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mdr-writings · 3 months

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The Great Pretender

One-shot

Eren x Mean!femReader

i: youre lowkey a bully to eren, eren is a sweetheart, happy ending?

An: I constantly see people wanting eren fluff, so I decided to give it a try. Also because of the recent drought of eren ffs, its sad.

Genre: fluff, angst

You can't stand him, no, you hate him.

There has been too many times where he just cant help but to piss you off. but the most recent occurrences of his presence was the final nail. You remembered a few.

He would carelessly stared out the window during lectures

Or times where you would watch him conversate, he seemed so attentive to his friends outlandish story times.

One time, you screeched, "DONT," as he held the door open for you to enter the classroom.

You would roll your eyes at him whenever he offers you his answers to the homework.

In a couple incidences, your shoes would loudly slaps against the floor after he offers you to take his seat, as there were a limited number of chairs at a table in class.

You constantly ignored him whenever he offers to work with you for the lab.

Overall, you hate him

You were convinced his kindness was a façade of what he truly was, it was a front. There would be no way possible that there was a person that can be so perfect, he was hiding something. The tension laid heavy on your mind, surely you weren't the only one who thought the same. Hoping to find out if any feelings were mutual, you settled to ask for your friends’ opinion.

“Don't you guys agree”, you asked, squinting in disgust at the boy sitting a couple tables down from yours. You and your friends sat at a table in the campus cafe. Thankfully, you all had a gap break between your next classes, making it possible for a meet up.

“With what?” The two of them followed your eye’s path, but failed to see what was the target. “Him”, you answered, forcefully gritting the word out. Their eyes once again traveled in the path only for it to stop at the brunette boy. His brown hair messily wrapped and secured into a bun, a few wild strands framed around his face. Soundlessly, he conversed among his group of friends, occasionally flashing his pearled teeth while he laughed.

“Eren?” Your friend, Amira, questioned. You almost gagged at the mention of his name. “Y/N,” your other friend, Kelsey, started. “Why are you acting like that towards him, he seems really nice, you know he once helped me-”

Immediately, you drowned her out of your hearing. Nice? It tempted you to laugh. He didn't have you fooled. He hasn't beat you in his battle. Looking back over to his table, the short blonde haired guy faced the green eyed devil, nodding his head while his friend spoke.

The other people that surrounded Eren were intrigued with what he had to say, smiling every so often. The blonde shifted his eyes to yours, before briefly giving you a smile. Unmoved, you stared. Eren pauses to take note of his friend's face, following his sight that leads behind him. His eyes lit up, a grin sprouted across his face. A scowl plagued your lips, disgusted by the brunette’s appearance. A look of shock claimed the blonde, he adjusted his view away from you. However, a hint of intrigue painted the face of his emerald eyed friend. Little bounces from laughter shook his chest. He also turned back to conversate with his table again.

“ -kind, I don't know, maybe you should speak to him for yourself.”

A loud slap boomed from your table, making both friends jump in fear and a few random people to turn towards the noise. Not caring for the lingering eyes, your hand lifted from the table, “Absolutely not. He can be fake and pretend that he’s this wonderful person, doing this and that for people, you angrily ranted. The eyes of your friends bulged out as they stared at you out of concern. “ He knows this,” you curved your index and middle finger up and down, “ acts of kindness will make people believe that he is a good person.”

Amira spoke up, “ I honestly think he is a good person” she shrugged her shoulders, then upturned her mouth. Shock caused your jaw to drop open. “ Tell me y/n, what has he done to you to be acting like this?”

“What hasn't he done,” you thought, without a word, you got up from your chair, and began to pack your belongings. “ Y/n, sit back down where are you going,” an annoyed Kelsey inquired. “She’s having one of those days again”, huffed Amira, exhaling a sign of irritation .

Since searching for validation in your hypotheses obviously backfired on you, you decided to leave. It seems you were alone in your predictions, his plan worked. He has brain-washed your classmates as well as your friends. At this point, who else could you turn to other than yourself?

･｡ . ⠐

Later on that night, after unwinding yourself from a long day of classes, you prepped for bed.

“ Y/n i just think you're taking this a bit too seriously” , Kesley stated. You snarled as your fingers were coated in a white creamed moisturizer, you swiped the product across your face. Once again irritated by your friend’s claims.

Why couldn't they see past this character he put on, everyone gushed and raved about him being “such a great guy”. Doesn't anybody know? Everyone has a character they play when it comes to wanting to be loved. That's what you’ve done for years, desperately doing any and everything for someone to care and love you.

The things you've done in the past to taste a teaspoon of friendship have truly diminished your dignity. But nobody batted an eye to you, everyone accepted it because they also benefited from your kindness. You were selfish, it's honestly what you believed, the way your face would light up when someone spoke to you after doing two or more tasks for them. Smiling at the simple fact that a person would glace your way.

It was disgusting.

After highschool, you saw your weakness. The sweet, innocent, gullible, caring Y/N was gone. You burned that character out of your body, cleaning up any ash and sediment left behind. As a result, you despised any or anyone who mirrored your past self.

Nobody did you the favor to warn you, so now you decided to do the deed.

Abruptly, you signaled your desire to hang up, only before whispering a quick “ goodnight” to Kelsey. Now clouded in the room’s stillness, you were able to steer clear of your thoughts. After a moment of your decision and the possible daft consequences, your mind was set in stone. Finally the day’s exhaustion caught up to you, you began to drift off into a darkened slumber.

･｡ . ⠐

Waking up the next morning, you felt, heavy. Your morning routine was usual but your steeled face accompanied it. When brushing your teeth, facing your reflection, studying the movement, slowly scraping and swiping the blue minted paste around your mouth. In the shower, you scrubbed the cloth onto your body, the rough fibers scraped over your skin, afterwards leaving a stinging sensation. Downstairs in the kitchen, you ate, crushing the food against your molars, harshly swallowing the mashed contents.

The drive on the way to the campus was silent, a little too silent. The only prominent sound emitted from your car’s AC unit blowing onto your skin. Summer’s temperature had reached its height, day after day, cooking the earth’s contents. No longer baring the quietness, you decided music would be a bittersweet distraction of today's plans.

Your pointer finger pressed a large black button on the stereo. Piercing static muffled the speaker, creating a fuzz noise in your ears. Turning the dial left, the radio scanned through channels to stop on. “FORMAN MILLS,” a male voice boomed around the car. “ Now our entire fifteen million dollar winter fashion inventory has to go!” Your eyes squinted at the obnoxiously loud commercial bursting your eardrum. “They still have stores around,” you questioned. Turning a dial on the right this time, the volume went from 10 to 7.

Contemplating shutting the radio off completely, you decided to give it one last chance to play music. Your hand moved back over to the left dial moving it one time over. Good Morning! You’re Listening to Hot 86.9, Where We play the Hottest Tracks from Yester-years and Hits from Today. This First track was Requested by Artur Braus from Sina. An old classic hit from the 1950’s performed by The Platters and covered by the Legendary band Queen. Everyone this is, The Great Pretender.

“ Finally,” you huffed, placing your hands on the wheel in the perfect form of 9 and 3. As you continue to drive, the upbeat intro begins to play.

Oh-oh, yes, I'm the great pretender

Pretending that I'm doing well

My need is such, I pretend too much

I'm lonely, but no one can tell

Listening to the lyrics, a frown spread over your lips. Your body buzzed, a thick blanket of discomfort draped over you. Quickly trying to shake the feeling, you in- and exhale deeply letting the air leave your body.

I play the game but to my real shame

You've left me to dream all alone

A lump formed in your throat, the hard saliva stiffened as you tried to swallow it down. Hearing the melody play out, your mind began to drift.

Too real is this feeling of make believe

Too real when I feel what my heart can't conceal

Since last night concluding your predictions of the emerald eyed boy, then constructing your retaliation, its next step was execution. He was an imposter in nature, manipulating the feelings of others just for his own desperation for attention, disgusting. You tried. You really tried to come to the conclusion that you were delusional or crazy. No longer you could deny it, something was not right with that guy, and you weren't crazy for thinking that.

Oh-oh, yes, I'm the great pre-

Your finger pushed the off button, immediately killing the sound of the speakers. It seems like the song was trying to mock you, taunting your emotionless state.

Unbelievable. The only time you give the radio a chance, it makes you feel worse than before. The song left an eerie mark on the rest of your drive to campus. Deeply embedded into your thoughts, your morning had continued to be mute, that’s all you wanted and needed, pure silence.

Approaching your class’s building you gave yourself an opening for a second thought. Though, you knew your mind was made and didn't have any underlying subconscious notion of doubt. Ultimately, you couldn't shake the feeling of your suspicions.

You were going to investigate the guy yourself.

Class was briefly about to begin. Your fellow classmates began to fill up the room, noises from conversations, laughter, and crinkling of paper meshed together creating a symphony of life. Your eyes shifted around the area, looking to spot the brunette boy. “Still not here,” you thought, rubbing the balls of your hand becoming clammy. The pulse in your heart continuously slammed against your chest. Today you were going to do it, you were going to expose his deceit of character. No more you were allowing him to carry on with his selfish desires. It ends today.

As the professor gently grasps the door's handle to signal the start of class. A hand slapped it against the door’s wooden frame. The oxygen was stolen from your lungs, pausing its exhaling. Peering through the door, the brunette cheekily smiles at the professor. “Sorry,” he lightly whispers. Laughter erupted from the students, obviously tickled by the guy’s entrance.

He makes his way to his usual seat in the middle of the classroom. Gazing at his seat, it was currently occupied, a male looked up from the seat . “Ah sorry man, I left my contacts at home.” Eren shakes his head side to side, “ It’s cool but hey,” he quickly pauses to point at him, “You owe me”. The seated male chuckles as he throws his hands up,” You got it bro.”

Now Eren was left seatless, currently tasked with scouting out another seat. Scanning over the room, his eyes shifted through before stopping to glance towards your abrasive ones, his lips curved into a small smile. Your heart accelerated in its pace. His eyes moved to a space beside you, you mirrored his sight to seat an empty chair. Your eyes trained back on to him, he steadily began moving towards your table. With each small clat of his sneakers towards you, the harder your head throbbed.

Time seems to have slowed down because before you could realize, he was already next to you placing his carrying case onto the floor.

“Hey,” his deep silked voice ringed into your ear. Your breath hitched again. Why now, he’s too close, way too close. A great hot sensation flooded into your body, you felt as if you were in hell’s reign of fires, begging to be cooled down. You could imagine the scorching temperature was so hot you could see the steam arising from your skin. You desperately needed to get away, far away from him.

“H-Hey are you okay,“ his question stammered out in concern. A hand lies on your forearm, sending a shocking chill down your spine. You quickly swatted his hand away, ridding of his cool touch. Continuing with the overwhelming warmed sensations that protrude out of your body, your head is left airy and numb. “ I-I need…to go,” you stood up wobbly allowing your chair to scrap against the gradient floor. The sound alerts most of your classmates and unfortunately, your professor, who was amidst his lecturing.

“Miss L/N, do you need anything,” he asks, sliding his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. Ignoring him you slowly move your legs forward,gripping the table to give you stability. Your legs felt heavy and stiff, destined to drag you down. Another scrap behind you followed, emphasizing the heave you make as you forcefully trail towards the classroom door. Again, you slightly lift your leg to make another step forward, your knees begin to buckle, slowly your body starts to break down.

“Y/N!” A hand tightly grasped your forearm, making your knees slap against the floor and your upper body to sit up and arm dangling high. Everything seems so full and heavy. Once clear voices that filled your ears were now blurred murmurs. Feeling the sight sensation on your arm you were destined to know who was touching you. You pick up your clouded head and tilted it towards the owner of the hand. Your pupils grow large as they greet the overflowing pools of green.

“Eren,” you whispered before you succumbed to pitch black.

･｡ . ⠐･｡ . ⠐･｡ . ⠐･｡ . ⠐

Lavender, a pleasant fragrance of the flower emitted through the black void. Its floral scent filled your lungs as your chest inhaled and exhaled. Though smelling its pungent fumes were very much satisfying , you wanted to see more than ever.

Pressure pulled on your eyelids as you slowly pry your eyes open, quickly shutting them as white flashed into your sight. Groaning you began feeling your surroundings. “Im laying down on a bed,” you spoke to yourself as you started to shift your head side to side. A plush fabric rested at the back of your head, “A pillow”.

Moving your hand over your body, “Still have my clothes on,” you internally confirm with yourself. Deciding to give your eyes a second chance to see, slowly, your eyes open. A pasty white room came into view, looking straight ahead was a sign that stated:

| NURSE OFFICE |

You've never been in here before, not only the fact of you not needing medical attention but as never recalling a college campus having a nurse in general.

Collecting your thoughts as to why you were here, a shooting sensation spiked up your legs. Flinching from the sensation, a memory sparked your mind. You recall your knees crashing to the floor then glancing up to be met with piercing emerald eyes that stared back at you.

“I see you're awake,” you froze in place at the voice beside you that you knew and hated so well. Turning over, you were greeted with that same stupid pearled smile, those green irises gleaming into yours. A scowl painted your face in rage. Suddenly you lifted yourself from the bed, swinging your legs to its sides. Eren's eyebrows clenched together as he watched your abrupt movements.

“ You might wanna rest a bit more,” he voiced his concern. Disregarding him, you stood up only for your legs to shakily bend. “ Y/N!”, his tone now raised, he stood and sling an arm around your waist pulling you close to him. His hard abdomen grazed at your back.

You could feel his toned body pushing against you. His sandalwood spiced cologne kissed your nostrils, filling your nose with the musky scent. For a brief second, you felt yourself melting into his stern grasp, his hand gripping your side as if he would never let you go. The touch could be described as almost soothing. But satisfaction has its inevitable clarity, you shoved his arm away from your waist, breaking free of the guilty pleasured binds.

Your legs quickly carried you to the front of the office door, ready to pull its handle. “W-Wait” he called out as his hand grasped at yours. Once more feeling his contact, you ripped his toughened hand from yours. You shuddered at the fact that he touched you, he now knows how you felt, he knew if your blood ran warm or cold.

“ DON'T TOUCH ME,” you screeched as your shout ranged around the room. The silence was deafening. Everything stood still, frozen in time, unwilling and unable to move. Eren took a step back to observe you, watching you stare at him in fury.

Eren never got it and was unable to understand why you were always tempered when it comes to him. At first, he assumed you had bad days and redirected your frustrations on any and everybody around. But, it became too frequent every time he would interact with you or at least try. But he never gave up sparing you a smile, of course he didn't exactly know you but he wanted to give you an opening for you to speak to him. It would only be on your terms.

Any other person would retaliate and be just as cruel as you have been to him but he knew that it was never a safe choice to make. He knows because he has done it before, he has been that person before. Blinded by hate and anger so much that whoever or whomever would face his fury. And once he did so, he reaped the biggest consequence, he lost the most important people in his life. Leaving him in even bigger emotional distress. Realizing he had no one because of his undefined feelings he refused to counter against, he almost gave up on himself. Until he came to a conclusion of his actions and his consequences, his hurt became everyone else’s hurt. The phrase hurt people, hurt people became so transparent to him, as many saw before his new revelation. WIth this realization he became the person he was afraid of and rejected. He wanted to be able to cry, to rely on others with waves of guilt to wash over him. He didn't want to hurt the people that he most cared about simply because he was hurt. He wanted to live again. And so he did by healing and restoring what he had broken, gluing his foundation back together to create his most sacred place in his heart.

Hence while he is watching you as you grit your teeth and firmly ball your hands into fist while staring at him.

“I’m sorr-” “SHUT THE FUCK UP”, you shouted at him once more, craning your head out towards him. Your breath pumped hard out of your chest, as if you were at the last lap of a marathon. You were tired. Tired of him, tired of everything, of yourself.

“ If I made you upset, I-” his words were cut as a stinging pain spread across his face. Shifting his sight up to you , you were teary-eyed and fueled with rage. He clenched his eyebrows, and his eyes softened at yours.

“W-why don't you just leave me alone,” tears jerked at your waterline, pooling your eyes with the salted liquid. Instead of him answering the rhetorical question he allowed you to continue. “It's like you dont know when to stop.” droplets poured down the apples of your cheeks.

Silence claimed the room’s sound, hushing any of its noisy competitors. Waiting for his reaction, you watched as he stood wordless. The buzzing of anger heightened within you.

Why isn't he fighting back? His lips pressed and tightened together with a pathetic look of pity. Suddenly you quickly stepped towards him, stopping until you inches away from his body.

He jolted as the impact of your push moved him backwards. “ Go ahead say something, I know you want to,” you tease, manically smiling at Eren, egging on for a reaction. Another wordless response from him. You shoved him again, “ Come on do something, you're not just gonna let me do this to you.” As he balanced his leg from the impact, he looked at your wet eyes, those eyes drowned in anger, regret, and hurt.

“Fight back” you shouted, giving him another push. His eyes tracked you as you kept track of him. Your arm began reaching out to send another blow. “Fight ba-,” the last word was cut out of your mouth as he caught your arm.

He pulled you into him, allowing his chest to press against your body. The suddenness caught you off guard, you then tried tugging and pulling away from his grasp. “ What are you doing,” panic trembled in your voice.

You struggled against his strength, tugging, pushing and pushing away. His grip didn't slip once, all of your efforts failed. Growing frustrated, your actions soon slowed down at a dying pace. Your tugs and pulls weakend one after another, then finally you came to a complete halt. A gentle hand laid on the back of your head and guided you to his chest.

“Just stop,” he softly whispers out, "Please”.

Finally submitting to your loss, tears piled on the waterline of your eye ultimately overflowing down onto your cheeks and Eren’s t-shirt, creating wet darkened trails . Sobs and weeping from you echoed into the room, bouncing back into your eardrums. Your hand reaches up to lay on his chest, seconds after you bunched the fabric, closing it into your fist. You needed something to hold on to, something to keep you from falling, you needed-

“No….never”, you thought, shamelessly shaking your head in disbelief. Warm lips pressed on your forehead, puckering as he spoke “I know… I know.” With your head placed on his chest you felt his words vibrate against your ear, its muffled yet buzzing sensation soothed you.

The two of you stood by the white bed, he swayed you side to side as if you were a restless child. As time fell forward, eventually, your cries and tears ceased. And with time moving minute by minute, you felt an odd sense of comfort when being pushed up against his chest. Eren’s eyes peered down to get a slight view of your face. Your eyes drooped with exhaustion, slowly blinking every so once and a while. His other hand was placed at your back and began dragging in an up and down pattern.

A sigh escaped from your lips at feeling all contact he had on you. Now you could say both plans backfired and ultimately resulted in you getting closer than ever to him in contrast to the goal of being further away. A wave of disappointment seeped into your chest, you failed at the only thing that mattered to you. Him.

Deeply sighing again, you removed your head and hands away from him to turn towards the bed. Stopping in front of it, you then turn and sit on the plush comforter, you then mindlessly stare at the walls.

Eren soon followed after. His palms slid across his pants, stopping at his knees as he sat down next to you. Turning his head, he shifts his sights back onto you, waiting for you to accept his eyes.

Your head turned to the side, eyes meeting his shining emerald ones. They were so rich in its green color, overwhelming yet captivating. You couldn't look away. His lips parted as he began to speak,” Tell me.” A strand of your heart springs pull at his words. Closing your eyes, you exhaled the tension that arose in your chest.

Your eyes opened to gaze at him again, “ I don't like how nice you are.” Eren cocked his eyebrows in confusion. “ You don't like how-?” Let me finish what I was saying,” you quickly interjected him, you cleared your throat before continuing. “ I don't like how nice you are, it doesn't come off as genuine. Eren’s eyebrows deepen in their confusion. “ Because I know how it feels to be nice to everyone, doing everything for them so in return you hope to gain a friend.”

The silence after your statement indicated his opening to speak. “You're wrong,” he answered. It was now your turn for your eyebrows to bend. “How am i wron-.” “Let me finish what I was saying,” he smirks as he plays on your words. “You see Y/N, I've realized something about you.” your eyes widen at him. “ It's not that you don't like the fact that I am nice but you don't like the fact that I'm nice to you.”

That familiar pounding in your chest began to brew. Your head shook in denial, “ No, that’s not true.” “ It is Y/n.” “No,” you say in a faint whisper. “And I'm here to tell you that I want nothing from you, but you.” The breath in your lungs dropped into your chest. Tears once again pooled at your waterline, spilling down the dried streaked swells of your face.

You wouldn't believe it, you know how it goes, you've been through it many times before. You just happened to catch him before you gave in. You couldn't believe that he wanted nothing from you, he didn't-

A hand pushed at the tip of your chin, tilting your head to face his. “ I mean it,” he says gazing into your watering eyes. Droplets fell from your face onto his hand that nestled your chin. “ Those times I've tried to talk to you,” he let out a chuckle. “ I failed and I don't do those things for you because I expect something out of you,” his lips curved into a small smile. “ I do it because you intrigue me.” Warmth spreads through you, sending tingles through each and every part of your body.

This feels so strange, you thought. Every time he looked, spoke and touched you, it felt…strange. His smile would firstly piss you off but underneath that blanket of anger was that strange feeling. It was perplexing but instead of indulging in the feeling, you swept it back under the rug where its previous occurrence lies. Never before had you met a guy that instilled this phenomenon in you. It could've been anyone else, so why?

“ From the first moment I saw you, you had a look on your face that I was so familiar with before.” Your eyes shuffled back and forth to look at both of his eyes, begging him to go on. “ And I thought to myself, I know, I know her so well.” His head tilted a bit, observing your face with a small smirk. “ I tried to deny it and assumed you ran into a pole before coming to class but after a while it became so frequent whenever you saw me.” A soft giggle came from your throat, a smile painting your face, shortly before it settled into dejection.

“ But..I know how you feel Y/N,” he let go of your chin, resting his hand back on his lap. “ Right now you have a huge wall up, you've been hurt by people and not only did you blame them but you blame yourself.” he wore a glowering look on his face as he spoke. “ Which is the start of you hurting the people you love and the people who could have a chance to love you.”

Thoughts of your friends came to you, surely they've felt the wrath of your inner turmoil, but blinded by your hurt you failed to see it. You were bound to drive them away with your abrasive behavior. And to people who have made an effort to get to know you. Thinking of the times people would give you nothing but kindness you deemed them worthless, condemning their presence around you. To then watch as their smiles fall into a frown, cursing your name or parting from you in disappointment. It soured your heart. And Him. He never left, his smile never once did fall when looking at you. He still had the courage to keep trying despite your lack of interest in him or in anybody. You hurt people. Your selfishness, pride, and trauma hurt people. Hitching breathing came from your lungs.

“ I'm sorry,” you croaked as your throat tightened. He reached an arm out to touch your arm, “Hey.” You repeated the apology over again, tears threatening to spill again. “ I'm sorry, I’m so sorry.” he pushed himself forward wrapping his arms around you as you cried. “ I know, it’s okay,” his warm hands gently stroked your back. “ It's gonna get better after this, I promise.”

After the continuous rubbing of your back to settle you into contentment, you decided that it is best for you to pass up on heading back to class. Eren offered to carry your tote bag to your car, you undoubtedly obliged. He walked ahead to hold the exit door of the building.

The cool breeze of outside’s air kissed your face while its bright yellow companion let its rays shine on your skin. The walk to your car wouldn't be long as the student parking was directly across from the campus. Eren slowed his pace to let you take the lead to the lot. While making your way down, there was no conversation held between you two. Instead, you reflect on your new found revelation.

Everything that just transpired in the nurse's office replayed over again. Crazy to think how your end goal was met yet came with consequences that you didn't expect. In all actuality, you believed that it would have not been possible for you to come to your senses on your own. You had Eren to thank for that, you were truly indebted to him. Still confused as to why he chose to help you afterwards. You thought that the interaction would be a one and done type of thing. He would no longer be interested in anything relating to you. And you would be alone on your journey to redirecting your psyche. But he stayed.

Finally after the silent walk to your car, you turned to Eren. “Here you go,” he lifted the bag towards you. Grasping it out of his hand, you sling it across your shoulder, “Thanks.” “No problem.” Silence shushed the whispers of the wind that traveled along the skies.

Emptiness fell between the two of you, waiting for the other to say something.

“ I want to ask you something”

“ Thank you for everything “

You both ran through your words simultaneously. Both taking a moment to chuckle, Eren’s laughter was the first to die down, he shook his head.“ Go ahead, it'll save me the embarrassment.” Unsure of what he meant, you spoke.

“ I just want to thank you for everything today, and I deeply apologize for my behavior towards you. I don't know how to repay you.”

One of his fingers reaches up to tap his chin, giving off a look to be deep in thought. In a panicked frenzy, you immediately ask stepping closer to the male, "What is it?” A smile grows onto his face,“ if you give me your number, your apology will be greatly appreciated.”

A burning warmth extended over your body, flustered, you hesitantly answered. “ Is that only what you want?” A rich chuckle arose from him sending ripples of nervousness to your stomach. “ What do you think I've been trying to do this whole time?” Refocusing your gaze on the asphalt concrete, a shy grin creeped along your lips. “ Sorry,” it was embarrassing for you to remember how kind he was to you before immediately disregarding him. Eren briefly shrugged his shoulders,” I lived..somehow,” he murmured the last part.

