#This is such a stupid mistake and if I'd paid just a little more attention; I'd have caught it... But nooooo

[damiemontclair]

Tfw you realise you have made a critical mistake in classifying an item and need to rewrite 3 whole sections of text, redo two tables and restart your analysis from 0....

[villainessxassassin]

"I think I've fallen for you, and I can't seem to get back up"

When you've fallen for them, literally.

includes: seperate! Vil Schoenheit, Riddle Rosehearts, Idia Shroud x reader

(⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

Maybe if you paid more close attention to your surroundings you wouldn't be in this predicament, but then again you could've sworn you tripped on literal thin air and just face planted to the ground, and to make matters worse it just had to be infront of one of NRC's most renowned Dorm Leaders.

In your attempts to save whatever embarrassing amount of dignity you had left, you just had to pair it up with some basic cringy pick up line.

"What are you-"

'dont say anything stupid, don't say anything stupid...!'

"I think I've fallen for you, and I can't seem to get back up."

ahhh... but you weren't lying, you've fallen both figuratively and literally in a sense.

Vil

"As poetic as you may get, I'd prefer to be within eye level with someone that's confessing their love for me."

You couldn't tell if Vil was being serious with how blank his face looked. Despite your current awareness of the situation and the abrupt response you had infront of the pomiofere dormhead, a comical arrow pierced your very being as his words repeated again and again in your head.

Spiralling in utter confusion as his words gave off two meanings: one was that he just straight up rejected you and second was 'I'd prefer to be within eye level with someone that's confessing their love for me."

Maybe he'd give off a different reaction if you said it while maintaining leveled eye contact with him? You were already embarrassed enough so it's best to keep your thoughts to yourself on this one. On Vil's part he didn't know what to make of the situation.

But he did see potential in your attempt, so that's why he chose not to poke at you and instead helped you up without another word. Only a short 'be careful next time' left his soft lips as all you could do was stare, mind finally comprehending the fact that it was THE Vil Schoenheit you just stupidly tripped infront of.

how embarassing

To Vil, there wasn't anything special with what you said earlier, rather he's already heard similar phrases come out from other people's mouths that he can clump your statement with theirs. Yet for a brief second the corners of his mouth lifted ever so softly, before going back to their original position when he found you staring at him.

"I-" before you could even get another word out he's already had his back turned to you, walking back in the same direction where he came

You'd think he was annoyed, but in truth his heart started beating rapidly in his chest for some unknown reason he refused to acknowledge, but not wanting to loose touch of this strange feeling, he called out to you before he could turn the corner.

"Should you need assistance the next time you choose to say such engaging words, do come find me. I'm looking forward to whatever else you have instore."

Riddle

"If you're going to fall then do so in a more elegant and dignified way, and no that wasn't an invitation for you to just fall for— infront of others whenever you please!"

Despite it being you who should be embarrassed, Riddle seems to have shared the same shade of red you had slowly spreading across your face, though his was radiating a more darker shade.

Had you just kept your mouth shut he would have passed you off as clumsy, scolded you a little maybe for your miscalculated step before helping you to your feet, and went back on his merry way towards the hearslabyul dorm.

BUT NO. You just had to open your mouth and now you have reduced Riddle to what you'd call a deer caught in headlights. He was quick to clear his throat before crossing his arms while looking down on you with a deadpan look on his face. (Thought his cheeks still carried the tiniest tints of pink)

Riddle was always straight forward with his words, always quick to correct someone when they made a mistake, and or punish them when he see's fit.

But he couldn't list down your quick confession as something to be labeled as a 'mistake', and punishing you for something as trivial as making him shy embarrassing him would be plain immature on his part.

So he let you off with just a light scolding, but there wasn't any hint of annoyance or anything negative in his tone of speaking, seeming way to busy flicking his eyes to the floor and back to your own.

You also realized this was the first time you've ever seen Riddle not hold direct eye contact with anyone, which scared you a little. Perhaps even eye contact was something he couldn't bare to waste time on you on? (he just shy bby)

Coming back to your senses, your train of thought vanished when your eyes landed on Riddle's gloved hands on the collar of your uniform, fingers delicate with adjusting and smoothing out the folds and wrinkles as a soft sight left his lips and he finally held eye contact with you.

"Do be careful next time atleast. It would be a shame if you crumpled your uniform over something as trivial as getting distracted... And don't use me as an excuse for seizing your attention!"

Idia

"Me?! uhm s-so would you like help getting back up...? Wait, no— first, are you alright? ah hold on—"

For once in Idia's whole entire life of living he has never felt this overwhelmed and confused before. He'll admit that pick up line was kinda lowkey something straight out of some generic romance anime that he can think of at the top of his head, but that doesn't change the fact people. you said it to him of all people.

If the pause button existed in real life he would have pressed that thing at light speed because the poor guy needs time to process things. He could have just apologized and walked away, maybe pretend he didn't see nor hear you and go on with his day, but even Idia wasn't that cold hearted to just leave you there.

Wether if you meant what you said or not, he offered his hand, looking at the side with quivering lips and squinted eyes. You could have sworn the tips of his hair started to change color, but that was probably due to the angle of the lighting.

He wanted to faint, but then that'd end up with both of you on the floor and that doesn't really paint a good picture in his head.

You apologize briefly after getting up, repeatedly bowing your head in a back and forth motion after realising how careless you've been with both your actions and your words. Idia did the same but in a less frantic matter, waving his hands infront of him while averting his eyes to look at anything but you.

After that day Idia couldn't seem to concentrate on his game at all. For starters he tried imagining what would have happened if the roles were reversed and he was the one that tripped.

Hell, he'd die from embarrassment right then and there. A part of him envied how easy it was for you to say such bold choice of words without breaking a sweat (but internally you were dying)

Yet he couldn't deny the fact it made him slightly happy, despite the situation he was placed in, it felt nice being dragged into what you'd call a "suprise event" in gamer terms. He couldn't imagine himself being in the same situation ever again after that encounter, but he wouldn't mind talking to you again under different circumstances.

"Unlike you, I don't need to trip over my own two feet in order to fall for you- Nope! there's no way I can say that and expect to continue living the day after!"

(have you seen Idia's voicelines? even if he said majority half of them sarcasticly im still swooning)

____

i fvcking tripped and that's the story of how this fic was born (I feel smart when writing titles/prompts but am horrible at writing them, sadly) -kishira

[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

Before You Go | MYG

Pairing: producer! best friend! yoongi x best friend! fem! reader

Summary: Life is taken for granted. People like to kill time not knowing it is time who is killing them. Love is not always a medicine, fate is always cruel. Or in which Yoongi realised his mistakes too late and was sentenced to live with an empty soul. There are times in which you can't always be there. He knew he was too late.

Warnings: ANGST, so much angst guys, medical terms, terminal sickness, argument, fainting, character death, more angst, feelings of guilt and desperation. (Let me know if I missed anything!)

A/N: Soooo, this was originally planned to be a drabble but it escalated so, hehe here it is! Also, I'm still working on the next part of Four Seasons. It'll be a long chapter so please bear with me.

Please let me know what you thought of this in the comments! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one.

Word Count: 5.1k

"Three months at the most."

Said the doctor. You looked at him. No emotion marked your beautiful features. You blinked. A second passed. Then another and another. The world continued on its normal course while your sentence was already dictated. It almost seemed comical.

"There is, of course, a surgery we could perform on your brain. But I'm afraid it will only allow you to live for a year, year and a half if we are lucky. But it'd be dangerous. Even performing a biopsy is risky in your condition, Miss Lee."

You took a deep breath, your hand clutched your purse as it rested in your lap. The tickling of the clock was driving you insane, you wanted to leave your doctor's office, you wanted to run, to scream, to cry but your body was frozen in place.

A soft smile plastered on your face, the only reaction you could fathom at the moment.

"Thank you, Doctor Kim. I'll... I'll think about it."

He stood up, towering over you as he said with a nod. His hand extended to shake yours.

"Please, do so. Come in a few weeks if you start having headaches."

You nodded, shaking his hand as you also stood up.

"I will. Have a good day, Doctor Kim."

Your hand left his and you turned around to leave. Your feet carrying you out of the room that suddenly felt too small. You only wanted to go back to your flat and curl on your bed.

In a monotonous way you paid for the appointment at the reception of the hospital. Your eyes didn't focus on anything in particular while also noticing everything at the same time.

You walked slowly through the busy streets, the evening sun kissing your skin. The steps you took were automatic, you allowed your legs to take you home while in your mind there was only space for the doctor's words.

"Three months at the most."

That phrase repeated itself over and over again in your head. How you wished to just be home right now however, you decided to not take a cab, you wanted to enjoy the walk. Admire nature as you pass by the park and feel the sun in your skin.

Rarely did you ever pay attention to all those little things. Details that gave colour to your life. Details you were never able to forget. Not until it would happen and you'd leave this place. But you still had some time. Three months was too much.

Or that was what you thought.

~ 73 days later.

"You are hiding something from me!"

Yoongi exclaimed. Your heart clenched at the words coming out of your best friend's mouth. It hurt. It hurt to not tell him. For you to leave him in the dark. For him to think you weren't being honest with him.

You both had been friends for so long you couldn't count the days any longer.

"I'm not! Don't you trust me? We've been friends for so long, Yoongi!"

He sighed, wetting his lips as he tried to form words with his muddy thoughts swirling all over his head. He wasn't stupid. You'd been acting weird as of lately. You often gave him excuses of why you didn't want to leave your flat and when you both would go out he'd notice things.

He'd always notice when something was bothering you, when you were in pain, when too many thoughts were going on through your head. He knew you. Probably better than he knew himself.

All those little suspicions, the strange headaches you'd have only for later to vanish into thin air. The way you looked paler than usual, how you were overly tired.

He had noticed.

Yoongi would be a fool to not acknowledge the signs happening in front of his eyes. Yet his mind couldn't get a conclusion. Instead he was blinded by worry over you. Worry expressed as anger. As desperation. As frustration.

"It is you who is not trusting me, (y/n)! I know something's going on. And I will figure it out whether you like it or not."

"I do trust you."

Your voice sounded so hurt and small with those four words whispered out. Tears clouded your vision but you didn't fight back the moisture in your eyes. You kept looking at him in desperation.

Couldn't he just let it pass?

Apparently not. Yoongi was a stubborn man. If he wanted something, he got it. One way or another. But how would you tell him you were dying? How would you tell your best friend you didn't have much time to live? He had planned on taking you on vacation together after he had signed a good contract with a singer.

He promised to treat you to ice cream next Sunday. You promised that you'd be with him forever. You had been with him forever. In everything he had ever accomplished you had been there. You had been there to dry his tears and smile with him. to celebrate his victories and advise him during hard times.

You had always been there. Always by his side. Always in his life.

Did you have the right to take that away from him?

You were a coward. Yes. You knew that yourself. A part of you didn't want to acknowledge the fact that you were dying. And it hurt so much when Yoongi couldn't see further than his own assumptions. He didn't see you as someone he could trust anymore. He thought you were hiding something from him. Which, technically, you were.

Never in your life had you ever hidden something from him. That was why it hurt him so much when he realised there was something going on in your life that was taking a toll on you and he didn't know.

Yoongi ran a hand through his dark hair, his gaze softened slightly at the sound of your delicate voice. So vulnerable. So hurt. It wasn't like you to talk like that.

But despite his heart clenching at the sight of your tears, his next words cut you deeper than any knife could ever harm you. Not even the doctor's words three months ago had hurt as much as Yoongi's words.

"It doesn't seem like it. But if you don't want to tell me, fine. Take your secrets to your grave, I don't care."

Take your secrets to your grave.

If only he knew you were already standing above it. If only he had known those words had made your heart shatter in such a way you couldn't even fathom to say something, if only he knew there was more that met his sight.

If only he knew.

You didn't say anything. Silent tears were running down your cheeks. This was it. The tread you feared would ever break. He had broken it when you were already so sick, when your days were numbered. He had broken a friendship of years with a single sentence.

You were to blame too. If you hadn't been so scared, this argument would have never happened. This gap wouldn't exist. You are to blame too. You are at fault too. You ruined his trust, played with his emotions, wasted his time. All for what? So that you could keep a secret that would eventually come out?

But now it was too late.

Yoongi didn't want to hear anything else. You opened your mouth to say something. Anything at all. But the words died in your throat, shot down by his disappointed declaration instead.

"I'm leaving. I need some space to think."

Your hands trembled as they hung next to you limply. You were losing him. Yoongi, who was your closest friend, your best friend. The closest thing you ever had of a family. The man who owned your heart in more ways than he thought.

You lost him.

He wasn't going to intrude where he wasn't welcome. He wasn't going to push you. If you weren't going to trust him, there was no point in him staying in a place he no longer felt welcomed.

Yoongi turned around and left, not allowing you to say a single word. He wished you had stopped him. He wished you had walked over to him and grabbed his wrist, pleading him to listen. For you to tell him whatever was happening that made you hide it.

He wanted to know.

