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narryffdreaming · 15 days

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A TOAST TO THE FUTURE — THREE

Summary: Aurora and Harry used to be friends, but life happened and they grew apart. Now, 6 years later, they meet again.

Rating: +18

WARNINGS: The story contains explicit language and mentions a past abusive relationship (mostly the consequences of psychological/emotional abuse). Some chapters also contain explicit sexual content.

PART THREE: 6,9k words Author’s note: ngl I thought this was "too short", and then I saw it's around 7k and realized that maybe this isn't short, but the other parts are just "too long", lol. Clearly I can't control myself. But anyway, this is part three and Aurora and Harry (finally) arrive in Italy. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do :)

PART ONE || PART TWO

As it turns out, both Aurora and Harry completely forgot about the one hour time change, so whilst they thought they'd arrive around eleven, by the time they landed in Naples it was actually a few minutes after 12.

They realized, then, that since they would go together to Amalfi, sharing a taxi would be cheaper than taking the train — like they had both initially planned to do. Which is how Aurora ends up leaning against a white wall at arrivals, watching their bags while Harry wanders around and does some research for them.

Outside, the day is bright and sunny, something she's been admiring non-stop through the huge glass wall in front of her. Rays of light keep the exposed skin in her arms and chest warm, so there's no need for her to wear Harry's jacket anymore — although a part of her wishes she still had a reason to, just to keep smelling his cologne.

"Hey!" Harry calls, and Aurora turns her head to the side.

He approaches her confidently, pulling his hair back and smiling while strutting through the airport as if he owns the place. It's kind of impossible not to follow every one of his movements, and she's pretty sure anyone who lays their eyes on him would think exactly the same.

"It's done," he says, then raises both hands and gives her a double thumbs up. "Got us a taxi."

Summer looks good on him. It makes his skin glow, it highlights his tattoos, and it makes his happiness seem… Well… Even happier.

"Oh," she says, blinking and stepping away from the wall. "Great."

She clears her throat and glances to her phone, double-checking for the fiftieth time that her texts to Zack remain unanswered.

It's been over four hours since she texted him, and although she isn't surprised by his lack of interaction, she can't deny that it sucks to know he intentionally avoids replying to her texts — and that she probably won't hear from him until Sunday night, when he drops Noah off.

"No words from him yet?" Harry asks, now standing only a couple of steps across from her.

Aurora shakes her head and locks the screen, then looks up and faces him again.

"No… But hey," she says, offering him a sarcastic smile and fake enthusiasm as she adds, "if I'm lucky enough, maybe he'll pick up the phone tonight. Isn't that great?"

Harry pauses for a moment.

And then he snorts.

He flicks his gaze down and breathes in, filling his chest with air while taking one hand up to his face and rubbing his brow.

"Jesus Christ," he murmurs and chuckles shakily, almost as if he can't believe what he just heard.

Aurora feels herself softening in front of him, and her fingers itch to touch him somehow.

"I mean, it's okay," she says, tightening her phone inside her fingers and closing her other hand into a fist. "I knew this would happen when I decided to spend the weekend away."

Harry drops his hand to his side and shakes his head, then looks at her again.

Bright, sunny, warm summer seemed to turn into dark, cold, empty winter around him. He's clearly tense, and the look in his eyes is heavier now.

"For his sake," he says, voice sounding just as deep as she feels him in her bones. "I really hope he doesn't cross my way anytime soon."

It's unbelievable how quickly Aurora's mouth fills with water. As if she's salivating because of him.

The way he soaks up her worries and eases her sadness is certainly endearing, but the way Harry physically reacts to this specific situation gets her nerves stirring. He seems to be ready to stand up for her. Ready to fight the battle for her. Ready to be her armor and shield her from all and any attacks that Zack throws at her.

And as much as Aurora doesn't want things to get to that point, and as much as she isn't looking for that kind of attention from a man, the honest truth is that her insides respond too quickly to his behavior. Like she's craving for that aggressiveness. Or maybe like she's craving for someone to finally treat her the way she wishes to be treated. Someone who will throw a punch for her, and not at her.

Even just metaphorically speaking.

Aurora blinks, breaking away from the intensity of his stare as she hunches down and grabs her bag from the floor. She takes the opportunity to swallow all those new feelings down, hiding and locking them away, then stands upright again.

"I appreciate that," she says, curling her lips into a smile. "But we're in Italy right now, so I think I'm ready to leave Zack behind. At least for two days."

Harry focuses on her for a moment, flickering his eyes all over her face. Studying her. Almost like he's making sure she is telling him the truth.

She tilts her chin down and lifts her left eyebrow, and Harry meets her stare once again.

"You're right," he says, and closes his eyes. "Gimme a minute."

Taking all the time of the world, Harry breathes in deeply through his nose. When his chest is full, he freezes for a moment, and then lets all the air slip out through his mouth. Loudly and heavily.

It's a little bit dramatic. A little bit over the top. A little bit exaggerated. But Aurora can tell that he's intentionally forcing his movements. That he's getting on board with her and leaving things behind. And that he's making a big deal out of it because it's supposed to be a symbolic moment between them. Like drawing an imaginary line and setting a before and after for that trip.

Especially when he rolls his shoulders, tilts his head side to side vehemently, and then drops all the weight off his body.

"Ok," he says, opening his eyes while clasping his hands together and smiling at her. "I'm good!"

He leans down to grab his bag, too, and a foolish grin grows on Aurora's face.

"As I was saying," he adds, placing the strap on his shoulder as he looks at her again, "I got us a taxi. It's supposed to be just an hour and a half drive, but they said it can take us at least two hours to get there."

Meaning they will get there around what… 2:30? 3?

Aurora pouts.

"That sucks. Lucy had this whole thing planned in the morning."

"I know. But we'll make the best of it, anyway."

"Yeah…"

She puts her phone inside the front pocket of her bag, then looks around the airport.

They're still inside the crowded terminal, and it's safe to say that she has no idea where she's supposed to go next. She's been following Harry's steps since they landed — or maybe even since they took off — and she isn't actually interested in taking the lead right now.

"So… Where should we go, then? Can we get this taxi now or…"

"Mhm… Yes… We sure can…" Harry nods. "But first… There's something I have to tell you."

Aurora's face falls, and she drops her shoulders.

"Oh God… What?"

"It's nothing bad… At least I don't think so, but…"

Harry scratches his jaw and shrugs, then smiles sheepishly at her.

(Which, to be honest, does nothing to reassure her.)

She rearranges the bag on her shoulder with one hand, and encourages him to speak with the other, rolling her fingers in the air.

"But…?"

"Well… I might've lied a bit to the guy from the taxi company."

"Okay…" She narrows her eyes. "Why? What did you say to him?"

"That we just… Y'know… Got married?"

Aurora drops her jaw.

