? If this really was your shadow, then this may be more serious than I had originally anticipated." Minato's expression remains serious as he says nothing. The expression he wore was more than enough to tell her that he was serious.

[{ ♕ }] - "I see...please continue." She adds, convinced by the look on his face, she continues to listen to the rest of the recollection of what happened.

[{ 🦋 }] - "The text was a message, telling me to meet him at a specific location and it had a picture attached to it, a picture of Fuuka tied up, and she was hurt too. Needless to say, I rushed over. When I got there, he was waiting for me, and that's where the fight started." Minato continued to go over the rest of it, in full detail. He left nothing out. Moments later, he was finally finished.

Mitsuru remained sat in the chair for a few, carefully processing and pondering what all this could mean. Surely there was a larger scale to this encounter, ulterior motives involving a grand scheme. She had a strong sinking suspicion, that Minato wasn't finished with his shadow just yet, concerning, to say the least, but she had faith in Minato, he always seemed to find a way to go above and beyond every time, even in the most dire of situations. Regardless, Mitsuru was still determined to find her own share of answers.

[{ ♕ }] - "I see...I'm relieved that you were able to bring Yamagishi back and that you're still here with us. Regarding the shadow. At first, I thought that this situation was similar to Narukami and his friends with the way they awakened their powers. Yet, you were still able to use your Persona, so we can rule out any potential link to that. Still, it's quite concerning to think that a shadow could be that intelligent. let alone, enough to put together a plan to trap someone." She's quiet for a few moments before standing up from her seat. Before Mitsuru could say anything else, Minato stopped her by speaking.

[{ 🦋}] - "Mitsuru-san, there's one last thing I should tell you. I was going to let her tell you herself, but I wanted to give you a heads-up. It's the reason Fuuka is so down. For whatever reason, Fuuka lost Juno, and she's worried she's going to be removed from the team. I don't know how it happened, but all I know, is that my shadow beat her up pretty bad.. not just physically either..."

The sentence stops Mitsuru in her tracks, a single clicked heel as she stands in place to listen and take in what she has been told. It made sense, so that's why Fuuka looked so distraught. While her not having a Persona was a bit of a big deal, Mitsuru couldn't even dream of letting Fuuka go, she was one of her close friends, and also one of the best handywomen she knew, especially when it came to technology, removing her from the team completely would be absurd.

[{ ♕ }] - "Juno is gone...? That's horrible, and also very strange. I've never heard a case where a Persona disappeared from its user's mind entirely... I fear that your shadow may have somehow been responsible for it. Remove her? Unheard of. I would never remove her from the team. If it came down to it though, I would just put her in another part of the team, one that is good for her natural talent. Anyway, thank you for your report Minato-san. It was very informative, once I speak with Yamagishi, I'll try and see what I can do to help."

After the discussion ended, and on cue, the sound of footsteps, could be heard outside the door, Minato had hoped that at least, she would be able to eat, she needed food after what happened Upon the door opening, Minato gave Fuuka a small smile, while Mitsuru gave a slight one as she took back her card. Now that Minato had explained, she understood that losing Juno wasn't Fuuka's fault, there was just something more to it. Just as Mitsuru had theorized, it was most likely his shadow that was the cause of it. Minato just hoped he would have enough recovery time when the time to face him again.

[{ ♕ }] - "Ah, Yamagishi. I've just finished speaking with him, so if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to you now and get you're account on what happened, please do include as much detail as possible, the more I know, the better I can be of assistance."

[thenexusofsouls]

Nuada was left alone, now, among his group of friends, but that was alright. Some time ago, Wink had asked if he'd wanted to come with, but Nuada had refused, just wanting to stay where he was. The bark children, sleepy from the day's activities, had fallen asleep all around him, on his lap, around his legs, even on pair on his shoulder, and Wink thought it was time they be taken back home to get some rest. Nuada agreed, and let Wink carry them in a pile in his large arms for the trek back.

He'd wanted to hang around for a while longer, even though the party was breaking up. It was somewhat peaceful now, like the calm after a storm, and he was feeling introspective... and drunk. When Mantis sat down next to him, he smiled warmly, if not maybe too widely. "I did enjoy myself, yes. The... the first time... I have enjoyed a party... in cen-... centuries," he said, obviously very inebriated himself.

But when she asked if something was wrong, brought up their earlier hug, and asked what she'd missed, Nuada frowned. "Ohh..." he said almost dismissively. "You do not want me to speak of such things, and... and ruin an other-... otherwise lovely day... do you?" he said. He didn't want to talk about his own dark heart, and how sad it was, not when Mantis had clearly had a great day, as she well deserved.

She also deserved an answer, though, for it was rude not to give one. So he forced himself to talk about things he'd rather just gloss over and forget. "I've not felt this way... about someone... in..." He was long in continuing, for he was trying to remember, before he realized he'd never been in love before. Were he sober, he never would have spoken about any of this, but he was significantly impaired at the moment. "...in ever," he finally finished ineloquently. "And I know... Well, when we first met, I... I know I put you off. I know you... thought me arrogant and... I-... I do not blame you. You are right. So when you left... I imagined that I'd never see you again, and that... I... it was lonely without you... during those two years. It made me think... now that I am no longer a warrior... what else I might do with my life. And as of yet... I have no ideas. I wondered, though... if I... if maybe I shall always put off those I care for... and if so... if I might always be alone because of that."

He shrugged, having at least the vaguest inkling that he was not making any sort of cohesive sense. "What I mean is... I thought... I'd never see you again... when you left. And then when you-... when I did, it was so nice, but also... it was... you seemed so happy... and I knew I could never make you that happy. That if... you were happy around me... it would always be... because you have-... it's because of... your inner light... that you have."

Nuada was going to really regret saying all of this later, but she'd caught him in a moment of weakness, of not being able to filter what he said, and so he was saying far more than he ever would have. He turned his head to look at her. "Like now... You... You feel happy... and you think that... I-..." He looked down at his golden shirt. "Well, thank you, I... I wanted to look presentable for your party," he said, not realizing that he was reacting to how she felt and not to anything that she'd actually said. "I knew how important this was to you... and I wanted to... to treat it as such... so I wore something formal. I am glad you... think it looks good on me."

He still felt he was making no sense, and he'd gotten distracted by her subconscious compliment, so he tried once more. "I was lonely before... on Earth... because I was alone... physically. But here... I am alone... emotionally... because my purpose... is no more. And I don't..." His eyes welled up. "I don't know what to do. If I have been more subdued of late... it is because... I do not wish to bring my people down... now that they have found a new home. Nor Wink. Nor the bark children. But... seeing you again... reminded me... of what I've lost. Or perhaps... what I never had to begin with."

"I think that I am... very inebriated," he admitted. "And I do hope... I've not dampened your mood at all. I would never wish to do that." Certainly not. He loved how happy and free she was today, for the more she let go and just enjoyed herself, the more beautiful she was to him. Not beautiful on the outside, although she was that as well, but beautiful radiating from the inside outward. She spread joy wherever she went, and as he looked at her, Nuada knew - and Mantis would surely be able to glean from him - that he could never be with someone with that sort of inner light when he was filled with so much darkness. And there, now that he'd finally stopped talking, was the root of why he was so subdued and sad.

Going Knowhere || closed with thenexusofsouls

She was home. Mantis was finally home again. Not because Knowhere was her home as a place, but because home was where the Guardians were.

It had been two years since Mantis chose to bid farewell to the Guardians, leaving to find her own purpose while Quill left to return to Earth. The Celestial siblings had stopped running from their past, and it was freeing, as scary as the choice had been. Mantis had taken the three Abilisks with her… and the green seed Nuada gave her, of course.

Moments after landing, Mantis was greeted by some of the residents that lived on Knowhere. She rarely wanted to draw attention to herself, but she knew the three giant Abilisks would attract a few looks. Drax was all over her. He had picked her up at least three times to hug her, tightly squeezing Mantis until her eyes bulged from her skull. Part of the reason why Mantis had been at peace leaving his side was because now there were other children, children who needed him, after he spent years protecting Mantis since she reminded him of his daughter.

“Okay, Drax, enough! I want to say hello to everyone else,” she exclaimed, patting his back until he finally put her down.

Nebula, Kraglin and Adam hugged her affectionately, but soon enough Groot pushed them aside so he could hug Mantis, as well as Rocket. Cosmo licked Mantis’ face and Mantis giggled, patting the dog’s head. Cosmo was still the best girl in the galaxy.

When Mantis asked where Quill was, Drax told her he was still on Earth, but he wrote to the Guardians regularly to let them know he was okay. They were family, all of them, and they would always be.

“I say we throw a party tonight,” Rocket suggested. “You’re back, bug. We've gotta celebrate. What do ya think?”

“That sounds good! Thank you, Rocket,” Mantis said.

“Abilisks!” someone cried nearby, and collective screaming followed.

After reassuring everyone that the Abilisks were with her, lest panic took over all of Knowhere, Mantis asked the Guardians if they knew where Prince Nuada was. She had left without saying goodbye to anyone but the Guardians, and she wondered if Nuada would be angry with her. Rocket and Groot offered to look after her Abilisks while Mantis looked for the Elven Prince.

Mantis walked with more self-assurance than before. She no longer held her hands in front of her body, letting her arms swing at her sides instead. She was more poised now, secure in herself yet more mellow. Confident – but not unfriendly. As if her two years of complete independence had allowed her to grow more than her several centuries with Ego. She wandered over to the spot where Nuada was, following the direction Rocket had told her, and a few bark children appeared to say hello. Mantis smiled and waved at them. She remembered taking them to Knowhere shortly after bringing Nuada's people, as well as Mr. Wink. She never wanted Nuada to choose either his people or his friends; he could have both. She tilted her head when she spotted Nuada, and offered a polite smile.

"Hello," she said, trying not to make things awkward. "Good to see you," she added. "Okay, I know I left without saying goodbye, but... I already said goodbye to my friends, and I realized if I stayed a little longer to say goodbye to everyone, I would not leave. I would just think about how much I would miss everyone and stay. The seed is fine, by the way! I have been speaking to it regularly and making sure it knew it was a good seed. My Abilisks would keep it safe when I couldn't, so... yeah."

@thenexusofsouls

[marveloustimestwo]

How about this scenario? Yandere Deku plus platonic yandere Inko and yandere Peter Parker (Separate) tries testing reader to see If she’ll escape and leaves the door open. He's watching and when he sees darling go out, he's sad and heart broken ready to get them back but reader comes back inside again after a few minutes with flowers in her hands. Turns out she wants to make a bouquet for him and it’s a nice little surprise for him. How would he react?

I only do two characters per request, so I only did Deku and Peter.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome.

Izuku Midoriya:

After Izuku kidnapped you, he tried his hardest to be patient with you.

You found it difficult to adjust to your new life with him sometimes, not really getting that you two are meant to be together.

It's okay, though. Izuku was ready and willing to work through whatever obstacles might come up. He does love you, after all.

So after months of slowly trying to break you down into his perfect lover, Izuku thinks he finally succeeded.

You stopped fighting him. There was no more yelling or hiding from him. You didn't hit him or try to escape. He thought it was time to test things.

So one day when he had a day off, Izuku pretended to be late for work and "accidentally" left the door open in his haste.

He'll watch from a distance, looking right at the open door.

When he sees your head peek out and look around, he's filled with anxiety, wondering if you'll take the leap and run away.

One step out of the door sets him on edge.

When you fully leave the house and start walking away, Izuku is heartbroken.

All of the work, heartbreak, and pain of trying to get you to love him are shattered right in front of him.

In the midst of his breakdown, Izuku doesn't see what you're doing.

After a few minutes, he's ready to track you down. You couldn't have gone far. He won't let you get far.

However, he stops in his tracks when he sees your figure approaching the house.

This time, though, you have something clutched in your hands.

The closer you get, the easier it gets for Izuku to see that you now have a bouquet of flowers.

His heart, which had been racing in anguish a few seconds ago was now bursting with love and affection.

The fact that you not only came back to the house, but you also brought a gift back made him squeal with joy.

Izuku will get so excited that he'll break the ruse of him being at work just to bask in the joy with you.

After this, you'll start to get more privileges like going out on dates or walks with him.

