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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Of something beautiful, but annihilating🚬1

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, violence and abuse, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of death [other warning to be added throughout series]

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader’s husband brings home an unexpected houseguest.

Note: So i just worked my ass off and retail is always crummy this time of year so I’m gonna escape with some sweet Arvin Russell writing.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The spring air was warm as the breeze swept over the low fence and fluttered the tails of shirts hung across the line. You grabbed two pegs and a swathe of damp fabric and stretched it over the cord, pinning it in place before moving along. Your old machine had taken much of the day to wrangle and had even received a kick. It was decades old, an heirloom inherited with the old country house and much more clunky than the modern machines. Not many in the county had anything more than the old wringing machines.

Roy would be home soon. Your husband hated to hear about how the wringer jammed so easily and the fear that your fingers might again be bruised by the mechanism. Even so, you were certain it wouldn't last for much longer. It's rattles foretold its imminent fate. You'd be back to a bucket and board soon enough.

As you hung the last piece, Roy's oil stained overalls, you heard the putter of the truck. You picked up the woven basket and headed for the gate along the front of the house. You waved as he pulled up, tires loudly mulching the dirt, and you stopped short as he came to a jagged halt. He wasn't alone and you were stillwearing your grimy and wet apron.

Roy pushed his door open so roughly it creaked. He stepped out and gave an exaggerated stretch as he glanced across the roof of the truck and slammed the door.

"Don't forget your bag, boy," he growled at the other man as he felt around the chest pocket of his overall for his smokes. "Looks like you're too late for laundry day."

"Roy?" You unclasped the gate and opened it as Roy stomped across the gravel and lit up a smoke, "How was your day?"

You peeked over at the other man who climbed out of the truck. He wore similar overall, though they were unbuttoned over a greasy white shirt, and he was shorter and thinner than your husband. He reached back into the truck and grabbed a long military style duffel before he swung the door shut.

Your husband grumbled and blew out a mouthful of smoke.

"We have a guest?" You asked as you stayed by the gate.

"Arvin Russell," Roy flicked the ash away, "You remember I was talkin' 'bout renting out the attic."

"Um, yes," you blinked as the other man, Arvin, neared meekly. Roy had mentioned the idea once when he noticed the way his truck had started rumbling. "It'll need a good dusting."

"So you better get on that." Roy coughed. "What's for dinner?"

"Meatloaf," you answered and turned back to smile at the other man as he bowed his head and passed through the gate.

"Hello, missus," he said kindly, "Nice to meet ya. I work with your husband, says you're a fine cook."

"The one thing she can do," Roy muttered as he ambled up the steps of the porch and dropped onto the bench sat by the window. "You go grab us some bottles."

You closed the gate behind Arvin but he waited for you to precede him before going any further. He was surprisingly polite for any man who worked at the shop.

"Yes, Roy," you hid your disappointment. Those nights when Roy started drinking before dinner rarely ended well.

"Can I just have some water?" Arvin asked as he followed you onto the porch, "Please. I didn't get to my lunch today so I'm not really feeling like drinking."

"Of course," you said, "If you're hungry, I got a box of crackers and some cheese I can bring out."

"Thank you but I'd hate to spoil dinner." Arvin sat on the end of the bench and kept his bag between his feet as Roy threw away his cigarette. "Thank you both for having me."

You nodded and quickly skirted inside. You were a bit confounded by Roy's sudden burst of generosity. He rarely did anything for anyone else. To think he'd offer a room to a coworker was unlike him.

You went to the old fridge, marked with dings and dents, and wiggled the handle until it opened. You remember the day you Pa had broken the handle, he'd always promised to fix it but had only managed to make it worse. You missed him. It was easy to miss him in this old place. His wedding present to you and Roy. It was too tragic he hadn't lived long enough to see you enjoy it.

You grabbed a brown bottle then filled a tall glass from the tap. You went back to the door and opened it with your elbow. You handed Roy his beer as Arvin stood to accept his glass of water.

"Thank you," he chimed but your husband only popped the cap of his beer with his teeth and glared out at the yard.

"Well dinner is in the oven still. I'll just be finishing that before I get started in the attic." You told Roy but he only shrugged and gulped down the beer. "Let me know if you boys need anything."

"Peace and quiet," Roy snarled. "S'all I need right now."

Arvin gave a sympathetic look and traced his thumb along the side of the glass. You hid your discomfort and retreated inside. That was just Roy. He was always in a mood after work. An hour or two and he would mellow out. The beer would surely help.

🚬

When you finished supper, you called the men in to eat. Roy started his second beer as Arvin remained quiet and awkward at the table. You didn’t say much as you pondered the work still left to be done. You had to tidy the attic before the night ended and collect the laundry from the line. You would also have to clear the table and clean up the mess of your cooking.

You stood before the men finished. You scraped your untouched scraps into the dish of leftovers and placed the glass lid on it. You scoured the loaf pan as you listened to the clink of cutlery on plates and set the pots on the drying rack. You returned to the men to gather their empty dishes and Arvin thank you as Roy belched and stood with a satisfied but gruff rumble.

Arvin watched you as you tried to ignore the pity in his face. You knew your husband wasn’t the most loving or vocal, but he was yours and he worked hard. You turned away and went back to the kitchen. You finished washing the last of the glassware and dried it before stacking it in the cupboards.

As you passed through the dining room, Arvin was gone and you could hear the buzz of the radio from the front room. Roy always liked to listen to the game after he ate. Sometimes you sat with him and crocheted or read but not often.

You tiptoed upstairs and found the footstool hidden in the bottom of the linen closet. You climbed onto the step and reached up to unhook the cord of the attic door. It dangled down and you pulled it carefully as you backed off the stool and kicked it away. The steps unfolded and you barely stepped out of the way of their descent as the heavy wood thumped against the carpet.

It had been a while since you ventured up to the third floor. There was only dust and forgotten memories up there. You slowly made your way up and sneezed as you reached the top. A wall of boxes blocked the window along the front of the house and shrouded furniture sat beneath grimy sheets.

You started with the boxes. You took one and peeked under the flaps. Some old oil lamps hoarded by your father from his own parents. You awkwardly made your way back down to the second floor and placed the box at the bottom. When you had them all down, you’d take them into your father’s old room to store. Perhaps you should sort through them at last and get rid of the unneeded artifacts.

You were six boxes deep when you were startled by a shadow in the open hatch. You exclaimed and nearly dropped your armful as Arvin poked his head through and peered over at you.

“Arvin,” you gasped. “My apologies, this place is a mess.”

“Not so bad,” he climbed up and stood, “You need some help?”

“Don’t be silly, I can manage--”

“You’re right. It’s a mess,” he insisted, “A lot for just one person.”

You stared at him and gave a small smile. He was funny. He neared you and reached out for the box in your arms.

“How about this, I’ll stay on the ladder and you bring the boxes to me and I’ll take ‘em down.” He took the box gently from you, “It’ll be much quicker.”

You looked into his soft brown eyes and let him. He backed away and cautiously made his way down the ladder. You turned and grabbed another box and he reappeared through the hatch. You handed him the box of figurines and he retreated once more. You carried on and soon, the boxes were stacked high on the lower floor.

“Alright,” Arvin climbed up and dusted off his hands, “Already lookin’ better.”

He neared the old sofa against the wall and pulled off the sheet. He coughed as the dust was kicked up and it soon turned into a chuck as he waved away the cloud.

“We can keep this here,” he draped the sheet over his arm and pulled the next from the tall lamp with the glass shade, “Move this into the corner,” he continued on and peeked under a sheet before unveiling the tall shelf, “If you don’t mind, of course?”

“Not at all. We should’ve sold all this years ago.” You teetered on your heels anxiously. Every piece reminded you of your father. “There’s a cot folded up over there,” you pointed behind a hidden end table, “But that wouldn’t be much better than the floor.”

“It’ll do,” he assured you and turned to sit on the sofa. He bounced as he hugged the sheets. “This isn’t too bad.”

“Well, there’s a bed down in my pa’s room. We could try to bring it up tomorrow. If you don’t mind offerin’ a little more help.” You wrung your hands. You were never very good with strangers and Roy’s friends often weren’t much nicer than him. You were tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I think I could do that,” he stood and wiggled his nose as a sneeze threatened. “You got a broom? Maybe a duster?”

“You’ve done enough, I can finish it--”

“Ma’am, I’m a guest in your home. I might be paying for the room but it doesn’t make you my maid,” he intoned, “You’ve already done more than enough. I don’t think I’ve eaten so well since before my momma died.”

“Oh, I’m… sorry,” you uttered. “I--”

“Now, don’t be sorry,” he cooed, “Nothing to be sorry for. I assume you lost your daddy if his bed is free.”

You nodded dumbly and blinked.

“Well, at least let me take these,” you reached for the sheets and he hesitated before he let you take them. You struggled to keep them balled up and hugged them against your hip as you turned back to the hatch. “I’ll bring you the broom.”

“Thank you,” he said behind you and you looked back at him as you took your first step down the ladder, “You let me know when you bring that washin’ in and I’ll help you fold.”

“You don’t have to--”

“I want to. Makes me feel a little better about stealin’ your attic,” he assured you.

You looked down and slowly descended. As your feet met the carpet, you sighed and looked around at the boxes. You couldn’t remember a time Roy had ever offered to help with anything. If it wasn’t to do with his truck, he couldn’t be bothered to lift a finger.

🚬

You were completely drained by the time you retired to your bedroom. You were still on edge, your exhaustion laced with anxiety as you unbuttoned your blouse. You sat on the side of the bed as you slowly undressed. It was still absurd to you that another person, barely more than a stranger, was living in your home. In your father’s house.

It changed your whole routine. You couldn’t help but go over it in your mind. That meant three plates, not two, for every meal, that meant the laundry basket would fill up quicker, than meant the shoes tracks in the front entrance would need to be mopped up more often. That mean you had to act like your marriage was truly happy.

You pulled on your night gown, the short sleeves tickled your upper arms as you dropped your clothes in the wicker basket on your chest of drawers. A framed photo of your parents’ wedding day sat beside it and on the shelf beside the door, was your own wedding portrait.

Three years wasn’t so long but it felt an eternity. You couldn’t quite recall when Roy had changed. When the beer had started to taint his kisses and his words. When all pretense fell away and only the man remained. The brutish country boy with the churlish demeanour.

Maybe the first day of your marriage. Maybe. You were so nervous on your wedding night that it angered him. You’d mend your dress one day, hopefully when you had a daughter of your own so you had something to promise her.

Or maybe a week after the wedding, when you broke the vase gifted to you upon your nuptials and it shattered across the floor. Roy’s booming voice and his boulder-like fists.

Maybe, maybe, maybe, a month in when the world went black with his hand on your throat and you awoke alone on the kitchen floor.

Maybe a year when your finger was dislocated by a slammed door. Maybe the next year when you couldn’t sit for the pain in your hips. Maybe the one after when he’d grown impatient for a child only to find your sheets soaked in blood.

Maybe it had always been there, from the first date, but you’d simply refused to accept it. Not you. Not Roy. You loved him and he loved you, didn’t he?

The door slammed and shook you from your sombre recollections. You looked up as Roy stumbled in. He snickered darkly as your eyes met his and his legs wobbled beneath him drunkenly.

You slid off the bed and turned to plant your elbows on the mattress. A prayer before bed, as your grandmother had taught you. Another sarcastic chuckle aimed in your direction as Roy’s stained white tee missed the basket.

“On your knees for me already,” he sat beside your elbow as he unbuckled his belt.

You couldn’t focus on your inner recitation. You could smell the alcohol on him, the stench of oil and his sweat. You clutched your hands together and cleared your throat.

“Why didn’t you call me?” You asked calmly.

He frowned and stood to shove his pants past his knees. He kicked the jeans away and fell heavily back to the bed.

“Call you?” He sneered.

“To let me know about our guest?” You wondered innocently. “I could’ve readied for him better.”

“Workin’,” he growled. “I don’t got time to be callin’ you with my head under an engine. Fuckin’ Christ.”

“There isn’t a bed in the attic.” You said.

“So. Arv’s small enough. I’ve seen him sleep on a stool.” Roy spat.

You hid your chagrin behind your hands as you pressed them to your lips.

“Why’d you bring him?”

Roy’s nostrils flared and a fist formed atop his hairy thigh. “I gotta explain to you?” He snapped. “He paid me outright and he been sleepin’ at the motel since he started.”

“Mr. Dace has a room--”

“Mr. Dace lives twice as far as we do. I did the kid a favour. He saved my ass his first day.” Roy stomped his foot. “Woulda burned down the whole garage if he hadn’t caught that leak.”

“Kid? He that young?”

“Couple years younger than you, I s’pose, maybe less,” Roy rubbed his cheeks and shook his head, “What’s it matter to you?”

“Curious,” you said quietly and closed your eyes as you rested your chin on your knuckles.

Roy was quiet. He let out a long, thick breath and the bed jolted beneath your arms.

“You finished bleeding?” He asked gruffly.

“I’m praying, Roy,” you insisted.

“How long’s it take you? I’m sure God’s heard it all before.”

“Don’t talk like that, R--”

You squeaked as he grabbed your wrist and wrenched your arms away. He rose and lifted you with him. Always a strong man, he moved you like a puppet to his will. He took your other wrist and pulled you against him.

“You know, I don’t even care if you’re bleeding.” He turned you and shoved you onto the bed. You cried out as you bounced so hard you bit your tongue.

“Roy, please, I’m tired,” you stared up at him fearfully as you pushed yourself up on your elbows. You could taste blood.

“You’re my wife. You do your duty.” He pushed his underwear down as his cock twitched. “You got energy to wash all them clothes, you can lay on your back for your husband.”

“Roy--”

“Shut up!” He shouted. “We got company. I don’t need ya keepin’ him up with your whining.”

You closed your eyes as he fell onto you. He crushed you beneath him as he tugged your skirt up harshly. He pushed your legs apart with his knee and you braced yourself for his painful intrusion. Even so long into the marriage, you had never grown used to his touch.

He retracted his hand and began to touch himself. He stroked his cock as he swore under his breath.

“Fuck. Come on.” He moved his hand quicker and rubbed his soft tip against your folds. “Open up.”

He forced his dick against your entrance and tried to push inside. He was still half-flaccid and struggled to get further than an inch. You balled your hands and sank your head into the mattress as he thrust. He fell out of you, softer than before.

You opened your eyes sat up on his knees and looked down at his limp dick. He gritted his teeth as you watched him.

“You fuckin’ bitch,” he punched your stomach as hard as he could and you wheezed as you folded in on yourself. “Can’t even keep me hard.”

“Roy--” You hissed. “I’m s--”

“One more word and you’ll be real sorry.” He pushed himself from between your legs, making certain to pinch you as he did.

He stood and turned. You barely moved out of the way before he sprawled over his side of the mattress. You held your stomach, a painful pressure lodge there, and rolled to the edge of the bed. You reached over and pulled the chain on the lamp.

As you laid back, Roy caught the back of your neck and kept you in a painful limbo.

“On the floor,” he jarred your neck as he tried to throw you off the bed. “Like the dog you are.”

You slid off the side and landed sharply on your knees. You stifled a shameful sob and lowered yourself down onto your side. You bent your knees and cushioned your head on one arm. You stared into the void beneath the bed as the frame groaned beneath Roy’s heavy body.

“Goddamn bitch,” he uttered groggily. “Fuckin’--”

His words turned to snores as he finally drowned in his bellyful of beer. You listened to his jagged, drunken breaths as you shivered on the cold wood. You closed your eyes and recalled the first night you’d slept on the floor. You’d been in much poorer shape and it had been the dead of winter.

At least, you didn’t have to sleep next to him.

#arvin russell #arvin russell x reader #dark fic #dark!fic #fic #series #the devil all the time #of something beautiful but annihilating

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

Note

do you have any headcanons about what happened after the nope scene at the end of trying? thankyou <3

It's a bittersweet moment, Amy thinks as her brain seems almost detached from the whole situation, watching the two of them stand in the hallway and frowning at the latest single-lined test (how she hates single lines now, no more 'single-spaced, double-sided, Santiago style'). They've agreed to stop the insane pressure, and just see where it goes, and Amy really wasn't expecting a sudden miracle after all that, and she's supposed to take it 'light and breezy' now as per her own decision, but it still hurts as much as all the other negative tests have hurt. But she doesn't want to show that to Jake, because it's not what they talked about, is it? She's supposed to not worry about it anymore.

So when Jake wants to pull her into the almost customary hug she gets now after each setback, she waves him off.

"Eh, it's fine, eeh buddy? Take it easy, s'all good." She manages in her extremely fake-chill style that she knows convinces absolutely no one, especially not her husband, before she rushes off to the kitchen to throw the test away.

He follows her soon after, and it's the first time she wishes he wouldn't.

"Ames," his voice is too soft and too close and too comforting, and she can feel her hands gripping the kitchen counter too tightly, feels her knuckles go white without seeing it. "It's okay."

"It's not." She sobs out before he does pull her into that hug, her face against his chest and his chin on top of her head, gentle hands rubbing across her back, and she slumps down into him like she's going to faint without his hold. Maybe she is. "I know we said we- and it's fine and- but it's not. It's not, Jake."

"No, I mean - it's okay to be sad. It's okay to still be hurt about it." His hands on her back won't stop, and neither will his soothing voice, and it's all a bit too much right now, but maybe it's also exactly right. "You don't have to hide that."

And then, instead of answering him, she cries.

She's cried about this whole horrible mess before - on the evenings where Jake couldn't make it home on time for another UD because of work, and she had to go to sleep alone while the notifications and alarms on her phone set off, with heartfelt apologies from him and unemotional reminders from her calendar. She's cried in the bathroom after the first drops of blood in her underwear each month, even though the negative test a few days before had already warned her this would happen. She's even cried on Rosa's shoulder once, after she finally told her best friend about what she and Jake had promised they wouldn't tell anyone to avoid that extra pressure, after she finally could come clean about why she was being so morose and declining girls night drinks all the time.

But she's never cried about it all in front of Jake. It didn't feel right - he shouldn't have to shoulder that as well, he was carrying enough for the two of them. Except now she wonders how she could've been so stupid.

He's the one person in the world who'd understand. The only one who's in it with her, who's going through all the same rollercoaster emotions and fears and worries. And, above all, he's her person. He will always have her back, will always want to take the weight of her shoulders, will always be there by her side to hold her hand and walk at the same pace.

And he proves it now, by being quiet while she sobs into his chest, by not trying to give her comforting words where there are none, positive outlooks where she can't see them. He lets her cry it out, as much as she needs it, the only constant being his hands on her back and shoulders, caressing and massaging at the same time. And god, does she need it. She can feel all the tension and darkness and pain almost seep out through her tears, her constantly rigid body finally falling slack, her baited, held breaths break out into deep sobs and whines. She's letting it all finally go, let's it flow out of her, because Jake is there to hold her through it, hold her after it all too, and keep her standing.

When she finally feels strong enough to stand on her own again, and she leans away from his now soaked chest to look at him without letting go of the hug, she can see the remnants of tears on his cheeks as well. His eyes are red and shining, but they're also unbelievably soft and so full of love, so warm and comforting.

"It's okay." He repeats, and his voice is heavy.

"It's okay." She echoes, and they share a broken little smile before a slow, chaste kiss.

Things get easier after it all. She turns off her UD alarms and lets them sleep in on their days off. He packs away the war room boards and the harem pants and the endless bottles of pills (except for the ones that make his hair extra soft, and the ones that seemed to help with her skin problems). She listens to him shout at Wario on their couch in the evenings, and she goes out to drink with Rosa once.

They don't actually sleep with each other for a while, finding themselves again in soft cuddles and slow kisses instead, in holding each other close while watching tv, in having quiet chats about everything and nothing in the darkness of their bedroom. In her hands in his hair, and his lips against her neck, drifting off into sleep in a hug without the thought of a timed need for non-intimate intercourse bearing down on them.

And when they do find themselves in bed again with roaming hands and quiet whispers, it's not for an UD or for a timed reminder or for a baby, even. It's just for them, for Amy and Jake, who are still stupid good at this and who still love each other more than they could've ever imagined, and who prove it to each other that first night more than enough.

And their shared smile after isn't broken anymore, nor is it little.

Amy decides the next morning to call her doctor, ask about those fertility hormones she'd mentioned last time. Take it slow and easy and see where it gets them.

