#as you can see glasses and beanies took over my soul ;___; | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miekasa · 3 years

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okay but what about airport!levi? he gives quiet businessman vibes sitting in his slacks and turtleneck

IN HIS TURTLENECK 😭😭 He would also be quiet and to himself, but not in the emo way. You got me thinking about all of them now, so here are my other thoughts about the boys at the airport.

Levi

He thinks the idea of separating classes on an airplane is beyond stupid, but if the flight is particularly long, or particularly packed, he’s not above paying for business class for a little extra personal space for the two of you.

When he doesn’t do that, tho, he never picks your guys’ seats ahead of time, so sometimes you’ll be separated. Good thing he’s also not above lying at the check-in desk, “I’m in Zone 1, could my wife be seated next to me so that we can board together?”

They respond with an “of course,” and move your seats together, and Levi walks back with a content nod of appreciation. You are not married, and marriage sucks about as much as class separation on a 30 foot long plane, but it has its benefits.

Masks on, regardless. No debates. Pandemic or not, the mask stays on. Do not perceive him, keep the pressurized air sharing to a minimum.

Doesn’t wander much in the airport. There’s nothing in there that he hasn’t seen already, except for the marked up prices on touristy t-shirts.

And if you wander, he’ll usually just sit in the waiting area to watch your bags while you window shop and do your thing. If you’re gone for more than 30 mins, he might call, under the pretenses of, “Making sure you didn’t get lost. You know that Starbucks was near gate 41 to the left, not the right, right?” Like he’s a comedian or something 🙄

He does encourage you to get snacks before you board, tho. Airplane food is gross, and he would much rather pay for a $13 sandwich that you can snack on later, than for you to have to eat mush.

He’s got a little portable mug he takes with him for when he’s wants to buy a hot drink before getting on his flight. It’s cute.

Doesn’t fall asleep on the plane ever. No matter how long the flight is—at most, he’ll take a quick power nap somewhere in the middle if it’s over 9 hours, but other than that, he’s good to go.

Doesn’t mind if you fall asleep, and he always adjusts your neck pillow to make sure you don’t get cramps.

Jean

Travel champion. This man loves being in the airport even though he’s convinced it’s a time capsule, he fucking loves it.

King of “your airport fashion matters, babe.” Not necessarily wearing a whole three piece suit, but he does put in a little effort; it’s not just the first pair of sweats he has laying around.

Swears coffee tastes better in the airport. It does not. That does not stop him from buying it. He should learn to quit tho, especially for someone who hates airplane bathrooms as much as he does.

Charming with all the security personnel and desk assistants. You could be checking in for a flight at 4am, and Jean’s got people smiling and cheery for their shifts.

Bitches about the selection of movies on the flight, and learns to just download his own ahead of time. Gets really startled when he’s watching something and the flight attendants try to grab his attention for food or drinks—the very loud, classic, Jean Kirstein “HUH?”

On that note, he also gets startled by the loudspeaker announcements in the airport. He doesn’t know why he has to hear about American Airlines flight 2170 to Cancun, when he is not on American Airlines flight 2170 to Cancun.

Not opposed to paying extra for better airplane food or drinks on the plane if it’s the right time of day. He always finds something to toast to, plus he likes to treat you whenever and wherever he can.

Takes care of your overhead luggage and helps out the people around him if he sees they’re struggling. Gets shy when you call him a gentleman for it, and he rubs his neck, grumbling, “I was just helping the line move a little faster.”

Great timing, generous, will pick up your checked bags for you, and already rented a car a week in advance: 10/10 travel buddy.

Porco

He doesn’t like planes and there’s no solid reason why—nothing bad happened to him as a kid, and it’s not even that rare unfortunate incidents freak him out or anything—something flying just makes him a bit uneasy.

He won’t say it though, and he tries to keep it together when you’re checking in, but you can tell he’s anxious once you’re sitting and waiting for your flight to board.

He’ll ask to switch seats if you have the window seat, because somehow the feeling of being boxed in between the plane wall/window and another person makes it feel more like a car than a plane and he’s okay with that.

Going to the airport is one of the few times he hair won’t be styled, and falls in his face a bit. He usually throws on a beanie to cover it up, but you think he looks pretty cute either way.

Can’t usually fall asleep and he hates it because he just sits there thinking about the worst for the entire duration of the flight. But when you travel with him for the first time and coax him into taking a nap it’s so much better.

It’s about the only time he’ll let himself be publicly babied by you; but it makes everything so much easier that he doesn’t even mind.

So now, whenever you get on flights, he just puts his hood up, lays his head on your shoulder and waits for the magic to happen.

Bonus: you’re traveling with his friends, and Pieck and Marcel past to your seats, surprised to see Porco fast asleep on your shoulder. Pieck squeals, going on about how you must be a wizard to have gotten him to nap, to which Marcel just shakes his head, “Nah, he’s just really in love with her. Look at his face, that’s the calmest he’s been since he was five.”

Connie

Loves the airport. Not an ounce of organization in his soul though. By that I mean, yeah, he’s probably forgotten his passport at home, or forgotten that a full size bottle of body wash cannot go into his carry-on luggage.

Forgets to wear shoes that easy to take off and is fumbling over himself after the security check trying to lace them back up or put them back on.

Likes for you guys to have coordinating sweatsuits, and even though you don’t travel super often, Connie’s got at least 3 pairs of them lined up for you guys.

Sweet enough to drop plans or rearrange his schedule to travel with you if you were originally gonna be alone. He knows you can handle yourself, but he doesn’t want for you to travel alone if you don’t have to, especially if you’re going someplace far and/or for an extended period of time.

He always finds breakfast food to eat before he gets on his flight (if you two even have time to spare for food that is). It could be 9pm, but Connie’s asking for a breakfast wrap.

Hates waiting in the little pre-flight area. Claims it’s boring as hell and that’s why there’s no reason to get there 3 hours early 🙄🙄

He always spends at least 30 minutes browsing all the movie and TV show options available on-board, loudly exclaiming in excitement when they have something cool to watch—only to fucking fall asleep 10 minutes later. Right on top of you when he was oh-so-excited to watch Madagascar 2.

Always steals the aisle seat, even if it’s yours. It’s probably for the best though, because he has to get up to pee at least twice, no matter how short your flight is.

Makes some cheeky remark about you meeting him in the bathroom. He doesn’t mean it... unless he does. Unfortunately, you’ve never... successfully been able to do that out of fear of being caught by the flight attendants, but there have been a few quickies in the “family” (“It’s ethical, because technically we’re participating in the act of making a family, babe”) bathroom before you boarded. It’s his fault, not yours.

Armin

He really likes planes, and traveling in general. I think trains would be his favorite mode of transportation, but airplanes are good too.

I hate to say it but he claps when the plane lands. I will not elaborate or defend my stance on this.

Prefers the window seat because he likes to look out at the clouds as he’s in the sky.

He took his passport photo a little before he cut his hair, so the security personnel always hold it up and flicker between his ID photo and his current appearance a few times before stamping it. It makes him a little embarrassed because he can’t tell if they think he looks better or worse and sometimes he’s really fighting for his life convincing them that that’s him in the picture 😭

Listens to music rather than downloading a movie or watching a show, and always brings wire headphones to the airport so that it’s easier to share and listen with you.

If you fall asleep on him first, he’ll likely fall asleep on you shortly after. If he’s tired enough, he’ll fall asleep first, though he’s somewhat embarrassed and disappointed because he wanted to see the descent and skyline outside.

When he’s not asleep or window-watching, he’s somewhat fidgety out of excitement, rather than nervousness. He’s excited to be traveling and looks forward to wherever you’re going, even if it is just a weekend long work trip.

Hates traveling alone, though. It just feels particularly lonely to him to be going someplace foreign without company by his side. So, he’ll call you at every checkpoint and send you updates.

He only ever buys two things in duty free: shot glasses with the name of the city/country you’re traveling to, and whatever variety of button down short-sleeves are available to him.

Erwin

You knew this was coming, but this man is absolutely at the airport 18 hours before your flight takes off, and he’s driving like a manic getting there, like you don’t have all the time in the world.

Fascinated by anything and everything in duty free. Definitely spends more money than necessary on your return flight on the grounds that he was getting a good deal.

Exchanges money in the airport and keeps cash in his fanny pack. There’s no traveling without the fanny pack.

Plays crossword puzzles on his phone on the plane, and it’s just about one of the only games he has. That and Candy Crush—I get the feeling he’d be on level 500+ of that game and he always knocks out at least 10 levels on a flight.

Always a little surprised when he feels his your head on his shoulder, but he says nothing, and acts like he didn’t even notice, but there’s a telling little smile on his face.

Takes the most foul selfies of him and your sleeping self. In his defense, he had the best intentions; but that angle was flattering nobody. It’s too bad he’d already paid for the in-flight wifi and sent it to Hange because now you’ll never live them down.

You could probably get him to put on a (skincare) face mask during your flight. He forgets to take it off tho, and if you don’t tell him, he’d fully walk through customs with it on his face.

Accidentally gets drunk because he doesn’t understand that just because he can handle several glasses of whiskey in his favorite bar on a Friday night, does not mean it will translate on a plane.

#anonymous #yeah this is a roast of erwin a bit but im right i know i am #aot x reader #levi x reader #jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #connie springer x reader #armin x reader #erwin x reader #porco x reader #aot headcanons

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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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Stephen Strange - enough for you

A/N & WC - I am not trying to pretend I am Olivia Rodrigo at all: total credit for all songs and lyrics used here goes to her and her team. No disrespect is meant towards her. I do not own the songs, I also do not own the characters I’m writing these blurbs for. Please read the preface. It's long for this series: 2.3k.

Warnings - This is angled romantically towards Stephen. Angst, crying, talk of a breakup and broken heart.

The crackle of electricity splits the silent air all around me. I’ve been alone and waiting since Natasha left, and right on time, Stephen’s arrival is announced. A second later a glowing gold portal, spitting flame-coloured sparks opens up in a perfect circle and reveals him, shrouded in his cloak, head bowed, his single strand of grey hair distinctive, standing out against his harsh dark locks. He shakes his head slightly, inclining it towards me with the ghost of a smile as he straightens himself out. The portal snaps shut with a hiss, and Stephen takes a large step towards me in his chunky boots, reaching out to brush my arm. My own smile flickers and fades, and I see the conflict flash over his features as he internally debates it: his heart wins over his head as he steps forward and sweeps me wholly into his arms. My feet are lifted from the ground, his arms holding me tight, his lips brushing my cheek. I cling to him as though my life depends on it, inhaling deeply. He smells of citrus, fresh spice and something so distinctly Stephen. He feels like home.

“Hi Beanie,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

This is a huge emotional come-down, a crash, almost, compared to the excitement I had with Natasha. I’m glad to have calmed down in that time, so I’m tranquil enough to match Stephen’s energy. I settle into his warmth, and try to relax despite the anxieties nibbling at my nerves.

“Hey,” I breathe, “okay?”

“Course. You?” I nod. “What have you got to show me?”

I clear my throat, and begin to settle myself back down onto the floor, “A song.”

He lets me go, and strains his ears, dark eyebrows furrowing, “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

I stand taller and prouder this time, “A song.” I’m nervous to admit it, and avert my eyes: he’s had an inkling, but I haven’t told him about this project of mine.

I’m pleased to see his face light up, his hand flying to my hair.

“Really? Well, I’m all ears. Did you write it? Is it recorded or live?”

I shuffle over to collect my guitar, “You’ll see.”

I gesture to the couch, and just watch from the corner of my eye as I tune my guitar and loosen up my vocal cords. He settles down, closer to the one side, apparently expecting me to join him. In a moment of bravery, I forego the seat I set up for myself over the other side of the tidy glass table, and join him on the sofa, not too far but not too close: just enough for his knee to brush mine as we settle down. My cheeks instantly flush.

I start to pluck at my guitar strings, not daring to meet his eyes, but I feel his gaze on me as I focus on the notes forming the broken chords. My voice is shy and tentative to start with, breathy, but it works with the melancholy, andante feel to the song.

‘I wore makeup when we dated

'Cause I thought you'd like me more,’

Christ, if you could feel a heartbreak, this would be it. Reliving that night brings me to my knees. Stephen took my hand in his, not caring about the gnarled scars lining his fingers, and took me up to my room, sitting me down on the bed as he removed the layers of makeup I spent months hiding under, taking extra care with my panda eyes. He asked me why I’d started wearing it, because when he met me, I was au naturel, and according to him, beautiful. He tried to stop me wearing makeup for months, and I felt his soul rip in two when I told him I did it so a boy would like me more. I can feel it all over again, hear the hitch in his breath.

‘If I looked like the other prom queens

I know that you loved before.’

His hands knot in his lap at the memory I’ve evoked no doubt. Before this arsehole ex boyfriend, I was stood up for prom. Me: Y/N Stark, daughter of The Tony Stark, and I still wasn’t enough. I was given a choice out of the whole team on who I wanted to accompany me, and everyone expected me to choose Steve or one of the dark, smouldering anti-heroes we have in our midst. I chose Stephen without a beat, and I’ll never forget the look that illuminated his sullen face when his name spilled from my lips. He stepped up to the plate, took care of me and danced with me all night, and gave me a happy, enjoyable, memorable prom night after all.

At the end of the night, my date was making out with a prom queen nominee by the bleachers. Stephen shed his blazer, pulled me in tight, and held my hand until we reached the limo. Then he took me for fast food, and we watched the sunrise over the city from the roof of the sanctum. He did the same to cheer me up after all hell let loose, when the pictures were first released, but I couldn’t focus on the sun, instead bundling up into his side and staring endlessly.

‘Tried so hard to be everything that you liked

Just for you to say you're not the compliment type.’

“You’re everything for me,” Stephen whispers, so deadly quietly that his voice is carried away with the vibrations of my guitar strings.

I hear him, though, I hear every compliment he’s doled out to me. Whether just a passing comment in conversation, or boosting my confidence after a knock, he’s always been there to compliment me. I should’ve known it wouldn’t work out with my ex when I had Stephen calling me beautiful and giving me all the butterflies I sorely lacked. It wasn’t Stephen’s nature either, not his type, but he’s… soft when it comes to me, like those barricades he’s spent years carefully constructing can fall down should I say the word.

‘And I knew how you took your coffee

And your favourite songs by heart,’

Only now I’m out, only after hours with Strange, have I learnt that changing myself for a boy, altering every innate aspect of myself, wrecks you from the inside out. Something as simple as music taste makes a person who they are, so why did I feel the need to erase that?

‘I read all of your self-help books

So you'd think that I was smart.’

I hear a soft chuckle from beside me at this, and glance to my left to see Stephen’s crystal blue eyes twinkling with mirth. His despisement of self-help books is a running gag between us. I can’t even bite back a smile as his dimples appear despite his facial hair. I understand his hatred for them, though, as the majority of self help books are utter garbage and should be burned. I’m smart in my own right, something I’ll never allow anyone to make me forget again. Smarter even than Stephen, a fact I’ll never let him forget.

‘Stupid, emotional, obsessive little me

I knew from the start this is exactly how you'd leave.’

Stephen knew: he always knew. But he wasn’t willing to break up heart twice, not when deep down we all knew the truth.

“You’re not stupid or obsessive at all,” he tells me, his beard tickling my ear, “and your emotions make you whole. Don't demean yourself, darling, please.”

I nestle further into him, almost subconsciously, and try to ignore the fluttering of my heart while not daring to look at him, lest I melt into a puddle. I continue my playing, and lead with a slightly stronger voice into the chorus.

‘And you always say I'm never satisfied

But I don't think that's true.

'Cause all I ever wanted was to be enough for you.’

My relationship with Stephen is layered, and we’re more complicated than we’ve let anyone see from the outside. In all honesty, I knew something was there between us before my ex and I broke up. Stephen planted the seeds of doubt in my mind about my ex, because unlike him, I was always enough for Stephen. He’s satisfied with everything about me, even the small things. Like, even if I just got out of bed on a bad day, he’d be proud of me.

‘And maybe I'm just not as interesting

As the girls you had before’

I sense his heart speeding up, hear him shuffle on the couch cushions, feel him beside me. I can hear his thoughts, almost, the reassurances he purred in my ear as I bawled in his arms for hours upon hours. He promised me I was fascinating, the brightest, most enigmatic person he’s ever happened upon, and promised to spend his life reminding me of such if I ever began to doubt myself, compare myself to other girls.

‘But God, you couldn't have cared less

About someone who loved you more.’

Stephen’s trembling hand finds my thigh nearest to him. He knows I don’t love him anymore, but my heart belongs to another. Love is transactional, until you find the one. Although I loved my ex more than he loved me and he was undeserving of it in its entirety, I now know how to care for and love someone truly.

‘I'd say you broke my heart

But you broke much more than that

Now I don't want your sympathy

I just want myself back.’

A sob breaks from his lips, and my heart shatters just that fraction more. Tears, hot and stinging, begin streaming down my own blotchy cheeks. I’m still finding myself, still piecing myself back together after the unutterable brokenness that echoed through my entire body. His fingertips dig bruisingly into the flesh of my thigh, but I don’t mind. He’s grounding me without even realising so. Stephen’s sympathy is what got me through: his empathy, even. He held me together, picked up the pieces, and made me whole again. His knack for healing got me through the darkest days of my breakup, and I know he feels the unspoken bond between us strengthening as he captures my tears on the pad of his thumb.

‘Before you found someone more exciting

The next second, you were gone

And you left me there cryin', wonderin' what I did wrong’

His other hand snakes around my waist, and I’m tugged into a hug, his chin resting on my shoulder as I try to keep the wobble from my voice. My hands fall limp around my guitar, only the very tips of my fingers still working enough to play my song, and more on instinct than anything else.

Stephen spent so long trying to convince me that I was enough, and anyone who left, it was their problem, not mine. I know I wasn’t perfect and that I made mistakes along the way, did and said the wrong things, but at the end of the day…

“You’re perfect,” he tells me earnestly, and I feel his words vibrate right through to my core.

‘Don't you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?

Don't you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?’

Stephen’s mere presence beside me tells me that I deserve the world and more, everything that’s unspoken between us.

‘But don't tell me you're sorry, boy

Feel sorry for yourself.

'Cause someday I'll be everything to somebody else.’

I am, to Stephen, as soon as I'm ready.

I let my final note fall off, my fingers toying with the strings in continuing broken chord formations, my mind dwelling on the future. The second I’m ready, I can jump into Stephen’s arms, and I know he’ll be waiting for me. My whole life is holding me close right now; all I need to do is take the leap.

‘And they'll think that I am so exciting…’

And you'll be the one who's crying…’

I’m all cried out now, and my eyes have dried. I can move forward now, because I'm content, and I’m excited to experience new things. My rubato is liberal here, which works well due to the fact my focus is weaning with his smile pressed to the pulse point in my neck.

‘You say I'm never satisfied

But that's not me, it's you,’

In all fairness, I’m a simple girl. A bunch of flowers here, a few compliments there: treat me right, and I’m yours. I was never my exes, but I’m definitely Stephen’s, and I couldn’t be more satisfied with that fact. My words hold a certain power, my voice steady and strong as I reach for a high note, supporting it with my diaphragm.

'Cause all I ever wanted was to be enough

But I don't think anything could ever be enough

For you, enough for you.’

There’s barely even a beat of silence between us before Stephen lifts me up off the couch, and has me slung over his knee, his arms wrapped around me with enough room for me to settle my guitar down.

“You’re more than enough. I can’t tell you how subliminally perfect you are, y/n.”

“Thank you,” I mumble, “I know that now. And thank you for everything, Stephen, I wouldn’t even be able to write this music without your support…”

“Anything for you. Anything.”

I smile. I grin. I beam with glee. “I know. And for you.”

“I’m so proud. That song… God, it moved me. You moved me, Beanie,” he says, his cerulean orbs boring into mine, “your words can do that.”

I don’t reply: I don’t have to, because everything that needs to be said is conveyed in the way our eyes meet, the way our noses brush, the way his arms hold me tight and vow never to let me go. I’m enough.

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princehrry-writings · 3 years

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Y/n's a witch and Harry's her soulmate

I'VE LITERALLY BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR 2 MONTHS!!!

lanfvksbkvjbs I hope you guys like it because I poured my whole soul into this!!!! I wanted it to be over 10k but I felt like I was just dragging it on and the ending isn't great but it's ok.

I switch between present and past tense without meaning too- oops :)

wordcount: 9911

warnings: uhhh, swearing, google translated latin :) catcalling and unwanted male attention (with a bad witch moment... see what i did there😏), a little bit of violence, very lightly edited lmao

She didn’t quite understand what was going on. Was this another witch? No, she would have felt that energy differently. So he had to be a mortal. But why did it feel like she had just been set on fire in the best way possible.

“Thank you…” He muttered, eyes glazed over. “M’Harry, by the way.”

Harry.

What a magical name, she thought.

Harry walks into Y/n’s shop one day, sees the brooms sweeping by themselves and gets a little curious.

“Althea, get your claws out of there. You’re gonna get hair in the muffins!” Y/n shrieked, quickly shooing the troublesome feline away from the open bowl of batter sat atop the counter. The cat just meowed at her, unbothered by her person's shrieking. Thea was quite the diva. She couldn’t give a flying fuck even if she tried.

“Oh Stars, look what you’ve done!” Y/n continued, cleaning up the trail of paw prints left in the flour on the table. “How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of the kitchen when I’m baking Thea! Why don’t you ever listen!”

Y/n has been a little strung up lately. That’s probably the understatement of the century. Maybe if she hadn’t been put in charge of the shop for the first time by herself while her mother went to gather supplies and place orders for said shop, she wouldn’t be so stressed. She’s only 22 years into her eternal lifetime. She’s yet to learn the virtue of patience, her mind never ceasing to run with ideas and thoughts and feelings.

Her mother always griped about how she needed to take a deep breath and let go of the tension in her shoulders because now that she had stopped ageing- she had all the time in the world (literally) to do everything she was worried about. Y/n would argue that she’s not worried so much as eager. She’s just very excitable.

“Why do I even bother yelling at you anymore.” Y/n grumbled, flicking her wrist in the direction of the broom closet. The broom and dustpan came floating out and got to work sweeping up the bits of flower seeds and petals that had dropped off the table instead of into the mortar like she had planned.

Y/n’s never been known for her cleanliness.

Out of the blue, the hair on the back of her neck and arms stood at full attention, a warm shiver shooting down her spine. What the hell? She thought to herself. Thea didn’t seem bothered by whatever energy was coming closer so she knew it wasn’t any danger, but it was something. Y/n flicked her wrist once more, quickly sending the broom away and going to hide behind a wall where whoever this was couldn’t see her.

The little bells above the door chimed, alerting anyone inside that someone had just arrived. In walked, who Y/n thought to be, the most beautiful boy she thinks she’s ever seen. Chestnut curls shielded by a knit beanie, sea glass eyes, broad shoulders, a kind smile on his face. He looked as ethereal as she was.

She felt the earth shift under her feet, her heart speeding up slightly in his presence. He was magnificent, she thought. The shiver she felt was steadfast and unchanging, finding a home in the goosebumps covering her whole body. She had never felt like this before.

The witch watched from behind the wall as the man gazed about the shop, his hands rested behind his back. In a pair of black jeans with a rip in the knee and a white tee shirt with a cardigan thrown over it, he shuffled about.

Y/n took a deep breath, collecting herself before making her presence known. She walked out from behind the wall, stepping behind the main checkout counter and clearing her throat lightly.

“Welcome in! I’m Y/n, let me know if you need any help!” She said, trying not to cringe at how scripted that sounded.

His head popped up, eyes connecting with hers and that’s when they both felt the energy in the room grow. Thea came sauntering out of the kitchen area in the back, Y/n made a mental note to check the muffin batter for cat hair later, no doubt at the electrical charge of the room.

“Thank you…” He muttered, eyes glazed over. “M’Harry, by the way.”

Harry.

What a magical name, she thought.

There was a pause, where neither of them wanted to move, in fear of this moment passing and never getting to feel like this ever again.

It felt like having a picnic on a warm summer day, where it’s not too hot but just right. It felt like the first breath of fresh Spring air, like hearing a baby giggle. She felt fuzzy and warm. Like she was wrapped in a hug. Y/n felt… peaceful. She felt all of her anxiety about the shop melt away, as if it had never been there.

Harry smiled at her, a pink tinge coating his skin, and pulled his eyes away (he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by staring), continuing on with his peruse of the shop. He had no idea why he was here, truly. Didn’t realize where he was until he pushed through the door. He doesn’t even know what any of this stuff is, he’s just looking so it seems like he knows what he’s doing.

He felt something brush his ankle, looking down and seeing a fluffy snow white cat with striking green eyes (just like his!), and cooed at her.

“Is it alright if I pet her?” He asked, looking back up at Y/n. He would take any chance he got to look at her. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. With her shiny hair and kind eyes, a smile that made you want to hug her. She looked so welcoming. He felt… oddly peaceful.

“Yeah of course! She’s my little attention whore, aren’t you Thea?” Y/n giggled and Harry thought his heart would stop right there. Her little giggle was the most glorious sound he’d ever heard, he decided.

She got up from her little stool behind the counter and floated over to him, using her cat as an excuse to get closer. She just couldn’t figure out why she had such a pull to him. It didn’t make sense to her. Maybe he was a witch and was just masking his energy really well, maybe he was some sort of other creature, or maybe… no, that can’t be it.

Well…

Maybe… he’s her Flame. Her Twin Flame… Her Soulmate.

No. There’s no way. It’s so rare for witches to find their flames. And especially at such a young age. Y/n’s parents didn’t find each other for almost 75 years, and here she is at just 22, stumbling upon some magical happenstance where her Flame just saunters into her family’s shop.

Harry scratched behind Thea’s ear, a motor-like pur erupting from her little belly. She nuzzled into his touch, and then sprung up onto his shoulder from the table, startling the man. Y/n giggled at the look on his face, reaching up to scratch just above Thea’s tail, her favorite spot.

“She does that when she likes someone.” Y/n explained. A blush appeared on his face at this.

She likes him.

“So was there anything in particular you were looking for?” Y/n continued, hoping to make more conversation with him. Her fingers are buzzing, wanting to reach out and hold his hand or touch his arm, anyway she can get her hands on him really, but she knows that would be inappropriate so she refrains (however difficult it may be).

Harry was in the same boat. He felt the need to wrap her up in his embrace and never let her go. It was the strangest thing he thinks he’s ever felt.

“Honestly, no. I don’t really know what any of this stuff is… I didn’t even realize when I walked in but I didn’t want to look like a psycho just walking in and out of shops randomly.” A shy smile displays on his features.

Y/n chuckled. This furthers her hunch that he is, in fact, her Flame. Getting a random urge to come in here could only mean that the invisible string tying them together was leading him to her. Pulling them closer and closer everyday until this very moment, when they were fated to meet. Written in the stars to know each other, whether that be for love or friendship only time would tell.

She really hopes it’s love.

“Ok… We’re kind of just a general shop. We carry crystals, herbs, spices, oils, candles, and my mother does a lot of crafts, so we sell those here too.” Y/n went on to explain, Harry’s eyes flitted around to all the things she mentioned. He saw glittering crystals, by themselves but also made into jewelry like rings and necklaces, he saw bundles of different flowers and vials of liquids he assumed were the oils she mentioned.

“What is all this stuff for?” He questioned. He had never heard of anyone suddenly needing Oxeye Daisies or black onyx crystals, but he’d never been one to judge.

Y/n paused, thinking of the best way to explain everything. Practising “witchcraft” wasn’t an unusual topic to humans, but they didn’t know that witches with magic that was (semi-inaccurately) portrayed in movies and tv shows actually existed.

“Uhm, anything in the shop can be used for a number of things. Apothecary, gardening, herbal remedies, manifestation.” She explained. He nodded along with her words, doing his best to focus on what she was saying rather than just her. His body was tingling the closer she stood. He never wanted this feeling to go away.

Whatever this feeling was.

Harry looked around, his sights landing on a shelf full of colorful candles. His eyes lit up, trotting over to them, picking up one that was a light lavender color. He didn’t know he was drawn to this one in particular, but something had pulled him to grab it. Something was telling him to buy it, bring it home, and burn it on his bedside table, right next to his head every night.

It was Y/n’s favorite color.

The girl's cheeks burnt when she realized this was the one he had picked out. The occurrence might seem random to anyone passing by, anyone who didn’t know two halves of a soul had just been reunited with one another after being apart for however many years. But Y/n knew, and hopefully Harry would know soon.

She didn’t want to scare him though. He would think she was crazy. Imagine a random stranger that you’ve never seen before in your entire life tells you that you’re meant to spend the rest of your life together. He would run away screaming.

So she has to start slow.

“Think I might get a few candles…” Harry trails off, looking around at all the different shapes and sizes of colored wax sitting before him. Y/n smiles at this and nods, letting him know she’ll be at the counter if he needs anything.

Please need something, she hopes to herself.

He didn’t end up needing anything, but he ended up purchasing 3 candles, all of them being that same lavender color.

* .

. * .

It was a few weeks later when Y/n felt a familiar tingle run down her spine. Harry must be near, she thought.

She had spent the last fortnight and then some moping about the shop and her flat, hoping her Flame would turn up again. Her mother, Asteria, had been ecstatic when she heard that her daughter had found her Flame, and empathised with her pain, understanding that he was a mortal and it was difficult to form bonds with them quickly. The woman always found it interesting how the most indefinite creatures took the longest to form their bonds. But then she remembered they had no knowledge of Twin Souls and often settled for one not fated to them.

“Mama, he’s close. I can feel him!” Y/n cried, tidying her appearance in the reflection of the window. She hopes to the Stars that he’s coming to see her and not just passing through.

Waving away the brooms fluttering around the shop, she busies herself restocking shelves. Asteria had just finished a new batch of candles that needed shelving. The mother had been trying new recipes lately and was excited to see how they would fare.

