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outofsstyles · 3 years

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a/n: This is by far THE MOST requested fic I’ve ever had and (a year later) it’s finally here!! First of all, sorry that it took me so long but when I first wrote Wildest Dreams I never intended on it having a follow up, but the amount of love I got from it was so overwhelming that I decided to put this together for you all :) I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit nervous about it, considering the amount of requests I’ve had the past year, I know there’s gonna be a lot of expectations and I wanted to do something a bit different so it’s not too predictable lol. So yeah, as always, feedback is very much welcomed!! If you enjoy please reblog it to support my writing, it would mean the world to me <3

word count: 13.7k

warnings: none!

concept: It’s Evan’s birthday and he decides to do something a bit different.

Wildest Dreams: read part 1 here :)

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

In the last two steps, you have to use your leg to support the box as it starts to slowly slip down your fingers. This serves as a reminder to start exercising again now that the midterm is over — meaning that you should finally give in to Nia’s pleas to join her in the free week of Pilates classes she got when signing in at the gym, “Exercising is one of the best ways to relieve stress!” She would argue, to which you’d simply reply with something along the lines of: “So does binging another trashy reality tv show!”

Thankfully, no one seems to notice your struggle, sparing you the embarrassment of listening to their teases due to your difficulty in carrying one of the smallest boxes of the bunch. Nate barely glances at you once you finally reach the car to hand him the box, only shooting the longest smile you’ve ever seen coming from him—which somehow still manages to be probably the quickest when compared to any other regular person. His girlfriend, who stands with hands on her hips, entirely held his attention. Nia’s purple strands of hair poke out of her half-bun in every direction and her bottom lip has found its permanent spot between her teeth as her eyes fixate on the vehicle in front of her, barely blinking.

“Everything alright, Ni?” You prompt, trying to even your breathing. “Forgot something? There’s still time to check.”

“It’s not that.” She mumbles, shaking her head to break out of her thoughts. “My keyboard doesn’t fit.” Nia nods at the instrument lying on top of the car’s ceiling.

“Oh,” You say, frowning your lips as you take in her stressed figure. Clearing your throat, you attempt to blurt out a joke, “Maybe it’s a sign you shouldn’t move it and stay right here in our little flat with creaky doors.”

She breathes out a sharp laugh, finally looking at you as she drops her arms. “Don’t start.” She warns, “You promised; no crying today.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good at holding back the tears.” You give her a soft smile, pulling her smaller frame into a hug. The sudden reality of your best friend and roommate leaving you hitting you at once. “Gonna miss you, Ni.”

You feel her sigh into your shoulder, arms circling around your middle. “I’ll be ten minutes away.”

“Not the same.”

“I know.”

The two of you sway in silence for a moment, and you watch from over her shoulder as Nate attempts to awkwardly pick up the keyboard, almost dropping it on the sidewalk in the process. He grunts, the instrument tilting in his arms, and you giggle as you hear Nia sigh once more. Tightening your arms around her, you release each other as she turns to check on her boyfriend who holds the instrument as you would a newborn — except this one is half his size and hard as a wood plank.

He glances between the both of you, helpless. “Uh, where does this go?”

“You can put it with the other big boxes upstairs, babe. We’ll take them Sunday.” Nia says, moving to close the trunk. She looks back at him, calling back in a sing-like voice before he disappears inside, “Thank you!”

You lean back against the car, a playful pout plumping your bottom lip. “Am I only seeing you again on Sunday, then?”

“Nope, I’ll pick you up for Evan’s birthday — did you forget about it already?”

You have. “Of course not. It’s on — tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow?” Nia gasps, eyes widening. “Holy shit, tomorrow’s Friday.”

You nod slowly, just as shocked as she is about how quickly the past couple of weeks have flown by. Between piles of book reports and stress-tear-stained essays during midterms week, you also had to find some time to help Nia with packing boxes while searching for a new roommate for yourself. If you managed a five-hour sleep on these past days, that would have been a well-rested night. So you can’t really blame yourself for forgetting about Evan’s birthday when Nia herself had it slipping through her mind.

“This is an emergency,” Nia says, eyes focusing on a point beyond you and, you feel like, if you listen close enough, you can hear the engines inside her head working. “I’ll have come here earlier so you can help me with my outfit.”

You chuckle. “What even is the theme this year?”

“He didn’t tell me,” Nia says in a huff. “But, on the bright side, I don’t think this year he’ll do anything too crazy — he was too busy these last couple months with that short film I told you about, remember?”

“Evan doing something low key? That’s a first.” You raise your eyebrows, skeptical.

“I mean, I don’t know. I’m just guessing.” Nia shrugs, picking at her nails. “I’m only saying because he mentioned once he was only inviting, like, twenty people.”

Now, this is a surprise. “I’m glad I made the cut, then.”

It’s not a secret to anyone who’s ever had any kind of interaction with Evan that he’s fond of the dramatics of life — his bright-colored outfits with mismatching patterns being the first example that comes to mind — and that reflects as well in his events. Especially when it comes to his birthday.

To be fair, you’ve only actually been to two birthday parties of his so far — considering the invitation usually finds you because he’s close to Nia and sees you as some sort of extension of her. Nevertheless, they were both impactful enough that left a clear impression of how much he enjoys celebrating himself. Last year in particular you remember quite well. It was what he called “Evaney” themed; being a mix of himself and his favorite artist: Britney Spears. And, while you and Nia showed up as one of at least fifteen different variations of the Baby One More Time schoolgirl outfit, Evan pulled a perfect match of the Oops! I Did It Again red bodysuit that he got one of his fashion student friends to tailor for him, as well as freshly dyed beach blonde hair to suit it. He even went as far as photoshopping pictures of himself on Britney’s body and had them printed on posters hung on every single room of the house. There were even custom-made cups and napkins with them — two of them that Nia stole at the end of the party still sit somewhere in your kitchen to this day.

Another particular thing you remember quite clearly was that there were enough people crowded in his living room to fill up your entire apartment, as you recall. And that’s about how a typical event at his home is like — even on his friendsmas dinner there were much more than just twenty people eating turkey out of disposable hot pink plates. So, Nia’s information leaves you wondering what he could have in mind for tomorrow with such a limited list of people.

Before you can voice your wonders to her, though, Nate pushes through the entrance door again. You can tell he, much like you minutes ago, is trying to cover his heavy breathing. “I left it on top of those big boxes with a bunch of books in ‘em.”

“Brilliant! Thank you, baby.” Nia grins, wrapping an arm around his middle. “By the way, we just remembered Evan’s birthday’s tomorrow.”

“Is it tomorrow already?” Nate asks, and you hold back a giggle at the way his face scrunches in discontent. He hates going to Evan’s to a point that’s nearly comical. “Fuck’s sake.”

“And I think I’ll come here early so we can get ready together.” Nia nods towards you.

Nate grunts. “Do I have to go this time?”

“Of course, darling.” She rises to her tiptoes to pinch his cheek, to which he brushes it off.

Nate looks at you, and you only send him a tight smile in solidarity. The two of you share similar experiences with Evan, considering the only reason either of you even gets invited is that because you’re close to Nia, and she’s close to Evan. Although you like Evan, even if you’re not that close with him, you can still put on your social mask for a couple of hours and have fun at his parties. Nate, on the other hand, is likely the least sociable person you’ve ever met, and it’s obvious how uncomfortable he gets every time.

Nia seems to sense how tense he gets as well, because she steps in front of her boyfriend, finding his eyes with her doe-like ones. “I mean, if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to.”

He sighs, “Of course I’ll go with you.” He looks up at you. “Maybe this time we can actually count how many faces of his we can see from the couch.”

This time you don’t hold back a giggle. “I have a feeling we’ll have an easier time this year.”

“Hope so.” Nate taps on Nia’s back. "Let's go, then? Is everything you need in the trunk?”

“Yup.” She answers, circling the car and opening the door to the passenger’s side. Before entering, she gives you one last look. “Do you want me to bring anything for you tomorrow?”

“I’m good.”

“‘kay!” She enters, closing the door behind her in a click and leaning over Nate to wave at you from his window. “See you tomorrow! Don’t cry too hard tonight!”

“I won’t!” You wave back.

Watching as the car pulls back, before driving away and disappearing around the corner, there’s a light breeze that raises goosebumps on the exposed skin of your arms. You cross them under your chest, leaning back into the wall of your building, not quite ready to go back to your empty home yet. The seconds blend into minutes and you stand there The promise you made to Nia not even a minute ago already pooling in your eye, knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep it anyway, you let it tickle its way down your cheek.

A rougher gust of wind hits you and, this time, you turn to go inside.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The days are still not long enough so that the sun can shine proudly at seven in the afternoon, but as spring just about rounds the corner there’s still a golden glow as the rays provide one last warmth before disappearing on the horizon. And that’s how the sky greets you once you step out of your building to make your way towards Evan’s house for his birthday.

As planned, Nia arrived at yours with plenty of time so the two of you could help each other get ready, a bag filled with clothes she’s just taken to Nate’s yesterday under her arm for you to help her choose. “I’m thinking something monochromatic tonight.” She said as she walked in, making you jump in your spot on the couch as you didn’t hear her using the spare key. “I’m just not sure what color.”

She ended up choosing red. There was an old box of red hair dye you found lost inside the bathroom cabinet after Nia left — along with two different brands of shaving cream, although those belonging to Nate — and, after presenting it to her, she decided to go all for it, taking it as a sign. Nate showed up just about an hour after his girlfriend, still in his work attire and barely batting an eye at Nia’s new hair color as she blew dried it. The only comment leaving his mouth being, “You look like a tomato,” before kissing her forehead and excusing himself for a nap while the two of you finished getting ready.

What neither of you realized was that Nia’s last-minute decision took more time than you predicted, giving you barely enough time to get dressed. To her, that wasn’t exactly an inconvenience considering she had an outfit ready to match any color she wanted — in this case, was a red-dyed denim two-piece. and a matching jacket that ended up discarded after she noticed it covered her newest shoulder tattoo (though you tried to argue she could just have Nate carry it so she could wear it considering she eventually would get cold at some point). To you, however, was more of a stressful task, seeing you hadn’t taken in mind to think of an outfit beforehand. So you ended up just going with the safest option that didn’t give you a lot of room to overthink, choosing to finish your makeup on the way so Evan wouldn’t have any of your heads on a plate for being late.

You’ve found that applying mascara on a moving vehicle is not the easiest task, as Nia holds your elbow to help you keep steady while talking nonstop with the driver about a topic you stopped paying any mind to about ten minutes ago.

“I’m loving our black and red moment, by the way.” She turns to you, loosening her hold as you finish the last coat. “You look like one of those hot businesswomen with your teenage daughter who likes to dress like an animated character.”

You laugh at her comparison, only now noticing the discrepancy between both your outfits. Without even realizing it, you also ended up going for the monochromatic look. Except unlike Nia’s, yours completely lacks any color. “That’s actually the best comparison you could make.”

“I know — You can take a left right here — Here, I have lip gloss.” Nia fetches a small tube from her jacket (that she ended up taking, after all), presenting it to you.

“Do you not have lipstick?”

“Are you not planning on smudging it later?” Nia wiggles her eyebrows, teasing. The hint behind her words makes you roll your eyes, snatching the lip gloss from her hand without bothering to give her an answer. There was about a month or so, just before winter rolled around, that Nia felt as if she had a mission to get you with someone. You suspect, knowing too well how her mind works, that she must’ve felt some sort of guilt for what happened during her film project last year. It was clear that her attempts came from a place of good heart, but this doesn’t mean that it made them any less annoying. However, after her plans to move in with Nate became more concrete, her cupid persona seemed to have disappeared, or so you’d thought. But now that there’s nothing else filling her mind anymore, it looks like she’s back at it, and you can’t help but snort. “What? I’m just saying-”

“You say a lot of things, most of them are incorrect.” You say, “I’m not smudging anything tonight. Not on a party with twenty people, for fuck’s sake.”

“Don’t say that before — right there! The big house on the corner!” Nia leans over the console, signaling to the driver where to park. It’s so sudden that you notice how he jumps just slightly from his seat, chuckling to yourself at how Nate snaps his eyes at her.

The front of Evan’s Victorian home is unusually quiet once you step out onto the sidewalk. So much so that, if it weren’t for the lined cars parked along the street and filling his driveway, you would’ve thought you’d typed in the wrong address.

The discrepancy is clear to you when compared to other gatherings Evan hosts in his house, but especially for his birthday. Last year, you could hear Toxic blasting from his place from the moment you turned on his street, and a small crowd gathered on his front yard — most of which you recall being comprised of people plastered out of their minds, particularly one semi-naked man who was using one lamppost as a strip pole while swinging a stuffed snake

That’s more or less the standard one could expect when invited to a party at Evan’s. So, to find the street as silent as any regular day is, to an understanding, odd.

“Are you sure it’s the right date?” You ask as the metal creak of the front gate mends with gushes of wind whistling through the air.

“Yup,” Nia says simply, walking in front of you. “You can hear the music inside, shush.”

You come quiet, listening in, and, surely, you can hear the faint keys of a piano coming from the other side of the stone walls, but it only brings up more questions to your head than answers. Evan seems like the last person on Earth who would listen to classical music. Deciding not to voice your question this time, you follow short behind Nia, kicking some loose stones on the gravel path leading to the front door.

There’s no need for more than a single knock for it to open almost immediately, revealing a lace-clad Evan downing the last bits of his wine. Without the barrier you can hear the music more clearly, the keys of the piano meshing in a peculiar way, not like anything you’ve ever heard in a classical song— at least not ten years ago when you tried to learn piano for a year before giving up.

“Look at my favorite people!” Evan says with his purple-stained lips, pulling Nia for a hug with the arm that’s not holding the door open while pointing at a spot behind her. “Did you greet Jonathan when you passed him? It’s his birthday as well.”

He points to a spot where a gnome statue sits in the dry grass, face painted in clown makeup. Nate’s voice comes from behind you, “Christ.”

“Nate!” Evan chirps, going straight for the man standing with a sharp smile and throwing his arms around him. “You know you’re my favorite grumpy, right?”

Nate only taps on the shorter man’s back, quickly moving to Nia’s side as soon as he’s free from the embrace. With that, Evan turns to you, hands finding your elbows as he takes you in, “And what have you been up to, bug? It's been ages.”

“You know… Books and… Stuff.” You chuckle, brushing it off. “Happy birthday, E.”

“Thank you!” He claps his hands together. “Now, c’mon, let’s get all of you started.”

Following him inside, you’re met with a glittery box standing right next to the entrance; rolls of tape seal it shut, and a hand-sized hole has been cut on top of the lid. You try to peek at what could be inside, but strings of colorful crepe paper are stuck to the hole, making it harder to know its contents.

Evan picks up the box, holding it to his side. “So, I need each of you to grab a piece of paper inside the box. There will be a number in it but for now just hold on, drink, and chat while waiting for further instructions.” His voice lowers at the end to give his words more of a mystery behind them.

Nate tenses in front of you and you have to keep yourself from chuckling at his desperate gaze moving from the box to his girlfriend as he moves uncomfortably on his feet. Nia, however, only gives him a pat on his back, barely looking at her boyfriend as she does a little dance in excitement. “Oh, this feels fun.” She says, quickly reaching her hand inside the box and retrieving a piece of paper. “Mysterious, but fun. What do you have in mind, sir?”

“Nothing too crazy this year, darling, you can relax — We’re all too tired.” He moves the box towards Nate, who reluctantly reaches inside. “Just something to mesh people together that won’t give me too much of a headache to clean tomorrow.”

“Smart.” You say, peeking at the box as it’s presented to you before reaching for a paper inside, quickly reading the number eight written on it before folding the piece between your fingers.

“Nice! As always, drinks in the kitchen. We’re starting in ten minutes!” Evan claps, hushing the three of you further inside.

Surprisingly, this time around there are no posters of his face in sight as you follow Nia and Nate to the kitchen. There’s a mild mash of voices coming from the living room — where the sound of the piano is the loudest, and you wonder if he got an actual piano or if it’s just a Bluetooth speaker —, but it’s not nearly as loud as you’re used to from past times. The lighting has been lowered to a buttery yellow; you realize once you enter the kitchen that feels too bright to your eyes in contrast to the hallway.

“Is there any alcohol?” You wonder out loud, and Nia glances at you with her eyebrows shot towards her hairline. “What? I’m just asking ‘cause everyone is unusually quiet.”

“There’s wine and — what are these guys right here?” She picks up one out of four plastic jars sitting on the kitchen island, reading the label stuck to it out loud, “Strawberry Mary — ooh, this looks fun.”

You reach for the other three to check their contents, but all have names similar to the one Nia now fills her cup with — fruity, yet mysterious: Lana Banana, Jenny Berry Mix, and Pineapple Suzan. “Did he come up with these?” You chuckle, reaching for the berry mix.

“It was probably Adam,” Nia says, and you frown. “That bartender guy? The one with the pet snakes.”

“Oh, yeah. I know him.”

The room comes quiet as you serve yourself, and only after you glance up you realize a tension lingering in the air. Nate stands awkwardly in a corner, eyes fixed on Nia as he moves his head around subtly. Glancing between the two of them, you notice how their expressions change as they keep their eyes locked, not a single word being uttered out loud. To you, it almost feels as if they are reading each other’s minds, and the heat of their silent argument becoming clear once Nate huffs, shaking his head.

Nia clears her throat, seemingly uncomfortable, shooting you a knowing look. It’s only when she gives you a toothless smile that you realize the silent question behind it. “Uhm, I’m going to check if there are any sweets outside.”

Beelining towards the doorway, you quickly make your way out of the room. The hallway is empty and, from where you stand awkwardly in the middle of it, you can tell Evan’s left his spot by the front door, meaning he’s likely gone to the living room where the rest of the guests are. You can hear them chatting, although like you previously pointed, the voices are much more controlled than what you’re used to, and that makes you oddly flustered by the thought of walking in alone.

Considering the limited amount of invitations this year, the chances of you knowing anyone are slim and, to add to your sudden nervousness, most of the people from Evan’s closest circle of friends are — like himself — inexplicably intimidating. This is mostly because it feels like this unspoken competition that everyone has settled with each other, to subtly brag about your success whilst simultaneously pretending to be impressed about the other’s accomplishments. And for you specifically, considering you’re not part of this artist clique that they lock themselves into, it feels particularly tiresome to be part of those interactions.

So, you opt to wait for Nia, pretending to admire one peculiar painting hanging on a wall opposite to where the doorway leading to the living room stands. Every so often, you catch yourself glancing over your shoulder one way or the other, either towards the kitchen to check if your friends are joining you, or to the doorway where the rest of the guests are in. At one point, the voices get louder, joining in a laugh before tangling together in a mess of noise you can’t make sense of. It’s after a minute that you hear footsteps coming from the living room, making you freeze on your spot, carefully turning your back to whoever’s about to catch you avoiding the party, and focusing on the piece you’ve been staring at for the past five minutes.

The painting you first thought was just random strokes of earth tones abstractly put together you now realize it’s a man and it doesn’t take you more than a second or two to recognize Evan’s side profile in a peach shade. Your hand claps on top of your mouth as you fight the urge to laugh. The sound comes out muffled, but it stops as you hear the footsteps falter as they turn into the hallway. Keeping you back to them, you listen as the wooden floor creaks as whoever was approaching makes their way back. You peek to catch sight of who it might be, but all you make out is the shadow of mustard corduroys turning the corner.

As if on cue, Nia and Nate finally appear from the kitchen, thankfully neither appearing to be sour after the talk in the kitchen.

“Finally.” You say, still feeling giggly from your finding. “Nate, you have to check this-”

“Okay! Let’s start, then. Do we have everyone in the living room?” Evan’s voice interrupts you as he calls out. Nia guides you along with her to the living room. And, as soon as the three of you enter, Evan nods at you, before continuing, “Now that all the bunnies are trapped, we shall begin!” He laughs, clapping his hands together before motioning vaguely to everyone. “Before I explain what I have planned, I want to pair you all. So, I’ll call out the numbers that each of you picked when you arrived, so everyone can find their pair.”

You frown, confuse yet curious about what Evan’s up to as he calls out the numbers. Now that you stop to glance around the room, you note how there are more people than you’d expected. It’s still not nearly as many as previous parties of his, but it still feels like the room is nicely filled, maybe just a dozen people above twenty. And amongst them, there’s quite a few you recognize as they pair up together — like Georgia, the first one to be called, whom you spent a good half of the New Year’s party with, or Taylor, who gets paired with Nia (you remember him particularly from a film festival that Nia had been part of — he produced and directed a short film comparing the second wave of feminism to the wildlife in the Amazon Rainforest, and Nia couldn’t stop complaining about how bad it was for the entire week after).

It’s when Evan jokes with someone on the other side of the room, however, that you see him.

He’s tucked in a corner, right next to the bookshelves, arms crossed under his chest in a way that makes his tattoos pop out of his biceps, something you notice even standing on the opposite end of the room. His smile is subtle as he watches the scene in front of him, but it’s still enough for a dimple to poke at one side of his face -- it’s barely there, but you’ve seen it up close enough times that you notice those details. His hand holds a drink, but you pay no mind to it because what calls your attention is the mustard corduroy hugging his hips, the same one you watched run from you not only five minutes ago.

He laughs, and you avert your eyes, mouth still hung open. You wonder if anyone will notice if you leave.

But, as though he could read your mind, Evan calls the number written on that sits crumbled inside the pocket of your jacket. “Where are my number eights?”

You step forward and, like a magnet, your eyes glue on Harry as he raises his hand.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you have to fight against an urge to shut your eyes tightly as the regret of having left your room at all tonight becomes almost overwhelming. All you expected for the night was to forget about book reports and endless essays piled up on your computer, to relax, maybe drink a bit more than you should while watching Evan’s friends dancing with a taxidermy beaver or something of sorts (that was on his friendsmas party two years ago). Instead, here you are on what feels like the first day of class dynamic your teacher has imposed to make everyone interact with each other. And, suddenly, the long pages of (insert boring book) don’t seem that bad right now.

And to make matters worse (because the universe just likes to add a little more spice to your tragedies) of all people standing in this living room you just had to be paired with the one with whom you had a fling-like relationship six months ago.

It’s awkward before he even approaches you, the tension making you fidget in your spot anxiously, barely being able to shoot a tight smile his way.

The last time you saw Harry was through the rearview mirror of a car, standing on the sidewalk like an abandoned puppy with his tail between his legs. Though you admit you let your dramatics take away when you turned away from him to leave, the feeling behind it was genuine. You were upset. He had led you on, after all, made you think he wanted to have something more just to ignore you for months and, later, appear with a redhead under his arms and call her his girlfriend. So, yes, it wasn’t the best note to leave on.

But despite how you left the last encounter, the spark of nervousness that shoots through your stomachs right now doesn’t come exactly because of his presence, but more so for the awkward nature of this encounter. At the time it happened, you avoided any activity that had the slight possibility of seeing him again like the plague. You were hurt, and you were mad — though the second part was more directed at yourself than at him. But that was six months ago. After all, as much as you felt enchanted by him and as much as those two weeks you spent together were nice, that’s all that it was: two weeks. Yes, you were sad and, yes, maybe you shed a tear or two while watching Love, Rosie with Nia afterward, but that passed as quickly as it came.

That is, until now.

“Your hair is shorter” This Is all you blurt out when he stands in front of you again.

“It is, yeah.” Harry runs his hand through his hair. The strands that last time you saw him, curled around his jawline, now peek just under his earlobe. “Did it myself, actually.”

“Really?” You take a big gulp from your drink, gaze going anywhere but meeting his own. “Found yourself another talent.”

“Another?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“I mean, besides acting.” You grin, holding the cup to your lips and sparing him a glance. “Suppose after your debut you’ve gotten yourself busy with casting calls”

“Of course” Harry laughs. Now that you’re closer you have a better look at his dimples as they pop out, as well as the constellation of freckles hugging his nose, and the mole right under his lips. You avert your eyes again. “I’m set to be the next Bond, in fact”

“Oh, wow.” You raise your brows, grinning at the brim of your cup. “I can see it.”

He turns to you, “Can you?” You peek at him. "Why is that?”

This is exactly what you were afraid of all those months ago after last seeing him. The entire reason you ran from any possibility of seeing him again afterward. You can still remember clearly how much of a flirt he is, even when he doesn’t mean to be. It’s not a secret that Harry’s a charming man. His words are like honey, and when he uses them just right, you know is enough to have you melting. And it doesn’t help how well you seem to click together. Even now, you still feel it by your impulse to flirt back, to look him in the eye, and get just close enough to feel the scent of his cologne. Do all that just to turn away in the last second. Tease him the same way he did you. But you don’t do any of that, of course, because you’re as petty as you are bitter. So, instead, you click your tongue. “Don’t get too comfortable, Harry, bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy about that.”

He chuckles. “What girlfriend?”

This time you turn fully at him, brows shooting up not in defiance, but surprise. “Yikes.” You say before you’re able to hold back.

“Yikes.” Harry still holds a smile when he repeats it, head falling as he lets out a — nervous? — laugh.

A question pops into your head. One that lingered in your mind for a good while now, but comes back a bit louder now that you have the information that his relationship was short-lasted after all. It’s a short one, but one that requires a long answer, you suppose. What happened? You think. But you don’t dare to voice it, you don’t want to have this conversation with him. Whatever the explanation is, it’s not going to change anything. So you just avert your gaze back to Evan, who now calls for everyone’s attention again.

“I know you’re all dying to know what this is all about. So, I’m going to explain it all.” And with that introduction, Evan dives into a monologue you only pay half mind to. It’s hard for you to focus on the words rapidly leaving his mouth as you can feel Harry glancing at you every so often from the corner of your eye. You listen in to Evan describing himself as a feisty kid and mention his love for drama, and then you feel the ghost of Harry’s arm bumping against yours as he sways on his feet. You try to pay attention to the story being told of the events leading up to this birthday party, and then you have to hold yourself back from meeting Harry’s eyes once you feel them at the side of your face once again. He makes a comment under his breath that you don’t quite catch, and you’re about to question him before Evan’s voice comes in an even higher pitch. “I wanted tonight to be exactly that: chaotic. I didn’t want anything to quite make sense, and I didn’t want to think much, if I’m honest, last year of film school is taking a big chunk of my functioning neurons and m’dad’s whiskey collection is taking the rest of them.”