Another very blushy boy.

Like Izuku, Peter is under the delusion that you and he are meant to be together.

He doesn't really think he kidnapped you, he just made sure you were in your rightful home with him where he could protect and love you like he should be able to.

You fighting him and trying to escape is just you two going through a rough patch. It'll heal with time and love.

Yeah, he might isolate you sometimes or yell when he gets really angry because of you escaping, but he would never physically hurt you.

He just loves you and waits for that love to be returned.

After months of waiting, Peter thinks he might have finally gotten what he wanted.

Your escape attempts and fighting died down with time as Stockholm Syndrom finally set in, so Peter thought it would be a good idea to test you.

On his way out to go on patrol, Peter shuts the door but forgets one key component.

You wait for the tell-tale click of the locks, the signal that Peter truly left, but never hear it.

Minutes pass. The locks never click and Peter doesn't return.

Meanwhile, the spider in question is perched a few buildings away, watching you through the cameras.

He's on edge, seeing how you inch closer to the door the longer it stays open.

When your head comes out of the door, looking around for any signs of your captor, Peter is frozen in place. He's terrified that you might actually leave, despite all of the work he's put in to make you love him.

When you step out the door and start walking away, Peter feels devastated. The cameras drop for a few minutes as he processes the fact that you left.

When he looks back at his screen so he can go after you, Peter is shocked to see you coming back into the frame of the apartment's cameras.

It's difficult to see it at first, but you're also holding something. A bouquet of flowers.

Peter's face is covered in a vicious blush.

He's already embarrassed by his misplaced doubt in you, but you also got him a gift.

Like Izuku, you'll be praised like no other once he gets back, along with gifts and you'll get certain privileges back.

Walks, dates, he'll even take you swinging around the city after patrol.

All in all, these two would be very surprised and happy by this.

[finelinevogue]

Can you write something about when Harry and Y/N broke up but fans speculate that they got back together and they did get back together. They broke over something stupid, please. You don’t have to do this exactly it can be something like that.

let’s see how this turns out! hope it’s what you wished for?!

The last few months had been rough.

What had started as rumours of a breakup between everyones favourite couple, you and Harry, had turned into an actual breakup.

It had started by Harry spending more time with Olivia, due to press for Don’t Worry Darling. They were always hanging out with each other, even when there was no publicity stunt telling them to. You found it appropriate at first, wanting the movie to gain some form of reputation, but after a while you believed it turned South. It was becoming a definite friendship and not just because they had to. It was the way that Harry would bring Olivia over for dinner without checking with you first, or taking the dog for a walk with her not you, or even staying longer out on stunts than they needed to just because they wanted to.

So you challenged Harry on it. Hell, even the tabloids were challenging you both - claiming Harry had split from you for Olivia. You made him question whether he thought his actions were irresponsible and appropriate or not, to which he thought there was nothing wrong and thought you were being irrational. You didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day, only to find him later on the phone speaking to Olivia about how crazy you’d been acting about it all. So you showed him crazy and walked out.

Until today.

For over a half a year your sister had her wedding planned and Harry was supposed to be your guest. You were nervous about turning up without him, because your family were very judgy. Your sister couldnt help being the smarter and the prettier one, but she also didn’t have to parade it around so everyone knew of it. Your mum and dad thought you a disappointment for the longest time, but once you’d gotten a job and had moved out they were a bit more loving over you. Still didn’t hide the fact they desperately hoped for you to have a relationship. It wasn’t that you were bringing Harry along to prove that someone loved you, but more to prove that they would never fully be satisfied whether you had a boyfriend or not. There would always be a podium stand slightly lower for you to stand on.

However, they didn’t know about the breakup.

“Y/N, nice to see you. Where’s Harry?” Another guest asked you, relatives of your mum. It was the same question over and over again, no one really caring about how you are but instead whether you’re in a positive relationship.

“Oh um I think he’s just running a bit late.” Was your chosen answer to respond to said question. It was repetitive, but it kept people off your back.

The wedding was completely beautiful. It was in a beautiful church and was decorated to perfection. The theme was white and royal blue, something your sister had always dreamed of. Children played amongst the pews and family relatives mumbled to each other about gossip. There was still a heavy sadness to the event. Maybe it was because your sister hadn’t asked you to be a bridesmaid - instead, choosing her best friends instead - or maybe it was because you missed Harry so much.

He’d fucked up. He really had, but it didn’t take away that burning passion for him that spread like a wildfire in your belly. You missed him. You still loved him. Worst of all, you had to pretend everything was all alright in front of your family when actually you were breaking apart inside.

Harry hadn’t messaged saying that he was or wasn’t coming, but after everything that had happened you were confident he was going to be a no show, and you would be the embarrassment of the family once again. Your relationship had been very private and exclusive, but Harry’s fans were so investigative you wouldn’t be surprised if they knew that you’d broken up and were aware that you were at a wedding today without him. Neither of you had made a public statement about your breakup, but neither of your wanted to damage each other even more. Fans suspected though and rumours travel fast.

“Y/N how are you doing? How’s Harry?” Another aunt came and asked you, this time with your mother in tow.

“Oh he’s great, yes.” You smiled forcefully, not actually having a clue how your ex-boyfriend was doing. You didn’t keep up with his social media because you were afraid of what you might find.

“Where is he? Is he here?” Your aunt asked.

“He’s late, apparently.” Your mother answered for you, sneeringly. “You’ll be made a fool of if he’s a no show Y/N.”

“I know.”

“I hope everything goes well for you both.” Your aunt kindly said, before waiting for your mum to say something nice too. That was a mistake though.

“Well it’s unlikely she’ll find someone again!” Your mother laughed and pulled your aunt away from you. You furrowed your eyebrows and let your heart sink low.

What were you thinking, letting Harry go like that? Your mum was right, you were never going to find anyone else again. You were so lucky with Harry. He was so kind and so patient with you, but obviously he’d run out of steam towards the end. It doesn’t surprise you. You’ve always been told you’re a mighty handful and you need a lot of work put into looking after you, so you understand why you were probably too much for Harry. The showbiz life had never really been something you’d completely submerged yourself into, whereas you guess for Olivia it was rooted in her from birth. She understood Harry’s world the same way he did hers. They would match perfectly for each other, if that’s what they wanted.

You watched the room continue as usual, but you couldn’t keep yourself here. There was too much sadness welling deep within you that you wanted to just run and then keep running. So you did, only to get as far as the bench in the front courtyard. The outside felt calmer and more freeing than inside, you sat and absorbed it for a while, not realising that you were crying until your pretty multicoloured dress had grown darker with a pool of your tears.

“Shit.” You tried rubbing the tears out, but only made you cry a little harder. You thought about your makeup running and tried to compose yourself, fanning your face to calm it down from the heat now.

“And here I was thinking weddings were supposed to be happy.”

You stopped fanning your face to look at him. You couldn’t believe he was standing there, dressed in a beautiful white suit and salmon pink shirt underneath to compliment the colours of your dress - the outfit that you’d helped him pick out over a year ago. He’d remembered. He trusted that you’d still be wearing this dress. He was a sight alright. A vision of beauty and love.

“Harry?” You questioned, wiping your under eyes to clear away any running mascara, not quite believing he was standing there.

“So what was it? Bad music playing? No vodka? Or maybe there’s nowhere for you to escape to go read the book I know you have stuffed away in your clutch bag.” He stood at a distance from you, hands in his trouser pockets, to make sure you were comfortable.

“I brought vodka instead of the book.” You chuckled, reaching into your clutch to prove it to him.

“Lucky for you, i’ve come to save the day.” Harry reached to the inside of his blazer pocket and pulled out a Kindle. You’d always been debating whether or not to buy one, because the feeling of having a book to turn its’ physical pages is a feeling second to none. “Take it, it’s yours.”

Harry handed it out to you and you stood up to reach for it hesitantly. Harry assured you that it was okay and that you’d been reading too many books if you thought it was a trap of some sort.

“Thank you, Harry.” You spoke sincerely. You stroked your thumb over the cover and turned the case lid over to start up the screen. The screen lit up and it was set to a picture of your favourite quote, annotated just as you would have in your own book. You chuckled and let a few tears drop from the kindness of all of this.

“And then…” Harry unlocked the Kindle with your birthday as the password, before clicking on the library so you could discover what was waiting for you on your virtual shelves. Harry had downloaded all your most favourite books, whilst also downloading the ones he knew had been on your to-be-read list. He’d even added a few of his favourite books too, just because you liked reading his recommendations.

You smiled, but felt so lost.

“W-why are you here, H?” You asked, closing the lid and bravely looking up into his enchanting eyes. You had to control yourself not to comment on how wondrous they looked.

“To save the day.” He chuckled in repeat, until he knew you weren’t taking that for an answer. “Because I fucked up. Big league time.”

“Yeah.” You whispered, looking down at your shoes to see that they weren’t that far apart at all. He was so close to you, yet he wasn’t yours to catch.

“And i’ll never forgive myself for letting you walk out of that door. The promotion shit with Olivia? Done. I’ve finished. I explained that the movie isn’t as important to me as you. You,” Harry paused to breathe out, and took the risk of guiding your jaw up to meet your gaze with his soft hand, “you are real Y/N. You’re so important and key to my life and it bloody terrified me, still does actually, to think that you make me feel this way. I want everything with you. Marriage, kids, a home. A life. I was so worried I would screw it all up, though, to the point where I did screw it all up. I lost you and so I lost me. It’s selfish of me to ask whether any part of your heart still wants me, but—”

“Yes.” You quickly interjected before he could say something he’d later regret. “There is, yes.”

“R-really?” He stumbled over his response, not expecting you to react so soon but his words had got to you. His feelings were vulnerable and raw and it reminded you of how much you love him and feel safe with him.

“Why? Would you like me to say different.” You teased.

“No,” Harry rushed, stepping closer towards you, “God now. Stay, please. Forever, if you’ll have me?”

“I can deal with forever.” You leaned up to where his lips were, craving the taste of them against yours so badly. “Can I?” You looked between his lips and his eyes, watching his eyes coo in admiration of you. His arms snaked around your neck and cupped the back of your head, resting his ringed fingers against your skin delicately.

“You don’t have to ask, angel.” And with that you didn’t hesitate to reclaim your clips on his. He tasted as sweet and as soft as you could remember. The hint of mint sweets he kept in his car could be tasted all over his mouth, and he could no doubt taste the vodka on yours. He took no time in rushing to have his tongue exploring your mouth once mouth, biting on your lip when he got the chance to. He wanted you to remember this moment and how much love he has for you, and always will. Just as you do for him.

Hesitantly pulling away you smiled at him cheekily, feeling so much lighter and happier to have him here. With you in his arms so expertly.

“What?” He asked, leaving a quick kiss to your nose, inhaling his scent as he did.

“Just can’t believe you’re here.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb, and he leaned into your touch so comfortably. He had missed you so damn much, and it showed.

“Let you down once before and I wasn’t going to do it again.”

“So you’d have shown up even if I hadn’t?”

“Not happily, but yes.” He laughed thinking about it.

“Why?” You laughed with him.

“I’ve got to make my impression on your family somehow. Need to remind some of them how amazing and beautiful their special Y/N L/N is.”

“Some are going to need a lot more persuading than others.” You sighed, side-frowning over your words.

“No offence, but anyone who doesn’t treat you as a fucking diamond doesn’t deserve you and should watch out for kick up their backside from me.” You laughed over his empty threat and buried your head against his chest, listening to the heartbeat and rumble of laughter that came from within. This moment alone felt like home. Safe and warm.

“I love you, H.”

“Bloody love you too.”

Harry ended up returning to the wedding with you, much to your mothers surprise, and you both enjoyed the celebrations together. You shut yourselves out from everybody and just danced, talked and drank the night away.

You were so in love.