He needed to know.

Because his heart screamed a name he didn't want to recognise. His soul yearned for the touch of a woman he was yet to take into account. His mind was busy with thoughts of you. Memories of you. Plans with you.

But he didn't know what it meant. He didn't know what he so deeply desired. Needed. So he left.

Yoongi left you to yourself, your front door shut and you were alone. Alone for good. Left behind. Abandoned. Everyone has a limit and Yoongi has gotten to that limit.

He said he needed space to think. Space to be on his own. Time to think if your friendship was worthy of keeping or if he had to let it go. Despite the pain his soul would suffer and the wrecked heart he'd have to endure.

Sometimes it's better to just let go.

But he didn't know what he was letting go. He didn't know anything. Yoongi left without answers and you stayed with a broken heart.

It's been a week since that argument. There had been no calls or texts from Yoongi. And you weren't going to get in contact first either. He wanted space, you'd give him that. He wanted time, you'd give him what you had left.

You sat in front of your desk, soft rain pattered over the glass. It was calming. Soothing in a way. A pen rested in your hand as words were being scribbled down on a sheet of paper addressed to him. To Yoongi.

You were giving him all the time you had for him to come back. But just in case you ran out of it, you wanted to explain everything to him. He deserved to know. You realised that now. He had deserved to know since the very beginning.

But you were scared. You had been selfish. You chose to live in a fantasy when reality clawed its way through you, tearing you apart in your little safe world that you wish would come true. But wishes never come true. There are no happy endings for liars. There is no mercy to change your fate.

You put the letter on an envelope with Yoongi's name written on the front. It was a letter only for his eyes to read and his mind to comprehend. It was for his mind to keep and his heart to treasure. Only for him. Always for him.

You stood up, the destination of your bedroom in mind as you were feeling tired. It wasn't unusual these days. The naps you took were getting longer and longer. You knew one day you might as well not wake up again.

But fate wasn't that merciful. You took a step, a single step forward only to have a piercing ache in your head that made you hiss. You shut your eyes, trying to get it to pass but it didn't work. If only it only got stronger with each passing second.

Your hands clasped at your scalp, fingers pulling your hair in a desperate need of relief.

The realisation hit you stronger than a train. You needed help. And you needed it fast. You stumbled towards the coffee table, the only goal in your mind was to get your phone and call for help. Something was wrong. Very wrong. You knew it. You felt it. You couldn't ignore it anymore.

With a shaking hang you reached for your phone, you didn't even bother to unlock it as you pressed the emergency call button. It rang and rang and rang, the pain continued to increase, your vision blurred.

You prayed to the skies that the person on the other line would answer. It was your only chance. The last straw to life you clawed at desperately. But it rang again and again and again and you couldn't help thinking that perhaps this was it.

Yoongi came back from the bathroom in his studio, he had been working on some new beats he wanted to try out in the near future. He had been keeping himself busy with work so as to not think about the fight he had with you a week ago.

A part of him wished you'd call him or text him but he knew you too well. If he had asked for space you were going to give him that. This was probably the worst fight you two had ever had throughout your years of friendship

He sat back down in front of the large computer screen, putting on his headphones. Yoongi continued with his work.

It wasn't until out of the corner of his eyes he saw the phone's screen lighten up. He didn't have to look at it to know someone was calling him. He sighed, taking the headphones off and saving the file with his music before he blindly picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

But there was silence. No-one answered back and for a moment, Yoongi thought it was one of those scam calls he always blocked. But before he could hang up, his name reached his ear in your whispered voice.

"Yoongi..."

He knew something was wrong the moment the first syllable reached him. He frowned, leaning forward in his chair as he tried to listen to your voice.

"(y/n)? What's wrong? Are you alright?"

The fight he had with you vanished from his thoughts as they were clouded with worry for you. He was getting scared, never in your life had you called him in such a state that it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up with nerves.

You whimpered, pressing the phone close to your ear. The pain in your head was getting stronger and stronger that you couldn't speak.

"(y/n)?"

Your best friend's voice came from the other side of the phone, if you hadn't been so blinded by the white pain pressing on your skull you would have noticed the concern in his deep voice.

"(y/n), you are scaring me, what's going on?"

Yoongi stood up from his chair, grabbing his car keys in a hurry.

"H-help me."

When you dialled your emergency contact you didn't remember you had saved Yoongi's number there.

Those two words were enough to have him bolting out of the door. The destination of your place carved in his mind as he left the building.

He kept his phone pressed to his ear as he ran through the studio. His heart was beating so fast in his chest he thought it would leave his body. Adrenaline pumped in his veins. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

The fact itself scared him, because that something had to do with you. He felt as if the building was larger than normal. Like in those nightmares as he tried to reach the exit but it got further and further away. This had to be a nightmare, right?

He heard your gasp through the phone unaware of the fact that you had fallen to your knees in your apartment, your other hand clutching your head in a vice grip.

"(y/n/n) talk to me. I need you to say something. Please."

Yoongi reached the door and pulled on the handle with more force than was needed. He stepped outside, inhaling the humid air as the soft drizzle tapped against his form.

"I'm sorry."

He yanked the car door open and got inside, one hand was on the steering wheel while the other still held his phone against the side of his face.

"It's alright, (y/n). I'm on my way, okay? Just hold on, I'll be there in a second."

But you didn't hear those words from him. There was a ringing in your ears that took hold of your senses, the phone slipped from your grasp as you fell to the ground over the soft carpet with a dry sound. You closed your eyes, allowing the pain to take you in its claws of darkness as you surrendered yourself to it.

You had been fighting for so long. A little nap wouldn't harm you. You slipped into unconsciousness with the last thought in your mind being: Yoongi.

The man who you were previously speaking to fell into a frenzy when he heard the sound of the phone colliding with your carpeted floor. The hand on the wheel tightened to the point where his knuckles turned white.

"Darling, answer me please! Say something."

But he could only hear your laboured breaths from the other line. He ended the call and threw his phone on the passenger's seat. A curse leaving his lips. If the circumstances had been different, he would have blushed when the nickname escaped his lips but he couldn't fight it in a moment like this. He couldn't help the fear, the anxiety, the stress, the guilt from controlling his mind.

From making him act the way he was. He pressed on the gas and accelerated into the street. Not caring if he got a ticket for the speed limit, not caring if he drenched the bypassers with his car, not caring for anything else other than getting to you.

Tears of desperation began forming in his dark eyes but he blinked them back. It was not the time to cry. Not now. Not when you needed him. Not when you were in danger. Not when you had called him to help you. Not when his heart yearned to have you, feel you, touch you.

Not now.

Yoongi arrived at your flat in record time. With his heart thumping in his chest and his hands trembling, he stepped out of the car. He didn't even bother to lock it behind him as he was already running up the stairs that led to your apartment.

He used his spare key, one he was immensely grateful you had given him. Not bothering to knock or to take his shoes off he barged into the place like a desperate man. He was a desperate man.

Desperate to see you fine, to find you healthy, for you to be alright.

But his world came crumbling down like a paper plane when he saw you laying over the grey carpet, your phone by your side. You weren't moving.

For a moment he couldn't move. The patterning of the rain against the window drowned him in an ocean of tears he was keeping inside his soul. The quietness of your flat wasn't normal, you were always humming to yourself, playing some music. Doing something.

But as he saw you laying there, limp and cold, Yoongi's heart shattered into a million pieces.

He was brought out of his trance by some miracle, he found himself at your side the next second. His hands wouldn't stop shaking as he pulled your shoulder to lay you flat against the floor.

"(y/n)?"

But you didn't react. It almost seemed as if you were sleeping. The rise and fall from your chest was the only indication to Yoongi that you had only fainted. The circumstances as to why were still unknown to him.

His hand cradled your cheek, trying to get a reaction out of you. Something. Anything at all. But you were long gone in the world of darkness.

In a mere second, he was able to recall your call with him. You sounded in pain. Hurt. There was something that had led to your current state. Something that needed medical attention.

His hands slipped under your body and he stood up; an arm beneath your shoulders and the other supporting the back of your knees. Yoongi walked towards his car in long and hurried steps. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. His stomach churned with nerves.

If you hadn't called him, how much time would have passed until someone eventually found you? He couldn't think of that possibility. He decided to focus on the now, on the fact that he had you in his arms, that he had found you, that you were going to be okay. You had to be. For his sanity.

The soft rain wasn't enough to drench you or him as he made his way towards his parked car. With as much care as he could muster and with some tricky manoeuvre he managed to sit you in the passenger's seat and strap you to it.

Your head lulled to the side and his hand, once more, found home against the side of your face. In any other situation Yoongi would have thought that you were merely sleeping. To a point you were.

Have you always been this beautiful?

He thought to himself before he shook himself out of those thoughts and walked around the car, getting into the driver's seat and speeding off to the hospital.

One hand was on the steering wheel while the other one clasped yours tightly. It was a way to ground himself. To ground his thoughts and remember that you were there, that you'd be fine. That you were with him.

If someone had asked Yoongi before today when he had been the most patient he'd have answered when he had to download one of his large files.

But now, now as he sat in the waiting room of the hospital waiting for news about you was the time when his patience got tested.

How he wished to just enter into the room where the doctor was checking you. He needed to know what was going on. What had happened to you.

He needed to know that everything was going to be fine.

In his desperation, he called one of his friends, Hoseok and explained the situation with a lump forming at the back of his throat.

"She'll be fine, Yoongi. She's a tough girl. I'm sure it's nothing serious but I'll be there in thirty minutes in case you need anything."

That was what Hoseok had said over the line. He had met you on a few occasions, more than a few to be honest. The sweet man came to know that you were a beautiful woman with a kind heart and he respected too much the friendship Yoongi had with you.

"Is anyone here for Lee (y/n)?"

A doctor said with a clipboard in his hands. Yoongi immediately got up. His legs carrying him to the man dressed in a white coat, his eyes were red with unshed tears.

"I brought her here. Please, is she alright?"

The doctor let out a sigh that made alarm bells ring in his head.

"You better come with me."

Yoongi swallowed yet the lump in his throat only got bigger and bigger with each passing second, with each step he took behind the doctor. He stopped in front of a door, presumably your room before he spoke, his tone professional with a hint of sorrow for the broken man in front of him.

"(y/n)'s condition worsened too much in the last week. I'm surprised how quickly it deteriorated. The tumour in her brain got to the amygdala, that was what caused her immense pain resulting in her to lose consciousness."

The tumour in her brain...

The tumour in her brain...

The tumour in her brain...

...what?

"What... what do you mean with "the tumour in her brain"? She... Is she-"

So many thoughts were racing through his mind too quickly he began to feel nauseous. You were sick? All this time you had been sick? Is this what you had been hiding? The doctor sighed yet again as he spoke once more, his voice sombre this time.

"I believe she never told you."

Yoongi shook his head. Too in shock to utter a word. He felt as if someone had stabbed him in the heart. He'd bet that a stab wound would hurt less than this. The sole thought of losing you was heartbreaking enough but he couldn't help but feel like shit when the argument he had on your flat repeated itself in his mind over and over and over again.

Like a broken record player.

In a mocking manner.

With sadistic intentions.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way, Mr. Min."

A tear rolled down Yoongi's cheek slowly.

"Will she be alright?"

The world might as well end now because the younger man couldn't fathom the idea of existing. Not after the doctor's next words.

"I'm sorry. She was never a candidate for surgery, we detected the tumour too late. She isn't conscious right now but you might as well go in. I don't think she'd be able to hold on for much longer."

He hadn't expected that. He was supposed to be told you hadn't been taking your meals or you were dehydrated to the point in which you fainted. You weren't supposed to be dying. And what was worse was that he had never known.

For how long have you known of your condition?

Why did you hide it from him?

Why didn't you let him support you?

Yoongi entered your room without another word leaving his lip. He nearly collapsed at the sight of you. Pale and weak lying in a hospital bed. An IV tube was attached to your hand. Your eyes were closed.

He sat on the chair next to your bed. His trembling hands reached out for your smaller one. Why wouldn't his hands stop shaking?

"Why didn't you tell me, (y/n)?"

Those whispered words were meant for your ears only but they never reached you. You couldn't react to his stimuli even if you wanted to. your limp hand in his made tears cloud his vision and this time, he didn't hold them back.

"This was it, wasn't it? This was what you were hiding from me, right?"

He wished you'd just move, he wished you would open your eyes and gaze at him like all those times before. He wished he could hear your voice. At least one last time.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry for shouting at you that day. Y-you didn't deserve that."

If he could turn back time he'd make everything different.

"Please, (y/n/n). Please open your eyes."

If only he had been more observant.

"You cannot leave me now. Not now. Not like this."

If only he hadn't been so selfish and distanced himself from you.

"I cannot live without you, (y/n)."

If only he had been there.

"Please."

If only he had been a better friend. The best friend you deserved. The best friend you needed.

"Please don't leave me."

If only he had said the words when you could hear them. If only he hadn't taken your time for granted.

"I beg you, darling. Please don't go. Please."