Y/n almost misses the little chime of the bells signaling that someone has just entered. If it weren’t for the energy in the room skyrocketing and all the hair in her body standing at attention, she wouldn’t have noticed it at all. Turning, her gaze falls upon a familiar set of sea glass eyes and chestnut curls that have enchanted her mind every passing second since the first time they met. She tried her damndest to hide her grin, but had to turn away so he wouldn’t be able to see it.

Harry looked around the shop before his gaze fell upon the girl he hadn’t stopped dreaming about since he last was here. There she stood, back turned to him, with her shiny hair and adorable outfit. In a lavender colored sundress, hair pulled back by a white scarf, she fussed about the candle shelf that Harry had searched the last time he came.

Everytime he burned that candle, he thought of the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about the different items in the shop and how she smiled at him when he asked her a question.

Harry had never been one to jump into things quickly. He was the kind of guy that liked to get a feel for a situation before he really dived into it. But there was something about this girl that made him want to jump in head first, fearless. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her, daydreaming about little scenarios that he wished would happen between them.

He knows he sounds crazy, but he has a crush on her. And he’d only met her once! That is so not like him at all.

Y/n turned once again, sure that she had calmed the burning in her cheeks, greeting Harry as if she hadn’t thought of him in weeks.

“Welcome in,” she says, wondering if it would be weird to him if she remembered who he was, she decided she doesn’t care, “Oh, hi Harry!”

“Hello Y/n!” He smiles. Y/n felt her heart stutter in her chest when her name fell from his lips. As if she was floating (she had to check to make sure she actually wasn’t), she followed the sound of his voice, going to stand before him. Her first instinct was to hug him, and she was very sad that she had to stop herself.

“What brings you back?” She asked, itching to reach out and hold his hand. His gaze flits around for a few seconds before landing back on her face, a rose tint now on his cheeks.

“I- uh, I don’t really know. I just felt like I needed to come back…” He stuttered. A smile graced her lips, causing an identical one to grow on his own. Asteria watched from behind the counter, beaming at the couple.

“Y/n dear, who’s this?” The witch called. Y/n snapped out of her love-drunk haze, looking to her mother.

“Mama, this is Harry. He came in a few weeks ago while you were away.” She answered, giving her a look that said “please don’t say anything.” Asteria had a tendency to butt into her daughter's life, and Y/n needed to figure this out on her own.

Thea came flouncing out from whichever corner she had burrowed herself into and nosed at Harry’s feet before launching herself onto Y/n’s shoulder and staring at Harry from her new height advantage.

“Well look at you Thea, sittin’ all pretty up there!” Harry reached out to scratch behind her ears. Thea began purring loudly, louder than she did when Y/n petted her (Y/n did her best not to roll her eyes at her attention whore cat). The one thing the girl loved about this was now she had a reason to step closer to the boy before her. He smelled like citrus and woods, with a hint of weed (she’s not judging, she just wouldn’t peg him for a stoner so it’s a little surprising). She let it take over her senses until all she could think about was HaryHaryHary, having to stop herself from purring just like the cat.

“Well, whatever led you back here, it’s nice to see you again!” She blushed, deciding to let her affection for him shine through lightly. Y/n realized she didn’t really want to waste time dancing around mortal niceties. She didn’t want to scare him off but she wouldn’t feign disinterest. The witch wanted to make it clear she was smitten with him. So this was her way of starting slow, letting her blushes be seen, maybe resting a gentle hand on his bicep if he says something that makes her laugh, letting her longing gazes be caught before she looks away.

Like she said before, she’s going to start slow.

“I am too…” Harry wondered if maybe she felt the things he was feeling too. If she couldn’t stop thinking about him the way he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He wondered if it would be weird to ask her out. See if she wanted to get dinner with him, or have a picnic in a park on a sunny afternoon while he stared, as uncreepily as he could, at her bright smile and star-stricken eyes.

Very quickly, like it almost didn’t happen, Y/n saw a blush pink haze surrounding the boy. He was feeling love. The heat in her cheeks rose, fluttering of her heart increasing.

Now she knew for sure, he was her soulmate for love- not friendship. Thank the Stars!

* .

. * .

The next few weeks, Harry would come in every few days just to see Y/n. After realizing that she might be feeling the way he was, he wanted to make it clear to her that he was smitten. So he’d come in after he got done with whatever he’d been doing that day, bring her flowers or a blue-raspberry red bull italian soda (he saw her drinking one one day when he came by) and they would talk and sometimes he’d bring food if it was late and they would eat at the counter in the back kitchen. It became a routine, and he started showing up almost everyday. On slower days, she would close up early, so as not to have a single distraction from her Flame.

The two would talk about the most obscure things, not giving a rat if others heard them cackling at each other's jokes and misspeakings (Y/n stumbled over her words quite a bit when she was tired, he came to realize. He thought it was adorable).

In return for the beautiful flowers and the delicious drinks he’d bring her, Y/n would give him little spell jars or charmed items to make his life easier. He didn’t know they were spelled or charmed, but he thought it was cute how she gave him a lavender colored pen and told him he would think of her every time he wrote anything down (she had charmed it to always spell things correctly) or a little jar filled with lavender and chamomile buds, a few drops of lavender oil and a small amethyst crystal sealed in white wax to help quell the anxiety he’d been feeling with his job lately.

He appreciated them more than any material thing she could have purchased for him. He liked that she wanted him to think about her or that she wanted to do away with his ailments. He came in with a cold once and she spent the better part of an hour fussing over him, telling him all these little tricks to clear his sinuses and giving him different blends of herbs and spices that should clear this up in no time! He thought she was very adorable, worrying over a little cold and wanting to make him better.

Harry found that each time he left her, the force that pulled him to her grew stronger. He wanted to be in her presence more and more every time he walked out the door of the shop. The boy still didn’t really understand what it was about her, but he’s long since stopped asking questions and was just rolling with the punches.

Speaking of things Y/n did that Harry thought was cute- the things she said enamoured him, rendered him so speechless sometimes all he could do was sit there and look at her, (ironically) wondering what magical force brought her to him. He had no idea that the Universe herself was the one who chose his favorite girl.

“Oh Stars Thea! Get out of the nettle! It makes you sneeze, silly cat!”

“Stars forbid you ever listen to me, mother.”

“Althea Rose get your furry ass away from that hot wax before I feed you to the hellhounds!”

He loved how she was always saying Stars where he would normally say Jesus Christ. He never was one to be into religion but it was just something people around him said.

As the weeks went by, they began to sit closer and closer to each other. What started as across the table from one another, began to turn into her at the head and him on the corner next to her, then both of them sitting on one side but a bit of space between them, and then side by side, thighs touching, on the bench seat. Eventually, Y/n would lay one of her legs over his and he would rest his hand innocently on her skin, his thumb absentmindedly brushing back and forth, tapping his fingers to an imaginary beat as she told him a story about a kooky customer that came in.

That was another thing he loved that she said a lot: kooky.

Their goodbyes had grown more and more affectionate over time as well. From a little wave and a shy smile to a little hug, to a bear hug with a kiss on the temple from Harry.

Things were moving very swimmingly. Y/n was happy with the progress the two had made in getting to know each other. She had learned that he worked at a marketing firm but his passion was music, that he was in a band when he was in high school, and he’s from a village in Manchester.

Harry learned that Y/n has a degree in herbology and really likes the woods, and the show The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (despite the inaccurate depiction of witches, she thinks the characters are pretty).

Y/n has been trying to figure out the best way to tell Harry about her… lifestyle. It’s going to be a big shift in his reality and she worries that she’s going to overwhelm him. Her parents didn’t have this problem because they were both witches, but she had been fated to a mortal, which she’s not complaining about because loves Harry and all his human afflictions (loves!), but it’s quite a task keeping him in the dark until she’s ready to shed light on everything.

Especially on a day like today.

Her mother is out again, leaving her in charge of the store, again! And as previously mentioned, Y/n gets a little strung up when she’s left in charge. She’s forgetful, her mind flying all over the place. Her messiness gets worse, leaving different things all over the place (she somehow left a grimoire in the refrigerator at home), losing things… Basically, Y/n’s not doing so hot at the moment.

A busy spell had just finished, she had like 7 different customers in at once, all of them needing her for different things and all the chamomile and lavender oil rubbed behind her ear in the world couldn’t calm the anxiety flowing through her at the moment. She’d been so strung up that she hadn’t noticed the warm golden shiver running down her spine or all the hair on her body raising to attention or the jingle of the bells on the door when Harry walked in.

Walked in to see… the brooms sweeping up by themselves? And different pots and pans flying back into place… with no one carrying them. And Y/n muttering words he didn’t understand while her fingers wiggled, making the pestle inside what he learned to be called a mortar, moving by itself.

To say the least, Harry was very confused. And a little scared. Was he dreaming? Did today even happen? Was he still at home lying in bed?

The only thing that makes him realize he’s not is the shriek Y/n let’s out when she sees him standing frozen in the doorway, eyebrows pulled together in confusion (and a little bit of terror), mouth agape like he wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start. All at once, every moving item ceased and dropped, including the pots and pans which made a very loud noise, scaring Thea so much that she did the loud “meow!” that you only hear cats do in movies, and Y/n let out a quiet“Shit!”

“Harry…” She muttered, standing up slowly and treading towards him.

“Um… Y/n. What- what the fuck… was all of that?” He stuttered, and she continued to walk to him.

“Love, why don’t we go sit down and I’ll explain everything to you!” Y/n said slowly. She had taken to calling him Love lately, not being able to stop herself. They had yet to really “confess their feelings” to the other, but it was like a silent thing that no one said but they both just knew. So the name didn’t surprise him. Actually in the midst of all this craziness (and how his whole world had just seemed to be flipped in a matter of 5 seconds) he was clinging to the familiarity of the pet name.

He nodded, his eyes glazing over as he tried to wrap his head around what he was seeing. Y/n waved her wrist, everything that had dropped seeming to come to life again and be put back into their rightful places. Harry stared in amazement. Seeing it for the second time really drove the nail into the coffin that holy shit this is really happening…

They sat down side by side on the bench where they normally did but Y/n didn’t put her leg over his like they had grown used to. She missed the contact but figured a little space while she explained everything would be best for her Flame. Harry didn’t agree and tugged her closer to him. She didn’t fight it.

“Ok,” She sighed, cracking her knuckles as she took a deep breath, “Harry… my darling Harry. I need you to keep an open mind while I tell you all of this ok? It’s gonna be a lot for you to take in and I don’t want you to get a headache.” He nodded, and she took his hands in her own, running her thumb over his palm and channeling positive energy between the two of them. She saw Harry relax a little, letting her know it worked. He was ready (as ready as he could be) to hear what she had to say.

“Love, I’m a witch.” She says, letting it sink in for a moment. Harry doesn’t say anything for a moment. Y/n wonders if he’s even breathing. The strong pulse thumping in his wrist is a steady reminder that he’s ok, just shocked. (Very, very shocked).

“I come from a very long line of very powerful witches. I have magic, kind of like you see in movies and tv shows except I don’t worship the devil or eat children. None of us do. We’re usually very gentle creatures, unless we’re put in danger. Witches don’t use magic to hurt others, quite the opposite actually.”

“So… you cast spells and stuff?” He asks quietly. She breathes a laugh through her nose, nodding her head, continuing to channel him by rubbing her thumbs over his palms.

“I do, that’s what you saw me doing at the counter. I was actually strengthening the anti-anxiety jar I gave you a few weeks ago, because you told me you had a big project coming up and I didn’t want you to get too stressed out.” The girl said.

Harry couldn’t really focus on one thing for too long, letting his gaze flit around the kitchen area. He felt oddly… calm.

“Why do I feel so calm right now? I feel like I should be freaking out a little bit more than I am…” He voiced, finally looking into her eyes.

“I’m channeling you… look.” She said, pointing her gaze to their hands. He sees her thumbs rubbing gentle circles into his palms and looks back into her eyes.

“You’re casting a spell on me right now?” Harry wonders out loud.

“Channeling isn’t necessarily a spell, I’m just focusing and directing positive energy onto you right now, to help keep you calm. Like I said, I don’t want you to get a headache or pass out on me. I can stop if you want me to though!” She added quickly at the end but he shook his head.

“No, don’t stop…” He almost cried, pulling her closer to him.

“Ok, I won’t. It’s ok!” She shushed him, letting one of her hands float to his cheek, brushing over his cheek bone and pushing a fallen curl out of his eyes, before her hand found his again.

“Was it a spell that made me want to come in here that first day?”

“No baby, that’s actually a little different. This might be a little much so you gotta bear with me ok?” She explained and he nodded, heaving out a heavy breath.

A beat of silence passes and Y/n lets her eyes lock with his.

“We’re Twin Flames… or what you would know as Soulmates. We were fated to be together. That’s why you felt a pull to come in here. We were… destined… to meet each other.”

Harry doesn’t say anything and Y/n feels like her heart is about to beat out of her chest. She knew he was going to find out someday, but really didn’t expect that day to be this one. This crazy long day where everything had seemed to just bubble over and explode. She should have known something was going to happen when this morning, the flame on the candle she had lit for Harry on her altar was taller than it ever had been. She had written it off to him just thinking about her or something (if this was the case, it would be to the ceiling all day everyday because he never stops thinking about her), but she should have known. And now, here she was, terrified that Harry was going to walk away from her. She would understand if he did, it’s a lot to take in, and having your whole world flipped on its head is a bit much.

It would still break her heart though.

“So… this is normal?” Harry broke his silence.

“Is what normal?”

“That I want to be around you all the time? That I think about you all the time? What I’m feeling is normal?”

Y/n’s face softens. He’s so cute, she thinks. She could just wrap him up in a little bow and keep him all to herself for the rest of time.

“Yes, baby. It’s normal! I’ve been feeling the same things as you ever since we first met!” Harry’s mind is a little clearer now, so he picks up on the new pet name. Baby. He likes it, he decides.

“You feel this way too?” He looks like a little puppy right now, Y/n could just cry. She nodded her head, scooting impossibly closer to him, practically sitting in his lap. It seemed now that he was even calmer than he had been before, even without her channeling. She stopped for a second to test his reaction and he was ok. He didn’t tense up, eyes didn’t well in tears, didn’t lose consciousness. So she moved her hands to cup his cheeks now, feeling him lean into her touch.

“You’ve been the only thing on my mind since before you even walked through the door that first day. You’re in my dreams every night, I see you every time I close my eyes, I’m completely taken with everything you do.” Y/n confesses, feeling a weight lift off her chest.

“I know it seems fast to you, as a mortal. Your kind usually takes this kind of thing slowly, really learns a person before you become vulnerable. Out of fear for being judged or whatever it might be, but I would never judge you. I want you to know it’s ok to let your guard down with me. Whatever you're comfortable with! I don’t want to overwhelm you in any way, and I know all of this is so so much to take in. I just want what’s best for you, my Love.”

It’s not lost on Harry that she adds my before Love. He feels his heart flutter.

“I’m taken with everything you do too. Absolutely everything.” He whispers, if he speaks too loudly the moment might be lost.

They stare into each other's eyes, feeling the energy in the room grow. Flames from the lit candles around the room grow tenfold, reflecting the rising energy. Harry has half a mind to break his gaze from the girl before him, seeing the tall flames before bringing his eyes back to hers. He sees her gaze drop to his lips repeatedly. He doesn’t think she even realizes that she’s leaning in to him, but he’s not going to stop her.

When she’s so close he can feel her breath fanning over his face, she pauses, looking back up to his eyes, silently asking for permission. With her hands still cupping his cheeks gently, she closes the distance between them, pressing her lips delicately to his. Harry places his hands in two places: her waist and her neck. He pulls her in closer, pressing their lips together more firmly. A wildfire spreads from head to toe on both of them. It seems as though time has paused for this very moment, and again the earth shifts. A piece of the universe has just been restored, two halves of a soul reunited.

Harry’s fingertips send sparks flowing down her spine, she hums against his lips. The kiss is simple, just two people getting to know each other, learning the other's body, but it’s long. It’s not just one peck. Harry presses his lips against hers multiple times, slotting her bottom between both of his.

When Y/n pulls back to catch her breath, Harry chases after her, not ready to end this moment yet. She chuckles and grants him a few more kisses until she really is about to pass out because she needs to breathe. Pushing him gently, she breaks the kiss and rests her forehead against his, keeping her eyes closed.

She so badly wants to let the three words sitting on the tip of her tongue go, but doesn’t want to overwhelm him with too much all at once.

“Do you feel that?” He whispers, pulling her to sit astride his lap. She moves pliantly, letting him take control of the situation.

The air feels charged, thick, like it should be hard to breath but it flows, smooth as water, into their lungs.

Y/n’s head feels heavy, like she’s high on every drug there ever was, her mind fuzzy, unable to think outside of this moment. Outside of this little wrinkle in time where Harry is the only other thing that exists.

“Yeah,” She whispers back, reconnecting their lips, slotting them together over and over until their lips are puffy and red. Harry slides his hands around her waist, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her flush against him, not even a slip of paper would fit.

Pulling away, Harry heaves in a deep breath, squeezing Y/n’s hips.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long…” He says, nudging his nose against hers. She smiles, letting his affections wash over her, warming her eternal soul.

“This doesn’t freak you out?”

“Oh, I’m so freaked out but I'm kind of just going with it, living in the ambiguity and all that shit.” He heaves a laugh through his nose, pressing kisses to her cheek and down her neck, smoothing his hands up and down her back.

This was the best possible outcome of the situation, if Y/n had to be honest. It could have gone so many ways. Harry being freaked out but rolling with it… she’ll take it.

“How about we make dinner and you can ask me any questions you have?” She suggested and he nodded.

So they did just that. But Y/n closed the shop early and they went back to her place. Hand in hand they walked the few blocks, side glaces of reassurance and little squeezes of the hand, letting the other know they were there, and they weren’t going anywhere, with Thea in her little travel backpack (that she was absolutely in love with surprisingly).

They came upon an unsuspecting alleyway. Harry thought they were just passing through as a shortcut but Y/n stopped walking in the middle of a blank brick wall and muttered a few words she didn’t understand while waving her hands. He started to realize maybe this wasn’t just a shortcut.

Before his eyes, a door appeared. His brows shot up in surprise (he’s gonna get worry lines on his forehead if he doesn’t stop doing that, he realizes). Y/n looked over her shoulder at him, trying to hide a smirk but the look on his face was too good.

“Pretty wicked huh?” Harry didn't say anything, just chuckled and nodded, following her when she opened the door and a set of stairs appeared. Walking up the dimly lit hallway, they come to another door with the cheeky The Witch Is In sign.

“Cute.” Harry smirks at her and she laughs, opening it and letting him walk through first.

“Make yourself at home! I’ve got records on the shelf over there, you can pick one if you want. I’m just gonna feed Thea and get her all settled and we can get to making dinner.” Y/n explained. Harry ventured off into her living room, seeing the shelf she was talking about and browsing through. There were many different artists from Fleetwood Mac to Taylor Swift to Weezer. He picks out Hozier's self-titled album and puts it on, the beginning of Take Me To Church crackling through the speakers.

“Good choice,” He hears from behind him and smiles, turning around to see the girl he was apparently destined to spend the rest of his life with standing before him.

“Jackie and Wilson has been stuck in my head the last few days so,” He said, sauntering over to her and snaking his arms around her waist.

Taking a look around, he sees many different trinkets and items similar to what was in the shop. A lot of jars filled with different things, candles of all different colors, crystals, a broom (he didn’t realize witches actually had brooms but ok), among other things that he didn’t know the purpose of.

“Wait… how are there windows in here? I didn’t see any outside.” He asked, pulling back from the hug and looking at her.

“Well, there aren’t any windows in the alley. But there’s also a glamour spell on this building so nobody can see my apartment. That’s why you can’t see the door until I do the little thing you saw me do.” She answered. A sheepish smile broke onto his face.

“Oh,” he said and she laughed from her chest, petting a few fallen curls back from his forehead. She could get used to this, she thinks as she stares into his eyes, green as the forest and wide with wonder at everything he’s discovered today.

Who knew the girl he was falling in love with would be a witch… with actual powers.

* .

. * .

“Wait so, if no one can see your front door… how do you get mail?” Harry asked, reaching around Y/n for the salt.

“At the shop,”

“Oh,” He says. She laughs, kissing his cheek and continuing on cutting up veggies for the salad they're making.

“Have you always been able to do magic or was it something you grew into?” Y/n thought back to when she was little, remembering how she struggled to harness her powers for a few years before she started getting the hang of things.

“I always had powers, but imagic isn’t something you just wake up and know how to do so it took a while for me to really settle into and control. Magic is a skill, same as reading and writing, so I had to be taught and I had to work on it. Does that make sense?” She pauses while she explains, looking into his eyes. Harry nods, but his light hearted curious expression turns into one of embarrassment and she doesn’t understand why.

A rosy red color surrounds him, telling her he was feeling… embarrassed? Why did he feel embarrassed?

“Baby? What’s going through your head?” She asks, wanting to help him feel better.

She doesn’t like when he’s feeling anything other than happy!

“I just… I feel like I’m asking you so many questions about all of this stuff and it’s just tough to wrap my head around I guess.” She puts the knife down and sets her hand on his wrist, stopping from what he’s doing. She places her other hand on his shoulder, coaxing him to face her.

“Harry, this is a lot to take in, yeah? It’s not something you can just find out and move on from. It’s gonna take time to process. You’re gonna feel a lot of emotions, and that’s ok! I would be worried if you weren’t feeling a little off, as much as I hate that you’re not feeling 100%.”

She places a series of gentle pecks on his lips, doing her best to soothe him in any way.

“Ask all the questions you want! You don’t have to worry about being judged or saying something wrong, you have a right to be curious.” She feels him relax in her hold which in turn makes her relax.

“Thank you for being patient with me,”

He’ll get used to this, he thinks. He’ll get used to the fact that real witches actually exist, he’ll start to understand the words she mutters when she waves her hands, he’ll get it eventually. But right now, he doesn’t really get it, he’s not really used to it. But she’s worth it. She’s worth more than everything.

“I think you’re the one thing I know how to be patient with,” Again, she wants to mutter those three words on the tip of her tongue, but he’s already been through so much today, she doesn’t want to overwhelm him any more than he already is. So she’ll wait, because one day (hopefully soon) he’ll be ready to hear them.

“Can you do a spell? I kind of want to see how they work…” Harry asks after a moment of them just enjoying the silence that only really comes when two people understand each other.

She chuckles and nods, telling him she will show him a few spells after dinner. He agrees and they go back to making their meal, dancing around each other and laughing just like they always did and it felt good. Felt like this would be ok. Y/n was still scared because he could still decide to leave, that this was too much for him. That she was too much for him.

But for right now, things were ok.

* .

. * .

“Amoris et lux sum ego ipse, et carorum beatum facere potest, per potentiam solem et lunam, ut superius, et inferius.”

(I am love and light, I bring happiness to myself and my loved ones, By the power of the sun and moon, as above, so below)

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything weirder in his life...and his college roommate freshman year was a conspiracy theorist.

As Y/n spoke the words, she stirred a brew of tea infused with different herbs clockwise. He watched from beside her as she did this, his hand placed on her thigh so that his energy could be used in the spell along with hers.

Before she said the spell, she told him to set an intention and he had no idea what that was so she did a little lesson after reassuring him that his question was valid. (He’s still feeling insecure about not understanding anything she was talking about.) She told him to “close your eyes, take a deep breath, and clear your mind. Think of something you want in life that isn’t material.”

His immediate thought was that he wanted to spread kindness and love in the world (Y/n did her best not to tear up at her Flame’s pure intentions) so she nodded, telling him to think about that and only that, and set her intentions to the same thing so the spell would work. Mixing lavender, rose petals, and chamomile in a large mug, she pours in hot water to steep the herbs and, as previously mentioned, stirs it clockwise (something about clockwise being for manifestation), , rubs her palms together and snaps her fingers, and snuffs out the candles she had lit.

When all is said and finished, Y/n pulls Harry into a sweet kiss, and then has him take a sip of the tea telling him be careful my Love, it’s still hot. He kisses her back, taking a sip of the tea (he’d never been one for lavender things but this was actually really good. He wonders if it has anything to do with the fact that Y/n made it).

“So we just drink this and then what?” He asks, handing her the mug.

“We sacrifice an animal,” She says, not skipping a beat and taking her sip. Harry chokes on his spit, gasping for a breath of air before the girl bursts into a fit of giggles.

“I’m just kidding, baby. That’s it. That’s the whole spell. You just have to honestly believe it for it to work.” She says and he heaves a sigh of relief.

“Don’t joke like that!” He whines, more giggles escaping from Y/n’s throat.

“I’m sorry bub, I won’t do that anymore.” She says, still fighting off laughs. They continue to sip the tea, Y/n telling Harry about different things she did during the day.

Harry looked upon her as if she hung the moon just for him, and was telling him all about how she did it. Without even realizing it, he started to feel warmer and like a buzz was coursing through his veins.

“I feel weird…”

“What do you mean you mean you feel weird?” She voiced, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead and then feeling his pulse. Both were normal.

“I feel warm and like I’m buzzing… Kind of like I’m high…” He explained and she nodded her head, a small sigh of relief escaping her.

“That’s the spell working baby. You’re ok!”

“Oh, ok. It just worried me a little,”

“You’re ok! I want you to tell me when something worries you or feels different or off.” She says, and places a hand on his thigh. Harry agrees and they continue with their conversation.

When they both took their last sips on the tea, they cuddled up on the couch, an incense stick and candle lit on the coffee table.

Y/n sat, manipulating the smoke and flame simultaneously while Harry watched with a wide eyed gaze. She had explained how this was something he would be able to learn if he wanted to, and that she had been practicing for years to be able to do both things at the same time.

“I started when I was… I want to say 5. It’s a simple skill that promotes concentration. You have to stay extremely focused to even manipulate one element at a time. It’s only been these last few years that I’ve been able to concentrate enough to do both.” She explained, taking a break. As much as she loved showing Harry all these different things, it took a lot of energy out of her and it had already been a dreadfully long day.

“How about we go to sleep and I’ll show you more tomorrow? I’m pooped!” Harry hums an agreement, lifting his head from her lap and letting her lead the way to her bedroom.

Light lavender walls adorned with shelves full of plants and different nicknacks, and a desk with more candles, herbs, and other eclectic items sat atop it.

“What is all of this?” He sifts through all the things on the desk, not touching as Y/n had explained to him at some point today, I know you don’t have any ill intent, but a lot of this stuff absorbs other people's energy which can mess up what I use it for, so look and don’t touch. If you want a closer look, I’ll pick it up. There are different colored stones of varied shapes and sizes and many candles. One in particular catches his eyes. A green one with a very tall flame with something carved into the side of it. “What’s up with this green candle?”

“This is my altar, and the green candle is the one I have lit for you. I’m assuming that because you’re here, it’s going a little crazy. Nothing to be afraid of! I’m actually going to put it out since you’re here with me.” She explained quickly, reaching towards the flame with her finger and snuffing it out.

“Wait, you had a candle lit for me?” His eyes rounded, a shy smile coming onto his lips. An identical smile graced her features as she turned to look at him.

“Yeah, I’ve had one lit for you since the day we met. I made a sigil and carved it into the side and keep it lit day and night as an extra layer of protection for you.” She explained. Harry felt his heart melt at this.

She couldn’t get any cuter, he thinks.

A candle lit for him… to keep him safe. That’s adorable.

He leans in and places a gentle kiss on her lips, brushing the little hairs away from her face.

Y/n led him further into her room where her ensuite bathroom was, giving him a tooth brush and letting him know he could shower if he wanted to. When he came back into the room after getting ready, Y/n laid out on the bed in a sports bra and shorts. He just wore his boxers.

Climbing into bed next to her, she cuddled up to him right away, his arm finding a home around her body and her head laid on his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“Been dreaming about this moment my whole life,” Y/n mumbled, cheek smushed against his skin, making her look all cute and cuddly. Harry had to hold back a coo at the sentiment.

“Me too Moppet, me too,” He sighed, and they both drifted off into warm, fluffy, dream-like states, wrapped in the safety of each other's arms.

* .

. * .

Walking down the street at night isn’t the best idea for normal women, Y/n had learned over her 22 years of life. But Y/n is not a normal woman. She’s a witch.

And while most women carry their keys between their knuckles and have tasers or pepper spray or mace at the ready, Y/n didn’t really need that. This was one of the only instances where she would use her magic to harm anyone. Like she’d said before- only when she’s put in danger (or someone else around her is put in danger).

So when a prick who reeks of whiskey starts tailing her, she waits for him to take the first blow. Waits for him to get a little too close, so she can turn around and unleash her wrath on him. All the while making it seem like it’s not her doing. Like causing a brink to fall off the roof above her and hit him in the head. She wouldn’t actually do that but a witch could dream.

No, she’ll trip him up without turning around and if he still insists on gaining her attention, she’ll spin around quick, flick her wrist and send him into an unconscious daze and let him sleep off his inebriation on the lovely warmth of the concrete sidewalk.

That’s exactly what she does.

“Hey sweetheart, where you goin’?” He slurs, beginning his trek behind her. She’s unresponsive which leads him to believe she’s playing hard to get because his fragile little man ego can’t fathom that a woman would ignore his attention.

“Oh c’mon baby don’t be like that!” He speeds up, already wobbling but this only serves to make him clumsier.

She does her thing, flicking her wrist in his direction (discreetly) so he trips, but this doesn’t stall him. He reaches out, effectively grabbing her arm. She whips around to face him, cheeks growing red hot with anger. Ripping her arm out of his grasp and twisting his arm around, she gets close to his face.