"Married?!"

Harry chuckles.

"Mhmm..."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah…"

His face is bright with amusement, and even though Aurora can't understand what's so funny behind that joke, she can't help but mimic his emotion.

"Harry!" She laughs. "Why would you even say that?!"

"Because he gave me this whole speech, ok? About how he couldn't get us a car 'till five, and how we should've booked one at least one day before and… Well. Y'know…"

He rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed at the lecture he got because of their poor planning skills, but the joy is still there. All over him. Radiating from his entire presence. Blooming into her.

"I see." Aurora nods, pursing her lips as she mulls over his words. "And us being married changes that because…"

He pulls his eyebrows together, as if the answer is the most obvious thing and he can't believe she's even asking that. "Because we eloped, duh. So of course we didn't have any time to plan or book anything."

"Oh my God."

Aurora laughs.

"So I guess this is our honeymoon now."

"You're insane."

"Hey, it worked, ok?" He raises the palms of his hands to her, then smirks, all proud of himself. "We didn't have a taxi, now we have one. So… You're welcome."

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms on her chest, but the smile never falters from her face.

"Fine. Whatever. Anything else I should be aware of about this lie?"

Harry takes a moment to think about it, hiding his hands inside his pockets and then shrugging.

"Nah… Don't think so."

"Good."

"Only that you're madly in love with me and couldn't wait to be my wife."

"Right."

"But that's pretty obvious."

"No, yeah. Of course."

"You also can't wait to get our honeymoon started, by the way."

"Oh, really?"

"Yep. So you're kind of desperate to get to our hotel."

Aurora snorts. "Okay then."

"Apparently," he says, stepping closer and nudging her side with his elbow, "you just can't get your hands off me."

She cackles, then, and shoves him off with one hand. "You wish!"

The small joke rolls easily and happily from her mouth. Mostly because she's determined to not ruin things all over again, but also because he brings that side out of her.

And Harry laughs, too.

"Hey," he says, shrugging and tilting his chin up, "a man can only hope."

"You're ridiculous."

"I mean, it gets you laughing so… Yeah. I'll take it."

She shakes her head, finding herself out of words. Even if she knows they're both just teasing around and that she doesn't need to worry about him misinterpreting her, there's only so much she can joke at once.

Unlike Harry, of course, who apparently can roll lie after lie out of his mouth.

"Ok, c'mon," he says, tilting his head and leading their way from arrivals to outside the airport. "They said there'll be a car waiting for us."

Aurora follows him in silence, and then she clears her throat.

"So, you really told them we got married?"

He smiles, and nods. "Yes."

"And they really think we're going to a hotel?"

"Mhmm." He looks at her over his shoulder and shrugs. "I didn't want to get into the whole yacht thing… Seemed too much trouble to explain."

"Right." She smirks, and raises her eyebrows. "But creating a lie about our marriage was easy-peasy, right?"

Harry purses his lips, clearly trying to hold himself back.

"I mean… Yeah. Had the whole story on the tip of my tongue."

They both look at each other for a moment, and then they both laugh.

See? That's the good thing about Harry: he makes Aurora laugh.

And he makes her laugh a lot.

Which isn't exactly news, because he always made her laugh, but still feels nice to remember.

Back in the day, the way Harry and Niall lived their lives used to be one of the reasons why she liked to hang out with them so much — they didn't have too many worries in the world, and they only cared about having fun. So whilst most people around her were planning for their futures and preoccupied about having everything figured out, they made her laugh about the most silly and random things, offering her a break from the pressures and expectations of adult life.

Of course, their lifestyle wasn't one that she could keep up with all the time, and at certain moments their behavior used to resemble childishness, but they definitely were good and fun people to keep around.

So much so that here's where they are right now.

"C'mere, wifey," Harry says, stepping out to the sunny day and pulling her to his side by her shoulders. "Time to give our driver a show."

She grimaces, then places her arm around his waist.

"Okay," she says, narrowing her eyes and adjusting her sight to the warm and natural brightness, "rule number one, you're not calling me wifey."

Harry squeezes her shoulder and laughs, throwing his head back and slowing their pace down.

"Right. Ok." He nods. "What should I call you, then?"

"What about… Nothing?"

"Oh c'mon! You're my wife now. We need to play the part." He guides her smoothly down the sidewalk, dodging strangers and skipping through a long line of white cars. "Does honey sound better? Or what about apple of my eye, huh? Cupcake? Pumpkin?"

She chuckles. "Harry—"

"Buttercup?"

"Stop."

"Kitten?"

"Ew, no—"

"Other half? Or what about…" He leans closer to her ear, then covers his voice with sweetness and cheesiness as he annoyingly murmurs, "My lovey-dovey?"

At that, Aurora cackles.

"Oh God," she laughs, squirming and shoving him off. "Stop. No nicknames for you."

"Ahhh, why?" He pulls her closer again, exuding pure joy and happiness as he speaks. "Nicknames are fun. I can be your honey bunny if you want me to."

"Absolutely not."

"Honey boo?"

"Nope."

"Lover boy, then."

"C'mon… You can't seriously—"

"Man of your dreams?"

Aurora snorts, but before she can say anything, Harry speaks again.

"Prince charming? Jellybean?"

"Harry, c'mon—"

"Hot stuff?"

"Stop!"

"Babylicious?"

And then she laughs again. Probably way louder than she should. Leaning into him and covering her face as she struggles to keep up with his feet.

"Oh my God! You're just so annoying. I can't even—"

"Mr. and Mrs. Styles?" a thick italian accent calls, and they both stop walking.

Aurora is still laughing, trying to catch her breath while she turns her head to the side. A gray-haired man dressed in a black suit steps away from a black car and walks forward, holding a polite smile and gentle expression as he approaches them with nothing but determination.

Harry squeezes her shoulder and leans in, getting closer to her ear.

"If you ask me," he murmurs, and the tone of his voice is suddenly so low that it becomes almost painful, "that should be the one. Mrs. Styles."

A shiver runs down her body, and she swallows.

"Scusi," the man says, thankfully sparing her from having to find any responses or reactions. "Signor e signora Styles?"

"Giusto!" Harry says, squeezing her shoulder and chuckling as he straightens his posture and pulls her closer to his side. "Signor e signora Styles. Sì."

"Piacere! Come stai?" The man stretches his arm, and Harry takes a step forward, shaking hands with him. "Sono Francesco, il tuo tassista."

"Francesco!" Harry smiles. "Buongiorno! Mi chiamo Harry e questa—" He squeezes her again, making a deal out of it as he kisses the top of her head. "È mia moglie, Aurora."

Aurora bites her lip, watching in silence as the man turns to her and stretches his arm once again.

"Aurora. Piacere. Un nome bellissimo."

