#and have to churn out music again they already said they had no other stories to tell with | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gryffindors-weasley · 4 years

Text

To Love Someone

Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Love doesn’t always work out how you’d like it to, and sometimes it does.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: angst, jealousy, heartache, fluff, kissing, requited love

Shock. That was the very first thing you felt upon hearing what was supposed to be delightful news. What was supposed to be a celebration of the next chapter of someone’s life. But that feeling quickly subsided, for you hadn’t expected your very best friend to hold the same feelings for you as he did him. You never did, though a small part of you had hoped this was some fabricated nightmare that you would eventually wake up from. But much to your dismay, it was not.

Now, you were in attendance of yet another dinner at the Bridgerton home. There had been an extravagant event held in celebration of the engagement one week prior of course, but everything after that, even just a simple dinner seemed to be just as celebratory all the same.

Benedict and Eloise, as a matter of fact even Anthony, knew of your long-standing feelings for their brother. Feelings that now seemed absolutely ridiculous as you sat before the happy couple, feelings that made your heart crack pitifully within your chest. They knew, and they were rather surprised to hear the announcement as well because they were sure you were the perfect match. They were certain with the way they always caught him staring when you weren’t looking.

“This cake is rather delightful, is it not, Y/n/n?” Eloise murmurs to you once she catches your painfully longing gaze lingering on her brother.

You break away from him with furrowed brows after she kicks you under the table, clearing your throat in a poor attempt to suppress the lump forming within it. You look at her for a moment, scrambling to remember the words you only half-heard her say. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

You pick at said cake with your fancy fork clutched in your shaky hand, hearing her soft sigh in defeat beside you. She knew her attempts at distraction were futile, valiant yes, but futile. It was hard to watch you sit there and sulk; she did not quite know what it felt like to be heartbroken, but she couldn’t imagine it to be easy. So, she knew she must at least try and call in reinforcements, her brother.

“Y/n,” Benedict starts on your other side, nudging you with his elbow to further gain your attention. “The garden seems to be in full bloom, you don’t suppose you’d like to go for a walk with Eloise and I after dinner, would you?”

You laugh softly at their more than obvious efforts, but you nod in agreement nonetheless. “Yes, Benedict, that would be lovely.”

When things moved from the dining room to the drawing room, Violet Bridgerton had talked the three of you into staying in their company for just a bit more before you could run off. Maybe not talked into, more like told the three of you in a hushed matronly scolding. You had no choice but to oblige to her wishes.

You sat between the two on the couch, breathing out a sigh as you wring your hands in a half hearted attempt to do something. Not even talk of Lady Whistledown could capture your attention for more than a mere moment or two. Not even Benedict’s teasing jokes to draw a portrait of you and the frown seemingly permanently on your face could get you to smile for more than just a few seconds at a time. For just about everyone seemed to be enamored with Miss Andrews.

It wasn’t hard to be you will admit, she was beautiful with many talents; she has even traveled quite a bit with her family. You knew that was of interest to him. You couldn’t blame her for being so captivating, but you couldn’t bear it either. Not with the way she linked her arm around Colin’s, or the way her parents spoke so highly of her that it made your head spin.

It was when you found yourself looking at Colin that it became far too much. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away just yet, no matter how much you wanted to, no matter how much you needed to. It was when he looked at you that had done it. The conversation and laughter seemed to fade in swirls of commotion around you, the shared gaze fleeting and agonizingly slowed all the same. For it was the first time all night that he had directly looked at you and you couldn’t take it. You could not stay.

Politely, you excused yourself, making your way to the door in a rush that left Benedict and Eloise to frown at each other. The room felt all too crowded no matter the fact that it wasn’t, the uninterrupted chatter and music still continuing in your absence.

The tears became harder to ignore with your newfound time to yourself, your chest heaving in your overwhelmed state. You had made it nearly to the end of the lavish hall before you were stopped.

“Y/n?”

You take a deep breath as you closed your eyes briefly, willing the tears to dissipate before turning around with a soft smile, your best friend closer than you had thought. “Yes?”

“Are you alright? I know Hyacinth is still rather new to the piano, but it can’t be that bad, can it?” He jests, laughing softly.

You bring yourself to laugh quietly despite your pressing desire to be anything but jovial in that moment. “I am quite alright, Colin.”

His brows furrow at your obvious distress, he could tell from the very moment you arrived at his family home in the early half of the evening. He was far too oblivious to see the cause of your behavior, but not so much to not notice you’d been acting differently. He knew you were lying to him.

“What is the matter, Y/n?” He asks again as he sees you rapidly begin to grow more upset, and he reaches out for your hand.

You pull away from his grasp, averting your teary gaze elsewhere. Anywhere but him would be perfectly suitable. “Nothing is the matter, Colin.”

You were certain your words couldn’t possibly be believable, not with the way your chest had begun to rise and fall at a much more noticeable pace, and not with the way your cheeks had flushed and obvious crimson. One must be a fool to not see the clear turmoil and upset painted all over you, weaving around your every word. Each passing second had only worsened such a feeling, and the more you allowed yourself to look at him, the more trouble you had found yourself falling into. You simply could not bear it anymore.

The crease between his brows only deepens upon your dismissive behavior, his hand falling back to his side as he takes a deep breath. “Well it would appear that something is bothering you. I know you far better than to believe that, Y/n.”

You laugh humorlessly, looking down at your feet as you all but crumble in front of him. Your chest tightened and your heart felt as though it could burst. He knew it may not have been appropriate of him to do so, but he reached out to grab your hands once more and you did not fight it, for this would likely be the last time. The look on his face was a silent plea for you to tell him of your troubles, ones he hadn’t known were caused by himself. His grip was gentle and warm as he waited for you, and the feeling fluttering in your stomach was unable to be ignored.

“I know it is not proper of me to say this,” You start, and his brows remain knit together. No matter how heavily your heart had been pounding, your words spilled out before you could stop them. “But I love you. I am in love with you, and you are in love with someone else. You are to marry. That, Colin Bridgerton, is what is the matter.”

He swallows thickly, his gaze on you far too intense to hold as you clear your throat and bring yourself to pull from his grasp, fervently willing the lump within it to disappear. His mouth opens, then closes almost immediately as he tries desperately to figure out his wording though his attempts prove to be futile.

“I—I do not know what to say.”

The hurt had crashed down on you in waves, immense and unrelenting as you stood before him. The tears pressing just behind your eyes rapidly became too hard to ignore. Yet despite the anguish pulling harshly at your heart, you take a deep breath and compose yourself once more.

“There is no need to say anything at all. I just—I am sorry. I needed to tell you,” you state, straightening your posture as you lift your eyes to meet his once more. Your lip began to quiver the more you held his gaze, and with a soft and faltering smile, you offered a simple nod. “I should be leaving now.”

You turn on your heel and walk away from him, desperate for a change of scenery and desperate for a breath of fresh air. Though impossible, it felt like the lavishly decorated walls were closing in on you in that very moment.

“Y/n, wait!”

It had crossed your mind that maybe you should stop, maybe you should turn around and listen. Maybe he’d have something to say that could be just what you are hoping to hear. But you couldn’t find it in you to look at him for another moment, so you part from him and continue down the nearly vacant corridor. It was only when he was distant enough that you let your tears fall, quickly wiped away by the satin glove on your hand.

—

Dealing with the aftermath of your lovestruck confession was not an easy feat, in fact, you felt as though you never wanted to show your face to the ton again. You were perfectly content staying in the confines of your bedroom for the rest of your life. Fortunately for you, your blunder hadn’t made it into Lady Whistledown’s story of the day, but what had been the talk of the ton was the ever spectacular planning of the wedding of Mr. Colin Bridgerton and Miss Hazel Andrews. There had been an excerpt on the very event every day for an entire week, possibly more but eventually you’d stopped looking to save yourself the heartache already striking down on you.

You had stopped visiting the Bridgerton family home because you had known you would run into him, and the very thought had made your stomach churn and twist in knots as you remember that very night but a handful of weeks ago. You feel as though you might never forget that, much to your dismay. For heartbreak does not leave someone completely, there will always be fragments of its torment left behind in everything you choose to do.

Eloise has come to see you frequently, always with a box of the very sweets she insists she does not share with anyone. She always has a message to pass on from her siblings, even Colin, especially Colin, but she always finds herself feeling unsure of if she should bring him up. So instead, she tells you her latest findings on the unmasking of Lady Whistledown; she could never run out of things to tell you of that. She tells you of how Benedict might just drive her crazy if he asks about you but one more time. She tells you of the ball you are invited to.

In the current moment, you had been seated at your vanity, sifting through all the letters Colin had written to you over the last three weeks. They had since tapered down when he hadn’t been getting responses in return, and you had been too afraid to read any more than just a few. Too afraid to see in writing that your love is unrequited, too afraid to read the possibility that he hadn’t wanted to see you anymore. You were perfectly content with the undesirable hurt you had now, you did not want to add to it.

A knock on your door had startled you from your thoughts.

“Mr. Bridgerton is here to see you,” your mother announces, a soft smile on her lips as you look at her reflection in your mirror.

Your heart nearly flipped in your chest as you sat there, turning to face her directly. Your mind had been racing with a flurry of thoughts; you missed him, but insecurity wore away at you and told you his visit would not be of anything good. Could not be. He had visited several times and the outcome was always the same, so surely he does not believe your excuses, surely he is fed up. “Tell him I am not here, mother.”

She nods at the expected answer, closing the door behind her quietly and leaving you be as you rushed to your window. In a matter of a few moments you saw him, and it felt as though your heart had stilled. You watched as he drug his hand down his face, watched as he turned to look up at your family home and you took a step back from your window, even though he would not be able to see you. You watched as he turned away, got in his carriage, and disappeared down the street.

You turn on your heel and release a shaky breath, your gaze falling to the gown dangling neatly from its hanger.

—

You fought to conceal your frown and your obvious discontent to be at such an event. However, your mother had made you attend and Eloise just might go crazy if you leave her to fend for herself one for one more ball. And as if on cue, her arm links with yours after you’ve taken all but three steps into the boisterous ballroom.

“Hello stranger, how nice of you to join me on this wonderfully dreadful evening,” she greets in faux annoyance, and you playfully roll your eyes at her.

“Hello, Eloise,” you sigh, leaning your head against hers for just a moment. “It is rather dreadful, isn’t it? I’m certain I’d much rather—”

“Stay in your room?”

You raise your brow at her and she does the same, a knowing smirk gracing her lips and you shake your head with a soft smile. “As a matter of fact, yes. If you keep it up Eloise, I just might leave.”

“That is absolutely not happening.”

“I have to concur!” Benedict chimes in, appearing at your other side with a smile on his lips. You huff out another sigh as you look up at him, something akin to annoyance in your gaze.

“I do not believe there is anything you have to do.”

He pretends to ponder your words for a brief moment before offering you his arm much to his sister’s dismay. “I believe I have to offer you this dance.”

You squint up at him skeptically, your lips pursed as he returned your stare with a grin, head tilted as his arm remains offered to you. You bite the inside of your cheek and huff out a sigh through your nose, a groan sounding from dear Eloise as you reluctantly allow yourself to be escorted to the dancefloor.

“I am not thrilled about this, I hope you know that,” you state, falling into rhythm with the cheerful music regardless.

“I very well do. Much like I am not thrilled that this is the first time I am in your presence in nearly a month,” he jests, and you frown at him and his counter.

It hadn’t taken you long to realize just what kind of dance you had been talked into, and the laughter coming from the one to blame was more that indication that he was very much aware of that fact from the start.

“Benedict, don’t you dare spin me off to your brother,” you warn firmly, looking up at him with a threatening glare.

“Do you really think so little of me, Y/n/n?” He asks in a scoff, feigning hurt as he nearly pouts at you and your very logical assumptions.

“Sometimes you make me wonder,” you say, softening your stare as you exhale a sigh.

“I will not do such a thing, but I cannot guarantee he would be as gracious as I am,” he says with a grin, passing you off to the arms of the eldest Bridgerton brother before you could get another word in edgewise.

You breathe out an exasperated huff as you fall into your rhythm, pursing your lips.

“Please, do not act too excited to see me, Miss Y/l/n,” Anthony jests, offering you a lopsided smirk to counter your lingering frown. “What ever is the matter, my dear friend?”

You roll your eyes at the playful insincerity held in his words, for he knew exactly what was the matter long before you had even confessed your feelings for his brother. In fact, he may have been the first to realize them.

“Do not call me that, Anthony. You know perfectly well what is the matter.” Despite the bite in your tone, you couldn’t suppress the smile that had tugged at the very corner of your mouth as you stepped around the dancefloor.

“You do know that my brother is not engaged, do you not?” He asks, raising his brow at you curiously. You furrow your own, eyes narrowing up at him in disbelief.

“Anthony, now is not the time for your humor,” you scold, looking away from him. As much as you would like his words to be true, you cannot imagine that they would be.

“It is nothing of the sort,” he defends, “You don’t believe me? Perhaps you should ask him yourself.”

You found yourself tightening your hold on his hand in a pitiful attempt to stay put, but before you can get another word in you are passed into the very arms you had been trying so desperately to avoid, his hand slipping in yours in a fit too perfect to ignore. Your breath caught in your throat upon looking in his eyes, upon being so close and you quickly found yourself averting your gaze. You were quite sure your cheeks were a deep scarlet with the way they’d burned. This had reminded you of the exact reason you hadn’t wanted to attend this very ball in the first place, it was a nightmare and you were now living it.

“How lovely it is to see you,” Colin greets and you’re unsure of his sincerity with the edge behind his words, falling into the pace of the jovial dance with a practiced ease. “I was beginning to think you just might go the entire evening without speaking to me.”

“It is merely a coincidence, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“You do not have to be so formal, Y/n,” he sighs, and you continue to move about the dance floor as you keep quiet. “And am I to assume that it is also merely a coincidence that you are not home each time I have paid you a visit?”

“Do you not have a fiancée to dance with? She is rather popular in Lady Whistledown’s stories, as are you,” you inquire, desperate to take the focus off of you and his question.

You try to keep your racing heart steady, and you hope your shaky hands aren’t too terribly noticeable. Your attempt to keep him from asking any further questions about the matter seemed to have worked in your favorite just this once.

“Then you should have seen that Miss Andrews and I are no longer to be wed.”

It feels as though your heart stills in your chest as you swallow thickly, meeting his gaze once more. A crimson blush stains your cheeks as you look at him, not a trace of a lie expressed on his features. Your heart had beat impossibly faster, and the realization of just how close you had been became increasingly apparent. Not to mention, it felt as though the very walls of the ballroom just might collapse on you if you spend a moment longer in there.

Anthony had not been lying to you, that much was obvious. The thoughts began to swim in your head in a whirlpool now. What the reasons could have been for his numerous visits to your home. What the words written in each of those unopened letters could have said. It engulfed you and rushed over you all at once.

You clear your throat, releasing his hand from your grip and stepping away from him. “I shall need a moment.”

You left him to stand there as you weave your way through the jovial crowd, your obvious distress drawing more than a few stares as you lift the skirt of your dress to keep yourself from tripping as you rush out of the room.

It was a rather chilly evening to be wandering about the gardens by yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about such trivial things. It was much preferred to the stuffy ballroom that was not nearly big enough to house you and the Bridgerton boy you had fought so hard to avoid. The commotion of the jovial event was rapidly fading the farther you immersed yourself amongst the finely manicured shrubbery and blossoming trees. Though it’s outstanding beauty could not fully be appreciated with such a sour mood, it would have to wait for another time.

Your chest heaved and your eyes watered, the sight of him after having kept your distance for weeks on end proving to affect you just as greatly as it always had and always will be. How ever were you to move on and find another suitor when you were still hung up on him?

You suppose you should be happy at the news, but right now that was not the case.

Perhaps you would simply never marry, it seemed like a viable option in this point in time. To put your heart out on the line for another just did not seem of interest to you nor will it ever. To love someone hadn’t felt as rewarding as Mrs. Bridgerton had once told you and Daphne, it felt as though it had been just the opposite.

A breeze swept over you, promptly causing you to wrap your arms around yourself as you paced about the lush grass in hopes to ease your mind a bit. As refreshing as the night air had initially been, you were beginning to feel no better than you had when you were confined within that room.

Any and all attempts to ease your mind became futile when a voice had cut you short.

“Y/n?”

You startled at his presence, refusing to turn around if only for a moment more as you let your eyes fall closed with a sigh. “I believe I asked for a moment alone.”

It’s quiet briefly before he speaks up once more. “It is not safe for a lady to be out at this hour by herself. I don’t think my mother would be very happy with me should something happen to you on my account.”

“I am perfectly fine on my own,” you state, walking farther from him into the heart of the large garden.

“That may be true, but I am not leaving.”

You exhale a frustrated sigh, spinning on your heel to face him with a narrowed gaze. “Just why have you followed me out here? I do not wish for your pity, Colin.”

His brows furrowed as he takes a step closer, looking down at you with a look you cannot place. “My actions are not out of pity, Y/n,” he starts, his tongue swiping over his lips as he thinks over his next words.

The tears pressing behind your eyes threaten to spill as you stand there before him.

“Then what are they of?” You ask, lowering your voice before you draw any attention to yourselves should anyone be wandering. “What are they of?”

He inhales a deep breath at your upset tone before huffing it out through his nose, looking away only briefly before his gaze returns to you. His mouth opens and closes once, and again as the words nearly remain caught in his throat. For feeling so strongly, it was difficult to voice them. “I came out here because I miss you.”

You open your mouth to speak but he silences you with a gesture of his hand.

“You have hidden yourself from me for the last three weeks. I have written you letters, I have come to see you, and I have been unsuccessful with every attempt I have made. I believe it is fair to say that I do.”

You stand there, frustrated and overwhelmed with his words.

“It is not easy being in the presence of someone who both makes your heart flutter and ache all the same,” you state defensively, a tear spilling over your flushed cheek. “I sincerely apologize for not returning your letters and distancing myself from you, but I believe it was in my best interest.”

“I believe it was not.”

You frown as your brows furrow, frustration building within your chest as it heaved under your distress. “Why is that?”

He stares at you, tears lining his eyes as the crease between his brows deepens. “You are my best friend, you are—”

“Why have you called off your engagement, Colin?” You ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

He looked down at you, a myriad of emotions flickering over his face as he fought to find the words to say under your expectant stare. Words that played so easily in his mind yet so painfully difficult to speak.

“I realized I did not love her.”

You scoff, willing the bout of hope in your chest to go away.

“That cannot be so. I’ve seen the way you look at her, I’ve heard the way you talk about her. I simply—”

“I didn’t marry her because it is you that I love,” he declares, standing a bit straighter. He finds himself speechless for a moment now that your full attention is on him, now that the quiet of the night is obvious. But as he looks at you, he knows. “I am in love with you, with all that I am. I’m afraid it took your absence for me to realize it, but it has. It was always you, it will always be you.”

You stand there, seemingly frozen in your spot as you look at him in disbelief. “But I—you love me? You…”

Before you could find the words you hadn’t even been sure of yet, his lips had pressed to yours in a soft kiss. One of hesitancy to solidify his words, yet feather-light in fear of ruining the remains of your friendship. One that only intensified once you had gotten over the utter shock you’d been hit with, your hand reaching up to settle on his cheek. His arms envelope you in an embrace, so tight it had only proved his earlier words of missing you. Even in your absence you had entranced him all the same.

In that very moment, it felt as though sparks had danced across every inch of your skin, a feeling you had only ever thought of but never imagined to be true, to be quite so blissful. But what did remain to be true was the very fact that you had been kissing the love of your life in the secret confines of a garden.

Your fingers had begun to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck briefly, smoothing over his cheeks and down to rest on his chest when you part.

“Marry me,” he breathed against your lips, his forehead against yours. Not a drop of hesitancy could be found in the proposal, nor was there any humor.

You found it hard to catch your breath in that moment as you pull away only slightly, allowing yourself to look in his eyes. They sparkled with sincerity, with the promise that he loved you entirely. His kiss swollen lips quirked up in a smile, his gaze hopeful. It was then that you smiled, bright and beaming as you kissed him once more, murmured your acceptance a thousand times over.

To love someone was a risk in and of itself, but to love someone could be just as beautiful.

—

Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @heloisedaphnebrightmore @elennox03

#colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton fanfiction #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton fic #colin bridgerton imagine #colin bridgerton angst #colin bridgerton fluff #colin bridgerton oneshot #bridgerton #bridgerton fic

750 notes · View notes

ellitx · 4 years

Text

From Me To You | Venti x Reader

[Name]'s been spending more time with Aether writing letters. When will she go back to him to spend time together?

word count: 9.7k

“Now, who would love to listen to a bard’s song? One can harmonize with me to sing along~”

Sun-kissed white clouds blossom in the blue, free to fly with the wind. In the long horizon, they take on azure hues. It was a wonderful day to sing ballads to the people of Mondstadt.

Children and adults have crowded around Venti, the little ones' eyes sparkled in awe whilst the grownups are eager to listen to the stories he’ll share. A chuckle slipped from his lips and took out his trusty lyre, Der Frühling.

The sweet refrain of the lyre spoke a musical language to their soul. The strumming sound had a hypnotic soothing quality that he craved. To lose himself to the melody of the stringed instrument was his idea of heavenly noon.

The bard’s music fills the air without effort, like the waves filling holes in beach sand; the sound rushing in and around every person near the Cathedral. Some reacted to his poetic words, others continued in chatter, but it always speaks to them in some manner.

A lively tempo can lift them, elevate the spirit, or admire his storytelling of the previous heroes. Before the notes filled the air, every person was an island. With it, they all feel the same tidal flows and the beginning of togetherness feels warm.

His fingers ceased his strumming and gave a bow to his audience as they cheered and clapped from the wonderful performance and his melodious voice that favored their ears.

“Thank you!” He chuckled and the lyre dissipated from his hands, hiding in the unknown as he tipped his beret towards them fill it up with moras. Needless to say, he will spend it on a tavern to buy Mondstadt’s beloved dandelion wine.

Watching the townsfolk walk off and continue their business, he glanced behind him to look at the Cathedral. “I wonder when will [Name]’s guests leave?” He pouted and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I wish they’d leave already.”

Lost in his thoughts, a man then bumped into him making the bard stumble backward. He didn’t even apologize or spared a glance at him. “Hey!”

The fellow simply ignored him and ran off with his friend.

Venti whipped his head to see what the sudden commotion was all about. The citizens that were crowding in the town square caught his interest. He trotted his way near the semi-circular platform and observed.

“What’s going on there?”

Leaning forward on the bricked base to take a closer look, a familiar silhouette greeted his eyes. It was unexpected to see that the outlander has already come back. Aether waved to the people who welcomed him and smiled at them in thanks.

The bard was confused as to why he was here. What was his reason for his sudden appearance without their knowledge?

For some reason, it made his stomach churn.

It felt like bad news.

—

“[Name]! [Name]!” Venti called out her name as he ran inside the Basilica drawing Barbara’s attention.

“Ah, Venti! You mustn’t—“

“I understand what you’re saying… but this is more important.” Sister Jilliana sighed and let her palm rest on her cheek in worry as she looked at [Name].

“Yes, but…”

The door then slammed open, surprising the two females inside and cast their gaze on the bard. “[Name]!” He uttered her name once more and took a deep breath to regain the oxygen back to his lungs.

“Venti…?”

“Young man, how many times must I tell you to knock before entering this room?” Sister Jilliana scolded as a frown painted on her face.

A sheepish smile tugged his lips and closed his eyes to them apologetically. “Pardon me, Sister.” She breathed out wearily, already used to his abrupt barging, and motioned for him to come inside much to his pleasure.

Venti hopped his way to [Name]’s bed and enveloped her frail form in a hug. “What is it?” She asked as she caressed his dark locks that made him relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of her fingers grazing his head.

He nuzzled on her neck and gave light kisses on it making her cheeks flared up in embarrassment and pushed him gently before the nun could see his scandalous acts. A sullen look appeared on his appearance when she denied his love for her as he let his arms fall back to his side.

He almost forgot what he was going to say since he was so excited to finally see [Name] considering that he wasn’t able to visit her because of curfews. She has been stuck in here for who knows how long now, and just misses being with her.

He clenched his fist and placed it on his mouth as he coughed to get back to his composure. “It seems like he came back already.” She tilted her head in puzzlement at his words, unable to fathom what he meant.

It was ambiguous and equivocal so to say. Maybe he just wanted to play some word games again? Before she could speak out, someone was knocking on the door and Barbara came to announce something.

“The traveler is here.”

The female’s [eye color] oculars lit up and smiled. “You mean him?” She asked more on the bard than the deaconess. The former furrowed his brows and intertwined their fingers together, nodding hesitantly.

“I forgot it was supposed to be today.” [Name] muttered and glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall. “Please ask him if it’s alright with him to wait for me. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Of course.” Barbara smiled and closed the door quietly. Sister Jilliana cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest as she narrowed her eyes at her like a mother scolding a child.

“I’m sorry, Sister, but is it alright if we talk about this some other time?” She pleaded and clasped her hands together in an imploring way.

The nun shook her head and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Some other time? You know you need to stay in bed and rest!” [Name] lifted the blanket from her form and let her feet dangle on the edge of the bed ready to set off.

Venti watched them quietly— with him following behind her— as she made her way to the exit of her room. “Young lady, your health will be at risk if you don’t stay here—“

“Don’t worry! I’ll make sure to drink my medicines!” [Name] said hastily and grasped his hand with hers before leaving the woman alone in the room as the door shut closed.

“Wow, it sure has been a long time since we’ve been here, huh.” Paimon said as she floated over the outlander’s head. He nodded in agreement and admired the marvelous garden from the window, absently nodding off to the wonderland.

“Aether!” The male whipped his head to the source of the voice and beamed at [Name] with his floating companion waving her hands excitedly. “[Name]!” Paimon exclaimed as small particles of constellations trailed along with her when she greeted them.

“Hello to you too, Paimon!” The female giggled as she danced around her. While the three of them were busy with their small reunion, Venti can’t help but glare at the blonde male.

Great, now he’s getting her attention I’ve always needed.

He grumbled to himself and clutched tightly on her hand to remind her that he was still there. Why is it that if he needs her affection so badly, something will sabotage and interfere with them?

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” [Name] apologized to Aether to which he brushed it off saying it’s fine. “and thank you for coming all this way.” She bowed to them and showed them her smile.

“You gotta loosen up, [Name]. You don’t have to be so formal around us.” The fairy started with a pout. She then looked at Venti who was clinging to her as a frown appeared.

“And why’s the Tone-Deaf Bard here?”

Venti huffed and scowled to the emergency ratio. “I’m the one who should be asking that, mind you. What are you two doing here?”

“Paimon…” The traveler scolded and placed his hand on his forehead, shaking his head in aggravation if she ever caused a scene inside the church. Seconds later, he regained his composure and looked to the bard.

“Sorry about Paimon. [Name] requested us to come here.” Was his answer to Venti’s question. The latter bit his lip and held the frail teen close to him protectively.

What for? He asked to himself, absentmindedly letting the winds get strong and sharp on their skin.

[Name] laughed airily when he did that and gave a short peck to his cheek to calm him down. She noticed he’s been more watchful than ever and it’ll be bad news if he’ll go out of control.

“Let’s take a seat. I’ll go and prepare tea for us.”

She tipped her head and beckoned them to follow her to the room. Aether looked around the area before taking a seat on the couch while Paimon awed at the sight of a plate of cookies resting peacefully on the table and grabbed a handful of it.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Venti said as he wrapped his arms around the female’s waist from behind and buried his face on her neck. He fiddled with the ribbon that was tied to her dress while she started brewing tea for the guests.

“I already have enough. Staying in bed for days is even more tiring.” The faint scent of the sugar reached their nose as she took several and kept it in the sugar pot to bring it later.

He hummed as a response and watched her pour the freshly brewed tea on four teacups and placed it on a tray. His fingers wrapped on the handle and carried it before she could take it.

He didn’t want her to move so much and decided he’ll take care of this one. [Name] escorted him back to the living room and took a seat as Venti served the drink to Aether. The traveler thanked him and blew gently to cool it before taking a sip.

Sighing at the aromatic drink, Aether glanced at them. “Should we start?” He asked and settled the cup back on the table. “Of course, it’s better to begin right away. If I recall correctly, you were alright with helping me for one week, right?” [Name] pondered.

He bobbed his head. Paimon gave a curious look as she munched on the cookies. “Oh right! Traveler and I are happy to help you anytime! Uh… what was it that she asked us again…?”

Aether groaned at her lack of focus, too tired to even give her an answer. “I can discuss it with you if we take it to the sunroom if you don’t mind? It’s nice and bright out there.”

[Name] stood up from her chair and patted her outfit to tidy up the creases that formed. Venti’s brows arched in curiosity and inquired about them. “What are you doing?”

“I’m having him help me write some letters.”

He was beyond confused at such a simple request, yet why did she ask Aether to come all this way just for that if he can just do it for her? He furrowed his brows and looked down on the floor, feeling dejected that she’s not relying on him.

“I could’ve done that for you…” He muttered bitterly and clenched his fists. She felt her heart sink at his morose state and apologized. “I’m sorry, Venti but this is something different.” She cupped his cheeks as her fingers touched them affectionately. Rather than having the warm and loving feeling, it just felt heavy like something was weighing on his shoulders.

Breathing a sigh, he rested his palm over hers and leaned closer as their temples made contact. “Who are you writing to?” He whispered and admired the swirls of [eye color] in her eyes as they twinkled.

“Well…” She closed her eyes and smiled blithely. “Someone very far away.”

That was not the answer he was expecting. He whined at her enigmatic comment and kissed her lips as a counter much to her surprise and bashfulness to his direct public display of affection.

[Name] could feel the heat growing in her cheeks. By now they must be beyond attractive rosiness. She felt as if all her insecurities were writ large across her face and there was nowhere to hide.

“Ahem!” Paimon cleared her throat to garner their attention. Venti’s eyes focused on hers and hummed innocently as if nothing happened. “Seriously? Right in front of us?” She remarked and folded her arms.

“So? Any problems with it?” He asked in a snobbish tone and held [Name] close while she covered her whole face with her hands, too ashamed to face the guests and Venti himself.

“W-we should get going now, Aether. I don’t want to delay your travels any further.” She stuttered then looked at the bard. “Venti, can you stay here?” She pleaded and hoped her begging would work on him.

“Eh, why?”

“This is something private. I’m really sorry if I’m being surreptitious today, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” [Name] brushed her lips on his cheek before setting off to the sunroom with Aether and Paimon following after her.

The blonde looked behind his shoulder and stared at Venti’s small frame standing idly in the middle of the room. He felt bad for him that they’re keeping a secret from him. Aether has to fulfill the girl’s request. He hopes the Anemo archon won’t misunderstand everything.

By the time they arrived there, his eyes caught on the typewriter sitting on the lone table with Barbara situated on a chair, humming a song. She lifted her head up when she saw three figures from the corner of her eyes and greeted them with a big smile.

“You guys are finally here.”

Venti peeked from the window and watched as their lips moved to try to comprehend what they’re saying from the other side of the room. He tried his best to do lipreading but when [Name] turned her head, he immediately ducked and hid from her eyesight.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, not that because she almost caught him, but because of the outlander and his little companion. “I knew he was bad news.”

Hearing the loud screech of the chair, he jerked his head in the direction of the noise as his teal eyes widened and his mind went blank as did his heart at the sight of his dear toppling if it weren’t for Aether catching her in time.

The female’s chest tightened and her breathing was ragged and short as she clutched tightly to whoever was holding her for support. Everything turned cloudy and fuzzy, she blinked several times to recover her focus but to no avail, the world then went dark as several voices called out for her.

Venti panicked and soon dashed inside, ignoring the calls of the nuns that wanted him to stop.

—

“Are you okay…?” Asked the bard as he connected their hands together and rubbed circles on the back. “I’m fine. Sorry if I gave you a shock.”

[Name] was currently laying on her bed, tucked inside the blanket. Here she was again, stuck in her room with the smell of medicines and flowers wafting around the room.

When will she ever have a day to finally get out of here and enjoy the outside world with her friends instead of being cooped up alone? Venti continued letting his finger graze on her hand to distract himself and believed she’ll get well soon.

“I’ll be better right away.” She assured him with a smile. He stayed quiet and unheedingly interlocked their fingers to continue to play with it. [Name] didn’t mind at all. If that’s what makes him feel at ease then she’ll allow it without asking.

“Hey, Venti,” She called out quietly.

“Hm?”

“Can you sing for me?”

The motion of his finger halted as a smile donned his face. “Of course. Anything for you.”

He first started humming, improvising a ballad for her— to make a melodic and lilting harmony just for her. It soothed her ears listening to his soft voice as her eyes flitted, ready to set off to the wonderland of dreams.

Humming should be a soothing sound, dulcet tones creating a wordless melody, something to help her drift away to a reassuring Neverland. Venti’s gentle humming fills her room, he knows she prefers it if it’s sedating.

From now until then, [Name] will savor each note for they make her feel at home like nothing else can.

“Venti,” She uttered her beloved’s name one more time.

“Yeah?”

Her fingers dug on her blanket before shaking her head and smiling. “It’s nothing.” There it is again. [Name] became reluctant about what she’ll say. His brows knitted together at her furtive behavior.

Ever since Aether came, that’s how she’s been acting. Seven days of not being able to get close to her while they write, is it even possible for him to do that? The sisters watched him closely if ever he tried to sneak inside.

It really infuriated him that they’re separating him from her.

What other ways could they possibly spend time together without any disturbance? He snapped out from his daydreaming when the squeaky voice of the fairy reached their ears. He didn’t bother to look at or even spare a greeting to them.

So when the blonde stood near her bed and placed a pouch on her hand, it made him curious to know what was inside there. “[Name], we’ve brought the seeds as you asked!” Paimon exclaimed as she appeared over Aether’s shoulder.

“Will these be enough?” The latter asked. The female sat up and carefully opened the bag to see the contents. She hummed in affirmation and smiled at him in thanks.

