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ghostofbambifanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Part 1 of ?????

Started writing this fic a while ago and then lost faith in it. Should I continue? Feel bad for not posting much lately so I thought I'd share this. Read on and weigh in.

COME OUT TONIGHT

You don't have to fucking shout?

Said the pot to the kettle?

Oh you grandmother The caps were an accidental by-product of voice-to-text Blame Siri if you're going to blame anyone

You have a Samsung Galaxy S20.

HAD. It got smashed. Worst luck. Listen, come out with me tonight.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm tired!

https://www.boots.com/wellness/vitaminsandsupplements/vitamins-supplements-shop-by-ingredient/echinacea

Hah (indifferent)

Just come out with me! Isaac has to go see some godawful student performance of the Antigone in wherever the fuck Chichester is and it's Sirius's flatmate's birthday party so I have to go and I don't know any of his weird mates

You don't HAVE to go.

Have to/want to Semantics

I'm not in a birthday party mood. I'm having a stressful week. My arse has been tense since Tuesday.

I will wade into the deep and massage your arse if I have to, just come It's a swank pad in Belgravia! I bet they'll have all sorts of expensive nibbles!

I read that as expensive nipples.

Those too!

Partying it up with the children of wealthy Tories. Sounds super fun.

Just come out with me, for fuck I'll pick you up at 7 and we can steal their silverware if it's boring as the grave

URGH I'll go but I'm NOT dressing up!

You don't have to dress up!

FINE!

take the drawings down please i'm begging you i'm actually begging you

Nah mate

siriusssssssss pleeeeeease

Nah

PLEASE

Nah

PLEASE ffs it's MY birthday!!!! there are going to be PEOPLE there! standing around! AT EYE LEVEL

I don't see what the problem is.

EVERYONE will see what the problem is! they literally will not be able to IGNORE what the problem is!

Sounds like a recipe for lively discussion to me tbh

that is NOT what i want people talking about at my birthday!

If I take them down, I'll have to take all the nails out and that'll leave nail marks all over the walls. It would be unsightly.

MORE UNSIGHTLY THAN YOUR DICK, SIRIUS?

My dick is bewitching.

DIE

She walks in expecting to find herself the infiltrator of a Made in Chelsea/Royal Ascot/Henley Regatta netherworld, filled with a gaggle of giggling, SW-postcode socialites wielding suspiciously powder-edged Harrods Amex cards in the place of horses and boats, but that's not what actually greets her on the other side of the lacquered front door.

What greets her is really quite ordinary.

Aside from the naked drawings of Kingsley's mate, which aren't.

Otherwise, the whole affair is pretty relaxed. People her age are clustered in their small groups, swigging beers. There's a table of oven-heated party foods, salty snacks and rapidly depleting ramekins of guac. She spies more band shirts than there are dress shirts. There's a round of Fortnite in full swing on the TV.

It's all just...startlingly normal. A normal birthday party.

And that's sort of embarrassing, really.

Where are all the visible Tory toffs, she wonders? Where is the braying laughter? The Eton alumni reunion? The glimpse of hunting-happy tweed and shotgun barrels as a coat cupboard door swings shut? Where's the indelible air of sneering superiority, of "we're richer and more privileged and better than you, so fuck the NHS and death to foxes!" that she'd been expecting? There's a fucking Henry Hoover in the corner of the hall, for Christ's sake. Lily came here to smile through her teeth at them all, to listen to the champagne problems privilege that bubbled from their lips and tell herself that she was the one who knew better, who thought better. Her plain white tee and skinny jeans and scuff-toed, high-top trainers were supposed to be a statement, a subtle setting-apart, but she's not even the most underdressed person in the room.

She pre-judged a house full of people. What's that about?

There's a lesson to be found in this. Perhaps.

James covered all of the dicks in Paw Patrol stickers that he bought from the newsagent on his way home from his mum's, but Sirius peeled them all off while he was taking a soothing lavender bath, so what's the bloody point in birthdays anyway?

It's early in the evening, and he's wedged—against his will—between the dining room bar and Shane Ruttle, who has just pointed at one of the many lamentable dicks and asked, "Is this one of yours?" which James kind of wants to thump him for. It's bad enough that he looks like a madman who stuffed his house with naked drawings of his brother, now people are actually assuming that he drew the damn things, even though most of the compositions are appallingly far beneath his skill level. He's a professional illustrator, for the love of god, and Shane is really standing before him like the posturing prick he is, asking him if he's the one who drew Sirius with one arm disproportionately longer than the other.

He knows that he should cheer up.

It is his birthday. There is cake.

Good cake, too, not the kind that gets buried in too-thick fondant that he has to pick off before he can eat what's underneath.

The problem is, there's also a party, and his friends are his friends, Peter and Sirius included, and Peter and Sirius can both get drunk much faster than James can. When Peter and Sirius get drunk, serious injuries tend to follow, Remus tends to fuck off in a flash and James tends to be the one who calls for an ambulance or mothers them back to health—physical, mental or otherwise. He has just turned twenty-six, and these repeated, drunkenly dramatic medical emergency scenes are starting to wear a little thin.

Can't a man get comfortably drunk and have a laugh at his own birthday party?

No, he can't, because Peter's already halfway to trashed, wobbling unsteadily towards the French doors that lead to the terrace, wearing that look on his face that says I'm definitely going to vomit or maybe even shit myself like I did on that one night we all spent in Munich with the Belgian handball team and the creepy tour guide who couldn't keep his sleazy hands to himself. For the sake of sparing the lawn such a punishment, James hastily removes himself from Shane, grabs Peter by the collar, shoves him in the direction of the downstairs loo and retreats to the safety of the living room, where there are, at least, no naked drawings of Sirius gracing the walls.

Most of the people in here are transfixed by Saffy Stephens, who is down to the last three in her Fortnite game and cursing like a sailor, but there are a small pile of birthday cards on the end table where James and Sirius normally keep their keys. He perches on the sofa arm, sets his half-drunk beer bottle on the carpet, pushes his dark, disheveled hair away from his forehead and begins leafing through them. It's a necessity when one lives with Sirius, who thinks nothing of swiping gift cards when the mood strikes him and he's had enough to drink.

They're mostly from his female friends, and all pretty standard, until he reaches the middle of the pile and finds a card bearing a picture of a moustached tabby and the caption: Have a Purr-fect Birthday!

The inscription inside is written in a lovely, swirling hand.

To Jasper/Jack/Jason/maybe Ja Rule?/J-something idk

(see above: everything I've learned about you from the friend* I came here with, verbatim)

(*who can't remember your name)

Happy Birthday! Thank you for (not) specifically inviting me, a stranger, to your party to celebrate this momentous event in your life. Please enjoy this festive card/social nicety/convention from me to you. My friend brought rum which you may prefer.

I'll be around. Not that you'll know.

James lowers the card and twists on the sofa arm at once, eyes darting around the room in search of its author, as if they might be laying in wait to watch him read it and see how he reacts. Nobody appears to have ducked behind the couch, however, so the situation merits further scrutiny.

Obviously, he needs to meet this person.

A mystery! At his birthday party!

He perks right up after that.

She's coming out of the downstairs loo when a short, blonde man in a garish Hawaiian shirt barrels past her and pukes all over the chequerboard tiled floor, narrowly missing her jeans.

"Oh no," he moans into his wet hands. "Oh no—"

"There there, mate," says Lily consolingly, never one to judge somebody for getting drunk early at a party. She pats him on the back before squeezing past him and rejoining Kingsley, who is standing in one of this meandering Georgian house's many hallways, chatting to a bloke in a houndstooth sweater vest and holding two glasses of something very, very sparkly that she must try at once.

"It's like...it's like everything and nothing at the same time," Houndstooth Bloke is saying when Lily draws close, gesturing to a huge canvas painting of a rain-soaked fairground at night.

"Is it?" Kingsley asks.

"Mmm. Very." Houndstooth shakes his shoulders like he's slipping out of a robe. "Meant to be esoteric, I suppose."

That sounds suspiciously like pretentious bullshit to Lily, who doesn't find the concept of a merry looking fairground all that difficult to absorb. Kingsley knows more about the art world than she does, but he must agree with her assessment because he grunts and shoves her glass into her hand when she stops beside him, and more roughly than she deserves, as if she's the one who landed him in this mess of a conversation to begin with.

Trust him to find himself stuck with the only dick (not etched by a 4B Steadtler graphite pencil) in the building, and trust her to be stuck with the person who got himself stuck with King.

"What are we talking about?" she asks brightly, just to fuck with him.

"Drink your champagne, there's a good little hen," King mutters, his teeth clenched together, hallway lights bouncing off the smoothly waxed dome of his bald head.

"We've been discussing this piece." Houndstooth nods to the painting, but his limpid eyes narrow on Lily's face. "Christ, you're very redheaded, aren't you?"

It's decided. She'll wait 'til Houndstooth is drunk and trip him up with Henry Hoover's hose.

"Ergo soulless, yes," she agrees.

"And you...enjoy that?" he asks, as if being redheaded is her profession.

"Very much, thanks."

"Hmmp. Well. I came here with Saffron," he announces, pronouncing it Sef-ron. As if Lily is supposed to know who that is. "Platonically, of course. Actually, we're some sort of cousins, I think. What do you think the artist is trying to convey?"

He's very pointedly asking her, so Lily blinks at the painting, her eyes on the outstretched arm of a child on the carousel.

"I like the pretty colours," she decides aloud.

"Right," says Houndstooth, "but that's not—"

"And the lights, too. The lights are really pretty."

"But—"

"I love funfairs, actually," she brightly continues, finding a strange satisfaction in playing dumb in front of Houndstooth and his overbleached fade. Although she does really like the colours. "Haven't been to one in years!"

"Yes, good, whatever, but what is the artist trying to convey?"

"What artist?" comes a voice from behind them.

Lily glances over her shoulder and finds herself looking up at the man whose penis she's spent the past thirty minutes avoiding eye contact with, though he is taller, better proportioned and infinitely more beautiful than any of those crudely drawn depictions could possibly convey. He is also beplumed and bejewelled like a pirate, wearing a sumptuous velvet jacket over a loose white shirt, numerous rings on his fingers and an assortment of silver chains around his slender neck, while his grey eyes and elegantly high-set cheekbones are framed by a tumble of black hair that genuinely looks like silk.

The man is so beautiful, in fact, that Lily immediately wonders why he's been taking sketches home from the life drawing class that he and Kingsley pose for—hence their acquaintance and Lily's presence at this party—when nothing she's seen tonight has done him any justice.

Most happily, his penis is tucked safely out of sight.

"Alright, Sirius?" says King.

"Alright, Marvel?" Sirius claps a hand to the taller man's massive shoulder. Kingley's muscles bulge in a way that cannot be hidden by modern habiliments. "What are we talking about?"

"Not much." Houndstooth looks put out by the arrival of yet another person. "We were just mesmerised by this piece."

Lily refrains from gesturing to the painting with both hands and a "ta-dah!" choosing instead to sip her champagne.

It's very good champagne. Mmm. Yes.

"Oh, yeah, it's really something," Sirius agrees. He brushes past Kingsley and runs a finger over the illegible squiggle of a signature on the canvas. His nails are beautifully manicured. "Local guy, young up-and-comer. I assume you've heard of Algernon?" he asks Houndstooth, fixing him with a steely-eyed stare.

"Er, yes." Houndstooth's gaze slides from Sirius to the painting. "I know him."

Sirius's eyebrows lift. "Know him personally?"

"Well—"

"That's so weird, I heard he never speaks to people."

Houndstooth chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the challenge. "How…funny."

"Funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I know I've spoken to him before, and since you've bought his painting I assumed that you'd have—"

"That is funny, actually," Sirius interrupts, "because the artist is my brother, and Algernon is the name of his cat."

Kingsley has been tugging on his earring and almost rips it out of his ear as his body convulses, champagne spraying from his nostrils, while an alarming red flush sweeps across Houndstooth's face and he begins to sputter on his own self-importance. Sirius has clearly decided that he's done with all of that noise, however, because he turns back to Lily instead, looking her up and down with great and sudden interest.

"Who's this then?" he asks Kingsley, cocking his head to one side. "James's present?"

The champagne glass swings down and Lily fixes him with a deadpan stare. "Excuse me?"

Sirius slants a grin at Kingsley, a quick flash of teeth. "This one's queenly, isn't she?"

Kingsley wipes his nose with the back of his hand and laughs again. "Hardly."

"This is Primark, mate," Lily retorts, tugging on her t-shirt.

"Queenliness is a state of mind," says Sirius, "not a state of wardrobe."

"You had me marked down as a prostitute not ten seconds ago."

"Oh, that. I was only joking," he sighs, and grips her arm at the elbow, his long fingers cool against her skin. "But still, you're far too attractive to stand here talking to this clown. Come with me and I'll find you someone better."

James's friends are useless.

And drunk. Useless and drunk—or sort of drunk, in Saffy's case. Remus is certainly already pissed, but Remus is on meds so often that he drinks but once in a blue moon. One cocktail is usually enough to set him off, and he's been hard at the gin since he turned up with Peter at six.

"I don't know anyone with those initials," Saffy declares, once she has read, examined and even sniffed the birthday card for clues. "Except for Lisa Edelstein."

"Who's Lisa Edelstein?"

"Cuddy from House," says Remus, lowering the negroni from which he has been drinking deeply.

James pulls a face. "What the fuck is a Cuddy?"

"Oh, actually, it could mean le?" Remus suggests.

"Yes!" Saffy points at him like he might be onto something. "Like the French word for the?"

"Exactly, like—"

"It doesn't mean that!" James interrupts, unwilling to allow such profanity in his home. "That doesn't make sense, why would somebody sign their name as the?"

"Now you're asking me to explain how French people think?" says Saffy derisively, adjusting her bra strap beneath that burnt orange waistcoat she loves, the one that makes her look like she's directing a pornographic movie in the 70s when she pairs it with her tortoiseshell-framed aviators. It clashes wildly with her electric blue buzz-cut. "Am nooooo drunk enough for that."

"They could be one of those one word moniker pop stars, I suppose," Remus pipes up, smiling slyly. "You know, like Madonna?"

They think James doesn't realise that they're taking the piss out of him, but neither of them are sober enough to attempt their gambit with any kind of subtlety or grace.

"You know that's actually her real Christian name?" says Saffy.

Remus turns towards her with interest. "What, Madonna?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Saffy repeats. "I thought it couldn't possibly be her real name because, I mean, Madonna, yeah? But then I looked it up and apparently that's the name her mummy gave her, just goes to show—"

"I'm sorry," James interrupts, "but is Madonna relevant to this conversation?"

"Yes, always," says Saffy.

"She's an international pop megastar," Remus seconds.

James stares at his friend incredulously. "Drinking really chips away at your wit, y'know?"

"Does it?" Remus grins lazily and jiggles his cocktail in the air. "Oh, well, I'm negronly joking."

Saffy does a spit-take without the spit and clings helplessly to Remus's shoulder as she laughs, knees buckling, bangles tinkling, but James fights his own urge to start snickering.

"It's not that funny," he lies, and Remus eyes him with an alarmingly teacher-like shrewdness, despite the tellingly intoxicated flush that has crept into his thin, freckled face.

James's love of puns is tragically well known.

"You didn't get it." Remus points at his drink. His speech is starting to slur. "This is a negroni, what I said was—"

"Yeah, I got that part, I just—"

"Jesus fuck, look at her!" Saffy suddenly hisses, staggering sideways into Remus and sending him into the wall in a flurry of giggles—Remus giggling?—her voice hushed and urgent. "Who the hell is that?!"

James does look, following the direction of Saffy's gaze. Sirius has just entered the living room, casually clutching the elbow of a……

……goddess.

An actual. Like. Goddess.

A goddess. In James's house. In his living room. In the place where he eats his chocolate boulder cereal and rewatches Scrubs (even season 9, which is hilarious, and very unfairly disparaged by Joe Public) on Saturday mornings.

She's a goddess. A real one, and cleverly disguised as a mortal, sure, with her slouchy white t-shirt and her big hoop earrings and her light blue jeans that are torn at the knees, wearing her shoulder-length red hair half up, half down and slightly messy, but that doesn't hide what she is.

"Oh my god," he murmurs. His heart is pounding all of a sudden, which is so...utterly bloody stupid, but Saffy's right, bloody look at her, Jesus fuck.

"Surely she can't be with Sirius?" Saffy murmurs back.

"No, she—" He watches Sirius lean down to mutter something in the redhead's ear. A ghost of a laugh flits across her beautiful face. "She's not his—he isn't—"

"D'you think—"

"No, I—"

"Good," says Saffy firmly. She lets go of Remus and rises, lengthening her spine. It is a battle stance of some sort, presumably. "Because I saw her first."

"No!" James cries, wounded, and the redhead shoots him a curious look with a pair of eyes that are startlingly emerald green, even from all the bloody way over here. He spins to face Saffy and lowers his voice, face burning. "It's my house!"

"What are you arguing here, ownership rights?"

"No but it—it's my birthday!" James retorts, jabbing at his own chest. "And, actually, and—"

"It's in the bloody post!"

"—you didn't get me a present!" he finishes in triumph, not that he knows what he's arguing for, because the likelihood is that his tongue will glue itself to the roof of his mouth if he even dares to look in her direction one more time. "Plus I set you up with Vanya Petrich, with whom, as I recall, you enjoyed four years—"

"Stop throwing that in my face!"

"—four blissful years—"

"Is it my fault that you've never fancied any girl I've set you up with?!"

"—promised me an Easter ham for setting you up with her and I never got it—"

"So now you'll trade a woman for a ham?" Saffy accuses, though her face is too lit up, her brown eyes too crinkled at the corners—she's having fun with this and she isn't going to fool him and she knows it. "That's so low, even—"

"Don't start with that," James scathingly cuts in. "You offered me Sean Connery's autograph for Bonnie Grogan's number—"

"Which you never gave me!"

"Because you forged the bloody signature!"

"And now she's bloody married!"

"Yeah, well, Isabella wouldn't give me a counterfeit present, would she?" he retorts, and Saffy lets her shoulders drop, smirking. "This is pointless, Saf, we can't—"

"She's just left with Sirius," Remus informs them, and burps.

#Jily #Part 1 #Of 3?#Honestly I just wanted to give you guys a treat

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rons-hermiones · 4 years ago

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Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Forty Two

Ron goes back to his room with a lot on his mind.

He hopes he doesn’t let it show because Hermione always has been and always will be inquisitive. The second she realizes something’s off she won’t be shy about asking him about it.

And he’s always been a shite liar and she’s always been persistent and both of those things are amplified given their current situation. He isn’t even sure he could lie to her again if he tried.

“She’s always just wanted you Ron.”

Harry’s word plays over and over with every step he climbs up to the attic.

Admittedly, Ron’s been nothing short of emotional as of late and he knows Harry wouldn’t play with his feelings or get his hopes up. Especially now.

When he faces his door he does his best to drop all the selfish thoughts he has about Hermione wanting him. About her admitting as much to him as the two of them live out the rest of their days not only as best friends, but as lovers.

Shaking his head, he takes a deep breath and wipes his sweaty palms on his jean clad legs.

Healer appointment. Focus on the healers appointment.

With that last thought, he turns the brass knob and pushes his creaking door open.

Thankfully, Hermione’s awake and looks better than she did when he left. He was afraid she was going to be sick last time he saw her. The look of disgust and the palness across her features after repeating Bellatrix’s words was an image pungent in his mind.

However, now she looks calmer. Her nose is in a book, the book he gifted her no less, as Narcissa sits behind her and gently strokes her hair which is now in a loose plait.

“Hey.” He says softly.

She peers up from the text and offers a shaky smile. Though it seems forced, the look in her brown eyes lets him know she’s grateful for his presence and that alone makes him feel like he can do anything.

Soon Harry appears from behind him, breaking whatever trance he and Hermione were locked into.

“Hello.” The Chosen One says a bit stiffly, no doubt because of the fourth person in the room. “Did Ron tell you the plan?” He asks aloud.

The ginger inwardly groaned at his abruptness, “I was getting to that, thank you.”

“What plan?” Narcissa asks as Hermione also perks up.

“Just that Harry will stay at The Burrow with Narcissa while you and I go to your appointment. This way he can keep Mum from poking around.” Ron says casually, knowing the subject of her going to St. Mungo was a bit sensitive ever since she found out about her magic. Or rather, lack thereof.

“Very well.” Narcissa says slipping out from behind Hermione and rising from the bed. “Do you mind if I use the loo before the lot of you leave? Two footsteps will be less suspicious when there are three of you up here.” She says.

Weasley flicks his eyes to an annoyed looking Harry before he sighs aloud.

“Alright, I’ll show you.” He agrees half heartedly as he walks out of the room.

Once they leave Ron shuts the door softly before stepping further into the room and sitting at the edge of his bed, by her sock covered feet.

“Your hair looks pretty.” He tells her.

At this, Hermione twinges pink as her uninjured nimble fingers softly caress the intricately woven hair.

He swallows, willing himself to ask what he needs to say, “Are you ready for the appointment?”

The blush immediately leaves her cheeks as her entire face turns a ghostly white.

“Mione.” He says sadly, placing his hand gently on her uncasted calf and giving it a small squeeze.

Suddenly her nose scrunches as a small sniffle sounds.

“No, come on, please don’t. It’ll be alright I swear.” She tips her head down, “Hey, you’re still as much of a witch as you ever were.”

Hermione’s eyes remained trained on the orange quilt. Gently, Ron reaches out and tips her chin up with two fingers.

“How many witches or wizards, for that matter, can say that they’ve gotten all O’s? Or how many underage wizards have apparated without a license, without so much as a lesson? Not even Dumbledore.”

At this she lets out a watery chuckle. It sounds strangled, but it’s something.

“There she is.” He smiles as her eyes finally meet his. His face turns serious, as he goes on, “No witch or wizard can say they’ve endured the Cruciatus Curse as much as you and still be alive, to still be brilliant. And besides Harry, not many can say they even survived You-Know-Who.” The voice grew quiet hoping his words wouldn't upset her, but help her realize how special she is.

A few tears leak out of her eyes but after a moment she bites her lip hard and slowly nods.

“Brightest Witch of Our Age.” He whispers softly as he leans in close to her.

At the feeling of his breath tickling the loose strands of her hair she allows her eyes to flutter shut as she revels in him.

The smell of him, the feel of him.

The feeling of the boy- no man she’s come to love.

It’s strange really, when did her brave Gryffindor keeper, once a little boy whose biggest fear was spiders and greatest desire was to be locked alone in Honeydukes, become a man?

Somehow it just makes her realize she loves him even more than she thought possible.

That’s why this appointment was so important.

It was the one thing giving her hope to one day talk again, so that she could talk so much he’d get tired of her. That she could work up the courage to share her experiences, but also tell him thank you.

Tell him “I love you’.

Sighing, so her breath mingles with his, she leans forward and presses her forehead gently against his. Letting him know she hears him, that she’s grateful for his words.

In turn, he presses against her, shifting one hand to her hair to hold her more firmly, but still gently against him.

One of her shaking hands works its way to his cheeks as she speaks, “R-ready.” She promises.

They wish they could stay in this moment forever.

...

Mr. Weasley had taken some time off of work to drive Hermione and Ron into London.

She felt terrible she drew him away from such important duties on her behalf, only growing her frustrations about not being able to travel more efficiently.

Of course Ron had sensed her guilt when his father mentioned as much. He was becoming rather inquisitive these days. So, he took Hermione’s hand in the back seat and whispered to her that she was the most important thing right now to him and his family.

Though the comment made her blush like mad and didn’t do a whole lot to ease the fact she felt like a burden, she just nodded.

It’s not like she could say much anyway.

However, what it did make her think of was something else. A terrible thought, if you ask her.

The fact of the matter is, it shouldn’t be Ron’s father driving her to St. Mungo’s, it should be hers.

And if they were alive right now, she’s sure that would be the case. Her father behind the wheel and her Mum in the passenger seat. She was never one for driving through London traffic.

God she missed them.

She missed them so much that they seemed to be everywhere.

When they pass a fabric shop on the way in, she’s reminded of how much her Mum loved to sew. Or when they were at a stop light and on the corner was a father buying his young daughter an ice cream cone, she’s reminded of when her father would do the same with her at the park by her house.

Her house. She misses that too.

She misses the memories there. She misses what she used to know she was coming home to.

Her parents.

Now it was just full of things.

Full of things that she wanted. Things that represented her parents and things that they loved.

Things that would help her feel closer to them.

If she even deserves to feel that way. Wherever they are, they’re probably ashamed to have her as a daughter.

She’s a liar. She got them killed. They died because she was caught up in the magical world and now she can’t even cast a bloody charm anymore.

None of this was worth it.

Hermione’s doing her best not to cry. Knowing if she does, Ron will surely comfort her, something she doesn’t deserve.

She doesn’t deserve to be told her parents loved her and that they’d be proud of her and everything she’s done. Because even if that were true, her parents shouldn’t think that of her.

Not after all she’s done.

Whether it's a good or bad thing, her thoughts come to a stand still, as does the car, as it pulls up to St. Mungo’s.

Arthur turns in the drivers seat to look at the teens, “Alright, Ronnie you help Hermione out, I’ll open the door.” He instructs his son.

Complying, Ron unbuckles his seat belt and goes to the boot to take out her chair. At first he struggles to unfold it, but soon he gets it as he wheels it to her now open door, thanks to his Dad.

Bending down and into the back seat he looks at her, noting the far off look in her eyes, but choosing not to comment. He’d fear this would happen.

“I’ll lift you alright? Only for a moment, just don’t want you to get hurt.” He tells her, knowing how much she must hate needing all this help, even though no part of him minds giving it to her.

She nods slowly, awaiting his embrace.

When it comes, she grips onto his jumper tightly during the transition before being placed down effortlessly on her new companion, which she loathed.

Hopefully this visit won’t be a total bust and they’ll give her crutches at the very least.

Ron grabbed the handles and began guiding her through the front doors as his father followed next to them. Once inside, Arthur stopped, turning to face the pair.

“Would it be alright if you guys headed up on your own? Kingsley told me earlier he’d be here to help work on an appeal for Hermione’s apparating underage and unlicensed fine. He needs some of your records to prove it was a necessity and I’ve got to sign off on it.” He told the pair.

Great, just another thing the Weasley’s and now Mr. Shacklebolt had to worry about.

Hermione just nodded. If the poor man was missing work to take her, at the very least she’d let him get some done here.

“Very well. Good luck. Remember, third floor Ronnie. I’ll come up when I’m done.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ron said, shooing him off as he made his way to the lift.

When they finally reach the Spell Damage ward, Ron looks as if he may be ill. Hermione supposes he spent a lot of time in this waiting room, worrying himself sick.

She contemplates reaching out and grabbing his hand to let him know it was okay, that this time she was here with him.

Just as she’s about to go through with it, she becomes distracted by two voices across from her.

A woman and a man. They look to be middle aged and the matching rings tell her what she needs to know. They’re clearly married.

“Your Mum’s signing some paperwork now, your Dad’s with her as well.” The man told her gently.