It finally gets them those two little lines. Double-spaced, single-sided, Santiago-Peralta-style.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #my writing #ficlet #this started as just a sad HC how did it turn into this?#it was only a HC it was only a HC

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440mxs-wife · 3 years

Text

Eight Years

Pairing: Dean x Reader. Other Characters: Sam x Eileen, Jody x Benny (not a vampire), Meg (not a demon) x Castiel, Rowena x Gabriel, Donna x Doug, Charlie x Stevie.

Word Count: 4995 (whew!)

Warnings: Mutual Pining, a smidgen of angst, mostly fluffy though.

Prompt: “Life is like a box of chocolates.”

Summary: Reader goes to Kansas City for a ‘Girls Weekend’ with her friends, while the guys decide to have a weekend of their own in the bunker. But, the guys get bored and decide to join the girls, which has everyone paired up except for Dean and the Reader. Will true feelings finally come out, or will it be Friend-Zone City?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jeans. Flannel/Hoodie. T-Shirts. Shorts. Swimsuit. Boots, just in case. You ran through the packing list in your head to make sure you didn't forget anything. The bag for your toiletry items was under the sink, so you put your toothbrush and other bathroom stuff inside. The last bits you needed to pack were the book you were reading and your phone charger. Once they were in your bag, you zipped it and threw it over your shoulder as you exited your room.

Sam was sitting at the map table, reading a book when you dropped your bag onto its surface. "All packed and ready to go?" he asked.

"Yep. Kansas City's not that far away, should you guys need any help with anything. Plus, I'll be with the 'Ladies' Hunting Contingent', so you'd have plenty of back-up," you chuckled.

"Nah, we're going to take the weekend off too. Dean said no hunting this weekend, so he invited the guys to come here," Sam replied.

"Really?" you asked incredulously.

"S'all your fault, you started it. Donna will be with you, which leaves Doug with nothing to do. Dean told him he should come here and hang out. In fact, you and Doug will probably pass each other on the highway," he grinned.

"Well, whatever. Y'all better behave yourselves," you warned.

"I'm sure we'll behave ourselves about as much as you girls are going to," Sam smirked.

"Ha ha, very funny. So, are you gonna miss me?" you asked.

"Nope, it'll actually be quiet without your snoring. But I bet Dean will," Sam countered. He knew about your feelings towards Dean, and figured out that the current ran both ways. Sam was convinced his life would be even better if only you and Dean would get past your self-doubts.

"'Dean will' what, Sammy?" Dean inquired as he pulled up a chair to the table.

"You'll miss her this weekend while she's gone," Sam clarified.

Dean then noticed your packed bag on the table. "Oh, that's right, this is your, uh, 'Girls' Weekend' in Kansas City," he replied. "That should be fun, all of you chicks together," Dean remarked.

"Yeah," you answered. But you didn't exactly answer the question, Dean...."I should probably get going. Got a decent drive ahead of me," you mumbled as you reached out to pick up your bag again.

"Here, I've got it, let me help," Dean picked up your bag and threw it over his shoulder.

You started to follow Dean up the stairs to the garage, but Sam called you back. Dean kept walking, so you said you'd meet him in the garage.

"C'mere, kiddo," Sam said as he pulled you into a hug. "Of course I'm going to miss you this weekend. And just because Dean didn't say so doesn't mean he won't miss you too. Maybe you should tell him--," Sam started.

You interrupted, "Wow, look at the time, I gotta go." You moved towards the stairs then turned to face Sam. "I'll miss you guys too. Have fun, you deserve it. Hell, we all deserve it," you chuckled softly. "Bye, Sam," you called as you made your way up the stairs.

Dean was waiting by your car when you entered the garage. "I put your bag in the trunk, I hope that was where you wanted it," he informed you.

"Oh sure, no problem. You didn't have to carry it up here for me, I would've managed okay. But thank you, Dean," you remarked.

"S'no problem, what are best friends for?" he replied, bringing you in for a hug that seemed a little tighter than usual. He pulled back abruptly and nervously cleared his throat. "Anyway, you should--ah--you should probably get going. Got that drive ahead of you, all by yourself. Drive careful," Dean said with a smile.

"I will. Have a good weekend with the guys, Dean. See you soon," you murmured as you ducked into your car. You turned the key and brought to life the rumbling engine of your 1968 Chevy Nova. With a slight wave of your hand, you backed out of the garage and drove out of sight.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You popped in an Aerosmith CD and cranked the volume as you tore down the highway. Dean certainly didn't approve of your decision to update the audio component for your classic car. But, driver picks the music, and you wanted more to choose from than the same 5 cassette tapes all the time.

Best friend, you muttered to yourself as you drove. After eight years, it's probably all I'll ever be to Dean. Even though he means more to me than I can ever put into words to tell him....

A pit stop at a Gas-n-Sip for fuel, snacks and a change in music to an 80s CD, and you were back on the road. After another three hours, you had reached your destination. It was an old ski lodge on the outskirts of the city that had been remodeled but without the ski lift. It had seven bedrooms and a wide open floor plan. The lodge came complete with a large kitchen, dining room and a common area with plenty of seating.

When you pulled up to the lodge, you saw Donna's truck, which brought you a little relief at not being the first one to arrive. She must have heard you drive in, because she came flying out of the front door over to your car.

Wrapping her arms around you, Donna nearly squealed with delight that you had finally arrived. "Oh, it's so good to see you!" she gushed. "I only got here about an hour ago, and I already picked out my room. Now that you're here, you get your pick!" she exclaimed.

You laughed as you retrieved your bag out of the trunk, linked arms with Donna then you both walked back into the lodge. She poured you a margarita as you unpacked your bag for the weekend. You sent Dean a text message to let him know you had arrived safely, then stowed your phone in your pocket.

By the time you came back out to the common area, Jody, Meg and Eileen had arrived. They gave you a hug in greeting, then went to stake their claims on the remaining rooms. Rowena and Charlie with Stevie rounded out the rest of the weekend's participants.

"Okay, everyone has a drink, right?" Donna asked. The ladies all nodded in agreement. "Good! Let our 'Girls Weekend' officially commence!" she declared. "Let's go 'round the room and give everyone an update. You know, say what or who we've been doing," Donna grinned mischievously.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back at the Bunker.....

Dean watched as you backed your car out of the bunker's garage, gave him a halfhearted wave, then drove off down the highway. He was mentally kicking himself for not giving you a better sendoff than a hug and a 'drive careful'.

The two of you were alone in the garage and he had you in his arms. It was a comforting feeling, like coming home, and he never wanted to let go. You idjit, he thought to himself. That would've been the perfect time to tell her how you feel....if only you hadn't chickened out. Dammit.

Shortly after you left, Doug arrived. He entered the bunker with Dean and noticed that Benny, Castiel and Gabriel had also made their appearances. Sam introduced Doug to the new arrivals then showed him to his room for the weekend. Once Doug had finished getting settled, he came out to the common area in time to hear Benny ask, "So what are y'all drinking?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the lodge.....

Most of the ladies had given their update on their activities over the past month, leaving just you and Donna to spill your secrets. Charlie and Stevie were working together at a tech firm, but not for much longer. Between them, they almost had enough money saved and/or investors to start their own consulting business.

Rowena and Gabriel were seeing each other off and on, both trying to stay out of trouble. Sam and Eileen were still going strong, texting each other, and meeting for dates whenever possible.

Jody and Benny had started dating, having been introduced by Dean. Benny moved to Sioux Falls and was hired on as a bartender at the local tavern, where he fit right in with the locals. He and Jody tried to see each other as often as possible, depending on their schedules.

Donna and Doug were back together, with their relationship picking up where it had left off. He had finally come to terms with the whole 'monsters are real' thing, and had even gone on a couple of simple cases with Donna.

Finally it was your turn. "Nothing much to tell, really," you shrugged.

"What about that guy you went out with a couple of weeks ago, what was his name?" Eileen asked.

"I think his name was 'Mr. Not Dean Winchester'," Meg snorted.

"Aren't they all named that?" Rowena chimed in.

To everyone's surprise, you chuckled lightly. "Yeah, I suppose you could say that. Maybe I'm a sap for holding on these past eight years, but I can't help it. I love him," you replied softly.

"The heart wants what the heart wants, even if the head says something else," Jody interjected.

When Donna walked back into the room, you realized you didn't even notice she'd left. "So, I just got off the phone with Doug. The guys are bored, so they've decided to head up this way. I might have said they could stay here with us," she explained hesitantly.

The color drained from your face, because you knew what this meant. Everyone would be paired off, except you and Dean. You looked into your glass and drained what was left of your margarita. "I'll be right back, I need a refill," you remarked as you exited your chair. Every eye followed you as you left the room.

"Okay, girls. I think y'all know what we have to do about her and Dean," Donna whispered conspiratorially. Each woman nodded in return, signaling a readiness to do her part.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the Bunker....

Dean was sitting at the table, eating the last slice of a cherry pie you had made him yesterday. Damn, am I glad that woman can bake, he smiled to himself.

He thought back to the day you made him that pecan pie, when you had decided that a frozen crust wouldn't do. You probably didn't know, but Dean watched as you made your own crust. You had even incorporated some finely crushed pecans into it.

Dean followed your movements as you cut the butter in with the flour, then added the water and the rest of the ingredients. He was mesmerized as you worked everything together and rolled out the crust, singing to yourself. The entire time, you had this smile on your face, and he couldn't recall the last time he'd seen you so content.

Ever since the two of you met eight years ago, he'd always thought you were beautiful. Not just on the outside, but to him, your beauty radiated from within. You showed it in how you made sure that everyone's needs were met, usually before or instead of your own. It was in the way you interacted with people, especially children, and in how they responded to you.

Even though he'd sometimes flirt with you, often just to see you blush, there was truth behind his words. You'd captured his heart all those years ago. Now, if only he'd had the strength or courage to tell you....

Sam poked his head into the kitchen to see his brother taking his dessert plate to the sink to rinse it. "Hey, Dean? Doug was just talking to Donna on the phone, and he came up with the perfect idea. You know, something other than watching movies and drinking," Sam explained.

"Oh, but Sammy, movies and drinking does sound like a good idea," Dean retorted sarcastically.

"I think you'll like this idea better, though," Sam persisted.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine," he huffed. "What is this 'perfect idea'?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

On the road:

The girls sent you into town to pick up some extra supplies, since the guys would be joining you tomorrow at the lodge. You still weren't sure that this was a good idea, but if the girls wanted to see their guys, you weren't going to stand in anyone's way.

You stopped at the meat counter for some burgers, hot dogs and thick-cut bacon. After grabbing a couple of onions, you headed for the canned goods to pick up some baked beans. Your recipe called for the addition of bacon and onions, and you knew at least Dean wouldn't mind.

Once you picked up some cold cuts, you wandered over to the snack aisle for potato chips. When you saw the graham crackers, you remembered that there was a fire pit outside. S'mores would be awesome, you thought with a smile. So, you added the chocolate bars and marshmallows to your cart.

At the lodge:

"Ladies, I checked the weather report, and tomorrow's going to be a perfect day to head out to the lake and go swimming," Charlie announced.

"You sure, hun?" Stevie asked.

"Of course I am, babe. Can't wait to see you all smokin' hot in that red bikini I know you packed," Charlie winked, causing Stevie's cheeks to get warm.

Jody wandered in to the common area, eyes glued to her phone. "Okay, I texted Benny for him to make sure everyone has swimming trunks packed," she remarked.

At that moment, you stepped through the kitchen door with grocery bags in your hands. "A little help, please?" you called. Everyone pitched in to transport the supplies from your car to the kitchen, then helped put everything away.

"Marshmallows, graham crackers--wait, are we making S'mores?!?" Donna squealed.

You nodded. "There are benches around a fire pit out there, might as well put it to good use. I also grabbed a couple of rotisserie chickens, some noodles and sauce for Chicken Fettuccine Alfredo." Your announcement was met with a chorus of appreciative groans from your friends.

"It's a wonder those boys haven't gained, like, a million pounds, if this is how you cook for them," Meg chimed in. "Especially with as many pies as you bake for Dean," she added.

"They work it off by chasing after or running away from monsters," you chuckled.

"Or through other activities," Eileen signed. You translated for the group and joined in the raucous laughter that ensued.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the Bunker, Next Morning:

"Rise and shine, Sammy! C'mon everybody!" Dean belted out as he knocked on Sam's and all the other doors. Dean had packed the night before, because he didn't want to waste any time in the morning. He poured some coffee into his travel mug and made his way to the bunker garage.

Some time later, they stopped at the gas station on the way out of town for fuel and snacks, then it was back on the road. Doug, Benny and Sam went back to sleep in the car, leaving Dean time to think. He knew that with his friends and brother pairing off with their girls, that was going to leave the two of you together.

Questions raced through his mind about whether or not he should confess his feelings for you. So much could go wrong that he wasn't sure if he should mention anything to you. Sam stirred in the passenger seat next to him.

"So, are you going to tell her?" Sam asked.

"Tell who, what, Sam?" Dean countered.

"You know what, and you know who. Are you going to tell your best friend that you are in love with her," Sam clarified.

"I've been asking myself that same question for the past 50 miles. So many 'what-ifs'. What if she doesn't feel the same is a BIG one. What if we get together then fall apart six months from now? What if something happens on a hunt and she get hurt, or worse? What if--" he stopped.

"Dean, you can't do that to yourself. That stuff could happen whether you confess or not, no one knows the future. You have to take life as it comes at you," Sam remarked.

"Life is like a box of chocolates, brother," Benny drawled from the back seat. "You never know what you're gonna get or what the future holds. At least with her, though, you know you've got a good woman who loves you."

"Dude, did you seriously just 'Forrest Gump' me in the middle of my love crisis?" Dean asked, which drew everyone's laughter. Even Dean laughed before turning serious again. "You really think she loves me?"

"Oh, ya, Benny's right, Dean. Anybody can tell by looking that she loves you," chimed in Doug. "I've seen the way she smiles whenever you enter a room, or how she blushes whenever you 'accidentally' brush her hand," he replied.

"Huh. I never noticed that. Guess I'd better do something about it, then," Dean remarked as he continued down the road to the lodge. A smile tugged at his lips as a plan formed in his mind.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the lodge:

You were the first one out of bed in the morning, which meant you got first dibs on the hot water for a shower. On your supply run yesterday, you'd picked up bagels, cream cheese, muffins and some croissants for breakfast. A pot of coffee was started, and you filled a teapot with water for those not wanting coffee. You set the breakfast table with the baked goods, along with plates, cups and silverware.

At the counter, you started making the food for the picnic lunch by the lake with the guys. There were some sandwiches with ham, some with turkey and some with both. You even made some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, just in case.

By the time the coffee had finished brewing, you had finished making the sandwiches. You put them in the fridge to go into the cooler later, and poured a cup of coffee. You tinkered with it until it tasted the way you wanted, then sat back in your chair to relax.

As you sipped your coffee, your thoughts wandered to the elder Winchester. Dean and the other guys were due to arrive any time, which excited and frightened you at the same time. You were excited to spend time with your best friend. At the same time, you were scared as hell that he would see past that, right through to where you hid your feelings for him. But then you thought, what if I didn't hide them this time?

Unfortunately, you didn't get a chance to answer yourself, because you heard the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine. Coffee cup still in hand, you rushed to the front door to greet the boys. You opened the door and leaned against the door frame as you watched the guys pile out of the Impala. You put your finger to your lips to indicate that everyone else was still sleeping.

Dean was the first to reach the front door. "Morning, sweetheart," he greeted you with that sexy grin of his.

"Morning, Dean," you replied quietly, returning his smile. "Come on in, but please keep the noise down. Everyone but me is still sleeping," you said. "If you guys are hungry, there's breakfast stuff on the table, help yourself."

Suddenly, you felt someone take hold of your free hand as you walked to the kitchen. You turned and saw that it was Dean, which caused a warmth to bloom in your cheeks. Instead of letting go, your smile grew and you adjusted your hand so your fingers were laced with each other.

"Where can we put our bags?" Sam asked.

"For now, just leave them by the patio doors. Should be out of the way enough until you can each locate your girlfriend's room," you teased.

Dean leaned in close to your ear. "So, where does that leave me?" he rumbled, his breath hot against your skin.

"Um, well, I can show you to my room if you want to store your bag in there for now," you replied. "There's only the one bed, though, so....," you murmured.

"I'm okay with sharing....as long as you're sure you're okay with it, darlin'" he said smoothly.

You could only nod, because the power of speech momentarily eluded you in that exact moment. A shake of your head seemed to reboot your brain and return your voice. "My room is at the end of the hall, to the right, if you want to put your stuff away," you remarked.

Dean squeezed your hand before letting go and headed for your room. You quickly ducked into the bathroom to try and gather your wits about you. "Get it together," you hissed, pointing at your reflection. After splashing some cold water on your face, you went back out to join the others.

One by one, the girls trickled into the kitchen for coffee and whatever else for breakfast. Castiel and Gabriel had recently appeared and were saying hello to their girlfriends. Dean had returned as well, and took your chair just before you could sit down. Before you could walk away, he grabbed you around the waist and sat you down in his lap. "Comfy?" he asked with a smirk.

"So far, so good, Winchester," you countered with a wry grin. He wrapped one arm around your waist and hooked the other across your lap then gave you a squeeze in response. From the time you left the bunker to when the guys arrived, something seemed to have changed with Dean. You decided to go with the flow and see where it would lead.

In between bites of bagel, you explained the plans for the day. "We're going swimming at the lake, then we have stuff for a picnic lunch, with burgers, beans and hotdogs for dinner." Dean's eyes lit up at the mention of burgers. "And, since we have a fire pit, I got the stuff to make S'mores!" you added enthusiastically.

"You know, Dean is somewhat of an expert at roasting marshmallows," Sam threw in slyly.

"You are?" you asked as you gazed into his perfect forest green orbs.

"Oh yeah, sweetheart. I have it down to a science now," he boasted.

"This I've got to see," Meg replied.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The day could not have been more perfect for swimming and a picnic at the lake. You chose to stay on shore, relaxing with your book. Most of your reading is lore for whatever case you're working, so time spent reading for fun was golden. Every once in a while, your eyes would drift over to your friends, who were laughing and having the best time together.

A soft smile crept across your lips at seeing everyone so happy. You were so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn't hear Dean sneak up behind you. He leaned close to your ear. "You have a lovely smile. I've always thought so," he whispered.

You gasped in surprise at the proximity of his voice. "Thank you," you whispered back as your smile returned.

Dean sat down, cross-legged, on the blanket in front of you, while your eyes were still on your book. He gently pried the book from your hands and replaced your bookmark. Then he hooked his finger under your chin and tilted your face upwards to gaze into your eyes. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you," he started.

"Oh? What's that?" you asked, your voice wavering a bit as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

He nervously cleared his throat before speaking. "Well, you see, I--" he started.

"Hey you two, we're starving for some burgers and hot dogs! Can we please head back to the lodge to get cleaned up?" Meg broke in.

You put your hand up. "Wait a minute. Meg, can you guys give us a minute?" you implored. She shrugged and started walking back to the car. "What were you saying, Dean?" you asked.

Dean shook his head. "S'okay, we probably should head back anyway," he mumbled as he picked up the cooler.

Inside you were screaming at Meg for interrupting your conversation with Dean. You made a promise that if you and Dean were alone again, you'd ask him to finish his thought.

Dinner was a rousing success, with the juicy burgers and hot dogs, plus your kicked-up baked beans. As Dean was grilling the food, he was talking with the guys and laughing at their jokes. On the outside, he looked like he was having fun, but you were dismayed to notice that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

After dinner was done, Benny and some of the others went out to start the campfire and to make sure they had a good seat. Dean stayed behind to help you with the dishes, even though you told him he didn't have to, since he cooked. The two of you worked in a comfortable silence, even though the events of earlier were still on your mind.

Several rounds of S'mores later, everyone started to head off to bed, one couple at a time, leaving you and Dean alone again. There were still some marshmallows in the bag, so you grabbed a couple and held them up for Dean. "Okay, Winchester. Time to show me your marshmallow roasting secrets," you grinned.

Dean grinned back as he plucked them from your fingers and skewered them on the stick. "Now, if you're not careful, these will flame up and you're left with a blackened, charcoal mess," he began. He walked around the fire pit, trying to find the best heat source for the marshmallows. Once he found one, he moved so he was sitting on the other side of you on the bench. "The trick is to use the embers. That's where it's hottest, but you're less likely to 'flame out', as it were," he explained.

You watched his movements, completely entranced by his concentration and softness in his voice as he continued. "You kinda have to keep turning it, so it gets golden brown, but not torched." From the side, you could see a reflection of the flames, dancing in his eyes. "A few more turns, and voilà. The perfectly cooked marshmallow," he remarked.