“Thank you. W-was it a hassle to find these…?” She queried slowly. “It’s fine! We’ll do anything as you asked even if it’s killing abyss mages!” The traveler gawked at Paimon’s words before sighing and nodding.

She giggled at their words, putting down the pouch on the lamp table. “I wouldn’t go that far to ask such things, but thank you.”

“Excuse me,” A head poked out from the doorframe as Barbara revealed herself. “[Name] needs to rest now and it’s almost past the curfew hours. Sister Jilliana will be mad if she sees you’re all here still lingering.”

Venti’s eyes cast to the clock as he watched the hands ticked. “Isn’t it a bit too early?”

“What do you mean early? It’s getting dark already and we better go now! She really needs to sleep after what happened.” Paimon huffed whilst she crossed her short arms.

The archon groaned when Aether grabbed his shoulders and dragged him away from [Name], unwilling to let go. Venti removed his hand before running back to her and giving a short yet sweet kiss on her head, cheeks, and lastly her lips.

He slowly parted from her wanting to linger his lips on hers a bit more. The feeble girl looked up at him, his azure optics already glued to hers as a faint tint of red brushed on the apples of her cheeks. She closed her eyes when he pecked her head once more and whispered,

“Sleep well, okay? I’ll come to visit you again.”

[Name] nodded, finally laying down and tucking herself comfortably inside the blanket. Night rolls around and after a time the sandman came to heavy her lids. She felt the shuttering of her synapses, the quiet lure into sleepiness. As each limb becomes heavy and the heart slows to a more peaceful beat, the comfort of bed calls.

—

“Paimon’s so exhausted. Where are we going to rest anyway?” The pixie yawned as she trailed behind Aether. “[Name] already saved a room for us in the Knights of Favonius headquarters, we can go there now.”

“Wow, she already planned ahead, huh.”

Nighttime stretched ahead as long as the road they had traveled in the daylight hours, now charcoal-hued and cold. The birds were silenced, no one walked the streets, the only serenade being the ever-present chirping from the crickets that hid from shadows or maybe even from the bushes near the statue.

The Knights in front of the main door saluted to the Honorary Knight with him greeting them back. Opening the door, the familiar room people around him gave him a sense of nostalgia.

“Welcome back, traveler.” Jean welcomed him with a warm smile. “It’s good to see you again. I presume there were a few monsters along your way here?”

Paimon laughed and shook her head. “Nah, we wiped them out in one go. He’s really strong and no one is able to defeat him!” She exclaimed proudly while placing her hands on her hips as her chest was puffed out.

“Oh? I didn’t expect to see you here.” The Cavalry Captain then appeared behind Jean as he smirked seeing the two companions. “I thought the news of you coming back were just mere rumors, it seems like I was wrong after all.” He sighed nonchalantly.

“We can’t just ignore [Name]’s request so we immediately left Liyue.” The fairy replied. Kaeya hummed before bidding them a goodbye to go to archon knows where.

“You should take a rest. Your travels have tired you off after all. Noelle already cleaned the room and if you need anything just ask us.” Aether took note of the Acting Grandmaster’s words and bobbed his head in acknowledgment.

A yawn escaped his lips unintentionally as the corner of his eyes started to tear up from drowsiness.

“Yeah, we better need that. Paimon’s getting sleepy, I might pass out from here.”

With Aether and the emergency food wishing Jean a good night, they marched off in their room and slumped on the bed once they saw it, drifting off to dreamland.

—

After a sleepless night on the ward, [Name] sank into her bed. It was three in the morning and even the birds were quiet. There was no single sign of a human nor an animal walking outside.

She drank in the silence through every pore, soothed by its meditative quality. Each time a worrying thought emerged, she mentally jotted it down on a notepad and closed her eyes to drift those thoughts off and replace them with something positive.

When her uneasiness had finally leached into the void, she moved her weak limbs up the stairs to bed, then she lay there wrapped in her duvet— cocooned by the thick protective buffer of the absolute quiet.

A thumping was then heard from the window as she whipped her head in alertness. A small silhouette can be seen outside but was hard to make through to see who this stranger was because of the dark.

The window opened, making her panic until the kisses of the gentle breeze calmed her down and eased her beating heart back to its normal rate. The figure landed on the floor softly and approached her carefully.

The familiar green outfit and the smile she loved oh so much made her chest flutter in excitement and glee. She threw the blanket to the side and stared at the young man, eyes tinged with confusion and wonder.

“Venti? What are you doing here so late?” The said male giggled and flopped himself next to her and caressed her hair bringing it to his lips to kiss it. “Didn’t I tell you I’ll come to visit you?”

[Name]’s brows dug and averted her gaze. “Well yes, but I wasn’t expecting this kind of time would be your visit.”

He intertwined their fingers together and pulled her form close to his as he gave light kisses on her neck. A breathy sigh was evoked from her lips and laid her head on his shoulder, reciprocating his hold she missed dearly.

After giving her affections, Venti grabbed the shawl that was lying on the chair and draped it over her shoulder. “Come on, I want to show you something.” He gently pulled her up from her seat and took the pouch given by the traveler.

“Won’t the guards see us and catch you once they know you’re intruding again?” She whispered and hesitantly allowed him to lead her. “No worries. It’ll be really quick.” He laughed mirthfully without care of the consequences.

She heaved a sigh before asking, “Wait, why show it to me now? We can just do it when the morning dawn arrives.” He stopped his tracks in front of the window and faced her.

“I wouldn’t be able to do that. The curfew, Sister, and then the traveler will steal you from me again…”

She can feel her heart shatter at the sight of his downcast look but he quickly replaces it with a grin. “Now, don’t feel so blue. I can’t help but be saddened by it too. Let’s change it with a smile for something new?” He leaned close and brought his hand behind her as he rhymed, making her chuckle at his cute frolic.

“See? It suits you more with a smile than a frown that has been compiled. Now let’s make haste before the moon will be replaced.”

Venti pulled her as they exited from the opened window and knelt down on one knee with his back facing her. “I’ll carry you there,” [Name] looked around the area before obliging and wrapping her arms over his shoulder as he hoisted her up.

From the distance, a certain traveler was aimlessly walking around for a midnight stroll. Aether was having trouble going back to sleep and left Paimon resting in the headquarters to relax his mind. The familiar face of Venti caught his eyes, bringing him wide awake and wondering what he was doing.

It was even more surprising to see [Name] was with him. Wasn’t she supposed to rest to recover? What is she doing outside with him so late? He immediately hid behind the corner and watched them from afar in curiosity.

Venti carefully had his hold underneath her knees and surreptitiously sauntered towards the Anemo God Statue Plaza. He easily summoned the wind to lift them up to the statue’s hands and landed gracefully. [Name] brought down her bare feet on the cold surface and admired the view from atop.

“Careful.” He cautioned and held her arm. The female sat down and let her feet dangle at the edge. When Venti mimicked her actions, she laid her head on his shoulder surprising him but didn’t mind at all.

He took out a pouch he had taken from her room and placed it in her hand. “You wanted to blow these dandelion seeds, right?” She glanced down at it and nodded. “Yeah, but how do you know they were dandelion seeds? I don’t recall telling you about it.”

He cheekily smiled and laid his head on top of hers. “The scent of dandelion is easy for my nose to pick up. And knowing what you’ll do about it, I decided to help you.”

“Then can you cover your ears for a while?”

Venti did as he was told though it’s not entirely covered per se. He left a bit of space to listen and know what she’ll whisper to the seeds but got caught red-handed. “No eavesdropping! You know this is something private.” She pouted.

He lightly laughed and kissed her nose as an apology before covering them up again with his hands and turning his back.

[Name] brought her hands close to her lips and whispered her wishes onto it. A handful of it should suffice, maybe in another day, she’ll do it again. She heard from Sister Grace that the dandelion seeds will carry their feelings in their hearts with the wind.

If it is true then she hopes the Anemo Archon, Barbatos, will listen to it and lead her message to a distant place.

She gently blew them away and watched them scattered along with the air and drifted off as the glaze guided the particles to the unknown.

—

[Name] read the text on the paper written by Aether as she discussed some things about it. She closed her eyes and smiled at him gratefully as Paimon floated above her head to take a peek at what’s written on it.

Venti rested his chin on his palm and watched them from the other side of the room that separated him from his beloved.

What could they be talking about?

The sound of shoes’ heels tapping against the tile brought him back to the real world and saw the blonde deaconess holding a tray of pastries and cups of tea in it. He jumped to his feet and neared her.

“I can take it to them.” He outstretched his arms expecting Barbara to simply give it to him as he smiled at her blithely.

The girl moved the tray away from his grasp and shook her head. “No, you won’t. Though I appreciate your offer, I can do it myself.” She looked at him apologetically when he frowned. His eyes followed her figure entering the room and huffed.

“Sheesh. Why must nothing in life ever go right?” He slumped on the couch before taking another glimpse at the sunroom. He saw the Honorary Knight handed her another piece of paper as [Name]’s eyes scanned over the text.

A forlorn expression was then etched on her visage. Her eyes turned glossy while she read the letter and her shoulders shook tremendously, accidentally crumpling the paper from her hold and holding it close to her as if it was something precious.

Tears dribbled from her eyes, letting it flow freely on her cheeks as small drops of water fell on the ground. It hurt Venti to see her like this. It hurt him to see her cry.

His heart ached to see her in this vulnerable state that he could do nothing but watch from the other side, not even allowing him to approach her to give her the comfort she needed.

—

Another night came by quickly. Aether was strolling at the town square to craft some materials and buy some food before heading back to the headquarters. When he felt a light tapping on his shoulder, he turned around and saw Venti standing there with a smile.

“Oh, Venti. It’s good to see you again. Is something the matter?” He asked and faced him fully. “What are you doing?” The bard asked as he glanced at the bag he was holding.

“Just shopping.”

“Is it for [Name]?”

The traveler paused, thinking of what he should say. There was nothing to hide from him so he presumed it was safe to tell him.

“Yes.”

When he answered, Paimon appeared out of nowhere and crossed her arms. “Hey! Be careful what you say to the Tone-Deaf Bard!” Both of them ignored her as Venti continued to question him.

“Are you going to write letters with her again?” The blonde nodded in response.

“How long?”

Paimon grumbled but before she could lash out at him, Aether grabbed her legs and covered her mouth with his hand. “Six more days.”

Venti narrowed his eyes to the emergency ratio before looking back at him. “Who are you writing to?” The traveler’s mouth opened slightly and gave a quick answer.

“It’s something I can’t tell you.”

The archon clicked his tongue and glared, “Why?” His voice sounded more demanding than a question. Aether was taken aback by his tone. He never heard him so aggressive before that it made him shudder in fear.

“It’s something confidential.” It took him a lot of courage to reply to him, hoping the raven-haired male won’t outrage at his vague answer. This is the only question he won’t answer. No matter who asked, only he, Paimon, and Barbara know who this is written for.

“It can’t be someone from her family…” As much as it hurt Venti, he knew the fact [Name] was all alone and the Church had to be the one to take her in. He was always there for her, but so, who is this person she’s writing for that requires him not to be included?

“Hey, tell me. Who is it for?” He asked more softly. Aether stared at him for a second then sighed quietly.

“Venti, didn’t you come here for a reason?”

“A reason…?” He echoed. He hummed and placed his fingers on his chin, thinking. “[Name]’s asleep and the nuns won’t let me check up on her,” Venti remarked and folded his arms.

“Shouldn’t you need to rest as well?” Aether’s words made him snort in laughter. “Bold of you to assume that I require sleep.”

Paimon was finally released from her companion’s grasp and pointed accusingly to the bard. “Then shouldn’t you go to a tavern or something?! That’s what you always do when it’s nighttime!”

Venti let out an annoyed sound and looked at the small accomplice. “Well, I don’t want to!” Her eyes widened in shock and looked at Aether. “D-did you hear what he said? The Tone-Deaf Bard doesn’t want to drink?!”

The latter sighed and shrugged his shoulders unsurely.

“I’m going back! I bid you all goodnight!” Venti stomped his way out as the outlander watched his small form disappear from the distance, wondering what was his sudden change in tone all about.

—

Three days had already passed by and whenever Venti and Paimon saw each other, both of them had a glaring contest. It actually amused Aether to see this happened and when he told [Name] about this, it made her laugh.

He was assured to know that Paimon was unintentionally occupying Venti’s time. He didn’t tell her about this though since he knew she would stay silent and back out. Aether and [Name] were glad to see Venti was returning back to normal with his usual rhymes appearing more often than ever.

It did scare him whenever the bard gave him death glares when he’s not looking. He can feel those sharp glances ever since he came back to Mondstadt and he was sweating so furiously when he knew that.

At least this time, it was getting less and less.

Or so he thought.

“Will this do?” Barbara handed her the paper and [Name]’s optics skimmed over the words, silently reading it. Her eyes caressed the strokes of the pen, seeing the personality behind the lines and punctuation marks. Finally reaching the last words of the letters she closed her eyes and smiled.

“Yes, it’s perfect.”

“I’ll write along these lines then,” Aether said and took another piece of paper and placed it in the platen as [Name] thanked him. The door slightly creaked open but went unnoticed by the three.

Venti peeped at the small gap of the door and observed them. Instead of writing in the sunroom, they were currently inside her room to continue doing it. It was hard for him to find a location where he can keep watch of her, so taking a small peek won’t hurt right?

The frail female’s breathing suddenly became shaky and the tightness on her chest arrived once more accompanying it with immense pressure. It alerted her when she saw the door was fully opened for her to see Venti standing there with a panicked look.

“Venti...”

He didn’t know Sister Jilliana was there, so when she turned around, he quickly made up an excuse and looked away from them. “I-I was just going to call for the traveler. Something urgent came up.”

“Is that so? Is it alright if we hold it for a while?” The nun asked him to which he avoided making eye contact with her. “Can I have a short break?” Aether jumped in and waited patiently for an answer.

“H-huh? Why now?” Paimon asked. The blonde gestured her to play along and she quickly understood what he meant. Paimon flailed her arms in the air, an attempt to make it more convincing. “Oh! Um, yeah, we really need a break. I hope [Name] doesn’t mind it?” She meekly smiled at them.

The sickly girl shook her head and told them it’s fine. The chair creaked when he stood up and approached Venti who had a distant look. He closed the door quietly and followed him until they stopped near the altar.

“I suppose we both know that I just fabricated my words out there,” Venti mentioned that he didn’t bother to confront him. Aether nodded silently in agreement.

“I just wanted to check how she’s doing.” When he remained quiet, the archon called his name. “Hey, stop taking away the time she and I spend together.” He begged that his voice almost cracked.

He was desperate to just be with her.

“I’ll be gone in a few days.” The outlander stated and looked him directly in the eyes.

“Then at least please tell her I’ll be there while you’re writing the letters. I want to be by her side. I just wanna be there and hold her hand tight! Please!” Venti’s voice gets louder and louder, letting his words echo inside the church. He grabbed his shoulders and tightly dug his fingers onto them as he begged.

Aether deterred his view from his and grabbed his hand, putting it back to his side. He feels guilty for doing this to him, but he has to keep his promises. No matter how much he pleaded, he had to deny all of his requests.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept that.” The bard gritted his teeth and pushed him.

“Why?!”

He quickly regained his balance and looked away. “Excuse me, I have to go back.” The traveler left him alone in the nave as he strode back to [Name]’s room. Venti blankly stared at his back as his hands clenched into fists, making his knuckles turn white.

“Do you think we can finish today?” [Name] asked and stared at the stacks of paper neatly arranged on the table. “If we maintain this pace, yes.” The Honorary Knight replied. Paimon gave her another paper and asked if she could review it.

She suddenly took on a pale look, as if she’d been painted white-wash— even her lips were barely there. Beneath her feet, the wooden floor felt soft, not as much as even a firm carpet, but not right for oak plants. It was hard to make out the details of the room after the autumn fell outside; but after a while, she could make out the features of the room.

Before she could grab onto the letter, her form abruptly collapsed as Aether quickly caught her to prevent her from injuring herself any further. “[Name]!” Barbara screamed in worry and approached her.

“I’m… fine.” She assured them in between her breaths.

“But—“

“Please keep going.” She cut him off and looked at him pleadingly.

The wind blew through the room with a powerful fury, scattering the stacked envelopes as if they were leaves of fall. The slam of the door was the tempest inside Venti made audible.

It was how he wrote the pain in the air, hoping that someone would understand how to stop [Name] from pushing herself— praying that there would be enough assurance in the world to calm the winds that tore at his insides.

“That’s enough!” He shouted and ran to her, holding her weak form in his arms. “Just stop already!” Tears rolled down his cheek and cradled her close to him and cried on her shoulder, dampening the sleeves of her dress. When he felt someone touch his shoulder, he slapped it away.

No one should interfere with them. He had enough already. Can’t they see how critical he was to see her so weak as each day passed by?

“Why… why must you write these letters…” His voice was hoarse from his shouting and buried his face on her hair to take in her scent. “Who are you writing them to?” He cried as if his brain was being shredded from the inside. Emotional pain flowed out of his every pore.

From his mouth came a cry so raw that even the eyes of the people around them were suddenly wet with tears. “They’re important letters.” She said and brushed his hair with her fingers to calm him.

“They’re for someone I don’t know, right? Someone who doesn’t even visit when you’re sick!” [Name]’s eyes enlarged when his words entered her ears as she tightly clutched onto him. She can feel her own eyes swell up with emotions as she cries and let them escape freely without restraints.

“There’s nobody out there who’s truly worried about you!”

Everything was quiet except for their cries inside. When he pulled back, she wiped the salty fluid that stained his cheeks and leaned on his shoulder. “Are the letters more important than me?” He uttered, the tone in his voice was shaky and breathy.

[Name] kissed his head and ran her fingers through his hair to soothe him. “Nothing’s more important to me than you, Venti.” He sniffed and rubbed his eyes with his hand to get a clear view of her appearance.

“Why is everything full of lies...” Her brow arched in confusion as she felt his fingers tightly gripping her waist.

“You aren’t getting any better at all. They said you’d recover soon!” So many tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down on his face. His chin trembled and breathed heavier than he had before.

“I know that you’re… I’m going to be all alone again when you’re gone!” His throat burned from screaming. Even gasping for air was simply not enough for him. [Name]’s [eye color] optics are slowly but surely becoming glassy.

Tears are now streaming down her cheeks from his words. She hugged him tighter and whispered sweet nothings to him, no matter how much she tried to assuage him, it only failed as he continued to sob hysterically and screamed on top of his lungs.

“How much longer do I have with you?!”

Barbara sniffled her cries by covering her mouth with her hand and turned away as it ached her heart to know [Name]’s undecided fate.

“If I’m going to be left alone all over soon,” Venti grazed his fingers on her face and connected their hands, afraid she’ll disappear if he let go of her.

“Then forget about the letters and spend this time with me! Be with me! Please, [Name]!!” Aether slowly approached them and lifted the bard up by grabbing his shoulders. He knows he’ll try to escape from his hold and so he tightly grips his arm to stop him from getting close to [Name].

When he turned to face the traveler, there was no sign of tears. Not in his eyes or in track marks on his reddening face. His eyes were narrowed, rigid, cold, and hard. Once more, Aether was the enemy. Venti’s states had no greyscale, only the polar extremes existed.

The blonde took in a deep breath, the burning hard stare would last only as long as it took him to think of the most brutally cutting things he could tear him down with.

“Let go of me, Aether!!” He ignored his request and did his best to hold him a bit longer until he calmed down. Venti gnashed his teeth and because of too much resentment he had for the traveler, he disappeared into the thin air with teal feathers fluttering along.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he ran and ran outside of the city. His calves burned, his breathing forming clouds in the air becoming short gasps. He started cramping and his body shook uncontrollably, finally stopping in front of the giant tree in Windrise.

He was on his knees on the ground, facing the tree, screaming and crying. His whole face is red and shouting at the very top of his lungs. His upper body and shoulders wrack with every sob that forces their way out, chest rising and falling unevenly as he gasps for breath, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

He balled his hands into fists and gripped his hair to let out a blood-curdling scream. Unbeknownst to Venti, Aether chased after him after his disappearance and stopped in his tracks when he saw his curled up form.

“Venti…”

The said male continued sobbing and disregarded his presence. “I’m taking the time you can spend with [Name] away for a good reason.” Aether justified.

“Shut up…”

“It’s only natural that this would be painful for you. You’re already carrying the burden of her illness on your body. So please stay strong for her.”

“Shut up!”

The archon lifted his unsteady body and faced him. Endless streams of cries continuously flowed on the sides of his face and choked out, “I made her cry…”

“No, you were worried about her condition.”

“You’re wrong.” Venti countered.

“I’m not.”

He dashed at him and punched his chest making him fall back on the ground. “You’re wrong! You’re wrong! She fell sick because of me!” He shouted and proceeded to throw punches at him repeatedly.

“You had nothing to do it with.”

“You’re wrong!!”

Each punch slowed down and grew weaker, allowing Aether to ease his raged up condition while Venti mindlessly poured out all of his emotions onto him.

“There was nothing anybody could’ve done.” The former muttered under his breath.

“Shut up!”

“Just like how the unknown god captured my sister from me. I couldn’t do anything to save her there… Nothing can be done about this.” The bard’s brows creased as he went quiet and stopped hitting him.

He already lost count of how many times he had cried on this day. His gaze cast downwards as he fell on the ground, breaking down.

“[Name]… [Name]…” Aether knelt down before him and rubbed his back reassuringly. “Why do you write those letters?” He inquired whilst his shoulders trembled.

“Because everyone has feelings they want to deliver to someone.”

“Who cares about that? They don’t have to be!” It only brought him more pain and isolation, and so Aether can be quite sure that the cries are of the desperate pain that keeps on slicing deeper.

The blonde’s golden optics were flicked with dolefulness, continuing to stroke his back. “No letter that could be sent deserves to go undelivered.” Out of complete silence, the cry arose. Out of complete reverence, the things of the world stilled to listen.

Venti’s mind was clouded with pain and sorrow, his heart grew cold and numb with pent up emotion. Over lands and seas, through forests and valleys. Every ear in the universe stilled to listen, every heart broke, so heavy so miserable his song.

—

It was the final day and they have eventually finished writing. It was time for Aether and Paimon to take their leave. Venti sighed in relief to receive the news that there were no more letters to write. No more Aether of taking [Name]’s time. And also no more signs to see the emergency food.

They were currently outside the Cathedral as she wanted to bid them farewell and safe travels. His warm hand made contact with hers and secretly poked his tongue out at Paimon to annoy her.

Her squeaky voice reached their ears and stomped her feet in the air as she faced her companion with an irked look. “Ugh, I can’t stand that Tone-Deaf Bard! Let’s just go already!”

[Name] chuckled while Venti only brought her closer to his body and slithered his arms around her waist protectively. He puffed his cheeks out as they watched their figure disappear below. Unlike her, he didn’t wave them goodbye much to her confusion.

She asked him about it in which she only received a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders and a short yet sweet kiss on the lips from her lover.

Aether was no stranger. He wasn’t a piece of bad news either. Deep down he knows he’s a thoughtful and sympathetic person.

I wish I could’ve read the letters they wrote.

He stole glances at her before pushing her inside the Cathedral to go back to her room and cuddle with her.

I wonder who they were for.

“[Name],” He called out. She hummed to let him know her attention was on him. He rubbed circles on the back of her hand and kissed the nape of her neck as he whispered softly against it.

“I love you.”

A small chuckle slipped from his lips when he saw how her cheeks flared up from his confession. She turned around and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, attacking him with shy kisses.

“I love you too.”

Seasons fade in and out like soft lullabies, their transitions slow but never faltering. Like mother earth herself they only turn in one direction, always onward and never back as the wax and wane of the pace of city life changes.

In summer, everyone is high in energy, all systems go. With the first wash of autumn air, moving over the high-rises and suburbia like a shallow wave, the people slow down to a quieter pace.

The winter is flatter still, but never falling into a negative spin, the folks of this city love the snow too much for that.

Then spring comes to wake the metropolis: people, trees, and blooms. Folks walk under newly unfurled leaves, smile at the fresh new flowers, and tilt their faces upward to the new warmth in the sun's rays.

Soon summer is back and the seasonal carousel is complete for another year.

All those seasons he had spent with her, he cherished them the most in his heart and held it dearly like a gift given to him. He kept the memories and spent his life with her during those past months.

Here come the drops, soft and steady, falling from a sky of white velvet. They come all together and yet as pioneers. And though he is soon quite wet, he stood idly in front, letting the drops blurred his vision.

They stood at the front of the funeral. Everyone's heads were down. Maybe it was them showing respect or maybe they were too afraid to look at what was coming. The coffin was pulled from the hearse by six strong men, all wearing suits. The silence dwelled as they exited the church. It wobbled as they carried it to the front and gently placed it down.

The coffin was dark stained cherry and it was perfectly polished. It had a cushioned and silky lining. Struggling to hold back the grief, tears flow steadily. Silently down the immobile face, a feeling of ache swarmed within him. The numbness and emptiness remained as they walked behind the mahogany coffin— the soul unwilling to acknowledge the finality of death, never to look upon her face again or feel her embrace. To see the warmth in her eyes, or be surrounded by her love.

Words from the minister, speeches at the service bring a fresh onslaught of tears, well-spoken words, a tribute to her life and love, everyone in black, dusky pink roses on the casket; they all watched the casket lowered into the grave through tear-stained eyes.

One by one they all left, leaving him alone standing in her grave, as he cried his goodbye to his love.

—

A dove was soaring in the sky, fluttering its wings in the air as Venti watched it fly over to him. In its feet was a paper rolled and clutched onto it. When it landed on his lap, he gently took the item from the bird and unfolded it.

His emerald eyes scanned over the writing, taking in each word inside his head.

Dear Venti,

Happy birthday! I’m sure there are many things that make you sad. You may be crumbling under the weight of your responsibilities. But don’t give in.

Even if you’re so lonely that it makes you cry, please don’t forget that I’ll always love you.

A lone tear dropped on the paper as his cheeks were stained wet from reading the letter he had received. He brought it close to his chest as if it were her that he loved holding so dear.

Four years passed by, and the fourth later had arrived.

Dear Venti,

Happy birthday! I love you with my aura, placing it about you like the deepest star-filled sky. Space and time have no meaning for my love, it has always been boundless and eternal. It is a love that self-sustains through even the meanest of winters, its own heat, and light is the warmth, the hope.

Even if you were cold to the core, I would wake you like the spring wakes the flower and watch you grow, watch you bloom. Everything that I am is yours… All I ask is to take care of yourself in the same way you would care for a person you love completely, in the same way, I love you.

The twelfth letter was delivered.

Dear Venti,

Happiest birthday, love! I love you so very much sweetheart. I have a hard time explaining how I feel. I have never felt anything like this before. You are always there for me no matter what.

You are the most loving, caring, compassionate, and absolutely most incredible person that I have ever met. Thank you for always being there, for the flowers— they are beautiful, for your kind words, hugs, kisses, and unconditional love. I have never in my life been so very happy. I feel much loved, beautiful, and very happy.

I'm so proud of you. You are a very strong person. It is really amazing that we are strong for each other in different ways. We truly understand each other and feel for each other. When you hurt, I hurt. When you are happy, I'm happy. I just love you so much and I never want to lose you. I give you my heart, my love, and my life for now and forever.

I love you.

He always waits for each year for his birthday to come, for her letters to be delivered to him. The messages were getting longer and longer as every year passed and even the past memorandum he had received, he still kept it with him.

Happy birthday, love! I hope you know that it’s okay to cry once in a while. Whenever you're anxious or afraid, always remember I’ll always be here. I love you more than life itself. There are no words I can say to truly tell you how much I really love you.

I want to thank you that you were the reason I stayed strong even if I was sick. I learn more and more from you every day. My heart is forever yours. I know saying, "I love you" is powerful, yet I feel it's not enough.

You give me the most amazing feelings inside. It feels great to actually love and be loved in return. I love you so much, I wish I could repeat it to you so many times.

Please remember, I’ll always and forever be watching over you.

Now here he was at the hands of the Statue, watching the skies move as the dove once again landed on his shoulder. His eyes caught on the sight of the dandelion seeds soaring past as a smile tugged his lips.

He remembered [Name]’s wish for him when they were out here to blow the seeds away late at night. So every time he sees a dandelion up above in this statue, it reminds him of her and he’s here to fulfill it.

—

“Welcome back.” Jean greeted from the office as Aether placed the stack of letters on the table. “That’s a lot of letters.” Kaeya whistled in amusement and ran his fingers on it to feel the scratchy and thick envelopes.

“They’re letters set to be delivered to Venti over the next fifty years.” He announced and stretched his arms to relieve the cramps formed in his limbs. Lisa almost spitted on her tea and gawked at him in surprise.

“F-fifty years? No wonder why you wrote so much.” She set down her cup and grabbed a napkin to wipe her lips.

“Were you alright?” The Acting Grandmaster asked in worry. Aether and Paimon nodded as they smiled. “It was no biggie for us.”

“I must say this is a wonderful idea,” Kaeya remarked and grabbed a stack of it to feel the weight on his hands. “I’m already excited to see them delivered every year.”

“Me too, but…” Their chattering ceased as their focus went on his face which had his cheek dripped with liquid. It was surprising to see the traveler cry in front of them, though they didn't dare open their mouths to point it out.

“By the time they are, [Name] will already be gone and she’s still so young— so quick to get lonely, will have been left by the one he loves so much.” Crying is natural and strong for it belongs to those with the courage to show their vulnerable self, and this was none other than Aether himself.

He recalled the day he saw both of them snuck out from the Cathedral. He didn’t mean to watch them, but he knew how both of them cared for each other so much and their love for one another just by observing [Name]’s words written on the letters and Venti’s affectionate yet protective hold on her.

He understood how Venti felt. He knows the feeling of losing someone you love so dearly. The bard already told him about his history with his friend from long ago and now that it was recurring again, it aches his heart to know he’ll lose someone again.

It’s like history is repeating itself.

“He’ll be all alone again. I…” He balled his fists and closed his eyes tightly. The tears trickled down his face as he sobbed quietly. The members of the Knights approached him and rubbed his back to comfort him.

“I was fighting back tears the entire time I was there.”

“Yes, but Aether,” Lisa lifted his face and looked at him with gentle eyes. “He will receive the letters you’ve assisted [Name] writing in.” He wiped his tears and eyed the envelopes with lustrous vision.

“Besides, no matter how far apart they may be…

loved ones will always watch over you.”

heavily inspired by violet evergarden

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact reader insert #genshin impact venti x reader #venti x reader #venti #genshin impact venti #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact fanfictions #genshin x reader #aether #elliwrites #venti angst

1K notes · View notes

ssscentral · 4 years

Text

Stain Me

Summary: Hooking up with the most popular wizard of your college should be no big deal. Well, unless he summons a demon who is more than eager to join you.

Pairing : Wizard!Namjoon x Witch!Reader x Demon!Jimin

Genre : Smut. Fantasy.

Warnings : Explicit sexual content, Threesome, Demon summoning, Overstimulation, Swearing, Switch!Namjoon, Dom!Jimin, Switch!Reader, Dirty Talking, Oral Sex (f. & m. receiving), Fingering, Handjob, Light choking, Drunk Sex, Unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), Rough sex, Deepthroating

WC : 5.3k

Member : Rid || @taegularities

A/N : I struggled a little with this - but in the end, it worked out well! This fic is the third part of the group prompt “Hell of a Ride” - stay excited, there’s more to come! Also, some parts are inspired by the show “Supernatural”, the similarities are not coincidental. Thank you very much @biaswreckme for being such a talended beta!

taglist: @lurejoon @mimikookie

—————

This was not meant to happen.

Not that you didn’t enjoy it – but if someone had told you this morning when you’d woken up that you’d find yourself in your current situation in less than twelve hours, you would’ve sarcastically thrown your head back and walked away with a wave of your hand.

Sweaty and out of breath, you looked to the figure in front of you, then to the one over your shoulder, him smirking as he looked at you with dark eyes, licking his full lips delicately. You closed your eyes as memories rushed back to you, pictures of today evening reappearing.

--------

The club was filled to its core, the dim lights tiring you as time went by. You had been here for quite a while now and the initial excitement you had felt at the thought of enjoying yourself tonight, had long vanished into the thin and hot air.

Your best friend had seemingly ditched you and you felt stupid for not noticing earlier. It had only occurred to you as you sipped on your third drink, slowly fading into the dizziness that you had been waiting for the whole week. While your intoxicated state should’ve made you feel lighter, happier, clumsier, you only sat at your stool, heart growing heavy, feeling lonely while everyone else was having their best time on the dancefloor.

And as you were about to stand up, flatten your dress and walk home, you noticed a familiar face sitting down right next to you. You almost choked at your drink, realizing that it wasn’t just anyone who had his eyes glued on you, but the most popular wizard of your magical school – most definitely not looking like a delicious meal, no.

He was a top-notch student, always bringing in the best grades and having everyone fall for him; and then there was you, a lazy girl who would wing assignments shortly before the deadline would end. You couldn’t help but smirk when you noticed that you had captured his attention, as he was now facing you intently, eyes grazing over your face and your body.

“I know you, right?” he asked, his eyes squinting as he brought his lips up to a beautiful smile. You knew he didn’t have to ask. He was one grade above you, but the school was small, and everyone knew each other’s names.

“I assume so. I’m certain that I know you,” you answered, cupping your chin in your hand, “you’re Kim Namjoon. The teachers’ sweetheart.”

He laughed before he waved at the bartender, ordering another drink for you and himself that you weren’t sure you needed. You let him do his thing anyway.

And as you sat there, talking about life and magic, you found yourself becoming consumed in his way of telling a story, no longer caring for your friend who had never shown up, would probably not show up anymore. He spoke with elan, throwing in side-facts now and then that you were eager to hear, because – what was it?

Not just his ability to have you hung on his lips and every word he uttered. It was his glasses, too. And his turtleneck sweater. Definitely the deep dimples. The way his full lips looked pillowy soft. His hair that hung in his eyes – you not wanting anything more than to stretch out your arm and run your fingers through it. And then his hands: the long and beautiful fingers that held his glass while you imagined how they would feel insi-

“Do you dance?” he suddenly wanted to know, snapping you out of your fantasies.