Hoseok ran through the halls, the number of the room you were at was engraved in his mind for he knew Yoongi was by your side. His hand grabbed the door handle and he twisted it.

What Hoseok saw after opening that door was never going to leave his memories. A sight for his eyes to never forget.

Yoongi was grasping your hand so tightly his knuckles were white. His eyes were red and puffy as tears leaked from his dark orbs, like endless rivers of absolute and utter pain. The sound of his sobs reached Hoseok's ears. A flat line in the background.

"S-she's... she's gone. She's g-gone, Hobi."

Hoseok could only watch in horror. Never in his life had he seen Min Yoongi look so broken. So empty. Never had he cried in such a way. The sight was painful enough that tears made their way to his own eyes.

Yoongi's sobs were like poisonous arrows dripping with the blood of his wounded heart. An irreparable wound. Shattered pieces of his very own soul.

Hoseok took slow steps toward his friend until he was able to rest a hand over his shoulder.

"She didn't suffer, Yoongi. You were by her side, you allowed her to go in peace."

But those words did little to console him. He couldn't stop thinking about the "what if's". He couldn't stop the blame to gnaw at his already broken heart.

"I-I never told her, Hobi. I was a coward and I... I never fucking told her."

Hoseok's heart clenched at the pain laced in his friend's words. His pale hand grabbed yours with more strength, if that was even possible. As if he could prevent you from leaving him when you were already gone.

"I never told her that I loved her!"

Hi Yoongs, I hope you are alright.

How's life going on for you?

If you are reading this letter it probably means I am no longer with you and I'm so sorry that I had to leave you behind but as you may already know, I had no choice.

This was what I had been hiding from you. I am sick. Terminal apparently. There's nothing to be done and I don't want any kind of painful treatment. I decided to let go and enjoy what I had of time.

Please don't blame yourself. I chose not to tell you so that I could experience my life as it was. Normally and by your side.

I may not be there physically but know that I live through your memories. Please don't give up on your dreams because of me and go and do all the things you talked to me about. Fulfil our wishes. Be happy.

I wish you the best.

Thank you for being my best friend. And it is probably the worst way of saying this but I want you to know that I love you. I love you in that way. As in more than a friend. You were the best person that ever crossed paths with me, I didn't want to ruin that friendship.

I now realise that was probably a mistake. I loved you deeply. With all my heart and being. That was why telling you about my condition was more painful than it should have been. Because just as your happiness is my happiness; your pain is also my pain.

I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want you to say things out of pity. I didn't want that. I wanted to leave in the most normal way I possibly could.

Please know that I love you and I wish you the best in life. I won't be your friend all your life, let alone your lover. I won't live that long. But I will treasure your friendship and love you all my life.

I am part of your life but you are my whole life.

~(y/n).

July/30/2023

~Masterlist

Likes, Comments and Reblogs are really appreciated!!!

**☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

[amy-the-fairy]

Yup I need to find more ace and aroace who can relate to that feelings. I know platonic self insert are literally non existent though

Amatonormativity is a thing everyone's fine with after all even though it hurt everyone to think that you should only love someone the most only one person. Always kinda disgust me

Like big kudo to otome game who are able to both implant a romance but give the heroine friends they love as well

I feel like people are really more ok with the idea of not having friends rather than not having one person they love

I genuinely can't understand that. You want only one person to really rely on to be your support system?

Like ok in fiction you know I don't care. That's a fantasy after all. But I already know it's a mistake to make anyone your "everything". You have more chance that they're going to leave. You need other people. We need a community

But I feel that we are all just isolated now so dreaming about someone for us. I do think about that sometime too.

Finally slice of life manga with a group of friends showcase what I really want more than the best romance I've read. Shikimori San is a manga I love so much because the group of friends is very relevant to the story despite it being a romance too. Same for Orange. Kono oto tomare take this direction in my heart too

That's also why in my work there's often friends of the couple.

I just don't understand... I think I'd be fine never finding love as long as even as an old lady I still have friends

With how love destroy people I don't understand why I should want this in my life, even more as a woman with how wedding used to be just about gaining power through marrying your daughter to whatever powerful man you wanted

I think I never paid attention to society but now that I do... I don't understand. And I feel more LGBT, different, than ever.

It's not that I am not normal, it's just that I am not in enough majority group to feel like I "belong".

The world weren't built with people like me in mind. I mean. Already kind of guessed when I learnt about the African slave business of back then

But now it's more obvious that it ever been.

I can do my own thing true... But maybe what I desired by being well known as an author was to change the balance. To make something that would make more people change their mind.

But I know it won't happen. Because that's not how people are. At least not enough to have any kind of popularity I think

I've lost hope to leave a mark both by ego and a desire to reach other about people like me and say "I exist! They exist! We exist!"

Right now I just want to stay in my cocoon and stop doing stupid thing that make people leave me.

I don't really like the concept of having hope because I always hoped for things I have no control on. I have no control on who my family member are. I can't make people love me or what I write.

So the best to do is to just live and focus on myself only. Else I am just going to stare as I see the world keep falling apart.

The only person I totally control is me. The only thing I control totally are my stories.

And I should never lose sight of this truth.

I will try to see my cousins more... And my little brother too... But even so I shouldn't be this delusional about what I can actually do again

I hope enough heartache have been carved into my heart to remember that

[slashingdisneypasta]

Kurt Kelly x Fem!Bitch!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Someone Gets Hurt

Plot: Some little wannabe steals away your boyfriend, Kurt, while also batting her big ass lashes and winning over your friends, too... until you've had enough. No one out bitches you.

Notes:

Obviously, this is inspired by Someone Gets Hurt from Mean Girls except with Regina (The reader) as the heroine.

Warnings: Overall bitchiness, possessiveness (You about Kurt), break ups (Make ups too though so its not too bad ^^), the ruining of another persons relationship (Random girl Lizzie and Kurt's), rapeiness (Ram), sexual references, underage drinking, overage drinking, just LOTS of debauchery over all, a smut bit near the end (Not full), etc.

Was I too proud with you? Was I too cold and forbidding? And you chose her over me Are you kidding?

Watching Kurt and Lizzie together this week has been torture. Terrible, burning, squeezing, not-at-all sexy torture.

Because Kurt, is yours.

He has always been yours. He was yours in kindergarten, he was yours in middle school, and he was yours all through highschool until this, unfortunate and butt fucking ugly, snag. Crossing your arms now and poisoning them with your eyes, you sit in the cafeteria... and think.

Just, think.

You don't gossip with your minions about all the bullshit going on in school, you don't discuss what you're going to do to the freshmen this year, no. Nothing. You're too busy... plotting.

There is no way in hell, that this pee-brained virgin bitch is going to steal your boyfriend, and not get paid back in turn. Its only fair- and you include interest, in your transactions like this.

One eye actually twitches, when Lizzie... the pee brained virgin bitch in question, gives Kurt a peck on the nose - oh so cute, but you don't even have to look at Kurt to see the disappointment flash in his eyes, - and hops off his lap when the bell rings. He has a free period now, you know because so do you and you usually spend it at the back of the football field together, but she has Chemistry, a thing you also know because hell- you just know everything. That's a basic fact. The whole school knows it and love that you never have to explain how you just fucking know shit.

But even being all knowing does not make you feel better, knowing that itty bitty roach-cunt has her claws embedded in your poor, weak-willed... ex boyfriends,... heart. Or his penis, more likely. Metaphorically speaking, obviously, because Lizzie's the 'Mary'est whore in the land of Westerberg High.

That doesn't really matter though. Either way, he's with her now and not you, and that just wont do.

Maggie, your right hand babe, gets up from your lunch table and leaves for her next class, too. And its only until she's out of sight, that you notice the piece of paper she left behind. Rolling your eyes, a growl of annoyance escapes you and you sigh- turning away from Kurt and Ram's table to see what the fuck it is. The reprieve is almost palpable, not looking at him anymore. It feels a little better- but not by much. And certainly not enough for you to forget what fuckery is going on.

Picking up the piece of paper in one perfectly manicured hand, you see that its an invitation. "Hmm... " Worrying the inside of your cheek, you think; This is interesting.

A Halloween party...

A gleeful smirk quirks slightly at the corners of your lips.

Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween.

~

And what you meant by 'Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween'- is 'Kurt always did have a boner for your Halloween costumes'. For the past several years, since the two of you blossomed with the help of puberty, you have used your assets as an advantage - because why else have them? - ; With the help of lace tights, push up bra's, winged eyeliner and red lipstick.

This year you've pulled together your favourite costume yet, which is fitting for the task at hand and the fact that its senior year- this may be your last chance to put these bottom dwelling highschool chuckleheads in their place.

I mean, you hope not but its basically a given.

Looking around the party as you walk in, you figure its just the same as any party Ram has thrown before. And his house is perfect for it, you'll give him that. The lights a turned down low enough that everyone looks a little hot, cooler's full of ice and alcohol are set up so you're never too far from a fix and thanks to his houses sound system the music is loud enough to make you think for a couple hours that you're in a place between reality and your dreams; A perfect set up for mistakes and one wild night.

But you aren't here to get drunk and kiss a loser, except for Kurt; You're here to take back the goddamn crown. Which getting Kurt back, will do. It'll humiliate Lizzie, and that's really all you want out of life right now.

Prowling through the crowd - which still knows to part for you, despite your current, slightly lower social standing, - in your knee high, shiny black leather boots, you look for someone to talk to. You know Maggie's here somewhere but that bitch is on her last life with you, after she said Lizzie's hair looked nice the other day. And you think some silent treatment will set her straight.

"Oh- Hi Ram." You find the host in the backyard, about to push an unsuspecting demoness into in a very sheer red blouse into the pool - which would doubtlessly make the blouse more of a red tint to her skin rather then any kind of coverage, which Ram well knows, - , and he double takes when he sees you. A sleazy, mischievous grin slops over his face at the sight, which makes you roll your eyes.

Deeply.

"Ohhh, heyyyy, Y/N!" He has to yell over the sound of the music and the other party-goers, not that you would mind if you didn't hear anything he said. He hasn't got a whole lot of substance, Ram, so you can basically assume that rolling your eyes is always the answer to anything he's saying. His eyes shift back, anxiously, to the girl he's currently got a hit out on, but you just raise your eyebrows sharply at him and he's at attention. "I didn't know you were gonna come! You know, with the state of things... "

Oh, he's so obnoxious. And dumb! So, so dumb. He doesn't know the half of your shit. Yet he still runs his mouth... Rolling your eyes once again, you flip some hair behind your head. "Oh don't worry your pretty little head about that, Ram." Eyes flickering around the party some more, searching for your own target, you rest your hands on your hips that are tightly bound, in various layers of violet georgette cloth. The witches hat on your head is pinned down, so theirs no chance of it flying off. You have a train of thinner fabric hanging down the back of your short-short skirt, and your tight tube top reveals exactly the shapes you require it to. "I'll be perfectly fine- oh, have you seen Kurt anywhere?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh I think I saw him and Liz against a wall earlier- but by the looks of Liz, I doubt they're in a situation like that anymore." He chuckles, dumbly. The stupid boy has a slur in his voice that you hadn't noticed before but probably should've known would be there. But you're sure focusing in on him now, jealousy burning in your eyes at his description. What does that mean??

"What?"

A geek walks by, toting a bottle in his hands that Ram snatches for himself. As the kid continues by, faster now due to the angry look in Ram's eyes and the animalistic growl that slips from the footballers lips, you continue to glare bullets at Ram. He takes a messy swig of his beer before continuing. "Just sayin', Y/N. Your friend's a prude. Won' even let Kurt get to second base with 'er or anything. So I'd say Kurt's, probably, uhhh... by the pool table, now." He shrugs big round shoulders then, as relief and mirth wash over you. So he didn't mean they'd have moved their dirty little adventure to somewhere they could really get down, or anything. He means quite the opposite.

A smirk graces your red painted lips.

"Well- enjoy your party." You shrug, not really caring as his eyes shine... turning back to the demon girl who's just laughing with her friends; He sure will. Eyes narrowing, you mutter a bitter "Dick." under your breath, as a final bid to Ram.

Turning on your heel, you head back into the house. You've been here plenty of times with Kurt and know exactly where the pool table is (And how uncomfortable it is to be bent over) and sure enough- there he is.

Your boyfriend.

Or, soon-to-be, once-again boyfriend.

He's standing back with a stick, waiting for his turn as he laughs with some over football boneheads. Lizzie isn't here, but you suppose she could have gone to get a drink or talk to one her - your, - friends, but where she is actually doesn't concern your in this moment. All you can do right now, is stand and stare.

God, he's hot.

You miss him; You really do. And, admittedly- not just because he can fuck you like no one else.

But your moment passes, and you gather your wits. Ready.

You're hot, you're smart, and you're ruthless. You can do this.

Saddling up beside Kurt, a genuine smile slips across your face as you look up at him; Running a hand back through your hair. "Hey, Kurt." Slightly widening your eyes, you raise a brow as he turns to look down at you. "What's up?"