The shorter one, with glasses, nods, “I reckon we’ll need to start the arrangements won’t we?” She sniffles.

“Arrangements? What arrangements Delia?”

“The funeral for Gran. Mum will be a wreck, we should help…” The words fade as she stops listening.

Hermione’s eyes grow wide at the words as she peers up at Ron, gently tugging on his sleeve.

He looks down at her, she looks so small, so fragile, yet so gorgeous.

“W-want th-at.” She croaks with doe-like eyes.

Could this be it? Could this be the moment? She was just watching that couple snogging in the corner, after all.

“What do you want darling? Anything you need and I’ll give it to you.”

And he means it.

Weakly she points to where the two of them stood, now embracing, rather than engaged in a lip lock.

A hug? Does she want a hug?

Merlin, just ask! Don’t eff this up.

“I’m not sure I understand.” He tells her softly, definitely not the first time he’s said that to her.

“A-a,” he can tell she’s getting emotional as his stomach pulls in anticipation, “fu-funeral.” She whispers brokenly.

And shite, he wants to punch himself in the face for being such a prat and getting his hopes up in a hospital of all places, while she's grieving on top of that all!

“For your parents?” He asks knowingly.

She nods slowly, moving one hand to wipe at her eyes.

It breaks his heart.

“Alright, we can do that.” He promises her, reaching out to squeeze her hand. He would do anything she asked. “I’ll talk to Mum about it when we get back. We’ll prepare it just how you want. Something to honor your parents… and your grandmother.”

Okay, now he really wishes he punched himself in the face! That really was not at all how he intended to break that news to her, but it just sort of came out. The couple in the corner was whispering about their own grandmother and he just- ugh! He hates himself.

Her bottom lip quivers before the floodgates open.

Instantly, he crushes her best he can to his chest, quieting her cries with the front of his jumper.

“Sh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it- I-” He inhales a shaky breath, “I have the letter at home that your parents sent. They said it was peaceful, that she thought of you and that she’s with your grandfather now.”

At his words her glassy eyes grow wide again. The words offer a little comfort to her. To have something from her parents and something about her grandmother waiting for her.

Something she knows she can have.

“I’ll give it to you first thing when we get back to The Burrow.” He swears, unashamedly pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

Thankfully, he feels her nod into him, taking it as a good sign that she’s still receptive to his words.

“Hampstead.” It takes her a while to say as her voice shakes over every syllable.

“You wanna have it in Hampstead?” He tries.

She shakes her head.

“G-go.” She feels stupid, honestly. Babies can form fuller sentences then she can but she really is lacking the energy to have at it right now.

“You wanna see your house?” He whispers slowly into her ear.

Thank god Ron knows her as well as he does.

She nods.

Without a thought, he pulls her closer and responds. “Of course. I’ll talk to Dad about it. I’ll talk to my parents about everything you want, it’s the least I can do. And if they say no Mione, I promise I’ll bring you there myself darling.”

He supposes it really is a conversation he and his parents need to have, not only for travel purposes but also for Hermione’s own sake. Arthur saw her house after the attack, he needs to make sure nothing there will set her off in any way. And if there is something, he wants it gone.

Because Hermione wants to see her house and if he can give her anything, he was sure as hell going to.

And maybe because she’s exhausted both physically, from traveling, and emotionally from all she’s just found out, but she can’t bring herself to verbally thank Ron.

Instead she snakes one hand to rest on his cheek and gently places her lips there.

Her lips on his skin makes him feel warm and tingly inside. He’s briefly taken back to the first time she’s done this, before his fifth year quidditch match.

He remembers a time not too long ago where he thought that would be the closest he ever got to kissing Hermione.

Having her here like this again, he knows to never take advantage of that again.

Of her.

When she pulls back a pretty blush is on her cheeks, as he feels his own face burn red.

He offers her a grin, one that Hermione could only describe as purely Ron.

She has no choice but to offer a small, real, genuine smile in return.

“Hermione Granger!” A shrill voice calls out, ruining the moment.

He sighs, but stands up, maneuvering her chair to the mediwitch.

“Hello.” He tells the woman.

“You’re Hermione Granger?” She asks, not looking up from the clipboard, not bothering with a hello.

“Well no, she is.” He says, as if the wheelchair wasn’t a dead giveaway. Oh yeah and the fact he was a bloke.

“Will you be coming in with her?” She asks next, scrubbing something onto the parchment with her quill.

“Uh…”

“Well?” The woman finally looks at the pair, glasses pushed down to her nose as she taps her nails against the board impatiently.

Hermione nods for Ron, making him breathe a sigh in relief, he didn’t want to assume anything, but he hoped.

“Very well. This way please.” The witch says next as she walks along the corridor.

Soon enough the witch leads them to a room, which much to both Ron and Hermione’s relife, looks nothing like the one she was staying in for so long.

It’s more of a standard exam room. A high up table with a thin sheet pulled over it, a chair next to it, as well as a scale in the corner. It reminded Hermione a lot of her Muggle physician’s office.

Hermione sat idly in the chair, not even bothering with mounting the high table, waiting for the mediwitch to check her vitals, or something. After all, this was her first healing appointment.

Instead, the woman places the clipboard down and turns to them. “Healer Jamison just finished with another patient. He’ll be in soon.” With that, she leaves.

In her wake, Hermione can’t help but find the fact she didn’t examine her at all very odd. It soon dawns on her that if the unhealed bruises and cuts aren’t enough of a reminder, that her body can’t handle magic.

Before Ron can even speak to her, ask how she is, things like that, a knock sounds on the door.

After a moment, the door is pushed open. Hermione doesn’t remember him all that well, but she knows it's Healer Jamison. He’s a plump, older man, with a scruffy white beard and thin white hair to match.

“Hello Miss Granger.” He says before turning to Ron, “Mr. Weasley.” he nods.

“Hello sir.” Ron says, knowing Hermione probably felt rude for being unable to properly greet the man.

“Before we begin with anything else, I have to ask, have you been able to speak?”

Hermione gulps and shakes her head, almost in embarrassment.

“That’s alright.” The healer assures, “I’m just going to take a look at your throat. Better for us to be safe.”

In acknowledgment, Hermione nods, knowing what this entails. However, instead of pulling out a flashlight, the man lights a lumos on the tip of his wand.

“Open.” He tells her.

The brunette does as she’s asked, sticking her tongue out as far as it can go so he can get a good look. After a moment, he seems satisfied, because he pulls his wand away and she closes her mouth.

“There’s a bit of phlegm building up in there. Have you been having trouble breathing?” He asks her.

She shakes her head.

“Alright, if you notice, please come in immediately. Also, keep an eye out if you begin coughing every now and again, but there’s nothing to worry about right now.”

Yeah, except for the fact I can’t even string along a sentence.

Next, Jamison checked her cuts and bruises. He redressed a few wounds and put new bandages on the nastier ones. After, he asked her about her leg and arm, both in casts, asking her to hold up a number from one to five on how bad the pains were.

Ron’s chest tightens when she holds up a five.

“Now, for the next part of the exam, I’m afraid this is going to be a bit of a risk.”

“Risk?” Ron asks as Hermione goes stiff.

“Yes. I need to perform a scan to check on the remnants of dark magic in her system.” He says to Ron before directing his attention back to Hermione. “Our hope is that some of your cells killed it off, but we can’t be sure. The scan doesn’t require a lot of magic on my end, therefore a lot won’t be put into your body Miss Granger, but there is a possibility it could do a lot of damage. Do you consent to a scan?”

Ron turns to look at her, hoping she’ll refuse.

Of course she doesn’t.

“Y-yes.” She chokes out.

Jamison seems pleased with her words and the fact she spoke aloud.

“Very well. Give me a moment to page Healer Evangeline. We’ll need another professional in the room just in case.” With that, he exited.

“Mione.” Ron moaned painfully, not even being able to fathom the thought of her hurt or worse again.

She looks at him and frowns.

She had to say yes. He knows that. He knows how much her magic means to her, he just wishes things were different.

“I know. I know, I just- I don’t wanna see you hurt love, not again.” Never again.

Hermione reaches over and squeezes his hand. Trying to let him know she’ll be okay. Deep down he knows she will be too, she’s too strong to let a medical scan best her.

At least he hopes.

Not even a moment later another knock sounds as Jamison walks in with a younger looking woman with dark brown hair and glasses perched at the end of her nose. She looks vaguely familiar.

“Hello Miss Granger. I’m Healer Evangeline, we worked a bit together but you were pretty out of it.” She tells the girl.

Hermione likes her, she seems sweet.

“Hello Ron.” She adds after the fact.

Ron waves weakly, too stressed about what could happen to form coherent words.

“Now, we’ve discussed the risks, but one thing I can assure you is that you’re going to feel very tired after, alright?” Jamison informs, making Hermione nod weakly. “Mr. Weasley, would you mind laying Miss Granger down on the table?”

Ron complies, gently lifting her onto the scratchy sheet. Once he sets her down, he grabs her hand, and she accepts by weaving their fingers together and trying to offer a smile.

He sees it falter, he knows she’s as scared as he is.

“Alright, are you ready for me to begin?” The older man asks.

Reluctantly Hermione nods, as her grip on Ron’s hand tightens.

The edge of Jamison's wand lights a tealish color as the light stretches forward and works its way up Hermione’s body.

Upon the impact she jumps slightly as her eyes shut tightly and her face contorted in pain.

“Stop!” Ron roared.

Evangeline placed a hand on his shoulder, “it’s almost done. She’ll be fine. She’s strong.” The woman reminds him.

Trying to ground himself, Ron focuses on the feel of her hand as he begins whispering to her quietly, “Come on Mione. You’re okay, love. You got this.”

It’s eerily similar to when he’d talk to her whilst she was unctuous, when he was unsure she would ever wake again.

The thought makes him sick.

Thankfully, the light soon goes back into Jamison's wand as the room fades back to normal and Hermione’s body visibly relaxes.

“Very good.” He praises.

Meanwhile, Ron wipes some sweat from her forehead, placing a light kiss in his hands wake. “You’re brilliant.” He whispers.

Tiredly, she looks up at him.

“I’m going to go read the results.” Jamison interrupts. “It’ll just take me a few minutes. In the meantime Healer Evangeline has some of her own examinations to perform on Miss Granger, yes?”

The woman nods, “Yes. Ron, would you mind giving us some privacy?”

While he didn’t love the idea of leaving her alone he understood some things he shouldn’t see. Like if she was checking any cuts on her chest or ribs, knowing she had broken a few. Or maybe in more personal spots.

Though she surely didn’t have an injury down there. Right? Wait, what even was Healer Evangeline’s title anyway?

“Right yeah. I’ll be right outside.” He tells Hermione more than anyone else, as he follows Jamison out of the room.

In the waiting room, he can’t help but let his curiosity get the best of him as he walks over to the information desk.

“Excuse me.” He says to the little wizard behind it.

“How can I help you sir?” He asks politely, large improvement from the mediwitch.

“Hi, I was wondering what Healer Evangeline specialized in?” He gulped, wow he sounded like a right tosser.

“Evangeline is our leading gynecologist here at St. Mungo’s!” He praised.

Ron went pale.

“Is your girl pregnant? She’s the best with stuff like that.”

“Uh- uh.” He stutters unsure what to say.

“I won’t tell, don’t worry. Good luck kid.” The man smiles before returning to his paperwork.

Slowly, Ron sauntered back over to the door. He pressed his back against the wall next to it and hunched over. He placed his hands on his knees and took a few deep breaths.

He wasn’t daft, he knew what women's healers did.

It was just standard, wasn't it? Relax Ron. Nothings wrong. You’re overthinking. Death Eaters aren’t that bad right?

Part of him knows he’s kidding himself.

Images and thoughts flash in his brain that make him think of nothing but pure murder. His fists clench at his sides as his jaw tightens.

Deep breaths Ron. Deep breaths. Just ask Mum when you go home if it's routine. Don’t freak out. Not here. Don’t do that to Hermione.

Over and over Ron told himself it was procedure until Jamison returned.

“Alright my boy?” He asked, noticing his heaving.

Taking a shaking breath Ron nodded.

Jamison furrows his brow but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he knocks on the door and after hearing a ‘come in’ from Evangeline, the pair enter.

Upon seeing Hermione again Ron eases a bit knowing she’s okay. That she’s here. That whatever they did to her they will never be able to do again.

With a flick of his wand a large image is projected of what seems to be a white outline covered in black blobs.

“Here’s your scan.”

Ron tenses, now focused on an entirely new problem.

That’s a lot of dark magic.

“Not much has changed, just the magic moving throughout your body. There has been slight improvement and it’s good news that you were able to withstand the scan today. The hope now is that as your external cuts heal, your body will then be able to exert its energy on internal matters. So while it isn’t the best news, it’s not bad either. Keep taking it easy. It is crucial that you heal in order to do magic again, alright?”

The news upsets Hermione. Like Jamison said, it's not terrible, but it’s not great. She wants to cry at the imprint Bellatrix left on her.

At the fact that she’s essentially made her into the thing she always taunted heart as being, magicless.

But right now, she’s too exhausted to even think properly, her body so spent from undergoing magic.

“I can tell you’re exhausted. If any questions come up please floo me.” Jamison comments, signaling Ron to move her to the chair.

She’s so limp in his arms, clearly fighting off sleep. Once he places her down he squats and brushes some of her hair back. “Rest now, love. It’ll be okay.” He promises.

Weakly she nods as her eyes flutter shut as her head luls to the side.

“Thank you both so much, but I reckon we should get going. I know my Mum will want to floo you Jamison so you’ll hear from us soon. I know this one will have a lot of questions as well.” he says weakly.

“Of course son, let me get the door for you.”

With another exchange of thank you’s, Ron leaves. He finds his Dad in the lobby as they walk together to the car. On the way he fills him in best he can, biting his tongue about the questions he has about Healer Evangeline. The good news is, his father says the fine for Hermione apparating without a license should be dropped within the week.

Other than that they don’t speak.

Ron just enjoys Hermione’s sleeping form across his lap as he strokes her hair. Letting the feeling be a reminder that she’s here with him.

The whole way home his thoughts are plagued by the things Hermione probably underwent in that place. Unforgivables. Starvation. Physical torment. Torture. Maybe even worse things.

It makes him sick.

He supposes the thought of not knowing almost makes it worse, like he has no choice but to theorize the worse. This is certainly something he and Narcissa will need to discuss.

Then he thinks of her wish to have a funeral.

The promise he made her of going to visit Hampstead.

He knows he should do it before Hermione wakes up, hoping it’ll take one thing off her plate. Like Jamison said, she needs to rest. To heal.

Soon enough he sees the crooked shape of The Burrow come into view as his father pulls up onto the grass.

Ron opts for carrying her into the house, not bothering with the chair. It worries him a bit that she doesn’t even stir.

“Go put her upstairs, then come down. I’m sure your Mum will want to know about the appointment.” Arthur says, clapping him on the shoulder.

Ron nods and takes the steps two at a time.

He lays Hermione in his bed gently, tucking the quilt around her.

“I’ll be back soon, darling.” He promises before going back down the steps.

When he arrives back in the living room he finds his parents talking in hushed whispers and his Mum, for whatever reason, looks right pissed. She has her arms crossed against her chest and a scowl on her face.

“Mum, Dad I need to talk to you about something.” He says gently, hoping that her anger wasn’t directed at him.

“Conveniently, I need to discuss something with you as well. Shall we go to the kitchen.” She’s not asking as she’s already pushing her way there.

Ron isn't sure why she’s so angry. He was surprised and almost a little embarrassed that she didn’t even ask about Hermione’s appointment. Nevertheless, he follows, trying to recall whatever the hell he did to piss her off.

Just last night she was praising him, telling him how proud she was of him.

His eyes bulge at the sight he’s met by, as do his fathers.

“You wanted to talk to Ronald? Let’s talk.” She bites out.

Ron’s eyes flick over to where Harry is standing, looking uncomfortable and apologetic.

He mouths a quick ‘sorry’ to his best mate. Ron ignores it, eyes too focused on the fact that standing next to Harry is Ginny and next to Ginny, is Narcissa Malfoy.

#Ron and Hermione #Ron Weasley #rons-hermiones come find me #ron x hermione #romione #romione fanfic #hp fanfic #hp #sixth year #Hermione Granger

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punkcupcakestyles · 5 years ago

Text

Sober Up

May we never go to hell - Part 1

Quick note: this is a second part to Sober Up, a story I wrote as a part of the PYPChallenge put together by the fantastic @for-fucks-sake-h @oh-honey-styles and @andwhenshesays. Here’s the Masterlist! If you have a chance please go and read, cause there are a lot of fantastic stories and give them all much needed love!

tw: drug use mention.

You were a fucking pest, he knew that much.

Why would you think it was a good idea to hang out with Steve, who was fucking wanker on his best days?

Why did he keep looking for you in a room full of people?

Fuck you, he had better stuff to do, like going back to icy cold beer, which always made him wince, and to the pretty brunette by his side. She smelled nice and smiled sweetly at him as if she actually liked him. She never rolled her big, brown eyes to him or sneered at him.

Granted, some of those he had earned, but still, she was a lot nicer than you.

But she didn’t kiss like you, with that mix of hunger and wonder that made him daydream about your lips. Her touch didn’t raise goosebumps on his skin and her laugh didn’t bubble up from the depths of her tummy, making him feel like a funny guy. He craved you, fucking hell.

But you were a pest, he kept reminding himself. He would rather go with annoyance than to admit there was a pang of pain in his chest.

If only he could stop looking at you. If only his stomach didn’t drop to his feet when he saw the way you smiled at Steve as he dropped a small plastic bag on your open palm.

“Fuck her,” Harry cursed under his breath as he took another swig of his drink. Why would he have to worry? “Fuck.”

“Is there something wrong?” The pretty girl batted her eyelashes as she tried not to sound too eager. There’s something with men and eagerness that doesn’t mix well, or so her friends kept telling her.

“I need to go to the loo,” Harry told her, smiling softly as she turned just a bit pink around her cheeks. She was fucking adorable, he had to admit that.

“Oh,” she muttered as she looked at him getting up. It would’ve been nice if he had kissed her, she thought. Maybe she would kiss him when he came back.

The initial thought was nice: to let you do whatever the fuck you wanted to do. It was what you always did, anyway. So, he would go to the loo and he would go back to his girl to get the hell out of there. He would tell her that the throbbing lights were giving him a headache.

But his feet had different plans and he found himself walking toward you even without a command. If something bad happened to you, he’d have to kill Steve anyway, and God knew he would do poorly in jail, so this was just him taking care of himself.

You almost screeched guiltily when you turned around and found Harry standing behind you, with his hands stuffed into his pockets and his lips curled into an amused smile. You stared at him for a bit, at the way the lights of the club played tricks on his creamy skin and noticed how your tummy bubbled warmly as if you were just one step away from home. You hadn’t felt like that since that morning.

“Styles,” you heard Steve’s voice ringing in the air, as you suddenly realized he hadn’t just disappeared into thin air. No, the world was still there, it was just lending all of its light to Harry. “I’ll wait for you outside.” Steve’s hands made you shiver as they pressed to your shoulders and you tore your eyes away from Harry so he wouldn’t see you as your brain shed to a million pieces. What were you thinking anyway?

“Thank you, mate, but I have plans,” Harry smirked. “Raincheck?”

“Fuck off, Styles. I meant her.”

“Oh, well, now I’m disappointed,” Harry smiled brightly as Steve rolled his eyes on his way out. Harry’s attention slowly turned back to you, and you felt flush covering your cheeks as he narrowed his green eyes.

“You really need to pay more attention to girls,” you quipped, out of habit, and just to give yourself something to do. “They keep getting away from you.”

“What’s on your hand?” He asked, breathing deeply as he decided to ignore you. He knew what you were doing, he knew you, after all.

“Fingers and nails,” you shrugged.

“Show me,” Harry said seriously, and even when you couldn’t see his face, you knew he meant it.

“Why? Do you miss them?” You smirked, tilting your head as you looked at him mockingly. You had looked down at your cards, and this was the hand that you had decided to play: the flirty one. If Harry were to admit that he indeed missed you, it wouldn’t have been too bad of an outcome.

“I get by just fine without them,” he said to your disappointment, as his hand reached for yours and he brought it up to see the little bag with the tiny pink pill on it. It was so small, it had to be harmless, right? “Wow, babe, I think you’re being a bit ambitious,” Harry mused as he took it and put it in his back pocket. “Wanna fuck Steve while high?” The words sound almost sinful while coming out of his lips, a new cadence you didn’t know they could have. You followed the way his lips moved and felt the air getting trapped on your lungs as he walked a step closer. The tips of your fingers felt almost electric and you wondered what would happen if you were to touch him right then. Would he shiver? Would he burn?

“I don’t wanna fuck Steve while sober,” you muttered.

“Then we should start a little smaller,” Harry offered and you rolled your bottom lip into your teeth and bit lightly on it.

“I thought you were gonna tell me off,” you whispered, narrowing your eyes at the unexpected turn of events.

“A little party never killed nobody.”

But not with Steve, fuck him.

***

You wouldn’t have imagined that your night was gonna end up with you and Harry hiding away in your room, as you both lay on your bed. You had dreamed about it, but never really thought it would happen after...that day.

You had been lied to about getting high, there were no fireworks, no heightened feelings that made you think like you were flying. You just felt tired.

“Steve!!” You yelled, suddenly remembering the boy you had abandoned at the club. Steve was a funny word to say: Ssssssteeeeevffff. “We left him!”

“Did you want to bring him here?”

“Not really...maybe he’ll find your girl and they’ll get together.”

“I think she deserves better.”

He was already looking at you when you hastily turned to him. You had spent the last 3 weeks trying to remember every bit you hated about Harry, but it was difficult to do so when he was staring at you and his soft lips curled into a sweet smile.

“Does she deserve you?”

“Probably, I’m a fucking catch.”

Your eyes closed slowly in agreement and you felt the bed dip as Harry rolled to his side, and a waft of his breath fanned over your skin. You opened up your eyes to peer up at him and the first thing you noticed was his pink-colored lips, so close to you you wouldn’t have to make that much effort to kiss him.

“I don’t feel anything,” you finally said. “I think it was expired.”

“Are you sure?” It was more a warning than a question, cause his hands were already traveling down your dress and his fingers were lighting little fires on your skin as he trailed them teasingly up your spine. Your lips parted as if to protest, but the only thing you managed to do was to inhale sharply as he smiled at you.

Your eyes fell closed once again, enjoying the shivers that came with his touch, and you let your tongue roll across your bottom lip. You couldn’t figure out if the fire that was already burning in your tummy was coming from the high, or was just a natural result of Harry’s touch. You were inclined to think it was the latter.

The next thing you felt was his lips, as they found the crook of your neck and nibbled softly on the delicate skin. His breath was warm and it made the little hairs on the nape of your neck stand at attention, as your fingers curled on the cotton fabric of his white shirt.

Harry was slow and careful and the tips of his fingers felt like little electric balls as they trailed up your waist and brushed up your ribs to meet the fabric of your bra. His tongue licked a stripe on your neck and his nose pushed up to your jaw as he made his way to your lips.

The second it took him to push himself off the bed and spread his legs on each side of your body to hover over you was too long and leaned forward, as the air filled with striking bolts and bubbles of energy about to burst. His usually green eyes were now multicolor shining grey and blue and golden and even purple as he looked at you and he bent down to kiss you, slowly and lavishly, exploring the taste of your lips as if he wanted it itched to his brain to remember on a rainy day.

As your fingers went to his neck to hold on to him, his own went back to exploring whatever was under your dress. Every little touch felt brand new and comfortably familiar at the same time and your legs trembled as he broke the kiss and looked at you.

Harry’s breath was heavy, tightening on his chest as your hands made their way down his torso and toyed with the button of his jeans. It was a decisive moment. If you did what every inch of your body was screaming you to do, there was no turning around.

“Sit up,” Harry commanded with a hoarse voice that sent shivers down your tummy, to add to the already pressing fire that had built between your legs. It never occurred to you to ask what he wanted, cause truth be told, you would do whatever it was. Your eyes followed him as he went to sit against the grey and plush headboard of your bed with his legs wide open. “C’mere,” he smiled, patting the space between his legs.

Under normal circumstances, you would have never crawled to him. But these weren’t normal circumstances, they never were when it came to him. So, you made your way to Harry, getting on your knees with your hands primly settled on your lap and your lips slightly parted, just in case he wanted to keep kissing you.

His fingertips burned on your skin as he curled them around the fabric of your dress and pulled it slowly over your waist. You felt yourself flush as you raised your arms for him and the dress fell onto the floor in a mess. You didn’t even need his touch at that very moment, cause the way he looked at you did things to you.

You settled down between his legs, with your back pressed to his chest and his arms around your waist, lingering over your tummy as he dipped his head down to kiss on your neck again. You closed your eyes, reveling on the way his hand brushed over your skin until it pushed down the fabric of your bra and he could close his fingers around the swell of your breast, while his other hand traveled down your stomach until it pushed past the fabric of your undies.

You quickly pushed your panties down your legs and took your bra off, feeling yourself glow in pride as he offered you a satisfied smile. His hands didn’t miss a beat, and soon, he was pinching your nipple between his fingers, just as he brushed over your slit teasingly, until he allowed his heart finger to slide between your folds and rub lightly on your clit.

“You’re fucking soaked,” he said and his words rose goosebumps on your skin, maybe because he was kissing on your neck and the warm breath from his mouth felt velvety and rich over your skin.

You were dripping, actually, and you looked at him as waves of pleasure jolted up your body and he made sure he took over every one of your senses, with his kisses and his touch, and the tortured moans that elicited out of his throat whenever you moved too close.

“Fuck me,” you begged as a new shiver ran up your legs and settled in your lower tummy. “Please.”

His smile was mischievous when he looked at you and his hot breath fanned over your skin as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, just as two of his fingers slid between your folds, pumping slowly into you so you could feel each one of its ridges.

“Like this?” His words felt heavy against your skin, dragged up with the same intense feeling that was quivering in your tummy, tightening like a little ball of pleasure and fire.

You could already tell, the high that came from this was gonna be all-consuming, demanding, and overwhelming. Cause you could feel him on every inch of your body, the echo of his kisses reaching down to your curling toes and the fire from his touch making you rock your hips against his hand so you wouldn’t miss a second of it.

“Fuck, please, Harry, I wanna cum around your cock,” you begged one more time, as you slid out of his arms so you could lie down on a pillow and he leaned forward to trap your nipple with his pink lips. He nibbled and licked on it, grazing his teeth over the sensitive bud until a cold shiver ran down your spine and you grunted in sheer pleasure.

You were so close, so fucking close, that the fact that he couldn’t budge and fuck you raw was only a minor inconvenience. Your eyes scrunched closed and your nails dug into the sheets until they were just a tight-fisted ball in your hands.

“Fuuuuck,” you laughed, letting your heels press to the mattress to anchor you to a reality that was slipping away in kaleidoscopic blues and purples.