Fantasies. Yeah. What could you say? Namjoon was gorgeous. Every girl dreamed of him, of the smart, powerful, and mysterious wizard; every girl wanted to touch him, tempt him into her bed – and as weak as it sounded, you were no exception. The last few years at the magical college had made your crush on him solidify with each passing semester and you would’ve lied to yourself if you hadn’t admitted that you were someone who wanted him, too, that he was the absolute hottest guy of the entire school.

“Sometimes. Depends on who’s asking.” You grinned at him, your red-painted mouth reaching your eyes.

“What if I say it’s me who’s asking?”

“In that case,” you said, gulping down the last sip of the alcohol, “I might remember how to dance.”

You stood and took his hand, guiding him to the already crowded dancefloor.

It started harmlessly first, your arms on his shoulders and his on your waist. You were looking at each other, the loud music not allowing you to talk, but you felt like you didn’t need to. His hands were doing that for you.

First, his fingers dug into your skin lightly, leaving goosebumps on your arms. Then, he started caressing your almost naked back, pulling you closer when he noticed that you didn’t protest. The light brush of his fingertips had you shivering, and when your torso finally touched his, you could even feel his warm breath against your face.

For a while, you danced like this, contemplating if you should kiss him; something told you that he wouldn’t say no, that he would give in to your request easily. And as you played with the thought so much that you started leaning in, he grabbed your waist again, suddenly turning you around, so your back was now pressed against his chest.

So that’s what it was. He wanted to grind, too. He could have that.

You stretched your ass, testing the waters as you grazed it against his stomach and dick, knowing that it would affect him if you did it just right. Your movements were smooth, elegant, planned, and he knew you were well aware of what you were doing.

And despite the noise, you could clearly hear him moan lightly each time your bottom rubbed against his sensitive zone. Soon he was pressing soft kisses behind your ear, slowly wandering down, settling on your temple, on your cheeks, then on your neck, on your shoulder, and ultimately on your cheeks again.

Then, finally, a question left his mouth, his lustful voice causing your heart to jump.

“What do you think about getting out of here?”

--------

The first thing you did in your dorm was to shout for your roommate. You were absolutely delighted when you didn’t get a response, your whole place dead silent. You smirked and turned around to look at your guest, him closing the door behind you both before he rushed forwards to basically attack your mouth.

You reacted fast, grabbing his shoulders to maintain balance, tilting your head and closing your eyes as Namjoon’s hand sank in your hair. He was impatient, panting, eager to swallow you whole as he guided you backward towards your bed. The dorm room was small and your walls thin, but being here with him, in a situation as steamy as this, the tiny space provided a weird intimacy that you couldn’t quite describe.

You brought your whole body down onto the mattress before he hovered over you, looking at you with an intensity that had your stomach churn. Slowly, softly, you brought your hand up to his face, taking off his glasses to place them on the nightstand beside your bed.

Namjoon grinned at you, opening your legs with his thighs, so he could settle between yours. Something about it was frustrating, you not being able to press them together anymore for extra friction – but you soon learned that this wasn’t necessary.

He leaned down to kiss you again, his lips only allowing to press against yours for a mere second before they trailed down your jaw and to your neck. They were only ghosting over your skin, giving you a tingly sensation that left you wanting more. And suddenly, he started moving his hips, his already hardened dick teasing your clothed core, and you moaned at the unexpected pleasure.

He liked what he heard, oh, he liked it a lot. Doing all of that would lead exactly to where he wanted you, exactly to what he was desiring to achieve. That you were so content with everything just made the whole affair easier for him. Besides, you were absolutely delightful to look at.

Your fingers traced the edge of his shirt, until they found the button of his jeans, carefully opening and unzipping them. He stilled for a second, only for a moment before you felt his lips curl up into a smile against yours, his tongue coming out to ask for permission to enter your mouth that you granted him gladly.

He helped you toss his pants off, his shirt following before he fumbled at the hem of your own. You nodded, knowing he was silently waiting for you to allow him to see you naked. No matter how much your skin was burning for him, you felt like this was the right moment to drunkenly confess something to him.

“Namjoon, I-“

He looked up at you immediately, patiently awaiting what you had to say before bringing his face to yours. “I’m… It’s been a while, so I’ll probably be… very sensitive.”

“You’re saying that as if it’s a bad thing,” he stated in between kisses on your cheek, not seeming to mind your confession at all. “It’s okay, baby. Let me take care of you.”

“Okay,” you simply said, closing your eyes and lifting your arms, so he could take off your shirt. His skilled hands didn’t hesitate to wrap around your torso, swiftly unclipping your baby pink bra to reveal your breasts.

All of a sudden, he froze, looking at you as if he remembered something. “I don’t have a condom.”

You smiled. “It’s okay. I take the pill. Hormonal issues.”

He nodded, exhaling relieved.

Closing his eyes, he put his attention to your neck again, not settling for long, but moving on to caress your nipples, licking and softly biting them. He was floating on clouds as you let out delicious moans, whimpering and shaking under him.

Namjoon gripped your waist as his lips wandered down your body, until he reached your pants, taking them off just like his before, but this time pulling down your panties along with them. He was so impatient, and this made your arousal grow even stronger, thinking about how he wanted you so much that he wasn’t ready to wait even one second longer.

He pulled down his boxers, too, his hard, thick, red-headed cock springing against his stomach, and you grabbed it immediately to stroke it. Your slow movements made him growl and grab the sheet next to your head as he gritted his teeth, looking down on you with heavy lust and longing.

It just got better when he decided to tease you back, his long fingers finding their way to your clit, slowly grazing and rubbing it before he suddenly slid a finger into your hole gently. For a second, he stayed like this, not moving his digit as he saw you unwind under him, out of breath and trying to focus on his dick that was twitching in your right hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asked teasingly, biting his lower lip, driving you even crazier.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just – I like what you’re doing,” you whispered back, your back slightly arching, nipples grazing against his chest.

He started moving his finger, slowly first before picking up the pace, not waiting long and then adding a second one which drew a long and intense whine out of your mouth – scrumptious, beautiful, sexy as hell.

And then it was a little too much; not the pleasure but the waiting, letting the time tick without having his cock inside you. You wanted to make him feel good, make him make you feel good, so you pushed his hands away in a sudden motion.

Namjoon looked at you surprised – but he didn’t have much time to wonder as you got up and pushed him down the mattress, back facing him now and straddling his chest. You leaned forwards, grabbing his cock again as you eyed it hungrily, taking in its beauty for a moment before you pressed yourself flush against his body.

You started by licking the tip of his head with your tongue, continuing with his length and ultimately taking him all in. At first, you only managed half of it, trying to adjust to his thickness and ignoring the gag reflex. You’d just started moving up and down when you felt him grab your waist to bring your core to his mouth. He eagerly licked a hot stripe against your fold before he brought you even closer, sucking at your clit and inserting his tongue as he moaned, sending vibrations through you that had you on edge.

For a few minutes, you continued like this, your sounds music to his ears and lips wrapped around his cock leaving him blissful. He tilted his head, looking at your head bop up and down as he said, “you’re ridiculously good at this, Y/N.”

You smirked, looking over your shoulder. “It’s been some time. That doesn’t mean I forgot how to do it.”

And instead of continuing to suck, you sat up straight, moving to face him again. He released his grip on you as you shifted, bringing your pussy close to his cock. You took him in your hand, guiding him slowly as you saw Namjoon’s lips parting, darkness completely taking over his eyes.

You rubbed him against your folds, almost feeling like you were just torturing yourself; then, finally, you sunk onto him, gasping as you took him in inch by inch. He was stretching you immediately and it felt so familiar, yet so new.

You gave yourself a few seconds to adjust, locking your hands with his as you leaned down to kiss him. And then you started to move, whimpering, throwing your head back. Riding him felt indescribably perfect. His hips started to move too, both of you chasing your highs as you leaned down yet again to kiss him.

He wrapped his arms around you, now fully taking control and starting to thrust into your tight pussy relentlessly, making you moan so loud that your neighboring students must have heard you.

Despite the pace, he was being soft, panting against your ear and holding you tightly, careful not to hurt you too much, but still thrusting with enough force to have you melt into him. “How does it feel?” he asked. “You like the way my cock is filling you up like that?” And these filthy words, along with his actions, were the hottest thing you’d ever experienced, your orgasm approaching fast as he fucked into you, muttering unholy questions and statements into your ear.

And just like that, you snapped, your legs starting to shake, goosebumps forming on your whole skin as you went lump in his grip, him still going on. But suddenly, the atmosphere shifted, the mood becoming weird as you noticed him mumble something you couldn’t decipher.

At first, you thought you were crazy, but as you heard him say a few words, including ligandum or coram, you lifted your body, looking at him in surprise to figure out what the hell he was saying.

And then, the room, no, the whole world seemed to go dark, clouds forming in the sky and everything becoming so cold that you shivered, physically shaking at the sudden change.

Namjoon seemed unaware, still thrusting into you, but you were too distracted, too taken aback to enjoy it anymore. And when you snapped your head to your desk to suddenly find a figure sitting on your chair, you shrieked, your magical impulse shattering the glass of water on your nightstand as you lifted yourself up, falling onto the bed behind Namjoon.

You expected him to at least flinch at the sight of the silhouette, but instead, he smiled, whispering “It worked” as he stood to bow, politely, but… well, naked.

The creature stood, nearing you slowly as the light from outside hit his face, dark black eyes staring back at you. And black eyes meant that the whole of his eyeball was stained in dark ink, making you whimper at the sight of him.

A demon. Namjoon had summoned a damn demon. You didn’t know much about this type of magic, but you hadn’t expected that it only took muttering a few words to make them appear in front of you. What about the salt? Or the paintings on the floor? What about everything that TV shows had shown you?

“I’ve heard you can help me. I need you, so I can become the most powerful wizard of the school and I am ready to sacrifice my soul for it… Sir,” Namjoon started in a stern tone, looking at the demon carefully whose eyes had become normal all of a sudden, his mouth twitching.

You stared back and forth in disbelief, contemplating to run away, but fearing that you wouldn’t come very far.

“You do realize you won’t get it back, right?” spoke the guy – monster? –, just for a second glancing at you, before shifting his focus to Namjoon again. His voice was… soft; way too pleasant to fit his profession.

He looked past your hookup again, his expression dangerous and intense. He was wearing this neat suit and his silver hair was parted on the left side. He ran a hand through it, before he took his coat off, licking his lower lip as he came closer to you.

“I- I just heard demons like you can be summoned during sex as you’re someone who feasts from desire. Other than that, she has nothing to do with this!” stuttered Namjoon and you glared at him wide eyed, not believing what you were hearing as hot anger boiled in you.

“What the fu-“ you started, but you were cut off by the stranger who’d leaned in close, inhaling deeply as he took in your scent.

“Proposition,” he said, presumably to Namjoon, but without turning around, “I take her instead of your soul.”

You shifted in your bed, moving into the corner and curling up in yourself.

“Take her where?” Namjoon asked, now visibly nervous. “She doesn’t-“

“I meant, take her like this. Right now.”

Your stomach turned. All of this was insane. The fact that he suggested that, the fact that a demon had suggested that, and most importantly that your fear had somehow settled enough to make you kind of… want it?

He was a sex demon after all. You knew that. And still, you felt drawn to him when he touched you, his soft finger now tracing the skin of your arms, leaving goosebumps as he went.

Namjoon was biting his lip, standing behind this guy who was teasing you shamelessly, and you saw your date shiver. “What do you say?”

God, what an asshole. He didn’t feel bad about anything of this at all. But somehow, you didn’t care. You hadn’t cum and you were on the edge, his touches not helping in the slightest.

“… Okay,” you answered.

“Okay?” Namjoon questioned, astonished at your willingness.

“I want to try that. As long as you don’t hurt me.”

The demon smirked, cupping your cheek affectionately, not exactly suiting his whole existence. “I wouldn’t hurt you. I feed on desire – I don’t do more or less than that unless you want me to. Like, fulfill wishes to make someone a powerful wizard, in exchange for souls and other stuff.” He winked before he continued, “My name is Jimin, by the way.”

His hands suddenly left you to pull down his black slacks and taking off the rest of his suit, leaving the demon you had just gotten to know a few minutes ago bare in front of your very eyes.

But he didn’t come close again. Instead, he sat down at the edge of the bed, gesturing Namjoon to come back. “Finish it. As I can see, you’re not done.”

“And you?” you asked. Your eyes wandered from his smooth hair over his pretty nose to his full lips. He didn’t seem as dangerous as you’d initially thought, and something in you told you he was able to give you exactly what you wanted.

He nodded in Namjoon’s direction as he answered. “I’ll join when he’s done… or still at it.”

You inhaled and exhaled deeply, nodding before glancing at Namjoon, too. “Finish it, then.”

All restraints gone, you came to the middle of the bed again, one hand grazing Jimin’s underpants as you opened your legs, patting the bed for Namjoon to lay down. You noticed that you were still wet, despite the fear you had felt not long ago. And Namjoon, looking sort of confused, still hard as he walked to you.

And you didn’t waste any time.

As soon as his back hit the mattress, you straddled him again, repeating the actions from before by bringing his cock to your entrance, rubbing against it before you slid down onto it.

He moaned, grabbing your waist tightly, for sure leaving bruises on your soft skin. You’d wanted to wipe off the arrogance of his face since Jimin had entered and now that he was under you, sounds escaping his throat that almost sounded like pleading, you relished in the feeling. Your hips were moving up and down persistently and you knew you would be sore the next day; but frankly, you didn’t give a single fuck about that right now.

You were quite proud of yourself, always having thought you were a sub – it didn’t occur to you that you had a dominant side on you that could actually do this well. Not that you minded being manhandled, though.

And you were reminded of that again when you felt Jimin stand up and come closer. He put two fingers under your chin as he moved your head to look at him. You gasped at the sight of him: he had one hand on his hardened length, precum already clearly visible, looking so mouthwatering good.

You knew what he wanted you to do and you were more than ready to give it to him. Looking him in the eyes that flashed black for a single moment, you opened your mouth, leaning forward as you sucked on only the tip for a small moment. He shuddered, tightening his grip on your face before he said, “What a good girl. Already so willing to suck my cock?”

Instead of answering, you lifted one hand to grab his throbbing sex, your pace above Namjoon faltering as your focus shifted to Jimin. The former helped you out, though, taking over control as he started thrusting up into you, too impatient to wait for your ministrations. Your left hand secured the balance of your body by holding onto Namjoon’s chest, while the other stroke parts of Jimin’s cock that you couldn’t reach.

Not that you could decide on the pace much. Jimin wasn’t as submissive as Namjoon was being right now – his hips were moving on their own, fucking your mouth as you tried not to gag. His hand had made its home in your hair, messing it up completely as tears formed in your eyes.

At some point, you heard Namjoon’s whimpers get louder and when you side-eyed him, you noticed how he was struggling underneath you, his movements becoming sloppy, his face contorting weirdly, yet sexily.

He brought his finger to your clit as he started rubbing it and you let out a loud moan, your mouth clenching around Jimin’s dick that made him gasp sharply, too. It took only three thrusts more until you came, your vision turning black before you felt Namjoon empty himself inside you, your juices mixing, while Jimin continued ramming his cock into your throat.

“Enough,” he eventually said, pulling out as he walked to stand behind you, pushing you down, so your torso and your face were just inches away from Namjoon’s. “On your knees.”

You followed the order, slowly and silently lifting yourself from Namjoon’s softened cock, still having trouble breathing and shifting your weight on your hands as you stretched your ass towards Jimin.

He reacted fast, not wasting a single second in which he enjoyed the sight of you in front of him. Pushing Namjoon’s cum inside of you again, he started fingering you, your sensitive pussy already aching, but giving in to his touches anyway.

His other hand came down on your ass hard and you gasped. He didn’t move it away, though – he left it there, squeezing your cheeks as his finger moved in and out of you at a merciless speed, his smirk clearly indicating that he was determined to draw these beautiful sounds out of you. Not that you could see that anyway. “So wet. So fucking wet. You seem to like the idea of a demon fucking you open, huh?”

You were almost whining, dying for him to finally sink his cock into you to give you what you wanted. “I do! I do, just- please, fuck me…”

“You just got drilled so well. And you’re that impatient? Aren’t you a bad girl, hm?” He chuckled behind you, removing his finger before he suddenly, and without a single warning, inserted himself into you. His cock was rock hard, filling you up so nicely.

You cried out loud, going crazy over the painful fact that he didn’t ease you into the whole process, that he didn’t let you adjust, but instead chose a mind-wrecking pace right from the beginning. You could hear Namjoon moan under you and you noticed that he was stroking his length, apparently hard again as he saw your reactions while being fucked into oblivion.

You leaned down to kiss him, tongues crashing against each other desperately. His hand curled one of your breasts, massaging your hardened nipple while Jimin didn’t slow down in the slightest, your body lighting up, begging for more, more, more.

At some point, you felt Jimin lean down to you, his sweaty torso against your back as his hand reached your neck. He pressed his fingers into it slightly; while Namjoon had somewhat let you have control of him, and had been soft to some extent, Jimin was pitiless, eager to wreck you entirely.

Hand still on your neck, he pulled you up and you were forced to break the kiss with Namjoon. You were on your knees, back against Jimin as Namjoon got up, too, continuing kissing you while his erection pressed against your stomach. You intuitively grabbed his cock, moving your hands as fast as you could while simultaneously concentrating on everything Jimin was doing to you.

You were literally sandwiched between the two, so pressed against them that you felt your release near. This type of worshipping of your body always made you tingly, and while this wasn’t your first threesome, you had surely never felt the urge to be this close to your intercourse partners as you did now.

Panting, moaning loudly, you brought Namjoon’s leaking tip to your bundle of nerves, rubbing it against your clit to welcome your second orgasm that would soon take over you. Despite the cramp that was building in your arm, you continued stroking his cock while enjoying the way Jimin was breathing into your ear hard, nibbling against the shell of it and smiling when he noticed what that did to you.

“Do you like that? Two guys pleasuring you? Do you like the way my cock is destroying you?” he growled, making you feel things you had never felt, things you didn’t want to stop feeling at all.

“Yes, yes, yes, please!” you screamed, hundred percent sure that your neighbors could hear you clearly by now if they hadn’t already.

“Please what, huh?”

“Let me cum, please,” you whimpered, eyes stinging, whether from oversensitivity or pleasure, or both, you didn’t know.

He laughed softly, his velvety voice not suiting his actions at all. “I’m not stopping you, baby, am I?”

And you came, everything in front of you blurring as you rode out your high, not noticing that your hand movements had caused Namjoon to milk all over your stomach and bedsheets.

Jimin kept fucking into you harshly before he came, too, biting into your shoulder hard and causing you to whine as a result. He let go of you, pulling out as you collapsed on your bed next to the sitting Namjoon who was panting almost as hard as you.

Both their fluids were running out of your pussy, messing up your sheets entirely. It was a wonder that your roommate had still not returned, but you were immensely grateful for that at the moment.

You could hear the demon and your hook-up speak softly – probably discussing their whole unholy demon-wizard deal or whatever. You didn’t care. You had gotten something for free and you were content with that fact.

The mix of your exhaustion and your still drunken state caused you to almost doze away before you heard Namjoon call your name. You opened your eyes, looking at the now fully clothed and concerned guy you had been dancing against only a few hours ago.

“Are you alright?” he asked, clearly testing whether you were still conscious or not.

“Yeah, I am,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes as you wrapped yourself in your blanket and stood up.

He smiled at you softly, speaking so crystal clear that you wondered whether the alcohol was still affecting him at all. “That was… quite something. If you ever want to do it again, you know where to find me.”

You started grinning, almost laughing out loud at his words as you tried to somewhat smoothen your hair. Jimin was still standing in the room, leaning against your dresser as he waited. What was he even waiting for exactly?

With a look to Namjoon, you put a hand on his arm to guide him to the door. He looked down at you confused. “What are you doing?”

“Throwing you out. You’re welcome to leave now.”

“Wha-“ he started, but you were quick to interrupt him.

“Listen, that was hot and all, but you practically used me for your deal to become powerful for the greater good or whatever you snobby wizards always want. That’s very asshole-y to me, so there’s no fucking way I’ll want to do anything with you ever again. With that in mind, take care and goodbye.”

You shoved him out the door and closed it in front of his nose before he could say anything else. You smirked, satisfied with yourself as you turned to Jimin – not as intimidated before, but still somehow scared. Especially when he did this weird trick with his eyes, flashing black here and now.

“Yeah?” you asked, demanding an explanation as to why he was still lingering around when his purpose here was obviously done. “You can go now. The deal’s sealed.”

He chuckled, his silver hair still a little damp on his forehead, but flawless nevertheless. “You could say that. I just wanted to look at you a little longer.”

“Uh, you wanted to loo-“

“For a little human girl, you can take fairly much. None of the others take me so well – especially when they know what my meal consists of,” he whispered, leaning in closer to press a soft kiss on your earlobe, “and the desire that I take in from you is intense.”

You shivered and he noticed. He placed his hands on your arms, moving up and down as if to warm you. Which didn’t help. At all. “You keep faltering under my touches. I love that.”

He knew the effect he had on you; he knew he intimidated you while simultaneously putting your hormones on edge.

You sighed as he removed his hands, only to bring his lips to your knuckles, kissing them softly, before he said, “Summon me anytime, sweetheart.”

It took only one blink of an eye and he was gone, along with his gentle touches that you had felt just a second ago.

You were alone again.

480 notes · View notes

captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

To Topple A Giant || Chapter One

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 1 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Trope: ‘Enemies to Lovers’; mainly angst, mutual pining, fluff, and eventual smut

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Word Count: 4000+

A/N: Ooo, let’s hope this does numbers! I love myself some ‘enemies to lovers’ tropes. It’s been a while since I’ve written Steve fanfics. :)

Wakanda, 2018, 4:04 pm.

The flash of bright white light temporarily blinded you, sending you back to the ground and cupping your face in self-defense. But as quickly as the initial crack, it was over. Eerily silent and loud at the same time. The birds whistled their same tune, some higher-pitched than others. The wind seemed to blow louder, rustling the leaves from the trees and landing all around you and your teammates.

“Thor?”

You lifted your head at the sound of Steve’s voice and checked if the coast was clear. All that remained of the evil was a new blood-stained hammer - a hammer that Thor was watching intensely, as if the answer lay hidden there. It was the only remnant left and your mind was already wondering how to use it to bring that evil back to finish a fair fight.

“Where’d he go?”

The birds stopped singing.

“Steve?”

You whipped your head around at the sound of Bucky’s confused voice, watching as one of your best friends dropped his gun and looked up at Steve as his hands began to disappear. In a matter of seconds, Bucky - or what became of him - fell to the dirt below. No one spoke, and you watched as Steve tried to control his breathing as he took a knee to place his shaking hand over his best friend’s ashes. A life and mind brought out of the darkness to finally amend those knots he had twisted, now ceasing to exist. In the distance you could hear Okoye shout in turmoil and Rocket begin begging.

“What’s happening?” you finally choked out, turning just in time to see Wanda lift her head to the sky, defeated and out of will, and succumb to the same fate. “No!”

You ran and fell beside Vision’s now gray and decaying body, reaching over and palming through Wanda’s ashes. You rubbed them between your fingers, inspecting them, and brought your hand to your chest. The pit of your stomach churned as you sat there, immobile and numb.

“Sam!”

So many names were being called but soon everyone who remained fell silent. The trees were still guiding the wind, leaves falling into the ashes of your friends, a sign of a new and unwanted chapter. You felt Steve drop beside you, turning Vision around to see the damage to his body. You winced when you saw the gaping hole in his forehead.

“What is this? What’s happening?”

Natasha ran to where you were seated, hand over her stomach as if she was ready to vomit. And once she took one look at Vision, that’s exactly what she did.

You removed your hands from your chest to look at them, the ashes still there and practically mocking you into finally believing this as reality. “Did we just lose?”

Steve was moments away from a full-blown panic attack. He simply looked up at the trees, watching the way the sunlight still burst through with no disruption. “Oh god.”

You caught Steve as he tipped his upper body toward you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding onto something real. He had to believe you were real. Anyone. And you were the closest person to him. You shut your eyes and held him, running your hands through his hair, wincing when you realized Wanda’s ashes were now on him.

You held him tight, praying to any God you chose to believe in at that moment, that Steve wouldn’t disappear too.

Unknown Location, 2025, 1:07 pm.

The air was incredibly musty, as if each person who struggled for breath in this room at one point or another left a piece of their soul floating in search of last minute penance for their sins. And the man in front of you was no different, choking on the purple blood that dripped down his neck and onto his now unbuttoned, white dress shirt. His chest was rising and falling, his breathing becoming less labored with each blink of the eye. His hands were tied behind his back and to the chair he sat on, a flickering light in the corner of the dark, concrete room somehow mocking this man’s last remaining seconds of life.

“I’m not an evil person,” you started, kicking one of the legs of the chair to startle the poor man. But your guilt was minimal - it’s not like you wanted to do this - but knowing this man did exactly what everyone said he did, hands red and dripping with young blood, you selfishly took pleasure knowing this man would look at you when he died. “It’s just my job as third in command.”

You gave the man a small smile as you bent down to his level, head hanging in shame, slow breaths now pausing in between each intake. You looked to the other party in the room, handing them the gun in your holster, and walked out the room as the sound of two gunshots rang out.

Left twist. Sting. Breathe.

You washed away any smell from that godforsaken room, giving extra attention to the roots of your hair and under your fingertips.

Scrub. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

The crack of your neck frightened even you, and you stood under the burning shower for a few more minutes before deciding the sting was enough. You changed into the most comfortable sweats you owned, surprisingly calm for such a gruesome morning you had, and took your time with your skin care routine.

Circle. Wash. Dry.

Soft music played in the overhead speakers, the classical sounds vibrating from one wall to another and surrounding you with something tranquil - something still. There was nothing to expect from such a sound, only the next repeated chorus, no words or drops - just tranquility. You could barely hear yourself breathe but you were at peace - or mostly - and ready to sooth your growing headache behind the eyeballs with more than just music. You slipped on a pair of comfy, forest green socks and bent them at the ankle to achieve an even fluffier look. You applied your favorite perfume, lotioned up your hands, and donned your tacky friendship bracelet.

One for you. One for Bucky. One for Peter. And one for Wanda.

You hummed the whole way to the common room, waving at the morning staff as they fixed lightbulbs, covered holes in the walls, and swept the floors. One muffin and a cup of coffee later, you were resting with your head in Wanda’s lap as she filled your thoughts with your chosen sceneries.

“I can make you see anything you have already seen, so yes.”

“A miniature golf course, Peter’s high school graduation, a field of all kinds of flowers, and Natasha.”

Wanda stilled her floating hand, smile faltering for a moment before she nodded. “Okay… okay, I can do that.”

They were images well-drawn out, slow and steady to make the atmosphere similar to when you were actually there. They seemed to float across your vision, comfortable in their positions and radiating the same warmth you had felt the first time around. A moving picture. Wanda really had excellent control of this.

“I won!” Sam leapt into the air, pointing at a disgruntled Bucky, who stepped off to the side to not throw Sam over his own head. “I won!”

“How is it possible for you to get a hole-in-one each fucking turn?” Bucky groaned, moping in Wanda’s shoulder as she held him and struggled to keep herself standing from her own intense laughs.

“I think we got a cheater on the loose,” Steve grinned, pointing at the ring Sam was trying to discreetly tuck back into his pocket. A friendly gift from T’Challa, no doubt.

“Nuh-uh, give me the fucking proof, Wilson!” Bucky roared, wrapping his arm around Sam’s neck and tugging him forward. “I will not admit defeat if there was foul play involved!”

Sam escaped the hold, climbing onto the rock located to the side of the flag and a sign that read ‘do not climb on rocks’.

“It just helped me calculate all things geometry, Barnes. We’re good.”

Bucky looked as if he was going to leap on him again, but before he could even finish that thought, Sam slipped on the wet surface and plummeted into the rushing little river.

Laughter erupted and did not cease until you were escorted out of the fairgrounds by four security guards.

A flick of Wanda’s wrist and a new memory began forming, colors blending like an oil painting, dried and covered with a glossy varnish, ready to hang.

“Don’t trip on your way up, kid.”

Peter swatted Steve in the side as the super soldier left the room, leaving Peter alone in front of the full-length mirror. He adjusted his tie and tried to lay that pesky dangling strand of hair over the top of his head.

You got up from the couch and made your way over, wrapping your arms around Peter and resting your chin on his shoulder. “You’ll do great. We’re all so proud.”

“It’s just high school…”

You frowned and turned him to face you. “No, you should already be in your second year of college. This is seven years in the making. We are all so proud.”

Peter could feel the slight burn at the corner of his eyes but he swallowed it down, giving you a small smile and a hug.

“And can you trip? Don’t you stick to all surfaces?”

Peter scoffed and pushed you away, his tiny smile never faltering.

You could feel Wanda shift her legs underneath you, searching for the most comfortable position as she continued her work. You sighed, already feeling the therapeutic effects.

“They’re all so pretty!” you yelled cheerfully, running through the field with your arms extended to the sky. Bucky and Steve followed close behind, leaning down every so often to pluck the flower of their choosing and adding to the bouquet in their hand.

“Which did Tony prefer?” Steve asked, snapping you from your pollen-filled, ecstatic state.

“Aesthetic beauty, Rogers! Natasha was a sucker for anything pink and sunflowers.”

Bucky nodded, seeming to take that information into consideration as he plucked the yellow and pink flowers only. Steve chose the most healthy looking flowers, his hand struggling to hold them together as he reached the two dozen mark.

“I think we’re good. These are good.”

You smiled at both super soldiers and admired their bouquets, leaning over to sniff their masterpieces. “Awesome.”

Wanda sighed as she neared your last vision, debating on showing you your chosen moment instead of another one. This moment always hurt Wanda as she wasn’t there to witness it, but it was special to you. There were so many others to choose from, but you insisted this was the one you always wanted to see. And Wanda was always hesitant at first - but when she lifted her hand slowly and dropped the memory back into the front of your brain, she couldn’t help but smile.

“Are we ready?”

Everyone was practically bouncing on their heels, both excited and terrified. Time travel was new to humanity and you were to be one of the first to experience such a thrill. You were going to get everyone back.

You squeezed Natasha’s hand once more before you walked back over to Thor and Rocket. You all nodded to each other, saying ‘goodbye’ and ‘good luck’ with your childlike expressions.

“See you in a minute,” Natasha grinned, her cheeks reddening with a friendly blush as she looked over at Steve. Her hair was pulled back into a braid, a braid you had helped her make, and she was carrying an extra pair of socks in case of a long hike.

Then a blast of color surrounded your body and the smell of peaches as you landed on Asgard filled your overstimulated senses.

You opened your eyes and smiled up at Wanda. You didn’t want to see old memories with your friend, but the most recent. It was like you were grasping onto that last memory of her, not wanting to change anything about her last smile, her last laugh, her last shred of existence. It was oddly calming, and so you hoped Wanda would understand.

You thanked her again and proceeded to the kitchen. It was bigger than the one before, the soft forest green color of the walls a nice contrast from the blue ones before. You laughed to yourself and your conscience as you silently thanked the explosion that obliterated the horrid blue walls, quickly backtracking at your dumb thoughts. Still, you chose to joke about everything that happened before to avoid falling deeper into yourself. The kettle started howling, smoke circling around the tip. You poured your tea, dropped two cubes of sugar in, and added a little milk.

It was quite bizarre how quickly you could bounce back from the morning you had. A very bloody, order-filled morning. When one order was given, you had to come up with a plan on how to not disregard the other. You had to listen to Fury and your father, gaining a few feet on each side without toppling the other. Still, it took a physical toll on you. But with Wanda’s help in easing your mind and the very sweet tea you nursed, your emotional baggage was pretty minimal. It sometimes scared you how easy it all was.

Your morning carried on quietly as you sat on the concrete curb, happily sipping your tea in your sweatpants. You could hear Sam and Scott arguing about something a few feet away from you and Bucky taking his afternoon jog around the track. Quite distracted, the sudden ‘thwip’ and superhero landing of a certain teenager scared you enough to spill a little of your tea.

“Goddamn, dude!” you whined, looking up at Peter as he tried to control his laughter.

“I’m sorry, I thought you saw me!”

“Excuse me for being distracted by the hot super soldier just over there,” you joked, pointing over at Bucky.

Peter rolled his eyes and sat next to you, immediately reaching over to take the tea from you and take a sip himself. You let him, as you had no other choice, rolling your eyes anyway.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had classes today?”

Peter handed back your cup, “Nah, I’ve only got classes every Tuesday and Thursday.”

“Ugh, that sounds great. I remember I scheduled my classes for every day of the week just to have more units,” you sighed, taking another sip of tea.

“Stupid.”

You pushed Peter’s shoulder playfully, both your laughter catching the attention of Sam and Scott. But as quickly as you had distracted them, they ignored you and went back to bickering.

“I’m just here to see my friends, sue me!”

“Nope, you’re always welcome,” you smiled, holding out your wrist and bumping your bracelet with his. “How was your week otherwise?”

“Eh, nothing major. Just trying to navigate the world now that they know who's behind the mask.”

You gave Peter a look of sympathy, still mad at the sudden manipulation of the kid after such traumatic events. You had promised him you would protect him by any means possible, as did the rest of the team, but he seemed to be navigating the situation just fine. Staying away from reporters, scheduling his classes during the most isolated gaps of the day, and signing dozens of forms that promised to protect him, give him royalties, etc. After you had brought everyone back, it seemed the least the new management/orders could provide for you all.

“We all have our days,” you muttered, handing your tea back to Peter. You two sat there for a while longer, enjoying the slight breeze and taste of sugar.

An agent rounded the corner and spotted you, jogging up and handing you a yellow folder that was sealed in plastic. “For you, from Fury, from whoever before that.”

“Um, thank you?” you said as the agent walked away. You inspected the folder, turning it over in your hands and playing with the thin plastic.