There’s a collective laugh that takes place and, once again, Harry’s eyes peeking at you. “Everyone can relax, it’s not one of those murder mystery parties, as I’ve heard some people guess — for fuck’s sake as if I have the time and patience to plan something like that.” He says with a sip directly from a wine bottle you just now realize he’s been holding. “It’s a scavenger hunt, you have a partner and an envelope with clues. Each pair will find something related to moi and after it’s all done, we’ll eat burgers and talk about me for the rest of the night.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Harry mumbles.

Evan claps his free hand on his wrist, hushing everyone. “So off you go, c’mon! I’ll be hungry in an hour.”

“This is gonna be…” You start. “Interesting.”

“Interesting is a great word to describe it.”

“Well, let’s try to do this as quickly as possible, then.”

The side of his lips quirks up. “On a rush?”

“This is not exactly a comfortable position to be. I think you get it.” You say, fidgeting on your feet. You wait for a second for him to say something so you can start the activity, but he doesn’t and you realize there’s a piece missing. “Do you have an envelope?”

Harry nods, reaching for his pocket where the envelope sits folded in half. He swiftly opens it, taking out a card.

“Well?” You prompt, “Read us the first clue, Bond.”

There’s a smile that Harry fights against at the nickname and you’re not sure due to the dim light, but you think there’s a hint of a rosy tone on the apple of his cheeks. “An activity that grows lives and ruins manicures.” He reads out loud, pausing for a moment before laughing to himself. “I know this one.”

“Grows lives?” You frown. “As in, a pregnancy?”

Harry shakes his head, leading the way towards the corridor. “As in, gardening.”

“That’s a very weird way to put it.” You say, following him. “Does he garden?”

He walks into the kitchen, greeting two people you don’t recognize who are searching for something — their clue, you assume — inside the cabinets. “No, but his sister does. There’s a greenhouse in the back.”

You simply hum in response, muttering a quick thank you as he opens the door for you that leads to the back garden. The greenhouse is not unfamiliar to you from the outside, there have been a good amount of summer gatherings in his back garden for you to know of its existence. But you’ve thought nothing more about it. If you’re honest, you never really paid much attention to it. If anything, you assumed he used it as storage at most, never taking Evan as someone who enjoyed gardening. Though now you know you were right, you've also learned that his sister lives with him and you wonder why he’s never mentioned it before.

The curiosity inside of you wants to question Harry about it, to ask him what else he knows you don’t. When you think about it, there’s a lot you want to ask him about. Not just regarding Evan, but also regarding him. You wonder what he’s been up in the past six months if he ended up adopting the kitten he’d told you about back when you were still filming or if he read any of the book recommendations you wrote on his notes app one particular night the two of you chatted for longer than the moon could hold itself up in the sky. The part of you that begs for you to say something on the short walk is so strong you have to physically bite your tongue to be able to hold back.

You don’t have to hold for long, however, as Harry takes it upon himself to say, “So,” He starts, clearing his throat, “How- uh- how are you doing?”

Somehow, his words click something inside of your mind. They remind you of why you shouldn’t let that curious part of you win. The sole purpose of it not falling for his charm. You shake your head, “We’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He frowns, his steps faltering for a second.

“Small talk.” You answer, focused on your goal. “We’ll just solve this thing as quickly as possible so I can go back home and finish my Euphoria marathon.”

“Right.” Harry nods once, and you can’t help but notice the way his lips quirk down, the frown not leaving his face. You can’t lie and say it doesn’t make your stomach drop the slightest bit to see you’ve upset him, but you have to remind yourself how much he’s upset you, too.

It’s protecting yourself, you think. After tonight, you don’t have to see him ever again.

Inside the greenhouse, you’re greeted with a mix of scents you’re not prepared for before stepping in. The space is compact, with a single corridor narrowed with garden beds on each side. Dozens of branches and leaves tickle you as you walk in, most of them belonging to different flowers that, despite the chilly weather that still lingers outside, are already blooming. It’s a blend of colors, bright reds, and ocean blues, soft purple petals kissing pink and yellow ones.

“We should look for gloves.” Harry’s voice startles you, chuckling as you jump a bit.

“Huh?”

“Gloves.” He says. “I think whatever we’re looking for has to do with the gloves, ‘cause he mentioned manicure.”

“That makes sense.” You look around. Many gardening tools are piling under the tables that hold the garden beds; watering cans and empty pots. You look between bags of fertilizer and drawers filled with shovels. There’s so much stuff to look through that, at one point, you sit back on your calves, glancing around, lost.

You hear Harry leafing through as you’re doing, feeling his legs brushing against your back as he passes by and you stop, watching him from your spot on the floor. He’s got a concentrated look on his face, bottom lip worried between his teeth as he scans through the walls before he opens another drawer. That’s when his gaze falls, catching yours. You quickly turn away, pretending to go through another pile of empty pots and blocking the sound of a chuckle coming from his spot.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the clicking of ceramics and the opening and closing of wooden drawers. That is until you hear from Harry, “A-ha!”

You look up again, seeing him move to the back where few pairs of gloves hang on the wall — so obvious yet still hidden between raincoats and summer hats. “Right under our noses.” You say, getting up.

Harry searches inside the gloves, tongue trapped between his teeth. “Bingo!” He says, pulling out two tiny bottles from inside one pair.

“What is it?”

“Liquor.” He grins, peeking at you from under his lashes before ripping a piece of paper attached to it. “It says ‘one for each, now get to clue number two.’” He holds up one bottle, offering it to you, to which you take it. “It’s chocolate flavored.”

“Of course it would be a drinking game.” You open it, feeling the artificial chocolate scent braid with the alcohol. “Christ.”

“Don’t smell it, or it’ll be worse,” Harry says, downing his with one quick tilt of his head. “‘S not that bad, actually.”

You mimic his action, letting the drink swiftly burn its way down your throat. Unlike Harry, you can’t help but scrunch your nose at the taste. “You’re a fucking liar.”

Harry only giggles in response, taking the empty bottle from you and placing it back inside the gloves, along with his own.

And then again, silence. You turn to the flowers to find some comfort.

A family of tulips glances back at you, their petals in a full red, it’s the kind of beauty you’re scared to ruin if you touch, so you just rest your hand on the wood. “They’re beautiful.” You only notice you say it out loud when Harry hums back in agreement.

“They are.” He says quietly but somehow feels loud by how close he is. “Tulips are my favorites.”

You stop, brows raising incredulously at him. “No, they’re not.”

“What?”

Cursing the universe for playing with you like this, you can’t help but laugh at the situation. “It’s just- they’re my favorites, too.” You look at him. “My nan used to plant them when I was little.”

“That’s sweet.” He says, smiling and you nod. “The red ones represent true love.” He points. “And the purple ones represent royalty.”

You blink at him. “Do you just look up tulip facts in your free time?”

Harry laughs. “Yeah, basically.” He looks down at you, and you can’t help but notice how the greenery around brings out the shade of his eyes. “I worked at a flower shop for a tick.”

“Really?”

He nods. “For eight months. My favorite part was writing on the store board every morning.” His face lights up as he recalls his experience. “I used to write silly stuff like, ‘one day I’d like to meet tulips.’ The old ladies loved it.”

You shake your head, breathing out a laugh. “You’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Why’s that?”

Because you’re sweet, you want to answer, because when I think I won’t get charmed by you again, you hit me with tulip puns. Your lip finds its spot between your teeth, you’d be damned to give him the satisfaction of hearing you tell him that, so, instead, you shrug. “Because.” You can tell he wants to dig more by the way his lip twitch up, teasing a smile, but you just nod towards the door before turning away from him and heading out.

There’s a distinct change of temperature when you step outside, and it’s only when you do that you notice the greenhouse was heated. Thankfully, the night is not too windy as it would get a week or two ago when winter was still insisting on making itself present, but it’s still chilly so that it makes you hug your jacket closer to your body. Harry also notices the difference, as you hear him wince as he steps out from behind you — unlike you, he’s not wearing anything to protect his arms from the cold, which only makes it harder for you to not ogle the tattoos hugging his skin.

“So, what’s next?” You prompt.

Harry reaches for the card again, taking it from its spot on his pocket before reading the second clue. “‘Not feeling too creative to write this one, it’s on the third tree on oak.’”

“I mean, at least we don’t have to think too much on this one.” You say, “Oak Street is the one to the left, right?”

“Yeah.” Harry sighs. “Can’t believe he’s making us go out on the streets.”

You start to make your way back towards the house. “Too tired for a stroll?”

“‘S cold,” Harry says, scrunching his nose. “Here, there’s a side gate.”

He guides you through a gravel path to where the black gate stands, hidden between bushes and branches. Strings of fern hug the bricked fence and the surrounding grass is high enough that it tickles your calves through your tights, making you believe this path has probably been left unused for at least a couple of months now. This information brings out an extra worry for you, as you take a better look at it, noticing how the gate is closed shut to the fence.“Is it open?” You wonder out loud.

“Shit, I don’t think it is.” Harry huffs under his breath. “But, I mean, we could easily jump it.”

You stop, turning to glance at him as the suggestion leaves his lips. He stands there, hands on his hips, examining the gate, tongue poking out as he frowns. After a second, he meets your eyes. “What? It’s not that tall.”

“I suppose.” You say, looking back at the fence that ends just below your shoulder length. It would be easy enough for you to climb it with a boost, however, “I’m wearing a dress.”

“Oh,” Harry scratches the back of his neck. “Let’s just go inside-” He turns back.

“Wait,” You stop him, not sure if it’s the slight amount of alcohol in your system already making you more adventurous, you train your gaze at the gate, analyzing it again, before looking back at him. Squinting your eyes, “You have to close your eyes.”

He laughs, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not that high.” You shrug. “But I need your help.”

“Of course.” He moves next to the brick wall, kneeling before it and nodding towards you. “C’mon, step up.”

Hesitantly, you glance at his thigh stretching his trousers, a sudden wave of insecurity hitting you. “Are you sure you can lift me?”

Harry simply puts his hand out in a silent request for you to hold. “Of course.”

“No peeking.”

He shuts his eyes tightly, chin meeting his chest as he looks down. And then you take his hand, feeling his fingers lock in a firm hold as he helps you use him for support. You hesitate again before using his thigh as a step, “Wait, I’m gonna ruin your trousers.” You worry, but Harry only shakes his head, still keeping it facing the ground, the strands of his hair falling above his eyes in a makeshift blindfold. When he doesn't feel you stepping in still, he encourages you with a squeeze in your hand.

You attempt to do as quickly as possible with your dress clinging to your legs, tightening your hold to Harry’s hand to step on his thigh. Once you let it go, you can still feel it lingering behind your back as you use your arms to boost yourself up the wall, sitting on it for a moment before jumping to the other side with a huff.

“Can I open them?” You hear Harry’s voice calls from the other side, and you smile, nodding even though he can’t see it.

“Yes!”

And then his face appears as he stands up in a jump, grinning at you. “See? Easy Peasy.”

“I feel like a teen sneaking out.” You say, and you instantly give another meaning to your words as Harry boosts himself up. This time, you certainly don’t hold yourself back from staring at the way his muscles flex at the movement, the tattoos on his arms stretching, and his shirt rolling up. He makes it look so easy, so effortless, barely taking five seconds until he’s jumping in front of you.

“That was fun.” He puffs, patting his trousers lightly.

“So, how are we finding the tree?” You ask, taking a quick glance to where his hands brush on the fabric of his trousers. “Should we read the clue again?”

“I know which one he’s talking about,” Harry says, nodding to the left before beginning his stride in that direction. You follow him, trusting his words as the two of you turn the corner where Evan’s house is located.

The street in question is much calmer than the one you were just in, with no cars coming or going from the residences — that stand much closer to one another, you notice, giving the whole street more of a narrow feeling to it --, which is not exactly odd, but certainly is a contrast with the main street that Evan’s home faces, that one being more lively with people either coming home or leaving it to enjoy their Friday night. The sudden lack of background noise makes the walk to your destination a tad awkward, as none of you make an effort to strike a conversation. Instead, you resort to silently observing the surrounding area as you walk alongside Harry, noticing how the trees here bend over the sidewalk, their naked branches slowly but surely growing back the leaves they lost months ago — it makes you wonder how beautiful this must look during the peak of springtime, their full branches blending together, making a ceiling of flowers.

“Here.” Harry stops abruptly, making you almost bump into his shoulder, as you were too busy with the scenery you’ve made in your own head. “‘S this one.”

“I thought it said the third one.” You frown, looking back and noticing the way you’ve passed way more than just three.

“This one is the third.” He says, motioning to a small birdhouse stuck to its trunk with a number ‘3’ painted to the front in blue. “It’s a bit of an inside joke,” Harry chuckles to himself. “Now I get why the bastard wanted me to have this card.”

You look closer at the tree, trying to see if there’s something attached to it besides the birdhouse, but there’s nothing. Before you can question it, Harry opens the front of the tiny house, retrieving two tiny bottles from inside of it, similar to the ones you found in the greenhouse. “Oh, no.” You say, laughing. “Did he just put liquor inside a stranger’s birdhouse?”

Harry shakes his head, “This is not a stranger’s birdhouse.”

“Huh?” You frown, glancing back to the house where you stand in front of, its front completely dark, showing that no one must be at home. You point to it over your shoulder. “Do you know who lives here?”

“Yeah,” He starts, offering you one bottle. “I do.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise, glancing back and forth from the house to the man standing in front of you, an amusing grin growing on his face. “You live here?” You ask, “This is your birdhouse?”

“It is, yeah. In fact, I was the one who built it.” He gives the birdhouse a small pat.

You can’t help but let your mouth hang open for a second. “That’s-” You pause, not sure which word to use. Impressive? Amazing? Hot? “That’s nice.”

Harry smiles, and the two of you stand there for a moment, admiring his work in silence. You suck your bottom lip in, keeping yourself from inquiring further.

Being presented with how little you know about Harry only peaks at your curiosity at what had happened last year in your brief experience with him. When you were with him it felt as if you’d known him for months rather than weeks, but looking back at it now, you wonder if your infatuation fooled you into thinking the two of you were close. Maybe that’s why you were so upset at the premiere after all because all that did was prove to you how much you didn’t know him at all. No matter how many sleepless nights you spent together sharing bits of your lives, it wasn’t enough for you to get to know him.

It’s only when a car turns into the street that you break away from your thoughts, looking up at him and clearing your throat. “We should take this back to Evan’s.” You say. “I’m not sure how it would look from an outsider’s point of view to see us downing these tiny bottles in the middle of the street.”

“You’re right,” Harry says. “Should we read the last clue while we’re at it?”

“Sure, yeah.”

He reaches for the card inside his pocket, presenting it to you. “You do the honors this time.”

You take the card, brushing your thumb over the words before stopping for a second to read them out loud, “You’ll find your prize behind the words of buried legends.” You snort. “That’s so corny.”

“Words of buried legends,” Harry repeats, letting out a hum. “Bet he was feeling quite poetic when he wrote this one.”

“Maybe because it has to do with poems.” You peek at him, a slight raise to your eyebrow. “‘Words of buried legends’? like dead poets and stuff?” Upon reading it again to make sure, you mumble, “He really made this card especially for you, huh?”

“Makes sense.” Harry agrees before nudging you playfully with his arm. “Look at you with your literary mind!”

“Could’ve used some better wording but I’ll let it pass.” You giggle, shrugging as you hand him back the card. As you do so, you notice there’s something written on the other side. “What’s in the back?”

Harry’s brows meet. “Huh?”

“In the back of the card, something’s written on it.” You nod towards his hand as he’s about to pocket the card again.

Harry turns it around, reading it with a chuckle. “Ice breakers.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Your mouth drops open in amusement. “Well? Go on, then. Break the ice.”

Harry makes a show of clearing his throat before reading the question as an announcement, “What celebrity do you think you could pull on your best day?”

“Is this the actual question?” You squint your eyes at him and he turns the card to allow you to read it as well. Surely, the same question reads right on top of it and, as you take a glance at the ones below it, they’re not that much better. You shake your head, “God, I have no idea.”

“I know mine.”

“You didn’t give a single thought on that one.” You say. “This should be good.”

“Jennifer Aniston.”

“Jennifer Aniston?” You stop on your tracks, raising your brows at him. “You know she was married to Brad Pitt, right?”

“Ouch.” Harry makes the theatrics of putting a hand on his heart, head falling dramatically to the side. “Right where it hurts.”

“I’m not saying you’re bad-looking, but he’s Brad Pitt.” You emphasize with a laugh, pushing him playfully as you keep walking. “Like he is the male beauty standard. Personified.”

The front of Evan’s feels more vivid than it was when you first walked in hours ago, the lights inside seeming lighter and the curtains having been pulled back, showing people wandering around on the inside. You walk past another pair crouched in front of the bushes that line next to the front gate that creaks as you open it.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Sure, let’s hear yours, then, sweetheart.”

“Ew, don’t ever call me that again.” Your nose scrunches and your face grows hot, but you attempt to shake it off, stopping to think of the question. “Huh, on my best day? I think… I don’t know, maybe Drake?”

“Oh, no!” Harry’s hands cover his face as he shakes his head into them. “I feel like that’s the most basic answer anyone could ever give to this question.”

You gasp. “Did you just call me basic?”

Harry holds the front door open for you and, before he’s able to give you an answer, you bump right into Nia. She instantly blurts out your name, as if she’s been expecting you to appear. “I’ve been looking for you!” She says, sparing Harry a glance over your shoulder before pulling you slightly to the side. “Do you think we could talk for a second?”

“Sure.” You hold out the word, looking at Harry before focusing on your friend again. “Did something happen?”

“No, no, nothing happened. Just—” Nia starts, locking your arms as she guides you back outside, pulling you to a corner a few steps away from the front door. “How are you? How's it going?”

“I’m fine. Why?” Your brows knit together at her interference and you wonder if it has anything to do with her conversation with Nate.

“I’m talking about-” She looks over her shoulder, clearly checking if anyone is listening in. Even after making sure that there’s no one there, she still lowers her voice. “When I saw he was your pair, I wanted to rescue you right away, but fucking Taylor pulled me with him and I didn’t get the chance.”

Oh. “Oh.”

“Is it too awkward?” She keeps her inquiry, holding your hand close to her chest. “We could ask them to switch so we can do the rest together, I’m sure Evan’s too plastered to notice.”

“Nia, I-” You smile as you come to realize that she pulled you aside just to check if you’re uncomfortable, having witnessed first-hand your whines and cries over Harry last year. “It’s okay, really. It’s not that bad, surprisingly.”

“Really?” Nia blinks, taken aback. “I- What happened?”

“Nothing.” You reassure her with a squeeze on her hand. “We’re just chatting, it’s not that awkward.”

“Okay.” She nods and nods, before falling serious again. “But if anything happens you just have to scream for me and I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Okay.” You say, pulling her for a brief hug. “Thanks, Ni.”

The two of you return inside just as Taylor brings up his brother’s hair sculpture collection that’s being exhibited at a local gallery — a subject you already have been the victim of hearing for about an hour during New Year’s and, by Harry’s face, he seems as helpless as you did back then. Nia doesn’t waste a second before pulling her pair away, “Let’s go, pal, those clues won’t solve themselves,” she shoots you a look over her shoulder, pushing Taylor towards the living room and you chuckle.

“He really is one of a kind, that man,” Harry says with a sigh before meeting your gaze. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just lady talk.” You brush aside. “Let’s find those poets, shall we?”

“We shall.” Harry smiles, looking around for a second before guiding you down the hallway, turning just before entering the kitchen where a staircase. This is a way that — like the greenhouse — you’ve never been to. Still, Harry navigates so casually as if it were his own home and, to some degree, you suppose it is. You follow him up the first flight of steps, stopping just before turning into the next one where a door you never really noticed before stands. Harry rests his hand on the handle, turning to you before saying, “There’s an office hidden right here.”

You watch as he opens it, motioning for you to walk in first. And, indeed, the inside of it is an office, just a bit smaller than the living room on the opposite side of the house. Two bookcases that go from the floor to the ceiling mostly covered the wall, only leaving a single space in the middle for a dark wooden cabinet. In front of it, an L-shaped desk takes up the middle of the room, most of it is filled with files and paper stacks, as well as two computers lying asleep. For a moment, you just stand by the doorway, admiring this room you’ve never known of its existence, your eyes quickly sweeping through the bookshelves completely packed with dark cover books of all sorts. “Do you think this is where it could be?”

“Probably, yeah.” Harry nods, turning on the lights. “I don’t know where else he could have any poetry hidden.”

You move towards one bookshelf, the one closest to the door, reaching to brush your finger through the spines perfectly lined. “But look at the size of these, we’ll take forever to find anything in here.”

“Those big ones are mostly law books, I think,” Harry says, opening cabinets at the other side of the room, right next to where a white couch stands. He turns to look at you, “His sister’s a lawyer, this is her office.” Harry says, “But Evan’s got a corner right here where he keeps some of his stuff— like books of sorts. It’s the only place I could think of.”

You hum, not knowing exactly what to respond to this information.

“You can go through the ones on that side, it could be there as well.” Harry nods towards a cabinet right next to the door where you came from, and you nod.

The first two cabinets are of no luck, both being mostly filled with boxes full of children’s books and old toys — some of them mixed with more stacks of paper, but those, instead of having long texts, have drawings of all kinds from what you could gather in a glance, from child-like scribbles to actual sketches. You can hear Harry going through drawers on the other side of the room and, upon closing another empty cabinet, you peek at him, watching his broad back flexing under his shirt as he moves around. Averting your eyes as swiftly as you looked, it’s still enough to bring warmth to your cheeks.

Finally, you open the cabinet at the very bottom of the shelf. On the top, there are piles of DVDs, most being different variations of Barbie movies, but, right at the bottom, you find books. You don’t stop to check their genre at first, simply moving them away until you stumble upon a small box, the top of it marked with the word ‘prize’. “Found it!” You call back, taking the box away from the pile before setting the books back in place again. “Under Rupi Kaur? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure she’s very alive.”

“Don’t tell Evan that,” Harry says as he crouches next to you, taking the box from your hands. Inside, there are, as expected, two tiny bottles like the ones you found before but, what calls both your attention, is a small bag of sweets lying in the middle. Harry takes it, “Oh, those are nice.”

He hands it to you and you open it, quickly shoving a jelly candy into your mouth before nodding. “Yeah.”

“So…” Harry starts, peeking over his shoulder, “Do you want to go back there?”

You glance at him, his eyes hovering above yours, lips twitching up just barely. “Uh… Maybe not right now.” You answer, “Unless you feel like sharing our Jellies with other people.”

Harry only laughs, shaking his head as he sits back and you do so too, right next to him. He reaches for his pocket, presenting another tiny bottle, the one you found inside his birdhouse, “We still got these.”

“Right!” You fetch your own out of the pocket of your jacket.

Harry opens his, holding it up towards you. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” You say, mimicking him.

Both of you down your drinks, the liquid tasting bitter, like medicine on your tongue, the only reminder of alcohol being the burn as it slides down your throat. You rest your head back on the cabinet behind you as the two of you fall into silence once more. A part of your mind is already beginning to swim around the space inside your head, and you decide to not take the last drink just yet, laying it next to your leg. Though you’ve only had the equivalent of two shots, you realize the long break you’ve had from drinking for the past couple of months -- which wasn’t exactly an intentional choice, but more like the result of your lack of free time -- is showing itself to have been enough to make you more of a lightweight.

And even though the night so far has been strikingly surprising in terms of how comfortable you felt being around Harry again, it doesn’t mean the questions you’ve been carrying since last year have gotten any quieter. They’ve only gotten louder. More persistent, even. The curiosity you feel to know what happened is almost suffocating now. And you’d be damned if you let a drunken mind stop you from having this conversation.

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, only watching the back of his head bobbing along with the music -- still the piano -- that comes faintly from behind the closed door. Your lips part, feeling the question form right at the tip of your tongue, but not knowing how to voice the words. Will it be awkward? You think so, but what if it ruins the night? Tonight, that’s been so oddly refreshing. A night that only served to remind you how you became so infatuated with him in the first place.

But you know you won’t be able to let go of this ich inside your head unless you bring it up. And you want to, you do, but as you take too long to think of the right way to do so, Harry decides to break the silence, murmuring next to you, “That’s a good one.”

Your brows knit together, trying to make out any trace of familiarity within the song that’s playing, but you don't find any, which only leaves you even more confused. “Do you like classical?”

“Love,” Harry says simply, his eyes closed as he moves his head with the piano keys. “Especially this one. One of the greatest works from one of the greatest contemporary composers: Billie Eilish.”

Your lips fall open, “Shut up. Is she playing this?”

Harry laughs, a full one, that brings a grin to poke at your lips. “I mean, as far as I’m aware, no. It’s a version of her song — listen in.” He points to his ear, nodding with the melody as he sings along, “So you’re a tough guy, like it really rough guy.”

You shake your head incredulously, “Of course he’s playing classical versions of pop songs!”

“Did you really think Evan had a taste for Chopin or Debussy?” Harry asks both dimples poking on his cheeks.

“I think at this point I’d believe anything you tell me about him.”

Both of you laugh, the air surrounding you light and warm, before falling quiet again. This time, however, you simply stare at each other for a beat. You watch his eyes, with their almost hypnotizing jade shade, glancing between your own. He rolls his lip between his teeth, nibbling at it. This is the closest you’ve been to him all night, and the details on his face only feel like a reminder of your doubts. Like the nostalgia you feel with a bittersweet memory.

“Should we-“ You stop, the words falling from your lips before you can think about them. “Should we talk about the elephant in the room?”

You half expect Harry to frown, to play dumb, and question you the meaning behind your words. For a second, you even expect him to shake his head, to get up and leave the room. And, for some reason, you kinda want him to do so. To finally break the mask of the nice, sweet guy he’s been putting on all night and allow himself to play the role of cold prick you put him on for the past months.

But he doesn’t do it. He only gives you a short smile. “I was thinking about how to bring it up.” Harry’s gaze falls to his lap for a beat as he scratches his nose. “We should, yeah.”

You nod, more to yourself than to him. This is it. The moment to ask what you’ve been waiting for for six months now. You decide not to think much anymore, allowing the question to roll freely, “I don’t really know how to word this better but- pardon my French- what the fuck happened?”

Harry chuckles, but not an amused one. It’s more of a dry, nervous laugh. “How cliche is it if I tell you I was really fucking stupid?”

“Pretty cliche.” You say, “But also pretty true, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry for that.” He looks up, eyes meeting yours again, his own softening upon seeing you. “I really am.”