Later, photos got leaked of the wedding and it showed you and Harry dancing away in one of the backgrounds of the photos. It was supposed to be a shot of just the bride and groom, but you two have managed to get caught in it. You looked so caught up in each other that you still weren’t even aware the photo had been taken. You and Harry had determinedly avoided the camera all night, exactly for this reason, but a part of you was kind of happy that this one photo got leaked, because it showed the world that Harry was yours and you were his. It showed that you were together, or back-together as addressed by some FBI fans, and that you were stronger for it.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Best Friends My Ass (one-shot)

Synopsis: Being in love with your best friend whom you’ve had since childhood can be tough. Being in love and being dumb can make it tougher. Meet the Reader and Harry. They’re the latter. And everyone’s fed up.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe little bit of angst, tiny bit smutty, but not a lot

Warnings: swearing, two idiots pining for one another

Word count: 7524

Even when Harry was little, he’d known he’d have an odd path in life. Just because it was odd, didn’t mean it’d be bad, but it would make him absolutely stand out in the crowd.        When Y/N was young she didn’t see herself having any extraordinary adventures. Sure, she’d travel and explore the world with its secrets, but she didn’t have any plans to draw the attention of the masses. That was until Harry’d come into her life.        They were both young, still kids in that tender age where childhood crossed into teenage years, when they met. For Harry, it was like one of those scenes in the movies where the pretty girl walks into a room and a billion fans make her hair look like the wind is sweeping through it, and her eyes glisten like gemstones. Also known as the 'love at first sight' scene.        For Y/N, it was hard to keep her breakfast down as she walked inside the classroom, twenty pairs of scrutinous eyes on her, trying to figure out if the new girl was a predator or prey.        Luckily for Y/N, the biology teacher wasn’t a total witch and didn’t make her present herself to the class, and just pointed to the free seat next to a curly-haired boy. Luckily for Harry, that free seat was right next to him.        With a sigh, she dropped her heavy backpack beside the chair, giving the boy a shy glance, and was surprised to see a genuine and large grin right back at her. It wasn’t the kind people gave when they had bad thoughts. It was the kind people gave when they were truly excited and wanted to give a good impression. Y/N’s chest grew warm at the thought she might actually make a friend that day. And she did.        “I’m Harry.” He extended his hand for her to take, the grin never leaving his face.        She gave him a big, relieved smile. “I’m Y/N.”        Ever since then they were not only lab partners in classes they shared (which was biology, physics and math), but also in mischief. Together they managed to enrage Anne, annoy Gemma and absolutely horrify Y/M/N, and whenever one went down, the other made sure to go down as well.        So when a few years down the line, Harry had told Y/N about his idea to audition for X-factor she wasn’t surprised one bit.        “I mean, as long as you don’t trip and break your nose on stage, you’ll be fine.”        For that, she received a slap on her arm from him.        “I’m just saying!” Y/N defended herself. “You’re great at singing, Mrs Aberdeen certainly thinks so, you don’t have two complete left feet, and you’re alright to look at.”        That for the first time since the decision and application had been submitted, made Harry smile. He loved how easily Y/N was able to lighten the mood, to take his thoughts away from the bad, and just erase them with her wit and smile.