You lifted it up to Peter’s face, “Here, smell it and tell me if there’s poison.”

Peter scoffed, “I can’t do that!”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

Peter muttered to himself as he took the folder from you, sniffing it awkwardly. “Smells like paper, dude.”

“Cool, thanks.”

You ripped the plastic off and unhooked the folder, dropping the single item onto your lap. Peter just sipped your tea and watched you open it.

It was another envelope, but this one was white with custom-printed indents that swirled across the front and a big, red blob of wax smushed- with your initials- sealing it. You ripped it open and pulled the invitation from inside. You must have read it a thousand times, eyes rapidly scanning the small page with secret meanings.

“You got invited to a wedding?” Peter asked, taking it from you and reading it himself.

“Yeah, but this is so much more than that,” you said, snatching it back and standing up from the curb. You quickly went back into the compound, searching for the one person who needed to read it also.

You seemed to find everyone before you found the super soldier who wasn’t out for a jog, a line of somewhat concerned superheroes following behind you from room to room. Eager minds and yet, inflexible rib cages full of anxiety and worry, all ready (and quite not) to tackle the new evils of this new world. And whether they followed you blindly or with functioning minds, they were prepared.

With the rest of the team behind you, you burst through the second floor with the invitation held over your head. Steve stopped mid-bite, milk dripping from his bottom lip as he stared at everyone in confusion. “Um…”

“It’s time-” you started, pulling the stool from next to him and sitting down.

“Time for what?” Steve interrupted, his mouth still full of cereal.

“Time for this,” you motioned to the envelope you were handing him. “-to finally end.”

Steve read the invitation word for word, the wrinkles in his forehead becoming deeper as his mind worked. You couldn’t quite discern the feeling in the pit of your stomach, twisting and spinning into a tight coil, seeming to spread to the others as it grew in pressure within you.

“All three?”

“All three,” you confirmed.

Peter pushed through Bruce and Rhodey, “What’s happening? What’s gonna end?”

You looked over at Steve, his bowl of cereal now forgotten and soggy.

His eyes were distant and rather cold, hands extended on his knees as if he was drying the accumulating sweat, shoulders building tension.

“Steve, we can finally end this. We have to tell everyone. It won’t be enough if it’s just you and me.”

He wanted to explode, in both anger and anguish, to stumble over his intact persona and leave it behind - someone he hasn’t known for a long time. It ate away at him each day since Fury notified him of your selfish choice, burrowing into his now tarnished soul in the most sadistic way. But the prospect of finishing this chapter - a chapter that was unexpectedly halted when half the world disappeared - was considerably euphoric. A chance to move on.

“Okay.”

Rhodey already had knowledge of your background, recruitment, and family but Steve’s initial involvement - the start of it - was still a mystery. You sat everyone down in the living room, making room for the others who arrived later, and clapped your hands together. “Story time!”

Steve groaned, face already pressed against a throw pillow. “Just tell them.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“You know whose spawn I’m from,” you began, snickers from your amused friends encouraging you. “To better transport their product, they sent me over to the states to attend college like the good little girl they think I am.”

Sam cracked open a beer and lifted his legs up onto the couch, sitting back with a massive smile on his face as he got comfortable for your story. He handed another beer to Scott.

“Wait, product?” Scott asked, taking a sip from his drink.

You smirked at him and tapped your nose twice, amused by his ‘O’ reaction. “Anyway, by then I already knew that I wanted out of the game. I didn’t like that life, I didn’t like the violence, I didn’t like my family.”

Steve knew that was an understatement, a cruel and restrained statement from your part, and he wanted to tell everyone just how justified you were in your words, how real you were being, and how much help you would certainly need for this. But like always, he remained silent.

“But Fury got to me before I could leave. So, we made a deal. I would train as a field agent and he would promote me every other year to lessen suspicion on this whole ordeal. The deal being I would play both teams.”

By now, your whole team was intrigued.

“I would do what I could for my father and still have my family’s trust, while feeding the information to SHIELD and our lovely star-spangled man over here,” you pointed over at Steve. He gave you a tiny but forced smile.

“But after the collapse of SHIELD, my father only became more violent, more hard-headed, more suspicious. He- uh-” you stuttered, flashbacks suddenly filling your head. Wanda watched your eyes dart rapidly, sensing the rush of blood to your legs and tips of your fingers.

“He was power hungry,” Wanda said, immediately feeling your heart rate lower. Although you never actually said it, she could tell you were grateful for her intrusion.

“Yeah, exactly,” you cleared your throat. “But Steve’s involvement all started when Fury asked me who would be the best front - the most reliable front.”

“So, with only Fury and the bad guys knowing - Y/N named me as her partner in crime,” Steve explained, head hanging low as if it was such a disgrace to do what you openly did. You knew his troubles with coming to terms with such an offensive role were multiplying daily, but you were now this close to stopping every bad force involved.

“So, Captain America is the ultimate drug smuggler,” Scott spoke, somehow trying to comprehend the information all at once. You and Steve both nodded in confirmation and avoided the wide and questioning eyes looking back at you.

“Yeah, he’s essentially the top boss.”

“Y/N-,” Steve interjected, but you beat him to it.

“And here we are! Him and I both invited to the wedding.”

Wanda stretched out her words, “The wedding?”

“Yes, the wedding - where three of the most famous and powerful drug lords south of the border will be attending and ready for our taking - including my father.”

Steve stood from his seat, posture straightening as he spoke to the group. “The invitation reads like a threat. No cameras, no plus-ones besides those listed specifically on the card, no speaking to reporters before or after. The trust Y/N has gained would unknowingly make us the contraband of the party.”

After going through more specifics about the whole situation, Bucky finally raised the question eating away at his mind this whole time. “Whose wedding is it, anyway?”

You grinned that stupid little grin Steve always prepared himself for. It was the grin you would display whenever you were going to make a serious matter a joke, or brush something serious off your shoulder as if it didn’t bother you. The sarcastic grin he always wanted to wipe off your face as you defied orders.

“My lovely little sister’s.”

Rhodey stepped forward to take the invitation for personal inspection, “When is it?”

“A week from tomorrow,” you beamed. “Which means I got to get shopping for a wonderful little, red number!”

“Please, be more excited about this,” Steve groaned, sarcasm dripping off each syllable.

You flicked your right hand up and in position to flash your charming little middle finger at him, a river of fluffed ego and delight flowing to your cheeks as he huffed and left the room in a stumbled march.

“So…” Scott’s voice ripped through the awkward silence. “We’ve been secret drug smugglers this whole time?”

Please let me know what you think! I listened “The Archer” by Taylor Swift and I was like... yes, I see this, lmao. Tell me if you would like to be tagged in later updates! xxMoni

218 notes · View notes

secretobsessionstuff · 3 years

Text

Blair's Night Out

Sober, they took an uber to the bar. The plan was to not be so sober on the ride home. Mateo and Shawn successfully went through with this plan. It was a different story for Blair and Dakota.

Sober and sick, Blair rode back with her head in Dakota’s lap, completely aware of every sensation unfortunately. She would have much preferred the blissful buzz from a few drinks, but she never got around to taking the first sip. Her churning stomach dragged her to the bathroom the moment the four of them arrived at the bar.

Dakota and Blair thought it would be fun to tag along with Mateo and Shawn whiled they checked out the newest bar in downtown Toronto. Dakota certainly thought it would help him feel more alive after one exhausting week of work. Blair too thought it would be a good idea to have a night out. She was wrong; it was not a good idea.

As soon as they sat down at their table, Blair excused herself with a hand on her middle. She felt bloated and sweaty in her dress, and so not in the mood for a fun night out. She had hoped that her stomach-ache from that day would go away in time. It didn’t. The nausea was still lurking around when the sun went down. Nonetheless, she joined her boyfriend and their friends because she told herself she could ignore it.

The plan to ignore the nausea went out the window when the loud music and the smell of booze hit her senses. She gave Dakota’s leg a squeeze under the table before going to the bathroom.

“Hey, wait.” Dakota grabbed her wrist before she could leave. For a moment Blair thought that he was about to make them leave. She thought for sure that he saw the way she wrapped her arms around her torso or the fact that she hadn’t said anything in a while. But then a foolishly large smile spread across his face. “You look really pretty, tonight.”

Not for long, Blair thought as the contents of her stomach sloshed around inside. She pressed her lips into a thin line. “Thanks.” Oh, Dakota was the sweetest, but sometimes he could be really oblivious. She thought about telling him, but she wanted to give her stomach one more chance to calm down.

She didn’t feel pretty as she stumbled her way to the bathroom. People must have thought she was already drunk. Ugh, the idea of drinking anything stronger than water made her want to retch.

As expected, the girls in the bathroom were unbelievably nice. They complimented Blair’s hair and dress, obviously not seeing the grey tincture to her skin or the sweat on her brow.

Blair stood in the stall instead of dropping to her knees like she wanted to. Maybe if she calmed down and didn’t give in to the feeling, then she could rejoin her friends in the bar. She took several deep breaths, amazed at how fast she felt worse. Minutes ago, she was only a little shaky, and now she was struggling to hold down her dinner.

Eventually she gave up this futile fight. She took off her shoes, knelt on the ground and allowed the saliva accumulating in her mouth to drip into the toilet bowl. An awful tasting burp escaped past her lips before she could swallow it. It made her gag. She moaned miserably, knowing what was about to happen.

Why did she have to get sick tonight? This was their opportunity to be fun again. She and Dakota had gotten so comfortable with each other that they never bothered with clubs and bars anymore. They were becoming an old married couple at the speed of light, and they weren’t even married yet. Compared to Mateo and Shawn, they were boring.

There was no more time to mope about this fact because the food in Blair’s stomach rushed up her throat. She held the disgusting toilet while the force of her heaves pushed her forward. In a stream of pale brown, the sick splattered in the bowl for all to hear. She kept going because she had no other choice.

A knock at the stall door startled Blair enough to give her a break. “Sweetie, are you alright in there?” It sounded like the girl who complimented her hair when she first came into the bathroom. Blair could only see her shoes under the door. They were nice shoes. “You must be a lightweight because it’s only 9’oclock.”

Blair groaned and spat into the toilet. “I’m a little sick.”

“I can hear that,” the girl said from the other side of the door. “The whole bathroom can hear that. Do you need me to get someone for you?”

Blair thought for a moment, trying not to look at the vomit in the toilet. Screw this, she wanted to go home to be boring and sick. “Yes, please.”

…

Dakota was almost excited at the prospect of being hit on. The woman walked right up to him. He thought he was going to have to turn her away. The ‘I have a girlfriend’ line was ready on his lips. This was why they came out in the first place: to feel like they were back in college. Dakota was probably a little too eager to break some hearts.

He did not expect the woman to start by saying: “Are you Dakota?”

Usually, the pretty girls at the bar didn’t know his name before talking to him. Usually, the pretty girls looked less worried than this one did. She wasn’t smiling or touching his arm. The unexpected turn of events made Dakota short-circuit. Somehow, he managed to stutter out, “Uh yeah?”

“Your girlfriend is puking her brains out. She should probably slow down.”

“Wait…What?” Did he hear that correctly? This woman must have been mistaken. Some other girl in this bar must have a boyfriend named Dakota. Still, he had to make sure because his girlfriend had been gone for a long time. “Are you talking about Blair?”

“I don’t know. Platinum blonde, blue dress…”

“Yes, yes, that’s her. She’s sick? But we just got here.”

“Then that was some pre-game because she’s asking for you. Are you coming or not?”

Of course, he was coming. He followed the woman as if it were a police escort. There was minimal protest from the other girls in the bathroom. Dakota would have gone in even if there were because he could hear how horrible Blair was feeling before stepping into the stall.

Before kneeling next to Blair, Dakota thanked the woman who helped them. When she and most of the other girls left, Dakota directed his attention to his poor girlfriend who was retching on the floor.

“Oh, Bee.” He put his hand on her back. “What happened?” She obviously wasn’t drunk.

“I don’t know,” she said after spitting a string of saliva into the toilet. “I thought it was just a stomach-ache, but I think I’m sick…Sorry.”

“No, that’s okay. Don’t be sorry.” Dakota rubbed big circles on her back. “You must have caught a stomach bug.”

There was nothing else to be said after that which was good because Blair felt her stomach rising in her throat once again. This next wave of vomiting was slightly better than the last now that she wasn’t alone. Dakota’s hand was cold on her bare back where the dress didn’t cover, but that didn’t matter. It was better than suffering alone and embarrassed. She burped up a mouthful of sick, watching it splatter into the water below. With each spasm, she moaned in pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby,” Dakota said softly as he kept up the gentle rubbing. His go-to move of holding her hair back was not an option because someone had already given her a hair-tie to make a ponytail. The only thing left to do was hold her until she felt well enough leave. “I’ll get us an uber home,” he said, remembering how they got here in the first place. It certainly didn’t sound fun to be sick in a stranger’s car, but he had to get her home soon.

…

So, Blair rode back home with her head in Dakota’s lap. They sat in the backseat, hoping that the driver wouldn’t notice that Blair took off her seatbelt to lie down. Sitting up and watching the city lights go by in a blur wouldn’t help her situation at all. Besides, she liked the way Dakota played with her hair. It almost lulled her to sleep. 'Almost' was the key word because she never did fall asleep. Her sour stomach kept her awake.

Dakota could hear her belly gurgling. With his hand that wasn’t playing with her hair, he gently rubbed her middle. Oh, her stomach sounded so upset. He wished he could make it go away. She curled up tighter, bringing her legs closer to her chest. Her constant moans of pain were breaking Dakota’s heart.

“How are you doing, baby?” Dakota asked, knowing that the answer would be worse. He could feel the turmoil going on inside her belly.

In reality, Dakota didn’t get the exact answer that he was expecting. Instead of mumbling something about the pain, Blair simply groaned into his lap. He felt her body tremble. “Oh, Bee. What can I do? Do you want the window open?” The cold breeze would make Dakota freeze in the car, but it felt like Blair would benefit from being cooler. Her skin was already hot and clammy.

Blair squirmed out of discomfort. She didn’t want the window open. She needed to not be trapped in a car. “Make it stop,” she mumbled, too afraid to open her mouth very wide or lift her head out of Dakota lap.

“You know I would if I could.” Dakota traced his fingers along her bare legs. Only soft touches. “It’ll be better at home. You can change into pajamas, and I can get a pillow to put—”

A spasm went through Blair’s body just before she pushed herself up from Dakota’s lap. Another tremor rolled through her shoulders as she gagged into her hand. In between gags she managed to say, “No, make him stop.” And pointed to the driver.

That was when Blair lost the fight with her stomach. The vomit came pouring out between her fingers and dripped onto her boyfriend’s legs. She couldn’t move away fast enough. Even when she did lean over the seat, she was still vomiting all over someone else’s car.

“Oh God,” Dakota said, feeling trapped with no way to help. Trapped…and now damp. He awkwardly held her body while she heaved over the seats. “Pull over!” he called to the driver.

The car swerved as the driver was startled by the noise. “What the hell? You said you weren’t drunk.”

Dakota wanted to growl at this man. “She’s sick, asshole. Stop the car.”

When the car came to a stop by the curb, Dakota helped his girlfriend out. With a hand still over her mouth, she stumbled to the pavement and heaved up what was left in her stomach.

“I’ve got you,” Dakota said, literally holding her at the waist. He ignored the car as it drove away. They would get a better ride because Blair was in no shape to walk the rest of the way.

“Oh fuck,” Blair said while wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist. There was a pathetic splatter of puke on the sidewalk but a more impressive splatter on Dakota’s pants. “I tried to hold it. I really did. God, look at you, I’m sorry.”

Dakota did look down at the mess on his pants. It was only very gross, but he wouldn’t tell Blair that. She no doubt already knew. She was feeling gross herself. “Yeah, you got me pretty good, didn’t you?” He held her against his body as she started shivering in the night air. “We might have a hard time finding a ride now.” He forced a laugh to lighten the mood. “We look like two alcoholics wandering the streets.”

“Ugh, this is all my fault. I just want to go home.” Blair said as Dakota hugged her tighter against his side.

“We’ll have to become hobos or hitch-hikers.”

“I’m serious. I feel really bad.”

“I’m serious too,” Dakota said with a grin. “We’ll have to sleep under a bridge, and I’ll nurse you back to health with nothing but rainwater.”

Blair weakly hit his arm. “Okay you made your point. Call us a ride before the nausea comes back.”

“Fine.” Dakota kissed her on the head. “I’m sorry you feel so crummy.”

She waved her hand. “At least we’ll be the best dressed hobos in the neighbourhood.”

#emeto #emetophilia #emeto fic #caretaking #sickfic #stomach flu #fever #emetophile #vomit kink #belly kink #my ocs #Dakota #Blair #vomiting #puking #stomach bug #emeto fiction

82 notes · View notes

chibsytelford · 3 years

Text

Requested by anon - Hear me out. What about a fic where the reader is related to one of the sons (maybe chibs or tig?) And they broke up with her long-term boyfriend and had to move into a clubhouse dorm but since hapoy recently patched over , they spend alot of time together and things happen between them(if you get what i mean😏) and eventually she sleeps in his dorm almost evey night but they keep is secret from the others because they dont know how to approach the situation then one day one of the sons burst into his dorm and are like "hap something happend we need you to- OH COME ON REALLY?". Then they have to explain to the sons shes related to how long its been going on? You can choose how it ends.

A/N - I tweaked the story a little bit, I felt like I would have to write 10k words just to include everything. I hope you still like it nonetheless!

If you want added / removed from my taglist let me know 😊

The thought of having to explain again that you and your ex had broken up had your stomach churning. This was the only one of your boyfriends that Chibs had liked, and you thought it'd be the relationship that you'd have for the rest of your life. Oh how naive you were. 3 years you wasted, thinking that he loved you, that he wanted you, but it turned out that he was doing a pretty good job of faking it all.

As you pulled up to Teller Morrow you gave yourself a quick once over in the rear view mirror. You ran out of tears 4 weeks ago, but you hadn't slept much since the break up 2 months ago, and your eyes were proving that. Your boss was also your best friend, so when you told her you needed time off, she told you to take as long as you needed, and she even suggested you come to Charming for some 'healing' is what she called it. She told you that visiting Chibs - who you called 'Uncle Chibsy' ever since he rescued you and your car 6 or so years ago - would be good for you, and that night you had headed off to Charming and here you were.

Grabbing your suitcase, you locked your car and headed for the doors of the clubhouse. Before you could even reach them you were stopped by a Scottish accent you were oh so familiar with. "Y/N?" Chibs shouted from across the yard. "Is that you?" You turned around and he smiled, holding his arms out for you. You dropped the suitcase -not caring if anything in it broke- and sprinted towards him, jumping into his arms and nearly making him fall backwards.

"Surprise!" You smiled back kissing his cheek as he spun you around. "I've missed you Uncle" you admitted as he finally put you down again, lazily draping an arm around your shoulder.

"What's brought ye here?" He asked, picking your case up for you and holding the door open, as he always did. Chibs led you to a table, grabbed you a beer and plopped himself down beside you.

You had no intention of hiding the breakup from him, you just didn't want to keep talking about it. You had told most people back home over the course of the last few weeks and having to repeat it just made you tired. But you knew better than to keep anything from Chibs. "Dale and I broke up" you shrugged, picking at the label on the bottle. "It is what it is"

Chibs looked at you, raising his eyebrow and giving you the look. The look that had your walls crumbling, leaving your insecurities on show for him. He was always good at that, knowing when you were hiding something, knowing when you wanted to say something but couldn't. "He told me he didn't love me, that he never did, and never will" you sighed wiping some stray tears away. "3 years" you laughed bitterly, "I'm an idiot".

"Hey love, you're not an idiot" Chibs said, pulling you so you were now flush against his side. He placed his arm on your shoulder, using his thumb to draw circles on it - a gesture he knew calmed you down. "He's the idiot, and he will be a headless idiot when we are done with him" he said causing you to laugh out loud. The sound made Chibs smile.

Just then some of the other men came bouncing through the door. You recognized them all from when you had visited Chibs over the years. Juice came through first, followed by Tig and Jax, and then your eyes landed on Happy's. "Hey guys" you said greeting them with a small smile and wave. The men nodded at you and smiled back, but they were too busy grabbing beers and lighting cigarettes to come and speak to you, except Happy who was hovering halfway between you and Chibs and the bar. You pointed to the empty seat at the other side of the table and Happy silently padded over, accepting your invitation. You pushed your beer over to him, inviting him to take a drink, which he did so, before wiping the rim and giving it back to you with a small smile.

"How you been?" Happy asked, genuinely curious. "How's Dale?" The name fell from his lips like venom from a snake.

"She was just telling me about that asshole" Chibs piped up. "The twat broke up with her" you could have sworn you saw a slight smile grace Happy's face, but you couldn't be sure. "I was just telling Y/N about how we were going to find him and cho-"

"Chop his balls off?" Happy finished, glancing at you briefly before looking at the Scotsman.

"I was gonna say head, but balls work too brother" Chibs answered giving Happy a high five, making you laugh and shake your head at the action.

Dale was soon forgotten as Chibs, Happy and you spent the night laughing, drinking and telling each other stories, which ended up being more embarrassing for you than the other two.

"I'm going to bed now I think guys" You announced. You had no idea what time it was but a quick glance at your phone told you it was 230am. Time goes fast when you're having fun, and that saying was true for tonight. It was the most fun you had in ages. Chibs stood up to let you out and you bent down to give him a kiss on the cheek, doing the same to Happy too. He already had his cheek waiting for you, you noticed.

Grabbing your case you headed for Chibs' dorm. The room you always crashed in when you came to visit. Chibs didn't mind sleeping on one of the benches in the clubhouse, or sometimes he even crashed in Tig or Juice's room. You quickly changed the sheets, brushed your teeth and then put one of Chibs t-shirts on. You slipped under the covers and sleep welcomed you quickly, which was the first time in 2 months that had happened.

You had now been in Charming for 2 weeks, and every day was a different day. You started helping out Gemma a bit in the office and you helped to tend the bar. It was the least you could do since they were letting you stay there. You and Happy had developed a strong bond over the last few weeks. After your first night, every night after that was spent with Happy. You guys played pool, drank beer, listened to music and one night Happy even had a go on the karaoke after you begging him constantly. You found yourself intrigued by the man nicknamed The Tacoma Killer by his brothers.

You hadn't thought or spoken about Dale since the first night you got here. Your thoughts were slowly being taken over by Happy, and you were surprised by how quickly feelings had developed for him. You didn't expect to have feelings for someone so quickly after your last relationship, but you welcomed the feeling. And you knew that Happy felt something for you too. You noticed how he always went out of his way to bump into you, he always asked how you were, he made sure you had everything you needed and he also made you a cup of tea every morning and left it outside Chibs' door. In the 3 years you were with Dale, not once did he make you a cup of tea.

"Need anything love?" Chibs asked you as you dried the glasses and placed them on the rack behind the bar. You looked up and noticed he had a crow eater on his arm, and you knew his intentions.

You shook your head. "No, I'm fine thanks" you smiled. "Take your room tonight, give me 2 minutes and I'll change the sheets". Before Chibs could protest you had already left and changed the sheets, returning in a few minutes with your bag.

"Where will you sleep?" He asked.

"She'll sleep in my room" Happy said, suddenly appearing behind you, making you jump. "I'll sleep on the floor" he added before Chibs could shut the idea down.

Chibs looked at you and you nodded shyly, agreeing to the proposition. "Night love" he said leading his companion for the night to his dorm.

"Thanks Hap" you turned around and noticed how close Happy was to you. "You didn't have to do that" you smiled.

"Well I did" he said matter of factly. "You ready for bed now?" You nodded, placing the tea towel on the bar and wiping your sweaty hands on your jeans.

"Lead the way" you murmured, getting slightly nervous. You followed Happy and he showed you where everything was. He pulled out a t-shirt and handed it to you, pointing to his bathroom so you could get changed. The t-shirt covered your thighs and ended at your shins, so you decided not to wear any trousers underneath. As you excited the bathroom, Happy was just finishing up making the bed. He pointed for you, telling you to get in and you did what you were told.

He was mesmerising. A man who hardly said anything, yet the way he moved had you in awe. He took his kutte off and placed it over the end of the bed, leaving him in his vest and jeans. He took the jeans off too, not caring that you were clearly staring at him.

Happy grabbed a sleeping bag out of the wardrobe and went to make his bed on the floor but you stopped him.

"This is silly" you admitted "the bed is big enough for both of us, don't you think?" You had no idea where the sudden confidence came from, and you even caught Happy off guard with it too.

He blinked a few times, looking at you like you had suddenly grown three heads. "Yeah?" was all he could muster, and you nodded encouragingly, patting the space beside you for good measure.

Happy's movements were slow. He maintained eye contact with you, looking for a trace if regret or hesitation but you didn't give him any. Instead, you curled up under the covers and waited for his warmth. A few seconds later he joined you in bed, switching the lamp off and you were both engulfed in darkness. Neither of you said anything, scared of breaking the silence.

"Goodnight Y/N" Happy whispered eventually.

"Goodnight Hap" you replied contentedly.

You were woken by some banging on the door that didn't seem to stop, even after you put a pillow over your head.

"Happy? Happy? HAAAAAAAPY!" you recognized the voice as Chibs and he sounded like he was in a hurry or needed something urgently.

You turned around and saw Happy was dead to the world. He looked peaceful but you knew if you didn't wake him up that Chibs was about to burst the door down. You poked him once on the chest but he didn't move. You poked him on the chest again, a bit harder this time but again it was no use. You then turned your poking into nudging and soon you had managed to wake him up. "If you don't let Chibs in he is about to break your door down" you laughed pointing to the door.

Happy huffed and clambered out of the bed. He unlocked the door and yanked it open, coming face to face with Chibs.

"Finally!" He threw his hands up in the air exasperatedly. "What took ye so long?"

Happy shrugged. "Y/N had to wake me up".

"Ye don't look like a man who slept on a hard floor all night" Chibs pointed out.

"That's because he didn't" you said. Chibs poked his head around the corner and raised his eyebrows. "What?" You innocently shrugged "the bed is big enough for 2 of us".

Chibs held his hands up, not saying anything else. "We can continue this discussion later" he said aiming that comment at you. "Jax needs us" he said to Happy.

Happy nodded and shut the door, grabbing some clothes from his drawers and putting them on quickly. "Sorry" he mumbled "duty calls".

"Don't worry about it. I'll be waiting for you to get back" this time Happy kissed your cheek and you welcomed the feeling of his lips against your skin.

"I'll look forward to it" he smiled, and walked out, but not before giving you one last smile.

@rebelwrites @everyhowlmarksthedead @mayans-sauce @yourwonkywriter @pancakeisreading @mrsmarvelous1995 @encounterthepast @starrynite7114 @trulysuccubus @shelliechen @frightfulnite @scuzmunkie @blessedboo @jadesamhart @fangirlingaesthetics @i-love-scott-mccall @deeandbobbymcgee @gemini0410 @thisishowdynastiesareborn @meteora-fc @withmyteeth @est1887 @justjuiceyboy @destynelseclipsa @rocketqueen @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @queenbeered @lauraashley93 @talicat713 @jasminee97 @multiyfandomgirl40 @sadeyesgf @anangelwhodidntfall

#happy lowman x reader #sons of anarchy #happy lowman fanfic #happy lowman

241 notes · View notes

solarwonux · 4 years

Text

24H || Seuncheol

mechanic!seungcheol x reader

soulmate!au

w.c: 6.5k

warnings: talks of death, angst, self doubt

note: hello everyone I am not completely back yet, I am still on hiatus. I have been writing this one shot since the release of 24H. I have rewritten it many many many times and have a abandoned it many times as well. Anyway, this is the finished product and I hope you guys like it as much as I do. Thank you for reading and please let me know your thoughts. And thank you @sunlightwoo for literally witnessing it all lol.

Also maybe one day I’ll post the original draft of this one if anyone is interested.

P.S. this is a part of a soulmate universe in which all the members are going to have a story, but that’s gonna take a little while lol, but I hope you all stick around until them

masterlist

Hour 1 - 17:00

Seungcheol threw the wrench on the pile of tools next to him before rolling himself out from underneath the car he was working on. “I don’t see the point in it, Shua.” He sat up, grabbing the towel he had next to him, and tried his best to wipe the black smudges of his fingers. “I’m already a disappointment to my parents, why not add one more to their list?” He shrugged, eyeing his best friend who had decided to come and visit him at the car shop he worked at.

“I think Shua has a point; you can’t brush this off. You don’t want to end up forgotten in a ditch somewhere.” Jeonghan said, pointedly resting his forearms on top of the hood of the car he had been working on.

“I’m not going to end up in a ditch and forgotten. The higher-ups--” Seungcheol stuck a pointer finger out and pointed at the cement ceiling, “are just going to set me up with someone.” He stood up and brushed off his whitewashed jeans, the only ones he seemed to wear as they had various oil stains etched into the creases of the fabric. In actuality, he had many of the same pair, and each of them had their own unique patterns of different oil stains.

“But wouldn’t it be better if you married your soulmate, your other half, your partner in crime, the person the Stars destined you to be with,” Joshua spoke in rushed sentences as he ran a frustrated hand through his jet black hair. His wedding ring shining in the light of the sun, glowing in all its glory. A reminder that he had chosen the path that he and Jeonghan were trying to get Seungcheol to take.

Sometimes curiosity would seep in s when he saw how happy his best friends were with their soulmates, or when the ticking of the clock scarred into the skin of his wrist, and got too loud to ignore. Seungcheol knew he didn’t belong on that path. He was never one to follow the crowd, and the proof was in his parent’s disappointment when he decided to study music instead of medicine.

“Nope.” He stood up and closed the hood of the car. He could feel their glares burning holes into his scalp as he strode over and opened the driver’s door. “I’m a firm believer that soulmates are made not found.” Seungcheol grinned before getting behind the wheel and inserting the keys into the ignition. He had spent all morning working on a minor problem in the engine; he was hoping that after many failed attempts, he would finally be able to get the car to start again.

With a deep sigh, he turned the key listening as the engine sputtered a few times. The hope and confidence he had gained diminishing with each hiccup until, finally, the car roared back to life. A sigh of relief leaving his chapped lips along with a light laugh. He rested his forearms against the old battered steering wheel, peering through the windshield, catching Joshua’s nod of disapproval. He turned on his heels and walked out of the large garage door of the shop.

Seungcheol knew his friend’s meant well, and he knew they didn’t want him to end up unhappy with someone that wasn’t his other half. But how was he supposed to be sure that happiness was a given? When at the end of the day, everyone’s given soulmate was chosen at birth by a group of old white dudes calling themselves Stars.

Hour 2 - 18:00

“What are you going to do then?” Jeonghan closed the hood of the car and dusted his hands. His blonde hair grasped the light of the afternoon sun. Seungcheol placed down the paper bag that contained his and Jeonghan’s lunch on top of the aluminum table they kept in the far corner of the shop. “I don’t know...eat lunch.” He stated, shrugging and started taking the contents out of the paper bag. “Shua leave?”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the hood of the car. He strode over to where Seungcheol was and took the burrito he had held out to him. “Said he doesn’t want to stay and watch you ruin his life.”

“I’m not ruining my life,” Seungcheol sighed, shaking his head and sat on top of the table, unwrapping his burrito. “I’m choosing the road not taken.” He finished before taking a decent bite out of his burrito.

“That’s ruining your life in my book.” Jeonghan gave him a pointed look and unwrapped the foil of his burrito, cursing when he noticed some its contents start to fall out of its confinement. “Aren’t you at least a little bit curious about how they look?” He dug inside the paper bag and took out a napkin to clean off the salsa stain of his grey graphic tee. Jeonghan rarely dressed down, unless he was working. Though, sometimes he’d show up in outfits Seungcheol always deemed to clean for the oil splatters he would obtain throughout the day.

“If looks were the all end tell-all, you’d be an actor instead of the owner of your father’s car shop.”

“Are you calling me sexy, Choi Seungcheol?” Jeonghan gasped, making the other boy scoff in annoyance. Seungcheol took another bite of his burrito, the salsa running down the stubble of his chin and sighed. “Cause may I remind you I am happily married.” Jeonghan jokes, raising his hand, wiggling his ring finger.

Seungcheol squinted as the ring got caught in the crossfire between the heat and summer sun. The churning at the pit of his stomach started up again, along with the little voice annoying voice that lived in the back of his head. The red block of numbers on the inside of his wrist laughing at him as he tried his best to push the thought to the back of his head. Like he had done his entire life.

“Sure...but that would just be an excuse, and it wouldn’t be fair towards the other person.” He shrugged, finally cleaning his chin the rest of his mouth. He crumpled up the foil in his hands before throwing the ball he had formed into the paper bag. “It wouldn’t matter soon anyway; I don’t have much time left.” He jumped off the table and made his way to shelves where they kept most of the tools along with small spare car parts they might need some time in the future.

“How much time do you have left?” Jeonghan asked a little too exasperatedly than he would’ve liked, but Seungcheol had managed to catch his tone, and it was starting to make him feel uneasy. He closed a drawer he had mindlessly opened and dropped his head. Seungcheol hated looking at his timer because it never brought a good reaction out of him. He hated the way the anxiety would filter in through his veins as he let his mind wander to the what-ifs.

For as long as he could remember, he only allowed himself to stare at the number scar before bed but never enough to dwell on it. Last night he had twenty-four hours left; now he was positive the timer had reached the single-digit zone, and to be frank, he was afraid. He didn’t want to feel the pressure against his chest and the shortness of his breath. He didn’t want to feel the shaking in his hands and sweat that formed against his brow bone. Seungcheol had already chosen, but he knew that the second he glanced over at the timer, his doubt would start to run free. And he hated that feeling more than anything, but he also hated Jeonghan’s burning gaze staring him down as if he were doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. So he caved.

He turned his wrist and pushed the bracelets he used to hide his soulmate mark with his other hand. His breath caught itself in the back of his throat, his lungs closing in like two crushing walls as he saw the numbers ticking down. For a split second, he wondered if he had chosen the right path if his parent’s and his friends had been right all along. But he had been so sure just like he was confident that his name was Choi Seungcheol, that he had chosen right, so why was he letting his thoughts take over.