Like- its been a while. What have I missed?

Immediate 'Oooooh's and 'Oh no the ex- Kurt watch out!'s erupt from his meathead athlete friends, but what you care about is how Kurt struggles for a moment to tear his eyes away from yours, like the eyeliner you perfected and the colour and the just- you, has hypnotised him. He flashes his friends a wicked grin, waiving them off as he turns to put his body between you, and the group. It puts you so close together- and you sure don't step back any.

Then his eyes flicker down to the rest of you- and he really has a problem looking away. "Oh, uh, hey Y/N. N-nothing much. Uh... you look... "

A gentle chuckle flutters out of you, resting a hand on your right hip. "What? Black cat caught your tongue?"

Jesus- even the mention of that particular muscle reference to him does something to you. And being this close to him again, and seeing his reaction to your outfit... its all just so right. The way things should be.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but immediately closes it again on remembering something. A seriously awkward hm sound escapes him which you don't quite get yet, but you decide that you don't need to.

"So... " You start, getting rid of the tough bravado suddenly... letting awkwardness seep into your tone; Your appearance. On purpose. Eyes downcast, you let your arms slide down to your sides again, lacing your fingers together in front of you for a moment, pretending you're at a loss for words. "Um... maybe this is... weird... "

"What?" A big hand ghosts over your hip- you can just feel his skin graze against you.

You look up to catch his gaze again suddenly, lips and eyebrows scrunching after a moment, unsurely. "Uh, well... " Chewing innocently on your bottom lip, you hold your arms behind your back; not-at-all meaning to push out your chest more. No, not at all... "Me coming up to talk to you... since the break up... "

A hiss escapes him, as he suddenly, seemingly, like just seeing you had him returning to old habits, remembers that fact himself and takes a step back from you. Your brows knit together, up at him- perfectly pitiful.

"Oh man- yeah. Maybe. Fuck!" He runs a hand up through his hair, looking convincingly tortured.

Already!

You could rejoice.

Oh, Kurt... we've only just started.

Sighing, you look away again. "Look, I'm sorry. I just... well, Kurt, I've missed you!"

Suddenly his eyes, still and focused, turn more sternly down on you and your insides squirm at it. Like muscle memory, your body screams for you to back up; Get on your knees, bat your lashes. Ask what's wrong, Daddy?

His eyes narrow, and you resist the temptation to smirk. "Oh- no. No, Y/N. I know what you're doing, okay? I'm not dumb! This is all just too... too... " The fact that he cant even really speak, even as he's trying to be all tough and put up walls between you two, really gives you confidence. You must still really have an effect on him- as you should. Of course you do. One week with a little lily livered slut bag does not erase an entire lifetime between two people. Kurts lips curl into a scowl. "You're not like this." He states, and you raise your brows. Oh? "You're manipulating me, aren't you? Come on, Y/N!"

His tone is pleading. He's begging, you.

Damn, he must really want Miss Lizzie's little ass.

After a moment, you shrug. "Okay, whatever, you got me." Shedding the innocent act, you lean back on the pool table as the boys continue to play; Laying yourself out for him. "Does that mean I was lying? No, I really do miss you."

He scoffs. "Yeah, right." Rolling his own eyes, he focuses his gaze off somewhere else in the party- rather then on you. "All you care about is your reign of terror."

Oh... he knows that's not true.

But still, if he's going to play that way- "Yeah, sure- and all you care about is pussy." Shrugging, you drum your fingers bordly against the edge of the table on either side of you. "I guess we're a pair."

"Fuck, Y/N... you know you're... y-you're... Damn, that I love you. You fucking know that." He hisses, getting mad. And you inwardly smirk.

There it is...

Tightening your grip now, you look up at him to see he's once again looking at you. And for a moment, amongst all the madness that party's are- it feels like its just you two. "And you know... I love you."

Pushing off the pool table, you stalk towards him and trace your hands up his chest; Locking your arms around his neck lazily, and resting your chest against his. And you can see it. You can see, the struggle inside him about whether to just give into you- and your tits and your lips and your hips, and- just, you! Or to stay away. Because you're poison; Even you're well aware of that fact.

You're like a boa constrictor. You get yourself wrapped around your victim and you squeeze, and squeeze, and squeeze... until you have them just how you want them. Moulded into a shape that works well, for you.

But he's a lion. Imposing, and selfish, and self serving. And too big for you to ruin.

Its like you said; You're a pair.

And you cannot give him up.

"Kurt... come on." Leaning up, and talking in a quiet, just-for-him voice now, your lips brush against his and he lets out a shuddering breath. "We belong together, don't we? Its us- forever. You've known it since second grade. Sure, it took me a few more years to realise it too, but we're here now." Sincerity bleeds into your tone; Something you can't help when he looks like he wants to kiss you so badly, like that. "It can't be you and her." It cant. Tilting your head to the side, teasingly, you smirk mischievously; Just for him. "Is she going to fuck you like I do?"

"Shit... " Kurt mutters, eyes stuck on your lips. His hands find your waist, gathering you up against him roughly like he always does when he just wants you. Animalistically, wherever you are- whoever sees be fucking damned.

But he still isn't taking you. And that's a problem.

Brushing a thumb over his bottom lip, you turn your head like your making out to kiss him- but don't. Furrowing your eyebrows, you look pleading at him for an answer. "Was it all a lie, then? With us? Were we?- "

And that does it- he's had enough- he's at boiling point- Lips smash into yours, crossing the centimetre of space between them and he doesn't fuss around at all, to warm up. Your tongues connect almost instantly, and in 0.2 seconds, you two are that moaning, making out mess couple that every party has.

Through your lust filled haze, you can just about feel victorious.

A few moments after that your back hits the closest wall, and your legs wrap around his waist as he holds you up- you two know the drill by now. Kurt's grinding his raging hard on deliciously through his jeans into your bare cunt- moaning and muttering something into your cheek as he sloppily makes his way down to your breasts about you being such a slut.

You REALLY don't mind.

Eyes half lidded, you catch sight of Lizzie in the crowd behind Kurt. The crowd that, apart from her, doesn't care at all what the two of you are doing.

You smirk absolutely evilly towards her, before mouthing 'mine'.

[imatechbummerliketomholland]

sorry seems to be the hardest word - h.o

Word count: 3171

Warning: angst, swear

Pairing : harrison osterfield

Request: no.

N/A: It took me so long to write this. I remember i asked @soft-haz to write something with the "sorry seems to be the hardest word" vibe, it was so good! But i wanted to write something by myself too. Remember, english is not my first language, so be kind if you spot mistakes, i really try my best. Italics parts are flashbacks

Thanks to @petersasteria because she correct a big part of this fic! Love you. Don't hesitate to tell me what you think of the fic! Love you all! xx

ღღღ

part 2 (harry hollad x reader) - part 3 (harry holland x reader)

The few rays of sunshine in London today and England's victory over the Croats had improved your mood. Tom and Harry were home as soon as the game was over, they found you sitting on the couch with a glass of wine. You hadn't wanted to join them at the bar for obvious reasons: to keep your privacy as much as possible. Living with four boys was not easy, but living with four boys, one of whom was a world-famous actor and another in the midst of the media boom, was even more so. Of course, fans knew that Tom, Harrison, Harry, and Tuwaine had a female roommate. But you've always managed to never appear with your face uncovered in any media activity of your four-favorite divs.

The bottle was already nearly empty and you were already on your drunken streak, not wanting to stop when two of your drinking buddies had just entered. What a good opportunity to continue the evening.

"Will you join me, boys?"

“Mmm yeah, sure, love.” Harry said.

But a problem presented itself to you: the boys drank beer, you drank wine. You had two options now: either open a new bottle of wine for yourself or continue the evening with beer. Your eyes turned to your glass, spilling the rest of the bottle into your jug before swallowing it dry. Harry had a stunned expression on his face as Tom smirked.

"I see hanging out with us leaves its mark."

"You wish, Holland. I knew how to do it before I even knew you existed."

"You've known me since I was 19."

"And you think I waited for you to learn how to drink?"

"Fair enough."

You met the boys in a pub. You’ll never tell Nikki that, when you met them, her precious twins drank too many beers even if they weren’t old enough to drink (technically, they weren’t criminals, drinking beer at 16 is legal and come on, it’s England!)

❀❀❀

So, you met the boys in a pub. It was one of the nights when your friends and you wanted to drink until you're blackout drunk. You were in that pub/club, looking up after one of your friends. She had detected some pretty boys in the back and left you there, alone. You moved around the room without paying attention: glass in hand, your phone you stared at in the other. You suddenly felt an arm blocking your chest with force. The surprise had made you drop your glass.

“What the heck?!?”

“You will not pass, miss.”

“Oh yeah? Why? Is the pope there?” You said sarcastically

The man who stood in your way raised an eyebrow and you looked at him, waiting for a response.

“You are very funny. It’s a VIP space.”

“Once again, why is that?”

“None of your business.”

“Actually, I don't care if Sir Elton John is in that bar or if it's even the Queen of England. I'm just looking for my friend: tall, blonde, balloon-sized fucking boobs, red dress."

“Not seen."

You sighed. The situation annoyed you to the highest point. You had lost your friend and that big asshole had broken your glass. The man in front of you seemed to be marble. Short answer, arms crossed, and an imposing posture. All you wanted tonight was just to have fun. You didn't care that God-knows-who, any famous or rich enough to book a VIP space, was in that bar.

"Would the asshole that hired you tonight, at least be kind enough to buy me the glass you broke with your bullshit?"

From his side, Harry had noticed the altercation. He then walked towards you, he laughed when he heard you insult his brother through the bouncer's fault. And as the Colossus' bodyguard was about to tell you that you could always dream of getting that free drink, Harry spoke up.

“The asshole, maybe not directly. But the asshole's brother. Certainly. It will be on his check anyway.”

“For God's sake, what are you waiting for then?”

And just like that, you met the boys. Harry paid you for the glass that the other jerk broke, invited you to this precious VIP space and you could talk and dance the night away. You had exchanged your social media and over time, your phone numbers. And as fast as you couldn't imagine, you had found yourself stuck in an apartment with four adorable idiots as roommates.

❀❀❀

"Hey, y/n, where are the others?" Harry asked.

You grumbled and grabbed the beer the curly had just opened. He protested as you took a sip. Tom gave you a curious look and you frowned behind your bottle.

"y/n?”

"I don't know where T is, but Harrison's gone on a date with Gracie."

The two brothers exchanged a look heard in the face of the bitterness they had perceived in your voice. It was no longer much of a secret that you had feelings for Harrison. You had feelings for Tom's best friend for almost as long as you'd met him. Harry had noticed it first, because you were much closer to him than to Tom. The actor had understood at the start of an evening, at the beginning of the relationship between Harrison and his girlfriend.

However, you didn't hate Gracie. She was beautiful, kind, and very funny. She really brought out the best in Harrison, she made him happy and you could see that because of the distinct smile on his face. You didn't hate her; she just wasn't you and you just weren't her. And that was the whole problem. Jealousy consumed you and you hated yourself for it.

“Are you alright, darling?” Tom asked you since silence filled the room after your last sentence.

"I'll be fine after one more drink" you simply answered.

You took a sip of the beer you stole from Harry. Drowning in alcohol was certainly not the solution. But you just wanted to forget the blond a bit for tonight. Tom's worried look made you roll your eyes.

"Oh come on, Tom. Don't give me those eyes. I will be fine ..."

“Yeah, sure.” he said with a doubt.

"Can we just watch a silly movie or play a silly game to make my night better?"

Harry seemed to hear you as he shrugged and took a sip of his drink. He knew you by heart. At this point, he really considered you his best friend. So he knew you needed something to clear your mind. Something where your mind should be quick to think about.

“One,” he said nonchalantly.

"Two" you responded with a huge smile on your face.

"You are both stupid." the Holland elder complained about the game you had just started.

"You say that because you're a lousy actor who can't remember his lines. Play Holland!"

"Three". He capitulated.

And you continued like this until 21. Then, there followed a multitude of rule additions each time you reach the number 21. The 7 turned into "I'm a poor liar", the 18 into "I'd rather kiss a guinea pig" ... And every time one of you made a mistake, he drank. After an hour, the game looked like a strange conversation from the outside.

"Squirrels are scary, man." Harry said, mimicking his older brother.

"Black Widow is the best president of the United States" Tom said

"But she’s a bad lay." you responded, with a fake sigh of disappointment

"I'd rather kiss a guinea pig"

"Because you have no taste"

"Twenty"

It was at this precise moment, in the middle of the conversation, that Harrison decided to enter the living room. His blissful smile gave way to an air of amazement and disbelief at the talk between his three roommates. It was Tom who first noticed his best friend. He nodded to greet him. Harrison wore a simple black t-shirt with chinos. You took a look at your roommate and your cheeks flushed a little more than they already were.

"Hello mate! How was your date?" asked Tom with a big smile on his face

"Awesome. Can't believe it will be a year in 3 freaking days." Harrison said.