Letting out another chuckle as you dig around your bag to fish for your keys and phone. Pulling out the items, you hand him your phone to exchange each other's numbers. Seconds later, he was finished tapping in his info into your phone and handing it back to you.

Preparing to leave, you opened your car door to chuck your bag into the passenger side. Closing the door back you turn towards Eren, he was already staring at you. Realizing you caught him, he turned his head sideways, the supple of his cheeks burned into a bright red. “ Ahem,” he abruptly cleared his throat. “I'll...uh..see you later, let me know when you made it home.. if you want of course i'm not forcing you but-.” Thank you Eren, I will,” you smiled at him while opening the car door.

Hopping inside, you start up the car, the ignition roaring loudly. After buckling up you switch gears into drive. One last time you gaze back up to meet his eyes. A hand emitted from his side, waving side to side. You lifted your hand and copied. And with that you pulled off, turning away from him.

Involuntarily your eyes move to the rear view mirror, showing the brunette male angling his fist and forearm downwards to his side with a look of victory.

Looking back onto the road, you smiled to yourself while taking the lane that would take you home quicker.

#･｡ . ⠐oneshot #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren fluff #eren jaeger #eren x y/n

38 notes · View notes

whoree321 · 3 years

Note

Hey, I believe your requests are open, so, could you please write smth were reader and Tech are friends with benefits?

Also, I’m in the same dilemma as you, cause everyone already forgot tbb and I’m still obsessed??? Like, were is everybody excitement about the show, it was gone so fast…

Anyway, thank ya <3

hello friend! this is a delicious request and i am more than happy to oblige! i’m not sure if you wanted like pure angst or like sexy successful fwb but above all else i am a dirty dirty slut for happy endings so i went light angst, heavy fluff, mild smut to get a little of everything lmaooooo. this also got a little out of control and i’m not sorry.

and literally i am suffering so much in this ever increasing drought of bad batch excitement. like i feel like the person at a party when everyone else is tired and wants to leave who’s still just way too hyped and is like “NO WAIT GUYS LETS HAVE MORE SHOTS AND PLAY TRUTH OR DARE COME ON ITLL BE FUN”. i am in absolute agony. but anyways!

a mutually beneficial arrangement (tech x gn!reader)

it was purely sex. just two friends helping each other relieve some stress occasionally. just two friends who happened to have sex with each other. until it wasn’t.

warnings: fwb, mild smut, reader is gender/genital neutral but they are penetrated by tech (amab)

word count: no idea but it’s pretty long

***

In hindsight, it really shouldn’t have shocked you that this was how things played out.

It’s not like you’d ever been friends with benefits with someone before. It’s not like you didn’t know how easily you could develop feelings for people. It’s not like you didn’t know you were maybe just a little too interested in Tech non-platonically before any of this even started.

No, you knew all of those things going into it. You made the conscious decision to be the biggest dumbass in the galaxy.

When Tech had first suggested a friends with benefits situation, it seemed like a much better idea than it actually was. You had been assigned to Clone Force 99 for a few weeks at that point and had already developed fast friendships with all of them (Crosshair even sometimes acknowledged your presence with neutrality and that definitely felt like at least an acquaintanceship). You were closest with Tech, and one tipsy night at 79’s found the two of you making out in a hallway near the bathroom. You could still remember the way his mouth tasted like whiskey as he pressed you up against the wall

He paused his assault on your lips to look at you, breath fanning lightly across your face. You whined at the loss of contact, not noticing in your haze the intensity in his eyes as he studied you, as though if he took in enough of you he would have the answer to an imposssible question. He migrated lower, planting kisses and sucking lightly on your neck until he made his way to your ear.

“Have you ever heard of people being platonic sexual partners?”, he asked low in your ear. You shuddered at the feeling of his breath and the deeper tone to his voice before you answered.

“You mean like friends with benefits?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I mean,” Tech clarified as he moved to once again nibble on the sweet spots of your neck. Had you had a little more sense, you would have warned him not to leave any noticeable marks, lest you suffer the teasing of the rest of the boys.

“I’ve heard of it, I’ve never done it before though. Why?”

“Well, given our current circumstance,” his response was punctuated by his ministrations on your pressure points, “it may be mutually beneficial for us to enter into that type of arrangement.”

You stopped him for a moment, and lifted his face so that you could make eye contact. Tech stood up a little straighter, hands running up and down your sides lightly as he gazed down at you.

“You think that we should be friends with benefits?”

Tech nodded, one hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

“I believe it would be an advantageous relationship. We could have relations while still maintaining our successful platonicity, thus eliminating the need to alter the dynamic of the squad with the complications of some trivial romance. It would also be physically beneficial. Sexual intercourse has been shown to successfully alleviate stress, as well as…”

He kept going, explaining the health benefits of sex, but it was hard to pay attention to his rambling while you tried to clear your head of the alcohol and the intoxication of his touch and figure out where you stood on his proposition. In that moment, everything he said made total sense. Granted, that part about “trivial romance” stung a little, but you could still fuck him without ruining the squad or your friendship with him, and Maker did you want to fuck him…

Uncharacteristically cutting off his rant, you responded. “I accept your offer. I would love to be friends with benefits with you.”

Tech grinned, a lust forming in his eyes at the new promise of the benefits the night was leading to.

“Splendid”

From that (mind-blowing) night, sex became a very regular thing. A mission went poorly? Frustrated sex. A mission went well? Celebratory sex. The Batch got leave time? Vacation sex. The Batch hadn’t gotten leave time in too long? Cabin fever sex. It really had started out pretty platonically, but after the first few times you could feel yourself falling head over heels for him. You knew you should stop it, Tech would never hold it against you or be upset if you changed your mind. You told yourself again and again that you would just break it off with him, but then his hands and his lips and his body would be on you, and the hungry way he looked at you would knock the air, and any ideas of making him stop, out of you.

In your defense, it wasn’t like you were the one who had suggested it. Tech had to know the likelihood that your “platonic sexual relationship” would only stay platonic for so long. Actually, you were surprised he hadn’t done a little more analysis of the situation. If he had taken into account all of the factors (the rate of failure in friends with benefits situations, each of your levels of emotionality and past relationships, the effects of living and working in close quarters, etc), you can’t imagine he would have thought it was a smart idea. If Tech had crunched the numbers like he normally would, it wouldn’t have produced favorable results. So for him to want to do it anyway, or to not even analyze it beforehand, must mean he had some sort of feelings for you, right?

This was one of the various problem in your current situation. Tech would always do things that were just on the line between “friends” and “more than friends”. He would go out of his way to do little things for you, he would share info and jokes and side comments with you that he never tried to share with brothers, he would blush when you complimented any of his work, he would stand just a little too close to you or let his touch linger just a little too long. He would suggest a sexual relationship that was highly statistically improbable to be successful.

And while Tech offered nothing but mixed signals, you took it a step further and let those mixed signals fester in your brain until you had warped them into one very clear signal: he liked you as more than a friend. You were so sure of it too. Why would he do all of those things if he didn’t like you like that? It’s not even like he treated you like some one night stand when he fucked you. He cared about making you feel good (usually it seemed like he cared more about you getting off than him), he would clean you up after and you always stayed the night together, cuddled and whispering late into the night about nothing and everything.

There was nothing friendly about your intimate nights together, come to think of it. Friends that just fucked would never treat each other so tenderly or lovingly. It’s not that completely unbelievable to think you would accidentally blurt out that you love him. Tech should have expected that.

But it was out there, unfortunately. You had committed the cardinal sin of being friends with benefits and you couldn’t take it back.

Tech’s brutal pace never faltered as he pumped in and out of you, your moans growing louder and louder as you began to approach your peak. He gazed down at you, locking eyes, and the emotion you could feel behind them was overwhelming. You could tell that he was close, with all the experience you had with him you knew his body better than your own, and he brought his hand up to softly caress your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe I get to see you like this,” he huffed out, brow furrowing as the rhythmic slamming of his hips against you brought him closer and closer to the edge.

At his words, you reached your climax, and as you came undone words of ecstasy slipped from your lips between wails of pleasure.

“Kriff Tech… ah…. Tech..fuck…I love you”

You didn’t even realize it at first, too caught up in the moment, but Tech did. His eyes grew impossibly wide, and he was finishing inside you before either of you could fully process what you had just said.

As you both came down from your high, the gravity of your admission settled between you. Tech pulled out and flopped down next to you wordlessly, and for a few minutes you both just stared at the ceiling in torturous silence. And then he got up and walked to the refresher, not even looking at you once, and you felt like that was all the confirmation you needed that you woefully misinterpreted your entire relationship with him.

You lept out of his bunk, threw your clothes on, and left as silently as possible, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. At least you could spare yourself the embarrassment of your words in that moment, and both of you could just forget it and move on.

Of course, you knew that pretending it didn’t happen would be impossible. You told him you loved him, and he said nothing. For several minutes. And then hid in the fresher. That was a clear rejection, and while it devastated you, you were still hoping that the two of you could just move on and be friends like you were before the benefits were added.

Apparently to Tech, you had offended him beyond repair. He never spoke to you (unless it was specifically mission oriented), he rarely looked at you or acknowledged your presence, and he positioned himself as far from you as possible at every opportunity. It had been two weeks since your slip up, and he hadn’t even made eye contact with you once.

It was agony. You missed him. You didn’t even really know what it was like to be on this squad without keeping him company while he made repairs or asking him questions about the next place you were going just to hear him talk. You missed making snide jokes with him. You missed admiring the way his goggles magnified his gorgeous caramel eyes.

The other boys noticed the shift very quickly. They had suspected the two of you had some sort of arrangement, and they knew how close you were, so to see it change so abruptly was concerning. Hunter had tried talking to you about it a few times, but you just reassured him that everything was fine and it was nothing he needed to worry about. Wrecker and Crosshair tried to pick up the slack, and started filling in the holes in your routine that Tech used to occupy. Crosshair would sit next to you in the mornings and during briefings, sometimes trying to make little comments in your ear like Tech would. On missions, Wrecker would always aim to pair up with you, and afterwards would try to do something fun like find a sweet treat or rent a good movie.

You appreciated so much what they did for you. But no matter how hard they tried, nothing could take your mind off the wall of ice Tech had built between you. You loved the other boys, but trying to share happy moments with them when all you could think about was how much better it would be with him was becoming unbearable. You didn’t want to leave them, but you couldn’t stay with Tech being so close to you and yet lightyears away.

As you filled out your transfer paperwork, you chuckled wryly to yourself. Even without the “trivial romance”, the squad was still disrupted. In a bittersweet way, it felt good for Tech to be wrong.

***

Tech had really done his best to analyze the evidence and make an informed decision based on his findings. He had been crunching his numbers with you since the day you joined the Batch, after all. Back then, it was the probability of your attraction to each of them. Tech was fascinated with you, and right off the bat he wanted to know his odds- just out of curiosity of course (for the record, they were pretty highly in his favor).

He knew there were pros and cons to the possibility of a relationship with you. First of all, it was technically against regulation for any clone to be involved in a romantic relationship. Second of all, it was likely that such a relationship would have the potential to cause countless rifts and points of weakness among his squad (regardless of the relationship’s success). Then there was also the very possible chance that the relationship wouldn’t work out anyway, leaving both of you hurt and irreparably damaging your friendship. As much as Tech may have wanted you, the costs unfortunately outweighed the benefits.

But then he kissed you at 79’s. And you kissed him back. And there he was, kissing you at 79’s, memorizing the sweetness of your lips on his. And he knew he should stop. He had studied the data and it’s conclusions were not very good, and if he had any sense at all he would stop. But he pulled away and looked at you, took in the flush on your cheeks and the dazed look accompanying your dilated pupils and the swell of your bruised lips. And he couldn’t bring himself to part ways with you. So he offered the closest thing to a relationship he could think of: friends with benefits.

A friends with benefits arrangement would be a more than adequate solution, Tech had decided. He could be physical with you in the proper moments, and then outside of those moments everything would be just as it was before. The squad’s dynamic and mission proficiency would remain consistent, and technically no regulations were being broken since they only specified romantic relationships. Of course, it wasn’t truly what he wanted, but in this arrangement he would get to enjoy you so much more than he currently was.

Unfortunately, he had made a critical oversight. In the dim haze of the club hallway, Tech had only considered how casual sex would compare to a full blown relationship. He didn’t think to analyze it singularly. And he certainly didn’t calculate the logistics of a friends with benefits agreement when one of the friends in question already had romantic feelings for the other friend.

But Tech knew himself. He knew he could have feelings for you and not let them get in the way. He could accept what he was able to have and make peace with what he couldn’t. Casual sex seemed like a good idea when his emotions were the only ones he took into account.

He wasn’t expecting you to fall in love with him.

When you had said it, Tech thought his heart was going to stop right then and there. In the heat of the moment, he couldn’t have imagined more precious words falling from your lips, and instantly it had him spiraling over the edge into ecstasy. But then the moment ended, and you didn’t say anything. He wanted to end the silence, to find out if you really meant it, but his brain was moving too fast to figure out what to say because he really hadn’t considered this would happen. It was naive of him, he supposed, but he really had thought the two of you could have done it without the emotional complications. Part of him, of course, was thrilled, but the other part of him, the logical part, was thrown into absolute chaos at the implications of your statement and what it would mean and all the statistics and probabilities he had calculated and

And you still hadn’t said anything. Tech could see you out of the corner of his eye, face red and chest heaving with emotion. You looked embarassed, regretful, and the realization that maybe you didn’t mean it hit him like a brick to the face. Maybe it was just something that slipped out, something your orgasm-addled mind had conjured up against your will and now you didn’t know how to take it back, didn’t know the right way to tell him you don’t actually love him.

It was too much for him to process at once, and he ran to the refresher in the hopes that he could clear his head and actually think coherently about the situation for a moment. Tech couldn’t have been in there long, maybe a few minutes, just long enough to splash some water on his face, look himself in the eye, and come to the conclusion that he needed to just have a conversation with you instead of playing with hypothetical numbers in his head. But then he came back out and you were gone, and that seemed like all the answer he needed. You didn’t mean it.

That was good, right? You didn’t mean it, and the two of you could keep going the way you had been.

But the ache in Tech’s heart said otherwise. You didn’t love him. He loved you, he knew he did, and he could be ok with pretending he didn’t when he didn’t know how you felt. But he knew now. And it hurt.

It hurt everytime he talked to you, so he stopped talking to you. It hurt everytime he was near you, so he stopped being near you. It hurt everytime he looked at you, so he stopped looking. The squad’s performance hadn’t been altered, so Tech concluded that the awkwardness could be tolerated until your presence didn’t feel so much like a blaster shot to his chest.

But just like pretty much every other choice Tech had made in regards to you, that plan only worked until it backfired horrifically.

***

The Batch were back on Kamino in between missions. Tech had been vaguely aware of Hunter being called in to a meeting of some sort, but he offered his full attention as Hunter stormed back into their room and huffed his way to Tech’s workbench.

“I don’t know what you did, but you need to fix things with Y/N. Now”

At the mention of your name, Tech pretended to return to his work, fiddling with a tool and avoiding eye contact.

“I do not know what you are referring-“

“Like hell you don’t Tech! The two of you haven’t even looked at each other in weeks and now they’ve put in a request to be transferred to another unit, so don’t tell me there’s nothing going on between you.”

Tech shot up, tools abandoned and stool knocked over with the force of his standing.

“They requested a transfer?”

“Yeah, they did. Now, I don’t know what happened, but I know your little silent treatment has been hurting them a lot. I don’t want to see them go, and you don’t either. So go talk to them and fix it, or I’ll have you transferred instead,” Hunter ordered, finger pointed at Tech’s chest. The threat was empty, of course, but it had fallen on deaf ears regardless.

Tech all but sprinted out into the hall, desperate to change your mind before you left them for good. As much as it pained him to be near you, the thought of being without you was somehow so much worse. He reached your quarters and unceremoniously burst in, barely giving the doors enough time to slide open before he was moving past them.

You jumped at his sudden entrance, hand coming up to clutch your chest.

“Maker, Tech you scared me!”

“Please don’t leave”

You stared at him, taking in his appearance for the first time. His chest was heaving, like he’d just run a marathon, and his eyes were frantic and impossibly wide behind his goggles. You didn’t think you’d ever seen him so disheveled, even when you’d slept with him.

You wanted to look away, but you were conscious of the fact that this was the first time you had made eye contact in Maker knows how long and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Tech, I-I can’t stay with the way things are. I’m sorry about what I said, I know it was just supposed to be a friend thing and I shouldn’t have fallen in love with you. I really tried not to, but I did and I ruined everything and you can’t even look at me anymore so how can I-“

Tech took step closer, cutting off your rambling as his brow furrowed.

“You fell in love with me?”

He spoke so quietly, it was barely above a whisper. You nodded, confused at his surprised considering the whole issue was that you told him you loved him and he didn’t feel the same. That was the issue, right?

You could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears as he tried to process what was happening.

“I thought… I thought you didn’t mean it”

Now it was your turn to be confused.

“Why would you think that?”

“Y-you didn’t say anything. You confessed your affections for me while in a compromised state and didn’t say anything else afterwards. Your body language indicated regret and-and you left. I concluded that you said it by accident, and did not actually mean it,” he explained as calmly as he could in his rattled state.

“I left because I told you I loved you and you locked yourself in the fresher! And then you wouldn’t talk to me so I figured you were mad at me because I have feelings for you and you don’t feel the same way!”

Tech’s face broke out in a huge grin, and just as you were about to ask him why he was so happy all of a sudden, he rushed forward and passionately slotted his lips against yours. You gasped into him before immediately reciprocating the kiss, and you tangled your hands in his hair as his fingers desperately clutched your hips. Of all the kisses you had shared with him, none had felt the way this one did. There was an emotion pouring into it, one that had always been on the verge of spilling over but never had before. Eventually you broke apart, and you cursed your lungs for needing air.

He leaned his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath, and broke the silence after a few moments.

“I love you, too. I have for a significant amount of time. When you left that night, I incorrectly assumed you did not share my affections. I avoided you after because I… I was hurt. I apologize for misinterpreting your actions, and for allowing you to think that I was upset with you. I assure you, that could not be further from reality.”

You laughed giddily, bumping his nose with yours as you relished in his confession.

“If you loved me, why did you just want to be friends with benefits?”

Tech blushed and look down, a sheepish look overtaking his features.

“Well, I performed a cost-benefit analysis on engaging in a romantic relationship, and the potential complications were too great. A platonic sexual partnership offered a less risky alternative. Although, I must admit that I failed to properly calculate the possible outcomes of such an agreement between two individuals in our specific situation,” he elaborated.

“We might be the two dumbest people in the galaxy,” you joked with a giggle.

“Technically, it is statistically impossible for that to be true, given-“

You cut him off with another deep kiss, your hands coming to rest on his arms as they kept you in his iron-clad grip. He had never loosened his hold, as though he thought if he let you go, you would disappear.

Abruptly, the kiss ended as Tech pulled back slightly to look at you.

“Does this mean you are no longer transferring out of our squad?”

You grinned.

“That depends. Does this mean we can have a real relationship, not just sex?”

Tech brought one hand to rest on his jaw as he looked upwards and pretended to be deep in thought.

“Well, according to my calculations, we have already experienced nearly all of the possible complications of pursuing a romantic relationship, so I have no objection to enjoying some of the benefits,” he concluded with a playful smile.

You leaned up to kiss him again, pausing just before your lips made contact with his to make a sly comment.

“And we know how good we are at some of those benefits already”

#the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #tbb tech #tech tbb #the bad batch tech #tech the bad batch #tbb tech x reader #tech x reader #the bad batch tech x reader #tech x y/n #tech x you #the bad batch x reader

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harry-writings · 3 years

Text

The Happy Years

- The one where Y/n is unhappy in her engagement and finds an escape with her former lover

Part 1

Masterlist

(A/N) IM SO EARLY IM SORRY I KNOW I SAID 9PM BUT IM DONE SO MUCH SOONER THAN EXPECTED OKAY IM SORRY LOVE YALL <3333

Three years later.

The heaviest of thunderstorms hit the city of London by early morning, the loss of the sun and the gloom of the day leaving Harry bedridden for the first time in weeks.

He always tried his best to avoid days like this — trapped within his home, caged in memories that make every step he takes heavier than the last, wishing for just the smallest taste of salvation — because it’s when he’s left alone between these walls that the darkest parts of him come out, ravaging, feeding off of what’s left of him.

Rain reminds him of the day Y/n left. Thunder reminds him of Malibu. Malibu reminds him of all the things he ever used to do with her — on the bed, on the couch, in the hallways.

There’s no escape from what he’s done.

But when the time hits two in the afternoon and Harry still hasn’t gotten up from under his blankets, he decides that doing even the bare minimum with his day would be some sort of accomplishment.

He decided to get the mail.

And what a terrible decision that was, Harry thinks, as he sees an envelope addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting by an unfamiliar name. Something about it upsets his stomach and throws him off key, knowing in his heart that he shouldn’t open it, but it’s heavy in his hands and he can’t ignore the temptation of it all.

Another terrible decision he’s made.

Please join us for the wedding of Alfie Lexington & Y/n Y/l/n.

Saturday, September 25, 2021 at 3:00 PM.

Dartmouth House. Mayfair, London.

The downpour feels like a drizzle compared to the cries Harry lets out as he reads the wedding invitation, his worst nightmare playing out right before his very eyes and if he wasn’t already so fucked up, he’d try his best to ignore it.

Y/n played her move. She wants him to strike back. She wants to win and watch him lose more than he already has. That’s all she has left of him.

His lips tremble as he sniffles, the invitation shaking between his palms as he lets reality sink in.

Y/n is getting married.

Y/n is happy.

Y/n is going to spend the rest of her life with somebody other than him — somebody that was once his friend.

It's unfathomable to him. The connection him and Y/n shared was unlike any other. They were drawn to each other instantaneously, their feelings of infatuation never once dying down because it was simply incapable of doing so.

They put each other first. They made each other better people, helped each other grow through all the droughts and winter days, and continuously found ways to become closer to one another. They were so comfortable and confident in their company, and so every day they spent together within those four years had never been anything less than pure happiness.

They were meant to be. He didn’t see it then, but he sees it now, and now that’s all he sees because everything he sees is her.

To know that it’s no longer the same for her kills him from the inside out, because now she really doesn’t belong to him.

He lets out a sound that can only resemble what would be a whine and a groan made together, sobbing as he flips the invitation around, only to find another saved date he just doesn’t have the heart to see — an engagement party for all the invited to join.

He’s so overwhelmed with devastation that his brain becomes fogged, his body disassociating from itself as he rips the invitation apart, growling and screaming and wailing as he just keeps ripping it and ripping it and ripping it.

He’s destroying it in the same way it destroyed him until he gives up, slamming his fists down upon the counter, losing control of himself beneath all his pain and regrets. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to happen. This isn’t what was supposed to come from this life.

He’s barely surviving as it is.

And he just needs to see her again.

But he doesn’t know how he’d react once he does. Whether he’d want to kiss her, to hate her, to love her all over again, he doesn’t know. His entire world is collapsing and he doesn’t know how to save it from falling apart. He can’t take any more risks when it comes to her.

But what is love without fear and danger? What would it say about him if he were to walk away from this now instead of trying just once more with her?

So with a heavy heart and a sobbing chest, he doesn’t take his chances.

And Y/n simply just couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.

Harry is standing at her doorstep, soaked head to toe, shaking in his bones. His lips are a light shade of blue and his eyes an alarming shade of red, somehow wetter than the rest of him. And as the thunder rumbles beneath her feet and nearly sends her to her knees, it goes to show her that he really is here, standing at her doorstep, and it’s not just a dream.

And she must have been struck by the shock of his presence because her tongue is suddenly tied, her throat dry, her lips fallen open yet forgetting how to breathe.

She just looks at him, soaking him all in, trying to understand what exactly led him back to the biggest mistake of his life.

“Harry?”

“So that was your way of getting back at me?! After three fucking years?!”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her eyebrows furrowing in defense. How he could possibly accuse her of something she didn’t even do — considering she hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to him since the moment she left Malibu — makes her feel even more betrayed than before.

He should know her better than this. He should know her from the inside out at this point, but she supposed three years really is a long time, because she’s never seen this side of Harry before. He seems so different to her now.

“Don’t you dare come to my home and try to make an ass out of me! Since when have I ever been the kind of person to get back at somebody?!”

Harry stutters for a moment, his anger and jealousy and hurt blinding him from the truth that Y/n never goes out of her way to get even. Her heart is too big, but he can’t shake this feeling that the person who sent him the invitation was out to do him harm.

And nobody had more of a reason to hurt him than Y/n.

“So the wedding invitation, then? You had nothing to do with that?”

He speaks it condescending, as if he didn’t believe a word she said, but that’s not what it comes down to. It comes down to the fact that she has moved on and found herself somebody so much better than him, and he has no one.

She shakes her head as if to gather her thoughts, confused about how he even found out about the wedding considering Harry quit the firm just hours after he left Malibu, leaving him with no contact to anybody that had any string tied back to her.

“Of course I had something to do with the wedding invitations! I’m the one getting married!”