Maybe it was the teachings of the Stars he grew up reading at home and at school, or the guilt has finally started to consume him. Whatever it was, he decided to push it aside, bury it deep inside the archives of his mind. He had chosen right, and he wasn’t going to let any false pretenses change his mind.

“Five hours.”

Hour 3 - 19:00

Seungcheol moved the straw of his bubble, creating soft caramel tidal waves in the cup. He had already picked out all the tapioca pearls leaving him to deal with the unpleasant honeydew tea he had ordered. The soft melodies of an old pop song played in the background, drowning out the flirting going on between the lovers in front of him. He kept his eyes trained on his cup; it had started to accumulate the condensation that came with the humidity of the summertime. His index finger traced over the water droplets that had fallen onto the table, creating a small picture of nothing.

Jeonghan had dragged him to their usual boba shop after closing up the shop for the night. He had given Joshua a frantic phone call, claiming it was a 911 type of emergency. Seungcheol wasn’t sure how they weren’t tired at having the same conversation, and why they couldn’t let him live with the consequences in peace? If he ended up unhappy, that was his problem, and he would eventually deal with it, but he couldn’t stand the way everyone around him always seemed to have an opinion on how he should live his life.

It had started the day he was born, scarred with a mark against his own will. It carried out onto his childhood, his parents and teachers telling him how to sit, how to dress, how to speak, and how to breathe. When he left for college the same day his parents decided to disown him, he had finally felt free. He thought for himself, walked for himself and lived for himself. But now his best friend’s the ones he thought he could always count on and he felt knew him better than anyone in the world. Where the ones were trying to guilt-trip him into making a choice, he had made years ago, and frankly, he was getting really tired of it.

“Are you even listening to us Seungcheol, this is your future you're putting at risk,” Joshua whispered angrily, his grip on his cup grew tight enough his knuckles had started turning white.

“Why does it matter?” Seungcheol lightly flicked the straw of his drink before pushing it away and crossing his arms. Jeonghan and Joshua both looked at him as if he was growing a third head, annoying him even more. He wasn’t sure why this was such a big deal to them, it wasn’t their life getting ruined.

“It matters because we don’t want to see you dead.”

Hour 4 - 20:00

“Are you serious? Do you guys actually believe that kind of stuff?” Seungcheol shook his head and looked out the restaurant window. The sun had finished going down for it’s deep slumber and in return awakened the night life of the city. He took in the people smiling and laughing as they joked and clinged onto one another. He saw limbs start to give out as the alcohol they had previously consumed started to replace their blood. Seungcheol found himself wishing he was one of those people, where the one controlling his body wasn’t the one that gave up on their dreams but instead still held onto that small sliver of hope. It would at least be an escape for a little and most importantly it would be an escape from the painful talk his best friend’s were giving him.

“Fuck you Seungcheol.” Joshua spat out, quickly he stood up grabbing his coat and shrugged it on. “I’m not going to stay with you and watch the clock count down until you die.” He stuffed his hands in his pocket and took out his wallet before throwing some money onto the table. “Are you coming with me?” He said before facing Jeonghan who was biting his bottom lip in contemplation. Seungcheol saw the gears turn in his head as he thought over his options, his eyes traveling between the furious looking Joshua and himself.

“Joshua calm down, look there have been some cases in the news lately of mysterious deaths and the only thing they have in common is that their timers went out before they got to meet their soulmate. I don’t know if it's all connected but it can’t just be coincidence Seungcheol.” Jeonghan stated, he tapped his forefinger against the wooden table as Joshua eyed him down waiting impatiently.

“And what if it is, what if I do find this person and then they turn out to be horrible? You guys got lucky but my life has never been a series of unfortunate events since the beginning of time so who's to say this is any different?”

“If you keep sitting here and mopping and feeling sorry for yourself, you’ll never find out.” Jeonghan nodded before taking out his wallet and throwing money onto the table. He hated the pity he saw behind his eyes. It only frustrated him because to him it felt like they had given up on him already. That they were planning his funeral without him leaving the world yet. Seungcheol wasn’t entirely convinced that death was at the end of this unfortunate journey, he sadly hoped it was. That way his friend’s would actually have something to pity, but he was alive and healthy (for the most part) so their pity in Seungcheol’s eyes was uncalled for.

“Then let me find out. Everyone is always telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, I didn’t need you guys to also be one of those people too. You’re supposed to be my friends but here you are nagging me like you’re my parents. If I’m not worthy of hanging with you guys anymore because I’m not married and I have no interest in ever getting married then just leave me alone. I’m better off by myself anyway.”

Seungcheol knew that as soon as the words left his mouth they had been a mistake, but mistake or not he would never take them back. No matter how the luck of hurt flashing in their handsome features affected him more than it should’ve. These few hours could be the last of his life and instead of living it to his fullest with his closest friends he was pushing them away. Just like he always did whenever he felt too comfortable or afraid.

“Jeonghan let’s just go, he’s already made up his mind. He’s not going to listen to us.” Joshua sighed, the exhaustion was evident on his face. It was clear he had given up long before the events of tonight. He knew how stubborn Seungcheol was, he knew that once he sets his mind to something there’s no way to turn it back. Seungcheol suspected that’s why he hadn’t tried as hard as Jeonghan to convince him to change his mind.

“Cheol, just think about it okay. You don’t have to go out and actively look for that person but just keep an open mind and they might just appear right before you. I know you think that we’re trying to do this to change you or to get you to settle down, but we don’t want to turn on the news tomorrow and have your names be part of one of the victims. If you can’t do this for us or yourself at least do it for you mom.” Jeonghan nodded one last time before scooting himself out of the booth. He stood sending a glare to Joshua that wasn’t missed by Seungcheol and somehow it made him feel uneasy inside. He didn’t want to be the one to cause a rift between him and Joshua’s friendship, they had known each other longer than they had known Seungcheol. For half of their life’s Seungcheol was simply an outsider between the threesome. He didn’t know at what moment they became inseparable, but now he wished they hadn’t.

At least they wouldn’t be involved in the webs of Seungcheol’s complicated life, and they certainly wouldn’t be here showing the utmost care for him when he himself felt like he was unworthy of it.

“I’ll call you tomorrow” Jeonghan mumbled before dragging Joshua out of the restaurant, mumbling angrily underneath his breath. Seungcheol knew the small comment was Jeonghan’s way of holding onto the little amount of hope he had for his friend. The hope that he would walk into the car shop tomorrow morning and see Seungcheol passed out drunk, his drool stain embedded into the checkered pattern of the old battered couch in the office, because he couldn’t remember how to unlock his front door.

Though, it was a phrase full of hope, it wasn’t a promise, and it felt more like a goodbye to Seungcheol. It made him uneasy and Seungcheol hated feeling uneasy because it only made the ticking sound of the clock tattooed onto his skin louder.

The front door bell to the restaurant sounded, signaling that someone had walked in or out. He turned to face out the window again and saw Jeonghan and Joshua in a heated argument before Jeonghan kept dragging him away by the ear this time. The scene could’ve been comical to him at some point, but now he just wondered if they were all going to be okay by the time the night ended and morning came again.

Either way it was clear to him that they had walked out of his life, maybe not for good but they also wouldn’t be the first ones either.

Hour 5 -21:00

Seungcheol paid the bill and exited the restaurant quietly, his best attempt to remain invisible. It would be a lie if didn’t admit how scared he was after Jeonghan and Joshua left him alone with his thoughts for the first time since he awoke that morning.

Would his faith really be death?

Or where they using their evil tactics against him to convince him to do the right thing. Needless to say he was scared, more scared than he ever was whenever he thought about falling in love.

He had once, a long time ago, back when he was still studying music production in college, before he dropped out and took up a job at Mr. Yoon’s carshop. During the three years he was there, all the songs he had composed resembled something about her. Whether it was a phrase she had said or the way the color blue seemed to make her honey doe eyes pop. He was in love, head over heels, ready to give it all up, his friends, his pride, his dream, his life, everything under the sun, for her. He had his bags packed long before she had agreed to run away with him.

In fact, he almost did, but the morning as he stood underneath the winter sun, waiting at the bus stop with two overprized one way tickets, with his fingers threatening to fall off from the cool. Everything became clear to him, she had abandoned him and their plan. She had given up on him, just like his parents had when he first told him he was going to follow his dream, instead of theirs.

Seungcheol was angry, it boiled inside of him like an overflowing calderon, and the closer he got to the university and his dorm, the more it spilled over. In a frenzy he had entered his home and destroyed everything he owned. His studio setup, his computer, his many notebooks that were filled with lyrics, because everything had been touched by her and he wanted nothing to do with her anymore. Not after she had lied boldly to his face the night before when they shared the most intimate moment with each other.

And just like he promised to her underneath the moonlight, he gave it all up, but this time because she had broken him.

There was a letter she had left for him to find. It didn’t come into his possession after he had stopped attending classes and was living on Jeonghan and Joshua’s couch. The university had called him to pick up his belongings from his dorm after he dropped all his classes on whim one Saturday afternoon. When he did, when he opened the front door of the wretched dorm room, the room that once held so many beautiful memories turned sour. The toe of his shoe was met with a brown paper envelope, his name scribbled neatly on the back. Instantly he knew who it was from.

Seungcheol had once prided himself in memorizing the way her letters curved with one another. A useless talent he now wished he could forget entirely. With a hesitant he opened it and skimmed through, not wanting to linger long enough on every single one of her words so it would hurt less.

In the end it did.

It hurt more than her leaving him stranded on the bus stop that morning. It hurt more than finding out that the little things she had strategically left at his place had mysteriously disappeared when he came back home that morning. It hurt more than giving up entirely on a dream so pure that it ended up tainted. It hurt more than dying, or so he assumed because now he finally knew the truth. A truth he had been blinded to the entire three years they spent lost in each other’s thoughts and arms.

She didn’t love, and she never did. She had a passion that consumed her to the point of greed and when she realized she wasn’t going to achieve her dream with Seungcheol at her side.

She left and he had given up love for good.

Which is why Seungcheol was so against the entire soulmate phenomenon. If death was the outcome then so be it, even though the thought of his mom finding him out he was dead scared him to the point it welcomed chills to his body. He was stubborn though, and his father always hated that about him because it reminded him of his younger self. But Seungcheol was never going to give in, no matter how loud the click on his wrist was ticking and how fast he found himself walking.

There was a little bit of hope. It was reserved for special occasions and those had been a rarity in Seungcheol’s life for longer than he liked to admit. But it was still there, buried deep inside, behind his walls and his pride. And it was threatening to burst out into the open, because as much as Seuncheol was scared of falling in love again, this time with a complete stranger, terrified him. The thought of not knowing if his life was really at stake was far scarier. He was gambling with his life line and that was a risk he found himself not willing to take. Though he would never admit to himself and especially not to Jeonghan or Joshua.

He was in complete denial at least for a slight second. Yet, he had started to walk with fever and hastily. He was desperate, he didn’t know where to start or how to start or if he should even start. He just walked, until his body was running on autopilot. He didn’t know where he was going or where he was going to end up, but the only thing on his mind was that the timer was blaring inside of his eardrums at an alarming rate, and the hope he kept at bay spilling out of his pores.

He needed to find his soulmate before it was too late.

Seungcheol didn’t want to die, he still had a dream to achieve. He will do it, he had promised himself that much. And he wasn’t going to let anyone take it away from again.

Hour 6 - 22:00

Seungcheol was panting, bending over, with his sweaty palms against his jean clad legs as tried his best to put the air back in his lungs.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been walking, all he could remember was bumping into a few people along the way and mumbling sorry’s underneath his breath when they had sent him glares his way. But he had ended up at the park across the street from his studio apartment, the one he rarely lived in because more often than not. The old raggedy couch at the car shop had been his home for as long as he had worked there. He had bought it last year after saving up enough money, in hopes of it becoming his new beginning, his safe space, where he could jump right back into working on his one goal in life.

Though, the first night he had spent there, he had hated it. Occasionally he would give it a second chance. He had given it many second chances, but the outcome was always the same. He would stay awake until four in the morning, get frustrated and then end up running laps at the park until sunrise.

This park had been his sanctuary, the one his apartment couldn’t provide, so it was no surprise his body had carried him here. He felt at home here, the hollowing of the wind chiming and wrapping around him like a blanket of safety. Here, in this park, Seungcheol felt comfortable enough to let his mind race through the thoughts he would keep hidden behind a wall.

He straightened himself out, running his fingers through his wet sweaty hair and made his way to the park bench by the basketball court, where he would occasionally lay down in the middle and look at the sky, counting the lack of stars in the sky. He knew they were there, but because of the city's light pollution they were invisible to his eye. Those were the only stars he trusted, not the ones that used the Universe’s gifts for their own selfish desires and to control everyone.

The stars in the night sky, the one’s he used his imagination and intuition to connect with, trusted him. They were the only one’s in his life that believed in him, even when he couldn’t believe in himself, and it made him feel at ease knowing that at least someone out there was rooting for him to win this losing battle.

Seungcheol took a deep sigh and placed his palm over the watch on the inside of his wrist. He had only two hours left, and he would rather not witness the time ticking down. He could hear it, it was drumming loudly against his eardrums, loud enough to the point in which he couldn’t hear the wind and the tree’s surrounding him singing their natural melody. The last thing he needed was to see the visual representation of his last breath nearing him.

He wanted to fight, but he was tired. If tonight was his last night living a life he had been so cruel to. He would at least take his last breath at the place he felt most at home.

So, he sat back and closed his eyes tightly. He felt the wind against his cooling skin, the familiar shivers running up his spine. For the first time since he woke up that morning he felt at peace.

Hour 7 - 23:00

The ringing of his phone startled him. He had only had his eyes closed for about five minutes. Only five minutes of peace before it was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He let out a frustrated sigh and fished out his phone from the pocket of his oil stained light washed jeans. His gaze and heart softened when he realized his mother was the one calling him. Without hesitation he unlocked his phone and placed his phone to his ear.

Silence. He was met with silence, until a choked sob broke it, his heart shattering in the process. “M-Mom, what’s wrong?” Seungcheol sat up. His eyes grew wide. The anxiety running through his body making his leg bounce.

“Joshua called me. He was freaking out saying that you were making a mistake. What is talking about? You’re not thinking about leaving again?” His mom spoke. Seungcheol could visualize the almost heart attack Joshua had given his mother when he called. He could visualize the color draining from her face as her hands shook while she dialed his number. Seungcheol’s mother was an over thinker and she always thought about the worst possible scenarios. Especially when it came to Seungcheol and his brother. Joshua knew what he was doing when he had called his mother. He knew that his mother was his weakness. Despite the differences they argued about over the years, Seungcheol loved his mother and knowing she was in such distress because of him, scared him more than what he already was.

“Nothing mom, he’s over exaggerating. Jeonghan, him and I had a small argument earlier but it’s nothing mom. I’m okay.” He spoke into the receiver lying through his teeth. He wasn’t fine, although he was in his sanctuary and at peace. His timer finally reached the fifty-nine minute mark and his heart was racing to the point he was scared it would literally squeeze through the spaces between his ribs and rip through the safety of his skin, onto the concrete pavement beneath his feet.

“Are you sure? He sounded really scared and worried, what did you guys fight about?” The words came rushing out of her mouth at lighting speed. He knew that question was coming and although he tried scouring through the files in his mind to come up with a concrete answer that would make his mother worry less. He couldn’t. There was no answer he could give her. If she lied she would know, but if he told the truth, his mother would certainly never be able to recover.

He knew he could prevent her heartbreak. All he had to do was get up and start walking again, let his feet carry him as his intuition and the Universe led him to where he needed to be, but he stayed seated. His hand closing into a fist taking the roughness of his jeans between them, the frustration, fear and anxiety coursing through his veins faster than before. Maybe if he wasn’t such a coward, maybe if he didn’t let his own selfishness consume him to the point it clouded his judgment, he could’ve let himself do what he needed to do. What he wanted to do.

“It’s not a big deal, Jeonghan asked him to be his best man and I got a little upset. Tomorrow we’ll be fine and laugh about it.” He said letting out the breath he had been holding in. He knew he sounded like he had just ran a few miles rather than sitting down in complete silence and stillness.

“I know you’re lying but I have been able to get the truth out of you, so I’ll drop it. At least I know you’re okay and you’re still here.” Seungcheol’s mother stopped speaking for a second, he could hear his father whispering something to her and his mother answering in agreement. “Visit us tomorrow, your brother is coming over tomorrow for dinner. Your dad wants to see you.” She half whispered the last part and it brought a slight smile to his face. For years Seungcheol and his father had not been on good terms, whenever they saw each other, his future always became the topic of conversation. His father always shared his disapproval and disappointment on how Seungcheol’s life had turned out. His father expected too much from both him and his brother, he had dreams in which he had tried to instill in them. It wasn’t enough that one of his sons had achieved his dream, his pride was attached to the two of them. And knowing that Seungcheol always refused, always followed the beat of his own drum, wounded his pride.

His mother and brother always tried their best to bridge the gap between them that had only grown deeper over the years.

Seungcheol admired their commitment, but just being in his father’s presence fully aware of how he felt towards him was only a simple reminder of what he did not want to become, and it only made him resent him even more.

“I don’t know mom, I work until late tomorrow and I wouldn’t have enough time to go home shower and change. Maybe some other time.” Seungcheol whispered. The wind blew causing a single leaf to escape its perspective branch. Seungcheol watched it closely as it flew down, landing on his lap. He picked it up in between his forefinger and thumb, twirling the steam as he listened to his mother sigh out.

“Just come after work...it’s important.”

Seungcheol wanted to say yes. The simple three letter word was one of the hardest ones to say. With the urgency in his mother’s voice, he knew that she wasn’t lying and that whatever his father had to tell him. It was important. But Seungcheol didn’t want to make a promise he could not keep. For he didn’t know if his tomorrow would ever come. If the last thirty minutes (indicated by the timer on his wrist) would be the last thirty minutes of his life.

He wondered if it was possible for time to run faster than before, and the quick ticking sound in his head proved that he was right. It was now drowning out the sound of his mother’s low and desperate pleas.

“M-Mom I’ll see what I can do, maybe if Jeonghan is in a good mood I can convince him to let me off early, I’ll try to be there by dinner time.” The almost empty promise escaped his throat, running past his teeth and perfect lips faster than he could stop himself.

“Perfect. We’ll see you tomorrow.” His mother cheered. He could hear and sense her happiness through the receiver of his phone and it shattered his heart. When tomorrow came and what Jeonghan and Joshua both claimed to be true would happen. What would be his mother’s reaction?

“I’ll try mom, you know I’m not good at keeping promises.” He half joked, the tears had started to pool in the corner of his eyes. He looked up at the night sky, making eye contact with the moon. They had once been intimate, but over the last few months they had been disconnected, the stars surrounding her protecting her from his own selfish needs and acts. He missed her, he wished he could feel her light upon his skin, caressing him and holding him in ways he wanted to be held. Ways in which he needed to be held. Though, he could feel her reluctance as he took in her beauty. She was there with him, keeping him company as the last twenty minutes of his life counted down.

“You always find a way to keep them Seungcheol. I’ll see you tomorrow night. I love you.”

“I love you too mom.” He whispered before the line went dead. Seungcheol sighed, bringing down his phone from his ear. He stared at his mother’s contact name, trying to decide if he should call her back again. Tell her that he wasn’t fine that he was scared and that he wanted to be in her arms, singing the song she always sang to him whenever his imagination betrayed him, plaguing his dreams with nightmares. But he didn’t again, his own pride and reluctance, the one he gets from his father and the reason why they clash so much kept him calling her back.

Instead he looked at his timer one last time, noted that there were ten minutes left and placed his phone down next to him on the bench. He took in his surroundings one last time before leaning his back and closing his tired soft eyes.

Hour 8: 24:00

“Excuse me?”

Seungcheol opened his eyes upon hearing the sound of the soft voice behind him and the light tap on his shoulder. He sat up quickly looking around frantically. He only had five minutes left and his peace had been disturbed. He turned around his gaze falling upon someone he had only seen in his dreams.

“You dropped your phone.” You said shakingly, handing him his phone. He assumed that it had fallen through the cracks of the bench; he had been so deep in his thoughts he didn’t hear the thud of it hitting the ground.

“Oh um, thank you.” He spoke quickly, taking his phone. His fingers accidentally brushed over the soft skin of your wrist, the familiar digital clock appearing before him and the ticking sound became loud enough to the point he couldn’t hear the nagging voice that had stayed with him for the last twenty five years of his life. Quickly he glanced down to his wrist and then at yours, he could feel the fear radiating out of your pores as the seconds counted down faster than the speed of light.

Seungcheol almost laughed. In fact he felt the laugh suppressing itself in the back of his throat. But as the timer finally reached the infamous zero’s, his last breath didn’t come, and neither did yours. He watched as you looked around frantically before your eyes found his. You let out the sob you had been suppressing for the entirety of the day. Your knees gave up on you and you leaned down hugging your calves, burying your face into your thighs, the sobs came quickly and Seungcheol sat there not knowing what to do.

It was like his body was acting on his and he stood up, rounding the corner of the bench and crouched down. His shaking arms wrapped around you tightly, running a soothing hand down your back, smoothing out the wrinkles of your navy blue sweatshirt.

The next words we muttered, were words he never thought he would say again. But again it felt like he wasn’t in control of his body. It felt like after the timer hit the long awaited double zero’s his body belonged to someone else, almost as if he had been reborn again after twenty five years.

“It’s okay, I am here.”

285 notes · View notes

newtonsheffield · 3 years

Note

Hiii i absolutely loved the epilogue, sooo cute and funny and the ending 🥺 but now i have this teeny tiny question if you don't mind how do you imagine the night of the Formal if Katie had actually gone with someone else? like I just know jealous baby Anthony will be so funny, sorry i know that would be like an au of an au of an au (lol) but i just loooove fics with dances because i don't get any of those where i am from

I'm so glad you enjoyed the epilogue of A Letter That You Never Read! I really had no idea when I posted that story that people would like it quite so much but... I guess you guys did?

Anyway I would be more than happy to share with you a tiny taste of Jealous teenage Anthony, quietly brooding away in the corner. @missfairygodmother was also interested in seeing Baby Anthony get a little green eyed over Kate

In this AU of an AU of an AU

Anthony had been nervous all afternoon, well, for weeks, months actually, as he'd tried to pluck up the courage to ask Katie Sheffield if she would go to the formal with him. But every time he'd been around her, he just couldn't choke out the words. She always seemed so far above them all, distancing herself from the mundanity of teenage life, sitting in the corner of the cafeteria quietly reading a book while idiots hit each other with the dinner trays around her, her eyes rolling slightly as she walked past them. So he hadn't done it.

But he'd found himself considering what she would like, when he picked out his suit. Her backpack was green, was that her favourite colour? Would she like it if he wore a tie that colour? What flowers would she like to see on his buttonhole? Roses? or tulips or peonies or something else completely?

"Why don't you ask Katie to go with you?" His mother had said gently as they'd stood in the store and the woman taking his measurements had asked what his partner was wearing. "She doesn't want to go with me, Mum." He'd mumbled, more than a little embarrassed, deeply regretting the incidents that had caused her to become aware of his futile crush. "Did you ask her?" He shook his head "She barely says anything to me, Mum. She doesn't like me back." And his cheeks had burned with shame His mother had sighed, "I don't suppose it's occurred to you that she might also be too nervous to say anything?" And while Anthony had scoffed, he'd desperately hoped that she was right, even though he knew the very last word that would ever be used to describe Katie Sheffield was nervous.

Be'd told himself, as he got ready, that when he got there, and he saw her, he'd ask her to dance. He would, he would find the courage somehow. And he would tell her that his heart wanted to beat out of his chest whenever he saw her, that he thought she was beautiful and smart, and funny and he wanted to know her. He'd arrived and loitered nervously in the corner of the school gymnasium and then he saw her, and his heart felt like it had been ripped out of his chest.

Kate had walked in, heartbreakingly beautiful, her hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, just like always, her glasses abandoned for the night, which made Anthony frown a little, but that wasn't why his heart broke. No, she was arm in arm with someone else. She paused at the doorway, listening to something her annoyingly handsome and square jawed partner said, her face breaking into a wide smile as he finished. Anthony felt something white hot rip through his chest seething at the back of the other boy's head as they walked further into the room.

Whoever he was, Anthony had never seen him before, but he looked older, a little more mature, and Anthony hated him. Petulantly despised him, almost as much as he despised himself for not asking her. She already has a boyfriend you idiot, of course she does, because you're a fuckwit and she's incredible.

He stood stock still in the corner jealousy tearing through him for god knows how long, wincing as he saw her boyfriend smile down at her, his fingers lightly brushing the flowers at her wrist. Roses Anthony noted, despising the pink tulips currently on his buttonhole. "You could have just asked her yourself you know. She's here with him because he actually asked her." Simon's voice said gently, as he followed Anthony's line of vision as Katie's boyfriend laughed. "Fuck Off Si." Anthony spat out, hating the truth of it, unable to stand in the room another minute he swept outside ignoring her completely as he past, leaning against the side of the building his chest aching.

"Anthony? Are you okay?" Of course she was here. Standing just a few feet away from him, the green of her dress shining in the soft lighting, an Amy Shark song, Adore playing in the background he realised a little belatedly because of course it was. "Yeah, fine. Why wouldn't I be?" He said, ignoring the lump in his throat. "Are you having a good time? Your boyfriend seems nice." Her brow furrowed just a little, her lower lip caught between her teeth. "You just looked kind of upset." Her voice was so soft, her eyes so concerned that right here, in this moment, it was so easy for him to pretend that she felt the same way he did. But she didn't. "Freddie's nice, we always have a good time together." Katie and Freddie. They even had matching names, his stomach churned while his chest burned with jealousy, and he instantly felt sick because he was making this so much about himself, when he should have been glad to see her happy.

Anthony nodded. "You look really nice tonight, Katie." He couldn't help himself. Her eyes widened for a second before she smiled. "Thanks, it's amazing what happens when a girl takes off her glasses right?" "It doesn't have anything to do with that." Anthony said sharply, his eyes catching hers. Surely she knew how beautiful she was. Silence echoed between them for several moments before "Katie?" A male voice called out softly, Freddie appearing seconds later. Katie smiled at him when he arrived, and Anthony's stomach churned again. He wondered for one wild moment, what it would have been like if she never came, if he never came, then he could have gone on pretending he had a chance forever.

"Sorry, Mate, I don't think we've been introduced, Freddie." He said turning towards Anthony, his hand outstretched. Anthony stared down at it for a second and then gritted his teeth. "Freddie this is Anthony." Katie said lightly and Freddie did the oddest thing, his eyes widened, a smirk on his face as he looked between them. "Anthony, I'm so glad to meet you!" He said, suddenly overflowing with happiness. Anthony felt his brow furrow as Katie ducked her head embarrassed. "Mate, I wonder if you could do me a favour, I hurt my leg at Rugby this week." Of course he's a rugby player, Anthony thought savagely. "And I think someone ought to dance with Katie." Anthony's heart stopped. Katie looked nothing short of aghast. "Freddie!" She hissed angrily, nudging him "Anthony, you don't have to,- I'm not- Freddie I'm telling my Mum on you!" Anthony's brow furrowed again, he was missing something here, something he couldn't quite place but he wasn't going to miss the opportunity. He cut across Freddie's "Please, Auntie's not going to do-" "I want to dance with you!" Katie's head nearly shot off her shoulders as it swivelled towards him. Anthony felt his hand ruffle his hair nervously, cursing himself. "If you want to... dance with me that is." He couldn't breathe as her eyes flicked over his face, more than a little guarded until she said.

"Okay. I'd like that." Anthony felt his face break into a bright smile, his heart pounding in his chest as he tugged her back though the doors, leading her to the dance floor, his heart pounding as she wrapped her arms a little awkwardly around him, standing so lose he could count the tiny line of freckles on her nose. Content silence between them as the music swelled in the background. And then everything came slipping from his chest. She was so close he just couldn't help it.

"I really wanted to ask you to come tonight. And I'm sorry, I know it's not fair because you're with Freddie, but I've liked you for a really long time and I can't let you go away to University thinking don't care about you." He was breathing a little heavily by the end of his speech, the warring emotions that had been playing on him all night finally getting the better of him as Katie stared at him, dumbstruck. Anthony let his hands drop. "And now i've made you uncomfortable, I'm really sorry. Sorry." God he had to get out of here, tears were pushing at the back of his throat, clouding his vision, and then her hand caught his. "Freddie is my cousin!" She said, all in a rush, "Well, my step mum's second cousin's son. But I had to bring him because I didn't have anyone else and I was too nervous to come by myself but I really wanted to see you one last time and-" Anthony couldn't help himself, his heart was beating out of his chest as he leaned towards her, cutting off whatever she'd been about to say with his lips on hers.

Her lips were soft against his, unmoving for a moment, before her hands tugged him more tightly against her, her fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck. There was a small smilie on her lips when Anthony pulled back, a broad grin on his own. " I've wanted to do that for a really long time." "Was it worth the wait do you think?" "Abso-fucking-lutely." Their lips met again with a small giggle, and even though Anthony had just said the most embarrassing thing he possibly could have said after kissing a girl, he really couldn't bring himself to care.

#a letter that you never read #aus on aus on aus #teenage! kathony #anthony is a jealous little bean #kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #kate sharma #molly's asks and answers

73 notes · View notes

beautifulletdownfics · 4 years

Text

Nothing To Him - A Harry Styles One Shot

Harry Styles is a liar.

He lied your whole relationship.

He promised to love you forever and then he walked away.

A lovers to nothing break up fic feat. blisters, heartache & two sides to one story.

Word count: 15k (Sorry! You’re going to want to open this little pal in a browser window probably. Eek)

Story Playlist:

The First Lie: Damn This Love - Thirsty Merc The Second Lie: Do You Remember - Jarryd James The Third Lie: Nebraska - Oh Wonder The Fourth Lie: I Saw You - Jon Bryant The Fifth Lie: Here We Go - Emily Hearn The Sixth Lie: Crying Dancing - Nina Nesbitt , NOTD

MY MASTERLIST.

The first lie was that you were different.

Harry felt different with you.

You just slipped into his routine and his life. You didn't buy into the spectacle of it all. You told him on your first date that you didn't play games, and that it wasn't often you connected with someone on an intellectual or emotional level. Harry sat there and listened to the woman across from him say she didn't expect to finish the date still attracted to him.

And he fucking loved it.

The next morning he called you at quarter past eight, because he figured you either started work at eight-thirty or nine o'clock, so he'd catch you on your commute or just before you walked into the office. You answered your phone like you would a business call. He teased you for it, but really he was just glad you answered at all. It felt like getting test results telling Harry he was in the clear.

The truth was when Harry first met you at the birthday party the night before he'd been angling towards you being a hookup. He saw you across the bar as soon as he arrived, gaze zeroing in on your legs in That Dress, his ears leaning to the sound of your laugh pulling eyes from around the room. Harry wanted you, and he'd been through a bit of a dry spell. You radiated the kind of energy Harry could get drunk on, the sort of body he wanted to lose himself in for a night.

It was almost an hour before he managed to edge into the same circle of bodies as you. You knew the birthday girl the same way he did; through work. Harry caught early on that you didn't still work for his record label, but did a few years before and stayed in touch with everyone. You seemed like the kind of person who collected people, who everyone wanted to keep in touch with. Harry just wanted to touch you.

Two tequilas in he got you to himself.

You were good at flirting, which excited Harry initially. You had a quip for everything or an interesting addition to each story he told. You were well-read and well-travelled, and you weren't hesitant in showing Harry that you had opinions and ideas of your own. Over the years he'd become good at getting people to talk, good at asking questions that make someone share themselves because the alternative—Harry sharing himself—wasn't something he could do. But something about you and the way you framed questions made Harry feel like it was safe to share a little more, you'd disarmed him quietly, and by the time he noticed Harry didn't feel the need to protect himself anymore.

"That's bullshit," you'd told him when he said he wasn't all that into contemporary fiction. You hated the artsy elites who listed off the Hemingway's and the Kerouac's and the Vonnegut's as though the only literature worth mentioning came from lifetimes ago. Your hair swished back and forth at your cheeks as you shook your head emphatically, "You're being lazy. Imagine saying the same about modern music."

Harry's lips ticked up into a smile, and he raised his eyebrow in concession, "That would be bullshit," he agreed, thinking of the album he'd just released and how he wanted to know if you'd listened to any of his stuff. (Very quickly he decided he probably didn't want to know because it stuck Harry the answer would be no.) His eyes couldn't pull away from watching your lips as you spoke, admiring the shade of lipstick you wore.

"Right," you continued, "Modern fiction teaches me about myself, about my life. It gives words to what my friends and I are experiencing. The classics are amazing—don't get me wrong—but I don't see myself in them."

"Seems like your criteria stem from narcissism," Harry was sure he had you there. He grinned at you happily.

"Exactly," you agreed without hesitation, "Maybe 'Hills Like White Elephants' is genius, and as a woman, I should be grateful to Hemmingway for horrifying his audience in 1927 with a normalised view of abortion but … I don't think he wrote that for me. He was challenging ideas then. I feel more connection and loyalty to an Instagram poet who's painting the world that actually matters to me, the world I'm trying to survive now."

Harry hums into his drink and says nothing. He expects you to back away a little, or ask him some question that watered-down your view and opened up the table to his. But you don't. You let your view sit on the slice of the bar between you and don't apologise for it.

"There's a reason artists burst out of every generation," you add, sitting forward on your stool. "If the classics were the perfect form, the perfect commentary of humanity, then there'd be no need for anyone after them to bother trying to put the world and life into words, or pictures, or music. You can't just dismiss a generation of voices because some smelly, old, white, university hasn't decided to name a building after them yet. I don't think being published as a little orange Penguin Classic is the singular hallmark to good literature."