       “Besides.” She nudged his shoulder with hers and then intertwined their fingers. “I, Gem and our Mums will be right there for you. Won’t even blink until the end of the performance.”        With how her insides trembled in excitement and fear for her best friend, it truly seemed to Y/N she hadn���t blinked at all on that fateful day. Her breath hitched when the judges were talking. She couldn’t even remember what they said, all of it turning into white noise.        And then he got through, and Y/N screamed so much she was sure she’d blown out Anne’s eardrums, and had hugged Harry so tightly she was afraid she’d broken a rib. But with his victory also came a fear, because, for the first time in Y/N’s life, she was terrified as to where she’d stand in Harry’s. Since day one it’d been secure, but now, with the newfound fame of X-factor and who knows what kind of an amazing future, she didn’t know if he’d throw her to the curb, simply forget about the mundane friend from high school or maybe use her for something.        But it wasn’t like that. Not one bit. After insane hours of rehearsals, Y/N was one of the three people he always called. It was her, his Mum and Gem. Always. And he loved to listen to her speaking of what was happening at school, how the lessons were, which teacher turned out to be hooking up with which. As much as Harry knew he was made for the extraordinary, he loved the ordinary Y/N brought in his life. She was his safe harbour. But what he never agreed with were her own thoughts she was meant for a simple life, so he took it upon himself to bring a little bit of eccentricity in hers, as he explained how he’d gotten united into a band with four other boys, now going by ‘One Direction’, and it was his mission to join his newfound friends with the most important friend he'd had.        “This is Y/N,” Harry introduced her to the guys after one of their late-night practices, one where they weren’t being filmed. “If you do anything that even mildly upsets her, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”        The slap against his arm made him let out an ‘Ow!’ while the rest of the boys laughed and welcomed her with open arms.        In a weird way, Y/N became part of the band. She didn’t sing or play any instruments, but she was always around, gave her input on songs and setlists. That kind of closeness made all of the fears and doubts about losing a place in Harry’s life disappear. She was his personal hype-man while at the same time knocked him down a few pegs whenever the fame started to get to his head.        She was there for his highs and lows, for the break-ups and break-off in the band, and watched as he ventured into a solo career as much as she could with school and all, but when summer break rolled around it was like Harry couldn't get rid of her even if he tried. Not that he wanted. Sharing the success and happiness with his best friend was one of the biggest rewards he could have.        And Y/N would never admit it because it’d boost Harry’s already elephant-like ego, at least that’s what she said, but she kind of liked the attention she received because of him, especially because most of it was pleasant.        Had she been terrified that being known as Harry Styles best friend would make people think she was just a gold-digger, seeking fame and leeching it off from him? Yes. And there were people like that. But ninety-five percent of what people said on her social media accounts was actually nice, some even said ‘thank you’ that there was a person like her in Harry’s life to keep things real, and most importantly – cared about him through it all.        Harry also saw those comments; he loved to read about how people saw just how much Y/N cared, and it kind of stirred something in him. He didn’t know when exactly, but it was around the age of twenty-four for him and twenty-three for Y/N when he started looking at his friend in a different light. And it bloody terrified him. He didn’t know if she felt the same, and the thought of putting his heart on the line like that only for the possibility of it being crushed was the scariest thing ever.        He did, however, have an inclination as to what incident had prompted them to surface. The feelings that were. It was a night after a party. Y/N was on winter break from her master’s at uni, which meant he used every opportunity to spend time with her.        The hangover was real, I mean it’s what you got by mixing vodka, tequila and beer into an empty Sprite bottle and chugging it. Harry stumbled over sleeping bodies on his way to the kitchen in search for some leftover pizza he was sure he and Y/N in their drunkenness had ordered, as well as to make two cups of black coffee. He knew she hated the taste, but cold junk food and bitter coffee always did the trick with her. That was when he’d found her.        Although he’d woken up in Y/N’s room, she hadn’t been next to him. Instead, as it turned out, she’d gone on a food search sometime before him and had passed out on the couch, a Cookie Monster onesie on her body, but most importantly his signature pearls around her neck. And one of her hands even rested against her collarbone, as if scared someone would take them away from her.        That’d been the first time his heart had flipped in his chest at the sight of her, but most definitely not the last.        He did however keep this change in his emotions to himself. He wasn’t really sure what it was, so it would be unfair to dump that on Y/N and have her figure it out for him because he didn’t know where she stood on her own, let alone do the work for him.        Luckily, despite the tornado of feelings, their friendship didn’t falter, and when his Vogue cover came out, he was incredibly nervous for people to see it, but especially for those who mattered the most to him, like his Mum, sister and Y/N. Especially Y/N, for her opinion had become the most important one outside his blood relatives. After all, all his thoughts went to – if we dated, would she be as proud of me as she was of me as a friend?        Her support meant the most because he was away in the middle of filming; he had no way of getting physical comfort, so all of the messages, calls, social media posts and FaceTimes was the world to him, especially when Y/N sent a picture of herself with three copies of the magazine, two beside her head as she laid on her bed and one clutched to her chest, which she also posted on Instagram with the caption ‘Can’t hug you for real right now, so this will have to do. When I do get to you @harrystyles, I’ll crush your ribs with my love. And that is a threat.’        Then the comments came in from the rest, and one stood out more than the others.        Bring Back Manly Men.        At first, he felt odd about it. It didn’t really bother him, but at the same time, it made him sad. He knew that he was seen as somewhat of a controversial figure, as he painted nails, wore frilly blouses and now full-on dresses, which were all typically categorized as feminine things, but he never understood why a nail colour or the shape of a shirt suddenly became exclusively for just one gender. Which is why he was so grateful to have Y/N in his life.        “I mean, anatomically speaking, men should be wearing dresses and women trousers. It’s you who have all the dangly bits,” she said through a bite of food. “The Scots have been onto it since the beginning.”        Harry threw his head back in a laugh, shifting an arm behind his head. “So I assume your favourite pic is the one in the kilt?”        “Well, it did remind me of that awful punk phase I had back in school with all those safety pins, only in a more tasteful way, but no. My favourite one is you in that brown, grey off-shoulder jacket thing.”        “Why?”        Y/N wiggled her brows at him. “Shows enough of your cleavage but leaves enough for imagination.”        “Of fucking course.” Harry snorted, shaking his head. “Objectifying much?”        “What? I’m not going to deny that my best friend is a sexy beast.”        He wouldn’t say it out loud, but when she called him her friend, it made his heart clench in a painful way. Harry had been trying to be a bit flirtier around her, but given his open nature as it was, Y/N hadn’t seemed to notice it, nor had she seemed to notice how he looked at her while she was frowning at her computer screen.        Harry’d had relationships with some women who could be considered the most beautiful in the world, but if he’d had to say, in his opinion, who’d receive that title, it’d be Y/N. The way she snorted when she laughed too hard, the way small crow lines had already appeared next to her eyes from how much she smiled and the way her forehead creased when she was concentrating. It enthralled him to no end. He could read her life’s story on her face, how she’d lived and thought and experienced, unlike so many people he met who couldn’t move a muscle.        Though the reason she was so concentrated in that moment was because thousands of people had tagged her in a tweet of a woman, she’d heard of for the first time in her life (because Harry had been trying to keep that one off her radar), and what she saw made all the blood boil in her body more than any other hate comment had.        Without hesitation, Y/N atted her and tweeted “Bring back manly men. Please! Millions of people would let him raw them WHILE WEARING THE DRESS. I mean you tried, so I’ll give you the gold star you so desperately want, but that was pathetic.”        At that same moment, a notification popped up on the screen of Harry’s phone. He only had notifications on for one person, and when he saw what was written, he gasped, looking at Y/N. “You did not just do that!”        “What?” Y/N shrugged biting down on the chocolate bar she’d been savouring for the last half hour of their conversation. “I just said what everyone was thinking. Besides what the fuck does ‘bring back manly men’ even mean? Go chop some wood? Fight a bear in the Siberian woods? Have your ‘friends’ stab you to death at a political meeting?”        “You’re a menace.”        Y/N winked popping the last bit of the chocolate in her mouth. “Only to those who dare go for the people I love.”        His heart fluttered at the last word, but all he could do was mask it with a large grin and shake of his head.        For another hour they spent talking, Y/N kept hyping Harry up, tried to get as many plot details of the movie he was filming, while he avoided as many spoilers as possible and attempted to steer the conversation somewhere else, but when that happened, Y/N jumped onto his music, which he had told her all about. In fact, there wasn’t a music video made without her approval, and neither would his next one be. “You’ll fly out to see me film for ‘Treat People With Kindness’, right?”        Y/N sighed, giving him a sad smile. She hated disappointing Harry. “I’d love to. But you know with everything going on, I don’t think I’ll be able to.”        “Phoebe Waller-Bridge will be in it.”        She gasped, in real excitement. “Well, why didn’t you say so from the start?!”        “So that’s what this friendship has come to. I’m just your gateway to celebrities?”        “Harry you’ve always been just my gateway to the people living in LaLa Land.” But she let out a small breath much like she’d done before. “I really do want to come, Harry. You know that; I miss you like crazy. But Phoebe or no Phoebe, I don’t think I can.”        Harry bit his lip nodding, but he still needed to try one more time. “Is there anything I can say or do to get you here?”        “Get me a private jet and a quarantine mansion?”        “Deal.”        “Woah! Wait!” Y/N pretty much jumped up from her position in bed. “That was a joke! Harry Edward Styles, I swear to God, if you try an –“        But with a giant grin, he just blew Y/N a kiss and ended the call.        She was quite terrified if she was being honest, that Harry would do what she’d asked. He already had once. It'd been around Christmas time while she was still in First Year at uni, and she’d seen a glistening necklace at a jewellery store display. She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even uttered a word, but just seeing the sparkle in Y/N’s eyes, was enough for Harry to make the decision and gift it for her.        When the next day, around five AM her time, she got a call from Harry’s manager Jeff, she was ready to rip both of them a new one, an e-mail with a plane ticket popping up in her inbox.        “I swear I’ll poison your drinks when I see you,” she’d grumbled, but couldn’t hide the excitement as she threw everything she could in the suitcase. “And no one will find your bodies, mark my words, Azoff.”        He snorted. “Yeah, tell that to the FBI agent listening in on this call.”        “Fuck. Gave myself away,” she said softly, giggling right after.        “You know he’s stoked beyond belief.” Jeff piped up. “He literally jumped out of the bed this morning, and during the dance rehearsals he didn’t miss a step.”        That made Y/N’s heart warm. “Well, you can tell him to curb it a bit. Otherwise, I’ll just stay at the fucking mansion – which, by the way, it was a joke, Jeff! I’m pissed enough he’s spending money on me as it is, let alone such a chunk on the plane, you didn't have to get me an actual mansion.”        “You know, for you, he’d give away all of it.”        “Yes, well, he might need it for his funeral, if he keeps spending it on me and on shit like this.”        The man shook his head but didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t the only one trying to drop hints to Y/N that Harry felt something more, but he’d leave it to the man himself. He didn’t need to possibly ruin everything, and have her decide not to come. His client was nightmare enough without her around, because Harry was like day and night when Y/N finally arrived on set for ‘Treat People With Kindness’.        To say he enveloped her in a hug would be an understatement as he didn’t let go of her for ten solid minutes, having grabbed her by the underside of the thighs and sat down on the ground just so he could prolong the feeling of being with Y/N.        The fact that she’d actually gone for it and hadn’t scolded Harry too much for spending that insane amount of money, for having brought a small piece of home to LA with herself where they were filming, made him now fully acknowledge the true extent of his feelings, especially as she didn’t pull away from their embrace, rather hid her face in the crook of his neck.        I mean, in the end, he did have to let her go because everyone had to get back to shooting, but not before Y/N had stripped the meticulous jacket from him, and went to have a glance at herself in the large mirror, one of the costume designers playing along and adjusting the clothing on her body, as if she was going to be the one performing.        Harry felt someone slide up to him and he looked over to his left, a smiling Phoebe standing there. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”        He nodded, looking back over to where Y/N was still looking at herself in the mirror, wearing the heavy jacket as if it was nothing like it was made for her. “I’m a cliché, I know. But I can’t help it.”        “Of course, you can.” She squeezed his side. “All you gotta do is tell her.”        But it wasn’t that easy. Comparatively, getting Y/N to appear in the video was easier than coming to terms with the fact, all they’d ever remain would be friends if he didn’t do anything.        Yet the shoot for the video ended as quickly as it had started, and Y/N needed to fly back to the UK to defend her PhD paper, and Harry had to go back to filming ‘Don’t Worry Darling’, thousands of miles stretching between them once more. And Harry was a romantic, he couldn’t confess over FaceTime. Besides, he wanted to make it a special evening for her, plan something out, rather than risk a shitty connection cutting him off mid-word.        He hated it though. It’d been almost four years since Harry had realised his feelings had developed from just friendly into romantic, and still, he hadn’t said anything. Even the people who’d never met Y/N in person like Florence Pugh saw what was going on.        But unlike the cast and crew of ‘Treat People With Kindness’ who had to deal with his pining for maybe a couple of weeks, it’d been almost half a year for her at that point. Did she just want to call Y/N and tell her how Harry felt? Sure. She’d had enough of him coming into her trailer only to fall down onto her pillow and whine. But it wasn’t her place. So instead, she was going to figure out a way to get Y/N to the set and make him tell her himself.        Getting Harry’s phone away from him should’ve been the inspiration to the next ‘Mission Impossible’ script though, because it took her literally a whole day to fish it out from his coat's pocket, and she only had about ten seconds to find Y/N’s number (which wasn’t that hard given how it was the number with literally hundreds of calls next to it) and put it in her own phone.        Once their filming was done for the day, Florence rebutted Harry’s invitation to a movie night, saying a massive headache was coming on, so he wished her a good night and with slumped shoulders went to sulk on his own. Which is why she practically sprinted to her own trailer to finally call Y/N        An unsure ‘hello?’ greeted her ears before she responded. “Hey, this is Florence… Pugh.”        That stunned Y/N into silence for a few seconds before she spluttered out a greeting and said ‘hi’ as well. “Not to be rude, but how did you get my number?”        “Stole it from Harry’s phone. Look, he’s miserable. Keeps moping around, and I can’t take it anymore. Last night I found him crying in his pillow with your shirt over it.”        “What? Why?”        “Because it didn’t smell like you anymore.”        Y/N’s heart broke. “Why didn’t he tell me anything? We just talked, and he said he was fine. God, that man is so dumb sometimes.”        “Is there any way you could find a way to get here?” Florence asked biting down her lip.        She heard Y/N sigh at the other end of the line. “I’ll – I’ll try and figure something out. Have to know what’s going on at work, I mean it has been like two months since the video, so maybe…” She was more so talking to herself, but then remembered about Florence. “Listen, can I give you a message when I find out if my boss will let me?”        “Of course!” The actress was excited about the possibility of Y/N getting here, as long as it got Harry out of his depressive mood.        “Oh, and I’ll need to know what kind of restrictions are on set. I’ll figure something out with flights and quarantine, but I have zero clue as to what’s it like where you’re filming.”        Florence waved her off, even though she couldn’t see the motion. “Leave that to me. Just get your ass over here before the guy cries himself dry.”        It was a struggle though on all three ends – Harry was still moping, because not only had Y/N’s shirt lost its smell of her, but homesickness was hitting full force, Florence was getting more and more desperate as she attempted to take his mind off of things, but nothing seemed to work, and Y/N was trying to get on any possible flight to Harry while arranging two tests and an AirBnB she could self-isolate in for two weeks while attempting to set up her work from afar at the same time.        Two days after Florence’s call, Y/N sent her a message ‘Flying in tomorrow at 4 AM. Don’t tell Harry. He’ll feel even shittier cause I have to stay alone in quarantine. First test came back negative.”        She sighed in relief at the message and immediately texted back ‘i’ve got you a set pass ready, just need a picture. selfie will do. also, masks are mandatory on the lot, so bring those.’        Immediately Y/N sent a thumbs up, and a picture of herself she didn’t absolutely despise to be used on the ID card. All that was left was to pack. And spend two weeks in an attempt of not going crazy with anticipation before seeing Harry.        Those two weeks turned out to be worse than the two months between the music video shoot and going to the filming lot. Because throughout then, Y/N knew her only access to him would be through FaceTime, but to be about twenty minutes away from the man without the ability to touch him was pure torture, but at least Harry seemed completely oblivious to the change in her surroundings.        As they still continued on with their calls, not once did he mention her background, or how the paintings suddenly had managed to switch positions or the fact that Y/N didn’t even own paintings. She was sure she could’ve been missing an arm, and he wouldn’t have mentioned it with how tired he looked.        “Have you even slept, Har?”        “Not really,” he groaned, getting more comfortable in his bed. “We’ve had a bunch of early shoots and then late nights, ‘cause we need to get the continuity for the scenes, and then the day’s full of Zoom calls, and well, I can’t not call you.”        Y/N scoffed, scolding him. “You know damn well I won’t be offended if we sacrifice a couple of calls for you to get some proper sleep.”        “I know, but I will.”        Y/N sighed, knowing in a way it was her fault. She could tell him she no longer was hours of time zones away, but rather watched the same sunset and sunrise as him, but she also knew Harry, and he would be unable to stay away from her until her quarantine was over.        She was quite happy she’d sat through the fourteen mandatory days, because when she got on set, even though Harry was usually good at keeping his composure during a scene, despite the mask, he’d recognise Y/N anywhere, and all of the lines flew out of his head.        “Jack?” Florence’s hand came to cup Harry’s cheek, trying to bring him back on track. “You alright?”        But he didn’t even care about improvising to get out of the flub as his lips were split apart by a grin, and he dashed away, a loud ‘CUT!’ ringing throughout the set, but Harry already had Y/N in his arms, spinning the girl around.        “Best friends my ass,” Florence murmured as she went to the two.        Harry was speechless, Y/N’s face in between his hands as he looked her up and down. “How are you here? What? Why?”        “Thank Florence.” Y/N gave an attempt at motioning to the actress with her head. She set the whole thing up.”        Harry’s head whipped to his scene partner. “You knew Y/N was here for two weeks and told me nothing?”        “Your brain short-circuited when you saw her! You wouldn’t be of no use on set at all if I had.”        Harry scoffed, throwing an arm over Y/N’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get away from this meanie.” But as he walked away, he looked over his shoulder and mouthed a grateful ‘thank you’ to her.        All Florence could hope for was that he’d get it together and confess, but it didn’t seem like he was in any sort of a rush. Y/N was set to be there for three weeks, but the thought of the woman leaving without knowing how Harry felt, leaving him in a sea of his own heartache, made her miserable, especially after a night they’d all spent together.        Harry really wanted Y/N to get to know the people he worked with so he invited the ones closest to him for a movie night, during which he himself had been the first one to actually fall asleep, of course.        For most of it, as ‘Westworld’ ran on in the background, he spent curled up in Y/N’s lap, his head resting against her chest with her fingers weaving through the shortened locks. She had to get used to the length, motion automatically wanting to go on longer than it was possible to. Soon enough, the soothing motions lulled her to sleep as well, their bodies leaning into one another and perfectly fitting together.        As tired as Florence was of seeing Harry, a person who’d become her friend now pine for someone so hard, it was absolutely heart-melting to watch the two interact. Everyone could see Y/N had the same feelings as Harry did for her, only she hid them a bit better. A little, but not by a lot.        No friends acted the way those two did around one another. Sure, people could be touchy, but not like that, not with such intimacy behind the motions. She felt like she was being a little creepy as she pulled out her phone to take a picture, but it was too cute not to.        A loud noise from somewhere outside set made Y/N shoot up straight, and Florence held her breath as she clutched onto her phone, having swiped it accidentally into video mode and filming the whole thing.        “No,” Harry whined, a hand reaching up for Y/N and grabbing at her elbow. “Come back. ‘S too early.”        She just nodded, grumbling something unintelligible but possibly along the lines of ‘don’t make me throw hands’ before laying down and snuggling into Harry’s chest.        Florence let out a large sigh of relief and decided to get some sleep as well before their annoying four AM alarm woke them up for set.        This time it was the other way around, as Y/N whined for Harry to ‘come back and keep her warm’.        Florence watched as Harry slipped out of Y/N’s grasp, but not before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead and a whispered a promise to ‘see her when the Sun’s up’. The second the trailer door was closed, she slapped his shoulder, and Harry gasped in shock. “What'dya do that for?”        “Stop that! Stop that stupid dance!” She stomped her foot on the ground. “I’m sick and tired of watching you watch her with that dumb longing expression on your face. I can’t take it anymore. Why do you think I went through all that trouble to get her here?”        “I told you I would!”        She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, I know it’s not my place or anything, but she does like you. A lot.”        Harry threw her an uncertain gaze. “And how do you know?”        “Because that woman spent two weeks in self-isolation just to see you! She’s gone through how many of those awful Covid tests just to go and visit you! She’s dropped everything for you, has supported you through so much, and never fails to boost you up.”        “That’s what friends do.”        “No.” Florence shook her head. “That kind of loyalty… that’s what people in love give. I haven’t talked to my best friend in like a month. What’s the longest you’ve gone without speaking to Y/N?”        And with that question, she left Harry to ponder not only his feelings but the girl’s he was in love with as well. Because if he had to be honest, the reason he’d been dragging everything out, the reason he’d stayed pining for Y/N for years on end was that he tried to write everything she did off as something a childhood best friend would do.        The truth was more terrifying than anything because once that came to light, it’d change everything, and Harry didn’t know if he was ready. He wanted it, desperately so if it meant Y/N becoming someone he could love freely and openly, but not if by the end of it, she'd disappear from his life, leaving a hole the size of his heart in his chest.        His thoughts were cut short as someone knocked on the ‘Hair&Make-up’ door, and an assistant let in a pouting Y/N. Well, he couldn’t’ see the pout behind the mask, but he definitely knew it was there, making a smile come on his own face.        She plopped down in an empty sofa and crossed her arms. “I was cold.”        Harry snorted, wanting to shake his head, but didn't as to not ruin the hair stylist’s work. “You’re always cold.”        “And you’re a living furnace.”        “ ‘S that why you like cuddling? Leeching off my warmth?”        The same assistant who’d let Y/N in handed her a cup of coffee, which she was ready to kiss the woman for, but opted for a ‘thank you’. “We’ve established I only use you to get to other celebs. What makes you think I wouldn’t use you for those sort of things.”        For a moment, the trailer settled into silence, as Y/N enjoyed her morning coffee while the crew kept doing their own work.        “It’s so weird,” Y/N piped up, eyes racking up and down Harry’s body. “Don’t even wanna really look at you like that.”        He let out a mock gasp of hurt. “What d’ya mean? Am I suddenly repulsive to you?”        “No!” she let out a laugh. “It’s just odd seeing you without the tattoos. They’re such a huge part of you, even the dumb ones. Can’t really imagine you any differently.”        “Would you love me any differently without them?” The question was bold, even though he knew she did love him, he had to start making moves.        “No,” Y/N shook her head. “I don’t think so. I believe I’d be a different person then as well, but I’d love you all the same. As long as you’d do the same with me.”        Harry nodded looking down at his hands then back up at her, catching her eyes through the reflection in the mirror. “Don’t think there’s a dimension out there where I don’t love you.”        “I mean that is a bold statement,” Y/N said, sipping on the remnants of her coffee. “What if I’m like a weird, cat-skinning psychopath in one dimension? Would you love me even then?”        “Jesus Christ, Y/L/N, do you just normally come up with those gruesome scenarios or is it a hobby?”        She wiggled her eyebrows, standing up and throwing away the paper cup. “There’s a reason I have a VPN and clean my search history. I’ll see you in your trailer?”        “Yeah.” Harry nodded and smiled. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”        The next half-hour he kept hyping himself up, about how he was actually going to do it, but Florence intercepted him right as he was turning down the way his trailer stood. “How are you gonna do it?”        “I – “ Harry huffed and placed his hands on his hips. “In the beginning, I had like a whole romantic outing planned, but… I’ve dragged this on long enough, so I think I’ll just tell her.”        “Okay, good.” Florence nodded and slapped his shoulder in approval. “And if I don’t hear that trailer rocking, I will throw you in a ditch.”        Harry’s eyes widened at the statement, fully knowing she meant her words, but she was already half-way down the track, blond hair swishing behind her back.        It was then or never.        Slowly he opened his own trailer door as if it was Y/N’s place not his, but by the looks of how she’d sprawled out on his bed, she had made herself right at home. Just like she’d done it on the first day of school, but just with his heart.        “Hey!” She smiled looking at him. “You ready to film?”        “Yeah, but umm… I kind of wanted to talk to you beforehand.”        Y/N’s brows furrowed at Harry’s serious tone, so she sat up, nodding. “Sure. Is everything alright?” “It’s nothing bad, at least I hope you won’t take it in a bad way... I’ve actually been wanting to tell you this since that winter’s break party you had while doing your masters...” He let out a small chuckle but seeing Y/N’s eyes widen in a panic he stopped. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “You have a kid! Oh my God.” “What? No!” Harry spluttered. “Why the hell is the first thing you assume that I have a kid?” “I don’t know!” She was now standing facing him completely. “We’ve never had secrets between us, especially for as long as you’ve apparently kept them, what am I supposed to think? Maybe one of the girls you hooked up with got pregnant, and you’ve been hiding the fact you’re a baby daddy because you know I wouldn’t be able to keep the fact I can be the cool drunk aunt to myself.” All of that came out as is she’d prepared it ages ago. “Well, no.” Harry shook his head stepping closer so he could be chest to chest with Y/N. “I’m not anyone’s baby daddy. At least I don’t think so, but umm... when that moment would come... when I have a kid...” He looked up at the ceiling and sighed before lifting a gentle hand to cup her cheek. I wouldn’t want you to be the drunk aunt. I um...” There goes nothing. “I’d kinda like if you were the mom.” “Of course, I’ll be the Godmother!” Both of them said at the same time, making the other’s brain stumble over the words said. “Wait, mom?” Y/N’s question was breathless. “Like donate my eggs or some shit?” “No like, I’ve been in love with you for close to four years, and I wanna try and build a future with you, where you’re more than just my best friend.”        “Oh.”        That was all that managed to escape her mouth as he fully opened his heart, and Harry couldn’t lie – it shattered. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was more than that. “That’s...” Y/N huffed sitting down on the bed. “That’s a lot to take in Harry. Like a lot.” “I know.” He sighed and sat down next to her. “Which is why I’ve been pushing this away for as long as I could, but... it was time. It wasn’t fair to you or me to keep on living like that. Look.” Harry took her palm in his. “Whatever you want us to be, we’ll be that. I - I mean I’ll be heartbroken if you say you don’t feel the same, but no matter what you tell me now, I won’t let you leave my life. I love you, and I’m in love with you. This is your choice which way you chose to go with.” Y/N shook her head, interlacing their fingers and finally looking up at him. “I don’t want you to be heartbroken. It’s the last thing, I’d ever want to see you like. And umm well, if it takes me using the pair of ovaries I have to admit I’ve been in love with you too to change that, I guess I’ll have to say it. I’m in love with you too.” Harry’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears of happiness, as he looked at Y/N like she’d hung the stars in the sky. Not that it mattered. He always looked at her like that. “You mean it?” “Yeah,” she chuckled, wiping away a few stray pearls from her own cheeks. “I guess I always thought I’d end up the drunk aunt in your life, so that’s why I thought you’d ask me to be whatever future child’s Godmother. But I love you, and I’m in love with you too.” “Can I – “ Fuck, Harry was too giddy for his own good. “Can I kiss you?” And when Y/N chuckled, nodding he swore he already was in heaven. “Yes, please.”        At first, the touch of his lips was gentle, almost afraid, but the second he pressed them to Y/N’s, and she gasped at the sensation, it became full of lust as passion, years of pent-up pining and angst and just plain old stupidity surfacing and morphing itself into a steamy make-out session.        In a split second, she was sprawled out on Harry’s bed, his toned body leaning over hers and teasing hands moving along her sides, making her squirm and ache for more of his touch, but she wasn’t the only one who wanted to explore a body with a new mindset of what was possible.        As Y/N moaned from Harry’s tongue invading her mouth, her hand couldn’t help itself as it slid down his chest, and her finger flicked against the button of his trousers.        “Can I touch you there?” Y/N whispered against his mouth, and Harry eagerly nodded.        “Please. Been dreaming about this for literally years.”        Smiling, she allowed him to continue and explore her mouth with his tongue, intoxicated on one another’s taste. In fact, Y/N was so far gone just from the kiss, she forgot how a fly worked and needed Harry’s help to open it.        “Get back here,” she grumbled as he chuckled, having leaned up a bit to make it easier for her to get the offensive piece of clothing off. “We’ll see how you fare with a bra.”        “Oh, I’m an expert.” His hands trailed to her shoulder where he snapped one of the straps against her skin, making her yelp.        “You do not want to do that when my hand is an inch away from your dick.”        But the threat had no merit to it, as she dipped her palm behind Harry’s boxers while his mouth went to soothe the sting and leave a little mark on her skin, which he’d get to admire later on.        The second, Y/N wrapped her hand around his cock an involuntary moan escaped into the air, as she gripped him. Fuck, she couldn’t wait until he was inside her, because, and it might sound a little cliché given how they were best friends who’d fallen in love with one another, but she was one hundred percent sure, he was made exactly for her.        But no matter how much she twisted her hand or how gently or roughly she rubbed the tip, he couldn’t get hard, and Harry was on the verge of tears, which Y/N saw and instantly pulled away, cupping his face.        “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”        “Hey!” Y/N cooed. “None of that. It’s alright. Shit happens.”        Harry nodded understanding that she was right, but he still felt shitty and well, he felt insecure about it. “I just. Fuck. Usually, when I think of you, I’m hard in like a second.”        And although all Y/N wanted to do was smirk and tease him about the fact that he thought of her while wanking himself off, that wasn’t the right moment.        “I promise, you turn me on, you do." He sniffled. "This had never happened before.” But Y/N wasn’t offended or sad, and her laugh wasn’t mocking or trying to hurt him.        “Harry you’re dead tired.” She cupped his cheek with one of her hands, and if he’d been ice cream he would’ve literally melted. “You had to wake up at four in the fucking morning and won’t go to sleep until two the next day. Let yourself rest a bit.”        “But,” he whined and then huffed. “But I wanna love on you. Wanna show you just how crazy I am about you.”        “And you will. You know I’ll always hold you to your word. But this won’t be fun for either of us if mid-fuck you suddenly collapse on me asleep. I don’t need to go to the A and E and explain the broken nose is because my boyfriend decided to take a nap while shagging. A nap on my face.”        But Harry hadn’t really heard anything she’d said after Y/N mentioned the b-word, a dopey smile on his face. “I’m your boyfriend? You really want me like that?”        “I mean I would prefer if you were Phoebe…”        Harry pinched her side, making her squeal before tackling her in a hug. “Shut up!”        And that’s how the two fell asleep (and were woken up twenty minutes later by an assistant in a panic given how Harry was supposed to be on set in five minutes)  – wrapped up in one another’s arms, smiles on their faces, and no longer best friends, but lovers.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I loved writing this so much :)