She pauses then, her cold demeanor dropping into something Harry wants to say resembles a hint of relief, but it’s much more cross than that, much more serious, and he doesn’t expect what’s coming next.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Me getting married?” She speaks it through a small, bitter laugh. “I should have known the only way you’d fight for me was by being with somebody else. You never could stand being second to me, as ironic as that is.”

“I could give two shits about you getting married.” He lies through clenched teeth, his stomach sick at the mere thought of it. “But I do have an issue with you inviting me to your wedding after walking out on me.”

Her head snaps back up to him.

“Wait, Harry, what are you talking about?” She frowns, trying to make sense of it. “I didn’t invite you to the wedding.”

Why would she?

They are no longer friends, no longer much of anything, so for her to take time out of her day to sabotage anything but herself wouldn’t feel right to her. Besides, it was her decision to never speak to Harry again, she wouldn’t ever take her word back.

Harry frowns then, too, because she isn’t faking her emotions. She’d always been terrible at doing so, and the way her eyes scream and beg for answers can’t go ignored. He, again, feels like the absolute worst person in the world.

“Then who did?” He whispers.

There’s only one possible answer.

Seven months ago.

Alfie insisted that he and Y/n had a New Year’s Eve party. They’d never had one before, as Y/n much preferred staying in with a bottle of champagne and celebrating with a lobster dinner and late night reruns of The Honeymooners.

But Alfie was persistent. Very persistent. Too persistent. So persistent she had no choice but to give in, and she just didn’t understand why.

She didn’t understand it as days passed and all Alfie talked about was the stupid party. She didn’t understand it when he rented out one of the most expensive venues. She didn’t understand it when he laid awake the entire night before, too anxious to fall asleep. She didn’t understand it when he asked her to wear his favorite dress.

She wished that she did the moment it happened.

The clock was ticking.

“Five!”

Alfie reached for Y/n’s hand.

“Four!”

Y/n noticed something shift in the air.

“Three!”

Alfie reached his other hand into his pocket.

“Two!”

Y/n knew what was coming.

“One!”

Alfie dropped to one knee.

“Happy new year!”

It was every girl’s dream — the fireworks, the balcony, the view, the prince charming that would whisk her away to spend the rest of eternity together — yet it couldn’t have felt any more like a nightmare.

It wasn’t what she wanted. Not then, not ever before, not once during the span of their relationship, and time seemed to have stopped moving forward.

There she was, in the center of the universe as everybody stopped and stared, gasping and gushing at the sight of a man on his knees for a woman. An act of vulnerability, of love, of submission, yet it didn’t feel like any of those things.

It all felt so wrong.

She began to cry.

To everyone else, it seemed as though she was crying from happiness. Her devoted boyfriend of two years finally asked for her hand in marriage, to be the mother of his children, to spend the rest of their lives tied together by a vow, unable to be broken. So it was no surprise when everybody let out an awe of endearment, nobody (not even Alfie) knowing her well enough to distinguish the difference between her happiest and saddest cries.

Harry would have known.

And that was all it seemed to come back to in that very moment in time.

Harry.

What she would have given to feel his hands on her waist, blocking her body from view with his, taking her away from all the unwanted eyes on her fragile body. He would have done it in a heartbeat because he always did — he always found a way to help her escape her horrifying realities, even the sweetest of ones.

What she would have given for it to be him kneeling in front of her… this all would have been so different.

Her lover of two years was promising her a future, yet all she could think about was somebody stuck in her past, yet so heavily prevalent in her present.

But she couldn’t say no. How could she when everybody expected the answer he was looking for, ready to toast to the bride and groom? How could she when phones captured the beginning of the rest of their lives, ready to share for all to see?

But she couldn’t say yes, either.

She settled for a nod of her head.

The crowd cheered, some clapping, others clinking their glasses, lovers kissing. She only caught a glimpse of those celebratory moments before everything around her drowned in her tears, voices of congratulations so distant beneath her heavy, hyperventilated breaths.

Alfie embraced her, then, and she felt his laughs of euphoria rumbling in his chest as hers met his, and she couldn’t even pretend.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, her expression void of everything that she should have been feeling. And her eyes went blank as they caught a reflection of her through the balcony windows — the last time she ever saw herself for what she truly was.

That same day.

Y/n was a mess waiting for Alfie to get home.

Seeing Harry again filled her with so many different emotions, she didn’t know which one to start with. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to destroy everything and everybody that dared get in her way, she wanted to disappear. Yet she had done none of it. All she could manage to do was pace around her bedroom, biting at her nails and getting lost in her scrambled thoughts, her mind and body moving at a million miles an hour, unable to be tamed.

This is precisely the reason Y/n never wanted to see him again.

He does things to her, he always has. She hardly has any control over herself whenever it comes to him and she fucking hates it. No matter how sad, how mad, how hurt or how upset, there was something about his presence that made her see past all of that. It saddens her how much she used to love it.

But her moods swing at her relentlessly, the sadness turning to anger because yes, she is angry. She’s angry that he still has this much of a hold on her, especially after everything he’s done, and she’s even more angry that he hasn’t yet apologized for it.

Because it was all getting better. The constant wondering about what he’s doing or who he’s with and the continuous string of thought always leading back to him was all finally falling into its place. She was finally finding her place.

And then her fiancè did this.

When she hears the bedroom door open, she hardly gives Alfie any time before she starts a fight, wishing nothing more than to take it all out on him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/n fumes, everything tainted red with anger as she looks into his eyes and feels nothing but hurt and betrayal. “Inviting Harry to our wedding behind my back?! Do you not remember what he did to me?! Do you not realize what you just did?!”

He frowns, not sarcastic or menacing, but he genuinely seems upset that she’d ever even ask him such a question.

“Y/n…” Alfie sighs, and she suddenly hates the way he’s always managed to remain calm in the most heated of arguments. She wants to start a war with it, to go for the kill, to make him crawl and beg and bleed for her forgiveness. “Of course I remember what he did to you, which is exactly why I did it.”

Her hands turn to fists.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“I wanted to hurt him for hurting you! God damn it, Y/n… after finding out what he did to you all I could think about was ripping him to pieces and that urge never left me, especially after we got together.”

He slumps himself down at the foot of the bed, loosening the tie around his neck, almost too aggressively. And if she wasn’t so out of her mind enraged, she would try her hardest to understand his side.

But there is no excuse for this. There’s no excuse for any of it.

“So now you use our marriage as a way to get back at him?!”

Y/n may not love Alfie the right way, but she had never stooped so low to treat her marriage like a weapon, ready to strike at any moment in time. It wasn’t something she used to inflict pain onto anybody else but herself, no matter how hard it had gotten.

And though she once believed their engagement meant more to him than it ever meant to her, she can’t help but feel as if that’s just another lie she’d been forced to live with.

He went behind her back deliberately to hurt somebody even she never intended on hurting. He knew what was to come of this and yet here he is, letting it all happen for satisfaction’s sake.

It feels like all she will ever be is used.

“Is that what this is to you?! A point on your scoreboard?! A big ‘fuck you, i won!’?”

“Isn’t that what this is for you?”

“Don’t you dare turn this into my problem.” She spits through clenched teeth, punching at the dresser beside her with the side of her fist, face burning with fury. “I’m not the one sending him our wedding invitations!”

“And I��m not the one staying up past midnight scrolling through pictures of him on my phone!”

Her mouth shuts then, her hard and pressed features softening at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

She had been looking at pictures of Harry almost every night since Malibu, she just never expected to get caught. She could physically feel Alfie fall asleep against her, so she always waited thirty minutes before she took her phone out, looking back at everything that once was.

It was the only thing she ever truly wanted.

It’s what she kept going back to — a habit that came as naturally as telling her best friend about her day, about her perspectives on the world, about the lack of guidance in her life — like a phone call at the end of the day as a way to unwind.

She had make believe conversations with him as she scrolled endlessly through her favorite photo album, the thickness of his accent engrained in her mind as she thought of everything he’d say to her if he were still around. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d live vicariously through the memories they made together and replay those moments all night, until they lulled her to sleep.

“I told you from day one that —”

“That you’re never going to let him go, I know. I know that he was the love of your life at one point but this is just pathetic now, Y/n. Absolutely nothing short of pathetic.” She frowns, his choice of words making her heart sink because he knows exactly how to do it. And he sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his face as if he were in agony. “I didn’t know this was the kind of shit I was signing up for.”

Her eyes brim with tears but don’t offer anything more, only upset that he couldn’t find a way to understand her when she’s trying so hard. But he never has and he never will — not in the way she needs him to and not in the way that could ever make this work.

“I’m not sorry for what I did.” She confesses sadly, her bottom lip between her teeth and fingers picking the skin around her nails as she tries, yet again, to make him see. “He was my best friend before he was anything else to me. There was a time in my life where he was all I had.”

And though her heart is still with Harry in every aspect of every way, it’s true. He was her best friend and that’s what she misses the most. There was so much to him that meant so much to her and none of it could ever be replaced, not even by Alfie.

“You know I love you but you also know I'm not the same woman you fell for in Malibu. I’m my worst self when I don't have him around and your favorite parts of me don’t exist without him. Don’t pretend like you don’t see that.”

His hands twitch against his lap, his shoulders slumping because it’s true. The most lively and brightest parts of herself had died the first step she’d taken away from him that night. Sure, she’s still the most resilient and beautiful woman Alfie had ever known, but she’s never been the same since then.

She’s still in love with him and there’s nothing for him to do about it. He didn’t see it until he saw the way she sulked over Harry that night, all those years later, with a diamond ring on her finger that just seemed to weigh her down even more.

None of this means anything to her.

“It’s been three years, Y/n. Just find yourself a new best friend and move the fuck on already. I’m getting sick and tired of this.”

What he doesn’t understand is that she is, too.

Two weeks later.

Y/n shouldn’t be this alone at her own engagement party, but it’s the impossible things that always manage to find their way to her.

The party consisted mostly of Alfie’s friends, considering Y/n is much more of an introvert than he is and the small number of friends she does have seemed to have disappeared within the sea of unfamiliar faces. She felt lost for a moment, but when she finally found her fiancè, he had been too invested in his own friends to spare her a single one of his glances, and it soon became disheartening to wait for him to acknowledge her when the thought of her never once crossed his mind.

So she ends up on the steps of their back porch, sipping on a glass of champagne, overlooking the garden, breathing in the silence.

She closes her eyes and succumbs herself to the summer breeze, wondering what she has to do to find a single glimmer of happiness. Her life is just so sad, a labyrinth of betrayal and hurt and heartbreak she can’t ever escape.

Darkness is all she sees when she thinks about her future. There is nothing for her to look forward to. Every day will come and go the same way it has been — unwanted, dreaded, wasted, another failed attempt of contentment. It all seems so hopeless to her now.

The champagne doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to a lonely Y/n, and it isn’t nearly enough to curb her mood, either as she huffs at her empty glass, wishing she had taken another.

She sets it down next to her, placing both her elbows on her knees, getting lost in her world of sorrow, long forgotten by her lover.

Harry is the first one to find her.

He had parked his car across the street from her shared home with Alfie, and even from his distance he knew Y/n wouldn’t be inside. He knows her too well to know she wouldn’t find her place in crowded rooms where the attention is all on her, even if it was all in the comfort of her own home.

And the fact that Alfie didn’t know her senses of belonging well enough to accommodate them made him seeth. She is an independent, a lone wolf, a woman who moves solely in her own way and anybody who’s ever loved her knows that above all else.

He doesn’t care for her.

And he doesn’t need to go looking for her because he can feel her, as if the universe somehow bent its laws of gravity and pushed him straight to her back porch steps, where he finds her all alone.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand fall softly on her shoulder, but immediately sinks into comfort when she sees that it’s Harry moving to sit beside her, his hand refusing to pull away.

Finally, she has a friend.

“Hey.” She says softly, one of the corners of her lips turning slightly upward at his unexpected visit. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

He smiles briefly at her before he overlooks the garden, his fingers squeezing at her shoulder before resting his palms over his lap. And there’s something about being next to her again that makes everything around him fall back into place. This is where he’s meant to be.

“Honestly, neither did I, all things considered.” They both let out a chuckle, the atmosphere between them so horrifically sad yet so incredibly right. “But I just really felt like I had to be here for you tonight.”

Despite the years that had passed and everything that drove them apart, Y/n remains who he loves most in this world. His connection to her never died, so the sudden gusts of off and disturbing feelings Harry used to get whenever Y/n was troubled had never left him. He felt it all just as strongly — her anxieties, her fears, her tears and everything in between. And he’s glad that part of them never died because the look in her eye tells him everything he needs to know.

She’s absolutely miserable.

She sighs, the corners of her lips falling as she stares at her engagement ring, her thumb and pinky twisting it around her ring finger, itchy and heavy no matter which way it's worn.

“Me and Alfie aren’t doing so well.”

She didn’t have to say it because he can already see how treacherous they are together, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to hear.

He lost his right to be selfish with her in Malibu, and though he does gain a sense of happiness knowing he may have a chance with her again, it’s significantly outweighed by her sadness. Nothing had ever pained him more than that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shakes her head, her fingers reaching up to tuck fallen pieces of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t be. I don’t really know why he decided to do this, anyways.”

Harry’s lips fall.

“Marry you?”

Y/n’s leg begins to shake, her greatest and most absentminded nervous habit. And Harry had always been quick to place his hand over her thigh and rub at the surface, meeting her eye halfway and taking a deep breath in, to which she would always follow. He hesitates to do so tonight, but settles for it anyway.

She looks appreciative beneath it all.

She’d forgotten about Harry’s subtle favors over the past three years, so to feel it all again when she has been so low and neglected feels like a blessing to her. It feels like somebody finally cares for her, and that’s all she had been wanting all along.

Harry, she feels, is the only one who ever truly has.

“We just never talked about it. It was this big, ginormous, unavoidable, life changing question thrown at me with no warning at all.” Her forehead falls to her palms, as if humiliated by the memory. “In front of everybody.”

Harry’s heart crumbles from within him because nothing Alfie has given her has been anything she’s wanted, and that’s not what she deserves.

He remembers it so distinctively now — the way she poured her heart out to him just a few months before Malibu. It was the third Valentine’s Day they’d spent together and Y/n got so drunk, she spent nearly the entire night venting to him about everything she’d feared when it came to her future relationships.

With her head on his shoulder and her leg slung over his hips, Y/n’s thoughts were so destructive, she couldn’t bear to entertain them any longer, so she decided to let it all out.

“And what if my boyfriend proposes to me in a room full of people? I’d drown in sensory overload. And what if I want to say no? Or maybe? Or yes, just not right now? With all those people looking at me? I think I would pass away.”

Harry looked down at her in subtle curiosity, his fingers playing with her hair in the way they always liked. She was the only thing in his sight that wasn’t spinning out of his control.

“So how do you want to be proposed to?”

She hummed, as if contemplating her answer. But she knew. She already knew.

“In bed, probably. It’s so intimate and private there. So non-traditional. You’re the most done down at your first hour and something about someone wanting you at your worst, forever, is so poetic.”

She looked up at him with doe eyes merely seconds after.

“Will you make sure he does that for me, please? Promise me you’ll try.”

He smiled the best he could at her, pressing his lips down to her forehead. They lingered there for a moment, and Y/n’s breath was taken away.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

What makes the memory even worse was how much he really did love her and how blinded he was to it. He kissed her. He held her. He played with her hair. He slept beside her that night. He kissed her again goodnight. He brought her breakfast in bed the next morning. He did it all over again.

It couldn’t have been any more obvious.

But there’s something about the way she hasn’t expressed any of those concerns with Alfie that doesn’t sit right with him. It just doesn’t make any sense to him.

“Been with him for how long now, two years? And you really didn’t expect him to propose to you? Have you met you?”

She sulks herself deeper into her knees.

“I don’t know. I guess — I guess I just never really thought about it.”

Never thought about it?

“But you’ve always wanted to get married.” He says it more like a question than a statement, genuine concern and confusion in his tone of voice as his eyebrows furrow, trying to comprehend it.

She looks up at him with a void, empty expression.

“Yeah, but never to him.”

Her eyes linger on Harry’s for just a beat longer — just long enough to catch a glimpse of the way his lips fall and the way his face drains of color — before she blinks away from him, turning her gaze back toward the garden. The flowers have never looked so lifeless.

“Y/n… if I had known how you felt, I —”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Y/n shakes her head, looking back down at her trembling hands, tears now burning in her eyes as the sudden sadness of the conversation starts to weigh down on her. “You had four years to feel the same for me and you never did. My feelings would have done nothing to yours.”

“And I never did?” Harry asks incredulously, his voice low and faltered behind the heaviness of her words. “Is that really what you’ve been living with the past three years?”

Loose tears begin to fall down her cheeks because yes, she has been living with his unrequited love for six years and no, it’s never gotten any easier. It’s pathetic and ridiculous and the most unexplainable form of grief she’d ever carried, but it’s the most devastating kind. “How could I think any differently?”

“Because it was real, Y/n. Fuck.” He lets out a strangled, dry chuckle upon his words as he runs his shaking fingers through his hair. He’s nervous, absolutely terrified because if he fails to show her how deeply he feels for her now, he may never get the chance to again, and losing her is no longer an option for him. Not when she’s so close. “Because you know me better than anybody else and you know I wasn’t faking it with you. How could I have been? You would have seen right through me and you know it. You always do.”

Perhaps the love blinded her. Perhaps her heart was so invested it deceived her to see only the things she wanted as a subconscious form of self-preservation. It’s not an impossible possibility, and it’s certainly one she believed in throughout all this time, but a part of her can’t help but find a hint of truth stuck somewhere between his words.

The kissing, the touching, the tasting, the laughing and the loving did feel real to her. It felt real when she saw the way he smiled after every one of their kisses, and the way he reached for her when it was just to two of them, like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he moaned against her, and the way he told her he loved her, like he meant it.

She knows all of his movements and all of his habits — knows all the signs of his stress, his sadness, his tension, his ease. She knows the emotions he wears and the ones he doesn’t, notices everything he does and doesn’t do, and never once did anything he did with her seem anything less than genuine.

She hates that it’s taken her so long to see that, but it doesn’t fix all that he had broken now that she does. She wishes that it could, this life would be so much easier for her to live.

“You really hurt me.” Her voice quivers, low and quiet as she speaks her truth, and it breaks his heart all over again. Never has he heard her sound so sad in his life, and it’s all because of him.

“You think I don’t know that? I hate myself for everything I put you through because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He pauses, waiting for her to say anything else, but it doesn’t come. All there is for her to offer are her silent cries and waterfall eyes.

“That night with Lydia… nothing happened. She caught me off guard and I panicked because how could I not? She was giving me everything I thought I wanted yet all I could think about was how I wanted it to be you.” Y/n’s breath falters then, a knot forming in her chest as she revisits the sight of that horrific night. “I tried so hard to talk it out with her, but she wouldn’t let it go. She kept persisting and persisting and she didn’t give me the chance to explain myself before you walked in on us.”

She didn’t truly know what happened between him and Lydia, but she had her ideas. Whether they kissed, touched, confessed their love or crossed bases, the truth would have only made it worse for herself. Ignorance was bliss when it came to them.

But she didn’t think nothing happened, either, especially when the first words that Y/n heard Lydia say to him that night was I love you, too.

Too.

Like he said it first.

She really hopes he didn’t, but she’s so afraid of his answer that she doesn’t ask.

But she doesn’t say anything else, either, because there’s so much more she needs to hear from him but she doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know what to do, yet she wants to know everything.

“You were all I ever wanted and I’m so sorry for the way I had to find that out. I’m so sorry that I had to hurt you to realize how ridiculously in love I am with you.”

And how ridiculous it’s gotten.

“It haunts me. It follows me everywhere I go. Every morning, I think about the way you slept beside me in Malibu and how perfect you looked before you even had the chance to wake. I still reach for you even when I know you’re not there just so I can say I tried. Every time I walk the street, I somehow convince myself that I see you walk past me and I always turn back just in case I missed you. Then I spend the rest of my day wondering where you are and how much happier I’d be if you were with me.”

And it’s all so true.

She is around him at all times. Her spirit lingers in the air he breathes, her shadow alive in every ray of sun that touches his skin, unable to be soaked away. The ghost of her is everywhere he is, always, and it pained him just as much as it comforted him.

“I come across all these women and go on all these dates in hopes to find someone that makes me feel half the things you do, just to go home hours later and watch all the stupid videos and photos I’ve taken of you throughout the years because it’s you that my heart is after. Nobody else.”

She melts into herself at his confession.

To know it wasn’t one-sided — the longing, the missing, the wanting so bad that he couldn’t help but look back at all their memories together. Whether he was beside those women or not, she had done the very same thing, and it’s almost as if those hidden moments of desperation were a silent call to one another.

He reaches his hand to her thigh again, his skin warming her to her bitter core, setting a fire in her that had burnt out many years ago. And she doesn’t stop staring at it.

“I love you, Y/n. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything else in this world. I love you so much that it drove me crazy to think about you spending the rest of your life with somebody else because I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of mine without you. But that’s my heartbreak to live with, not yours.”

But it is. It is because he’s the only one she’s ever wanted and living her life with someone else was once unimaginable. It still is. Even through her relationship with Alfie and everything they’ve built together, it wasn’t ever the same.

And it’s not a matter of her not loving him, because she does, just not in the way she loves Harry. He is a high she constantly fiends for, an intoxication that keeps her wild and free, an addiction like no other. Being without him makes her feel sober — in a constant state of withdrawal, falling down deeper into her urges, dependent solely on her relapses — and Alfie is just the mild distraction.

All of this is her heartbreak.

His fingertips rub softly at her leg.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don't know how I’m ever going to find a way to move on from you, and I don’t know if I ever will, but at least I had the chance to tell you everything you deserved to know. I didn’t think I’d ever have it.”

She still doesn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect anything more.

He wishes he could stay with her for just a bit longer, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome (if he could even call it that). And he starts to cry as he thinks about leaving her alone again.

She’s forever going to be his hardest loss.

“I have so much more I want to say to you, but this is your night with Alfie. I don’t want to be the one to hold you back from it.”

He squeezes the top of her thigh, dreading the let go. This may be the last time he sees her or speaks to her for a while, and that in itself is enough to make this so much harder on him.

“I’ll miss you everyday.”

He can’t even look at her as he says it.

His eyes are flooded with sadness as he stands from where he sat beside her, shaking fingers wiping at his tears, his heart the emptiest it’s ever been yet his chest heavier than ever before.

It suddenly dawns on her that she never wants to see him walk away from her again. She doesn’t want to go another dreaded day without him beside her, or go the rest of the night thinking of everything she could have said, but didn’t.

She wants him. She loves him. And she doesn’t want him to go.

“Wait.” She grabs his hand in both of hers before he can make it too far, her eyes wet but the brightest he’d ever seen them. “The party doesn’t end for a while and — and Alfie hasn’t come looking for me since it started, so…” She hesitates, his hands still in hers, and everything is right in the world again. “Do you want to take a walk with me? It doesn’t matter where just, please stay here with me?”

And how could Harry ever say no to her?

He lifts her up from where she sits, the first real and genuine smile he’s seen out of her since they’ve reunited spreading on her lips, and he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

They stray further than expected, catching up on everything they’ve missed throughout the years. It all feels so easy and so right, as if time had hardly passed between them, yet they’ve never felt more apart. Never once did they expect to live in each other’s world through late night storytelling and clandestine getaways.

They laugh. They cry. They reminisce. And they don’t let go of each other’s hand the whole night through.

Y/n returns to the back porch a couple hours later, grabbing the finished champagne glass she’d left on the top step to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Not that she necessarily has to, she doesn’t feel as though she’s done anything wrong, she just couldn’t imagine what would come from this if Alfie was to find out.

She slides the back door shut quietly behind her, the remaining guests only giving her a small smile of acknowledgement, none at all suspicious. Some offer her hugs and mingle with her, congratulating her as if it were their first time doing so, telling her how perfect of a marriage she and Alfie are going to have.

If only they knew.

But it isn’t until the last of the lingering guests make it out the door that Y/n and Alfie are left alone — the most dangerous place for them to be. And neither of them speak a word to each other, just meeting eyes for a brief moment in time, as if avoiding everything else that came with the night.

The air is heavy, the chill brutal, but it’s what Y/n is so used to. This is her normalcy.

“I’m glad you had fun tonight.” Y/n says plainly, gathering all the littered champagne and wine glasses floating around the kitchen.

In any other circumstance, she would have stood her ground much more strongly, but the bitterness inside her subsided to something much sweeter after her time with Harry. The weight of the world is gone, it seems, the moon and sun and stars aligned perfectly in her universe. She is weightless, floating, her spirit dancing along the edges of her own personal heaven.

The silence Alfie responds with doesn’t strike a nerve like it usually would. It rather goes unnoticed, only furthering her into her illicit dreamland.

Harry’s touch lingers on her skin and she can feel it all the same even though he’s gone. A shiver runs down her spine as she thinks back to the way his lips pressed against her cheek before parting ways, muttering the quietest goodnight, lovie against her skin, leaving her breathless.

She is endlessly hypnotized by him, forever under his spell, as if his lips were made of magic.