“Touch me again, I fucking dare you!” She snarls, doesn’t even realize her grip is burning into his flesh- her magic gets a little crazy when she’s mad. Releasing him (tossing his arm away from her in a rough manner), she flicks her wrist once again and mutters a quick “et obliviscere somnum*”, watching him fall to the ground, unconscious. She looked around to see if anyone was watching the scene go down but no one was sober enough to pay attention to some drunk bloke harassing a young woman.

*(forget and sleep)

She shakes off her frustration as she comes to a stop in front of an unfamiliar building. Where her Flame lives.

She had agreed to let him make her dinner at his house, so she packed an overnight back and made her way further into town. He had given her an address and while, yes she did use it, she also let their bond lead her to him. She just kind of knew where to go, it seemed. Harry had expressed that he felt something similar the first time he went into the shop, though he didn’t understand why he wanted to walk in- just felt like he had to.

Making her way up the stairs, she let’s Harry know she’s there, beginning to feel the familiar tingle rush down her spine. She hadn’t seen him for a week and a half since he's been busy with a project at work- a client wasn’t happy with all the work he and a coworker had done so they had to quickly re-do an entire proposal to meet the client's deadline. Needless to say- the little anti-anxiety jar she made him was coming in real handy lately. Y/n had also had him put citrine and amethyst points on his desk while he worked to help him focus and stay calm so he didn’t stress too badly.

She always had a little something to make his life easier, whether it be a stone, or a jar of different things (a spell jar, he’d learned), or whatever it may be- she always had something to help.

When she made it to his floor, he was standing there waiting for her with open arms. She ran to him, jumping into his arms and holding onto him tight.

“I missed you, my wild girl,” He muttered into her neck, spinning her around. Her face flushed without fail, her arms wrapping tighter around him.

“Missed you most,” She sighed, nuzzling into him.

“Don’t think that’s possible.”

She hummed in disagreement while he walked them inside, Y/n still wrapped around him like a koala bear. His house smelled of peach and mango. It’s sweet- just like him. The thought made her smile.

Giving him a big smacking kiss on the cheek, she pulls back to have a look at his face, seeing he’s smiling like an idiot. It warms her heart to see him smile, butterflies breaking out of their cocoons and fluttering about her tummy.

“What’re you smiling for?” She voices, giggling at him.

“M’ happy you’re here,” He sighed, “Don’t like not seeing you.”

“I don’t like not seeing you either,” She frowned, petting his wild curls back and placing little pecks all around his face.

His cheeks flushed at her affection.

Harry set Y/n down on the kitchen counter, standing in between her legs, hands resting on her hips. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers lightly, before slotting them together, fully indulging himself in his girl. She responds immediately, letting her hands rest around his neck.

She will never not be amazed by how soft his lips are. Kissing him feels like floating through clouds, like laying down in bed after a long day on your feet. Kissing him is like the first breath of warm summer air after the longest winter. Kissing him feels like coming home.

Y/n’s heartbeat picks up as the kiss becomes more needy, leaning into him further. Harry pulls her closer, his hands ghosting up the bare skin under her shirt and fiddling with the band of the bralette she’s wearing. A gasp escapes her lips when he pulled the fabric up, letting it snap back to her skin causing a smirk to grow on his face- struggling to keep up with her lips.

He kisses her breathless before pulling away, watching as her eyes flutter open and she heaves air into her lungs, her cheeks flushed and supple.

“Don’t want the food to burn,” He smirks again, hands falling away from her body, moving the pots and pans on the stove around to the counter so he could plate their dinner.

“Asshole,” He hears her mutter.

Harry could get used to this, having Y/n around. Being able to come home to her, make them dinner, make out in the kitchen, fall asleep together. He can’t believe he ever thought he loved anyone before she came along. There was just no way. Y/n came into his life and took over every aspect and now he couldn’t imagine a world without her in it. He hopes to the Stars he doesn’t have to.

Yeah, she’s got him praying to the stars now.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x witch!reader #witch!reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles one shot #one direction #one direction fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #one shot #harry styles au #witch!harry #soulmate!harry #soulmates au #harry styles x soulemate!reader

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years

Text

The Dressing Room (Cillian Murphy one shot)

Warning - smut

A/N - Cillian is performing onstage in Grief is the Thing With Feathers.. He has no wife or children here, he's just a carefree bachelor 😉

Request? Yes

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton

It was 9pm by the time you'd arrived at the back doors of the Gaiety in Dublin, hoping to catch a glimpse of him as he left the theatre and hopefully get your copy of Grief signed. You had tickets to see the play the following night - opening night - tonights show was just a warm up. You knew he normally left the theatre after the curtain call, avoiding the crowd at the front and never having a drink after a show with the crew. Tonight however, seemed to be the one night he didn't leave on schedule...

You checked your watch - 9:30pm. It was the middle of October and my god you were freezing, but you knew if you left now he'd come out... Just another ten minutes...

9:55pm.

10:15pm.

Your fingers were so cold, you couldn't feel them anymore. Your feet were like blocks of ice at the end of your legs. Looking around, you could hear the throng of people at the front of the building start to quieten - they were clearly moving on too. Your bladder was screaming at you - you knew that last cup of coffee on the train was a bad idea....

You were regretting your decision massively. The only reason you came tonight was because it would be quieter than tomorrow - just a warm up show for close friends and family. Obviously he had decided to stay behind for a while, or maybe he'd left through the main entrance... Fuck it. Wrapping your coat around you, you turned to leave before you finally heard the back door open. Turning, you saw him. Wrapped up in a long tan coloured scarf and beanie hat, but it was undoubtedly him. He spotted you with your book and pen and you definitely saw him sigh and roll his eyes.

"Cillian, I'm sorry I just - "

"Come back tomorrow night and I'll sign whatever you want me to sign," he huffed, turning his back on you and walking towards the car park.

"Are you fucking serious?" You almost laughed, looking to the night sky.

"What did you say?" Shit, you said that louder than you thought...

"I said - are you serious... I've been stood here for nearly two hours waiting for you, desperate for a wee, freezing my fucking arse off, and all you can tell me is to come back tomorrow? The self-proclaimed nice guy of Hollywood huh, not so nice are you? All I wanted was a fucking autograph.." You turned on your heel shaking your head and walked away.

"Hey! I never said I wouldn't sign it, I said I'd sign it tomorrow! Jesus... Some sense of fucking entitlement huh?"

"Fuck you, Cillian." Your angry eyes met his stunned ones for a moment, before you turned around and walked away.

**************************************************************

The following evening, after a lot of angry discussions with yourself in your head, scolding yourself for acting like a spoilt, entitled brat, you finally decided that the train ride and hotel booking was worth more than your pride. You'd arrived at the theatre with your tail between your legs, hoping he hadn't prewarned the staff about the psycho girl with red hair and banned you from the theatre....

Fortunately nothing happened. You watched the show in awe, his performance was utterly mesmerising... And it was easy to understand why he looked so exhausted the night before - my god the man barely stopped to take a breath!! You felt so guilty.. the thought of asking him to sign anything right now was absolutely terrifying, so you decided not to bother... Picking up your bag after curtain call, you made your way back into the foyer when there was a sudden tap on your shoulder. Turning around, one of the stewards was smiling at you.

"Miss? Were you at the stage door behind the building around 11pm last night?"

"Um... Yes... I know I wasn't supposed to be there and it won't happen again -"

"Could you come with me please?"

You panicked - you knew it was trespassing... He led you back into the theatre and up through the stage into the backstage area. Your hands were so shaky, the panic coursing through you, when your eyes suddenly made sense of where you were - the large door in front of you with Dressing Room clearly emblazoned across it...

The steward knocked, and a thick Irish brogue called him in. He opened the door and ushered you inside before you could protest. Sat on the couch was Cillian, his makeup freshly removed and he was back in his normal clothes again. On the table in front of him was a bottle of rum.

"I owe you an apology... What's your name?" he looked up at you and smiled, offering you a glass.

"I'm sorry, what the fuck?" You asked, looking at him like he'd grown an extra head.

"I was an ass last night - figured one drink with me and an autograph might soften the blow a little?"

He offered you the glass again and you took it. He clinked his glass against yours and knocked the rum back in one, you did the same. Rum wasn't your normal beverage of choice but it'd do for now. He poured a second glass each for you and you sipped this one.

"Haven't eaten since lunchtime - this is gonna go straight to my head," you laughed.

The two of you chatted - over an hour had gone by before either of you noticing. You were sat on the couch side by side as he continued to top your glass up. Now and again your hands would meet, or legs brush up against each other, and you swore you saw him bite his lip and smile every single time... Was he flirting with you?

"Don't you have somewhere you need to be?" You asked after a short pause.

"Everyone thinks I've already gone, only the steward knows I'm here. This is where I was last night - hiding. Pretty sad huh?" His words were definitely slower now the rum had kicked in.

"Not really - it's an intense show, needing some downtime on your own isn't a bad thing?" You were definitely slurring your words a little, trying hard not to be a complete lightweight and failing miserably.

"I owe you an autograph..." His blue eyes met yours, another lip bite... You felt your stomach knot...

"Yes you do..." You had to squeeze your thighs together to suppress the sudden ache you felt between them, his eyes were seeing into your soul, you could feel them burning into you.

"And where would you like me to sign?" You reached into your bag and groaned - you hadn't brought the book... You hadn't brought anything... A thought entered your head... And you'd had just about enough rum to ask for it...

"Ever had a tattoo of your autograph done before?" You asked him. He shook his head.

"Nope. So you want me to sign your arm?" You shook your head.

"Leg?"

"No."

"Back?"

"No..."

"Then where?" You unbuttoned your blouse from the neck down, his eyes widening with each loosened button. You stopped unbuttoning once you reached your cleavage, pulling the shirt off one shoulder to hang by your elbow. You tapped on your collarbone.

"Maybe a quote from the okay, written across here, and your autograph underneath?" His eyes covered your chest, following your finger as you traced a line over your collarbone.

"Uh... Yeah, yeah I can do that... Let me grab a pen..." He grabbed one from the desk, and came back, kneeling on the floor between your legs as he tried to figure out the best angle to get at your skin without smudging it... Or touching something inappropriate...

"This is tricky... Can you lay down?" He asked, and you lay on the couch - your blouse hanging further down now exposing the black lace bra underneath. He cleared his throat and focussed on your future tattoo. It was impossible to write it without laying his right arm directly on top of your breast, and his left hand holding the skin on the right side of your chest tight, just above your right breast. Once he'd decided the right quote, he set to work, his right arm brushing across your nipple as it moved, sending vibrations and shockwaves through you. You couldn't help but feel the dampness between your thighs, and you had no control over how deep your breathing suddenly became and your eyes fluttering closed at the sensations.

"Enjoying yourself?" He asked, watching your thighs clenching.

"Mhmm.."

"What is it you're enjoying, exactly?" He moved his arm again, brushing over your breast.

"Mm... That... Do it again.."

"This?" His fingers traced over your left breast at the tip, circling the skin softly, tracing slightly under the material of your bra.

"Yes..."

"I can't get all the way across your collarbone... Your bra strap's in my way.." he whispered, and you arched your back as he reached a hand underneath your blouse, pinging the clasp skilfully. You pulled your arm out of the sleeve and he pulled the bra strap down over your hand, lifting it off your chest. Your left breast fully exposed now, and your left hand resting on your abdomen, scraping your nails over it, so tempted to run it down over your core that was now desperately throbbing, aching for attention. He looked down at your hand, and smiled.

You bit your lip as he stretched the skin again, setting back to work. He knelt closer to you, he was hovering over your chest now and you felt something digging into your right arm. Shifting slightly, his obvious erection was directly underneath your forearm. You bit your lip, and moved your arm so it was rubbing against it, making his hand slip, a deep groan emitting from his lips.

"I need your name..." He moved his mouth to your ear, the pen gone and his hand cupping your left breast, "Need to know what name I'm calling as I bend you over this sofa..." You gasped as his lips met your earlobe, his fingers squeezed your breast, moving down over your abdomen and under your jeans. His eyes met yours, looking for permission. You nodded, telling him your name.

"Y/n... If you don't tell me to stop now, there's no going back..."

"Don't you fucking dare." That was all he needed to hear. He stood, moving to the door and locking it, turning back to find you also standing. His body met yours, lips crashing together as your hands raked through his hair, tugging at the strands. He lifted you off the floor, your legs wrapping round his waist as he carried you to the wall, pinning you against it. You could feel his erection pressing into you through your clothes, which he soon began to remove quickly. You stood bare in front of him, as his fingers moved between your legs, tapping the inside of your thigh to open them. You lifted one leg in the air, hooked under your elbow, as his fingers teased you.

"No playing... Need you inside me now, please..." You gasped, as he unzipped his jeans allowing them to fall to the ground. Your hand quickly slipped inside his boxer shorts, gripping the shaft of his erection and moving your hand up and down making his hips buck. You removed your hand, only to pull the shorts down to meet his jeans on the floor around his ankles. Lifting your body, he wrapped your legs around his waist and lined himself against your slick opening, pushing inside you slowly as you both let out primal, deep groans.

"Holy shit.. so deep, Cillian fuck..." Your breath caught in your throat as he bottomed out, his lips quickly capturing yours in a heated exchange, you hands digging into his shoulders as he began to thrust up into you. You rotated your hips as much as you could to meet his thrusts, soon stopping when his desire took over and he increased the force and pace of them.

"You feel so good.. clamping that hot little pussy around me... You gonna cum for me y/n?"

"You're gonna have to do better than that Murphy..." You smirked, biting your lip, hoping he was about to make good his threat of the sofa...

Within seconds he had you there. Your upper body bent over the back of the couch as he pounded into you from behind.

"Harder... Harder!!" You begged, your orgasm so close it was almost painful. You could hear him panting behind you, his cock pulsing and throbbing deep within you and you knew he was as close as you were.

His hand reached over your back, and gripped your long red hair - pulling it back, setting you on fire. The coil in your abdomen exploded, your core erupting with the most powerful orgasm you'd ever had.

"Fuck yes... Fuck.. yes... Y/n, fuck..." He grunted behind you feeling your walls contracting around him, before releasing his load deep into you, your name on repeat as he came.

He skilfully turned you whilst remaining inside, hoisting you up so your legs were round his waist again. You rested your head against his shoulder as he carried you to the couch, sitting down with you still in his arms, his cock still inside softening.

"That was something else..." He panted, stroking your back and neck.

"That was amazing..."

"Am I forgiven?"

"Hmm... More work needed." He pulled you back and grinned.

"So what do I have to do to earn your full forgiveness?" You grinded your hips against him and nudged his nose with yours. He bit his lip and felt himself hardening again inside you. Your hips rotated on him, squeezing your walls around him, edging him back to full erection deep within you.

"You gonna ride me?"

"I'm gonna ride you so fucking hard..." You moved his hands to your breasts, leaning back to give him full access to them and bounced like your life depended on it. He squeezed your nipples under his fingers, watching your soaked core devour his cock, bouncing on it.

"That's it... That's it..." You gasped as he moved his hand down to rub your clit under his thumb as your hips rocked against him, your hands resting on his knees behind you.

"You like that? My fingers rubbing your clit while you ride me?" His voice was like velvet against your ears, his words edging you closer. He pressed your clit with his thumb harder, his other hand rolling your breast under his palm, squeezing the flesh.

"Please... Oh fuck I'm gonna cum Cillian..."

"Let it go, I've got you baby.." your core throbbed as your orgasm swamped you, taking him with you as he threw his head back against the sofa, filling you up a second time. Both of you panting against each other again as you came down from your climaxes.

"Fuck me... I have to be forgiven now..."

"Getting there," you smiled, pulling your body off his and grabbing your clothes off the floor. You pulled out a notepad and pen, writing something down and stuffing it in his jeans pocket on the floor. You dressed quickly, his eyes watching your every move.

"Leaving already?"

"My phone number is in your jeans pocket. Call me if you're in town again?" He smiled and nodded, promising to take you up on the offer. You leaned over him, stealing one more kiss, before heading out the door.

**************************************************************

Your phone buzzing on your bedside table woke you the following morning. A number you didn't recognise calling you. Answering it groggily, the voice suddenly woke you up with a start.

"I still owe you an autograph."

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juniorgman187 · 4 years

Text

Never Enough (Spencer Reid Drabble)

Summary: Ever wondered what Garcia wrote on that sticky note in the series finale? Read here to find out. When Reader, the new technical analyst, feels out of place at a party, Penelope’s sticky note and Reid’s kind words do just the trick.

A/N: This is a comfort piece for me, someone very introverted who never seems to do well in social gatherings. So this is dedicated to anyone who’s ever felt like they didn’t belong. You are loved. Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Fluff, Drabble Content Warning: Fear of exclusion, loneliness Word Count: 2.4k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

All my life, all I’d ever wanted was to be a social butterfly. Their lives seemed so easy. People would naturally flock to them, what with their charisma, their confidence, their natural gift of being conversational.

I envied them for the sole reason that I was nothing like them, not in the slightest.

It wasn’t easy for me to keep a conversation going, even if I was trying my very hardest, which was often the case. I could never seem to commandeer the room in the way that someone extroverted could, and it was especially hard sometimes to feel a part of everyone.

It would be too easy to say I was invisible. Instead, I felt painfully visible, and entirely ignored.

Everyone could see my shyness peeking through, everyone could see how alienated I’d become, everyone could see my despondence, and yet no one bothered to change it.

No one cared.

My excruciating awkwardness had reached an all-time high at Krystall’s birthday party.

Agent Rossi was so keen on inviting me, and I was honored to go since it’d be my first bonding experience with the team outside of work. I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to grow closer to them, otherwise, I’d run the risk of isolating myself even more. As if being brought in as the BAU’s new technical analyst to replace Penelope Garcia wasn’t enough of a reason for them to doubt, despise, and disrespect me, I was the introvert who had a hard time making friends - unlike my predecessor, who’ve I heard could make friends like nobody’s business. I knew I could never fill her shoes, much less fill the glaring void she created when she left, but still, I maintained my bright-eyes in hopes that I’d be enough for them, anyway. I was all too eager to get to know everyone as more than just my coworkers, with one exception.

Dr. Reid maintained an arm’s length distance from me at all times, and at first, I understood. I even empathized with him.

Besides SSA Morgan and SSA Hotchner, the only other person that he’d work the longest with was Penelope, and now she was gone, too, but the longer his rejection of me lasted, the more I was curious what he truly had against me, and the more I was less interested in changing that. Why would I work tirelessly at mending this broken friendship, if he wasn’t willing to meet me halfway?

I was more shocked that he, of all people, would be the most displeased with my arrival. When Agent Rossi replaced Agent Gideon, from what I heard, the transition wasn’t as rocky as mine. Dr. Reid was overjoyed to be working with him and to discuss all his books. When Jordan Todd, and eventually Ashley Seaver, took Agent Jareau’s place momentarily, he was happy to be working with them. When Alex Blake and Kate Callahan came in after Emily Prentiss, he welcomed them with open arms. So what was it about me that was so abhorrent to him?

I never outright asked, mainly because I feared confrontation and I also had no way of knowing if my curiosity would make the situation worse or better. But I should’ve. I should’ve marched right up to him and asked, “What’s your problem?”

Somehow, though, I finally got up the courage to do so tonight.

I watched as the team laughed at one of Rossi’s anecdotes, meanwhile, the inside jokes flew over my head, hindering that bonding experience I was so sure I’d get by coming here. So I stepped inside the house, wandering into a spare room, knowing I wouldn’t be missed.

I thought I’d only be there for a moment to get some “fresh air” even though I’d actually migrated from the outside to the inside, where there’d arguably be less fresh air, but that’d be my excuse if anyone came in. But I was forced to stay longer in the office when it finally happened.

I finally reached my breaking point.

It was building up all night. It started when I first stepped into the house. My confidence faltered almost immediately when I accidentally stepped on Rossi’s Italian leather dress shoe as I went to greet him. He told me not to worry, but of course, I did just the opposite. It was a minor bump in the road, something so minute, but still, it weighed on me thinking about how embarrassing it was that I dirtied something of his that everyone recognized as valuable.

My shame didn’t stop there. As I was talking with Krystall, there were many periods of awkward silence that I couldn’t manage to fill with words, so we each sipped at our wine until one of us would try to pick up the conversation. What’s worse was that we each knew the silence was suffocating, and I could tell we were both thinking of things to say to keep the conversation going, and yet, nothing worth saying came to mind.

And worst of all was when Penelope Garcia finally arrived at the party. Don’t misunderstand me - it wasn’t the worst part of all because she was bad - no, she was lovely. She gave me a welcome present - a Beanie Baby to put on my desk, evocative of her own style of decor, and I loved her for it, which made me hate her all the more.

Rossi’s house livened up when she came. Everyone flocked to greet her, laughter erupted and ricocheted off Rossi’s high ceilings. They were positively elated by her presence, truly happy. Which was the first time I’d ever seen them that way because frankly, they were never that happy with me.

It was a painful reminder that I could never bring what she brought to the team, and I could never be as good as her. And the general consensus I reached, sitting in Rossi’s office all alone with my glass of wine, was the same one I’d known for years now - I’m not enough.

And I will never be enough.

I hadn’t realized I was crying until a tear cascaded down my cheek, dripping right under my nose, forcing me to audibly sniffle it away. Using the sleeve of my cardigan, I desperately tried to wipe away the tears faster than they were spilling out, but it just wasn’t possible. In fact, the coarse fabric of my cardigan rubbing against my cheeks only made them redder, making the fact that I was unwell that much more obvious.

The sound of the doorknob turning sent me into overdrive, automatically engaging me into turning around and facing the wall so that whoever was coming in wouldn’t find me in the state that I was in. I sniffled a great big sniffle and fanned my face to dry it of any moisture that my silent sobs could’ve left.

“Sorry, Rossi, I was just getting some fresh air and I thought I’d check out your book collectio-”

When I turned around, Rossi wasn’t standing there as I’d assumed.

In fact, the person standing there was the last person I thought it’d be.

“Dr. Reid?”

He was lingering in the doorway, studying my face, to which I instantly preventing from continuing on any further by cowering my head and looking away.

“What are you doing here?” My voice had taken a tone of anger that I didn’t anticipate to be there originally.

“Are you okay?”

To my surprise, his question seemed sincere, but I couldn’t truly believe it was.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just allergies from being outside for so long. The pollen and stuff, you know?” I rambled nervously.

“Oh, really? Are you allergic to the grass?” He asked in a joking manner, knowing I was lying but still asking so that he’d have the satisfaction of getting to see me try and work my way out of the situation.

“Yes, I am actually. The most common outdoor allergy triggers are trees, grass, weed pollen, mold spores, dust mites, cockroaches, and cat, dog, and rodent dander. Don’t you know this? After all, you’re the one with the IQ of 187 here, not me.” I tried to joke to lighten up the room’s heaviness, but clearly, it didn’t work.

By this time, I’d already turned back to face the wall, so Reid surely couldn’t see me, but I heard the door click shut behind me, and a wave of anxiety permeated my soul.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

I scoffed at his question, almost hitting him back with an “As if you care.” But I decided against it in an effort to preserve what little repose we had left between us.

“Will you please tell me what’s wrong?” He sounded like he was begging - like he was practically willing to go on his hands and knees to get me to answer, but all I could focus on was the feeling of his hot breath ghosting over my neck.

Goosebumps rose on my skins once he put his warm hand on my cold shoulder, which was bare from the absence of my cardigan and where it had slipped down to my elbow.

I flinched at the sensation, causing him to recoil.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He quickly apologized, regret filling his eyes. “Um, you look nice by the way. I like the way you did your hair. A-and your dress. It looks nice.”

Not even giving a chance to respond to his compliment, I asked again, “Why are you here?” Pressing him to get the point faster before I had a chance to react at another one of his physical advances.

“I saw you leave the backyard and I thought I should check on you.”

“Well, you’ve checked on me, so you can go back now.” I didn’t miss a beat when responding, fooling him into thinking that I didn’t catch his words and their intentions.

“I just want to talk.” He replied, finally answering my question from before.

“Okay. Let’s talk.”

He took a seat on a chaise lounge sofa while I stayed standing by the bookcase in preparation for a quick escape if need be.

“I’m sorry I’ve been pushing you away. That wasn’t fair of me.”

Although I hadn’t expected him to apologize, I wasn’t going to be misled and naively accept his apology with no reservations.

“Why did you do it? And for so long?”

“I was angry. I didn’t want another person in my life that I cared about to walk away, so I thought maybe if I made you feel unwelcome, you wouldn’t want to stay. And she’d come back.”

It hurt to say, but at least I knew he was being honest.

“I accept your apology, but it’s not okay.”

“I know that.”

“Okay, are we good now? We’ve talked, so,” My hand gestured toward the door, suggesting he should leave, but he didn’t comply.

“I’m not leaving.”

“And why not?” The wine glass in my hand nearly shattered at the way my hand wrapped around it since its presence hindered me from being able to actually clench my fists.

“I didn’t come here to apologize, even though I should’ve sooner. But I came here because I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Like you care.” I chuckled mirthlessly.

“I do care.”

I gave in, not wanting to fight him any longer, otherwise, I might cry some more from the altercation.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” He shook his head. “I know you’re not fine. What’s really wrong, Y/N?”

I looked away immediately from his gaze, trying to hide the sheen that was inevitably coating my eyes from the presence of tears, but he would’ve known I was crying the minute I used the cuff of my cardigan to wipe under my nose again.

“I just . . . I feel so unconnected,” I whispered, the pain of my words stealing my volume. “I don’t fit in. And I’ve never fit in before, but I actually thought this might be my chance.”

“It still is. Just come back outside.”

“You don’t get it!”

“What don’t I get?”

“I just needed to take a moment to compose myself so I wouldn’t ruin the energy of the room. And I’d really like to do that alone, okay?”

“I know you don’t want me to go.”

“What?”

“You’re testing me to see if I’ll stay.”

“No, I’m not.”

“So you’re saying that if I left right now, you wouldn’t regret letting me walk away?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“I know you’re lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are. I know what it looks like when you lie. Wanna know how I know?”

I entertained his question out of pure frustration “How?”

“Because I pay attention to you. I see your mannerisms. I notice everything. Do you think I haven’t picked up on how you crack your knuckles when you’re nervous? Or how your stutter goes away when you talk about technology? Or how your fists clench, like how you’re doing right now?”

My eyes flickered to my fist that was wrapped so tightly around the glass, my knuckles were white. Out of shame, I loosened my grip.

“I pay attention because I care. And I’m sorry that I made you ever believe that I didn’t. What you do, and say, and think - it’s important. So no, I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here to give you the attention you deserve.” He sighed with a breath of relief. “I care more about you than whatever’s happening out there.”

And slowly, then all at once, that barrier between us broke down.

“I care about you. We all do. And when you’re ready, we can walk back out there together so that you can see for yourself just how much we care.”

. . . That night, I made nine more friends.

And the day we came back to work, with my Beanie Baby in hand, I rearranged my desk.

A folded up sticky note fell out from between two tables. I picked it up, recognizing the handwriting instantly.

Penelope Garcia.

Even when the laughter always seems to come from the other room and the world seems busy as it carries on without you, may you know this to be true. No matter who or what made you feel invisible, unworthy, unloved, or unseen, in this ever-moving world, there is still a place for you. And you are exactly in the place where you are meant to be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

quote by morgan harper nichols

386 notes · View notes

reinersbb · 3 years

Text

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 [𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] Chapter Five- Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy PT.1

Chapter Five Part One of Forget

Orange, black, and purple plastic solo cups littered the dewy grass along with other miscellaneous speckles of trash- some cups still retaining remnants of alcohol. Only ten o'clock at night and there was already a headache of a cleanup worth of mess outside on the front lawn. There was no telling how much worse it would be on the inside where the heart and soul of the party was. But it's not like after-party cleanup would be your problem to deal with.

Carved jack-o-lanterns that were once originally placed along the long walkway leading up to the front door of the frat house were smashed and overturned. Stringy pumpkin guts and seeds clung to the porous pavement of the walkway, some of the pumpkin innards in the grass. A collection of large oak trees in the front lawn were decorated with ominous purple lights. The flickering light cascaded across the grass, bouncing off the glass of littered alcohol bottles.

As you transitioned onto the property from the bustling street of roaming party-goers from different frat homes all around, the music and shouts from within the home ahead of you seemed almost loud enough to shatter its' windows. The base of your heels clicked against the pavement out of excitement as you trailed up the property.

A gust of wind hit your overly exposed flesh, and a chill of excitement tickled your vertebrae. While you were pulling the silk robe you wore over your body to cover yourself, short wolf-whistles from a group of drunk party-goers who'd barely managed to stand up straight caught your attention. The intoxicated faces that wore skewed face paint waved to you, catcalling you, wanting nothing else but your attention, but, you ignored them and continued onto the covered porch. Anywhere away from the blabbering drunk so-and-so's who were floundering in the lawn is a place where you wanted to be.

The front door that belonged to the home was left completely open, and you couldn't tell if the people passing through were coming or going. But you pushed your way through and sure enough, you were finally inside and one with the chaos that was the Halloween party. You already knew that this party was more hectic than the last one you attended.

Spirits were high, and the energy emitting from the room you now stood in practically zapped you.

One look alone at the hoard of people around you had you wishing that you would've at least asked Ymir to cancel her late-night movie date with Historia so they could follow along with you tonight instead. You weren't sure if you could handle a party like this all by yourself.

Managing to shuffle away from the front door, you stood aside and reached for your phone that you'd been holding in your small purse. Taking a quick look around at all the flashy details of costumes, your eyes dug down at your phone screen.

Today 22:46 Hey Jean, I'm here...

Though it wasn't out of spite or pettiness, a handful of hours is how long you left Jean's messages on seen. You decided earlier in the day to take it upon yourself and show up and surprise him with your arrival instead of messaging beforehand so that way he wouldn't expect a thing.

After your message was sent, all you had to do was find Jean. Or he had to find you. Seemed simple enough, but with one look at the crowd, you knew it wouldn't be such an easy task to tackle. Even if Jean was nearby, how would you be able to pick him out of the crowd?