"Uh…"

Truth be told, she has absolutely no idea what's going on, or what they are talking about. So she chuckles nervously, but makes sure to shake his hand anyway.

"I don't…" She says, tilting her chin up and glancing at Harry. "Sorry. I don't speak Italian."

Harry's expression softens, and the playfulness in his face turns into pure tenderness.

"Oh. No problem," the man says, the Italian accent still thick as he communicates in a different language. Aurora faces him again, and he adds, "Aurora, sì? Beautiful name."

"Oh." She smiles, cheeks getting slightly warm. "Uhm… Gra… Grazie?"

She turns to Harry, again.

"That's thank you, right?"

Still staring at her, Harry smiles, then nods.

Aurora looks back at the man.

"Grazie," she repeats.

"Non c'è di che! Andiamo, sì?"

Aurora tilts her chin up, looking at Harry and waiting for him to take over the conversation.

He shakes his head, then, and turns his attention back to the man. "Sì. Andiamo. Sì."

The man chuckles. "Sposi novelli, eh?"

"Mhm."

"Congratulazioni! Lo immaginavo. So riconoscere lo sguardo di un uomo innamorato."

Harry chuckles and looks down, then scratches his jaw with his free hand and clears his throat. "Così ovvio, eh?"

Aurora doesn't know if it's possible, but she feels her own eyes twinkling as she tilts her chin up and lands her gaze on Harry one more time.

He beams under the gorgeous sunshine, eyes greener than she's ever seen and cheeks flushed as he engages into a conversation with that man. Not only rolling Italian words out of his mouth, but also effortlessly putting them into sentences.

And she's so hypnotized by the whole thing, that she can't even be bothered by the fact that she's not being included or doesn't understand a single thing. She'll gladly let him take the reins for the entire drive as long as she gets to entertain herself with that view.

"Auri?"

Harry squeezes her shoulder, and Aurora blinks. She darts her eyes away from his face, swallowing while he steps towards the car and slides his arm off her shoulders.

"Shall we?" he asks, reaching for the strap on her shoulder.

Aurora is too starstruck to fight him, so she nods and lets him grab her duffel bag, then follows him with her eyes as he and the gray-haired-suited-man place it in the trunk, along with his.

And from then on, Harry plays his part like a true gentleman.

Their driver starts by opening the backseat door for them, but then Harry offers his hand for her to hold and get in first, kissing her temple when she walks past him. She chuckles, but only because of the effort he's putting on just to cover his own lie.

Once they're both inside, he doesn't complain about taking the middle seat when she chooses the window, and even makes sure she's comfortable and has her belt on.

"Possiamo andare?" the gray-haired-suited-man asks.

Harry peeks at her. "Good to go?"

"Mhmmm..."

He nods, then puts his belt on while answering their driver. "Sì, grazie."

The engine starts working, and they're officially on the move to the Amalfi Coast.

"Can I?" Harry whispers to her, hovering her hand with one of his.

"Oh…" Aurora looks at his inked forearm, reaching for her while he keeps his elbow tucked to his side. To be fair, after sobbing into his chest and sleeping on him like a koala, she truly doesn't think holding hands would be awkward at all right now. So she nods and turns her palm around, offering it to him. "Yeah, sure."

And when he places his palm on top of hers and intertwines their fingers, she can actually see herself benefiting from his lie — because Harry's warmth keeps her warmth, as well. Just like she needs to be. Just like she wants to be.

"Credo che Amalfi ti piacerà moltissimo," the man says. "È perfetto per gli innamorati!"

Harry chuckles and scooches down, comfortably spreading his long legs open and pulling their hands to rest on his thigh. "Grazie. È la nostra prima volta in Italia."

"Per quanto starai qui?"

"Solo due giorni. Domenica torniamo a casa."

Aurora is lost in the conversation, but she's also… Physically uncomfortable. Her arm is tense as she stretches it to lay on his leg, and she doesn't want to spend two hours like that. So she shuffles closer, tucking her elbow under his own and fully linking their arms.

"Bene, dovrai tornare un'altra volta per visitare più città," the man says.

Harry sits upright again, then slips his fingers off from her hand.

"Di sicuro," he says, lifting his arm and placing it across her shoulders. "Forse la prossima estate."

He takes his other hand to her palm, then, and intertwines their fingers once again.

It's like they need a moment to get comfortable and find a position that suits both of them, but eventually they get there. With Aurora melting onto his side and him brushing patterns on the skin of her arm.

The man nods and smiles, but says nothing, and silence finally settles in the car.

Until Aurora takes that as an opportunity to speak again.

"So…" she starts, watching their touching hands. "Did I miss something important from your private conversation?"

He freezes next to her. Stiffening his muscles and stopping the movements of his hand on her arm.

"Shit. I didn't even… Sorry." He spreads his hand open on her shoulder, and squeezes her gently. "We were just chit chatting about the city, that's all. But I'll keep in mind to translate now, yeah? Sorry."

"It's fine." She smiles, appreciating the sentiment.

To be honest, she doesn't really care. She wishes she had prepared herself a little bit better for a new country and a new language, that's for sure, but at least she's with Harry now. It will be a lesson learned for the next time — if there ever is one.

"When did you learn how to speak Italian, anyway?"

A smile grows on his face, and he tilts his head to lean it on top of hers.

"I don't know." He shrugs slightly, resuming the brushing of his fingers on her arm. "My mum… I learned from her, that's all."

Aurora frowns. "Is she Italian?"

"Uh… No, she… I mean, my grandfather was."

"Ohhh… Didn't know that. So you've always spoken Italian?"

"I guess? I don't know. I just can find my way around it… That's all."

Aurora hums, and turns to look through the window, admiring the view of a country she's never been to before.

And then she shrugs, making sure she sounds teasingly when she says, "Well… Now that you've brought up your mum, then I guess it'll be inappropriate to mention how incredibly hot and sexy you sound when you speak Italian, right?"

Harry chokes.

He literally chokes. Straightening up and coughing while letting her hand go to smack his palm on his chest.

Aurora sits upright as well, holding back a smile as she tries to catch a glimpse of his face and murmurs questions like "what's wrong?" and "are you okay?".

The driver says something, too, and Harry shakes his head, raising his free hand waving a finger at him.

"I'm…" He coughs again, and brings his hand to his throat. "Sto bene—" (cough) "Grazie."

"Ugh, see?" Aurora murmurs, leaning against the backseat and grabbing his hand on her shoulder, making sure he doesn't pull his arm away. "Told you. Incredibly sexy."

Cough. Cough. Cough.

Cough.

"Shit."

Cough.

Aurora giggles.

Yep. That's actually pretty fun.

They park at what first seems a dead-end street, but in reality it continues turning right and going up the hill.

Aurora gets out of the car slowly, feeling the hardness of the concrete under her feet as she straightens her back and tips her neck back. The sun is shining, and she rests the side of her hand on top of her eyes, blocking out the brightness and taking in the view — the hills, the rocks, the shades of green, the colorful houses and buildings.