P.S. my tags are always open

P.S.S. I don’t take requests, sorry. Also, please don’t repost my story on other platforms (wattpad etc) without specific written permission. 

[topguncortez]

Spin the Bottle- J. Seresin

pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!Reader word count: 2.4k warnings: cursing, making out, drinking, mentions of ejecting, dangerous flight maneuvers.

synopsis: how can one game of spin the bottle lead to a confession of feelings?

You thought the childish antics were left in high school, but you were proven wrong the second you were sent to Navy boot camp. It amazed you how these grown men had the same minds as highschoolers. Even being around the best of the best, the 1% of the 1%, the pilots selected for Top Gun. . . still acted like teenagers. Which is why when Payback brought up the idea for a game of spin the bottle, you rolled your eyes hard. 

“What!? Don’t like a lil spin the bottle, Y/L/N?” Payback jokes. 

“Are you guys twelve?” You said back. 

“Bob might be,” Hangman said, flashing you that stupid smile. You could feel the blush rise up your cheeks,“Come on babe, you know you want to. I know we,” he said gesturing to the male counterparts sitting around the table, “Would love to see you lock lips with Phoenix.” 

“In your dreams,” You rolled your eyes again.

“Why not make my dreams a reality,” Hangman winked at you. You fake gagged as you sat down at the table, next to Rooster. Other aviators and sailors that were at the party joined around, all finding a spot around the table, as Payback stood up and spun the bottle first, landing on some pretty burnette you had seen in the med wing. 

Turns and spit were swapped around the table as the bottle would land on various players around the table. You were yet to be kissed until it was Rooster’s turn to spin. You watched the brown empty beer bottle spend in circles, slowing down and ending on you. You felt your heart race as you looked up and at Rooster, who had a smirk plastered on his lips. 

“Pucker up, Y/L/N,” he said, grabbing your face and leaning into place a passionate kiss on your lips. You could taste the mint gum and vodka he had drank, and you could hear the wolf whistles of the other aviators. You pulled back almost breathless and looked at Rooster, who sat back in his chair with a smirk, “Your turn.” 

Your brain seemed to stutter as you grabbed the bottle and spun it, landing on the empty chair that Hangman once sat in. You shook it off, giving everyone a smile before Fanboy reached in to take his turn. You couldn’t help but look around the party to see if you could spot the certain blonde aviator, but to no avail. 