You could see his large smile, and blissful air. He was sweating happiness and although you were happy for him, it tore your heart. You purse your lips to avoid comment. Harry spoke up.

"We're playing 21. Do you want to land with us?"

"In fact, you can take my place." You got up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen to drop off your beer drain. Harrison frowned as Tom exchanged a new look with his brother.

"y/n, you can stay, It's an unlimited players game." Harry almost begged.

"No, I'm tired. I'm going to take a shower and then go to bed."

“y/n” Harrison tried to call you to hold you back a little longer.

But you were already gone. You've never climbed the stairs so fast to run away from your roommate/best friend. Harrison looked at Tom and Harry, worried about your behavior. The curly one just shrugged his shoulders as his brother shook his head, silent. They weren't intending to get involved in this. You were the only master of your feelings and the time you'll decide to confess them to Harrison. That is why they preferred to be quiet.

☙♡❧

You spent the whole next week to avoid Harrison as much as possible. Established more distance with him was your solution to protect yourself from your feelings especially after his one-year anniversary date with Gracie and his absolute cute instagram post. It broke you down. Your heart was in peace but you couldn't blame him or his girlfriend. You were in love with the wrong guy, that's all.

But you couldn't hide from him forever. After all, you both lived in the same house, you had the same friends. So, it was hard to pretend he didn't exist.

Today was not your lucky day. You bumped into him in the kitchen. That was his opportunity to hold you down. He grabbed you by the shoulders, preventing you from burying yourself. Now he would finally find out what was wrong with you. Because Harrison wasn't a fool. He had noticed that you acted with him differently. Your behavior remained unchanged towards the other boys in the house.

“y/n. Don’t avoid me; please, please y/n, look at me”

You have plunged your eyes into its bewitching blue irises. Big mistake. You were drowning now in the turmoil of your feelings for the blonde. He had always had that effect on you, always. Tears started to bead at the corners of your eyes, you were biting your lip to hold back the torrent of tears that was already beginning to flow. Harrison's throat tightened at the sight of you like that and his hold on your shoulders slowly loosened.

“I hate seeing you like this. Please talk to me” he almost begged you

“Harrison…” your voice struggle as soon you pronounced his name.

“Please darling…tell me what’s goin’ on”

As a perfect angel, Tom was the one who saved you by interrupting this quick talk. You wiped away your tears with the end of your sleeve and run away to your room. Harrison sighed in despair. He didn't understand why you were running away from him like the plague.

“Dude, do you know why she's like that. What did I do? » He finally asked to Tom.

"I can't tell you Haz. She's the only one having the right to tell you about this"

"Bullshit. Fuck you all." Harrison said, frustrated.

Then he just quit, leaving the kitchen.

☙♡❧

Sunday came and Tom asked you all to spend the night with him before his LA trip the next evening. It was a normal night with friends. And despite your pent-up feelings and wanting to avoid Harrison at all costs, you didn't want to miss Tom, he was your friend.

There was only the usual gang: Harry, Tuwaine, Tom (obviously) and you. But the tension was felt within the group. The lingering unspoken words about your feelings for Harrison were beginning to weigh on all of your friendship. It was so bad that it hurts to stay in the same room as Harrison. All you could see was his constant happiness, this wonderful man he had always been but in a more radiant version of himself. And you weren't the cause of that. You hated it, you hated being selfish that much. You were ready to sacrifice your friendship with the young Netflix actor for two reasons: you wanted to protect yourself ... and you weren't ready to be that obstacle in the midst of Harrison and Grace's happiness.

You were in the kitchen with Harry, pretending to help him with drinks and snacks. The curly boy could see you dragging your feet, repeating like a mantra this phrase "come on, you can do it ... do it for Tom, it's his night. Don’t be selfish, you can make it." And you really wanted it ... have a good time with your friends.

Sometimes Harry felt guilty for introducing Gracie to Harrison. They worked together as set PA in 2018 and became close friends but not as close as you were with him. You considered him like your best friend. It made sense for him to feel a bit responsible for your broken heart. But you never said a word about it.

“I’m sorry, y/n” confessed Harry.

“For what?” you simply responded.

"For having hampered your happiness. I was stupid to introduce Grace to Harrison and ignore your feelings. I wanted to help my friend. "

"Bullshit Harry. Never apologize for that. You've been a great friend to Harrison."

"But not for you."

"Who cares?" you asked, trying to minimize your feelings

"Me ... you are one of my best friend y/n"

"Just like Harrison is your best friend. Don't apologize for making him happy. Fuck, I'm the one who should apologize." You said, with a tone of anger and despair in your voice

And that's how you crack, breaking in all your sensitivity. You couldn't hold back your tears from falling as you blasted everything that was on your heart. You don't even realize that Harrison is a few feet behind your back. The weight of your feelings, your anxieties explode in the kitchen as when a cup is dropped on the immaculate tiled floor.

“What I got to do to make him love me? What I got to do to make him care? Not as the sweet friend Harry. I’m deeply in love with him and it’s gonna drive me insane! What I got to do to make him want me? Huh Harry, can you tell me? All those question in my head…and no answer to that. And you know what? It's sad, sad situation…more than that it’s a shitty situation, because I'm getting away from him and it makes us sick. Because I'm unable to tell him why.”

“You just told me.” Harrison finally said.

You jumped for a second before you froze. Harry is caught off guard and rushes into the living room stammering an apology. You are trapped. You are trapped and you can hear the footsteps of your roommate coming closer to you, so close, that now you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. Gently, he places his hands on your arms and exerts pressure for you to face him.

"You love me"

"It depends ..." you replied with difficulty

"On what?"

"On what you heard before."

"Enough that you can't contradict me."

Her thin smile doesn't help you relax. Instead, you look down, admiring your two pairs of feet. You felt like being stripped naked and you didn't like that feeling. If you could have kept this secret in your grave. But now he knew and you felt even heavier than the Titanic.

"So ... is that it? Nothing more to tell me?"

"What do you want me to add to what you've already heard?"

"Sorry?" he tried.

"For what?"

"For what? y/n are you kidding me? Sorry for being distant with me, maybe? Sorry for hiding all these things from you? Sorry for not trusting our friendship to come to me and speak?" he exploded…

"What would that have been for, Harrison? You don't love me back…" you screamed back.

"I ... I’m ..."

"See, sorry seems to be the hardest word."

After that last ironic reply, silence fell in the kitchen. So was that it? Was that how your friendship was to end? The great giants of the universe had reserved this dramatic scene for you to break years of bonding. You didn't know how to get out of this situation. You didn't even know if there was a few more things to save. You were broken and had just spoiled the happiness of one of your best friends.

Harrison was silent. He seemed to be probing your body, your attitude, analyzing any gesture that might give him the opportunity to take a step towards you. But the solution was there, finding everything ... It was enough, for both of you, to swallow your pride.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" you echo your previous conversation

"Sorry for not feeling the same as you. For not being who you want me to be to you."

"You know ... I don't hate her."

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Gracie. I don't hate her. She makes you really happy. I just hate the jealousy I feel towards her… I hate that I am not her. But I don’t hate her, she's a really good girl."

A small smile dawned on Harrison's lips, the blonde toyed nervously with his fingers and the ring he always wore as an accessory.

"Yeah ... yeah she's great."

"I'm really sorry ... about everything."

"It's ok. We don't control how we feel. I..I can understand"

"Yeah..."

"y/n?" he tried; a little bit shy about what he’s gonna ask.

"Mhmm?"

"Do you think we can be friends again?"

You bow your head, taking a minute to think. Was everything really broken? Were you going to be able to rebuild a solid friendship after this conversation? Were you going to be able to squeeze out your feelings? You sighed before plunging into those beautiful blue eyes that you loved so much.

"Maybe. I hope so with all my heart."

"I hope so too. And I hope you find someone like I found Grace."

"You can always dream. You dripping with love, it's impossible to find someone like you two."

"Don't despair. He might be closer than you think."

He winked at you and you looked at him confused. But after a few seconds, a smile appeared at the corner of your lips. No, you had no hope of him talking about him. But you were happy, because that little sentence opened the door for you to a bond that you were trying to find.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Californian Dream (Pt. 03 of 11)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.9 K

Summary: Being part of one of the richest families of California doesn't mean you're happy. Your life is boring, and you're surrounded by meaningless people and their meaningless talk. Even during Summer, with the break you have from college, there's nothing good going on. Nothing but the new pool guy, Billy, the most handsome man you ever saw. You were successfully avoiding him, not wanting to act like an idiot in front of the guy until Billy accepts to be your date for a fancy gala you're forced to attend. The night was going well, even better when he sneaked you out to go to the beach. But a gang of criminals breaks into the party, kidnapping the heirs to the wealthiest families, which includes you. So, for your safety, your parents want you to stay with Billy, living in his apartment until the criminals are caught. And that could take weeks, maybe even months.

Warnings: Light violence

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{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

×

Pandemonium

It takes a while to process what's going on. The explosion, the flames, the smoke. And the vans, the shooting. It feels like some kind of dream, something too far from reality to be understood. Yet, it's very real. You can tell by how cold you feel now, from your soaked dress glued on your legs, or maybe the wind, or perhaps what's happening not too far away. The chaos emerging from the place you were at only some minutes ago.

“We have to see what's–”

“Bad idea.” Billy grabs your arm, both of you getting down, the sand hurting your knees through the soft fabric of your dress. You barely feel his grip, eyes locked on the hotel, the smell of burned things reaching your nose. “Hey. We gotta get out of here. C'mon.” He starts pulling you with him, and you try to follow up the best you can given your state. The gunfires are loud, nonstop, persistent, and soon enough you can distinguish the yells too. Cries for help, probably.

“Billy, wait. My parents are there.” Resisting him, you try to make him stop, to head back there. “We have to–” Then, when you reach the sidewalk, you see it. Even from the distance, you can see people being dragged, violently pushed inside the back of the vans. You can't see their faces, but it's quite obvious now. “They're...”

“It's called kidnapping. Let's go.” You both set in motion again. Billy's grip on your arm slides down until he's holding your hand, but you don't mind. The only thing in your mind right now is that you don't want to be pushed into the back of any van. He let's go when you finally reach his car, thankfully parked far enough from the pandemonium, and he has no trouble maneuvering it and speeding away, a lot faster than on your way here.

Only when the noises are a distant echo you release a breath you didn't even know you were holding. Then, you start breathing fast, a hand on your heart as you close your eyes shut, trying to calm yourself down. That gotta be a mistake. A misunderstanding. You were supposed to be there. What would've happened if you and Billy were in there? Would you be shoved into those cars too?

“(Y/N).” He calls, and you give him a glance, your hair covering half of your sight. “You're hyperventilating. You have to slow down.”

“Ok, ok.” You mumble, trying to breathe in deeply and push the air out slowly. After doing that a few times, you feel tears in your eyes, wiping them away. “Where are you taking me?”

“My place.”

You were just about to complain, ask him why he isn't taking you home, where you should be to check if your parents are ok. But it makes sense. Your house may not be safe. “Alright.”

Billy doesn't slow down. He only stops in a small parking lot, beside a building. You don't know exactly where you are, so you just follow him through the sidewalk and into the building, upstairs for two or three floors until he's finally unlocking a door, gesturing for you to walk in. The first thing you notice is a TV, and you quickly make your way over it. “Can I put on the news channel?”

“Sure.”

Turning the TV on, you stop on the first news channel you find, and you immediately recognize the hotel. The reporter is by the fountain, and behind her, there is a lot of firemen, trying to put down the flames. But what gets your attention isn't the destruction, or whatever the woman is saying. Is the blood. You can see it staining the light gray rocks of the hotel's entrance. “Is that...”

“Sit down. C'mon.” Billy pulls you with him, forcing you to take a seat on his couch. Leaning forward, elbows on your knees, you bounce your leg, trying to bring some sense to what the reporter is saying.

“Thirteen of the heirs from the most important and wealthy families of California were taken on a violent, brutal action performed by masked men. According to witnesses, they came right after an explosion in the kitchens, surrounding the hotel and forcing everyone to lie down.” She makes a pause, looking at something behind the camera. “As they expertly picked up the kids one by one, some people were shot as they tried to keep them from taking their children.”

“What?” Gasping, you stand up abruptly, tears in your eyes again.

“The deceased are Mrs. Laurel Whayland, Mrs. Karen Garret, Miss Elena Williams, Mr. Harry Hench, and Miss Gisele Everline. Three more people were taken to the hospital but we still have no news about them.”

“Gisele is dead?” You mutter, tears rolling down. “I-I know those people, Billy. I know them.” Their faces start flashing in your mind, and despite you never being too fond of them, it still hurts.

“I'm sorry.” Billy stands up, and without thinking twice, you hug him, collapsing against his chest. With one hand around his midsection, you use the other to cover your mouth, trying to control the sobs shaking your body. You were supposed to be there. You would be taken, that's for sure. And maybe it would be your mother or father dead by now.