There were many, and if not all, people wearing costumes. Even if by chance you were to know tons of people, they'd be hardly recognizable to you. So trying to catch a face would be worthless.

A singular buzz from your phone had you checking your lock-screen within an instant. Sure enough, it was a response from Jean.

Jean: Where are you?

Just as you were about to start at your reply, the chat bubble from the receiving end disrupted you. But as you watched and waited, the chat bubbles disappeared without any further sign of reappearing.

Then somehow you heard Jean's voice shouting your name over the crowd.

But where?

You couldn't help but look like a maniac as you scanned your surroundings. You were trying to recall which direction you heard his tenor voice last when suddenly two large hands skewed your vision. Instantaneously your hands went flying upward, dropping your phone mid-process as you felt at his wrists as he stood close behind you.

You yelped a response, "Jean!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Jean's hands lowered from your face, allowing you to see clearly once again. "Let me get that," you watched as his hand reached for your phone that was on the ground.

Jean fell into your line of sight as you turned on your heel to face him. Both of you went wide-eyed as both of you took each other in, examining each other's costume. Your phone that was now dangling at his fingertips was almost dropped for a second time out of Jean's surprise.

"Are you... a cowboy?" You managed to make the first remark.

Covering Jeans' head was a worn chocolate brown cowboy hat, along with a matching colored mid-thigh coat. His hair was tucked under the hat, only the ends of his hair billowing out. Though like always, the black studded earrings were still imprinted in both his earlobes. A red paisley bandana covered up the neck of his button-up shirt. Dark faded blue jeans covered his long legs and a large belt buckle hung at his hips. The cuffs of his jeans swamped worn down brown pointed boots. His cheeks seemed to be more defined while somehow his facial hair seemed to be darkened and unruly.

His ruggedness was hot.

Jean cleared his throat before attempting to speak with his best cowboy impressions, "you betcha', cowgirl." Jean paused for a beat, mainly to gather his words, "now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm assuming you're dressed as a playboy bunny?"

"Bingo. How do you like my costume? Historia and Ymir helped me come up with the idea."

Promptly, you corrected your bunny ears that'd been pushed out of place from his surprise attack. Jean silently raked your appearance in from head to toe, his tongue caught on his lip as if he were about to say something but he hesitated, almost like he was nervous. Even if he was nervous, he most certainly wouldn't let you know that.

Eventually, he gulped, and through his parted lips he spoke, "I- I like it, your costume puts mine to shame. Also, I think the colors red and black suit you well."

If it weren't for the off-put lighting of different color hues, you would've been able to notice the radiating peach glow on his cheeks.

"Thanks, your cowboy costume isn't so bad either," you teased, tipping the front of his hat down over his brow line. "That's payback for making me drop my phone."

Jean chuckled, lifting the hat from his head, allowing the locks of his hair to fall across his forehead aimlessly. His long fingers ran through his hair, pushing his amber strands back before setting the cowboy hat back on his head.

After the quick readjustment, Jean's eyes were on you, "by the way, thanks for showing up tonight."

"Oh, it's no big deal," you admitted when in reality you'd spent hours getting ready, regardless of how nonchalant you'd made your previous statement out to be.

In the back of your mind, you wanted to look good tonight since you knew Jean would be at the party. You didn't care about the technicalities or the thoughts and ideas people would make of you from your attire alone. But you wouldn't admit it.

You were uncertain for how long you had been staring at Jean for, that and you were also uncertain of close the two of you were standing next to each other until you were randomly pushed from behind by a passerby. Jean of course caught ahold of you as you went stumbling forward. Jean helped stabilize your footing by holding onto your arms.

There was a scowl on his face as he stared off into the crowd, searching for the person who carelessly bumped into you. The disgruntled look on his face was hardly noticeable if you weren't paying enough attention, but sure enough, there was a scowl on his face.

"Are you okay?" Jean's eyes were back on you, "they didn't even stop to apologize to you."

"It's alright, Jean, it's not like I got hurt or anything, and they're probably too drunk to function."

"You know you're probably right," even though it seemed like he didn't want to give up that easily, Jean carefully took ahold of your wrist, "will you follow me?"

You attempted to speak over the blaring background noise, "okay, where are we going?"

Jean turned his head back for only a second so he could respond as he began to walk, "you'll see."

The next room the two of you entered wasn't as packed as the entrance of the house, but still as lively. A table with solo cups at either side was folded out and there were two teams tossing ping pong balls back and forth, taking a drink from the orange solo cups when directed. A hoard of people surrounded the table, but you managed to get a vision of the action.

"Beer pong?" You talked over the commotion, taking a glance at Jean before back at the table.

"Have you ever played before?"

"Back in high school, I've played a handful of times but I completely sucked at the game. I haven't won, not even a single time."

"Let's see if your luck has changed any and see if we can break that losing streak of yours," Jean finally released your wrist to go talk to a man who'd been standing near the game table.

The unknown man was dressed in black pants and a white and black striped shirt, like one of those burglars you see in children's cartoons. Under a black beanie, he had blond hair and was built, his well-toned muscles were flexed as his arms wrapped around his chest while talking with Jean. Next to the blond was a much taller man, who was even taller than Jean by at least two to three inches, who wore a similar costume as the blond.

"Hey! Are you a friend of Jean?" An alto-toned voice called out from your right as you felt a knuckle tap on your shoulder.

A tall man with a freckle-kissed face and chocolate brown eyes beamed at you, his expression was laced with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. His hair was parted and styled like a man from the eighties, and he wore a red puffer jacket over a denim jacket. Instantly you thought he was dressed as Marty McFly from Back To The Future.

"I guess you could say that, yes," you said, unsure if a straight yes or no would be correct.

"Okay, cool! I'm Marco, Jean's best friend. I haven't seen you around before, where did you guys meet?"

"I met him through my mutuals at a party last Saturday-" you paused for a beat, remembering the first actual encounter you had with Jean. "Actually, the first time I ever met him is when I quite literally ran into him. It was horrible, I spilled my latte and everything."

You'd have Jean pay you back for that latte one day, even if you were the one that barged into him. And that was a promise.

Just then, those chocolate brown eyes of his flashed for a split second. His thick eyebrows rose and fell and the corners of his lips struggled to keep from lifting into a knowing smirk.

"Before I forget to ask, what is your name?"

Whenever you told Marco your name, his eyes darted over towards Jean's direction then back at you. There was a weird expression on his face that you couldn't put your finger on, it almost seemed like he knew something that you didn't.

Your eyebrow lifted, "what's the matter, Marco?"

"Marco!" Jean finally reappeared from the beer pong table, almost standing in between you and Marco.

Jean glanced at you and back to Marco.

"Wait, what were you two talking about?" Jean shifted towards you slightly, a shadow falling across his brow from the cowboy hat he was wearing.

His defensive side caused suspicion to arise inside of you. Had he been hiding something from you?

"We-"

You'd attempted to speak, but Marco beat you to it, "nothing, Jean, I was just introducing myself to your friend."

Jean stared at Marco for a few seconds, like he was carefully reading the man with chocolate eyes.

Suddenly, there was a loud cheer, almost like an explosion from the table. Then there was a harsh whistle that zipped through the other commotion which caught Jean's attention entirely.

"Jean! Come on, you're up against me and Bert," the same man that Jean was talking to previously informed.

"Come on," Jean motioned for you to follow him, "let's get you that win."

Across from you stood the same two men who Jean had been talking to previously. Apparently, the blond's name was Reiner and the other went by Bert, or Berty, however, the blond cooed. While Marco stood off to the side of both you and Jean, loaning you his friendly support and cheering both of you on.

As the game commenced, Jean stood close beside you the whole time, giving you a few tips and tricks here and there to help sink the ball. You noted how nice it felt when he held onto your wrist one time to imitate a fake swish. Or how nice it felt when you actually sunk a ball into a cup and Jean would congratulate you by pulling your body against him into a side hug.

You felt at the top of the world, soaring all high and mighty. There was a slight buzz kicking in already from the cups of beer you had to drink, and Jean even decided to help you out with most of them by downing the liquid. He'd pluck the cup up from the table, and before dipping his head back, he'd glance at you with a knowing look with his intense eyes over the brim of the cup.

Your fingers accidentally laced with his momentarily as you high-fived one another after Jean scored your team another point. Soon after your mini celebration was cut short, Jean rolled his eyes whenever Reiner's ball bounced into your team's orange cup. Reluctantly his slender fingers grasped the brittle material and downed the beer.

With the back of his wrist, he wiped the corners of his mouth, "we just need to score the last cup," Jean placed a hand on your shoulder, his excited eyes staring into yours.

"What if I mess up?" You kept your eyes only on Jean.

"You won't."

With that, you sucked a breath in through your nose and exhaled steadily. The music was continuously bumping in the background while you rinsed off your ball in the discard cup. Your chest was thumping, and there was a ringing sensation beginning to sound.

The game was currently tied up. One to one. Reiner and Bert stood adjacent to you and Jean. Both men waved their hands in front of the cup as you aimed for the center.

Once the ball was tossed and in mid-air after its' first bounce, their hands ripped away, and almost as if it were playing in slow motion, the ball landed in the cup. The contents sloshing around slightly on impact as your ball sank into the depths of the plastic. Reiner sighed and plucked the ball out and drank the beer from the remaining cup you happened to score.

An eruption of emotions spilled out of you and everyone else around you. To your surprise, you felt Jean ease his arms around you, swiftly lifting you and spinning you in a victory hug. Naturally, you melted into Jean's touch as he held you up from the ground.

"We did it, Jean! Thank you so much for believing in me."

"It's no problem, I knew that you could do it, but I do enjoy the praise."

If it weren't for Eren walking up and interrupting both of you, the moment of celebration with Jean would've lasted much longer.

You would've preferred that outcome.

"Jean, Marco," A slap on Jeans' shoulder came from Eren, "I've been looking for you two and everyone else, Porco wants us downstairs," Eren was practically already shit-faced.

When Eren's shiny emerald eyes caught ahold of yours, he stopped to smile and greet you. He couldn't believe that he'd overlooked you for that short moment.

"You- a playboy bunny? Damn, if I would've known you'd come dressed as that I would've come dressed as Hugh Hefner," Eren held a bottle pointed at you as he took your appearance in, "don't be a stranger, you should join us downstairs."

"Now, you don't have to if you don't want to."

"It's okay, Jean," you reassured the tall figure, "it sounds like it will be fun."

Your heels clapped against the hard flooring after stepping away from Jean who finally let you back onto the ground. Instead of walking with Jean, you stayed behind him as he walked with Marco, and Eren was already way ahead of the two men. You enjoyed watching Jean and Marco converse from behind, and also you noticed how lively they seemed to be when talking to each other.

Much to your Amusement, you immediately noticed out of the crowd of people in the basement that both Connie and Sasha were wearing matching crayon costumes. Connie was the color green and Sasha was yellow.

"Over here, you guys!" Connie practically fell over his own feet as he grabbed your small group's attention.

Though, another face, another painstakingly familiar face caught your attention.

'Why the hell is he here?'

Floch never showed up to parties, so why now of all times?

You stilled in your tracks, unsure of what to do. Do you approach the group and be awkward because of your ex-boyfriend? Or do you stop, turn around, and head back out instantly without another word spoken?

You noticed when Jean turned his head over his shoulder to look back at you, almost like he somehow noticed or felt a shift in the atmosphere around your group. His lips turned from a crooked smirk from talking to Marco into a slight frown as he gazed at you. Jean paused from marching alongside Marco to glide back and meet up with you.

Naturally, Marco turned on his heel to question what was up and why both of you stopped following, and all Jean did was encourage him to carry on and that the two of you would only take a second.

You appreciated Jean's concerns, but you didn't know what to say to him, what could you possibly say to him without making him uncomfortable?

"What's wrong?" Jean asked as he finally approached you.

"He," your eyes found comfort by staring at the ground you were standing on, "he's here."

"What do you mean?" Jean looked around momentarily before looking back at you, "who's here?"

There wasn't much time to waste, not if you wanted to make your conflicting emotions noticeable to the others who were waiting for all four of you to join them. You definitely didn't want Floch to notice how bothered you were by his presence.

What was he doing here anyway? He never was the one to attend parties, he even said so himself.

"My ex-boyfriend," you spoke dryly, almost unable to be heard if Jean weren't listening well enough.

Without another word spoken, you lifted your head, Jean took the cue to follow your eyes where Floch was seated. You watched as the redhead enjoyed a beverage from his orange cup, laughing at something with a man with short brown hair, whom you didn't recognize.

"Who? That guy is your ex?" Jean asked, paying close attention to you while gesturing towards Floch.

"Yeah, the redhead, I didn't think he'd be here tonight," you exhaled an uneasy breath of air, "he was never the one for parties. God, I don't want him to ruin my night, I've been having so much fun and-"

"So then don't let him ruin your night," Jean took ahold of your hand, interlacing your fingers with his, "I have an idea."

Your eyes flashed with excitement at the hand-to-hand contact with Jean, "what's your idea?"

Jean's stern eyes softened for a split second, almost like he were telling you to trust him. Without any debate on the matter, you swallowed your nerves and squeezed Jean's fingers with your own, embracing the comforting heat of his palm on yours. You could only notice how relaxed your hand was in his, the feeling was familiar and soothing, something you could get used to if given the chance.

"Hey guys," Jean spoke to the large friend group, taking a seat beside Marco on the couch.

The group of people was much larger this time around. You recognized some faces from previous encounters at the last party, while some faces you hadn't seen before, and some were completely unrecognizable due to their costumes. More people were standing idly by away from your group talking to one another, some were dancing, and there were others preoccupied at the wet bar. You noticed that there was a small group huddled around a pool table, but decided to_ ignore_ the pool table.

Without anywhere else to sit due to limited space around, you hesitated briefly until Jean pulled you onto his lap. With a squeal, you adjusted yourself, crossing your legs quaintly as you delicately sat on his lap. This whole time from holding hands with Jean till now you've avoided looking towards the direction Floch was sitting in, but you noticed that his lips had gone still, and movement of his had ceased.

Maybe he was jealous by seeing you and Jean together, hand in hand. But that was a good thing, right?

Jean's large palm draped on your hip delicately, no, hesitantly, almost like he was unsure to touch you. His palm hovered across the material of your silk robe, feeling the intricate indentations of the more risqué undergarments underneath. He didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable by the way he was holding onto you, all he could do was hope you wouldn't mind. But, considering your past encounter with Jean, he thought something so simple as having his hand placed on your hip didn't match up to the extremity of the last personal encounter you two shared.

Connie and Sasha struck up a conversation with you as soon as you were comfortably seated. Jean and Marco casually joined in on the conversation and all five of you sat talking amongst yourselves out of the group of well over a dozen.

There were the occasional cut-ins from Eren or the blond whose name was Armin that you'd seen from yesterday, but you didn't mind. There was also a man who was named Niccolo that appeared from upstairs who joined in, he brought two beers with him and wiggled his way to sit in between Sasha and Connie, mostly leaning into Sasha though as he gave her one of the beverages he'd been holding. The more the merrier you thought.

As long as it wasn't Floch joining in, you didn't mind.

The conversation was cut to a halt when a man with dirty blond hair that was slicked back cleared his throat to speak. The blond wore a black leather jacket, with a white t-shirt underneath and faded blue jeans covering his legs. Sitting next to him was another male who wore a similar matching costume, sans jacket and his hair was only a little messier than the blonds, with his hair falling out of place but still kept back. They looked to be dressed like a character out of the book _The Outsiders, _like greasers.

"How about we all play a little game?"

"What kind of game, Pock?" A woman with thick black hair asked, her arm lazily dragged across the man's shoulder as she tipped her head out of curiosity.

"Pieck, I told you to stop calling me that," the blond seemed to be easily frustrated by the single comment.

Which only resulted in a soft laugh from Pieck, "alrighty then, Porco."

The irritate state seemed to blow over quickly, and Porco now was back on track with his original train of thought, "anyways, I was thinking of..." Porco glanced around the vast group for a moment, "a little game of truth or dare?"

"Truth or dare? Don't you think that's a little middle schoolish, baby brother?" The man sitting beside him with brown hair asked playfully, visibly striking a nerve in Porco.

"Shut up," Porco hissed at his brother, "it's my party, so I get the say in what we do, so if _you _don't like it, Marcel, then you can leave. It's as easy as that," Porco pulled a bottle of bud light to his lips before tipping his head back to take a drink. "And that goes for everyone else too, if you don't like it, then leave."

Though, with the invitation to leave if warranted, no one got up from their seat. And you could tell that Jean hadn't even considered the option of leaving since he made no effort to move, and neither did you. But, naturally, you turned your head over your shoulder just to ask him and make sure. What you didn't anticipate was the proximity that both of your faces would be to each other once you turned to look back at him.

You stilled on Jean's lap, the breath you sucked in practically caught in your throat at his closeness, "Jean," you almost asked in a hushed tone, "do you want to play?"

"Of course," his smile disappeared briefly, but not because he was unhappy, "I mean unless you don't then we can go somewhere-"

"No," you smiled, aimlessly turning back to face the crowd as you'd once been, "I'd like to play, all I need is a drink to start the pace," you admitted, eyes falling onto Floch after turning back forward.

————————

"You have to do the dare, Bert," the man from the opposing team you played against earlier, who you now knew as Reiner, spoke out, encouraging his tall friend and the girl he was with.

Currently, Bertholdt was to take a body shot off of the girl's stomach. The poor boy was flustered out of his mind, his tan cheeks were a deep shade of pink as he leaned towards the girl. Bert dipped down to her naval, sucking out the alcohol from her belly button. Whistles and cheers sounded out from the crowd when Bert pulled his face back, downing the shot of booze.

"Atta champ," Reiner slapped Bertholdt on his back, causing Bert to cough up a sputter on the alcohol that lingered in his throat.

Bertholdt shrugged his shoulder over his mouth, eliminating any residual of alcohol on his lips.

Currently, you were a few turns in of a modified version of truth or dare. But instead of truths, there were only dares, or you had to take a drink for bailing. The game and its' rules reminded you of the spin-the-bottle game you played last Saturday.

"Drink or dare," you scanned across the crowd, thinking of a victim to pick, "Sasha."

"Dare, obviously," she elbowed Connie in the rib playfully, waiting to hear the poison you picked for her.

A mischievous grin developed on your eager lips, you had just the dare in mind for Sasha.

"I dare you to go lock yourself in a room with Niccolo for ten minutes," you pointed to a room just a few feet away from your group.

Niccolo sputtered out of embarrassment, he was surprised that you'd dare Sasha to do something like that. But Sasha, she wasn't the one to complain over a dare. So, she hopped up on her feet and waited for Niccolo to follow.

Though you only crafted this dare mostly as a joke, you knew well that this dare would also help the two jump-start their relationship in the right direction. You came to that conclusion solely by observing how the two had been interacting with each other so far.

Niccolo seemed to be interested in Sasha but, of course, was hesitant, while Sasha on the other hand was oblivious to Niccolo's advances.

Before Sasha entered the nearby room, she shot you a glance, a glance that could read 'you'll pay for this later.'

After receiving quick congratulatory praise from Eren and Connie due to daring Sasha and Niccolo to do such a thing, both men signaled to Jean that it was now his turn to dare someone.

"Who's it going to be, Jean?" pulling your chin back over your shoulder, you stopped to look at the man you were sitting on.

His fingers that were slack against you suddenly gripped your body slightly. Jean's index finger vaguely tapped against you where he held onto, before combing all fingertips against your flesh in a soothing manner.

Without a second glance around the room, Jean spoke with his head slightly tilted, his eyes on and only on you, "I dare you to kiss me."

#attack on titan #Jean #jean smut #Jean Kirschstein #aot smut #jean kirschtein smut

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kiirokero · 3 years

Text

Brother’s Best Friend

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: College AU, F2L, Fluff, Light Angst

Word Count: 1,956

Summary: You and your brother Jimin are 2 peas in a pod. You’ve been with each other through thick and thin, but what do you do when you fall for one of his best friends, Kim Taehyung?

Warnings: Mentions of abusive parents but it’s like... one alluding sentence.

Note: Look Ma, I’m trying

The scent of the stew you were cooking on the stove for breakfast wafted through the air, calming in an odd, homely way. Your brother, Jimin, walked out of his room, the remnants of sleep still evident as he bumped into furniture and rubbing his eyes. "Careful, don't hurt yourself." You chuckled, turning your attention back to breakfast.

Jimin grumbled, stumbling over to the kitchen. "You're making breakfast?" He asked, peeking over your shoulder. "Yeah, you stayed up all night studying, figured you would need the energy." I shrugged, turning off the burner, allowing the stew to cool. "Speaking of," You continued, "Have you decided what you wanted to do for your graduation celebration?" Jimin was quiet for a minute before he sighed, "I'll probably have Tae and Kook over for a mini party. I mean, it's just college."

You gasped, whipping around to glare at your older brother. "It's not 'Just college'." You countered, "You've been working so hard to get this music degree, you deserve something special." You poked his chest and started making bowls of stew for the both of you. "Y/n, we're both broke college students," He chuckled, following close behind you as you went to sit at the coffee table, the usual breakfast place.

You and Jimin shared a small apartment about 20 minutes from the college the two of you went to. 2 bedrooms, 1 bath, and an open kitchen-living room plan. You could have a conversation with one another from anywhere in the house. But both of you were extremely proud of it. Living with your parents wasn't the healthiest, it took a toll on your mental health, Jimin's too, but you always had each other.

So when you two got scholarships for the same college, Jimin for music, you for foreign languages, it was like a dream. That didn't mean the two of you were breezing by, but together, you managed. Jimin was a performer at a local restaurant and you had odd jobs. You would make money being a tutor, working at the local cafe, and, now and then, being a teacher assistant for foreign exchange students. Together, you saved enough money to rent your shared apartment and just live. You guys weren't sailing by, but you always had enough.

"Just hush and eat," You dug into your own bowl, humming when the savory taste hit your mouth. "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, Tae and Kook are coming over today." Jimin casually informed you, like he hadn't just dropped the biggest bomb. You choked on your stew and Jimin frantically handed you his glass of water. After almost dying, you took a deep breath and laid your head on the table. "You couldn't have told me sooner?" You grumbled.

"Why? The apartment's clean." He shrugged, continuing to eat. It wasn't that, far from it. The apartment was always clean. It was the fact that the man you were crushing on was suddenly coming over. Tae. Taehyung. Kim Taehyung was coming over and your idiot brother didn't tell you until now. "When will they be here?" And as if that were a cue for the universe, there was a knock at the door. "Now!" Jimin cheered, smiling as he answered the door.

The familiar voices of Taehyung and Jungkook filled your tiny apartment. Quickly, you tried to sneak down the hall to your bedroom, "Hey Y/n!" but that plan was halted when Taehyung's deep voice calls out to you. Taking a deep breath, you turned around to face him. The wind was knocked out of you when you laid your eyes on him.

He was dressed casually, black beanie, white jumper, and jeans. You felt your knees grown weak, but you held yourself up for the sake of your dignity. "Hey guys, how are you?" You smiled, trying not to give away your obvious nervousness. "We're good!" Jungkook chimed in, walking over to give you a quick hug, Taehyung not far behind. You got a whiff of his cologne, it was earthy, it reminded you of a forest after rainfall.

"Y/n! You wanna join us? We're just going to play video games." Jimin gave you a hopeful smile. He always wanted you to tag along, you being his best friend since forever. The other boys didn't mind either, always getting sad whenever you were too busy studying to hang out with them. You chuckled softly, "Sorry Chim, I uh... Have a video call with Namjoon." You lied, knowing that if you spent another second next to Taehyung, you would probably pass out.

Jimin pouted, his blonde hair was thrown back as he whined, "Do you have to?" Taehyung said, sporting a pout as well. He was testing your willpower, but you stayed the same. "Y-yeah, maybe next time." You scrambled away to your bedroom, shutting the door and flopping on your bed with a groan. Why were you so awkward?

It felt like minutes passed as you sat on your bed, but in reality, it was a couple hours, lunchtime. You only knew this because Jimin came barging into your room asking if you wanted a burger from the local diner. Of course you agreed. "Alright, we'll be back soon." He gave you a salute and you laughed, waving him goodbye. You heard the ruckus of the boys putting their shoes on and the front door closing, indicating that you were alone. Or so you thought.

That notion was quickly proven false when a certain Taehyung peaked his head through your door. He gave you that adorable boxy smile of his and you couldn't help but smile back. "Can I come in?" He asked, you nodded your head and he sat on the edge of your bed.

"I thought you went to the diner?"

"I didn't feel like going." Taehyung shrugged.

"Are you tired?" You asked.

"Not really, I just... wanted to hang out with you for a bit."

You felt butterflies in your stomach bloom when he said that; you wanted to turn and hide your face but you resisted the urge. "W-why me? Jimin and Kook are your best friends." You stuttered, looking at his sculpted side profile. He turned to you, catching you off guard when he looked right into your eyes. His earthy ones bore into your soul, and you didn't have the willpower to look away.

"You mean more to me than you think." He turned away, flopping down on the bed right next to you. "So, how was your chat with Namjoon?" He asked as if you weren't internally having a meltdown. "What?" You realized your mistake as soon as the words left your mouth, "I-I mean it was fine. It was good." You coughed, embarrassed. Taehyung broke out in giggles as he rolled on his side to look at you.

"I know you didn't have a call with Namjoon," He said in a low voice, he started moving closer while you moved back, eventually hitting the headboard. He kept getting closer until he was right in front of you, at level with your stomach with both his arms on either side of your legs. "Why are you avoiding me?" He whispered to you. "I don't know what you're talking about." You whispered back, Taehyung chuckled. "I see the way you look at me, you know."

"What do you mean?" You looked away, pretending that whatever was happening outside was more exciting than your crush who was practically in your lap. Suddenly you felt a hand grab your chin and you were slowly turning back to Taehyung. "You look at me like I'm the only man on Earth." His eyes looked longing, a hint of admiration in them. "Am I right?" He continued.

You didn't know what to say, so you just avoided the question. "You're my brother's best friend." You grabbed his wrist and pulled it away from his face. "So?" He countered, taking your hand in his. "W-what will he think?" You mumbled, turning away from his amber hues. "Are you saying that you do feel this?" He squeezed your hand, moving his head to be in your line of sight but you kept looking away.

"I-I don't know." You whispered. "I think you do." Taehyung sat up, resting on his knees as he grabbed your face to make you look at him. "I think you know but you're scared of what Jimin will think." And you were. How were you supposed to tell him you have the fattest crush on one of his best friends? What if Jimin drops him? What will happen then? What happens if this doesn't work out and you get your heart broken?

Taehyung brought your face closer to his, bringing you out of your thoughts, "Aren't you?" He whispered, so quietly that if the deafening silence wasn't engulfing the both of you, you wouldn't be able to hear him. Defeated, you nodded your head, confirming his suspicions. "Don't be, it could be our secret for the time being." He continued. If your brain made a noise, it would be the Windows error sound. Your nerves were shot and your mind was going haywire. You felt your palms get clammy and your breathing pick up. Taehyung was still staring into your soul, his look intense but holding a fondness in them.

"T-Tae, you know Jimin means a lot to me..." You sighed, the thought of keeping secrets from him was saddening, the possibility that he wouldn't approve of Tae and you saddened you even more. "Then we'll tell him. Just... kiss me." He begged, using his thumb to caress your cheekbone. One kiss couldn't hurt. So you nodded, ignoring the web of emotions that was currently restraining you from what you really wanted, Taehyung.

Slowly, Taehyung leaned in, stopping right before your lips touched. His earthy cologne filled your nose and your heart fluttered when his warm breath hit your face. His lips met yours softly as if you were prized china, precious and fragile. Your mind calmed from all the doubts that were swirling through it, all you could think about was Taehyung plump lips, a little chapped, but soft.

You were inexperienced, but Taehyung was more than happy to take the lead. His hands releasing your face and moving their ways down your arms, grabbing your hand with one and pulling you closer by the waist with the other. Fire seemed to burn in your stomach as you wrapped your arms around his neck, waiting to feel more of the warmth that radiated off of his body. His brunette curls brushed against your face. In any other situation it would've made you giggle, but now it only made your heart skip a beat.

He gripped your waist tighter and he kissed you harder, more desperate, but he was holding back, not wanting to go too far. His other hand squeezed yours, his thumb caressing over your knuckles. The two of you only pulled apart when your lungs screamed for oxygen. He rested his forehead on yours, his curls like a curtain pulled back to see his sculpted face. His lips were swollen and glistening, and yours were too.

He didn't say anything as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, head resting on top of yours. The rhythmic sound of his breathing calmed your pounding heart. You couldn't stop your wandering hands from resting on his waist. "Can we... try?" Taehyung spoke, still breathless, "We can tell Jimin if that's what you want, I just want you..." You couldn't help the smile that crept up on you, the happiness you felt quickly drowning out the doubts that whispered in your ears. "Yeah, I'd like to try."

#bts #bts fic #bts taehyung #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts college au #kim taehyung #taehyung #bts one shot #bangtan #taehyung x reader #one shot #f2l #friends to lovers #bts imagines #bts scenarios #kpop imagines

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suituuup · 3 years

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pieces - chapter three

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca sees her again in the most unexpected place.

rated: E for drug use and sex scenes

AO3 LINK

“Bec?”

Beca hummed absentmindedly, blinking out of her daze and twisting her head in the direction of the voice.

Sarah smiled gently as she leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen. She cocked an eyebrow, giving a pointed look towards the sink. “I think the pan is clean.”

Beca glanced down, stilling her movements. She had been scrubbing that pan for probably ten minutes now, her thoughts completely consumed by Chloe and what she was supposed to do next.

Chloe clearly didn’t want to see her, and Beca wasn’t going to wait by the phone when it was clear that Chloe was far from okay. She was thinner than Beca remembered, and the look in her eye, the lack of light in those once bright blues, chilled Beca to the bone.