“Thank you for apologizing.” You smile a little, “But I think I deserve an explanation.”

“You do.” He speaks quietly before clearing his throat. For a second, he doesn’t say anything else, just takes a sharp breath, focusing on his fingers that play with the hem of his trousers. “I- Uhm- I know this might come as a surprise, but I’m not very good at letting people down.”

“A bit, I guess.” You try to humor, but your tone doesn’t show it. You sound quiet, hurt.

He peeks up at you, and continues, “Jess- the girl you met at the premiere- she’s lovely and all, but- how do I say this- we were never really supposed to be together.” Harry sighs, “I didn’t like her like that.”

You frown, “Then, why did you?”

“A couple of months before we met- before Evan even mentioned the film project to me, one of my mates kept insisting that I should meet his sister.” He pauses, “That was Jess.”

“I figured.”

Harry nods, “As I said, she’s a lovely girl, really nice, but we just- didn’t click like that, you know?” You hum in agreement, ignoring a small twist in your stomach when he repeats the endearment term. “But I guess she really wanted to try it, and, for months, I just kept pushing and pushing, cause I thought maybe with time I could bring myself to feel the same way.” And then again, another humorless laugh, “But- spoiler alert- I couldn’t and I should’ve just told her that.”

Your mouth hangs open for a beat before you decide against saying anything. It’s clear as you watch him explain that the entire situation for him felt more complicated than you’d ever considered. Not once did you think about the possibility of him being caught in a twist of his own decisions, and not once did you regard his feelings with the whole situation. In your bubble of gloominess, all you could think of was how he played you and used you for a bit before moving on to the next girl that fell for his sweet talk.

Looking at him now, however, his head low and brows set on a permanent crease, lips frowning down, you can feel the internal conflict pooling out of his pores. You’re not sure if it’s exactly a look of remorse that he gives you, but it sure seems close to it.

Harry huffs in what feels like frustration as he keeps recalling the events, “But all my mates kept taking the piss, pushing me to ask her out and then, in the middle of it, I met you.” He finally smiles a bit, and you have to look down to hide the warmth that spreads on your cheeks, “And we-uh-” He shrugs, “I mean, we clicked, didn’t we?”

“I think so.” You say, just above a whisper.

“I think so, too,” Harry says, holding your gaze with his own. “And when I was with you I let myself forget about that, forget about the pressure to be with someone else, I guess.” His lips fall again, eyes meeting his lap, “But when we came back, there wasn’t much running away from it anymore. The night we got back I met that friend of mine and, I’m not sure if he said anything to Jess, but she asked me out.”

“And you said yes.”

“I said yes.” He repeats, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have, but I said yes.”

“So you just dated her? Even if you didn’t like her like that?” You say, trying to understand his thought process. Even if his words tug at your heartstrings -- which you try to not think about right now -- you still can’t help but feel a bit for the other girl.

“I thought I could- I don’t know, I thought with time maybe I could-” He stumbles around with his speech, before finally letting out a sigh, “I don’t know what was going through my head, to be honest. I was a prick.”

“At least you can admit to it.”

“I was a prick to both of you.”

You fall quiet, hoping he takes your silence as an agreement. When he doesn’t offer anything else, you speak up again, “Did it work, though?” He frowns, and you clarify, “Letting time force feelings into you?”

“I found very quickly how hard it is to develop feelings for someone when there’s someone else on your mind.” He says, and you bite back a smile that wants to spread on your lips.

“It’s very easy to say that now.”

“I know.” He agrees, “And I wish I could’ve realized that earlier, before even bringing you into this mess.” Harry reaches for your wrist, which lies on top of your lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. “For that I really am sorry.”

“I know you are.” You reassure, turning your hand to find his, squeezing it back. “And what happened to Jess?”

“She was rightfully upset when I told her.” His thumb brushes against your knuckles, moving the rings on your fingers around just slightly, and it’s almost enough to distract you from his voice. “We broke up a day after the premiere.”

“Ouch.”

“But it’s fine now, she’s got a boyfriend now who actually cares for her the way she deserves,” Harry says.

“That’s nice to hear, at least.”

“It is, yeah.”

You look down at your hands locked in your lap, squeezing his one more time before letting it go with a sigh. “You really made a big mess, huh?”

He chuckles, a guilty smile poking on his face, “I did.”

You nod, finally reaching for the tiny bottle left forgotten next to you, opening it. This time you only take a sip, but it’s still enough to end half of the liquid inside. You click your tongue, “I’m glad we talked, though.” You look up at Harry again, who’s already watching you, giving a small tap on his thigh. “It’s nice to have closure, you know? To give it a conclusion and wrap with a nice little bow.”

Harry rolls his lip inside his mouth, “Is this a conclusion, then?”

You raise your brows, “Is it not?”

“I guess it could be.” He shrugs one shoulder, leaning closer to you just barely, eyes trained in yours. “But I’m hoping that, after today, maybe we could start over?”

You laugh, scrunching your nose at him as you shake your head. “Not a start over, no.” You poke his side, “You’re not getting away that easy.”

“You’re right.” He says, still not budging as he frowns his lips. “But I wish it didn’t have to be an ending as well.”

“Is that so?”

Harry nods, you can tell his eyes hold a shyness that wasn’t here a minute ago, but at the same time -- as paradoxically as it seems -- there’s a boldness as well, one you’re more familiar with. “Maybe we could chat again. This time with fewer ice breaker cards and more bags of sweets.”

You smile, rubbing your chin as you pretend to ponder about his suggestion. “That does sound very promising.”

“I really do think we clicked.” He drops his playful tone as if wanting to make sure you feel the sincerity behind his words. “Wasn’t just saying it.”

“I know.” You say, “And I think so, too.”

His smirk grows, and he doesn’t offer anything else to say, but you can tell he’s holding something back. With the silence, you suddenly become too aware of the way your arms brush together, and how his knee bumps against yours. You notice how his eyes fall a bit from yours, so quickly you could’ve imagined it, but you choose to not think so. If you lean forward, you know he will too, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. You’re not letting yourself make the first move.

Surely, you’re aware these thoughts are a direct result of the alcohol sweeping through your mind, testing how much of your pride you’re willing to ignore. There’s no questioning of the wall that you built all those months ago after walking out of this very house with this very man on your tail blurring out apologies. It still stands, tall and strong, and you're not letting sweet words mixed with a drink or two pull it down. Not that easily. But at this moment, looking at his stupidly beautiful face with his stupidly beautiful eyes so close to you, you feel like maybe you could peek through a window, or open up a door — just a creek, just to have a sample of what it would feel like if you were to pull it down.

“Do you want to go back?” Harry asks again, this time more quietly, this time his question has a different implication than it did before.

You're quick to shake your head, voice quiet, “Not yet.”

The corner of his lips quirk up and you raise your brows, silently daring him to ask what he’s been holding. You see his hand moving from the corner of your eyes, but you don’t break your gaze from his, not even when you feel his fingertips moving so gently against your cheekbone, brushing your hair away from your face. Harry leans closer, again just barely, and again, you stay still, only smiling softly in encouragement. Now, you’re stuck in your own silent conversation; both seeking the same thing but not making the move to achieve it -- either for pride or apprehension.

“I’d really like to kiss you right now,” Harry whispers finally, eyes moving down again, this time slowly, making sure that his intentions are clear.

“Do it, then.” You tease.

Harry breathes out a laugh, his hand caressing its way down to your jaw. He rubs his thumb against your cheek, a feathery touch, taking another second to look at you before pulling you in. Your eyes fall closed, as you focus on your senses, and allow yourself to peek from that window, or creek that door open just a bit, to have just this moment to remember when you first got lost in his touch.

First, it’s the warmth of his breath tickling your cupid bow, making your hold your own breath in anticipation. Then, the tip of his nose, gentle against your own, and you can’t help but lean in a bit more when you feel the ghost of his lips on yours. But he pulls back, just so slightly, hoping to have you reach for him again. Except you don’t, knowing what he’s trying to do.

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head, pulling back just a bit to look him in the eye. “You don’t get to tease me.”

Harry huffs out a laugh, “That’s fair.”

This time, there’s no teasing. Still, he goes in just as slowly as he did the first time around, curving his lips around your bottom one so softly it almost makes you lean in again. His kiss is cloud-like in a way that makes you a bit dizzy and when he presses his lips harder, you have to refrain from letting out a dreamy sigh -- still too stubborn to give him the satisfaction. It’s when you feel the tip of his tongue poking out to lick at your bottom lip in a silent request, that you pull away completely.

It’s your turn to smirk now, licking your lips before announcing, “I think we should go back now.”

#harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine

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from-a-reckless-writer · 3 years

Text

part i

She comes to with a pounding in her head and the feeling of something being lifted off her chest.

Literally.

In seconds, her whole body feels lighter. The next thing she registers is a hand in hers. When she stirs, the hand around her tightens and she hears Brainy’s voice, “Director—”

The moment she opens her eyes, she is met with Alex Danvers; a stethoscope slung around her neck and a small flashlight on hand. In her periphery she confirms that it was indeed Brainy, holding her hand.

“Lena, Lena, look at me. You’re at the DEO, you’re safe, you-”

“Alex, I know the drill, this is— what? My 91st time now?” She says dryly as her hand slowly slips out of Brainy’s and her fingers massage her temples; eyes clenched shut. Alex visibly relaxes in relief, “Good. Thank fuck your sarcasm’s still intact,” she says, “But I still have to check you, alright?”

Lena nods and she guesses Kara most likely had harassed her sister just to get her hooked in. If Alex mumbling “-so damn stubborn all the damn time…” under her breath was any indication.

She’s well aware of the other person in the bed next to hers. The one, that is now also starting to stir into consciousness. Lena had just noticed that J’onn and Nia are in the room as well, near Kara’s bedside.

She wants to ask how she got here, how Kara found her, how the fuck did a Black Mercy get her? But everything is spinning and her coherence is slowly devolving to exhaustion. Her brain was pushed to its limits with that illusion.

Which makes panic flare in the back of her head thinking about how Kara had seen her ideal world.

A world, that her mind had fucking decided should center around her ex. Her ex who just happens to be a superhero. A superhero that pulled her out of her own delusions.

Oh God, Lena thinks she’s going to throw-up. Alex takes one look at her face and immediately shoves an empty sterile container to her. She dry-heaves unto the bucket as Brainy rubs her back and holds her hair.

“Fuck,” she whispers as Alex hands her a tissue to wipe her face. “Your vitals are fine. Your brain activity spiked for a few seconds there. But you got out at just the last minute-”

“What the fuck happened, Alex?”

She asks as she tries to sort out all her feelings long enough for Alex to give her a full explanation.

But it isn’t Alex who answers her.

“I found you.”

The three words are bullets flying across the room directly shot at Lena.

“Unconscious. On the floor. Black Mercy attached to your chest. That’s what fucking happened.”

Kara sounds like shit.

Was her first thought when she heard Kara speak. She guesses she looks like shit as well, but Lena can’t be certain. Her back was to her as Nia removes the wiring still wrapped around her. Her voice was firm, but Lena knew better. She knows Kara; knows she never really swears; knows when and where Kara uses the Supergirl voice. When she’s scared and she doesn’t want anybody to know.

“Your pulse was so weak. I- I could barely hear it.”

This second statement is in contrast to Supergirl’s venom. This time words catch in her throat and Lena is fucking thankful that Kara’s back was to her. Because she knows she can’t handle those eyes. But before she could answer, Alex starts to speak, eyes briefly darting to Kara.

Lena doesn’t know whether she should be thankful for the interruption or not.

“Which is why,” Alex cuts in and making sure to stress her next words, checking that Lena is listening, “I need you to stay here till we find out who did this. And as your doctor I’m saying you need at least 12 hours of rest.”

“What? No, somebody give me my phone. I need to call Jess,” she protests and Alex looks like she’s about to give Lena a piece of her mi—

“Are you kidding me right now? I found you on the floor, thinking you were dead, pulled you out of a parasitic trap and you want to go back to L-Corp? To what? Get killed again?”

This time, Kara’s two steps away from her bed and fuming. It makes Lena...feel...things.

“I have to call Jess—”

“Do you not get it? I spend my days trying so hard not to listen,” She grits out, “ To not to check in on you every single second of every day and then the one time—” Kara’s conviction crumbles, voice breaking, eyes shining.

“And then,” she falters, voice heavy with emotion and tries to control herself.

“The one time, the one fucking time I decide to break my own rule, what do I hear? I hear nothing, Lena.”

The last part is a whisper. She’s shaking and all eyes are on them now.

“Do you know why? Because your heart-rate was so slow that I couldn’t pick up on it.”

Kara looks like she’s two inches away from imploding. Lena’s heart is pounding and the room falls silent and it feels like it’s just the two of them in the room having a staredown.

“I— I’m sorry. I—”

I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to care. I’m sorry.

“Thank you for saving me,” she voices out instead in that calm methodical way she uses when talking in the lab. Amazed at how she sounded because she herself is also less than two inches away from a complete meltdown.

Kara’s shoulders visibly sag as she holds back tears. Lena knows she should probably say more but... she doesn’t really know what to say.

She was still processing everything.

It was so vivid that Lena was half-expecting to see a ring on her finger once she looks down, a stubborn part of her brain insisting that there’s a matching one in a chain around Kara’s neck.

Before Kara can say another emotional heavy statement, Lena turns to Alex instead, “Fine,” she says, agreeing to Alex’s previous order.

“But I can’t stay here for 12 hours. And also, I need my phone, my tablet and my assistant. I’m helping in the investigation,” she says leaving no room for argument.

Alex looks like she might agree but Kara speaks up again.

“No, no. No, you’re not going near that investigation and you’re staying the 12 hours here,” Kara grunts out, jaw-clenched as Lena looks at her with sharp eyes.

“You have no right to decide that for me—”

“Not to mention we have to tal— “

They both spit at each other at the same time.

“We have nothing to talk about,” Lena objects and she knows how much of a lie that is, but Kara just won’t fucking back down.

“Nothing?! You’re calling this nothing?! You’re calling the fact that your ideal world was us married, nothing? You’re telling me—” she trails off and scoffs, pinches the bridge of her nose in disbelief, “You’re unbelievable-”

That was what she meant when she said Kara was two inches away from imploding.

“Supergirl.”

J’onn’s voice seem to bring the both of them back to reality and Lena notices how heavy the air in the room has become, how Nia is standing stiffly at the side, how Alex’s eyes keep flicking between the both of them

“That’s quite enough from the both of you,” J’onn says and Kara whips around to face him, Lena was scared that she was going to deck J’onn for interrupting but Alex also intervenes.

“J’onn’s right.” She puts a hand on her sister’s shoulder turning her away from J’onn. Looks like she had the same train of thought as Lena.

“My patient needs her rest. So, all of you get out,” At which Nia nods at her with a sympathetic smile and then Brainy is hugging her whispering, “I’m glad you’re okay.” before leaving the room as well.

“And that means you too,” Alex emphasizes at Kara, who looks like she’s going to shoot lasers out of her eyes at her sister for suggesting such an incredulous notion.

But Kara takes a breath, gives Alex a hard look to which Alex merely raises a brow in challenge before taking a step back and speeding out of the room, not sparing Lena another glance.

Once everyone is gone, Lena collapses back on the bed, letting out a heavy sigh.

“She changed the timeline, you know. And reality too, I guess. Or at least she tried to.”

“What?”

“Before you two became a thing, before beating Leviathan,” Alex recounts, “She tried to change the timeline to save your friendship.”

“I’m sorry- What?”

She’s sure she looks pretty absurd with the look on her face right now. Kara did what? Kara did that? How did she not know that? How did she not know Kara literally teared apart at space and time just for her?

“She struck a bargain with a Fifth-Dimensional imp so she can fix everything. Said she’d rather change reality than face the possibility of having to fight you.”

For a moment she feels she’s going to throw-up again. But then again, after what the both of them just went through, Lena’s not surprised. God knows the lengths she would go through for Kara.

It feels even more visceral now, not to mention it was Alex who told her.

“I don’t know what the hell happened between the two of you, but God, Lena she hasn’t been the same since. And I don’t really want to know what kind of bullshit the Black Mercy put you through, but I think both of you could really use their best friend right now.”

Alex sits at the side of her bed, putting a hand atop hers for a moment.

“Just think about it, while you rest,” Alex tells her, squeezes her hand and gets up again.

“You can’t just tell me those kinds of things and expect me to rest,” Lena retorts, making Alex turn her head back to her.

She’s glad that Alex doesn’t seem to pick sides. When the break-up happened she was expecting the DEO Director to turn up at her front step with a taser and point canons for breaking her sister’s heart. But Lena was surprised when Kelly turned up instead, telling her that Alex is with Kara, so she’s getting Kelly for the night.

The couple didn’t get anything from Kara or Lena that night, despite their various attempts at coaxing the truth out. The night was sobbed away or in Lena’s case, drank the night away; chugged enough wine that Kelly had forcefully pried the bottle from her hands.

“Look, Lena, The two of you are really overdue for a talk.”

Alex's words bring her back to reality. She pulls a tablet out and Lena’s work phone is retrieved from her pocket.

“So, talk,” Alex enunciates as she hands over the devices.

“Because I am locking you here. No going to L-Corp, no trying to escape with Jess and no overworking till midnight. You get to call your assistant, tell her what happened and then you rest. That’s an order, got it?”

“Got it,” Lena grits out rolling her eyes, hiding the fact that she’s beyond warmed by the gesture. Alex merely shakes her head at her before stepping out. The door slides close behind her and Lena is finally left alone with her thoughts.

Alex has a point. Alex has a great point, her mind screams.

But...not ready, is an understatement. She is not ready to talk to Kara about the break-up, much less about why her Black Mercy induced dream is an overtly domestic version of their love story.

She decides to file it under ‘Things For Later’ which is probably a bad idea. Her therapist would most likely tell her that. Then again, she doesn’t really think she’d be seeing her therapist any time soon.

How does one unpack a whole alien parasite attack on your psyche in one session, anyway?

***

Alex finds her stood before ruined slabs of concrete.

“Any updates?”

“We’re skip-tracing all employees from L-Corp between the graveyard shift and the morning shift.”

“Good, I have a feeling it was an inside job.”

Alex lets out an audible sigh.

“Something you wanna say?” She says as cement crumbles under her fists and dust particles rain over her red boots.

“Talk to her. “

Kara snorts.

“You say that as if I haven’t tried talking.”

Alex puts a hand on her shoulder stopping her from launching another punch.

“Really talk to her this time,” her sister stresses the words in that classic Alex Danvers’ ‘I’m-serious-so-you-better-fucking-listen’ way.

She lets the words sit in the forefront of her mind, shoulders dropping, fists and arms following suit.

“We were married,” She whispers and it takes two seconds for it to register to Alex before she steps closer, an ‘Oh, Kara.’ slipping past her lips.

“We were married and happy. So happy. It felt so real, Alex, it felt so re—”

Sobs choke her and Alex closes the gap and she lets herself be tugged in a tight, tight hug. Alex rubs comforting circles on her back as Kara’s chest heaves and tears pour.

The thing about it was, she didn’t even spend more than one minute in that fantasy world, yet her brain acts as if she’s lived that life. As if she didn’t drop smack right in the middle of a stranger’s bedroom and the first thing she saw was a doppelganger of herself and her ex. In bed. Together.

It was as if everything came to her in one terrifying moment of clarity. Boots in the corner. Cape haphazardly slung. Lena’s work laptop. Chew toys for dogs. Scattered Science books, then—

Golden rings, on a finger, in a chain.

Mating bands around wrists.

Wedding portrait. Weddin—

It all hits her at once faster than a whiplash and harder than a superpowered punch; knocking the wind out of her lungs, until she realizes she was gasping.

“Lena, we have to go, please. Please believe me, this isnt-”

“Real. I know-”

“What’s your surname?”

“Luthor.”

Just like you promised. Promised. Promised.

Always.

Alex squeezes tighter and Kara is pulled back from the depths.

Her sister lets her go and steps back a bit to cup her face in her hands; snotty nose, sniffles and all.

“Hey, look at me. That wasn’t real. And I know how bad you want it to be real. But Kara, nothing will happen if the both of you keep pulling away from each other. Someone needs to take the plunge.”

“She doesn’t want me, Alex. She ended things.”

Alex takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, shakes her head and then lets it all out in one go.

“Kara. I don’t really wanna say this to your face while you’re sobbing over me. But,” Alex lets out an exasperated sigh with a shake of her head and then lets out, “Good fuck, that is the most stupid thing to come out of your mouth. I don’t know how to stress this enough but...her IDEAL world is the two of you playing house. What more do you need? She wants you.”

“But she-”

Alex holds a finger up to stop her from talking.

“Nope. No. Listen to me, you are being an idiot. Well, Lena is too. But we’re talking about you right now, so… again, you are being an idiot. Just— Talk to her, Kara. How many times do I have to say that?”

Kara goes from sobbing to shocked to skeptical in the few seconds that Alex was speaking.

“I- I don’t know, Alex.”

“Kara, she wants you. She’s just scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“You won’t find out if you don’t talk to her.”

Well, that was a great response.

Alex is hoping that it’s great enough of a response to convince her sister.

***

There’s a blue lump on the side of her bed.

A blue lump with blonde hair?

Lena rubs the sleepiness off and slowly sits.

Kara, it was Kara.

Kara was asleep, back hunched, head pillowed on folded arms on the side of her bed.

Lena immediately realizes the uncomfortable position she is in, not to mention the cape that is now roughly bundled at the back of the plastic chair.

She carefully lays a hand on Kara’s shoulder and shakes her softly.

“Hey, Kara, wake up, hey,” Lena mutters quietly.

“Wha- Lena?” Kara startles awake and shoots up from her position.

“I- you looked like you were gonna have a back ache so I-uh,” Lena was grasping for words in that usual way she does when Kara’s around.

“Here.” She pats the space next to her, “Come on, sit here, climb in. We uh- you’re right, we should talk, might as well do it while we’re both comfy, right?”

She attempts at lighthearted conversation, she already knows the next few minutes are going to be the most emotionally draining moments of her— their life.

Kara hesitates a bit, before nodding and wordlessly hoisting herself on the bed.

“So, do uh- do you wanna start or should I?”

Again, she was grasping for words.

“Go ahead,” Kara says barely above a whisper, Lena was kind of hoping Kara would go first but well, here goes nothing.

“Thank you for coming to get me, I wasn’t expecting you to come,” Lena confesses, she really was surprised when Kara—the real Kara— showed up to rescue her.

“I’ll always save you, you know that,” Kara butts in, as if what Lena had said was the most ridiculous thing ever. She guesses it is, to Kara’s ears. She did promise always after all.

“Yeah, I know I just— for a moment there I just thought...well, never mind what I thought honestly-”

“You thought what? That I don’t care about you anymore? That I won’t fly off the moment I sensed you were in danger?”

Well, she’s on fire today.

“It’s not like that, you know that,” Lena protests but Kara interrupts again.

“It is like that. You thought just because we’re over I don’t give a shit about you anymore. You of all people, know I can’t—” Kara cuts herself off as if in pain, “I’ll always save you, Lena. Together or not. I care about you,” Kara utters, turning her head to meet Lena’s eyes before facing in front again.

Lena feels like care is a placeholder for something both of them aren’t capable of saying at present.

She doesn’t dwell on it too much because Kara is saying something again.

“I think…” She begins with a voice full of an emotion Lena can’t name [read: don’t want to name.]

“I care about you a little too much and that...”

Lena holds in a breath.

“And that scares you doesn’t it?” Kara finishes and she looks at her again but this time around Lena’s cheeks are wet.

Kara puts a hand atop hers and squeezes and the gesture pulls words from Lena’s throat.

“You wanted everything so fast, Kara,” she whispers, not really trusting to increase the volume of her voice lest it shakes.

“You were telling me all these grand plans of settling down and staying together and I was still having a hard time telling you ‘I love you’ and-” her voice breaks, “And even though, you kept saying it was okay, that you were just thinking out loud, I saw how hurt you were whenever I hesitated.”

Lena’s mind briefly flashes to all those nights spent with Kara, beside her and just feeling this massive fucking pressure of living up to what Kara wants. Shy I love you’s and fear, just so much fucking fear...and insecurities screaming at her that she isn’t what’s good for Kara.

“I- I couldn’t give you what you wanted and I just kept thinking was it me you really wanted? Or was it this domestic bliss that you’ve conjured in your head? Something you can have with somebody else. And it just kept spiraling from there. Thinking somebody better can give you what you want, somebody who’s not tainted, somebody who you can be proud of, somebody who won’t feel so fucking scared of saying ‘I love you’.”

She was aware she was one breath away from sobbing and when Kara moved closer and softly said, “Oh Lena,”

The dam burst.

“Oh, baby, come here, I’m sorry. Rao, I’m so sorry, I- I didn’t know I made you feel that way, I’m sorry,” Kara murmurs to her as she cups Lena’s cheek and uses her thumb to wipe tears.

Lena’s eyes were so green at the moment and Kara has to remind herself that they still have a long way to go for tonight.

“Look at me, I’m sorry I didn’t know, I’m sorry you felt pressured but Lena, there is nobody else I want. You are the one I want, hell I’m pretty sure every me out there in the multiverse is looking for their own Lena right now. You are the best I could ever have.”

The words hit Lena and it just makes her sob harder. Kara fully turns her body to the side to gather Lena in her arms and lets her sob into her neck.

“I- I left because I thought I couldn’t be enough, I didn’t want to. But everything was happening so fast and you wanted so many things and I couldn’t give it to you and I felt like such a fucking failure,” Lena sobs out, words slightly muffled with how hard Kara is pressing into her.

“Lena you are not a failure oh, come here. Listen to me, you’re not a failure, you’re not supposed to build your world around me okay? You do it for yourself. You are brilliant. You are not a failure and I am so so sorry that I made you feel that way.”

Kara rubs circles on her back and squeezes around her every so often. It feels like forever that they stayed that way. Kara whispering, “Shh, breathe, breathe with me,” and Lena sniffling into Kara and Kara just wrapping all around her and calming her. When Lena’s sobs start to subside and she feels confident enough in her ability to speak she slowly breaks away from Kara.

“I’ve been going to therapy,” she begins, “It helped...a lot. Helped clear out a lot of things f-for me. And I think,” She pauses, “Kara, I- I also think you need it more than I do.”

At that Kara’s face scrunches up in confusion.

“How so?”

“Remember when I told you you wanted so much so fast?”

Kara gives her a nod.