And Alfie’s heart sinks when he sees the look on her face. It’s been years since he’s seen it, yet it’s all so familiar once he does. It’s the same look he fell in love with when he first met her in Malibu.

It’s all so clear to him now.

“So we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t leave our engagement party with Harry?”

Y/n lifts her head to look at him properly for what seems to be the first time tonight, his question catching her off guard since she had so rightfully assumed he wasn’t concerned about her whereabouts, and Harry didn’t make his presence known to anybody but her.

But she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t deny it, doesn’t try to scrape for excuses that’ll only dig her in deeper because she doesn’t regret what she did or why she did it. She has no reason to.

“And we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t completely exclude me from our engagement party?”

Alfie’s hands slam against the kitchen counter, a bitter and sarcastic laugh falling from his lips, as if she had said something untrue. “So I don’t give you attention for two minutes and you decide to run off with some other guy?”

“Two minutes? Try two hours on a night that was supposed to be for us.” It’s her turn to slam her hands down, except hers land on her thighs. “I was sitting on our back porch all night and nobody, not even you, came looking for me.” She sits down on the island stool with burnt-out eyes and heavy shoulders, drained from the reality of their relationship, tired of trying for somebody that’s never held her heart the right way. “Harry was miles away and even he found a way to find me.”

And just like always, it all circles back to Harry.

She’s never been one to compare — verbally, at least — so there is a gloom that hovers over her after she says it, the guilt settling in her bones, but it’s the reality of their situation. An old lover held his hand out to her while Alfie refused hers, and it ended up exactly where it had always belonged.

“All you had to do was ask me to be with you.” He sighs, depleted, because it’s true. He would have been there the second she called his name. It’s the fact that she didn’t that shows him how incompatible he is with her wants.

“I shouldn’t have to.” She frowns, fingers fiddling with the skin around her nails as she contemplates what there is to say next. “Is that how this marriage is going to work? Me begging you to be there for me all the time? Because I’ve never been that kind of person. I will never be that person.”

Alfie breathes heavily in response but doesn’t know what else to do or say to get her to stay. She’s slipping right through his fingers and he can physically feel it — can feel the way she feels for another man, can see the way her eyes refuse him, as if hiding away from something.

But this isn’t about him, it can’t be because it was all going so well, so much better than ever before and nothing ever pushed her away, until Harry.

This is all him.

“You know he doesn’t love you, right?” Alfie breaks the silence, her heart along with it, because she needs to be reminded how badly he had done her wrong. She wouldn’t be turning him into the villain if she did. “He lied to you. He used you to get what he wanted. He —”

“He does love me.” She interrupts him because she doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want him to talk her out of this, no matter how much she should. But it’s on the tip of her tongue, almost breaking from its resistance, and she can’t swallow it back down now. “He was there for me more than you were tonight and he’s not even the one I’m engaged to.”

Another deafening silence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He understood her, loud and clear, but she’s speaking between the lines. There’s a part of her that’s holding back from something and he already knows what it is, he just needs to hear her say it.

So she does.

“I’m in love with him, Alfie.”

If the confession of her disloyalty wasn’t enough to tear her apart, the choked back sob she heard from Alfie undeniably did so.

She shuts her eyes, pained, unable to take it.

He doesn’t deserve this, but she’s left with no choice. She’ll only hurt him more if she stays.

So she doesn’t.

The morning after.

Harry didn’t know what was to come after he confessed his love to Y/n — whether it be a new day of a new life away from her, or the beginning of something so beautifully timeless, he had no idea.

The closure warmed him enough to lull him to sleep, to keep him deep in a dreamstate where all he envisioned was sunny days and the touch of her hand in his. He had never felt so light, so free, so liberated from the cage of guilt and unspoken truths that even if he were to never see or hear from Y/n again, it would have been okay.

He said what he needed to say, she heard what she wanted to hear and that’s all he could have done without interfering with her relationship.

But what he wakes up to is far from anything that ever crossed his mind.

Seven missed calls and five text messages. All from Y/n.

H, please tell me you’re awake. I need you.

I ended it with Alfie.

I don’t have anywhere to go and you’re the only person I want to see right now. Can you meet me at the coffee shop? I really need to talk to you.

Please wake up.

Harry sits himself up in a state of panic, his eyes jumping between the time she had messaged him last and the time it is now. And he springs himself out of bed when he realizes that he hasn’t missed out on her yet, planning to get to her as fast as he can as he throws yesterday’s outfit, not at all caring about how it makes him look.

She ended it with Alfie.

He’s the only person she wants to see right now.

She needs him.

That’s all he can process as he scurries down the street, thinking of everything he has left to tell her to try and win her heart again. He knows he’s undeserving of it, and she does too, but that doesn’t stop him from loving her the way that he does.

His life is meaningless without her, so dry and bleak and depressing he can’t live another day like it. He can’t and he won’t because he’s going to fix this. He has to fix this.

And it doesn’t take him long to find her because there she is, sitting at their usual outdoor table, a large hot tea held between her hands, her leg shaking, her eyes distant. It's such a heartbreaking sight, and he suddenly wonders if she ever sat there after their breakup, waiting for him, hoping he’d do the very same.

The thought makes his head twitch to the side and fingers twist with guilt because no, he never did. He never went back to that coffee shop since the goodbye. It would have hurt too much, it would have reminded him of everything he’d ever done wrong and he couldn’t bear to face the person he once made of himself.

That person died along with her.

She stands from her seat when she sees him walking toward her, exhausted mentally and physically enough to nearly fall from her feet in the process. But her heart is racing a million miles an hour, her stomach fluttering as he grows nearer, her senses of anything but the love she has for him disappearing to nothing, as if it were just the two of them.

And she just needs to know if it feels that way for him, too.

“Y/n —”

“Did you mean it?”

Harry hesitates then, stopping in his tracks, his head tilting at her in curiosity but his features are softer, sadder, as if the question somehow broke him down further than before.

She doesn’t need to elaborate because he already understands what she’s asking. It was his mistakes and his selfishness that led her to question all his intentions, to doubt every sentiment he’s ever given to her, to wonder what was real and what was pretend.

But he doesn’t know what to start with, he doesn’t know what she needs to hear from him to be satisfied with his answer, or know if what he doesn’t say is what breaks this relationship.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you meant it.” Y/n demands when he fails to answer her, tears flooding yet her face pressed and hard, committed to hearing every last bit of truth he has left. “Because I gave up everything I had for just the smallest possibility that you did. And that may make me weak, that may make me pathetic, and I may hate myself for the rest of my life knowing I made that decision but I can’t help feeling the way I feel for you.”

This is his last chance.

The window of opportunity is open and he is more than willing to dive head first out of it, but he can’t get ahead of himself. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong anything and he will have to endure an eternity of misery without her.

So he gives her more than she demands.

He grabs her face between his two hands, gently stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his gaze set on hers so that she can see how deeply he feels for her and how desperate he is for her forgiveness.

“I meant it.” He breathes out, his lips so painfully close to hers, she can feel his breath as he talks and it makes her legs shake from beneath her. “I’m in love with you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want.” He leans in closer, ever so slightly, just so the ghost of her lips can meet the ghost of his. “There’s never been anybody but you. Just you. Only you.”

Her breath stammers, quivering and cracking as she flutters her eyes shut at his words, unforgiving tears pouring down her cheeks. And she doesn’t know why she’s reacting this way — the love of her life is giving her everything she’s ever asked for and yet all she can manage to do is break down from everything she’d been keeping inside for so long.

He knees buckle as a particularly violent sob nearly takes her down, and if it wasn’t for Harry’s strong hold on her, she’s sure she would have collapsed to the floor.

Her tears, his shirt, his hands, her back.

This is the closest they’ve been to each other in so long, his heart nearly shatters along with hers. He missed this more than he missed anything else in this world.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Harry shushes her, his lips settling on the top of her head as he presses chaste kisses on it, his fingers combing through her unbrushed hair. “I’m with you, okay? I’m never leaving you again.”

And he holds her for a while, tying her together as she falls apart in his arms, vowing to her over and over again that this is all over. All the pain is over. Everything will be different now.

And it was.

It felt different when Y/n and Harry spent the rest of the morning sitting in their favorite coffee shop, at their favorite table, drinking their favorite lattes. It felt different when Harry reached his hand over to hold hers, this time with no ulterior motive.

It felt different when she held his hand back, and when she smiled down at where they were intertwined, as if they were an extension of each other.

And unlike the last time they were there together, he doesn’t have to let go.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #IM EARLY I KNOW IM SORRY BUT I FINISHED SOONER THAN EXPECTED #WHOOP WHOOP #LOVE YALL

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emmyhem · 4 years

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always (l.r.h) part two

a/n: hi everybody! here is always part two, this is actually one of my favorite writings and one that I was looking forward to writing and posting a lot. it’s another angsty piece but with a sappy happy ending :) also it’s unedited but what else is new. i’ll probably post again tomorrow either a bestfriend!calum piece or a roomate!luke piece that are titled in my masterlist. i hope everyone enjoys and is having a wonderful day. i definitely am after that livestream today. (i would say that i didn’t cry because of how good and happy they all looked but that would be a lie) anyway i hope you enjoy and as always my messages are always open to chat or whatever and feedback and comments are always appreciated. thank you - emmy <33

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: it’s time for you decide whether or not luke’s mistake is worth losing the love of your life.

warning(s): mentions of alcohol, cursing, angst (but with a happy ending), self doubt, insecurity, mention of throwing up

word count: 2.9k

pt. 1

The longer you watched the window the more you were convinced mother nature was taunting you. The rain droplets that cascaded down the glass mirroring the tears that hadn’t stopped falling since you left Luke speechless in the driveway. It had to be for your benefit, I mean it was Los Angeles. California was in a drought for god’s sake.

Despite the fact that nature was mocking you, you couldn’t dare pull your eyes away. The alternative was to face the endless voicemails waiting for you on your phone that glowed dimly beside you. You knew you would have to hear them eventually but right now you knew that even a breath, let alone full sentences from Luke would break you in every sense of the word. You feared the sound almost as much as the content behind it.

You weren’t ready to be okay, you needed to wallow in your pain for a bit longer. As bad as that sounds you knew it was the only way you could convince yourself to let him back in, to forgive him. It was also the only way you could forgive yourself. Your body needed to feel how tortured you were without him, how much you needed his affection, his love, and him. Not his money.

Part of you knew deep down that Luke didn’t mean what he said, the part that awakened the butterflies that had taken permanent residence in your stomach since he had entered your life. The part that caused all your senses to align when Luke kissed you the night you finally understood what it meant to love someone with everything you have. The same part that was clawing at your heart right now as your mind replayed the look of pure devastation that was painted on Luke’s pretty features as you drove away from him. That part was itching for you to run to him, to cuddle into his embrace and say “I forgive you. I’ll never leave you again. Love me?”

But, it was the other part of you that was causing the problems right now, the part that snuck up on you each time you felt secure in yourself and tore it all down in seconds. The part that told you there was no way you were good enough for your boyfriend when you stared at your reflection in the mirror for even a second too long. The part that Luke was typically the one to silence when it overwhelmed you in a crowded room, with just a tender kiss to the forehead, or squeeze of your hand. The same part that constantly craved for Luke to be proud of you the way you were of him in anything he decided to pursue. That part was completely shattered last week when, whether intentionally or not he showed you that not only was he not proud, but also felt burdened by your lack of brilliance.

“Y/n,” your friend called, breaking you from your self-loathing thoughts as she approached your brittle body, enveloped in every single fuzzy blanket you could get your hands on.

“Hi.” you croaked, pulling your stinging eyes from where they had settled on a particularly large rain droplet that had stolen your interest as you wondered how much more water it could withstand before it burst from its flawless embodiment and shattered to the sill below. You wondered the same about Luke, how much more of your insecurity and emotional baggage would it take for him to burst. How much more of your mediocrity could he compensate for before you began to strip him of his excellence?

“Have you talked to him yet?” she inquired, eyes going soft as she looked at you with sympathy.

“No.” you groaned, pulling yourself up. “Do I have to?”

She shook her head, dismissing you. “You know that you’re welcome here as long as you want, but anyone could tell that you’re completely miserable without him, even if he is being an epic prick.”

You sniffled and wrapped your arms around your best friend.

“Am I an idiot for wanting to forgive him?” you spoke into her hair.

She returned the embrace and settled next to you in the bed, “I think if he really is sorry then you’re incredibly strong for it. And you’re never an idiot, that would be your blonde haired beau.”

You laughed softly at her innocent dig, the giggle catching slightly in your throat as it had only been releasing pathetic pleas, and broken sobs for the past few days.

Y/f/n handed you your phone, the photo of Luke and Petunia sitting by the pool being almost completely covered by all the missed call notifications that had taken over your lock screen.

“I think you should at least hear what he has to say babe, for your sake if not for his.”

You let out a heavy sigh and accepted the phone, wrapping your favorite blanket around your shoulders and dragging your feet to the bathroom for some privacy.

You took a seat in the empty bathtub throwing the blanket across your body. You reasoned it was the perfect place to listen to the messages because as soon as Luke’s voice flooded the room you would be completely submerged in him and you didn’t trust your legs to hold you up.

You clicked the most recent voicemail, time stamped from 1:28 am last night. As you selected the speaker option you allowed your eyes to fall closed and without noticing or trying you held your breath.

“Y/n,”

Only one word in you could immediately tell two things without a trace of doubt. One, he’d been crying, and two he was drunk. If you had to guess you would say tequila, it had always been his favorite and he had a bad habit of nursing his wounds in the liquor cabinet. It shattered your heart to think of him broken, and vulnerable and as he continued to speak you found yourself wrapping your arms around your body for comfort.

“I miss you and I’m sorry. I-” his voice cut off as a sob played through your phone. You released a matching one while squeezing your eyes tighter, a shaky hand bringing your phone closer as if it would bring him as well.

As he continued, your mind began to paint a vivid picture. You saw him sitting on the kitchen floor, an old ratty sweatshirt struggling to keep him warm, damp tear stains spoiling the sleeves. There was a half empty bottle to his side and the tip of his nose was red as it peeked out from the hood. You shook your head in an attempt to rid yourself of the image that felt like your personal nightmare.

“I-I can’t live without you, really I don’t think I can. I need you and I love you. I love you so much. Just please come home to me, please baby.” he spoke through gasps of breath that caused worry to spread across your body.

You paused the message as a dull ache creeped up from the bottom of your stomach and to your throat which was tightening by the second. You tossed your phone onto the blanket which you had kicked off as your body heated up, and sprung out of the tub landing firmly in front of the toilet. Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail in your hand you hunched over and retched into the bowl. Y/f/n burst through the door as you gagged and coughed repeatedly, she took your hair from you and rubbed soothing circles on your back as you tried to focus your breathing through your nose. This wasn’t the first time you had cried yourself into throwing up during your stay so she knew what to do to calm you down and settle your stomach.

As you finished the glass of water she had poured from the sink while you brushed your teeth she held your car keys out to you.

“Please go see him. I can’t see you like this anymore.”

You nodded accepting the keys reluctantly and made your way to your car.

Once outside you noted that the rain had started coming down harder, it seemed fitting as your situation reached its climax. By the time you got into the car your hair was wet and stringy, dripping onto Luke’s shirt that you had been wearing since the night you left. You quickly tied it back and drove away, hoping the sound of the rain could calm your nerves before you got back to your house.

When you got there the sun was setting and the rain was still falling steadily, you grabbed a jacket from the back seat and held it over your head as you ran to the house. The jacket didn’t give you much protection from the water and you were soaked by the time you reached the door. Taking one big breath, in through your nose, and out from your mouth as you had been repeating the whole ride there, you raised your quivering hand and knocked three times.

Expecting it to take a few minutes for him to reach the door you were shocked when it swung open in just a few seconds. Your heart sunk as you took in Luke’s appearance, although you were sure you looked just as bad if not worse. Deep dark circles sat beneath his bloodshot eyes, his stubble had grown in a bit longer than he typically liked it and his lips were chapped and bitten down. Guilt panged in your chest, how awful of a girlfriend were you to let it get to this point? The thought made you question if he would even want you here.

Apparently the time apart had completely fucked with your ability to read Luke’s face because even frozen in shock, his eyes began to fade into that special soft color of blue they only got to around you. He felt as if a giant weight had been lifted from his chest and just as it had been since the moment you left the only word running through his head was “y/n.”

He didn’t see your messy, wet hair or the ratty tshirt that swallowed your figure. He didn’t see your eyes puffy from crying or your bitten down nails that you were bringing back up to your mouth in that moment as your nerves got the best of you. All he saw was y/n. His y/n. You came home to him and as far as he was concerned you looked like an angel. Warm, sweet, and perfect. So fucking perfect.

Your eyes ran over his face anxiously, waiting for him to say something, or invite you in, or even slam the door in your face. Anything. After a minute of silence you gathered up the courage to speak first.

“Sorry I never called you bac-'' your words were knocked from your mouth when Luke took a step forward and wrapped you up into the tightest hug you’d ever experienced. Your limbs fit together perfectly, and the second your bodies met you felt recharged, as if everything was in place once again. And Luke felt like for the first time in a week he could breathe.

“I don’t deserve you.” he sighed as you pressed your nose into his chest deeply breathing in the smell you could only describe as home. “Thank you for coming back to me, I don’t work without you.”

From your position in his arms you could see the mess splayed on the floor behind him. It was just as you had pictured it earlier, a thin blanket and scratchy throw pillow were scattered on the floor in front of the sink, a bottle lying on it’s side just next to them. Guilt inched up your spine when your eyes made contact with a framed picture of the two of you on top of the blanket.

“I’m sorry.” you sobbed into his chest, your hands clawing at the material of his sweatshirt.

He pulled back quickly, keeping his hands on either sides of your waist, “No baby, why’re you sorry. This is all my fault, I was awful. You...you’re perfect.” he pressed as you shook your head in distress, unable to stop your tears.

“N-no I stayed away for so long, even when I knew I wa-wanted to forgive you. I was embarrassed and...and selfish.” you struggled to speak over your tears while Luke looked down at you sad and confused.

“What’re you talking about, love?”

You sniffed and dropped your hands from Luke’s chest, “I j-just wanted you to be proud of me.” the end of your sentence was nearly lost in your sobs but Luke understood. And in that moment he regretted going into music instead of engineering, or science, or whatever would’ve helped him to invent a time machine so he could go back and beat the shit out of whoever or whatever had possessed him last week.

His hands moved to cup your cheeks, his thumb tracing lightly over your bottom lip.

“I am proud of you baby.”

He leaned in slowly, and hesitantly, almost as if he was testing the waters, like this was new. As if he hadn’t kissed you thousands of times before. You looked up at him through your lashes littered with unshed tears and nodded your head slowly. He still had so much left to say, you still had so much left to say but you both had been needing this for as long as you’d lost it. He pressed his lips to yours gently, afraid that even one wrong move and you would decide that you had made the wrong choice in coming back. He wouldn’t survive that, he couldn’t lose you twice.

As he went to pull away you snaked a hand around the back of his neck pulling him back towards you. This time when your lips collided his body sagged into it, both arms wrapping around your back and lifting you up to the tips of your toes. Your eyes drifted shut and you reveled in the feeling of him pressed up against you like this. When the kiss broke you kept your faces close enough that your noses were touching, and opened your eyes to see Luke’s still closed, his eyebrows furrowed as he pressed his forehead to you.

“You’re what I’m most proud of.” he exhaled, his eyelids still shut lightly. “My greatest achievement is getting you to love me and I can’t believe I almost blew it.”

You brought a hand to his face and stroked his cheek lightly, the feeling of his overgrown stubble foreign to your fingers.

“It would take a lot more to get rid of me.” you assured. “I think m’too in love with you.”

He opened his eyes, locking them with your own, and spoke firmly but with a softness that was and would always be reserved for only you.

“I want to make it clear that you do not in any way leech.” he dragged the last word out, laced in disgust as if it were hard for him to say. “I lucked out. I actually just seem to keep lucking out, my job, my life, and you.” He placed a hand across your jaw and tilted your chin up before continuing. “I completely lucked out with you. I have lots of money, more than I need actually and it makes me feel fucking incredible that I can take care of you. That’s all I wanna do for the rest of my life.”

Your mouth broke into a smile hearing him verbally commit to a lifetime with you.

“But, with that being said I know you don’t need me-”

“I do need you.” you interrupted.

Luke threw his head back at your words, a toothy grin overtaking his face before he pressed a chaste peck to your forehead.

“Y’know what? You’re too fucking cute. I meant financially baby, m’trying to apologize here.”

You nodded for him to continue, struggling to contain your own beaming smile.

“Anything you decide to do occupationally or otherwise could never, ever let me down. You’re physically incapable of it. I’d be a lucky guy if you let me stick around for it all and I promise to never forget that again. I’m sorry I did in the first place.” he took a deep breath before finishing his rant. “M’only able to give you the world if you let me. Let me?”

You answered his question by attaching your lips once again, desire and need radiating off of the place where your lips met. As your taste buds reacquainted themselves with Luke’s mouth you wondered how you had gone even a day without him.

Luke felt like he was flying and he couldn’t wrap his head around how anyone in the world could live without, seeing you, knowing you, and kissing you. He also knew that he would do anything to ensure that he never had to go a day without you for the rest of his life.

“How long does it take to get an engagement ring sized?” he wondered to himself.

If he could’ve read your mind he would’ve seen white gowns, tiered cakes, and little blue eyed, curly haired monsters running amuck.

“I want everything with you, the whole world.” you affirmed when you pulled apart for air.

“Yea?” he responded.

You hummed against his lips, “Always.”

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theotheroccassionalfanficwriter · 3 years

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Between Lust and Love 2/?

Summary: You are standing on a bridge enjoying the view; Someone’s watching you from a balcony. The moon adorns your window; You adorn someone else’s dream. (Fragments, Bian Zhilin)

Rated E for explicit description of Zhongli’s wet dream

A/N: implied semi-public 3some

Chapter 2: I Adorn Your Dreams

The gentle and almost reverent touch of your fingertips as it ghosted through the skin of his chest was enough for Zhongli to be drunk on. The usually kept and proper funeral parlor consultant was lounging atop of his soft bed, his outer coat was left lying on the floor, his vest unbuttoned along with his white shirt. You sat between his legs, crawling on top of him with a sultry look in your eyes.

The tent of his pants was noticeable, and Zhongli knew that he would not be able to remove the stain of his precum as your other hand lightly touched his groin, all the while smiling like a vixen as you placed kisses on his stomach slowly making your way up, each touch of your lip sent an electric shot down his spine, making his cock ache for you. And yet he made no move to hasten you, he waited for you to serve yourself to him, an arrogance well-deserved for a man—nay, a god like Zhongli.

The way the soft orange light of his room illuminated you brought out your sensual side, the kind of eroticism that only existed between lovers found in stories, the red color of your hanfu was enough to make Zhongli think that this was the bridal chamber, and you were his eager newly wedded wife. The redness of your plump lips as it hovered before his lips tempted him to grab a hold of you, pressing your groin against his as he captured your lips. And that was what Zhongli did, the sudden friction caused by his hard cock that was pressing itself against your wet groin made you moan.

Opening your mouth wide enough for Zhongli to slip his tongue in and devour you, like a parched dragon finding a sweet oasis after a drought. Your sweet moans as your body surrendered itself to him only drew to make him want you more. Your clothes were removed from your body as Zhongli’s large hands explored the smooth expanse of your skin, he paid a particular attention to your chest, groping it and teasing it in the exact same way he had seen Childe done. His mouth had moved itself from your mouth to your neck biting and kissing as he listened to the melody of your moans.

The broken call for his name as one hand groped your chest and the other gently caressed your thighs, sliding it open to rub your wet pussy easier against his hard cock. Your slick had drenched his pants and Zhongli let out a soft grunt of pleasure as you began to move your hips on your own.

His tied up hair was left undone, making it fall to the side and frame his face as he laid you on the bed, gently kissing your lips and committing into memory the taste of your sweetness.

“Zhongli…” Your sweet voice called him and he smiled, you were such a sight to behold.

Your flushed face, coupled with tears that gathered at the edges of your eyes made his heart burn, the rapid rise and fall of your chest from the lust only made his cock harden further.

“Shhhhh” He comforted you as he placed a gentle kiss between your breasts before leaving a mark. He stood up and freed his hard cock from its confines, delighting at the way you drooled at the sight of it.

“Please...put it in already…” You begged, the innocent begging coupled with your lewd action of spreading your legs further apart and using your own fingers to spread your own pussy brought a tantalizing erotic sight that spurred him on.

“Anything for you” Zhongli replied as he grabbed his dick and slowly entered your wet pussy.

You moaned and your body arched as you felt his tip slowly enter, and then all at once you were filled with his thick and long cock, your toes curled in pleasure as you felt him move slowly before finding the perfect rhythm that made your mind melt from the amount of pleasure he was giving you.

The soft moans you let out, with the occasional broken call of his name made Zhongli pleased. He fucked you like the whore that you were, hands leaving bruises on your thighs with each hard and fast thrust he gave to your squelching pussy.