She looked… broken. As though her spirit had repeatedly been battered until all that was left were mere pieces of her old self.

If there were any left at all.

Beca couldn’t stand the thought of not doing anything, and she needed to come up with a plan to help Chloe without driving her into a corner and risk losing her forever.

“What’s going on?” Sarah questioned, pushing off the doorframe and padding over. She rested her hand between Beca’s shoulder blades, her eyebrows knitted together in concern. “You’ve seemed off today.”

Beca released a sigh, setting the pan down into the sink and reaching for the dishtowel laying next to her on the counter to dry her hands. “I’m sorry, I’m just… worried about a friend.”

Sarah nodded slowly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sarah was unexpected, to say the least. Beca was a workaholic, and her career was too time-consuming for her to get into the whole dating thing. But Sarah, who happened to work as a barista in Beca’s favorite independent coffee shop, had somehow managed to convince Beca to go out with her. One dinner surprisingly turned into a second date, then a third, and it just like that, it had been almost a year since they officially got together.

Sarah was gentle, patient, understanding, overflowing with positivity, but most of all, incredibly kind. She reminded Beca of Chloe, sometimes. And maybe it was those similar personality traits that drew Beca to her in the first place.

They didn’t live together. Beca could feel that it was the next expected step on her girlfriend’s end, but she didn’t feel ready to commit, yet. She liked her own space, her solitude. So Sarah spent a few nights a week at Beca’s place, like tonight, and Beca was fine with that.

“Not really,” she replied, casting Sarah an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, it’s just-- complicated right now.”

“You need to stop apologizing,” Sarah murmured, her expression soft and loving. Beca let her shoulders sag, ready to apologize again. “I understand. But if you do change your mind and need to let something off your chest, I’m here.”

Beca nodded. “Thanks.”

“Are you coming to bed?”

“Not yet, I wanna get some work done, first.” She leaned in to peck Sarah’s lips. “You go ahead, I’ll join you soon.”

Walking across the living room and past the huge floor to ceiling windows looking over Central Park, Beca made her way to her home office, her happy place. She had bought the Manhattan condo two years ago, making it a requirement during her house-hunt to have a large room with plenty of light and enough space to store all her records and her music equipment. It was also where she kept her Grammys and other prizes, away from the attention as nobody really stepped into her office.

She usually popped a blues album on the record player, enjoying the soothing instrumentals while she replied to various emails, but not tonight. Tonight, she grabbed a yellow legal notepad and her headphones from her desk and curled up on the leather couch tucked in the far corner, then scrolled to her Spotify playlists until she found the one she was looking for.

she is magic

Beca couldn’t remember the last time she had listened to her Chloe playlist, one she had made back in Barden when she was hopelessly in love with her best friend. They were songs that reminded her of Chloe, or songs that Chloe liked. Or used to like, at least.

As lyrics she knew so well poured into her headphones, blocking out the rest of the world, different ones flowed out of Beca’s heart, materializing on the paper in front of her in black ink as she scribbled across the page. Lyrics about friendship, unrequited love, and regrets for listening to her brain and not her heart all these years ago.

It was pushing on two am by the time Beca called it a night. Her eyes burned, her mind felt mushy, but her soul felt a tiny bit lighter. Music had always been her therapy, and writing songs had always proved more efficient than paying a licensed professional, even though it had been years since Beca had last finished one, for lack of inspiration.

Or rather, because of the absence of her muse.

She woke up five hours later to a stiff neck and sore back, the bright sunlight pouring in from the windows lining one of her office walls drawing her from her sleep. She had meant to go to bed, before deciding to close her eyes for five minutes right on the couch.

Straightening with a groan, she grabbed her phone and turned it over, hoping to see a text from an unknown number on her screen.

Aubrey Posen [6:23am]

Any news?

Aubrey Posen [6:37am]

Should I come to New York?

Aubrey practiced family law up in Boston. She and Beca saw each other a few times a year, whenever Aubrey was in the city. Bella reunions were a bit more scarce now, with the girls being scattered all around the country. Their last one dated back to a year and a half ago, on the Fourth of July.

Beca ran a hand over her face and heaved out a sigh, swiping her thumb across the screen to unlock it.

Beca [7:16am]

No news yet. I think I’m gonna wait a few days before I head back to the club, if she doesn’t call in the meantime that is. The manager gave me serious sleazy vibes and I’m sure he could blacklist me if I’m too insistent. I don’t think there’s any need for you to come down for now. I’ll keep you posted.

Hitting send, Beca pushed to her feet and shuffled out of her office, hanging a left down the hall towards the kitchen. A note next to her coffee thermos sat on the island.

Missed you last night, but I hope you got whatever you needed done. I had to leave for my shift, you’re welcome to swing by for your second coffee of the day and your morning kiss ;) have a good day!

Sarah xx

Guilt swooped in over picking old feelings about an ex-almost over her girlfriend, and Beca let her head hang forward, releasing a grown. She was far from an expert at this relationship thing, but she cared about Sarah a lot and didn’t want to mess that up.

Beca shook off the sleepiness lingering in her bones and the stiffness in her muscles with a long, hot shower, then got ready for her day. She usually got to the office at 8 sharp, but it was already 7:54 by the time she was out the door, and her commute lasted about twenty minutes, so she wouldn’t get the chance to stop by Sarah’s workplace.

To: Sarah

I’m sorry, I got caught up in work last night and ended up falling asleep on the couch around 2. Come over tonight? I’ll cook dinner. Have a good shift.

Her morning was spent in the studio canning vocals for girl in red’s new album, a project Beca was stocked about as she was BMLJ’s most promising artist for this year’s Grammy Awards.

“That was awesome, Marie,” Beca spoke into the microphone, giving her a thumbs-up through the glass. “Let’s take a lunch break and resume in an hour?”

“Sounds good,” the younger woman agreed with a smile as she took off her headphones.

Beca headed back to her office down the hall and checked her phone for any new messages (finding none important), before shrugging on her thick winter coat and screwing her beanie over her head.

“I’ll be back in an hour, Gina!” She told her assistant on route to the elevator.

As Sarah’s workplace was just five blocks south from the label, Beca figured she would eat lunch there as she wasn’t able to stop by that morning. She stopped in the convenience store across the street from the coffee shop to buy Sarah her favorite magazine as she knew her break was coming up soon and she’d have something to read.

Beca was scanning the press stand for that specific magazine, not paying attention to the person walking into the store until they spoke.

“A pack of Marlboro, please.”

Beca would recognize that voice anywhere. Her head snapped up so fast she felt something in her neck pull, and she was rounding the stand before she even registered giving her feet the order to move. “Chloe?”

Chloe glanced over to her right and froze for a second, before fishing for a twenty in her jacket pocket and handing it to the cashier. “Are you following me or something?”

Given their last encounter, Beca wasn’t surprised by Chloe’s snark, so she gave as good as she got. “You came in after I did, so maybe I should ask you that question.”

Chloe stuffed the cigarette pack and the change into her pocket. “What do you want, Beca?”

“To talk,” she replied, softly. “One coffee, that’s it. And if you decide you really don’t want me in your life, then I won’t bother you again. I promise.”

Chloe seemed to ponder on that for a few beats. “One coffee.”

“There’s a shop right across the street.”

Taking her to the place her girlfriend worked at? Probably not the brightest idea, but she was afraid Chloe might go back on her decision if they spent too long finding someplace else.

When Chloe nodded, Beca took the lead and stepped outside, forgetting all about that magazine as she racked her brain about what she should say. Tactfulness wasn’t her greatest suit; Aubrey would be so much better at this.

They stepped inside Devocion and Beca picked a table in the corner, shrugging off her coat and draping it over the back of her chair. Chloe kept her jacket and beanie on, a bit hunched on herself as she sat down in the chair opposite Beca’s.

“Beca?”

Beca glanced towards Sarah as she approached, wearing a waist apron with the café logo on it. Her dark blonde hair was woven back in a French braid, a few strands escaping, and curiosity swirled in her green eyes as they flickered to Chloe.

Okay, in hindsight, bringing Chloe here was a terrible idea.

“Hey, um, Sarah, this is Chloe, a friend from college.” She cleared her throat. “Chloe, this is my girlfriend, Sarah.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sarah replied brightly, her smile fading a little when all Chloe offered was a distant nod. Sarah met Beca’s gaze briefly, clearing her throat. “What can I get you guys?”

“My usual. You want anything to eat, Chlo?”

The nickname rolled off her tongue so naturally, Beca didn’t even catch it.

Chloe shook her head. “Just a black coffee.”

“Coming right up.”

“Thanks,” Beca said as Sarah spun around on her heels, her focus shifting to Chloe. “So um, I wanted to apologize for the other day and putting you on the spot at the club. I just… wasn’t sure how else to talk to you.”

“I can give you some of the money back if you need it.”

Beca furrowed her brow, not having expected that. “No, no. I… it’s fine. I don’t care about money.”

Something flashed in Chloe’s eyes at that, something Beca couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Sarah came back with two coffees before she could analyze it further, setting the mugs down on the table. “Your club sandwich will be here in a few, babe.”

Beca nodded, casting her a small, appreciative smile.

Chloe straightened a bit in her seat, cradling the mug with both hands. “I’m not sure what you expect me to say or do, Beca.”

Beca licked her lips. “I was hoping we could… hang out from time to time. I’ve missed you, Chlo. So has Aubrey.”

The mention of Aubrey made Chloe lookup. “Does she live in New York, too?”

“Um no, in Boston. She’s a lawyer. But she’d come down to have coffee, or lunch, or whatever you feel like doing. In a heartbeat.”

Chloe shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

What little hope flared in the pit of Beca’s belly upon Chloe showing interest in Aubrey’s life vanished. “Why not?”

“I told you. I’m not the same person anymore. I’m-- I’m not…”

Beca tilted her head to the side. “You’re not what?” She pressed gently.

Chloe’s gaze fleeted out the window as her rather calm demeanor now radiated agitation. Her knee started bouncing and her fingers tightened around the mug, and it was as though Chloe was battling against her own thoughts.

She was itching to reach across the table to rest her hand over her wrist in a sort of grounding gesture, but something told her that would have the opposite effect.

“Chloe?” Beca attempted once more, her voice as soft as she could muster, as it seemed like Chloe was on the brink of bolting.

The tear slipping out of Chloe’s eye tore her heart into two. “I-I have to go.”

Her chair screeched as she pushed it back roughly, and she was nearly out the door by the time Beca scrambled to her feet.

It was lunch-hour rush in one of the busiest avenues in Manhattan, and Chloe had already disappeared in the crowd when she reached the exit, leaving Beca to helplessly wonder how someone like Chloe, once the epitome of sunshine, got herself trapped in so much darkness.

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #bechloe fic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pieces

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greenninjagal-blog · 3 years

Text

Let Me Hear You Scream pt2

Ready for more spooky vibes? If you missed the first part you can find it [here!]

Summary: Upon waking up in a forest he doesn't recognize, Roman vs a Bear Trap goes almost exactly how you would think it goes.

Words: 6374

TW: Bear traps, blood, violence,

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Roman has always had an unusually high pain tolerance. He had to, being twin brothers with Remus and all that. The sheer amount of danger the two of them got into as kids delegated that if he was anything less than completely indestructible, he’d be dead the next time Remus started a conversation with “I bet you won’t…”

He remembers that summer when Remus dared him to ride his bike down the concrete stairs, and he remembers how the wheels pitched him forward and his helmet cracked on the sidewalk, his knee skidded on the concrete, and his arm went snap with pain so white hot that Roman actually thought that the whole thing had popped right off his body entirely.

He remembers lying on the ground so shocked that he couldn’t even breathe, much less cry, and he remembers Remus laughing in the background, “I didn’t think you were going to actually do it! Oh shit, Ro? Roman! ROMAN!”

He remembers it so clearly.

“REMUS!” Roman shrieks into the forest, with tears rolling down his cheeks. “THIS ISN’T FUNNY, YOU FUCKER!”

His ankle burns. He can’t feel his toes, he can’t feel his ankle, he can’t feel anything, but there’s blood all over his hands and he can’t look down in case he faints.

His hands are trembling as they blindly work over whatever the fuck he stepped on. He can feel the slushie that he last ate, swirling in his stomach, boiling and bubbling until he feels it corroding his back molars. His fingers fumble around the… the metal teeth, oh god he’s going to vomit. His ankle screams in pain when his fingers prod too close to his actual limb. His ears echo with the painful awful SNAP of the jaw mechanism like its seared right into his soul.

“Remus,” He sobs, “I’m going to fucking kill you--”

Because there was a line here; Yeah, Remus dared him into a prank war with one of his stupid “I bet you wont, you prissy goody two shoes…” and Roman poured glitter into Remus’s laundry once, then Remus replaced Roman’s toothpaste with mayo, then Roman put white hair dye in Remus’s shampoo, and Remus swore he would get some type of revenge, even though he loved that look so much that he kept a stupid white streak in his hair. At least Roman thought he did-- He did, right?

Remus wasn’t the type to keep it to himself if he was upset. Neither of them were: Roman had perfected the art of loud sighs and dramatic monologues into a microphone and Remus had set things on fire to make people pay attention.

He didn’t-- wouldn’t--

He wouldn’t drag Roman into the middle of nowhere and make him walk into a bear trap for hair dye that would come out in another few weeks.

((Wouldn’t he?))

Everyone said Remus was insane, through whispered rumors and gossip that dissipated the moment that Roman walked into the room. Roman hadn’t ever seen the insanity himself; he grew up with Remus chasing squirrels in the park and diving into dumpsters for cool treasures and it was normal. Remus had always found humor in strange and weird things and as they had grown up those things had become less real and more abstract and Roman still didn’t think it meant that Remus would do this.

The forest is dense around him, stupid, dark; Roman isn’t sure he could recognize it even if he had a map in front of him, but then again Remus was always the more environmentally aware person of the two of them. He doesn’t know where Remus went the fuck off to either-- he’s brain is fuzzy at everything more than a few seconds ago when he blinked opened his eyes and took one step forward into a metal death trap, but he… he thought Remus had been right beside him, so close that… that…. His head is singing with pain and the backs of his eyes are melting.

“Hey!” A voice calls out and Roman flinches so hard that the metal spikes dig into his ankle and his scream strangles him.

Roman blinks back his tears just in time to see a figure stumble right out the thickets nearby, with the grace of a new born fucking dear. Roman swears in every language he knows and then some he doesn’t as the person scrambles back to their feet and zeroes in on him with an expression that Roman usually associates with the memory of his science teacher right before she demonstrated how to break a frog's ribcage for their dissection.

“No,” Roman says, “No, back off--”

He tries to scoot back and agony shoots up his leg so bright and violent that his vision whites out.

“Don’t move,” the person says, holding up their palms up suddenly to show they were unarmed or something. Roman isn’t sure what that’s supposed to do when he knows that Remus himself has never needed a weapon to be a lunatic. “I’m going to try to help.”

“Do not fucking come near me,” Roman snarls. “Who are you? One of Remus’s fucking little friends--”

“I assure you I don’t know a Remus, but you are in pain and believe I am qualified to help.”

“Fuck off!”

Roman swears that the pain is getting to his head, meddling with his thoughts like alcohol except not fun and Roman would not suggest anyone repeat this experience. The stranger-- Remus’s friend or whatever-- is staring at him with a patient impatience: like his mother waiting for him to finish his story before she runs off to answer a call on her work phone. They’re older than Roman, by a year or two, with sharp cheekbones and back framed glasses of a stereotypical nerd but a height that makes it hard to even imagine anyone looking down on them. Their eyes are colder than ice, and frost wafts off their breath. They’ve got a sweater vest on, with a tie, and converse dotted with glow in the dark paint in the shape of space nebulas.

Between his teary eye lashes Roman thinks that this guy looks incredibly tame for someone who associates with Remus and he fights the urge to vomit.

Is his leg supposed to be feeling cold?

Oh god, was he going to lose his foot? His breath swells up in his lungs, like a balloon pressing against his ribs. He wouldn’t be able to walk without a foot-- He wouldn’t be able to move or leave these woods or get help-- Remus and his psycho friends could easily cut up the rest of his body and let the wolves get him and then at school when someone would ask what happened to that dumbass who used to make dumb jokes on air during the football games, everyone will be like “Who?” and “didn’t Remus used to have an annoying twin? What happened to that guy?” and no one will ever find him because no one would car--

“Please,” The Doctor Who-ever says, in a faux calm tone as Roman nearly swallows his tongue. “I have medical knowledge, and you are clearly in distress.”

Agony races up his leg and Roman whimpers again. He swears he can hear the sound of metal grinding against his ankle bones, biting in deep and forcing the marrow to crack and shatter and explode until it's just a bunch of broken glass-like fragments under his skin. His head feels light and he frantically breathes deeply because he is not going to pass out, he is not going to make it that eas--

He’s cut off by a sudden crashing from behind behind himself: snapping of branches like a wild animal is tearing through them, the crunch of dead leaves steadily getting louder and heavy and deadlier, the swearing that are all tell-tale sounds of Remus crashing directly into someone and both of them eating the dirt as they barrel through the thickets and roll to a stop a few feet away.

Nerdicus jerks back like they were expecting anything less of Remus’s spectacular grand entrance.

Roman bites down on his tongue to stop himself from outright whimpering. Remus, his twin, his mirror image, rolls back to a sitting position like a possessed doll coming to life, untangling his limbs from another crumpled, groaning form that must be some other friend of his, and snapping them back in place because what are limbs to a maniac like him? The setting sun paints him in an eerie light and Roman’s skin itches with equal parts rage and terror at him, for dragging them out there, for putting out bear traps, for doing all this as pay back for a stupid little prank in a prank war he fucking started--

Remus’s laughter is obnoxious as always and Roman tries not to flinch at the sound of it alone, holding back a white wash of fear with just his force of will.

His other friend is another person that Roman hasn’t seen before-- not that he spends a lot of time getting to know the faces of the delinquents that his brother hangs out with. They’ve got on black jeans and a black T-shirt with one of those reversible sequin designs in the shape of a skull. Their blond hair dances in the last dregs of the evening, even as they pull a leaf from their bangs and yanks their dirty yellow beanie back over their head.

“Holy shit!” Remus says, spitting out dirt from his mouth. “Is that a bear trap?”

“Remus!” Roman whimpers with a tight throat. “This isn’t funny!”

“Au contraire! I left you alone for like five seconds and now you’re in a bear trap!” There’s a glint in Remus’s eyes and Roman recognizes it from those times when Remus climbed too high in the trees back at home, when he stared at a growing flame of a match too long, when he reached across the console and yanked on the steering wheel, screaming Roman’s name--

Roman brain pulses to the point where he can feel it knock against his skull and that hurts almost as much as ankle and he swears he sees stars on the backs of his eyelids and he does not want those to be the last stars he ever sees.

Remus swoops towards him and Roman flinches back, nearly screaming when his leg jostles.

“Chill out, Prince Charmless,” his twin says, rolling his eyes. “I’m gonna get it off. What’s your range of movement?”

“Do not come any closer to me, you asshole!”

“You can’t get that thing off yourself,” Remus says.

“And whose fault is that?” Roman snaps.

Remus freezes, tilting his head slightly to the side. His rat's nest of hair creates an unearthly silhouette as he looks down at Roman, something straight out his Halloween horror films, and Roman bares his teeth in warning. He’s not thinking about how Remus’s foot can stomp down on his injured, trapped leg, he’s not thinking about how there’s no one around for miles, he’s not thinking about how there’s nothing and no one to stop him from straight out fratricide--

“Why am I suddenly getting the feeling you think I know what the flying fuck is going on here?” Remus asks.

“Don’t you?”

“No!” Remus says, delightedly, happily, cheerfully and his voice makes some distant bird caw. “I thought you snapped and took me to the woods to kill me yourself! This is much more boring now that I know I haven’t managed to break your last shreds of sanity.”

“Why would I--”

“This is ridiculous,” Glasses McGee cuts in sharply, adjusting said glasses with their index finger. “We need to remove your foot from that trap now.” They look at Remus and the other person. “Are either of you knowledgeable about the mechanics of bear traps?”

Remus throws two thumbs up, and Roman remembers vaguely a rant from a year or two ago about unethical bear hunting and steel jaw traps and how animals would step in and then lay there for days suffering as their mangled limb held them captive regardless of them trying to chew it off for freedom and oh god he’s going to be sick--

“Roman,” Remus says somewhere beyond the screaming in his head. “Oh shit.” It sounds like he’s far away and distant, or maybe underwater and Roman is drowning. He can’t seem to breathe anymore, like the teeth biting into his ankles had wrapped around his chest and was slowly crushing him.

People are moving around him, faint voices talking and then suddenly burning blinding white hot pain that shoots all the way up to the back of his eyes.

He screams and bites down only to find there’s something in his mouth-- fibers and the unmistakable taste of wool and Roman nearly gags on it. He blinks back the foggy pain and finds that he’s leaning on Remus and Webster Dick-tionary is pressing a multicolored sweatshirt to his leg delicately with the bear trap fully closed a few feet away, tethered to the ground with a heavy metal chain coated in a red paint that makes Roman’s vision sway all over again. The slushie claws back up his throat and he gags.

There’s someone new standing just behind the nerd: a very pretty person in a pretty skirt and headphones with cat ears on them around his neck. The splash of freckles and the round glasses makes them look a bit younger than the rest of them, but that could also be Roman’s brain twisting things around the moment that they wince in sympathy as the nerd prods part of his ankle.

They’re magnificent, Roman decides with a dizzying certainty. They’re the sun in the middle of this dark and dreadful forest, the stars in the night sky, the lighthouse in the storm guiding Roman back from complete devastation with just those shiny eyes behind cracked lens.

The other person, the one in the black skull shirt, Sid from Toy Story come to life, is standing just behind him and Remus, looking on distastefully from a good distance away. It takes Roman a moment to realize he’s biting down on the guy’s beanie, and gross. He spits it out at the same time as the nerd presses too close to where the trap had caught him.

“Son of a Witch!” He hisses. “A dragon witch, a fucking---”

“Oh, boo,” Remus says. “He’s alive.”

“He was not in any immediate danger of dying,” Space Case says firmly. “And isn’t he your brother?”

“Looks like someone is an only child,” Remus says. The person in black reaches out and snatches back his beanie, his entire face curling into some disgusted expression as they hold the part with Roman’s saliva away from themself.

“Wonderful,” they say in deadpan and stuff the beanie in their back pocket.

Roman blinks, struggling to sit up by himself. He scrubs his face trying to get rid of his tears, and buries that boiling humiliation being the center of attention like this. Of course, he has to be grievously injured for anyone to care about him, for anyone to take a moment to look at him, for anything--

Remus lets him go, stretching up and yawning like nothing about this is weird or strange or scary to him.

Part of Roman is reassured by that. Like, of course Remus isn’t terrified out of his mind; what is there to be scared of when he’s the most terrifying thing in a 100 mile radius? When he handcuffed himself to the doors of the city history museum to protest its demolishment even though the wrecking ball was right there, when he wore a mini skirt to school to protest the dress code even though he’d been beat up for less before, when he marched into the Governor’s office when he was refused a meeting about the rescinding of the pollution standards in the the county and laughed in the face of the armed guards that told him to leave.

Remus had an endless supply of guts and determination and Roman had wished for so long that his reckless bravery could be contained, controlled and banished, but now it kinda felt like Remus slipping a familiar jacket over Roman’s shoulders and telling him to relax.

Google.com-- Roman is seriously running out of names for them-- leans in and tears the new holes in Roman’s jeans further-- Roman grimaces at the thought of having to buy another pair to make up for this, but the nerd expertly uses the excess fabric to tie up his wound with a professional precision.

“Alright, Doc Oct,” Remus says while they work. “What is the diagnosis? Amputation? Do I need a body bag?”

“I just said that he was not in danger of dying,” they say, finishing the knot which only causes Roman to grunt a little bit. “And my name is Logan, if you must know. I am not a full medical doctor by any means, but I believe that he will recover fully; the trap broke skin and there will likely be a nasty amount of bruising deep in the muscle tissue, but he will recover in a few weeks of rest. It will probably be best to keep weight off your foot as much as possible.”

“See, drama queen?” Remus says to Roman, shoving his shoulder. “You’re fine.”

Roman gives him double middle fingers for his trouble and tries not to shake too hard with relief. He stares down at his leg, forcing a steady breath through his lungs and out his nose, and wonders with a dizzying amazement how his leg was not only in one piece but recoverable, after all the pain. He isn’t sure that it’s not just the placebo effect of someone saying that everything’s going to be okay, but he wiggles his toes and swears that the pain only wracks his limb moderately this time.

Even closed, the bear trap looked menacingly at them: Roman’s blood on the jaws that were curled into a ghoulish grin, just waiting for someone to get close enough to open and bite down on. He’s not sure how Remus and the Doctor Doolittle-- Logan-- managed to get it off him.

Logan turns and offers the sweater to the person in the skirt. “Ah, sorry, I’m afraid the blood has…”

Roman sucks in another breath at the sight of it: the bright splotchy blobs of red that bled through the pastel tye dye design that would likely never come out and eternally remain a reminder of how Roman put his foot directly in a bear trap like an idiot-- What would he have done if there was no one around? Died? His own stupidity had ruined such a nice piece of clothing and--

“It’s okay!” The angel says with a somewhat cartoonish voice. Roman blinks in surprise at the sweetness of it, tasting sugar even as the words hold over the air. He swears he can envision their I’s dotted with hearts; a soft and kind tone despite the fact that Roman had ruined their sweater. “I’m much more relieved he’s going to be okay!”

“Let’s not get too excited,” Doctor Doom says, causing Roman to stiffen and Remus to glance back curiously towards them. They’re turned away from the rest of the mismatched, miscellaneous group, looking into the trees with a gaze that makes Roman’s stomach roll over and not in any way that is even remotely good.

“What?”

They glance back at them with an expression something that Roman can only call shifty. Like a snake before it strikes, they’re poised on the balls of their feet, coiled with the power to move at a seconds decision. Untrustable, Undependable, Unkind-- and Roman squares his shoulders just to prove to himself that there isn’t actually a dagger point about to plunge into his back.

The person’s voice is silky smooth, but Roman can’t find it in himself to be jealous when the meaning of the next words hit. “I don’t suppose any of you remember just exactly how we came to be here, do you?”

The woods echo with a strange emptiness, like the trees themselves are holding their breaths. The silence is eerie-- Roman’s never been a forest this quiet. He’s never been anywhere this quiet. The hairs on the back of his neck raise up.

Logan and the shining, shimmering, lovely vision share a look and the former shrugs, occupying their hands with tying their sweater around their waist.

“It’s fuzzy,” they admit, thoughtfully. “I was leaving my dorm...and then…” They grimace, which is downright awful to witness: Roman doesn't think anyone deserves to look so uncomfortable, and certainly not a beauty like them. “...then I was here.”

Logan makes a sour face like he managed to misplace a decimal twenty seven steps back in his math equations. “I was uncharacteristically late to class, but I seem to have some form of amnesia surrounding the hours since then as well; It was just past two.”

Dr. Facilier-turned-teenager turns to Roman, their eyes asking a question they already know the answer to. And part of Roman wants to snarl at them, tell them to knock it off with the creepy aura and better-than-you-expression, explain to them exactly how they ended up all here together because there’s a logical, causal explanation.

But Remus is already laughing. “Oh come on! We were…. What were we doing again?” Remus freezes for a moment, some of the smile leaving his face. “Ro? Where were we…?”

Remus is dressed in another one of his ripped T-shirts, the Save the Turtles one that he wore to that protest a few months ago and when he volunteered to clean up beaches for the weekend. His sleeves are ripped off to show off the endangered Tiger tattoo on his shoulder up to his neck, and his jeans are the recycled ones that he bought second hand and begged Roman to repair rather than buy a new pair and “give his money to the capitalists that are trying to kill us all”.

In comparison, Roman is wearing his letterman jacket, with his name engraved on it that he got for being the announcer for the football team three years in a row. He’s wearing his announcer uniform too-- his hair is styled and his colors are coordinated to the white and red of their school, but Remus never comes to the football games anymore.

Or well, he’s not allowed to come to the games anymore after he stole the tuba from the band players and charged into the field during the game back in their freshman year.

Still he-- remembers… he thinks he remembers... They were in the car together, Remus needed to go somewhere and Roman had to drop him off and then speed off to the game, right? Remus' feet were up on his dashboard, mud flaking off into his freshly cleaned car, his air fresheners weren’t working, they were fighting over the radio, Remus’s hand reached out, latching on to the wheel and a scream--

“Fuck,” Remus says, rubbing the side of his head like Roman had slapped him. “Did you crash our car out here?”

“Me?” Roman says, incredulously.

“Yeah!” Remus says. “Did you get brain damage in the crash too? Are your brains going to fall out? You were the one driving, dumbass.”

“You grabbed my steering wheel!”

Remus snorts. “What? No, I didn’t?”

“Yes you did!”

“No way!”

“Yes way!”

“I wouldn’t get anything out of--”

“Boys!” Skeletar says, clapping to get their attention. “Less arguing, more answering the question.”

Remus looks at Roman and Roman glares right back because he did not crash the car. Between the two of them Remus was more likely to crash a car-- proven from how he totaled their green Ford Fiesta nine months ago and now even around the pounding headache he can still remember the feeling of surprise as Remus’s sporadic movement jumbled through his own, the yank that caused him to lose control, the-- the--

He doesn’t remember what happened after that, but he knows that then Roman had opened his eyes out here, taken a step forward, and nearly lost his foot to a bear trap.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Logan says. “Even if perhaps you happened to have a car around here, that does not explain how the rest of us came to be here. And likely from the events that you are describing the car is not in functional condition-- although I’m unsure how your persons would have come out of such a thing without a few visible injuries…”

“I didn’t crash the car,” Roman says firmly.