Dean pulled the stick from the fire and carefully slid the marshmallow off of the end. You tried to take it from his fingers. "Ah ah ah, open up, sweetheart," he smirked. You did as he asked and he gently placed the marshmallow on your tongue. A groan of appreciation escaped your lips, as you broke the delicate crust that gave way to a melted but not molten center.

"Perfect," you whispered.

He slid the other marshmallow off the end of the stick and popped it in his mouth. A little of the melted center somehow ended up on the corner of his mouth. "Oh, wait a second, you've got some--um--some marshmallow on your--here, let me," you stammered.

Without thinking, you dove in and meshed your lips with his on the spot where you'd seen the marshmallow. When it seemed he didn't respond, you leaned back and broke the kiss. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean--I should go," you stood up from the bench to head back into the house.

Dean grabbed hold of your wrist to stop you from leaving. "Wait, I need to tell you something," he pleaded.

"No, it's all right, Dean. I get it, I made a mistake. You don't feel the same, and that's okay. Just please let me go inside," you whispered, tears threatening to fall.

"Aw, to hell with this," he growled as he closed the distance between you until you were mere inches apart. "I'm gonna finish what I started to say earlier. Then if you still want to run back inside, I won't stop you. Okay?" he asked sternly.

You nodded slowly. "Okay," he said more softly as he brushed the back of his knuckles on your cheek. "You and I have been best friends for the past eight years. Somewhere along the way, things between us changed. For me, anyway. I can't believe it's taken this long to tell you, but sweetheart? I am in love with you," he declared.

Tears of happiness streamed down your cheeks. "I've waited so long to hear those words. Wasn't sure I ever would, but I never gave up hope. I love you, Dean Winchester. Always have, always will," you replied. You placed one hand alongside his face, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

Dean gently brushed your tears away with his thumbs. Then he slipped his hand around to cradle you behind your head and inched forward until your lips met yet again. This kiss was different, because you felt the depth of his emotions contained within it. The friendship between you, his fear of your rejection at the offer of his love. And finally, his acceptance of your love for him.

When the kiss was broken, you pulled back a little from each other enough to rest your foreheads together. "I love you so much, baby," Dean whispered.

"I love you too, Dean. C'mon, let's head inside to my--our--nice and cozy room," you suggested.

"Right by your side, sweetheart. Forever and always," Dean added. He took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers, then you both walked back into the lodge.

Donna and Doug were in the kitchen with Jody and Benny, getting some water. "Goodnight, all," you and Dean called over your shoulders.

Jody smirked at Donna and held out her hand, into which Donna slapped a $10 bill. Donna rolled her eyes and said, "Shut up", which caused Jody to break out into laughter.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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hsbeloved · 3 years

Text

night drive

hihi! just a short little (y/n) friends to lovers thing (minus the lovers part. sorry, no smut this time) kinda hate how this one ended, felt a little rushed to me but in my defense i wrote this at like 3am in about 40 minutes. messages with input are always appreciated! <3

warnings: none

word count: 3.1k

I had been mindlessly bingeing some new netflix show when I'd felt my phone vibrate on the bed next to me. I was almost tempted to ignore it. Scared it was my best friend with yet another invite to some trashy party her new boyfriend was throwing at his frat house. I had never once accepted and yet that never stopped her from trying to get me to join her. I knew deep down she was just trying to be a good friend. I almost felt bad. Almost.

When it turned from incessant thumping to a high pitched tone indicating an incoming call, I decided it had to be important. No one ever called me unless it was. When I picked it up from beside me, I squinted at the screen that was slightly blurry from my eyes not yet adjusting to the brightness. Instead of trying to read the name, I blindly swiped to answer.

"Hello?" I croaked out, my voice cracking a little from not using it for a while.

"'Hey y/n! Whas'up? Too busy sleeping to text me back, huh?"

Gasping a little, I sat up a bit straighter. Goosebumps immediately etched themselves upon every inch of my skin. It was Harry.

"Uh hey Har. No, not sleeping. Just busy doing uh-" I searched my eyes around my room looking for an excuse that wasn't me being a loser and watching tv by myself on a friday night. "Cleaning. I was cleaning. Everything okay?" I rushed out.

He was silent for a moment before I heard a slight chuckle. "You? Cleaning? Thas' funny, love. Can't remember ever seein' yah tidy up anything before"

I couldn't help but giggle a little at this. He was right, of course. I hated cleaning and he knew that. "Hey! I clean. I'm a very cleanly person, okay?"

"Alrigh' alrigh', calm down. Was jus' teasin'. Was actually callin' to see if yah wanted to come for a drive with me. Need to clear my head a bit and could use some company" I couldn't be sure, but he sounded dejected.

"Har. Is everything okay?" I was barely talking above a whisper. Nervous that if I spoke too loud he wouldn't express how he was feeling to me.

I heard a sigh and then some rustling in the background, like he was moving around on his bed. "Jus' had a pretty rough argument with Rachel. Kinda need a friend to hang with to get my mind off of it. Plus I jus' miss yah. Haven't seen yah in forever, bubs."

I couldn't help but perk up at the nickname despite the sourness I felt at him mentioning his girlfriend. It wasn't like I wasn't happy for him. Rachel seemed like she was a nice enough girl. She just so happened to be dating the person i've been secretly and ridiculously in love with since I met him a year ago at university.

"Sorry to hear that, Harry. Do you wanna talk about it?" I wanted to be a good friend and offer my advice if I could, but mostly I just wanted to hear him talk more. His voice was a sickly sweet song that my heart almost always craved to hear.

"Nah, really jus' wanna pick yah up and head somewhere for a while. That okay?" I could hear him already getting up from wherever he was sitting and gathering his things. The tell tale clink of his car keys a reminder that I needed to get dressed and at least a little presentable.

Picking at a loose string on the hem of my worn out t-shirt, I sighed and replied a little slowly. "Yeah, 'course it's okay. Just text me when you're here. Drive safe, alright?"

He let out a soft chuckle before breathing out a short reply of "Always do." and hanging up.

When all I heard was silence on the other end, I threw my phone to the side and got up to head to the mirror hanging across from my bed. Examining myself, I figured I didn't want to try too hard or he'd know something was up. I threw a black knit sweater over my shoulders and replaced my sweatpants with a pair of leggings, tugging my hair back into a loose ponytail on top of my head.

After another fifteen minutes filled with me brushing my teeth and washing my face, I felt my phone go off in the pocket of my sweater. I pulled it out and saw that Harry had messaged to let me know he was in my driveway. Grabbing my purse, I headed toward the door to give myself one last look in the mirror before opening it and locking it behind me.

When I turned to see him sitting in his idling car, my breath caught in my throat and my heart skipped a literal beat. Like, an actual hitch in my heartbeat. The light from his phone flashing across his dazzling eyes in the darkness of his car made him look angelic. There was a small crease in his brow and his lips were slightly downturned, and yet he was still magnetic. It never got easier to look at him.

As soon as I reached for the door handle of the passenger seat, I heard a click and the sounds of laughter from inside. My hand reacted before my mind could catch on and when I attempted to pull the door open, I was met with resistance. Of course he had locked it.

"C'mon Har, not funny. Open up." My plea went unanswered, though. His smirk the only acknowledgment I received.

I put on my best pleading face, pouting with my bottom lip jutted out above my top and my eyebrows scrunching together in playful sadness.

"Pleeeeeease open the door, Harry?" I clasped my hands together in front of me and gave him the biggest doe eyes I could muster before I heard another click.

Taking the opportunity before he could change his mind, I yanked the door open a little too harshly and threw myself into the seat with a grin.

"Knew you couldn't say no to me. You never can." I muttered before placing my bag by my feet and strapping myself into the car.

When I looked up at him across from me, he was staring at me with a strange look I'd never seen on his face before. It looked like he was deep in thought but also like he was in pain. I wasn't sure what to say so I just slapped my hands down against my thighs and let out a deep sigh before speaking.

"So! Where to, Mr. Styles?"

Still looking at me, he shook his head in confusion as if he forgot where he was. Once he collected himself, he plugged his phone into the aux, handing it to me with a nod to pick some music.

"Figured we could jus' see where the night takes us, love. Hang out for a while. That still alrigh' with yah?"

He seemed almost nervous when he spoke, which was an unrecognizable emotion on him. He was always so sure of himself. He carried himself with confidence and a bit of cockiness to be honest, but not in an overwhelming way. He was just aware of himself and his affect on others. All I could do was stare at the side of his face that now was looking out at the road ahead of him. His jaw was clenched and his grip on the wheel looked like it could break it if he really tried hard enough.

"Of course that's okay, Har. Why wouldn't it be?" I questioned.

He exhaled a breath before letting one of his arms bend and fold onto the center console to rest between us, his hand dangling slightly off of the edge.

He turned to look at me and then quickly whipped his eyes back toward the road before muttering out "Jus' didn't wanna waste your friday night s'all. Know you could be doing somethin' a little bit more fun, ya know?"

I was quick to shake my head and grab at his free hand, bringing it onto my lap to hold in-between my own.

"Where is this coming from, Harry? You know I don't care what we do. I just like spending time with you."

He looked down at where our hands were joined, my fingers absentmindedly twisting one of his rings while I stared at the perplexed expression gracing his beautiful features. He's never acted like this with me. Every time we hang out, it's filled with his newly acquired joke of the day and an eventual headache from how hard he makes me laugh. Tonight though, he was so closed off. It was starting to worry me.

Just as he's about to speak, he suddenly freezes and breathes out a laugh so small I think I imagine it.

He brings his hand that's still connected with mine up toward the screen on his dash and points to the song that had just started playing, before letting it fall back into my lap.

"This song was playin' the first time we met, ya know." He looks over at me expectantly. I look at the screen and then back at his face, a smile gracing my lips.

"There's no way you remember the song that was playing, Harry." I reply dryly with a laugh of my own before continuing my assault on his ring. I loved playing with them, and he knew it. He would act like it bothered him. Tried to feign offense at how cold my hands always were against his intensely feverish skin, but we both knew he enjoyed it as much as I did.

He scoffed. A look of annoyance dancing around his emerald eyes as he took his hand from mine to point a finger at me.

"I absolutely do! Got a mind like a whip, I'll 'ave you know." He swiveled his head back toward the windshield, putting his hand back on the wheel. "I remember everything when it comes to you, love" He uttered in a hushed tone. Like he was afraid of even saying the words.

My mouth hung open the smallest bit before I could stop it. Sure, Harry was affectionate with me. A little more than was friendly sometimes, but never so outwardly sweet with his words. He was more of a cuddle and hug type of friend. Even an occasional kiss on the forehead if I was lucky and he was tired enough.

I reached out to him and grabbed his hand once again, rubbing my thumb in circles against his heated skin.

I wanted to tell him I loved him. Wanted nothing more than to grab his face and kiss him, let him know just how much I adored him. But I was scared and he was in a relationship. So all I could muster the confidence to say was "That's really sweet, Har."

He sighed and gave me a lopsided grin while muttering out "Yup, tha's me. Sweet ol' Harry."

I could tell he wanted to say something else by the tone of his voice, but didn't want to push it. Instead deciding to point out all of the constellations I knew by heart out of the window.

Harry did his best to follow along and listen intently, but with his eyes needing to focus on driving, he was more so just nodding along to make me happy.

In the middle of my explanation about how older stars start to turn red as they run out of hydrogen to burn, I notice the car slowing down to a stop against a patch of grass on the side of the road.

"Wait why are we stopping? Everything okay?" I question with concern laced in my voice.

Harry puts the car in park, unbuckles himself, and immediately turns his whole body to face mine. His hand is still enclosed in my own, so he takes it back and places it against his thigh before running his other through his already messy hair.

Sighing deeply, he lifts his eyes to mine and opens his mouth to speak but doesn't actually say anything.

"Harry, you're kind of scaring me. Please tell me what's wrong. You can talk to me" I start to reach my hand out to stroke his arm but he holds up his own to stop me and I physically feel my heart stop for a second.

"Did I- did I do something?" My voice comes out so small I don't even recognize it.

He scoffs for the second time since I got into the car. The hand on his thigh joining his other in the mess of curls on top of his head, pulling at the roots before dropping them into his lap and staring at me once more.

"'Course not, bubs. I did."

"I don't. I don't understand. I-" Is all I'm able to get past my lips before he's rushing out words so fast it's hard to keep up.

"I broke up with Rachel. Well, she technically broke up with me. Said somethin' 'bout how she can't be with someone who isn't able to commit." He was getting flushed from how upset he was. I could see it even in the dark. A splotchy patch of red was making it's way up his neck and I wanted to reach out and hug him. Comfort him. But he wasn't finished, so I sat on my hands to control myself and let him talk.

"Thought it was a load'a bullshit at first but she said somethin' that really stuck with me, and I can't seem to stop thinkin' 'bout it." He narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing.

"Need yah to help me figure somethin' out. Promise I won't be mad if yah don't wanna. Just need'a try. Jus' once." He was whispering. His usual boisterous and lively energy was nowhere to be found. He was looking at me with such a serious expression on his face that it made me shrink back a little and avert my gaze to the side of the dashboard to compose myself.

When I chanced a glance back toward him, his face was so close it made me gasp and jump back.

"What are-"

I couldn't even finish my sentence. He was inching closer and closer, my breathing getting more shallow with every second that ticked by.

"Tell me to stop. Push me away if yah don' wanna do this. I won't be mad, bubs. I promise." His angelic voice was so quiet I had to will my heart to stop beating so violently against my ears so that I could hear him properly.

I exhaled the breath I was holding, but couldn't find it in myself to move. I'd thought of this moment every single day for a year, and it was finally happening. I wanted this more than anything, the anticipation was making my chest ache in such an intense way that all I could think to say back was "No."

Harry stilled immediately. His face scrunched up in hurt as he started to move himself back into his seat. Before he could get too far, I yanked a hand out from under myself and used it to pull him back toward me by his chin.

When I saw the confused expression on his face, I realized what I had said and tried to explain the best that I could with my brain suddenly a pile of goo from inhaling his musky scent just seconds before.

"I meant. No. I don't want you to stop. I just-" I sighed heavily and shook my head while closing my eyes briefly to control my fluttering eyelashes.

Opening them, I was met with his own that were now wet with substantial emotion, making the green of them so vibrant it made me lose my breath for a second.

"I want-" another sigh. "I want you to kiss me."

He audibly gulped, his adams apple bobbing up and down as he stared at my lips. "Yah sure?" he probed with a glance up at my eyes.

"I'm sure, Harry." My head was now the one leaning toward his own. The hand that was placed on his chin moving to the back of his head to pull him in closer. My eyes closing once again as I felt his top lip brush against my bottom one so softly it almost felt like I imagined it.

Just the smallest touch from him and I was already buzzing. My stomach tied up in knots and the butterflies in my ribcage fluttering like crazy. My blood was boiling. I felt cold and way too hot all at once.

I heard his light gasp before I felt his plush lips press against mine with a little more pressure and confidence. He slowly slid his hand onto my cheek, taking his time to explore this new sensation. I kiss him back lazily, reveling in the softness of him. We exchange a few more pert kisses before it suddenly becomes more heated, the atmosphere shifting from tentative and cautious to more concrete in its intensity.

He grips onto my shoulder for purchase, bringing me even closer to his chest. He kisses me harshly, each kiss he breaks is released with a soft, smacking sound that grows sharper each time. I move my hands to fist the soft material of his shirt behind his back, my brow creasing in pleasure while I sigh into his mouth. He swallows every noise I make, groaning out a few of his own before a breathy whimper escapes my mouth as his tongue slides along my bottom lip.

When he hears the noise this time, he breaks apart from me and moves his forehead onto my shoulder, our collective breathing heavy and loud in the quiet of the car. My lips tingle, already missing the fullness of his against them.

"Wasn't expectin' tha'." He pants into the skin of my neck, gently holding onto my arms. "Guess Rachel was right after all."

"About what?" I ask, trying and failing to catch my breath.

He lifts his head slightly away from my body to look into my eyes as he softly says "I really am in love with my best friend."

At his confession, my breath gets caught in my throat and my lungs shrivel up. My eyes suddenly get weepy and I'm unable to stop the stray tear that falls onto my cheek. Harry takes his thumb and swipes it away before asking me what's wrong with gentle eyes.

"Just never thought you'd feel the same way." I whisper.

He gasps, smiling so bright and large that his dimples become a deep pool inside of his cheeks. "C'mere" he wheezes out before crashing his lips back against mine. His teeth clash against mine a bit from how much he's grinning, but it doesn't matter. It's still without a doubt the best kiss I've ever had.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry #styles #harry styles fic rec #hs #fanfic #hs fic #writing

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wwitbeyondmeasure · 4 years

Text

Summer at The Burrow : r.w. fan fiction

Previous Chapters

Introduction / Author’s Note / Chapter 1: The Journey to The Burrow / Chapter 2: Hidden Letters / Chapter 3: Ron’s Return / Chapter 4: Nighttime Conversations / Chapter 5: A Morning Surprise

Chapter 6: The Quidditch Match

You were greeted by a grinning Ron in the kitchen.

"I see your mood has changed," you noted, gratefully taking the buttered toast he was offering you as you heard your stomach rubble loudly.

He nodded. "Fred and George talked to me," he stated.

A bolt of terror ran up your spine. Talked to him? Talked to him about what? Surely they didn't tell Ron how you felt about him? You knew they were pushing you towards confessing, but you never thought they would betray you like that.

"Oh?" you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral. You took a big bite of toast and chewed to keep your mind off of Ron's next words, and your impending feeling of doom.

Ron nodded, his smile returning. "They said I can use the best Cleansweep Five we've got. Thank Merlin too, all our other brooms give me splinters."

Relief washed over you like a great tide. They hadn't ratted you out after all. You felt a twinge of guilt from believing the twins would go behind your back like that, you knew they wouldn't.

After you finished your breakfast, you headed out to the field behind The Burrow. You were greeted by the sight of quidditch balls already laid out, goalposts standing ready, and redheaded boys fighting over brooms. Hermione and Ginny chatted pleasantly with one another to the side.

You walked over to them and offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry I was so uptight upstairs," you said.

Ginny waved you off with the flick of a wrist, "We understand. Although we were quite hopeful seeing you in Ron's bed," she added with a wink.

Hermione gave you a hug with one arm and whispered, "We expect to hear all the details later." You laughed, happy to have your girls back, and followed them to the others.

"I called this one!"

"No you didn't, you great git, I did!"

"Yeah right, get your own!"

Laughing at the twins' argument, you grabbed the shabbiest looking broom in the pile. It was no secret that you were the best Chaser on your house team so you thought taking the worst broom was a fair way to even out the match. Also, you weren't in in the mood to fight tooth and nail with a ginger about a broomstick.

After the broomsticks were distributed to each player, George still grumbling about Fred taking his broom, the teams were determined. On one side: Fred, George, Ron, and Harry. On the other: you, Hermione, and Ginny. You were the chaser, Ginny the beater, and Hermione the Keeper. Much to Harry's dismay, the group had opted out of the need of the seeker role and Snitch. Instead, you would just be playing to see how many points you could score through the goals.

"Shirts vs skins!" Fred and George shouted. "Isn't that what the muggles do to keep track of their teammates, Harry?" They asked him, already yanking their shirts off their backs.

"I suppose," Harry said, following their action.

You laughed, "Yeah, except nobody ever offers to be the skins."

"Well if they looked as good as I do, they would," Fred replied confidently, earning giggles from you and Hermione. Ginny, however, scoffed at his words.

You were so busy talking to Fred that when you turned your head, you noticed Ron had already taken his shirt off. Maybe you were imagining it, but you felt his gaze flick quickly to yours and then both of your cheeks reddening instantly. This had been the second time in 24 hours that you had seen your best friend with his shirt off and it still made your heart skip a beat and your head feel dizzy. Hopefully you could keep your eyes on the Quidditch match instead of him.

Before you knew it, the match had started.

You had grabbed the Quaffle once it was in the air, and were rushing towards the other team's goalposts. You noticed your broom was a lot slower than yours at home, drifting slightly to the right as you propelled yourself forward, but that didn't impede your skills at all. In fact, before long, the score was 50-10.

"That's rubbish!" Harry shouted as you scored yet another goal. He was really getting into the spirit of Quidditch.

"The only thing that's rubbish is your flying!" Ginny countered back with a wicked smirk.