“Zhongli—I—!” You came from one of his particularly hard thrusts, your pussy squeezing his cock so good that Zhongli came inside you. Spilling his thick white seed inside your pretty and glistening cavern. His eyes were closed from the pleasure of fucking you, the feel of your cunt and the sound of his name as you moaned appeased his inhuman side.

Zhongli let himself rest for a few moments before opening his eyes, to an empty room, devoid of you and any evidence of the lascivious deeds you had done together with him. The soft morning chirps of the birds outside his bedroom window, and the sizable stain in front of his sleeping robe made him pensive.

Zhongli sighed, and closed his eyes before opening it again.

“How am I going to face them today?”

While Zhongli pondered on his own day, neither you nor Childe were doing nothing. You were doing commissions for both the Mondstadt and Liyue Adventurer’s Guild while Childe was collecting information to prove your claim of Zhongli’s inhumanity.

Though you both knew that the Adventurer’s Guild was a strict non-partisan guild that held no ties to any of the nations of Teyvat, Childe also knew that it was an open secret within the Adventurer’s Guild HeadQuarters that you took private commissions.

Commissions that were illegal in nature, ones that were almost no different from the ones the Northland Bank occasionally did. So it hadn’t surprised the new recruits that you were to lead them for the day, Childe made no secret of his ties with you, though both you and him kept your romantic entanglement under strict wraps, that the two of you knew each other from birth was not unknown to those who knew to ask.

Your strength and undeniable mastery of your Cryo vision also led to the awe of the new recruits that was lent to you. It made your job considerably easier, more so since you were collecting information on the events that took place in Mondstadt, the Honorary Knight and the Dragon.

You knew how the Fatui worked, there was no reason why La Signora and Scaramouche would linger in the vicinity of Liyue. The Tsaritsa made sure to never let her Harbingers gather in one place for too long.

‘Signora should have left after taking the Gnosis, there’s no reason for her to stay here this long and in hiding unlike Scaramouche’ You thought as you coldly watched over the recruits practice in Sal Terrae, ‘Scaramouche has been stationed here to prepare for Inazuma...there’s no reason for the two to linger, not when the entire plan has been ironed out.’

“Good job, Men!” You praised them, facade easily taking over your serious face “Lord Tartaglia would be pleased to know this particular batch of recruits are talented.”

Your smile turned sweeter upon seeing their pleased and puppy-like enthusiasm, “I’ll be sure to tell him that you lot are worthy of a spar for him.”

“““Thank you, Lady Columbina!!!”””

You hummed as you looked in the direction of the dawn winery, the cogs of your brain turning, ‘Unless there’s another plan...one that my darling Tartaglia was not made aware of…’

As you played with this thought, the more likely it seemed, “Well then, as good as your battle prowess is, the Fatui must also be discreet in its dealings…”

The recruits listened attentively, standing straight as you walked between their ranks, inspecting them with the cat-like glimmer in your eye. You were living up to your fame as an S-class adventurer, you continued as you stopped behind them, smiling in the direction of Mondstadt and its repurposed castle walls, “For your next training, infiltrate Mondstadt without alerting your fellow Fatui and the Lord Harbinger assigned to it.”

You paused at their silence, “Ah, hesitating? How smart”

Their unease could be felt in the air, and you couldn’t fault them. You weren’t a Fatui, you were just someone who was strong enough to work exclusively with one of their harbingers.

“Face to the left!Face!” You barked at them, and they did so, “Face to the left! Face!”

You smiled at them once they were facing you, and yet the recruits could tell that despite the smile on your face, you weren’t smiling at all. You invoked a certain fear and awe, one that reminded them of Her Majesty’s Ever Winter.

“Lord Tartaglia would be pleased to know that this bunch of recruits can think for themselves…” You dropped your smile and leveled them a cold look, “Don’t worry, this training was meticulously planned by our beloved Lord Harbinger, Tartaglia.”

It was a lie but no one needed to know that.

“You have three days to prepare for the training mission, once you’ve decided on how to infiltrate Mondstadt, report to Ekatrina of the Northland Bank. You’ll be given your funds and then be dispatched.”

You left them and began your trek back to Liyue, Mondstadt’s wind gently blowing through your hair. You felt your good mood coming back,

‘Ah~Today would be a good day.’

There were a few things in his life that brought him great unease, for Childe one of them was being subjected to your displeasure, the other was being on the receiving end of Zhongli-xiansheng’s unfathomable stare. And right now he was experiencing both, Childe cursed himself for forgetting his schedule.

He knew of your suspicions towards Zhongli, and he also knew that you understood Zhongli was necessary to achieve the Tsaritsa’s goals. He was lucky in that regard, you knew how to draw a clear line between your professional and personal life. It was one of the reasons why he had pursued a relationship with you. Beyond the love and bond forged from the harsh winter of Snezhnaya, whether he was Tartaglia, Childe or Ajax, the one thing constant among his identities was his love for you.

Which was why he had always done his best to make you happy, ensuring that you would live a comfortable and carefree life. It was the least he could do for being the way he was.

“My dear—”

“Mr. Zhongli, I know how lovely my Childe is but there’s no reason for you to intrude on our date.”

“Actually I’m—”

“Yes, our Childe is certainly a lovely individual, however our lunch appointment had already been scheduled prior to your arrival.”

“Xiansheng, I’ll buy you whatever you—”

“Oh? You’ve booked my Childe for lunch for his entire stay here in Liyue?”

“That-Darling it isn’t set in stone so—”

“Yes, after all is he not the diplomat sent over by the Tsaritsa herself?” Zhongli smirked, it was an uncharacteristic sight for him. One Childe hardly ever saw unless the man had solved a particularly interesting puzzle or problem.

Childe glanced at you and saw the hard look in your eyes, bit by bit the cogs of his brain turning rapidly as he pieced together your revelation and the information he had gathered over the course of the morning. Slowly the fog was lifting and the bigger picture was slowly becoming clearer.

He didn’t really understand what was happening yet but Childe trusted you, even though the churning of his gut was unpleasant... he could and easily stowed the unpleasant feeling away.

“Xiansheng.”

Zhongli turned and found himself the recipient of Childe’s charming smile, one devoid of any honesty. It was his business smile, often directed to the bank’s clients or in one particular case the Liyue Qixing.

“We’ve known each other for a while now,” Childe began as his hand reached for his teacup, “You aren’t the type to push something unless it was important.”

Zhongli could feel the temperature in the air change, and privately thanked Childe’s foresight to book a private room. On the other side of the table, you sat with your back straight and deceptively relaxed as you poured Childe his tea.

“Yes” Zhongli admitted as he stared at the floating tea leaves on his cup of green tea, he lifted his head to stare straight in Childe’s blue eyes, “I would like to offer a contract between you, your lover, and me.”

Childe blinked, his eyes staring at the odd glow in Zhongli’s eyes, one oddly reminiscent of a beast. A warrior.

‘Adepti’ his mind whispered.

Childe wasn’t aware but the slow lift of his mouth, curving into a smile carried no trace of humanity, it was a smile that reminded Zhongli of the height of the Archon Wars. It was a captivating smile that took Zhongli’s breath away.

‘Ah, I really want both of them right now.’

Once lunchtime was over, the streets of Liyue was ripe with new gossip. In particular, involving the esteemed gentleman of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, the consultant Mr. Zhongli, the Childe of Northland Bank, and the S-Class Adventurer from Snezhnaya.

The three had left Liuli Pavillion, you and Childe were flanking Zhongli, attached on either side of him in a suggestive way. That you had left both Childe and him with a kiss on the cheek only served to fuel the confusion. No one knew what had occured over the private room of Liuli Pavillion but the barely noticeable mark on Zhongli’s neck and the slightly disheveled look of your clothes and Childe’s knowing grin left much to imagination.

Previous || Next

#zhongli x reader #zhongli x childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #zhongli x childe #R-18

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deanstead · 4 years

Text

Reel to Real

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Request by anon: hiii! can i request a dean winchester x reader where they have to fake date for case and they end up confessing their feelings for each other by the end of it?? please and thank you so much!!!

Warnings: mention of suicide (kind of), mention of injury/passing out

A/N: First Dean Request! Sorry I’ve been having a drought since the end of Supernatural but here it is! Hope you like what I did with it, thanks for the request! Dean requests are open, so please feel free to send in an ask! ^^

---

Dean leaned over, putting his arm around you in the diner.

You felt your heartbeat spike, although you knew all Dean was doing was pretending. You looked around the diner, trying to memorise the faces that were here, pausing slightly on Sam who was seated at the other end, not looking at the both of you.

You guys had no idea what you were hunting. What you did know was that it was couples that went missing and that they all stopped at this diner – which made sense considering it was the only diner for miles.

But because of the fact that couples were disappearing, that left you to have to play a couple with Dean. Dean who could make your heart jump out of your chest with just a smile or a little chuckle. But you had to remain cool.

You let out a breath as Dean looked down at you. “You okay?”

You looked up into his green eyes and gulped, smiling. “Yeah.”

You shook your head. You had to focus.

“What can I get the both of you?” The waitress came by, smiling.

Dean looked back up and smiled. “We’ll both have the cheeseburger. And two coffees.”

The waitress smiled as she wrote down the order. “New in town?” She asked, her eyes lingering a little too long on Dean.

Dean smiled. “Road tripping with my girl.” His hand tightening a little around your shoulder, his fingers running down your upper arm. Dean was a natural.

A small disappointed smile flitted across the young waitress face as she waved her order pad. “I’ll get your orders in.”

But the diner was a complete washout. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary – no EMF, no cold spots, nothing.

“Maybe just showing yourselves has already set something in motion, let’s just hang tight for a while more.” Sam reassured you as the three of you pulled up at the motel after leaving the diner.

You nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Dean tossed Sam a key. “That’s yours.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Gotta keep up the act.” Dean said, winking at you. “After you.” He said, swinging the door open.

Great, now you had to share a room with Dean. That wasn’t going to be pretty.

Sam smirked. “Later, lovebirds.”

You would have kicked Sam if you had been near enough. Instead, you rolled your eyes and headed into the room, dropping your bag off at the entrance.

“Dean.” You sent him a glance, as you stood in front of the king sized bed.

Dean grinned. “Come on, you love sleeping with me. At least I don’t snore.” He pointed to the wall.

You chuckled. “Point taken.”

By the time both of you had settled in, you were itching for a drink. “I’m gonna go grab something from the vending machine downstairs. You want anything?”

Dean looked up from where he was loading his gun and nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

You raised an eyebrow and Dean shrugged. “Hey, I’m just being a good boyfriend.”

You rolled your eyes. “You really think this thing is watching us?”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe.” He looked out the window, tucking the gun into his pants. “Come on.”

You followed Dean out, heading straight for the vending machines as Dean leaned against the wall outside the room, his eyes following you. You looked around as you reached the vending machine. It was quiet. A little… too quiet.

Dean seemed to share the sentiment as he looked at you from across the lot, his eyes roving the deserted lot.

You jumped as the canned drink fell with a loud thud. Now you were just scaring yourself.

You shook your head, chuckling at yourself when you felt a pair of hands grab you.

The last thing you saw was a blue light, as the sounds of Dean yelling your name faded out.

---

Dean groaned as he opened his eyes, the room swimming in front of him. He looked down, his hands tied securely to a chair. “What the…”

He looked up again and that’s when he saw you, your head lolling to the side. “Y/N? Y/N!”

Dean’s eyes darted around the room, his hunter instincts coming to the foreground, trying to find a way out. He needed to get to you.

The sound of footsteps made him look up again.

“Oh you’re awake.” It was a female voice and Dean growled as he noticed the markings along her arm.

Djinn.

“So you’re the one responsible for the couples disappearing? What, is this like a fetish of sorts?”

The female djinn laughed. “One for me, one for my partner. I happen to like the guys, he the girls.” She motioned her head towards you, where another male djinn was circling you.

“You stay the hell away from her!” Dean yelled, before turning furiously back to the female djinn in front of him. “What did you do to her?”

The female djinn just chuckled. “You are really a couple, aren’t you?” She cooed. “My partner prefers to feed on dreams and desires, you know their happy place.” Dean growled again but she continued, “I, on the other hand, like to leave my prey awake. At least, at first. It’s always tastier when the males get all... protective.” Her hand glowed as she touched Dean’s forehead.

Dean groaned as he was touched, before his eyes rolled back.

---

Your eyes snapped open and you sat up, panting as if you had run a marathon. You were in an unfamiliar room that seemed too… homely?

You were extremely confused and you crawled out of bed. You frowned. There was too much crap here, things you never thought you’d see. Photo frames of you and Dean littered around the shelves. What kind of crazy world was this?

You closed your eyes, trying to remember something, anything, but you came up blank, it was like your whole life had been erased and now you were standing in the middle of what seemed to be your house that you had no recollection of.

“Y/N?”

Your head snapped up.

“Dean.” You breathed, glad of at least one thing.

“How did we get here?” You asked.

Dean’s brow furrowed a little in confusion before he smiled. “Still asleep? Go on, get ready then come out for breakfast.”

You cocked your head to the side, wondering what the hell was going on.

In slight confusion, you re-entered the room after getting dressed to see Dean dressed… nothing like Dean. “Dean, what’s going on?” You asked again.

Dean frowned a little. “Honey, you okay?” He reached out to touch you as a searing pain ripped through your skull and you thought you heard Sam’s voice.

You spun around. “Sam?”

Dean, who was sitting in front of you raised an eyebrow. “Y/N?”

You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the headache but images were now flashing in your brain. The Dean in front of you wasn’t talking but you could hear his voice in your head, calling your name over and over.

You dragged your chair back, standing up and moving backwards.

“This isn’t real.”

You looked around, at everything that was almost too perfect. The happy pictures of you and Dean, Dean standing over the breakfast he had made you, the too-perfect life in a too-perfect house.

“This isn’t real.” You repeated.

You sprinted to the kitchen counter, grabbing a knife.

“Y/N wait!” The Dean in front of you called out. Everything felt so real that you were worried you were going to give in to him.

“Don’t do it, honey. Put the knife down.” He said, his hands outstretched, those green eyes you loved so much staring back at you.

You shook your head again.

“Honey, look at me, it’s me. It’s Dean. Your Dean.” The words bounced around in your head.

“Out there? That’s not real. This is real. You can stay here with me, for the rest of your life, we can be happy together.”

You could feel the strong magnetic pull towards this Dean, this Dean that loved you, this Dean that wanted to be with you.

This Dean that was fake.

You ground your teeth against each other.

“No.” You spat before you ground the knife into your heart.

---

“Dean!” Sam yelled, pushing a syringe filled with the antidote straight into Dean.

Dean gasped, his eyes snapping open, panting.

“Sammy?” Dean was still panting.

Sam yanked off the ropes. “You’re okay. Take this.” He handed him a knife dipped in blood.

“Y/N.” Dean breathed, “Where is she?”

Sam spun around. Your head was still lolling by the side, the colour slowly leaving your face.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean breathed, running towards you, Sam following close behind him.

“Y/N, Y/N!” Dean called, as Sam pulled the restraints off and you collapsed into Dean’s arms. “Damn it.” He cursed.

“Y/N!” Dean yelled again as your eyes fluttered open. “Oh my god.” He breathed.

“Y/N, you with me?” Dean called again, his voice frantic.

You fought against the fog in your brain. “Dean?” You mumbled. “The real Dean?”

Dean sighed. “Yes, I’m right here, okay?”

“Dean!” Sam yelled. Dean spun around, his eyes falling on the two djinn.

Dean growled, propping you against the chair. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

You were slowly starting to get the energy back in your limbs and you pushed yourself up as Dean growled at the male djinn, plunging the blood-stained knife deep into his chest.

His howl of pain was drowned out by the cry of rage from his partner who was struggling with Sam.

Dean ran towards his brother as she pushed Sam off of her, lunging at Dean.

He dropped to the ground, rolling towards the side before pulling the knife upwards again.

It was over.

“Hey, come on.” Before you knew it, Dean was back next to you. “You okay?”

You smiled and nodded. “Great.”

Dean still held you close to him as he pulled you upwards, supporting you as best he could as he followed Sam out.

---

You weren’t sure if you really still wanted to be here but both Sam and Dean had somehow convinced you that it was still better to sleep it off before the three of you headed back to the bunker.

“Can I ask?” Dean said softly, sitting down next to you on the bed.

You looked up at him.

“You scared me back there.” Dean offered. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

You cracked a small smile. “I’ll be honest, you almost did. It was a perfect world.”

You went silent again although you could feel Dean’s eyes upon you.

“You kept dying.” Dean whispered and your eyes snapped back up.

You turned towards him. “What?”

“That was my fear. The one that kept replaying. Losing you.”

Your eyebrows shot up. Dean usually refrained from sharing so much, he packed up his emotions into a box and shoved it down into a deep dark corner in his mind.

“I don’t know what’s worse, getting scared or being tempted into a perfect world.” You commented.

Dean sighed, leaning back against the headboard. “How’d you realise?”

Maybe it was because you hadn’t fully recovered from the djinn’s attack or maybe it was just being alone with Dean in here, but it was like you had no control over what you were saying. Your mind was screaming at you to stop but your lips kept moving.

“It was too perfect. A perfect world, a life with you. That’s what alerted me that it was all wrong.”

Dean sat up. “What do you mean?”

You looked away. “Dean, come on. I know where I stand with you. It’s fine.”

Dean tugged at your arm, forcing you to turn around to face him. “You don’t know shit.” He growled, his hands reaching for the sides of your face gently as he pulled you into a kiss.

Your eyes widened but it was too late for you to react. You felt an entire wave of emotions rush in, you could feel Dean’s breath, his stubble tickling your chin, his hands moving into your hair, his lips full on yours as he pulled you deeper and deeper.

When he finally stopped, you pulled away, furrowing your brows.

“I’m not totally sure I’m back in the real world.” You muttered, looking up at Dean.

Dean chuckled, “Oh sweetheart, trust me, this is very real.”

You put your arms on his chest, as if to push him away but you didn’t. “Dean…”

“Dean, you’re just... this is because we had to act like a couple. The hunt’s over, it’s okay, you can stop pretending.”

Dean shook his head. “I’m not. I was never pretending.”

You took in a shuddering breath, as you dragged your eyes up to his. “I swear if I’m still stuck in the djinn’s fantasy universe…” but Dean didn’t let you finish your sentence, pulling you in for another kiss.

“Real enough, now?” He asked, a smile playing on his lips.

You shrugged, “Are you sure?”

Dean gave you a look. “I’ve been sure for a long time. You’re the only one who couldn’t tell.”

Gently, he pulled you back into his arms, your head resting on his chest.

“See, the bed was a good call.” Dean teased.

“Shut up.” You snapped, smacking his arm. You let a small silence fall between the both of you before you spoke again, “This still feels… weird, like surreal.”

“You’ll get used to me.” Dean chuckled as you laughed and he gently took your hand. “I love you.” He whispered.

You closed your eyes, shifting closer to him. “I love you too, Dean Winchester.”

——

Dean Tag List

@akshi8278

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

Futures Past pt14 / On AO3

three conversations as Nie Huaisang's time in Gusu comes to an end

Summer had finally come to an end, implacable heat replaced by a more pleasant warmth as the world took on new hues. It also meant that the final few exams of the year were fast approaching, though Nie Huaisang felt unconcerned. He’d been ordered to fail after all, not that he thought he could have succeeded even if he’d tried.

Comforted by that permission to not study, he was currently laying in the grass in the back hills of the Cloud Recesses, enjoying the afternoon sun. A history book, chosen for the promise of the many scandals it revealed about a past emperor’s reign, laid forgotten on his chest, Nie Huaisang having realised that the contents were far more serious than he felt like dealing with at the moment. At some other time he might have taken a nap, encouraged by the warmth, but he’d found it difficult to sleep since that visit of his future self a few days earlier.

Just as Nie Huaisang was about to pick up his book again, Su She finished his series of sword forms and came to lay on the grass as well. He was sweaty and looked tired, but appeared quite happy with himself. Su She had confessed that he’d made a real leap forward with his cultivation since teachers and other disciples stopped constantly putting him down, something for which Nie Huaisang felt as proud as if it had been his own progress.

They stayed silent for a while, just basking in the sun, enjoying that beautiful day, until Nie Huaisang found that his recent worries were too heavy on his chest and he had to share them.

“Su-xiong?”

Su She made a noise to signify he’d heard, but couldn’t be bothered to speak. He looked comfortable, and had closed his eyes as if he might succeed with the nap that eluded Nie Huaisang. It was almost a shame to ruin that.

“Do you think people can be so evil that nothing will redeem them?”

The silence changed around them. After a moment Su She sat up to get a look at Nie Huaisang. Finding him looking serious, Su She’s initial puzzlement quickly turned into mild irritation at being dragged into a discussion like that on such a pleasant afternoon.

“Gusu Lan’s principles state that…”

“Not you as a Lan disciple,” Nie Huaisang cut him with an impatient gesture. “You as a person. Do you think people can be so evil that there’s no going back for them, that nothing they could do or say would ever compensate for what they’ve done?”

Some of Su She’s irritation eased away, glad as always to be given a chance to voice an opinion that wasn’t that of his sect, and he laid down on the grass again.

“That’s a pretty intense question,” Su She said after a moment. “I guess there’s got to be a limit to what’s forgivable, yeah. I’m not the best to decide what that’d be though. I’ve been told I have an issue with holding grudges. But I think yeah, in general, there’s got to be a moment where a bad person becomes so bad there’s no going back and they just need to be eliminated.”

It wasn’t the answer Nie Huaisang had been hoping for, but it didn’t exactly surprise him either. He thought the same after all, if only because a person such as Wen Ruohan existed, proving to him that some people had to be beyond redemption.

“Then do you think…”

“What’s wrong with you today? Was this morning’s lecture about ethics again?”

“It was about the proper way to address people depending on family and allegiance links, and I fell asleep. No, this is something else. I’m just thinking about stuff lately.”

“Like good and evil? That must have been a pretty nasty nap you took.”

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “I just wonder what makes a person bad or good. Do you think some people can be bad from birth? Just, they’re born and they’re evil, and there’s no way they’re ever going to be anything but evil.”

It really bothered him, the things his future self had said during his last visit. About Lan Xichen, about Su She, but mostly the way he’d spoken of that Xue Yang boy, as if that child were no better than a cockroach needing to be squashed before it could proliferate.

“I think there’s definitely people who think that about some other people,” Su She said. “I’m pretty sure if you asked some of the other Lan disciples, they’d say I’m like that, just because I have a temper and I don’t hug their knees quite enough and I ask too many questions during some lessons. I guess it’s easier to hate someone if you tell yourself they’re the worst and they deserve it.”

“You’re not evil!” Nie Huaisang cried out, reaching out for his friend’s hand. “You’re not! I’ll fight anyone who says you are!”

Surprised by that outburst, Su She blinked a few times then snorted, pushing away Nie Huaisang’s hand.

“I appreciate it, but it didn’t go so well last time you tried to fight for my honour.”

“I’ll still fight all of them!”

Su She laughed, but appeared quite happy to hear that. Even now that other Lans gave him less of a hard time, he still liked being reminded that Nie Huaisang was on his side, just as he made sure Nie Huaisang knew the opposite was true as well.

That was why Nie Huaisang was telling him about his thoughts, rather than going to Lan Qiren or even Lan Xichen who surely might have more elaborate opinions on the matter of good and evil. Su She might not have read quite as much, but he was also less likely to judge Nie Huaisang for asking that kind of thing. Besides, since Su She’s opinions were often less polished, they felt more honest than if he’d quoted great thinkers of the past.

“But really, do you think a person can actually be evil from birth?” Nie Huaisang insisted when Su She had stopped laughing. “Like. Like a child, but they’re evil. Do you think that’s possible?”

Su She grabbed a strand of grass, and started twisting it between his fingers.

“Maybe. But like I said, people will mostly say that about someone they don’t like, or someone that doesn’t play by their rules, or else they’re not from a prestigious family and they’re just doing what they have to survive.”

He paused to pluck some more grass to play with, and started constructing a knot with it.

“I have a great-uncle I’ve never met,” Su She explained. “He owned a farm before he died where he worked hard, until there was a very bad drought and hard work wasn’t enough anymore. My grandfather often said that people called his brother evil because he did some bad things to feed his wife and children, and some of it really was pretty awful I guess. But nobody ever called evil the magistrate that wanted to force him to pay his taxes instead of buying food. My great-uncle was executed for his crimes and everyone said he’d always been evil and vicious even though they used to praise him as a good man before, but the magistrate got a promotion for making sure taxes were still paid and he got called virtuous. And that’s… I don’t know, I feel there’s something not right in that, you know?”

Nie Huaisang nodded, his eyes fixed on the grass knot that Su She wouldn't stop twisting between his fingers.

His older self had said that this Xue Yang he had to kill was an orphan, and a thief of some sort even though he was just ten.

It would be harder to be virtuous and noble for someone who didn’t have anyone to turn to. Nie Huaisang had his whole family behind him, all the education anyone could have, he knew about ethics and rules, and he still found it hard sometimes to make the right choices. He was too lazy and selfish to ever be really good, and apparently he wasn’t going to improve with age. So how could a child on his own, without books or wise elders, learn to be a good person, especially if like Nie Huaisang they’d been given a bad personality?