She places her free hand against her breastbone, and slowly releases the air inside of her lungs. She doesn't want that surreal feeling to end, so she stands frozen in the spot for another moment, or two.

She's heard about people going through moments when all their concerns and worries fall away, but it has never been a first hand experience of hers. Not until that day, at least.

The closest she can imagine to that feeling was the moment she finally physically met Noah, the exact second his tiny crying body was placed between her arms. That didn't last too long, though, with her body hurting and the exhaustion taking over every inch of her — both emotionally and physically.

Earlier that day, when she woke up snuggled into Harry's arms, she also experienced something very similar to that — the same sense of calm and peace. Then again, it also didn't last too long, since she knew she was overstepping and had to pull herself from his embrace.

(Besides, to be fair, she isn't sure if it's the same thing, or if she's just really confused right now.)

Still, there she is right now, standing in an unknown city, where she doesn't know anyone and can't even speak the language, feeling as if all of her concerns and worries have fallen away. It's pretty similar to those other two occasions, only this time the feeling doesn't seem to be going anywhere.

It feels as if it's settled to stay.

The trunk of the car slams shut, and Aurora turns on her feet.

On the other side of the taxi, Harry chats excitedly with their driver. And behind them, opposite from the city, is the ocean.

It's a little after three in the afternoon, and they are finally at Marina Coppola, the port of Amalfi.

The gray-haired-suited-man looks at her and nods, saying things she can't even try to understand. The only words she somehow recognizes are "amore", and "buona giornata", but still, she isn't sure she really knows what they're supposed to mean.

So Aurora simply smiles, watching as Harry does — once again — all the talking for both of them.

"Grazie!" he says, clasping one hand on the man's shoulder and firmly shaking his hand. "Anche a te!"

The driver raises one hand at her, and she lifts one hand, too, waving and blinking slowly as he gets inside the car.

Harry moves to the sidewalk with both duffel bags, and Aurora waits for the man to drive away before getting closer to him.

And then she reaches for her bag, but Harry dodges her and taps her hand away.

"Nuh-uh, Mrs. Styles."

Aurora's cheeks warm up, and she rolls her eyes.

During their ride, their driver referred to her as Mrs. Styles more than a few times. He'd ask questions about the view, or chit chat about the weather and ask her opinion about it. And Harry, of course, would be the one to always translate the questions, making sure to not only include Mrs. Styles, but also emphasize it.

"Well… Marriage is over, so…"

She shrugs and smiles, but maybe her joke hits a little too close to her heart, because she doesn't feel like fighting him anymore. Instead, she allows her curious eyes to shift around and capture as many details as she can.

It is nice to see the ocean again. Long, wide, far-reaching. She's also seen a restaurant at the marina's entrance, and although the street is filled with cars, there aren't many people walking.

She remembers Lucy explaining in their group chat how they chose a weekend in May exactly because of that — because it wouldn't be so filled with tourists, but the weather would still be perfect for a swim. Aurora can't deny she'd been scared of rain ruining their plans, but the sun is, in fact, shining with no signs of any clouds around — which is probably also helpful to set that magic scenario around them.

And as Aurora admires the postcard worthy sight, it dawns on her that Amalfi looks exactly as she has seen in pictures. Maybe the colors aren't as bright and intense as Instagram usually made it seem, but it is still colorful. Still captivating, still mesmerizing.

Being there, she can actually smell the fresh water, the fish, and the sunscreen. She can also feel the prickle of sunburn on her arms, and the wind pulling at her dress and her hair. She can even actually hear the small waves, the boats motoring past on their way to water, and the laughter and excitement of people at the docks.

The atmosphere is real, and yet still impossible to describe. It fills her with life, with hopes, and with dreams.

It is… Surreal.

Magical.

"This is unbelievable," she finally murmurs. Her voice is soft and delicate, though — as if she doesn't want to break the spell surrounding them.

"I know," Harry says, mimicking her tone. "'S really beautiful, innit?"

She turns her head to look at him, and finds him watching the hills across from them, the same ones she was watching just minutes before. She can see him furrowing his brows under his sunglasses, his head moving from one side to the other.

"Yeah," Aurora breathes out.

Harry is beautiful. The daylight makes his skin look tanner, and the wind messes with his hair, too — although he doesn't seem to mind. And the facial hair glows on his face, somehow screaming at her how grownup he is. Somehow turning into a reminder of how good he took care of her, of how good he made her feel.

Shit.

She swallows, and faces the port again.

Can she still blame these thoughts on her lack of sleep?

Maybe she's being delusional. Maybe she is still so confused that she doesn't know what is reality or dreaming anymore. Or maybe she's spent so much time without interacting with any men that she doesn't know what's friendly or not anymore. Maybe she's mixing things up. Maybe Harry has just been protective of her. Like Theo and Niall are.

Shit.

The wind pulls her hair to her face, and she takes her arms to put her locks into an improvised knot.

Hundreds of various-sized boats are lined up along the docks, and they are all so different from each other that she realizes she's never stopped to think about their different names.

Are they boats? Are they all yachts? Is there even a difference? And what would that difference be?

"So…" she says, pausing to clear out her throat and rub the tip of her nose. "A ferry is one of those that you can get into with your car, right?"

Harry glances over his shoulder, watching her silently for a moment.

She can feel his eyes on her face, but she resists the temptation of looking at him.

And then he nods and turns around, standing next to her and facing the ocean as well. "Yeah… Have you ever been in one?"

Aurora shakes her head.

"No… I remember from the movie 'How to lose a guy in ten days'. Have you seen it?"

He turns his head and stares at her in silence once again, until a loud laugh erupts from him.

She turns her head, too, and tilts her chin up, looking at him.

"What?" she asks, lifting her left eyebrow.

"Sorry… It's just…"

He shakes his head and scratches his jaw, waiting until calming down before explaining himself.

"Oh God… You made me watch that movie soooo many times," he says, voice filled with amusement while he tilts his neck back and looks at the sky.

Aurora keeps her eyes on his shoulder, focusing on the flamingos in his shirt.

"I did?" She frowns. "I don't—When?"

"Movie nights at your place, remember?" He pulls his hair back, smiling at her, and then at the horizon. "We used to do them once a week for a month or two. Usually everyone fell asleep and we were the only ones awake. Somehow, you'd end up always making tea and putting that DVD on."

He shrugs, as if recalling that memory it's just the most common thing in the world.

To Aurora, though, it isn't.

"Wow…" She blinks, staring at the port again. "I can't… I honestly can't believe how many things you remember and I don't."

"Oh, it's okay, we were—"

"No, it's not. It makes me feel like shit."