Being here with your friends, playing Quidditch outside under the sun, wind whipping through your hair- it was everything you wished for and more. You recalled sitting all alone in the great big empty house of yours, your mind would often wander to wishing for something like this. A sense of community, friendship, and family. Right now, you couldn't be happier.

"y/n, look out!"

You heard it too late. By the time your head turned in the direction of Ginny's voice, the Weasley's battered old bludger from their home Quidditch set had smacked into the side of your head. Falling from your broomstick, you really wished you hadn't forgone the helmet offered to you before the match began.

The match abruptly ended as you hit the ground with a thud. Admittedly, you weren't flying that high up, but the fall still stung. You felt a large welt on your forehead, and as you touched above your left eyebrow you were surprised to see blood.

"Ow," you commented.

The first person to reach you was Ron, looking pale with worry.

"Y/n! Are you alright?" He asked, his voice quivering as his eyes flicked between your eyes and bloodied forehead.

You nodded, but the effort in doing so made you dizzy. You swayed a little from where you sat, and Ron wrapped a protective arm around your back to steady you. Despite being on the precipice of passing out, Ron's palm being pressed flatly to your lower back made butterflies erupt in your stomach. So now you had that making your head spin too.

Concerned blue eyes stared intently at you and you tried your best to not notice how close Ron's bare chest was to you. He was breathing heavily from the game and despite being sweaty from the heat, he still smelled like cinnamon and apples. His red hair was tousled from the wind and you wanted nothing more than to reach out and run your fingers through it.

"I'm alright, just a little fall," you said, struggling to your feet. Ron kept his arm wrapped tightly around you to keep you from toppling over.

"Alright there, y/n?" Harry asked as the others came to join you. "I didn't mean to hit that blunger so hard, I'm sorry."

You waved him off with your hand. "S'all right, I've suffered from worst during Quidditch," you replied. And it was true. Last year, you had broken your arm three times during the Quidditch season. Madame Pomfrey welcomed you as a regular visitor in the Hospital Wing. You had even managed to become quite good friends with her.

After a quick survey of the group, it was obvious everyone was beaten and tired. Two hours of Quidditch can do that to a person.

"I'll take her upstairs and clean her cut. Will you lot make lunch? Or ask Mum too?" Ron asked. You were surprised by his taking charge, usually he was one to sit back and let Hermione make all the plans.

Everyone nodded and then embarked back to The Burrow.

"Despite my fall, we were winning," you proclaimed as you entered the house. You, Hermione, and Ginny shared a satisfying smile at your victory.

"I call a rematch for tomorrow," Harry insisted as he followed the twins into the kitchen.

Ron led you upstairs, his hand still planted firmly on your back, as you walked up the countless steps. After a couple levels, you had reached the tiny bathroom all the Weasley's shared.

You entered it, followed by Ron. It was quite a tight fit. With both of you standing in it, backs facing the wall, your chests were almost pressed against one another. Ron still hadn't put his shirt back on. You tried your best not to notice this fact.

He stepped closer to you, and your heart started beating so fast you felt there was a hummingbird trapped in your ribcage rather than an organ. Ron wrapped his arms around you, lifted you up, and set you on the bathroom counter. You blushed at the ease in which he did this. He really was quite strong. You remembered back in second year when he could barely push open the heavy common room door, now here he was lifting you onto counters as if you weighed nothing.

Ron searched above you in the mirror cabinet for some bandaids and ointment for your head. You waited patiently, taking advantage of his distracted attention to stare at him. He really looked good. He was biting his lip in concentration as he read different bottles to find the correct medicine, and his eyebrows were knitted together. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face and his freckles looked like constellations on his skin. In that moment, you swore he was the most handsome wizard you ever saw.

"Got it," he said, his deep voice snapping you out of your fantasy. "Mum used to put this on our scrapes when we were little. It might sting a bit," he warned you.

You nodded and shut your eyes as Ron wet a rag and turned to you. You felt him lean closer. Cinnamon and apple. His smell was intoxicating.

Ron lighted brushed your hair behind your ear. With a wet cloth, he dabbed the blood away. His touch felt so soft and gentle that you fought the urge to sigh and melt right into the arms. But that feeling quickly subsided as a new sensation of an intense burning reached your cut.

"Ow," you muttered through gritted teeth as he continued applying the ointment.

"I know, sorry," he replied, still concentrating.

You opened your eyes to sneak a glance at him. He was so close to you that if you moved forward a little bit, your noses would be touching. You snapped your eyes shut again, afraid that if you kept them open for a second longer, you wouldn't be able to restrain yourself anymore. You were certain you would kiss him if he stayed that close to you.

The feeling of a dry fabric being pressed to your head brought you out of your thoughts as the stinging subsided. The bandaid Ron pressed gently to your forehead seemed to help because you didn't feel dizzy anymore. Magic, it was great at healing.

Taking in a deep breath, you opened your eyes. Ron was still standing so close to you, both of his arms resting against the counter on either side of you. His eyes immediately met yours and you could swear that every sound in the world went quiet. The temperature in the bathroom seemed to increase as you were so close to one another. You couldn't help yourself, your eyes slipped from his blue eyes to his lips. Merlin, you wanted to kiss him so badly.

Looking back up, you saw his gaze was focused on your mouth as well. His eyes met yours once again. Was he leaning in? He definitely looked like he was getting closer. Is this really happening?

"Lunch is ready!" Ginny's voice traveled from downstairs to the bathroom like a shrill bullhorn. You felt as if a bucket of cold water was poured onto your head, that's how quickly you jolted from the dream-like trance you were in.

Ron cleared his throat awkwardly, moving backwards to give you more space. The absence of his proximity made you feel colder, and you wished Ginny had called you a minute later.

"Shall we?" He asked, offering you a hand as you climbed down from the counter.

"Yeah, I'm starving," you replied as you exited the bathroom and made your way downstairs. But you were more than just hungry for lunch. You had a hunger for whatever atmosphere donned upon you and Ron in that tiny bathroom. You were hungry for that feeling of being the only two in the world. It was in that moment that you realized how strongly you felt about Ron. How strongly you felt about your best friend. It was there, atop the rickety steps of The Burrow, that you vowed that this summer was the one where you would tell Ron Weasley that you were in love with him.

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sushiandstarlight · 3 years

Text

“Cocoa/Cider”: NaNoWrimo 30 Days of Prompts

Today’s Prompt

Read this story on AO3

Rated G/PG

Summary: Aziraphale knew what Crowley smelled like, too, thank-you-very-much. And, it wasn't burnt chocolate.

The smell of something burnt was his first tip that things were a bit amiss in their home. See, Crowley himself smelled faintly of brimstone, a slightly sour smoky scent. He tended to wear sweeter things over it like sandalwood and vanilla. Honestly, Aziraphale liked his base smell. It was warm and familiar. Not that the additions were bad. Not at all.

But a thick, dark, charred smell greeted him when he opened the door to the cottage.

There was no smoke and no sight or crackle of fire, so Aziraphale wasn't as alarmed as he could have been. He carried the shopping into the kitchen with a little extra speed, though.

Pots. Their pots were everywhere. All over the counters and the breakfast nook. Some of them were even on the floor. Strewn between them were cartons of milk in various degrees of fullness and half hewn blocks of different chocolates: milk and dark and even white. Their sugar canister sat, empty, beside the stove.

In the midst of all of this stood a very startled demon who's face was slowly morphing from guilt to mortification. He was wearing Aziraphale's tartan apron and holding a half melted ladle. Aziraphale could identify the smell now, perhaps one of the saddest smells of all: burnt chocolate.

“I was... gone for an hour and a half?” The words fell out of his mouth in shock more than anything.

Crowley glanced around the destruction that was their kitchen and then back at him, eyes wide. He swallowed and lowered the ladle, looking sad.

Aziraphale pushed some of the pots to the side of their dining table so he could put the grocery bags down. Crowley was eyeing him with some amount of trepidation, he could track it out the corner of his eye.

“Have a chocolate syrup craving?” he turned to the demon, hands on his hips, face still neutral. Who knew leaving a demon alone in a kitchen for 90 minutes was akin to leaving a toddler in the same position.

“I wanted to surprise you when you got home,” Crowley tugged at his ear with his non ladle holding hand.

“You've accomplished that, darling.” He watched Crowley relax a little at the endearment.

“I'll clean it up.”

“I can help.”

“No, it was supposed to be a happy surprise. I... I got a bit carried away when it wasn't working,” Crowley turned to the sink, dropping the ladel in the warm, soapy water and then reaching for the current pot on the stove. As he moved it to the sink, too, the smell of burnt chocolate intensified, “you go read or something, relax. I'll take care of it.” His words had grown more and more mumbly as he spoke, shoulders hunching inward.

He walked over and put his arms around Crowley's middle, resting his chin on his shoulder, “what if I want to help? What if that would be relaxing for me.”

“It wouldn't.”

“You don't know. Maybe I have the sudden and undeniable urge to wash dishes.”

“You hate washing dishes,” Crowley was still pouting, but he could hear a smile tugging at his tone.

“You're right, of course,” he snatched the towel draped over Crowley's shoulder, “you can wash, I'll dry.”

“Yeah, alright, fine.” And so they worked together, starting at one end of the kitchen and working to the other end, Aziraphale occasionally taking breaks to put away the new groceries. Lucky he grabbed another sack of sugar while he was out. He upended it into the proper canister and slid it into it's place on the clean counter just as Crowley set the last clean dish in the drainer.

“I think you owe me for my hard labor,” Aziraphale had wrapped himself around Crowley again, hugging his back to his front and nuzzling his jaw. He knew he could get to the bottom of this. He tried not to take terrible advantage of it, these days, since he knew where it came from: but he was well aware that there was little, if anything, that the demon could deny him if he truly asked for it. Or hinted. Or thought about it hard enough.

“Told you that you didn't have to help...” Crowley leaned back into him anyway and Aziraphale squeezed him.

“I won't ask for much, promise,” his neck nuzzles were becoming neck kisses and he could feel Crowley's resolve crumbling in his arms, “just one little thing.”

“Okay, fine,” Crowley tilted his head away, clearly waiting for more kisses.

“How did the kitchen become the death of so much chocolate?” He wasn't letting up, though, nosing up behind the demon's ear and nipping the skin there.

“s'not fair!” Crowley whinged even though he was leaning into him harder than before, “You're using your wiles on me.”

“I learned from the best, my dear,” Aziraphale smirked as he trailed his nose along the shell of his ear, “I could give you one more thing in trade.”

Crowley just whimpered in response.

“I can tell you how much I really, really love seeing you in my apron,” He watched Crowley swallow hard and sway a bit, holding him tightly, “So now you'll be a dear and tell me what you were up to?”

“You said,” and Crowley sounded well and truly wrecked now, “you said the other day that you wanted some cocoa. Er, like the kind we had that one time. With the humans. I can't concentrate when you do that!”

He let the earlobe slide back from between his teeth and smirked, “you were saying?”

“We were in the living room the other day and you were on about this cocoa. How rich it was. How creamy. How it was made from 'real chocolate' and not the fake stuff. And milk or cream instead of water. I... I wanted to have something, at least a little, like that for you when you got home. S'all.”

“So all of this was for me?” He saw Crowley cut his eyes at him and watched a blush creep up his neck, momentarily distracted, “Well, that was sweet of you.”

“Not sweet,” he replied automatically but with no real heat, “and that was a terrible pun.”

“If you had asked me, I could have saved you some trouble. I have a lovely cocoa recipe in my recipe box,” Aziraphale pointed to the little wooden box next to the sink, “we could have made it together. I could have taught you.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise!” The indignance in his voice bespoke of a foot being stamped in frustration even if he kept both feet on the floor.

“Hmm,” he nuzzled the demon's cheek, “it makes me happy that you tried. I would still like to have another go of it, together next time. I like doing things with you, Crowley.”

Crowley turned his head and placed a kiss on his temple, “Sure, Angel, whatever you want.”

“Splendid.”

“But maybe not tonight. If I have to scrub another pot tonight I'll scream.”

“We can't have that.”

“Neh.”

“It just so happens that I got us a little something while I was out. Something a little different to try.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” Aziraphale let him go and watched him sway a little in his absence before walking to the refrigerator and pulling out a jug of fresh apple cider. He picked up the remaining pot from the drainer- “this one's on me!”- and poured some in, putting it on the stove to heat up. Crowley tidied up a bit more as Aziraphale watched the pot, taking off the apron and hanging it on it's hook by the refrigerator.

“Could you fetch that bag for me, dear,” Aziraphale pointed to the paper bag sitting on the table. Crowley picked it up, slightly surprised at the weight and handed it to him. Aziraphale doled out two mugs of the apple cider and then revealed that inside the bag was some dark, spiced rum.

“Oh, Angel, you do know the way to my heart,” Crowley smirked at him, leaning a hip against the counter.

“I should hope so, by now,” Aziraphale wiggled happily, handing him a mug.

“Let's take this show,” Crowley ushered Aziraphale away from the stove and grabbed the bottle of rum, “into the living room.” He put the bottle on the coffee table and sprawled, careful of his hot beverage, on the sofa. Aziraphale curled up next to him, leaning against his side, hands wrapped around the warm mug. He watched as Crowley took a sip.

“Good?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Better than cocoa, I take it.”

“Aziraphale, watching you enjoy a mug of cocoa would have made my night.”

Aziraphale took a sip, enjoying the feeling of the warmth from the cider and the alcohol, how it burn a little as he swallowed. He hummed happily.

“Okay, I'll add spiked apple cider to the list.”

“List?”

“Of things I like watching you enjoy.”

“Long list, then?” Aziraphale tried his best to feign disinterest, but he knew he was failing so he took another deep sip.

“Been keeping it for a millennia.” Crowley's hand had crept over and was curled around his knee, “yeah it's a bit long.”

“You're on it, right?”

Crowley choked on his next sip.

“Oh, bother. I meant that you're something I enjoy. I didn't- ah, well, I mean...” Aziraphale took a breathe, eyes going a bit distant, “Well, that wouldn't be a bad way to end the evening, either. Talk about happy surprises.” He smirked into his mug and watched Crowley sputter.

Previous Prompt Ficlets:

Feather Duster / Scarf / Family / Hearth / Frosty / Ribbons / Wrapping / Cardinal / Coal / Unwrap / Blustery

#aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #star light-reads #nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2020 #30 days of prompts #fluff #domestic fluff

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captnbarnesrogers · 6 years

Text

The 5 Times Harry Styles Was Just Harry

Pairing/Characters: Harry Styles x Reader Warnings: Swearing, angsty-ish, oral sex (FR) Summary: In short, Harry is sweet, friendly, protective, attentive, and loving. Word Count: 4.3k+ A/N: Hope y’all like this!

Harry Styles likes to consider himself a simple man. Excluding the fact that he’s an internationally known superstar. But he doesn’t really like to take to that label. It shouldn’t be mistaken that he doesn’t love his job because he does. He loves to perfom. There’s nothing more exhilarating to him than to be up on stage, singing his songs and his songs being sung to him right back. He’s grateful. But he is, nevertheless to himself, just Harry. Human.

He walks in the streets of New York City, the cold wind of fall sneaking its way through his jacket, the barely-there-heat of the sunlight striking through his sunglasses. He stops by a nice cafe, almost dimly lit as it always was, and enters it. He stops just in front of the cooler, looking at the options of croissants, muffins, cookies and such. He settles on a blueberry muffin and a latte. He waits in line behind a girl who seems to be scattering her things atop of the counter.

“Sorry, I just- Give me a sec.” He can tell she feels bad although the line behind her wasn’t at all long, it was just him. She sighs and looks down, placing her hand on her forehead, “I think I might’ve left my wallet at home. I’m sorry.” He takes a step in front of her and hands the cash to the cashier. She looks up at the man who’d just paid for her coffee, giving him a stare which could only mean ‘thank you’. He nods as she puts her things back into her bag; a few receipts, a little black book, some pens and her phone.

“Hi Harry.” Cassidy the cashier greets, “Just the usual?”

“Yeah, thanks, mind addin’ a blueberry muffin with tha’?”

“Not at all.” She replies with a smile. The girl, who Harry’s paid a coffee for, waits for him to grab his order. She’s hesitent. Just for a moment though. As he walks out, she chases after him.

“Harry?” The wind blows against her face, making her hair fly just across it. Harry turns around to be met by your soft features.

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to thank you,” you gestured to your take-away cup, “life savior, you are.”

“S'all good…” Waiting for you to answer with your name.

“Y/N, my name’s Y/N.” You lend out your hand for him to shake, in which he does, “How can I pay you back?” He pauses for a moment and smiles.

“Jus’ don’ forget yeh wallet next time, though, I won’ hold it against yeh if yeh do, I won’ complain.” You giggled and nodded as he walked away.

Harry is sweet.

As soon as you stepped out of your bedroom door, a doe-eyed, Alexis (your college roommate) standing just outside, a smile widely plastered across her almost perfectly tanned face, you knew she needed something. You stared at her questioningly and walked straight past her but as you expected, she followed you like a lost puppy.

“What is it Alexis?” You asked, pouring some over-boiled coffee into an over-used mug.

“So, um one of the frat houses are hosting a party-” When the words left her lips, you laughed.

“What’s new?”

“Well I actually got invited this time.” You raised an eyebrow, asking who had invited her, “Foster Harding…”

“The star quarterback? What is this? A chick flick?” You laughed, sipping at your hot beverage.

“Y/NNNNNN, pleaseeeeee! It’s one party!” Alexis grabbed your arm and shook it. You sighed and walked away.

“I can’t, I have to study for the in-class case study, Lex.”

“C’mon, Y/N, there’s booze, food, boys… and BOOZE.” She hugged you and squeezed you tight, “Pleaseeee, pretty please?” You sighed once more and smiled at her.

“Fine, we need to be back before twelve, okay?” She squealed and jumped around.

“Yes! Okay! You got it!”

By nine o’clock, you were both ready to go. You chose to wear some jeans and an off-shoulder top with some chucks while your roommate decided on a dress and some heels which you knew she would regret later on that night. The frat house, which you both agreed to travel by foot on, was not even ten minutes away, seven minutes if you walked at the slowest pace. The fresh breeze felt so calming against your skin which was only to be ruined by the humid air inside the frat house. Heat and sweat surrounded you both with a touch of extremely loud music. Alexis dragged you through the crowd by hand and led you at the couches by the stairs. Two men stood up when they saw you both emerge from the crowd. One man, with almost angelic features, familiar to you already. He held his hand out for you to shake, the music in the background becoming slow and quieter.

“Y/N, this is Foster and Harry, Harry and Foster, this is Y/N.” You shook both of their hands and smiled at them.

“We actually kno’ each other.” Harry interjects. Alexis’ eyes widen and looks at you.

“Really now?” You nod your head.

“Hi Harry.” You hadn’t noticed before but he had yet to let go of your hand. You pull away softly and smiled at him. He gestured you sit down next to him.

“Well, Foster and I are gonna get some drinks, you guys want some?” Harry lifts his red cup and you shake your head.

“So, how are you?” You ask, making conversation with the curly headed man before you. He nods and smiles, taking a sip from his red cup.

“A’ve been alrigh’, tourin’ an’ stuff is busy, but I finally get a break from it all and get t’visit some mates.”

“That’s good.”

“Wha’ ‘bout you? Been bringin’ yeh wallet around I see.” He points at your purse, dangling from your wrist. You giggle.

“Yep, lesson definitely learned.”

“Do yeh go here?” He once again takes a sip.

“Colombia?” He nods, “Yes, I do.”

“Wha’s it like?”

“It’s good, just normal college stress but other than that, I’m doing pretty well.” From then on, you both couldn’t stop talking but from what you could hear, you were the only one who was talking, and he was listening.

“Okay, I feel like I’ve been conned.” He looks at you with concern in his eyes, “You’ve been listening to me all night and I’ve just been running my mouth, I mean, I don’t even know the first thing about you except that your name is Harry.”

“Wha’ d’yeh wan’ t’kno’? M’an open book.”

“Well, who are you? Other than that guy from One Direction that everyone pawns over.” He laughs, his eyes slightly squinting.

“Everyone pawns ov’a me?” You nod, hand over your mouth to cover a laugh, “Well, i’s a hard question, innit?” He starts to gaze over the now almost empty fraternity lounge. He looks back at you and smiles softly, “I like everythin’ t’be simple, I like coffee in th’mornin’s, m’favourite colours are blue an orange… When m’not workin’ m’prob’ly talkin’ t’Gemma, m’sister, or m’mum.”