“Ok, I have another question.”

Su She sighed, and threw away his grass knot.

“Is it a weird one again?”

Nie Huaisang grimaced.

“Yeah, that one is pretty weird,” he admitted. “So, imagine there’s a very evil person. The most evil you can think of, but you don’t actually know them, it’s just that someone told you that person is very evil. And, for some reason, you’re given a chance to go back to when they were a little kid, and that person who told you this other guy is evil also tells you that you should take the chance and kill the evil person while he’s a kid to save other people. Would you do it, or would you try to… I don’t know, maybe try to make that kid grow up around better people so maybe he doesn’t turn out so bad?”

“Those questions are getting really specific.”

“Just answer. Do you think it’d be right to kill that kid?”

Su She fell silent for a moment.

“Do I trust the person who told me the kid will be evil later?”

Nie Huaisang considered that question.

“Yeah. I guess for the sake of the argument, you trust that person,” he said, even though he wasn’t quite sure how much he did trust his older self.

“And has the kid done anything evil yet?”

“No, but he’s done bad things. Maybe he stole some stuff. But also, he’s an orphan, you know?”

Su She sat up and gave his friend a sharp look.

“Really specific again. I guess… I guess it’d be wrong to kill him though. I mean, it’s like you said, why not try to put him in a better place instead? If he’s just a kid, and he hasn’t done anything bad yet… I don’t think it’s really fair to punish someone for something they haven’t even done yet.”

“Right? I think so too. People should get a chance before they’re punished. They’ve got to have a chance to learn!”

Su She nodded, but look more and more suspicious.

“So, is this all about someone in particular, or…”

“I’m just wondering stuff,” Nie Huaisang quickly said. The truth was too weird for anyone to ever believe, even if he tried to tell someone. Su She would just think he was crazy. Maybe he was, anyway. “I’ve got to think about something during boring lessons, right? I mean, don’t you start thinking about weird stuff too?”

“Sometimes I think about leaving the Cloud Recesses and creating my own sect when I’m bored,” Su She replied.

Nie Huaisang sat up, a grin on his face.

“Really? What would it be like?”

“Like Gusu Lan, but better,” Su She retorted with a smug smile. “And I’d get to sleep half a shichen later in the morning. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like, since you know how to play the guqin now. You can be my right hand man.”

Nie Huaisang’s grin only grew larger. It sounded like a delightful idea, and he eagerly dropped all his earlier thoughts about ethics and morality to instead make Su She talk about the sect of his dreams, until it was time for dinner.

That had to have been Lan Qiren’s most boring lecture to date. Quite the accomplishment, Nie Huaisang thought. Another accomplishment, and one far more impressive, was the fact that he’d managed to stay awake through all of it. It was really hard lately to pay attention, especially now that he didn’t need to. His grades during tests had been so consistently low that he couldn’t have passed even if he tried, so he really should have been allowed to skip those last few lessons and go have fun somewhere. He was going to hear all that stuff again in a year, wasn’t he?

If he hadn’t feared the Lans’ punishment methods, Nie Huaisang would have skipped all these stupid classes and ran off to Gusu for some fun.

If he hadn’t feared his brother’s wrath, he would also have stopped bothering with homework. But Lan Xichen had hinted to him, not unwisely, that Nie Mingjue might be a little less angry if he could be shown proof that his brother had really tried to learn. And considering the stunt Nie Huaisang was thinking of pulling with Xue Yang…

So, Nie Huaisang had stayed awake in class, and he’d been handed back some previous homework with a grade so high he’d actually asked Lan Qiren if there hadn’t been a mistake. Lan Qiren had told him that if the grade didn’t please him, it was always possible to lower it, so Nie Huaisang had kept his mouth shut after that.

The rest of the lesson had passed surprisingly fast after that, and soon enough Nie Huaisang was free again, with a whole afternoon ahead of him. He had new homework to deal with, sure, and it was something that would be graded again, but that didn’t feel urgent. Sadly, Su She had already warned that he wouldn’t be free to hang out that day, due to being allowed to go on a Night Hunt with some other Lan juniors, something he’d been very excited about. That meant Nie Huaisang would have to stay on his own, or go bother Lan Xichen.

The second option felt surprisingly compelling, even though they’d already see each other in three days for his music lesson. Lan Xichen was sure to praise him for his good grade after all, and Nie Huaisang quite enjoyed being praised, as he’d discovered. If more people praised him, he might start feeling like doing something to deserve it.

Nie Huaisang had just decided he’d try to see if Lan Xichen had time for him when Jin Zixun grabbed him by the elbow and started pulling him away from everyone else.

"How come you had a good grade on that essay?" Jin Zixun asked with unwarranted suspicion.

Nie Huaisang, who had briefly wondered if he was going to get punched again and was getting ready to escape, relaxed and allowed the other boy to drag him away.

"I'm actually very smart, thanks."

"You're only smart on homework and never on quizzes," Jin Zixun retorted. "Is your merchant friend helping you?"

That earned him a light kick to the shin, which he didn’t appear to feel.

"Don’t call him that!” Nie Huaisang warned. “And, no, he's said he doesn't want to think about learning when we hang out."

"Then it's Lan gongzi who does your homework for you."

That hit a little too close. Stung in his pride, Nie Huaisang’s freed himself from Jin Zixun’s grip and stopped walking, arms crossed on his chest.

"He doesn't! He just corrects my drafts! And lately most of what's in my essays is all my own, actually! I only fail in quizzes because I panic and because I don't have enough time."

It was something he’d realised during his music lessons with Lan Xichen, actually. Nie Huaisang needed to do things at his own speed, or else he couldn’t do things at all. It wasn’t a problem with Lan Xichen who allowed him to take breaks and even have a snack if he struggled too much to focus, but Lan Qiren and the other teachers hadn’t taken it too well when he’d tried to eat candies during quizzes, or when he started doodling during an exam because it helped him focus. It also fell into deaf ears when he pleaded to be given a little more time when, by some random chance, he actually did know the answer to a question and had so much to say that the allotted time wasn’t enough.

By comparison, homework was easy. Especially when Lan Xichen allowed him to come into his room and work there while he dealt with his own work. The company of a studious person really helped.

"Fine,” Jin Zixun said, grabbing his arm again. “Then you're going to help me with my essays. I’m just barely passing and if I don't get a good grade on the last set of homework, old man Lan is going to make me come back next year."

Jin Zixun started pulling again, but Nie Huaisang resisted this time.

"Why should I help you?"

"Because your grades are so bad you're sure to be sent back next year, and then we'd be stuck together again."

"I need to think. I don't care that much about being stuck with you. You're not the worst person I know."

"I'm… not?" Jin Zixun asked, sounding so shocked that Nie Huaisang snorted.

"Not even close to it," Nie Huaisang assured him, thinking of his future self. With that point of comparison, a lot of people had become almost agreeable to him.

"Oh. I'm not sure I have another argument in my favour," Jin Zixun admitted. "Usually that one is enough."

Nie Huaisang snorted again. He could imagine that a lot of people would do whatever Jin Zixun asked of them, just so he’d stop talking to them for a little while. He was, after all, a complete prick, without skill or above average good looks to compensate. Still, Nie Huaisang felt a little sorry for him.

Besides, he was convinced that his future self would hate to see him waste time being nice to someone whom he didn’t deem useful, and that really sealed the deal.

"Okay I'll help,” he sighed, as if conceding to something that cost him a lot, when in truth he didn’t mind that much. “But only because I'm sorry for you."

"Hey!"

"And I'm just helping,” Nie Huaisang warned. “You're still doing the actual work.”

“You’re just lazy,” Jin Zixun complained, pulling again on Nie Huaisang’s arm who, this time, willingly started to follow him toward the cabin where the Jin disciples stayed.

“I sure am,” Nie Huaisang agreed with a bright smile. “And I’m also thirsty, so let’s have tea while you work!”

Jin Zixun complained and grumbled and called him spoiled, but still did serve him what had to be the best tea he had on hand as they worked together.

A loud, discordant rang through the otherwise silent room until Nie Huaisang put down his hands on the guqin’s strings to silence it. His eyes prickled with tears yet unspilled. It was a simple enough melody, and he’d worked on it all week, wanting to surprise Lan Xichen with his progress by playing for him something they hadn't worked on together. Even the other Nie disciples, who fluctuated between indifference and annoyance at his new obsession with music, had praised him for playing it so well the night before.

But now he was there, in Lan Xichen’s room, trying to actually play that damn melody, and his fingers just refused to obey him.

“Give me another chance,” he begged, quickly pressing the back of his hand to one eye, just to make sure he hadn’t actually started crying. “I swear I can play it! I worked so hard on it, I’ll show you!”

“If you say you can play it, I believe you,” Lan Xichen replied. “You’ve had a rough day, it’s normal to be affected. Let’s put away the guqin for now and have some tea instead. It’ll do you good.”

When Lan Xichen got up and turned around to go boil water, Nie Huaisang felt a few tears of frustration fall on his cheek which he quickly wiped away. It was stupid, and it wasn’t fair, and he hated that things could impact him life that.

“It’s not like I thought I had any chance of passing anyway,” he hissed, hands clenching into fists. “I knew I was going to fail, it’s stupid that I’m upset about this!”

“Knowing something and actually experiencing it aren’t the same,” Lan Xichen replied. “It’s normal to be upset, Huaisang.”

Nie Huaisang shrugged, and wiped another tear. What did Lan Xichen know about failing anyway? He was always stupidly perfect, always did everything well, a favourite of every teacher, admired by all their peers, far more handsome than a boy of eighteen had any right to be, with a cultivation level that only Nie Mingjue, a freak of nature, could surpass. It was easy for Lan Xichen to say being upset was normal, when he’d probably never failed anything in his entire life.

By the time Lan Xichen returned to the table with a teapot and two glasses, Nie Huaisang was sulking, though thankfully he was too angry at himself to cry anymore. Lan Xichen took one look at him and went to fetch something else. He carefully put a little wooden box in front of Nie Huaisang, then started pouring tea for both of them.

“Take one,” Lan Xichen encouraged, nodding toward the box. “Take as many as you like, in fact. Just don’t tell anyone about them. I’m not supposed to have those.”

Intrigued, Nie Huaisang opened the box and discovered an array of cheap candies, which made Nie Huaisang grin against his will.

“What happened to the rules about avoiding unhealthy foods?”

“Wangji would have a fit,” Lan Xichen sighed, eyes glancing toward the door, as if just by mentioning his name, Lan Wangji might appear out of thin air to scold them. “But I know I can trust you to keep the secret.”

“No choice, you’ve made me an accomplice,” Nie Huaisang replied, grabbing one piece of candy. It was disgustingly sweet, almost making his jaw ache.

So he reached for another, his fingers briefly brushing against Lan Xichen who’d done the same. Nie Huaisang quickly removed his hand, startled at the sensation of warm skin.

“Lan gongzi, what if you adopted me as your new little brother?” Nie Huaisang suggested to try and pretend he hadn't had such a strong reaction just from an accidental touch. “I promise to be a very good didi. I will never get upset at you for wanting to have a little fun sometimes, and I’ll never denounce you to Lan Qiren either. And you will be my nice Lan-gege… ah ! Better yet, you'll be Xichen-ge! Always kind and patient, and you won’t mind at all that I’m bad at everything because I’m very sweet and funny.”

“A tempting offer,” Lan Xichen replied with an odd smile. “Wangji certainly never calls me ‘ge’ because he finds it too informal, whereas I think I quite like it, so I might adopt you just for that. But alas, Mingjue-xiong would be heartbroken if I stole his beloved brother from him, and so I must decline.”

Nie Huaisang took a sip of tea and sighed deeply.

“I don’t think he’ll mind at all. As it is, he might just disown me himself anyway.”

"Your brother will understand," Lan Xichen replied while taking another candy. "He'll be angry at first, but it won't last. If it worries you so much, I can write to him and tell him how hard you've been working. It's a shame homework doesn't count more toward passing, or I do think you'd be graduating."

Nie Huaisang shrugged. It was always like that: if he was good at something, it was always something which didn't matter. Even being skilled at music… what good was that to anyone, in the end?

"What if he doesn't forgive me though?"

"He will," Lan Xichen replied with confidence. "You are his precious little brother, I don't think he could ever stay mad at you very long."

Nie Huaisang thought of his older self, so convinced that Nie Mingjue despised him, and sighed.

"Maybe someday he'll get tired of forgiving me. Maybe someday I'll… maybe someday I'll do something that's too much," he muttered, thinking of his plan regarding Xue Yang. "I'll go too far, and then he'll hate me. And if he hates me, I'll…"

"Your brother loves you," Lan Xichen said. "He loves you as much as you love him. I don't think there's anything in the world that could change that."

That sounded like a challenge. As it happened, Nie Huaisang had given that topic a lot of thought lately, and he'd reached a conclusion.

"I can think of at least two things I could do that would make him hate me," he announced.

"Is that so?" Lan Xichen asked with a smile, as if he really believed such a thing to be impossible.

That gave Nie Huaisang some comfort. Lan Xichen was Nie Mingjue's best friend in the world, as close to him as he was to Su She. Lan Xichen had to know Nie Mingjue better than anyone else did, even if things were fated to start going bad between them someday.

"I could betray him to Wen Ruohan," Nie Huaisang said. "He'd never forgive that."

Lan Xichen took a sip of tea and nodded.

"Not if you did it on purpose, no. But I also think it isn't in your nature to willingly side with his enemies, and he would forgive you if you were tricked into it."

"Xichen-ge has a very high opinion of me, I feel undeserving."

"I'm only stating the truth. Now, what's the other thing you think Mingjue-xiong wouldn't forgive?"

"Marrying into Lanling Jin."

Lan Xichen chortled.

A real, honest to god, ugly laugh. He tried to hide it under a cough, but it was too late, Nie Huaisang had heard it and it delighted him. So even the ever perfect first jade of Gusu Lan could laugh like that!

"Well? What do you think of that one?"

"I think you're right this time," Lan Xichen agreed, still coughing. "It might be too much for him. In fact, I'll even say you'd deserve it."

"What? Xichen-ge, how cruel!" Nie Huaisang lamented, one hand over his heart. "Maybe I’ve found my one true love, and…”

“So all Jin Zixun had to do was break your nose and now you want to marry him?”

“Oh that’s pushing the joke too far,” Nie Huaisang said with a grimace, quickly bringing one hand to his nose, following the bone with one finger to try and feel the break. “He’s not my type at all, and anyway we’re both brats, it wouldn’t work out at all. Still, in theory, if I were to marry into Lanling Jin…”

Lan Xichen only smiled more widely.

“Would you, though?”

“Why not? There’s got to be a few that are decent. I mean, Zixun is occasionally almost tolerable, he can’t be the only one.”

“Oh, certainly there are some very fine people in that sect. I was talking more about the fact that you’d have to wear yellow for the rest of your life. Is that really something you could put up with?”

Thinking of the way those Jin disciples dressed, Nie Huaisang gasped and pressed both hands to his mouth to silence a cry of horror.

“That’s a good point! It’s not even a nice shade of yellow, either!" he cried out, trying to picture himself wearing it. It would be awful, he quickly decided. "I think it would wash out my complexion and make me look sickly. Maybe if it were a touch closer to brown, or even better a bit greenish, maybe I could consider it, but I really can’t marry into a sect that favours such a dreadful colour. I guess I’ll… why are you smiling?”

Lan Xichen, once more hiding his face behind his sleeve, turned away as if it might help dissimulate his grin.

“Because you are quite funny," he chuckled. "I don’t think anyone else would consider it a deal-breaker for marriage that they don’t like another sect’s colour.”

“Easy for you to say, Xichen-ge, you’d look good in any hue! Some of us have to be careful!”

Lan Xichen lowered his hand, his face suddenly serious once more except for a certain glint in his eyes.

“Huaisang, you really sell yourself short sometimes. I think you’d look quite good in any colour,” he eagerly said, before breaking into a fit of giggles as he added: “Any colour except Jin yellow, that is.”

It wasn’t even that funny, Nie Huaisang thought as he started laughing too. But Lan Xichen’s unexpected hilarity was too contagious to be resisted, and he’d been feeling down all day, so he just went for it and enjoyed the moment. It took them ages to ever calm down.

When they did though, Lan Xichen suggested that perhaps Nie Huaisang might try again to play that song he’d practiced.

This time, he played it perfectly, better even than he’d ever done before.

#nie huaisang #lan xichen #su she #jin zixun #xisang #some very light flirting is starting to happen at long last!#mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #double time travel

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allsassnoclass · 3 years

Text

rainy days in california

Pairing: Michael Clifford/Ashton Irwin Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 2023 Read on AO3

Southy is hiding under the bed.

It takes a while for Ashton to find him, because he hasn't experienced a thunderstorm while living with Michael yet. The relationship between them isn't new or fragile by any means, but California has long periods of drought and they didn't decide to consolidate living spaces until the beginning of the summer. It's been dry, and large booms of thunder haven't shaken the house until now.

Ashton reaches out to Southy, fingers gently brushing his fur. Moose is with him under the bed, laying quietly but not whining like Southy is. Ashton can't coax him out while the rain is still pounding on the roof, but he can offer some gentle ear rubs and soothing words, for what they're worth.

Michael finds him laying on the floor of their bedroom a few minutes later.

"Hey, Ash," he says, nudging his side with his foot. "Scared of the storm?"

"Southy is," he says, arm still outstretched under the mattress still.

"He'll be fine," Michael replies, getting down next to him to greet the dogs. "That's what we have Moose for. Isn't it, girl? Who's a good puppy?"

Moose licks his fingers, army-crawling forward to get better access.

"Southy used to cry a lot worse than this during storms. She helps temper him a little."

Ashton hums.

"Come on," Michael says, sitting up and nudging him again. "Unless you want to stay up here with the dogs all day, but I feel like you're going to start complaining about the hardwood soon."

"And just leave them?" Ashton asks. Michael shrugs.

"They'll be fine. Southy is just being dramatic."

"I wonder where he gets that from," Ashton says with a pointed look. Michael sticks his tongue out at him, then heaves himself to standing, offering Ashton a hand. He takes it, hauling himself to his feet and letting Michael lead him out to the main room. The rain falls in thick sheets outside their windows, cloud cover painting the landscape a deep navy blue. Michael leaves him by the windows and wanders to the kitchen. Soon, Ashton hears the tell-tale sounds of the kettle being put on, clanking loud enough to carry over the rain because Michael has never learned to be gentle with the dishes. Ashton watches the rain and lets the ambient sounds of their home wash over him until Michael presses a warm mug into his hands.

"It's scheduled to keep going all day," Michael says. "The thunderstorm warning is only until two, though."

Ashton takes a sip of his tea, under-steeped and just a little too hot. The temperature difference between the liquid and the air conditioning they have blasting makes him shiver. Michael's hand sliding around his waist and his head on Ashton's shoulder makes him shiver for a different reason.

They pop in a movie, something lighthearted released years ago. Southy and Moose wander out about halfway through, once the thunder has died down and lightning stops illuminating the sky. Moose takes her place next to Michael, but Southy tries to worm in between him and Ashton. Ashton pulls him onto his lap instead, running a steady hand over his fur until he settles.

He catches the end of Michael's fond smile out of the corner of his eye.

Once the credits have rolled through and the main menu is playing on a loop, Michael gets up to put their mugs in the sink. When he returns he braces himself on the back of the couch and leans down to kiss Ashton before flopping next to him.

"You seem quiet today," Michael says. "What's up?"

Ashton shrugs.

"I think it's the rain. It always makes me a little sluggish. I never want to do anything when it rains like this."

"I love the rain," Michael says, adjusting his position so he can stick his cold toes under Ashton's thigh. "It's fun. Refreshing. I like how everything smells afterwards."

"You always were a little weird," Ashton says. Michael removes one foot so he can kick at him, then returns his toes to under Ashton's leg.

"Lots of people like that smell. Besides, nothing is as fun as going out and playing in the rain. It's like going to the water park but better because you can push your friends down into the mud."

"You're so weird."

"Am not!"

"Are too," Ashton says, giving him a lopsided grin. Michael gets cute when he's teased, cheeks always turning the slightest bit pink and eyes lighting up. Ashton likes gently ribbing him over unimportant things like this just to watch the way energy thrums through him.

"Fine. Come on," Michael says, getting up once again and dislodging Moose. He grabs Ashton's hand, pulling at him until he pushes Southy off his lap and stands.

"Where are we going?" he asks.

"Outside," Michael says.

"Really? Now?"

"Yep," Michael says, popping the last syllable. "It's not thundering or downpouring too heavily anymore, so it's the perfect type of rain for us."

Ashton could dig his heels in and stop, but part of him wants to see what Michael is so excited about, and the other part of him is willing to do whatever it takes to make Michael happy.

Michael doesn't pause to let them put on shoes, just opens the door and marches out, Ashton's hand still securely in his. The humidity hits him before the rain does, a heavy presence in the air that has been lessened by the storm but hasn't fully broken yet. In contrast, the touch of droplets against his skin is refreshing. It's a summer storm, so the rain is a warm, gentle kiss, dampening his hair and sliding over his face.

Michael tips his head up, pausing with his eyes closed and a smile on his lips. Ashton watches the rain cascade over him. After a few moments Michael cracks his eyes open, giggling in delight like a child seeing snow for the first time. His laugh is infectious, bringing a smile to Ashton's face immediately.

"Come on," Michael says, pulling him forward again. "Let's find some puddles! Let's stand in the mud! Let's stick our tongues out and count how many raindrops we can catch!"

They do exactly that.

The puddle comes first. There's a dip in their sidewalk that always pools water when the rare rain comes to California and Michael jumps in it with no regard for his bare feet hitting the pavement, splashing Ashton's ankles. Michael kicks more water at him and it's easy to succumb to the giddy feeling rising in his lungs, laughing as he joins him in the puddle, both of them sloppy with their footwork and nearly bonking heads due to how close they're standing while watching the ground.

It's fun almost because of how not-fun it should be. It's just water and them standing too close to each other, but Michael is laughing like a little kid and Ashton is thinking about how much joy there is in finding someone to be ridiculous and kind of stupid with.

Michael pulls them onto the grass, spinning them in a circle. The dirt is soft under their feet, the blades of grass slippery enough that Ashton has to fight to keep his balance when Michael begins to lead them around in a jaunty dance, singing a nonsense melody with no words attached.

"What are you doing?" Ashton laughs.

"Singing in the rain," Michael sings back, twirling Ashton under his arm and continuing to sashay them both across the yard. Ashton stumbles along after him, throwing an arm around Michael's shoulders to keep himself upright. They keep that going for a few minutes until they trip over each other's feet, tumbling down to the grass intertwined with matching yelps.

"This is the 'pushing your friends down into the mud' part, I take it?" he asks, turning his head so he doesn't drown from the rainwater in his mouth. Michael snorts and begins to detangle their limbs, so Ashton takes the opportunity to shove him back and wrestle a bit. The rain means neither of them can get an easy grip, tumbling around on the grass with various yelps and expletives until Michael finally gets to his feet, Ashton catching his breath on his back.

"Ha!" Michael yells, pointing at him. "Take that, Irwin!"

He still helps Ashton up when he asks for it, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

They don't stay out too long after that. Ashton has grass and dirt all over him, and Michael shivers at one point despite the warm temperature. They stand with arms out and heads tipped up to catch raindrops on their tongues, then call it a day and head back inside.

Ashton stops Michael in the entranceway with a hand on his wrist.

"We can't go through the house like this," he says. "Strip and get a shower ready. I'll throw our stuff in the laundry so nothing stains."

Michael waggles his eyebrows but does as he says, shedding his soaked shirt and shorts and leaving wet and dirty footprints in a trail to the bathroom. Ashton picks up everything and gets the washing machine started, throwing his own clothing into the mix and shivering in their air conditioning. Ashton likes keeping it at a lower temperature than Michael does, but right now he can't wait to warm up.

The bathroom is full of steam when he enters, Michael already under the spray of the shower. Ashton slips in behind him, closing the shower door and accidentally startling Michael in the process.

"I didn't hear you come in," he says, grabbing Ashton's arms and switching their places so Ashton can rinse off, bits of grass and dirt swirling down the drain.

"You're lucky I wasn't a murderer," Ashton says, letting Michael's fingers scrub through his hair to ensure each strand gets rinsed. "You'd be terrible in a horror movie."

"That's what I have you for," Michael says, grabbing the shampoo. He squirts a dollop out onto his palm and rubs his hands together to get it to lather, then sets about washing Ashton's hair for him. Ashton tips his head down and closes his eyes, exhaling. Michael's fingers rub soothing circles against his scalp, backing him fully under the spray again when it's time to rinse.

He returns the favor, watching the way Michael's eyelashes flutter as he works. He loves the way that Michael lets his guard down around him, the trusting way that he will let Ashton take care of him, eyes closed and head bowed. He brushes his thumb over the shell of his ear, smiling when Michael blinks his eyes open at him.

Kissing in the shower is different from kissing in the rain. They’re more relaxed here, the giddy energy having been transformed to a calm contentment, and Ashton can take his time cupping Michael’s jaw and exploring his mouth. Michael hums against him, hands seeking Ashton’s waist and disrupting the paths of various water droplets trying to make their way across his skin.