"Auri—"

"You know I really like you, right?" she asks, focusing on the way the waves crash against one specific boat. "It's not you… I mean, I don't remember so many things, it's like I blocked stuff from my memory, but it's not because they didn't mean anything to me… I promise. I've always enjoyed our friendship, I just—"

Harry places his hand on her shoulder, and Aurora twists her neck to look at him.

"C'mon…" His sunglasses are on the top of his head now, pulling his hair back, and he stares firmly into her eyes. "I don't expect you to remember the same things I do, ok? We're fine. Everything's good. You don't need to be so tense about everything you do or say. Not around me, at least. Ok?"

"Okay…" She nods once, then twice. And then she shakes her head. "Yeah, okay. Yeah."

"Okay," he repeats, a smile forming on his lips and his hand slipping away from her shoulder.

Aurora can still feel his fingertips burning on her skin, though, and it dawns on her that, after spending the entire drive holding his hand and relaxing under his arm, now it's weird to not be able to just… Touch him again.

"And just so you know," he adds. "I've been on a ferry. A couple of times, actually."

Aurora gasps, then grins at him, gladly accepting the change of subject.

She asks when, and where, and why, and Harry chuckles. He answers while putting his sunglasses back on, then keeps the conversation going as he leads the way to the docks and to their friends.

And they walk together, of course. All the time.

There's a white arch they have to get through, and Harry raises his arm, gesturing for her to go first. She smiles shyly, looking at him over her shoulder as she steps onto the aluminum gangway.

She walks across what looks like a green carpet before getting to the actual dock — a narrow wooden path stretched out into the water and leading to all different yachts — and then they are walking side by side again.

Always side by side.

Even when they have to dodge people on the way, some simply standing and chatting, some prepping their boats for sailing, some just returning to land.

Then it gets to a point where all Aurora can see are bare masts reaching into the sky, birds flying, and ropes around their feet.

They turn left on the dock, and sweat trickles over the back of her neck, just like her inner thighs sting from brushing against each other. She sighs and scratches the tip of her nose, listening to Harry as he chats about how he stopped eating meat a while ago, but was willing to eat fish again during the weekend.

Aurora nods at him, and then the growl of an engine starting up makes her jolt and gasp. She widens her eyes and takes her hand to her chest, and Harry chuckles next to her.

She rolls her eyes and relaxes, smiling as she pokes his side with her elbow. "Shut up…"

He nods, pursing his lips and stopping himself from laughing even more.

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Styles."

"Ughhh. I won't be hearing the end of this anytime soon, will I?"

"See? That's why I married you. You know me too well."

She snorts, and then Harry slows down walking.

"Ok, all jokes aside now. Aurora Fletcher, are you ready to have some fun?"

Aurora smiles.

To be fair, she's been having fun for a while now, but her body still sparkles with excitement at his words. So she moves her head quickly in agreement, just to make sure Harry can see it. "Yes, please."

"Good, because if my eyes aren't messing with me," he says, raising his arm to point out ahead of them, "I think those up there are our friends…"

Aurora looks up, tilting her chin and squinting her eyes when the sun strikes right into her line of view. Like she did before, she places the side of her hand against her eyebrows, blocking the brightness and blinking to focus where Harry seems to be pointing at.

When she recognizes the silhouette of some of their friends, she realizes they aren't just on a yacht — they are standing at the top floor of a massive, luxurious yacht.

Aurora's mouth falls open, her eyes seem to bulge out of her face, and her body freezes.

"What the hell?" she murmurs.

Or, in other words, what the hell were Lucy and Theo thinking?!

"Now I see what Niall meant about it blowing my mind," Harry says next to her. "Fuck yeah, this is gonna be great! C'mon."

His joyful and energetic voice is enough to wake Aurora up from the half-conscious state she's fallen into, but he still puts his hand in between her shoulder blades and pushes her slightly, encouraging her to move along with him.

"They're waiting for us, yeah? It's gonna be fun, but if it gets too much let me know and we'll just take a break from everyone."

Aurora blinks.

"I don't… I don't know if I'll be able to," she blurts out, not moving her feet from the spot.

Her eyes are still wide open, but she darts them up to stare at Harry.

He pulls his sunglasses back to the top of his head and takes two steps closer, standing right in front of her and letting their bags fall to his feet. His figure is tall enough to block the movements ahead from her view, allowing Aurora to focus on him, and only him.

"I mean—" She shakes her head, organizing her thoughts. "I don't know if I'll be brave enough to ask for help."

Harry nods, and a wave of understanding engulfs Aurora's body. She drops her shoulders, and her eyebrows, then lets a long breath out of her nose.

"Maybe we could come up with a sign then, yeah?" He puts his hands right above her elbows, then gently moves them up and down. Rubbing her upper arms and soothing her down.

"A sign?"

"Mhm. Just, y'know, something to let each other know we could use some company? For both of us… Maybe I'll need it, too."

Aurora chuckles and rubs her forehead, knowing damn well he won't need it.

Still, she nods.

"Maybe, okay… Yeah."

"Good. Any suggestions?"

"Hmmm… I don't know. Pinching the tip of the nose?"

"No, nuh-uh." Harry shakes his head. "You already do that a lot."

Aurora frowns. "No I don't."

"Trust me, you do." Harry tightens his fingers around her arms, then loosens them up. "Scratching our jaws? I mean, your jaw… You scratch yours, I scratch mine…"

Aurora purses her lips, and his own mouth twitches in amusement.

"You know what I mean…"

"Yeah…" Her eyes wander around his face for a moment, and she sighs. "But no, because that's something you already do a lot."

Harry turns the corner of his mouth into a smirk, and Aurora squeezes her hands into fists to stop herself from poking the dimple on his cheek.

"I do?"

She shrugs. "Mhm."

"If you say so…"

He stays put inside her eyes, capturing her inside a mesmerizing green spell and forcing her to just wait there. Powerless and helpless. With no other option but to stare back at him.

Letting time go by — letting time run by.

As if they weren't already late.

As if they weren't the last ones to arrive.

As if they didn't have a massive, overpriced yacht waiting for them.

"What about our ears, then?" he offers, his voice huskier and somehow slower.

Aurora swallows. And her stomach flutters just as much as her chest tightens.

"Y'know," he adds, then takes a step closer. "You tug yours, I tug mine…"

He moves one hand, letting go of her arm as he drifts it to her face.

He touches her cheek first, breezily, then slides to her ear, brushing her skin in the process and making it tingle.

Aurora holds her breath, and as she stares at him, she feels her earlobe being touched by two of his fingers.

She closes her eyes for a moment, and when she opens them again, she drifts her sight to his mouth. Unconsciously and unintentionally.

Harry slides his tongue between his lips, getting them wet before he turns them into a smirk.

"Like this," he murmurs, then gives her ear a little tug.

Shit.

Aurora looks back at him.