“Oh, like you didn’t step into a bear trap?” Remus asks innocently antagonistically.

“Why are there bear traps out here anyway!” Roman hisses. “Isn’t bear hunting or whatever illeg--”

Roman almost doesn’t hear it: it starts so softly and then it raises in pitch and suddenly it's ringing in the air like cracks in the fragile glass silence. He feels his breath disappear right out of his chest, his body tensing and everyone jerks towards the direction the sound comes from, like they’re expecting to see something out there.

Roman remembers hearing people yell at Remus to get out of the way of the wrecking ball, remembers hearing the teachers snap at him to go change into his gym clothes, remembers the armed guard spitting on Remus’s face, his own shouts turning to something just above an animalistic growl when he told Remus to knock it off, you’re making me look bad.

And still he doesn’t remember hearing anything sound so horrified. So desperate. So despondent.

It is the noise that causes Roman to break out in goosebumps, electricity dancing along his skin causing all of his hairs to raise, and himself to find it suddenly very hard to swallow. Roman is scrambling back before he can remember that his foot should not be moving and he bumps into Logan as he does.

It cuts off short and disappears like someone took a pair of scissors to the sound itself, snipping the scream for help away before it reaches the end.

And Roman doesn’t think anyone is breathing anymore. His heart pounds in his chest, waiting for the rest of it.

The trees cast shadows so deep and dark that not even the moonlight will touch them. Somehow without Roman noticing, the temperature had dropped until the air feels like frostbite licking his exposed skin. Roman doesn’t dare move another inch-- doesn’t like the idea of what might happen if he reminds the rest of the world that time is still passing.

“I…” the person in the skull T-shirt says, in a very low, strangled tone. “I don’t think bears are what's being hunted.”

“No,” Roman says, “No.”

“Oh god, I’m gonna be sick,” the person in the skirt says.

“No!” Roman says, throwing out his arms before his thoughts can catch up. “This is not--”

“We need to leave,” Logan says, face pale. “Now.”

“I think I saw a gate,” Remus said, no hint of his unhinged grin. He thumbs the direction that he and Kaa came from. “I pulled the switch but it didn’t open. I thought about climbing but there are no holds and barbed wire around the top--”

“It’s likely lacking a power source then,” Logan says steadily calm and Roman feels like he’s losing his whole goddamned mind. “Let me take a look at--”

“We are not being hunted right now!” Roman blurts out.

The others stare at him for a solid, endless second and Roman’s stomach threatens to crawl up his throat. He waits for them to agree with him, waits for them to laugh and call it a joke, waits for Remus to tell him he’s so easy to scare, come on Ro, did you really think there was a murderer in these woods? This is grade school level effort!

Roman gets the feeling that he’s going to be waiting a very long time.

“Guys,” Roman says, slightly more wobbly than he means it to, slightly more softer than he means it to, slightly more terrified than he means it to. “We aren’t being hunted for sport, right?”

Because-- Because he’s seen horror movies. And he remembers once how Remus poured a bag of popcorn over his head and said that if they were ever in that situation, he’d leave Roman to rot, maybe even toss him to the killer himself, laugh as Roman screamed and begged and cried.

He doesn’t look at his foot. He doesn’t look at his foot and think about how he can’t run. He doesn't look at his foot and realize that they’re going to leave him behind and no one will ever know what happened to him and no one will care--

Remus is suddenly right in front of him, offering a hand right into Romans face. Roman blinks back the burning tears on his cheeks and looks at the limb with a trembling lip.

“Come on,” Remus says. “You’re a little bitch when you ruin your mascara, Ro.”

And Roman tries to articulate the billions of insults he has in his brain, but all that comes out is a whimper as Remus latches on to his wrist and pulls him to his feet. He stumbles the moment that he tries to put weight on his foot, flickers of pain echoing in his brain although it's not nearly as bad as he was expecting. Remus pulls Roman over his shoulder with his injured leg raised between them and all of his weight on Remus’s shoulders.

“I’m not leaving you behind, dumbass,” Remus says.

((Why wouldn’t he?))

“We need to help them,” the person in the skirt, the good and just and wonderful person in a skirt, says suddenly.

“I don’t think they need our help,” Hans Gruber-minus-the-German-accent says. “In fact, I don’t think they need anything, anymore.”

“How could you say that?!”

“Easily,” they respond, shortly.

The person in the skirt is shaking, Roman realizes. They’re shaking and hugging themself and they look slightly green in the face.

“I came from over there,” they say from behind trembling hands. “I-- I didn’t hear anyone else over there but they must have been there and I-- I can’t--”

“They’re dead,” Dr. Jerkyll says clinically, like a surgeon with a knife. “Us rushing towards that area is only going to get us attacked next. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to die, thank you very much.”

“We can’t leave them!” The other argues.

The person in the skull shirt steps towards the other and grabs their upper arm to spin them back to the direction the scream came from. Then with a derisive and terrible sneer, they shove. The cutie in the skirt stumbles forward, nearly face planting on the uneven ground.

“Then you go help them,” they say, with streaks of faint and awful moonlight painting them in a pale halo. They wave back to Logan, Remus and Roman, and Roman feels very much like he doesn’t want to be included in this group all of a sudden. “Don’t drag the rest of us into it.”

“Hey, don’t be a dick!” Roman says, stepping forward and hissing when he places a slight weight on his foot. “What if it were you out there?”

They scoff. “Me? I would never let myself get caught by a psycho murderer in the woods. But if I did, the last thing I would want is my valiant savior to come charging to my rescue and then get slaughtered right beside me like an idiot!”

“I’ll keep that in mind, you slimy snake,” Roman says.

“I bet you will, Hiccup,” they shoot back. “The gate is this way. Try not to step in another bear trap, won’t you?”

“Damn!” Remus says, “You’re a bitch! What’s your opinion on plastic in the sea?”

Roman slaps Remus’s arm and gives him a glare because really? Right now? They’re in the woods, someone just screamed and probably got murdered, they don’t know how to get out, Roman’s injured, and Remus is doing one of his weird flirting attempts.

Great.

The person in the skull shirt at least looks slightly thrown by the question, narrowing their eyes and shaking their head as they turn away as if they can brush off the rest of the group. “The sea turtles are dying.” They say blandly, without a hint of actual emotion. “Oh no. Next time I see one I will give my condolences about it’s mother.”

Remus’s mouth pops open for a retort that Roman knows is going to be bad, but before he can get the words out, there’s a loud sound of cracking branches from behind them. Remus drags Roman back from the area, planting himself in front of Roman like some kind of human shield and Roman wobbles, without anything to put his injured leg on.

“Jesus Christ!” A new voice screams, as they trip over a thicket and fall into the clearing.

They move like a blur; barely more than a shadow with the ungodly amount of black they’re wearing. Roman can make out a pale face, dark bangs and terrified eyes, before the scramble back in the ground leaving… leaving smears of deep red on the ground in front of them. Their flashlight goes flying off to Logan’s feet, but they don’t seem to care as much about that as moving away from whatever is behind them.

The air tastes like metal, like copper, and Roman swears the world sways under him. His heartbeat blares in his ears almost louder than the newcomer’s hysterical sobs.

There’s a thud. And another.

And the trees themselves seem to shake and draw from the shadow that takes form. It peels away from the others, massive, hulking and distorted in all the wrong ways: at some point it must have been human, Roman thinks hysterically. It has two legs and two arms and a torso and a head, but it's elongated towering over even Logan at his ridiculous height. Its skin is covered in soot and dirt, layers upon layers to the point where Roman almost thought that it was wearing some kind of leather armor. It has rubber overalls on, strapped...strapped to its body with metal hooks that catch the thin moonlight peeking out of its bulging bare shoulders in a way that looks…looks self mutilated. The patchy ugly skin is healed around the metal, molded to it, absorbing it. In one hand is a cleaver, cobbled together from various metals with an unfinished touch and dripping scarlet all the way down the handle to its massive hands. Roman thinks that with one hand it could easily crush one of their skulls.

But worse than that, than the blood, than the stench coming from the thing, than the bloodlust that's echoing out of it: worse than all that is the mask welded to its face. A pale white skin that nearly glows in the darkness, framed with jagged sharp edges of bladed teeth in a terror inducing smile. Soulless orbs exist where eyes might have once been: now there are empty voids without a human behind them.

In a slow, almost robotic motion, it raises the cleaver in its hand. Blood rolls down the handle onto it’s hand and Roman watches the bulb of red drip down into the grass right between the newcomer’s sneakers.

Oh, Roman thinks suddenly very clearly without any room for a single doubt, This is what death looks like.

“NO!” The person in the skirt screams and suddenly they shove forward and throw themselves in front of the swing of the cleaver. Roman isn’t sure who screams louder at that: him, the person in the skirt, or the person on the ground bleeding out.

His brain is on fire, every atom in him is screaming so loud that he can’t hear his thoughts. His own breath flees his lungs with abandon that Roman’s brain somehow hadn’t gotten because instead of running away he’s running towards the monster. His blood boils in his veins and he pushes through Remus with the sort of reckless abandonment of sanity he never would have thought he’d ever make.

His vision locks onto the kid on the ground and his fingers latch on their left shoulder and he hauls them back.

The air next to his ear whistles as the cleaver misses them by centimeters and the person in the skirt screams as they fall to the side, and specks of something wet and warm and sticky flings through the air like its a water fountain; Roman feels it splatter across his face and his brain heart thuds in his chest.

Remus appears on his other side, grabbing Roman’s hostage by their other arm and they both pull them to their feet, ignoring the way they scream in pain. Their torso drips ruby into the dead grass at their feet and Roman-- Roman--

The hulking monster in front of them gives his cleaver a shake and drags it over its own arm to wipe away the blood, like it's nothing more than a hindrance. It turns its entire body towards the person in the skirt, the gorgeous selfless angel of a person that Roman hasn’t gotten the name of-- of someone he isn't going to get the same of because the abomination raises the cleaver again.

Roman screams because he does not want to watch someone die, please he doesn’t want to be in this nightmare anymore, wake up wake up wakeup--

There’s a brilliant white light that explodes at the last second. Roman himself jerks away from it, but that’s nothing compared to the inhuman howl that the creature makes as it stumbles back to the edge of the forest, covering its beady eyes with its massive hands.

Logan flicks the flashlight off and grabs the person in the skirt by their uninjured arm and looks back at them only briefly with an air of finality.

“RUN!” He says.

And Roman does.

#dbd au #sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #Janus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #tw: violence #dead by daylight #Roman is incredibly unlucky #I ran out of nicknames #But heyyyy Virgil's alive!#isn't that great guys? :D #I am trying horror for the first time

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random-imagines-blog · 3 years

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Creeping in My Soul {Zacky Vengeance x Demon!Female!Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2230 Summary: You find out an interesting secret about your real identity. How is your boyfriend going to take it? Trigger Warnings: Swearing. Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

You gave your boyfriend a wave and a kiss goodbye over Facetime, and hesitantly pressed the large red button. You always hated to let him go, but you knew that you had to. He was three hours ahead of you and it was nearly midnight where he was. One last show tomorrow, playing with the rest of his band - the rock group Avenged Sevenfold. Millions of fans world-wide and a sold out American tour. And then after the show, he would be getting on a plane and coming all the way back home to you, in sunny California. But there was one big problem with him coming back home to the house that you shared. It was that you have changed. No, you were still changing. And you didn’t know how he was going to react to seeing it.

It had started just a month ago when you were brushing out your hair. It was just like any other day really, you were getting ready for work, applying just a touch of make up, pulling the comb through your hair in an attempt to make it look less like you had just woken up. But it kept getting snagged on something. It kept bumping into something and it hurt a lot whenever it did. God, how you had panicked then, as you touched the top of your head and felt two protruding bumps. Did you have a tumor? Two tumors, growing out the top of your head? You instantly called your doctor, who wasn’t able to get you in for a couple of days. That didn’t ease your worrying. But the fact that they told you to go straight to the emergency room if you started feeling a headache coming on, any sort of dizziness, helped a touch. It was an option. And other than the bit of pain up there, surface and not internal, you were feeling fine. You tried to sweep your hair over the protrusions, but ended up putting on a headband instead, which pushed on them uncomfortably but at least it kept them out of sight.

The next day, you woke up to a sharp pain on your lip. You must have bit it in your sleep. That’s happened before, but this was a rather deep cut, given the fact that the taste of blood on your lips was rather potent. When you went into the bathroom to see if you could find it, you found that not only were the bumps on your head more tender, and that something - some sort of bone was poking out of it, but your teeth - they seemed sharper, especially the canines. You went to touch what was coming out of your head, and your nails nicked your skin. Your usually bitten down nails were long, and they were sharp. Like a stiletto shape you’d seen on instagram, ready to claw someone’s eyes out. And that was a very violent thought for the likes of you.

Everything in your mind was telling you to head for the hospital and now. To book some sort of surgery to get your head fixed. But you take a deep breath. You call into work, saying that you can’t come in, you’re taking a sick day, and then you take a ride over to your parents house. At least that way, if you did go to the hospital, you wouldn’t have to be alone. You were terrified to be alone, but you couldn’t bring yourself to call your boyfriend and make him worried. It would only end up with him coming to you, throwing off the tour, disappointing so many people, just to sit at a bedside and hope for the best.

Your parents were a lot less concerned than you thought that they would be. Your father looked over your head, prodded at the tender skin. You hissed at the pain, and you wanted to lash out, strike him for doing that, but a stern look that he gave you made you calm down. It was like he had known your thoughts. Then he sat down, beside your mother, reminding you of the way that they used to talk to you when they had bad news. And you thought you had been the one going to them with the bad news.

But you were getting more than a ‘Our dog went off to a farm to frolick in the fields’ sort of talk.

“Okay, ha ha, I’m a demon child, great time for jokes mom,” You said, crossing your arms in front of you. “Is this some sort of genetic disease that I’m not aware of?”

But they were serious. They were avoiding your eye, but it wasn’t because they were trying to withhold the truth. They were ashamed of the truth. “We should have told you a long time ago... but we’re not your real parents, my love. We were unable to have children, and there you were - a gift. Demons .... they aren’t as bad as people make them out to be. You could never be bad.”

And they continued to talk to you about it throughout the day and the night, convincing you to cancel the Doctor’s appointment because it was risky to have people find out. The sharper teeth and the longer nails could just be an aesthetic choice but the horns - you’d have to learn how to keep them hidden from the public. Hats would cover it somewhat, or you could learn glamour magic, something that had been helping demons on earth for millenia. It would take a lot of practice in a mirror, but it was something that you were just going to have to do in order to keep on living your life. To keep your job. To keep your friends. And most importantly - to keep Zacky.

You had everything set for his return home. It was a late night flight, and he wasn’t getting in until five in the morning, but you had made breakfast for him. French toast was being kept warm in the oven, coffee was being made, you had squeezed some orange juice - you wanted everything to be perfect. Most of the windows had the blinds and the curtains closed, making it a little dark but you had lit some candles to try to set a mood. The sunlight had been bothering you more than usual lately. Despite the California heat, you had been having to wear Zacky’s old hoodies out to go about your day. But at least for now, the sun was still down, and you were able to wear one of your favorite dresses. Which also happened to be his favorite dress.

The front door unlocked, and you heard the rustle and bustle of bags being set down. And then the door closed. A loud yawn as Zacky stepped into the kitchen, probably smelling the coffee. “Ugh, I can never sleep on planes,” He groaned, stumbling in. His eyes looked red and itchy, he must be utterly exhausted.

“Then you had better drink some orange juice instead of the coffee, then we can go to bed right after you finish eating,” You said, putting a glass in front of him. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” The first thing that he did was come up to you, and wrap his arms around you in a tired hug. You hugged him back, smelling his aftershave on his neck. Fuck, he smelt so good. You almost started to salivate. Just feeling his body against yours, chest against chest - you had to bite down on your lip to hold in a moan. Your sex drive had been insane lately, another thing that your ‘parents’ had warned you about. He pulled away from you, making you feel just a touch of anger, but it faded quickly. “Why are you wearing a hat inside?” He asked, noticing your beanie.

“Uhh - bad hair day,” You said, quickly. “Don’t worry about what I look like, let’s just eat something.” You gave him a big smooch on the side of his cheek, then hurried to get the food out of the oven. Zacky sat down, dropping the topic since he was so tired, while you put everything in front of him. All the fixings. Syrup, butter, berries, sliced banana, whipped cream, chocolate shavings. You went all in for this welcome home breakfast, figuring that he hadn’t had anything real in weeks. You knew how these boys were. They go on tour, eat nothing but fast food, end up working it all off during one show from all of their running and jumping around. But no doubt the girlfriends were all going to be taking care of them now that they were home. “Eat up, buttercup.”

And he did, fast at first, and then slowed down towards the end as he started to feel full, but his eyes kept looking at you, flattering you. You could feel blood flow to your cheeks, and to other places as you started to clean up, putting dishes into the sink for later tonight. You were ready to sleep the whole darn day away, especially now that you had Zacky back in your bed. You could feel his eyes on the spot of your thighs where the dress ended, where it was dancing around.

“There’s something different about you,” He said, putting down his knife and fork. You took his plate, raising an eyebrow. How could he tell? You adjusted the hat around your head, trying to make sure that the horns weren’t popping out. “What did you do, get a bad hair cut or something? Come on, take the hat off.”

He beckoned you over and you felt like you didn’t have much of a choice. You walked back towards him and he pulled you between the legs of the chair that he was sitting on. It was a rather high bar-stool type chair on the island so you two were identical height right then and there. He took the beanie off of your head and looked over your hair, his eyes going straight to the horns. “What the fuck are those?”

“I - I can explain,” You said, taking the hat back, fidding with the fabric. And so you did, only going through some of the major details because though he was interested, and shocked, Zacky looked too tired to really comprehend what was going on.

“Fuck,” He said, getting to his feet once you were done. “That’s - a lot.”

“Yeah, how do you think I felt?” You shot back, crossing your arms in front of you. You were waiting for the worst to happen. For him to freak out, to leave, or to even throw you out. You wouldn’t blame him for having any of those reactions honestly. You already had a bag packed in the front closet just in case of that very scenerio.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” He said, putting his arm around your shoulders, and started to lead you into the bedroom. Your smile could not have gotten any bigger. Leave it to your man to accept you just the way that you were. Demon or not.

And he did more than accept you. You two spent a straight up week getting re-acquainted. Or more so, he was finding out more about the demon that you were once you had accepted yourself. Your horns had come in. The skin __around was still tender, but oh the spine-tingling feeling that you got when you let him Zacky rub them. It was such a deeply personal and intimate thing. You wouldn’t ever let anyone else touch your horns. Not for as long as you lived.

Although the whole demon thing had messed with your temper - things like Zacky leaving you to get food or to go to the bathroom had you furious for a couple of seconds - it also amped up your sex drive. He seemed particularly accepting of that bit. When you rode him, both of you sitting up, you on top of him, lifting your lips and driving down, your hands had gone to his back and you had riddled him with little scratches from your nails. He never even minded that. Just hissed with pleasure. It seemed like you were having an effect on him in return. He wanted you all the time.

“I fucking love you,” You said after another rigorous session of love making.

“I fucking love you,” He said in return, still holding you tightly, keeping you in place as he softened inside of you. “How are you a demon when you’re so angelic?”

“I wouldn’t say there’s anything angelic about me after what we just did,” You laughed, rolling off of him. He laughed as well, but pressed kisses to your cheeks, giving you affection even when he wasn’t touching you. No matter what was ahead of you - Hell? - you were more than happy now, and would be as long as you continued to be with the love of your life. Though from the looks of things, he might have a little devil in him too. Definitely a lustful sin behind those eyes.

#Zacky Vengeance #Zacky Vengeance x reader #Zacky Vengeance oneshot #Avenged Sevenfold #Avenged Sevenfold oneshot #a7x #A7x Oneshot #oneshot #one shot #x reader #request #zackyv

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suphoshi · 4 years

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TEMPERED GLASS | Park Chanyeol x female reader

Genre: Angst, some fluff

Warnings: possible triggers for anyone with anxiety/panic disorders, a few bad words... can’t really think of anything else

Word count: 6,594

Love is patient, love is kind.

It does not envy, it does not boast.

It is not proud. It does not dishonor others.

It is not self-seeking.

It is not easily angered.

It keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth.

It always protects. Always trusts. Always hopes. Always perseveres.

Love never fails.

Love never fails. It doesn’t. It can’t. How could it fail? You have Chanyeol. You have him, so you have everything. So why are you empty? His body in the same bed as you, but where was his soul? Your tears filling the shower, answer-less prayers to feel his touch. Did he smile? Did he ever smile, or was it a dream? No, if anything it was a nightmare. He said he loved you. He did. Didn’t he? He said it before, you can remember his voice, down on one knee. Love never fails.

Right?

The voice in your head is too loud, and you just want Chanyeol to kiss you

Chanyeol used to be your favorite Sunday morning. Light streaming through the window, arm draped over your waist, soft snores in your ear. It was the best sound you had ever heard because it came from the person you loved the most on earth. You’d run your hands through his thick, messy hair and wake him up with kisses on his cheek. His dimples would sink in with a smile and eventually he’d pounce on you, kissing you everywhere but your lips. He tickled your soul in so many ways, made a home out of his heart just for you.

“I love you.”

You missed those days, where your biggest worry was making dinner, hoping he would like it despite the fact that you couldn’t cook for anything.

Now you worried about everything.

‘Will he come home tonight?’, ‘Is he working?’, ‘Has he eaten?’, ‘Who is he talking to?’, ‘Why doesn’t he smile anymore?’

The endless stream of questions barraged your thoughts from the second you woke up in the morning to the second you closed your eyes at night. It was maddening.

At first, he just got home late, always pushed it off as being busy, telling you he missed you. Always kissing you goodnight. Then the busy days turned to busy weeks. Then to busy months. You couldn’t remember the last time he even said goodnight, let alone kissed you.

You could feel your soul splitting day by day, a piece of you missing in every moment that went by where he didn’t speak to you. It felt like a punishment, the deafening silence he thrust upon you, but you didn’t know what you did to deserve it. Didn’t know when your Chanyeol became something that was no longer yours.

“I’m working late this week.” He said quietly, interrupting the ever-constant thoughts racing through your mind. You sat cross legged on the bed, picking at the chipped nail polish on your toes, looking up to find him pulling a hoodie over his head.

“Oh?” It’s all you could form over the sinking feeling in your heart, chest deflating at the thought of another night alone. It wasn’t any better than him being there, backs facing each other while you slept, no words, no warmth, but still. At least he was there.

He simply hummed in response before pulling a beanie over his head and grabbing his phone. He didn’t even spare you a glance, let alone a goodbye before walking out of the room. He used to lay in bed with you before work, holding you tight to his chest, milking every second he could before he had to leave. He’d tell you over and over how much he loved you, how he wished he could stay home forever.

The cold you felt around you now when you heard the front door open and close now was almost numbing. Almost.

You walked into the bathroom and somehow found the will to turn the shower on. The hot water was scalding, but that was okay because at least it took your thoughts away from spending another night alone. You stood under he steaming stream until you felt too dizzy to stand, then you sat until the water turned cold, tears mixing with the drops that pooled down your cheeks, fear gripping you like a knife when there was nothing left to distract you from the thoughts in your head.

‘Is my marriage over?’, ‘Does he hate me?’, ‘Will he leave?’

You pressed your hands over your ears and pulled your knees to your chest, sobs wracking through you like a freight train. Your throat grew hoarse while you sat there, crying to an empty house that didn’t used to feel so empty, body shaking until you felt hollow inside, your heart a rattling sack that pushed blood through barren vessels.

Chanyeol was supposed to love you forever.

“I got you a surprise, don’t look.”

You closed your eyes as if you could relive the memory again. Held out your hand in the shower like you did years ago when he asked for it. You could almost feel him placing the ring on your left hand and opened your eyes to see where it laid now, recalled every moment of that night like it was your favorite movie.

“You are the only person who can handle me. At my best and my worst. You love me like I love you. And I want to love you forever.”

You smiled at the diamond that you’d never taken off, the thought of his words alone causing a shiver to run down your spine. It broke your heart. You covered your mouth and bit back the next wave of tears that begged to take over, the ring suddenly feeling too heavy, too meaningless. ‘How can I make him love me again?’

“Marry me?”

His smile. Down on one knee in front of you, eyes glowing, heart racing. You couldn’t recall the last time you saw him smile like that.

Chanyeol was supposed to love you forever. The thought that he didn’t anymore broke something so deep inside that you wished to feel empty. Wished you could float down the drain with all of the water that trickled around you and never come back up, a single drop of water lost in an ocean full of wonders, a place where you could hide from reality, hide from the devastation that was your life.

Instead, you pulled yourself off of the shower floor, turned the water off, and stood in front of the mirror. You went through the motions of brushing your teeth, combing your hair. You touched your cheeks and pushed your lips up into a smile that immediately fell when you moved your hands away. ‘You can be happy this way’, ‘you can love him even if he doesn’t love you’.

You should have put clothes on and gone grocery shopping. Cleaned the house. Done the laundry. Read a book. You stared at your broken reflection in the mirror and wondered how easy it would have been to break the glass, something to match how you felt inside. Something to make you feel a little less alone.

No, you couldn’t find the strength to do anything but crawl into bed naked, will yourself to sleep, and dream of Chanyeol’s smile.

Mornings were pretty dull when Chanyeol stayed at the studio. Sure, you barely spoke anymore, but at least when he was home you would drink coffee together. Even if it was in silence, you preferred it to staring at the empty space in front of you.

You pulled out your phone as you poured yourself a bowl of cereal and texted him.

To; Chanyeol [ 08:45 ];

Are you coming home tonight? I was going to make tacos for dinner!

You smiled as you pressed send, remembering an old forgotten Tuesday tradition. Taco Tuesdays with Chanyeol used to consist of watching a movie and seeing who could eat the most before the end (winner got a back rub). It was the first time in so long that you got giddy about seeing him. The idea of curling up beside him on the couch while he put on some scary movie that he had already seen a billion times, but wanted to watch one more because he thought it was funny to see you afraid – it made your heart swell three sizes. You would sit on the edge of the couch gripping his leg, free hand plastered over your eyes even though they were cracked just enough for you to see every single stupid moment.

“I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. Why is she so stupid?! Why is she going in there?”

Chanyeol would laugh while you whined, hold you when you screamed. Sometimes, when the movie was quiet, he would grip your sides to scare you and you would turn around and hit him. He’d grab your hands and pull your lips to his, kiss your dramatic tears away.

“You’re such a baby.”

His deep voice resonating through your chest pressed against his. You’d pout your lip and he’d kiss you again.

“I love you.”

Your phone buzzed against the table and just like that, the fog of a happy memory was replaced by the all familiar cloud of disappointment.

Chanyeol [ 08:56 ];

Still have a lot to work on with the album. Probably won’t come home until tomorrow. Sorry

You slumped over the table and took three deep breaths, told yourself it would be okay, repeated it over and over like a mantra, as if you could speak it into reality. You told yourself that Chanyeol was just busy and it wasn’t you. Sometimes people can have space and still be okay and just because you didn’t see him every day, or kiss him every night, or touch him anymore, that didn’t mean you weren’t still his favorite person like you used to be.

‘Were you ever his favorite person?’

It was hard to breathe over the sobs that clawed up your throat, hand gripping your phone like you could get through to Chanyeol with that action alone. You wanted to shake him back to reality, show him what he was doing to you, but couldn’t he already see? Couldn’t he tell what he was doing?

You couldn’t control that anguish that gripped you as you sat up and stuffed a spoon full of Rice Krispies into your mouth, closing your eyes while you prayed away the sadness. Each bite you swallowed choked the tears back down, but blood still rushed through your ears with turmoil and betrayal like it never had. When you stared down at the milk that remained, all you could think of was the pieces of your heart that laid scattered around the too big house you were in, so many that you didn’t know how to put it back together again. You felt shattered. Damaged.

You’d never felt so lonely.

The next morning started like this – Chanyeol texted you an apology with no context.

Chanyeol [ 07:33 ];

I’m sorry

It was instant, the ache that settled in your bones and you immediately tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. Hands shaking as thoughts raked through your mind, anxiousness taking hold of your nerves and twisting them around like play-dough. You sat up on the edge of the bed and stared at the carpet, wondering what he would apologize for.

‘For not coming home?’, ‘For everything else?’

You shook your head and stood up, almost walking away to go to the bathroom when the text messages started flooding in. Your phone buzzed wildly on your pillow and even though the coward in you wanted to turn away, you couldn’t help but reach back for it instead. It was your sister, your friends. Your mom.

-Chanyeol broke up with you?

-Why is Chanyeol with another girl?

-What is going on with you and Chanyeol?

-Have you seen this article?

You were clicking on it with blind anger and fear, fingers shaking as you scrolled through picture after picture of Chanyeol with a girl you had never met. In his car, outside of his studio, her kissing his cheek, her hand on his arm while he smiled at her, something genuine that you hadn’t seen in so long. For a second, you forgot to be angry, simply happy to see that he could actually smile and it wasn’t just something you made up in your head.

But then the rage hit. Jealousy thrashed in your chest; how could he smile at her but not you? You stared at the girl’s hand on his arm and wished more than anything you could snatch it away, wanted to burn away her touch with your own, as if anyone could touch him like you did. Instead you dialed Chanyeol’s number again.

No answer.

You threw your phone at the wall and ran into the bathroom, bent over with your head between your knees to try and calm the panic you felt yourself surging inside. The world felt like it was turning upside down. Like you were being burned out of the life you built with Chanyeol, as if he had the right to leave when he was the one who said you meant everything.

“I want to love you forever”

You dropped into a squat and covered your face with your hands, so tired of crying, though the tears just wouldn’t stop coming.