“I love you,” Ashton says when they pull away.

“I love you, too,” Michael says, then grabs the body wash and Ashton’s loofa.

They stay in the shower long enough to enjoy it, but not long enough for the water to run cold. They change into sweats and comfortable tees after toweling each other dry, piling back onto the couch with the dogs. The rain has lessened even more now, just a drizzle at the end of the day’s storm, and Michael curls into him in the quiet of their home.

“Did you enjoy it?” Michael asks. Ashton hums a question. “The rain. Does it still make you sluggish?”

Ashton tips his head towards him.

“It’s good,” he says. “I had fun. I see why you like it.”

Michael smiles at him and presses closer, leaning up to kiss Ashton’s cheek before resettling. Ashton listens to the faint patter of rain against their windows and decides that it’s now one of his favorite sounds, second only to Michael’s delighted laugh that only he and the rain can bring out.

#my writing #mashton #5sos fic #part of my crusade to get over 1000 mashton works on ao3 #since there's such a big discrepancy between how many works they have and how many each other 5sos duo have #also i just like them lol i like mashton a lot and enjoy writing them

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adsosfraser · 3 years

Text

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Ten

Read on AO3

“We can’t stay here.”

“No, we can’t.” Jamie pulled his wife onto his bare chest. “And wee Hamish has sent a letter, requesting his cousin’s aide. Though he was vague on which, I’m sure he wasna comfortable writing Jamie Fraser on something the English could see.”

“So we go to Leoch with Fergus?”

“I willna put ye in danger, the travel there will be treacherous now wi’ the English on our throats everywhere.”

“Well, I’m certainly not leaving you, James Fraser. Have you forgotten I’m wanted too? We go together. And, with us gone, Lallybroch will be safer, we’ll be safer for a while. But…”

“What is it Sassenach?”

“I know you and the sea aren’t close friends, but ports shouldn’t be as monitored as they were right after Culloden. The islands will be safer, Charles even fled to the Isle of Skye to go to France. In the future, some islands are even able to retain some of their culture, their tartan. We can always go there, it would be safer while we wait… for a pardon.”

“A pardon?” He was shocked.

“Yes. When I returned I placed three letters in the post at Inverness. Copies of historical letters I assume. They may give us the freedom we want.”

A sharp breath escaped his lips and he slumped back on the chair. “Christ, a pardon. You know how well that went the last time.”

“But this time there’s no more war, we’re done with that horror.”

“Aye, we’ll seek Hamish, then if we canna stay, we’ll bide on one of the wee islands.”

“What’s this about ye up and leaving Jamie Fraser! And dinna think I’m not cross wi’ ye too Claire!”

“Jenny,” Claire took her hand, “you know it isn’t safe for us to stay here. We got lucky the last time.”

“And I’ll no’ have my wife sleeping in a cave.”

“Well, ye two eejits could at least wait ‘til yer goddaughter is christened! Ye dinna ha’ to leave wi’ yer tails tucked between yer legs so soon.”

“Goddaughter.” Her heart warmed and she squeezed Jenny’s arm.

“I ken yer already her aunt, but ye’d make a fine goddaughter to the lass. I suppose that would make yer daft husband her godfather. Puir lass.” She feigned pity for the tiny girl in her arms. “Would the both o’ ye wait, jes’ one more day?”

Claire looked back at Jamie but already knew their answer. “Of course.”

The ceremony was brief, the priest wasn’t prepared to perform it so soon. Caitlin gurgled up at Claire in her arms. The holy water was sprinkled over her tiny forehead in the small kirk near Lallybroch. Other than the slight cry from the chill of water, Caitlin was a perfect baby. The Frasers and Murrays all joined back together to Lallybroch to celebrate. They enjoyed a small stew of rabbit and potato, the most filling one in weeks. Father Ross had the death certificate for Fergus ready to sign, but on seeing the boy alive and healthy, he walked towards the fire in the Great Room.

“Wait,” Claire shouted to his back. “Don’t burn it. Jenny, will you sign that?”

“He’s clearly no’ deid Claire, are ye off yer heid?”

“No, it’s just, it’s important that the document isn’t destroyed. I can’t explain how.”

“Verra weel.” She plucked it out of the Father’s hands and went off to the study. She mumbled, knowing long ago not to question her sister's strange nature.

Claire had ripped through the fabric of her dresses and the contents of her leather bag to pull out every piece of gold, silver, and jewellery that was left during the hours waiting for Father Ross. It was little less than three years’ salary in her time, but now it would support Lallybroch for years to come. She dumped it all out on the dining and the jewels, gold, and silver scattered and clattered against the wood surface. She had put away some for her and Jamie of course, enough to be comfortable on their journey, but even with the small dent into the funds on the table, it was still an astounding sum. Jamie spied her wedding ring on a chain within the pile and raised a brow to her, but she shrugged her shoulders in reply.

“A christening gift.”

Everyone at the table stared dumbfounded at the treasure disorganised on the table. A ‘Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ’ was supplied by her son.

“How Claire?” Ian piped up.

“I didn’t steal it if that’s what you're asking.”

“Well, how on earth did ye find so much?” Jenny yelled, exasperated.

“It was my inheritance from my parents and uncle. And the man whose advances I turned down…gave some of it to me.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Bride, ye’ve been hiding this away all this time?”

“No, I’ve just recently acquired it myself. But now, it can be put to good use instead of rotting in some bank. Take it, Jenny, use it to save Lallybroch from the famine, clearances, and drought to come.”

Jenny planted a sloppy kiss onto Claire’s cheek and handed Caitlin over to Ian. She grabbed her arms and began jumping excitedly. Claire even thought she heard a squeal from the small woman. Displays of affection from the woman were rare, and Claire felt so happy and touched that she included her in it.

“Claire ye have no idea how this will help us.”

“I have some idea.”

Their packing was done, and the horses were all lined up for the journey. Jenny embraced Claire, and she was reminded of the parting before Culloden all over again.

“Ye come back to us sister,” she raised her voice to a shout so Jamie could hear, “I dinna care much if this oaf does.”

“I love ye too Janet.” He pulled her from Claire into a giant hug.

“Och, ye ken I love ye too, a bràithair. Now, try to come back to us as quick as ye can. Lallybroch will be missing her Laird.”

A plant along the trail made Claire pause. It was a forget me not, and though it was only the beginning of March, it was blooming brilliantly against the grass of the glen. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that they were so close to the standing stones when she found it. She knew they needed to go back together, for closure. So she jumped off her horse and scooped her hands into the dirt.

“Jamie I want to go to Craigh na Dun before we stop into Inverness.”

Jamie pulled back on the reins of his horse and stalled in the middle of the path before Claire. He looked down at his wife and the flowers in her hands.

“If you don’t want to that’s fine, I just wanted to plant these there, and we might never get another chance to do so.”

“Aye, we’ll go.”

He dismounted his horse in one swift move. Carefully, Jamie helped Claire back up to her horse without crushing the delicate flowers in the process. Jamie passed the reins of his own horse to his son and climbed up behind his wife on her mare.

“Fergus, be a good lad and find a place to shelter in Inverness. Something not too in the open, or conspicuous either.” Jamie pulled out the bag of coins and tossed it to him.

“Oui, milord. I shall not fail you.”

Milord and papa, milady and maman, had become as interchangeable to Fergus as Jamie’s Sassenach, mo gràidh, mo nighean donn, and the countless other affectionate names he could come up with for his wife.

“Now off wi’ ye son, we’ll be shortly after.”

They held tight to each other, not able to bear even a second of lost connection. Fog clung to the air surrounding the tall monoliths and blocked the vision to the moor below.

“I wish I could punch it. But it won’t even let me do that.”

“How about this one to the side. Not too much danger of falling in fer yer wee hand.”

She pulled slightly apart from him for the first time since they created the hi together. Her arm trembled as she reached out to lightly touch the stone closest to the centre one. Though it had become an unwitting victim of its brother’s actions, it would have to do. Lining up her arm, she delivered the first blow that jolted from the cold surface to the bones of her arm and shoulders

“Fuck you!” She screamed a gut-wrenching cry as she slammed her fist into the rock. “Fuck you! Fuck!”

Her breath hitched and Jamie gathered her once again in his arms. He kissed her skinned knuckles. Giving her a few minutes to calm her racing heart and heaving lungs, Jamie cradled her tight to his chest, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. How many more tears would she cry, for something that was only the size of a blueberry? She knew she’d never lose the feeling of grief, but it would become more manageable most days. With her husband there to bear it with her, she knew it would be a certainty.

“I’m ready.” She patted his chest. “Are you?”

“Aye.”

“Do you want to punch it too?”

“No, that bastard stone’s taken too much from us. I won’t give it the satisfaction of flesh and blood from my hands as weel.”

She wanted to reach out and cradle the voice she had once heard to her chest, protect her against the violence of the stones. But it seemed it was her daughter instead who protected her. Digging the small hole into the ground by the outer stones, she smiled tearfully. Jamie’s strong hands were right beside hers, guiding the dirt away. Together they scooped the small plant into their hands, a mismatch of Jamie’s on top of Claire’s and then Claire’s on top of Jamie’s. They patted the dirt mound and encased the stems in the nutrients. With the task finished, Claire fell into Jamie’s lap and began to weep. She stroked his shirt with dirtied hands and left stains on the white linen. He rubbed the fabric on her back and Claire felt the moisture fall onto her hair and slowly down to her scalp. She offered him her sgian dubh and he etched into the centre stone with sharp angles, leaving the blade there as a gift. Baby Fraser. Claire’s hand trembled in his grip and she was almost consoled by the fact that she could feel his shaking too; he didn’t hide how it affected him as well. “I trust yer grandsire and grandmam are keeping ye out o’ trouble a leannan . I love you. Tell Faith I love her too, and I ken she protects ye up there, but jes’ because she’s older doesna mean ye canna protect her as weel. Jes’ like I do fer yer auntie. Ye mind what yer family says, and we’ll meet again soon enough.”

Claire knelt down and gently cradled the small flower in her hand. “I love you, my baby girl. We love you so much.”

Jamie ripped off a strip from his sark and wrapped it around her bloodied knuckles with a kiss. They stayed to talk to the stone for a while. Jamie laughed with Claire after sharing an incident from his boyhood about a goat, some string, a bucket of shite, and his sister. Claire pulled out the photos from within her pockets and shared her child-self to their daughters, and the interesting marvels of the future. Jamie was proud he recognised the ‘airyplane’ from when Claire brought out the black and white pictures in the cave. He was bewildered of course at first, cursing the strange magic, but once he saw the brilliant smile of his Sassenach he knew the depiction couldn’t hold any evil. He especially liked seeing her as a bairn, with pigtails and a pink frilly dress and how the photos showed the change from cute baby to mature woman. She set one into the plastic wrap, a photo of her, her parents, and her uncle and buried it beneath the earth.

“Your family is with you always, my darling girl.”

With one last glance, they rode back to Inverness holding each other on the saddle.

Their short stay in Inverness was that: short. After the first night of full bellies and a warm fire, the innkeeper alerted the travellers to the presence of redcoats fifteen miles away. It gave them time to prepare themselves, instead of another hasty retreat to Leoch.

It was not nearly as strong of a fortress as it had once been.

Claire was put to use straight away, mending flesh and bone. Jamie was spirited away as well to advise his cousin in the Laird’s Tower. The only bright spot was the wonderful Mrs. Fitz. Fergus spent much of his time messing around the surgery and playing with the medicines, much to Claire’s annoyance. No matter how many times he insisted it would not happen again, his nimble little fingers were constantly filching items off of shelves and tables. So she sent him off to the kitchens.

The ledgers had become impossible, and Leoch was close to ruin from partially funding the Jacobite cause. They felt the sharp absence of those who had fought bravely alongside them. None were left. Most of the men residing in the lands were either too old, too young, or too crippled to fight. There was talk of taking up a deal with the British, to leave Leoch and settle somewhere comfortable in America. Hamish was inclined to that option more and more each day. The Lairdship was not an easy thing for a twelve-year-old, let alone under such stress of a post-war climate. So, it was decided that the MacKenzies would sell Leoch to the British for land somewhere deep in Virginia. As much as it pained them to leave their culture and homeland in the hands of those bastards, they had no other choice. The lands produced nothing, the woodlands sparse, and their supplies pilfered by roaming soldiers. Claire felt guilty for the small amount of gold tucked into her dresses, but she told herself the amount she was left with couldn’t save them all. They stayed in constant communication with Jenny through letters and informed her of their impending move. Jenny wrote back to her cousins, Alexander and Elizabeth Malcolm , just as often, if not more eager to know they were safe.

In the blistering heat of the summer, Claire, Jamie, and Fergus travelled in the safety of the band of MacKenzies. Virtually no redcoats bothered them on their way, patriot to king and country as the Laird most certainly was in their eyes.

At Ullapool, they said their last goodbyes as they split to different destinations. Jamie couldn’t possibly survive a month-long journey across the water. They purchased passage on the Serendipity and waited.

Jamie wretched off the side of the gangway as the ship made port. Stornoway, and from there they would hopefully find somewhere to settle down. A croft, north of Stornoway soon came to their attention. Most of their money went to purchase the land outright, they weren't too keen to rent one out as other crofters did, knowing the clearances would hit Scotland hard. So, Alexander Malcolm, his wife, and his son, began to build a home out of the small abandoned cottage. They hoped it would be temporary but would be fine if it wasn’t, for they had all they needed already: each other.

#jamie fraser #jamie x claire #craigh na dun #outlander fanfiction #fergus fraser #hamish mackenzie #castle leoch #stornoway #ullapool #adsofraser writing #canon divergence #jenny murray #ian murray #claire beauchamp #outlander fanfic

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coeurdastronaute · 4 years

Text

The Story, Ch. 3

Previously on The Story

The heat roared into July without a bit of relief. Days stretched onward without the slightest speck of a cloud in the sky, without the slightest taste of rain for the county. The lawn lost its blush of green, lost its softness, instead growing dry and brittle and angry. The grounds seemed to sweat under the sizzling sun, thwarted from any relief by the burdensome layer of humidity that seemed to weigh everything down further.

Over the course of the week, Dani noted the change in the way the gardener moved through the grounds. Ever with a weary eye no the horizon for any sort of break, she seemed to grow slightly more hopeless with every set back as she attempted to save all of her hard work. Still, day after day she toiled along, and Dani ran out of reasons to see her most days.

The week became a grind where nothing went quite right, though there were no major catastrophes. The kids were slipping back into a mood, despite Dani’s best efforts, and the mythical heat wave didn’t help at all. Lessons weren’t going quite right, and the days were longer, nothing left to do.

So, for the first time in perhaps her life, Dani decided to do something, to make her own moment of happiness. She did this, of course, by prowling the halls while the children were reading their assigned chapters to themselves. She did it with purpose and while almost admitting to herself that she enjoyed her time with the gardener. She hid it in benevolence and worry though, creating excuses in her mind to appear in the tiny room off of the back of the house, the glass roofed green house where a certain gardener could be seen prowling at any given moment.

“It’s boiling in here. I don’t know how you do it,” Dani murmured, making her way down the few steps, careful and with hands full of sweating glasses that dripped on her feet.

“I sweat my bloody tits off, that’s how,” Jamie retorted, not looking up.

“Thought you might need to cool down. It’s lemonade. Don’t worry, Hannah made it.”

Jame cracked half a smile. That might have been Dani’s favorite one, and with that realization she recognized that she must have been cataloging them.

“It’s much appreciated. You’d take the time to think of little old me out here toiling away.”

“It was actually the commotion you seem to make that reminded me.”

“Well, whatever I gotta do, right?” Jamie smiled and accepted the glass, taking a long, long drink and sighing with the relief it brought.

“Seems like it’s been a rough week for you.”

“No rougher than the one before I imagine,” she shrugged, pulling her gloves back on. “Or the one to come.”

Dani watched her shoulder flex, not huge and built, but prominent and there, the muscle slivering beneath her skin. She watched her bicep move with purpose as she dug around. And finally, perhaps most importantly, Dani shamelessly watched the tank top ride up a few inches as Jamie reached for something on the shelf. And Dani gulped before blinking and staring at her drink.

“Haven’t seen you around much.”

“Not much for me to do, unfortunately. Just watering everything I can, all damn day.”

“Your starts are lovely though. I mean, your hard work shows. I’m sorry it hasn’t been easy.”

Dismissive of any form of praise, Jamie just shrugged and returned to the pot.

“They’re accustomed to this kind of thing, you know,” Jamie explained, elbow deep in a pot of soil. “Drought. Sun. Wind. Even the most fragile thing was made to withstand more than it thinks. I’m just trying to help them along as best I can.”

“It’ll break soon.”

“Now you sound like me.”

“I like to believe in the inevitably of rain. Even now, it feels like one of the few sure things in life,” Dani decided, earning a smile.

Jamie dragged her forearm against her brow, a streak of dirt appearing above her eye. She searched the au pair, to see if there was a hint of teasing in the line, but recognized the hope she once felt, as well.

“You okay, Poppins?”

“The kids are a little off. They’re bickering more than ever, and I’m getting more attitude from Miles than I have before. I offered to take them swimming in the pond again, and they about lost their minds--”

“This pond? Here?”

“The one behind the old stables,” Dani nodded, furrowing at the look Jamie gave her as she paused her digging.

“Did no one tell you about Becca?” She shook her head and Jamie sighed. “We found her body in the pond. That pond. Or rather, Flora did. They won’t go back to it.”

“Jesus… I didn’t know.”

“I don’t know if I would ever go back in. I don’t even like looking at it, I get so mad.” As if to accent her words, she shoved more dirt in, pushing harder. Dani felt her attempt at cheering up the gardener begin to backfire. “When I pulled her out… there was just… We did what we could.”

“I thought I was escaping tragedies, and I keep bumping into them it seems,” Dani bit her lip, tightening them as she fret over it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

The guilt bubbled up, for bringing it up, for learning this about Jamie when Dani doubted she wanted it to be known. She thought of the gardener, soaked in her overalls, carrying the body of the former au pair out of the water. The way that must have hurt.

“I’m alright. The kids are doing better. You came along and have really done a number on the whole place, if we’re being honest.”

“I don’t know if I can take any credit.”

“You should. You have. Even for me.”

From her spot leaning against the work table, Dani fiddled with the worn wood, ran her thumb along the knots and grooves. She knew she was blushing which she also knew, for some reason, only made Jamie look at her more intently.

“I don’t know what to do for them now, though. They’re just…”

“Cooped up kids in a long, hot summer. Just let them be kids.”

It wasn’t exceptional advice, but Dani felt better for hearing, for learning that sometimes there wasn’t a solution, or worse yet, perhaps there wasn’t even a problem for her to solves.

“There is a place for a swim though, if you’re up for it,” Jamie offered without looking up from the pot she was arranging. “Not really appropriate for the wee ones. A little bit of a hike.”

“I don’t know if I should leave them for any amount of time. They’re about to burst.”

“You worry too much, did you know that?”

“I worry just the right amount, actually.”

Jamie laughed, one big ha.

“You fret. It’s adorable, but you do.”

“It’s not-- I don’t-- They’re my responsibility.”

“Hannah can watch them this evening, and you know it,” Jamie reminded her. “You haven’t left the grounds since you arrived. It’s been three months of being an au pair. You can have a moment.”

“You’re a rotten influence. I came in to cheer you up, and I’m corrupted now.”

“That’s the spirit,” Jamie nodded. Her spirit had been lifted. “I’ll meet you at the front gate at eight tonight.”

“I have to see--”

Somehow, Dani realized too late that Jamie was so close, in her space, eye to eye and intimidating in a way that made the au pair want to never move again because it was incredibly thrilling. It’d been a stretch to go without human connection.

“You can’t just fix everyone here, and not allow yourself some of that. I’ll see you at eight,” the gardener insisted, reaching around the frozen body, snagging a large sack, swinging it over her shoulder in one fluid motion.

She backed toward the door outside of the green house as Dani just watched it happen.

“I heard you were a good time once.”

“Eight.”

Before she could say anything else, to argue or confirm, Jamie walked out with a smile over her shoulder. Dani watched the gloves in her back pocket bounce and sighed, for the first time, audibly and defeated as sweat ran down her back in the sweltering room. She was still running, even if she didn’t realize it. Jamie made her see alternatives.

In the distance, Jamie disappeared behind an ivy wall, and Dani finally made herself leave the green house. The tickle at the base of her sternum felt nice.

XXXXXXXXXX

In the dark, Dani stood at the front gate, monstrous and wrought as it was, unsure of what she was doing there, leaving the grounds and the children, off to some undisclosed location with a relative stranger. Though, Dani reasoned with herself, Jamie didn’t particularly feel like a stranger. She felt like a book she’d once read but forgotten and rediscovered. She was understood, if not at all completely remembered word-for-word. There was an inherent safety and comfortableness with the gardener that Dani couldn’t quite place, and yet she didn’t know her birthday. Couldn’t even begin to imagine if she was right or left handed, wasn’t certain if she liked to read or enjoyed crappy tv.

Behind the bleachers at the ninth grade dance, Dani kissed a girl. Neither ever spoke of it again, and Dani wasn’t sure she’d ever beat the feeling of having feelings and beating them back, deep into the bottom corner of her heart.

Jamie felt like she was prying that open again, and it was exhilarating and also something insanely easy to overthink. There weren’t any bleachers at Bly Manor.

The truck rumbled up the road, stopping before Dani had too much time to fully address the trail of thought she’d just found herself toying with. With a squeal of the breaks it stopped. Jamie slipped across the seat to open the door.

“Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Dani resolved, hopping into the cab and offering a smile in the dark.

The lights from the dashboard made the truck glow, and Jamie hadn’t changed since earlier. There was dirt on her neck now, but she remained unchanged by whatever happened in the hours between the morning and now.

“There’s not much out here, so you haven’t missed anything,” Jamie said as she changed the gear and shifted until they were going down the road.

“I don’t mind. It’s a nice change of pace honestly.”

Already there was a quiet between them as they trudged along. Dani took a deep breath and looked out toward the darkness, but couldn’t make out much minus the shadows of trees and the beam of the moon. But she didn’t fight it, as she normally would, hoping to escape any kind of quiet for too long.

It was a short trip, just a few minutes up the road until Jamie heaved the wheel, turning them toward a pasture where she parked beside a fence.

“I don’t understand,” Dani squinted to see what she was missing. “I don’t see anything.”

“We’ll go on foot for a little bit,” Jamie explained as she hopped out. “I thought you were up for a little adventure.”

“I am! I am.”

Scurrying, Dani followed, taking Jamie’s hand to help her over the rails of the fence. She didn’t let go for a few more steps; until she caught her balance, she told herself. Jamie led them across the field, directing the best path away from the fence and the trees by the road.

The heat stuck around from the day. In the distance, clouds formed, billowing and bulbous and just out of reach. They illuminated with static shocks every few seconds.

“Looks like the rain is coming.”

“Just heat lightning,” Jamie tossed over her shoulder, not pausing to give it too much attention. “But soon.”

“I never thought I’d miss rain as much as I do this summer.”

“In a few months we’ll beg for this much sun.”

“We’re never pleased, are we?”

“Occasionally, and only for a very short amount of time.”

“Do you ever think we’ll talk about anything other than the weather?” Dani tried.

“Is there anything more pressing at the moment?”

She never stopped moving, but Dani tripped slightly over the uneven field while Jamie pushed forward up the gentle hill, ever farther away from the car and the fence and the known.

“Where are you from?”

Jamie stopped moving so quickly that Dani nearly bumped into her. She turned around, her face barely visible in the night, but smiling as she snorted at the shift in their conversation.

“That’s what’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know anything about you,” Dani shrugged. “I’m curious.”

“I heard that doesn’t go well for cats.”

“You don’t answer questions, you know? You skip past or say something to distract from them. It’s almost like you’re doing it as a reflex.”

It seemed to have hit a spot as they walked for a few moments in the silence of their shoes clomping through the grass and the heaving breathing that came with the exertion of the hike. She didn’t want to, but Jamie seemed to admit to herself that maybe she did that, and maybe it was perhaps the most innate thing about herself, to defer, to deflect, to keep it all. She didn’t willingly keep herself a mystery, but rather preserved herself.

“It’s a small suburb, a hamlet, really. Fallholt. Nothing there but coal dust and bitterness.”

“How far is it from Bly?”

“About three hours north. Do you feel like you understand my entire being now with this tidbit?”

“It’s a start.”

While she wanted to sound annoyed, Jamie didn’t seem to mind telling the au pair anything about herself. The problem came with the fact that she held so much of herself so tightly in her hands, it was proving difficult to wretch the words from herself, to wrestle anything free to give up. So well-practiced was she in the art of hiding herself away, that even when she gave herself permission to speak, it was impossible.

“Are you right handed or left handed?”

“Seriously, Dani?”

“Curious.”

“Righty.”

Triumphant with this knowledge, Dani caught up to the longer strides of the gardener until she saw the moonlight reflecting off of the water halfway down the other side of the hill.

“That’s where we’re going?” she asked in disbelief.

“I promised you a pond.”

“Is this someone’s property?”