“I think you were trying to run, darling.”

She knew she should be focusing on what Lena was trying to tell her but she can’t help the little flutter of her heart at the pet name.

“Run? Run from what?”

“Kara,” Lena starts, unsure about how she should really go about all this.

“You went through hell and back trying to fix the universe, you watched another home of yours get erased from existence. And not to mention that before and during all of that, the two of us were fighting. And then to make things worse at the end of it all, you get ejected into a universe you barely know with my brother as its savior.”

Lena lays out all the facts methodically, slowly, carefully but just blunt enough to make Kara realize that all that trauma should not just be brushed aside.

“You went through a lot.”

A lot, doesn’t even begin to describe the enormity of everything the both of them went through. But Lena supposes they can unpack that another time. There’s a pause and Lena watches Kara take a breath.

“Kara, I think you jumped into a relationship with me because it made you feel good. It made you forget about all the recent hardships you just went through. And I guess maybe I did too, you know? We both just wanted to feel some crumb of peace, but God, did we go about it the wrong way.”

Lena watches her words sink in, how Kara stops, blinks slowly only to take a sudden breath as tears slowly track down her face.

“I- No. I didn’t. No, you’re wro- Lena, I-” Kara fails to tie together a sentence as tears start to fall down. It’s easy when everything else is in your head, when you can replay memories and cover them in filters made by your own brain, but when someone else puts it on the screen for you? That’s a different matter altogether. Nobody had shown Kara the severity of her trauma before and now it’s taking its toll.

“Oh, Kara. Come here, come here,” Lena coos, this time it was her pulling Kara in. Kara melts into her and Lena feels the telltale signs of heavy sobs come through.

“I don’t know- I-”

“Shh, it’s okay, Kara, it’s okay.”

She lets Kara fall apart in front of her. She knows those tears are oceans of their own, those drops carry the memory of a fallen planet, an entire culture, stories, people, loved ones. Every drop is a person Supergirl had failed to save, another universe, another home. Every drop is every lie she ever told Lena and all of the pain there was when she was gone.

“I’m sorry, Lena, I’m sorry.”

She can’t beg forgiveness from an extinct race or a wiped out universe but Lena? She could still have Lena.

***

Alex finds them curled tightly together in the Med Bay come morning. She kind of wants to cry in relief at the sight.

Finally, fucking finally.

She doesn’t have the heart to bother them so she grabs them an extra blanket and tucks both in, exiting with a small smile to her lips.

***

They both wake up to the sound of laughter, the perpetrators— a couple of low-rank agents— stop in the tracks at the sight of a disheveled Supergirl, scowling madly at them with one Lena Luthor tucked in her arms.

“Uh- sorry, we’ll just uh-”

The agents bolt out of the room immediately, letting Kara slump back into the pillow.

“Hi,” Lena croaks out with a rough voice, eyes puffy from last night.

Snippets from last night immediately flashing in Kara’s brain.

Kara holding Lena.

Lena holding Kara

Teary apologies

Catching-up on each other.

Talking till yawns interrupted their words.

Kissing.

More kissing.

More kiss-

You get the picture.

“Good morning,” Kara replies with a shy smile.

“Is scaring agents one of Supergirl’s many talents?” Lena teases, as Kara scoffs fully turning unto her side to face Lena, hand casually brushing a stray strand of her on Lena’s face

“Serves them right for just walking in-” Kara stops mid-sentence, fingers freezing and her eyes turn hesitant, “Sorry, is this okay?”

Because even though last night had happened even though they’ve talked until words could no longer name the depth of their feelings and they turned to silence instead, Kara is still unsure. Hesitant. Wary of giving too much too soon or asking for too much too soon.

But the most difficult part is over and they both realize this as the sun from outside filter through the many wide windows of the DEO, as Lena’s next words ring about in the warmth of the morning.

“Kara, it’s okay,” Lena answers her, catching Kara’s frozen hand and leaning into the touch, pressing closer to Kara’s face, noses touching, lips a breath apart.

“In fact, it’s very much okay.”

The first tell was the lack of a body next to her. The second was the freezing cold. Her bed was almost never cold these days. She’s grown used to sharing her bed with a Kryptonian heater, and so, to wake up from a nightmare alone in bed was now an unusual occurrence. Unusual nough to make her panic.

She sits up, disoriented from her nightmare. Lena groggily registers a low melodic humming crackling from the baby monitor on her nightstand.

“Kara,” she whispers into the quiet of the room, “Please come back to me.”

The humming from the monitor begins to sound distant as it gets louder to Lena’s ears; drifting nearer and nearer to the bedroom.

The door opens and Kara strolls in, messy bun, sleepy voice and all. In her arms a squirming, kicking, sniffling, very much awake bundle fits.

“She doesn’t want to sleep, I tried everythi-” Kara whines and then stops as she takes in Lena’s racing heartbeat, shaking lips and shining eyes.

“Oh no, did you have a nightmare? I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s okay, Kara. Just— Come here? Please?”

Kara shuffles quickly towards the bed; Lena lifts the comforter, making room, the bed dipping as her wife climbs in.

“You okay?” she asks, once she’s settled down next to Lena. She continues rocking her arms as an attempt to get their daughter to sleep for the nth time tonight. Her wife doesn’t still doesn’t answer her, although she doesn’t miss how Lena slightly calms at her presence.

“Lena, hey, you with me?”

“Kara?”

“I’m here, I’m here.”

“Thi- this is real, right?”

Because sometimes, there are nights where dreams feel all too real and pain comes rearing at you as if it all happened yesterday. Because after all these years, Lena still carries fear inside of her; fear that none of this is real, fhat Kara doesn’t really love her, that she’ll never be good enough, that she’ll be abandoned again. Fear that all of this is just a figment of her imagination.

“Oh, Lena. Come here, I’m going to pass her unto you alright?”

Lena’s eyes snap up to hers for a minute in hesitation but she finds herself slowly nodding. Kara wouldn’t give their daughter over if she isn’t sure Lena could handle it. She slowly transfers their child to Lena’s arms.

“Do you feel her warmth?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Do you feel her weight?”

“She’s real, Lena. I’m real,” Kara says as she wraps her arms around them, cradling her wife and child close.

“She’s getting heavy.”

“Yeah, yeah that she is. This is real, Lena.”

“Here,” she gently puts a pillow beneath Lena’s arms for support as she slowly grabs one hand and puts it right over her heart.

“Feel this? Can you feel it?”

Lena does, Lena can and she nods and it’s real and Kara’s heartbeats are steady under her palm; each beat an echo of Lena’s name. She’s certain of that, because she’s pretty sure her heartbeats are all echoes of Kara’s name again and again and again.

“This is real.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

#woooooh i made a follow up!!!#its still sunday in some parts of the world right?#so happy supercorp sunday y'all!#the reckless writer writes #a supercorp black mercy au #supercorp fic #supercorp #rcklss writes

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p---ink · 3 years

Text

What’s On Your Mind?

Author’s Note: Hi :) Remember me? I’ve missed you guys, and Tumblr altogether. I felt absolutely guilty about not writing, but the writer’s block was strong on this one guys. And while I’ve had lots of ideas for stories I couldn't quite put them onto paper...or screen. Anyway, wanted to try something new. So this one is about a Thor! I dedicate this one to you @swaggysposts since I know you love Chris Hemsworth. Its pretty short, but still, tell me what you think, my love!

Summary: Avenger reader has a crush on the god of thunder.

Warnings: some lite language and fluff.

Word Count: 4.7k

Part Two Part Three

“I’m sorry? Did I hear that right? You said you can what?” Mr. Stark asked, without a doubt forgetting that there were stranger things in the world.

Clearing my voice, and speaking a bit louder I say, “I can read minds, sir.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Stark voiced out loud placing a sleek pair of sunglasses on his face. He was still pretty skeptical of my claims, but another part of him was very anxious. Or would the word be embarrassed? Mortified? Yes that was definitely the perfect description.

Whatever the feeling was, I knew the cause was because he knew that if what I was saying was true, he would have to start groveling because of the dirty thoughts that raced through his mind when we first introduced ourselves.

‘Forgive me for looking Pepper, but this girl has the ass of a professional volleyball player’ was what he thought as he opened the door for me on the way in.

“I can’t hear what you’re thinking though, because It only works through touch.” I lie, as I watch his worry fade away. I needed this job, and I couldn’t be disqualified because of harmless thoughts that we could all be guilty of sometimes. Besides it wasn’t Tony’s fault: these jeans did do wonders for my bottom.

Something told me though, that if this Pepper weren’t in the picture, he’d have no problem saying what he thought of me out loud. And he was a handsome man, couldn’t be much older than 40, so maybe in another universe I’d consider him. Not this one though.

“Hey Kid,” Stark started, interrupting my own inappropriate thoughts, “just saying ‘I can read minds’, wont be enough. You’ll have to prove it.”

“Of course! Sorry—” I was cut short by the sound of the thick glass doors of the conference room being slammed against the walls.

A brown haired boy with deep chestnut eyes, that looked as frantic as the rest of his face, rushed out apology after apology as he took his seat next to the older man.

Tony, who hadn’t spared the younger boy a glance, said, “Ah, perfect. Tell me what he’s thinking.”

‘Spiderling’ was the name he had assigned him through thought. As I concentrated on his confused features, he looked from me to Stark.

“What who’s thinking? Is Dad—I mean Mr. Stark, referring to me? How could she possibly do that? Oh God, he hasn’t said a word to me since I got here. He must be really upset because I’m late. Geez, I hope he doesn’t take Karen again. I’d rather he kill me.” I repeated, after relaying all of the boy’s thoughts as fast as he could think them.

“Is she right?” Tony asked the boy. He felt both amazed and amused. Amazed with me, and amused by Spiderling for thinking of him as a dad. He would never let him live that one down.

After swallowing his astonishment, and turning his attention from me, Spiderling answered “Yes.”

“Good. And at least we both agree on your punishment. I’d rather kill you, too. Saves me less trouble in the future.” Tony stated. He was punishing him because apparently this was the third time he’s been late to the interviews he was supposed to be in charge of.

Spiderling let alarm overtake his features, but before he could say anything, Tony continued on with more questions.

“Do you have any other skills, we should know about?”

“Well just a bit of hand to hand combat. But it still needs a lot of work. Other than that no—”

“How did this happen?” Spiderling interrupted, wonder getting the best of him.

“Kid,” Tony starts, but he goes ignored by Spiderling.

“Were you bitten by some kind of radioactive insect like me? Or are you super smart like Mr. Stark? Or perhaps it was gamma radiation like Dr. Banner! Or maybe a super serum like Mr. Rogers!—”

“Don’t make me remove your batteries, junior!” Tony interrupted, then he looked to me. “I’m sorry. He’ll keep going if you don’t nip it in the bud early.”

But he didn’t have to tell me that. His own mind, like Spiderling’s, was racing a mile a minute.

“No its fine really. He’s just curious.” I reply with a chuckle. “And to answer your question Spiderling: maybe I was born with it, or maybe its Maybeline.”

I began to grow embarrassed by their silence at my terrible joke, until Spiderling stifled a chuckle. “I get it!” He said between snickers. “Wait why’d you call me Spiderling?” He asked. ‘Is she picking on me?’ He thought.

Needing to correct his thoughts to clear up any offense I say, “No! I would never pick on you, I just thought that was your name because Mr.—”

“Y/N, was it?” Tony interrupts, yet again. “I think you’d make an excellent addition to our team! When can you start?”

“Really?” I ask gleaming, ignoring the fact that he wanted me to shut for outing what he really thought of his younger protégé. “I can start right away! Thank you so much for this opportunity!”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” He hurried. “F.R.I.DAY, will prepare your room, and Peter here will show you around.”

At that Peter hopped to his feet mind racing with thoughts of excitement on the hopes of a future friendship. “Follow me!” He said, grabbing my hand.

“Not so fast, champ. I need to speak with Ms. L/N alone for a moment.” Tony stated, nodding at Peter as he excused himself from the room.

Tony cleared his throat, and relayed his thoughts, thoughts that were hard to separate from Peter’s louder ones earlier. “So Y/N,” He started towards me, leaning in close as he chose his words carefully. “I couldn’t help but notice, that you didn’t need to touch Parker nor I to read our thoughts. Care to explain?”

Flustered at being caught I stumble across my words as I try to explain, “Ah yes, well its rare, but sometimes I don’t need to touch the person.”

“Mmm.” Tony hummed, not believing a word I said, and I knew then the gig was up.

Cocking my head, and wearing a semi-sympathetic expression I say, “Don’t worry. I don’t even know who Pepper is.”

And before Stark could protest, I ran to Peter’s side, so we could begin the tour around my new home.

That was all a little over eight months ago. And so much had changed now. Peter’s hopes became true. We were the best of friends. His boy-like charm never grew old to me, and nor did my gifts to him.

“Cerulean” I’d say, when he’d think things like ‘What’s your favorite color?’. He always thought questions like that as a sort of game. I never got tired of playing along.

It seemed to never click in his mind though that he could never scare or surprise me when he hid behind corners or couches, because I could hear his thoughts before he got the chance to.

But besides the little stunts he’d try to pull by hiding his thoughts in order to frighten me, Peter was as transparent as they were. The boy was an open book, and he rarely kept a secret. It made us perfect friends, because he never seemed to get tired of me knowing every single detail about him.

Though the other avengers treated me like family, Peter seemed to be the only one welcoming of my “gift”.

If you asked Steve, he’d think something along the lines of “I’m too old for this shit” when I’d answer questions he hadn’t had the chance to ask. Then he’d immediately curse himself, for thinking a swear word when I’d tease him with one of the team’s inside jokes, like “language.”

Bucky tried his hardest to keep his thoughts in a vault, but it never worked. I knew exactly how many dead bodies he had under his belt, and where he kept his hidden stash of plums.

Natasha, however, never tried to hide her kill count. She always made it a point to up the number by one as a threat to me, every time I accidentally crept inside her head. I always made it a point to keep my distance whenever she was deep in reflection.

Banner was interesting. His mind had two voices of course, and neither one of them gave a shit about whether I heard them or not. There were the deep thoughts that I struggled to understand most of the time, then others were one-word sentences only. They were louder than the rational side of his brain.

“La, la, la, la, la”, was literally all that Sam would think whenever there was something he wanted to hide. Sometimes he’d do it just to piss me off, because he knew if I said to ‘knock it off’, he could accuse me of evading his thoughts in the first place.

In truth, I never tried to read what they were thinking. I found the process invasive, and distracting from my own feelings. I worked hard to shut it all out, doing my best to make truth of that lie I told Stark all those months ago. But it was very draining, and took more energy than my body could exert. One person was easy enough to ignore, but more than ten, proved to be a task.

Most of my entire life I spent working in order to shut out all of the world around me. I avoided crowds whenever I could, blasted my music through my headphones whenever I couldn’t, and made sure to drug my body heavily with painkillers and vitamins whenever the last two weren’t options.

It was so much work just to go out into the world. So much work until I met him.

The son of Odin was the only person whose thoughts I would pay to hear. Coincidentally, he was also the only person who’s thoughts I couldn’t read. I could never hear him, I would only ever feel him. He radiated a rare intensity I had never felt before. His thoughts, or should I say feelings, even managed to drown out all of those around him. I had no choice but to focus on him whenever he was around.

When I was with him, he literally clouded my brain. I didn’t have to work to shut him or the others out. He did it for me.

I usually thought that was refreshing. But in the time I grew to know him, I found it mostly frustrating at times.

You could say I liked him, but that would be putting it lightly.

Liking someone for me, was a rare luxury. My crushes were always narrowed down to celebrities, and other people who didn’t know I existed.

It was a pain to date people whose thoughts about you were always on display.

And if you thought dating was hard as a telepath, try having sex. Imagine being able to hear all of your partner’s most inner thoughts about the faces you make when you cum, or discovering that you have a small birthmark on your ass that you would otherwise know nothing about.

Yeah, it wasn’t the greatest experience.

I had never experienced the actual joys of feelings for someone, and wondering if they liked me back. Thor was my first. And chances are, he would never feel the same way.

He was a literal god, and he lived up to that fact. I was just an average Midgardian, with a silly school-girl crush. It would never happen.

Silly thing that Fate was. She had to make the only man I found irresistible, unattainable too. What a bitch.

“Hey. Are you ready?” Natasha asked referring to our daily training.

“Yes, what’s on the agenda today?” I ask, a bit confused that she isn’t in her workout attire.

“Well you’ll h–”

“What? Why?” I squeak, before she can finish her thought…well before she can finish her sentence. According to her thoughts, I’d now be training with Odinson.

“I think you’ve graduated from me, kiddo. You can read my thoughts fast enough to predict as well as react to all of my oncoming moves.” Natasha relayed, a hint of sadness detectable through her words. Though she behaved like an older sister to me, she would miss throwing me around on the mat. “We’ll have to see how you do against someone whose actions you can’t predict, just in case that problem comes up out in the field.” She informed me while walking away, before I could confront her.

“Can’t it be someone else?” I yell to her, but she doesn’t answer.

“You wound me, Y/N.” That deep familiar voice bellowed from behind me. “And here I thought you enjoyed my company.”

Oh you have no idea, I thought to myself, as I spun on my feet to face him. I craned my neck to peer up at his eyes. One was a pretty hazel, while the other a deep blue. Cerulean. Funny how he’s the reason I’ve grown so fond of the color after all of these months.

“It’s not that I don’t like you. I just don’t think its fair is all. You know? With you being a god.”

“You’re worried you won’t be able to handle me? Do not fret. I wouldn’t dream of giving you more than you could handle.” He said, wiggling his brows suggestively, while flashing a smile. I suppose I failed to mention that he was a massive flirt that could put even Tony Stark to shame. “I promise to take it easy on you.” He furthered, smirking and winking his hazel orb.

“Why do I feel like your idea of taking it easy is vastly different from mine.” I say, trying to settle the butterflies.

“Whatever you’ve heard about me is nonsense. I’m a merciful master.” He assured. “We’ll just do some light work today: of course we’ll start with stretching, then 30 laps around the facility to build your stamina, a few hours of work on the machines to build your muscle—because my lady you are a dainty little thing, and then we’ll end the day with an hour or two of sparring.”

At the sight of my dumbstruck face, Thor says, “I’m sorry that must be too light. How does 50 laps and three hours of sparring, sound?”

“Are you joking?”

“You’re right. I have some matters to attend to on Asgard, but I think we can squeeze in 75 laps, take it or leave it.”

Realizing how deathly serious he was, I quickly say, “I’ll leave it. Let’s get started.” Deciding to address the subject of excessive training later, I turn to begin my stretches.

Quiet. As usual. I was alone with my thoughts, which was something that only happened quite literally when I was alone. I couldn’t help but be immensely aware of his presence.

Moments like these i’d die to know what he was thinking. Especially when I could feel his stare. It burned worse than fire on my skin.

Fire couldn’t compare to his actual touch, however. The same touch I now felt on my upper back. For a man who weighed over 600 pounds, he was as stealthy as a cat when he wanted to be. His thick fingers against my spine raised goosebumps to my flesh. I would have jumped out of my body if he wasn’t there to keep me grounded.

“My apologies. It was not my intention to startle you.” He informed, through a deep hearty chuckle. “I just needed to correct your form. Your time on the field will suffer if you continue with your training like this.”

“Oh.” I replied, tensing a bit as one of his hands traveled around to my stomach and the other pushed against my spine to straighten my posture. My mind was hazy, and if I had even understood the words he spewed a moment ago, that status now changed.

“It all makes me wonder what the Lady Spider has been teaching you.” He continued, as if he didn’t notice the change in my demeanor. “Better.”

When he stepped away from me, I released a small shaky breath. “What’s on your mind?” He asked. Maybe he did notice the change.

I mentally decided that I would ask him the months-long question I had always wondered about. “What’s on yours.” I state instead of ask, trying to resume my stretches.

“Pardon?” Thor asked. “Do you wonder about what is I ponder? Or is that your answer?

“Both.” I say without hesitation. “Why can’t I read your mind?”

“I’m afraid that’s by design, my lady.”

I stop stretching and turn around to ask, “How?” He had my full attention now.

Shortly after he corrected my posture, Thor had propped himself up against one of the machines to properly examine my form while I stretched. I tried to ignore how awkward that made me feel.

“Since an early age I’ve had to learn to guard my thoughts.” He stated. “My brother is the God of Mischief, and Loki often played games of the mind. Mother took notice of how much it was ailing me, and taught me a few useful tricks on how to keep him out. I guess I’ve always practiced them, even in his absence. I don’t know if I even know how to stop it.”

“Oh.” I breathed out. Trying to make sense of his words.

While I was doing that, he asked,“May I ask why it is you wish to know? I thought you hated your gift.”

“I do. But I guess it still feels odd to not be able to use it on someone. I have no clue what you’re thinking let alone how you feel about me. It unsettles me.” I immediately regretted saying the last part as soon as it was out.

His reaction did not aid my embarrassment. A thunderous laugh erupted from his throat. It was the kind of laugh that you could feel in your abs, and I knew this because his whole torso shook as it spread through his vocal cords. He was genuinely amused.

His amusement prompted me to ask, “What’s so funny?”

“How I feel about you.” I think he mutter softly, before following a little louder to himself, “It’s weakened you.”

“What did you say?” I never had to ask someone to repeat themselves unironically, until I met him.

“Your ability I mean. It has impaired you.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I think the word is ‘spoiled’. Yes that seems to be the perfect descriptor.” He teased.

His words made me feel small and silly. Almost insignificant. “Excuse me?”

Sensing my irritation, he quickly told me, “I meant no disrespect. Its just most of your kind and some of mine are not awarded the same privileges that you have. We rely on body language and hidden meanings behind words to determine how someone feels. Well with the exception of me of course, because who would not adore me?” He joked. “But that’s beside the point. You have not yet learned how to read between the lines. Which is why I unsettle you.”

“I know how to read body language, I’m not an idiot.” I say a bit more sharply than I intended. My sense of inferiority getting the best of me.

“I’m not implying that you are, just that if it were not for your talent you would know have known what was on my mind ages ago.”

“That makes no sense. If I couldn’t read minds, i’d be in the same place I am now: unable to know what it is you think.”

“My dear, even if you could read my mind it would make no difference, for I’ve already made my feelings towards you painfully clear. One need not the aid of your capabilities.”

“Thor, could you stop the riddles—”

He ignored my pleas and kept going. “But just to be explicitly clear this time, since obviousness is lost on you—”

“Stop insulting—”

“I shall tell you how I feel about you.” He stepped and leaned in closer, as if what he was about to say was a secret meant for only my ears. “Listen closely because I will say this but once, so be wary not to misunderstand: I desire you.” He explained, words dripping with the utmost sincerity.

My brain started racing. And I suddenly realized just how close he was. “You desire me?” I repeated to myself.

“Yes. I desire you.” He stated again, anticipating my uncertainty.

If my heart wasn’t beating fast before, it surely was now. My poor ribcage wasn’t built for this.

“A-A-as a friend right?” I stutter out. “Because we aren’t, we aren’t close, like the rest of the team? Yes,” I breathe out. “That has to be what you mean.” I say that last part more to myself than to him. Clearly I’ve misunderstood his words, even though he warned me not to.

“While I would value a companionship, I’m afraid that is not all I mean when I say I desire you.”

“Eerr” Words are hard to form all of the sudden. Stammering out sounds is all that I can do.

The air around us stilled, and it was pregnant with silence. He gave me a moment to think before asking, “Would you like further explanation.”

“Yes please.” I rush out quickly. “I think that will clear things up a bit more.”

“Right it would. Well If you wish to know what’s on my brain when you’re near, I shall tell you.” His words are teasingly slow, and he knows this.

"But I doubt,” He continues, “i’ll be able to properly convey just how bad I long to be in your presence when you are gone. Just how much I battle myself when it comes to finding any excuse to touch you. As you know, I lost one of those battles today. I don’t know if you can handle, just how much I imagine your warm embrace to be. How tender I’ve imagined your lips to feel. I just know them to be softer than rose petals and sweeter than nectar.”

“In fact,” He started. I could almost physically see the lightbulb go off over his head. And then, he began ridding us of the rest of our space, extending his long arm to snake around my waist, and pulling me against his chest at a speed faster than lighting. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to put that theory to test.”

It was like a lucid dream. I was only allowed to watch everything play out before me, without the luxury of making any actions myself. It took great focus on my part to even will my head to move. My nod was so subtle I was unsure if he could even see it. But the God of Thunder had more than enough to go off on.

He joined the hand around my waist with his other, and shortly after I could feel my feet rise from the ground. My hands that were previously glued to his chest, found their place behind his neck to support the rest of my body. His head met me the rest of the way, before he blanketed his lips over mine.

He released one of the hands around my waist, to bring it up to my face. His fingers, now fastened to my jaw, slightly parted my lips allowing him to further explore my mouth with his. As massaged my tongue with his own, I could feel his eyelashes dance across my cheeks. That’s how close he was.

Most beards are scratchy and rough, but his felt like silk against my skin. His lips were even softer, and were like velvet in comparison.

I inhaled the scent of rain on freshly cut grass. It reminded me of dewy meadows and Irish springs. His touch was firm, but he managed to hold me with care, like a bull who had trained for years with the sole purpose of entering a china shop.

He tasted like what summer felt like, if you could make sense of it. The kiss had the same intensity behind severe thunderstorms. Beautiful but deadly. I found myself teetering on the edge of a cliff: desperate to chase this thrill, but also wary of whether or not it was worth dying for.

I mentally decided that I could expire in his arms, and be perfectly content with that decision.

I got more into it. I thought that if this was a dream I’d take full advantage of it. Surely dream Thor would be fine with me taking over the kiss. It felt only natural.

I decided it was time for my tongue to do the exploring. My lips needed to memorize the feel of his. My hands wanted to study every strand of hair that lived on the nape of his neck. That was only fair right?

I was enjoying his embrace so much, that I mistook the spinning in my head for shock from kissing a god, instead of the telltale signs of an impending headache. The lack of air in my lungs was because he took my breath away in a figurative sense, instead of the literal physical sense it actually was. The ache that spread throughout my body wasn’t because of the suffocating grip he had to keep me pressed to his chest, but because our bodies were on the brink of fusing into one.

On second thought, maybe dying in his arms is more painful than I previously thought.

I tapped out, and he immediately released me, placing me gently on the ground. I struggled for air, but it was like he didn’t miss a beat. Not a drop of sweat in sight on his gorgeous face. Instead, I could see a bright smile forming.