He didn't entirely agree with you, (he thought it was vital to learn from the past, thought those great authors you reeled off and dismissed set the benchmark artists today should aspire to) but Harry liked hearing your thoughts and seeing the passion burst out of you. He liked seeing how you didn't second guess yourself or try to soften your opinion by asking for his. You just said what you thought, and that was always one of his favourite characteristics in a person.

That night you met him, you were the designated driver for a few of your friends. He should have noticed the way you switched to pineapple juice after you finished your first drink, but he was too busy trying not to look at the curve of your thigh when you crossed one leg over the other. Trying to ignore the smell of your perfume or how you kept licking your lips and he wanted to taste them, desperately. Harry didn't like to say anything when he offered to buy you another gin and dry. Still, when it eventually came out in conversation—that you were strictly only having one tonight—he felt his excitement deflate. His warm buzz suddenly felt pervy and presumptuous.

"Well, that's bloody annoying, isn't it?"

His response surprised you, "Me getting my friends home alive?"

With his hand comfortably resting over your knee, Harry shook his head, "I was hoping to go home with you."

"Oh."

You blinked at him, not having expected him to be so bold. You didn't hate it though, you felt the twinge of realising you were going to miss something that could have been good. Could have been great, probably. The last time you had sex had been … sad. And disappointing. Still, you hadn't come out to meet anyone tonight, why the sudden rush of despondency? These were old work colleagues you rarely saw, and you figured it would be a night of catching up before six months of not seeing each other because life got in the way.

Then Harry asked for your number. Asked if you'd go out with him the next night. He didn't beat around the bush with it, he wanted to see you again and told you so. The way you said you would filled him with relief but also fear. Harry knew he'd need to really deliver with you, he couldn't half-arse it. He was terrified he'd overshoot it and lose the change to be someone who impressed you.

He settled on a Sunday evening picnic where the two of you ate takeaway on a beach towel at the top of a park halfway between your houses. Something told Harry you would be happier with him underplaying the date than you would be getting taken to an expensive, showy restaurant. You wore jean shorts and a long sleeve jumper which churned his body more deeply than the dress with the split from the night before. He was hooked.

"Do you not like olives?" Harry asked, sucking the oil off his fingers after just depositing one into his mouth. You instantly loved the way the inflection of his words rose at the end of his sentences, and you'd mock him for it your whole relationship.

You looked at the plastic container sitting between you, you'd been picking at the cheese and crackers, the antipasto was not your thing, "They don't seem like something humans should eat … Salty and rubbery with a tiny stone on the inside? No, thanks."

A laugh burst out of Harry's mouth as he picked up another green olive, "More for me then."

"I'm happy about the rosemary in these though," you held up a cracker before digging it into the hummus, a plastic-stemmed wine glass with a dry rose in your free hand, "You got the fancy ones."

"Only the best," Harry returned with a smile and then went on trying to playfully wedge more information from you about the secret poetry Instagram he was convinced you had. He was already feeling buzzed from the wine, but more from the way you kept looking at him and he couldn't catch a hint of you being anything other than yourself.

You didn't go home together that night either, despite The Kiss at the end next to his car. Despite Harry's hands on the back of your thighs as things got heated. The way the tips of his fingers feathered against the elastic of your knickers, just slipping under before pulling away. Your chests heaving together in a rhythm you'd never found with anyone else.

He felt like he had just auditioned for a part he wasn't sure yet that you were going to give him. Wine always heightened his anxiety, so Harry also wanted to appear controlled and measured. He wanted to be as thoughtful as you were. As connected to himself as you were to all your wonderful opinions and facts. There was some part of him that feared taking you home too soon might risk that being the only night Harry got. So he pulled away, kissed your cheek and promised to call you later on.

Somewhere along the line, Harry decided he wanted more than a little bit. He was greedy. Harry wanted the whole pie all to himself.

That was a theme, him wanting more. Even now, months since you've seen or heard from him. Harry always knew how to get you to take that one step out of your comfort zone, take that little bit extra risk. Letting go of him in one way felt like small release valve finally letting go. A tiny bit of your safety net tucking closer around you. A little quiet moment to take stock and check every part of you was still connected, still there. A deep breath in. A short pause of calming silence. Like getting your heart back … But then finding it didn't fit in your chest the same way anymore.

So you found it particularly cruel to have received a follow-up email from his assistant this week, checking to see if you were able to attend his show tonight.

The show that six months ago Harry drew you a mock ticket for and hand-delivered to you sitting outside in his garden with a tea and a biscuit. Even then, even as his girlfriend, you'd feigned not knowing if you could say whether you would attend. Now it felt foreboding, the way you'd pulled your features together thoughtfully and told Harry you'd have to see closer to the date. You waited just long enough for him to switch over into thinking you were serious before you laughed and told him of course and where else would I be?

Where else would I be, was right, in a sense. Because this is still your city, and you're here tonight. It's not his anymore. He moved soon after you broke up … Relocated to one of his—what was it you used to mockingly call them?—" location" homes. Houses you never saw in person. Places he never took you. Either Italy or France. Somewhere he could hide, be creative, recenter himself. All three of those things filled you with dread for different reasons.

Were you really going to go tonight though? Walk in through the front door of the venue with a ticket and barcode on your phone, sit in a crowd and listen to Harry for two hours? Look at him from across the room and just take it on the chin?

It certainly seemed you were dressed for it. And you were out of the house with time to get there. Would you get off the train at the stop though? Would you walk down the street with the bright sign his name lit up? Would Harry even know if you didn't go?

Part of you wonders if his assistant didn't mean to email you. Maybe she forgot you were no longer in Harry's life? Perhaps it was a scheduled email she forgot to stop? Probably it was Harry just being fucking nice, and polite, and worrying about how you'd feel if you were uninvited. Or if he didn't check in on you while he was here.

You accepted the reminder too easily and scolded yourself for it. His team was expecting you. Harry was expecting you. And now, sitting on the train and counting down the stops you felt caught. Felt like he had you again, even if it was just winning whatever tonight was.

Harry did always enjoy the chase. Admitted it himself, admitted to loving the beginning of meeting someone. Loving the audition process, the figuring each other out, the get. The Catch.

You wonder now if it was the chase he liked back then. Was it a thrill having you make him feel as though he had something to prove? Or was it Harry experiencing for the first time not having the upper hand, not having even the tiniest amount of weight around who he was count for anything. Now it felt like Harry was nothing but upper hand.

Whatever it was—the Chase, or your endless facts, pancakes on a Sunday morning—the part of Harry's lie about you being different that hurts the most is the way you bought into it so proudly. Wore it later as his girlfriend like a badge of honour. As though it signalled to others you'd been hard-won, and Harry was lucky to have you.

Different turned out to be such a dirty word.

Different turned out to mean nothing. To get you nowhere.

All different got you was Nothing To Him.

The second lie was that he saw a future with you.

Harry didn't shy away from talking about it. He made plans for you both.

Sometimes it was in the moments right before you both fell asleep at night, or in the final seconds before the kettle finished boiling. Always in some small window where his mind drifted and sat comfortably stagnant when all there was to think about was the next holiday you'd take together. Or what breed of dog you might have one day. Whether you wanted your kids to be close together in age or have larger age gaps between them. What you thought about silent retreats in Thailand.

He stored your answers away in the file full of you in his head or added them to the note on his phone with ideas for gifts for people or things going on in their lives he wanted to remember.

"My family have always had cats," he told you one night, fingers drawing circles around your bare kneecap, your naked thigh resting across his stomach, "When I'm settled I'd want to get a few of my own."

It was one of those hot summer nights no position felt comfortable for sleep, you raised your arms up over your head and stretched out further on the mattress, fingers dangling off the edge of the bed to feel the cold stream from the air conditioning unit above, "I don't trust cats. Isn't there something about them being evolutionarily build to hunt their owner?"

Harry turned his head to face you, "A fact for everything," he recited fondly, his common quip for your always having an answer for everything, "I'll let the cats hunt me, you'll be spared."

"As long as I can name them," you murmured, your eyes finally closing.

Close to three months later, an hour into unsuccessfully putting together a flat-pack shelving unit in Harry's garage, you heavily plopped yourself down on the concrete floor and hailed defeat. You tossed the small, silver Allen key onto the floor in Harry's direction and rested your chin in your palm.

A few minutes of watching his embittered attempts passed before he spoke.

"Hey Sulky, I can feel you looking at me," Harry was frowning at the short piece of timber in his hand, he was holding it next to what was supposed to be the base of the structure. This was your second attempt at pulling apart the shelves and starting again while you cursed the entire Swedish furniture empire. You were enjoying seeing Harry's stubborn frustration immensely.

He could be such a man sometimes.

"Yeah, 'cause you're hot," you said, mocking him dreamily.

"Ha ha," he drawled, rolling his shoulders back to try to regain his focus.

When he paused a moment later and looked up at you, his arms dropped as his brow softened and he let out a breath.

You grinned at him, "I'm pretty cute too, right?"

"All this shit is going to end up living on the ground because you're sabotaged the assembly!" He gestured wildly at the tools and spare paint colours for the house lying around you. His bike parts and the weird assortment of garden tools Harry collected were leaning against the wall waiting to be put on their new home as well, the shelf neither you nor Harry were skilled enough to put together.

"Baby," you began, but Harry waved you off, and you saw genuine frustration start to emerge on his face, "Okay! Okay, I'm sorry," you stressed, "Are you sure we're looking at this thing from the right way around? Maybe the designer meant for it to be wonky?"

He rolled his eyes at you. As if the mere thought anyone would design anything to look like the mess currently on the floor was purely preposterous—his temper for small frustrations on full display.

"Don't be rude!" You admonished, "It's a fucking shelf, we can do this, Harry."

It took you another hour and a half, but when it was done, Harry draped his arm around your shoulders, kissed you on the head and told you that you were the person he wanted by his side of all his future crisis. Someone to say to him, whatever the challenge was, it wasn't beyond him, wasn't something he couldn't handle or wasn't capable of.

You felt like you were floating that night.

It was one of those few times you could see your imprint on his life. See some evidence of it. There were shelves in his garage only there because you told him he needed storage there, and then you pushed him to keep trying assembling them. It was some proof you'd been in his life. An impression of your influence. A memory that would hover in his garage forever.

Two days after putting the shelves together, you and Harry had an argument about the plastic tubs he went off on his own to buy for all the loose bits and pieces he wanted to go on the shelves. You were annoyed he didn't purchase wooden ones, and he couldn't understand why it mattered that they were white plastic which would apparently be impossible to keep clean.

It's a garage, he thought, who's cleaning their garage?

And because arguments always dredge up things that they aren't supposed to, you made a jab about your relationship being secret.

You said something like, If I'd been able to come with you, we wouldn't be having this row!

Harry knew what you really meant straight away. You'd been together for more than nine months at that point, and nobody knew about it: nobody but your families and very very closest friends. There were no photos of Harry having lunch with you at a cafe, or of you walking a few steps behind him at the shops. Nobody had snuck a picture of you backstage at a show of his. He'd never appeared on your social media, even by suggestion, and Harry had never taken the risk including you on any private Instagram Stories.

Those photographs didn't exist, because those circumstances never had. There wasn't even a celebrity paper trail linking you to knowing Harry, let alone dating him. Harry didn't dedicate performances to you, or even to an unnamed significant other. You never got a song or an album dedication. Harry was so adamant on nobody getting wind of the relationship that sometimes it felt like … Like he enjoyed the sneaking around. The having a secret. (Later on, when you reflected on the relationship once it was over, you really weren't sure how there'd never been even one instance of you being seen coming or going from Harry's house. Hindsight made that feel suss to you.)

Most of the time you liked it, though, liked not having any fuss or interruption to your life but sometimes—a lot of the time—it felt like something silently eroding you from the inside—a silent acid eating your spirit.

But you'd never tell Harry that. Then anyway. Now … You're not sure what you'd tell him now.

The truth was a lot of the time you weren't sure how you'd managed to keep it going so long. Part of it was obvious, maybe, like not being in public together. But still, surely after being together months and having arguments about shelves you could afford a platonic appearing coffee trip or going for a run at the same time, together?

Instead, you'd gear up and run in opposite directions down his street. Or Harry would stay in the car while you went in for the coffee. You'd sit in a nosebleed seat if you went to a show, sneaking through some fire exit and into the main hallways of a venue with the public to get to it. You looked like a sad woman attending a gig on your own, not the girlfriend of the star.

Nobody would know you even knew the man up on stage. That you had something in the slow cooker at home for you both to eat when you got home, or that he'd stolen a tube of your favourite lip balm and had it in his blazer pocket for his set. Nobody would guess you made him late for the soundcheck with just a smile and the undoing of a zip.

Seeing him tonight would be just like it always was, you and Harry from across the room. But then not like always, because Harry wouldn't see you tonight. You wouldn't have the taste of a good luck kiss on your lips. Or the sound of Harry's warm-up in your ears. Yours was always an invisible connection that was kept invisible by design, and now being broken up, it looked no different than together. Not really.

Tonight though it would only be you seeing Harry. Like you see him on late-night talk show promotions and billboards. Like the times you get into an Uber, and his song is playing. How strange it feels, to have your heart crack in your chest again while also lifting somehow. Singing along with a song about you. Or hearing his laugh or even just Harry speaking, and being able to picture the exact expression that would go along with it.

Every raised inflection. Ever breathy giggle. Every brow crease at a thought that Harry was chasing or somehow unable to articulate. All of those turning into you picturing what he looked like every time he knew he was disappointing you. Every whined sorry and all the instances of him loving on you to move your mind away from his deficiencies.

"What's the plan for Y/N?"

If your relationship with Harry was a t-shirt, that would be the slogan across the chest. Those would be the words under the cartoon impression of you banging your head against a wall Harry's standing on the other side of.

How will Y/N get in? Who's staying behind with Y/N? Where will I meet up with Y/N?

There was always a question. Always a plan for you and it was decidedly separate to the plan for Harry. His team organised a second car or an earlier flight for you. A back entrance or some other smokescreen to keep you concealed. In the beginning, it felt like a kindness, but in the end, you were embarrassed by it. The bother, the way what started as a careful consideration for your wellbeing turned into something rotten that painted you a different colour to Harry and his public inner circle, the circle you were never invited or initiated into.

It was exhausting. But Harry assured you it was for the best.

You wonder what the future he saw for you really was though. How much further did Harry see a life like that going? A life with you perpetually operating under cover of darkness. A life of you decidedly not existing. Not really.

So when he said he saw a future with you, you're really not sure what Harry meant.

Did he mean one day he saw himself lifting the veil and telling the world he had a Someone? Or did he mean that he saw himself forever hiding you, forever living that lie?

Maybe he actually saw nothing.

Sometimes you could be convinced the fact Harry hid you was an action pointing to a more profound truth.

That the future he saw was an imagined indulgence; a convenience, and a comfortable lie. Comforting on a temporary level, like bowling alley bumper rails or the plastic covering on a new watch face. The fake sense of security—of protection, of immaculacy—was just that, artificial and temporary. It ceased to exist the minute you plucked the corner and pulled back the protective layer. Crashed as soon as the bumpers were flipped down.

You were a secret only Harry had any power over. He led from the front because you didn't know there was any other option. And in letting yourself be that, you made yourself easily dispensable.

Disposable. Replaceable. Erasable.

Which is precisely what happened when he left.

Harry left, and the You of the two of you ended. But more than any other relationship ever could, the silence that followed felt deadly. It wasn't just a relationship that once was, it was a relationship that never was. A year of your life made no imprint on his. Nobody looking at him could know there was anything—anybody—missing, and maybe that was the whole point.

Maybe that was the design of it.

The third lie was that you could tell him anything.

Harry's golden rule always was honest communication.

There's no such thing as an overshare, he'd say when you naturally hesitated.

He was all about that. All about hearing what was worrying you, or the mundane things that were going on in your world. Sometimes you felt like maybe it was an act because nobody had ever found your family, or your friends, or your life in general as interesting as Harry seemed to. He was always telling you he loved hearing the funny text conversations going on, or who was having a row and why, or what each of your friends was stressed about in their jobs or relationships or themselves. And Harry always said he loved hearing it from you the most.

(Now, that struck you as a strange thing to say. Where else would he hear anything about you? Harry was the only line connecting you back to him. You didn't have mutual friends or people who'd known you both before you dated each other. There was nobody for Harry to hear anything from. It's not like your friends were going to reach out to him with gossip about you. Not like how you could sneak a look at update accounts or read about his performance online while he was away.)

Still, you loved the stories he told from the road, ate them up. The missing coffee mugs where everyone got their caffeine fix served in wine glasses and lemonade tumblers for almost two whole weeks. And then the tour t-shirts accidentally ordered in bulk in children's sizes that Harry hand-delivered them to a local children's charity. The crumbs of gossip Harry picked up about who in his team was sweet on who (he loved a setup, loved watching crushes silently and awkwardly orbit around each other).

Your secrets were safe with him, he promised. He wouldn't ever judge you. Wouldn't dismiss your feelings or what kept you awake at night next to him. So you did it. You believed him. And you slowly drained everything inside of you into him. Harry got all your stories, even the ones you vowed to leave exactly where they sat in your past. Even the ones you felt like might kill you to dredge back up. The ones that made you look like a shitty friend or sister or daughter. He got them all.

And even now, he's still got them.

"What's the biggest lie you ever told?" He asked you one night in his kitchen, both of you elbow deep in making dinner. Harry rolled out the lines of gnocchi and cut the inch long pieces while you pressed them over a fork to decoratively indent them. (Although Harry likes to tell you how when he was in Italy he learned in patterns weren't just aesthetic—it was all about soaking up more of the sauce, For the sauce, of course! He'd sing out in an Italian accent, proud of himself.) "Like, a proper lie," he clarified, "Not like how you told my mum you didn't take sugar in your tea when you first met her."

You hinged your knee out to attack his calf for the teasing comment but then rolled your lips together in thought, "I lied to my parents a lot growing up," you told him honestly. "I think about eighty per cent of the time I wasn't where I told them I was. Definitely wasn't with who I said I was with."

Harry shook his head as he rolled out the next lump of dough, "No, I mean like … Like a lie."

A moment passed as you thought more deeply about the question, travelled around your memories until you landed somewhere suitable, "I lied to my boyfriend at university," you begin. "A pretty bad one, I guess."

"And the lie was …" Harry prompts.

"I told him I was a virgin before him."

Harry eyes raised, and then he nodded, accepting it, "I think that's probably a common one, really."

"I thought he'd like me more if I said it," I admitted quietly, pausing the work with your hands. "Wasn't too proud of losing my virginity in a tent in the sixth form … And I mean, at that age you just so desperately want to be the version of you that you think the people around you will like the most. A whole group of us went camping at someone's grandparent's farm during the summer holidays. Not sure how our parents let us, to be honest. Anyway, I had awful, painful, embarrassing sex in a tent with a guy named … Dylan Fraiser."

You were surprised by how long the name took to come to you. Years ago, that was such a defining event in your life. Now it hardly mattered at all anymore.

Progress, you thought.

"A tent," Harry winced.

"Really came back to bite me in the arse when my uni boyfriend went on to tell a group of his mates he was my first and—

—Tent Guy was one of them?" Harry guessed. Correctly.

"Yep. Small towns are a curse."

"I promise never to have sex with you in a tent," Harry teased, grinning at you over his wine glass and then leaning over to kiss your temple. He looked down at the line of gnocchi pieces you'd made together proudly, "We're alright at this."

"Hmmm," you hummed, now lost in the past, "I told that uni boyfriend him I loved him … I didn't though," you say without thinking, shrugging as the words came out, "I thought he was boring. But it was cool to have a boyfriend, so I didn't break up with him … Guess I've told more whoppers than I thought."

Harry gives you an understanding look, "I've said I love you to protect someone's feelings too. Thought it might come a little later, that I was just not feeling it as quickly as them."

It should have made you question whether Harry meant I love you with you. But it didn't. He was speaking in the past tense, and you were imaging that version of him being younger than the almost thirty-year-old you were dating. Now though … You wonder what love meant to Harry when you were together. Whether your wires were crossed by different definitions. Even now, you couldn't vilify him. Not completely. He was too thoughtful in general, there'd be a reason for it. There always was with Harry.

"What's your biggest lie?" You turned the exercise back on him, smiling as he refilled your wine glass and skipped a few songs on the playlist. These were your favourite moments with Harry. The end of the day, where you were the only thing on his to-do list. There wasn't a lingering work call, or a meeting to prepare for, an email to reply to. Harry was just finishing his day with dinner and some time at home. With you.

Harry gave you a withering look, "I think you know already."

"I don't," you said because you really didn't, "What was it?"

"There's no way I'll ever do anything else with The Band," he said tonelessly as he turned to rinse his hands in the sink, unable to look at you while he said it. And even then, Harry didn't admit to the lie. Didn't name it. He just said what the truth was instead.

"Why wouldn't you?" You asked, instead of what you were sure Harry thought you'd ask.

You weren't interested in why he told that particular lie though, the answer to that was pretty apparent to you: he cared about his fans—they all did—and didn't want to disappoint them. And they probably hadn't been able to deal with thinking about the ripples ending it completely, right off the bat, would have caused. Saying you were taking a break was a much nicer way to let a world of fans down. An easier pill to swallow than 'We're done' straight off the bat.

You gave Harry time to respond. He fiddled with the gnocchi pieces in front of him, waiting for the water to boil in the pot behind you both, "Not sure, really."

He was lying now, and you could tell. He was ashamed of the truth.

"You're not sure?"

"I just wouldn't, there's no one reason. No big thing. It's not like I hate them all or anything, I just …"

There was one big thing, though. And it was typical Harry to not be able to name it. He was always so in denial about his own arrogance, about what it was that drove him. Harry thought he was above them. His success since The Band far outweighed anything any of the others had done. Going back to that would be diminishing for Harry's career. Wouldn't help him any. He was stronger on his own, more successful. More widely appreciated. That chapter of his life was done, it had been a stepping stone—yes, a life-defining one—but Harry had moved to bigger and brighter stages on his own.

"It's not what you think," he told you lowly when you didn't ask anything further.

It was so typical of Harry to not see the forest for the trees. To not see how he, yet again, was blurring and confusing the lines between a business decision and an emotional, personal one. He was speaking about The Band emotionally, but his reason for distancing himself from it was all to do with business.

"It's not?" You asked plainly.

"I don't think I'm better than them or some shit," Harry said, "I just … That part of me is done. I'm not who I was back then, and I don't want to go back to that person."

"You also wouldn't get anything out of it," you prod, knowing that you shouldn't have. But it was true. So much of Harry's life was a business decision. Everything was so carefully done, so deliberately set into place by him and his team that results and his successes were almost guaranteed.

At the time, you didn't understand how he couldn't see it. Or you couldn't believe that he didn't. He was so calculating, and he hated you telling him so. But he was. He liked to say he wasn't defined by his job, but Harry's whole life was defined by his career, by the who he was.

He loved to spout off his public shit about staying grounded and having a life away from being Harry Styles ™, but he didn't let anyone see even a skerrick that life. The only thing Harry ever let be projected about him was his job, that was all was ever on the table for discussion. And so it was hardly surprising that became who he was away from the cameras and lights as well.

Hiding you was a business decision, you figured out in the aftermath of The End. It was his way of keeping the narrative about his music and career on track. As soon as there was a You, Harry's private life would distract from his real focus and goal, his career. And you mean, it's not like it didn't work for him. Because here you were, standing outside in the chilly night looking at his name up in lights.

Harry's name always looked so good up on billboards and the fronts of stadiums. You always used to tell him even the letters of his name were visually pleasing, they looked good together, like they fit. So you stand on the street across the road from tonight's venue and take it in—HARRY STYLES, SOLD OUT—for several minutes.

You don't know that you're ready for this. Seeing him. You've so perfectly avoided it until now. Until you felt like there was a promise you made lifetimes ago you now can't break. Even if you felt like he'd broken a thousand promises between the two points in time.

Where else would I be? you'd said when he first drew that stupid mock ticket.

Where else, indeed.

You scuttle across the street and sneak between people to get yourself in through the doors. Dodging lenders selling merchandise and ticket holders excitedly covering their painstakingly planned outfits with t-shirts Harry—aided by his perfectionism, you were sure— probably spent months deciding on.

The barcode won't scan though. And the usher at the door doesn't appreciate you pulling your phone back and trying to adjust the backlight, as though that will help the loud, angry sound his scanner is making each time he aims it at the email on your screen. He eventually reads part of your email and then tells you that you need to stand off to the side, barks something gruffly into his walkie talkie and dismisses you in favour of getting through the backlog of people behind you. You're filled with a white-hot embarrassment as you shuffle over and stand under a neon EXIT sign. A moment later you step forward and ask him to try again, but that doesn't get you anywhere different, and you think you're going to get in some kind of trouble when he insists Just stand back over there for a moment.

Your feet have already started hurting in your too-tight boots when finally the wall behind you opens up, and you very quickly come face to face with Harry's assistant.

"Y/N," she smiles, "I thought I said in the email to call me when you got here?"

You're dumbstruck, you didn't read the email, not properly. "I … I …"

"It's good to see you again," her smile hasn't moved, and it's genuine. She reaches one hand out towards you and deposits a VIP lanyard around your neck, "Follow me."

You get halfway down the emergency exit, and she sidesteps a security guard through a doorway, leading you into the veins of the backstage area where there's a familiar buzz of busy people you'd not realised you missed being around until now. Your heart is racing because you weren't prepared for this. You'd been deliberately dragging your feet getting here, and you've arrived barely fifteen minutes before Harry's due to go on stage. She's walked you right to the side of the stage where there's a curtain just to your left and scaffolding all around. You can hear the audience, and you know that one step through that curtain will take you to the pit side of the stage, where you'd seen Harry's family stand during shows before.

"He wanted to say hi beforehand but," his assistant looks at her watch, "But it's a touch too close now so are you okay if I leave you here for just a second? I'll be back in …" her eyes go back to her wrist, "Probably about twenty-five?"

"That's fine," you nod dumbly. "Are you sure this okay?"

You're looking around wondering if this is where Harry meant you to be. Really, you're sure this isn't where he intended you to watch his show at all. A few people are milling around but nobody you recognise, and you figure the majority of them are probably venue employees. Harry and his band would only walk through here at the very last second. He didn't like standing around beforehand with anyone who wouldn't be on stage with him. Harry got in his zone and needed to stay there.

When you look back at his assistant she's giving you a look you don't want to read too deeply, but it almost looks like pity, "Of course," she tells you, "I'll be back by the end of the first song."

"I might go stand through here now," you point to the curtain, preferring the thought of standing in the dark by yourself than waiting for Harry to walk straight past you during his thirty-second countdown. "Is that okay?"

You get a nod, and she tells you to grab a drink off the table behind you. Leaving you with your heart rattling and the heaviest lanyard you've ever worn burning through your shirt to your chest.

Finding a spot to watch the show was easy. You picked the furthest side of the pit, under the concrete overhand of the seats above, and stand in the shadows, only half the stage in your line of sight. It felt like a little cave almost, and you lean your back against the cold concrete and tap your boots together on the ground below you.

The area starts filling around you as members of Harry's team finish their part in preparing him for the show. There are a few women wearing belts with makeup brushes and combs peaking out of them, and two familiar faces from Harry's executive team. They don't see you, though, and you're glad. You watch the roadies' torches flash on the dark stage as they neaten up leads and manoeuvre over amp boxes double-checking the guitars are in the right order for the sets.

There's a movement in your periphery that draws your attention back, the group of people who joined you in the pit all gravitating towards something back at the curtain. And it's not until one of them steps to the side that you see the floating head that's poking through the dark material.

Harry.

He's staring right at you: no expression on his face, just his searching, green eyes that stop when they see you standing in the dark as far from him as you can possibly be. He takes half a step forward, and the shoulder of an expensive suit peeks out. You hear in your head echos of a moment in Harry's living room unpacking a delivery from Gucci, the way you nearly choked on your tea at the cost of a tailored trouser and his half frustrated dismissal, 'It's nothing, that's standard for me.' You felt small at that moment, thinking about how one of Harry's suits could pay for your education for a year, and that would be nothing for him.

You feel small now too. This isn't the space you're supposed to occupy.

The shadow of a frown barely cross his features, but then Harry tries to pull his dimples up to give you a small smile. But it's testing, it's not a confident smile or one he looks sure he's giving. Like he's smiling at someone he's not sure will smile back.

There's no way I'll ever do anything else with the band, he'd said.

But that wasn't the biggest lie he'd told, just the most public, the widest.

His deepest, biggest lie was you.

The fourth lie was that he loved you.

Harry was the one to say it first.

It came out like a compliment. A response to a fact of yours he'd particularly liked. A sort of well done, that was a good one.

It was nearly two months since you'd met, and what started as three or four dates a week morphed into you staying at Harry's house most nights. You spending your weekends off work trailing around after him on his errands or to work things, or hanging out alone at his place until he returned from them. A couple of times, you went to the same exercise class, which involved the two of you going separately and not interacting at all. Still, you'd peek at him from across the room and have to hold your giggles for later when Harry spent the hour concentrating beyond anything you'd ever seen just to stay in the seat of the spin bike.

Saturdays and Sundays he started taking off too though, around a month into dating you. No more 6am weekend PT sessions or midday conference calls with creative teams. The only work Harry allowed himself to do on weekends was housework. Laundry. Food prep. Touching base with his mum.

"Did you know blueberries are actually false berries?"

"No, I did not know blueberries are actually false berries," Harry parroted back to you. You catch the half rolling of his eyes at you where you're sitting up in your favourite spot on the bench next to the hob, peering at him keeping careful watch over breakfast: blueberry pancakes. He was wearing just his pants, chest bare and cool in the autumn morning air. You were rugged up in leggings and a sweater, unsure how he could stand being in such a state of undress.

"It's true," you reaffirmed your tidbit, popping a false berry into your mouth while Harry—with far too much concentration for the job at hand—dropped the small round berries on top of the batter sizzling in the pan. "Berries by definition are fleshy, pulpy ovary fruits that have their seeds embedded on the outside. Blueberry seeds are on the inside. So they aren't really berries."

"Ovary fruits?" He questioned, with a look of mild distaste.

Your shoulders dropped as you realised Harry knew less than you thought he did, "All fruit are ovaries, Harry. Think about it."

He does for a moment, and you can practically see the cogs turning. Harry thinking about how fruit grows on their plants and bushes and shrubs. The fact of what an ovary is when it comes to basic anatomy. And when he comes to the full circle of it, he groans, "That is so weird."

"I think it's cool," you grinned. "Like a little bit cannibalistic in a way."

He barked out a laugh at that, "I don't think that's what it is."

"Well, maybe not technically," you conceded, "But it's something … Really makes you rethink eating eggs."

"Oh my god," Harry was truly laughing then, "Stop, please."

"Sorry," you peeped with a cringed look, tossing back half a handful of the small, round fruit in front of you.

He was shaking his head at you, laughter bubbling out between his perfectly straight teeth, and then it just slipped out, "Fuck, I love you."

The words didn't bump over any hesitation. I love you, Harry said.

Your stomach dropped instantly, but the fond happiness dancing across Harry's face didn't go anywhere. He didn't look back at the pancakes or to where your hands were wringing together on your lap. Harry held your gaze and didn't dodge away from what he said at all. Like he knew you'd need a moment with it, that you weren't expecting him to just come out with that.

"I love you," he repeated after a moment, smiling when he saw your lips start to turn up, "I mean it."

Hearing him yell the same words through the microphone from stage sizzles your heart a little, like the pancakes that day crackled in the pan as Harry pushed himself into you on the kitchen floor. You remember the feeling of his hands under your clothes, your leggings barely halfway down your thighs before he was claiming you in a wave of lust, pushed by the new, invisible force in your relationship—love.

The floor under you now vibrates as everyone gets to their feet to join Harry dancing through his first song. You stare at him, daring him to look over at you but knowing he won't. The longer you stand there, the more you thaw out to it, the more you find yourself with a smile on your face and a slight sway to your hips. His music is fun and familiar and feels like clicking into place.

It's mesmerising. He's mesmerising.

You don't like admitting you'd forgotten how good at this he was. He has the whole crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. Even his crew around you are grinning ear to ear and singing along. Sharing private jokes between them and cutting dance moves in small groups as they watch the show. It's fun. And it reminds you that so much of your relationship with Harry was like that. That there were countless nights spent dancing in the living room or screaming at laptop screens doing board game nights with his family.

You'd forgotten that you could laugh so hard your belly hurt and that Harry was one of the few people who'd ever been able to get you to that point of joy. Watching him throw joy off the stage now at thousands of people was reminding you how very good Harry was—used to be—at making you feel like the only person in the world to him.

"Babe," his giggles filtered down the hallway and into the bathroom where you were plucking your eyebrows, "Babe! Come … Come see this."

You rolled your eyes as you put the tweezers down and padded into his living room, not at all surprised to see Harry pretzeled on his yoga mat in a fit of laughter. He did this a lot, called you away from a task or from work for something hilarious that ninety-nine per cent of the time wasn't hilarious at all. You'd end up snorting out laughter of your own though, at him.

Now, Harry had one of his feet hooked behind his neck while the other was prostrate on the floor behind him.

"You're doing great, baby," you condescended lightly, tilting your head to the side and frowning at his position. It looked awful and not at all calming, let alone comfortable. He wasn't a very good advertisement for yoga at all.

"They say this one's great for—great for," he giggled too much to get the words out, his arms holding his torso back so his legs would do what he wanted them to, he took a deep breath, "It's meant to be the yoga colonic."

Harry was heaving with laughter as he finally got it out, his position faltered, and you watched as his limbs all fell back to the mat as he leant forward cackling. You were grinning too, amused by how amused he was.

"Been feeling backed up, have you?" You asked him, crossing your arms as you hitch one hip out.

He rolled over on his back and wheezed out the final string of laughter, one hand holding his lower tummy as if it ached from the whole spectacle, as his other hand reached out for your ankle, "Come down here with me."

"Hmm," you hummed, pretending to be unhappy to be dragged down on top of him, your hips resting on his thighs as your chin propped up on your hands at his chest, "It's very entertaining how entertaining you find yourself," you mused.