“Isn’t everything someone’s property?” Jasmine asked innocently. “Do you think they’ll mind two trespassers?”

“Probably.”

“Maybe,” she agreed. “If they find out. Come on. I’m sick of sweating.”

Before she could lodge her first protestation, Dani watched as Jamie started walking toward the pond. She doubled her own steps to catch up a minute later, though by then the gardener was already tugging off her shoes.

By the time she reached the water’s edge, Jamie had created a pile of her boots and socks and unbuttoned part of her shorts before turning around to the au pair. Much more carefully, Dani put her shoes on the ground and looked warily over the water.

“Um, where can I cha--”

Dani watched as Jamie tugged her top off and add it to the pile.

“Let’s go, Poppins. I’m not going in alone.”

“Right, yeah,” she nodded quickly and began working at her own shirt, turning around to give some semblance of privacy.

Over her shoulder, Dani looked quickly as she unbuttoned her shorts to see a gardener run and jump off of the small pier lit only by moonlight and heat lightening, clad only in a bra and underwear. The splash echoed across the empty field until she popped back up with a laugh and hiss at the chill.

From the water, Jamie tossed her hair out of her face and tread, watching the form of the au pair wrap her arms around her middle and walk out onto the pier.

“It looks cold.”

“It is,” Jamie nodded, splashing an armful of water towards her, making her squeal. “It feels wonderful.”

She worked exceedingly hard to keep her eyes trained on Dani’s. That was the polite and proper thing to do, and despite it all, Jamie worked hard to be just those things, despite what even she believed about herself.

“Is there a ladder or steps?”

“Good time, huh? Just jump. I promise to rescue you if need be.”

“I can swim.”

“Prove it.”

There was a debate, some internal convincing before Dani stood there and pinched her nose, taking the leap a second later with much less force, but coming up with the same hiss and chattering teeth.

“How is it s-s-s-so cold?”

“Isn’t it great?” Jamie decided, taking a few strokes lazily around the newly bobbing body. “Haven’t felt this cool in weeks. I think I was overheating completely. My brain was about to melt.”

“It does feel better than this afternoon did. Is there anything in this? Like fish?”

“Oh, probably a few. Maybe some snapping turtles. Maybe some wee beasties on the hunt of trespassers.”

Jamie skimmed along the water as Dani turned around to follow her.

“That’s not funny.”

With a mischievous grin, the gardener slipped beneath the water. Not a ripple remained of her, not a bubble as Jamie peered into the dark water as if it would help. Too long seemed to pass before she called out. Her leg was pulled a moment later, dipping her under. She came up splashing and shoving at the warm body.

“That’s really not funny,” Dani complained with a laugh.

“You could have fooled me,” Jamie laughed as well. “Don’t worry. Just you and me and maybe a few sleeping minnows.”

“So long as they’re sleeping.”

The water grew more comfortable, losing that biting chill that came to especially overheated bodies. Despite a few splashes earned for her not funny jokes, the pair simply glided around, enjoying the stars and the evening, falling into a relatively calm quiet. The groaning of bull frogs on the banks and the crickets in the field made more than enough noise.

But Jamie couldn't help but feel the need to say words, something she was beginning to dislike. Silence never bothered her. She’d learned long ago not to fill it up with too much because it was a gift.

“I think you know plenty about me,” Jamie muttered as they floated, relaxing in the cool chill of the water on their overheated skin. Dani stretched, pulling herself through the water and furrowing at the blurted comment. “Earlier… you said I deflected. Like a reflex.”

“You’re a tightly shut book. But I don’t mind.”

Jamie dipped her smile into the water to hide it before wetting her face, running her hands over it to further hide any blush.

“Where are you from?” she asked as Dani slicked back her hair.

“A suburb of Chicago. Not too big, not too small. Perfectly average in every single way a town could hope to be.”

“And you really were a teacher?”

“Mhm,” Dani nodded, shifting, skimming through the water. “Fourth grade. Started teaching immediately after college.”

“How do you like it here?”

“This might be the most questions you’ve ever asked me.”

“Might be the most I’ve asked in my entire life,” Jamie agreed. “You’re not exactly an open book either, you know.”

The two bodies rotated around each other. The moon shined on slick shoulders, danced in the ripples they created. Neither looked away from the other, just floated along in an even harmony.

“I like Bly. I love the manor. I appreciate everyone being so welcoming. I hadn’t thought of that part, but it’s been a nice surprise. And the children are… they’re special. They’re in so much pain sometimes, and they just don’t know what to do with it all. But they’re still so inquisitive and eager.”

“Kids are resilient,” Jamie agreed.

“It gets harder though, doesn’t it? To bounce back?”

“Yeah. It does.”

Dani nodded to herself and took a deep breath before closing her eyes and leaning back slightly.

“Thank you,” she finally offered, finding Jamie’s face in the water as it gazed at the heat lightning rolling toward the west. “For showing me this.”

“Couldn’t let you melt, could I?”

“I suppose not.”

Dani pulled herself onto the pier finally, hoping to dry in the humidity and heat while the looming grey clouds flashed beyond the tree line, retreating somewhat from their threatening posture. She wrung out her hair and huddled slightly, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on it.

Not wanting to leave the relief of the water, Jamie hung on the edge, letting her legs hang lazily, her hips remaining under the water. She rested her cheek on her arm as she stayed there.

“What if I just want to forget everything from before?” Dani whispered, almost too quiet, almost as if it were an absent thought. “I don’t mean to be dismissive, I just… what if I want to not be or remember all of that?”

It was only when she met Jamie’s eyes did the gardener realize she was waiting for an answer, that it wasn’t just a dream.

“I don’t know if you can.”

Dani nodded, not enjoying the answer.

“But I think it gets easier, sometimes,” she continued, hoping to provide some kind of relief. “It’s exhausting to keep running, isn’t it? I tried. I still do sometimes. But I think at one point I just stopped. I stood there and let it all tackle me, and it sucked. I didn’t enjoy it. But I got to walk afterward. And it wasn’t so tiring anymore.”

“I know who I want to be, I just don’t know if I can get there, away from it.”

“You can.”

“How do you know?”

“If I can survive it, I know you can. You’re much tougher than I, Poppins.”

To accent her words, Jamie tugged a toe, making a leg flop back into the water. Jame rolled her eyes and splashed with a kick, the girl who hid on the other side of the pier.

“What if I’m not who you think I am?”

“Who ever is?”

“You can’t keep answering questions with questions to make yourself sound wise.”

“Can’t I?” Jamie asked, pushing herself away until she floated on her back a little more.

The moonlight was at its brightest in that moment, and Dani watched the pale skin of the gardener’s torso shimmer beneath the water. She lost the tan lines and curls, and was smooth and at peace. Like a fountain, she arched water from her mouth, grinning as she did. A true dichotomy of freedom and fear, all in one person.

Dani stood once again, ready to keep running, at least for another night. She took a step back before launching herself with a laugh at the gardener. In a splash, they disappeared beneath the water, emerging only a second later with giggles and swearing and splashing.

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bibliocratic · 5 years

Note

i found writing proposal fic really fun !! or wedding planning :) maybe u would also find that fun? x

jonmartin post-160 proposal fic

Jon tries to write vows.

Hunched over, crow-spined and squinting in the feeble cast of the firelight, he scribbles, mutters, scratches out, furrows his brow and clenches his fingers and snarls under his breath in irritation, at his fumbling incapacity for words. He was not born with a poetic soul, and his admiration for Martin's humble offerings grows each passing minute. His words sputter out of him with all the ease of water from a broken tap.

Jon has taken first watch, and it's a duty he approaches solemnly. They've broken into a boarded-up hairdressers, set up their sleeping bags and meagre provisions and the small fire in a waste-paper bin for warmth in the cramped office space at the back. Every noise, creak and snap and distant shriek has Jon straightening, widening the circle of his Knowing like a fishing net, giving it an exhausted push outwards that gets harder each time. The lawless world they are in has at least one advantage; nothing but the most fool-hardy of things wants to touch the architect of this nether-world of horrors, nothing skulking or spiralling or swooping wants to challenge an unfettered Avatar. It's more people, these days, that they have learned to avoid.

Martin twitches in his sleep. Sleeping bag pulled up over his face, head pillowed by folded-over barber capes, his body snug against but turned away from Jon, who is sitting up, his back supported by plastic wrapped boxes of industrial-size shampoos and hair rollers. Jon frowns again, his lines only deepening as he listens to the soft, undisturbed in and out of Martin's breathing. Because he wants to get this one right. To place words like mosaic tiles to create the imagery of his intention, to capture everything he feels he needs to say.

Martin deserves this. Jon can give him so few words, these days. Jon wants to give him ones that will mean something.

His impatience is one of the few things that the last few years hasn't chewed out of him. He huffs, irritable and discontent, his frustration leaden under his skin, and scrunches up another paper to sacrifice to his petty mood.

When Martin takes the next watch, he finds a nest of fire-scourged paper balls dying in the embers.

–

Jon tries to find rings.

His intention is to be a few minutes. He unpeels himself around dawn from Martin's heavy arms, gently shushing the unhappy noise this draws from his mouth. The jewellers is ten minutes from where they've holed up today, and Jon steals away guiltily, keeping his Eye on Martin long after he's left to make sure he doesn't wake up to find him gone.

Jon is away too long. He reaches the small, high-street shop with no issue, doesn't even need to pick the shattered lock of the door. Inside, he finds a scatter of rings and necklaces, but they're all soot-charred, twisted from an unnatural heat, their metals warped irreparable. And then there is something tooth-filled in the recesses of the jewellers, something that smells the human stench of him and feels hungry, and it takes Jon an hour to give it the slip, leading it into a fog-bank half a mile away to be subsumed by the greedy pull of the mist.

He Looks out of himself, and against the borders of him, he feels a blanketing heat-shimmer of terror and knows it isn't his own.

His long legs take the streets at a run, huffing as he reaches the grey-stone public square at the centre of the city, exposed and empty of people. Getting nearer, he hears a looping, repetitive nightingale whistle, low and plaintive. It stops, waits, and starts up again.

Jon, with perfect mimicry, makes the high harsh caw of a crow in reply.

Martin is standing at the door of the Wagamama's they broke into, his feet unshod by shoes, his hair uncombed and flattened at one side. The creep of dawn is not so faint that Jon can't see the pale wash of his face, the tightness of his jaw, the relief that cascades across it like the release of a dammed-up waterfall when he sees Jon haring his way across the vacant, space of the square to greet him.

“Where were you?” Martin demands even before he reaches him. His hands running over him as soon as Jon gets close enough, checking for hurt, injury, his voice high and pitchy and failing to translate his panic into something else. “God, I woke up, and – don't do that Jon! Anything could've – I had no idea where you'd – and what the hell were you thinking?”

Jon's hands motion, miserably, desperate to soothe and knowing it can't be that easy, sorry, sorry, sorry.

“Where did you go?” Martin repeats, insistent, almost angry but forcing it down to simmer at a panic-laced frustration. He doesn't usually push, usually recognises the limits of what Jon can communicate, allows them both space to sit down with paper and pencil and is patient with the slower exchange of this. But his shirt is coated with sweat around the throat and arms, his hands curling into fists to stop their juddering, nerve-shocked motions, and Jon tries to imagine how he would feel, should he wake up, and find Martin gone.

He pauses before opening his mouth.

“Looking for something,” he says carefully with a stolen clear-cut pronunciation, bathed in an entitled, self-absorbed air. Rifles through his records, despairing to find no words that he can chop-and-change together like a collage of explanation, glances up at Martin's distressed expression.

“Did you find it?”

Jon shakes his head.

“I feel like an idiot,” he tries again in a pleasant, justifying voice, and wishes someone had put to records some better expression of apology. Wishes someone had used the right words in the appropriate manner; stronger still, wishes his voice was his own again, a domain he could claim unsullied by the burden of his title. That he could say something, anything to wipe the blanket fear from Martin's scruffy face.

“Yeah, well,” Martin grumbles after a while, wiping at his eyes. “I knew that already.”

Sorry, Jon signs again, but Martin is stilling his hands, gentle even now, and bundles him into a tight, bone-squeeze of a hug.

“Don't do that to me again, Jon, please,” he whispers shakily.

Jon doesn't try and find rings again.

–

Jon tries to plan a proposal.

He knows, deep down, that the best intentioned version of himself is a planner. Likes order and alphabetized files and organisational stationery, is happiest with a well-crafted spreadsheet or a completed to-do list. Jonathan Sims is a man easily satisfied by things as they should be, appeased and engaged by the challenge of a logical puzzle, a knotty problem he can sort by analysis and application.

He also knows that there is another version of himself. The one that rashly takes an axe to possessed tables and jumps into fog-bound seascapes and soil-choked coffins after the people he loves.

He does try. He thinks of picturesque spots he can take Martin, places where the scenery isn't so horror-fucked, where there are still banks from which they can watch sunsets. But the picturesque spots, when they aren't shadow-infested or crawling with overzealous fungal growths that warn of Corruption nearby, are chilly, and there's not exactly time to stop and admire the views much anyway. The sunset-stained bank is a near success; drought-scoured and pocked with frost-damage, but the evening colours are unashamedly glorious. Jon spends hours trying to muster the courage and words and correct gestures, only for Martin, drained and wiped out from a run-in with the Flesh, to fall asleep on Jon's shoulder, his hair flopping over his face, a comforting dead-weight. Jon adjusts them carefully so Martin's head is cushioned against his thigh, and scratches his fingers soothingly through his hair as he watches the sunset alone.

But one day they're making their way through the Peak District, and they've found a tumbling river with a small waterfall. Martin's flicked water at him with a butter-wouldn't-melt smile, and Jon replied in kind, and Martin had made a shrieking giggling scandalised 'Jon!' as he continued splashing him. And it might have been the way the water dripped down his face and over his freckles, or the way the dim daylight caught his profile, or it might have been the bold and untempered heat that burnt like a forge in Jon's chest to hear the high, bright sound of his rare happiness, but whatever it was, the other version of Jon resurfaces. Decides that he doesn't need romantic scenery or rings or vows or other people's words in his mouth, that life is short and this can't wait and he wants this, wants Martin, more than anything.

First, he drags Martin to him. On his tiptoes, arms locked around shoulders, feeling Martin hum, surprised but pleased as he kisses him.

It is a good kiss. One of his best. Jon feels a little bit smug about it when they separate and Martin is slightly out of breath, a comet-streak of heat across his face, looking a bit struck at Jon's forwardness.

Jon seals his first kiss with a second, smaller, softer kiss, making sure Martin's looking at him.

Then he lowers himself onto one knee.

“Jon, what are you – ?” Martin asks, his face creasing with confusion. But Jon has chosen the most unsubtle non-verbal gesture he can, and refuses to look away from him, gazing up and waiting for the penny to drop, even as his knees complain on the hard rocky ground, even as his own doubts swarm that Martin won't understand, Martin won't want to, Martin might say no.

Martin gives a little sucked-in gasp.

“Jon, are you, are you asking...?”

Jon is nodding, almost feverish, and Martin's face has gone the colour of a vibrant sunrise, moisture welling up in his eyes. Jon reaches out, takes one of Martin's hands in his smaller hold, touches with the pad of his thumb the space where, if he could, he would have slotted a ring.

He lets go and precisely and delicately, he signs I love you. They don't have the vocabulary for grander expressions, but Jon doesn't have anything else he needs to say anyway.

“Jon, you – god, I love you,” Martin replies, damp-voiced and faint, a broad and beaming smile widening across and lighting up his face. There's not a pause before he's eagerly going to his knees to join Jon, pressing fierce, hopelessly charmed kisses against his lips, cradling his face in his hands, and Jon's so dazed by the onslaught, it takes him a minute to sign Yes? at Martin.

“I – oh, yeah, yeah! Of course, yes,” Martin replies, still struck by a thoughtless delighted giddiness.

Then: “Oh! Oh, oh, wait just a minute I – ”

He's digging his hands into his left trouser-pocket, tugging it out, pressing what he's found into Jon's hands.

Jon opens the travel-knocked, slightly cracked box to see two unpolished plain bands sat snugly in their display, and his own smile blossoms like a firework on his face.

send me prompts if you fancy!

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #prompt fill #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #there was a happier comedy version of this in there somewhere #but other and more skilled writers than try for that

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kpop---scenarios · 4 years

Text

One Of The Good Ones

Pairing: Kim Jaejoong x Reader

Warning: Fluff

Word Count: 2k

Commissioned by: @jaejoongs-nipple-piercing

"It turns out it was the burning of debris that sparked the now large flame, in which now has gotten out of control. It is responsible for the beginning of the fires that are now spreading across a few acres. The once small fire caught onto dry grass it was burning next to, it began to quickly double in size. Firefighters are working hard to put out the flames."

The TV switches off. You turn around and see Jaejoong with a sympathetic look on his face and the remote in his hand. He knew you shouldn't have been watching that. Hell, you knew it too but you can't help it. You need to know things, even if it does spark your anxiety.

"Baby." He starts, giving you the look. "That is on the outskirts of town. It's nowhere near us, so try not to worry about it, okay? Everything is fine." He says. He knows you'll still panic about it. There is absolutely no going back on it now.

"You're right, I know but I can't control my anxiety." You pout.

"I know love." He smiles.

Over the next few days, you could feel your anxiety building as you watch the news that's been talking about how dry Oregon was. You knew it was dry, but you weren't aware of how bad it actually was. Every day you went outside, you hoped that it would rain but like always, the sky was blue and cloudless.

"I don't like this." You sigh, leaning over to snuggle into Jaejoong. "I have such a bad feeling about this weather."

"Don't worry, my love. Everything will be okay. Let's not worry unless there is actually something to worry about, okay?" Jaejoong whispers, placing a soothing and much-needed kiss on top of your head.

"I'll try." You sigh. "It's just hard to relax, knowing what this drought can bring. Fires terrify me."

"I know baby. But look." Jaejoong says, pointing to the TV. "They're calling for rain tomorrow. Be optimistic." He smiles.

When you woke up in the morning, you looked outside, desperately hoping to see a great sky and a downpouring of rain. Hell, you'd even welcome a thunderstorm if the sky was so pleased. But when you pulled back that curtain, you were instantly disappointed, seeing the bright blue sky, the sun shining and a record high temperature for today.

A few days later you came home from work, your anxiety still high and not a cloud in sight. You were exhausted. You unlocked your front door, your eyes heavy, your feet dragging. You slipped off your heels at the front door, dropped your purse as you shuffled to the kitchen.

"Babe?" Jaejoong calls out.

"Here." You sigh, grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge.

"Ah." He says, taking the wine from your hand. "I've got a surprise for you." He smiles, placing the bottle down and grabbing your hand. He pulls you out of the kitchen, through the living room, heading right for the bathroom.

He opens the door, and you see it. Rose petals scattered around the tub and inside, candles surround the tub and on the counters, bubbles in your already run bath, along with a nice big glass of alcohol waiting for you.

He helps you undress, holding your hand as you climb into the bath, melting into the warm water, your sore muscles finally loosening up.

"What would I do without you?" You sigh, sinking deeper into the tub.

"I don't know, probably suffer." He laughs, winking at you before he pours you a glass of wine, handing you the large, full glass.

"Thank you." You pout, taking a large sip of the bitter beverage.

"Anytime babe." He smiles. "Do you want to talk?" He asks.

"I just can't shake it." You sigh, sinking into the tub a little more.

"Anxiety?" He asks.

You nod your head. "I just know something bad is coming. I hate not knowing what exactly or how to prepare for it." You sigh.

"Come find me when you're done in here. I have something to show you." He smiles, leaving the bathroom to let you unwind in peace.

He truly was the best.

You really did try to enjoy your bath, but your brain won't shut off long enough to let you enjoy it. You needed to know what he had to show you, and you needed to know now.

You climbed out of the tub, grabbing your robe and speed walking to the living room where Jaejoong was sitting on the couch, Flipping through the channels.

"Done already?" He chuckles.

"I need to know." You pout, which makes him laugh harder.

"Follow me." He says, walking towards your shared bedroom. He lays on his belly, pulling out a large black duffle bag. "This." He pauses, patting the bag. "Is my emergency bag, Well, our emergency bag."

He looks at you as you feel the tears well in your eyes. "I know your anxiety about fires, earthquakes, or whatever unpredictable natural disaster is bad, so I'm hoping this might help ease it a little." He smiles.

"What's all in it?" You sniffle.

"Clothes for you and I for a week. Cash, copies of important documents, important photos. There are water and non-perishable snacks in the car. We're set baby, just in case."

Right then the tears pour from your eyes. How did you get so lucky to be with someone so caring? He seemed to always know just the right way to ease your fears, you truly were the luckiest.

"Due to unusually strong winds, the fires have begun to spread, making their way across fields and heading into the cities. Firefighters are working diligently on containing the blaze and in trying to put it out. Please keep updated on the situation. This is your 1 o'clock update."

You click off the sound to the tv, your hands shaking as you pull out your phone, calling Jaejoong.

"Hi baby." He answers, calmly.

"They're coming into the city Jae." You whisper.

"Take a breath baby. Give me a second." He says. You can slightly hear his voice muffled as you chew on your nails, something you did when your anxiety was getting the best of you.

"Baby?" He asks.

"Yeah." You respond, your eyes watching the videos the new channel was playing of the fires.

"I'm on my way, okay?"

"You can't.. you have to work." You whisper.

"You are more important. I know your anxiety baby, I'm on my way." He says. "I'll be home in 10 minutes."

Over the next few days, Jaejoong stayed home with you, doing what he could to try and ease your fears but it wasn't easy. As the fires rapidly spread, your anxieties seemingly got worse. Your biggest fear of having to evacuate and leave your house and all your items was not something you wanted to have to do.

Yes they were all material and could easily be replaced but it was the fear. The fear of leaving and not knowing whether or not you were even going to have somewhere to come back to.

That night you and Jaejoong went to bed with your go bag ready, just in case you needed to leave in the middle of the night.

When you woke in the morning, the two of you sat on the couch, watching the news, watching the fires burn all the houses, shops and farms. You watched as you saw your neighborhood flash across the screen, telling you to prepare to evacuate, that if they cannot contain the flames, one of your worst fears is going to come true.

You burst into tears, the fear was just too much. Jaejoong pulls you into his arms, cradling you as you whimper into his chest.

"Shh, love. Shh." He tries to sooth you. "Whatever comes, we will deal with. As long as we're both healthy and together, we can overcome anything."

You try to take a few deep breaths through the tears, trying to compose yourself. "I know.. it's just so scary." You whisper.

"I know but we can do this. We will come out stronger than ever." He soothes.

For hours, you lay in his arms, waiting for the knock on the door telling you to leave, but it never comes. You had fallen asleep on Jaejoong who had eventually softly woken you up, whispering that the firefighters had contained the fire.

"We're safe now." He whispers, as you doze off again with a smile on your face.

A few months later, everything in the past had just seemed like a very bad dream. You and Jaejoong were as strong as ever, and you hadn't ever been so happy.

"It was all very cliché." You laugh, looking over at Jaejoong. You were at a dinner party with some old and new friends who had asked how the two of you met all those years ago. It was one of your favorite stories to tell. You loved to reminisce about the day you met the man you were planning on spending your life with.

"I got into the cab and he slid in at the same time on the other side." You smile. "We both laughed and offered it to each other. Then he asked me where I was going and it just so happened that we were headed near each other. So we both took the cab to the middle point between our destinations." You say.

"I asked for her number before she walked away. I was wanting to take her out that night." He laughs, shaking his head, embarrassed. "But she rejected me for that night. She gave me her number and told me to call her the next day because she needed to think about it." He laughs.

You put your head in your hands and shake your head as you remember the encounter like it was yesterday.

"You really had to think about it?" A woman laughs, looking at Jaejoong.

"He was a stranger! I couldn't just say yes, he might have wanted to just kidnap me." You laugh, along with everyone else.

"You two are adorable." Someone huffs." So how long have you been together?"

"Together for 6 years." You say, with a smile, looking over at Jaejoong who was now rolling his eyes, with a smirk on his face.

"Any plans to get married?" Someone asks.

"You'll have to ask him, he's the one who's gotta do the proposing. I'm always ready." You say, patting his back.

"I plead the fifth." He jokes. "I will, sometime. That's all I can say for now." Jaejoong smiles. "If there's one thing I know in this life though, it's that there is no one i would rather face my fears with, than this woman right here." He finishes, leaning over to kiss your head, placing his hand on your knee and squeezing.

That was a signal from him, one that the two of you had come up with some time ago to tell each other you 'I love you' without saying it in so many words.

Jaejoong made your heart skip a beat, even though the two of you had been together for so long. Sometimes relationships can fizzle out, the spark dies or people lose interest but neither of you had. You both only had eyes for each other. Yes you may have little arguments sometimes, but he was never one to go to bed angry, or without a kiss. He will never leave the house without telling you he loves you at least once, or telling you how important you are to him. He was always there through your tough times, your fears and anxiety and never once does he complain. Instead,d he does whatever he can to soothe you and calm you down. You never knew men like him existed, but they do and you were so lucky you managed to get one of the good ones.

#tvxq #jaejoong #kim jaejoong #fluff #tvxq fluff #kpop #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic

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