“Are my thoughts clear enough, now?” He asked, breaking out into smirk.

But I had no time to acknowledge his joke, for I could feel reality setting back in. And reality is, I was a flustered fuck.

“I’m sorry.” I stammered. “I must be holding you from your business on Asgard!”

“What? No—”

But he had no time to argue, for in a flash I was already gathering my gym bag and heading for the door.

“What about your training?” I heard him yell.

“I’m sorry! Maybe another time!” And after that, I practically sprinted to get out of earshot before he could protest or stop me.

I raced passed Peter who was on his way into the gym. “Y/N! Are you okay?” I heard him yell. But what was strange is that I couldn’t hear him think it, despite being more than enough distance away from Thor.

“I’m fine.” I yelled back, hoping he wouldn’t follow. Maybe Peter’s mouth was faster than his thoughts.

No. That wasn’t it, because as I raced through the tower, everyone’s minds were silent, even though they were chatting casually with one another. That never happened.

I burst through the nearest lady’s room, desperate to calm my nerves, when I saw Natasha applying red lipstick. The action by itself wasn’t disturbing, but the expression she wore was.

“Don’t tell the others.” She voiced, in a threatening tone.

“Don’t tell the others what?” I asked confused. Maybe she’d be able to take my mind off of things.

She looked at me like I had grown two heads, much like the first day we met when I proved that I could read her thoughts. “I know you read them. But this is different Y/N, the guys will never let me live this one down.”

“Nat, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the date.”

“You’re going on a date?” No wonder she was so panicked. The woman was more comfortable with killing than she was with being vulnerable.

“Yes—What is wrong with you?” She half-yelled, interrupting herself as if she just realized something was wrong.

I had, had enough with trying to not think about him, because the task was damn near impossible so I decided to just say it. “Thor admitted his feelings for me. And then we kissed!” I cried.

Oh, Nat mouthed, taking a more comfortable position against the bathroom sink. She leaned against its counter, and crossed her arms,“And now you can’t take your mind off of him.”

It was my turn to look at her like she was a lunatic. “How did you know that? Are you a mind-reader too?”

Song for the Chapter: Waiting For You by the Aces: Pretty Self-explanatory lyrics. Think of the song from Thor’s POV

part II

A/N: If you made it this far, don’t be afraid to tell me what you think :)

#thor #thor imagines #thor x reader #thor fluff #thor x black!reader #avenger reader #mcu imagines #black avenger reader #fluff #chris hemsworth #black!reader #black!writer #thor ragnorak

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javier-pena · 3 years

Text

alone

Chapter 1 of The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Rating: Mature (for now but that will - spoilers! - change eventually)

Summary: When your best friend and companion is abducted by a group of outlaws, you hire a Mandalorian to help track down the men and get your revenge. What seems like a simple enough task stretches into a month-long trek through inhospitable terrain while both you and the Mandalorian are trying to come to terms with events in your past you cannot change. Set after Season 2.

Warnings: mentions (and short descriptions) of death, murder, and torture | a lot of hurt and no comfort | mentions of loss | mild to moderate language | a lot - and I mean A LOT - of talk about Din’s hands lmao

Notes: This is my first attempt at a Mandalorian fic and the first time in months I’ve written anything. It’s vaguely inspired by my favorite western movies, True Grit (1969/2010), The Quick and the Dead (1995), and The World to Come (2020). So yes, this is going to be very much like a western. I also want to - again - thank Dani @javierpcna who was like “are you writing Mandalorian stuff?” about a month ago and has, since then, read through this chapter more often than me and encouraged me to continue to write it and offered so much valuable insight whenever I came to her with an idea ... seriously, Dani, this fic wouldn’t exist without you and I hope I can find a way to repay you! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this first chapter (I’m already working on the second one) ...

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The day the Mandalorian arrives on Alvorine is the day you lose your best friend. You’re still busy putting out the fire, running your soot-blackened hand across your face, where the dirt mingles with the tears you’re too tired to stop from streaming down your face, when you hear the thrusters of a spacecraft roaring above you. You barely glance up; you can’t be bothered to. It could be the remnants of the Empire looking for recruits, it could be the New Republic looking for the remnants of the Empire, or it could be the bandits coming back for more. But what do you care? They already took away the one person you care most about in the galaxy. You just grip the shovel tighter and drive it into the soil so you can choke the fire underneath moist stones and dirt.

While you exhaust your body with physical labor, you occupy your mind with thoughts of revenge. Revenge as dark and quenching as the soil beneath you. With every load of dirt you heave onto the searing flames, your plan gains another sharp edge until all you can think of is driving the cutting edge down onto the throat of the man who gripped Brea’s arm and pulled her onto the speeder bike. Maybe his head would come off right away, maybe your tool would just obstruct his windpipe as you watch the life drain slowly out of his eyes. And even that would be too good an end for that monster.

It’s not just in your mind – those thoughts aren’t simply there to ground you while you continue your work in the ruins of what was once your home. It’s not pure fantasy, something to give you back a feeling of control. You are determined to follow through on it; you are going to hunt down these men who burned down your farm and stole Brea from you. You will not rest until they are all dead by your hand. And if you should die in the process … then you won’t go out without a fight, without taking as many of those bastards with you as you can. They have sealed their own fate by coming here today.

You know Brea isn’t dead; they won’t kill her unless she tries to kill one of them first. And she wouldn’t do that, she is too gentle for that, too docile. She would rather turn the other cheek. They should have taken you instead; she doesn’t deserve the fate that awaits her. You would’ve at least put up a fight, make them pay for what they did. And Brea? She would just die.

For now, she’s alive. But whatever you set out to do once you’re done here won’t be a rescue mission. You aren’t under the illusion you can save her. You know that even if you were to leave right now, even if you had your own speeder bike, you would never find her in time. No, this possibility hasn’t even crossed your mind. All you want to do is cause these men more pain than they caused you. You know it is impossible because you cannot imagine anything worse, but you sure as hell will do your best.

You straighten your back, drive the shovel into the ground, and use it as support while you try to catch your breath. The air burns in your lungs, and not just from the cold. There is also the steadily rising black smoke that makes breathing hard; your throat stings, so do your sides, and there is a bitter taste in your mouth. But you’re almost finished here, you’re almost done putting out the fire, so it won’t endanger the surrounding forest. And with every flame you bury, you also bury a piece of your soul until you feel like there is nothing left that makes you human, until all the pain and despair you’re feeling since listening to Brea’s screams grow quieter and quieter until they were swallowed up by silence has turned into a cold, brazen cry for revenge. But you’re glad this has made you less forgiving, less kind, less … human. Those things would only get in the way of the task ahead of you.

As the last flames go out with a wet hiss, one of Alvorine’s three blue white suns vanishes behind the treetops. You know the other two will be quick to follow. And you don’t have anywhere to spend the night. You wouldn’t mind sleeping with your back propped against a tree. You’ve done it often enough. But it’s winter, and the air is already cold and will be even colder once the other two suns set too. And you just lost every blanket, every single piece of fabric that could keep you warm in a small inferno. You know this is just an excuse, a comforting lie you tell yourself. The truth is you cannot spend a minute longer on this clearing, even if that means you have to walk the four miles to the next settlement. You’re so exhausted you cannot feel your legs, but you don’t care. Anything is better than spending the night here, even collapsing in the middle of the dark forest.

You leave the shovel where you stand and walk to the edge of the clearing, swallowing around the lump in your throat, trying to hold down more tears that are threatening to spill over and down your cheeks. Once you reach the edge of the forest, where the air is a bit clearer, you take a deep breath and turn around to look at the ruins of your home, now nothing more than a black pile of rubble. You have nothing, nothing but the clothes you’re wearing, not even a small trinket to remind you of Brea and the many happy hours you spent here tending to your fields, sweeping the front porch or sitting around the fireplace sharing supper. Even remembering how you worked on menial chores now feels like the most precious memory, one you will hold onto until your last breath. Because even though they have taken everything from you, they can’t take away the memory of Brea’s laugh.

***

They stare at you as you enter the inn. They stare and then look away. They can’t bear your presence because it reminds them of their own guilt. Not one of them came to your aid this morning, not one of them came afterwards to offer help. And you ignore them too because there is nothing left to say. All you want is some food and a dry place to sleep before you turn your back on them forever.

You sit down at a small table in a dark corner. The patrons around you either turn their backs to you or stand up to move their meals and conversations someplace else. It’s as if you’ve been marked. If you had any strength left in you, you would call them out on their behavior. Shit, you would wreak havoc, and only stop when the last one of them is on their knees begging for forgiveness. But you’re glad you’re too exhausted because your sudden hatred for everyone and everything scares you. The villagers don’t deserve to fall victim to your rage. There is nothing they could’ve done. They are just as defenseless and helpless as you. Would you have come to their aid if your positions were reversed? You would like to think so, but just because it gives you a false sense of moral superiority. Deep down you know the truth. Deep down you know you would hide too, praying that you would be spared.

As you dig into your bowl of soup, you realize how hungry you are. Even though everything tastes like ash in your mouth, your stomach is glad to have something to clench around when your thoughts stray to this morning’s events again. And you know there’s no need to punish yourself by refusing your body the nourishment it needs. The opposite, in fact – you know you’ll need all the strength you can get if you’re really going after them.

As you swallow one ashy bite after the other, you let your eyes wander around the room, looking for something that will distract you from your thoughts and your feelings of guilt. Everyone avoids your gaze; everyone acts as if your corner is empty. Everyone … except one stranger.

He sits in a booth close to the bar, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze on you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you – he’s wearing a helmet that covers his entire head, the kind you’ve seen twice before in this corner of the galaxy. He’s a Mandalorian, a bounty hunter, and his presence here doesn’t really surprise you. Even though actually seeing one is a rare occurrence, stories about them are countless.

Alvorine is a planet without laws, a planet that lives by its own rules, so many criminals decide to hide out here while they wait for their crimes to be forgotten. There is no military presence on the planet, no judicial system, no one to catch and punish the wrongdoers. The planet follows the rules of whoever is in charge, which changes frequently, but none of the powerful people have enough resources to enforce those rules anyway. Disputes are often just settled by the parties involved in whatever way they see fit. Only the Mandalorians, who are hired by people on other worlds, by people who have never experienced what it is like to live on Alovrine, are brave enough to get involved in those disputes. You have to admit you do feel a tiny bit curious as to why that particular Mandalorian is here ... who hired him? And who is he hunting?

You tentatively let your gaze wander over his stoic body, over the beskar covering his arms and chest, over the bandolier wrapped around his upper body, over the visor hiding his eyes. If you had one like him on your side, you wouldn’t need to worry about getting your revenge. He would catch those men in the blink of an eye. And if you paid him enough, he would do to them whatever you wanted.

He would cut off their limbs but keep them alive long enough to feel it.

He would make them run for it, give them the illusion of hope, only to crush it like their bones.

He would let you watch, let you choose whatever punishment you saw fit.

You shift in your seat because you can almost smell the blood, you can hear a faint echo of their screams, and it makes you feel light-headed and nauseous, but also elevates you, lifts a weight off your shoulders, even if just for a brief moment.

But he’s not here to do your bidding. And when you lift your head again, he’s gone.

You finish your bowl of soup and then decide to rent a room upstairs for the night. You don’t have a place to stay anymore and it’s too dangerous to start your pursuit while it’s dark. The forest belongs to dangerous creatures during the night, more dangerous than any man out there. And you’re planning on staying alive for just a little while longer.

You stretch and yawn and move to get up when your path is suddenly blocked. It happens so fast you don’t register anything at first apart from the cold, hard beskar chest plate that is level with your face. Its unexpected appearance makes you lose your balance and you fall back down onto the bench you’ve been sitting on. The Mandalorian extends his hand, his fingers closing around thin air. It’s a half-hearted attempt to stop your fall, and it comes too late – your backside has already painfully collided with the hard wood.

“May I join you?” His voice sounds distorted through the modulator in his helmet. He sounds like a machine, not like a being with a heartbeat.

You want to tell him no, want to tell him to fuck off, but for tonight you have no fight left in you. So you nod.

He sits down and you expect to hear the clink of his armor, expect to feel a tremor when his heavy body comes to rest on a stool opposite you. But there is no sound, no movement, and the lack makes you sit up straighter. This isn’t just another cowardly villager you can get rid of by glaring at him … this is an apex predator.

You swallow with some difficulty. “Can I help you?” you ask, your voice level, your eyes resting on his glove-clad hands lying on the table. You figure you’re safe as long as you can see them.

At first, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you. You cannot see his eyes behind the tinted visor. No matter how uncomfortable the situation makes you feel, you try not to move … you try not to show any sign of weakness, to give him any excuse to lunge across the table and strangle you.

Finally, he answers. “I’m looking for work.”

Now you cannot help but move. You exhale sharply, and with that release of breath comes a release of tension as you slump backwards, your back hitting the wall behind you. You cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t help you,” you say. You don’t have any work to offer him, no work worthy of the skills of a Mandalorian who usually hunts down important people, kings, merchants, people who influence the course of the galaxy’s history. Following a few lowly bandits is not the work he’s used to. You don’t even want to tell him about it because you know he’d take it as an insult. And even if - by some miracle - your quest for revenge would be deemed a worthy cause in the eyes of the Mandalorian, you couldn’t afford his services.

The slightest movement of his helmet is the only reaction your answer gets out of him. Whether he shifts because he’s surprised or because he’s angry, or whether his scalp itches under the metal you cannot tell.

Still, you feel the need to explain yourself. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any money.”

Shit, that’s the wrong thing to say. It implies you have work for him, but that you’re too poor to pay him. For all you know, this could be a grave insult in Mandalorian society.

His fingers on the table clench around thin air again. “What can you offer?” he asks.

He doesn’t want to know about the job, the quarry as you know they call it. No, he just wants to know how much he can earn.

“240 credits,” you answer. It’s all you have. You won’t need it anymore.

He tilts his head and you expect him to refuse, but then he says, “That’s enough.”

You’re taken aback, surprised. He’s caught you off-guard. You were fully prepared to see him walk away at hearing the ridiculously low amount of money you just offered. “You don’t even know what the job is,” you protest. The last thing you need is a Mandalorian hunting you down because you’re not paying him enough.

“They told me,” he says with a nod behind him.

You follow the movement with your eyes and see heads whip to the side, gazes wandering downwards, you notice conversations being picked up again. White hot fury fills you, more powerful than the flames that destroyed your house.

“They had no right,” you press out through clenched teeth.

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything. He sits still like a statue, unwavering, as you fight a small battle with yourself. You should leave without looking back. Messing with a Mandalorian is even more dangerous than the task ahead of you. But he’s offering you something invaluable, something no amount of credits can get you: a chance. If you go alone, you’ll be dead in about a week. There’s no use pretending you’ll get out of it alive. But if you accept the Mandalorian’s help – his services, you have to remind yourself – you might make it through two. You might get to see your dreams of revenge become reality.

You sigh deeply as a heavy weariness settles over you. You’re exhausted, and now that all the adrenaline has left your body, you can feel all the small cuts and bruises today’s labors have left behind. And you feel empty … cold and empty, and utterly alone.

The Mandalorian still doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t defend the villagers, he doesn’t tell you what he knows about you or the job, he doesn’t try to persuade you to take him up on his offer, nor does he walk away from it. He just sits there and waits for you to make up your mind, as if it’s all the same to him. And it probably is. Either he goes with you and earns some money, or he doesn’t and looks for work elsewhere. He is completely detached from the whole affair. There is no emotional investment, just a job that needs to be done.

He doesn’t care if you live or die, he just cares if you pay him or not.

This realization is what finally helps you make up your mind. “I want to hire you,” you say, your tongue heavy in your mouth. All you really want is to sleep.

There is no reaction for the longest time but then the Mandalorian nods. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something, give him details or explain the specifics of the job to him. But before you can decide what to say next, he stands abruptly.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he says before turning around.

Your brain needs a moment to catch up but when it does, you’re already on your feet. “Wait,” you say, and to your surprise the broad, steel-clad man listens to you.

He doesn’t face you, but he stops.

You briefly consider asking him if you can accompany him, but you don’t. You don’t have to ask, you get to decide.

“I’m coming with you,” you tell him.

You tell a stranger, a dangerous one at that, one who makes his money by making other people’s lives a living hell, that you will travel with him through dark, deserted forests where no one will stop him from taking what he wants from you instead of earning it, where no one will come to your aid should he not honor the deal you apparently just made with him. And you don’t care. Because no matter what he will do to you, it can’t be worse than what has already been done.

But all your worries and fears focus in on just one tiny aspect of this whole, fucked-up situation when he says, “I work alone.”

You don’t want to negotiate. This shouldn’t even be up for debate. You’re his employer now, you get to decide how things are done. But if you insist on this, he could just walk away from you. And you cannot let that happen now that you’ve had an idea of what it would be like to have a Mandalorian on your side.

“We’re not a team,” you say. “Think of me as an interested party. As someone who is fascinated by your work.”

You’re not sure if that is the right thing to say. His shoulders move, but he still doesn’t turn around. When he speaks again, you know it was the wrong thing to say.

“I work alone or not at all.”

You don’t want to accept that. You want to be there when those men are punished for what they did. You don’t want to wait around for the Mandalorian to come back, not when you don’t have anywhere to wait around in. You’ve lost everything. Had he talked to the villagers as he claims, he would know this. Or maybe he does. Maybe he knows you lost your home today but doesn’t care. He doesn’t even know the definition of the word home. It means nothing to him.

You take a deep breath. “Then I won’t be needing your services.”

This finally makes him turn around. Everything in you screams for you to take a few steps back, to put yourself out of his reach. You can feel the atmosphere between you shift – he draws back his shoulders, makes himself even taller than he already is. And you know, you just know, that refusing his offer, that backtracking on your agreement is the worst mistake you made tonight.

You’re pretty sure that not honoring a deal is the worst insult to a Mandalorian.

“Going alone will be your death,” he says when you cannot bear the tension a second longer.

“What’s it to you?”

The words are out. They are a challenge, one you didn’t mean to make, one you shouldn’t have made, but it’s done now. Your hand begins to tremble, and your feet grow cold with fear as you prepare yourself for his reaction. You don’t know if he will hit you, tie you up, torture you, or just kill you on the spot. He could do all of these things without having to fear any repercussions. You curse yourself for not having been more careful, for making this fatal mistake, because now Brea will go unavenged. Just because you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut, just because you’re stubborn and hot-headed and oh so stupid.

But to your surprise, the Mandalorian shrugs. He lifts his broad shoulders, then lowers them again as your eyes follow the movement. But he’s not giving you anything more: He doesn’t insist on going alone, he doesn’t turn around and leave, he just keeps standing opposite you, motionless, emotionless, until you’re convinced you imagined the shrug.

So you decide to make the next move by removing yourself from this situation before he changes his mind and drags you back to his ship to do whatever he wants to you. You take a deep breath and start to step around him, a movement that is almost impossible to complete in this small space you’re both in. But you attempt it, nevertheless. When you’re level with him, doing your best not to brush up against him so you won’t enrage him, you hear his voice. It’s just one sentence, four words, but for some reason it sounds so much more human than it did when he was opposite you. Maybe it has something to do with the distance between his helmet and your ear, maybe it’s the angle from which the sounds hit your eardrums or maybe it’s because you feel light-headed, dizzy with the realization he hasn’t killed you yet and probably won’t.

He says, “Have it your way.”

You stop right next to him, staring ahead at a group of three men who do their best not to look at you. But you don’t see them anyway. In fact, you don’t see anything at all because the rushing sound in your ears drowns out everything else, even other senses.

“You can come with me,” he says, and it’s the first time he has spoken two sentences in a row. “But you do as I say.” Three. “If I tell you to run, you run.” Four. “If I tell you to get out of the way, you do so.” Five. “And if I tell you to kill, you kill.” Six.

Then nothing, just the faint sound of his deep breaths through the modulator.

Your thoughts are racing, tripping over their own feet like children running down a hill, and they’re unbearably loud. Everything is loud suddenly, from the sound of the barkeep filling a glass to the way that woman over there is chewing her food. The only thing that’s quiet is the last one you would have suspected to be so: the Mandalorian. Now he is waiting for you to say something and as he does, he balls his hand into a fist and then releases the tension again, over and over like a nervous tic, like he needs an outlet for the tension in his body, the tension you have no idea he is feeling until you see his arm flex beneath the fabric covering it.

But, once more, you’re at war with yourself. You don’t know what to tell him. There is still that shimmer of hope on the horizon, the light that makes you believe you stand a chance if you bring him along. But his terms … you’re not sure if you can accept them. He doesn’t know Alvorine or the men you would be hunting half as well as you do. And you’ve never been one for following orders. So if you feel that his assessment of a situation is wrong, you’re not sure you’ll be able to run just because he tells you to.

You have a feeling that defying his orders would be the most dangerous thing you could ever do, even more dangerous than hunting down a group of ruthless bandits who like to torture and kill for fun.

“All right,” you say finally.

His fist unclenches one last time and he exhales slowly.

“But when we find them,” you swallow hard, once, but your mouth is completely dry, “I get to decide what happens to them.”

The Mandalorian turns toward you so abruptly that you almost lose your balance. You lean back and hit your elbow on the wall behind you. The pain makes you curse under your breath.

“Agreed,” he whispers. He sounds like a machine again, as if everything that makes him human is shut away beneath that cold, hard, invaluable beskar steel. You too feel cold suddenly, cold and afraid. “But until then you do as I say. Understood?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. He is too close to you, and drowns out everything else, even the sounds that you considered to be too loud mere seconds ago. If he wouldn’t be wearing a helmet, you would be able to feel his breath on your cheek. He takes up your field of vision almost entirely. You’ve never felt more on display, and yet more hidden. And you know that if you say the wrong thing now, it will have terrible consequences.

So you just nod again.

“We leave in the morning,” he tells you, then turns around suddenly and leaves, his cape trailing behind him.

All sounds come rushing back at once, as if you’ve just emerged out of a pool of water. You release your breath quickly, only now realizing you’ve been holding it. Then you slump back against the wall, a shaking, quivering mess.

***

tag list: @bella-ciao, @filthybookworm, @frannyzooey, @khalysa, @leannawithacapitala, @mothandpidgeon, @mrsparknuts, @mxsamwilson, @piscespussybabe, @something-tofightfor

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #star wars #din djarin #pedro pascal #fanfic #the hunt fic #yes i've queued this #yes i'm asleep right now #and yes i'm too much of a coward

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oneofthosesimps · 3 years

Text

Freak like Me

pairing: levi x fem!reader I nsfw

word count: 6230

summary: as soon as the reader enters levi's life, something changes in him. reader's madness spills over and he slowly changes

warnings: mention of blood (not yours), rough sex, dirtytalk, daddy kink, swearing, dom x dom, fight scene

authors note: although i wanted to write shorter stories again, this one somehow got longer again. i tried my hand at an action scene, but i still have to practice a lot. somehow i had strong harley x joker vibes and they had to come out, sorry.

all credits to the artist of this pic:

Lensar on DeviantArt

-----

Your gaze falls into the depths of the forest before you close your eyes. Bright rays of sunlight fall through the branches above you and warm your face. You hear birds chirping around you, the crackling of the wood beneath you, the rustling of leaves swirling in a gust of wind. You breathe deeply as your open hair blows back. You hear your heart beating quietly in your chest as the silence embraces you like an old friend. What does freedom mean? What does life mean? You are sure that this is pretty close to the source. The people behind the wall, who go about their lives every day hoping to see the next day, would never get to see this world. Especially not the people you left behind in the underground.

A grin plays around your lips as you hear the hissing far off in the distance. The trees groan behind you under the force with which the hooks bore into their bark. That took a long time, you think to yourself, as ropes speed past you. You hear the chatter and shouts of your comrades in fragments, shattering the silence around you. Blurred faces shoot past you one after the other.

You spread your arms and stretch them away from you. One last deep breath fills your lungs before you hold your breath. Slowly your body falls backwards before you lose your footing beneath you and plunge headlong into the depths. The air hisses loudly past your ears, your body spins around itself. You are weightless, the green blurs around you before your whole body is pressed full force into your harness and you are yanked back up. You hear the gas sweep around you as you fly through the air, trailing the others. Your hooks bore further away into the trunk of a thick, old tree. You take momentum, flying high into the treetops, letting the ropes come back to you. Unsecured, you fall through space. Your body does a backward roll, allowing you to observe the forest floor for a brief moment. The moss nestles around the roots of the trees, single brown leaves cover the forest path, bodies move forward beneath you, you can still see a squirrel quickly making its way to safety before your body returns to its normal position and you dig your hooks into a tree again. You zip between the trees, your cape flying behind you, your face brushing some branches that bore into your tender skin. You hear the pop of a cannon being fired and see red smoke in the sky northwest of you.

Immediately you change direction, sprinting forward, leaving behind other cadets who still haven't processed what is happening. Arriving in a clearing, you find your place on a thick branch high above. Further in the distance, you see the shaking of trees, the earth shaking slightly, making the grass dance on the ground. You hear heavy footsteps, still moving slowly.

The branch below you moves and you look to your right. Silver eyes stare at you from beneath tousled black hair, eyeing your small body.

"You really do have to keep pushing forward." You hear more bodies land on the trees behind you and the wood weighs down slightly. The rest of your squad waits for instruction from your captain.

"I guess this is why I'll never get my own Squad, sir."

You turn your gaze back to the direction the titan is coming at you from and grin.

"What do you think, fifteen seconds?"

"Mmm, more like ten," Levi guesses, and the tremor intensifies. A huge hand grips around a tree trunk, pulling out from between the trees, and big eyes stare at you. Nearly ten-metres high, abnormal.

"Let's see what you can do then, humanity's strongest soldier." He snorts and rolls his eyes before his whole body moves forward with a jerk. He pulls his swords from their holsters and places them close to his body. With an ease and without the titan even noticing him, he cuts a chunk out of his neck. Before Levi even gets back beside you, the giant falls to the ground and starts to steam.

That wasn't even seven. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, the blood on his face slowly disappears and he looks at you. A small smirk curls his lips, "Brat."

You snort and slam your fist against his shoulder.

Special.

That's the word everyone would use to describe your relationship.

Special.

The first time Levi laid his eyes on you, when he saw you among all the new, shitty cadets, his foot hit your stomach area shortly after. You lacked respect and you lacked punctuality and discipline too. Another pile of shit he had to deal with - or work on until it headed home in tears.