Usually, after the high came the kisses, a bad habit, no doubt, that you had picked up along the way. The kisses and the insincere digs, that was a fun habit. So there was no one to blame when you expected just that: for Harry to settle in your bed for an hour or two before he absolutely had to leave.

Your eyes widened as he got up as you calmed yourself down, and he combed his long fingers through his hair before he looked at you with somewhat guilty eyes. At this, you sat up and covered yourself, as you looked out of the window so you wouldn’t have to see him leave.

A kiss would’ve been nice.

***

There are sacred things in this life, like Sundays and brunches, and Rose lacked respect for all of them.

You were supposed to be having a dubious mimosa and a plate of ridiculously expensive eggs, dressed to the nines, while still managing to look like you didn’t put much effort into your outfit and wearing natural makeup that no one would’ve guessed you had spent an hour on. Instead, you were wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a white top that would rile up your tummy every time you raised your arms, with a drumming headache from the night before. You should’ve gone with Steve.

“Hi,” Rose smiled widely as she sat next to you and you looked at her with narrowed eyes, silently accusing her of the fact that you were out of bed.

“What?” You snarled in response.

“Your mission is to trap Harry.” Her smile had turned devilishly and now that she had caught your interest, you offered her a devious smile on your own as you nodded with satisfaction. “His legs are too long, can’t have him going around.”

The game was both simple and stupid and fun and violent. It was some sort of rugby, only once you trapped someone, you would have to stay put, while the other person tried to free themselves so they could continue playing. The last one standing won the game for the whole team, and the losing team would have to buy the other one lunch or pay for the drinks at the next party. At first, you would always play on gendered teams, but after a while, you decided to spice it up and form mixed teams. Harry was always on the opposite teams of yours.

It was a good way to keep your ass active, you would give her that.

Rose was on a mission of her own: She had broken up with her boyfriend, the leader of the other team, and she wanted to kick his ass and make him buy her lunch. She would choose someplace expensive, of course, and ask for dessert. Chocolate lava would be very nice, add double ice cream and a second serving, it’d be perfect.

There was a new skip on your step when you stood across from Harry and you tilted your face as you looked at him offering him a sweet smile that he didn’t buy for a second.

This time, he was wearing a pair of black running shorts paired with a white ratty shirt and a black snapback that made his curls look messy and trapped mercilessly. He looked gorgeous, and your blood boiled when you remembered how he had left you alone the night before.

“You do know you’re going to be bald when you grow older, right,” you told him in a low voice, so no one else would hear your exchange.

“Then I’ll think of the times you begged me to fuck you,” Harry replied in the same tone, as his lips curled into a smirk. His eyes were just as tired as yours and you could bet he had barely slept the night before. Had he continued to party after he left your room?

“Oh please, I’ve never begged anyone for anything in my life.”

“Really? Where have I heard you say “Harry, please, I need to cum, lemme cum, please.” Or “fuck my pussy harder, baby,” then? I think I’ve heard it somewhere.” He was enjoying it, the fucker, leaning forward so only you could hear him.

“Your ass is mine, Styles.”

“I would say it’s the other way around, love,” he smiled sweetly, just as Rose rang an alarm on her cell to let you know the game had started.

This time you had to rescue a caramel teddy bear right from the center of the field and take it to your designated goalposts, marked with bright pink hula hoops.

Harry would never hurt you, so you had that to your advantage, or so you thought. He was swift and careful as he picked you up, and you yelled in surprise, looping your arms around his shoulders as he carried you to the ground. Actually carried you, with his arms around your waist to soften the blow when he laid you on the soft part of the grass and he softly took your hands in his, to pin them above your head to make you behave. Not one of your hairs got out of place as a result.

Your eyes widened as Harry untangled himself from you and straddled you as he pinned you down. Your fingers fell on his thighs, and you looked at him as you tried to catch back your breath. Traitor heart, why was it soaring in your chest?

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, truly worried that he might’ve been too rough.

“Of course you did! You just threw me down to the floor!!!”

“I did not throw you,” Harry rolled his eyes. “But you play dirty, don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Huffs and puffs were all that you managed to do, wriggling under him to release yourself from his hold. Death stared down at you as Harry dragged his eyes down to you, pupils slowly turning darker. “Stop moving,” he growled. It took you a second to understand, but as soon as you did you laughed, shimmying your hips to spite him. “I’m sensitive, stop it!”

“You could’ve fucked me last night, don’t try to make me feel sorry for you. Lemme go and I’ll stop.”

“Styles, hold her!!!” you heard Ed’s scream, just as Harry turned to glare at his friends. He had you, what the fuck did Ed want?

Harry’s first mistake was to let one of your hands go, so he could shield his eyes from the inclement sun. His second mistake: He should have never pinned you down.

“Harry, baby?” you called for him, with a sweet smile spreading on your lips as you rolled your body with purpose until Harry thumped down on the ground and you quickly climbed over him. He huffed a sorrowful sigh and you were pretty sure he hated you for a second, you could tell by the way his eyes darkened. They were so pretty yesterday, with all of the twirling colors dancing in them.

His lips were way too close to you and you could feel his warm breath against your skin. You could kiss him, there wasn’t much he could do about that, but you didn’t, looking into his eyes instead as you both held your breath.

Just as he had done to you, you pinned his hands with yours, leaning over him so you could reach above his head. Your hips were pressed to his, and he bumped you up like a rag doll when he jerked his knees. You rolled your hips, smirking when Harry sucked in a deep breath, trying to control himself. But there was no much use to it, cause you could already feel his outline pressing to your center, hard and thick, just as you remembered him.

“Harry!!” you hissed.

“Stop moving your fucking hips...please.” The heat that came from your body, the familiar aroma of your perfume, the warm puffs of your breath fanning on your skin, it was all a bit too much for Harry. He grunted when you rolled your hips again, your devilish smile telling him you enjoyed how much power he had surrendered. “Do you miss me that much, babe?”

“You’re one to talk,” you snorted. “You got hard as soon as I touched you.”

Harry could easily free himself, you both knew that. You weren’t a delicate flower, by any means, but he was a lot stronger than you. And he didn’t even try, lying still as you tortured him. Every breath, every tiny movement, added to the fire that was fogging his brain. Soon, he was gonna run out of blood, cause every drop of it was rushing to his hips. You witnessed as his eyes went from a bright shade of green to dark emerald. Harry whimpered, barely loud enough for you to hear, and you stopped moving altogether, letting his hands go as he heaved a breath.

“Wanna know why I left?” He finally asked. “You were high. I didn’t want you to wake up and regret it.”

“Please,” you snorted. “You had your fingers deep in my pussy. Just say I fucked up and you don’t want me anymore.”

“Who said I don’t want you?” He asked, jerking his knees again to make you look at him. “You’re a literal pest that doesn’t leave my mind.”

“Romantic,” you bit back, not giving yourself even a second to consider what he had just said. “Next time I’d pick Steve, I’m sure he won’t leave me begging.”

“He won’t fuck you right either.”

“Don’t know about that.”

“WE WON, YOU FUCKERS!” Whatever it was that he was going to reply, was lost in the moment, cause Rose’s ring tore through the air in triumph. You almost had forgotten about the game, and you both looked to the field to watch the distant figures of your friends. Rose’s was jumping and screaming, while she rubbed the teddy bear she had just scored on Ed’s face, laughing as he looked at her with murderous eyes.

It was over, there was no need for you to continue sitting on Harry’s lap.

“I…” You started, licking your lips as you gave yourself a moment to gather your thoughts. “I need to help Rose before Ed kills her.”

You went to get up but lost your balance as Harry’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back to him.

“You’re not going out with Steve,” he had furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips, looking at you so seriously it was almost a command, an order. There was no way you could go out with Steve cause Harry had said so.

“Let’s do something, I’ll go ahead and fuck him, and I’ll report back to you, for science,” you offered him with a smile, right as you untangled yourself and jumped up to walk to your friend.

Once again, a kiss would’ve been nice.

***

The room was dark, but that didn’t matter, cause you had it mapped out in your brain. You had snuck so many times to it, it couldn’t be any other way.

“Harry?” You whispered, wondering if you weren’t acting like the dumb white girl in every single horror movie, entering a dark room without switching the lights on first. So you did that, hurriedly and half scared.

The lights blinded you for a second and you had to blink the little white dots away. When you recovered, you saw a wad of sheets on the bed and you walked to it to see Harry under it. His nose was stuffed and red and his lips were parted as he breathed heavily.

“Ed’s looking for you,” you said as you crouched in front of him and you couldn’t avoid but to brush your fingers over his forehead to feel his burning skin under your tips. “Jesus, you’re burning up.” You jumped to your feet to inspect the boxes of pills on his nightstand. A wet cloth and a spray bottle filled with water were lying there and you took it, brushing it over his forehead to help a little.

“I don’t feel so good,” he whined, in a rich accent that made him sound like a posh, British toddler. He was covered up to his shoulders, but still, he shivered. “Stay with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. Scoot.”

You weren’t missing much, anyway. Only the freshly baked brownies you had made, extra-gooey and chocolatey, to share while you watched one of your favorite movies. You were going to eat pizza, which was your reward for a very difficult week of clean-eating. Not much, anyway.

Harry moved over almost sorrowfully, and his head lay on your lap as soon as you sat down next to him, your fingers pushing through his hair to massage his scalp. He bubbled some words out but you couldn’t understand them, and soon, he was asleep again.

You played with his hair a little bit more, until Harry was sound asleep and he snored slightly, scaring himself awake. He was so cute, your heart fluttered in its place.

“Bad dream?” You asked him.

“A bit. Stay the night? You can go early, so no one sees you?”

“Do I have to go early?”

“No, please stay.”

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #1dff #hs #writing #sober up #this might be late #but I wrote a part 2 #tell me what you think #please!

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rorydrawsandwrites · 19 days ago

Note

We know you love Johnny and Parker. Any other unexpected objects you like? Who’s number three?

Thank you for the question Anon. The answer may surprise you because it has surprised me

...Jean Loo

NOT romantically I just think he's neat. Very much went into one of his playthrough vids like "oh well he's goofy but also I don't really care" but he does have hidden depths when you think about him a li'l longer. And of course the voice acting and delivery really makes a character for me and I like me a man with an accent. And just the fact that he teaches you about meter and flow and such, I think that's fun, I respect a craftsman of words

I think what really got me about him is that his ending sucks. Like he's one of the very few characters that don't get their own version of a happily ever after and it's pretty much for a joke. Kind of mean if you ask me. There are characters who suck more than him and still get dealt a better lot

Anyway I'm still pretty early on in my own playthrough so I may gather up more unexpected faves under my wing but if that happens, you'll know

#💌 rory answers #date everything #I also like that he's a pathetic loser. those are magnetic to me #there's this one person in the DE! official server and on AO3 who's writing the most heart-wrenching fic about him not having been realized #so he's almost lost all hope. but then Tony comes along #I was absolutely gripped by that one though the themes of abuse make me uncomfy and I've had to skip a few parts #it's titled “Nothing More” I think??#also the Player is a huge asshole which I feel is also rarer in fics #I hope these two men can run away together as humans driving into the sunset kissing while Tina is left to cope and seethe #Player too idk if they'd even care that long

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goldenmazzello · 5 years ago

Text

Lay all your love on me | Part 2

(I don't own this gif. Credits to the owner)

Warning: Alcohol, anxiety, angst, hungover, languague, mixed feelings, flashbacks.

W/C: 5k.

Masterlist

Although you were all exhausted from your last day on set, you were going out and have some fun and celebrate. You needed this. You all needed this. So when Ben suggested to go to a new bar for some drinks all of you enthusiastically agreed, especially because you, Joe and Rami were coming back to the US tomorrow.

Now, you were at your hotel room getting ready for your last night in London. You chose a little black dress with embroidery black sequins all over it, it also had a nice cleavage that left nothing to the imagination. That was your favorite dress, you felt absolutely confident when you wore it. You put on a pair of black high heels, you were almost ready.

Suddenly, you heard a knock from the door and gave a glance to the clock that was hang on the wall. Fuck. You were late and you hadn't done your make-up yet. You weren't used to wearing a lot of make-up, you prefered having a good skincare routine but since you've had eye bags from the exhausting week on set and your skin wasn't helping due to your PMS pimples, you decided to slightly cover them.

You opened the door and Joe was standing there, wearing a white dress shirt, a pair of black jeans, a leather jacket and a pair of black boots. He looked stunning.

"Wow, you look..." You both said at the same time and laughed. You moved your sight to the floor with blushy cheeks.

"Are you ready?" Joe asked while studying you with a curious expression from the door frame.

"Hmm...do we have time?" You played with your hands, nervously. "I mean, I've haven't done my make-up yet, but I promise it won't take more than 5 minutes. Please Joey." You looked at him with puppy eyes, trying to convince him. He chuckled.

Joey. You were the only person who called him like that. You thought that maybe his mother called him like this but no, you were the only one and Joe found it pleasant. He got annoyed when someone who wasn't you used that nickname.

"Okay, you are already pretty but anyway, you can do it, we have like 10 minutes." He checked his watch as he entered the room and sat on your bed.

"Thank you!" You hugged him and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. He could feel your scent. His heart began to beat hard like a hammer. He swallowed.

You grabbed your makeup bag which was a few inches away from the bed on a table and started to apply your red lipstick quickly. Joe was following every movement. You bent over the table to have a better look of your face in your little mirror to apply concealer and Joe couldn't help but fixate his eyes on your thighs and then, your ass. it wasn't the first time he did it, but that little dress allowed him to have a perfect view of your long legs and he couldn’t resist.

"I'm ready!" You turned around and faced him, he was silent and pretended to look at the window. "You okay?" You walked towards him and grabbed his hand.

"Y-yes, I was just...thinking about our flight" He lied. You rubbed his hand gently and sat by his side. You'll be the death of him.

"Sure? You look...tense" You said worried.

He nodded. "I'm tired but I not going to stay in bed in our last night in London." He tittered.

"Okay, let's get going!"

The bar was overcrowded, something to expect for a bar that opened two weeks ago. There were some tables and chairs lined up against the walls and others were just packed into the middle of the room. It was kinda dark, since the lights were red colored, but it was perfect, you still could see people’s faces. Music from the 70s, 80s and 90s was playing at the background.

As you sat at the table, you could notice that it was full of bottles that Ben and Gwilym had brought, since they were the first of the group to arrive.

“Well, you really want us to celebrate tonight Ben.” You raised an eyebrow while looking at them. Ben giggled.

“Of course!” He said as he grabbed a glass and poured champagne on it. “Where are Rami and Lucy?”

“Here!” They shouted from the door and walked towards the table. “What the hell...we’re only six in here. why is the the perfect amount of alcohol for the entire bar?” Lucy asked, blinking.

“Your blonde friend wants us to be shit-faced.” Replied Gwylim and took a sip of wine. Ben shrugged.

You raised your drinks and Ben began talking "Cheers for this movie and everything that will come with this!"

"Cheers for us guys!" Rami shouted.

Bohemian Rhapsody was a very promising movie. It was one of the most anticipating of the year worldwide, so maybe it will lead to awards nominations such as the Oscars and it also will give all of you more recognition. The best was yet to come.

An hour later, you’ve already drunk half of what was on the table. it was going to be a long night.

There was a tall blonde girl leaned on the bar counter, who was gazing at your table. She was having a drink with a straw that made her lips look big. Maybe, she was doing it on purpose.

“Hey, that girl is trying to get your attention.” Ben elbowed Joe and he looked at her.

Your eyes rapidly moved to Joe, waiting for his next move.

“Go and have fun.” Gwylim blinked.

“I don’t know, I don’t think she’s looking for me.” Joe commented.

Joe wasn’t interested at all, especially since you were on his thoughts all day. But maybe, if he tried to talk to other women he could keep his mind occupied for a bit. Whatsmore, he has been in a forced celibacy for the past months due to filming so it could be an opportunity.

"Are you kidding me? Joe, she's been staring at you for like the last five minutes." Gwilym said. "Go and invite her a drink, do something!"

Joe hesitated for a minute until he put his phone in his pocket and went with her.

You didn't know why, but something made you feel sick to your stomach. Why were you feeling like this for Joe? He was your friend and you should be happy for him. Did you...like him? It wasn't a secret that he was very attractive, but you never thought about him as your lover.

Your not-so-sober state was making you feel so nauseous. You were also tired from your last days of work which were stressing and hadn't been eating properly because you were busy. This wasn’t going to end well.

You stopped drinking and sighed. There was a growing unease running through your veins, you couldn't take it anymore. You rushed to the bathroom. Fortunately, you were the only one in there. You locked yourself in an individual loo and pressed your forehead against the door, breathless. You closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath, but you felt as if the sharp point of a knife was stabbing you in the chest. The feeling of your heavy pounding heart and a persistent tightness in your shoulders were taking over you. You began to count, one, two, three, four to remove the explosion in your brain that was sending your thoughts spiraling out of control. You couldn't put into words the way you were feeling.

A few minutes later, your breath was becoming normal. You stayed there, trying to recover.

You thought it wasn't going to happen anymore, or at least tonight.

On the other side of the bar, Ben noticed that you were gone. He looked for you desperately, but he couldn't find you anywhere.

He immediately went to the bar counter where Gwilym was standing there, laughing out loud, he has just moved his hand on Joe's head and disheveled him, showing off his perm. Joe wasn't happy at all but the girl just laughed and continued talking.

"Guys, I can't find (y/n) anywhere." Ben explained.

Joe's eyes widened. he apologized with the girl and looked for you. Gwilym followed him.

"Why don't we tell Lucy to go and see if she's in the bathroom? She might be there."

"It's a good idea but, where is Lucy?" Joe moved to the crowd where Rami and Lucy were rocking their bodies to some 80s love songs.

Joe explained her what happened and she went to the bathroom. Rami helped the boys.

What if someone hurt you? what if you were in danger and you couldn't ask for help? Joe couldn't stop thinking about the worst case scenario. He felt a twinge in his chest.

As Lucy entered the bathroom, she looked under each door and felt relaxed when she saw your black high heels there.

"(y/n)? (y/n), are you okay?" She knocked the door.

She sent a message to your group chat.

Lucy: I found her, she's in the bathroom. Don't worry.

"Yes, absolutely." You opened the door and she almost jumps. Your eyes were red and your mascara was running on your cheeks.

"What happened? Did someone do anything to you?" She hugged you tight and you hugged she back even thighter.

"No, no. I'm just...I don't know, I was feeling anxious but I think I'm better now." You moved to the mirror and opened the tap water. You washed your face.

"Was it for anything in particular? What were you doing when you started feeling like that?"

You explained the situation and she hugged you again. “I’m here for you, don’t worry.” She said sweetily. You smiled.

You came back and the guys sighed in relief.

"She's okay, don't bother her." Lucy warned them. Joe sat beside you and put his hand on your shoulder.

"Do you need anything?" Rami asked.

"Give me that." You snatched the wine bottle off his hands.

The blonde girl showed up again. She whispered something on Joe's ear and gave him a piece of paper. Then, she blinked at him and left the bar.

"Man, what's on the paper?" Ben was dying to know about it. Joe gave it to Rami. Ben stucked out his tongue.

Rami opened it. "Ohh, what a heartbreaker you are, Mr. Mazzello." He gave it back to him. Joe held it in his hands as he read.

"I really liked your perm. If you fancy doing something after the bar, let me know 64788433"

Joe tore the paper and took a sip of wine. Ben, Rami and Gwilym's jaw dropped. You felt relieved. "What?"

"I can't believe you're wasting such an opportunity!" Ben said with a wide eyed face.

"She's not my type." He continued drinking.

He didn't feel like leaving you. He felt alarmed by your state, you were his friend and he wan’t going to leave you when you were feeling like that. Although he didn't know what happened to you, he could notice you were tense. He would do anything to make you feel better.

"Dude, you're mad. It's your last night here." Rami insisted. Joe didn't care.

"And, what about you? Did you find anyone for tonight" Gwilym asked you, mischivously.

You almost choke. "W-What?"

"You know, a one-night stand.” He moved up his eyebrows. You giggled.

"I'm not much into that, I'm more classic, you know." You confessed.

"Come here, I'm gonna find you a hot date!" Lucy begged you.

"It's okay Lu, I wanna be on my own tonight." You smiled gently.

It was 2 a.m, you were all a mess and there were like 3 more hours ahead. Oh shit.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming to our place tonight.” Yelled a man from the little scenario, holding a microphone. ”It’s 2 a.m and that means, It’s karaoke time!” He raised his arms and people clapped excitedly. “We invite you to come here with a partner and give us a performance! Who will be our first duo tonight?”

“Here! These pretty girls right here are going to sing first.” Ben jumped from his chair and pointed at you and Lucy, who gaped at you.

“Oh no, shut up Benjamin!” You tried to sat him back to his place but it was impossible.

“Come on girls, let’s go!" The man encourage both of you. Everybody turned their heads to your table. You swallowed.

"Are you sure?" You asked Lucy and she shrugged.

"I guess we have to do it, we have no choice." She said in a small panicky voice as the whole bar was waiting for you to go.

"Fuck, then let's do it."

You rapidly took two more shots of vodka so as not to be so conscious of what you were going to do and walked towards the scenario with her. As you got out of your chair, Joe followed your body with his eyes. He swore no one ever looked so good in a dress and it hurt him to know he couldn't have you that night.

Ben took out his phone from his pocket and started to record, maybe it would end up posted on Instagram.

"So, to who do we owe the pleasure tonight?" The man handed Lucy and you microphones.

"I'm Lucy and she's my friend (y/n)." Everybody clapped and there were some whistling. For a second, you regretted wearing that dress.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Lucy and (y/n)!" He yelled, leaving the scenario.

You both moved to the little screen you had in front of you. Lucy chose Wannabe by the Spice Girls.

You took a deep breath and started singing. "Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want." You moved your head to Lucy's direction.

"So tell me what you want, what you really, really want." She sang and held your hand. You both started moving your hips from side to side following the rhythm of the music, trying to remember some moves from the music video.

The boys were singing and clapping from the table, totally enjoying it. You started to feel more comfortable and to enjoy it too.

"If you wanna be my lover." You both sang the last line of the song and hugged. You quickly came back with the boys while you heard clapping again.

"You girls nailed it!" Rami gave Lucy a quick peck.

"I still hate you, Ben. You better be careful, I'll kill you." You blustered annoyed. He mocked you.

"Please tell me you're going to sing with me!" Joe put his best puppy face that made it hard to deny anything.

"Yeah Joe, when pigs fly!"

Two hours later, you and Joe were on the scenario, you were totally sloshed.

"Purple rain, purple rain. I only wanted to see you underneath the purple rain." You both sang from the top of your lungs. Joe had his arm around your waist and you had yours around his neck, moving backwards and forwards, trying to dance.

"For you Ben, I'll ruin my voice for you!" Joe pointed at Ben, who was trying to hide behind Gwilym.

Joe lost his balanced and fell to the ground, but that didn't stop him for singing. Screaming.

"I only wanted to see you underneath the AHHHHHHHH PURPLE RAIN, PURPLE RAIN, UHHHHHH." He grabbed your leg like a kid.

"Okay Joey, it's enough." You burst out laughing and helped him up.

As fast as you opened your eyes, you closed them. A merciless sunbeam was squirting straight in, making the oppressive force in your head go deeper. You turned around and checked your phone, 12:30 p.m, you had to be at the airport in exactly five hours.

You couldn’t remember neither coming back to the hotel nor falling asleep. As you sat up bed with a rather unpleasant feeling, you felt a shiver down your spine, the room was cold and you were still wearing your black dress. You felt a wave of nausea and ran to the bathroom. You ended up bent over the toilet, puking your guts out. You haven’t been like this in months. The last time you were like this was last year when your ex broke up with you. When you finished puking, you struggled to lift your head up, but the head throbbing was making it impossible. You rested your head in your hands and began to rub your temples, trying to massage away the headache. It was pointless. You felt you were going to die in about five minutes.

You looked at your face in the mirror, your mascara was running on your cheeks and your red lipstick was smeared, you looked terrible. After cleaning up your face with a damp cloth, you turned on the shower and tossed your dress and your underwear. You felt really gross. The drops of water running down your body felt warm and you enjoyed it. After a long shower, you got changed into your comfiest clothes and finished packing.

While you were drinking water, your phone buzzed. Joe was calling.

“Hey, how are you?” Asked Joe with a husky voice. He might have just woken up.

“I feel like shit, I’m never drinking again.” You protested. Joe laughed.

That's what everybody says waking up with a terrible hangover and then, they drink again and repeat it over and over again.

“We both know that’s a pretty unconvincing lie.”

“Well, I’m not drinking any soon. That sounds better?”

“Absolutely.” You nodded, smiling. “Can you come to my room? I can’t move and I feel I’m about to pass out if I don’t drink water soon. Please, I’m gonna die, don’t let me die!” Joe screamed, being totally dramatic.

“You aren’t gonna die, Joey. I’m on my way.” You hang and walked towards his room. You knocked the door and Joe cursed, he had to get out of bed.

“God, I can’t even walk.” Joe said as you entered the room. He jumped back to bed. “Come here.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, walking on his direction.

“Of course, come here, I’m gonna die.” Joe pouted. You rolled your eyes and lay in bed.

You called room service and they brought you bottles of water and some snacks.

“Joe, you have to take short sips of water.”

“I’m thirsty.”

“I know but it would get worse.” You squeezed his bottle and now, his face was wet. You laughed out loud.

“You’ll regret it.” He left the bottle on the nightstand and started to tickle you.

“Please, please, please, Joe, stop or I’m gonna throw up the water, please stop” You begged between laughs. Joe stopped and you sighed in relief.

“Well, I see you aren’t feeling so bad after all.”

“Kinda, but I wanna stay here until we head to the airport.” He moved close to you.

“So do I.” You placed his head on your chest and hugged him. Joe felt he was going to die.

Never had he been this close before. He didn’t want to move because he was practicaly on your boobs. He tried to avoid any dirty thoughts but his view wasn't helping. When he felt your fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes.

Joe wished this was part of his routine. You and him, waking up together on the same bed, him, giving you kisses all over your face and body. He wanted to kiss you so bad. He liked to think that your lips were as soft as a cotton. He hoped someday he’ll find out if he was right.

"You know," said Joe, breaking the silence. "I think you've never told me, but how did you find out about Queen?" Joe questioned.

It was a rainy cold saturday afternoon. Boredom had taken over you, so you decided to sit on your computer while your mom was baking a delicious banana bread while your dad was working on a project for his job, you assumed that he had become a workaholic because no one would ever dedicate so much time to his job on a free day.

"Can you look for a song on YouTube? It's awfully noiseless in here." Your dad said stretching his back, he had been sitting for like 5 hours.

You knew that your dad liked The Rolling Stones so you clicked on Start me Up music video. When it finished, you checked on YouTube's suggestions. Queen - I Want to Break Free. You knew that Queen was a well-known British band but you've never listened to any of their songs.

"Dad, mom, do you like Queen?"

"Yeah, well, I used to listen to them a lot when I was young." Your dad told you.