‘How could he do that?’, ‘How could he lie?’, ‘How could he tell you he loved you and then lie?’

You screamed into the empty room and slammed your hands down on the floor, falling to your knees with more sobs then you could handle.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair… You pounded your fists into the linoleum as if you could smash the anger through the floor, bury it in the earth and leave it there forever. Your forehead pressed onto the cold surface beneath your hands and you begged for it all to go away. You just wanted everything to stop, you just wanted to breathe like you did when Chanyeol used to hug you.

An hour passed and you walked back to the bedroom, grabbing your phone off the floor (screen surprisingly unbroken). There were no missed calls. Only more text messages from people who were more concerned about your relationship than they were about your mental health.

You waited the entire day for some kind of follow-up to his apology. An explanation. Absolutely fucking anything. You waited for hours, sat at the kitchen table, hands balled into fists so tight that your nails dug small crescents into your palms. Eventually you moved to the living room, vacuumed to keep busy, mopped the floor, washed the dishes.

You were scrubbing the kitchen counter when he walked through the door. You threw the washcloth down and walked to him, ready to bring your fury down on him like a storm, but the second you saw his face, all of your anger disappeared.

The dark circles housed under his eyes had grown more prominent in the two days since you’d seen him. His hair was a mess, coffee stains on his shirt, looking smaller than he ever had. Defeated.

“Yeol?” You mumbled, standing up straight. His eyes met yours for barely a second, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, before walking to the fridge. He pulled out left-overs from a few nights before and threw them in the microwave before walking into the bedroom. You followed after him despite the voice in your head telling you to leave him alone, like he left you.

He peeled his shirt off and sat on the edge of the bed, eyes drooping like he was going to fall asleep right there.

You walked towards him and pressed your hand to his cheek. When he nuzzled into it and closed his eyes, your heart broke. You grabbed his hand and pulled him to stand up in front of you. It wasn’t sexual in the slightest, the way you pulled off his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling them down so he was left in his boxers. You guided him to the bathroom and turned on the shower, standing with his hand in yours beside you while you tested the temperature, only adjusting it slightly before turning back around.

He looked so tired and innocent, you couldn’t help but press a kiss to his cheek before you pulled down his boxers and ushered him under the water. You helped him wash from head to toe, ignoring the way you got completely soaked in the process and solely focused on making sure he was clean. Once you were finished, you pulled him out and dried him off, lead him back to the bedroom. You pulled a fresh t-shirt over his head and helped him step into a new pair of boxers before walking him back to the kitchen, sitting him down and making him eat the leftovers he heated.

You completely forgot about the pictures. The apology.

‘Tomorrow, it can wait until tomorrow’

He ate his food in silence and you had to nudge him three times to wake him up, but eventually, he finished everything. You walked him to bed, laid him down, pulled the covers up over him and ran your fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then walked out to the kitchen to clean up.

It was only then that the ache settled in your chest. He was right there, one room away, and you missed him so much that it took your breath away. You wanted to cry again, scream, but instead you got in the shower, washed away the sadness and climbed into bed beside him.

You wanted to watch him sleep forever. Wanted to reach out and touch him, wrap your arms around him, kiss him, but you didn’t. You didn’t know how to do those things anymore without worrying. Wondering what the next day would bring.

You were just about to roll over when he reached out and wrapped his arms around your waist. You froze, scared he was asleep and that you would wake him up if you moved. It was the first time he had held you in months, you didn’t want to ruin that, even if it was unintentional.

“I love you.”

You thought it was your imagination, his words often echoing through your mind from past memories, but no. That was real. You looked at him with glassy eyes, wondering if he said it in his sleep, but then his eyes opened to meet yours.

“I love you.” He repeated. You bit your lip to keep from crying, but he kissed you despite that, then crushed you into his chest. Your hands gripped his shirt, holding onto him for dear life, as if he would disappear any second. You had to keep him there, had to fight for him, had to keep the Chanyeol who loved you because it was the only thing that made sense.

Sleep found you only minutes later, and you didn’t have to dream of his arms. Instead you dreamt of his voice.

You woke up the next morning to Chanyeol pulling his arms away from you.

Well- ripping them away, flustered and cursing, moving around the room too quick for your tired eyes to keep up with.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” You asked, sitting up and rubbing at your face.

“I’m late.” He snapped, yanking on a sweatshirt and pulling a pair of sweats on.

You sighed and sat up on your knees. “It’s okay, you can afford to be late one day, I’m sure.”

It was like the air was sucked out of the room with that one sentence, and he stood up straight, looking at you with such ferocity that you wanted to melt into the bed beneath you.

“You don’t have a fucking clue what I can and can’t afford right now!” He shot out, and your breath hitched at the harshness of his words.

Sure, you barely had real conversations anymore and you didn’t really kiss or smile with eachother, but Chanyeol was never mean to you. And he never yelled, not at you.

You wrung your fingers and swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Well, just… Calm down. Freaking out isn’t going to help.” You said softly and he rolled his eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

He was grabbing his phone off of the nightstand and pulling a hat onto his head when your fears from the day before flooded into your soul again.

‘Who was she?’, ‘Why is he so mad?’

“Are you cheating on me?” You asked quietly and his head snapped towards you, eyes narrowing.

“What?”

Your blood was boiling. Skin itching with irritation. After how you took care of him the night before, despite all of the stories you heard, he was going to treat you like that?

“I said, are you cheating on me?” Your words were stronger that time, firm.

You didn’t expect the empty laugh that left his lips, the eye roll. The obvious annoyance.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” He mumbled, walking out the door and slamming it behind him.

The rage rolled through you in waves. Fire burned through your chest. Your arms moved on autopilot, picking up the wedding picture on the night stand beside you and throwing it at the door he had just left through, a frustrated cry coming out like a strangled scream as the glass shattered on the floor. You half expected him to come back to make sure you were okay but heard the unmistakable opening and closing of the front door and felt exactly like the glass that lay splintered on the bedroom floor.

It took you hours to piece yourself together enough to climb out of bed. Hours to stop crying. The life you were trapped in was so exhausting, and you were tired of pretending you could fix it. Tired of letting Chanyeol ruin you. The constant resentment he tossed around when you had done nothing wrong, the never-ending insecurities he let run through you like a stampede.

You were sick of trying to make him love you again.

“Marry me?”

You were sick of trying to force the memories of your love back into him, trying to make him remember that you were his everything once when he was still yours.

‘Were you ever his everything?’

The thought made you nauseous. It felt like your heart no longer belonged to you, tethered in Chanyeol’s palm by a leash that only he had control of. You just wanted to feel free again.

You stepped over the pile of glass and walked out to the front door, pulling your shoes on. You called your sister and told her you needed her, and she’s your sister, so she picked you up fifteen minutes later, let you sob for thirsty minutes total before driving to a nearby restaurant and parking the car, turning towards you with too much sincerity and pity in her eyes. You hated it.

“You need a drink.”

Chanyeol was never one to outright complain about you being drunk, but if he was honest with himself, he hated it. You were obnoxiously loud and touchy, whining about anything and everything, talking faster than he could keep up with about things that made no sense. It was annoying. And he really didn’t have time for it. At all.

It was a really big week, the album was so close to finished, but it wasn’t perfect. He needed it to be perfect, the group couldn’t afford to disappoint anyone. They were all working so hard, practicing every day, writing until their fingers bled, fighting with the company for direction. It was too important.

Still. You were his wife. When your sister called – “she needs you” – he couldn’t say no. Even after you had both fought that morning, and he wasn’t particularly happy to see you, he got into his car and said he would be there in thirty.

He watched from across the street, you sitting on the curb outside of the bar with your sister’s arm draped around your shoulders. She brushed your hair out of your face and you smiled at her like she was actual sunshine. He rolled his eyes and pulled his seat belt off despite the butterflies he got in his stomach and waited for a break in traffic before jogging across the street.

“Hey,” He said, signaling his presence and both you and your sister looked up.

“Sorry.” Your sister mumbled, and you looked at her with your eyebrows furrowed.

“Don’t ever be sorry, not ever to anyone. We don’t have to be sorry, never.” You said wrapping your arms around her head and hugging her to your chest. She laughed and patted your back, peeling your arms away. Chanyeol’s hands wrapped around yours and pulled you to your feet, your hands resting on his chest to steady yourself. He sighed as he grabbed your waist, holding you upright.

“Do you need a ride home?” He asked your sister and she shook her head.

“I’ll get a taxi. You guys go.”

He couldn’t help the annoyance that overtook him when he realized she stuck you with him on purpose. She gave Chanyeol an annoyed smirk, peering up at him through narrowed eyes.

“Don’t make my sister cry again.” She whispered for only him to hear and he nodded in reply. Your sister tended to be a pretty scary person, so he didn’t want to cross her. She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving him alone with you.

When he looked down, you were staring up at him with the dopiest smile on your face. You pinched his cheeks and he sighed. He was so cute. He wrapped his hands around your wrists and dragged you across the street to his car, helping you into the front seat. He reached across you to buckle your seat belt, ignoring the way you touched him, pressed kisses to his neck. He abruptly pulled away and you stared at him dejectedly. When he shut your door, you turned on the radio and adjusted your seat back, staring out the window.

‘He rejected me?’, ‘How do you reject your wife?’

You felt so stupid. Getting drunk on a Wednesday, so drunk in fact, that your own sister couldn’t stand to be with you. No one could stand you, not ever, and that thought broke your heart.

Chanyeol noticed nothing of it. In fact, he relished in the silence, completely not expecting it to the usual tirade you went on after drinking. He wanted to make it all the way home, just like that, hoping to avoid an argument at all costs. He preferred when you both didn’t speak because at least it was quiet. He like the quiet.

When he pulled into the driveway, a satisfied smile found his cheeks. He thought you must have been asleep, but when he moved to turn the car off and unbuckle his seat belt, he noticed your hand covering your eyes, unmistakable tears trailing down your chin while you sniffled silently, chest stuttering with sobs he had been deaf to.

He reached over to grab your hand, but you pulled it away, yanked off your seat belt and climbed out of the car before he could even touch you. You stumbled inside and threw your shoes off in the entry way, Chanyeol one step behind.

“Y/n-” he started, but you whipped around and pressed your finger to his lips while you shushed him, tears still falling freely.

“Don’t talk to me.” You said, eyes bleeding the anger you felt, stumbling back towards your bedroom without another word.

Chanyeol was speechless. For the first time in your entire relationship. He stared after you in the entry way, unsure of what to think.

You loved talking when you were drunk, yet the only words you said to him were ‘don’t talk to me’. Is that why he missed your voice all of a sudden? Why he craved to hear you speak again?

You were one step into the room when you remembered your fatal mistake, but it was too late. You never cleaned up the glass from that morning and multiple shards jabbed their way into your heel, eliciting a scream from you.

“Ow!” You stumbled back, tears immediately falling as you pulled your foot up. Chanyeol was there in seconds, immediately assessing the situation and lifting you into his arms. He carried you to the kitchen and sat you up on the counter, crouching down to look at your foot.

“Let me see it.” He said, fingers moving up to touch one of the smaller pieces that jutted out.

“Don’t touch it, please!” You yelled through a sob, pushing his hands away.

“Babe, I have to touch it, there’s glass in there, it could get infected.” He said softly, still looking at your foot and prodding at it, only causing more pain. You gripped his shoulder and shook your head vehemently.

“No, no, no, please. It’s okay, it’s okay, it won’t get infected, it’ll be okay!” You wiped the tears from your eyes in an attempt to prove to him it was no major wound, but you knew it wouldn’t work, the dramatics already displayed.

He looked up at you, serious. “So, if it gets infected and you die, what should I do then? You want me to just be alone?”

He stood up and walked towards the cabinet that housed the expired first aid kit you bought 2 years before when you moved in.

“It’s not like you’d care.” You mumbled, wiping at your eyes again with the back for your wrist. He looked up at you, confused, and chuckled half-heartedly, dismissing your comment with a roll of his eyes.

“I wouldn’t care?” He repeated, turning back towards you and going through the small kit.

You shook your head ‘no’ and he saw it out of the corner of his eye, still determined to find the tools he needed. “You don’t love me anymore, so you would be okay.”

That time he chuckled for real, caught off guard by your statement. “I don’t love you? What are you talking about?”

He turned back, tweezers in hand, and grabbed your ankle, but you barely noticed. He looked up when he realized you weren’t making a scene like he expected, watched your eyebrows furrow together while you wrung your fingers together, anxiousness and worry on full display. The sight of you broke something inside of him. The genuine tears that rolled down your cheeks.

“You don’t tell me you love me anymore. You don’t kiss me.” A small sob broke from your throat and his heart skipped a beat. “You called me stupid this morning, after I took care of you last night. And you don’t even feel sorry. And I had a right to be angry, I have a right to be pissed at you!”

He sighed and closed his eyes, unable to look at you like that anymore. He started picking out the pieces of glass one by one, listening to the soft sobs that escaped you, each one a blow to his chest he had never felt before.

“I don’t even know what I did, Yeol. I feel like I’m nothing to you anymore. That’s how I feel.”

He wanted you to shut up. To stop saying such useless, unimaginable things.

“And you’re seeing another girl! I can’t believe you were smiling with her; you never smile at me anymore!” You couldn’t stop now, ready to get everything you wanted out on the table.

He was wrapping your foot with gauze, annoyance reaching a boiling point as you flailed your arms around dramatically, pointing at him and yelling.

“If you want to leave me, then you should just do it. Okay? But don’t embarrass me by sneaking around with another girl. I’ll be fine, I am a strong woman, I don’t nee-“

Chanyeol cut you off, hands wrapped under your knees and pulling you to the edge of the counter, his lips against yours shutting you up effectively. It was so unexpected, the words he stole from you as if they were his own, claiming every bit of oxygen in your lungs with is tongue against yours, his hands on your thighs, skin against skin. You missed his touch more than anything. Your arms wrapped around his neck, letting him take every piece of you he wanted, teeth skimming against your lower lip, his cinnamon breath taking over all of your senses. You wanted to drown in him, all those tears swirling down the drain now nonexistent, the will to fight for him renewing inside of you.

You whimpered into the kiss and he smiled, wrapping your legs around his waist, and pulling you up off the counter. His lips never left yours as he moved back towards the bedroom, a constant you weren’t sure you could lose again, but you pulled away, looking back.

“Watch out for the-”

“Glass.” He breathed out, catching your lips again as he stepped over the pile in front of the door.

Every bit of you wanted him, mind finally silent from worry, heart content as he laid you back on the bed and climbed on top of you. He pulled his shirt off and kissed your neck, that space below your ear that he knew was so sensitive for you. The peppered kisses he trailed from your neck to your lips brought you home, for the first time in so long. Chanyeol was Sunday mornings again, his hands sliding up your shirt, your body melting with his like you were made for him. You bled for him, cried for him, the oxygen that carried through your veins was only his.

He pulled away for the first time in what felt like hours, eyes meeting yours with so much passion that you wanted to fall into him. You wanted to fall into his arms and let him hold you forever, this boy who had every piece of your soul.

“I love you.” You whispered.

Tears filled your eyes and he swallowed hard, eyes frenzied and confused.

“I need you.”

His words were whispered and rushed and not what you were expecting, but you gave him everything. You gave him every piece of the already fractured glass heart that you had left and let him build a castle for himself, a kingdom you weren’t sure he was ready to let you in. Let him ruin you from head to toe, mold you like you imagined Alexandros of Antioch molded the Venus de Milo, in the image he wanted, everything he needed. You wanted to be his everything again. You had to be.

The next morning, you woke up with your naked legs tangled with Chanyeol’s, his arm draped over your waist, head nuzzled into your hair. You felt so complete again, unlike the hollow shell you usually felt like, one who held the place of his wife. You felt wanted. You felt remade.

Time ticked by too quickly, the fear of him leaving for work nearly suffocating. So, you listened to him breathe. Distracted yourself with the soft snores that flowed from him like your favorite melody. Drowned out your never ceasing thoughts with the smell of his shampoo so close. You memorized the way his fingers felt against your skin, both soft and rough at the same time, so hard working and full of love.

The sound of his phone buzzing broke everything. You pretended to sleep when Chanyeol got up, turning back to grab his phone from the nightstand. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but birds chirped outside of the window. You wondered what it would be like to be one of them. He sat up on the side of the bed and answered the call.

You listened to him talk, listened to him whisper words of apology to someone that you didn’t know. Listened to him lie about where he was and wondered why he should have to lie. You were his wife. He should be lying to you, not the other woman.

“Mina, it’s nothing, really. I’m in the car, I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Wait for me.”

Every piece of life was sucked out of you at the sound of her name.

Mina.

A name to the face who was stealing your husband. A name to the face of the woman who made him smile.

‘Wait for me.’

‘Did he ever smile at you like that?’

He sighed and stayed still for a few moments. You felt him look back towards you once. Twice.

‘Please don’t go’, ‘Please don’t go’, ‘Please don’t go’

Your eyes filled with tears, begging him to hear your heart, begging him to pull you back into his chest and not get out of the bed.

When he moved to push himself up, you rolled over and grabbed his hand.

His eyes down on you, so empty. How had things gotten here?

“Please don’t go.” You whispered.

His eyebrows scrunched together and he sighed, rubbing his face with his free hand.

“I’ll be back tonight.” He mumbled, and it felt like a shot to the heart. “I promise.”

You didn’t let go of his wrist. “Please.” Couldn’t let go. It felt like the end, and it was too real. It was all too real.

He looked at you and sighed, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I promise.”

He muttered the words one more time before pulling his hand from yours and getting dressed.

It felt like you were watching a movie. A life flashing before you that you didn’t know. A man you had never seen. He walked out without a goodbye and you didn’t break. Tempered glass doesn’t do that. It shatters in spiderwebs, no ragged edges to fall apart, just broken pieces locked together that can’t be put back together again. A damaged piece of hardware no one could fix, not even Chanyeol.

The birds outside were chirping and again, you wondered what it must be like to fly away.

Chanyeol came home that night to the house dark. Every piece of you was missing; your clothes, your notebooks, the stupid clock you bought the year before that was in the shape of a cat that he hated more than anything.

He tried calling you over and over, but you never answered. Your sister refused to tell him anything - “I told you to stop making her cry.”

Your ring sat on his pillow; a note written beneath it that he couldn’t find the courage to read.

“I love you.” You whispered to him at some grocery store years before. He laughed and looked around.

“Why now?” He questioned and you rolled your eyes, shoulders shrugging.

“Not just now. Forever.”

The smile on your face, something he loved more than anything. He knew right then that he would die for you.

“Forever.” He repeated.

The house was empty, no longer a home since you were gone. Cold. Dark. Hell.

You were gone.

A/N: Guys!!!! My third fic!!! Let a girl know what ya think, I’m honestly really proud of this one and really really hope I can hear from you all about it ~~ SO SO SO much love, any feedback is appreciated!!!

P.S. i’ve got a part 2 kickin for this one :):):):):):)

#exo angst #exo fanfic #exo imagine #chanyeol angst #chanyeol fic #chanyeol imagine #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol fanfiction #exo fanfiction #park chanyeol fic #park chanyeol angst #kpop #kpop angst #park chanyeol rec #chanyeol fic rec #park chanyeol imagine #kpop imagine #exo imagines

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kenobis-kyber · 4 years

Text

From The Stars

Hello everyone! Thanks again for likes, comments and follows!

Rating: M Violence, swearing, abuse, and later smut

Chapter 4

The next morning Obi-Wan awoke just as the sky was beginning to turn pink, having being used to this schedule since his master was definitely an early riser. He got up and opened his door very quietly as he didn't want to disturb his gracious host. Making his way into the living room he began to look around. One thing he noticed is that there weren't many pictures or holograms around, just various knick knacks. One of the focal points of the room is what looked like to be a primitive holo-viewer. It is definitely more primitive here.

Looking out towards the porch his curiosity piqued, he wanted to go investigate where Vanessa and Hershey found him. Maybe he would find more clues. Slipping out as quiet as a ghost and walked towards the wood. He reached out with force to see where her presence had been and followed that. A few minutes later he arrived at a small clearing where the glass was slightly singed and flat, the force was distorted bit here and he figured here would be the best to do his early morning mediation since it was the closest point to where he came from. He sat down cross legged, took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

It was different here but not necessarily unpleasant. Different animals could be felt around him and the stillness was actually quite nice. He was usually used to the faint sound of the ever busy city around him. The breeze kicked up and he could smell the plants and earth around him as he slipped into a deep mediation and focused on the here and now.

The sun shone in her room and started to wake her up. She sat up and stretched her limbs letting out a big yawn. Hershey awoke from the foot of her bed hearing her wake up.

“Good morning boy. Let’s get you into the backyard.”

She opened the door slowly as to not disturb her guest and tip toed out. Passing by his room she noticed the door was opened and she peeked inside. He wasn't there but the bed was freshly made and tidy. She smiled to herself liking the fact that he was considerate as such. Walking into the living room he still couldn't be found. She found it quite odd but continued about her normal routine and let her dog out to do his business. Standing on the porch and inhaling the fresh air she closed her eyes and relished in the crisp morning. Her peace was interrupted by Hershey yapping excitedly. Looking up she saw Obi wan emerging from the woods. He walked up to the dog and gave him a good pat and scratch before turning his gaze to Vanessa. He smiled as he approached her.

“You look well.” She stated

“Thank you. Sorry if I had you worry, I am an early riser and usually meditate in the morning. I went to find the spot you found me to see if I can find any clues.”

“It is fine. Any luck?”

“No, unfortunately, maybe the force will reveal an answer later.” he said with a sigh.

“Like I said you are more than welcome to stay here until such a time. Lets go inside and eat breakfast and then we will do some clothes shopping and grocery shopping, figure out some things you would like while you were here.”

“OK, though I still feel guilty that you are doing this for me. I have no way of repaying you.”

She chuckled. “Oh don't worry I could put to work on some of the repairs around the house.”

“Its a deal.”

They sat and ate breakfast and conversed about a variety of things, before heading out. Walking out to the car he hesitated.

“Ugh I hate flying.”

She quirked an eyebrow on him. “Cars don't fly here. Its all along the ground, sorry to say. We are way behind.”

“Oh.” he said while climbing in.

It was a bit of a drive, so she played some music. Obi found it quite agreeable and tried to learn the lyrics. Getting to the mall they went from store to store shopping for a few things for him to wear. He seemed to favor jeans, t shirts, and tennis the most. She also bought him a few beanies because she noticed people were starting to stare at his unusual hairstyle and she could tell it was making him uncomfortable. They passed by a book shop and she saw his eyes go wide.

“Do they not have books where you come from?” she asked

“They do but they are so rare as everything is technology based.”

“Well why don't we go inside and you can pick up a few you might like”

He shook his head frantically “Oh no I couldn't ask you of that you are doing so much for me. As it is Jedi don’t keep a lot of personal items.”

“Relax. I wont tell the Council that you indulged while you were here.” she said while patting him on the arm.

“Very well.” he said with a sigh and smirk.

They went inside and about an hour later, came out with a few things. His face lit up with his new posessions. He got a history book, some poetry, as well as a few random other things. They loaded their items and drove to the grocery store. While they were shopping he asked her what everything was. And she told him.

“Well if there is anything you would like to try let me know.”

“Sorry. I don’t know where to start. Just get what you usually do or things you think I might like” he said with a smirk.

“Alright. No problem”

Later on they arrived home and he put all the clothes she had bought him away. And went out to the living room to watch a movie with her. She insisted on educating him in the best of entertainment they had to offer on this planet.

As the weeks continued on, they settled into a comfortable routine, including Obi helping out with chores around the house. He was always eager to help and she found that endearing. She always had a pleasant demeanor and was always kind. She was also funny and a bit sarcastic. But there was something that was bothering him about her, it seemed she lived as a bit of hermit and he hoped it wasn't because of him.

“Vanessa? May I ask you something?” he said turning to her while they enjoyed the dusk on the porch.

“Sure….” she replied a little apprehensive

“Forgive me if I seem to be a little rude. But I have noticed that you live kind of isolated and don't socialize with anyone besides me and Hershey. And I hope I am not the cause of it.”

He noticed….damn.

She cleared her throat. “Well its definitely not because of you so don't worry about that. Its just I had to start over.”

He looked at her curiously. “Start over?”

“Yes. Its a hard story to tell.” she said looking down at her hands. He reached over and grabbed one and held it. Raising her head to look at him he saw that her eyes were watery.

“I am sorry I didn't mean to pry.” He said while gently bringing a thumb to wipe a stray tear.

She sniffled. “No its OK. I need to open up about it some time.” She turned to face him and he squeezed her hand in reassurance. She took a deep breath before she spoke. “I was married at a young age. In matter of fact I lied about my age to get married. I was 16 and he was 19. And I absolutely fell in love. It was wonderful at first, but a few months in I noticed some things. He was mean and would constantly put me down. Then not that long after that is when he began hitting me. I was shocked but I didn't leave because I made the excuse that I was the one that caused it. I wasn't allowed to leave and was forced to take care of him in any way he wanted to….” she trailed off.

Obi wan’s jaw clenched as he could see her memories of the pain she endured. She continued, “One night it all changed. He came home from work and saw that I hadn't finished folding the laundry and he lost it. He beat me so bad, he broke ribs, my cheek bone and worse he raped me. The next day, I realized the hell I was in and had to get out. So I painfully walked to my neighbors house who promptly called an ambulance and the police. He was arrested and found guilty and is now serving a sentence in prison. This house belonged to my Aunt and Uncle they left it to me, thankfully he doesn't know about it. But I never want to take my chances of him ever finding me. So I broke off all ties.” she said with tears running down her eyes.

Obi-wan had never felt so heart broken and angry in his life. What kind of monster would do such a thing to a kind soul as her. Knowing he had to get control of his emotions he decided to pull her into him tightly to comfort her. She sobbed into his chest and he ran his fingers through her hair doing his best to soothe her. Something in him that night had changed. He felt a protectiveness over her and an affection. He kissed the top of her head feeling that, she looked up into his blue eyes and saw a determination in them.

“I promise to protect you as long as I can. No one, especially you deserves that. You did nothing wrong and you are so strong to survive that.” he said looking at her with soft eyes when he finished his sentence.

He titled her head and kissed her forehead. Closing both their eyes they rest their foreheads against each others and relishing the feel of being so close together. They stayed like that for awhile until she relaxed finding his presence soothing.

“I am going to go to bed, all this has exhausted me,” she said while pulling away from him.

He gave her a small smile. “OK just know that I meant what I said, good night Vanessa.”

She returned his smile and headed into the house. He sat on the porch with the dog just enjoying the serenity of the night. Giving the dog a scratch on the head,

“Lets head in for the night, boy” Wagging his tail, Hershey followed behind Obi into the house before laying on his bed for the night. “Good night boy.” he said before heading into his room. He settled on the bed to try and get some sleep, but alas it would not come.

He laid awake in his bed organizing his thoughts.

I've never been affectionate to someone like that. Why did that happen to her? She is amazing for dealing with so much and coming out of it so kind-hearted. To be so close to her was heaven. I wonder how it would feel to kiss her…

At that last thought he shot up in bed. He shook his head as he realized that he was starting to develop feelings for her. But he couldn't act on them as it was forbidden by the Jedi code. But he already knew it was too late, He had formed an attachment to her against his will and he honestly felt conflicted about the whole thing. Who knew how long he would be here or even if he would permanently. Was this is the will of force, he didn't know what to do.

Tagging: @supermoschi @blondekel77 @princessxkenobi @ayamenimthiriel

#obiwankenobi #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x you #obi wan x reader #obi wan imagine #jedi #Ewan McGregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #ewanfuckinmcgregor

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cloveroctobers · 3 years

Text

YASMIN DOUGLAS—

IG info/Bio: @/imyasmin_d | 11.6k followers | hello & ahlan 🎶

23-24 years old depending on her birthday (I’m thinking too much about timelines since i know some shows aren’t live and if they filmed it prior & it’s just being shown to us now...then there’s the boat party that comes in after, you get what I’m saying right? No? Okay)

Moroccan heritage

she was born in fes along with her baba

Father works in the carpet & rug manufacturing industry and worked in his father’s business from the young age of 16

her mother is from Essaouira & has often stated that she couldn’t stand Yasmin’s father the first time they met but she wouldn’t want to travel through this life with anyone else

Her father and mother came from two different lifestyles. All he knew how to do was hard work yet he had a sarcastic but playful side to him whereas her mom came from a family that was more financially stable & she was free to do whatever! mainly hanging at the beach with her friends without a care in the world, she was privileged and a little uppity while her father’s life seemed to be planned out from the day of his birth

Yet they still fell in love and decided to leave Morocco months after they got married at 21 & 24 & not too long after they had yas they left for England

She was raised in Kent, England

The Atmosphere led to her boho lifestyle...being exposed to castles, gardens, and underground tunnels from time to time shaped her into what she felt she was meant to be. She loved her second home

they call her “yazzy”

Parents follow islam...Which Yasmin respects but is not strongly devoted to

Can speak & write in Arabic but seems to do better in writing

Her paternal grandparents fault her parents for not teaching her to excel at both & feel that if they weren’t in such a rush to leave home she would speak Arabic better

Which made Yasmin feel like shit. Her paternal grandparents were strict on keeping their customs alive whereas her maternal grandparents were carefree as long as they got to see their granddaughter alive & well that was good enough for them

Idk maybe a only child or has a older brother? I don’t feel like she comes from a big family sibling wise

her mother made her a stuffed purple sheep that she took everywhere with her as a kid & continues to keep close to her. Y’all had imaginary friends? Well Yasmin had a real friend she could see & squeeze the life out that didn’t require talking and hugging the air, but that’s fine do u

100% collects beanie babies until this day but lil yamb is the number one princess in her household

As her significant other you have to be okay with lil yamb sleeping in between y’all that’s just the way it is

These stuffed babies are her comfort when no else can be

she’s a singer/songwriter. Went to uni for it & finished a semester early

Went through multiple hell experiences when it came to interning & temping while still in school & after

Let’s just say she wasn’t down to f*ck her way to the top

this made her anxiety act up, these people made her feel like she wouldn’t be good enough to show the world her craft & it’s didn’t have to be the world, just someone who would listen

But she couldn’t give up, there was nothing else she saw herself doing. She knew this is what she was meant to do but she couldn’t lie and say that her insecurities didn’t get the best of her most days

Although the cons seemed to out way the Pros some days, she kept at it & found herself a solid team that knew what she was about and understood her soul

Was definitely the student who loved all her English classes & when she spoke up everyone found it shocking since she preferred to just write everything out rather than “participate in group discussions”

I feel like her singing voice sounds similar to Jessica mauboy’s (if you don’t know who that is & you’re a fan of r&b/pop check her out or if you’re just curious that works too lol)

Knows her music notes like the back of her hand, duh!