The day after that, he hit your face with his fist. Kneeling on the floor in front of him, panting, you looked up at him. Wiping blood from your lips, you grinned at him and looked at him with wide eyes, your pupils exploding. "That's all you got, sir." Just as he was about to grit his teeth and lunge with his foot to beat the living daylights out of you, Hange stopped him. He tore himself away from her and knelt down to you, looking at you with dead eyes, "I'm going to make your fucking life a living hell." Your tongue licked over your lower lip, wiping away the remaining blood and your grin widened, "Try me."

He kept his word, always picking you out, giving you more tasks, making you run round after round, cleaning the whole headquarters, beating up your little body several times, but to his displeasure you did it all flawlessly. Yes, you lacked respect and also punctuality and discipline, but your performance was amazing, almost close to his. And when he finally saw the potential in you that Erwin had been talking about all along, it suddenly stopped - he left you alone, saw you with different eyes. Something changed in him, as if a plug had been pulled. You watched each other across the field during training, in mess hall at dinner, every spare minute your eyes spent on each other and gradually butterflies crept into the pit of your stomach. And you had the feeling that behind the cold silver there was something deep and dark that you wanted to bring to the surface. Your exchanges were still kept to a minimum, however, until there was another bang.

"That's the stupidest plan I've heard in a long time," you snort, raising an eyebrow.

"Excuse me, brat?" You roll your eyes and stare at him just as coldly as it hits you. The temperature in the room drops noticeably and the others at the table hold their breath. No one dares to say anything. No one would dare say anything. The moonlight from outside shines in, the candles in the room flicker slightly and trace sharp edges on your faces.

"That's the stupidest plan I've heard in a long time," you repeat louder, "Better, sir?"

Levi's eyes blaze and he stares at you. His eyebrows draw together, the corners of his mouth drop. You see Armin open his mouth speechlessly to your right.

Your hairs stand up, the electricity rises and you bite your lower lip, grinning.

"You doubt my plan?" says Levi low and monotone. Jean's hand lands on your shoulder and he grips it, pressing you into your seat to save you from your own stupidity, but it wasn't you who was stupid, it was the whole plan Levi had just explained to you.

"Not only do I doubt it, but I also have a better one," your grin widens as Levi's liquid silver darkens. "Let me fight on the front lines. Mikasa is good, but I'm better".

"For that, you're an incorrigible little bitch who won't listen to my orders".

"Yes, because my plans usually make more sense".

"You're not ready for that. Your cluelessness only makes you run from one titan to another. That statement alone shows me how small your brain is if you're not even aware of it and now shut your mouth."

Jean's grip tightens, but you just push his hand away from you. After your next blink, your heart jumps a tiny bit as you see Levi's annoyed face. He is always good at holding back his anger and it never shows. In fact, he almost never shows any emotion, but you see right through him. He has it bubbling up inside him. Never contradicts him and if he does, the person suffers a thousand deaths afterwards. But between you it is somehow different, tingling. It gives you the greatest pleasure to see him like this and you know, deep inside him, a voice is telling him that he enjoys it too. Others would describe you as crazy and full of the courage to live, but that's what makes it all so appealing.

"Maybe we can find a compromise?" suggests Armin and you see the sweat on his brow as he almost shits himself at the words. You roll your eyes and look back at Levi.

"I thought you wanted to make my life hell. So that's a good start," you remind him of the first words he ever said to you.

"Your plans are bullshit. If I let you keep fighting up front, you'll probably get yourself killed by your insanity, " he growls, almost at his limit. But only almost.

You lean over slightly, look at him, smile slightly, grin, bite your lip again, breathe, "I have a feeling you like this madness, Levi."

He tenses slightly, draws his eyebrows together again as his name passes your lips. Connie coughs and tries to draw attention to himself, but everyone ignores him. It seems like everyone is in a state of shock because you simply addressed him by his first name. Everyone watches spellbound as you literally eye-fuck each other. Do they like the show? Almost at his limit.

"Tch, what did you just call me, brat?" his voice gets louder and his hands form into fists. You lean back in your chair again and look at him, bored.

"Oh, I didn't know you had such bad hearing. Don't you like Levi? That's your name, isn't it? Do you prefer Sir? Or Captain? Or maybe," your eyes looked up at him, burning into him, "Daddy?" At his limit. Pathetic.

A deep dark sound comes from his throat and the others hold their breath again. His whole posture grows stronger and wider. You see the muscles working under his clothes, see veins popping on his hand and you feel butterflies in your stomach. His eyes are black. You all sit like that for a few seconds. You watch his gestures and his face change emotions. Without warning, his right hand hits the table flat, "Fuck off."

The sound cuts through the silence and the weaklings among you flinch. Confused, no one moves, while your eyes do not leave each other's. Armin is about to open his mouth and Jean is about to put his hand on your shoulder again when Levi stands up with a jerk, his chair tipping backwards and hitting the wooden floor with a thud.

"I said fuck off," he roars, looking around with a death glare.

Chairs squeak, footsteps run across the wooden floor, making it creak.

"What have you done now?" whispers Jean in your ear and you give him a look before he walks behind the others and the door closes.

The scene stops again and you stare at Levi. Both hands flat on the table in front of him, leaning on his arms and looking down, he stands there. You can no longer see his eyes as his long black strands fall into his face, but you notice his tense jaw. Your heart leaps again. He was so handsome. Especially when he was angry. Finally, you break the silence.

"Great, now you've scared everyone," you sigh and roll your eyes.

"What are you doing?", Levi hisses back at you, spitting venom and bile, finally raising his head. His eyes blaze again and your core drips.

"I don't know what you mean."

"You know your place, so start acting like it, you piece of shit."

"I wish my place was naked in front of you." Before Levi has taken in what you've said, you stand up, pushing the chair back a little as you do so, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go to sleep too. The day was exhausting and I need to rest to be fit for the expedition. So, I can sit my ass off nicely in midfield."

You turn away from him and your heart slips slightly into your pants. Never turn your back on the enemy. "But of course, it makes much more sense for Mikasa to fight in front and me in the back. Makes sense."

You can take two steps as his hand wraps firmly around your wrist. He squeezes too tightly, hurting you, and you grin again.

"Repeat what you said." His voice is so low it sends a shiver down your spine. Your expression changes and, playfully annoyed, you turn to face him.

"Do you mean the part where I explained that I was going to sit my ass off." He growls and you almost groan. The tension was heavy and hot.

"Stop playing games. My patience is running out."

You lick your lower lip again, wetting it before biting down on it. "I know this isn't about the fucking mission," Levi looks at your mouth. You take a step closer to him, looking up at him from below. "I wish my place was naked in front of you, Daddy," you breathe.

In that split second, his lips land on yours. Two forces of nature collide and you almost topple backwards. His arm wraps tightly around your waist, pulling you against him, and you finally moan. He bites your lower lip hard and you open your mouth in pain. He takes the opportunity to dig his tongue deep between your lips. He presses himself against your body and you slam into the wall behind you. A pain runs through your head as your tongues circle each other, fighting to see who has the upper hand. Your hands go into his hair, reaching deep into his mane, and you pull his head closer to you. Big hands grip your waist and he lifts you up with ease so you can wrap your legs around him. His hands travel under your thighs, squeezing the flesh before he drills them into the fat of your ass. Your teeth collide as you drill your tongue deeper into his mouth, exploring his mouth cavity. He releases the kiss and a thread of spit connects you. You lay your head back and lick over your swollen, sore lips as he places his mouth on your vein, kissing your pulse before licking along it.

"Took you long enough to finally decide to fuck me."

"Shut your mouth, brat," he breathes against your neck before biting into it and sucking on it.

"I swear, if you leave hickeys ..." you groan.

"What then? Are you going to hit me with your little fists?"

"You mean like you did to me all those times? Nah, I'm not an asshole like you. But you probably secretly get off on it."

He bites your neck, just above your pulse, and your head slams back against the wall behind you, making you see stars. He smirks as his nails dig into you and you claw into his shirt. Your panties are completely wet and your juice leaks out of you incessantly. You moan loudly as his teeth dig deeper into your flesh. This was far too good to be true. Your left hand goes into his hair again, you pull at the strands and tear him away from you. He makes a face and you press your lips to his again, biting his lower lip until you taste blood. He gasps and pushes your head away from him, "You're crazy."

You grin broadly at him. "We've been over this," you lick his lower lip apologetically, "and I can see you like it." His gaze is on your face as you wrap your arms around him. "You like crazy, you will stick your dick in crazy." A dark sound escapes him and your nails run over his neck. "You can't even argue with me, you want to fuck this crazy bitch so badly."

His lips land on yours again and you grin against him before moaning into his mouth as he presses you tighter against the wall. His hands leave your ass, skimming up the sides of your waist before moving forward to your chest. Two of his fingers find their way along between the buttons, stroking the sensitive skin. Your belly grows warm with the butterflies inside him. You wrap your legs tighter around his waist and run your hand under the fabric of his shirt at the nape of his neck, running it over the muscles of his shoulders and it shakes you with pleasure.

His strong hands grip the fabric of your blouse and without warning, he rips the front apart, sending the buttons flying across the room. You bite your lip as his arms fall around your waist to hold you in place. "You shouldn't have taken your anger out on my blouse," you moan as he kisses the bulge above your right collarbone and licks along it.

"Would you rather I took it out on you?" he murmurs as he bites into that thin skin too, sucking on it and sure to leave a hickey.

"Yes, I don't know you any different."

He continues to lick forward, kissing the ridge at the end of your neck, licking over a mole at the beginning of the mound of your breast. His right hand comes away from your waist, grips your left breast and kneads it. You claw into his shoulders, leaving marks as he pushes the cup off it and you feel his hand skin on skin. Almost painfully, he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and you push your back through, coming to meet him.

"Mmm, you like that?" he murmurs and you can hear his grin.

"I never thought you'd be this good at it," you mock, before you make a grimace and groan. Pain runs through you as he bites down on your nipple and then his lips wrap around it and he sucks on it. The sensation extends to your fingertips and your toes, coursing through your whole body. You close your eyes, savouring and moaning his name as he bites into it again. He sucks harder on it, lifting his head slightly and releasing it with a plop. He circles your nipple with his tongue and licks it slowly and pleasurably. The knot in your stomach tightens and your head is fogged.

"More," you moan into the room. You tug at the piece of fabric covering him and press your core tighter against him.

"Don't be so impatient, idiot."

"I'm not impatient, you're just slow."

He pulls your whole body down a bit, pressing his bulge into your centre. You curse because the fabric between you is annoying and rub against him greedily.

"Slowly then?" he purrs against your ear and comes towards you, rubbing against you too, "I'll keep that in mind." He grips you again and lifts you away from the wall. You let yourself fall against him and moan against his neck, licking it as you continue to try and build pressure.

Shortly after, your bottom touches the table and he releases your weight. You seize the opportunity and do the same to him, yanking him out of his shirt.

"Tch, but I'm venting my anger," he leans over you, capturing your lips again. Immediately your tongues meet. Greedily your fingers touch his body, stroking his soft skin beneath your fingers, feeling individual scars over, which you let your thumb wander. You caress each and every muscle and gape at his well-built body. He surpasses every single one of your fantasies that you imagined while he was training or just cleaning. You follow his muscles down to the V of his pelvis and a deep moan comes over him as you undo the buckle of his belt. His hands also find their way to your trousers, undoing them, and he releases the kiss. He goes to the floor, kneels in front of the table where you are still sitting and looks up at you. Slowly he takes off your boots without taking his eyes off you. You watch him spellbound, a grin falling on your lips again. He pulls at your trouser legs and you lift your bottom, helping a little so that he can brush the fabric off your legs.

His hands run over your feet and you shake yourself slightly before he kisses them.

"Mmm," you moan, "I could see you like this more often, Captain." You bite your lower lip as his hands slide along your legs. Again, and again his lip or tongue hits your skin, caressing it and you are sure you would leave a stain on the neatly cleaned table. At the latest, when his lips lick the insides of your thighs, your hands clasp the edge of the table. You groan and your right hand goes into his hair, claws into it. His hands settle on your legs, pushing them apart, and his warm breath touches your core. He looks at the dark fabric separating his face from your lower lips and licks his lips. How will you taste? There is a distinct stain, your juice colours the fabric a shade blacker and his hard cock presses against his still closed trousers. He draws in the air around him and he groans. You smell so incredibly good, how much he'd like to taste you. How much he would like to fuck you.

When you notice his fingers gently stroking your pussy and he grips the fabric to pull it aside, you moan again and pull on his head.

Painfully he is pulled back and you close your legs.

"What are you doing, idiot?" he gasps in annoyance, his face contorting at the sting.

"I don't feel like playing this time," you murmur, grinning. "My patience is wearing thin," you repeat his words from earlier, "I don't feel like waiting anymore."

You press your toes against his chest and push him backwards. He is slightly off balance, staggers and falls into the chair behind him.

"Unzip your pants already", you stand up and your hands each rest on the back of the chair next to his head, your breasts dangling in his face, "Go ahead".

Completely caught off guard, he undoes the button and then the zip. You grin again and lean forward towards him. Your lips meet his jaw, kissing along it to his ear and you put your mouth to the shell of his ear, "And now you take out your big cock."

He growls slightly and does as you command. Your gaze falls briefly on his hard erection and a shiver comes over you, your butterflies dancing inside you.

"That's much better, isn't it, Daddy?" you see his Adam's apple dangle as he swallows hard and you look into his eyes. You place one leg on each side of his body. Your hands slide from the back of the chair to his shoulders and you claw into them. Still covered with a piece of cloth, you rub your cunt over his hard cock, which presses against it. You moan and he does the same, putting his hands on your waist and squeezing. His eyes close and he puts his head back in his neck, "Do it already."

"Anything my daddy wants," your hand grips the thin fabric and pulls it aside. Drops of your juice hit him, mixing with his precum and you rub it along your slit before gripping his shaft and sliding his thick tip inside you.

Never would you have expected him to be so big. Your walls press tightly against him as he slides inch by inch into you. Your eyebrows draw together because it feels so good. Levi gasps slightly beneath you as you swallow him slowly.

"You're huge," you sigh contentedly as he's fully inside you, and you twitch your walls, his fingers buried deep in the flesh of your waist. His jaw seems tense, but his eyes look at you half-closed. His irises are no longer visible. "God, so fucking huge. We should have done this so much sooner. I think it's tearing me apart," you grin wide and happy as you feel a slight burn.

"If I had known how good you looked doing that, I would have fucked you sooner."

"Yeah, would you have?" you look deep into his eyes as you move upwards, his cock sliding completely out of you and you lower yourself back down onto him, "Do you like the way I ride your cock?" Your movements slowly quicken and you hear the smacking of your cunt as it swallows his cock again and again.

"Do you like the way your thick cock keeps digging deep into me?" He growls out and starts to come towards you. His hips thrust upwards, hitting you hard. As he does, you don't part your gaze for a second and it feels like you can glimpse his soul.

"Do you like the way my cunt milks you?" Levi digs one hand into the fat of your ass, pulling on it and baring his teeth. You dig your nails into his back as he changes the angle and bumps against your G-spot. The sounds of his balls hitting your ass and the mixing of your fluids grow louder. You become incredibly hot and start to sweat.

"Do you like the way I moan your name?" you add a long Levi at the last word and he stares at you like you're a goddess. His goddess.

"Fuck, you're so hot," he murmurs in a dry, heavy voice.

"That you ever thought otherwise hurts my heart." You ram your fingernails deeper into his back and pull at the skin, leaving deep marks.

"I'll never think anything else again," he groans up at you. By now you are no longer riding him. Instead, he holds you in place above him, your feet no longer even touching the ground, and he thrusts into you with a brutality that leaves you breathless. The knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter and you bite his shoulder to stifle a scream. He fucks you like a madman, pressing his body hard against yours and enjoying the feel of your hard nipples against his chest. He tries to get even deeper, to push against your cervix, but the position is too shitty for that.

"That won't do," he groans, suddenly lifting you up. With his pants at his ankles and you in his arms, he walks back to the table, lays you down on it ungently and buries himself in you again. He grips your legs with his hands, rests them on his shoulders and increases his speed further. He fucks you into the hard wood of the table and puts his head back, moaning your name loudly. He comes so far inside you, you feel pain deep inside you. Such good pain.

"God, your cunt is so tight. I never want to feel anything else ever again." You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Your breath has long left your lungs and your brain can't make anything up. Your little body is concentrating solely on how his fat cock is being pushed into you, how he is tearing your little hole in two and how incredible this feeling is. Because of this, you just mumble something to yourself, which makes him grin, "Suddenly I guess your mouth isn't so big anymore." Again, you try to say something, but it is in vain. Your head is full of fog and all you can think about is how he should thrust harder, even deeper, which is no longer possible, and how he should take you. You want him to ruin you, for everything and everyone. Every night he should do this to you so that you can never stand or sit again. You just want to be his little plaything.

"Good to know I can shut you up like this." His cock hits your G-spot hard and makes you see stars. You moan loudly and reach for something to claw into, but there's nothing. "Alright, I guess silent isn't quite the right word".

He's fucking you so well and you glare at him as he stares at you and you bite your lip, your breathing becoming more uncontrolled and you nod slightly at him to signal how close you are. He grins and you push your back through as he thrusts into you one last time and you explode, screaming his name and losing your grip on the earth.

That was probably the beginning of your death - and probably that of every other - but who knows for sure. The two of you were quite a force on your own, but as a duo you were invincible. Soon, word got out about what had happened. You could have tried to deny it, but it wasn't difficult to guess, since you were ever the only person allowed to disobey Levi and get away alive. Moreover, your loud moans could be heard throughout the building. Everyone should know that you now belong to each other. Your madness spilled over onto him. You had nothing left to lose - except each other and you swore you would only leave this hell together.

"Listen up, shitheads," Levi turns his attention to the people behind you and you follow his gaze, "we're going to do another round and secure the perimeter before we set up camp here for the night."

"Yes, sir," everyone but you shouts in unison and salutes. You roll your eyes.

Your gaze, on the other hand, averts and you direct it to the trees around you. The birdsong has died down and the wind has receded. The branch beneath you sways slightly again as Armin lands on it and turns to talk to Levi. You ignore them both and continue to look around. No wind, but the leaves sway back and forth. You close your eyes and concentrate. Far in the distance you can hear a river making its way through the ground. There is a faint smell of wet moss and it is all so peaceful. Far away you hear the tapping of a woodpecker looking for its food before it suddenly stops. You tear your eyes open and clutch the handles of your equipment. A moment later you see the bird fluttering overhead with a loud bird song. Your eyes fall on Levi and over Armin's shoulder he looks at you. He raises an eyebrow before your typical grin falls to your lips and his expression slips.

You shoot your hooks, which bore into a tree and you fly away. Behind you, you hear the shouting of others and more gas being consumed as you make your way through the forest. You build up speed and zoom past the many trees. You race in the direction from which you just heard the woodpecker. You hear a stomping sound that gets louder and louder the closer you get to it, before you see two huge figures running past you on your left. You didn't expect two, but that only means one more point on your kill scale. Your hands grip the handles of your 3DMG tighter and adrenaline rushes through your bloodstream. You draw in a deep breath through your nose as you suddenly change direction and race towards them. In the distance, you catch sight of your squad and see Levi racing ahead of them after you. He is stronger than you, but you are faster. He has left the squad behind with ease and does not look happy. His rage-filled face makes you feel like you're on fire and a shiver runs down your spine.

"Sorry," you shout loudly to them as you fly through the air and your hook bores into a titan's shoulder. You hear Levi yell your name, but you ignore him. Unfortunately, this distracts the two titans and they notice you. They stop and look around before spotting Levi.

The smaller titan is just under eight metres tall, the other about two metres taller, both of course abnormal. You whirl around the larger one and draw your swords, placing them against your small body, ready for battle. You hiss at his neck, but while he has not yet set his sights on you, the smaller one turns his attention to you and looks at you with wide eyes. He reaches out his hand to you. You curse loudly and drill your hook into a tree above you to get away from him quickly. It is just enough that when he closes his hand, you are not caught in it. Instead, your sole touches his huge finger and you push off against him in addition to putting more land between him and you. On the other side of the field, you see Levi whirling through the air, attracting the little titan's attention. He puts up his swords ready to fight, but you are quicker, get in his way and cut the titan's neck with a smooth slice. The first titan goes down, begins to steam and you are left with the larger one. As you fly through the air, you drill your hooks into his arm and pull yourself towards him. Just before you get on top of him you change direction and fly towards his shoulder. The titan looks around and tries to spot you again, but you are too fast. The next time your hooks hit a tree in the distance. You fly towards his neck, your swords just setting when your ropes suddenly loosen. The titan has lashed out, ripping them out of the tree. You tear open your eyes, more adrenaline finding its way into your bloodstream, your heart pounding against your chest. For the moment, your course is not altered, so your cut glides through him perfectly and he falls slowly to the ground. But you fall with him. You try to drill your hooks back into a tree, but apparently, he has damaged your equipment, so nothing happens. Panic shoots into your head as you get closer and closer to the ground. You close your eyes and brace yourself for impact before you hit the ground. Your air is ripped from your lungs, your body aches under the contact and the wind flies around your ears. You cling to the body against you and rest your head against its neck. Black tea and lemon. As soon as your feet touch ground, he sets you down and pushes you off him. You stagger back and see the faces of the rest of your comrades, who look at you in horror.

"What was that about, you retard?!" snarls Levi at you, and you see his tense jaw and the deep creases on his forehead, his lips pressed hatefully into a line, as he presses his eyebrows together.

"I don't know what you're upset about. I had the situation under control." You pat the dirt off your clothes, hoping he doesn't see your slightly wobbly legs. You take a deep breath and look up at him. That was more action than you planned. To be honest, the situation got out of hand, but you would never admit that - especially not in front of Levi.

"Under control?! You call that under control! You disobeyed my order!" he yells at the whole forest and you see Krista wince.

"I killed them, what more do you want? If you hadn't come, I would have finished faster."

"He almost killed you!"

"Right, almost," you grin at him and undo the straps of your equipment, letting it fall to the floor. It is no longer of any use and simply means more burden that you would have to carry around with you. You kick it lightly and it rattles. Everyone seems shocked, and Levi clenches his hands into fists. You bite your lower lip, "You were there, weren't you?"

"Yeah, but I'm not always, maron!"

"Yeah, and I'm good at taking care of myself in those moments," you stride towards him and place your hands on his tense chest, "Daddy."

You wink at him and the others almost skin it at your words. Eren is probably already thinking about running away before Levi takes his anger out on him. You stroke his shirt and he stares at you. His anger is immeasurable, but you can see something else mingling in his gaze and he relaxes slightly.

"You'll pay for that later," he murmurs and you lick your lips.

"I expected nothing less."

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi heichou #attack on titan #aot #snk #smut

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caratmagic · 3 years

Text

—jung wooyoung—

contains: arguing, pretty offensive words, explicit content

word count: 2.3k

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Enemy Territory 🌻chapter 4🌻

You hate that you find yourself dragging your feet slowly—yet quietly— to Wooyoung’s door. Hoping that the noises you hear from behind it aren’t those of pleasure.

There’s an exchange of them chatting, audible enough to hear but not enough to make out the words. As if snooping like this wasn’t enough, you press the shell of your ear against the door. Using the frame of it to steady your body from making any unnecessary movements or noise.

A rustle. Then several more. You think you hear the sheets move.

They’ve stopped talking.

More silence, then a loud thump onto the floor.

Your heart races out of your chest and you have a hard time picturing what could possibly be going on inside Wooyoung’s room.

Footsteps hurry to the door and before you could get more than halfway down the hall, Wooyoung’s body peeks out from behind his door.

“Snooping on me now?” He scoffs with that annoyingly charming sneer. “I thought we were supposed to stay out of each other’s business? Now look who’s breaking their own rules.”

You shut your eyes tightly while your back faces your ex.

Fuck.

A breath quickly fills your lungs as you turn around in efforts to compose your expressions. You’re somehow confused as to why he was suddenly wearing a shirt.

“I— I was just about to knock and ask you what type of meat you wanted to grill, you idiot.” Your mouth moves faster than your thoughts and you’re so glad that your brain was quick enough to pull something straight out of your ass. “I didn’t want to… interrupt.”

Wooyoung holds the door open slightly for you to catch a small glimpse of the girl politely seated at the edge of his bed. Blinking curiously at you with a content smile on her face, although her tears still stain her cheeks. “It’s not even noon yet y/n, I’m smarter than that to start having rough sex knowing that you’re in the apartment.”

This thought somehow makes your stomach turn and not in a pleasant way. You didn't want to imagine Wooyoung like this with someone else. Yet, an image of him bare and in his sexual glory flashes across your mind and for a second you forget that you aren’t single. You forget that you have a neglectful boyfriend who likes to have sex with you once a week then proceeds to avoid you until the next weekend arrives.

Does Wooyoung have sex often when I’m not around? Did he have to use the word ‘rough’? Do they have rough sex together?—

Why was the thought of Wooyoung having sex with someone else more distressing to you than the entire problem of your boyfriend literally using you as a weekend booty call?

Not a single soul should know why, because the reality of it all is that: One, Wooyoung is single. And two, you are not.

So you had no right to be bothered about it.

Right?

“Uh. Right,” You subconsciously mess with the tips of your fingers to think of what to say next since you didn’t expect that his comment would throw your mind into a loop. “Just text me when you’ve, um, decided what you want. I’ll head to the store now since you’re busy… so you’ve got 20 minutes to make a choice.”

“No need to wait 20 minutes for me to text you, y/n,” Wooyoung slowly pulls his lips into a gentle smile. A smile that sets off a million bursts of fireworks through your chest. “You already know what kind of meat I like to grill.”

Instantly you blink away the feeling—or at least try to ignore it. “People change. Just wanted to ask in case you had a change in taste.”

Wooyoung presses his lips together before nodding his head slowly. Clearly catching your composure and deciding not to point it out due to the guest on his bed. “Uh, nope. My tastes are constant, y/n.”

The worst part of it all is, your conversation was being monitored by a ditsy flower, just waiting for Wooyoung to come back and take care of her… You hated it. Everything about this set up.

Now, heading out of the apartment to get groceries seemed like a much better idea to you than twiddling your thumbs to wait for Wooyoung’s pretty guest to leave.

“I’ll head out then.”

Upon grabbing your purse and your keys, you curse at yourself mentally for getting caught snooping. Even scolding your heart for causing your mind to lose control of your emotions.