"One of my favorite songs by Queen used to be I Want to Break Free." Your mom said as he took out the banana bread out of the oven. It smelled amazing.

"That's the one YouTube suggested me."

You watched the music video while eating what your mother have just cooked. What a pretty girl, you thought when a blonde schoolgirl appeared in the kitchen. A few months later, you realized it was actually Roger Taylor.

"I can't believe you thought he was actually a girl." Joe couldn't stop laughing.

"In my defense, some people in the 70s thought he was a woman."

"And then what happened?"

"Then, there wasn't a day in which I didn't listen to Queen, and nowadays it's still that way. I really love them. They helped me through difficult times and they still do.”

He smiled. “It’s crazy how every person has at least a memory of Queen in their lives. I remember that Bohemian Rhapsody was the first song I downloaded on Napster.” You interrupted him.

“Which is ilegal.”

“Shh, don’t tell Brian and Roger.” You giggled. “And then,” he continued. “When I directed Undrafted, I would drive every morning listening to Somebody to Love and it gave me good vibes for the day. It was great”

You talked for like two hours about Queen. Now, you were on Joe's chest. "What are your plans for the next days?" Joe started to play with your hair.

"I'm staying in New Jersey with my family, you know, it's been a while since I've seen them. And the other week I'm having an audition in New York for a theater play."

"Great, what is its name?"

"It's Romeo and Juliet. A classic. I really hope I'll get this, otherwise I don't know what I'll do." You sighed.

"You'll get the role, don't worry about it, you are wonderful." Joe grabbed your hand and you rubbed his.

"Thank you. And what are you up to this week? Any meeting or something?" You inquired.

"Not yet. I'm going to visit my family and some friends and of course I'll wait for you to free so we can start with our To do list in New York." He smiled sheepishly.

"I can't wait for it!"

"Hmm, I was meaning to ask it earlier but anyway, what happened last night?"

You were frozen. You tried to find the exact words to explain him you were feeling anxious and that you didn't know the reason why. He let you know that you could always count on him.

A few minutes later, Joe fell asleep, he was still holding your hand. You stared at him for like an eternity and thought about how you felt last night. You weren't sure about your feelings as something more than a friend. You loved him with all your heart, he had become someone you really cared for, you were together all the time and you knew that it would still be like that from now.

He had a peaceful look in his face that made your heart melt. You were grateful that you were going to spend a few days in your hometown where you will have enough time to clear your mind.

After a week at your parents' home, you came back to your apartment in New York and now, you were getting ready for your audition. You kept reading the script over and over again while you were on your way in the taxi.

While you were waiting in the queue to enter the theater, your phone buzzed. It was a message.

Joe: Good luck sweetie!

You were beaming from ear to ear.

Joe finished cooking one of his specialties, meatballs with spaghetti, his favorite food. His friend Aaron was about to come in any minute. It was a long time since they last reunited, especially because they were busy with their acting careers.

The doorbell rang and Joe opened the door of his house. Aaron Tveit was standing there, holding a bottle of wine and some cans of beer happily.

As they ate, they talked about their lasts projects and brought up some memories of Joe's movie, Undrafted, in which they were co-stars. When they were about to finish the delicious supper, the doorbell rang. They looked at each other.

"Is it really the doorbell?" Aaron asked, confused.

"Yes but, that's strange, I'm not expecting anyone."

Joe opened the door and his gaze flickered over your presence.

“I wasn't expecting to see you until tomorrow, what a lovely surprise!” His smiled disappeared when he noticed you were weeping. "What's wrong?"

“Sorry I came out of the blue but I really need you.” When you leaned over the frame of the door trying to enter his house, you saw he had a guest. "Oh, sorry, I didn't know you had people tonight. I can come tomorrow morning." You moved backwards.

“Don’t leave, (y/n).” He grabbed your arm. “You can join us.” You hesitated, “Please, stay.”

You entered his house and he took you to the kitchen, not before telling his friend he would be back in a minute. You sat on the counter and he stood in front of you. “Tell me, what happened?”

“The audition...” You played with the edge of your shirt, avoiding his gaze. “It was awful, they treated me so unkind...and obviously I didn’t get the role.”

“I’m so sorry, (y/n).” He embraced you in such a tender and warm way that made you feel safe immediately. He rubbed your back and whispered sweet things in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You couldn't lie, in the days you spent away in New Jersey, Joe couldn't leave your mind. He was there, 24/7 and you couldn't stop talking about him to your family. Your mom only needed two hours to say you were having feelings for him, despite your denial.

“Forget about that.” He took you to the dining room, where his friend was with his phone. As he saw you were coming, he left it on the table and smiled.

"(y/n), he's Aaron. Aaron, she's (y/n)." Joe introduced each other. Aaron was a brown haired man with beautiful blue eyes. He seemed to be in his mid 30s, just like Joe.

You remembered seeing them on tv, he was in Gossip Girl!

"It's nice to meet you, Joe talked about you a lot!" He admitted. Joe blushed and you smiled.

Did he really talk about you with his friends?

Joe insisted on serving you a plate of food and you acepted it. An hour passed, now you felt better, Aaron was so friendly.

“I’m having an audition on friday for a musical, If you like, I’ll give you the script.” Aaron said while you were having a sip of wine.

“What is it about?”

“It’s a Broadway musical based on the movie Grease. I think you’ll like it. They are looking for someone to play Sandy Olsson."

You almost choke. “B-Broadway? Oh God. I don’t know..”

Broadway. It was a tempting proposal, but you weren’t sure if you were going to be acepted to play a role in a such an incredible musical, especially after your failed audition from today.

“Hey, why don’t you give it a try?” Suggested Joe. “You have nothing to lose. It’s a big opportunity, you should definitly go.”

“And you still have time to prepare for this.” Aaron unlocked his phone and asked for your number. “I’ve just sent you the script. Don’t worry, I can help you if you want, you can call me at any moment and I’ll try to help you. Tomorrow I’ll send you the adress and everything you need to know. And if you want, I can pick you up and we can go together.”

“That would be nice, thank you.” You smiled.

“So, that’s a yes?” Joe asked expectantly.

“Yes!”

Joe was absolutely happy for you. However, his mind was being cruel.

“Joey, are you listening to me?” You asked him. He rubbed his eyes.

“Sorry, I think I’m falling asleep. What were you saying?”

“Can I stay here tonight?”

“Sure!”

He had to do something, too much love will kill him.

#joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello fluff #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello #joe mazzello x y/n #joe mazzello x you #joe mazzello x oc #joe mazzello headcanon #borhap cast x reader #borhap cast #borhap #borhap boys x reader #borhap boys #joe mazzello angst #goldenmazzello

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bellshells · 5 years ago

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Splitting Hairs ch.4

Hello! Here is chapter four of Splitting Hairs, it’s a long one so grab a snack, grab a cup of tea and settle in. As always, thank you for taking the time to read this <3

Word Count: 3469 Severus x OC

Warnings: Moderate Smut, Alcohol Summary: Sev has a new hobby and he has a jaunt out with galpals Minerva and Valentine. Shit goes down. Whoops.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter Start from the beginning

One thing that Severus did not anticipate, was having a nice time with Minerva and Valentine. But he did. That night and the five following Fridays after. Minerva had insisted on inviting Valentine and Severus didn’t refuse. Valentine had always kept an appropriate amount of space between them, and they were able to speak somewhat freely. Minerva really was the crutch that they both desperately clung to, she was a mediator and comfort to them both and Severus was eternally grateful. He didn’t bother to disguise his enjoyment over spending time with the two witches, they were like two peas in a pod and Valentine quickly fell into step in their unlikely friendship.

He was struggling though still; he couldn’t dismiss his reoccurring consternation for his conflicted emotions. Whilst he was relishing in his new friendship with Valentine, the ghost of Lily Evans still haunted the corners of his mind. Severus felt like a complete hypocrite, he had assured nay- promised himself that he would do anything possible to avoid Valentine; yet he couldn’t bring himself to refuse her “Same again next week, Severus?” He wondered whether he would ever be free of Lily and the way he felt, or if she would remain a phantom of his subconscious. Lily would have found this all hilarious, he was sure. She often encouraged him to seek out a girlfriend, but he was never brave enough to explain why he always refused. Now, he cursed himself. If only he had taken her advice all those years ago, maybe not to find ‘the one’ but to gain a few experiences. He was thirty years old and had up until very recently never been kissed. He wasn’t ashamed per se, but now it was all that he could think about. Valentine had presented him with an opportunity that he never thought possible, and who was to say that it might not happen again? His lack of experience weighed heavily on him, he felt fit to burst with it all. His all-consuming guilt, his growing attraction for Valentine and his insecurity about being a virgin.

It was all Severus could do to fall asleep at night. It was like he was going through a second puberty. He had brewed a week’s worth of Sleeping Draught and he knew if he took it just before he got into bed, he had enough time to pleasure himself before falling asleep. It had become a nightly occurrence, almost an obsession. Severus didn’t think of himself as a very sexually minded person, especially throughout his adolescence, he had viewed masturbation as something inherently wrong and refrained from doing it. Now, he couldn’t get enough. He looked forward to it, making himself come and then having a dreamless sleep. It was fantastic, why he’d never thought of doing it before was baffling. He would hot-foot it to his rooms on the nights he wasn’t hosting a detention, or on the ‘curfew night-watch’ as Mr. Filch so affectionately named it. He found he felt better for it in the morning too, like for a moment when he opened his eyes; everything was right with the world. Like everything else in his life though, that moment would pass, and he would be reminded that his life was a disaster.

That particular Friday night after Minerva and Valentine had returned to their respective quarters, and he was in bed, living his usual nightly ritual; he was different. His hand around his throbbing cock was tighter than normal, and he lifted his hand to his throat and pressed down, constricting his air flow. He came almost immediately. He laughed to himself, both impressed and surprised. He fell asleep soon after, a satisfied grin etched onto his face. When he awoke in the morning, he felt lighter, almost happy. He roused himself and got ready for the day, Saturday’s were his absolute favourite and he was excited. He smiled like a child as he pulled a fairly thick cloak over his shoulders. The weather was definitely turning and being that far up into Scotland; when the wind blew, it rattled through to your very bones. Quite satisfied with his appearance, he left his rooms and made his way out of the dungeons and towards Valentine’s quarters, he gave one swift knock on the door and waited patiently. It was quite simple really, collect Valentine on the way to meet Minerva and they would journey into Hogsmeade together. Just a few minutes of conversation to fill before he could get a firewhisky in his system and feel a little bit more comfortable around her. Minerva’s words had really stuck with him, it was nice to have a friend in Valentine. Whilst it was unfortunate that she carried with her some uncomfortable feelings for him; it wasn’t her fault. He found with each encounter; it became easier. He was able to find differences between them. Valentine’s nose for example, was longer than Lily’s. She was taller too, and obviously, she was alive.

He spied out of the corner of his eye, where the corridor bent into the belly of the castle a pair of twins. Orange haired and lanky even for their young age, Fred and George Weasley. They skulked close to the wall, whispering to themselves and checking their surroundings. Severus, cloaked in darkness watched them intently as one of them pulled out a battered piece of parchment from a pocket, and opened it. The boys poured their attention into it, scouring each corner of it with their gaze. From where Severus was stood, the parchment appeared completely blank and he toyed with idea of interfering, but the click of a lock being turned on the other side of Valentine’s door made his mind up quickly.

He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and offered Valentine a small smile as she opened the door. She stood before him, dressed in muggle clothes, her hair tied in a ponytail and her eyes red with tears. “Professor Valentine?” Severus said, confused and concerned. Valentine ushered him inside silently and blew her nose on a hanky hidden in her hand. She closed the door softly behind him and gestured for Severus to sit on the sofa, which he did uncomfortably. Whilst he had spent quite a few hours with Valentine, he had always been with Minerva; he had never been alone with her. He was suddenly very aware of every inch of his skin, every fibre of the fabric of his robes. He hadn’t washed his hair this morning, would he smell of the potions classroom? No, no. He was trying something new, being friends. Friends don’t care if you don’t look your best all the time. Severus tried to slow his quickening breath by returning his attention to Valentine, she was stood at the fireplace watching a piece of parchment turn to ashes. “Are you alright?” He asked, he knew it was a stupid question, but that’s the sort of things friends say, isn’t it? “Yes. Sorry,” Valentine said as she turned towards him, she picked up a coat which hung on the back of a chair and pushed her arms through it. “Are you ready to go?” She enquired, she tried to make her voice lighter as she spoke, but her face gave her away. Severus rose from his perch and stood awkwardly. “Forgive me if its not my place, but if there’s anything troubling you and you would like to talk about it, I’m happy to listen.” He said softly, he tried to make his face as amenable as he could; but in reality, he just felt daft. She shook her head with a sad smile, and took a deep breath, wiping her hands across her face decidedly. “No, honestly its nothing. I just had a letter from my dad is all.” Valentine said not-so-nonchalantly. Severus kept quiet, unsure of what he should say next. “Shall I tell Minerva that you won’t be coming?” He asked and moved swiftly towards the door. “No! Really, I’m fine. I was just expecting to hear something…different from what he had to say. If you give me two seconds, I’ll be absolutely fine, and we can go. Promise.” She gave him a real smile then, albeit a small one. She disappeared into her loo and emerged a minute or two later looking more like herself and looking more like Lily in her jumper and jeans. He used to laugh at Lily for keeping track of muggle trends, the 70’s were a dubious decade for fashion at best and Lily had wholeheartedly embraced it. “Is your father…well?” Severus asked hesitantly, he wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say but it had fallen from his lips anyway. He watched as Valentine opened the door for him and offered him a wicked smile; “Unfortunately.” Was all she said.

The sun had shone as the three of them had left the castle, but as they entered The Three Broomsticks, a rain cloud had settled over Hogsmeade and they scurried in to avoid it. Severus flagged down a young woman behind the bar and ordered drinks for the three of them before settling in a quiet corner and removing his cloak. Minerva told them of how she had been in a foul mood all the week through, she had had a disagreement with Albus over the previous weekend and had only made up with him the day before. Severus laughed as Minerva did impeccable impressions of the Headmaster, letting Valentine ask questions about what he was like behind the half-moon spectacles and telling her stories of what he was like from when Severus was a student. “Of course, the world looked very different back then,” Minerva said, wiping a tear from her eye. She had laughed so much at Severus’ tale of accidentally locking himself in Albus’s office and thinking he had killed Fawkes, Albus’ phoenix, she had cried. “It certainly did.” He agreed. A moments silence passed between the three as Minerva and Severus left unsaid what they did not speak of. Almost as if it knew, he felt his Dark Mark tingle on his arm. It didn’t burn anymore, like it had when the Dark Lord was alive; but any time he thought about it, it let itself be known. “Enough talk of us,” Minerva started, swiftly changing the subject. “I’d love to know more about your years in France Elizabeth, it must have been terribly exciting?” Valentine took a contemplative sip of her whisky, then shook her head. “It wasn’t actually, it was really quite difficult. I didn’t speak a word of French when I got there so I sort of had to just muddle through. Plus, I was dealing with the heartbreak of not getting to attend Hogwarts.” Valentine mimed her heartbreak and Severus laughed again. “It was definitely an experience, but I’m not sure I would do anything differently if I was to go back.” “That must be a luxury,” Minerva said, “To have no regrets?” “Of course I have regrets. But overall, I have to say it may have done me some good. I had to learn resilience and develop a very thick skin…I can’t complain about that really.” Valentine levelled; Severus could feel that she was in pain as she spoke to them. She wasn’t being truthful again, and Severus tried to not let it bother him. He just couldn’t fathom why she felt she couldn’t be honest about her experiences, and that bizarre comment she made about her father had troubled him. Of course, he was no stranger to harbouring ill towards his father, it made him uneasy to think she was holding onto something to cause her such anguish. The feeling was so thick, almost tangible and his heart ached for her.

Severus could faintly hear the sound of the pub doors swing open, but it wasn’t until he saw Minerva’s back stiffen that he thought to look behind him. A tall blonde man dressed head to tow in black finery stood purveying the scene, a small boy who bore his intense likeness stood at the man’s side. Severus caught the man’s eye and before he could look away, the man swished towards him, yanking the boy in tow. “Severus, how delightful it is to see you,” Lucius Malfoy crooned, a sly smirk settling on his face. Severus felt his stomach fall, it had been a few years since Severus had been this close to Malfoy or anybody else from his former life. He fought to hide his rising panic as Malfoy tipped his head to Minerva; “Minerva, always a pleasure. You remember my son, Draco?” Minerva managed a stiff smile to the young boy who did not return it. Instead, Draco yawned and tapped his father on the arm. Malfoy swatted the boy away, his attention firmly fixed on to Valentine who, when Severus looked over at her, had gone deathly pale. “Hello Miss…” Valentine was silent. Her jaw clenched tight and Severus could feel her fury from across the table. Minerva placed her hand on Valentine’s shoulder. “Professor Valentine is our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Lucius.” Minerva piped, her gaze shifting between Malfoy and Valentine. Malfoy’s gaze didn’t waver as his smirk evolved into a sneer. “I bet she is.” He said. “Come Draco, our friend will be waiting for us upstairs. Ta ta.” With a flourish of his hand they were gone. Valentine looked positively livid as she watched Malfoy and his son meander up the stairs. “What a dick.” Valentine whispered; Minerva’s strained smile immediately transformed into a true grin. “That my dear, is correct.”

Although Severus couldn’t disagree with Valentine’s sentiment, his face betrayed his confusion. That did not appear to him to be two people who had never met before. “Do you…do you know each other?” Severus asked Valentine, she turned her head slowly in his direction. “No, I just didn’t like his attitude.” Valentine smiled as she rose from the table. “One for the road?” Severus and Minerva watched as Valentine made her way to the bar and ordered more drinks, they both shared the same apprehensive expression. “Is it just me or was that a trifle…awkward.” Minerva asked Severus quietly, her face was awash with concern. He just shook his head, he wanted to tell Minerva that Valentine was lying. He could tell the minute she said she didn’t know Lucius that she wasn’t being truthful, and it made him slightly fearful as to what Valentine knew. Severus wondered whether Valentine’s past, the little that he knew about it had been as straight forward as she made it seem. He knew she was lying about her father’s busines in France, she had been truly upset after having received word from him this morning and now, pretending not to know Lucius when it was abundantly clear that they had some sort of connection. Albeit, a hostile one. There was obviously so much that neither Severus or Minerva knew about Valentine, and that made him uneasy. He knew that the Dark Lord was immensely popular overseas, and that many of his foreign followers had evaded capture after the war. Could Valentine have been one of them? No, she was still a teenager when the Dark Lord was killed- she couldn’t have been. But somebody close to her could have been.

Valentine returned to the table with a renewed energy. Six whiskies sat on a tray that she carried unsteadily in her hands. Minerva stifled a laugh as she haphazardly set them down on the table. “I thought you said one for the road, Elizabeth!” Minerva said in mock protest, readily accepting her two drinks from Valentine. The young witch just smiled and passed two more to Severus. “I just thought that as you’d had a hellish week Minerva, and I’ve not had a good drink since before term started that we deserved these. And Severus always looks in need of a stiff one.” She said with a wink. Minerva spluttered on her drink and let out a laugh that seemed to come from her belly. Severus rolled his eyes at the two cackling witches and tried not to let his embarrassment show. “From the looks of the two of you, it doesn’t seem like I’m the one in need of a stiff one.” He said with a smirk, Minerva howled with laughter and Valentine hid behind her hands, her shoulders bobbing up and down as she laughed. Severus was pleased with his retort, but he felt slightly panicked too. He shouldn’t have said that. He blamed it on the alcohol, he was being far too suggestive, and it wasn’t like him. Neither he nor Valentine had addressed what had happened the night they met and when Minerva had pressed Severus for information; he had merely put it down to intoxication. After a further two rounds the three stood, Minerva slightly unsteady on her feet clung to Valentine’s coat as the exited the bar. Severus couldn’t help but smile, he had drunk with Minerva many times and only on a few occasions had he seen her drunk. But as he watched the deputy headmistress try and act sober as they encountered students on their way back to the castle; he knew he would not let her forget it in a hurry.

Severus and Valentine left Minerva outside the Great Hall when they arrived, dinner was just about to begin, and Minerva had told them six or seven times on the way back that she was ravenous. Minerva waved goodbye to the pair as she expertly walked the way down the long pews towards the high table. Severus turned his attention towards Valentine, she stood with a smile as she watched Minerva safe to her spot next to Albus. “You not going in?” He asked her. Valentine shook her head and began walking down the corridor, Severus followed her wordlessly, having to increase his pace in order to catch up with her. “Something the matter?” “I’m just not feeling terribly sociable, Severus. You can go in though; Minerva might need someone to help her with her knife and fork.” She laughed; Severus didn’t reply instead choosing to continue walking with her. “Are you not hungry?” “Not really, I’ll send for something later if I need to.” He said, Valentine just nodded without looking at him. Why wouldn’t she look at him? He struggled to keep pace with her, maybe he should eat something. His legs felt heavy as he willed them onwards, the effect of the firewhisky suddenly in full force. They continued silently towards the dungeons and Severus was unnerved by Valentine’s quietness.

He wasn’t sure whether he was feeling brave because of the copious amount of alcohol he had consumed, or because he hadn’t thought of Lily in hours- but he reached for her hand and placed in the crook of his arm. Valentine raised her eyebrows at the contact but didn’t stop or speak, just continued walking in silence. When they reached her quarters, Valentine stopped and opened the door and stood expectantly. “Well?” she said, “Are you coming in?” Severus’ expression was pained. He wanted nothing more than to stay with her, but he had promised himself. He was sober enough to remember that, at least. “I probably shouldn’t,” he muttered. “I don’t think I could trust myself not to…” he didn’t finish his sentence but gestured vaguely in front of him. If he wasn’t mistaken, he could see a flash of hurt dance over Valentine’s face. She turned to enter the room but stopped herself before she reached the door and turned fast on her heel. She approached Severus slowly until their bodies almost touched. Severus found himself barely breathing as he stared down into to Valentine’s brilliant green eyes, he acted on sheer impulse. He captured her face in his hands and brought his lips down to hers. They were like magnets finally come together, she kissed him desperately in the archway of her chambers and Severus tried to walk her backwards into the awaiting room, but Valentine pulled away with a coy smile. His arms were empty and yearned for her. Valentine backed into her room and put her hand on the door handle. “Goodnight, Professor.” She said with a sly smile and slowly shut the door.

Severus was left in the chill of the dark corridor feeling a mixture of sadness and delight. He made his way the short distance to his chambers and locked himself in for the evening. He tried his very hardest to keep the elation he felt last as long as possible, downing a bottle of Sleeping Draught and climbing into bed commencing his nightly ritual with a newfound vigour.

#severus snape #severus snape x oc #severus snape x lily #snape #pro snape #snape x oc #splitting hairs #severus snape smut #harry potter #pro severus snape #professor snape #slow burn #snape fic #eventual smut

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bluepenguinstories · 4 years ago

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Remoras Full Chapter XXXV: Lion-Drawn Chariot

When I woke up in the morning, I wasn’t planning on saving anyone’s lives. Then again, did anyone ever plan those sorta things? Like, “so at noon I plan to go out and save someone’s life.” Nope. That sorta thing just didn’t happen. Maybe it was a Superman thing, I imagine Superman didn’t wake up every morning and go, “I think I’m going to save some lives today.”

But lo and behold, when I woke up, I checked my phone right away (‘cause I’m always on that phone) and noticed a very concerning text.

Now, you may ask yourself, “Cybele, aren’t you exaggerating?” And lemme tell you, hypothetical ‘you’, no. No I was not exaggerating one iota:

Unknown Number: Could you please come get me? No pressure if you’re busy or asleep or anything. Take your time. I’ll probably be dead by the time you get here, anyway.

My eyes widened and I jolted up.

“Who?” Was my first question. Some unknown number just told me they’d be dead, and they listed the address to a hotel. Flags didn’t get much redder than that.

“Okay, think, think: Sunny might have gotten a new number,” I paced about and brainstormed as to who it could have been.

Yeah. That checks out. It’s just like Sunny to go off and get herself hurt. Of course she’d want me to bail her out.

It’s been a while since I’ve heard from Sunny. Probably a good six months. It was only a couple weeks ago that Ray finally gave me a call and explained the situation back at the diner. No wonder they went silent. I always figured Sunny stayed inside the diner with Ray due to the circumstances they faced, but it was true that she had trouble keeping still.

Yes, that’s true, but she’d stay at the diner with Ray if the circumstances are as dire as he said. I don’t doubt for a second that Sunny would help keep things together with Ray.

So if it wasn’t Sunny, then who? Frantic, I looked back at the phone.

What if I overslept and someone seriously was dying and now I’m too late?

Well, I could put that thought to rest: the text was only sent a few minutes ago.

“Still doesn’t give me time to shower...ugh...well, I’ll just slap on some deodorant, spray some rose water, and call it good. Whoever it is should consider themselves lucky that I’m showing up at all.”

No, that wasn’t the right attitude to have. Someone might have been dying for real.

“I’ll definitely save you,” I declared, still not totally convinced it wasn’t a scam.

To be honest, I was somewhat relieved to have an excuse to get back in my plane and fly around. Even if it turned out to have been a waste of time...no, it wouldn’t have been, because I’d be doing something I loved: flying.

Way back when Ray delivered that horrible news, I didn’t know what I’d do or where I’d go, but he had no problem with me taking the plane with me. It may have been the case that he figured if I took it with me, others wouldn’t have a means of getting to the diner, but whatever the reason, I just liked having it around. Things just didn’t feel right without it.

Oh, and it sure was a super fast aircraft, too! I arrived at the hotel parking lot within the hour. Now, as one could imagine, it was hard to find parking, so I had to park way in the back, and I was positive that there would be many a car furious with me for taking up so much space. But screw them, I wouldn’t be around that long, anyway!

When I stepped out of the plane, I looked around to find the parking lot near empty. Just a few cars here and there, kind of scattered like a tic-tac-toe board. Guess there was nothing to worry about (when it came to taking up space)!

“This is the place, right?” I was perplexed when I walked forward. Really, what did I expect to find? I had no idea and from the look of things, there was nothing to expect. It was just some normal looking hotel. OK. Layout: some tall, gold, fancy hotel, an awning, a few marble stairs. Some of the windows on the upper floors looked a bit busted, but aside from that, it had a sheen about it. Like, pristine sheen.

I continued to walk forward, in somewhat of a daze. It was rather early in the morning and I hadn’t had a coffee or anything like that. Closer, my foggy eyes not really clearing up, then my heart thumped on high alert in a single instant: blaring sirens of ambulances filled the air.

I shifted all around and tried to figure out what the commotion was. My head turned in a rapid manner, much more than a simple shake. Then, I spotted the culprit: a small body, collapsed and lying on the ground.

Take your time. I’ll probably be dead by the time you get here, anyway, those words echoed in my mind with an accelerating intensity as I sprinted toward the collapsed figure. Once I caught a better look, I filled with dread.

I recognize this person.