Harry rubbed the tears from his eyes and then settled his hands on your back, breathing in the pleasant weight of you there, "I just—I was thinking about what they think the yoga colonic is going to do." His giggles started again, "Imagine being in a class and it literally working? Everyone just—everyone just shits themselves!"

You can feel his laugher, his bones pushing yours up as his whole body fills with his happiness. The stream of tears coming from the corners of his eyes start again as he squeezed his eyes shut while the sound of Harry's deep, uninhibited laughter filled the whole house again.

The memory brings back a smile, like so many with Harry do.

But there's still the Too Fresh Sting of your final moments with him, your last moments with him. You've not seen him since that evening months ago where you both yapped at each other things that couldn't be unsaid, unhappinesses that couldn't be reverted or unadmitted. It wasn't like the fights you had about Harry's casualised view of money and how he'd drop thousands of pounds on seemingly nothing without thinking how small it could make you feel. Or the times you'd snap in frustration when Harry tuned out of you complaining about an issue with your friends he deemed as superfluous or rooted in something silly or not as essential as the Important Thing He Was Planning. He could be so dismissive when he didn't think something mattered highly enough on his scale of measuring things.

The Harry dancing around on stage in front of you wasn't the man who said you were independent like it was a dirty word. Yelled across the kitchen that it was too easy for the two of you to be apart, you didn't miss him enough. The man who told you he didn't feel like you needed him, thought you were always standing with one foot out the door the whole time you were together. And you can remember being flabbergasted (still are, really) by what he was saying because it just wasn't true at all. You? Too independent? You spent every night at his house, and were at Harry's beck and call the whole relationship. And you can hear all the times you said 'what would I do without you?' when he talked you off a ledge or had answers to questions you believed to be unanswerable.

You can see how it was another classic example of Harry telling a non-truth to cover up what was really there. To distract from his own shortcomings. He accused you of what he was feeling, of his flaws. Making them your problem meant he didn't have to be vulnerable. Didn't have to take a risk his business manager hadn't guaranteed. Didn't have to gamble on your future together.

In the relationship, he always had the upper hand. And maybe you did have one foot out the door emotionally, but that was only because you had to. Harry never invited you in with him completely. You were always on the outer. After nearly a year of dating you were still The Girlfriend He Didn't Have.

But I fucking love you, he'd said when he sensed where that night was going. Like Harry had a list of grievances, and it wasn't until he got to the end of reading them out to you that he realised where it landed him. He told you he loved you as though it would erase all the things about you he seemed to dislike so much. Things about yourself you apparently couldn't see.

Hindsight has taught you that if anyone was too independent, or hesitant to commit fully in that relationship, it was Harry.

Halfway through his set, Harry's assistant comes over to check on you, and you end up chatting for a few minutes about how you've been. She speaks to you like there was some club you were a member of and she missed your meetings. Although neither of you references the breakup, or acknowledge in another life you had a lot more to do with each other, the unspoken things weigh on your chest. You find yourself wiping away a quiet tear when she walks back over to the main group watching Harry.

Of course, that's when he teeters over to your side of the stage and looks straight at you. His expression falls instantly, and you're sure that he only meant to glance at you in passing, but what he sees has him doing a double-take and fixing his gaze on you for two lines of the song he's midway through. He tugs on the collar of his shirt and Harry's eyes are desperately trying to read what you're thinking, just like that day he told you he loved you at the end of the breakup, as though you'd forget everything that came before it.

You stick your thumb out to him and give him your best fake smile. Like he might be led to believe you were crying about something else. As if you hadn't just pulled his attention from a room full of people who'd paid for his attention tonight. At that moment you think the fact there's a secret love and life between you must be too obvious to everyone else. There's a connection, something whirls around the room between you and it feels threatening and perilous to how you've been trained to think things have to be.

You wait until Harry turns and goes the other way across the stage before you push off from the wall and walk out.

At first, love was an encouragement between you. It was approval, a showing of appreciation. Love was a promise that was just for the two of you. A declaration that validated everything you were doing together. Love was a feeling that proved what every action meant.

Then, love was a bandaid, was a line used in desperation to fix something unfixable, and you walk the world with skun knees now because of it. Love was never just love. It was used to fix the wrong things.

And in the end, nothing healed at all.

The fifth lie was that he'd always fight for you.

Harry promised you that the two of you would make it work.

You'd make up after every argument, big or small. The little ones that were those tiny bickerings in the car which somehow roared into yelling matches. Or when one person's grumpiness from the day leaked into your evening together. You always expected his call or the long sigh that would precede his apology. You never got halfway home to your house if you left his after a row. He'd call and beg for you to come back, that nothing was worth you physically leaving being near him. You left knowing before the night was done the two of you would reconcile.

Until it was That Fight you were leaving after. The one that began The End.

It started because Harry was overseas for a few weeks. While he was away, you suggested the two of you going on a holiday together during the summer. An anniversary trip. From the other side of the world, it was easy enough for Harry to worm his way of out of it. He went off on a tangent about there being no holidays (rest) for the wicked and then got you talking about something else until you forgot how you'd been sold on the idea of lying on a beach with him for a week.

When Harry got home, you had it stored in an unhappy little pocket in your mind. Top of the agenda for when he returned.

"Can we talk about the holiday thing again?" You asked his first night home.

He sighed against you, his body gearing up for a reunion that didn't involve speaking, lips attached to your neck while his hands danced around the band of your bra, "Do we have to right now?"

"Well," your instinct was to back away from the tension rising between you, "I'd like to."

Harry pushed his hair up off his face and briefly looked at the ceiling, "I don't see how we can, babe. It's too hard, logistically. Just take a week off work and stay with me here."

"I already stay here," you counter, "I'm talking about a holiday somewhere. A beach. Or a ski resort. Something fun and different."

"Those places are all busy," Harry complained, his hands off you. He started to pack the dishwasher from dinner.

"I just want to go away with you, do something normal, you know?"

He clipped the side of the sink with a dinner plate and swore angrily under his breath, "Fuck."

"Don't get angry."

"I'm not fucking angry," he growled, tossing your forks into the plastic crate, "I just fucking got home, and you're straight into this. No 'I missed you so much' or 'It's so great to see you'… Just straight into going on a holiday as if I have endless time to mess about."

"What do you mean? We've just eaten dinner together, you told me all about your trip. I said I was happy to have you home!"

"Yeah, well, feels like you just don't give a fuck that I'm back."

You frowned at him starting to get annoyed yourself, "I cried on our FaceTime call on the weekend because I missed you! You have a lobotomy since then?"

"Don't yell," Harry instructed quietly like he was chastising a child for not controlling themselves.

"What's this about, Harry?" You asked. "Why is it such a crime for me to want to go away with my boyfriend?"

He sighed again, "It's not."

"Right," you crossed your arms over your chest and wondered how many times he could wipe down the chopping board.

Probably one more time.

"So …"

"So what?" Harry repeated, "What do you want from me?"

His words and their harshness shocked you, and that was the exact moment you started worrying this was going to turn into Something Else. Not just a Normal Fight.

"I want you to tell me why you're so annoyed by this?"

It would have been so easy for you to break down and scream about how insane it was that you were talking about celebrating your first anniversary with him and the relationship was still a secret. How badly you wanted to throw that out there, but there was a wise fear in you which said that would be a death wish. (That fact haunts you today, how you knew he'd never step out with you. There wasn't any hope in you or promise from him it wouldn't always be that way. You knew your place and where the boundary line was, don't push past this point. And you always behaved. Never peeped out of your box.)

"It's like you don't even need me," Harry said bitterly, "You're so fucking independent. What's the point?"

"What are you talking about?" You gushed, nearly swallowing your tongue when he turned back to look at you for the first time.

"You don't need me," he accused, "You've always got one foot out the door."

"I don't," came your defence, but you both knew it was the truth. You were halfway out the door because you hadn't been invited all the way in yet.

"You don't want this life with me," Harry shook his head, "You've never been happy where we are. Relationships don't work that way, you can't just keep demanding the same thing hoping you'll wear me down. That's not fair."

Tears shake out of your eyes slowly as your body catches up with what he's saying, "Harry."

"It's not fair!" He repeated loudly. "You can't keep on about it."

About what? You want to ask him because you hadn't mentioned a holiday until the week before. That's not what he was really angry about. He was talking about The Secret. And his guilt was showing. His anger was misdirected, aimed at the wrong thing. He muttered something to himself you didn't hear.

"I didn't hear that."

"I said," Harry looked up at you, and when your eyes clicked together you saw surprise rise and then quickly disappear as if he hadn't expected to see you there. "I said, I don't think we can keep doing this."

"You don't think we can keep doing this?" You repeated it because the words hardly sounded like English the first time you heard them.

I don't think we can keep doing this.

Harry stood across from you with no expression on his face. And it took a few moments for him to own up to what he said, but he does. He nods his head once, awkwardly, and then nods again.

"We can't keep doing this," he tells you, sounding defeated, and then his voice rises again—in pitch, not in volume—"But I fucking love you!"

But I fucking love you.

As if that was enough.

It was days of you expecting a call, and a make up that never came. Expecting the fight for your relationship Harry promised you he'd always put up. You wanted him to prove that you were someone he couldn't do without. You hated the thought of him walking around his house and not feeling the absence of you as some impossible weight he couldn't bear.

"Y/N!" Your name sounds out behind you, but you keep walking, an instantaneous decision that pretending not to hear her might work.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn't.

Harry's assistant keeps chasing you down the hall she initially led you through, calling your name and eventually getting you to stop and turn around because, well, you can't keep pretending she's not there forever.

"I'm just finding a loo," you lie.

"There's one this way," she points over her shoulder, in the direction you both came from, "Harry said if you tried to leave I had to go with you, which, for my own dignity I'd really prefer not to have to do."

You find yourself scoffing, "Who said he's in charge of how long I stay?"

Her expression softens somewhat, "He just wants to see you after."

How dare he think he can control this still, you think.

You know she's not the person to be frustrated with. You should be frustrated with yourself first, for coming, and then with Harry for deciding he could orchestrate this … This whatever it was. Still, you find yourself biting out your reply, "He saw me from stage," you tell her bitterly.

"And he'll have seen that you're not there anymore," she replies patiently,, "It'll throw off his focus if he's worried you've gone home halfway through."

You fall into step beside her but can't give him the win, "Quite frankly, it's not my concern or responsibility anymore if his focus is thrown or not."

She wordlessly points out where the bathrooms are just in front of you. You're trying not to make eye contact with anyone who's in these backstage hallways. They feel like ghosts from a life that's not yours anymore.

The first time you met any of Harry's People you'd felt absolutely mortified. The whole thing felt awkward to you, meeting assistants and managers and creative directors. Putting faces and humans to jobs done for Harry. He was a lot of people's boss, and it made you uncomfortable because you'd not seen that side to him before. You knew things like how hot he liked his showers and what yogurt he liked on his muesli in the morning.

That first—and only—step into his professional world, was in a venue just like this one where Harry was filming a music video for a few days. The stage was set up like it was for live a show, and you overheard someone saying setting up for a shoot was more involved than for an actual performance. Harry wanted you to see what this part of his world looked like and despite them not fitting in either of the Friends or Family categories you'd laid out for People Allowed To Know About You, his "Team" were people Harry felt safe introducing to you. (NDAs were a powerful thing) He led you through the hallways by the hand and stuck his head into every room with a cheery, 'Hullo, just bringing Y/N around to meet everyone.'

You remember one person declaring they were happy to be meeting you. Harry was too young to be married to his job, they said with a relieved tone, That it was good he'd found his Someone. Harry beamed at that, looking down at you as if thinking, Yeah, I have found my Someone.

Now you stand back in the pit side of stage, and Harry looks down at you with a hesitation that makes you more uncomfortable than when you were watching him film that music video. His assistant has brought you back to where his team are standing, and you feel more than one set of eyes take stock of you returning, a shared glance between a manager and the girl shadowing you. A wide-eyed exchange that says, That was the last thing we needed. When Harry comes to the side of stage between songs, he's hunting for a bottle of water, but you can see he's come to that side because his eyes are focused on hunting for you.

When he sees you've returned, he slowly takes a sip of water, eyes not leaving yours. You feel like he's admonishing you in his head, seeing how weak you were, that you ran away after a little eye contact. There's a distaste there, you think, and as he's putting the cap back on the bottle, Harry opens his mouth like he's going to try to say something to you, but he stops. He frowns at his hands as he puts the bottle down and then turns away, bringing the microphone back up to his lips and slipping back into entertainer mode.

"In a lot of ways, I hate this next song," he starts slowly, speaking over the band as they begin to slow down the tempo of the night. A smoke machine whirls to life and pumps out a few big clouds, shrouding the stage behind Harry. "I really hate it."

He pauses. And your insides freeze in your chest. You're hanging off his every word, just like every other body in the room. Harry stands right on the front of the stage, toes almost touching the drop off. He's looking out at the audience and lets the microphone hang at his side. Makes no move to keep talking. Was he looking for someone out there, or was he running over what he was about to say in his head? Rehearsing it, making sure it was exactly what needed to be said.

Where you used to see thoughtfulness you now see calculation.

Give nothing away. Sell only the product. Push the song. Let people come to their own conclusions.

"This is a song about," he says carefully, a crack to his voice that sends adrenaline shooting straight down your legs, "About regretting that you've hurt someone. And about the helplessness of wishing you could make them forget what you said, but … Knowing you can't take it back."

You watched Harry trail around to the upright piano on stage and sit himself down on the stool. He stares at his hands hovering over the keys for a moment too long, but you're sure Harry's audience would let him take a hundred more. You see what perhaps they don't—the hesitation. You'd witnessed it enough to spot it, even across the stage in the dark from thirty feet away.

He's not sure about playing the song.

You think about contacting him by telepathy. Saying, I'll leave so you can go back to your show. You don't have to pretend I'm not here, I'll just go. Like I wanted to. Like I tried to.

But he plays it.

You've not heard it before, but the rest of the room has, and they sing along with him. You hear a couple of thousand people sing with your ex-boyfriend about him regretting the way he treated you. And you're almost able to talk yourself out of believing it's about you, you can nearly reason with yourself that it's kind of vague. Other than naming the cafe he'd sat in the car park of a hundred times waiting for you to return with a takeaway, it could be about anyone, really.

But he sings out a line and looks straight at you, and his eyes say it's yours. The song. The apology that's not been said yet.

I get the feeling that you'll never need me again.

His voice cracks again as he sings it. And the hurt part of you says it's just a vocal technique Harry's trained to call on at any time. It doesn't speak to anything other than a creative choice on his part. But the vulnerability is hard to ignore, the low hanging, remorseful unease in the room. He fumbles a string of notes on the piano as he sings and you're hit by the overwhelming need to make him stop.

Witnessing whatever he's currently feeling with this song is more uncomfortable than you've ever been, and a switch in you to protect him flicks on. You look around at his assistant, his manager, trying to see if there's even a hint of anyone else feeling like this moment needs an intervention, needs to be stopped.

The song ends. And you're glad.

Harry takes a few moments on stage to get ready with a guitar for the next song. He doesn't come over to your side of the stage for a drink, or to ask the roadies for anything. Instead, he flies straight into the next section of the set. Seemingly recovered from the heavy moment you felt as though you nearly drowned in. He'd never sung about you before.

Nothing remotely personal about your relationship ever left Harry's house.

And you find yourself wishing it would all just go back there.

The sixth lie was that he wouldn't break your heart.

Harry did though.

He broke your whole life.

So when he comes off stage at the end of his gig, there's little in you that wants to hang around. As soon as the lights go down and you see Harry's silhouette cross the back of the stage and hop down the stairs to the floor, your gut churns, and you wish you were one of the people in the rest of the venue. The ones now turning and slowly filing out of the building. Going back to their lives peacefully.

Instead, you're ushered behind the curtain again, into the small area that's immediately buzzing with life. You watch Harry as if he's moving in slow motion though. As soon as his boots hit the concrete floor somebody is tugging the suit jacket from his shoulders and swapping it for a grey hand towel that he uses to wipe down his face. His hand pushes his hair up over his head as he smiles at a handful of people, and then his eyes find yours. The smile drops, and he takes a steadying breath in.

"Y/N," he says loudly. Straight. Without expression. It's a statement, but also you sense a question there too. As if you might not turn out to be the person who was standing there. He holds your gaze over and through the people walking around and in front of him. He's handed a bottle of water and offered a second one which he takes, "Y/N," he says again, pulling his head back to beckon you over.

You roll your lips together when you've made it to the vacant space in front of him. Harry passes you the extra water bottle and cracks the lid off the one he keeps for himself. You grip yours with both hands but don't make any move to open it. Standing in front of him didn’t feel like you thought it would. It’s less of a kick I in the gut, and more a reinforcing of things that you’d figured out since being without him.

"Hi," he says hesitantly, briefly looking at someone behind your left shoulder. Then, you feel his eyes back on your face.

You speak to his forehead, not ready to have things inside you unlocked by eye contact, "Hello."

"This way," Harry says after a moment, running the towel down his sweaty face again.

He leads you down a hallway, wiping his face on the towel two more times as he walks. Harry continuously looks over his shoulder at you to make sure you're still following him, as if there was somewhere for you to hide in the concrete hallway. When he gets to his dressing room door, he kicks it open and holds his arm out to let you in first. The room smells like his cologne, a whiff of his final moments before going out on stage and a time portal back to mornings you'd spritz it on yourself before leaving the house, it was your scent then too. There was a small sofa and table, a long mirrored table with his laptop open next to a stack of papers, his screen saver bouncing back and white photos across the locked screen. His overnight bag and its contents were sprawled out over the floor in the corner next to where you can see his phone charging.

"You look good," is the first thing he says to you. Trying to pull your attention probably. Maybe hoping to get on the front foot charming you. You could tell him he looked good as well, particularly in the cream suit they had him in tonight, but you were sure there were no shortage of people who already had.

"Your show was good," you deflect away from the personal, eyes tracing the bottles in the corner of the table, "Great setlist."

"Needs a shakeup, if we're honest. Getting stale," Harry shrugs, and you see it in the mirrored wall. He's still standing by the closed door, watching you walk into the centre of the room and take stock of what's around you. "How have you been?"

"Fine."

Harry coughs uncomfortably, "Thanks for coming, wasn't sure you would."

"I wasn't sure either."

You sense Harry realising this conversation was going to be exactly as difficult as feared it might be, he nods his head and moves over to the sofa but doesn't sit down, "Did you want a seat?"

"I'll sit here," you perch yourself on the chair in front of his laptop, crossing one leg over the other and hitching your elbow at the back so you're facing Harry. Keeping the room between you.

Harry sits on the arm of the small, burgundy sofa, and tosses the towel onto the seat next to him, "Looked like you were a little upset there for a moment."

"My boots are new," you quip, kicking your top foot out towards him, "Blisters."

He sighs again, and you start to feel chastised, but there's a more substantial part of you that stubbornly bunkers on down to playing this role, taking power when you'd never had it with Harry before. He knew it wasn’t blisters that had emotion welling up in you during his set. But just the same it wasn’t his place anymore to be privy to your feelings. And you weren’t going to let him gallantly try to take it. You weren’t old friends who could pick up where you left off. You were broken lovers.

"I just thought we could do with talking," Harry says finally.

"You could have uninvited me, you know, I assumed—Well, it's not like I've been expecting to still attend any of your shows the last six months. This one didn't have to be different."

He almost looks hurt, "You live here."

"How was Italy, Harry?” you turn the conversation around abruptly because you didn't like where it was going, and he was starting to frustrate you. You didn’t need him pointing out you lived in this city alone now since he left. As if you didn’t know.

Where watching him on stage hit you with longing and heartbreak, memories you found yourself irrevocably attached to, being in the same room as him now is only making you see the real Harry. The one who's so good at rearranging the energy in the room to make you feel you need to give more of yourself. The one who's an expert at asking a leading question and relying on the other person to be vulnerable first, lead the charge out the gates.

The man who lied to hide you every day for nearly a year, even when it was hurting you more than protecting you. The hurt from him was worse than the invasion of your privacy would have be. The distrust you felt didn't counteract the security you were still afforded by anonymity. The way you felt you still had something to prove—something to earn from him—and that you just needed to earn the right to your place in Harry's life.

"I've missed you," he said finally, "Just …"

"You've been lonely?" You raise your eyebrows at him.

"What?" Harry's defences click into place, "No, it's not that—obviously yes, I've been lonely—but also I just—I miss you."

You start nodding, and your gaze drifts around the room, "Yeah, I … What exactly do you miss, Harry? Because—I mean, it was kind of shit, don't you think?"

"Shit?" he looks horrified, "What was shit?"

"Harry," you say simply, telling him to cut the bullshit with your expression. "Come on."

"I loved you," he declares loudly, proudly, “We had a great time together. I don't think it was kind of shit at all."

That's when you feel tears come to your eyes. Of course he didn't think it was shit. He still didn't see where the problem was. Couldn't see it. He would go right back to That Fight and keep going the way you had been if he could. Harry would keep living that life with you, he would have kept on going the same way. You'd still be the secret. A fight about a holiday would have resolved itself with compromise and make-up sex, and you would have gone right back to sneaking out of venues and pretending not to know him in crowded rooms.

Your lips turn up in a smile of sorts as your tears beg to fall but don't, "You haven't changed," you state with a small, incredulous laugh, "You've not figured it out. Nothing's changed," you repeat, shaking your head.

Harry's confusion is plain, and if he thought your tears were because you miss him there's something like a flicker of doubt, as if he's reading what's in front of him again and maybe getting a different story.

"You can't have a life with someone who doesn't want anyone to know you're in their life," you state simply.

And that was it, really. That was the nuts and bolts of it.

The secrecy eroded any meaning your relationship with Harry had. The doubt that cast. The burden on you to continually prove yourself, to audition for the role every day only to never graduate from understudy.

You watch Harry's throat constrict tightly as he thinks about the words that come from his mouth, "I loved you," he repeats, "I didn't want anything outside of us to fuck us up."

"You can't control the world that way, Harry," you're observing him carefully, "You definitely can't control people that way. I get why we started that way, but a year in, Harry? A year."

He looks at his feet, and it's the first bit of remorse you've ever seen him show over it.

"I know you loved me," you keep going, "But you can't use that as some bandaid for the lying, for the hurt that was. You can't erase the consequences because you thought you were protecting me or us or yourself. The truth doesn't cancel out the hurt of the lie."

Harry's still starring at his boots, "You could have said something."

You blink once.

"Fuck you," bursts out before you can stop it, and Harry's eyes snap up to yours, you laugh at his nerve and rise to your feet, "Fuck you, Harry. I couldn't have. I felt like I had to earn it. Like maybe I was one gold star away from getting there. And then when I did push it, you ended it."

"That's not—

"—It is," you insist, shaking your head at him, "You put all your insecurities and shortcomings on me and then had the nerve to tell me you loved me as if I was the defective cog in the wheel. As if you saying you loved me put all the onus on me spoiling it."

"I'm a private person—

You put your hand up to silence him, turning on your heel to face Harry as your pacing halts, "Stop. I don't … I don't care," you breathe out simply, "I really don't. Our relationship wasn't The One. It's one we'll both learn from for the ones that are coming. I hope you learn from it," you add quietly, "Because I have."

"Y/N," Harry says your name like it's an idea he's unsure of.

"That song wasn't about me, was it?" You ask because on stage he said it was about regretting hurting someone and there's been no hint of a 'sorry' from Harry since.

His brow creased, "It is. I am. I wanted you to hear me play it tonight. It's for you."

You smile, the idea that you've grown beyond this situation blooming inside you, "You've not said it."

"What?"

"You haven't said you're sorry," your head shakes again, a fresh wave of your new perfume—the one that's just yours—filling your nose, "You've said you missed me. And that I look good, but you've not said you're sorry. You can put an apology into the song on stage, but you can't admit you were wrong to the person you wrote the song about."

His shoulders sink, just the slightest amount, and you know that you've seen enough. You've said enough. He's not going to have an epiphany on this, not in this conversation with you. You've gone as far as you can with this. As far as you're willing to.

"I'm going to go," you take a step forward, "Thanks for the song, your voice sounded really nice on it."

And you walk passed him with just a final wave and the slightest touch to his shoulder. He doesn't move from his seated position, but his neck cranes and he watches you leave. Eyes hunting your back for answers, like the manuscript for what just happened might show up there. But it doesn't, and you slip out the door, the clip from your shoes fading from his hearing quicker than he wanted it to.

Your insides are shaking by the time you make it out onto the street. No part of you wants to turn back and look up at his name in lights again. You're done with seeing the best of everything in him. Harry's one of the shitty boyfriends you'll tell someone about one day in the future, and they'll call him a dickhead with anger dripping from their tongue, promising to never treat you the same way.

And they won't.

You'll both have bumped and bruised your way into each other's lives, and there'll be a satisfying click with them there wasn't with anyone else. You'll have journeyed through all the maybes and not-quites, and you'll land in that forever place with the person who wears the badge of Yours with a fervour nobody before them has.

And Harry … You'll go and be Nothing to Him.

My inbox is here

836 notes · View notes

imkylotrash · 3 years

Text

Chaos In My Bones

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You’re not supposed to fall in love with him. Hell, up until this point you thought you weren’t capable of love. But he brings you a feeling of serenity that nothing or no one else can. It’s just too bad it’s not enough to stop you from being the villain in this story.

A/N I haven’t really stuck to plot of the movies but just used different plot points that fit into the story.

Tagging: @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody

You meet him the first time when he’s still the winter soldier - a protect created from deep within the Hydra facilities. You’ve heard rumours of his true identity but Bucky Barnes from 1945 doesn’t mean much to you and neither does Captain America. It’s your lack of empathy that makes you so damn good at what you do. Unlike Bucky, you don’t need someone to fry your brain to convince you that killing people is fun. All your job comes down to is who’s the highest bidder.

It’s the reason Hydra hires you to work with the Winter Soldier. Granted, he’s one of the best there is but it’s a big assignment and it comes with a lot of risks. They want to make sure the job is done right. That’s the first time you see him in the fryer and it feels wrong. You don’t know how to explain it but seeing him writhing in pain makes your stomach churn. You turn away from it not ready to dive into the feelings the sight brings out in you. His scream pierces your ears to the point where you have to leave the room.

“Get it together,” you whisper leaning your hands on your knees. You’ve barely talked to the brown-haired man in the other room and here you are feeling sick at the thought of him being in pain. You’ve seen men in pain all your live and most of the time you’ve been the reason for it, but not him. You can’t watch him.

“Are you getting soft on me?” You turn around to see the man who gave the order to fry his brain once more stand there looking at you.

“No, sir. Absolutely not, sir.” You take a deep breath hoping you sound as convincing at you’re trying to sound. Fresh air is what saves you. You find your way to the roof stumbling out. What is happening to you? Several deep breaths before you feel somewhat in control again. You tell yourself to get over it refusing to feel weak over a man. It gets easier when you see him the next time seeing as he doesn’t remember you. But still you’re drawn together. You don’t want to care but for the first time in your life, you can’t control your own feelings. There’s no numbing the fire he’s started in your chest.

“Budapest, huh?” You’re turning over one of the few books in the apartment when he walks in. He’s back to his normal self but the ghost of what the Winter Soldier did still lingers in the corner.

“What are you doing here?” he asks throwing his backpack on the bed. You put the book down on the table looking at the view rather than him. It’s been a while since you saw him last and while you know nothing has changed, it still feels different. Every time you see each other, he’s taken another step away from the world that you’re so integrated in that there’s no escape for you.

“I had a job to do in Tatabánya. Figured I’d stop by and see how you were doing.” You don’t tell him about the man whose blood splattered onto your skin the night before and he doesn’t ask. It’s the only way to make this work.

“Also, I missed you,” you add in a softer tone taking two steps towards him.

“I told you, you should just stay here.” It’s said as a joke but you know he means it. He’d want nothing more than for you to retire and create a simple, peaceful life with him but you can’t do that. You can’t give it up no matter how much you care about him. It’s all you know and you’re good at it.

“You’d get tired of me if you saw me all the time,” you say finally closing the gap between the two of you and wrapping your arms around him. His metal arm feels cold even through the sleeve but it’s a feeling you’ve come to adore. You reach up to caress his cheek before kissing him. It’s exactly what you need after a rough job.

“How long are you here for?” he asks hope evident in his voice.

“I have three days.” It’s better than he hoped for but less than he wanted. It’s all you can offer though and he knows it.

“Let’s make the most of our time then.”

“I’ll never get tired of waking up next to you,” he hums nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. You want to stay in bed with him but you also know that any minute now a new assignment will check in on your phone and you’ll have to leave for the airport.

“You know, you say that every time yet you never come see me. I always have to find you.” You know why though. Steve is openly against Bucky’s “relationship” with you knowing who you are and what you do. You doubt any of the Avengers are a fan of you considering you’re the very thing they fight every day to stop. Lucky for you, Bucky has decided not to listen to them.

“I’d be flying all around the world if I were to follow you,” he mumbles tightening his grip on you. Once again, his metal arm has a cooling effect on your skin which is much needed in the summer time.

“You’d be able to experience the world. I don’t see what’s wrong with that,” you whisper. Being here with him is the only place you can afford to relax. You’ve made a lot of enemies over the years but no one will be able to find you here.

“I don’t care about the world. I care about you.” You’re about to answer when your phone rings. Your face turns pale when you see your next target. You knew the Accords had been tough on the Avengers. It had broken them apart but you never thought the day would come where someone would want them dead.

“Why is there a photo of Steve on your phone?” Bucky asks not fully awake.

“The government has deemed him a liability to the safety of America.” You’ve never bothered with politics or worried about picking a side.

“What are you saying?” Bucky sits up and the fact that he’s not touching you anymore doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I’m saying he is now considered an outlaw due to the Accords. And they want him gone.” Another text chimes in asking you to confirm the assignment. If you didn’t know Bucky, you’d have no qualms taking out Captain America. You don’t particularly like him very much and you know he hates your guts.

“But you can say no, right?” He’s not looking at you because he already knows the answer. This will tear you apart and you’ll let it. You’re not the good guy in this story, and you won’t become a hero either. You’ve never felt remorse or regretted being the villain - someone had to.

“We both know I’m not going to say no, Bucky.” The worst part is how you don’t even feel sad about having to kill his best friend. You don’t want to lose Bucky, but you knew it would only be a matter of time before a job would rip you apart.

“I can’t sta-”

“I know.” For the first time, you find yourself wishing you thought like a good person but there’s chaos in your bones and a storm in your mind. You don’t know how to be good even if you tried.

“I can give you a head start to warn him but I will be coming for him. It’s the best I can do.” Maybe when the dust settles, you’ll be able to rekindle the fire but you doubt that he’ll ever move past the fact that you killed his best friend.

“How much time?”

“Two hours. It’s enough time to call him and get on a plane. I can’t stop this. He caused it himself when he decided he was above the law. If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else.”

“Since when do you care about the law?” he sneers painfully aware that the clock is ticking. 1 hour and 57 minutes.

“I don’t. But whoever hired me does.” You type out “confirmed” hitting send. It’ll keep them from giving the assignment to someone else. You’re one of the only people who’ll stand a chance against Captain America so it doesn’t surprise you that you were first choice. 1 hour and 54 minutes.

“I am begging you. Please don’t do this.” His eyes show the desperation he’s trying to keep out of his voice but it’s no use. There are two outcomes; either you kill Cap or he kills you.

“You know I can’t. Giving you a head start is all I can do.” What you don’t say is that you don’t want to. You’re addicted to the hunt, the feeling of power when you’re holding someone else’s life in your hands. It’s too good a feeling. Bucky knows it wrong when he takes you in his arms and kisses you. He knows you’ve just become the enemy but even the devil has charm. He’s kissing you to tell you everything he’ll never be able to express with words and you reciprocate. You do love him - it’s just not enough.

“Goodbye, Bucky.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes gif #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes #bucky buchanan #marvel avenger #marvel #bucky barnes blurb #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier blurb #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #marvel blurb #marvel imagine #marvel gif #sebastian stan gif

135 notes · View notes

jkknight98 · 3 years

Text

My G/T promt challenge attempt inspiration.

This was my first attempt at ever doing a collective prompt challenge so it’s very safe to say I am a little nervous posting this story, especially since I suck at writing standard stories and fell back into my comfort zone, but I hope that everyone who reads enjoys it. It's from @bittydragon idea ( If I knew how to link the original post I would, but I am not very well versed in Tumblr writing yet).

The prompt was to have the tiny protect the giant, I was faced with two options that I could do, protecting the mental self vs the physical self. I chose protecting from the physical since a giant can easily protect the outside of their bodies, but their insides can be easily hurt without them knowing until much later.

Here’s Tommy protecting a gaint Wilbur from his own poor judgement plus interactions from the rest of the sleepybois inc.

Warnings : Blood warning, slight mention of regurgitating meal, soft vore, cursing.

(I have always viewed soft vore as a sfw interest but I know others may not so I’ll leave it out of the main collective tag just to be safe until I’ve been given the all clear to add it, but otherwise I’ll say its just an inspiration from all the wonderful work already posted through the challenge.)

G/T Prompt Challenge

Wilbur should have known that his habit of eating sand would come back to bite him one day, but who could blame him when he enjoyed the texture of sand crunching in his teeth and the feeling it made tumbling around in his stomach. It was supposed to be a normal day when the sands decided to strike back against him. He was just enjoying a warm summers day with his family at the nearby beach, techno was asleep under a umbrella while Phil was trying to keep his tiny brother Tommy from accidentally drowning himself by jumping from the giant's knee and then pinching them to make the man jump and create massive waves for the little gremlin. He couldn't hide his smile as he took hold of another handful of sand and let it fall in clumps into his mouth, not noticing the hidden treasure chest even when it landed in the middle of his tongue with the copious sand, he didn’t get a chance to chew the sand before his father yelled at him after seeing what he had done, swallowing the mouthful quickly before the giant avian could force him to spit it out,” Alright Alright Phil, I've had my two mouthfuls for the day.”

“ You shouldn’t be eating any, what are you going to do if you swallow something that isn’t just sand, what are we going to do then!”