Everything he's doing right now feels soft, intentional, and… Extremely and weirdly right.

There's a feeling deep down her stomach that she's unable to name. Maybe a flush, maybe a tingle, or maybe a throb. Or maybe all of them.

She can't describe it, she can't understand it.

She can't name it.

But it's there, and it's doing things to her. Things she hasn't felt in a very long time.

"Hm? What do you say?" he asks, so softly it almost makes her whine.

Her heart picks up, and she doesn't think she'll be strong enough to move away from his touch. Not then, not ever again.

"Okay," she whispers. "Yes."

His smirk turns into a smile, and he leans in, pressing his lips firmly against her forehead.

It only lasts a second, and then Harry pulls away from her and hunches down to pick up their bags.

W—What?

Why…

Aurora blinks at him.

Why did he stop?

Why did he move away?

"It's settled, then," Harry says. "C'mon, let's get this party started."

Hiii :)

I thought about adding some more scenes here, but tbh I feel like these two should be together and get all the attention, so this is where part 3 officially ends. Next part it's a long one and includes meeting all of their friends, so I hope you've enjoyed their last moments by themselves hehe 🤭

Thanks for reading!

Dani

(if you've made it here, pls talk to me and say Francesco lol)

PART FOUR (I)

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction

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jujutsutrash · 4 months

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(the best of a) simple thing

sort of a follow up to (don't look) but I want it, tho more of a prequel Pairing: Yuta x reader Word count: 2723 Warning: some slight mentions of nsfw stuff but mostly ok

When you walked into his apartment - and effectively into his life - Yuta never imagined he’d become so hooked on you. You had seemed like a bad company, like clear trouble. But you’d found him through a mutual friend, so he let it slide. He needed a roommate, and the worst that could happen would be having to kick you out. Or so he thought.

He never thought he’d become obsessed with you.

Well, obsessed is a strong word. Heavily infatuated could do. You plagued his mind constantly, and just your presence was enough to have him red in the face. Yuta thought that it was just a sexual thing, over time it would fade. It didn’t. And sharing an apartment with you, getting to know you, only made it worse. On one hand he’d be jerking off furiously to the thought of you, on the other he’d be aching to do the most domestic type of shit.

One thing he found himself desiring pretty quickly was to see you dressed in one of his clothes. It was hot, yeah, but it also felt cute as fuck. Sure, he didn’t tower over you, but his oversized shirts would still look bigger than your frame. To Yuta, the thought alone was enough to have his heart leaping - and his cock hardening - in less than a second.

Though, he never thought that would actually happen. Until it did. The first time he got a chance to see you in one of his clothes was on a rare day that he was going from college straight to your shared apartment. It was a day off, and he had plans for it, until it started raining out of the nothing while he was still in class. When it came time to leave, the rain had turned heavy, water falling from the sky with rage and bringing a cold wind with it. Yuta considered himself lucky for always having an umbrella lost somewhere in his bag.

To his surprise, when he came to the arched entrance of the college building, he saw you, looking into the rainy street with a desolate expression. It was rare for him to see you at campus, the buildings where the visual arts students had their classes couldn’t be further from his own. Slowly, he walked up to you, coming to stand by your side as he watched your expression.

“You forgot you your umbrella again?”

You almost jumped by his side, and Yuta couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from his chest. He muttered a sorry when you looked back at him, eyes burning with anger. Even that was cute. Looking at you now, he also couldn’t help noticing how you had your hands rubbing your arms, body closing in tight on itself. You were dressed in just a tshirt and jeans, clearly not expecting to get cold any time soon.

“Yeah,” you respond with a pout, “this is ridiculous, it was sunny when I left home!”

“The weather changes a lot around this time of the year,” he adds with a shrug, pulling the umbrella from inside his backpack. “I can give you a ride if you want?”

“Don’t you have to go to the office?”

“Nah, got a day off today, I was heading home anyway,” Yuta says with a smile, watching as your face lights up at the offer, his heart warming up at the sight.

“Oh, shit, Yuta, thank you so much. You are a lifesaver,” you smile, and he can feel the blush that’s creeping its way on his face.

“Don’t need to thank me, really, I’m just glad to help,” he responds in a gentle tone, voice growing more concerned as he looks over you again. “Are you cold?”

“A little, I really wasn’t expecting this.”

“Well, I,” he pauses, unsure if he should stay what he is thinking before he decides to go for it anyway. “I can give you my hoodie, so you don’t have to walk back while cold.”

Yuta looks over you, hand tugging at the fabric of the white hoodie he was wearing. He is pretty sure he is blushing, but he can’t focus on that right now. On one hand, you were cold, and he really just wanted to help. But on the other, well he is pretty sure that if you accept, he is gonna have the image of you in that hoodie burned into his mind forever.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that, you are gonna feel cold,” you shake your head, chuckling as you wave one hand in front of your face.

“I’m not that cold anyway, it’s fine really,” he insists, looking into your eyes with a warm smile.

You hesitate for a second, but then you nod, muttering a thanks when he places his backpack and umbrella on the floor. Yuta reaches a hand to his back, fingers digging into the soft fabric of his hoodie as he starts pulling it off. When he wrangles himself off of it, he passes it to you with one hand, the other fighting to readjust his hair.

He watches you smile and put it on, his heart skipping a beat at the sight. The shoulders of the hoodie seem a little loose on your frame, the end of the sleeves just about reaching your fingers. Yuta wasn’t that much bigger than you, but yeah, this was good enough. The walk to your apartment would be short, but he caught himself wondering if maybe he’d be lucky, and by the end of it his hoodie would smell like you.

When you look back up at him, he quickly averts your eyes, busying himself with picking up his backpack and umbrella, getting ready to leave. You two walk and chat, shoulders touching as you share the protection of Yuta’s old umbrella. He is almost sad when the walk ends. The minute he is inside his room, hoodie back in his hands, he brings the piece of clothing to his nose. Under the faint notes of his cologne, he finds it, the sweet smell of your body lotion. He’d for sure be sleeping with that hoodie tonight.

The second time Yuta got a chance to see you wearing one of his clothes was when you’d taken him with you to that bar you loved so much - Devilock, you called it. From the outside the place looked like a shady, hole in the wall type of bar, from the inside it looked just better enough to be sanitary. Truth be told, Yuta had never been one to frequent those places. Between the loud noise and his aversion for social situations, it felt like too much. Yet, he couldn’t say no when you invited him.

The punkest thing he could muster from his wardrobe was a beaten up plaid button up thrown open over a black shirt and some dark jeans. Compared to you, he was a normie, but that was the best he could do. Though, your presence made him feel a little less awkward when you entered the place. The bar wasn’t utterly packed, but it was full, and that was already enough stress, so Yuta would take whatever little solace he could get.