She was sprawled out, on her back, a fresh, dark wound on her right shoulder. Her hair was no longer green, it was blonde, and she wasn’t wearing any glasses, either. What she wore instead was a dark purple hoodie, jeans, and a pair of fingerless gloves. Fabric from her hoodie had been torn on the bottom and a fresh, gaping cut was visible and the blood which ran down from it obscured the skin of her stomach. It didn’t look deep enough to have penetrated any organs, but it was still a concern, nonetheless.

Just witnessing it put me in a sort of shudder, a repulsion which I had to fight back against. Nerves against my eyelids tightened and I felt a strain on my eyes along with a reservoir of tears ready to form from beneath the surface. It was as if a gust of wind had struck them.

I knelt down, my heart still on high alert. The rush of endorphins, not to mention the stress and adrenaline, was all the energy I needed to wake me up for the morning.

Please still be alive. Please.

I placed two fingers up to the nape of her neck, sucked up a small amount of saliva, and drew heavy breaths. Two seconds. I swear, the longest two seconds I ever felt. Rapid fire thoughts pounded against the edges of my skull. It was enough to make me wonder if my head was about to split open, or if my heart would give out, unable to handle the anticipation. My breaths were heavy to the point that I sounded like I was in some sort of frenzied state.

At last, I felt a pulse.

What a relief. What a relief. What a rel –

“Ma’am! Get away from the body!” I heard someone shout behind me.

I turned my head to see an ambulance parked (well, ‘parked’ was a little generous, as it had been swerved to its side and burnt skid marks could be seen just behind the vehicle’s tires) and two paramedics who looked ready to push me aside.

Of course. It just has to come to this.

“I think not,” I defied them, “I’m this young lady’s primary care physician and I’m going to take her to my clinic with me. She’s requested if in an emergency, then I am to come get her directly.”

They both looked at each other, confused.

“Can we see proof?” One of them asked.

I fished out a fake doctor’s license as well as a forged note. Such (illegal) methods weren’t used often, and it was never something I enjoyed doing, but it’s come in handy at times when I’ve had to bail Sunny out. Her idea, of course.

“Oh, well, uh, okay,” their confusion still showed through their voice, but nevertheless, they fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

“May I borrow one of your gurneys so I can get her onto my plane?” I asked them.

“Plane?”

I nodded.

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

Acting was never one of my strong suits, but it turned out when you had just the right things to appear official, people tended to believe you. Needless to say, I got Demetria onto my plane and got right to work with the gauze.

Man, I’m really not a doctor. If only Cole-Slaw was here. She’d know what to do. Or she’d chew me out for not knowing what to do. Either way, I’m sure she’d be of more help.

In any case, she’d live. That much I knew for sure.

When I got home, I was too on edge to really do anything. I just sat on the couch and waited for her to wake up. Long stretches of time passed, and I would check in on the room I placed her in, with no such luck. It was concerning, to say the least, but I held out hope.

She needs rest. I’ll let her be.

Despite how serious it was, eventually the worry stepped aside and I got out my journal to write a couple of quick poems. Neither of them were all that good, but they didn’t need to be; their main purpose was to get my mind off of things. One of them started out like this:

Slumbers are a fickle thing.

So I go to the cupboard and pull out a box of cookies.

One by one, shoveled into my mouth.

Then I go back to bed, unable to sleep

due to the pain in my stomach.

But it was worth it.

What does it have to do with anything?

What is the meaning of sweetness?

An array of crumbs fall out of my pockets

and I’m visited by the sandman, who tells me

that he’s about to pour more crumbs in.

That bastard always gets the better of me.

Like I said, it left a bit to be desired, but I wasn’t done with it. Maybe in the third stanza, it would start to shine. But before I could get to that, I was interrupted by a rustling in another room, followed by a low groan.

I got up from the couch and followed the sound into the other room. Demetria stood hunched over in front of the bed I had laid her in. She propped herself up by holding onto the front-facing corner of the bedpost, but it was clear by the way she wobbled and her poor balance that she would fall back down onto the bed.

“Ow...ow...ooh,” she hissed and groaned, alternating between the two.

So she fell back down. Onto the bed.

“Owww...god damn it…” she moaned, adding, “I can hardly move. Ugh...I can’t believe I’m not dead.”

I shook my head and placed my hands on my hips.

“I swear, you’re just as bad as Sunny,” I scolded.

“Right, ‘cause if I’m going to have a role model, it may as well be Sunny,” she replied, deadpan in her delivery. She then turned her head and looked my way.

“So...you got my message?” She asked, her voice low and hoarse.

“Yeah. Mind telling me what happened?” I tapped my foot.

She looked away from me.

“I’d...rather not.”

That wasn’t what I expected to hear, nor really what I wanted to hear, but I respected her decision.

With her good arm (the one that wasn’t all covered up in layers of gauze), she covered her eyes.

“Can I...can I stay here a while?” She wheezed, then coughed.

“Judging from your injuries, I’m going to say you don’t have a choice. Now try not to move around so much, and please, get some rest.”

What she said next kept me from leaving the room.

“You shouldn’t have picked me up. I didn’t want to be saved,” I heard her say through her low mutter.

“I don’t believe that,” emotions welled up in me. Yes, she was in a great deal of pain, but there were quite a few mixed feelings I had. Feelings I should have held back or saved for later, when she was recovered, but I couldn’t help myself. “If that was the case, you wouldn’t have sent that text.”

“I’m not worth it,” she replied, though it didn’t feel like a reply at all. It felt like she ignored everything I said, and was just continuing off of the last thing she said.

Don’t say that, I thought. I almost growled it out, but I stopped myself.

“Get some rest. Please,” I told her instead, my voice not low, but instead weepy.

She gave a short nod and I noticed tears run down her cheeks. My head hung low and I had to force myself to turn away and step out of the room. Her clear pain and anguish had me at a chokehold and I felt a tinge of regret leaving her alone like that. But if she was going to rest, she would need her space, so I pulled up the curtain and ducked my head, then left the room.

This house I bought was rather large, much more space than I needed. But I was rich and since I could afford to, I wanted to get something nice. Not to mention the fact that I was so used to living in a large airport, even though I didn’t own the airport, it was still a home to me, and I just didn’t feel at home without the wide, empty spaces.

So I lived in a tall house, all to myself. Most of my stuff was relegated to one bedroom (of which there were a few rooms; they all sat empty, save for the one Demetria was now in). If I wasn’t there, I slept on the couch. My kitchen, though wide enough to have its own “island” (I never quite understood why they called that thing in the middle of kitchens in big houses an island), but that too sat mostly empty. There were a few things in the fridge, but that was about it. I didn’t cook. I could have, but I was rich, and I wasn’t used to cooking, so I always just ordered takeout.

The room Demetria was in was kind of a little architectural experiment, as it was originally a walk-in closet tied to a separate (empty) room, but I took down the closet doors and replaced it with a butterfly pattern tapestry that hung from the wall instead. No, I never planned such a thing, but I had a bed in that little room. It wasn’t an especially large bed, as it could only fit a twin-sized mattress, but it was the perfect fit for Demetria.

As I said, I never planned for her to stay here, but I always thought it would be nice to have guests over. I mean, I had a couple friends here and there, and they lived thousands of miles away, but that was nothing for me since I had my own plane. That said, no one ever expressed wanting to stay over, all telling me the same thing, that they “didn’t want to impose” (really, guys? It wouldn’t be an imposition if I was the one offering).

One questionable decision I made was removing the ceiling light and putting a lava lamp in the room instead. Yeah, it looked cool, but the way it lit up the room and reflected off of the curtain gave the room a distinct red tint. Like the room was on fire. Considering how bloodied up Demetria was, it seemed rather inappropriate now. Hindsight, am I right?

So I sat on the couch once again and flipped on the TV. Usually it just sat there and gathered dust, something which it was rather good at, but I decided to turn it on just to have some background noise. Channel after channel I skipped through until I stopped at a local channel and noticed it was a recording of an opera titled Atys.

No, I had no idea what it was about. It was an opera, did anybody ever know what was going on? Yeah, didn’t think so. But it was nice to see all the pretty outfits, and it sure sounded pretty, too. So it was settled, I’d watch a bit of that. Then, I too began to doze off.

My rest didn’t last long.

Shrill screams forced me awake and in a panic, I rushed to the room.

I found her, sat up against the edge of the bed, a look of shock, anger, terror, or a mix of all three filled her face as well as beads of either sweat, tears, or both. Her breaths were loud and heavy and she shook in place, as if paralyzed in fear. I looked to where Demetria stared ahead, but saw nothing, only the shadow of the lava lamp which sat on a table next to the bottom end of the bed.

“Is everything all right?!” I shouted, unable to hold back the concern in my voice. I rushed over and sat at the edge of the bed.

“Demetria...Demetria…” I tried to get her attention but my soft voice betrayed me. In a conscious manner, I sharpened my voice and shouted:

“Demetria!”

She blinked and then her eyes darted around and although she still heaved, her breath began to slow down and her eyes relaxed.

“Sorry. I had a nightmare,” she stated, as if it wasn’t such a big deal.

Not knowing what else to do, I leaned in and pulled her into my chest and held her tight.

“Ow, ow. My shoulder,” she complained and I let her go just as fast as I held her.

She sat there and rubbed her left eye, then her forehead.

“It just happens sometimes. Those same images haunt me,” she continued. I didn’t know what she could have meant, but that initial bout of screaming was enough of a concern as it was.

“Was it about something that happened to you?”

She gave a short nod, then buried her head in her hands. I heard no sniffles or weeps, but the silence itself was enough of a worry.

“Do you want me to give you some space?” I offered a rather foolish gesture, but the best I could offer without knowing what else I could do at the moment. As she gave no response, I waited a few seconds, then got up, figuring the answer was “yes”.

As soon as I started to get up, though, she tugged at my arm.

“Can you stay here? I’m afraid to go back to sleep,” she begged. For added measure, she lifted her head up and gave me puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah,” I gave in. As much as I hated to admit, those puppy dog eyes were adorable. “I don’t have anywhere I need to be in the morning. Making sure you’re well is my main priority right now.”

She let go of my arm, reeled it back to her side. Again, there was a lull, a standstill. Neither of us must have known what to do or say next. At least that was the case for me.

“You’re probably wondering how I got like this, huh?” She spoke up at last. Her face was still obscured, her voice muffled, but it was a voice nonetheless.

“Yes. I would like to know, but I’m not going to force it out of you.”

She lifted her head up and leaned it against the wall.

“To be honest, I’d like to know, too,” she replied with a dry, hollow reply. Even though she forced a slight smile, it was clear from her tone that she was anything but pleased.

“You don’t know how you got your injuries?” I was perplexed.

“I killed someone,” she answered. “Correction: I killed quite a few people, but the one who gave me my injuries was just one man.”

“My God…” the words escaped me. It wasn’t that I was all that shocked; Ray definitely gave off “former yakuza turned househusband” vibes and Sunny was a chaotic bundle of joy who I’ve had to pull out of messy situations several times. It might have just been that Demetria didn’t strike me as the violent type, but then again, my frame of reference was rather narrow, so it wasn’t like I had a complete impression of her. Maybe that would all change once I spent more time around her.

“I know, right? Not very heroic of me. For the record, I never considered myself a hero, but at the same time, I never thought I would be capable of doing such things. Let alone willing. But here I am, I went from someone who wanted to prevent the deaths of others to causing them. So much for protecting people.”

“I’m sure you had a good reason, though,” I argued. After all, rude as she may be, I refused to believe she was a bad person. She turned to me, her lips folded into a frown.

“Do you think that makes a difference?” Her eyelids were half-shut and she looked ready to nod off. “In my mind, I did it to protect others. But there could have been a better way to go about it. Maybe I just wanted to satisfy a bloodlust. I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, either,” I echoed her sentiment.

“Even now, I see the horror in their eyes. How they were torn to shreds.”

“Are you talking about the people you killed?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

I wasn’t sure what she was referring to, then. There was still so much she wouldn’t tell me, and maybe I didn’t want to hear the details, but I still wanted to help in any way I could.

“Have you ever seen someone being eaten alive?” She asked. It struck me as odd, just as random, if not more than her previous statement.

“No, I can’t say I have…”

“It’s not a pretty sight. That shit sticks with you.”

Just what kind of things have you experienced? I was a little baffled, to say the least. Just the idea made me shudder. She rolled her eyes, then turned her head away.

“I wanted to be badass so I could impress someone I had a crush on. Then...I was exposed to things I never should have witnessed. So my motivation changed. I wanted to be stronger so I could protect others. But I admit, I still wanted to impress her, too. I’ll think about back then and think of how if I were stronger, they would have survived. Or if it was someone else who went there, someone better. Someone who wasn’t me.”

“We all have things we regret,” I tried to tell her, which wasn’t really all that helpful, I know.

“You don’t understand,” she sharpened her voice. It wasn’t quite a shout, but it still had a bite behind it. “The reality is that if I hadn’t gone there, they would have met the same end. It’s easy to play the ‘what-if’ game, but there’s no way to know if there was anything that could have been done, and somehow that’s even worse.”

She paused again, closed her eyes. Part of me hoped that she hadn’t gone to sleep just because I didn’t want her to wake up screaming again.

“I’m stronger now. I’m badass. I got what I wanted, but at this point, I’d rather go back to being how I was before: meek, timid, someone who minded her own business. Hell, I tried to go back to being her, but I can’t. She’s gone now. Every attempt to return to my old self just felt like fighting back against a current.”

“I may not know what it’s like to go through all the things you have, but I do believe that even if you can’t return to how you were before, you can still be who you want to be. Even if that person is different from how you envisioned yourself to be. Hell, I know it’s hard. I know, but you can still find comfort in who you are right now.”

It seemed like the most poignant thing I’ve said all day, and yet everything I said in that statement was something that I continued to struggle with, myself.

Rather than reply, she drew a heavy breath. Her head slumped over to her side, and I realized that she had gone back to sleep.

I felt a faint spell overtake me as well and there must have been a couple of microscopic versions of me who struggled to hold my eyelids open, but to no avail. Soon, I faded away, into the sea of unconsciousness.

When I awoke, it must have been early in the morning as a bright light shone through the room. I struggled up and found myself in much of a haze. Then, a pounding came. Well, there wasn’t one. At first I thought there was, but it turned out to be more of a notion in my head or my heart telling me that someone was at my front door. There was no basis for such a feeling, but I was compelled to follow it, nonetheless.

Through the sluggish movements, I reached for the handle on the door, then pulled it open. Upon doing so, a blinding flash of light burst into the house and I couldn’t see anything in front of me. No front yard, no dirt, no grass, no neighborhood. Nothing but the flash of light.

Soon, that dissipated, and the shapes of the environment right outside my house took hold. It was a slow process, though, and it seemed to be sapped away, or drawn in to a particular spot in the middle of my peripheral vision. Right in front of me, a little below me, until I saw who, or what was at my door: a little girl with ashen hair, soot and dust. Her large, beady eyes, like what a stuffed animal would have. Corduroy, was what she reminded me of. That little bear from a picture book way back when I was about her age. She wore a thick cloak, hood off. Actually, it might have been a short-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. It was hard to tell which, as if whatever it truly was, my mind couldn’t decide what to see.

“May I help you?” I asked her.

She stared ahead rather than look up at me. Like there was something she was focused on, maybe something that she wished to steal from my home.

Oh, relax. She’s probably just a girl scout and trying to sell me cookies, I scolded myself. It was all I could do to feel at ease. Not that I felt dread around her, or that she held any malicious intent, but I still felt a little uneasy.

“Can I come in?” She looked up and asked at last, her voice soft and ethereal. She also didn’t look up at all. I didn’t see her head move, but I could tell I was the one being addressed.

Careful, Cybele. She might be a vampire. You know how those little girls who ask to come in are. First you say yes, next thing you know you’re strung up on the ceiling and a flattened husk of who you were, with a pile of your blood dripping down and staining your carpet.

...I really needed to get more sleep.

“Uh...Sure?” It must have been the tiredness in me, but if I was going to get eaten up by a vampire, it may as well have been early in the morning.

“Thank you,” she chirped, or blew forth the words, like a Magpie or a wind chime. But it was also gentle, and breathy as well. Neither a whisper nor a shout. Closer to the former than latter, but not really reaching the quietness of the former, either.

Another oddity was that after that, she didn’t move. I invited her in, but she didn’t walk in. I figured that was that when I closed the door and just chalked it up to a weird occurrence.

“Interesting home you have,” that same soothing and unnerving voice returned, and I turned to see her walking through my living room. Well, I could have said that, but she didn’t wander. She was close to the door. Right behind me, in fact. Despite her not having walked in, not even floated in (like a ghost would have at least been courteous to do), she was there.

For whatever reason, I walked over near where the room was where Demetria slept, but stayed outside the door frame and remained in the living room. Whatever that child wanted, she was already in my house now and probably wouldn’t leave until I figured what it was that she was here for. More than that, I needed to know who or what she was, if she was anything at all.

“So, what should I call you?” I blurted out the question. She didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

“I wonder…” She looked around as she replied, “what do you think you should call me?”

“Anything?” I blinked.

“You would call me ‘Anything’?” She asked, as if entertaining the idea.

“Well, I mean, if I can call you anything I want to call you...what’s to stop me from calling you ‘Lampshade’?”

“What’s to stop you indeed.”

That still didn’t seem right. Everything reminded me of ‘be not afraid’, that kind of angel vibe.

“Are you an angel?” I wasn’t satisfied with calling her a lampshade. It was just the first thing I could think of that was next to me (there was a lamp next to the television set).

“Is that how you wish to see me?”

Another odd question. It seemed neither meant to mock, be an admittance, nor denial. Just a genuine sense of wonder.

“I…I don’t know,” I was at a loss. “At least tell me your name.”

“My name?”

“You know, like my name is Cybele.”

She smiled, even if it didn’t look like her lips made any such creases.

“Ah, Cybele, the Anatolian mother goddess. If that be your name, you may be most wonderful, indeed.” “Gee, I don’t know about that. I certainly don’t want to be anyone’s mom. No offense, but I’m not interested in raising any kids.”

“Why would that bring me offense?”

“I don’t...uh, anyway. What brings you here?” I felt like I was getting nowhere, and worst of all, I didn’t even know what she wanted.

She walked forward in a way that felt more like a glide. Despite it being one foot over the other, it was fast, but also light, and didn’t look the least bit like a run. As she approached me, for whatever reason, I fell back to the floor, and she passed right by me, into the room where Demetria resided.

I got up and followed her in. There was no reason to suspect as such, but I still didn’t want any harm to come to Demetria. Especially when she still had her injuries.

But when I saw the mysterious little girl, all she did was stare at the bed where Demetria lay.

“She’s seeing disturbing visions right now,” the girl stated. Lampshade or whatever else there was to call her.

“How do you know that?” I asked. It was probably true, though, that she was having bad dreams, but I still wanted to know the basis of how she knew. Hell, how she knew Demetria at all.

“We met once before, under less comforting circumstances,” the girl replied.

“She told me she’s been having nightmares.”

“Nightmares...little imps who ride on horses?”

“No, like, bad dreams. Like, we humans get tired, and when we get tired enough, our body starts to shut down and we let our consciousness fade for a little while. We call it sleeping, and when we sleep, we often have dreams. They can be weird and unusual, sometimes mundane, though. Sometimes pleasant and sometimes terrifying. It depends less on the content of the dream, but more on the vibes the dream gives off.”

That was weird, too. I didn’t know why I felt the need to explain what sleep was. Not to mention, it wasn’t just people who slept, most animals did.

I saw a smile curve up from the side of her face.

“Thank you. I’ve been wondering what sleep was for a while.”

“What? You don’t know what sleep is?”

She turned her head from side to side.

“I’ve yet to experience it, but now that I understand the general concept, I am interested in finding out what it’s like for myself.”

“That’s odd. By the way, it’s not just humans that sleep. It’s most animals. Err...living creatures.”

She gave a single nod.

“I have met other organisms. Salamanders are one of my favorite, but I am partial to humans. They’re who I wish to study the most.”

“Are you...not human?” It seemed so obvious, but I had to ask anyway.

“I could be.”

I suppose simple questions warranted simple answers. Not that it answered anything, at least not in my mind.

“Tell me, Cybele, do you believe in reincarnation?” She asked at last and I jumped from where I stood, startled to be addressed by name.

So you know of such concepts like reincarnation, but not sleep?

“I’m not sure. I suppose it’s possible. Haven’t given it much thought.”

“What about resurrection?”

“Even less sure about that one. I’ve heard about people coming back from near-death experiences, but that’s it.”

“Recreation? Reconstruction?”

“Well, there’s facial reconstruction surgery. Why do you ask? Do you think it’s possible?”

She let out a soft laugh, like a giggle. It really took me aback that she was capable of such things.

“I don’t know, either, Cybele. I was just interested in what you believed in.”

“Well, I’m sorry. I guess I’m not all that interesting.”

“Quite the opposite; your perspective interests me as much as any human’s does.”

That sounded like a compliment. It might not have been, but I couldn’t help but blush and smile.

“So what do you want with her? Are you here just to watch?”

That time, as if I asked the magic question, caused her to give a definitive answer.

“I’m going to transfer some memories into her. They’ll be in an unused space in her mind, so she may not even notice.”

“Will it hurt?”

“It won’t hurt. She may have dreams pertaining to those memories, but it shouldn’t affect her personality. Not any more than her personality’s already been affected by her experiences.”

“Will it help with her nightmares?”

“Mm...it might. It might also give her new nightmares. I can’t say, as this is the first time I’ve done this.”

“Still...to think you’re capable of such a thing. Are you all-powerful?”

“I could be. However, there are things I’m much more interested in than that.”

She didn’t do anything with her hands, no magical beams of light shot out. There was nothing to indicate that she did anything to ‘transfer memories’, but after a few seconds of silence, she spoke up.

“It is done,” she stated.

“What was the purpose behind that?” I was a little awestruck at what little awe I had to be struck by.

“I’m just interested in seeing what might happen,” she stated, somehow both a definitive and non-definitive answer.

She shuffled out of the room, still the same gliding motion. Once again, I followed her. She hadn’t quite gotten out the door yet, so I decided I had more I wanted to ask her.

“Wait,” I tried to stop her before she could leave. “Before you go, I just want to know: am I dreaming right now?”

“Mm...You’re not sleeping, so by the definition you gave me, I don’t believe so. Unless it’s possible to dream without sleeping.”

“I don’t know...if it’s possible,” I yawned. That wave of tiredness I felt after Demetria fell asleep was starting to hit me again. I dropped down to the floor in response to my body’s demands. It wasn’t a pained collapse, I fell on my own volition.

“I’m starting to get sleepy,” I declared. Once again a yawn escaped me.

“How interesting. Would you like to sleep?”

I nodded my head. Now I felt like the kid in the situation.

“Can you sing me a lullaby?” I requested.

“Lullaby? What’s that?”

“You know, like a simple little song to get me to sleep.”

She lowered her head, as if deep in thought.

“Ah. I know one. Twinkle, twinkle, little star. How I wonder what you are…”

With that, I drifted back off into sleep and the mysterious girl departed.

True morning was something far different.

For starters, the room was still dark. Well, I noticed light from outside the room. Of course, being that the ‘room’ Demetria and I were in was once just a big closet with no windows...yeah, it would make sense that it was still dark, even in daylight.

Oh yeah, that was the other thing: I woke up in the same place I fell asleep at in the first place, which was on the floor next to the bed Demetria slept in.

To my right was the bed. As I forced my way to a shabby half-awake state, I heard a shuffle from the bed and looked up to see Demetria sat up. She let out a low groan, her eyes squinted, then looked down where I was.

“Ugh...I just had the weirdest dream,” she rubbed her eyes with her palm and grumbled.

“Yeah?” I yawned. “What was it?”

“Well, I was in a fight with my cousin’s wife. We were both on a rooftop and she didn’t really seem like she wanted to fight, but I kept egging her on, and, well, she slashed me in the stomach, and I fell back. Last thing I remember was a stick being put in my mouth, then I woke up just now.”

That’s...disturbing?

“Huh. That is weird, indeed,” I commented.

“I know. We may not have gotten along much, but I wouldn’t want to harm my cousin’s wife. But I’m guessing it’s not so much because it was her, and it was more because of the fight I had at the hotel, and the guy who I didn’t want to fight slashed me in the stomach. Plus, my cousin’s wife did yell at me just the other night. But the context was a little different. She was upset, and I couldn’t blame her for that. Those people had no right to show up. I don’t know all the things she had to deal with, but I could only imagine how painful that was for her just to witness. As for rooftops…”

She scoffed, then gave a slight smile.

“Only thing I can recall is when I went to a place called Olympia and hid out on a rooftop to avoid guys shooting at me. Man, that place was a trip. Weird enough to have been a dream, but no, the actual dream I had felt real somehow. Like I lived it. Even if it may have just been a mishmash of various events over the past couple days...no, it didn’t feel like that at all.”

I was at a loss. From all the flakes of information she let slip, I could tell she’s gone through a lot. Much more than I would have expected from her.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I had a weird dream too,” I related.

“Yeah?” She sounded curious. “What was yours?”

I thought it over. I tried to think of what was weird about it. Actually, I tried to think about it at all, but couldn’t.

“Um...sorry. I thought I was gonna have something to tell, but I forgot,” I pouted.

“Eh. It happens.”

“So,” I hopped to my feet, “how about some breakfast in bed?”

“What are you, my housewife?” She groaned.

“No,” I frowned. “But it’ll be harder to recover on an empty stomach, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to get up much at the moment.”

“Are you gonna feed it to me, too?” She really wanted to make things difficult. Here I thought she’d have been more pleasant after a restful sleep.

“I...I haven’t thought that far. But if I have to, I will. Now, I’ve got yogurt and toast. That should be light on the stomach.”

She shrugged, then winced. For a moment, she must have forgotten how much pain her shoulder was in.

“Fine. I guess I can go for yogurt and toast. It’s something.”

It was settled: I made my way into the kitchen and pulled out a cup of Greek yogurt from my near-barren fridge.

“Greek yogurt, because...oh, never mind. Bad joke,” I scolded myself under my breath. Next was the toast. Whole grain, because that seemed like something she’d like.

After the bread popped out of the toaster and I had a spoon for the yogurt, I headed back into the room and handed them to her.

“Thanks,” she told me, then held up one of the slices of toast and bit into it.

“Ah!” I just remembered something very basic. Something which should never have been forgotten. “You’re going to need water. Lots of water. I’m also sure you’ll need to use the bathroom from time to time. Hmm...I don’t have one of those pee bags like doctors and nurses have…”

“Ew. I wouldn’t want to use one of those, anyway,” she spat. Ugh. Add that to the growing list of concerns: crumbs all over the bed.

“OK. Well, if you need help getting up, let me know and I’ll help you. I still don’t think you should walk all that much until you’re more healed, but at the same time you’re going to need to sooner or later.”

She nodded.

“Got it. You don’t have to act like my mom. I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

That kinda ticked me off, not gonna lie. Maybe it wasn’t the best time, but I just had to say something.