“You are a very simple man, Harry Styles.”

“Thanks, I try t’be.” You looked down at your phone, 3:22 AM.

“Shit!” You stood up and looked around for a sign of Alexis who, right now, was nowhere to be seen.

“Wha’s wrong, love?”

“Time slipped away, I don’t know, it went so fast, I have a case study this morning.” You unlocked your phone and began ringing Alexis who failed to answer your call three times, “Alexis is supposed to be coming home with me.”

“She’s prob’ly with Foster.” He gently put his hand on your shoulder to calm you down from your frantic movements, “I could walk yeh home? Could always jus’ find m’way back, yeh live on campus, yea?” You nodded, “C’mon then.” He took you by the hand and let you outside where the air you were met with was cooler than the hours before. You both start walking and Harry notices your hand, rubbing your arms to warm yourself up, “Cold?”

“Just a bit breezy.” You chuckle. He takes off his plain black jacket and covers your shoulders with it, “Oh, thank you.”

“S’not a problem.”

“How long have you known Foster?” You turn to him.

“No’ too long, couple’f years, met him through a friend, he’s a cool kid.” You nodded, “Wha’ ‘bout Alexis? How long’ve yeh known her?”

“We met each other at orientation day and then we were put in the same dorm room, been best friends ever since.” There was a comfortable silence when you walked up the steps of your dorm, “Well, this is me.”

“This is you.” He chuckles, almost nervously if you observed it right.

“Thank you for walking me home.”

“I’s’all good, I really liked talkin’ with yeh, talkin’ so much tha’ yeh forgot wha’ time it was.” You giggled.

“I should go inside.” He gestured to the door.

“Go for it.” You waved him goodbye and began to trek up the stairs to your room. You went to go scratch your shoulder, only to realise that Harry’s jacket was still slung over you. You gasped and began running back down, meeting Harry going down your doorsteps.

“Harry!” You called out, making him turn around.

“Yeah?” You took off his jacket, handing it to him.

“Your jacket.” He looked down at it and smiled.

“Keep it, give it back when I see yeh again.”

“What makes you think that we’ll see each other again?”

“Nothin’, jus’ hopin’ you’ll forget yeh wallet when yeh come by the café tomorrow.” You laughed.

“Okay, ‘til we see again?” He nods and smiles before walking away.

Harry is friendly.

After your final exam, relaxation washes over you. Of course, Alexis suggests that you, Foster, some of Foster’s friends and herself should go out and get drunk to celebrate. An offer you could not refuse after the stressful years’ worth of work and never-ending panic attacks.

You all start the night off at a party in one of the frat houses, aiming to get a little buzzed. When the buzz started, you all left to visit a nearby bar, the aim, by now, to get absolutely plastered. Dimmed lights provided by two lamps behind the bar and fairy lights scattered fashionably against the walls and windows, decorated the almost too-crowded bar. You followed Foster, who was holding Alexis’ hand, towards a table in the corner. You felt a hand graze your backside, making you shift around to be met by Chase and Leo, two of Foster’s friends. They were both seeming to be chatting to each other, so you disregard the feeling bubbling inside you. A loud cheer disrupted your thoughts and as Foster shifted to the side, you were met by Harry’s eyes. The buzzed feeling throughout your body left so suddenly when he smiled at you. Your thoughts were once again disrupted when Chase slipped his hand around your waist, making you flinch and almost lunge forward. You nervously chuckled and pulled away from him to hug Harry.

“Hi!” Almost to cheerfully, you slapped yourself mentally.

“Yeh look good, love.” He comments on your skirt, turtleneck and chucks.

“Thank you.” Chase and Leo suddenly and forcefully move past you to introduce themselves to Harry who gives you a warm smile and them a restless but friendly greeting face. Foster, Chase, and Leo move over to the bar to grab everyone some drinks whilst Alexis goes to the toilet. You sit down and face Harry who couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He notices your nervous jitters.

“Yeh okay, Y/N? Everythin’ alrigh’?” You nod, “Sure?” You nod again. Chase is the first one back out of the three of them. He places a drink right in front of you and his arm slings across your shoulder. Harry looks at the guy next to you, almost staring him down if you will. He felt uneasy around this guy, he couldn’t imagine how you would’ve felt with his arm around you. Chase pushes the drink towards you which was unusually bubbly.

“Actually, Chase, I’m taking a break for now, I’m feeling a bit sick, thanks though.” You push the drink away from you.

“C’mon, Y/N, don’t be such a party pooper.”

“I’m not,” you take his thumb between your forefinger and thumb and unsling it from your shoulders, “I just don’t want that drink and I can buy drinks for myself.”

“Whatever.” He says, taking a sip of his beer. You smile at Harry who was intently staring at Chase. You tap him with your foot, making him acknowledge your sweet smile. You stand up and walk to the bar. As you wait to be served, Chase appears right beside you, “I just bought you a drink, why don’t you drink that?”

“Not really a fan of vodka sodas.”

“Tell me what you want, I’ll get it for you, just go sit back down.” His smile was sluggish, a sign that he was beginning to be intoxicated. You shook your head.

“I’ll just get my own drink, it’s fine.”

“Why are you being like this, Y/N?” He slams his drink down on the bar top.

“Like what?”

“Rude.” You scoff.

“I’m not being rude, Chase, I just don’t want a fucking vodka soda!” Suddenly his hand was around your waist. He pulls you over to him. His breath smelling like beer and straight whiskey, “Chase, let go of me, you’re drunk.”

“You look so pretty, baby, you’ve been giving me the eyes all night.” Your palms meet his chest trying to push him away, “Come home with me, Y/N, I’ll show you a good time.” He leans forward, his lips puckered, and suddenly he was pushed away from you.

“She said let go, mate.” You hide behind Harry. His eyes were furious when the light at the bar shone on them. You held onto his arm.

“Harry.” You warn softly. You notice the drink Chase had offered you moments ago in his hand, untouched.

“I’d move away if I were you, man, this doesn’t involve you.”

“It does now tha’ you’ve tried t’kiss, m’friend when she clearly doesn’t wan’ anythin’ t’do with yeh.” Chase rolls his eyes and shoves Harry, “Yeh fuckin’ drunk, I suggest yeh go home.”

“Chase, go home.” You say firmly.

“Whatever, you’re a 2 outta 10 prude anyway, Y/N, you’d only be good for a pity fuck.” You feel Harry tense against you which made you squeeze his arm, gesturing that it was okay. Chase leaves, struggling to walk and as soon as he was out of the bar. You let out a big and much-needed breath. Harry turns around and caresses your cheek.

“Are yeh okay, Y/N?” You nod. He calls over a bartender who takes the drink away, “I knew somethin’ was wrong, m’sorry I didn’t tell him t’fuck off earlier.”

“You’re not obliged to.”

“But I wan’ t’.” He engulfs you in a hug, “It’d hurt me if somethin’ happened to yeh, lovey.”

“You’re too sweet, Harry.”

“Nah, I just like yeh an’ I care ‘bout yeh a bunch.” He kisses the top of your head. You pull away and look up at him with a smile.

“You like me?” He rubs the back of his neck and chuckles nervously, “I like you too, Harry.” He leans into you.

“Yeh okay with this?” You nod. He steals a kiss from your lips and smiles into you.

“God, that was good.” You say as you pull away before capturing his lips on yours once again.

“If anyone tries t’do tha’ t’yeh again, I’ll rip em t’shreds.”

“Go for it, tiger.” You laugh, pulling him in for another kiss.

Harry is protective.

It’d been a year after Harry asked you to be his girlfriend when you finally moved in with him. He was so happy when you said yes. You still remember the smile on his face and the way he lifted you up and kissed you all over. It really is true what they say, you don’t know a person until you live with them and up until you moved in with Harry, you thought you knew everything about him. But when you finally got to sleep in the same bed every night he was home, you discovered more things than you bargained for, though you were never regretful of it.

The door opened and your boyfriend, a man who was a sight for sore eyes, walked in and engulfed you into a hug, kissing your temple.

“Wow, you’re feeling extra loving today.” You giggle, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Wha’? I can’t give m’girl a bit o’ lovin’?” You offered him a cookie which you had made that morning. He opened his mouth and you placed a cookie in between his lips for him to bite. He grabs the cookie as he bites it and compliments your baking, “So, when we first properly met-”

“At Foster’s party?” He hummed in response.

“Well, I ‘ave a surprise for yeh.” From the inside of black trench coat, he produced a brown paper bag. It was all too familiar to you. It had a chirpy bee on the front, waving ‘hello’.

“No way.” You grabbed the paper bag that was dangling in front of you and laughed in surprise when you opened the stapled bag. You pulled out the black and yellow tights and laughed, covering your mouth.

“I remembered yeh talkin’ ‘bout these tights tha’ night so I went on a hunt.” You jumped him and he wrapped his arms around you.

“This is amazing, thank you, Harry.” You pulled away from him, eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips. He caught on so quickly to your innocent little stare and smirked. He captured your lips between his and lifted you up onto the counter. He couldn’t care less about the fact that you squirmed when he touched underneath your thighs, complaining that they were “too big” or you were “too heavy”. He didn’t care. He loved every single inch of you. You felt his breath against your neck, making you laugh due to a ticklish spot, “Harry!” You laughed.

“Am absolutely not sorry.” He smiles against you.

“I know.” He licks a stripe up your neck, making you roll your eyes back. You feel him suck your skin, “Babe, I need to not turn up to my internship like I’ve been attacked by an octopus.”

“Fine, I’ll leave it in places they can’t see.” He trails kisses down your chest, your hands bunched up in his hair as you tremble in his hands. His hands were warm, his mouth pulling away from you as he lifts up your top, throwing it on the floor and going back to his assault down your shivering body. Your legs wrapped around his waist when you leaned back onto the counter, his lips still going down. You panted heavily when he rested his lips just above your pelvic bone. He looked up at you and smiled devilishly before licking his lips and pulling down your pyjama shorts. You inhaled sharply when he kissed your hooded nub before sucking at it. He lays his tongue flat and quickly licks up over and over again. You pulled his hair and cried out when his tongue delved into you, “Harry!” He rubbed your clit with his thumb as he flicked his tongue inside of you, “Oh god, oh fuck, oh fucking- OH MY FUCKING GOD, Har, Har, Har, I’m gonna cum!” His fingers dug into your quivering thighs, you gripped his hair tightly and cried out when you released all over his tongue. You panted and chanted out his name, his hand gripping your breast.

“Yeh so fuckin’ beautiful, pet.” You sat back up and kissed him passionately. He pulls away and whispers an ‘I love you’ against your lips. He bends down and grabs your top, passing it to you which made you look at him quizzingly.

“Don’t you want to?...”

“I ‘ave t’make a very important phone call but best yeh believe if yeh not on the bed an’ ready by the time I get back, tha’ arse will be red raw.” You kissed him once more before he steps out onto the balcony.

Harry is attentive.

Harry couldn’t have forgotten. You’d both been planning it for weeks while you were both in bed, whilst one was yelling out ideas from the shower. Today, there was not one phone call, one tweet, or one text. You couldn’t help but be a little upset. Harry couldn’t have forgotten your birthday. After all, he kept telling you it was the most important event of the year for him, “more important than Christmas an’ New Year’s combined”.

Harry dropped his bag by the door when he came in and sighed. You weren’t in sight and he just wanted to cuddle you. He called out your name but no response. He walked through the lounge room and through the kitchen but no sign of you. He stepped into your shared bedroom and saw you lying down scrolling through your phone. He slipped under the covers with you and wrapped his arms around you but you didn’t acknowledge his existence at all.

“Tried callin’ yeh when I came in, yeh di’n’t answer?” He points out, kissing your shoulder.

“Didn’t hear you.”

“Oh.” Cold. You were so cold towards him, “Tha’s alrigh’”. You kept scrolling through your Instagram, refusing to receive his small and soft touches, “Wha’dya wan f’dinner?”

“You pick.” He pulled away from your warm body and sat up. Confusion flushed upon his face. Had you had a bad day? Had he done something wrong? He did let you know he’d be out early to head to the studio. He couldn’t figure out why you were being so cold towards him. Next thing he knew, you’d thrown the covers off of your body and left the bedroom. He followed you into the kitchen almost instantly and he stood by the arch facing the sink and bit the inside of his lip. You filled the kettle with water and set it down to boil. You began to make your coffee, pulling out the coffee granules, sugar, and milk, only to be gently shoved over by your boyfriend.

“I’ll do tha’” He suggests. You shake your head and grab the mug, mixing everything together. He was so confused. He couldn’t handle it, “Did I do summat? Why yeh so angry at me?”

“I don’t know, Har, did you?”

“M’not a fuckin’ mind reader, lovey.” You sighed and poured the boiling water into the mug. You wanted to cry. He had completely forgotten.

“So much for the most important event of the year, huh?” You retorted, walking away back to the bedroom. He stood there in confusion. His thoughts interrupted by the alarm on his phone probably reminding him to call work or something. As he goes to turn off the alarm, his eyes widen, and he smacks himself.

Be home early to make Y/N’s Birthday Dinner – Don’t forget the Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food!

“Fuck!” He stood in the middle of the kitchen with a realisation; not only did he forget the Phish Food, but he had completely forgotten your birthday.

When you heard the door close, you let out a sob. This was your first major fight, the one that made you cry. You’d had smaller and pettier fights before, but nothing to the point where you had tears in your eyes. You get that he’s been busy and you’re usually super understanding, but you felt unimportant. You had no right, you felt, but you knew he’d think otherwise. Before you knew it, you had slipped into a short nap, tears still flowing out of your eyes.

You were woken up by kisses being pressed on your cheek. He tried to kiss away the marks of streaming tears from your eyes, but you couldn’t help but turn away. He hugged you tightly with the covers in the way.

“M’so sorry, lovey, m’baby love, m’so so sorry.” He whispers between chaste kisses against your neck, “I di’n’t mean t’forget, I promise.” You laid still on your side. There was a large space where you faced, and he used that opportunity to slide into that space and look at you face-to-face. He felt like a failure when he saw the streaks of tears again, “Talk t’me, lovey, please.”

“It’s fine, Haz, I get it, you’re busy, I’m so-”

“Don’t say it, I’m sorry, I forgot, I was payin’ more attention to m’job than m’girl.” He kissed you, smiling softly when you finally kissed him back, “I love yeh, baby love.” He pulled the cover off of your body after he stood up and carried you bridal style to the dining room. Your eyes widened and your covered your mouth as you laughed in surprise. You look up at him and he meets your adoring stare, “S’the least I can do.” He kissed into your hair.

“Thank you.” You whispered as he set you down on the dining chair where you were faced with a candlelit dinner. He walked over to the freezer and pulled out a tub of ice cream, “Phish Food!” You squealed, clapping your hands like a happy child.

“Yeh favourite.” He sat down across from you and looked at you longingly before telling you what was on the menu for tonight, “Carbonara and your favourite cake which we can eat with the ice cream later.”

For the rest of the evening, Harry was nothing short of his charming self. Stolen kisses here and there, soft touches against your thigh.

“I love yeh more than I could eva show, Y/N.” He leaned over and kissed you softly, “But I hope, m’more than enough.”

Harry is loving.

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maraudergirls · 6 years

Text

‘7 things i love about us’ ( Harry x Hermione)

For @hermione-who from @wizardingworldwaitforme and @beaubcxton

Hermione can’t believe what she’s seeing.

Maybe it’s because of the shock of her tights colliding with the freezing floor, or the strength the cry provoked by her surprise.

She shakes the white plastic stick. Once. Twice. Thrice. Observes. It’s unchanged.

She rests her back against the wall and stretches her legs forward, until their extension is blocked by the base of the washbasin. The last time such a huge turn in her life had happened, it had been in a similar room, and she remembers it as if it were yesterday…

There was music. A sweet music. Somebody was tickling the tiles of a piano. A huge one.

“Are you ready?”

She looked up at Ginny.

She’s just able to hear the knock on the door, and a deep voice asking if she’s all right, before the whiteness of the bathroom gives place to the pitch blackness of her closed eyelids.

***

There Is music. A sweet music. Somebody is tickling the tiles of a piano. A huge one.

Harry straightens his green tie, anxiety coiling around the pit in his stomach like a vicious snake.

“Alright, mate?”

The groom nods. “Just a little bit nervous s'all.”

Ron claps him on the shoulder. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous of mate. She loves you. You love her. You both make fondue, I become a godfather-”

The word fondue stirs an unforgotten memory from the Burrow in Harry’s brain, and he’s forced to recollect as thoughts about their sixth Christmas together flood him.

A hoarse cough had disrupted his occasional good sleep.

He groaned at first, throwing the comforter over his ears.

The residue of his nightmare burned his scar, and breathing heavily, he tried to shove the screams of his friends away. Cold sweat welcomed him as he opened his eyes, the worst suppositions attacking him from all parts.

When he managed to get a bit more lucid, he recognized the sound of Ron’s rambunctious snoring, which drived any suspicion of horror away, and, with a sigh, Harry cautiously got up.

It was dark enough that the atmosphere felt stifling. He walked ahead as if in a trance, following the beaker of faint light spilling ahead. As his steps got closed to the source of clarity, the sound of a retch disrupted the silence and he willed his heart to still.

Somebody was being very sick in there.

Rapping once on the bathroom door, he called out, “You okay?” and immediately berated himself for asking such a ridiculous question.

The victim of his horrible choice of words didn’t seem to think much of it, and Harry oddly wondered how serious their cause of ailment was for they called out a weak, “Yeah.” Here, they interrupted and contradicted their previous statement by moaning.

Shortly after, the flush of a toilet stained the air. “I’m fine.”

True to his perceptive nature, he recognised that she was Hermione Granger, and she was most definitely not alright.

“Mione? Can I come in?”

“You don't need to.”

A beat of tangible silence, then, “Please?”

The door weakly swung open, creaking as it did so preceded by something clicking and Harry was faced by a very sick crush.

Even with a ghostly pale face, blue-ish lips, and damp hair, he could not recall a time when he hadn’t thought she looked more beautiful.

Against his better judgment, he tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear, and his heart stumbled when he saw red color her skin.

Offering her a glass of tap water, he leaned against the bathroom floor with her, shutting the door.

“What’s happened?” His voice echoed in the room, and he winced at the modulation.

“It’s those damned fondue rolls that Ronald seemed to like.”

She said ‘Ronald’ with such a tone of severity as to make Harry cast a silent wish to spare his friend from his fate.

Interrupted in his thoughts by another retch, he padded over to Hermione, pushing away the hand she hung between them and petted her back.

“Get it all out, Mione.”

Her answer came out weak, “Thanks Harry. You’re the best friend a girl could ask for.”

A smile carved its way onto his face. “Anything for-”

His romantic proclamation was cut short by another moan, and was altered into a chuckle when she uttered, “I’m going to kill him.”

They sat like this till the early hours of morning, until a very worried Mrs. Weasley accosted them for not waking her up, and shooed him away.

They breezed by the hours. Harry lending a pun here and there and Hermione scoffing at it, stating that he was mad though there was no longer an absence of good humor by the time dawn brushed their eyelids.

It was enough time for Harry to realise, at the moment when he was holding her hair and whispering words of comfort, that he’d had been loving her for an epiphany, that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, and that, if that meant that all his days were going to be vomit scented, then so be it. As long as he had her.

And suddenly, there was this burning feeling in his chest, the type of impulse that one cannot hold, so he just said it, plainly and simply, as if he was making a remark about the weather, “I love you, Mione.”

She didn’t falter for a beat, just smiled weakly at him and, with an assurance that the fondue rendered quite hard, returned the sentiments.

She didn't realise how deep the ardor ran. To her, the feelings she had for Harry were strictly platonic and she was definite it was the same case for him too. They were best friends, of course she loved him too.

This was no occasion for a kiss, Harry thought, to prove that his feelings were much more different than what she understood. So instead, he silently promised himself that, someday, if she’d have him, they’d get married, and love each other until the embers of the past finally fade past.

For now, her friendship was a gift, golden and pure, sent from the Olympians before, and he silently vowed never to make the mistake of being Icarus.

“-did not raise you so you could use fondue as an inappropriate word! And to corrupt poor Harry as well. Why, I never-”

Harry coughs, interrupting the reproach from Mrs.Weasley, a woman almost as dear and symbolic to him as his own dead mother. She’d nourished him with love, care, and affection. And now, here she is, as kind and lovely as she had been decades earlier, when he’d asked her where the platform was. The only change Harry can notice is a new set of wrinkles, but they add to her grandmother look.