Eventually as people got tired enough of lip locking with each other and you had shown them all you weren’t afraid to kiss Phoenix, the group slowly disbanded, finding their way to the makeshift dance floor, or to the bar for another drink. You kept your eyes out for Hangman, hoping to spot him and snag a dance. What you should’ve expected to see is what you got, Hangman surrounded by beautiful young women, all who looked to be civilians. He flashed them that stupid smile, and you felt your heart break. 

“Hey, come dance!” Phoenix said, grabbing your attention. 

“I’m good. I think I’m gonna head back,” You said and Phoenix looked at you with a sad expression. You shifted your gaze over to where Hangman was and she followed. 

“You should just tell him,” She sighed. Phoenix hated seeing her friends hurt each other, if it wasn’t from physical activity caused by their job, it was from the pining and miscommunication of them being in love with each other. 

“I don’t want to know if he doesn’t feel the same,” You said honestly, “You see him every weekend, he walks out of her with a new girl under his arm.” 

“Just because he walks out of her with her doesn’t mean he took her home,” You gave her a look and she held her hands up in defense, “I’m just saying. You and Rooster have walked out of her a hundred times, doesn’t mean you two go and hookup.” 

“It’s different. Rooster is Rooster and Hangman is. . . “ 

“Totally and helplessly in love with you. When you had to eject last week during training, it took all of us to hold him back from going after Maverick for cutting you off and giving you turbulence. Or when you almost passed out from heat exhaustion, he wanted to punch Hindo in the face,” Phoenix explained, “He loves you. And, who knows what’s going to happen in the next couple weeks. One of you or both could be selected to go on that suicide mission from hell and never know how the other feels.” 

You nodded, and looked at her, “You’re right.” 

“I know, they don’t give out lieutenant rank for free,” Phoenix smirked, “Now go! Go get him!” 

You stood up from your bar stool, quickly downing the shot of vodka that Penny had placed in front of you. You grabbed your jacket, slipping it on your shoulders, and making your way towards the door. The night air was cool, as you ran down the steps of the bar, and to the parking lot. Your eyes scanned the sea of cars, looking for the unmistakable perfect blonde hair. You felt your heart race as you spotted him, and made your way to him. 

“Jake-” The words fell on your lips as you spotted one of the girls who was hanging on him at the bar, her lips on his. You felt your throat tighten and turned on your heel quickly, hoping he didn’t hear you say his name. But, he did. He pulled away from the female, looking over his shoulder, seeing you make a beeline for your car. 

“Y/N?” Hangman called after you. He pushed the woman’s hands off of him and jogged towards your car, “Wait!” He grabbed your car door, stopping you from slamming it shut in his face. 

“No, I’m sorry I interrupted,” 

“Y/N, let me-” 

“No, it’s okay,” You closed your eyes, shaking your head, “I uh, I’ll see you monday, in class.” 

“Yeah.” Hangman said, taking a step back so you could shut the door. He watched as you started the car, the engine coming to life. You didn’t even wait for it to start up, quickly putting it into drive and driving off. Hangman stood there, watching your taillights leave the parking lot and whispering to himself, “I love you.” 

— — — 

Phoenix knew something was wrong, when come Monday morning you weren’t at PT and you weren’t at your desk. She didn’t dare ask Hangman what happened, just eyed him as he walked in and sat down in his spot, without his usual annoyance and showboating. It wasn’t until they got to the flight practices that she realized something was really wrong, Hangman had done everything by the book, almost too by the book for him. Once she was dismissed for the day, she showered quickly and went straight to your barracks room. 

“I know you’re in there,” Phoenix said, as she waited for the door to open, “Maverick said you weren’t feeling good, thinking it had something to do with your accident last week. But I know that’s bullshit. Hangman was less annoying today too. So did something happen? You can tell me.” 

You pushed yourself up from the couch, pausing the episode of The Office you were on. You realized that your day of self pity had to come to an end at some point. Sitting in the dark, eating nothing but potato chips and drinking sprite wasn’t going to help you feel any better. But you needed a day, you deserved just a single day. Maverick was nice enough to not ask too many prying questions, summing it up to what happened last week with you needing to eject from your aircraft. You opened the door and Phoenix jumped a bit at the sudden movement. 

“I’m guessing we’ll need another bottle,” Phoenix said, holding up the bottle of vodka in her hands. 

“Maybe two more.” 

Bob had proved to come in clutch once again, as he showed up delivering two more bottles of vodka and a pizza. Phoenix laid on the ground as you sat on the couch and Bob in your desk chair he had rolled in from your bedroom. Each of you had a bottle to yourself, sharing in the joy of being intoxicated and spilling the guts of your pitiful love life. 

“And I just told him it was okay, and that I was sorry for interrupting,” You slurred. 

“You didn’t really interrupt anything, it wasn’t like she was sucking him off or-” 

“Oh god Bob, imagine if I saw that!? Jesus lord I would’ve gouged my own eyes out.” 

“I would’ve helped you!” Phoenix said, giggling as she sat herself up from her laying down position, “What you need is a rebound!” 

“No” “Yes!” You and Bob both said at the same time. 

“No, no, no, no more boys while I’m here in fucking Top Gun,” You said rolling your eyes at the name, “God I wish these next few weeks would hurry up so I can go back to my fucking base and live my life.” 

“Isn’t Hangman stationed there too?” Bob asked. 

“On the other side, far away from me!” You yelled, “I only see him at the commissary sometimes.” 

“Oh! Why don’t you go tell him off!” Phoenix yelled. Your eyes lit up at her idea, “Ah! You like that plan don’t you!” 

“I don’t like this plan,” Bob said, shaking his head as you and Phoenix sat on the couch, plotting your plan to go yell at Hangman. 

About five minutes later, you, phoenix and Bob were parked outside of Hangman’s base house. Bob didn’t say anything as Phoenix was encouraging you and hyping you up. You swallowed another pull of vodka, before getting out of his car. 

“Oh Jesus,” Bob sighed watching as you stumbled to the front door. 

You felt like everything was spinning as you knocked on the door and waited for him to answer. You were going over what you were going to say to him, like a mantra in your head. But the second he opened the door, standing there in nothing but gray sweatpants low on his hips, his perfect body on display and not a single blonde hair out of place. Every single thought you head left your drunk mind and all you could do is gawk at him. 

“Say something, Y/L/N!” Phoenix yelled behind you. 

“Y/N?” Hangman asked, looking at you. 

“Hi,” You slurred, “I came here to tell you that you’re a dick, but then I saw your body and I can’t think of anything smart.” 

“Are you drunk?” 

“No. . . yes. . . slightly,” You said, taking a deep breath, trying to gather your drunk thoughts, “You’re an ass.” Hangman’s jaw dropped, “You know how I fucking feel about you and yet you go and fucking makeout with some random blonde chick as I was about to go profess my undying love-” 

“Wait, I'm the ass? Me? While you fucking made out with Rooster at the table in front of me!” 

“It was a game! Spin the bottle! That you suggested!” 

“But you didn’t have to swap spit.” 

“It’s part of the game, asshole!” 

“Swapping spit?” 

“No but- wait, I’m here to yell at you!” 

“And profess your undying love.” 

“Yes!” You groaned, “Fuck, you don’t make this easy on anyone, do you.” You said and turned to sit down on his front step. Hangman followed suit, sitting down next to you. He didn’t say anything as he heard your sniffles except put his arm around you, “Jesus christ, this is just giving you fucking fuel to make fun of me in class.” 

“Yes, and no,” Hangman smiled, “It’s also giving me fuel to tell you that I feel the same about you.” You lifted your head and looked up at him, “You piss me off, Y/L/N, you’re a smartass, you’re cocky, you’re not big on the whole team player shit, you’re a buzzkill-” 

“Where is this going?” 

“But I love you for it,” Hangman said. You looked in his eyes, trying to see if he was telling the truth. His blue eyes were filled with nothing but love and admiration, “I thought I might never get the chance. When you left Lemoore, I thought I lost you forever. But then getting called back here, hearing what we are up against, I knew that I had to tell you before it was really too late.” 

“Then why kiss the blonde?” 

“I knew you were coming to find me, and I wanted to piss you off.” Hangman shrugged, a blush on his cheeks, “I’m sorry.” 

You smiled shyly and nudged him with your elbow. He nudged you back, and you returned it. For about thirty seconds you two went back and forth nudging each other until you heard Phoenix’s drunk voice call out to you. 

“Just kiss and make up so we can go home!” 

You both laughed, and you shook your head. You looked up at Hangman, but he was already looking down at you. He leaned forward, placing one of his large hands on your cheek, rubbing your cheek bone with his thumb. His hands were surprisingly very soft for always working with his hands. He looked into your eyes, a way of silently asking for permission. You nodded and he leaned in, placing a sweet kiss on your lips. It was different from the kiss with Rooster, this one was sweet, his lips were soft and tasted like honey. He deepened the kiss by placing his other hand on the back of your neck, pulling you in more. You took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his cologne and the faint smell of jet fuel. You two kissed until you ran out of air, reluctantly pulling back, but keeping your foreheads pressed together. 

“That was-” You said.

“Nice.”

“Yeah.” You said with a bright smile. You leaned in to kiss him again, but were broken apart by Bob laying on the car horn, “Alright! I’m moving!” You called out to him with a laugh. You stood up from the step, brushing the dirt off yourself. 

“Y/L/N,” Hangman called out to you. 

“Yeah?” 

“I never got to see your kiss with Phoenix,” He smirked and you rolled your eyes. 

“Might have to play another game of spin the bottle.” 

“Yeah, no,” Hangman, pushed himself up from the step. He took one stride to get to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you again. Except, this one was bruising and full of passion. It felt dominating as he licked your bottom lip, making you part your lips so his tongue could slide into your mouth. Your tongues fought for dominance as one of Hangman’s hands slipped down to your ass, grabbing it, making you gasp and pull back, “I’m the only one you’ll be kissing from now on.”

[imaginativeamateur]

[Kakashi Hatake X Reader] One Year, Forever Mine

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x gn!Reader

Note: Okay, phew, this one is definitely longer than what I usually write because I don't want to make it a multi-chapter fic :DD Also, a huge thank you to @kazuhoya for suggesting this idea, you are brilliant!!! This one is quite angsty, to be honest, but it's also fluff, too! The ending is a bit rushed because I ran out of creative stamina :D Alright, without further ado, please enjoy!

It all started the morning you came to the hospital to get your health examination results back. As a Jonin, it was required to have an examination after an S-rank mission, which you just successfully completed several days ago. You thought the results would come out fine. You experienced minor injuries though you got some deep cuts that might leave scars, but they were all physical pain that could heal with time—it was unexpected when the Medic informed you that you could only live for another few years.

You stared at the file unyieldingly, pupils dilated to register the words printed in black ink that stood out from the sickly white sheet.

“The cause that we can deduce right now is that because you were one of the test subjects that Orochimaru performed his cruelties on,” you heard her said, “there are damages to your chakra reserve that just start to show just now. We need to do more tests to get a better understanding. There’s still hope—”

“I’m going to die in a few years?” You questioned, finally able to peel your gaze from the paper.

“Y/N,” she placed her hand on yours and squeezed it slightly as she encouraged you, “there’s no concrete evidence yet. This is just a finding, and we might be wrong.”

With the look of her eyes, you were certain that your condition was approaching a dead-end. You left the hospital in a daze, everything in the past hour seemed as though it was on the verge of evaporating—you wanted it to. You did not know what to do next, the news came with you totally unprepared, and you suddenly felt as if you were pressed to the ground by a gigantic block of stone. Your eyes were red-rimmed, you just wanted to squat down on the road and break down into tears, your ears were buzzy, and you could not hear anything anyone said as they passed your swaying body. At that moment, you were thrown into a never-ending tunnel of despair.

Within a week after receiving the results, you paid frequent visits to the hospital for check-ups and various straining procedures. You were hanging on a string of hope, waiting for every day to pass until they informed the final notes. You did not inform anyone about your conditions. If you were to disappear from their world, it was best to leave without spurring sadness and shattering their hearts. You made the hospital staff promise to keep your illness confidential—it was the most you could do to protect the smiles of your loved ones.

However, Kakashi saw through your mask after three days of your seemingly spotless performance when you went back to work. He held you back after the other Advisors were dismissed and beckoned you to sit at the tea table in his office. He looked dreadful, “What’s wrong?”