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

It had only been half an hour since you left to get ingredients for the meal with Wooyoung, yet a familiar vehicle pulls into the apartment complex parking lot.

A few flights up and your boyfriend is back at the front of your door. Sure to himself that your car has left and that you’d be gone for a while.

San punches in the code of your apartment door. When it opens, a girl stands on the other side peering up at San with a shocked expression.

“Oh hey, It’s y/n boyfriend.” She smiles before turning to Wooyoung who, at the moment, keeps a straight face.

They had finally completed their 30 minute rant session, where she comes to him for help with her loneliness. Which was a topic to talk about for another time since Wooyoung felt like it wasn’t even his place to do it for her— also, considering he’s rejected her multiple times to be something more than her emotional support friend.

He never felt like a new relationship was something he needed.

As far as relationships are concerned, Wooyoung has enough on his plate to deal with considering the ugly truth he’s recently discovered. And of course, his unsettled feelings for his gorgeous ex.

“What are you doing back?” Wooyoung asks San, holding the door open for his emotionally unstable friend.

“Uh, coming to see my girlfriend??” San exchanges an offended glare at Wooyoung.

“Oh, I thought you already had your fill for her last night… What happened? Fell asleep before you could finish the job?” Wooyoung’s words are calm yet sharp like knives. Attacking San with precision as he tilts his head in accusation. “She’s out getting groceries.” He adds.

“You know,” San narrows his eyes, striding to level his face right in front of Wooyoung’s. “You have a lot of nerve thinking you can have any say in our relationship considering you’re her fucking ex.”

“We only broke up because I decided to switch colleges last minute without telling her.” Wooyoung doesn’t back down. He’s aware that his choice was the reason why the two of you broke up and that he should’ve told you sooner he wasn’t going to go to the same college as you guys had planned. “At least I never snuck out of bed after having sex with her.”

San scoffs at the gall. “Don’t act like you fucking know me.”

“I don’t.” Wooyoung shifts his weight and sticks his hands into his jean pockets. “But I know every part of y/n way better than you do. Every. Single. Part.”

San’s hand clenches into a fist and right before he draws it back to swing at Wooyoung. The girl awkwardly standing beside them in the threshold of the door raises her voice. “Hey, as much as I like the drama, I kind of have work so if I can just pass through…”

San doesn’t steer his eyes away from Wooyoung as he takes a step to the side for the girl to get around his body. Too peeved to realize that he was blocking the door.

“…I’ll see you later, Wooyoung. Thanks for helping me out again.” She waves before disappearing into the hall.

San huffs through his nose. It’s upsetting to him that Wooyoung doesn’t even seem the least bit affected by the situation. “Why aren’t you packing your shit? Isn’t this your last week?”

As if his train of thought derails, without even waiting for an answer to his own questions, San pushes past your ex and heads straight into your room.

Looking for what he left so recklessly before sneaking away that morning.

Wooyoung, with his hands still in his pockets, calmly follows San. Watching your boyfriend’s frantic search for whatever he’s misplaced.

Since Wooyoung respects your privacy, he stops right at the entrance of your room. “Did you wait for y/n to leave the apartment?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” San tosses a pillow off your bed. Not sparing a single glance at your ex.

“I don’t know,” Wooyoung leans against the door. “I mean, if I had something to hide, I guess I’d want to wait until she was gone too.”

San stops completely. His heart drops to his stomach when he turns to your ex standing in front of your room. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Wooyoung shrugs with a playful smirk etching onto his face as one of his hands pulls something out of his right pocket. “You tell me.”

There. What San was looking for.

His phone.

“Where did you find that!?” San yells as he practically dives for it.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Wooyoung shoves it back into his pocket. Placing his hand in front of himself defensively. “Question is, why are you so upset?”

San swallows and processes quickly before clearing his throat. He couldn’t understand why his palms were so sweaty. “It’s—Because it’s fucking mine! Hand it over!”

Wooyoung shakes his head, angling his body away from your boyfriend. “It can’t be yours.”

“Are you fucking mad?” San yells again. Smacking Wooyoung’s arm away from the position he’s guarding his pocket. “Of course, it is. It’s my phone!”

“No, no, no.” Wooyoung’s stupid, playful smile begins to boil hate into San’s veins. “This can’t be your phone.”

“I’ll drop kick that fucking smile off your face, you son of a bitch, give me back my phone!”

“Dude,” Wooyoung chuckles, loving how riled up your shitty boyfriend is getting. “I swear this phone has got to be someone else’s… because when I saw it on the couch, ringing at 4 am, someone named Eunji was calling to ask if her ‘daddy’ was still going to—and I’ll quote her on this, “Rearrange my guts like you always do on Saturday nights.” And you're telling me you’re certain that this is your phone?”

The reality settles into the air and San realizes that he’s been caught cheating on you… by your ex.

This is when Wooyoung’s twisted smirk turns into an angry scowl. He’s disgusted that you found a man so indisputably vile and unloyal.

“You really think you’ll get away with this? Lying to y/n like this and fucking her once every week just to make up for how shitty a person you are?”

San’s gaze falters to the floor and he snatches his phone from the unguarded pocket of Wooyoung’s jeans. “What are you gonna do, huh? Tattle-tail on me?” He shoves it into his back pocket, scoffing. “She’ll never believe you. She hates you.”

“Even if she does,” Wooyoung turns on his heels and enters into his room across the hall. “She’ll wish you were dead after figuring out that you leave her in the mornings just to be in some other woman’s bed the very same night.”

San follows Wooyoung a few steps into the hall. “You wouldn’t dare tell her.” He spits.

An exasperated sigh paired with the front door swinging open, startles the two men away from glaring at one another.

*********

After 30 minutes of shopping, you head home.

The entire time in the parking lot, you were gathering the courage to talk yourself into confidently walking back into your house.

So what if he was having sex? You have sex all the time with San while Wooyoung stays in the room across the hall from yours.

How is coming back home knowing that he’s having fun with a woman be any different?

Equality at its best example for it. You remind yourself as you exit the elevator.

To your dismay, You were unpleasantly greeted by a very voluptuous woman with intruding questions as to why you were going to enter into her boyfriend’s home.

You push past the nuisance at your front door. Sighing as you lazily drop the groceries onto the floor.

You can only assume that this other girl— an entirely different girl compared to the one from this morning—is Wooyoung's little problem.

This boy must be cheating… What a waste. “Taste’s are constant” my ass.

You pray that Wooyoung’s ditsy girl toy from earlier this morning has left. Though you liked witnessing drama, you didn’t want to see two girls fight over your ex. “Wooyoung? I think you have a guest.” You call out as you take off your shoes.

To your surprise, Your boyfriend is staring at you from the hallway— eyes wide and stunned.

Wooyoung steps out of his room to stand in the hall next to San. A flat smile sets on his features as he stares at you and eunji. “I won’t need to…” He seems to be talking to San when he speaks. “Next time, set a better password on your phone. You never know who’ll scroll through your messages and send people your girlfriend’s address.”

This confuses you. Immensely. More so, when San’s face drains of all color.

“Baby! Who the hell is this girl?” Miss voluptuous checks your shoulder as she rushes past you. Headed towards Wooyoung with her arms stretched out.

What rattles your world from it’s axis isn’t that Wooyoung doesn’t hold her, it’s that the girl doesn’t even look at him. She doesn’t even acknowledge that Wooyoung’s standing there.

Instead,

She’s all over your boyfriend. Calling him “baby’ and glaring at you as if you were nothing more than a disgusting insect.

No, no… I must be dreaming.

“Sannie, who the hell is this girl and why is she coming into your apartment?”

[ chapter 5 >> ]

#wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez #ateez imagines #san imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut

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universalistotalis · 3 years

Text

Someday

Miya Osamu x Female Reader

Fluff fluff fluff to a little angst

Mention of Mommy Miya and Atsumu lol

2.9k words

Masterlist!!!

You wiped the sleep from your eyes as you were woken up by one of your family members who sat beside you on the bus. People queued in line to exit the vehicle that’s stopped in front of the airport and you can hear the soft chattering of the passengers as they lined up the aisle.

It feels sad really. To be leaving a country that you’ve explored for days on end, enjoying the culture, the view, the food, and all the little details in between. You wrapped the jacket more to your figure as the cold and the sadness crept into you. You welcomed the feelings though, because it meant that you had such a wonderful time that you didn’t want to let go.

Blinding lights made your eyes squint as all of you entered the gigantic airport. ‘Here we are’, you said to yourself. The busy goers walked and jogged past you here and there, some were loading heavy bags trolleys, some were panicking while looking at the schedule, and some were just chilling at the aligned chairs, sipping a cup of coffee.

“So, we’ll go check- in on our flight and we’ll go to the duty- free shop for souvenirs. All right?” You just nodded at their plan because they’ve been repeating that ever since you went out the hotel room where you stayed.

As you had hoped, the duty free shop was so full of things that you wanted. Just packed with all the goodies like the country's famous snacks, the foreign cosmetics that you adored, and even the cool relief patches that you tried and were so amazed at. Good thing you were given enough money to purge on what you wanted so you filled an entire basket! After all, you never know when you can come back to this country again.

“Excuse me.” Someone from behind you cleared his throat.

You were busy looking at the label of one of the beauty products from the shelf that you didn’t notice that you were blocking the narrow column.

“Oh sorry.” You apologized and scooted a little so that the person could pass. You turned to see the man and your whole body froze for a millisecond at the sight. The air felt electric all of the sudden as your gazes fixed on each other. He was the first one to look away and go on his way normally, as if not feeling the surge of adrenaline that you just felt.

“Damn, he’s beautiful.” You whispered. You swore you have never seen someone that beautiful in your entire life... EVER! And it wasn’t helping that his body was so built and tall and that his hair had this ombre gray color going on. No one’s supposed to look good with that hair color but why did he pull it off?! How?!

“Samu! I found your favorite cookies from yesterday!” An loud, excited voice made you jump from behind and you turned around in reflex. You saw the beautiful man earlier, standing at the end of the aisle and examining the pack in his hands while nodding. “I told you we could find it here! C’mon, let’s get more!” A tall blonde man next to him said while dragging him away.

You blinked, trying to process what you saw. Wow.

That’s it! Some people are just god’s favorites, aren’t they? You thought you were having issues with your vision but it was clear that there is not only one beautiful man. But TWO! He has a twin and good god, they were both so fit!

‘Does this store have a sale on these guys because I would like to purchase, please!’ You just chuckled at your crazy, thirsty thoughts and proceeded to checking out the things you bought.

They never left your mind. There were still five hours to spare before your flight but not once did they, especially he, stop running in your head! You scolded yourself one too many times this past hour because of the scenarios flooding in. There were date nights, traveling to different countries, petty fight scenes, cute nicknames, and all the sappy shit that couples do and say. You’re just hurting yourself really, and you had to stop!

The gods just wanted you to have a good one minute of your life and that’s it. You’ll never see him again!

You sighed and excused yourself to get a beverage that’ll quench your thirst from so much daydreaming. The nearest vending machine that you saw was at the other waiting area so you had to walk a little bit further. Your eyes were already set on the juice drink once you neared the machine.

“Hey, y/n!” You looked up questioningly as you saw your family waving and approaching you. “Let’s stay here a bit. People are beginning to flock there and I don’t like it. Besides, we can see if they’re already boarding from here.”

“Alright.” You agreed. “You want anything from the vendo?”

“Anything that you’ll have please.”

You sealed the top cap of the bottle mindlessly while staring blankly at the the vending machine. Your fingers were a little numb from the cold drink but you didn’t mind. You allowed yourself to be overly emotional at the thought of ending the vacation and of not having the boy you swore would be perfect for you. How could a single meeting that lasted for seconds affect you so much?! A small, sad chuckle left your lips because you knew you were so damn whipped but that didn’t really matter now.

“You’re so damn whipped, man! What, you’ve known her for like five seconds and now you think you’re in love with her?” Atsumu hissed, looking at his brother like he had grown two heads.

“Shut yer trap, Tsumu.” Osamu snapped out of his daydream once his brother’s voice penetrated the peaceful area.

“Then stop staring!” Atsumu laughed and shook his head. He took a glimpse of the person behind him to check the girl out and he had to admit, you were pretty even in your simple clothes.

“Hey.” Osamu called, a hint of warning laced in his deep voice.

“What, I wasn’t looking!" Atsumu dramatically puts his hand up in the air. "Stop being possessive of your five- second girlfriend, sheesh!” He teased more as he was met by the scowling face of his twin.

“I’m not in love with her.” Osamu scowled and folded his hands together like a toddler.

Atsumu was trying so hard not to laugh at his state and denial. “Look, Samu. We practically came from the same cell, you don’t have to lie to me. If it makes you feel better, we’ll reduce it to a crush. Now, how does that sound?”

Osamu rolled his eyes but he knew Tsumu was right. When he saw your eyes from the store, he felt a prickling sensation in his whole body that it shocked him a little. He swore all the hairs on his skin stood up at the encounter and that was the first time he ever felt that way! And what are the odds that you came to sit on their waiting area, giving him such a good view?

“Honestly, bro. You’re being creepy.” Osamu massaged the bridge of his nose in despair as his twin clicked his tongue in judgment.

“And you’re being annoying.” He countered.

“Cool down! Why don’t you go get us a drink then?” Atsumu smirked and challenged.

“Get your own damn dr—“

“That would be great, honey! Can you please get me water too? I’m getting a little thirsty from waiting.” They both whipped their heads at their mother who was smiling so sweetly and both melted at the sight.

“Okay.” They said in unison and got to their feet in a flash.

“‘Kay, here’s the plan.” Atsumu announced while acting like he’s warming up for a game.

“What plan? We’re just getting drinks?!” Osamu regarded him questioningly.

“We are just getting drinks but the vendo’s in front of your girlfriend, dummy!”

“Shit!” Osamu's eyes widened as he cursed. He hated that Atsumu was making sense. They do need a plan!

“It’s so hard to be the smart brother. I gotta do all the work!” Atsumu sighed dramatically earning himself another eye roll. “So, the plan is…” He paused for a while, trying to get his brother’s attention.

“What?! What do we do?” Osamu's patience was on thin ice and his frustrating brother is not helping one bit!

“Wow, you’re really trusting me on this, huh?” Atsumu stared at him in wonder. “Damn, what did that girl do to you?”

“God fuckin’ dammit, Tsumu, you’re wasting time!” Osamu strangled and shook him lightly. The other just laughed his ass off while trying to break free.

“Boys.” The warning tone and stoic gaze from their mother were enough to make their way to you. To the vending machine, that is…

“I’ll stay here, lover boy.” Atsumu patted Osamu’s back as they neared the destination which was just meters away from their seat.

“Wait, what? No—"

“Don’t be scared, you dummy. You can do it!” Blonde hair swayed in front of Osamu’s face as Atsumu danced a little cheering dance for him. “I’ll have cola, by the way. Now, go!”

Osamu tripped a little as his back was pushed but he didn’t seem to care as he was nearing your crouching form. You were just so damned focused on that phone that you didn't acknowledge his presence.

"Okay, we're just going to go through this like a normal person, Samu. No big deal." He whispered to himself.

“Y/n.” One of the persons beside you called. “I want the juice again pleaaaase.”

He saw your head perk up and was stunned when you laughed at their plea. “Alright, alright! Same flavor?”

Osamu didn’t realize that he was nearing the vending machine the same time as you were as he was so distracted by your charm. So your name was y/n and you had such a cute voice. And definitely a cute smile. Somehow, that was enough to make his imagination run wild!

It all happened so fast and you became aware of his presence a little too late. All you knew was that there was suddenly a looming figure on your left and you jumped in surprise, not meaning to.

“S-sorry.” He stuttered, a little surprised at your reaction too.

“No, no, it’s okay.” You smiled and bowed your head politely at him, praying to all the gods that he doesn’t see you blushing nor hear the heartbeat from your chest. “You go first.”

He blinked and looked down at you questioningly but he declined gently. “No, no. I can wait. Ladies first.” He gestured and stepped aside.

“Alright.” You smiled again.

Your mind was going a hundred miles per hour! You never thought that going to vending machine would be the hardest endeavor of your life! With hands shaking slightly, you inserted the coins until they reached the exact amount of the drink that you wanted and you pressed on the button that suddenly lit up.

A sense of dread flooded your being because that was it. After you press the button, you’re going to go back to your normal life. You were going to turn around and leave and never see that face again.

But as you stood there, you wondered why there wasn’t that familiar sound of the bottle dropping for you to claim?

“That’s weird.” You whispered and crinkled your nose. Your finger pressed the button again... and again, hoping that it result to something but to no avail.

“Is it broken?” His voice echoed the question in your head.

“I don’t think so.” You pouted a little. “I was able to get the same drink a while ago.”

Both of you just stared at it for it moment.

“Kick it.” He suggested, while putting his hands in both of his pockets and cooly transferring his weight on the right side.

“What?” You asked, horrified.

You were flashed with his laughing grin and crinkling eyes. “No harm in trying. C’mon!” He encouraged.

“If I get in trouble, you’re going down with me.” You warned but then you took him up on his challenge and kicked the bottom of the huge metal.

And truthfully so, the bottle dropped.

He crouched down and fetched the cold drink in his hand while still grinning like a fox. “Okay, I didn’t think you’d actually do it but here you go.” His voice was so heavenly to hear especially when it was still alight with humor. His eyes looked at you so sweetly that you were effectively just stuck there, under his spell.

“Thanks.” You chuckled and took what he was holding out. At the touch of your skin, the both of you jumped at the sudden and strong electricity that coursed through your veins. It was the same thing you both felt at the store but this time, it was stronger!

“Woah.” He said in awe. “I—"

You rubbed the back of your hand as if it stung and gazed up at him to take a good look. He had kind, brown eyes below his bushy eyebrows and thick, plump lips below his pointed nose. His cheeks were dusted pink which was cute. But his jawline contrasted as it was ready to cut your heart open. His gray hair was tousled too which matched his cool look and outfit of dark blue jeans, white shirt, and a leather jacket.

“T-thanks for this, again.” You stuttered. “I gotta go now.”

“N-no, wait.” He stuttered as well while instinctively pulling your sleeve by the hem. Another surge of lightning shot through you but you managed to smile back at him.

“Yeah?”

“W-what if it doesn’t work on me?” He said, sheepishly. “I need your kicks.”

For the first time since you met him, you started to relax so you let out a hearty laugh. “Okay, I’ll be right here.”

Osamu smiled gratefully at you before turning back and loading his coins. His ears rang at your words, ‘I’ll be right here’. He hoped you would be for a long time but that’s just wishful thinking.

One… Two… Three… Four…

“Wow, how many would you take?” Your amused voice made him grin again.

“It’s for the whole family.” He shrugged and crouched for the fourth time to get the drink. “This would be the last.”

“Good thing it didn’t break!” You said and again you were met by the awkward silence and him just staring. “Uhmm…”

“I’m Osamu, by the way.” He blurted out suddenly. “Miya Osamu.”

He tried his best to hold all the four drinks in one arm and extended one out to you.

“Oh… uhm…” Fuck.

“Uhm?” He laughed, still waiting for your introduction… desperate for it, really.

“Y/n L/n.” Warmth spread from your hands to your body as you held his and squeezed lightly. “It’s nice to meet you, Osamu.”

“Nice to meet you too.” He continued to shake your hand, not breaking eye contact. “Really nice.”

You laugh at the awkwardness but it seems like both of you don’t mind. You just want to prolong this interaction of yours and without you knowing, he was doing the same.

“Thank you for waiting. Flight QR 1008 is now accepting passengers on board.”

Osamu’s world crashed as the announcement continued. That was his cue to leave. He didn’t want to let your hand go so he tightened his grip more.

“That’s our flight.” He whispered and smiled sadly at you.

You nodded as your heart shattered in pieces. “Have a safe flight, Osamu. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Same here.” He replied, slowly letting go of your hand. “You take care and try not to break vending machines next time.”

A laugh bubbled inside your chest as he stepped back in agonizing slowness. “I’ll try.”

“Bye, y/n.” He waved and walked back to his brother who you saw patted him on the back.

“Do you know the guy?” You were asked when you went back to the seats.

“No, I just met him.” How you wish you knew him more.

“Well, he’s such a hunk, isn’t he?” They teased but you just laughed and shrugged it off.

You’re going to suffer this heartache for a while.

On the other end, Osamu carried his backpack over his shoulder, looking like he’s carrying the weight of the world.

“Hey.” Atsumu wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “You alright?”

“It’s gonna take a while.” He grumbled.

Atsumu nodded in understanding and tightened his grip on his brother for support. “It’ll be fine, Samu.”

And before they could enter the boarding gate leading to the plane, a surge of courage ran through Osamu’s body. All he knew was that he just had to do it or regret it forever. It's worth the risk!

“Hey y/n!” He shouted, jogging his way to you when they neared the entrance doors.

You were stunned at the mere mention of your name from a baritone voice. The grip of two hands followed and they were heavy on your shoulders.

“Let’s meet again, yeah?” Osamu asked you, full of hope in his eyes. “Someday.”

You nodded your head and smiled. You love that idea. “Someday.”

With that, he waved his final good bye, bowed at your family, and left.

All was well but you never saw each other again.

---

Masterlist!!! Read more here hehehe

I actually enjoyed writing this so much hahaha I'm in love with the twin's tandem and their constant witty comebacks and bickering! I also miss going to airports and travelling and spotting eye candies outside... TAKE ME OUT OF THIS HOUSE PLEASE!

Anw, Hope you're all doing great. Stay safe!

Reblogs are appreciated! <3

105 notes · View notes

softtransbf · 3 years

Text

Fresh Blood, Old Scars Part 1

You'd disappeared 15 years ago without a trace- what's Yancy supposed to do when you walk into Happy Trails Penitentiary and don't recognize him, because he's transitioned? canon compliant trans!yancy/reader

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of violence, canonical and parental. deadnaming and misgendering before either of you came out (none by anyone who knows the correct name/pronouns)

Word Count: 2,690

“Hey Yancy, I heard there’s fresh blood comin’ in today for some sorta museum heist.”

“Oh? Know anything else about these guys, so we can give ‘em a proper welcome, Bambam?”

“I know some. The first guy, Mark Iplier, claimed to have been in charge of the whole thing, but from what my sources said, it’s the partner that ran the show- just real quiet-like. I’ve been told that he don’t say a word.”

“Got a name for this, uh, silent partner?” He chuckled at his joke.

“Y/N L/N.” Yancy’s stomach dropped the way it always did when he heard that last name, your last name. Get your shit together. Wrong first name, and Bambam said he and his. Bambam don’t use pronouns other than they/them unless they’re sure. It’s just some guy with the same last name.

“Yance, you okay?” Tiny waved his hand in front of Yancy’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh, thinkin about how best to greet dese guys. The usual, wit Don’t Wanna Be Free ready just in case?”

“Right off the bat? You really think they’re that high of a flight risk?” Sparkles finally spoke up.

“I, uh, I don’t trust dem silent-types. They’s always schemin’, got somethin goin ahn in their heads.” And if he's anything like- yeah. Gone before you know it.

“Okay, if you say so. I’ll go let the others know.” Yancy didn’t even register who was speaking; he was too lost in memories.

- 15 years earlier-

Yancy knew it wasn’t cool to be excited for the first day of school when you’re a senior in high school, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need or even want to be cool- all he needed was to be your friend. Well, maybe not just friend. You’d been gone for almost the entire summer, and he’d spent the whole time figuring out how to both ask you out and tell you that he’s a guy.

He practically skipped across the street to your house so you can walk to school together, like you had every day since middle school. He knocked- nothing. Rang the doorbell- still nothing. He checked the back door and the spots where you had hidden spare keys over the years- nothing. All the curtains were drawn, too, so he couldn’t see inside. He kept trying as long as he possibly could before he had to sprint to make it to class just barely in time. All day, he kept an eye on the door, waiting for you- the two of you made sure to sign up for the exact same schedule before you went on your vacation. At lunch, he went to the office to see what he could find out.

“Y/DN isn’t a student here anymore- Mr L/N just told us last week.”

“What? Do you know where they went?”

“I’m sorry, hon, I don’t. All I know is that Y/DN is no longer a student here.”

He’d never ditched a class in his life, but that was the last thing on his mind as he ran home, crying. He didn’t stop crying for weeks.

-Present -

He’d never wanted to be wrong more in his life, but there you were. Looking better than he’d ever dreamed, following Mark around silently as he blabbered on about wanting to rally the other inmates to try to break out. No. I lost you once, and it cost me everything. I’m not about to lose you again. He quickly spread the word to skip pleasantries with the new guys and prepare for the song. As he was, you made eye contact with him from across the room. His heart dropped; you didn’t recognize him. You looked right through him, with the same calculating expression you gave everyone else. Of course he wasn’t gonna recognize you, dumbass. You’ve been on hormones for years and have had top surgery. Usually Yancy loved that he couldn’t see anything of the person he used to be in the mirror, but today he hated it more than anything in the world. Stick to the plan, Yance. He doesn’t recognize me, but it might be better this way. This way, I can get him to stay and get to know me as I am now, and he won’t be disappointed that I haven’t become anything like what we dreamed of so long ago.

Yancy couldn’t have planned it better, Mark practically begging Jimmy to punch him through the wall right before the show started, leaving you alone.

The number went great, as always, but then you showed him a picture of your parents. He knew that picture; you took it when the four of you went on a vacation together before you started your freshman year of high school. He also knew that he had once been in the picture, but you’d cut him out. The tape and staples that had been holding his heart together since you left fell away.

He stuck with his usual response to people citing family for wanting to leave, for the most part. No one at Happy Trails knew about you, and he’d killed his parents before they could leave him, so he’d kept his true abandonment issues to himself. Face to face with you after all these years, though, he couldn’t stop himself from adding “they’re always just gonna leave you behind” and a warning about trifling with the past. You flinched a little at both of those, and a spark of hope ignited in his chest- maybe you hadn’t forgotten about him, even if you didn’t recognize him now.

Then you still chose to leave. The rest of the rather single-sided conversation was a blur to him. Later, as he was tending to his injuries in solitary, he remembered calling you handsome and/or beautiful and your blush when he did. And, of course, you knocking him flat on his ass. He’d challenged you to a fight, because he’d always been able to beat you before. The part that truly left him confused, though, was why he offered to help you break out.