“If it weren't for you I'd be in there.” You cry, stepping away just enough to look at him. “I'd be who knows where now... Maybe even dead, like Gisele.” Gisele. You're superficial, redhead friend. She wasn't your confidant, she wasn't someone you could trust. But she was there, earlier today, playing volleyball on your pool, happy, smiling, breathing, living. Now she's gone.

“Calm down, alright?” Billy seems pretty shaken too, and that's when you notice it could have been him too.

“I-I'm sorry, Billy. I dragged you to that stupid party and if we waited just a little longer you would be in the middle of that mess because of me. I'm so sorry.” Speaking fast, you struggle not to sob again, your voice cracking. “If you died because of me I'd never forgive myself.”

“Alright, I need you to slow down, ok?” Again, Billy guides you to the couch, pulling you to seat down with him. “First of all, there was no way in hell you could've know something like that would happen.” He gestures at the TV, but your eyes are focused on him. “So don't blame yourself. I took you to the gala because I wanted to, you didn't drag me.”

“I–”

“It is now confirmed.” The reporter starts again, and both you and Billy stare at the screen. “The kidnappers left a tape, which is now with the police. Chances are they want a rescue, we just don't know how much yet.”

“This can't be happening.” You mutter, running a hand through your now messy hair. “I don't–”

The phone's loud ring makes you jump, a hand on your heart. “Let me answer that.” As he moves to answer the phone, you finally notice the living room and kitchen are an open space, and there's a small hall with two doors, one of them must be his bedroom. Billy speaks low, facing away from you, so you take the chance to pace around a little, wiping off more tears and trying to calm down, pushing the memory of the explosion and the shootings away.

You stop by the living door window, looking out, and you notice his apartment is only one block away from the beach, and you can see it from here, the moonlight reflecting on the water.

“(Y/N).” You mmediately turn around at the mention of your name. “It's your father. He wants to speak to you.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you walk over to the kitchen space. “My father has your number?”

“Company policy,” Billy says, handing you over the phone.

“Dad?” You say, more tears now threatening to roll down. “Are you ok? Is mom ok?”

“We're both alright. We're alright.” He starts, and you can hear your mother's voice in the back. “I need you to listen to me, and listen carefully, understood?”

“Yeah.”

“We know what those lowlives want. They'll ask for a rescue so high even the Whayland will have trouble paying. And they won't stop. There's nothing on the media yet, but they said it, out loud, that they'll go after the rest of the heirs. That includes you and some other kids too.” With a hand on your forehead, you turn around, finding Billy standing by the table, arms crossed. “I don't think the media will let it out because it'll cause more panic, but we know and we won't let anything happen to you.”

“What should I do then?” You inquire, staring at Billy.

“You'll stay there.” Your father explains, and a low, humorless laugh escapes your lips. He can't possibly think it's ok for you to stay here.

“Dad, that's crazy. I can't just–” Looking away from Billy, you lower your voice, trying not to let him listen. “I can't just ask Billy to stay here dad, this is his place and I don't want to–”

“I've already spoken to Billy and he agreed. Don't worry, he'll be well paid for this... Kindness. But it shouldn't be long. I'll put my men in the investigation. It may be just for some weeks.”

“Let me talk to her.” Your mother says, and soon enough you hear her voice through the phone. But after making sure you're ok, she goes on about the usual stuff. How well you should behave, mostly now, that you'll be living with an employee. And how Billy will be now serving you since he'll be paid for this ‘job’ once this is over. So you just listen, rolling your eyes more times than you can count, muttering a ‘yes’ or a ‘fine’ now and then. It goes on for several minutes until your father takes over, telling you to take care of yourself and hanging up.

Unable to believe what just happened, you put the phone down, slowly walking over to the table, not sure what the look on Billy's eyes means. “I'm sorry for... For this.”

“Your father just hired me for another job, that's all.” There's something on his tone you don't understand, but you don't think he'd answer if you ask.

What you know for sure is that this is a mess, a situation that's complicated for everyone. And of course you're not comfortable with this, having Billy forced to endure you at his place for... Weeks. “Billy, look... I had a nice time today. I had more fun in a couple of hours with you than I have with my friends. And I know this sucks but maybe we can make it work.” Drumming your fingers on the table, you avoid looking at him. “It can be a job, formal, and I can behave just like my mother told me over the phone or it can be an extension of that walk on the beach.”

“Alright.” He breathes out, and you feel a little relieved. “But this is nothing like your house, as you probably already noticed.”

Giving one more look around, you take in the simple kitchen, which is very well organized and clean. “I think your place is fine.” Billy scoffs, walking around the table. “What?”

“Come. There's only one bedroom and I guess it's yours for as long as you'll be staying here.”

“Absolutely not.” Exclaiming, you hesitate a little before following him through the small hall. “I can take the couch, it's no big deal.”

Billy opens the second door, gesturing for you to get inside. “It's small and plain, but I guess you'll manage to sleep just fine.” Billy's bedroom has faded blue walls, two windows, and a double bed set in between them. A wardrobe, a dresser, and a nightstand, on the right side of the bed. There are some posters on the wall, and you pace around, taking a look at them.

“It's cozy, I like it.” Turning on your heels to face him, you manage a small smile. “But I mean it. I'll take the couch. It's more than enough that you're being forced to have me in here.”

“What would your father say if he knew I was making his precious daughter sleep on the couch?”

“First of all, I don't think he has to know. And second, I don't care.” Shrugging your shoulders, you take a deep breath. “We can take turns then if you like.”

“Alright. Today is your turn, you need it more than me.”

“Yeah...” Reality kicks in, and you realize that for a moment you forgot why you're even here. “Can I take a shower? I mean, I'll have to sleep on this dress but...”

“I can give you some of my shirts if you don't mind.” When you nod, he moves to his dresser, searching for a while before handing you a dark blue shirt. “There's a bathroom there and another in the hall. But this one is bigger, so... You should use it.”

“Alright.” Hugging the shirt against your chest, you walk over to the bathroom.

“Use the green towel. Is clean and–”

“Thanks, Billy. I'll be alright.” Giving him one last glance, you walk in, locking the door behind your back.

When you're done, you stare in the mirror as you try to decide what to do with your dress. That's what you were thinking about for the thirty minutes you've been in the shower because you don't want to think about anything else. The explosion, the smoke, the people you know being held hostage... Gisele's death. The fact that it could've been you...

Taking a deep breath, you decide to throw the dress away, so you take it with you when you leave the bathroom, finding the bed made, with two pillows set on the edge. Leaving the dress folded on the dresser, you decide to lie down. You'll probably have nightmares, no doubt, but trying to stay awake won't last long since you're tired, very sleepy already. Tossing around to lie on your side, you hug the spare pillow.

You're almost falling asleep when the door is open, and so are your eyes, following Billy as he comes in. When his eyes meet yours he halts, seemingly surprised, a funny expression on his face that makes you chuckle. “What?” You ask in a low voice.

“Nothing, just... It's weird to have a girl on my bed.” He shrugs his shoulders, moving to look for something in his wardrobe.

“Uhm... I honestly doubt that.” It was Gisele who kept reminding you of Billy's behavior. Going so far as naming the girls he was seen with as if you knew any of them. As if she knew any of them. But the memory that made you so angry earlier, feels weird now. Empty, distant. “How many girls have already slept in this bed?”

“You're the first.” When he says that, you move to sit up straight, eyebrows furrowed. “I don't bring girls here.”

“Why?”

“Just an old rule of mine. There's no reason to let them in, they won't last.” Billy turns to face you, a hand holding blankets and a pillow as the other closes the wardrobe doors.

“And why don't they last?” The moment you ask, you regret it. “Nevermind. I'm just a little too curious.” Looking down at your hands, you blush. You're already invading his house, you can't invade his personal life too.

“Do you wanna sleep or do you wanna talk about my love life?” He scoffs, slowly making his way to the door. “Or the lack of it.”

“We're on the same boat then.” You giggle, running a hand through your hair and pushing back a yawn.

“You? That's something I don't believe, princess.”

Your head slows down at the pet name, and by the way Billy stops by the door, shifting his way from one leg to another, you can tell he's a bit surprised too. “Well... You know the options I have so...” Your mind quickly goes through the boys your mother and friends talk to you about. Some of them were kidnapped. But you push this thought back, not wanting to call in more bad dreams than you'll probably already have. “I'll die alone.”

“I'm sure your mother wants you to marry someone. Rich and powerful, of course.”

“Absolutely. So we can join our fortunes.” Kneeling on the bed, you give your voice a dramatic tone. “And make the family even richer and have very rich babies who will inherit more money than they could ever spend in a normal lifetime.” Rolling your eyes, you drop to the bed again, folding both legs beneath you. “Some shit like that.”

“But you always do what's expected of you. Your mother will end up pushing you into someone and you gave up arguing with her so...” Billy shrugs his shoulders, and you ask what this is. How exactly you got into this matter, and why is he making you see through the flaws of your existence. Damn, you're so sleepy. You're not thinking straight.

“I'd leave California before she forces me into it.” This certainty hits you like a brick, and you know you'll do it. You'll get your girly pink Cadillac, throw your luggage in the back, and drive away. “California never felt like home to me anyway.” You mutter, suddenly feeling empty. “I'll get some sleep now, Billy Hargrove. I'm done with opening my heart for today.” Not waiting for him to leave, you lie back down, pulling the blankets up. When you hear the door closing you take a deep breath, closing your eyes once again.

There's something about Billy. You've known some of your friends for many years, but you never spoke to them about the things you've spoken to Billy. He makes you feel different, like you're free to do and say the simple things you could never share with anyone else. Or maybe it's just the sleep taking over, you're not sure. But from all the people on Earth that you know, you're glad you got to do this with Billy. At least here you won't have to put on an act.

×

@multific @dontxfearxthereaper @nope-thanks @nikkixostan @shinydixon

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Carlito's Way (De Palma, 1993)

This review contains spoilers for this film and Scarface.

If Martin Scorsese's The Irishman offers a corrective of sorts to audience misreadings of Goodfellas and Casino, Brian De Palma's Carlito's Way serves a similar function in relation to Scarface. The earlier film, with its decadent surfaces and fever pitch, was embraced or derided (depending on who you talk to) for endorsing the very excesses it was meant to indict. I happen to love that movie and think that it would be pretty useless satirically if it didn't go all the way in that respect. But here comes De Palma, reuniting with an older, wiser Al Pacino, clearing the air and assuring us that no, crime actually does not pay (a lesson which should have been clear to anyone who paid attention to the other movie's ending.) Pacino plays Carlito Brigante, a former drug dealer with a formidable reputation who vows to go straight after being released from prison five years into a thirty-year sentence. You see, he's got a plan to go to the Bahamas and manage a car rental business for a friend he met in prison. Problem is, nobody around him can believe it.

Had Scarface ended a little differently, you could argue this would have been Tony Montana a few years down the line. Tony burned too brightly and flamed out before he became capable of reflecting on his ways. Carlito is haunted by the spectre of past violence, suggesting that he was at one time was capable of similar savagery, and the movie offers John Leguizamo's upstart gangster ("Benny Blanco from the Bronx") as an avatar of his worst qualities. Yet when Tony managed to look himself in the mirror, he found that he was a lowlife to the core with nary any principles to speak of. Carlito in contrast seems a bit more grounded and human, which makes his inevitable downfall all the more tragic. Here's a man who can see all the mistakes he's making, and makes them anyway. Carlito's Way is a portrait of men trapped by a culture of machismo, forced into bad decisions and cycles of violence because they can't comprehend any other way. (A scene where Carlito spares Benny after being disrespected in his club leaves his henchmen baffled.)

Carlito stands by his lawyer friend David Kleinfeld, played by Sean Penn, even when Kleinfeld's visibly coke-addled decision making and penchant for treachery actively undoes him, and the movie highlights how a seemingly noble trait can become downright stupid under these circumstances. I've found Penn's reliance on tics distracting elsewhere, but saddled with makeup this unflattering, he's forced to actually get into character and provides the movie with one of its most memorable lowlifes. (Interestingly, at one point Marlon Brando was considered for the Penn role, which would have been, uh, interesting, considering Brando's career and stature at this time. Viewers of a certain generation will also recognize the character as the inspiration for the hero's sleazy, incompetent lawyer in Grand Theft Auto: Vice City.) The other central relationship is between Carlito and Gail, his dancer girlfriend played by Penelope Ann Miller. Like the Michelle Pfeiffer character in Scarface, she's white, conspicuously WASP-coded, and the movie is astute about how she represents a certain respectability to the ethnic hero. It's also aware of how loyalties and conflicts will form almost arbitrarily along racial lines, and the exceptions of Carlito's relationships with Kleinfeld and Gail and his past dealings with Italian gangsters stand out as a result.