“I’m aware of that and from the way you say you didn’t want to be saved, you know what? Maybe I really should have left you there,” I hated every word I spewed out and I felt on the verge of tears.

“I’m sor…” She began, but didn’t finish the word.

“No. Even if I’m upset, you still need help. I don’t want to boss you around, I just want to help you. It seems like most of the times we’ve met up, I’ve done things for you and helped you, and in some cases, I just wanted to be nice. But even so, I can’t help but feel like I’ve been used.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Hearing her said that just about broke me. I didn’t want to hear such a thing. Yet she continued:

“You gave me a chance, you offered to be my friend, and I never once considered taking you up on your offer. For my part, I didn’t even want a friend, be it you or anyone else. It’s not that I don’t appreciate all that you’ve done for me, but at the same time, I used you. You were convenient and I took advantage of you.”

I was speechless, unsure whether to be angry or heartbroken. But all in all, what did I expect? We didn’t know each other very well, haven’t interacted much, and yet I chose to help her out time and time again.

“I...I know I shouldn’t when we don’t really know each other very well, but I still care about you,” I brought myself to tell her.

“Why? I don’t understand,” she objected. To that, I let out a hollow laugh.

“Neither do I. I just do.”

She took a couple bites out of her yogurt, then spoke up again.

“You shouldn’t,” she argued again.

“I never said that I should, just that I do,” I countered.

She scoffed, took a few more big bites of the cup of yogurt, then set the empty cup off to the side, on the nightstand.

“I’m such a hypocrite, aren’t I? Here I am, admitting how inconsiderate I’ve been, and yet I’ve been the same way as you.”

“You have?”

“I grew to care about others who never gave a shit about me. Some of them should’ve been expected, though, but I at least thought when I left that I meant something to Sunny and Ray. But no. Instead, he texts me saying he never wants me back and blocks me. Just goes to show how little I was valued. He’d probably still welcome Remora with open arms, but me? Not a chance. It’s like –”

“That’s not true!” I interrupted her. As much as I felt for her, I couldn’t let her keep going on about that. Maybe Ray didn’t want her to know, but I believed that she needed to know. “He probably told you that to keep you safe.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“He came clean with me about it recently, and it’s hard to believe, but if it’s bad enough that he wants to keep everyone away, then I have to believe it.”

“Believe what?” She leaned forward.

“He told me about a fog. Apparently people have gone through that fog and gotten all beat up. It’s not a blizzard, either. It’s like the air is still, and the air is warmer near the diner than the rest of the arctic. He said it’s like there’s these invisible enemies that bring harm to others. Many injured people have shown up at the diner and he’s been trying to take care of every single one, but the airport is closed off because he wants to try to keep the damage to a minimum.”

“Why would he tell me that, then?” She grew angrier, and the explanation had the opposite effect of what I was hoping for.

“I don’t know. Maybe he figured if you knew, you’d try to go back.”

“He’s goddamn right, too! What? He thinks he can take all that on his own?”

“I don’t think that’s the case, but even if it was, you aren’t the only one he had stay away. Where do you think we are right now?”

She looked around the room.

“I don’t know. I just woke up here,” she replied. Which, fair point.

“We’re at my house, over in Alaska. I bought it after Ray ordered me to leave. He gave me enough money to pay for a hotel, and I had enough saved up to buy my own home from all the funds he’s given me.”

“Damn, Alaska, huh?”

That’s what you focus on? What about the fact that I’m loaded? I’m totally not strapped for cash at all, it’s awesome!

“He didn’t even want Sunny to come back, but she was stubborn and came back anyway. So while I’m not quite sure who this Remora person is, I doubt he’s making any exceptions.”

She thought over what I told her, then asked:

“How long has it been like that?”

“Not long after I took you back home.”

“So months, huh? Are they still alive?”

I nodded. Thank goodness they were, too.

“Apparently it eases up sometimes, and he’s able to escort some people out, but he still wants to prevent others from entering.”

“Sounds like they’re doing fine on their own, then,” she concluded. I was rather surprised to hear her say that, considering how she said she cared about them and all. But at the same time, I didn’t think it was a good idea for her to try to enter, anyway. At least not while she had injuries of her own that she needed to heal from. She didn’t need any more.

“I wouldn’t go that far. But my point in telling you all that is this: you have more people who care about you than you think. Hell, I’m willing to bet you care about more people than you think, too.”

“Heh,” she managed a smile. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Now, I offered it to you before, and you don’t have to take it, but would you like to be friends?”

She looked down.

“I don’t know...I’m not really someone you’d want to be friends with. In case you forgot, I’ve killed people. I’m not a very good person.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

She pursed her lip. It looked like she was ready to pout.

“Yes. I’d really like a friend,” she said at last. Elation welled up in me and I felt like I could hug her, but I resisted, not wanting to exacerbate her pain. Still, I wanted to show her how happy I was to hear that, but it would have to wait as a vibration sounded off in Demetria’s pants pocket.

“Oh, my phone!” She sounded startled. She reached in and pulled it out, then answered.

“Hello?” She answered. “Oh, hey, Ves. Can I set it to speaker? It’s kinda hard to talk right now. Yeah, everything’s fine, it’s just kind of hard to hold my phone right now.”

I gulped. Like, do what you gotta do, but I felt like I’d be eavesdropping. Knowing that, I should’ve left the room. But to be honest, I kinda wanted to hear what was talked about.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for yelling at you the other night,” the woman at the other end’s voice came through. She sounded a little weepy and mournful, but maybe it was just the reception.

“Don’t be. You have every right to react the way that you did. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Still, I don’t think you deserved that, either. Juniper helped me calm down and she suggested that you’re probably going through some difficult things, yourself. I want to be there for you, the way that Juniper was there for me when I dealt with difficult things. I don’t think you need to deal with it alone.”

“Thank you,” croaked Demetria in a near whisper. “Yeah, I was in a bad place. Both physically and mentally,” she looked over at me and smiled. “Now I’m only in a bad place mentally. I’ve got someone with me who’s helping me through some stuff.”

I couldn’t help but smile back at that.

“Are they like Juniper?” Ves asked.

“Sorta. Not really. It’s not romantic or anything. But I’m glad to have her around.”

“I’m glad too.”

“Thanks.”

“I just want you to know that you’re always welcome back here.”

“Thanks, Ves. I just think it’s best if I don’t right now.”

“I understand. Won’t you at least come back to get your stuff? You left it here.”

Demetria jolted upward.

“Oh shit, I did?! I’ll head on out right now!”

“No way you’re going out with those injuries,” I stopped Demetria. She was sat up and blankets pulled out, ready to hop on up out of bed. Once I told her that, she sulked.

“Injuries? Also, who was that?” Ves sounded like a smoothie blend of confusion and worry.

“Hi, I’m Cybele. She got pretty badly hurt, but she’ll survive. I cleaned up her wounds a bit and she’s all bandaged up right now, but I don’t think she’s in any state to be running around.”

“I see. That’s really concerning.”

“Yeah, well, if you want, I can get her stuff for her,” I offered.

“I don’t know...I don’t really like the idea of people I don’t know coming over…”

Fair, I thought. I bet I wouldn’t like that either.

“...But if you’re a friend of Demetria’s, I think I can trust you.”

“Great. I’ll be on my way.”

“Will do. Thank you, Cybele, and thanks for looking after my cousin-in-law.”

Ah, so she’s the one who Demetria had a dream about getting into a fight with. I wonder if I should ask her about that.

But I didn’t. She hung up and I stretched my arms.

“Looks like I’m heading out. Mind texting me the address?” I turned to Demetria and asked.

“Not at all. Thanks for doing this,” she began typing away at her phone.

“No problem. I’m sure at least some of those things are important to you. Now, before I go, feel free to wander around the house, but please try not to push yourself too hard.”

“Got it. See you in a little bit?” She asked.

I nodded, then waved.

“In a little bit.”

I flew out at once and I think the whole trip there took me maybe two hours at most? I wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered. Even if her stuff was way off in Indonesia, I’m sure I would’ve flown out to get it.

As soon as I found a nice empty patch of dirt to land in, I hopped out of the plane and approached their door. They lived in some remote place, far off from any cities or towns. Little bits of grass, some tilled farmland, a greenhouse, a shed, and a little chicken coop. Really, it looked like a nice place to hang. That said, I wasn’t sure if I could live there. As much as I was used to living in remote places, myself, I needed a certain...aesthetic that the country life they seemed to live lacked.

In any case, I walked up to the steps of their house, the wooden stairs creaked, and I knocked on their door. When the door opened, I was stunned at the beauty on display: a tall woman with glasses and near-white hair opened, and she was dressed in some kind of white robe.

“Whoa, you’re hot,” I blurted out. She raised an eyebrow.

“Do you always speak without thinking?” She asked.

“No, I swear I don’t. I’m sorry. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. You’re cute, yourself, with that ponytail and cap of yours. You remind me a bit of Juniper.”

I wasn’t sure who that was, but soon I did, as out stepped another beauty: a woman with blonde pigtails and muscular arms wearing a small tie-dye shirt and skinny jeans.

“And you’re cute,” I remarked.

Juniper, at least I presumed, beamed a bright smile.

“Thanks!”

“Isn’t she?” Ves gestured her arms as if to present her.

“Indeed! Anyway, I think I’m getting sidetracked.”

“Ahem,” Ves coughed into her fist, then changed into a more serious expression. “Yes. I as well. Tell me, is Demetria okay?”

“Well, like I said, she’s badly hurt, but she should recover. Her wounds don’t seem to be infected, and I don’t think she broke any bones. So at least there’s that.”

“Just what did she go through?” Ves mouthed out the words.

“I’m not sure if she wants me telling you, but I’m sure you can ask her.”

“Of course. I don’t want to pry.”

“I’ll go get her stuff!” Juniper declared, then walked off. As she did, I turned to Ves.

“Did you two get into a fight?” I questioned her.

“No,” she lowered her head, and turned to the side. “The other night I yelled at her. I had a mental breakdown. But it was nothing physical.”

“I’m glad to hear that. She just told me about a weird dream she had, so I got worried.”

“A dream?”

“Yeah, she said in the dream you guys fought on a rooftop, and then you slashed her stomach, and she fell.”

Ves took a step back and looked horrified.

“That’s...that’s…” She began, and it looked like I brought something out that she didn’t want to think about. “That’s strange. I don’t know what to make of that,” she said at last.

“Yeah, it was a dream, after all. Sorry, it was probably silly to bring up.”

“It’s all right. I appreciate your concern.”

I took a bow, then when I stood back up, I rubbed the back of my head.

“Oh, you know, it’s nothing special.”

Juniper came back out with a backpack and a couple pairs of shirts.

“Here ya go,” she handed them to me.

“This all?” I was a little surprised to see so little.

“Yeah, I guess she was a light traveler,” she shrugged.

“Well, I’m sure she’ll still appreciate it. Thank you guys,” I waved goodbye to them both, then hurried on my way back home.

Thoughts ran through my head as I approached the house.

Will Demetria still be there? She better, just so she doesn’t get herself hurt further. But at the same time, she does strike me as the type of person to run off.

It was a worry which turned out to be unfounded, as when I entered the house, Demetria was there in plain view: not in the room, but on the couch.

“Hey, I’m home,” I announced.

“How’d it go?” She turned and looked over to me.

“Eh, they seemed like nice people. Not really much happened. I just got your stuff, then left. How about you? How are you doing?”

“It’s been hard to get around. Had to prop myself up against the walls and stuff, but I managed. Found the bathroom and everything.”

“I’m glad to hear. I’m also glad to see you’re still here.”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve got a destination in mind for where I want to go next, but I’m going to wait until I’m all healed up.”

“That’s good to hear.”

She seemed to be in brighter spirits than earlier in the morning. I went ahead and plopped down on the couch beside her.

“So, wanna order take-out?” I offered.

“Oh, hell yeah! I’m starving!” She roared.

“What do you like?”

“I’m cool with whatever...but also I’m vegetarian. So there’s that.”

“Fine by me. How about Chinese?”

“Totally! I bet there’s noodles and shit.”

I snorted.

“Yeah, there sure is.”

I went ahead and ordered online, then when I looked up, I gasped upon seeing what Demetria held up.

“By the way, I found this while you were away. Neat stuff,” she had a devilish grin on her face and I wanted to yank my journal away from her.

“Please don’t tell me you read it!”

“A bit. Here and there. Neat stuff. Though I’m sure I could write better.”

“Oh yeah?” I huffed.

“Yeah. Poetry’s easy. Anyone could do it. Here: ‘Roses are red. Violets are blue. Uhh...Fuck. I can’t think of anything else. How are you?’ See? Easy.”

I burst into laughter.

“Well, I had a good laugh, at least.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissed. “I get it. I’m a comedic genius. No need to rub it in.”

The rest of our night went fairly well. We seemed to bond a bit here and there, something I never imagined.

Soon days passed and she walked around more and more as the days went by. On one occasion, I found her with her laptop open and sat up on the bed.

“I’m actually thinking of taking online classes to finish up my Master’s program,” she mentioned.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a big deal for me. I dropped out for kinda stupid reasons, but truth be told I was losing interest in my studies, anyway. Still, I don’t like to leave things unfinished, so even if I’m no longer interested in marine biology, I’d still like to complete my program so I have something to show for it. For my own sake, anyway.”

“Well, I think it’s a good idea. I support your decision,” I gave a thumbs up. “Still, sounds difficult. I don’t think I could do online classes.”

“Eh. I don’t see myself liking them, either, but I don’t want to show up in person. I feel like I’d be a disgrace to whatever campus I ended up on.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that.”

“I know...it’s just regrets and stuff.”

“I know how that can be, too,” I admitted. “Still, if you need any help with tuition, let me know. I’m pretty rich, after all.”

Gee, I really tried to brag about that whenever I could, huh?

“Thanks, but I got my own money,” she pulled out an envelope. “It was a birthday gift from...err...someone. It’s not important who.”

“If you got enough to pay for tuition for your birthday, sounds pretty important to me.”

“Trust me, it’s not. I feel bad even using it, but a gift’s a gift.”

I wasn’t going to press any more about the subject, but I was glad to hear that she was considering doing something meaningful.

All in all, it probably lasted about a month in total before she (at least said that she) was all healed up. I didn’t expect her to leave so soon, and her bag wasn’t packed, but by coincidence, I happened to be the one who sparked her departure.

“I’ve gotta say, this is a pretty cool place you got,” she wandered around the house while I sat at the couch and tried to think of another poem to write up.

“Yeah! I’m loaded! Ray paid me well!” I shouted. All I knew was that she was somewhere upstairs. “I didn’t even check my bank account before or after I bought this house, because I was pretty confident that I could already afford it!”

Yeah, it was shallow, but I had to take pride in something, I suppose.

“Whoa, really?” She called back. “How much you got?”

Out of curiosity, I decided to go on my phone and check. I figured I must’ve had like, a couple million or something? Seemed about right. However, once I checked my bank’s app and saw how much I had, my jaw dropped and I had to hold back a scream.

“No!” I wailed and kicked my legs against the base of my couch. “I’ve got less than a thousand! I’m running low on money!”

Demetria ran down the stairs and slid down the railing. I looked at her and was about ready to break into tears.

“I don’t wanna get a job!” I whined. “People might misgender me, and I might have to deal with customers. It would be horrible!”

“Why would they do that?” She tilted her head. “Oh wait, never mind. People are dumb, especially customers.”

“Argh. I should’ve checked my bank account sooner! This house cost me most of my money! Now I don’t know what I’m going to do!”

“Relax. I’m sure I can get you some money to get by.”

I looked at her, my eyes widened.

“Really? How?”

“Eh. I’m resourceful. You’ve helped me out, and it seems simple enough for me. I just need your help to get around a bit.”

Of course. I mean, I didn’t know how I could trust her, but I just had to. Between taking the word of a violent friend and having to find a job...well, the answer was pretty obvious to me. That, and, I didn’t mind so much helping her out, as long as I didn’t feel like I was just being taken advantage of.

“Great. I’m going to pack up. I was about ready to leave anyway, so this is a perfect opportunity for me.”

“So soon?”

“You know me. Always running around. I’ll try not to get myself killed before you get your money, at least.”

“All right,” I laughed a little. “So where to?”

“Chicago,” she declared.

Really? Chicago? What could’ve been so good about there? Well, if she was so confident she’d find what she needed there, then so be it.

#remoras full #writing #stories #fiction #drama #cybele #demetria #nightmares #dreams #memories

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sounds-like-humpty-dumpty · 5 years ago

Text

The Affair (Part 2)

Summary: Van and Y/N meet again. But instead of being awkward, they get right back to their shenanigans. Their relationship is built through physicality so obviously there is gonna be smut.

Smut, Van x Reader 2 of 3

The second time they met was at yet another party, Van and Y/N hadn't seen each other for five months, not that they expected to ever see each other again anyway. It turned out (after Y/N had stayed the night at Van's) that Sebastian, who was Y/N's flatmate's boyfriend, was old childhood friends with Johnny Bond. So, when Sebastian invited Y/N and Esther to another party, it didn't surprise Y/N to find Van lounging there too. He, however, was too occupied chatting up some blonde girl to notice her entrance at first.

Y/N tried to swallow the bitterness that spread in her mouth as she saw them together. She had no right to feel bitter about it. What she and Van had was long over and more importantly a one-night-only thing. So she decided to distract herself by firstly pouring herself a drink in the kitchen and then making conversation with other people at the party, far away from Van.

What Y/N didn't know though, was that Van realised quite early in the night that he had made a mistake. What the blonde girl had in looks, she lacked in personality. Something Van could have easily overlooked if she hadn't demanded him to give her more attention than he could provide. She knew she was fucking gorgeous and wanted him to acknowledge it whenever she deemed fit. As soon as Van made the mistake of chatting her up and introducing him as the lead singer of Catfish and the Bottlemen, she clung onto him, making it impossible for him to excuse himself and when he did, it didn't take her five minutes until she was next to him again.

Something his friends noticed with amusement. They took some weird gratification in his pained facial expressions whenever the Blonde would appear next to him again after he managed to escape her for a couple of minutes. She either was completely oblivious to his disinterest or decided to ignore it and sit it out until he finally decided to take her home and fuck her anyways.

Y/N was unknowing of Van's dismay until she stood together with a group of people which happened to include Bondy. He was watching the blonde girl and Van interacting and chuckled when he saw Van's pained fake smile after she had presumedly made a joke. Y/N who was standing a little to his left and out of sight craned her neck to look at the scene that had Bondy chuckling and asked: "What's so funny?"

Bondy averted his eyes from the couple and looked at her instead "You see the blonde with Van?" Y/N nodded unsure of where he was going with this question. Surely she hid her discontent well enough for him not to comment on it, she hoped. He continued "She's been onto him since we arrived but I think Van would rather bathe in dog shit than spend one more hour with her" Y/N raised one eyebrow at the phrasing of Bondy's statement but looked back at Van who was now putting a hand on the girl's shoulder and leaned down to say something into her ear. No wonder she kept clinging onto him if he behaved like that, practically leading her on with his gentlemanly actions. He probably didn't even realise what he was doing and thought he was just being polite.

Van vanished into the crowd, seemingly in the direction of the loo and Y/N picked up her conversation with the other people in their group again. She wasn't sure how long she chatted away for when she suddenly got interrupted by the blonde girl tapping Bondy's shoulder "have you seen Van?" she asked him but Bondy shook his head and looked at Y/N who shrugged her shoulders in response "No idea, sorry love."

Y/N wondered why Van was so averse towards the girl, she was bloody beautiful. Her hair was all wavy and her makeup so well done it looked like she stepped right out of an Instagram makeup post. If she did it herself she could work as a makeup artist, no doubt. What was so wrong with her that Van wouldn't want to take her home?

She began to decide that she would go looking for him herself to find out. And when the blonde girl left to continue her search for Van, Y/N excused herself and went out into the back garden of the house. Van struck her as the kind of person to hide in a place where he could have a smoke in peace and quiet, so she figured she might as well try looking in the place she would go to first. It was quite a big garden for London standards. There was enough space for a terrace completed by a barbecue and a lawn that was big enough to host a big trampoline. At the end of the garden was a shed hidden by darkness since the lights of the terrace didn't reach that far back. It was a long shot but she made her way towards the shed.

As she walked closer she could smell cigarette smoke and she knew she was right. She made sure to make no sound as she sneaked towards the back of the shed. It was dark and she peeked around the corner to make sure it was really Van who was hiding behind it. He was squatting, back leaned against the wall of the shed. She could only make out his face thanks to the gleaming end of his cigarette.

She grinned to herself and took a big inhale before jumping around the corner while shouting one big "BOO!". He was so startled that he lost his balance, fell onto his side and dropped the cigarette into the puddle his body had closely missed. Y/N was laughing so hard that she didn't even hear half of Van's cussing, but it was something along the lines of "For fuck's sake! What the fuck, mate?! What the fuck you doing?!!"

Only when Van realised who had ambushed him -that it was Y/N who was laughing- did he relax and righted himself up again. This time not bothering with squatting and just sitting on the cold ground, long legs outstretched in front of him. "Ha ha, very funny" he sulked while producing a new cigarette from a box in his jacket's pocket. Y/N laughter subsided as he lit it and she sat down beside him holding up a palm, signalling she wanted to bum one off of him. He snorted in mock annoyance but produced a second ciggy from his pocket. When she had lit it and exhaled her first lung full of smoke, she asked "why are you hiding back here?" as if she didn't know. Van just gave her a half-assed shrug as a reply. She snickered and bumped her shoulder into his "she really that bad, huh?"

Y/N couldn't see his whole face but she swore she saw a little smile tugging at his lips when she glanced at him. They smoked their cigarettes in silence. Van was finished first and waited for Y/N to finish hers. When she stumped hers out on the floor, however, she didn't stand up as he expected, instead, she did the opposite and surprised Van by swinging one of her legs over his and, in one swift move, straddled him. "Hi" she whispered into the darkness, barely making out Van's face with the missing source of light. "Hi" he whispered back, swallowing a lump in his throat. Y/N used her hands to feel her way up to his chest to his neck until she could feel his jawline beneath her palms. She caressed the skin of his cheeks with her thumbs. Van's heart was thumping in his chest as he placed his hands onto her waist, she was wearing a t-shirt and he hitched the hem up just slightly so his fingertips could make contact with her skin. Her breath hitched and she knew they were both on the same page. She thanked her lucky stars for it. She would have been humiliated if he had rejected her. Y/N moved her hips a little, purposely causing friction between their sexes. She could hear Van inhaling sharply as a result. She then pressed her lips onto his and he immediately responded, deepening the kiss almost instantly. His hands now vanished completely under her shirt, caressing her lower back with his palms. Y/N bucked her hips into his a couple of times more, making sure he knew exactly what she wanted. With one hand she reached down between them and felt the bulge forming in his pants. It strained against Van's tight jeans and he moaned into her mouth when she squeezed it a little. She could have jumped his bones right then and there but she had a better plan forming in her mind.

So, with one gentle but determined push against his chest, Y/N stopped everything she was doing and scurried up onto her feet. Leaving a very disoriented Van sitting on the floor. He was painfully aware of his erection in his pants and didn't dare move. She squatted down next to him again, placed a hand onto his jaw and cheek and quietly spoke into where she assumed was his ear "since you are so keen on playing hide and seek, let's turn this game around, shall we? If you can find and catch me, you get to take me home, deal?" She felt him nod slightly against her palm and with one last kiss onto his lips (well more the side of them cause she missed them in the dark) she sprung up and vanished towards the direction of the house.

She had a couple of minutes head start since Van needed to sort his straining bulge out first. Not only would people be able to see it against his tight jeans, but it was also painfully constrained. So he sat there in the darkness for a little longer, trying to breathe and calm his nerves, her little tease and the anticipation she built in him did not help his case. He had to scroll through his phone and distract himself until he could finally feel himself getting soft again. Once that was done, he made his way towards the house too.

Y/N was giddy, as soon as she entered the house, she went to the kitchen to pour herself a drink. She would need it. The excitement and thrill of their game bubbled inside her. She moved to the lounge, a good position to be in since the lounge had two entrances. One leading to the garden, the other leading to the hallway from where she could escape into the kitchen or out the front door. She tried to be as inconspicuous as she could be, joining her group of friends who were conveniently standing on the little platform that had served as a stage for a small local band earlier. She was trying to insert herself into their conversation but her attention was on both doors; as soon as she would see Van, she would have to bolt.

Minutes later, Van emerged from the second door, the one that leads to the hallway. Her heart jumped, she was expecting him to enter through the other door from the garden. Van was playing with her already. She got ready to dart between the people and out to the garden, but not before she made sure he had seen her enjoying their little game too.

His eyes met hers almost instantly as he entered the room, she grinned at him and raised her cup in salute. Van raised his own cup that he had gotten from the kitchen, a little smirk tugging at his lips as he was watching her next step carefully. There was no way he could catch her right now, not when there were at least 50 people standing between them. He would have to trap her differently. She progressed to say something to her friends before she slipped through the people and out the second door into the garden. Van didn't even bother to follow her. He went back to the kitchen where he assumed she would emerge again, sooner or later.

The kitchen had three doors. One leading out to the garden, one leading into the hallway and one leading down into the cellar. The third one was practically useless for him and Y/N, but the other two doors made the kitchen a good spot to hide and escape. Van was counting on catching her there and not anticipating to have to be the one to make use of the doors himself. Because that's what Van had to do when he saw the blonde-haired head sweeping through the door leading to the hallway. He had totally forgotten about the girl, his mind solely focused on finding Y/N. He quickly ducked out of the kitchen and decided to continue his search for her in the garden instead.

Y/N was in the back garden, chatting with a girl who managed to draw the best cat eye Y/N had ever seen. When she saw Van exiting out the kitchen door however, she excused herself quickly and vanished back inside into the lounge. Van wouldn't even have noticed if it wasn't for the cat-eye girl drunkenly shouting after her saying that it was nice to have talked. Van knew exactly it was her and where she would be headed and quickly darted after her.

When Y/N turned around to make sure Van wasn't all too close to her, she almost squealed with apprehension, fearing the game would be over way too soon as she saw he was only mere metres away from her. She dashed between people in the living room, muttering quick sorrys whenever she bumped into someone. Van was close, too close, and she knew he would catch her.

She was only saved because at this moment -as she was darting through people, Van hot on her heels- the blonde girl from earlier had been one of the people she leapt past. Van didn't even register the Blonde as he bolted past her, exhilarated by the knowledge that he would get a grasp of Y/N's arm any second now. But he was stopped by a manicured hand grasping his shoulder "Van? What the fuck? I was looking for you!" Van, ever the gentleman, stopped chasing after Y/N and turned to face the girl. His smile was faked but he managed to sputter out a weak apology, excusing his missing by the fact he had to take care of some family emergency over the phone. It was the most bullshit excuse anyone could ever have given anybody, but Van didn't care at that moment, all he wanted was to catch Y/N, take her home and make her pay for the teasing.

But once he freed himself from the Blonde's grasp, Y/N was nowhere to be seen.