All he’d wanted for the last fifteen years was to go back to the day you left and beg you to stay. He’d told himself dozens, maybe hundreds, of times that if he ever saw you again, he’d do everything in his power to keep you with him. On his darker and angrier days, he truly meant everything. But here you are, and he offered to help you leave. This is what you get for even hoping someone might stick around. Let’s just do this. I gotta stop in with the warden first, though…

“Me? Out there? With you?” He chuckled. You had no idea that, with that simple gesture, you offered him everything he’d wanted for so long. Fuck, I don’t deserve him. I still love him, but he deserves someone better than the angry, selfish man I am. The fragments of his heart splintered even more. “I, um. I done a lotta bad things. And, uh.” He made himself brighten up. “This is home! For now, anyway. Maybe next time parole comes up, I’ll, uh” take it and go find you like I should have fifteen years ago. And I’ll spend every minute until then trying to become the kind of man you deserve. “Anyway, I gotta get back to it. You take care now, you hear? And, hey, visitation! Every third Sunday!” You looked down at the box you’d brought with you, and he ran. When he got back to his cell, he cried genuine tears for the first time since that August day when his world turned upside down.

- 2 weeks later, visitation day -

He knew hoping you’d come was a waste of time, and that he was just setting himself up for more pain. He’d learned the hard way that when you were gone, that was that. But still, there he was, looking up every time a guard walked into the room. As expected, they never called his name. The rest of the inmates gave him a wide berth as he went back to his cell for the night, and they were right to. He was itching for an excuse to fight. No one gave him one, though, so he told himself he’d find one tomorrow and got ready for bed.

When he got to his cell, it took him just one second to realize there was someone on his bed, pull them off, and shove them against the wall. It took him three more to process that it was you, and then another five to step back and let you go.

“Sorry for scaring you, Yancy. I didn’t mean to. It’s just… it’s visitation day, but I’m still wanted for the escape you helped me pull off, and I haven’t decided if I want to come back for good or not.” He stood there, frozen. You chuckled nervously. “I get it, your turn to be the quiet one. I’m sorry about that, by the way. There was a lot to process all at once, and I just kinda shut down when I get overwhelmed.”

I know. I remember that you didn’t say a single word our first day of high school, Yancy wanted to say. He wanted to say something, anything, but you being there and so close was just too much.

“Okay, so, honesty time; there’s a specific reason I came back.” You took a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that I know you, somehow. But I know I’d remember meeting you- no way I’d forget someone like you. Anyway, I'm probably way off base and ridiculous. I guess I just wanted to tell you?” You ran your hand through your hair. “God, that sounds even flimsier than it felt in my head. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It, uh. It means a lot that you came back to say that.”

“Uh, Yancy? What happened to your accent?”

“Shit. Um. C’mere.” He muttered, as he sat down on his bed and pulled you down next to him. He prayed that you couldn’t hear how his heart started racing when he noticed your knees were touching. “No one here knows that the accent isn’t how I always speak. Not even the warden. I’ve been here five years and haven’t dropped it once. Anyone learns about this, and you’re dead, understand?” He knew that the threat was empty, but you seemed to believe it.

“Yeah, yeah, I do, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I gotta ask, though- why fake it? It seems like a lot of effort. You don’t owe me an explanation, of course, but since you’re heart-on-your-sleeve about your parents, it must be one hell of a reason. I bet it’d feel good to let it off your chest. I can promise to leave and never come back if you do- a burden shared is a burden halved, and if I’m gone, you can be 100% sure no one here will know.”

He took a deep breath. “Something flipped my world on its head, and I needed to distance myself from who I was before. That’s an odd phrase, though- ‘a burden shared is a burden halved’. Where’d you pick that up?”

“Oh, um. The mom of someone I loved a long time ago used to say it a lot. It just kinda stuck, I guess.”

“Loved, huh? You break their heart, or did they break yours?” Yancy was surprised he got the words out without his voice shaking or cracking. You were silent for a long time, and Yancy was sure he’d pushed too hard and you would completely shut down or, worse, leave altogether.

“Sorry, I haven’t talked about this… ever." Your voice shook. "I’ve never talked to anyone about this. I don’t know if I was loved back, but if so, I was the heartbreaker. I didn’t mean to be- I couldn’t control having to leave, and I didn’t know I wasn’t coming back until it was too late. I couldn’t say goodbye. I’ve hoped every day for the last fifteen years that my feelings were unrequited, though. I’m happy to have the pain of an unrequited first love if it means she wasn’t heartbroken.” The incorrect pronoun stung a bit, but you didn’t know, and you’d loved him back all those years ago. He was invincible.

“Have you tried reaching out? Even if your feelings were one-sided, I think you owe it to both of you to say them, at least once.” He reached out and took your hands without thinking. You didn't stop him, and he felt like he could fly.

“I tried, actually. About eight years ago, I'd, uh, escaped and was finally an actual person again after everything that was done to and taken from me, so I started looking for her. But it’s like she vanished off the face of the earth five years to the day after we were separated. It’s actually how I met Mark- I got into some deep and shady shit looking. I only gave up last year. Nothing turned up in seven years of searching, so I have to figure that she did something incredibly stupid a decade ago and got herself killed.”

“I didn’t die. Just the name did.” Yancy breathed. A half second later, he realized he’d said it out loud, and his heart stopped. You took your hands out of his and scooted away.

“Yancy. Are you trying to tell me that you’re- that we- oh my god. It is you. I knew I knew you. Everything else is different, but I should have recognized your eyes. I guess some part of me did. But you- I- I thought you were dead.”

“As you can see, I’m not dead, Brain. And for the record, your feelings were definitely not one-sided.” He reached out and cupped your cheek with one hand.

“Shit, Pinky, it really is you.”

Yancy had dreamed about how seeing you again would go in a million different ways. Not a single one of those included you practically jumping into his lap and kissing him with a lifetime's worth of love and want.

He let out an undignified whine when you broke the kiss. “Wait, wait. You knew from the second I walked in here who I was, didn’t you? You tried so hard to stop me from leaving… but then you helped me do just that. You chose to stay here when I asked you to come with me. Then I came back, and you got me to say all those things… And we’re both trans and wound up here? This is all just. So much. I can’t- I can’t do this.” You got off his lap and scooted to the far end of the bed.

“What are you saying, Y/N? That you’re leaving? Again?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

You stood up and faced him. “You do not get to play that card. You don’t know how much I went through trying to find a way to tell you I was sorry, that I didn’t know that the trip was a permanent one until we were on the other side of the country. Dad said that I'd never see mom again, and he’d kill me if I tried to get in touch with you or anyone else from back home. He broke my arm to prove he meant it. I can’t stay here to unpack all of this. I have to go. But you can come with me. I mean it even more now than I did last time. I’m not leaving you, I’m leaving here.”

You walked to the cell door and looked back at him with a sigh. “But I know you, and you have a family here. I’ll get you my address- it’s your turn to come to me, when you’re ready. I’ve waited 15 years to be with you again, what’s a little bit longer?” Without giving him a chance to respond, you kissed him again and were gone.

#yancy x yn #yancy x reader #yancy x male reader #yancy x trans male reader #yancy ahwm #ahwm fanfiction #otp: don't want to be free #self ship fanfic #self shipping fanfiction #self shipping fic

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stylistiquements · 3 years

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There was the silence and there were the stars | Corpse husband x reader -Among Us AU

Among us AU : There was something. Something in the silence and the harsh coldness -that only space was capable of- that turned your brain into a sarcastic and bored mess. Maybe that’s why you found yourself so interested by any sabotage pulled on the crewmates, maybe that’s what made him so interesting to witness. He was different from the rest of you. Different to an extend you were about to understand.

❚ Word count : 4.2k ❚ Warning : A bit angsty but you will get that fluffity fluff and touch starve feeling you require I promise ; swearing ❚ Note : there will be no mention of death or killing as it is basically a real life Among us, just some shenanigans. Y/C : your/color

A/N : This little thing was inspired by -⭐️ anon. It was a fun thing to write even though it took me way too long because I asked my brain “sir may I pls have the focus capacity I need” and brain said no (: so yeah, this is litteraly just me ranting n complaining about space. This is a bit angsty but as what if is way too happy for me that was a nice opportunity. I hope you won’t mind and appreciate it anyway. As always just let me know. As it’s my first time writing like a one shot thingy I’m really curious to know. Also it’s supposed to be proofread but if you find any mistake just take ur glasses off. Thanks. Enjoy the wild ride.

You met him again. He was fixing wires while you were downloading some files on the computer. Difficulties happened regularly around here; various oddities that occurred from time to time, sometimes a few times a day. It would go from doors closing mysteriously to no electricity, you never knew which one it would be. Those inconveniences used to draw a smile on your lips, a grin you tried your best to hide from everyone else. The sound of the urging siren resounded in your head like a call, reviving the last spared spark left in your brain. At this point, you were pretty sure it was one of your crewmates’ doing, too many coincidences for any other options to be left. You didn’t mind though. The game started months ago but still amused you to this day.

He never let a word escape his mouth. To your awareness, no one knew anything about him, no one had ever heard the sound of his voice which you could only dare to imagine since the two of you met. It felt silly, you fabricated this voice inside your head, a half-finished melody you played to keep your mind busy. It would have sounded just as an old piano would. So slightly out of tune that maybe, if you didn’t care enough or wished for it not to be true, you wouldn’t even notice.

You called him black. It resonated with the color of his suit and the darkness that emanated from his soul. Not that he looked like a mischievous character, but rather like someone who would have been gnawed by life for years. A shade that reminded you of the bittersweet feeling 4 AM forced you to taste. Describing that presentiment was a challenge you couldn’t take. It was one of those things that had to be felt, not narrated.

Shit.

He caught you staring again. How could you look any other way? There was something with him that appealed to you, that pulled your eyes toward his direction every time. Probably only a peak of unwarranted curiosity you couldn’t really be blamed for, probably the oh-so mysterious aura that floated so carelessly around him. He always had this way of sneaking in and out, just as if he was nothing but his own shadow.

Yet, being near him was easy. Silence only felt comfortable when he was in your surroundings. The whole world stopped existing -and it had in fact since the first day you two met.

He had dark charcoal hair which fell so perfectly in curly strands around the two horns that crowned over his head. Paired with two ruby hued eyes, he truly was a sight for sore eyes. A wicked and breathtaking beauty, so unique it gave you the impression that he wasn’t even human.

He used to hop in a vent after finishing his tasks. As if his true home was there; a secret hideout for him and him only. You didn’t even know it was a thing before you watched it with your own eyes. Who wouldn’t blame him. If you could have escaped that warmth deprived place too, even for 5 minutes, you would have.

That’s why you never asked any question about it nor tried to investigate further. Being stuck in space was only a kid’s fantasy, nothing a fully conscious adult would inflict to themselves. Which, in itself, was pretty much self-explanatory about everyone’s mental condition in here.

It was also a pre-established rule, no questions. No one ever expressed it out loud, but you would have to be a fool not to guess it. Every crewmate grew accustomed to the deadly silence only space had to offer. A giant timeless hole where nothing really happened. With nothing but the smell of technology and the constant purr of engines as the only distractions left. See, living in a spaceship was no ordinary lifestyle : days and nights melted into each other until it became nothing but a groundless concept. The crewmates perceived it as comforting for some reason. You used to shrug it off, no questions. How unethical would you be to disturb their peace?

If you had to be honest, you would probably say that you felt bad for Black. Nothing like pity, but being alone in this stark and brutal silence for this long must have been pretty life-consuming. That’s why, even though it made your cheeks and the tip of your ears flame up in a raw and unforgivable tint of pink, you always kept looking into his eyes for one more second after he noticed you. Just to be sure he knew that he wasn’t alone in this shit hole. You stared into the depth of those ruby eyes, hunting for silent answers to questions you weren’t even sure of in the first place. He never quivered, only stood motionless until his task was completed. Just locking the eye contact. After that, he always ran away as silently as he existed. Leaving your head disturbingly empty.

Every single time.

Something changed one day. You were about to prepare some test samples when it happened. He jumped off a vent and you followed his movements from the corner of your eyes, too distracted to remember about the task that was assigned to you. He ran to the door and proceeded to shut it. Within the last second, the one that always lasted hours, he put an index in front of his mouth. Silently asking for you not to say a word. And before the steel door could obstruct your vision completely, you noticed a smile on his lips. A smile that made the whole spaceship turn inside out, draining the blood out of your body in a painstaking, almost sore way. There you stood, intoxicated by stupefaction and trapped as a cat.

Black mutated you into a self-depreciating joke : in here, you were only interestied in the impostor. The only one who made your day a little better was the one giving nightmares to the others.

It was him, from the beginning. It was him and he smiled. A grin that twinkled maliciously from his lips to his eyes, wounding your heart in an insoluble way. It made every prejudice you had about him crumble : he was no longer that miserable existence you sensed he was but a quiescent sun that could radiate all around him once unleashed into the world. How did he do that? How could he be both the tunnel and the light at the end of it?

When red came to the rescue, she described you with a glare. She judged you in the not-so-pleasant way. You could always count on those glares to know their opinions about you. Because their judgment would have to be expressed one way or another. She thought you looked suspicious, with your half poured concoction into a hand and the rest of it in the other, just staring blankly into the void. You wouldn’t blame her for that.

It stuck with you for days, filling your empty mind with the sight of a smile that could no longer be experienced. The scene shamelessly repeated itself in your mind until it became nothing but a progression of disassembled images, forcing you to taste the astonishment over and over again. The problem was, you hadn’t seen him for days. And, even though you wanted to know what happened, you couldn’t ask. That was the rule.

What would you say anyway ? Black is the imposter and I watched him close medbay’s door ? Yeah, I don’t think so. You should have stopped him in the first place -and you would have if you weren’t just mesmerized.

So, you took each day -or night … or piece of time, whatever you wanted to call it since it was no longer existent- with composure. Forcing yourself to do any task with a meticulousness that didn’t look like you. Just to make sure your brain was busy enough not to think about it or him. Being trapped in a place and being trapped in your own mind are two different wrestles, yet in here those two intertwined perfectly. Just like the rest of it, it didn’t even make any sense : the guy smiled at you for ten seconds and here you were, an absolute clutter of questions and recollection. You were probably just too bored and he, as always, was the perfect distraction. That must have been it, right?

You walked in admin. Your heart skipped a beat before your eyes could process who stood in front of them.

Look what the cat dragged in.

His hair twirled flawlessly above his face, almost hiding a grimace that indicated so transparently his mind. You leaned against the door frame and crossed your arms, unabashedly watching him as he swiped his card frantically while sighting heavily every time that “bip” of failure rang.

Eventually, he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. You tried anyway, staring at him as if he was some sort of work of art that needed to be decrypted. From the way his chest moved heavily under the pressure of the irritation to the way his glowing eyes witnessed you. This expression on his face gave him a funny look, a scowl which made the laugh that tickled your throat hard to hold back.

“Y-you have to do it slower. Otherwise, it won’t work” you stuttered. “I guess it’s harder since …”

You walked to him carefully, so carefully you forgot your words. Just as if he was a wild animal who could run away if scared. Making sure no step would fall out of line. He was so close, so close, maybe if you tried to catch him this time he would stop running away.

“Since it’s not my job, right ? Is that what you were about to say ?” he asked with a low voice, a voice you would have never dared to picture for him. Not the broken tone you pictured but a melody so sweet and so unique it felt like it was made just for your ears to enjoy, taunting you to dive into his mind.

“Do you need help” ?

“I- hum- You’re not supposed to help me, you know ?” he stuttered, visibly amused, judging by the way his eyes wrinkled under his smile.

“Are you gonna lock me in the room once again ?” He shook his head as a chuckle escaped from his lips. “Then who cares” you finally breathed.

Your fingers brushed against his warm skin as you grabbed the card. You tried to appear unbothered, hoping so intensely for the swipe to be a first try success. That way, maybe he wouldn’t notice the way you breathed heavily under the weight of your pounding heart. But those red eyes piercing through the depth of your soul were hardly bearable for those like you who suffered from unbeknownst afflictions.

You grew aware of his every move, the way those eyes fell on you, the perfume that emanated from his skin, the sound of his slow yet noticeable respiration.

You gave him his card back and he captured your fingers in the palm of his hand, making it impossible for you to escape his grip. Hiding those blushing cheeks from a sight that seemed to see everything was a defiance only the proudest people would be capable of. It wasn’t your case, but you counted on preserving the last sane cells left in your body.

“Your secret is safe with me.” You whispered, avoiding any eye contact.

“I know that.”

A simple answer that would never be enough to satisfy you. Yet, before you could review the best option of an answer, he left. Just as he always did, he walked away silently -still this time it seemed to last an eternity- while you just stood there inertly as you watched his black silhouette disappear into the endless gray hallways.

You finally caught the breath you had been holding this whole time. Leaning over, you observed your reflection into the screen of the digital tablet as you rubbed your hands together, hoping for that strange spike of electricity that ran through your fingers to fade away quickly. A mess.

“There you are, Corpse” green said as he sat cross-legged in black’s secret place “I’ve been looking for you.”

Corpse was the name green chose for Black, feeling like it would be the most suitable image for the one who always worked in the shadow. Not the most refined nickname, yet black ironically related to that. Silent as a Corpse, he thought. A level of sarcasm that amused him and which probably led to him immediately falling in love with it.

Corpse observed the little sprout on the top of Green’s head. It floated lightly and followed his every move. What a little freak. Just a thing deprived of any sort of self consciousness, out of this world just like he felt he was. Corpse remained fixated on it, hoping he could get as self-aware as it was. The last impromptu reunion he had with you was nothing he had planned, nothing that should have happened. He wouldn’t exactly call it a mistake and still, he had no one else but him to blame.

“Did something happened with y/c ? You seem a little flustered.” Green asked, pulling Corpse out of his overflowed mind.

“I don’t know, I think I kinda fucked up.” He replied with a shrug. “I’ve been spotted.”

“Was it really a mistake ?”

Green was the only one who was granted with the privilege of learning how to understand Corpse. Because, deep inside, they grew up to be the same kind : the kind that didn’t belong here. Two sides of the same coin.

Green’s social intelligence, on the other hand, Black didn’t like it that much. Thanks to that guy, he would be able to work comfortably in the darkness, where no one could see him, but it also meant that he saw clearly what was going through Corpse’s mind. Actually, it didn’t take him too long.

What was the surprise when he realized it was you who lived rent-free in his thoughts? See, in Corpse’s eyes you were different from the others : too conscious about the reality that happened before yours eyes. It made you interesting to observe. What a delightful sight it was to watch you rolling your eyes in your crewmates’ face, to notice the serious look you had when you were focused on a task, the way your eyes sparkled every time a new sabotage was made. He wouldn’t track you, yet he would never resist a peek once your paths crossed. It happened often, more than you actually realized.

Yet, Corpse was no fool. You and him never belonged together. You were destined to a bright destiny and he was the obscurity. That’s why he was more than careful not to get too close, not to see his bare mind get burnt under the exposition of those peculiar feelings in the pit of his stomach.

That’s why his previous reaction made no sense to him. But what could he say? You took him aback when those words were directed at him. You made his short-circuited brain unable to be sensible anymore. He just wanted to know what your touch would feel like under his fingers. Why was his skin blazing with electricity now ?

Corpse swallowed it all. From the blossoming feeling inside his body and mind to the warmth and the softness of your skin. He couldn’t feel that way. “I’m not really sure.” he finally said, as honest as he could be with himself.

He would spend his next few days planning with Green, cornering you to a small part of his brain. You couldn’t be there, you had no right to be. The game was progressing faster than they anticipated it. It made him thrilled, accepting the challenge no one but the two of them could bear.

However, a new unwanted seed grew into his mind. The idea that, maybe, you were only by his side in this game. That, maybe he would never be able to witness your existence in the real world.

“Have you ever noticed how weird the stars look sometimes ?” Corpse asked as he joined navigation. You jumped and your mind turned into a scattered place stuck between a task you battled to achieve and the proximity left between the two of you. Your heart beat in rhythm with his echoing, never ending footsteps. Still you had, indeed, noticed. “It’s like they’re not even real” you answered with a smile that made your voice higher. A melodic lift that betrayed your intention of ever finishing your job.

When you finally looked at him, his lips moved into a satisfied curve. Shivers tickled your arms and your neck. Maybe because he was just standing so perfectly still in front of the glass window. So perfectly still that, among all those celestial bodies, he appeared to be the most beautiful one. “Mind keeping me company for a bit?” Your mouth betrayed you when the question escaped your grip. But Corpse snorted faintly and shook his head.

“From all the people in here you want to spend time with me ? That’s probably not your wisest decision.” He said as he tried to muffle a high pitch laugh with a hand that covered his mouth.

See, that’s the words he had been afraid of since the first time he saw you. The words he would have to turn into derision since he knew he would have no strength to refuse. Yet, you stood there with those glimmering eyes and those eyebrows that arched in a strange manner, cutting every single inch of air out of his lungs. Even if he wanted to say no -and he should- he wouldn’t have been able to.

It was never meant to happen, not judging by your two so hostily opposed nature. Fuck that shit. Who cared about that speech when you were here and you were so beautiful?

You moved closer to him, a strenuous and slow tense that shouldn’t be disregarded. You’ve had seen the same scenery for months yet never it made you feel the same way as you did at that very moment. Because those balls of lights floating into the void shimmered in his ruby hued iris just as a dozen of fireflies would. He made your world a little blurry, narrowed to his presence at your side.

“You forgave me really easily the last time we met.” He noticed. “That’s a little sus if you asked me.”

“Well, what can I say ? You’re the only distraction I have left, so I’m not really in the position to hold grudges.” You shrugged sarcastically.

“You’re really funny, I have to concede that” he said as his smile made its way to his eyes.

Your brutally honest words intertwined with his chuckles and crewmates never heard the spaceship as lively as that time. That time when you got to discover who Corpse really was. A man who hid his blooming existence behind a silence.

“Why did you stay silent this whole time ?” You dared to ask before the silence fell upon the two of you, a silence that maybe you wouldn’t be able to endure this time.

“Because I never wanted to lie”

“I- ...hum- there’s really nothing I could say against that, right ?”

With every grin, every chuckle, every abrupt eye contact, your proximity kept embedding his mind a little deeper until you stole the stars’ show completely. It’s no good, you held his breath hostage when he realized he could feel the warmth stemming out of your skin. So tempted to get closer and witness it with further clearness.

Thus, he lifted a hand that starved connection. He tried to close the gap between your two touches so prudently, so discreetly that you didn’t even notice. A touch, that would go beyond his movement, more like a proof he needed to make sure someone like you really existed in a shithole like this.

He was so close.

Yet, the alarm rang before he could embrace the object of his desire. “Better check that out quickly” you said with a sigh. Somehow, it felt peculiar just knowing that, this time, you were the one running away. A sense of some sort of joke played by space. As if space hadn’t done enough. When Green cut the communication, he couldn’t realize -If only he knew the double meaning of that sabotage. Ah, the irony of it all.

“I’ll see you soon” Corpse informed you, more of a promise than a farewell and he stayed there long enough, staring numbly at his hand.

You ran until the communication room, holding this bittersweet feeling on the tip of your tongue. You tried to swallow it and almost found yourself praying that no one would arrive before you could. This way, maybe your fugue would make more sense.

Blue was already sitting on the floor, trying to find the good frequencies. “I’m already on it.” she said on a plain, monotone voice. Of course, she fucking would be.

Now what was left to do ? Corpse was probably already gone and-and the silence … the silence had returned. A dead, cold, cruel silence. It tested out your nerves, built up some pressure down your throat that made keeping your composure barely possible. Corpse slipped between your fingers again. The game was no longer a funny and pleasant diversion from the plain, austere daily life you had. You grew tired of that cat and mouse game. You just wanted him.

After going back to the oh-so empty navigation room, you completed your tasks. And you were finally done. You wandered around for hours, days -who knows-, searching for a purpose.

The game was coming to an end, you could feel it. Something in the air changed, it became dryer than ever. Unbearable on your skin that ached for something you couldn’t apprehend. The crewmates were agitated, everyone kept running around day and night just to make sure the last tasks would be completed as soon as possible. New difficulties were triggered almost as soon as the last ones ended. Chaos.

Just as if he wasn’t ready to end the game so soon, as if he didn’t want to get the hell out of this place as much as you did. From time to time, you almost found yourself eager to ignore the alarm. Taunting him one last time by neglecting his call.

Maybe that way he would show up, maybe that way he would stay with you. Yeah, maybe that way he would stop being nothing but an ephemeral being that almost made you wonder if you finally gave up on your mind to the silence. Because at that moment he only felt like a chimera your brain created to protect you. Because you were just so fucking bored.

You gave up on that idea, turning on the CCTV as you sighed. Just to see more colorful suits running around, trying to hold their shit together for what appeared to be the ultimate hour. Despite all the sabotages, it seemed like your number made your strength. You imagined Corpse’s face, probably piqued. A dark frown covering his pretty eyes. It made your lips twitch for a second. Who knew it would end this way ? Definitely not you.

Yet that amused smile faded away when you heard the familiar sound of the door closing, locking you in yet another time. You rolled your eyes and turned around, unprepared to witness who locked themselves with you. His body laid against the door, guarding it as his chest moved frenetically under the weight of his rushing breath.

“This is the end” he whispered frantically under his breath. He doesn’t look as worried as you thought he would, but it didn’t matter. You moved impulsively toward him, never stopping until he snaked a hand around your waist and slipped the other one in your back. That way, this time, there were no escape.

He let his head rest in the hollow of your neck, soaking the divine and comforting warmth you had to offer. His warm breath on your skin sent shivers through your body which responded by squeezing him a little tighter, holding him as close to your heart as humanly possible. You could feel his, beating so fast.

“This is the end.” His whisper grounded on your skin.

He lifted his head to dive into your eyes with the same sweet smile you offered him. The one which expressed the happiness, the relievment it felt to embrace him.

“If it were for you, I would do it all over again.” You said, pressing your forehead against his, sharing a breath as you closed your eyes. One last attempt to memorize everything about him. You sensed his smile, so wide you didn’t even have to look at it to see. He left a trail of kisses on your cheeks and your hand wandered in his hair as a faint gasp escaped your lips.

Corpse looked back at you. And then, as his thumb drew light circles on your cheek. With glowing eyes that translated all the adoration he felt for you, he whispered “Maybe it was just meant to be”. And then, he closed the distance between the two of you, brushing your lips softly at first before capturing them completely once he was sure you felt the same way as he did. A kiss that tasted like 4AM and home.

“I’ll find my way back to you, my love. I’ll find you in the real world.” He promised.

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