Although Kakashi’s words were feather-light, your shoulders slumped as though they were made out of lead. That same two words sounded comforting when he helped you and showed up when you needed him most, but right now, they stung your heart. He was the one that you wanted to hide your illness from most. Gulping nervously, you looked down at your hand, “I’m just feeling a little tired, that’s all.”

“Really?”

Your back stiffened, “Why would I lie to you?”

It was true. Not only was he your superior, but Kakashi was also your love. He was your teammate in ANBU, then your colleague when both of you joined the Ninja Academy, now your superior turned significant other—you did not know when he started to become an important part of your life. Thinking of parting the special silver-haired brought tears to your eyes, your orbs now rippled behind a thick layer of midst. Kakashi immediately noticed your change in expression and walked to you with measured steps. “Tell me, what’s wrong?”

You looked at him with veiled ambivalence, speaking after a long pause with a calm expression, “Will you hate me if I leave you, Kakashi?”

-

You left Konoha the day after unannounced and resided in a land far away from home. Just like that, you disappeared without a trace, vanished from the Land of Fire, leaving your memories and love behind. Here, you led a normal life of a citizen, selling vegetables in the market for a living and teaching kids basic Ninja skills in your free time. The pain in your chest began to severe after a year, but you managed to live with it, the sharp agony never failed to remind you of the harsh reality—you were going to leave this world in no time. You would count the days you had left and cross the calendar with mixed feelings. You would spend your nights imagining what life would be like back in Konoha, your family, your friends, and him, then put yourself to sleep with tears yet to dry.

Your mere exit to all this suffering was approaching, yet, you still hoped that someone would be here by your side, that he would be here with you.

Your life would carry on the same pattern if it were not for the gossips you caught on in the market this morning. Merchants said the Hokage would visit the place to discuss political matters in a few days. They also said that he was someone with a great reputation, a Ninja feared by nations, and a look that defined beauty. While the young ladies daydreamed about the Hokage and the young lads admired his talents, you smiled at yourself mockingly and left the crowded place—Kakashi… he would probably hate you a lot, as much as you loved him.

It was just another day at noon when you gathered your things to go back to your place, you saw a crowd at the other end of the road. Curious, you made your way there to take a better look at the people they were mounting around. Unfortunately, you were squeezed in between the throng, happened to tumble forward, and fell. Your palms scraped against sharp rocks on the ground and blood poured from the cuts as you hissed. The hairpin hanging loosely on your tousled hair fell off and landed on the dirt without you noticing it. When you got back up on your feet, they had already left long ago that you could only look at their fading silhouettes.

The next day you arrived at the market, you felt weird glances being cast in your direction, but when you gazed back at them, they all turned their heads away from you. You suddenly felt nervous—there was definitely something going on. Yesterday, you managed to lose your hairpin, a precious gift that Kakashi gave you when you got promoted to Jonin, and your mood had been severed since. Clueless, you stopped at a woman that you were rather close with as asked quietly, “Do you know why they are giving me such looks?”

“You don’t know?” The woman exclaimed in surprise.

You shook your head embarrassedly and she sighed, “Yesterday, the Hokage searched the whole place up to find you.”

“Find me? The Hokage?”

She nodded, her gaze stopped at something behind your back, and you turned around out of curiosity. The sight that greeted you had you turn back in mere seconds. Kakashi was standing several feet from your location, eyes glued on your figure. You pretended as if you did not meet his gaze and sprinted in the other direction but his voice called you to a halt. “Don’t pretend like we don’t know each other.”

You refused to look back at him, feet grounded in your position, "I have nothing to say to you, Hokage-sama."

It took the silver-haired a split second to appear in front of you. If you had your full chakra reserve one year ago, you would have been able to flee the scene, but your health was deteriorating, and you no longer had the ability nor strength to. Seeing him again made your heart beat rapidly, causing your breathing to become labored—and Kakashi noticed it.

“Y/N?”

The sudden constriction of your lungs made you reach out to the nearest object for stabilization, and it happened to be his torso. Your face was as pale as a sheet, and you started coughing convulsively. The commotion stirred by your encounter had others sending inquiring looks in your direction, you felt uneasy and pained. As if he could read your thoughts, Kakashi lifted your body in his arms and speedily filed outside of the marketplace. You clutched onto his shirt and the memories of your happy time in Konoha flooded your mind, bringing tears to your eyes—your wound was once again stripped open for the wind to salt. You were supposed to put a distance between the latter, but what you did seemed to result in the exact opposite. Sobbing, you buried your face in his warm chest.

Kakashi was flabbergasted—he knew you were sick but seeing you broken was just beyond his imagination. His heart ached, the first thing you said to him after one year away was to deny your relationship. The silver-haired came to a stop with you snuggled in his arms and asked with a whispering voice, “What’s wrong?”

His words pulled you back to the very day he asked you the same question one year ago. At that time, you thought you could bear the burden by yourself and leave Konoha behind, yet, the present you teared up from seeing his familiar figure. You bit down on your lower lip, “I won't be going back...”

You were not able to come back to him, not anymore. You only had one year left, and you did not intend to not make anyone suffer with you. Yet, how pathetic were you present yourself like this? You smiled at yourself dejectedly before lifting your gaze to capture a glimpse of his face—every moment from now on might be your last. “... I don’t have long.”

Your voice was soft as though it could dissolve into the thin air if he did not catch hold in time. You could see his eyes wavering, and they set a tone darker. The silver-haired turned to look at you with a stance that emanated resolution, “I know, your illness. And I'm here to bring you back to Konoha. It doesn't matter, Y/N. I only know that you're still here, and I still love you.”

By the time he finished, you could not hold back your whimpers. You knew you did not have a lot of time left—you did not worth his love and care, you owed him a lot. A man like him should stay with a woman of power and nobility, someone that could live with him until the dusk of life, not someone who was on the verge of death in the springtime of youth. But you wanted to be selfish for once. You wanted to be the one to receive his affection and return his love. You wanted it, but you would never have it.

He continued, “Now that you're here with me, I'll never let you go.”

“Kakashi...”

“I realized two things when you left,” he smiled while putting the hairpin on your hair again. “That you’re important to me, and I can't ever stop loving you, and I simply won't.”

Love always waits. Love heals. Love brings life. Love fights for itself.

------------------

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @thenightfallingstar @animepickle7 @iam-gaaras-loveintrest @tirzamisu @rinnegankakashi @the-tiniest-one @greenshirtimagines @theacevampire

[mrsbrekkers]

Hi! How are you?

Could I get a Kaz Brekker imagine where he opens up to the reader after a job about his past and the next day he tells her it was a mistake and a lapse of judgement, quite harshly. And then the reader gets hurt after a heist and he realises how much he actually needs her.

Thank you <3

i’m doing pretty good! first kaz fic tehe, i’ve been waiting to do kaz brekker one-shots since i read the books. he is v much a comfort character. i understand his aversion to physical touch ( i have panic attacks at times because of so ), his humor, and inner dialogue so he is v dear and near to my heart yeeee

i switched up the next day bit and did it as the same time since it made more sense to me?? i’m not sure how to explain it haha

pairings! kaz x reader / jesper x wylan + nina x matthias ( with inej third wheeling because she’d so do so. ) 

reader is female in this, but i can make it non-gender specific if one would like me too! just let me know i’m very flexible in my writing!

warnings! talking about jordie, ptsd, trauma, talk of death, loss of a brother + mother, swear words, kaz being sad, panic attacks, blood, near death experience, pekka a-hole rollins,

word count; 2610 ( proud again haha )

one-shot under cut!

COMPANIONABLE SILENCE

The Slat had become uncharacteristically quiet. A successful heist on part of the Crows made for easy celebration amongst the Dregs. Most sat gambling at the Crow Club, drinking the night away. Jesper had been having a weirdly lucky night, the money in front of him displaying such. Wylan had been on Jesper’s leg the entire night, and the occasional ‘This is my lucky charm’ could be heard from Jesper. Inej and Nina sat drinking together, Matthias looking like an unwilling bystander to the girls' fun. And yet, Y/N found herself back at the Slat after the long day. Her back screamed at her to call it a night, but instead, she found herself in front of Kaz’s door.

It was a routine the two had when they were the only ones at the Slat. Y/N would sit on the bed, head in a book, and Kaz would sit quietly at his desk planning whatever it was Kaz Brekker decided to plan. It seemed the same tonight, with Y/N quietly reading, until her head lifted to see Kaz rubbing his eyes.

“You need to get more sleep. The amount you manage is minimal. I’m surprised you’re not dead yet,” Y/N commented, her book falling into her lap, the page she’d left off on now folded at the corner. It surprised her how Kaz managed to live off of his, if lucky, two hours of sleep. She’d never understand it. Granted, she slept less than the suggested as well, but she always made up for it with at least a nap during the day.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” 

That might be sooner than you think at this rate. But Y/N wouldn’t take that for an answer. She wasn’t usually a pushy person, especially with Kaz Brekker. She’d learned being pushy with him was never a good idea, considering the amount of people who did were left with a ruined reputation and nothing to live with.

“Sleeping when you’re dead isn’t an option in Ketterdam. Even when you’re dead here, you’re really not. Especially when people know of you. And last time I checked, the entire city knows you, and half of it wants your head on a silver platter. I’m actually sure people outside of the city know you, and may want the same,” Y/N said, standing and moving over to the wooden desk, sitting across from Kaz. Her eyes landed on the work Kaz worked on, seeing another heist plan he was drawing out.

Kaz wasn’t going to give in easily, anyone who knew him knew he was stubborn. One of the most stubborn people who lived in Ketterdam, but he knew what Y/N was saying held some truth in it. One was never truly dead in Ketterdam. He suspected people would dig up his body to hand over to Pekka Rollins - no, he wouldn’t die before Pekka Rollins did, that was a promise he’d made himself after Jordie. Brick by Brick. He couldn’t pull Rollins apart if he was dead. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t dead yet: his vigor to destroy the man who’d killed his brother. But he did suspect that when he, Kaz Brekker, was dead, he’d never truly be dead.

“Even so, I have things to do, plans to make-”

“At 1 in the morning? I’m sure such plans aren’t going to disappear overnight.” Being cut off, Kaz casted Y/N a glare, eyes narrowing. Why she had such influence over him, he’d never know. Or, maybe he did know and wasn’t going to express why. Because why would he? Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason after all. He always had reasons though.

Finally, Y/N sighed. “I don’t expect you to listen to me, but I’m not going to let you rot away from the lack of sleep you get, Kaz. I am just as stubborn as you, and if I must? I will sit here and bug you about your lack of sleep until sunrise. Or until I inevitably fall asleep.” The smallest glimpse of a smile reached Kaz’s lips, an instinct to roll his eyes almost playfully too. Stubborn about the well-being of her friends was a Y/N special. Kaz had simply thought he’d have time before she got on his ass about his own health.

She’d already gotten on Wylan about his self-destructive habits. His tendency to blame himself for not being good enough. Y/N had practically choked him out once when he’d gone on a rant about how he was a problem for the Crows. A burden. Kaz himself had been somewhat frightened. She’d found ways to help Jesper and his gambling addiction, which usually included them gambling, but in ways that didn’t involve money. She’d gotten on Matthias for his excuses to not kiss Nina.

If Kaz remembered correctly, she’d called it ‘redirecting the issue’.

“You’re avoiding something,” Y/N then spoke, crossing her arms. Weren’t they all avoiding something? Kaz thought, huffing as he sat back into his seat. This was Ketterdam after all. If you weren’t running from some rich merchant, then you were running from their son. Wylan had simply been a lucky break in that usual streak.

“You say that as if we all aren’t running from something,” Kaz finally said out loud, his eyes casted downwards.

“Avoiding, Kaz. Not running, and something tells me the thing you’re avoiding isn’t something, but someone.” Y/N knew the look Kaz had on. She’d worn it herself dozens of times.

“I had a brother.” Kaz couldn’t bring himself to look directly at Y/N. It would make talking about this all too real. Too much. Was this a lapse in his judgement? Why was he telling her this? Had she managed to get so under his skin? 