Still, there was a silver lining to this all - aside from the amount of people in the bar counter, forcing you two to sit side by side, shoulders pressed against each other. No, the silver lining was that he got to watch you, free and at ease in your own element, dancing in a skin tight shirt and jeans shorts. Yuta could endure the awkwardness he felt from not knowing how to dance if he got to see you like that.

Shit, you were too hot, and as you both returned to the bar he still couldn’t stop staring, even as you downed another drink, droplets of the cocktail spilling past your lip and down your neck. Maybe the alcohol helped you not notice his wondering eyes, but the bartender sure caught his stares. From behind the counter, the tall, long haired man looked like serious trouble, especially as his black locks shadowed those fox eyes when he leaned menacingly forward. Okay, that was enough to make Yuta look away, for now. Near the end of the night, however, something else happened that had butterflies working up a hurricane in his stomach.

“Yuta!”

When you cried out for him, he could already recognize something off in your voice. You’d both found your way to the arcade machines in the bar at that point, and Yuta felt a little more in his territory this way. Though, you had gone to get a drink for yourself, and it was really off putting to have you return with worry in your voice.

“Hey,” Yuta responded, calling out your name as he turned around. “Everything ok?”

“Ah, mostly,” you chuckled. “But I think my shirt snagged in someone’ jacket and one of the straps torn,” you gave another awkward chuckle and Yuta’s eyes went straight from your own to the hand tightening the knot holding your shirt strap together - the other hand clutching a beer.

“Shit,” he stuttered, torn between the desire to help and the desire to just see the thing fall. “People should really be more careful, they could have hurt you.”

“It’s ok, really, it’s just an inconvenience,” you laughed softly, placing your beer on top of the arcade machine you were. “Tho’, I think I might have to inconvenience you now.”

“Y-yes, whatever you need,” it was almost shameful how fast Yuta responded, he knew it, but he just couldn’t help but jump at the idea of you needing him in any way.

“Could you lend me your shirt? I’m not sure how safe this knot is,” you chuckled.

Yuta froze for a moment at your words, voice muffled by the song playing. Though, he quickly snapped out of it, eager to see you in his shirt. He knew he should be more worried about you, he knew he shouldn’t be thinking as he was at that moment, but there was just something about seeing you in his clothes. Shit, he’d refuse to wash that shirt for the next few days.

Taking out the shirt in a rush as he nodded frantically, Yuta almost knocked down the beer bottle on top of the arcade machine, getting one arm pathetically stuck in the sleeve as he tugged it free. When he handed you the shirt, you thanked him, swiftly putting it on and buttoning it up. You looked gorgeous in it - as you did in absolutely anything, but there was a special charm to this particular sight. Fuck, he could feel his cock hardening already.

The rest of the night goes by uneventfully - although not exactly easily. Yuta had to spend the whole time fighting his own desires and the erection that threatened to sprung up and make things a lot more awkward. When you both finally get back home and return the shirt to his hands, he almost feels desolated. Almost, because the chance to sleep with a piece of clothing that smells like you again is enough to have him in high spirits.

The third time Yuta gets to see you in one of his clothes is in a more permanent situation. One he admits he lucked out on, a bold strike of fortune he will be forever thankful for. After you first moved in, you requested to share the space of his large office - the only spare room in the apartment. He agreed, obviously, he couldn’t say no to you, so he just let you set up your easel and materials in the office, but in the beginning it was awkward. Overtime, though, he grew comfortable in your presence - and learned to watch you paint from the occasional reflections on his monitor.

Besides, Yuta couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the sight of you working on your pieces. Although you could be a powerful distraction, sitting in front of your easel, wearing only small shorts and an old shirt - even this casual, you were gorgeous. At times, it was an exercise in self control, one he didn’t always win, forcing Yuta to take breaks from his work just to leave the room. Still, he wasn’t really complaining.

One day he catches you frowning while looking at the washing machine, browns pulled together and shoulders slumped. When he asks you what's wrong, you pull a torn up garment from inside the machine - from the gray color and paint stains he recognizes it as the remains of your old work shirt. As you mumble about needing to retire another t-shirt to put in its place, an idea crosses Yuta’s mind.

He sees a chance, and he has to take it - or at least try to, while he is feeling brave enough for the task. Sure, if this goes right, you are going to become even more of a distraction than you already are, but fuck it if he cares right now. So as you sigh in frustration, he is quick to offer you to take one of his t-shirts, claiming he has an old one he was gonna start using as pajamas anyway. When you seem hesitant, he doesn't give you time, stepping into his room fast and bringing you a white oversized t-shirt that he places in your hands, insisting you take it.

“Yuta,” he glances at you through the reflection as you call for him, seeing you turn from the easel towards him, “you sure I can use this? It feels so nice, the paint is just gonna destroy it.”

Yuta feels beyond lucky that on the very next day, he'd already gotten to see you wearing his shirt. Though, it's posing a slight inconvenience as now he's having to try and answer you without fully turning his chair around - lest you notice something you shouldn't. He turns just enough to glance at you, body still turned to his screens, anything below the hips mostly covered by the blessed shadow of his desk.

“I told you it's fine. Is it comfortable? If you like it, you can just keep it,” he shrugs, trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing. “This shirt is old, and it was nothing special to begin with.”

He lies straight through his teeth, the plain white shirt had been an expensive one - you'd probably just never know because he'd removed the tags long ago, they always pinched his skin. But he didn't mind that, not one bit, no price could pay for the sight before him. The oversized t-shirt went all the way down to just below your ass, covering a third of your thighs. Better yet, it almost swallowed your shorts, and from certain angles, it looked like you were wearing just the t-shirt. Wearing just his t-shirt. Yeah, he didn't mind the price tag.

You look into his eyes for a long second - a stare down Yuta is driven to win, despite the growing discomfort for every moment he had to spend holding his gaze into yours. But it was for a good cause, at least from the point of view of his own selfish desires. When you hum and look down, he holds his breath in anticipation.

“Ah, it is really comfortable,” you trail off, glancing at him again before shrugging, Yuta finally letting go of the breath he was holding. “Guess if you say so, thanks Yuta, you are a lifesaver!”

You cheerfully thank him with a bright smile and a sweet chuckle, stretching your arms above your head before going back to work. Yuta can feel his face burning, and he can only hope it doesn't look as red as it feels. You are too sweet, too cute - and it's not helping at all the sick images running in the back of his mind. Oh, how he wanted to have you sprawled on his bed wearing only that shirt, oh the things he wanted to do.

Fuck, now he could feel his pants straining already. Just as he imagined, this was worse than before - though, it was still a price worth paying to see you in his shirt almost every day. If he could have it his way, you'd only wear his clothes around the apartment anyway.

#yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu #yuta x reader #jjk x reader

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blingblong55 · 5 months

Text

The Great War - Simon Riley//Vladimir Makarov

Creds to: @shadow0-1 for that Ghost work

Based on a request:

with the new mw3, lets do angst, something along the lines of "Somewhere in the haze, got a sense i've been betrayed" coming from us because 141 betrayed us horribly, which ended up in us getting tortured and then we pretennd its fine when it isnt. forget and forgive we lie and when we meet with Makarov, we tell them, 'oops sorry, forgot i was also a enemy at some point, guess its time to betray like real enemies do' and as we set Makarov free, we show that we have been working as his spy ever since they betrayed us. also can this be with a female reader and we also marry makarov behind their backs so thats why we betray so hard? i love u!

A/N: I forgot to add the angst....im so sorry pookies

Part 2

---- F!Reader, soldier!reader, enemy!reader, betrayal ----

It's been three months since Task Force 141 last saw you and how you betrayed them. Makarov and you have become the real-life Joker and Harley Quinn. In love with the other and maybe the love is toxic but the way he and you were so mental and in love made it all so good and bad. Everywhere you went, his hand held yours. It was romance for what poison could be. Deadly. One night, as Makarov and you celebrate your anniversary, he decides to spoil you. A private jet, a romantic location and a whole week in paradise. Well, that is the plan at least.

On the way there, the jet gets hit, Makarov rushes and puts a vest over you, his trusted gun and a kiss. "What are you doing?!" you frantically ask. "I'll meet you at our spot later my love," he lets go and then opens the door to the jet. The air tearing the door, he kisses you once more and as you look at him in fear and confusion, he gives you the illusion that he is right behind. Which he is not.

As you descend back to steady ground, the last person you ever thought wanted to see you, pulls a risky stunt. One he claims he has no idea he had the adrenaline for. Your body is so close to the ground as you watch your husband's jet explode. Ghost, holding you close as he deploys his parachute. "Vlad!" you call out with a tear-filled face. Ghost held you with all his mighty power until you two reached the grassy area. As he begins to unstrap, your hands hit his chest multiple times. Messy tears escape your face, "Why! why the hell did this happen?! What did you do!" Your hits became more defenceless as you cried and let out sobs of fear. Ghost wraps his arms around you.

In your memories, there he is, Vladimir and the children you were so set to want. Lazy Friday nights, the kids, Vladimir and you, a beautiful and complete family. It was like every puzzle was perfectly placed. Green lawn, sunny day, a puppy, giggles and small kisses. All gone in a matter of seconds.

"Shhh, shhh, I know, R/N, I know," his hand on your head, rubbing it as he kept you close to him. He was a trained soldier, after all, so he knew that occasionally he had to deal with people going through so many emotions. His gaze, why does it have to be this way? Why must he stare at you like this now?

No one knew Ghost had been on the lookout for you. That he went against every order given to him, that he broke an oath to hold you in arms this way as you cry. You pull away, your arms wrapping around your own body. Trying to find comfort in this moment. How did you lose him so easily? After so long of loving him in secret, he is gone this quickly. Like a cheap curse. But he was meant to be the lifelong curse. To ruin your very soul and taint you with his power of cruelness.

"God what were you even thinking?!" You push him., "You could've died, Simon. And then what?! huh!" You push him again and this time he grabs your arms. His stare lowered, eyes teared up as he confessed, "I did it for you," and now, he has become someone who he hates. Someone who betrayed the task force, someone who fucked it up and still it felt so right. Maybe you are a temptress, maybe you are the cruel one and not these men. Why must you make them love you so hard that they do this? What the hell do you even do now?

"I killed them all, please…please R/N, please listen to me." His voice more softer, gaze is so beautiful that it makes your heart flutter. "No, Simon-" "Listen to me this once. I know what I did is wrong but damn it, don't you feel it too? Don't you feel what I do? When I hear your voice, that sweet melody becomes my reason to wake up early, to smile, to even dare come back from operations. R/N, I know I'm not the best-looking guy in a crowd but…damn it, I would ruin everything for you."

His hand holds yours as he places it over his chest, "For years, so many years, this heart has belonged to just you." He whispers and holds you in for a kiss.

A gunshot.

One body to the floor and then darkness surrounded by crimson red.

No one ever said the joke or Harley Quinn had a good ending, guess it is the way this life goes.

[At the 141 base]

"Price, have yer seen Ghost?" Soap walks in after looking for his friend around the base for nearly an hour. "Should be in the shooting range," Price responds. "Think he mentioned something about going to the gym," Gaz mentions. "Not in any of those places." Soap says. The three men looked everywhere. Then, a soldier comes running in, "Someone stole the plans and mapping for the operation-" "and many of the files have been deleted, security footage is also gone." Another soldier comments. The three men have many possible answers and then two names come to mind. Makarov and yours.

"She fucking kidnapped him?!" Soap was furious and it was well known he hated you for what you did. Gaz, oh that man hated you for everything you were worth. In their books, you placed first place against Makarov and Graves. "That fucking bitch," Soap slams his fist on the table of Price's office.

As the men gather information and what else was taken, they realise a pattern here. After knowing who you were, your pattern who Vladimir is and his way of dealing with stuff, they understood the job was from someone on the inside and described you as someone who broke in. With contacts in many parts of the world, they looked for traces of him and traces of you.

You weren't even planning on this robbery to the base. Makarov wasn't either, so there is a third man. Alejandro and the rest of Los Vaqueros were told that they had someone else as a suspect. The devil herself, Valeria Garza. One look into her history and she was also not behind this mess. She was hunting down someone, yes but she didn't care for 141…yet.

After hours of exploring any enemy that would do this, it suddenly struck. And just as Gaz was about to give his shocking idea, Laswell walked in.

"Ghost wasn't kidnapped, the files were stolen but it was him…he is the man on the inside. This entire time, Ghost talked with Makarov, they weren't friends but allies. He is our next target," she slams his file on the table. "If we want Makarov, we take Ghost down first." "But how?" "We hurt the desire of his newfound criminal mind." "Which is?" "Grim. We know he was hurt when she revealed she was with Makarov, so it's time we take it old school and hurt her to get to him." Laswell looks over at Price, he nods and leans on over. "If we do this, I don't want casualties." "We got a deal?" "We do."

With that set, 141 found the targets of their next operation but this time, their calls had to be whispered. Two former members of their teams who knew them all too well, this has to be all a precise work of war. Simon 'Ghost' Riley, R/N 'Grim' Makarov, the new image of a ticking bomb. Their names are given to all the agents in the world. Hitmen, snipers and all countries, looking for two mad soldiers.

One was set to win. That win would set a new record for all criminals and good men. This is how modern warfare changes for the better and worse of us.

This is the great war.

A/N: i thought this was uploaded and it turns out it was in my drafts all along....i'm stupid

Tags: @actuallyhiswife @eicee @liyanahelena

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