When Y/N turned around again and saw that Van had miraculously vanished, she didn't quite dare to feel relieved yet. She fled into the kitchen where she was met with a grinning Bondy, pouring various juices and spirits into a cup while humming a tune she didn't recognise. He was obviously high as the sky. She would have loved to stay longer and chat to him, prod his mind while he was completely baked. But the apprehension of Van busting through the door and catching her kept her moving. She just smiled at him in greeting and vanished through the door into the garden.

Instead of walking back into the lounge and potentially right into the arms of Van though, she decided to saunter around the house outside. Ducking into bushes whenever people emerged from one of the doors. After a little while, she even grew bold enough to bum a cigarette from some guy smoking in the front garden.

But Van was still nowhere to be seen and it began to worry her. She knew it would probably lead to her demise but she had to make sure Van was still interested in their game and not distracted by something or someone else. She went into the lounge first, carefully staying right by the door in case Van was trying to set a trap, but she couldn't spot him. She anxiously leapt around the room, trying to get a better view, she even dared to jump onto the little makeshift stage, but there was no Van in sight. This was not how she envisioned this game going. He was supposed to look for her not the other way around. She grew annoyed with the situation and decided to go to the kitchen in hopes Bondy was still there.

Now that she knew Van wasn't nearby she wanted to strike up that potentially ridiculous conversation. Bondy fortuitously was still there, now joined by Sebastian who was suspiciously eyeing whatever concoction Bondy had mixed in his cup. When they both saw her entering, they smiled, Bondy's smile wider than that of the Cheshire Cat's. "Come and try the wondrous tincture I created with my own two magic-less hands" Bondy motioned to the cup into which he had probably poured half the beverages in the kitchen. Y/N eyed the cup with the same suspicion as Sebastian had eyed it and replied: "Nah thanks I'll pass." Sebastian laughed at Bondy as he pretended to be offended by her answer. "Are you really sure though?" Bondy asked dubiously and Y/N had a slight suspicion that something was off.

There was a little tingle in her neck and she quickly turned around when she saw Sebastian glancing at someone entering the kitchen from the basement door behind her. She was faced with an innocently smiling Van who opened his arms as if to motion her to give him a hug. He was so sure of himself that he even exclaimed a little "Gotcha".

But Y/N just yelped and darted away from him and out into the hallway, where she bolted out the front door instead of into the lounge. This was probably the mistake that led to her capture, because Van was fast, his long legs giving him an advantage. If she had darted into the lounge and between the people, she might have made an escape but now she was faced with the open space of the lawn. No people to duck behind. She didn't even make it halfway to the front gate as she felt a hand grab her t-shirt and then an arm wrap around her torso pulling her back flush against his chest. Both his arms wrapped themselves around her front restraining her from moving just one centimetre away from him. She could feel his chest rising and falling against her back and felt his hot breath tickling her neck as he whispered: "No more running, you are mine for tonight."

She squirmed in his arms and he loosened his grip just enough for her to turn around and face him. She wriggled her arms free from his restraint and wrapped them around his neck.

Now that the thrill of the chase was over, a new thrill rose within her. "Take me back to yours then," she murmured before pressing her lips onto his. Van immediately reciprocated her kiss. His arms still wrapped tightly around her. He could have fucked her right then and there, on the spot, but he called an Uber instead. The 5 minutes they had to wait for their driver to arrive were spent with lips on each other and hands sneaking into places they shouldn't sneak to in public. Lucky for them, no one seemed to give them any mind.

As they heard a car approach, they separated themselves from each other. Van opened the door for her and got in on the other side. They purposefully stayed on their sides of the car for the first five minutes of the car ride, Van exchanging pleasantries with their driver. Y/N slowly grew tired, the movement and darkness of the car lulled her in and the adrenaline of their little game subsided.

Van's flat was still 20 minutes away when she decided to scoot closer and lay her head on his shoulder. The seat belt didn't allow her too much comfort though. Van extended his hand for her to hold, wanting this car ride to be over already. She took his hand in hers but instead of interweaving their fingers, she placed the back of his hand onto her palm so that his palm was facing upwards as if she wanted to read from it. With her other hand, she began to lightly trace the lines with her fingertips, making patterns and moving up to trace his fingers too. She was fascinated by his fingers, they were so long and calloused from playing the guitar. She was entranced by his whole hand, not able to stop touching it.

He wasn't quite sure if she did it on purpose or if she had no idea what her slight touches were doing to him. He had to swallow hard and was thankful for the darkness in the car since he was sure the bulge in his pants was overly prominent. He repressed the urge to withdraw his hand, his nerves growing more and more sensitive to her tracing, his penis growing stiffer and stiffer. He just wanted to get home and finally fuck her senseless.

When the car finally stopped in front of the terraced house in which Van's flat was located, Van jumped out of the car with a quick "cheers mate" directed towards the driver. Y/N nodded at the man in the driver's seat and got out herself while Van was already halfway to the front door of the house. As she caught up to him he had already opened the door and ushered her inside. As soon as the door closed and both of them were out of sight, Y/N pressed herself against Van, not even attempting to make it up the stairs first before she crashed her lips against his. She could feel his bulge against her hips and smiled against his lips, happy that the car ride did nothing to extinguish his excitement. Van knew that if he would let her have her way, he would come undone in the hallway right then and there, so he pulled away from her embrace, took her hand and pulled her up the stairs with him. He swiftly opened the front door to his flat, steered her inside and shut the door with his foot as his lips found hers again immediately.

Shoes were kicked off and jackets were thrown onto the floor as they stumbled into the bedroom, still attached to each other's lips. T-shirts were removed eagerly and pants pulled down with impatience. Within a minute both Van and Y/N were naked and laying on the bed, Van above her guiding his penis towards her entrance, he moved inside her and moaned at the warm wetness enveloping his tip, then he pushed in fully and the tiny gasp of Y/N almost made him lose it already. He wanted to start slow but her moans and his need to finally get some release made him pound into her relentlessly. Three minutes later and he came undone inside of her, moaning and gasping, bathing in the sweet relief of his orgasm.

Y/N was breathless and overwhelmed by his need for her. He almost came instantly. His face was heavenly as he came inside her, mouth opened, eyes screwed shut, a low groan from deep inside his chest. It was almost enough to make her come too... almost.

When he was done, he dropped on his back beside her, eyes still closed. She lay there for a moment overwhelmed by what just happened, the lust, the need, the desire they shared. It was stronger than she had ever experienced with someone else.

When Y/N shifted her body to lay on her side and to look at him, Van draped an arm over his eyes, displaying his axillary hair but not giving her any eye contact. He was still breathing heavily but otherwise did not move. Just lying on his back, face halfway hidden under his arm. Y/N didn't know what to do. The atmosphere had suddenly shifted dramatically. She was contemplating to just stand up and leave since it seemed like Van did not want to interact with her anymore. Maybe, now that he had gotten his relief, he was done with her. Or maybe he was let down by their final intercourse; after all, Y/N had been fixing him up and teasing him throughout the night, just to deliver a disappointing ending. Some sort of panic rose within her, she didn't want to leave like that, didn't want Van to remember her this way, whenever he might think back to their encounter.

She swallowed the lump of nervousness in her throat and scooted closer, her eyes helplessly roaming over Van's gloriously naked body. "Van?" she asked softly. No reply, only his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Her heart began to flutter in fear of rejection. If he wanted her gone, he would have to say so, though, she decided. She scooted even closer to his body, her stomach touching his side, and tried to remove his arm from his eyes. He first resisted but then let her remove it, stretched it away from him so she could snuggle into his arm if she wanted to. He kept his eyes closed though. "Van" she spoke again and sighed as she moved her naked body even closer to his so that she could drape half of herself over him. She rested her chin on top of her hand that was lying flat on his chest, almost touching his necklace but not quite. She could feel his heart beating fast, but her's was beating faster with fear he could push her away.

But instead, Van moved his arms to embrace her. He inhaled deeply and Y/N's head moved up with his chest. Then he opened his eyes. Y/N smiled at him, relieved that he wasn't rejecting her. "Hi," she said while looking into his blue orbs. Van moved positions as a response. He turned so that he was laying on his side as well, but making sure he was pulling her closer to him. He wrapped one leg around hers and buried his face into the crook of her neck. "You ok?" She whispered and tried to pull his head away from her neck to look him in the eyes but he wouldn't let her move it. Instead, he began to kiss and lick the skin available to him. She could feel his teeth grazing it every now and then too. He began sucking and biting soon after and she was sure he would leave her with hickeys.

His hand that was caressing her back, moved southwards until it reached her butt, he squeezed one cheek and continued to move it between their bodies until his fingers reached her clit. He began rubbing it slowly and Y/N sighed out a moan. He pushed her onto her back gently, his lips leaving her neck to explore her nipples while he was still circling the nub of nerves between her legs. She took hold of his penis but Van grabbed her wrist to stop her "Let me take care of you now, yeah?" She nodded and let him go, clutching the bedsheets instead as his fingers picked up speed.

Because what she didn't know, was that Van wasn't disappointed in her, but he was ashamed of himself. He came so fast and selfishly that he didn't even consider how she must have felt with him pounding into her like a piece of meat. He was embarrassed and didn't want to face her, didn't want to see her offended frown while she would grab her stuff and leave his flat. But she didn't leave, instead, she surprised him by cuddling up next to him, asking if he was ok when he should have been the one to make sure she was fine. He wanted to make sure she felt as amazing as she had made him feel. Wanted to see her face while he unravelled her. He pushed two fingers inside and curled them, keeping the movement on her clit with his thumb at the same time. She gasped and moaned as his movements grew faster and faster, he could feel himself getting hard again by just watching her like this. She arched her back, opened her mouth and then came around his fingers, moaning and shaking as he kept moving, milking her orgasm until she grabbed his wrist to make him stop because her she got too sensitive for his touch.

He kissed her then, his lips caressing hers gently, feeling her exhilarated breath on his skin. She draped her arms around him and he moved on top of her, putting the full weight of his body onto hers. She managed to spread her legs beneath him and wrapped them around his torso. Her hands roaming down his back. She sighed his name when she felt his growing erection on her stomach. "Fuck me" she whispered and Van was more than eager to obey, this time making sure she came before him.

#van mccann #vanfic #vanfiction #van mccann fanfic #catb fanfiction #van mccann fanfiction #smut #van x reader

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theskywaslookingback · 6 years ago

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doubt

[these are the ways that i love you] - [AO3]

Jon’s flat is cold and musty. It’s obvious from the moment they step inside that it hasn’t been occupied in some time. The curtains are pulled tight over the windows, the light from the street peeking around the edges with a hazy yellow hue. Dishes have been left in the dry rack, a mug on the counter containing something that might have once been tea. It is stifling in its bareness, empty walls and heavy bookshelves. The only point of warmth comes from two hands clasped together in desperation.

Jon takes a moment to look at their hands and realizes Martin is shivering. “Sorry,” Jon says, “I’ll get the heating on.”

Martin is still looking at him like he had in the Lonely, wide eyed desperation and disbelief. He’s beautiful, and Jon kicks himself for thinking that distress looks good on Martin. When he tries to untangle their fingers Martin clings on tighter.

“Martin?” Jon asks.

There’s an edge of panic to Martin’s voice, “Don’t- don’t let go- I-“

Oh. Jon gives Martin’s hand a quick squeeze. “Alright,” he says, and the smile on his face almost feels genuine.

“Can we-“ Martin shudders through a breath, “Can we just sit down a moment?”

“Yes,” Jon feels frozen in place for a moment before starting forward. He feels like a puppet, moving in stop motion. “Of course, let me just-“ He pulls them both forward into the sitting room.

The couch can barely be qualified as such, as broken down and threadbare as it is. It does contain a liberal coating of blankets draped across its concave back, leftover from the days when Jon felt the need to swaddle himself in as much warmth as he could find. Long before his crawl through the Buried made that feeling more panic inducing than safe.

Jon pulls the blankets around them now, pressed together hip to hip, their hands still held tight together. Martin makes himself small next to him, resting his head on Jon’s shoulder. He looks exhausted and Jon just wants to tell him that he can rest now. That he can put all his weight on Jon’s shoulder. That Jon can hold him up.

He doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything. He just holds Martin’s hand and concentrates on not rubbing his thumb across those half-bruised knuckles in a way that would be far too intimate for the two of them.

“Thank you,” Martin breathes, closing his eyes.

Tea would be a wonderful distraction. Martin is solid and not quite warm beside him but rapidly becoming that way, leeching the heat from Jon’s skin. Jon wants to pull him closer, let Martin crawl into the skin of him until they are not two but one and Martin never feels lonely again. He wants to touch. He wants- he wants-

Martin’s hand tightens where Jon’s fidgets, fingers becoming shaking and anxious. Martin swipes his thumb over the back of Jon’s hand thoughtlessly, pulling a choked sound from Jon’s throat.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Tears prick at the bottom of his lashes and he wipes them away, pretending to rub his eyes, “Tired, you know?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

He’s alone in a room, solid concrete walls and the whir of a tape recorder that he can’t see. The carpet is threadbare under his feet, socked toes curling into the bare patches. And it’s cold, it’s so cold.

“Martin?” Jon whispers. His hands feel empty and useless so he clutches at his bare, shivering arms pimpled with gooseflesh. “Martin!”

There is no door. There has never been a door here. The walls are too solid for doors, thick and wet and gray. A ceiling fan whirs overhead, almost the same frequency as the tape recorder. There is a desk where the not desk was before and the tape recorder is there as it always has been. There is no stop button, no rewind, just the endless whir forward. It is listening, but Jon does not know what for.

“Martin!”

Martin had been here once, in this alone room that was not a room but a prison. He was not anymore. Martin did not need to be anywhere anymore.

The tape stops with a sudden click that is almost deafening in the absence of everything. The ceiling fan above slows and slows. Stops.

Jon’s heart is the loudest thing in the room. He sees it sitting there on the desk, pumping arrhythmically, though there’s no blood for it to push through its valves and ventricles. Jon cradles his heart in his hands.

The ceiling fan begins to spin again, backwards this time, and the tape in the recorder begins to play. It’s a mismemory of Martin’s voice, the tone and intonation are wrong, or Jon thinks they might be wrong, but maybe they aren’t.

“This is where I should be. It feels right.” A click, like the tape is skipping, like a recorder set to the wrong track. “Nothing hurts here. It’s just quiet.” Jon lets his heart fall to the ground. He doesn’t feel it when he steps on it. His fingers clutch at the tape recorder, knuckles white where he grips it. “Even the fear is gentle here.” The recorder clicks and skips again, skipping past Jon’s reply. Martin laughs, distorted and mirthless. “I really loved you, you know?”

I know, Jon thinks, I know, it’s too late, I know.

“I really loved you, you know?” It repeats, and it is at one more of Martin’s voice and not Martin’s voice at all, full of static. The tape spools out from the recorder, wrapping around Jon’s hands, his wrists, holding him in place. “I asked you to stay safe.” He says now, the tape winding its way up Jon’s struggling arms. “I told you not to die, and you couldn’t do that for me. I loved you, and you were gone. You left me alone, Jon, I was all on my own.”

I came for you, he wants to scream, but the Archivist has no lungs. He can only watch and listen and Know. The tape winds up his chest, his neck, into his mouth, down his throat. The ceiling fan spins on. The Archivist gags, choking, drowning, and falls to his knees.

Jon wakes up gasping, his cheeks wet, with Martin’s hand on his face. “Hey,” Martin says, so softly, “hey, you’re alright Jon. It’s okay.” His hand is gentle against the rough stubble along Jon’s jaw, his thumb sweeping along the sharp jut of his cheekbone. There are dark bags under Martin’s concerned eyes, and Jon isn’t sure if he managed to get any sleep at all.

Jon grabs Martin’s trembling wrist, his thumb digging into Martin’s shaking pulse. “Sorry, I-” He lets out a shuddering breath and lets go, his hands falling limp to his lap, “sorry.”

Martin makes an upset noise, “Jon you don’t have to apologize. Nightmares are...kind of to be expected for us, I think.”

Jon wishes that wasn’t true. Martin more than anyone deserves an uninterrupted night’s sleep. “Tea?” He asks.

“Sure,” Martin says, and moves to stand.

Jon reaches out and grabs Martin’s hand. “No, I uh- I can do it. You need to rest.”

Martin tangles their fingers together. “We can do it together.” He smiles and his eyes go soft, if Jon didn’t know any better he’d say the emotion in them was a lot like love. But it couldn’t be. Not anymore.

Jon smiles anyway. “Okay.”

There’s no cream in the fridge, or if there was at some point it was certainly not safe now, so they both take their tea with too much sugar. Jon doesn’t let his tea cool enough and burns his tongue, but it’s almost worth it just to feel the heat pool in his belly to remind him that he’s alive and he’s awake. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Martin, perched on a rickety second-hand chair he’d had since uni and hadn’t felt the need to replace yet.

Martin watches him back, fingers trembling where they grip his mug too tightly.

They should talk about it, probably. There’s a lot that has been left unsaid in the last few years between them, things whispered hastily into tape recorders when there was no one left to listen. There are things they should admit, openly and without fear. But Jonathan Sims is not a brave man. He clings to his coffee mug filled with Earl Grey, not steeped long enough and with too much sugar and not enough lemon, and lets the warmth of that rest in his palms like the warmth from a hand let go too soon.

“We should talk about it,” Martin says after a while. His mug is empty but he keeps his hands around the well-worn ceramic anyway. “I mean, it’s been-”

“Yes,” Jon says, cradling his mug to his chest. There’s a sludge of sugar and leaves at the bottom that look like a hand held out in supplication. He places it in the sink. “Not tonight, though, I think.”

Martin breathes out a heavy breath. “Okay, I just-” He looks away, “okay.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

Jon clears his throat. “We should get some proper sleep, I think. It’s been rather a long day.”

Martin barks out a laugh devoid of warmth or mirth and it seizes Jon by the throat. “Yes, I think it rather has. I suppose I’ll take the couch?”

“No,” Jon says, albeit perhaps a bit too quickly, “No, I think- I think the bed is big enough to share. Unless you-”

“No, that’s- that’s fine.” Martin says.

Jon’s bedroom is as empty and cold as the rest of the flat, the air stale from the door being shut for so long. Jon has no clothes big enough for Martin to borrow to sleep in, so Martin just shrugs off his shirt and leaves his long sleeve under shirt on. His jeans will no doubt be uncomfortable to sleep in, but when Jon presses the matter Martin just waves it away.

They take turns using the loo, and when it comes time to turn off the lights Jon finds himself hesitating. His hand hovers over the lightswitch.

“Jon?” Martin asks, standing at the side of the bed. He looks as indecisive as Jon feels, so Jon makes his decision and turns out the lights.

“It’s okay, Martin,” Jon says.

Light from the street lamps outside breaks through the window, leaving a soft warm glow about the room. Jon climbs into bed and pulls the duvet up over his shoulders and feels Martin getting settled behind him.

“Jon?” Martin asks again into the dark, his voice a whisper.

Jon flops onto his back, turning his head toward Martin. There’s so much space between them. Jon hums in acknowledgement.

“Can I?” Martin asks, reaching out a hand into the space between them. He lays it there, palm up, for Jon to either take or disregard.

Jon places his hand in Martin’s, feeling large fingers curl around his own and locking them in place. Even now, with the threat of something awful in the future weighing on Jon’s mind, this is the safest he has ever felt. Martin at his side, their hands clasped together. He could leave everything else behind if he was allowed to have just this.

Tomorrow they could deal with everything else, but for now Jon can just let himself hold on to Martin and rest.

#fic #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #my fic #these are the ways that i love you

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casualmaraudering · 5 years ago

Link

after 2342394 years we have a second chapter

***

The bedroom is pitch black when Sirius wakes up. And right from the moment he opens his eyes, he feels like death.

His throat is dry and sore - as if he’s caught a nasty cold or spent the past two days drinking - and his eyes feel heavy and wet. He’s sweaty, there’s a rather painful squeeze to his stomach, and his head is pounding.

None of it comes as a surprise, really. He always feels like shit whenever his body decides to catch up on sleep - it’s funny, almost. When he doesn’t sleep at all - he feels awful. And then when he sleeps for more than absolutely necessary - he ends up just as bad, if not worse. A lose-lose situation, his sleeping habits.

There’s a moment of hesitation before he reluctantly reaches for his phone.

4.52AM

Undoubtedly, the worst part about his body catching up after bad episodes is how it fucks up his mood. The wrecking guilt for waisting 14 goddamn hours is already set heavy in his stomach. He’s wasted the whole evening - and in his current situation, he can’t fucking afford to do that. He could’ve gone shopping - there’s barely any food in the fridge - or done his schoolwork, or even just spend time with his brother.

And God, thinking about Regulus always manages to make Sirius feels even worse.

Cause he’s supposed to be better than the goddamn fuckup he currently is. He should be able to set a good example. But he can’t. Hell, he feels that Regulus is the one taking care of him more often than the other way around.

Sometimes, Sirius wonders whether he should’ve left Reg at Grimmauld. To live a privileged, rich life they were so used to, with cooks and maids and no worry in the world on his head. They’ve always liked Regulus better anyway - it’s Sirius who’s always been the rebel, the improper one, the hated one. The queer one, though that came a bit later (and it’s not like Sirius ever told anyone. That would’ve gotten him thrown out, and he couldn’t let that happen - he needed to leave on his own terms, with Regulus in tow). Maybe they never would’ve hit Regulus? He knows how to behave, after all.

Yet Sirius couldn’t bring himself to chance it. He can’t stomach the thought of his little brother alone in that godforsaken place. Even if Sirius fucks up at being an adult, at least he can assure Regulus grows up loved and without anyone ever raising their hand on him. It’s all he can do for now.

But, while Sirius would love to stay in bed for the rest of the day - or possibly the rest of time - and sink deeper into the pit of despair he’s fallen into, he can’t. Not when he’s got work at 8 and so many things to do before that. The disgusting mood will stay, just like it always does, but Sirius can just lie his way through the mental disarray he’s got going on. He might be a fuck up, but he’s a fuck up responsible for a human being that needs tending to. If it weren’t for Regulus, well… Sirius probably wouldn’t make it as far as today.

So, with a bit of difficulty, he gets up. Right away he gets overwhelmingly dizzy, and his stomach churns with discomfort. He groans in annoyance and sways towards the bathroom. What a way to start the day indeed.

After throwing up (and dry heaving for a bit, because he hasn’t eaten in a good while, so there’s not really much to vomit with), Sirius follows his usual routine of loo-teeth-shower-hair drying. It makes him feel a bit better, at least. He throws the clothes he fell asleep in into the hamper (he needs to do the laundry sometime today, he notes) and trots to his bedroom to look for something to wear.

He checks his phone while squeezing himself into his jeans (not as tight as he’d usually go for - he wants to be able to move comfortably at work) and finds he has several messages.

There’s a few from James - nothing important, either random things he did throughout the day or memes. One from Lily, telling him there’s Chinese in the fridge for when he wakes up and that if he tries to slip her the money for it, she’ll slit his throat (typical, but Sirius will find a way to pay her back anyway).

And then, there’s one that actually makes Sirius smile.

From: Remus

6.21PM

Hope you dream about something nice tonight.

Sirius wished he didn’t remember all the extremely embarrassing things he had said to Remus yesterday - declaring love after knowing the man for five minutes being icing on the cake - but they’re stuck in his memory, ready to taunt him tonight when he inevitably won’t be able to sleep. Though, seeing as Remus did send him a text, maybe not all is lost?

To: Remus

5.20AM

I had the nicest dream. Guess who was in it ;)

There’s no harm in hoping, at least.

****

After getting breakfast (and praising Lily for thoughtfulness, because of course, the fridge is empty), Sirius goes through as many chores as he can before he has to hurry off to work. He puts the laundry on, gets groceries - cringes at the bill extremely, but he can’t just feed his brother instant ramen - and even cleans the kitchen a bit. He puts some toast into the toaster (without the crusts, and leaves a kettle full of freshly boiled water next to a box of green tea) and goes to wake Regulus. It’s not that Sirius necessarily needs to - the kid has a phone with an alarm, after all - but he likes it. It makes him feel more involved; more like an actual responsible brother.

Upon knocking on his door, before even Sirius has a chance to enter, he hears a loud groan; Sirius chuckles at that as he steps inside. While he himself had always been an early riser, Regulus loathes mornings more than anything in the world.

“Rise and shine, Your Majesty,” Sirius says brightly, leaning against the doorway. He smiles as he watches Regulus pull the covers over his head.

“‘eout-”

“No can do, you have a maths test today. Out of bed, sir.”

“Mhmm.”

“If I don’t see you at breakfast in ten minutes, I’m dumping a bucket of cold water right on your head.”

“‘u w’ldn’t. You’d h’ve to clean.”

Sirius laughs, shaking his head slightly. “Ten minutes,” he only says, stepping back and closing the door again.

It’s fifteen minutes until Regulus, sleepy and visibly very grumpy, stomps into the kitchen and sits himself next to Sirius at the kitchen table (Sirius lets him have 20 minutes - if it’s more than that, he always finds he had fallen back asleep).

“I’ll be back from work at 6,” he says, passing a cup of tea to his brother, who takes it without even slight hesitation. “D’you wanna wait for me and have dinner then, or do you want to order in?”

“I’ll be back later too,” Regulus informs him, taking small sips of his tea (he takes his tea ridiculously hot, Sirius had learned, which he simply stopped questioning it after a while). “I have a project to do with a friend. I’ll be at her house.”

“A friend, huh?” Sirius’s mouth raises in a smirk. “And what’s that friend’s name?”

Regulus rolls his eyes and huffs. “Amelia.”

Sirius smiles harder. “And are you and Amelia good friends?”

“Oh stop that.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. ‘m not doing anything.”

“Yes you are!” Regulus says in frustration. “You’re doing the girls thing. She’s not my girlfriend or anything, I don’t like her like that. She’s just a friend.”

Sirius’s gaze softens, and he ends up ruffling Reg’s hair - something he knows Regulus extremely hates.

“I know, I’m just joking around.”

He trusts - and hopes - Regulus would tell him if he started being interested in someone. Both of them aren’t really the type to talk about things like that anyway. Regulus, of course, knows Sirius is gay, but Sirius rarely talks about any boyfriends. Though, that might be cause he doesn’t really do that. Not since they left their parents, anyway.

And it’s not he doesn’t want to; it just never seems like the right time. He’s far too busy with school and then work and then caring for his brother - there’s nowhere to squeeze in dates. And sure, every now and again James and Lily drag him out of the house for the evening, but he never ends up coming home with anybody either; the anxiety about leaving his brother alone for the night is too much. Regulus isn’t a little kid anymore, but Sirius feels he shouldn’t leave him alone for a whole night. Not just yet, at least.

“So when will you be home?” Sirius asks, leaving the table to get his gear on and look for his bike keys (he always manages to loose them, somehow). Thank God for his bike - if it weren't for her, Sirius would be late for work pretty much every day, with how late he leaves the house.

“At 8, maybe?”