Ron, the same as always, silently assures Harry to go on, his right ear still bearing the flush of his mother’s shouts.

“They’re ready for you, Harry.”

***

“Are you ready?”

The knocking on the door intensifies, and Hermione shudders.

How long has she been lying here? Not so long, if the person on the door hasn’t stopped making noise already. It’s starting to annoy her. Her head is throbbing.

“Mione, love, it’s late. We have to be there in fifteen minutes. Ron says we should leave-”

“Ron said we should leave.”

“Really? He doesn’t want to come?”

“He said he’ll catch up on us. Plus, he seems a bit afraid of getting closer than ten feet to you. I reckon he said something about damaging a book...”

Hermione shrugged, and Harry smiled to himself. Ron hadn’t told him anything about any book, or anything at all. He was not even aware that they were going to Hogsmeade together, since Lavender got the most of his attention lately. But Hermione didn’t know that.

Her hands deep in her pockets, she engaged another conversation, and soon the topic that Harry dreaded, the question of why they were going alone, was far away from their minds.

The sky was calm, but the cruel cold was cutting into their skin, and Hermione caught herself longing for a hug.

, she wondered what was wrong with her lately. Why did she keep liking Harry’s company better than Ron’s? Why did she desperately want to sit next to him in every class? Why did she crave the same food he did? But she promptly found rational answers: Ron was being something of a jerk, the classrooms were crammed, and the mashed potatoes were the best dish on the table.

So why was she wishing for a hug now?

Shaking her head slightly, she reassured herself: she just wanted a best friends hug. Nothing more.

Ugh… She’d convince herself of it much more if she listened to what he was saying.

“So Trelawney came in, and I didn’t know she was going to be so angry-”

Harry ruffled his hair more than it already was, and Hermione had to bite the inside of her cheek to avoid smiling too obviously.

Exasperated at herself, she decided to look elsewhere.

“But you know, she’s always predicting my death, and one day she’ll be the cause of it. I mean, people die from boredom, don’t t-”

“Oh look Harry!” Hermione interrupted him, excitement tangible in her voice. She pointed at Zonko’s, at an object that had caught her interest. “I heard about this new illusion potion they released. Let’s have a look at it!”

Glancing at his expression, she understood that it was not in her friend’s plan to pay a visit to the joke shop, and was ready to resign, but he grabbed her arm and started walking toward the place she had indicated.

“What is it about?” he asked kindly.

Glad that he had accepted her suggestion, she explained, “It imitates the first effects of amortentia, but instead of making you smell odors, it makes you see images related to the person you love.”

Harry, who was opening the door, stumbled slightly at her last word, and she felt her own cheeks light up.

After thinking about it, why did she want to see that potion?

But again, the rational part of her brain protected her: it was an amazing bit of magic. There was no other curiosity in her intentions apart from the scientifical one.

After she cleared that detail, she didn’t feel afraid to approximate herself to one of the purple-colored bottles, and hold it up.

“I wonder what my parents would think about this. They’d laugh a lot, for sure. Oh, I could buy them one, what do you think Harry?” As he didn’t answer, she turned around, but didn’t find him next to her. “Harry?”

Her eyes scanned the colorful crowd, but her friend was nowhere to be seen.

“Come on, we’re not going to play hide and seek,” she mumbled to herself.

It struck her that she wouldn’t mind playing hide and seek with him, but she pushed the thought away.

He was not near the noisy hats, nor next to the nosy books, and the corner of the quivering quills eas empty. She looked over the heads of the third years, and between the bodies of the seventh years, and even checked on-

“Boo!”

Hermione started, and instinctively swung round with her hand ready to slap. Thankfully, Harry was not close enough to be reached.

“Harry James Potter!” she cried, listening to the thumping polka of her heart. “Do not dare to frighten me like this ever again!”

Grinning sheepishly, the boy excused himself, and after a bit of scolding, the incident was quickly closed.

They exited the shop immediately after reconciling, regretting its warmness, and after a simple look of understanding, mutually agreed to head for one of the pubs. As Hermione headed for the Three Broomsticks, Harry stopped her with a call. He first answered to her raised eyebrows with a difficult gulp, but then explained that the weather was so bitter that it made him daydream of hot chocolate.

“But they don’t have hot chocolate at the Three Broomsticks,” Hermione remarked.

She blushed furiously under her scarf when he pointed out that Madam Puddifoot’s were the best.

The door made a loud ringing noise when the boy opened it, and Hermione threw it a dark look. There were about ten people inside, and as soon as she had crossed the entrance, ten smirking mouths had started whispering.

We are here as friends, she wanted to shout at them. Instead, she swallowed, and took a sit.

“Look,” Harry told her, when he noticed she was too uncomfortable. From the inside of his winter cloak, he pulled out a bright red plastic bag, and fidgeted with whatever was inside for a bit.

Under Hermione’s surprised gaze, he laid a little flask on the pastel table.

“The illusion potion!” She cried. He had apparently bought it while she was occupied looking for him.

He winked at her. “Fancy a vision?”

Two drops in each cup were enough, and they drank the steaming beverage promptly, eager to know what its effect would be.

Harry looked at a wall, blinked, colored a bit, but shrugged and smiled, as if he had seen what he had expected to see.

Hermione, however, turned a deep shade of red, and gaped at a window for several seconds. When Harry mocked her for looking like a fish out of water, she frowned.

“I’m disappointed,” she said sternly. “It didn’t work.”

She was sure that the boy would have retorted something, but he limited himself to hum enigmatically and finish his drink.

“Mione?” He said after putting his cup down. She noticed that his cheeks were vividly pink, but implied it must be due to the inside temperature. “What would you call this?” He moved his hands in strange gestures, first pointing at her and himself, and then at their surroundings.

“Oh,” she muttered shyly. “What do you mean?”

Harry looked like he was preparing himself to climb a mountain without shoes.

“Do you consider this a date?”

His question was so abrupt that Hermione didn’t even think about her answer. “Yes, I reckon it’s one.” But when the sense of what she had said reached her conscious, she promptly added, “A friends date, of course.”

Harry’s smile trembled just a bit, and he responded with assurance, “Yeah, of course, because we’re just friends, nothing more.” In the same spirits, he glanced at 13-years-old girl that had been looking at them with great interest since they had stepped in. “We’re just friends.”

Hermione laughed heartily at the kid’s wide eyes, and finished her own chocolate.

“I like our friends’ date,” Harry breathed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

She looked at him, her mind still a bit clouded by the potion’s vision, and grinned. “I like it too.”

***

“I like this, mommy.”

The little girl in front of Harry points to the twinkling stars of the ceiling, and Harry smiles.

He’s getting married.

By tonight, as he will hold Hermione in his arms and trail a line of beautiful kisses below her nose, he shall breathe, “You are mine and I am yours, Hermione Potter.”

The mother kisses her child, and the kid bounces on her parent’s knee.

Very few people cannot complain about their first kiss, and most of them laugh off it as awkward while they stumbled in the dark, wishing they could erase the past. However, some people find beauty in the weirdness, like how their noses bumped against each other and how their glasses bore in the other’s face. And among these people shine Harry and Hermione.

They had a wonderful and legendary first kiss. It was the first time they felt like they were kissing the stars.

It took place at the dusk of frost. It was warm enough for the ice to be melting, but cold enough for them to walk close to each other, inches barely separating them.

It had been an exceptionally cold winter, physically and mentally speaking. So many subtle and burning moments.

Until this moment, if Harry had to choose a word to fit their relationship, he’d like to call it unrequited pining, while Hermione would classify it as an unfortunate series of events.

For what else could she call these feelings eating her and consuming her blood? Everytime she caught herself catching glimpses of his messy hair and green eyes, that reminded her of the tree in backyard that she pleased to admire during class, she berated herself. Didn't he know that she stilled everytime their fingers brushed when they were sitting together?

But nothing about it was unlucky. Not really.

Harry certainly didn’t seem to think so. Why would her hand in his, pulling him forward against the throng of students, against time and war, be called unfortunate? Certainly, he was fortunate to have a bushy haired girl in his life, and idly wondered how people lived without somebody like her. If he had to pine, if every carefully planned look between them drove him flexing-his-fingers-mad, then so be it.

She pulled him outside, laughing and singing her joy, and everything was well. Like it was any other day when she’d make him feel angels were having a party in his head. But suddenly, the perfection left. She left. She released his hand. Before Harry could protest, something cold hit his face, which he instinctively shut, and he spluttered.

“Come on, Harry! Not afraid of the snow, are you?”

Still coughing, he threw a reproachful look toward the sweet voice, though the corners of his lips twitched

. “Imagine that!” Her voice was teasing and light, and Harry could tell by the playful look in her eyes, the love of his life had finally got bizarre. This is why you shouldn't read, he suddenly thought. “The Boy Who Lived scared of the snow!”

Before she could throw another ball, he summoned a fistful of snow and magicked it to shove her. The whiteness paused her rant, and he bit his lip for a second. Had he gone too far? Did it hurt?

His worries were for naught, for, the very next second, a loud laugh tinkled through the air,and he only caught a glimpse of a pink and cute nose before another shovel of snow was pushed into his mouth.

“Not great at this, Harry?” Another laugh. Another mocking tone. Another shovel of snow thrown at her.

She expected it this time, and their childish game soon turned into a frightening and tactical battle, involving several mates from different houses. Thankfully, Hermione was on his side, and he got the lucky opportunity to sit close to her as they traded rumours about who was going to strike next.

“I think McKinley is going to strike from that side,” Hermione said, with a finger to the inclined direction.

Harry just nodded, head spinning partly from the planning but mainly due to the female’s intoxicating smell next to him.

“WAR!!”

The battle cry echoed close to them and on instinct, Harry pulled Hermione up.

“We’ve got to run.”

They smothered their giggles as they run. There’s a thud then and Hermione stumbled as a snowball hits her. Harry caught her, his hands clasping her arm but he loses his balance by doing so and then they’re falling, falling, falling.

And it's so so cold but also so warm.

“Hey,” Harry said, his breath tickling Hermione’s eyelashes but she doesn’t pull away. Not yet.

“Hey.” She swallows and shuts her eyes.

And he wants to hold her so bad and tuck her lips in his. Choosing another dangerous path, he slowly, so slowly brushed something off her cheek and shivers but its not due to the cold.

“You’ve got a bit-” His voice failed him. “Bit of snow.”

Words weren't necessary. Hermione’s eyes pore into Harry’s and his heart squeezed at the chocolate brown doe eyed look. All senses of caution and rationality were thrown out of the window and buried when she slowly, so very slowly leans in. Their lips gently ghosted each other before they collided and their bodies crumble against the weight of a millenia aged love.

Flushed against each other, she weaves a story in his hair and his hands cup her neck.Their breaths are searing scorching hot against each other and their hearts melt lava.

“Finally.” Harry murmured, his gaze locked on Hermione’s soft and shy one, their shared panting only registering in their bliss minds.

***

Bliss… It’s all she feels… There is no coherence…

What she’s doing on the floor, she doesn’t know…

What happened?

Her mind only processes happiness. A drunk happiness.

There is another moment of unsteadiness. And a sense of urge.

Something distressed her, a vague sense of urge.

From outside, Hermione witnessed how the rain pounded down heavily on their tent.

She shivered as a strong gust of wind stung her chest despite the heavy clothing, and tried to calm her nerves by taking a deep and rattling breath.

A quick glance at the sky comforted her: it was time to go back inside. And so, she did.

Immediately, she knew something was wrong, like the times when your throat is hurting the night before you wake up with a fever and surrounded by tissues. Wand in hand, she called out, “Harry?”

She covered her mouth instantly, and blamed herself: raising her voice was stupid. What if she had alerted any intruders about a secondary presence? But surely, there couldn’t be anybody else under the magical roof, right? They had taken precautions.

Her uneasiness nudged her into calling again. And again. And when she was certain that he wouldn’t call back, she hoped against hope that he was in such a deep sleep as to not hear her. The hairs of her neck standing straight, she crept towards the bunk beds.

Once there, her heart stopped: the bed was nicely empty, lacking the body she’d grown accustomed to seeing.

Head pounding, she dropped on the mattress, and tried to analyze the facts rationally, as she had always taught herself to, even though her chest was slowly crumbling like ash.

Had somebody managed to apparate inside? But she had checked the protection spells earlier, and they were perfectly efficient.

She hadn’t seen him getting out. She had guarded the camp. Always, without falling asleep, without leaving the tent from view. Except…

Except when a suspect noise had attracted her farther into the woods. She knew it would have been crazy to leave her place, but she needed to be sure that no threat would have assailed them when leaving tomorrow morning.

And then, during her minute of absence, perhaps, snatchers had gagged him and casted an invisibility shield over him as they snuck out? Even amid her panic, she dismissed the idea, snatchers were often rather unskilled at magic. And probably very stupid.

But she was the stupid one now! She was the one who left Harry unguarded. She was the one who did not didn’t know where he wandless boyfriend was.

But most of all, she was the one who hadn’t told him how she was sure she felt about them. And now she may never have the chance to.

“Harry,” she implored.

Her throat tightened, and worry clouded her mind and vision, making it impossible for her to think about anything, except one word.

Gone.

“Harry!” She cried to the top of her lungs.

Clenching her jaw, she summoned her Gryffindor recklessness and stormed out of the tent, feeling mad in her sorrow. She kept screaming under the buckets of rain, she ran as far as it was safe to run, she splattered herself with mud and wet leaves.

Nowhere, she thought as she pulled the roots of her hair, he’s nowhere.

Her tears and the sky’s were one, her laments and the wind’s were the same, her desperation and the forest’s united.

Feeling like a lion in a cage, broken inside, wrecked outside, her stomach assailed by a wave of nausea, she headed back to their shelter, but hadn’t took two steps before her knees buckled and her hands hit the floor.

The cold that her skin felt was nothing compared to the cold that attacked her heart, and she resigned to remain on the spot where she was, waiting for what had taken Harry away from her to come and finish her off.

She couldn’t live without him.

In her despair, she thought about his smile, his smart remarks, his clumsy gestures, his deep voice… She even seemed to hear him calling her name. If the grey wall of water in front of her hadn’t been so thick, she would have imagined she could see him running toward her.

Her vision was so realistic… Like the one she had had after drinking the illusion potion. The green eyes, the ruffled hair, the messy clothes. Why had she denied the truth back then? They could have had much more time! She could have told him…

She could have told him what she felt…

“Harry!” She shouted to the mirage. “Harry!”

Her mind trickled her in the most cruel of the ways. It made her imagine he was shouting back. It made her feel he was getting closer.

And she must have gone crazy for real, because she felt a collision with a body, two strong arms wrapping her, lips melting with hers, and the world stopped spinning.

“Mione,” His voice reached her ears despite the rain’s chaos. “Mione, I was so afraid! I wanted to check on you, but you were gone! You didn’t answer my calls! I thought they had gotten you!”

“Harry,” she breathed, “You’re not- not a vision? You’re real?”

Through sobs, he kissed her once more, pouring all his feelings in the act. “Does that answer your question?”

She nodded, conscious that he couldn’t see her, but just to feel the relief of acknowledging his presence herself. And she remembered…

She still had something to say properly.

“Harry,” She fought the pandemonium of the weather, to be sure he would hear her every single word. “I never want to leave you, ever in my existence. I was ready to let myself go! You’re the only thing that makes this life worth it! I love you!”

She didn’t know if she was crying or laughing anymore. Maybe it was both. But Hermione was sure of one thing: saying it was much better that keeping it to herself.

She loved him.

***

He loves her.

But now, people are staring.

Lacing his hands together, Harry chews his lower lip. He is wary. The clock strikes ten, as if it too wants to taunt him.

He shuts his eyes. Is she having second thoughts? Does she not want to marry him anymore? And the worse path, has she ran away?

“Harry?”

The groom snaps his eyes open and looks at his best mate. Barely repressing a groan as he grasped the besiege in the other’s eyes.

“Harry, Something’s wrong with Hermione.”

“Fuc-.” Harry swears. “What is it?” and then more firmly, he asks shaking Ron’s shoulders. “Where is she?”

“Bathroom.”

Harry takes off, barely noticing the worried glances thrown his way by the guests. He can only focus on the morose tone delivered to him. Pressure beats on his long and its not long before his throat is clogged.

A horrible assumption screams its way into his brain, like a deadly wraith before he shrugs it off with much effort.

Running to Hermione, he can only think, you promised until the very end.

Harry sighed as he walked up the stairs of the apartment. Truth be told, sometimes, he regretted his choice to become an auror and wondered what life would have become if he had accept McGonagall’s offer. He’d have been called Professor Potter by now.

Instead, he was forced to raise his arm and follow the tiring cycle of stun or kill and capture. Perhaps, it wasn't the wisest choice someone with PTSD could make.

Coping with the screams and the blood usually wasn’t exceptionally hard except for days like this. Days when he was forced to watch as envy and anger flashed before the emotions were squashed and replaced by blankness. Sometimes, triumph shone in those dark eyes and he worried for the posterity.

Shuddering at the memory of the cold hugging him, he looked up as rapid footsteps sounded.

“Harry!” The man in question caught sight of Ron’s face and immediately stills for there was no sign of humor or lightheartedness discernible in those features.

Marching forward, he shook Ron by the shoulders, instant worry weighing down upon him and he oddly wonders how Atlas held the world for such a long time. “What’s wrong? Is Mione okay?”

A twisted expression forms its way on Ron’s face. “Harry-”

“Merlin, what is it, Ron?”

The man sighed and his face scrunched up once again. He looked like he wished he was anywhere else. There’s a brief pause which felt like years to Harry and then, “Hermione left, mate.”

“What?” His voice was faint, almost non-believing. “You’re joking.”

“Bloody hell.” Ron cursed. “She said you guys wanted different things that other people were willing to provide and I’m sorry mate.”

Harry had a sudden urge to sink to the floor and melt. Tears already sparkled in his eye and he seized something to blame; his job, someone else, him. “Different things?”

It’s not really a question. Amending: “Where is she?”

“I dont know.”

The world has become hazy and he can't see straight; everything is a blur. It’s almost like Hermione’s absence has caused the colors from his life to vanish for he walks in the grey stillness of life. He had to make this up to her for her reasoning was flawed; the useless ring bouncing in his pocket lays claim to this fact. Where had she decided to stay? Would a visit to her parents at this time be considered ill mannered? Deciding he doesn't give a shit about manners and only about Hermione, he straightened, a plan taking shape in his mind.

As if reading his thoughts, Ron flexed his fingers together. “I think she left you a note, mate. She asked you not to look for her.”

Harry slumped, shut his eyes and when he speaks, the voice was almost a croak. “Thanks, mate.” The walls were closing in.

The reply was almost strangled and pained. “Anytime, mate. She might have explained why in the note.”

The heartbroken victim nodded but didn’t move, offering a pained smile. Someone once told him that the worst kind of pain is when you smile to stop the tears from slipping out. And, with that prompt, the tears finally spill and he’s drowning in this grief. He should have noticed she was unhappy, noticed he was being a workaholic. This was all his fault.

Ron urges. “Go check it out, mate.”

“I’ll do it when I want to!” Harry sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Each step he took to his apartment, he felt like his whole body slowly disintegrating from the unexpected anguish. Hoping the headache away, he unlocks the door and freezes.

The room is encompassed by a halo of warm light and the scent of candles sting his nostrils. He notices a row of flowers, similar to an aisle and in the middle of this enchanting scene is a woman. His goddess, Hermione. The sight of her is so surprising, he cannot utter a single word but only feel such devastating and sweeping relief, his knees almost buckle.

“You said you wanted it to be a surprise” Hermione says, tears already shining in her eyes like twinkling city lights. And to bewilder him even more, she goes on her knees.

Slowly walking towards her and joining hands, he kneels next to her and kisses her palm, enjoying the sensation of gravity that flows through him.

He doesn't ask her how she knew he was proposing. Why she wasn't with Victor Krum right now? It doesn't matter. She’s with him. Chose him. And that realization ignites the fondness he only reserved for her in his heart.

“Harry,-” Hermione said, her voice already breaking on a sob. “My mom always told me soulmates were real. And I never believed them because I was a seven year old cynic. Perhaps, it was when I entered your compartment that September 1st when I saw you that the prospect of a fated partner didn't sound so frightening. You were there for me when no one was. And I hope, I wish that I can be here for you whenever you need me.”