“We moved to Ketterdam after my father died. My brother . . . Jordie-'' the name came out with a small crack in his voice. He hadn’t said that name out loud since he’d laid on his sick brother’s chest. “Was hopeful about what the city would bring, and it brought peace for some time. We worked with a man for some time, and my brother was in on a deal. One that seemed too good to be true,” Kaz scowled now, his anger seeming to rise as he spoke.

Y/N sighed, knowing where this was going now. “When an offer is too good to be true-”

“It usually is. That man went by a different name then. One to scam people for their money to rise through the ranks of the Barrel.” Kaz finally lifted his eyes, seeing the realization rush over Y/N’s face.

“Pekka Rollins.”

“Pekka Rollins is the reason my brother is dead.”

The room fell silent for a few moments, Y/N contemplating what to say. She had a feeling she was among the few who knew Kaz’s story. She was tempted to ask how Joride died, but she could infer. She’d been around Ketterdam during the time firepox had plagued the city. Her mother had been taken from the disease. She’d been the same age as Kaz. It began clicking in her head too.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N murmured. “I know you probably don’t want my pity, but really, I’m sorry.” It made sense why Kaz felt like he needed to best Pekka Rollins. He wanted revenge. He wanted Rollins to be just as down as him and his brother had been.

Kaz sucked in a deep breath, standing and running a hand through his hair. His regret for telling the woman before him began to consume him. This was a mistake. Why had he told her? A harsh look fell over his face, looking down at the plans he had laid out. “I need to finish these plans, and I’m sure you need some sleep,” his tone was harsh, but it was clear there was hurt underlying it. He wasn’t going to be an outright asshole, but he needed his space now.

“You need sleep too, and I doubt you’re in the right headspace to try and make plans-”

“Y/N, leave.” He internally was begging. And Kaz Brekker never begged . . . but Kaz Rietveld would, and that’s who was begging. 

“Kaz-”

“Leave.” Anger washed over his features, his eyes directing Y/N to the door.

Y/N sighed, walking towards the door. Before she turned the knob, she stopped. “You know being open about your past doesn’t make you weak, right?” But Kaz said nothing, afraid his voice would fail him. With no words spoken for a beat, Y/N opened the door, shutting it as she paced down the steps.

Her book still lied on the bed, the folded paper to the chapter she was on prominent. Kaz took one look at it before sighing and sitting in the chair, one tear making its way down his face.

---

It was supposed to be in and out. Another job. Another however much Kruge. Where is she? Kaz thought. Y/N was never one for being late. Sure she was working with Jesper, who was notoriously late, but she should’ve been out before Jesper was, and she wasn’t.

It’d been a week of no speaking. Kaz couldn’t speak to her after revealing so much. He feared it would become all too real. A common fear he had. Stealing, picking locks, it was all real to him, yes, but he never experienced reality when he was on a job. It was his way of ‘avoiding’ as Y/N would put it. But now, he couldn’t avoid the reality of this job.

The reality was: He’d ignored Y/N for a week in fear, and now she wasn’t at the rondevu point.

She’s Y/N, she isn’t dead. But that may not be true. She could indeed be dead. She could be, She could be, She could be.... Dozens of potential outcomes came to mind.

The world seemed to spin as he paced. Nina and Matthias had already tried to calm him. Nina had even tried to calm his heart rate down. Wylan seemed to be just as worried as Kaz as well, Jesper still out there alongside Y/N and all. Inej was calm, but it was clear she was worried too. They all were, but Kaz was being unusually emotional. 

“At this rate, you’re going to have a heart attack Kaz,” Nina had said.

And if he did, then that’d be a first for the Bastard of The Barrel. 

“And you’re not close to having one?” Wylan asked, shooting a glare over at Nina.

Kaz mentally thanked Wylan. At least he wasn’t the only one close to breaking down. Get in and out. In and out. What had gone wrong?

But then he heard the sound of boots running across the muddy ground, his eyes shooting up to see Jesper carrying a bleeding Y/N.

She’s bleeding. Who had hurt her? Kaz wasn’t sure, but anger filled him. That was until he fully internalized that Y/N was bleeding.

“Jesper, what happened?”

Jesper helped Y/N into the safe house, his breathing heavy as he helped her onto the bed of one of the rooms. “Rollins. He got word of the job. We became overwhelmed and Y/N here took a bullet to the shoulder.” Then Wylan was practically engulfing Jesper in a hug.

How? Was Kaz’s initial thought, but with a huff, he closed his eyes. Moving over to follow Jesper, he took off his coat. Upon entering the room Y/N was sitting in, he nodded towards her good arm, silently asking for her to take off the sleeve of the arm that was hit.

“I thought we weren’t speaking?” Y/N asked, groaning as she pulled the sleeve of her bad shoulder off with some help from Inej who pushed everyone else out of the room. Inej left as well, but gave Kaz a nod to let her know when he would need help.

Kaz didn’t lift his eyes to look at Y/N, his eyes steady on the bullet lodged in her shoulder. He pulled out the medical kit under the bed. Always prepared, Y/N thought.

“How did Rollins find out?” Y/N asked, watching Kaz pick up tweezers from the small medical kit.

“I’m not sure, but I plan on figuring it out. Stay still.” And Y/N did, knowing this was hard enough as it was for Kaz, she didn’t want to make it any harder. Squeezing her eyes shut as she prepared for the pain. She gripped onto the bed, seething as Kaz took the bullet out with the tweezers.

“I hope you know, I didn’t mean any harm last week.” Kaz knew what Y/N was referring too, and he simply nodded for the moment. Picking up the bandages from the kit, Y/N shook her head.

“Get Inej to do it, you’ve already pushed yourself enough.”

“It’s fine,” Kaz spoke, his voice firm.

“Kaz, don’t-”

“I want too.” His eyes lifted to finally look up at Y/N. She looked down as well, silently nodding. She understood Kaz enough to know this was his apology for ignoring her the past week.

“My mother, she died from firepox,” Y/N spoke quietly. She didn’t know how Kaz would take her bringing it up, but she felt that if she didn’t, they’d build up all this anger again. They’d ignore one another again. Kaz stalled. Flashes of Jordie and Reapers Barge consumed him for a few moments. Y/N’s skin turned cold, icy and raw. He flinched away from the feeling.

Then he heard it - Y/N’s heartbeat. She was living. She wasn’t a corpse. The heartbeat and blood were testament to that. She isn’t dead. 

“I never told you how he died,” Kaz spoke quietly. He wasn’t used to talking about such subjects with anyone. It was the reason he’d taken on a different surname. That way he could cut ties with his past.

But for some reason, Y/N was able to make him feel . . . though begrudgingly, open with his past.

“I can infer, Kaz,” Y/N said with a small hiss as Kaz finished with the bandage, his hands shaky. “Now, you can continue ignoring me if you wish, I imagine you enjoy avoiding me.”

“I don’t enjoy it.” Kaz now had someone he connected with on a level he wasn’t used to. He wasn’t going to enjoy being apart from that.

“I know, I was simply making sure,” Y/N teased, her lips quirking in a small smile.

Kaz gave a small shake of his head, his lips pulling into a smile as well for just a moment. Then he picked up his coat he’d taken off. “I imagine you’re cold, here,” he spoke then, watching as Y/N took it and wrapped it around herself.

Then the door swung open, Nina rushing over to give Y/N a hug. “Kaz here almost had a heart attack. Wylan almost did. Jeez, never do that again,” she said, laughing a bit.

“Ouch, ouch, Nina,” Y/N spoke, referencing the still open wound on her shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry. We made food for you,” Nina said, smiling before handing Y/N a tray of food.

Kaz exited the room, allowing the others some time to talk to Y/N. Inej followed him, her arms crossed as she leaned against one of the walls.

“What information do you want me to get on Rollins?”

“Whatever you can find.” You’re not taking her from me Rollins, and you’d better be ready when I do come for you. Brick by Brick.

[darkconsumed]

Travis had never given much thought to how he would die. He knew, at least, that it would be either directly or indirectly be caused by his addiction. That he would slip up and use again and that would be the final time or it would catch up to him eventually via a heart attack, stroke, or something else. Taking his own life, though, that had never been in the cards for him because he knew he couldn't go through with it. That at the last second he would change his mind, but he also feared that if he did go through with it, he would mess it up. That something worse than living with the pain and guilt that tormented his mind would join it all.

So that night in the bar, he had no intentions of killing himself. He simply wanted to get as close to dying as possible without committing. It was reckless and there was a chance that it might not even work, that he wouldn't see what Natalie had seen or what Lottie had seen. But he had to try and well, you know how that went. The minute he began to feel the last bit of air in his lungs leaving him, he knew he had fucked up. That he should have listened to Lottie and the rational side of himself that had warned him against doing it. It didn't matter much now did it? Woulda. Coulda. Shoulda.

Death was one consequence that Travis couldn't escape paying and dealing with. He wasn't suffering anymore, not really, but he was still there. Bound to this earthly plain and because of her, because he couldn't leave her like this. She was the only one that he feared hurting if things did go south that night, knowing that he would break yet another promise made to her. That Natalie would be the one to suffer in her grief of losing him and he could see it in full effect right then and there. And it pained him or at least it would have pained him if he could physically feel anything.

The desperation and enthusiasm in her voice and movements, he knew him being here was cruel. That he was adding to her pain or that he would once she realized what was going on; that he wasn't really there. Because in truth, he could have simply been a hallucination brought on by her mind trying to comfort or torment her, making her see him as she did the last time. He wore the same faded blue jeans, work boots, and flannel he had that night and other times before. Whatever this or he was, it was for Natalie to interrupt, he was simply there.

Sad twitch of lips brought the smallest of smiles to his face at her enthusiastic greeting. It did not last nor did his position in that chair at the table he had never sat at before. With her final batting hand to touch him, Travis disappeared for a second before he reappeared on the bed that he had never laid in. Arm was placed behind his head to prop it up as he crossed his ankles and looked towards her. "Ya know...I can't remember if we ever stayed here or not..." he murmured, disregarding her comment and question for the time being. "Probably stayed in somethin' similar, huh?" he mused, eyes looking away from her to look at the walls.

@scatcrccio gets yet another plotted thing.

Once upon a time his abuela had told him about spirits. It was around Día de los Muertos and she told him how they, the living, needed to celebrate those that had came and passed. To remember who they were, what they did, keep them alive in their memories and hearts. At the time, he didn't really understand the importance of the holiday or why he had to participate in it ( so many Tio's and Tia's amongst others he had never met. ) That was almost to be expected from a seven year old who simply wanted to participate in the eating of food and the several desserts.

The significance of what his grandmother had tried to teach him early on did not take full affect until those final moments. Hearing, surprisingly, is the last thing to go when someone is dying. But he can't remember hearing anything except for the stillness of the night air in that barn. It was his thoughts, though, remembering what his abuela told him—the living are supposed to keep memories alive including all that the deceased had done in their life—filled those last thirty seconds. What had Travis really done in or with his short life of forty-three years? Nothing. Had spent twenty or so years wasting and throwing away a life that he should have been fortunate enough to have. He had survived! He was still there!

He hadn't deserved the lack luster life he was given. He couldn't remember doing a single good thing with his time except for, well maybe, one thing; loving Natalie. Then again even that, that hadn't gone as well as it should have and he had known how bad it was but never really committed to fixing it. Maybe it never could have been fixed, maybe they had just been too broken beyond repair that they would have spent forever hurting one another. But he had loved her regardless of the pain and torment they had put one another through and had tried to make that be enough.

It wasn't, not in the end. There wasn't anything he could do now except to watch over her. So that's what he did, was doing in that moment as he watched Natalie all but dive to the tattered and outdated carpet of her motel room. It wasn't the worse thing she had done ( nor himself for that matter ) but it wasn't a pretty sight. None of it had been; watching her go back and forth between staying sober and taking small steps into a murky lake that would swallow her whole if she allowed it. And knowing that still, even in death, he was the root of her pain and suffering.

"I woulda at least tried to get it on a piece of paper 'fore doing that," Travis said as he sat at the small table. Head was tilted with an arm resting on the table as he watched the brunette sit by her bed after getting what cocaine she could from the carpet. "Then again we've put worse things in our bodies then fifty years of dirt and grime, huh?" he mused, leg stretching out as he got comfortable.