Fav color is royal blue, especially on her eyelids & nails

Occasionally sleeps in rollers to keep her hair wavy

Needs her space when it comes to disagreements, they stress her out & she panics a bit when things go wrong so she feels like she needs to leave the situation rather than talk it out right then and there

She’ll talk when she’s ready, she just needs someone that’s a little patient with her that’s all

Words of affirmation is her love language? When she figures out how to balance her love life with her work life that is. When she’s feeling confident she’s smooth with words but when she needs to show you how much you mean to her & she really takes the time to think it out & feel her emotions, she’s writing you a song or you’re the inspiration to it or a poem, leaving you little love notes on blue post-it’s around the house, will write 50 reasons why she loves you on Valentine’s Day, and will say so when it’s just the two of you in your own comfort

Isn’t too crazy about public displays of affection but will deff hold your hand if that’s something you or she wanted in that moment

I think she’s fluid

Hasn’t been in many relationships. Sure she goes on tour every other year and gets to meet many people but they’re not solid relationships, they’re hookups and she hasn’t done many of those either

Had maybe one or two solid relationships: a androgynous woman that uses she/they pronouns & was in a rock band & a cis male she met at a tattoo parlor his step-brother owned (he kinda favored seb but we’re not going to speak on that)

I believe she wants to get married someday but isn’t so keen on the idea of kids. The furthest she’ll go is adopting a couple of animals. She’ll be a pet mom! I feel like she’ll be anxious looking after the life of a human being when it’s extremely hard to do so not only for herself and the love of her life & you want to add kids to the mix?! Fucking hell! but that could change? Who knows what life can throw at u

Has a hedgehog named Sonia that she drops off at her parents for their weekly sleepovers

Loves lace—mostly bralettes & crotchet clothing

I see her as a corduroy girl too. She has at least some rusty brown low-rise corduroy pants or/and a jacket

owns a crotchet kit, she’s bloody good at it too

Loved pink & purple (still likes them, they’re her 2nd & 3rd fav colors) so much as a kid that she tried to dye her hair half & half while her parents went out on their date night...it was also the weekend before school pictures :)

Says she got her inspiration from starfire & raven. She was only 13 at the time & had braces. Her father approved saying she’s a kid and she should be allowed to express herself. He only said that because his own parents barely let him & his brothers have their own fun

Her mother thought it was atrocious and did her best to get it out with the help of her other hair stylists friends (her mother worked in plenty of beauty shops once she got to England, until she decided to convert their basement into her own shop) who she invited over to see what her daughter had done but when you use certain permanent dyes...

It didn’t completely damage yasmin’s hair plus it was just hair, Yasmin didn’t see the big deal. She thought she looked splendid

Anyway, massive fan of ballroom dancing

She’s got a great ear to begin with so it was extremely fun twirling around while wearing pretty ballroom gowns

Took boring etiquette classes as a form of punishment? After the whole teen Titans inspiration thing “went wrong”

Enjoys western films

yes she owns a cowgirl hat & some boots too so sue her, she likes what she likes

Knows how to lasso but hates doing it to animals but she’ll do it to you :) (*gags* lmao why???)

Also loves visiting western towns & learning some history or at least experiencing what it was like

Type of significant other that will do her best to persuade you to stay in a treehouse airbnb, a cabin, the fucking Idaho potato, or camping out in her Volkswagen van in the middle of nowhere!

Has faux cow rugs, wicker baskets, wicker chairs in her flat, hangs some plants in glass jars & bottles all over her house

Her flat is very bright & vibrant: white, mocha brown, tan, yellows, & pastel purple

When it comes to decision making, she’ll make them pretty quick but only if it comes to choosing desserts

nobody is touching her mom’s meskouta orange cake WITH syrup

the dessert eater that always picks the one that has a surprise inside, meaning it has to ooze out with SOMETHING to make it 10x more satisfying

Leaning towards Buddhism, had studied some of their beliefs and found it resonates with her spirit

Fan of neon lights, probably has a few neon signs in her flat preferably on her brick wall in the loo, “to give u comfort as you go!” “that...actually makes sense.” Tai commented as he rubbed his chin coming to terms with yasmin’s reply. While Iona scowls, “no, no it doesn’t. I feel as if it’s an invasion of my bits!” “...Sorry you feel that way.”

tai & ciaran are automatically deemed as her brothers since she came into the villa with them. She had time to connect with them unlike anyone else. It was just the way the stars wrote their story and it showed outside of the villa too. they often crash at her place all the time when they’re in town & vacation all the time together when their schedules line up + it never feels like she’s third wheeling

“TaiTower” & “BB-Ci” are their names in her phone, Tai picked his own name while the “bb” stands for “best buds” for ciaran —which is a joke since he drunkly called himself so + he loves everyone when he’s drunk

You can always count on her to belt the lyrics to a Chaka Khan, TLC, or paula abdul joint when she’s drunk lol

As for the girls? She’s close with miki 😒 they just seem to be on the same wavelength when it comes to the pressure of the media since they have some sort of fame which increased with them being on the Telly. They bond over that & from there they’ve built a solid friendship

She could also be friends with AJ too (if you didn’t get swiped from her that is lmao!) they’re sorta opposites with aj being high energy/active while Yasmin is more mellow & “mysterious” but seem to connect in different ways: their sexual indentities, insecurities/anxieties, having something to be passionate about but at the same time maybe not? She might lean towards elladine or Genevieve if she had to make a choice?

Aquarius sun + cancer moon

so she’s still 23 y’all, I got it! I can’t do math sorry

“Freddie Mercury was probably my dad in my past life.”

Can play the banjo, guitar, & oud

Participates in hot yoga weekly

If she’s not with mc in the end and continues dating around if anyone from season two: LUCAS, Kassam, Gary, Rocco, maybe Blake? I originally thought Elisa but she’s probably too much for yas let’s be honest here lol they’d be better off as friends

Omg I forgot marisol! Imagine that?! Whew!!!

Season three: maybe Lily? But what if? Me being the slightly messy bitch that I am? Something happening with her & AJ. Now that?! Would be some chaotic shit “from the outside looks of it” name the irrelevant person behind the quote...now!

I’d like to see her interact with allerga but there could be something with her & cherry. I’m thinking cherry, Yasmin, & priya would bond well but we’re not here to talk about that

Getting rid of the physical aspect I genuinely think she’d do well with marisol, Lucas, or kassam. They’d mesh well I think in a relationship

She’s a body shimmer girl for sure!

Loves silk or satin robes

she’s a shortie, 5’2 to 5’5

Is learning Spanish

Loves arcade games, come see her in pinball & Pac-Man!

Quarantine life did not change her lifestyle much, but it did slightly mess with her mental health :/

loves the fall time, feels like she can slow down some and really spend time with family and friends

I feel like she has one best friend outside of the villa & that’s good enough for her!

They met their first year in uni & been close ever since

She doesn’t speak to the temporary friends she grew up with anymore & is often confused why they feel the need to keep up with her in the media which added more annoying worries to her heart but whatever right? Keep your eyes on the horizon

celebs she finds/found attractive: Aaliyah—especially when she played in queen of the damned, Kehlani, Zazie Beetz, Fivel & Booboo Stewart, Lakeith stanfield, Leah Lewis, Sofia Carson, Ryan gosling, & Nick Jonas

She listens to: jade bird, Yebba, Elli Ingram, Wafia, Zeina, Summer walker, Tanerèlle, Mariah the scientist, Teyana Taylor, Tove Lo, lady Gaga, Ra Ra Riot, Empire of the sun, & smallpools

Anthem? Diana Gordon — Rollin’

35 notes · View notes

hoekaashi · 4 years

Text

For Better or Worse | B.K. + M.I.

a/n: this took me so long to complete, but here it is. yes, i was inspired by that one picture of tattoo artist deku w bakugou, ya know. that one. yes this came out longer than i wanted to it to be bc i have no self-control. also no banner bc im a lazy poop. also also, i had no idea how to end it, so yeah characters: bakuguo, izuku, mina, kirishima, sero, kaminari, a pinch of todoroki warnings: language, alcohol (they are all aged up), bakugou’s inferiority complex, deku looking dangerous in an all black outfit and a beanie yes yes taglist: @babydabi @suckersuki @bakugoustanaccount @animoozies @haiikyuuns @depths-of-your-soul @differentballooncollection @waitforitillwritemywayout

The thumping from the bass made Bakugou feel like his brain was rattling in his skull and the dim lights of the club were straining his eyes. He needed a break from the sweaty people around him, but his friends wouldn’t let him leave. He looked around the dancefloor, sure that he wouldn’t remember this moment in a few days from now. Lifting his half empty glass to his lips, he took another sip of his drink, the strong taste of the alcohol hitting him hard. He narrowed his eyes when the DJ let out a strong gust of wind again from the hoses on the ceiling next to the confetti cannons that had gone off not long before.

Again, Bakugou needed a break. One look at his friends taking care of the birthday girl was the only confirmation he needed that he could step away from them. Mina’s drunken complaining fell deaf on his ears as he pulled away from Kirishima’s grasp. As he made his way off the dance floor, the groups of people around him tried to push forward to fill the space he was leaving vacant. He walked over to the bar and leaned back against it, wishing there was an open seat for him to take. Downing the drink in one shot, he placed the empty glass on the counter and watched his friends from where he was standing.

Bakugou hated clubs. He hated the crowds of people who invaded his personal space as they danced on him or with other people. He hated being around people who couldn’t hold their liquor and did stupid things with their inhibitions thrown out the window. But most of all, he hated having to deal with drunk people constantly using their intoxicated state as an excuse to persistently hit on him or even feel him up. It was frustrating and annoying, and as he got older, he learned how to best deal with those situations rather than getting into fights. But it had been a while since he had been out and it was Mina’s birthday. Sure everyone had to get together and persuade him, but in the end he agreed that it wouldn’t be an awful time.

And it wasn’t. Hot, sweaty, smelly, claustrophobia inducing, and even sticky, but not awful.

He had been scrolling through his phone in hopes to prevent anyone from talking to him when his friends approached him.

“Bakugou, I want a tattoo!” Mina shouted. Even after all she drank, she seemed pretty sober.

He raised an eyebrow. “And you’re all okay with this?”

“Nah bro, we’re all wasted so we told Mina that it was your decision.” He looked at Kaminari who was leaning on Sero for support.

“My decision?”

“Bakubro, just take care of her,” Kirishima said, placing both his hands on Bakugou’s shoulders.

“Take care of - what the fuck are you on?”

“Alcohol bro,” Kaminari said with a serious face. “We’re on alcohol.”

Sero chuckled. “I’m taking these two home to try to sober them up before going to bed.” He was DD for the night, in charge of everyone until Mina decided to go on a little adventure. “They’ll thank me for this before they head out to work tomorrow.”

Sero began to walk away with Kaminari using him as support and Kirishima shuffling behind them, leaving Bakugou alone with Mina.

“Please! Please Bakugou? It’s my birthday.” She looked at him with pleading eyes.

Bakugou didn’t even hide his annoyance. He looked at the time. It was one in the morning. “If there is a shop that’s open right now within a seven mile radius, we can go.”

Mina squealed and grabbed Bakugou by the arm as she ran in her heels to the exit. It didn’t take long for her to stop running with her grip still tight on Bakugou’s arm.

“Where’s my phone…” she mumbled to herself looking around for it. Bakugou watched in amusement as Mina began to pat herself down with one hand while searching the ground around them for her purse.

When he was fully amused, he reached into his pocket and pulled out her phone. “Here.”

Her eyes slowly lit up as she recognized her phone in his hand. Mina had no recollection of leaving her purse at home and Bakugou being nominated to carry it for her. She managed to get on the internet and started looking up tattoo parlors near them. After a few minutes of struggling, she managed to find one. Bakugou didn’t even try to hide his annoyance over the fact that he had to sit through Mina possibly getting a tattoo. It had been a long night and he wanted nothing more than to take a cold shower to wash away the feeling of all those people who were around him.

Bakuguou trailed behind the birthday girl who was dancing in the middle of the parking structure as she walked to his car. The chilly breeze and the fresh air were both helping her sober up and she had a vague memory of where he had parked. As annoying as he found his friends, Bakugou enjoyed moments like tonight where everyone could be themselves and forget about the stress of being an adult. When they could let their guard down and just enjoy life for a night. Why was he on board with this whole tattoo business in the first place? Because who was he to stop his friend from living her life the way she wanted to? It was a harmless tattoo, and he would be there to make sure it would be something she wouldn’t regret later on.

Getting into the car, the first thing Mina did was put the top down while Bakugou grabbed a water bottle he brought just for tonight and opened it, handing it to her so she could hydrate herself. Once he managed to get her to drink at least half the bottle, he took off, using her phone’s GPS to guide him to the shop.

Mina stuck her arm out of the car and leaned back in her seat, enjoying the feel of the cold air on her warm body. Bakugou relaxed as he drove, one hand on the wheel, and the other propping his head up. Even if this felt like a chore, he enjoyed nothing more than the feeling of the cool night hair on his skin as he drove.

True to her word, the shop wasn’t far from where they were. Bakugou was able to park right out front due to the ungodly hour that they were out at. Mina didn’t wait for the car to be fully parked before jumping out and running to the door, ignoring everything Bakugou was yelling at her. He followed behind her, taking his time as he waited for the hood to come back up, slowly feeling regret creep in.

When he entered, Mina was already sitting at a seat, talking the ear off of who Bakugou assumed was the artist. He was wearing a black short sleeve shirt, with a beanie that covered his green hair. Once he got closer, he saw that the man sported his own fair share of tattoos along with glasses and freckles that adorned his face. There was no other person in the shop.

“Bakugou! I decided on what I’m getting,” Mina giggled.

The artist glanced back at Bakugou but said nothing to him as he began to prep the design. Bakugou raised an eyebrow to her. “Are you gonna tell me?”

Mina continued to giggle. “Nope, it’s a surprise!”

“Why the fuck is the tattoo you’re getting a surprise for me? Now tell me before you get something regrettable inked on yourself. I won’t hear the end of this if I don’t.”

“No!” Mina stuck out her tongue.

“Alright, you said on your left shoulder, correct?” the artist asked.

“Yes ma’am!” Mina lowered the dress strap so it hung off her shoulder. He got to work, transferring the design to her skin and began the inking process.

Bakugou watched with his arms crossed as the artist worked. He noticed how there was a small crinkle on his forehead and how his tongue peaked out as he concentrated. His hands moved skillfully and quickly. Mina was talking about something that went over Bakugou’s head to which the artist replied to. He wasn’t engaged in their conversation, he didn’t have the brain power to be at this point. Mina fell silent when the stinging from the tattoo was finally hitting her. Bakugou refused to give her his hand when she asked for it, saying that she got into this mess herself and she needed to deal with the pain on her own.

“You know, you could just give her your hand,” the artist muttered. Mina wasn’t making a sound from the pain but she did flinch every now and then and hiss.

Bakugou blinked. Did the artist just say that to him? “Aren’t you not supposed to give tattoos to drunk people?”

He cocked an eyebrow but didn’t break his concentration from his work. “My method of tattooing is a bit different. I can give tattoos to tipsy or slightly drunk customers without the design getting messed up from the alcohol in the blood. She would also be much worse off if I tattooed in the traditional sense as well.”

Bakugou leaned forward and noticed that he did in fact use a different method of tattooing. “A different method isn’t going to prevent the alcohol in the blood from ruining the way the ink sits.”

The artist sat back and sighed. “Look, you don’t see me barging into your workplace and tell you how to do your job -”

“Because I’m not fucking dumb.”

He rolled his eyes. “And I’ve been doing this for a long time. I know how to do my job.”

“Yeah, scamming people into getting some ink and for it to be fucked up like a month later. They paid full price for it and you don’t have to worry about anything because they signed paperwork just for this occasion.”

The artist took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “You could hunt down every one of my customers and I bet my entire business that not even a single one would say they were dissatisfied with the work done. But since you’re so hellbent on making me feel ashamed, why don’t you check back here in a month and tell me how fucked up you think the tattoo looks?”

“And what if it is? You’ll give her money back? She’ll still have a shitty piece permanently on her body.”

“You can tattoo something on me, anywhere you would like doesn’t matter how big it is,” he replied in a heartbeat.

That piqued Bakugou’s interest. He thought about the proposal while the artist got back to work. “What’s in it for you then?”

“If it doesn’t look bad, I get to tattoo you. Same conditions.”

Bakugou took a seat at the front of the shop without saying anything else. The shop itself looked pretty fancy, there was no doubt in his mind that this guy was probably famous in the tattooing world. But at the same time, anyone with some money could get a place that big and make it look impressive. He knew he should check out the reviews online, but it felt like that would take some of the excitement out of this bet.

Watching him work, Bakugou wondered if he gave himself those tattoos that decorated his body. If he did… he was about to be even more annoyed because they looked damn good. From what he could see on the artist’s arms and neck, they were all different tattoos but they flowed together effortlessly. It felt like they were trying to tell a story even though most likely they weren’t. Bakugou knew he was staring, but he felt himself get lost in what little he could see. Before he realized it, Mina was finished and wrapped up. She refused to let Bakugou see it properly since he wouldn’t let her hold his hand. Instead of staying with her inside, he got his car ready as she paid and the artist went over proper care with her. Just as Bakugou drove away, he realized he never got the artist’s name.

“Deku,” Mina said as the wind whipped past them. It felt different now that she was sober, but she loved it either way. “His name is Deku.”

“Okay, okay. My turn. Truth or dare?” Kirishima spun the bottle and everyone watched as it landed on Bakugou for the first time that night. Kaminari howled and Sero whistled.

“Make it a good one because this might be our only chance with him,” Sero commented.

Kirishima nodded and waited patiently for Bakugou’s answer.

“Truth.”

Kaminari booed.

“Why do you keep talking about Deku? I’ve seen his work and he’s good and all, but are you like… in love with the dude?”

Bakugou’s frown deepened. “I’m not fucking in love with that nerd. I’m annoyed. Pinky won’t show me her damn tattoo and I’m not about to lose this bet to him.”

“Oh, that tattoo looks awesome. I made an appointment to get one too,” Sero said, pointing to his arm where he was planning on getting it done.

“I just got a new piercing there this morning.” Kiri moved his hair out of the way to show his new helix piercing. “Deku is so chill, bro. We made plans to get lunch this Friday.”

“Man, I went by his place with Mina last night and he was a mess,” Kaminari said as he laughed from the memories.

Bakugou watched, slightly annoyed, slightly in awe of what was unfolding in front of him. Within a couple weeks, Bakugou felt like his world was tilted on its axis. All by one man whom he just met. As much as he told himself to not let it bother him, he couldn't help but to hyperfixate on this new person in his life who made a rage he didn’t know he had in him erupt. Never had he wanted to beat someone so bad in his life. As awful as he knew it was, he was hoping the tattoo came out looking shitty so he could have this victory.

He needed this victory.

Because to him, it felt like his friends were slipping away.

He felt like he was being replaced by someone more likable. More friendly. More easy going. Someone better than him.

And he would never admit how much that hurt him.

Bakugou stood up abruptly. Without saying anything, he headed outside of the apartment he was in and made his way to the curb to sit down. Was he overreacting? Probably. Most likely. But he knew his feelings were valid. He wasn’t the best friend, but they all stuck around for some reason. So he couldn’t be that awful. Right?

He let out a deep sigh and looked at the clouds that were passing him by. His gaze didn’t move even when Kirishima joined him.

“You know we aren’t replacing you, right?”

Bakugou didn’t respond.

“We don’t know why you hate him so much, but we respect your feelings. No more Deku talk in front of you.”

“That won’t stop you from hanging out with him,” he said drily.

“No, but even if I hang out with him and enjoy his presence, you’re my best friend dude. And that’s never changing. You’re stuck with me for life.”

A pair of arms wrapped around Bakugou’s shoulders and the force of the hug pushed Bakugou forward. “You’re stuck with all of us!” Kaminari shouted.

“Get the fuck off of me dumbass!”

“Not until you believe us!” Kaminari leaned forward and tried to kiss Bakugou’s cheek. Sero and Kirishima were laughing, enjoying the scene that was unfolding before them. It didn’t take Bakugou long to shove Kaminari off of him. The blond didn’t miss the small upturn of the corners of Bakugou’s mouth either.

“Okay, but since you’re boring as usual, we’re going to give you a dare.”

Bakugou stared at Kaminari in disgust. “No.”

“Get a piercing from Deku. Unless you’re too chicken…”

All three of them smirked. They knew Bakugou would do it. He never backed down from a dare. As long as it was sensible.

“You want me to waste money on a dare?”

“Nah bro, we’re all paying for you,” Sero said.

Bakugou took a minute to think about it. “After I complete this dare, all of you are gonna shut the fuck up for a week.”

“Bro, it’s not a bet. It’s a dare.” Kirishima frowned. “You’re not even paying for it. And we’re letting you choose where to get it. Kaminari wanted to you get your di-”

“He doesn’t need to know,” Kaminari interrupted, shoving his hand over Kirishima’s mouth.

Bakugou stood up and dusted his jeans. “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

The shop looked a lot different than how Bakugou remembered it, but it was also currently daytime. He took a good look at the sign, Deku written in front of some sort of drawing of an ugly, green, bunny ears mask. There were a lot more people inside as well. Bakugou hesitated going in - he wasn’t in the mood to talk to, or even see, the artist. Deku. Deku, the tattoo artist.

When he walked into the shop this time, he was greeted by someone at the register. He easily found Deku in the crowd of people, his green hair visible today. His outfit still consisted of all black, but it made him seem more edgy than how his friends make him seem to be. From the stories he heard, he would never have guessed they were talking about the same person he met that night with Mina. The Deku his friends knew was a clumsy, anxiety-filled guy who seemed to be in his head a lot. The Deku in front of him was too sure of himself and his abilities to be the same person.

“Hey Midoriya!” Kirishima said as he waved.

Deku looked up and smiled at him, casually passing his gaze over Bakugou. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. We came here for someone else.” Kirishima gently pushed a pouting Bakugou forward. “He’s here for a piercing.”

Deku raised an eyebrow and didn’t even try to hide the cocky smile on his face. “Is he sober? I might get a lecture if he isn’t.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes and took a seat without being told to. “Gimme the damn paperwork and let’s get this over with.”

Deku motioned for the person at the register to come over and told him to prep Bakugou. As he filled out the paperwork, he couldn’t help himself as his eyes kept wandering over to wherever Deku was. What was so good about him that made people flock to him? What about him attracted so many people to his shop? He internally cursed himself every time he got distracted and went back to finishing his paperwork. He handed it off to Kirishima who went back to the front with the others to pay for what he was about to get done.

“So what’ll it be?”

Bakugou crossed his arms as he remained seated. “My tongue.”

Deku nodded and went to get what he needed. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that walk-ins weren’t common during the day. All the artists in the place were busy with their clients. Deku actually had walked away from someone he was working on but the man didn’t seem to mind. There was a small crowd waiting for their turn to be seated - Bakugou assumed they were also walk-ins from how half of them were glaring at him. And from how one of them started arguing with the cashier who looked visibly scared and confused.

The sound of a stool being dragged over to him brought Bakugou’s attention back to the task at hand. Deku placed his materials down on a small table next to the two of them.

“What made you want to get this done? By me of all people?”

“They dared me.”

“Your friends?” Deku got everything ready before he got to work.

“Yeah.”

“Known them long?”

Bakugou narrowed his eyes. “What’s with this small talk?”

Deku grimaced at his tone. “I’m just trying to be nice. Get to know you. I don’t think you’re a bad person…”

“And how would you know that?”

His expression softened. “You have some great friends. They wouldn’t hang around you if you were a bad person.”

Bakugou felt himself relax slightly. He motioned to the guy with the two tones hair Deku was working on before Bakugou came in. “What about him? Is it okay for you to leave your client like that?”

“Yeah.” Deku scooted his stool closer to Bakugou. “He’s a friend of mine, he didn’t care. Tongue.”

Bakugou leaned forward and watched as Deku put his gloves on. He picked up the needle and held Bakugou’s tongue between a pair of tweezers with two circles on either side to help him know where exactly to pierce the tongue.

“You’ll feel a pinch but it’ll be fast.”

Bakugou couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from turning up slightly, amused by the warning. Deku didn’t lie, it was quick and he barely felt a thing. The rest of the process was quick and Deku talked him through care and maintenance of the new piercing. The cold metal balls felt foreign in his mouth and he kept moving it around to feel a bit more comfortable.

“And the pain will get worse the next couple of days. Soreness is normal, but make sure you keep cleaning it properly to avoid getting it infected. Also pay attention to the foods you’re eating.” Deku kept talking as he walked Bakugou to the front where his friends were waiting for him. Bakugou felt his annoyance increase with each word that left Deku’s mouth.

“Shut up ya damn nerd. You literally gave me a paper with all this fucking information.” Bakugou did his best to keep his voice down, but ended up yelling anyway.

“Sorry!” Deku replied instinctively.

“No need to apologize to him. That’s just how he is.” Kirishima slung an arm over Bakugou’s shoulder. “Thanks for taking him right now.”

Deku smiled. “No problem. I’ll see you on Friday.” He looked at Bakugou as he began to turn away. “And I’ll see you in a few weeks for your tattoo.” He walked away before Bakugou had a chance to reply.

It pissed him off even more how cocky Deku was acting about this bet. He was so sure that he would win, it made Bakugou want nothing more than to crush him. But that would have to wait until the one month was up.

Mina stretched when she got out of the car. “Thanks for driving us Bakugou!”

He grunted in response. All of his friends thought he always drove because he hated everyone else’s driving, which was partially true, but it was just that he enjoyed being in control of where he was going. He got out, eying the tattoo on Mina’s shoulder as she rushed into the shop with Sero and Kaminari rushing in after her. Kirishima waited for his friend as they walked in together. The shop was unusually empty for this time of day, but Bakugou didn’t question it. He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he would be going home with some new ink today and he didn’t need to deal with an even greater audience.

Mina was already showing off her tattoo to the two people inside. Deku’s friend nodded along as he listened to whatever Mina was talking about. Bakugou felt his palms get sweaty. He hated losing, everyone knew this, but where was this extra anxiety coming from? Why did Deku of all people make him feel like he would never be able to reach him - like he was on some immeasurably high platform and Bakugou could try to climb up there but he would never reach the peak.

Kaminari waved a hand in Bakugou’s face. “Earth to Bakubro. What’s your vote?”

He blinked once, twice. Looking at Mina’s tattoo properly for the first time, he couldn’t find a single thing wrong with it. No line looked droopy, nothing looked distorted. “It...looks great…”

Kaminari laughed. “So it’s unanimous! All six of us think the tattoo looks fine.”

Bakugou didn’t realize the voting had already taken place. He was so deep in his thoughts, not that it would have mattered if he was paying attention.

He shrugged, not having enough mental power to fight this. “What’s it gonna be, nerd?”

Deku prepped a chair that was next to a set up table. “Take off your shirt and sit back.”

Everyone gathered around, wanting to watch Bakugou receive his punishment. Deku got to work, not bothering with transferring a design onto Bakugou’s skin beforehand. Seeing that made Bakugou worry about what was going to happen as Deku dotted his skin over and over again with the gun. Bakugou listened to everyone talk, never once speaking up, as he took in this moment. Seeing his friends interact with Deku and his friend pissed off Bakugou, but at the same time he felt warm inside. Something about this moment felt right to him, he was meant to meet all these people, they were put into his life for a reason. Deku? He was just the newest addition even if he hated to admit it. They were friends, sort of. But rather than the friendship he felt with anyone in his life, Deku made him want to be better. Bakugou felt so complacent after meeting Deku for some reason. Seeing him own his own successful business, have his own fanbase, but still be humble and kind. Bakugou felt like he needed to work harder before he could feel good about himself. And he was determined to get there even more now that Deku was in his life.

For better or worse.

The tattoo was finished faster than he thought, fully colored and swollen. He looked down at his hip where his new tattoo lived, and groaned. “You gave me that shitty green bunny mask? What even is it? Are you coming out as a furry?”

Deku blushed. “W-what? No! It’s like…” He hesitated, feeling embarrassed. “It’s a symbol that I adapted from this hero I liked as a kid from a comic.”

Bakugou squinted at the tattoo and realized what it was. “All Might.”

Deku looked at Bakugou in surprise. “You used to read his stories too?”

“Tch, of course. He was the best superhero and anyone who thinks otherwise is fucking dumb.”

The other five watched, all feeling different emotions, as they watched Deku try to have his first bonding moment with Bakugou and couldn’t help but share the same thought of how those two would become fast friends. Sure there would be lots of fighting, but there would never be a dull moment with them. They also knew Bakugou wouldn’t rest until he was able to tattoo something on Deku. Maybe that was a good thing, maybe it was bad. But no one could wait.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou fic #midoriya izuku #midoriya fic #deku #deku fic #bakudeku #kirishima eijiro #sero hanta #mina ashido #kaminari denki #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bnha fic #mha fic

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