“I want to give this a go too since I planned it.” Harry started with a watery chuckle. “You make me happier than I ever thought I could be. And if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way. I never thought I would be so lucky to fall in love with my best friend but I have and I don't ever want to let that go. If you’ll have me, I shall be a husband, a partner and an equal to you. I will be yours. Until the very end.” And trying to add some humor, he chuckles. “If we get married, I’ll buy you a thousand books.”

“Sure know how to make a girl say heck yes!”

Harry surged forward and claimed his girlfriend’s, now fiancee lips with his own.

They were going to do it, finally.

***

They were going.

Yes, this is it. They should be headed somewhere. She just got distracted for a second.

Oh Merlin, yes, she got distracted, and by what! Now how to tell him-

“Mione! Why aren’t you answering? Are you okay? Open the door!”

The voice… The man…

Her split second of clarity is gone.

Through the thick fog of her daydream, she sees him… On that spring night…

“Open the door!”

His voice was playful, almost teasing, as if he knew she’d fail to unblock the lock.

“I am trying to, stop pushing me!”

It was dark, very dark, and the flickering light of the naked lightbulb was not helping much.

“Mione,” She managed to make his words out only by miracle: the hard breeze was pushing them away as soon as they were out of his mouth. “It’s freezing here, I’m shaking like Ron’s bedroom in September!”

A smile took over her lips. They had been in Ron’s room enough times now to know its rocking feeling provoked by the fall wind. Living on the last floor of the Burrow reserved many more surprises than just the neighbor above.

“I can’t get the key in the hole!” Was her feeble defense. She was too occupied in succeeding in her mission to look for a smart answer.

“Of course you can’t, you look just like Minnie when we told her that I was Teddy’s Godfather!” Sure, her hands were trembling, though not for the same kind of nervousness. Minnie had been quite stressed, Hermione was just over excited. “Give it to me, won’t you?”

She laughed, and handed the key over.

Harry grabbed it with the assurance of a man full of happiness and, in less than it took him to boast about it, the door was open, and his wife was dragged inside.

With a flicker of his wand, Harry lit up the inside of the place, and when Hermione finally stopped blowing warm air in the palms of her hands and rose her gaze, her exclamation was as quiet as she was breathless.

They were standing in the middle of a cozy entrance hall, with the smell of new wood and fresh paint invading their nostrils. The walls looked at them warmly, their coat of creamy white already covered in pictures and paintings. Under Harry’s eager attention, Hermione stepped closer to them, and what she saw brought tears to her eyes.

In a corner, she recognized Professor Sprout holding a mandrake, and Neville, in black robes and pointed hat, fainting. Next to him, a short-haired Ginny was holding a cup, in the exact way she had done during the engagement party, the sparkles in her eyes glowing like real ones. Farther to the left, between an ashen-faced Seamus and a couple of thestrals, stood Sirius, his smile wider than ever, the words “I am proud of you” readable on his still lips. He was intensely fixing a point on the opposite side of the room, so Hermione turned around.

She saw a tiny Mrs. Weasley winking at her, and a Mr. Weasley, of the same size, holding a rubber duck with great interest, apparently immersed in deep conversation with her own parents. They were surrounded by a Romanian Horntail, a cauldron of polyjuice potion, and a delicate reproduction of Hedwig. Under the bird’s wing, seven people in Quidditch robes, who turned out to be the original Gryffindor team of their first year, looked at a giant ginger cat, who was pursuing a rat.

“Wormtail,” Hermione whispered, as she traced the fine lines with her fingers.

“And here are the others,” Harry reached out for her hand, and directed it to a spot above this one. A werewolf was standing straight, its face illuminated by a silvery moon, and could have appeared to be dancing with a tall black dog. On their left were the faces of two handsome people, James and Lily Potter, framed by a rectangle of miniature diaries, lockets, rings, diadems, and golden cups. Near them, an elevator of the Ministry of Magic carried a mount of books and a white-bearded old man, with a crooked nose and golden spectacles. He was beaming at a stern McGonagall, and offering her a lemon drop.

“He did like them indeed,” Hermione breathed, emotions all over her voice.

Placing two fingers under her chin, Harry made her look up. The ceiling was covered in stars and clouds, and hippogriffs and motorcycles. There were people mounting broomsticks, a castle covered by fog, birds chasing a golden snitch, candles and flying pumpkins. Colin Creevey was holding his camera, Hagrid was caressing the giant squid, and Dean was kicking a black and white football.

“This is- wonderful Harry,” was the only think she managed to repeat, and he grinned and nodded.

“Luna did the entire house, and each one of our friend brought an idea, or a picture.”

Their snowy boots were forming puddles on the wooden floor, but their attention was elsewhere.

Hermione’s thoughts were about the lovely surprise her boyfriend had granted her, and how lucky she was to share her life with this amazing being, her loved one, and her focus was on every detail that her eyes could absorb of the scene.

Harry’s thoughts were about how much better the cottage looked now that he had at last brought her to it, and his focus was on her face, admiring how the corners of her mouth raised in grins he longed to kiss again and again.

Her lips were moving, murmuring words his fascination did not let him grasp, and the only understanding he got was when she let her body talk for her mind, and hugged him with such passion that, had he had to die right then and right there, he would have done it as an overjoyed soul.

As he covered her face in fond pecks, and she cried tears of deep affection, nothing in the world would have seemed more perfect to them, had it not be for a sudden growl that echoed among their adorable confusion.

Her eyes puffy and her nose red -- she appeared more beautiful than ever to Harry -- Hermione raised her face from the crook of his neck, and smirked, “You’re never on break when it comes to this, are you?”

Scratching the back of his neck, which was growing as red as his cheeks, the man shrugged, “I need energy to keep being the best husband in the world.”

To their eyes, her sudden chuckling was matched in faultlessness only by his sheepish smile, and perfection was back, until another cavernous sound rose, this time from Hermione’s stomach.

“Seems like a good plate of pasta would suit you too, darling.” His raised eyebrow was not mocking, but sympathetic, so for once, she didn’t scowl at it.

“Only if we cook it together,” was her answer.

“First dinner in our own house,” sighed Harry, “We ought to cook it together.”

She smiled, and took a deep breath.

***

He takes a deep breath.

Ginny’s in front of the door. Of course, she’d never leave her best friend.

“Is she-?”

The redhead smiles at him. “She’s never been better, Harry.”

He sighs. “Good.”

Ginny approaches him and fixes his tie. “Go back to your place, will you? I’ll take her out of here in no time.”

Harry nods, and the woman bangs on the door.

***

Now, there is banging.

Whoever is waiting for her response tries to open the door, but only struggles with the secured lock.

More people join the panic on the other side of the wall. There is swearing, and the mention of a wand. Concern, also.

“I swear,” cries a desperate voice, “If in three seconds I don’t get an answer-”

“Calm down, mate-”

“What if she hurt herself? Didn’t you hear her c-”

“Harry?” Her croaky voice silences all the others. “Stop hitting the door please.”

The muteness continues, and an irrational fear makes her wonder if she scared the voices away.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” She’s relieved: at least, Harry’s is still here.

She wipes her forehead with a shaky hand, and slowly, very slowly, starts recovering her spirits.

“Yeah- Yeah, I am.”

“What was the cry about, then? Are you hurt? Do you need help?”

Instinctively, she flashes a reassuring smile. Then, she remembers he can’t see her. “No, I’m perfectly fine. I just need a moment.”

She can hear whisper, and another man’s voice, Ron’s she reckons, hissing above the others,

“She’s not okay. Even if we said we’d be leaving now-”

Yes… Yes, indeed, they were about to leave. That’s what she said.

It was late...

“We’re leaving, Harry,” she giggled. “Hannah must want some sleep.”

He did not hear her, or faked not to.

Her hand on the entrance’s doorknob, Hermione chatted some more minutes with her friend, discussing the latest Ministry business or the upcoming wedding of another of their mutual friendships, hoping that her husband would finally listen to reason. But the peeping and laughing didn’t falter even the slightest bit.

“You’d think we’d be the most excited,” Hannah smiled, gesturing toward the hallway.

At these words, Fox, the dog of the house, came to rest his tired body at the feet of his mistress, and both women were sure that, if he could have talked, his speech would have been short and concise: “I come from a place of real madness.”

“You had enough of it for nine months,” Hermione remarked, alluding to her friend’s dark shadows under the eyes with a compassionate expression.

They both nodded and let the sweet atmosphere wrap them gently into oblivion.

Somehow, it felt so comforting to have the chance to listen to a baby’s chirping. It meant the war was over, really over. That they would not have to go through any more serious anguish, nor be in letal peril each time they crossed a door. It meant that they could try to forget the obscure times.

Hermione still remembers -- how not to -- how she had grown used to carry a ball of lead in her stomach, the concentration of guilt, horror, and worry that followed her everywhere. It was the barrier between her and happiness, between her present and a prospect of some desired future. It kept her in the dark, strengthened her afflictions.

Slowly, after everything was done, the heavy ball had turned into a soft bubble, one of brightness, healing, and hope. It still followed her everywhere, and made her life so much more easy. It was a reminder that she could breath in liberty, inhale the permanent scent of love and laughter. It was an invitation to live life.

A wave of squealing and giggling reached the spot where the two friends were standing, and they both reintroduced themselves to the world.

“Maybe,” Hannah yawned, “We should remind the guys that the baby needs some sleep.”

Laughing heartily in agreement, Hermione dropped her coat on the floor, a habit that had been encouraged by the host since her first visit, and followed the stream of cheerfulness that floated in the air.

To her, Dylan was somebody very important. He was the first newborn in their circle of friends and acquaintances with nothing related to the war. He was born on a sunny August day, one year after the fatidical second of May, and received a name that didn’t connect him to anybody they had lost.

He was the first flower in the spring of their new life.

With every step they took toward their destination, the room where Mr. Longbottom junior was supposed to be taken care of by his father and friend, the intensity of delight increased considerably, until the air was so full of it that it became highly contagious.

“Darling,” Hermione called, leaning on the doorframe, with tears on the corners of her eyes. “It’s time for us to leave.”

With a childish disappointment in his eyes, the interpelled agreed to follow his wife toward the exit, but solemnly asked for the pleasure of being accompanied by his fellow men. Smiling motherly, Hannah nodded her consent, and they were all off toward the front of the house.

Congratulations flew back and forth for at least ten more minutes, and Neville, Dylan, and Harry were still laughing when the door of number 28, Begonia Street, closed for the night. The Potters were accompanied to the gate of the garden by Fox, and reluctantly parted from him with a few caresses and biscuits.

When finally alone outside, the lovers hugged each other as they walked, sharing their warmness in silence, until Harry finally spoke,

“Mione?” Her hummed answer was distracted: she still thought about the bubble. “What do you think if- well, if we had one too?”

With some airiness, a characteristic she had recently learnt from Luna, Hermione answered,

“Oh Harry, it would be wonderful. He is so adorable and quiet. It’s true that it would be a little hard to take care of him, with our full schedules and what not, but I guess that if we adopt one that is not too big, he could be friends with Crookshanks.”

But a single glance to her partner let her understand that they did not mean the same thing. She was talking about a dog, while Harry…

“You’re not serious, are you?”

***

“Oh Mione, you can’t be serious.”

Her reflection in the mirror makes her grimace.

With a face pale like this, and a mane of knots that could be declared the biggest nest in the world, she surely doesn’t look like someone who received the best news ever.

Her eyelids descend slowly, and with a clunk, she turns on the tap. The cool and fresh water against her burning skin is welcomed with a sigh.

Grabbing a towel, she lays her back against the door.

“Harry?”

An expecting voice answers from the floor. He must have sat while waiting for her,“Mione?”

He never did leave her, she thinks.

The wooden panel quivers, and now the voice repeats from its habitual height, “Mione?”

“Step back,” she warns him. “I’m going to open the door.” His relief is so strong that she feels it vibrating from the inside of the bathroom. “But be warned, love, I’m horrible to see.”

She hears his disbelief, even if he doesn’t say a word about it.

The lock clicks, the hinges creak, the barrier between them vanishes, and she’s engulfed in a suffocating embrace.

“You scared me so much. Are you sure you’re okay? Why did you scream? What’s- Love, you’re crying!”

She giggles in the crook of his neck at his surprise and he, convinced that she hit her head and went momentaneously crazy, takes her chin in his hands. “Ok listen now, Mione. What happened? Why are you all weird?”

“Your eyes, Harry.”

“Er- what about them?”

“I hope he or she gets them.”

“He or sh?-”

And with shaking hands, she looks up at him and blinds him with her bright grin. “I’m pregnant.”

Several seconds pass but Hermione doesn’t worry. She can see the awe slowly rising in his face, similar to the sun peaking in the countryside.

“I think I’m dreaming.”

Laughing now, she forgets her fainting spell as she pinches him playfully. “I’m convinced you’re just a dolt.”

He doesn’t retort at her attempt of humor. “You’re pregnant?” He whispers, his green eyes so close to her brown ones, his breath ghosting over her lips and she forgets for a second that its her wedding day. Harry always made her feel like the vulnerable teenager that she once was.

And she can't try to diffuse the emotion in his words, so she plays along, her heart beating strongly.

Hearts.

“I am.”

It is another excruciating long moment of silence and then he laughs, the joy on the melody so evident and rare, she almost stumbles back.

And then, they’re kissing. Hands tugging at each other’s hair, arms circling the other’s waist and sigh worthy kissing.

Someone wolf whistles and they break apart.

“I’m so happy, Mione. Thank you.”

She suppresses the expected tears. “I love you.”

“I love you too. And our baby.”

“Your what?” Ginny’s cries, startled. She’s leaning against the doorframe, Fred and George flanking her sides. The trio have the typical stunned expression: wide eyes, parted lips and the overall what’s happening look.

Harry winces and mutters out a quick sorry but she doesn’t care that they’ve found out.

Merlin, she’s happy. She never was one to keep secrets.

“I’m pregnant!”

And then, she’s aware of the Weasleys pouncing upon her and Harry’s hearty chuckles as he shoos them away.

“I've got to get dressed.”

“You could just wear this.” Harry smirks. “Or rather, something else.”

“Harry!”

Kissing her again, he pulls away from her, still laughing.

“Got any more secrets to tell me, Mione? Or can I waltz back? I think our guests are getting bored at Ron’s terrible singing.”

“We better save them, then.”

Harry pulls her close to his chest once more and kisses the crown of her head. There will be plenty of time to discuss their child. When she’d suspected and how lucky they were. All these conversation starters stirred in his mind as he swept away from her. “See you out there!”

She didn't hear him, too overcome by the flurry of motion surrounding her.

“Where’s the bloody makeup, Ginny?” Harry heard as he shut the door.

Harry tugs at his hair and smiles sheepishly when he noticed Hermione’s lips twitch. She always said he messed up his hair way too much. He supposed he rather did. Maybe it was a Potter thing. And maybe, their child would inherit it too.

Their child.

Resisting the urge to laugh jubilianty, he marvels at the thought that their child was attending their wedding. How weird and amazing!

He shakes his head, warding off the daze and gazes at his bride.

A blush stains Hermione’s cheeky and despite the beautiful gown, he can only focus on how beautiful her nose looks like.

Many colleagues had advised him that he might feel like bolting as his soon to be wife walked down the aisle. Harry thought they were barking mad. Watching her awkwardly smile at the guest and fidget with the flowers draped around her wrist, he felt like they were on one of those dates.

The ring on her hand flashes and he starts to tear up. She is his. And he is hers. After all they’ve been through-fighting and studying -- Harry thought the former was easier --, the lights that twinkle around them make him realise that this would be the happiest moment of his life.

It would be rivaled by the birth of his children a year later, but he still doesn’t know that.

Harry had never felt so jocular in his life as he does as Hermione reaches him. Gently, holding her hand and helping her step up, he tugs her veil down and smiles.

Pure affection radiates in her eyes and tears already glisten their way down her cheeks.

Kissing a one drop away, he ignores the crowd as they aww.

“Hey.”

A smile splits her face as she remembers how it had all started. “Hey, yourself.”

The priest coughs. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are-”

Harry blanks out, the touch of Hermione’s fingers on his skin rendering him illiterate.

“Harry, HARRY, MR POTTER!”

Shook from his reverie, Harry hears Ron’s snort before he sees Hermione hide a giggle.

The priest is anything but amused. “Your vows, Mr. Potter. See to it that you don’t dream while you read them.”

The couple roll their eyes and simultaneously grin at each other.

“I didn’t miss your vows, did I?”

Chuckling faintly, “No. I’d kill you if you did.”

Another grin. “Where do I start, Hermione? Everyone says weddings are stuffy and boring. I don’t want to make you cry in this vow, Mione. Rather not start the rest of our lives together by you crying by something I said. Reserve the tears for after the ceremony. Ow- don't hit me. True love is the most inconvenient kind.” Harry admits, adding a touch of seriousness to his tone. “I vow, Mione to protect and serve you. To make you breakfast in bed. To lull you to sleep with my warmth if you desire it and to wake you up by a trail of kisses but most importantly, I vow to always be there for you.”

“Wow, Harry. Its like, you want me to cry.” Hermione laughs, though it sounds more like a sob. “You’ve said most of it, I think but...Love to me isn't jumping off a plane to prove your undying devotion. It isn't about two broken pieces joining to be one. You and me, Harry, we’ve gone through a lot of shit but we’re not broken. We just look better together. It’s about wanting to live your life with someone, not needing. And my soul wants to co exist with yours throughout the rest of eternity. Love is the only sane and satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence by Erich Fromm.”

The crowd giggles while the bride flushes.

Of course, she had to quote someone.

It was her intelligence that drove his heart wild, really.

“And now,” she continues, “I’m going to stop even though I want to go on and on about how this was unexpected and read my 18inch essay about the comparison between life and love but you probably know all about that and I might cry any second so-”

The priest smiles faintly, which quickly fades in a flash of light.

“Rings.”

Ron steps forward and Harry takes one, the finest, and places it on her delicate finger, his touch almost caressing. Hermione sniffles as Ginny places the ring on her palm. Barely breathing, she pushes it on him. The crowd is silent and the priest happily asks,

“Do you Harry Potter take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? Through sickness and through health?”

Harry swallows. “I do.”

“And do you Hermione Jean Granger take this mean to be your lawfully wedded husband? Through sickness and through health?”

“I do.” Hermione whispers and locks her gaze with Harry’s. In this moment, it is only them. Only their breaths and their soft and fond gazes.

“Then, by the power vested in me, I now proclaim you husband and wife. You may-”

Harry doesn't wait. He leans forward and cups his wife’s -Merlin, his wife- face and presses her lips against his.

As he pulls back and rests his forehead against hers, he’s indifferent to the cheers and clapping from the guests. Only Hermione as she says, “May I cry now?”

They laugh.

Looking at their rings, they can hardly believe what they’re seeing.

#ours #harmione #harmione fanfiction #harry potter #hermione granger #harry x hermione #harry #hermione #lightning era #hpwritersnet #hpwriters #hp fanfic #hp fic #fortescuesnet #usernosebleed

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riverofmemoriesft · 7 years

Text

. Obsessive Impulsive . 18

Full Summary: “‘I’ve been trying to find you alone for weeks, but you’ve been avoiding me.’ He clicked his tongue, as if scolding her. 'I tried approaching, but you always had someone with you to give me nasty words and looks. They turned you against me, Miss Levy.’"

Pairings: Gajeel x Levy

Warnings: I strode for a darker fic again. This is not for sensitive readers. Violence, stalking, etc.

Author’s Note: This is a very, very twisted gift for Bubbles, who has not been allowed to so much as read a single chapter. This will update every other day.

Gajeel hit the ground with enough force to shake the floor. Levy didn't take her hand away from her mouth, trying to stifle her ragged sobs, blood staining her blue hair and clothes and staining her skin-

Gajeel heard her and whirled around, nostrils flaring and a deadly look in his eyes. The look vanished when he found Levy finally lowering her hand and trying to struggle free of the body that had slumped over her. "Levy-"

"I killed him," she whispered as she was hauled free. Sitting up, she looked at her blood-slicked hands, shaking. "I... I killed him-" Her voice cracked, a hysterical sound from the back of her throat escaping her lips.

Gajeel rumbled low in his throat. Rage flooded him at the reeking stench of blood, the fact that half of it covered Levy. "You good?"

Understanding flashed through her, distracting her from her terror. "Y-yeah," she stammered. "I'm...I'm not…" She licked her lips, suddenly gripping an iron-cuffed wrist. The one on her own was scratched and battered. Gajeel furrowed his pierced brow when he realized it had cracked and didn't hesitate to ripe it from her wrist. It crumbled into dust.