The production design here isn't much less meticulous than in Scarface, but the flashy period fashions and glamorous coke-fueled parties aren't quite as intoxicating here, as Carlito no longer feels their allure. (He's also seen frequently in dark colours, looking austere, almost monk-like, in contrast to the colourful suits worn by his cohorts.) Perhaps due to the period setting, the appeal of these things lacks the present tense urgency of the symbols of wealth in Scarface, and with Carlito's relative wisdom they rarely feel divorced from the realities of the street, whereas the earlier film got more and more insular as its protagonist ascended the criminal ladder. Where De Palma does dial up the flash is with the set pieces, with his fluid camera moves, dancerly sense of movement, acute spatial awareness and hair-trigger timing evident in a pool hall ambush, an ill-advised prison escape scheme and the climactic pursuit through a train station. The sequence is less bloody but just as suspenseful as I'd remembered from my initial viewing years ago (funny how your memory fills in the gaps). Compared to Scarface's gun battle climax, this scene feels like the other half of De Palma's take on a John Woo shootout. Scarface brings the body count and firepower, Carlito's Way has the balletic motion. (John Woo's classics, released between the two films, are similarly concerned with the gangster lifestyle but exist in different, if no less compelling, emotional landscapes.)

Now, with all the Scarface talk, it's worth pondering which is the better film, and I think it really comes down to personal preference. This is a slower, more contemplative film, closer to superficial notions of quality and respectability. Yet, perhaps by design, it can't match the brute force impact and lightning-in-a-bottle quality of the other film. But really, these are movies in completely different registers and it's nice that they're as good as they are in their own way.

[harleenfleck]

“Despite the danger (Part 2)”

Arthur Fleck/Joker x Reader

Summary: Joker is the love of your life; despite the reputation it carries. You know that, but you don’t care, after he rescued you from a horrible hole you were trapped in. Now, you both live your lives together, but you ignore all the risks that come with being the lover of the Clown Prince of Crime.

This is the continuation. Part one here (Idk how put links in tumblr AAAAAA)

Warning: Description of violence, smut (Oh yeah), unprotected sex, oral sex, and fluff cause why not.

Words: 3.2k

Notes: OMFG I’M SO SORRY I KNOW I KNOOOW It took me about a month to post the second part, you have no idea what happened to me in all these weeks! New job, a little move, trying to survive, creative block (I’m suffering with this one), I almost itchy a scorpion, I didn't have Internet for two weeks, for a moment I thought I was in contact with someone with COVID-19 and fortunately that someone was sick from something else (Pneumonia in case you had doubts), I started to be attracted to a guy who turned out to be a criminal (HAHA later I'll tell you how this shit was over) anyway, too many weird things happened to me.

Finally I can post the second part, and the truth is that it is the first time I write smut or something in English :'0 honestly I think it was sexy, but I still feel a little ashamed (that’s the correct word?) to post it, ahhh, it's weird the feeling. But wow, I think the thing was beautiful:3 I honestly hope I can beat the creative block and keep writing more stories like that, shit, anyway, Arthur it’s my beautiful muse.

Time for thanks! Thank you to the Microsoft translator for helping me translate things I don't know into English, thank you to Lana del Rey for helping me get out of the creative block with your songs, my two neurons for not giving up and doing synapses, and thank you for your patience <3

And fuuuuckinggg agaaaain the fucking same apology, I’m sorry if I make some grammatical, spelling or writing mistakes, english is not my native language blablablablablalaaablablablaba just enjoy the porn.

Hope you like it! <3

...

 He’s out of his mind.

He was yelling at his men to do the damn job, to search the whole damn city. His beauty doll is missing

You were missing, you weren’t by his side, and that was a tragedy.

He was going crazy, and how cannot be? His enemies don’t leave no clue, just the threatening note. He read it, trying to find something, some sign. But nothing.

“In every fucking corner! In every fucking street! In every fucking neighborhood! I don’t fucking care! You have to find her!”

He yelled at his men in clown masks, they were orders that were to be fulfilled. But everything was more complicated than it seemed.

“We've searched all over Gotham and there's no sign of her”

“Keep looking!” He screamed again.

The clowns have never seen their leader so tense and stressed. It wasn't for nothing. His darling was kidnapped by something he had done, and time ran. Anything could happen to you with every hour wasted in found you.

"Mr. Joker, we've searched everywhere, but there's no way to find her, do you really think it's worth it?"

“What? What do you mean by that? What are you implying about that?”

“I mean Mr. Joker, you found her in a disgraceful place... You could do that with any other slut, you can find another-”

Bang!

Before he could keep opening his mouth, that man was already dead.

"I don't have time for this stupid shit! You must don’t give a shit about my doll's past! You must do your fucking damn job!"

The rest of the clowns, seeing the violent scene, came out of the room. Joker ordered two of his men to undo the body.

Sitting on an elegant red couch, he took a hand to his face and breathe out heavily.

Where were you? Would you be ok? You’d be safe?

Every question stressed him. And he felt guilty leaving you alone, he shouldn’t have done that.

Knowing that sometimes his clowns could become useless, he got out of his seat and walked outside of the room. "If they don't find you, I'll do it myself”

He got into the car and went to Gotham.

“My y/n, where are you?”

…

Your hands behind you back were tied. Your feet too.

Could barely remember what happened to you. Hours before, you were reading a book in complete calmness, but someone broke in the house. You screamed and ran for the emergency gun, but the assailants caught you first and put a damp fabric in your face.

You slept soundly for a couple of hours, when you woke up with a blindfold. Immediately, you went into fear.

“Look! The bitch woke up”

Your eyes saw again, they took you the bandage off. Looked at some men you didn’t know who they were.

“Just look, the little whore of Joker” One of the kidnappers took you by the jaw “Are the rumors true? The Joker pulled you out of a brothel after you fuck him so good?”

A big spit came into the kidnapper's eye. You pointed very well at his face.

“Fuck you!” Was the only thing you yell to him “That's something you don't give a shit!”

The others men laugh a lot, making fun of your little defense. The affected person rubbed himself with a tissue and you realized spitting him was a big mistake.

Scared, you looked everywhere, you had to find a way out, you knew that if you stayed there, they could kill you, but there is no escape.

“What idiot would want a whore like his couple?” The kidnapper spoke as he approached you and lifted you from the ground "Although if it's true that you were a prostitute... We could take advantage of that…”

They looked at you with malevolence, you knew your Joker had done terrible things to them, and they revenge were going to drop it on you.

“No, no, no! Don't you dare! If you do, you'll be dead men!”

“Maybe, but the first one to die will be you”

They pulled out a knife right in front of you, played with this one, gently passing it down your chest and face.

They started ripping the fabric of your dress. You cried. They laughed.

Please Arthur come, come for me, please Arthur

“We are three, you're going to have to give each of us pleasure at the same time, you know what that means? Anyway, you're already experienced in that”

They took your dress in pieces, staying only in your underwear, they began grotesquely touch your body and make fun of you. You just implored that it wasn't painful and that your death wasn't so violent.

Although that was improbable.

You closed your eyes, accepting your unfortunate destiny.

A violent noise was heard, and one of the men fell to the ground.

"Leave her alone right now!"

Hearing that scream you felt in heaven, protected. You were safe. Joker was there, pointing the bastards who wanted to hurt you with his gun.

“Oh! Look who's here! Just when we were going to have our banquet, don't you want some?”

Another one fell to the ground. You tried to escape the only one left alive, but he catched you, putting the knife around your neck.

“Let her go of or you're going to regret it!” Joker screamed in a tone of voice you'd never heard before. He was heard so rude and furious, and at once determined.

“Let her go? You ruined what my men and I built for years; I'll take away what you cherish most in front you. And you can’t do anything to avoid it”

Joker's blood boiled with angry. How did he dare to hurt you?

"I won't warn you again, let her go right now, NOW!"

The guy, just for enjoying Joker's furious, put the knife down and cut your abdomen, you cried in pain. Joker went crazy, and when the knife stopped touching your skin, bullets were raining at your kidnapper.

You ran away, tripped and fell, but you could see Joker unloading the bullets on his enemy.

No enemy was left alive. You were free. But you were so scared too.

Joker looked at you, put away his gun and ran to you.

"Arthur!" You hugged him very tightly.

"y/n are you okay? He cut you, that motherfucker, I must to take you to the doc—"

"No! Please Arthur, take me home! Take me with you!"

"But y/n, you’re hurt—"

"It's nothing! I swear, just take me with you!"

Crying, you begged him to get you out of there. Joker took off his red coat and put it on you, covering you. He hugged you and both got out of there.

…

You two came home. He carried you in his arms and you hugged his chest. He left you in the bed while you still crying.

"I won't let you get hurt again, my doll" Arthur drew his fingers to your face, drying away your tears. He hurt him see you crying.

"Arthur, I thought I'd never see you again”

"No, y/n, I'm here, I'll always be here. No one will hurt you again"

You hugged him a lot, you didn't want to let him go. Despite the facade of the worst criminal of all and Gotham's worst lunatic, he saved and protected you.

Arthur left the room for a moment and came back with a medicine cabinet. He healed your wound while you were trying to relax, but that was almost impossible. Once you bandaged, Arthur lay down next to you, and you couldn't help hug him. He did the same thing, caressing your hair and smelling your scent, like the first time he and you met.

You and him slept soundly. You were so afraid you wouldn't sleep in that bed again. However, your night wasn't quiet, you dreamed of those three horrible men again, you dreamed that those men did what they wanted with you, and Arthur never appeared.

You woke up upset, in tears again.

But at the same time, you calmed down, because you were home. Arthur woke up with your crying, he immediately paid attention to you.

"What's going on? y/n, what happened?"

"A nightmare"

He took you carefully and kissed you on the forehead. You hugged him back, you clung to him, you never wanted to leave him in your life.

He really is the love of your life.

And you wanted to thank him for being.

"Arthur..."

"Yes?"

You took air, you never thought you’d be shy to ask Arthur that, even when you did this night after night.

“Could you love me, please?"

The eyes of Arthur lit up, and a big sense of desire ran through his body. But despite that, you were always above everything.

"y/n… But you’re hurt"

"Art… I’m fine, it was something superficial, it's nothing” And that was true, but on his face could you see he wasn’t so convinced “Please Arthur, I need your love”

He looked at you with concern, with silent, perhaps he feared to hurt you.

But at the same time, he looked at you with desire, in need and lust.

Arthur needed you very badly too, but he was afraid to revive your pain. However, you started kissing him, at first shyly, because you didn't know what his reaction would be.

But you knew him perfectly, you knew that with a simple touch of yours he could go crazy. He gently took you from the back of your head and quickly got on top of you. His hands started stroking your neck, your collarbone, your chest. His fingers started playing with the straps of your bra and at the same time left little kisses on your breasts.

Fear left your body, and desperately asked for Arthur.

Arthur took your bra off and threw it somewhere in the room. Hypnotized, he admired your body. You blushed, he always saw you as a deity, even though you two made love a thousand times before.

"You're the most fucking beautiful woman I've ever met"

He bit his lip when he saw you. You, on the other hand, put the shyness aside, your hands went to the buttons on his yellow vest, unbuttoning them. Arthur noticed your intentions and helped you with that. You did the same thing with his turquoise shirt, looking now his chest.

You exhaled. You kissed him deeply, his tongue entered your mouth, and you couldn't help pass your hands through his chest and abdomen.

Without warning, you started to kiss his neck and shoulders, he didn’t wait that, but with a smile, he let you continue. You kept kissing him, went down to his red pants. His lust trapped in that red pants was already evident.

With little kiss on the fabric of his pants, you unbuttoned and zipped down. You looked him before continue. Arthur looked at you in need, desire and a huge smile on his clown face.

You backed off his pants and his underwear, his length appeared on your face and something inside you burned. You took it with your hand and let a little kiss in the top.

With more desire, you pass your tongue, sucking it, you really enjoyed that moment, more when you put it in your mouth and heard his deep moan.

"Damn it, y/n!" Arthur almost cried out loud. He was wet in lust, he looked at you with his green eyes, saw as you gave him pleasure, as you loved making him feel good. He took your hair, started directing the movements.

You relaxed your throat, took some air and got on with your work. You used your tongue to drive him crazy, and hearing his moans caused you to get wet. “Fuck! y/n you… you’re amazing…”.

You viewed that he grabbed the sheets with his free hand, his head was back and his chest became large and small as he breathed deeply. You could think he was close to finishing. But he decided to change things.

He took your hair and forced you to apart himself, you looked at him a little confused, but his gaze said he was going to back to you everything you caused him. Taking your shoulders, he dropped you in bed. He quickly got between your legs, starting to play with the elastic of your lace panties.

He dropped your panties, stared hungry at what these were hiding. And he realized you were already wet.

"Art... Do-Don't be so rude, please" You pled him timidly. Arthur blinked, setting aside his desire, remembering what you had spent the last night. He looked at your reddened face, and felt slightly guilty. He didn't tell you, but he thought maybe he scared you.

"Of course not, my doll" slowly lowered his face until you reached your entrance "If you want to stop, I will, just say it y/n" kissed one of your thighs, and seeing you, started playing with his tongue inside you.

Now, it was your turn to yell.