“No later than 9, okay? And give me a call if you need me to pick you up.”

“Mhm.”

“You’re grounded if you’re here a second after nine.”

He hears Regulus snort in reply. He walks to the kitchen, ruffles his brother’s hair once again (and earns a very displeased noise in response) and makes his way out the door.

By that time, Sirius’s stomach has settled, and although his head is still throbbing, and he still feels like shit, he’s confident the day at work should pass swiftly. Or so he hopes, at least.

And an hour into the workday, he’s proven wrong.

Working as a mechanic is, obviously, incredibly messy and even more tiring, but today everything seems to go slightly wrong; fussy customers, parts falling onto his feet or hands, accidental burns, and an oil spill all over his trousers. And that’s just little over an hour since he clocked in.

If only he could quit, he would.

Except he has barely any cash in his bank account right now, and it’s not like he has Mummy and Daddy’s fortune to rely on anymore. There’s some savings in his account, but that’s only for emergencies, and it’s not like it’s much. Not enough for rent and utilities, anyway.

Thinking about that always makes Sirius’s stomach clench uncomfortably. He’s so damn tired all the time from constant work, and all his muscles ache at the end of the day, and then there’s always something left to do at home. There’s not really much he can do about that other than to suck it up. It always comes down to Regulus anyway. Sirius isn’t doing it for himself - he wants Reg to have a good life, a happy life, not to be miserable like Sirius had been back in their family home.

He just wants his brother to be happy and healthy, and if that means having to work a few too many hours, then be it.

Sirius’s day passes in a blur of oil spills, clunking of metal, and about four cups of coffee, before he can finally make his way back home and drop onto the couch in exhaustion. The tension in his shoulders aches deeply whenever he moves; the skin on his hands is irritated and red (he really should invest in some moisturizer), and his hair feels uncomfortably dirty even if he's washed it today morning. He could stay on the couch forever.

But of course, life calls. Or more like texts.

And by life, he means James.

From: Prongs 🥰

6.15PM

pub??? now???? come pls?? i miss you :(

Sirius sighs deeply (and probably far too dramatically). He’s exhausted, and sore, and he wouldn’t even be able to drink because Reggie might call him for a ride later. All he wants is to crawl into bed right now, and hope he can sleep for even just a little bit tonight.

But then, he hasn’t seen his friends in what feels like ages and he genuinely misses them. It might be a bad choice, but well... if there’s one thing Sirius is known for, it’s making bad choices. So he agrees.

He quickly cooks dinner, just so there’s something to heat up when Regulus is back, and leaves a post-it note on the counter in case Regulus is home before him. Then, just as he’s about to throw on his jacket again and rush out the door, a thought pops into his mind.

He pulls out his phone, sends a quick texts, and leaves his flat.

To: Remus

6.21PM

any chance you wanna come down to Three Broomsticks for a pint? my treat

#sirius black #regulus black #the marauders #the marauders fanfiction #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #my tag #my writing #it has been.ages. whoops #caffeine for the heartache

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bluesfortheredj · 5 years ago

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The Sweet Escape Chapter 6.

Thurs 22nd June

Your legs move first as you begin to stir from your slumber, sliding back and expecting to drop off the side of the single bed but instead they bump into something that prevents them from moving any further, and your eyes fly open to see the unfamiliar wallpaper of a different room. You inhale and hold your breath as you turn onto your back, spotting the outline of Gwilym under the covers next to you, and you quickly lift the duvet to see that you were still in your top with a pair of his shorts covering your lower half.

Your brain catches up to the current events and you remember how you agreed to go back to his room for a much needed cup of tea, then drifting off on the bed as you both watched telly; eventually ending with him throwing you some shorts so you didn’t have to move from your very comfortable spot on the bed. Taking a deep breath you turn your head to the side to see Gwil’s peaceful face as he stayed asleep next to you, and even though there was no denying how much you liked him there was still that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that reminded you this wasn’t the ideal situation it should have been.

Quietly slipping your legs out of bed, you move the duvet carefully and try not to make any sudden movements to wake him up but as soon as you reach your bag and jeans on the chair in the corner you hear him groan as he comes around, and you quickly gather your belongings in your arms and head for the door, unlocking it and letting yourself out within a few seconds. You fumble around in your bag as you stand outside your own door looking for the key, and Gwilym rushes out of his room as he drags his hand down over his face.

“You didn’t have to go,” he says, standing there in only his pyjama shorts.

“I’ve got to shower and get changed before breakfast!”

“There’s plenty of time for that, come back to bed.”

“Gwilym, just get back in your room, what if Danielle walks in and sees you like that?!” you half laugh, your eyes lingering on his broad torso and the generous scattering of dark hair that covered the top of it.

“I don’t care! I want everyone to know that I think you should come back to my bed!” he grins, his voice a little louder than you’d like it to be.

“Shh! Keep your voice down!”

“There’s no one else in this half of the guest house apart from us! Now please come back to bed.”

“I won’t deny that it’s a very tempting offer, but I really have got to shower,” you say apologetically as you finally find the key and lift it from your bag, “I’ll see you at breakfast anyway.”

He pouts at you as your open your door and you have to disappear inside sharpish before you end up running your hands across his warm and inviting body, because it would only end with your lips on his chest and nothing good would come of that. Well, it would, but he was engaged to someone else less than 48 hours ago, so it would be mad. It was nice having someone to sleep next to though, you can’t deny that, and it was even nicer that it was him. Your mind wanders while you’re in the shower, thinking about how he planned to make everything up to you, and you can’t help but hold out some hope that he’d take you back to the beach house so that you could spend some time alone together, then he could get on his knees, spread yours apart, and truly apologise…

“(Y/N)? (Y/N) are you ready?” you hear him call out as the sound of your door opening makes you jump.

“I’m in the bathroom!” you call back, splashing your face with some water to get the image of his head between your thighs out of your mind.

“Do you mind if I take a seat?” he asks through the door.

“Of course not,” you reply, looking over to see you’d thankfully piled everything you were going to wear on top of the closed loo seat; you really should lock the room door behind you next time.

It’s a few minutes before you emerge from the steamy bathroom with a maxi length strappy dress on and your hair twirled up into a towel on top of your head, and Gwil is sitting on the chair in your room looking up at the telly on the wall while he waits.

“So I was thinking…” he begins, his eyes travelling up and down your body as you pass him his shorts, “thank you… erm, yeah so how do you feel about going to the house again?”

Your lower half twitches at the thought and you give him a smile and a nod in response as you curse inwardly at yourself for the inappropriate images that were racing through your mind, but when you look at him you can see you’re not the only one; maybe he thinks that getting on his knees is the best way to say sorry as well?

“Sounds good,” you exhale, “we can talk properly, and…” you trail off, completely unable to finish your sentence without insinuating something you really shouldn’t.

“...and I can start to make it up to you. Properly. No interruptions,” he finishes, definitely implying something he really shouldn’t.

You go to breakfast together, Danielle keeping a beady eye on the two of you as Gwil sits himself down at your table again, moving his cutlery over while you give Danielle a smile, but she’s wary of the situation and you spend a few minutes after breakfast has finished to explain that he still has a job on his hands to convince you he’s sorry.

“Make him beg,” she grins.

“Oh, I will,” you wink.

There’s an electricity in the air throughout the drive and he’s continually suggestive throughout the whole journey, his hand wandering over to your thigh when it should have been on the gear stick instead, and by the time you arrive at the house you’re both practically panting with the anticipation of what’s to come. As soon as you both cross that threshold into the house it dissipates into the atmosphere and you both calm down as the stark memories of your birthday take over, and how that day ended so badly for both of you.

“So tell me,” you begin, linking your arm through his as he walks to the sliding doors to let some air in, “what was the trigger for you proposing to the wrong person? I’m not trying to make a dig at you, I just genuinely would like to know.”

“It was… all different things that added up to the second biggest mistake of my life.”

“What’s the first?”

“Betraying your trust.”

“Ah,” you say with raised eyebrows as you both turn back to the sofa.

“So, first off her sister got pregnant, then it was baby this and baby that which was fine at first but started to grate when I couldn’t see myself having children with her. Then my best mate got married, I was best man and people wouldn’t stop going on about how it would be me next, and I think the final straw was when my younger brother moved out of our parent’s house to move in with his partner. It just seemed like everyone around us was taking the next step, and I was scared that if I didn’t then I never would,” he explains as you watch him intently as he speaks.

“You settled for something that wasn’t meant for you in a panic,” you nod, “I understand, it makes sense. To be honest I saw warning signs from Russell but chose to ignore them because I thought that it was too late to move on, that I wouldn’t find anyone else. So you went into the engagement thinking that this would be it for you?”

“Pretty much, and I know that was wrong of me, I just didn’t think how it would affect her because I thought I was giving her what she wanted. She knew though, she could tell I didn’t want it. What were the warning signs you saw with Russell?” he questions, turning his body to face you and lifting one bent leg up onto the sofa.

“Ah, just little things,” you sigh, looking down and fiddling with the fabric of your dress as you recall those moments, “I’d walk into a room he was in and he’d be really engrossed in his phone, then when I’d speak he’d jump and get angry as if I’d sneaked up on him on purpose, trying to shift blame onto me sort of thing. Then he said he’d joined the gym so would go there about three or four times a week after work, and when I suggested I go with him he tried to make me feel like I was being paranoid saying things like ‘don’t you trust me?’ ‘are you trying to check up on me?’ when I hadn’t even mentioned anything of the sort. It was… horrible.”

“Oh my god, (Y/N), how long did that go on for?” Gwil gasps as he cups his hands around your restless fingers and caresses them gently.

“Best part of a year I’d say… It only got worse, forever trying to accuse me of spying or being clingy when I hadn’t even questioned him about his behaviour once. But then I guess that’s what you’ll put up with when you think that’s you’re only choice, right?”

“No one should have to put up with that, especially you of all people. You deserve someone who’ll show you just how amazing you are every single day of your life… Someone tall, dark, handsome, maybe his parents own a really nice house on the beach, you know, someone like that, huh?” he grins, lifting your hands to his mouth and kissing your knuckles.

“But what if he decides I’m not for him?” you ask, slipping your hands from his.

“I… What? Why would that ever happen?”

“Why did it happen the first time?”

“That’s completely… That’s nothing to do with this! I wouldn’t… I could never feel like that about you because when you know, you know. And I know that it’s you,” he says earnestly, “when I say I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, I mean it. This isn’t some spiel that I’m reciting because I want to have sex with you, not yet anyway, this is because I desperately need you to know I’m serious about this and whatever there is between us, because you can’t tell me there’s nothing, needs to explored properly. Beyond this holiday.”

“Beyond this holiday?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Way beyond,” he nods.

“Bit disappointed about the sex comment though,” you wink, and suddenly the heavy mood that had filled the space around you both now instantly lightens as he lets out a much needed laugh.

“Good things come to those who wait,” he smirks.

“It’d better be mind blowing then.”

“I won’t disappoint,” he winks.

“Good to hear, now what are we doing for lunch because I’m starving,” you chuckle.

“Do you believe me though?” he asks.

“I do,” you smile, leaning over to him and placing a hand gently on his cheek as you leave a soft kiss on his lips.

“Good,” he exhales as you pull away, “now what do you fancy for lunch?”

“Hmm, I’m easy, what do you want?” you ask, leaning back on the sofa as he stands up and looks down at you with yearning eyes.

“I… Jesus, I can’t answer that right now. I’m going to google the nearest takeaways,” he huffs, tearing his gaze away from you and fishing out his phone from his pocket as you laugh at his comment.

You sit together again at dinner when you finally get back to the guest house a little later than you should have and Danielle notices that the smile on your face doesn’t even fade when you’re eating, making sure to comment on the fact that you both look much happier than you did the previous day, and when you both make your way back to the annex there’s only one question Gwilym wants to ask.

“Will you stay with me again?”

@painthatiusedto @winnielinleigh @queenslandlover-93 @excellentbecca @peachllobotomy @lovemarvelousfics @lovemelikeyou1997 @readinghorn @godohammers @timeandpixiedust @lv7867 @fuckyou-imspiderman @aynsleywalker @the-baby-bookworm @chlobo6 @tenement-funstah @rogmeddows @drivenbybri @mazzellosjoe @muralskins

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym x reader #gwilym lee imagine

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dimensiontripperhibiki · 5 years ago

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Hold It Together (As we Fall Apart) - chapter 6

You guys are not gonna like me for the end of this chapter...heh. I hope you enjoy it anyway. Let me know what you think! Thanks for all of the likes and comments! Lena paused in the doorway to the room Kara was being kept in, trying to muster up the courage to enter the room. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Kara didn’t remember what had happened between the two of them. That Alex was under the impression that she had taken advantage of Kara’s inebriated, vulnerable state. Maybe she had. Lena looked around the doorway into the room. The silence had led her to believe that Kara was alone. Instead, she found the emerald archer leaning back against the barrier separating Kara from the outside. Kara mirrored his position on the other side of the glass, a little to his right. Lena felt a familiar twinge of jealousy at the sight but quickly shook it off. Kara wasn’t hers to feel jealous over. She locked eyes with Oliver and cleared her throat the get Kara’s attention. Kara glanced over her shoulder, seemingly disinterested in whoever was there but she visibly brightened when she saw Lena standing there. “Lena! Hi.” She scrambled to her feet as Lena entered the room. “I didn’t expect to see you this early. I thought you might be busy with meetings.” “My schedule was clear today,” Lena answered, choosing not to mention that she had canceled everything on her schedule. “How are you feeling?”

“A lot better. See?” Kara used her super speed to get to the other side of the tiny ‘room’ she was being kept in. “I just wish Alex would let me out.” “She’s been complaining about it all morning.” Oliver stood up, stretching and for the first time, Lena noticed that he’d changed from his suit into a black shirt and some light jeans. “I should go and find Alex. See if she needs any help with anything. I’ll see you later, Kara.” “See you later.” Kara returned back to the other side of the room, at normal speed this time. Her eyes remained fixed on Lena as Oliver left the room. “Are you okay?” “Am I okay?” Lena echoed, stopping directly in front of Kara. Her hand twitched at her side but she resisted the urge to touch the barrier separating the two of them. “You’re the one who was stabbed.” “I know but Alex said some things about me losing my inhibitions and doing things I wouldn’t usually,” Kara replied sheepishly, not quite able to meet Lena’s eyes. “And I know you were at my apartment when I got sick so I was wondering if maybe I hurt you or...something.” “You didn’t hurt me,” Lena said quietly. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to do.” Kara frowned in confusion at the response. “What do you mean? What did I do?” “You told me the truth.” “Right…” Kara stared at Lena, noticing the troubled look on her face. She stepped closer, only succeeding in pressing herself flush against the barrier. “I wish I had told you the truth earlier.” “I know.” Lena murmured, aware that they were thinking about two different truths. “Me too, Kara.” “Do you think there’s a chance we can be friends again?” Kara had to force the words out of her mouth. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to that question. She was too afraid that the answer would be yes. “Even just a slim chance?” Lena swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can go back to being friends with you.” Kara tried to hide how much the answer stung and slowly nodded her head. “I understand. But just...if there’s anything I can do to make this better...if you think of anything at all, just tell me.” “Actually, I…” Lena was interrupted by a sudden gush of wind blowing her hair up. She swung around in alarm. Her stomach plummeted at the sight of the suited man standing in front of her. The color was different but the suit was all too similar to Godspeed’s. Lena instinctively stepped to the right, trying to shield Kara. “BARRY!” “Hey, hey, hey! Secret identity, remember?” The masked speedster said hurriedly as he stepped forward. He was grinning though, letting Lena know that he wasn’t a threat. “Right. Sorry. Lena’s a friend though. You don’t have to worry.” Kara said brightly. “What are you doing here? Have you seen Oliver?” “It was actually Oliver who contacted me.” Barry experimentally pressed his hand against the barrier Kara was being kept behind. “Yeah, I would hug you but…” Kara gestured meekly at the barrier. “Alex thinks I need to be in here for another 24 hours to make sure I’m at full health.” “Are you contagious?” “What? No!” Barry grinned and phased through the barrier separating the two of them. Kara gasped in delight and rushed forward into Barry’s open arms, hugging him tightly. Lena sighed to herself as she watched them. She supposed she should have been relieved by the interruption but she wasn’t. If anything, she was annoyed by it. She cleared her throat when the hug went on for a little too long. “Oh, sorry.” Kara sheepishly let Barry go and he took back, taking an exaggeratedly deep breath. “I’ve been deprived of human contact for the past 36 hours. Barry, this is my…” Kara made eye contact with Lena, clearly not sure what she should say. “Lena.” “Your Lena?” Barry smirked at her before he turned to the dark-haired woman on the other side of the glass. “Hey. I’m the Flash. You can just call me Barry though.” Kara grimaced at the look Barry shot her. “I’m sorry! I was surprised to see you and it just came out. You really can trust her though. I promise.” Lena swallowed thickly at the earnest tone of Kara’s voice. She didn’t know how Kara could consider her to be trustworthy after what had happened with myriad. “Actually I should probably go. I have a meeting.” “What? But you just got here!” Kara protested hurriedly. “I thought you said your schedule was clear today?” “I just remembered something.” Lena grimaced at the fact that she’d slipped up. Her mind was a mess of jumbled thoughts and memories. She wasn’t sure she could look at Kara the same now that she’d seen her naked. “I um...I’m glad you’re okay. If anything happens just let me know. I’ll see you later.” Barry raised an eyebrow as Lena turned and rushed out of the room. “She seems a little um...skittish?” “She’s not, it’s...it’s complicated.” Kara stared forlornly after Lena for a moment before she turned back to Barry, forcing a smile to her face. “So what are you doing here?” “I came for Godspeed actually,” Barry answered, carefully removing his cowl. He sat down on the edge of Kara’s bed. “Your sister and Oliver figured the best person to deal with a speedster is a speedster.” “Makes sense. Are you staying long?” “Probably just until Alex is done with Godspeed,” Barry answered with a slight shrug. “So what happened to you? Oliver didn’t say much. Just that you got hurt.” “Honestly, I’m not sure. I was stabbed with kryptonite. Everything else is just blurry or not there at all.” Kara’s thoughts turned back to Lena. She had definitely done something to her. Barry was right, Lena was acting skittish around her. She seemed less angry now. She just seemed sad. And worried. Kara couldn’t get a read on her. “How did you tell Iris that you were the Flash?” “Whoa.” Barry stared at Kara in surprise. “Thinking of telling someone who you really are? I didn’t know you were seeing someone.” “I’m not.” Kara’s heart clenched in her chest. “It’s not that, it’s just...was Iris angry with you when you told her? How long did you keep it a secret from her?” “Uh...you know what? I’ll be right back.” Barry sped off and Kara huffed in annoyance as she sat down on the bed. A minute or so passed before Barry returned with a paper bag and 2 paper cups in a cup holder. “I figured you could use some food. And this conversation might take a while.” “Barry Allen, I could kiss you!” “Please don’t.” Barry gave a soft laugh as Kara took the bag from him and began to dig around in it. “I doubt Iris would be happy about it.” Kara faux glared at him. “So you were saying? About Iris?” “Right, well…” Barry proceeded to dive into the story of how Iris had found out that he was the Flash and Kara listened intently, happy to have found someone who could relate to the struggle of keeping such a huge secret from someone they loved. ---- Lena stared into her coffee as she stirred it aimlessly, watching the froth of the cappucino slide slowly off the spoon, landing silently back in the drink. She had ignored the urge to drink her usual glass of whisky. As much as she wanted to drown her sorrows, she also needed her mind clear. She needed to try to figure out what to do. Her anger toward Kara had ebbed away, replaced with anger at herself for softening toward the woman who’d betrayed her. “This is not what we do.” She mumbled to herself. She recalled her mother saying that to her more than once when she’d shown weakness as a child. They were Luthors. Displaying weakness was not something they did. So she’d had sex with Kara. So what? That didn’t mean all of the anger, hurt and resentment was just going to fall away. It didn’t mean that Lena had forgiven her. Only she had. Or she was going to at least. She felt herself getting closer and closer to letting that anger go. But why? The only thing that had changed was that night and Kara didn’t even remember it. That, along with that fact that Kara had almost died. Letting out a sigh, Lena glanced to the pad of paper on the counter next to her. She’d been trying to figure it out for a while now, where this sudden desire to forgive Kara Danvers had come from. It frustrated her to no end. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t going to show weakness. She was torn from her thoughts by the familiar sound of someone landing on her balcony. She looked up in time to see Kara knock gently on the glass. When their eyes met, the caped her offered a slight wave before she pushed the ajar door open and stepped inside. “Speak of the devil.” Lena drawled as she watched Kara walk closer to her. “You were talking about me?” Kara looked around, clearly confused. There was nobody else in the apartment. She had made sure of that before she landed. “Nevermind.” Lena waved the question off. “I see your sister finally let you out.” “Yeah.” Kara smiled at that. “She said I was doing much better so she let me out a few hours early and well...here I am. Good as new.” Lena took a sip of her coffee, finding it lukewarm. She supposed that was her own fault, for merely fidgeting with it for the past fifteen minutes. “What can I do for you, Supergirl?” Kara looked hurt for a fraction of a second before she spoke. “I want to know what I did to you. Alex said you were there when I was sick and I don’t remember anything. Alex won’t tell me what I did but she wouldn’t have locked me up otherwise. Can you please just tell me? If I did something...something else to hurt you, I want to know.” “You didn’t do anything to hurt me.” Lena answered curtly. “Nothing new.” “Nothing new.” Kara echoed slowly, her brow furrowed. She stepped forward until she was lightly gripping the other side of the counter Lena was standing behind. “Which means I did do something, right? I knew it! What di-?” “Kara, I said it’s nothing!” Lena exclaimed loudly. She set her coffee down harder than she intended, sending it splashing over the edges onto her pristine counter. She cursed as some of it splashed onto her notebook and quickly set about finding a cloth to wipe the mess up. Kara looked at the notepad, seeing her name written on it. She reached across to pick it up, out of curiosity. Lena’s handwriting was as neat as she had expected it to be. Not like her messy, hurrid, reporters scrawl. She frowned as she read it. “You wrote liar down twice.” “What?” Lena looked up, her eyes widening when she saw what Kara was holding. “What are you doing? That’s private.” “Sorry. I noticed my name was written on it.” Kara said sheepishly. “What is it? A list of...pros and cons? Good and bad?” Lena felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment at the question. “Yes.” Kara glanced back down at the paper for a moment. “Plane crash, concrete block, falling, publicly defending…” She murmured as she read through the list. She noticed an unfinished sentence at the end. “I l...What were you going to write?” “You do know what private means, don’t you?” Lena reached across the counter separating them and snatched the notepad from Kara. “It’s really none of your business.” Kara let out a weary sigh, her shoulders slumping. She watched Lena storm past her to put the notepad away. She disappeared into the bedroom but when she came back, Kara was still standing in the same position. “You’ve saved my life twice now in the last couple of days alone.” Kara remarked as she watched Lena walk toward the couch. “You really didn’t have to do that.” “Yes, I did.” “Lena.” Kara went to the couch, perching on it next to Lena. “Why won’t you look at me?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lena said tiredly. To prove her point she looked up at Kara, her eyes fixed on the blonde’s cheek. “I’m looking at you right now. Though I would prefer not to be, I have work in the morning.” “You won’t look me in the eye.” Kara reached out, her fingertips grazing the back of Lena’s hand before Lena wrenched away from her. She fought a stab of hurt at the rejection. “What did I do to you? Just tell me and I’ll...mmph!” Kara didn’t manage to finish her sentence. She saw Lena move and suddenly she was kissing her. Lena Luthor was kissing her and Kara couldn’t do anything for a second. Lena’s hand moved to the back of Kara’s neck and Kara found herself giving in, her eyes sliding closed as she kissed Lena back. It lasted only a few glorious seconds before Lena drew away from Kara, her pupils blown wide. “You told me the truth.” Kara opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before she managed to croak out a response. “W-What do you mean?” Lena let out a frustrated sigh. “I went to your apartment to tell you I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to you and you kissed me. Told me you wanted me.” Kara felt her stomach plummet at the thought. “Oh...oh no…w-we...did we…?” Lena nodded in response, troubled as she took in Kara’s mortified expression. “Is the idea of sleeping with me so terrible?” “N-No! No, of course not.” Kara answered hastily. She didn’t want to give Lena the wrong idea but she was struggling to wrap her mind around it. “I’m just...I’m shocked. And confused. Why would you want to...you know?” “Have sex with you.” Lena said, pulling away entirely. She tried not to let the sting Kara’s reaction caused her to show on her face. “I think you know why. Do I really need to say it?” “Please.” Kara reached out and this time she succeeded in grasping Lena’s hand. “I need to know.” “Because I love you!” Lena answered, finally meeting Kara’s eyes, aware that her own were damp with tears. “I love you and I hate myself for it. It’s weak. It’s pathetic.” “Lena…” Kara couldn’t help it. She moved forward and wrapped her arms around Lena, embracing her gently. She felt Lena stiffen for a moment before relaxing, melting into her arms. “You’re not weak or pathetic. You’re the strongest person I know. I’m not just saying that.” “I should hate you.” Lena’s voice was muffled by Kara’s neck but Kara heard it. “I can hate myself enough for the both of us.” Kara said softly. She slowly drew away to look into Lena’s eyes. A moment of silence passed between them before Kara spoke again. “I should go.” “Go.” Lena blinked in surprise at the abrupt announcement. She realized she’d been holding onto Kara’s arms only when the hero slipped from her grasp. “You’re leaving? After everything I just said, you’re just leaving?” Kara hesitated for a moment, a pained look on her face. Her hands twitched at her sides and Lena noticed that the blonde looked close to tears herself. “I’m not going to hurt you again, Lena.” Lena stood up, her hands balled into fists as she followed Kara toward the balcony. “You’re doing this to me again? You don’t get to make decisions for me. You don’t get to decide what’s best for me! Kara Danvers, don’t you DARE fly away from me!” Kara stopped and took a deep breath of the cool air outside before she turned slowly toward Lena. “Do you think that I’m what’s best for you? You know what my life is like. You know how dangerous it is. I was selfish before when I lied to you. To keep you as a friend. I’m not going to do that again.” “You think this is selfless? This isn’t honorable, this is you being a coward!” Lena stepped forward, gripping the neckline of Kara’s suit to keep her from flying off. “You don’t think I’m scared too after everything that’s happened?” “I know you are.” Her eyes watering, Kara gently took Lena’s hand away and stepped back, using her speed to fly off. “Why can’t you just be brave for ONCE?” Lena’s parting mumble was heard perfectly by Kara, thanks to her super senses. She wished she could be. She made a beeline for her apartment, ready to crawl into bed and cry into her pillow. Noticing her head was feeling fuzzy and she was veering off course, Kara frowned to herself and struggled to set herself right. She put it down to being unsteady on her feet after her encounter with Lena and ignored the nausea that followed as she finally landed. TBC.

#Supercorp #Supergirl #Kara Danvers #Lena Luthor #Fanfiction

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