"You ain't hurt?" he checked. She shook her head, telling him he wasn't, and then tightened her fingers on his arm. "C'mon, let's get outta here then."

"Gajeel," she breathed, "I stabbed him with his own scissors."

He grimaced. Levy was one for defending those who needed it. She'd dealt with problematic monsters, imprisoned horrible people, and had even watched innocents die in her care when she couldn't protect them in time.

But this was new.

Levy McGarden had never killed on purpose.

Never had she taken a life in her hands and erased it and he flinched when she looked to him expectantly, seeking instruction. He'd taught her Draconian - or parts of it at least. So why shouldn't he know what to do here? Why shouldn't Gajeel Redfox, previous member of the Phantom Lord guild, know what to do with one's self after killing another?

He hated that she thought he knew how to feel about the matter.

Hated that he did.

It wasn't a secret. He'd murdered in his time with Phantom Lord. Only a handful of times. He could count on one hand how many people he'd murdered, but even one was enough to change you.

"You didn't kill him," he said suddenly, gripping her chin tightly enough that she flinched in pain, her hand still gripping his wrist. "Ya hear me, shorty? Ya didn't...do anything bad. He was tryin' to kill ya."

Her eyes welled with tears. "He was...he was trying to 'free me' by...by shoving the scissors in my eye."

Fuck, she wasn't doing well. Not that he blamed her. "S'called self-defense, Levy. You didn't do anythin' wrong."

"It feels wrong," she mumbled. "It feels...horrible."

"I know," he muttered, and he did. Gently, he tugged on a lock of blue hair. "We need to get ya to Wendy and the crazy witch lady. And Bunny Girl's losin' her mind outside."

Levy took a deep, shaken breath, and whispered, "I want...Gajeel, can I stay with you?"

He blinked. "At my place?" She nodded. "Yeah. 'Course ya can." She could move in and he'd let her. Not that he dared to suggest it just yet. "Ya can come over whenever, even if I'm not there." Gajeel grunted when she nodded slowly, shivering. "C'mon, let's find a way outta here. If all else fails, I'll have Lil' lift us out."

"Can we just...I want to get out of here."

"Sure." Gajeel cranked his head back, squinting at the mess he'd made. "Hey, Lily!" he shouted. "Can you get us out?"

"Of course." The Exceed peeked his head through the massive hole. His gaze landed worriedly on Levy. "Are you okay, Levy?"

"No," she mumbled.

She wasn't entirely sure if she'd be all right ever again.

Levy found herself tackled in a tight hug the second she was on green grassy ground. Lucy gave a relieved cry, ignoring the blood that stained nearly every inch of her. "Levy!"

"Lucy!" she gasped, throwing her arms around her blonde friend. She took comfort in the warm embrace as Lily went to fetch Gajeel from inside. Lucy looked anxious, wanting to know what had happened, but was wise enough not to ask. "Elroy is...he's, um-"

"Dead," Gajeel said bluntly as he was dropped beside them. "Fucker's dead. Lil', head back again and tell 'em that Levy's safe."

"And tell Master to summon a member of the Council. We'll need to explain what happened and report the death," Lucy added. She released Levy, touching her injured cheek with care. "That'll leave a nasty scar...Levy, do you want Cancer to clean your hair when we get home?"

Home.

She'd wanted to go home throughout everything.

But now, faced with the prospect…

She shook her head. "No," she whispered, "but thanks, Lucy. I just…" She looked to Gajeel, gaze flickering.

He jutted his chin out. "She's goin' to my place. And no one's gonna bug her. Got me?"

"I've got Natsu to worry about," she said quietly. "I mean, I'll worry, but...well, you know."

Levy barely heard them as she looked in the direction of Magnolia, hazel eyes blank.

Home.

She'd wanted to go home throughout everything that had happened here with Elroy.

But now, she was a murderer.

Fairy Tail was a guild of good people, people redeeming themselves, and those who had succeeded in it, like Gajeel. It wasn't a guild for murderers. It wasn't a guild that should welcome her back with open eyes.

And for that reason alone, Levy silently decided she'd do what had to be done.

The guild exploded when Levy walked in later in the evening, cleaned up - though that wasn't the best term for it after everything that had happened. She yelped as Jet and Droy, scuffed up but happy to see her, tackled her in a hug so tight that she felt like she was suffocating.

They yanked back, however, when she cried out and pressed a hand to her shoulder. She flinched as it came away, slicked with fresh blood and pus. Jet gently squeezed her good shoulder and shouted for Wendy and Porlyusica as Makarov made his way over.

Seeing how everyone had gathered around Levy, excluding Lily and Gajeel, who'd both hung back, and Lucy, who'd run to find Happy and Natsu, Makarov went to speak with the iron mage. Gajeel's crimson gaze darted to him when he saw that the guildmaster was coming. "What happened?" the old man asked quietly.

Gajeel dropped his voice, aware of Lily listening. "The bastard is dead. He went after Levy with a pair of scissors and she defended herself. S'all there is to it. I ain't gonna go demanding details when she can barely stand up. She reeks of infection. Bastard dragged her through the sewers when she was hurt."

Makarov shook his head. "I'll have you mark a map later when I contact the Council." His gaze rested lightly on the woman surrounded by others. "She's had enough trouble for today. Good work, Gajeel."

"I don't think she can handle it," Gajeel said suddenly, speaking quietly. "She's never really gone for the kill before. I found her beneath his body covered in blood, Gramps." Gajeel glanced over at where Wendy had appeared, hugging Levy tightly around the waist as Porlyusica chased everyone away, earning laughter. He could see the ghostly look in her face even now. "She's not…" He struggled for the word.

"She's not okay," was what Lily supplied quietly.

Makarov nodded. "Keep an eye on her. I'll put her in your charge rather than sending her home to Fairy Hills. Take care of her."

Gajeel proudly raised his chin. "Like I'd do anything else."

Lily chuckled and flicked his tail. "We'll take good care of her, Master. I'll be there, too."

Makarov nodded and then left them to their own devices, intending to contact the Council and inform them on the status of Magnolia.

"Here you go, Levy," Mirajane said gently. The blue-haired mage was settled in the darkest corner of the guildhall, watching everything. Wendy and Porlyusica had done their best to heal her shoulder and had done fantastically. It was still pretty bad, but the infection had been cleared up and it didn't hurt every second of the day.

"Thanks, Mira," Levy said quietly, taking the drink she'd been given. It was coffee, she realized.

"You shouldn't have alcohol right now," Mirajane said with a fierce look that promised violence should Levy try to get her hands on some anyways.

"I know." Levy took a sip of the delicious coffee and hummed her appreciation. Her hair curled freely around her face. Her hazel eyes lit with a hint of life for the first time in hours. "Thank you, though. Seriously. For everything."

Mirajane smiled warmly and reached out to gently touch her arm. "If you need anything, you let me know," she said fiercely.

The barmaid moved to leave and then paused, looking back when Levy asked, "Mira...is Gajeel around? I haven't...I haven't seen him in a while."

"He's in Makarov's office." Mirajane winked, smiling gently. "He's in a meeting with Master, Lucy, Lily, and a Councilman on what happened when they got in and what they need to watch out for when they go to check out the cabin."

Levy grimaced. "Okay. Thank you."

Mirajane nodded and left. Alone, Levy sipped contently at her coffee. Her shoulder ached, though not too badly, and her gaze lifted to study those around her.

Seeking.

Always, always seeking for someone who she'd murdered.

#fairy tail #fanfiction #obsessive impulsive #riverofmemoriesft #gajevy #gajeel x levy #gajeel redfox #levy mcgarden #pantherlily #lucy heartfilia #makarov dreyar #mirajane strauss

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victorious-harry · 7 years

Text

Something Great

a/n: sorry for the absence but here is a cute one shot :-) smut warning gif credit to the owner

His curl adorned head glanced over his shoulder and switched lanes with ease. Music was softly gracing the speakers with a light melody. The sky outside was grey and dull, rain littering the pavement and windows. With the rain and Harry surrounding my senses, I was calm.

The music flowing the truck was serene and I couldn’t help but sing along to the tune. “I don’t want to be your friend, I want to kiss your neck.” I took note of the grin that swept across Harry’s face when I started to sing. “What are you at?” I conjured. The grin that flashed his teeth and dimples grew wider, “You have a lovely voice s'all.”

I blushed at his compliment and kept my head turned to the window so he could fail to see my embarrassment ridden face.

I think I’m falling I’m falling for you

The lyrics resonated in my mind. What if my heart was really falling for this green eyed boy? My mind and heart were at conflict as I asked myself this significant question. Before I could ponder this question more than I already have, my mind swirled to the hand placed gently on my thigh. Even through my clothed material I could feel the hit that was immersed from his hand.

My heart swelled at the small, yet significant gesture that Harry had completed. Before I could revel in the sweetness of Harry anymore, he pulled his truck up at the curb in front of my house. The AUX cord connected to my phone was pulled out as I swiftly tucked it in my pocket. The door I was about to open, was pulled from my grasp. Harry smiled sweetly when I thanked him. See, chivalry isn’t dead.

His arm looped with mine as we walk to my doorstep. “I had a really nice time today.” His voice rang out, the British accent never failing to hook me into his voice deeper. “I did too.” An involuntary smile swept across my face, “We should do it aga-” My sentence was cut off by a loud crackle through the sky. “Yeah we should. But I should get going. Bye Y/N.” He gave me a swift hug, not nearly as long as I wanted. I hollered bye as he rushed through the yard to his truck.

When my door popped open, quietness surrounded me. Mom and Dad were still work. My room welcomed me with the scent of mahogany teakwood and I felt even calmer in that moment. The clothes I had on were stripped off me and replaced with sweats and an old t-shirt, my hair was pulled up into a bun. I had just sunk into my bed when a knock at my door startled me. I heaved a sigh and shuffled to my door. “So. My truck isn’t working.” A soaked Harry stood on my porch. “Alright, you can hang out until the rain stops.” I laughed and grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. “Stay here, I’ll grab you a towel and clothes.” I disappeared in my room, while I sent a swift text to my mom and explained the situation. My phone was placed back into my pocket, a towel in one hand and my ex boyfriends clothes in the other.

“Here’s a towel. And here are some clothes.” Harry’s eyes traveled down the clothes. “Are those your ex boyfriends clothes?” My cheeks heat up, “Yes…look, do you want clothes or not?” He chuckled, “Fine.”

Harry emerged from the bathroom just as I started to watch Supernatural. His appearance caused my to burst out into budding laughter. Around his legs he had tight boxer briefs that were way too short on his long legs, and his torso adorned a shirt that was too tight. “I look fucking ridiculous.” Tears spilled from my eyes, my stomach already gathering an ache. “You look amazing.” Harry’s green eyes rolls at my comment. “Shut it.”

He took a seat on the couch opposite of the one I was lounging on. “What are we watching?” He asked, slightly annoyed. “Supernatural.” Harry scoffed, “Really?”

“Hey it’s a good show!” He chuckled a little bit, “Yeah okay.”

“Hey I can kick you out if I need too.” My maneuvered to look at Harry and my eyes narrowed as I challenged him. “Okay, okay.” He raised his hands up in defense as he decided to climb onto my couch, my heart smiled, I got to be closer to him. I smiled at the green eyed boy who took my feet in his lap as I pressed play on the remote at his request.

About twenty minutes passed by of me being engrossed in the work of Sam and Dean Winchester when Harry started to become bored. His legs that held my feet started to bounce up and down. “You bored?” I asked, “No, I’m okay.” I took the time to admire Harry’s gorgeous face. He had sporadic freckles under his eyes and along his nose, something I’ve noticed before, just never studied them. His green eyes had yellow located around the edge of his pupil. Surrounding his eyes, long eyelashes fanned across. If there was ever a time to seize the day, now was that time. The body resting before me came closer as my body propelled itself towards him. And before I could think about anything else, my lips crashed to his.

Harry held me to him once I tried to pull back. I didn’t object anymore. Our lips melted together with heat intertwined. Harry’s hands grabbed my body and pulled me on to him. Each of my knees were at the side of his legs. My hands found his hair, slowly running my digits through his dark hair. A low moan leaked out of his lips and, sending a sensation through me. What was I doing? Harry and I were just friends. “Harry…were just friends…” The connection of our lips was lost, Harry’s lips were swollen and pink, they looked irresistible. “Y/n. You and I both know that isn’t true. We’ve been wanting each other for awhile now. Ever since I moved here I’ve wanted you.” The words he said to me affected my heart to swell. I can’t deny the fact that I did like him ever since he moved here from England. “Just…let us have this…” Harry practically whimpered out, his hand flew up to my hair as he brushed a stray strand behind my ear. “You’re all I want, so much it’s hurting.” How could I deny this beautiful boy? My body reacted over my mind once more as our lips reestablished. Our hips slowly collided, breathy moans released from both of us. Harry’s lips pulled from mine as he connected to my neck. My head rolled back as a loud moaned ripped through me. “I have wanted to do this for so long,” Harry moaned out, “Let’s take this to your room.” His large hands gripped my butt as he lifted us up, my lips were attacking his neck with my teeth, leaving red marks in the wake of it.

Harry shut my door behind him; swiftly he pulled his shirt of his lanky body. My eyes takes down his naked torso. He had toned abs, suddenly I felt insecure. The body of Harry was much prettier than mine. He was slender and tan. As I had fat rolls and was pale. “Harry…I don’t know.” He sighed, and my heart broke. I wanted to make love with Harry more than anything. But, that was my first time, and I didn’t know if I was ready to give him myself completely. Wasn’t I supposed to be in love with the person I lose it to?

“Y/N, if you’re worried about us not being in love, don’t. I’m incredibly in love with you, and I know you feel the same way. The way you’re body reacts to me when I touch you tells it all.” His hand lingered to my lip, touching it gently. His thumb rubbed over my bottom lip then slowly trailed to my chest, “Just a simple touch to your lip has already got it your heart racing…” He whispered then placed his hand over my heart. Sure enough, he was proved right. “But that’s not the case. I know you too well. It’s you’re body…you’re afraid I won’t find it beautiful.” My breath hitched with his words. His head lowered down, and kissed my clothed belly.

“Baby girl, that isn’t the case. You’re body….it gets my heart racing. Your hips curve in just the right way, your chest is big in all the right places, and your thighs, oh god, your thighs.” He moaned the last part out, I couldn’t help the slight whimper that I emitted from me when he squeezed my thighs.

“If you don’t believe me, feel this.” His hand took mine and placed it on the bulge in the boxers I gave him. Harry climbed on the bed and was faced on top of me. His arms supported him on either side of my head. Harry’s pink and slightly swollen lips came to mine. It wasn’t rushed this time, it was slow, sensual and intimate. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbled against my lips, “let me prove it to you.”

The shirt I had separating our bare chest was removed. My breasts were exposed to the first person other than myself who has seen them. This was my most vulnerable moment. I dearly hoped Harry would not mess this up. “I trust you.” I finally murmured out. Harry sweetly smiled. The smile made my heart swell. Lips kissed in the valley between my breasts. A hand gently kneaded one of them while Harry’s lips slowly made his way to the other. His tongue flicked my nipple, igniting a fire in my stomach. With a sudden gasp from myself, he did it once more, yet harder. He alternated between each breast. If that is how it felt to be pleasured that way, I couldn’t wait for Harry to work further down my body.

As if Harry read my mind, he kissed each of my breast one last time and then inched down my stomach. Leaving raised bumps on my skin and kisses. My breathing was heavy and uncontrolled. I wasn’t lying when I said I trusted Harry. I’ve never felt more ready to give someone myself as I was in that moment.

Harry arrived finally at my lower half. The sweats that adorned my legs and waist were removed. My cheeks reddened as Harry moaned. I forgot to put on underwear. “Do you always go commando?” He lightly chuckled. “Uh, only sometimes.” I mumbled out. “Christ.”

Harry’s curly haired head descended between my thighs. His dark hair tickled my skin. A finger swiped across my core sending a foreign sensation of pleasure through me. My thighs unconsciously tried to squeeze each other together. Harry’s hands took a hold of them, and gripped them tightly. He looked up at me, his eyes were a shade darker and I could almost feel myself dripping.

I entangled my hands in his hair once he touched his tongue to my swollen bundle of nerves. My body jerked as Harry continued to run his tongue vigorously worked on my clit. The moans slipping from my mouth, the tugging of his hair only seemed to fuel Harry more. Harry between my legs, eating me out was such an intense experience. I was sent wondering why I have never done this sooner.

“You taste so good, holy fuck.” He groaned against me, a finger started to inch in and out of me. It was an odd feeling at first, but once I got use to the alienated feeling after a few pumps. The feeling sunk into my bones. I could feel that I was going to untie soon. My first orgasm was soon going to rip through my overwhelmed body and I have never been so ready for it.

I convulsed from Harry’s mouth and fingers. I could feel myself tighten around Harry’s digits, my fingers gripped my sheets, and my toes curled with the pleasure coursing through my entire body.

Harry hauled up from my legs. Moisture surrounded his mouth. My moisture. “Are you on the pill?” I shook my head, “Okay. I have a condom.” I wasn’t sure why he carried a condom around. The feeling that sunk into me sent me into a panic. What if I wasn’t Harry’s first time? What if he was just using me? I wanted to curl up into a ball in that moment. I think Harry sensed my panic, “Relax. This is my first time having sex. I carry it around with me to look cool.” The side of his hand was brushed against my face, “I am just as nervous as you.” He definitely didn’t show it. He did himself of the borrowed boxers, then fetched his wallet. The foil wrapper was torn open then soon the latex was rolled on to Harry’s hard shaft. Harry’s penis was the first one I have seen, but it was beautiful. I silently laughed at my thoughts, “Whatcha laughing at over there? Something funny?”

“No, you’re just beautiful.”

He climbed back onto the bed and kissed my nose, “and so are you.” Harry positioned himself between my legs. “Are you ready?” I nodded, I have never been more ready. “Okay.”

Harry pushed himself inside of me, a vehement moan elicited from his throat. “Holy fuck, this is better than I could imagine.” The unfamiliar feeling a male being inside of me was unpleasant to say the least. As Harry drew his hips back slowly and would push back against me, a pain would set in. It wasn’t very painful, but it was annoying. “Are you okay? Do I need to stop?” My head shook, “No, keep going.”

“With pleasure.”

After a few thrusts, the sensation set in and I started to experience the pleasure everyone thrived about. Before too long, my hips were meeting Harry’s furiously. Sweat began to bead at my forehead and in the valley of my breasts. Our moaning became louder and our breaths became rampant.

Pleasure cascaded through me with each propelling of our clashing hips. “Hold on, let me do something.” And with that, Harry moved his hips in such a way that he hit a certain spot inside of me. I cried out in what I could only explain of irrevocable bliss. “Oh fuck.” Harry accelerated his hips as his tongue met my breasts, I don’t know how much longer I could last with all of this overwhelming me. “Harry…I won’t last long..” Harry mumbled something onto me.

A thumb flicked my clit, and Harry kept hitting that spot that only kept making me moan louder each time. Soon I started to throb around Harry. My vision blacker out and I felt myself release onto Harry with a deafening moan. “Fuck Harry!” My nails raked down his back, an action I soon loved to peruse.

Harry growled out then soon twitched inside of me, spilling himself into the condom. Harry sweaty body collapsed on me, our chests heaving. “Y/N, that was amazing.” He said into my ear. “Oh my god, it was.” My hand was playing with Harry’s curls when he rolled off of me and pulled me onto his chest. “I see why everyone makes a big deal out of it now.” I chuckled out, Harry’s chest bounced up and down with a laugh rattling through him. “Yeah, so do I.”

Before we could continue our cuddling session, my phone buzzed with a text. “On my way home.” It read, from my mom. Panic rose in me, I jumped from Harry’s chest throwing clothes around to get dressed. “My mom is on her way.” Harry jumped up as well and got dressed. I pulled my hair into a bun and checked myself in the mirror. I truly looked like a different girl. There was a certain glow to my skin that I couldn’t place. My eyes looked brighter and my cheeks held red. “How doI look?” I asked Harry, “Freshly fucked.” He grinned with a dimple popping into his cheek. I rolled my eyes at him. We walked into the living room and I continued to play supernatural.

Eventually my mom stumbled through the door. “Hi Harry.” She smiled. “Hey Mrs. Y/L/N. How are you?” “I’m great, thank you for asking. You’re such a sweet boy. Why don’t you come over more often?” She passed him with a quick ruffle to his hair. Harry looked at me, “Maybe I will.” Then added a wink.

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