“Oh fuck!” You remember why Arthur loved that game. He was very skillful. He kissed you, licked you, played really well down there. You took his green hair between your fingers, begging him to go deeper. You heard a little laugh.

“I want you Arthur…” You couldn't take it anymore, you started begging him, as tears of pleasure fell down your cheeks “Please Art, I want you, make me yours…”

He didn't listen to you, he just kept licking you, and you couldn't do it anymore. You cuming in his mouth, and he drank you all.

Bastard you thought You wouldn't let me do the same with you

As you recovered from the orgasm, he stands up, his makeup was already a mess, but that's what you loved, as you could see Arthur and Joker at the same time.

“Come here, boy” You extended your hand to him. He took it and placed himself on top of you "I really want you for me”

“You just want me?”

“Why the question?”

"You seem to need me" Arthur kiss your hand, as you felt the rub of its length in your entrance, he was torturing you.

“Arthur, please…”

“Please what?” He passing his tongue in your hand and finished with a kiss.

“I-I need you…”

“Yes darling?” He saw you again with those emeralds that drove you crazy. How much you love him, and how much he loves you "Did you know I always need you, y/n?" With that deeply voice, he began to play again, giving small blows with his tip, causing you to moan.

“Y-Yeah…” Your voice became trembling at the end of that word “Arthur, please…”

“Please what?” He repeated that question again while without warning, he passed his tongue through your breast, provoking you more and more.

“…Fuck me…” You didn't ask him, you pleaded him. He laughed a little, and kissed you on your lips, looking for your tongue with his. And as your tongues fluttered in your mouths, he entered in you.

You moaned in his mouth, that strange sense of pain and pleasure was so addictive to you. He moved inside you, going out and in. You could hear him moan, and that excited you more, hearing his voice full of pleasure.

With more desire, you hugged him, moaned and cried. You didn't want anyone else in your life. You only want Arthur, just him.

It was so much pleasure and delight that you even forgot the wound on your abdomen.

You raised your hips just to join him more. Arthur kissed your neck, while he too got lost in lust. The bed hit the wall hard, it could break at any time, and you wouldn't mind. You two couldn't separate, nothing could separate.

You didn't know how much time was going on, but every time Arthur made love to you, time seemed to stop alone for the two of you.

“Arthur…” You cried his name “I love you… I love you”.

“I love you, y/n” you heard his hoarse voice against your ear again. He raised his head, only to see you adore this intimate moment “I love you too”

You kissed him, so much passion overflowing. You felt close again.

Before you could tell him, your body couldn't keep it anymore and gave into the pleasure, you screamed so loud. Arthur began to penetrate you slowly and deep at the same time, prolonging your orgasm, making it more torturous and pleasurable.

Breathing deeply, you looked at Arthur, taking his cheek with your hand, you still felt weak, and loved too.

He came out of you, and he started masturbating in front of you. "Could you help me, doll?" Oh yes, you knew that meant.

You knelt in front of him, took his member and carried him into your mouth. He tried to suppress a groan but failed. A few seconds later he made you stop, and you'll look him in the eye from where you were.

"You want it, don't you, doll?" you didn't answer, you just moved your head up and bit your lip. Like the first time you saw him. You began to masturbate him and kiss his member.

He caressed your head, closed his eyes. If that wasn't heaven, he didn't know anything else it could be.

His body tightened, and his breathing became heavy “y/n, I’m gonna coming, come here”.

You stopped, opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue. With a little scream from him, you got his climax in your mouth. Every drop fell into your mouth, and some escaped through the corners of your lips. He tasted so good; you loved his taste.

Arthur took a deep breath, his eyes were still under in his eyelids, recovering. He lowered his head and opened his eyes, watching you. You gave him a naughty smile. He caressed your cheek, and stroked you with his thumb.

"Where have you been all my life?" For a moment he thought about it, but he really said it. And you blush at those words. The naughty smile was replaced by a shy smile.

"Lost, like you, my love"

Smiling at you, he went to kiss you one more, one more loving, more romantic. “Arthur Fleck, you really are the love of my life” You said to him in the middle of the kiss. You could feel it how he trembled at your words. He separated from you and looked you in the eye.

“You too, y/n, you’re the love of my life”.

He kissed your cheek and pulled aside some locks of hair that fell on your face. "Come here" Took your hand "Look at you, you're a mess, we're going to have to clean you up"

You knew that was just the beginning, it was going to be a long day.

But you didn't care because you loved him, you loved Arthur Fleck, and Joker too, despite the danger. You didn't really care about danger, Arthur would always protect you from adversity, and somehow, you also protected him.

End

[ma-gic-gay]

"Get. Out," Jason says, glaring at the mobster in front of him. "Aren't you supposed to be in a prison cell?"

"I was released on bail and wanted to see how-"

"Say her name and you'll be the one in the hospital bed."

"Is that a threat?"

"A promise," he smiles fakely, enjoying the fact he's the one with power in this situation. This sick bastard is the reason that his... Carly is traumatized and hurt.

"Please, leave," Carly requests softly. For a minute, Jason almost forgot she was there. He immediately goes back in his chair and wipes away her tears, which are coming fairly frequently. "I want him out of here and back in his cell."

"You heard the woman. Get out or I'll have security remove you."

"I own part of this hospital, Mr. Morgan. I'm on the board-"

"Not anymore," Michael answers, walking in with his kids and Willow. "Last night, the board took a vote. ELQ bought out your shares and the board decided you're no longer a part of it. So if I were you, I'd get out of here while you can still move."

"Are you threatening me, Mr. Corinthos?" Cyrus asks, amused. "That won't fly with anyone, really."

"You made a mistake, underestimating him," Willow chimes in. "I'd leave pretty quickly if I were you. After all, we know you're going back to Pentonville, where I look forward to you rotting in a prison cell until you die a slow, painful death."

"Ms. Tait-"

"It's Mrs. Corinthos, actually," she says, glaring at him while showing her engagement and wedding rings. "Because, you see, I love Michael and he loves me. That's what these beautiful rings mean. Something I doubt you'll ever be able to experience. Then again, maybe prisoners like knowing that their fellow prisoner is a kidnapper and rapist. Maybe not. I guess you'll find out."

"I have no reason to leave," Cyrus answers a non-existent question. "There's no need for me to. I just wanted to check on Carly. I do hope I can call you that, Mrs. Corinthos?"

"No," she answers, voice weak and tears still streaming down her face. "Please, leave. You know what you did to me. So do the cops, so does everyone else in this room. Enjoy your last few weeks of freedom if you insist, but otherwise, Cyrus, get the hell out of my room."

When he still refuses to move, Jason presses the "call" button near Carly's bed and Epiphany enters the room. "Mr. Renault. Unless you need medical attention, get out of this hospital."

"Nurse Johnson," he greets. "Nice to see you."

"Security!" Epiphany shouts instead of answering his greeting. "Cyrus is in 3115!"

A few moments later, a security guard enters and escorts Cyrus out, much to the man's protests. "I'm not doing anything wrong by visiting a friend!"

Epiphany casts a glance towards Carly, "You want a sedative or something?"

"No, thanks," the blonde responds, noticing her grandkids are in the room and breaking into a fake smile. "Hey Wiley, Ophelia! Did you two have fun playing with Donna and Avery yesterday?"

"Grandma, why are you crying?" Wiley asks. "And why aren't you at home?"

"I got a really bad booboo and so I'm stuck in here for a little while. Don't worry, bud, I'll be out of here and playing with you two again as soon as I can. Maybe we'll go get some ice cream to celebrate when I get out, how's that sound?" Carly asks her grandson, simplifying it greatly.

"Yay! Ice cream!" Wiley cheers while his sister just smiles.

"Hey, Mr. Wiley, I think you have to get to school," Michael says after glancing at his watch.

"But I want to help Grandma's boo-boos feel better!" He protests.

"Grandma needs her rest, Wiley. Tell you what, maybe your dad will take you here after school and you can tell her all about your day. How's that sound?" Jason offers, compromising.

"Will you make sure she gets her rest, Jason?" Wiley asks and they laugh at the young boy's concern.

"Yes, I will. But you've got to get off to school first."

"Okay. Bye bye, Grandma and Jason! I'll be back after school."

He waves as Michael takes him out of there, Ophelia still with Willow. "Ophelia, do you wanna say bye to her? Say bye bye," Willow urges, smiling.

Silence follows that. "She's being rude, sorry about that," she jokes before bringing her out to join Michael and Wiley in the car.

As soon as the door closes behind Willow, the silent tears multiply and Carly's loudly sobbing. "How did he get out, Jason? They promised me he'd go to jail, that he'd never see the light of day again. I know it's the PCPD, but they made a promise to me! And now he's walking around town, free to see me and make me feel like I'm back in that room and he's about to-" she trails off at one point, sobs overtaking her vocal cords.

"I don't know. I'm calling Diane; this isn't making any sense."

"No need to call, Jason. I'm right here. Heard Cyrus got let out?"

"He paid a visit to us, actually, only a few minutes ago," Carly says, abruptly ending her sobs.

"Well, the DA is going to take this case. Which means Robert Scorpio is your lawyer. I'm going to be assisting him, however, and I expect that Cyrus will be put away rather quickly. If he doesn't plead guilty, than you'll go to trial. His arraignment is happening tomorrow and he's out on bail until then. After that, he will be sent to Pentonville to either await trial or start serving his sentence," Diane summarizes quickly. "Carly, when are you expected to get out of here?"

"In a couple of days, but I think they'd let me out for a court date."

"You're not leaving until the doctor's deem it safe," Jason counters quickly. "If you can't go to the arraignment, I will. I'll tell you exactly what happened."

"Well if the doctors say I can go to court-"

"Look. I'll talk to the nurses and figure out what's going on here. You two can fight about this later. In the meantime, you need to be prepared for the possibility he'll plead not guilty and take this to trial." Diane interjects. "Robert will be by later today to discuss this with you."

"If he pleads not guilty and we go to trial, how fast can we get one?" Jason asks.

"A couple of weeks, probably. Which means keeping a low profile. No business talk, no crazy ideas. Just a coffee importer and a victim of what Cyrus did to you," Diane warns. "You two don't exactly have the best reputation."

"Hey, I'm a respectable businesswoman and he's a respectable businessman. We'll be fine," Carly smiles and Diane cocks an eyebrow at Jason.

"We won't do anything stupid."

"Good. I'm going to go talk to the nurses. Carly, rest up. We'll want you at court tomorrow." Diane says before leaving, her heels clacking along the tile.

"Don't tell me you want me to stay in the hospital," Carly says, starting up that argument again.

"I don't. But if it's the best way for you to heal-"

"It's not. I'm already bored to death and, as much as I enjoy your company, I want to be at home. Or at work. Back to running the world, you know? Not cooped up in this hospital bed, screaming every few hours because I feel like I'm back in that room above Jake's, which used to be such a fun spot but now it makes me want to die inside, thinking about it. Thinking about what he did, it taints almost all of our memories there and I think that's the worst part of it," the blonde admits, smiling through her tears.

"I can think, you know, about how we got our start, and when I focus on just you, it makes it all seem so much easier. When I don't, and I let my mind wander, somehow I end up thinking about what Cyrus did. I can't even indulge in nostalgia without thinking about him, Jason. The physical, yeah I'm sore but I'll be fine. Eventually, I won't have any physical mark of it. But the emotional one, what if it never goes away? What if whenever I think of us, and that little room, I always end up thinking about Cyrus? What then?"

"Then you'll just have to think of our other memories. At the penthouse, at any of your houses, with Michael, at the hospital, any of the years worth of other memories," he offers. "They're not our only good memories, Carly. They're just a few."

"My boy on the side, remember?" She asks and they laugh. "Robin couldn't find out and neither could Tony."

"Yeah," he smiles. "We were determined to never speak to each other outside of the bar and that room. It was pretty much our only rule."

"I never did like following rules."

"Not even the ones you came up with."

"Well, if I'd followed the rules, then you wouldn't know me nearly as well and you'd be leading a sad life without me in it. You wouldn't have nearly as much fun without me," she says confidently.

"I'd also have way less headaches."

"And be dead by now."

"Yeah, probably."

"I think I've earned a thank you."

"Thank you, Carly."

"You're welcome." Smiling, she realizes something. "Hey, I just realized that you didn't kiss me that nightmare."

"Did you really want me to kiss you in front of Cyrus?" He asks.

"It would've drove him nuts."

"Yeah, well Michael, Willow, and your grandkids were in here too. Michael's already barely not killing us for having sex, I don't feel like testing that."

"No one's here now."

"Is that your way of telling me to-" he gets cut off by the feeling of her kissing him.

They pull apart a few moments later, Carly having a satisfied smile on her face. "So, how long does this whole kissing me every time I have a nightmare thing last?"

"Until we decide to stop it," he answers simply, refusing to label whatever the hell is going on here. At least, none of that until she's more recovered from this, maybe when Cyrus is behind bars.

To be continued after I actually do school because fuck the education system

@ryleighjosephine i dont know what the song is sorry