Wilbur just laughed at his yelling father as he leaned backwards on his hands, smiling as he watched Tommy get his fathers attention again by using his feathers as a climbing frame, he shook his head at the sight. He really did love his mixed-up family.

It wasn't until they were having dinner that night did they all find out the true dangers of his habit. They haven't been eating long, Phil chatting with Techno about who knows what while Tommy darted around the table pulling himself chunks of food from everyone's plate, Phil had learned quickly not to make one for Tommy since the tiny always said that everyone else's looked better, and Willbur was waiting for the next pass of the tiny so he could pull his target out of reach. He had pulled up a giant piece of pork away from the tiny, quickly stuffing it into his mouth and laughing as the gremlin child raged at him, he quickly chewed and swallowed down the meat as he dodged the tiny pea that was thrown at him, ” Come on Tomms, I know you have a better arm than that.” He continued to eat a bit more on his plate, subtly feeling how much he ate already before he stopped, feeling a touch of pain from his stomach.

“That's weird?”

“What's weird Will?”

His father looked at him slightly concerned when he had pushed his chair back a bit to look down at himself, taking a hand to gently place on his stomach, ” I don't know dad, my stomach just started hur-ghh.” The moment he put a slight amount of pressure on his stomach it felt as if something was ripping inside, the pain was bad enough that it nearly brought him to tears. He quickly pulled up his shirt to see if it was something on the outside, but the skin was perfectly clear with no signs of irritation.

“Wilbur walk me through what hurts.”

The avian was already up and at his side while Techno was holding Tommy at his other side, but still out of the way of their father, both looking equally as concerned.

“What's wrong with you big man, finally bite off more than you could chew?” The tiny looked as ridiculous as usual trying to act indifferent like the oldest, but it was easy to see the real concern hidden behind his normal snark.

“Oh shut up before I feed you to a bird Bratt, ” Wilbur stuck his tongue out at him before wincing again when he felt his fathers cool touch, ” hurts right where your pressing.” He watched as Phil's hand began pressing at different parts of his body, telling him about how the pain was worse in that spot, but could feel it throbbing into other areas.

He watched his father frown before he went to stand fully, he looked more concerned than he had before, but didn't voice anything to clue his sons into what he was thinking. The avain walked over to a side room to grab a small bucket and set it into Wilbur’s lap, taking care to not press it against his stomach, before sitting back in his chair to look at his son, ” I'm going to need you to empty your stomach a small amount, I don't want you to empty it fully just in case it's something I hope it's not, but I want to check just in case.

Wilbur felt a little annoyed at the thought, they were just eating dinner and now dad wants him to spit up half of it just because of a little stomach pain? “ Really dad I'm sure I'm fine, it's probably something stupid like I ate to big-.”

The avians wings puffed up in an attempt to show how serious he was to his son,

“Dont argue with me Will, just do it.”

Wilbur looked at the sternness on his father's face and sighed, ” fine, ” he began flexing the muscles he used for whenever Tommy used his stomach as his personal sleeping bag and nearly cried when he felt his stomach explode in pain again. It was as if every moment his stomach made was like it was ripping itself open. He only got a little bit into his throat before he had to stop because the pain was too much, quickly spitting the mouthful into the bucket and thrusting it into Phils arms as he leaned over and and gently wrapped his arms around himself, ” please don't make me do that again, it really fucking hurt.”

He didn't see the concern on Phil’s face as he looked into the bucket and showed it to his other two sons, Techno looking equally as concerned while Tommy looked confused. The tiny leaned further over the slightly tinted pink fingers and wrinkled his nose at the almost coffee ground looking substance that rested in the bottom.

“What is that brown stuff, Wilbur didn't eat any mud before we had dinner.”

The father figure kept up his concerned expression as he set down the bucket to run a hand through his hair,”That's because that isn’t mud, that's what it looks like when someone is suffering from internal bleeding.” Phil looked back at Wilbur's plate and the others quickly as he used his hands to feel for anything that could have been hidden inside,” I don’t know what you could have swallowed Wil, I made sure to not have any bones in anything.”

Wilbur just shook his head as it swam a little bit in pain,” I don’t know either, all I've eaten before it started hurting was dinner and the sand at the beach.” he gave another groan as his stomach gave another contraction and sent another wave of pain,” I'm just going to stall my system until we figure out what to do.” He closed his eyes to concentrate and felt the change gradually, his stomach calming and finally coming to a standstill to prevent the walls from churning at the rate that they were, no longer trying to digest the little bit of dinner he consumed.

Techno was the first to gently move Tommy to one hand as he used his other to gently grip his brother on the shoulder,” You sure you didn’t eat anything between our beach trip to now, nothing at all?” The piglin hybrid was clearly a little on edge, he was fully capable of protecting his family from the outside, but even he was powerless when a threat came from their own insides.

Everyone was a panicking a bit more as they tried to think what could be doing this to the musically inclined son before Tommy spoke up, the tiny brightening as he thought of a good idea in his mind,” Why don’t I go inside to check, I can go and see whats wreaking up your insides, that would work wouldn't it?”

The thought made Will turn a little green, ” I don't know if I could get you down with how bad it hurts,” he managed to make a teasing smirk though,” you sure you want to see that porkchop again.” He laughed at the face the tiny had made, but winced again when a flash of pain punished him for this action. He took a slow breath and tried to raise up as slow as he could, wincing as he got to his full sitting height,” are you really sure you want to do that, it’s going to be more gross than ever.”

The tiny just smiled as he pushed up his sleeves and held up his arms in a clear ‘pick me up’ gesture,” I can’t really protect you guys from the outside, but I am able to help you from the inside, besides a little gunk isn’t going to stop me from keeping my big brother safe.”

The response brought a small smile to Will's face as he lifted the tiny,” alright you sap, let's get a plan put together before you go saving me from what's hurting me.”

`~`

Tommy stood in Will’s hand and gently shuffled the duffle bag on his shoulder that held a small knife and a small splash healing potion to reduce the damage before a proper healing potion could be taken, he looked up with another smile,” alright, let's get this over with before you get even worse.”

Will smiled lightly before opening his mouth, feeling his smaller brother clamber his way inside and curling up, and slowly closed his mouth and tilted his head back. He felt a mild wave of sickness at the thought of the heavy weight his brother would unintentionally create, but forced it away as he gave a quick swallow,using a hand to gently touch the firm bulge before it slipped behind his collarbone. He looked up to his dad and other brother with a weak smile,” let's hope he finds what's wrong and not cause any more damage.”

Tommy couldn’t help the soft noise of disgust as he slid into the stomach, landing in knee high mix of the stomach's contents, but he also noticed a strange glowing that was coming from what he suspected to be the front of Willbur’s stomach. He was quick to wade his way over to the object, also taking note of a few other things that shouldn’t have been there floating in the muck. “When did he manage to eat chainmail….oh my god.” Sticking out the stomach wall that looked very inflamed under the shiny purple glow was an iron sword, the handle looking a little worse for wear like the armor but the blade looked perfectly fine as it held firmly in the slowly bleeding wall. Tommy was momentarily shocked before he went to inspect the wound, wincing as he yelled up to Wilbur to inform him what he found.

Wilbur heard the tiny voice of Tommy yell out at him, listening for a moment before looking at the two other giants in pure confusion,” He found a sword sticking into me, as well as chain mail armour… when the hell did that get in there.” He jerked and gave a loud yelp as the pain in his middle got more intense before he felt the normal tingling of a healing potion,” You could have warned me before you pulled it out you little shit.”

Phil was the first to slap a hand to his head,” we were on a beach next to the ocean, you probably ate a buried treasure without realizing, this is what you get for eating sand all the time, be thankful tommy was here or else things could have been way worse.” The elder left the room quickly with a yell on how he's going to get a large healing potion to ensure the wound would fully heal once the youngest was released. The second eldest looked at Wilbur with a small smirk as he got up, giving a quiet ‘ I told you so’ before also leaving the room.

The remaining son sighed as he placed a hand over his stomach, softly rubbing where he felt his tiny brother was leaning,”Let's get you out of there Toms.”

`~`

“I really can’t thank you enough Tommy, if what you were saying was true, there would have been no way for us to get that sword out on my own. Also what enchantments did it have on it.”

Tommy smiled up from his cosy position in a towel placed on Wilburs chest, snuggling further into the softness and warmth the two provided together,” It had unbreaking on it, it would have taken you ages to digest the thing, and you would have to go through so many healing potions since you couldn;t heal around it.”

The elder nodded and placed his hand over the towel as he laid his head on his pillow, using his thumb to stroke the tiny in thanks,” what would I do without you, you little gremlin.” He smiled when he felt a small pair of arms wrap around his thumb tightly and pull it to rest on the tiny’s chest where he could feel the gentle breathing.

“ You wouldn’t be able to shit, someone has to protect you giant bastards when you think nothing can hurt you, especially things at my size.”

#tiny t0mmy #giant w!lbur #gt soft vore #soft vore #Ive never been good with straight G/T interactions #giant ph!l #Giant Techn0 #blood warning #vomit warning

109 notes · View notes

fandomfindings · 4 years

Text

Doughnuts

Pairing: (Five Hargreeves x Reader)

Word Count: 1.8K

Warning(s): A few swears

Summary: A Five Hargreeves imagine where he sneaks you out of your house to spend the night with him and his siblings at a local doughnut shop.

A/N: In this story I imagine Five to be a bit older. While I am aware he time jumps when he is 13 I can’t see him being interested in having a significant other at that age. Of course you can imagine him how you please, but I thought I should make my idea known as the author. Please enjoy the story.

----------

"Are you sure you can't come with us tonight? I think it'll be fun," Five said as he begrudgingly walked you out of his room so you could head home.

"I think so too but you know how my folks are," You replied as you both descended the stairs. "They barely want me around you guys, let alone sneaking out at night to do so."

Five rolled his eyes, knowing the dislike your parents had for his family to be real. "It's just some harmless fun."

"I know, but they don't see it that way, Fivie," You tried to explain, turning to face him as you reached the entrance of the mansion.

"We can get Allison to rumor them," Five plotted.

"We are not getting Allison to rumor my parents! Are you crazy?"

"Yes," Five answered shortly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, making you roll your eyes in response.

"I've got to go," You stated bummed, you, of course, wanted to go, but you knew your parents wouldn't have it. You were lucky to spend more than a few hours with the Hargreeves and be dating Five.

"Stay," Five said, moving you closer to him by pulling at your arms.

You smiled sadly at your boyfriend, "You know I can't."

"But- the fuck you looking at?" Five began in a soft tone but quickly shifted once he caught sight of his brother Klaus. Klaus was walking by when he caught a glance of you two, making kissy faces. Five didn't like that.

Klaus said nothing. He merely raised his hands in mock surrender, with a face to match. You did find it interesting that Five still didn't like showing some of his softer qualities to his siblings sometimes, but you knew that's just who he was as a person.

You chuckled at the interaction between the siblings, you then placed a quick peck to Five's lips before telling him goodbye.

----------

A few hours had passed since you left the Hargreeves residence. In that time, you made yourself do random tasks to keep your mind off the adventure you'd be missing. You even succumbed to doing your homework despite it being the weekend.

As you finished up the last of it, you heard a small thud coming from your window. You ignored it, not thinking much of the noise, but then you heard it again and again.

Deciding to check out the repeated sound, you went to your window only to see your boyfriend. A smile quickly appeared on your face. Five smiled as well as he tossed another pebble at your window.

"You're literally throwing rocks at my window," You said with humor once you finally opened the thing separating you and Five.

"Romantic aren't I," Five commented, dramatically outstretching his arms and raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, sure." You replied sarcastically, causing Five to smile even more. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm busting you out," Five explained spatial jumping into your room. It made you jump in surprise a bit, for Five was previously in front of you but now behind.

"What about my parents?"

"They've been asleep for a while now," Five reassured, shoving his hands in his pocket with a half-cocked smile.

"How long have you been out there?" You wondered out loud, not even realizing your parents had already called it a night.

"Long enough, now come on."

You hesitated, glancing between your bedroom door, Five, and the window. It didn't take you long to make up your mind. "Fine," You said, quickly slipping on a pair of shoes.

You looked to Five ready to try and sneak your way past your hopefully sleeping parents and out of the house. However, Five had other ideas. He outstretched his arm to you, even though you were confused at first you took it.

"Hold on," Your boyfriend instructed, lapping his hand over the one you had placed on his bicep.

Before you knew it, you had gone from your bedroom to your front yard in seemingly no time. Your stomach instantly churned, your body obviously not use to the sensation.

"I think I'm going to be sick," You said dramatically, reaching for your stomach, releasing the tight grip you had on your boyfriend.

"Save it for the doughnuts," Five quipped back, taking hold of your hand and whisking you away from your front yard.

You two hadn't gotten far, maybe to the end of the street when you realized something.

"Oh shit, I forgot to grab my wallet. Can you take me back?" You asked Five, stopping him from walking any further.

"Our dad's a billionaire I think money is the least of your problems," said a sudden voice as an arm wrapped around your shoulder.

You looked over and saw that the rest of the Hargreeves siblings stood there, waiting for you and Five. The arm that was now rested upon yours was Diego's. However, it was speedily removed thanks to Five moving you just out of Diego's reach, eyes squinted.

Ignoring your boyfriend's actions, you asked aloud, chuckling, "What's the most?"

"Deciding what donuts your gonna get," Ben said with a smile before walking in front of everyone else, signaling the start of the late-night journey.

----------

The trip to the doughnut shop was quick. It was called Griddy's Doughnuts. You remember Five and the others mentioning the place in passing, but this was the first time you would be joining them, and you were excited.

You all entered the shop, it appearing more like a diner. The joint was lively, but not too much for a Saturday night. Soft music played from a jukebox, and patrons chatted among themselves. You got lost in the atmosphere for a bit before felling a tug at your waist. Five was directing you in the direction his siblings had walked off to in your temporary absence.

It was a small spot by the windows. The siblings had already moved two tables together as if it was second nature to them. All eight of you sat down in no particular way. You ended up sitting between Five and Vanya and across from Allison.

Not long after you all sat down, a waitress came over; she seemed nice enough; you didn't catch her name though. You were already too engrossed in a conversation with Ben about a book you had recently finished.

You realized Luther had requested the waitress bring an array of doughnuts to the table, not really caring about the flavors. Despite the large number of doughnuts, Luther had ordered, the waitress was not surprised; she was used to the Hargreeves.

Conversations followed, along with doughnuts and laughter. You had never heard so much from the siblings despite knowing them for so long and dating Five for quite a while. You were having the time of your life. It was nice to spend time with your close friends and boyfriend, especially without them at each other's necks. Well mostly.

"So who's going to be the first to puke?" Diego questioned, slinging his arm across the back of Ben's chair.

"Vanya," almost everyone besides yourself said in unison.

"What? No. Don't act like you guys haven't before," Vanya objected, setting the doughnut she had in her hand down.

"Yeah, but Vanya, it's usually you," pointed out Luther.

"Maybe it'll be Five," said Vanya.

"Yeah, right, I've never -," Five began but was interrupted before he could finish his rebuttal.

"Yes, you did. Remember last year when you -," Ben started, but like Five was also interrupted.

"That was one time!" Five shouted, not letting Ben finish his story. You would be sure to ask one of them about it later.

"He's just trying to act cool because (Y/N)'s here," Diego remarked, smirking.

"Oh, I'm not acting asshole."

"Maybe it'll be (Y/N)," Allison interjected, trying to stop her two brothers from arguing any further.

"No way, my baby's tough," stated Five as he tightened the grip of the arm he had around your shoulders.

"Get a room, you two," Luther said, rolling his eyes jokingly.

"Oh, we will," Five challenged, squinting his eyes at his brother.

"I think it'll be Klaus. I mean, look how green he is," like Allison, you changed the target, blushing at Five's statement.

"I'm always this green," Klaus tried to deflect once he heard his name get thrown into the debate.

"Yeah, uh-huh." You said, clearly not believing your friend.

The discussion continued for a bit longer, everyone having their own opinions. You stuck with your guess of Klaus, Vanya agreeing with you. Allison and Diego voted for you since you were the newbie, and everyone else voted for Vanya. After a little more than an hour of banter, you all decided to leave.

Quicker than you all had thought, you got your answers to the puking debate. You and Vanya had won. Klaus rid his guts of the many doughnuts he had consumed in the past three or so hours, causing everyone to look away in disgust.

You said goodbye to all your friends as you and Five left for your home, you only gave Klaus an air hug for safe measures.

The walk at first was quiet; you both content with the silence as you walked hand in hand. A smile was placed upon your lips; it hadn't left since you entered the shop. Five noticed the whole time, and it made him happy.

"I'm guessing you had fun," said Five, interrupting the silence.

"You would be correct," You replied, the smile growing even wider if that was possible.

"I'm glad."

"Thank you for busting me out," You joked, referring back to the words he had used a few hours ago.

"It was my pleasure," Five responded, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing it softly.

Unfortunately, you had reached your home too soon for your liking. You wanted to spend more time with your friends and Five. They brought much happiness to your life, especially today. You knew you would see them again, hopefully soon, but you knew today would hold a special place in your heart.

Five jumped you and him back up to your room, much like how the night began. Your stomach churned again, but you were a bit more prepared for it, so it wasn't as bad.

"How'd you do that?" You questioned Five realizing you hadn't earlier in the night. Tonight was the first time you had seen him teleport with someone else.

"A little trick I've been working on thought it'd come in handy," Five smirked.

"Handy as in sneaking me out of my house?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"Exactly."

"We'll have to use it more often then," You smiled, tugging at the tie he was wearing and bringing him in for a kiss.

----------

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this imagine as much as I enjoyed writing it. I finished watching season two about a week ago and I have been wanted to write a Five imagine, him being my favorite character. Who is your favorite Umbrella Academy Character? Anyway please let me know what you guys think!

Lots of Love <3

822 notes · View notes

wordsintimeandspace · 3 years

Text

Comfort, One Way or Another

Jon has never been one to ask for comfort when he needs it, but somehow, he still finds himself in Tim’s bed after a bad week. It would be nice, if it wasn’t for the hangover - and the fact that he has no clear idea how he got there.

Jon/Tim, rated T, ~3200 words. Read on AO3!

Jon wakes with a pounding headache in a bed he doesn’t recognize. It takes him a moment to push aside the fuzziness clouding his mind and take it all in: the lavender bed sheets, the muted light streaming through the curtains, the stack of books on the nightstand and - oh, God - the arm slung around his back.

Jon freezes, his heart in his throat. For a long moment he doesn’t dare to move, not even to turn his head to see who’s in bed with him. Just as he’s ready to leap out of bed and flee, the person behind him mumbles something in their sleep and… oh. Oh. He recognizes that voice.

It’s Tim.

Jon finally manages to roll over to see his face without dislodging the arm wrapped around him. Tim is still fast asleep, lips slightly parted and hair falling onto his forehead. He looks peaceful and calm, so different from the energy that usually courses through his veins.

Jon lets out a breath of relief. He’s still not quite sure how he got there, but waking up next to Tim instead of a stranger makes the whole thing a lot less alarming. It’s still startling though, because ending up in other people’s beds is not something he generally does. But generally he also doesn’t drink a lot with his basically nonexistent alcohol tolerance - and if the headache and the hazy memories are any indication, that’s exactly what he did last night.

~~~

There was a pub, and music, and alcohol. Definitely too much alcohol. And there was Tim, all bright smiles and easy banter, a warm shoulder pressed next to Jon’s. Jon remembers how they got there - it had been a bad week, and an even worse day. The kind of day where he used to bury himself in research until he was exhausted and refused to talk to anyone. Just a few months back, no one of the other researchers had cared. But now he’s friends with Tim, and Tim had taken only one look at him before he’d pulled Jon aside to ask what was wrong. Even after Jon had insisted that everything was fine, he’d brought him tea and sent him cat gifs and bullied him into lunch. And took him out for drinks, apparently.

That’s how Jon had ended up in a dimly lit pub, well on his way to being plastered, squeezed into a booth with Tim next to him and struggling to follow whatever story Tim was telling. Because Tim was right there, his shoulders and thighs pressed against Jon’s, a warm presence that was both comforting and overwhelming in its intensity. Something inside Jon’s chest ached, and for a long moment that was all he could focus on.

He couldn’t remember when he’d last been hugged, or kissed, or held. Touched in a way that was more than just a clap on the shoulder or an accidental brush of hands. Jon hadn’t been close to anyone since Georgie, and for some reason he couldn’t fathom society had decided that prolonged touching was reserved for romantic and sexual relationships. So, here he was. Drunk and sad and touch-starved, his entire mind occupied with imagining how it would feel to have Tim’s arms around him, holding him close to his chest. How it would feel to let himself be comforted by the quiet thrum of Tim’s heart beneath his cheek, and stay just like that until the grief that had consumed him this week had waned.

Tim nudged his shoulder against Jon’s, interrupting his thoughts. “Are you listening?” he asked, bemused.

Jon shook his head before he could stop himself, but Tim was never mad when Jon was being rude. Instead Tim just laughed, even as Jon winced. “I’m sorry,” he finally managed to say. “I’m just… I’m just thinking.”

“About what?”

“I- I want…” He trailed off, embarrassed, but Tim’s eyes were soft, and his hand was warm as it covered Jon’s.

“You can have anything you want, Jon. Just ask,” Tim said gently, with a smile that was kind and understanding and entirely too much for Jon to bear. Jon turned his hand until he could interlace his fingers with Tim’s. He didn’t ask. He wasn’t sure how. Instead, he took a breath and leaned in to kiss him. It took only a second before Tim kissed back.

~~~

Jon’s cheeks heat up as bits and pieces of the last evening finally come back into focus. He still isn’t quite sure how they went from kissing in a pub to ending up in bed together, but the reason is fairly obvious, he supposes. The thought makes his stomach churn with anxiety, but he tries his best to brush it aside. It’s only Tim. And it’s not like he hates sex. It’s- it’s fine, if something happened. At least they’re both wearing clothes right now, or this would be a lot more awkward.

Despite his anxiety, Jon can’t bring himself to move. Not just because his head protests every movement he makes, but also because he’s comfortable, aside from the throbbing behind his temples. He definitely got more sleep than he had in the previous nights, and Tim’s arm that is still draped over him is warm and grounding. It’s nice to wake up like this, and if he’s feeling like shit he can at least indulge a little.

For a while, he drifts off again. But it isn’t long until Tim wakes up as well, and his movements are enough to rouse Jon from his doze. He squints against the light that is still too bright for his aching head, and turns to Tim who is already looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Tim smiles as their eyes meet, and still doesn’t move his arm from Jon’s chest.

“Good morning,” Tim says casually, as if waking up next to a work friend after a drunken night out is just a normal thing in his life. Maybe it is. Jon is never quite sure what counts as normal among his allosexual peers.

“Morning,” he finally says, wincing at how hoarse his voice is.

Tim looks him up and down, frowning a little. “How are you feeling?”

Jon lets out a groan. Emboldened by just how casual Tim is about this whole thing he shifts closer and presses his forehead against Tim’s shoulder. “My head is killing me,” he grumbles.

Tim lets out a small laugh and gives him a sympathetic pat on the back. “That was to be expected, I suppose. I can get you some painkillers in a moment. Are you feeling okay otherwise? Any nausea?”

“No, not really. But I’m not, uh…”

“What?”

“I’m... not quite sure what happened last night,” Jon finally admits.

Tim sits up a little, propping his head up with one hand. “How much do you remember?” he asks, concern clear in his voice.

“I’m, uh.” Jon flushes, stumbling over his words. “I remember that we kissed. And then it gets a bit… hazy.”

“Yeah, you kissed me. Didn’t think you’d go for such a thing, especially with me, but I’m definitely not complaining,” Tim says with a grin.

Jon gulps, bracing himself for the answer to his next question. “Did we…?”

“What?” Tim frowns, but then his eyes widen. “Oh! No. I mean, you certainly tried to get into my pants, but no. We didn’t have sex.”

“Oh.” Jon blinks, perplexed. Somehow, that wasn’t what he expected. He looks down to where Tim’s arm is still resting on his chest, his fingers moving in small circles over Jon’s stomach. This still doesn’t add up. “Then… why am I in your bed?”

“Look, I tried to sleep on the couch, but you looked like you might cry when I suggested that. So here we are, in one bed.”

“Right.”

Tim suddenly stills his movements, his eyes widening in alarm. “Is that okay? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed that it would be-”

“It’s fine,” Jon rushes to say, covering Tim’s hand with his own before Tim can snatch it away. “This is… this is fine. I don’t mind.”

“Okay.” Tim smiles, a bit apprehensively, and gives Jon’s hand a squeeze before letting go. Jon immediately misses his warmth. “I’ll get you some painkillers and you can get a bit more rest while I go and make breakfast. How does that sound?”

“I- yes. Thank you, Tim.”

Tim flashes him another smile before jumping out of bed with way more energy than should be allowed after a night out. He comes back just a moment later with a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen, and Jon gratefully swallows down two pills before he collapses back into the cushions. Tim leaves him to it, so Jon closes his eyes, listens to the sounds of Tim rummaging around in the kitchen and begs his battered memory to please give him context for Jon trying to get into Tim’s pants. Christ. He can’t believe that happened.

~~~

Jon wasn’t quite sure how they made their way to Tim’s flat, but it wasn’t really important. The important thing was that they were finally alone, and he could press Tim against the wall all he wanted. Could press closer until they were finally touching from head to toe. Could slip a hand down Tim’s shirt to feel the heat of his skin against his fingertips, and swallow the gasp that escaped Tim’s lips with his own. Tim wrapped one arm around Jon’s waist and moved the other hand into his hair, and Jon melted against him with a mewl. He could feel Tim’s grin against his lips.

It was warmth and comfort and closeness all in one, and it was everything Jon needed from this night. It was only when Tim bucked his hips against Jon’s that he suddenly remembered that it was also something else for Tim.

“Alright?” Tim whispered against his lips, a hint of concern in his voice, and Jon belatedly realized that he had stilled after feeling Tim hard against him.

He nodded. “Yes,” he managed to get out, rolling his hips against Tim’s to make him gasp. Tim tightened his grip around Jon’s waist for just a second before pulling back.

“Bedroom?” he asked, his cheeks flushed and his eyes dark.

Jon nodded again, almost automatically before his brain finally caught up with the situation. By then, Tim had already taken his hand and was leading him to the bedroom. The thought was enough to send a sudden spike of anxiety through him. Jon froze, but Tim was still tugging him along, and he stumbled over his own feet before he could bring his muscles to move again. Tim’s arms wrapped around him before he could hit the floor, and Jon let out a breath as he curled closer, burying his face in the crook of Tim’s neck as he waited for the world to stop spinning.

“Jon…”

“Mhh.”

Tim sighed, pulling away from Jon and gently cupping his face. Jon squirmed under his gaze as Tim looked at him, really looked at him for probably the first time since he’d first kissed him. His heart sank as Tim’s searching expression turned into a frown.

“Jon, you’re very drunk.”

“Mhh. Yes, I think so. It’s fine.”

Tim sighed again. “No, it isn’t. Jon, I’m not going to have sex with you.”

Jon blinked in surprise before his eyebrows drew together into a frown. “Why not?”

“Because you’re drunk, and I’m not exactly sober either, and I don’t want you to do anything you’re going to regret tomorrow.” Tim paused, letting out a short laugh. “Don’t look at me like I just kicked a puppy. I promise you, if you still want to have sex tomorrow I’m all in.”

A feeling rushed through Jon that he stubbornly refused to call relief. In any way, it was quickly replaced by the sting of rejection. Jon gulped against the tears burning in his eyes. Tim was still so close, touching him in all the right ways, comforting and reassuring. For the first time this week, it felt like he could breathe. As if Tim’s touch was the only thing holding him together. “I- I don’t-” he started, not quite sure how to put his feelings into words. His voice wavered. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Tim’s gaze softened. “I’m not kicking you out, Jon,” he said gently, leaning down to press a kiss to Jon’s forehead. “You can still stay, if you want to.”

Jon nodded, closing his eyes. Tim’s lips were warm against his skin. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Come on then.” Tim pulled back with a smile and took Jon’s hand again, and Jon let himself be led towards the bedroom, his earlier anxiety all but gone.

~~~

Jon eventually crawls out of bed and stumbles into the kitchen. Tim is standing at the stove, stirring bacon and eggs in the pan. There’s already a plate of toast on the table, and two steaming mugs of tea on the counter. Tim flashes him a grin, and for a moment Jon is overwhelmed by the desire to cross the room and wrap his arms around him. Instead, he slumps down onto a chair. He’s not quite sure how to navigate all of this just yet. Maybe he should apologize.

“Are the painkillers working?” Tim asks before Jon can figure out what to say. He gives Jon a concerned look over his shoulder.

“Yes,” Jon says truthfully, rubbing his temples where there’s only a slight pressure left. “I’m feeling better.”

“Okay, great.”

Still struggling for words, Jon watches Tim load the bacon and eggs onto two plates, and springs up to help with the tea despite Tim’s protests. Then it feels wrong to bring it up during breakfast, so he doesn’t. Instead, he waits until they’ve eaten and Tim has bundled him onto the couch with a large glass of water, ordering him to rest and hydrate. As soon as Tim is done with the dishes and falls down onto the couch next to Jon, the words blurt out of him.

“I remember some things. About last night,” Jon hastily says before he can back out. His cheeks are burning. “All the relevant parts, I think.”

Tim looks at him, eyebrows slightly raised, before giving him a wink. “I didn’t forget my promise, by the way. The offer still stands, but no pressure.”

“I’m, ah-” Jon stammers, not quite sure how to continue.

Gently, Tim reaches out and takes Jon’s hand in his. “I’m serious,” he says softly. “No pressure. I won’t take it personally if you changed your mind. We all do things we don’t mean while drunk.”

Jon lets out a breath and looks down to their hands. “It really isn’t personal. I promise it’s not you, it’s…” Jon hesitates. He thinks of the bi pride pins on Tim’s messenger bag, and the way Tim had chewed out Greg from Artifact Storage after he’d knowingly misgendered one of the statement givers. He decides it’s safe to utter the next words. “I’m asexual.”

Tim’s eyes widen in understanding. “Oh. Um, okay.”

“... is it?”

“Yes, of course.” Tim smiles, giving Jon’s hand a squeeze. Relieved, Jon lets out a breath he was holding. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Yes, well. It seemed… relevant, after last night.”

“Yeah. But I’ve got to be honest, I’m a bit confused. I mean, I know some ace people have sex, but I assume you telling me now means that you don’t, so I don’t quite understand why you would… you know. Last night.”

Jon lets out a frustrated sigh, trying to gather his thoughts. “I just- I meant what I said last night. I didn’t want to be alone,” he finally admits. “And I just wanted...” Oh, how can he still not say cuddle, for God’s sake? “... contact.”

“And you thought the best way to get that was to proposition me?”

“I was drunk,” Jon says defensively. “And, well. That’s how people usually do it, isn’t it?”

Tim looks at him with an expression that is somewhere between fondness and exasperation. “Jon,” he eventually starts, his voice gente. “Can I hug you?”

Jon blinks in surprise. “Um. Yes,” he finally manages to say. “Please.”

Tim pulls him into his arms, and Jon readily squirms closer until he can rest his head against Tim’s shoulder. Tim is still so warm, and his arms around Jon’s shoulders feel grounding and safe. This might be even better than last night, Jon decides, now that his senses aren’t dulled by alcohol. He lets out a content sigh, smiling into Tim’s shirt as Tim drops a kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m sorry if anything I did last night was making you uncomfortable,” Tim eventually starts. “I probably should have paid closer attention. I never wanted to make you feel like you had to do something.”

“Tim, no. You didn’t, and you don’t have to apologize. Especially since it was you who stopped me from going too far.”

“Still, I should have-”

“Nothing we did was making me uncomfortable,” Jon interrupts quite firmly. His cheeks flush as Tim raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. “I- I’m serious. I like kissing. I was having a good time.”

Tim lets out a small, relieved laugh. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’m glad.”

“I might have liked the sex as well. It’s not something I usually do, but it can be nice. I just… get anxious about it and overthink every move, but, well. It’s not terrible.”

Tim looks at him, a bit exasperated as if he’s about to say ‘not terrible is clearly not good enough Jon’, but in the end he only lets out a sigh and pulls Jon back into an embrace. “I’m still glad I stopped you before we got there,” Tim says as he rests his chin on top of Jon’s head. “I’m glad we’re okay.”

“Me too,” Jon says quietly, wrapping his arms around Tim and settling back into the embrace. Closing his eyes, he rests his head on Tim’s chest. He needs a moment to focus on it, but there it is: the steady beat of Tim’s heart, right beneath his ear. He listens to it for a while, lets the rhythm calm his thoughts while Tim’s arms hold him together. It doesn’t mend the wound that had plagued him all week, but it makes it easier to breathe for the moment. Easier to look ahead, to the days soon to come where the pain will be nothing but a quiet noise in the background.

“It was the first anniversary of my grandmother’s death yesterday,” he finally says after a long moment, his voice quiet. “We weren’t very close, but, well. She was the one who raised me after my parents died. The only family I had left.”

Tim tightens his arms around him. “Oh, Jon.”

“It’s- I’m fine, usually, but somehow it hit me harder than expected this week. I don’t know.”

Tim hums, rubbing his back. “Grief can be like that,” he finally says quietly, with a certainty that makes Jon think he’s speaking from experience. “Sneaks up on you when you don’t expect it.”

“Mh. It’s easier, like this. When you’re not alone.”

“I’m glad I can help. Just promise me one thing?”

“What is it?”

“Next time you want a hug, or a cuddle, or… anything, really - please just ask.”

Jon lets out a huff, lips curling into a smile. “I promise that I’ll try. As long as you do the same thing.”

Tim laughs quietly, and drops another kiss to the top of Jon’s head. “It’s a deal.”

#the magnus archives #tma #jontim #tma fic #my fic #I don't think anyone here is reading my tma fic #but I've decided I still want it all on tumblr #so here we go!

56 notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 4 years

Text

And I always will - Tom Holland

❄️ FANFICmas 2020 ❄️