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minsyal · 3 years

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The Fugitive (Finding Home), Pt. 1

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

Backpacking through Eastern Europe was not a top priority on your “to do” list. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Being one to preplan everything, you were completely caught off guard when your roommate sprung the idea of the trip out of the blue. You roommate, Jezebel Haine, was your first and only roommate from college onward. All legs, she was one of the stars of the track team but was most certainly not one of the brightest shining ones. She was considerably dim-witted, fanatical, and had a booming over-the-top personality that scared every potential boyfriend who had the disservice of meeting her. There were times, though, that she was rather endearing. Her childlike sense of self and emotional drivers consistently put her at a crossroads between what everyone else was doing and what she should be doing; she was, and always will be, a follower.

After four years of becoming “the bestest of friends,” you had a hard time imagining such a hard shift either into another roommate or living alone. Plus, her parents funded most everything she did and, in turn, funded the apartment the two of you shared.

“It’s an amazing opportunity!” She insisted, waving her hands in a simple manner as she rose from the condensed cushion of the leather-clad couch. “Think about it.” Gathering your hands in hers like a 20’s actress who had just met the man of her dreams, she pulled the bundle to her chest. “We frolic through the European countryside, it’s golden hour. My skin looks absolutely gorgeous… yours too, of course. The sun is just about to set, but alas!” She let out a dramatic gasp, removing one of her hands to cover her mouth. “It’s growing dark out!”

“That’s what happens when the sun sets.” You noted, causing her to drop the act for a moment only to immediately go back into character.

“We hear the crunching of leaves and twigs all around us as if something…” she drew close and lowered her voice to a whisper, “sinister is coming. Out of no where we’re ambushed! By what, I’m not sure. Then,” her eyes became glassy as she lay a delicate hand to her forehead, “two absolute studs… and I’m talking big bulging muscles, gorgeous trendy hair, captivating eyes… really everything a simple girl could ask for… seemingly drop from the sky! We’re saved!” She throws your hands into the air as if they’d fall like confetti. Drawing both her arms in, she sways back and forth in a waltz of one. “We’d be married by the next day! Hell, maybe we’d even end up as princesses.”

Oh, how utterly wrong she was.

“I told you this was a stupid idea.” You groaned, haughtily holding your chin up while feeling your spirits low. A few miles back, on an asphalt road that quickly turned to dirt, sat the dingy red rental truck with a blown out engine and a deflating tire. With no cell service and the last town being over 100 miles back, your only choice was to walk.

“Don’t blame me!” Jezebel stopped walking, feet falling flat to the ground as she stomped her foot in a childish manner. “I,” her lip quivered as all the anger held in her body dissipated, “I just wanted to have a fun time with you.” Big tears flowed from her eyes quickly after finishing her proclamation, leaving smearing black lines down her face from the eyeliner she insisted was necessary in the Romanian countryside. God, if her parents weren’t funding this trip, you’d throw a fit for your money back.

“Jess, just,” reaching backward, you fished a rag from your backpack, “don’t cry. That’s not going to make this better.” Sniffling, she accepted the rag and wiped her eyes, further smearing black all over her face. You couldn’t help but feel a shred of sympathy for her. “Let’s just keep going. No use in wasting daylight. I really don’t want to get caught out here in the dark.”

“Where are we supposed to go, then?”

“I’m sure the next town will have some sort of inn or hotel. At the very least, they’ll have directions to the nearest city.”

After another five miles of walking, the sun was beginning to set and no gorgeous studs were waiting to save you. The blazing yellow ball inched slowly beyond the horizon. Its warming rays that had kept the snow from freezing the two of you in the day crept down below the snow peaked mountains that were nestled in the distance. Shadows began dancing between the trees, sending the forest into a theater of silent performers. The dirt road that was once large enough for two cars was now only a walking path so slim that Jezebel had to follow on your heels. Every now and again you were reeled back by the piece of rope that she had attached to your backpack that was firmly gripped in her hand. She claimed it made her feel safer.

“You think those two hunks are going to come save us now?” You joked, attempting to make light of this dark situation.

“I wish.” She huffed, frustration evading her voice as exhaustion took center stage.

Flickering light caught your eye. Hues of yellow and red mingled together in the distance, the outlines of rooftops and smoke-filled chimneys littered the ground below. “I think that’s a village.”

Another mile of downhill travel was all it took to reach the place where the once distant flickering of torches and lanterns grew into the quiet streets of a cluttered settlement. There was no clear indication of movement once you stepped foot in the village; the only evidence of any life came in the form of fresh boot prints, livestock, and the ever-blazing lanterns. Jezebel was all to happy to release your makeshift leash from her fingers, trotting mindlessly by to examine the street corners and homes. Your eyes continued wandering up the rooftops, finally landing upon the eerie looming castle situated on the mountainside above.

From around the bend, you heard Jezebel screech.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You threw caution to the wind, quickly rounding the corner to scold her like a parent would to a misbehaving child. “You don’t know if these people are violent or not. We can’t just go parading ourselves into the town center.”

“I think they’re violent.” She mustered the shaky words. Her hands covered her eyes and the majority of her face as she backed away from whatever had caused her distress.

“What?” The unpleasant squelch of snow beneath your feet caused your attention to draw downward. Dark snow surrounded your boot, an unnatural red hue stained the pure white. Gaze moving upward, your chest restricted feeling as if it had crushed inward on itself. The putrid smell finally fell upon your nostrils as you backed away from the scene. Severed animal heads hung lazily above you, their tongues flopping from their opened mouths.

“I want to go home.” Jezebel sobbed, rasping her cries into her cupped hand. Shaking her head as if to knock this moment from her brain, her short-lived façade of curiosity gave way to her immediate feeling of impending dread.

“That’s what I’m trying to do right now, Jess. Just, calm down.”

A low grumble had you standing further on edge, if that was possible at this point. The sound was clear as day and was anything but human. You weren’t even sure a human could get to an octave so low without the help of technology. Eyes darting upward once more, a chill ran from your shoulders to your toes.

Hauntingly yellowed eyes lingered upon the two of you. The beast-like figure was silhouetted by the moonlight, outlined like a ghost. It looked to be a man, but also anything but a man in the same sense. Its mouth was parted, baring old rotted teeth that looked to have dried blood caked between its gums. Its hands were bloodied as well, small cuts were painted across its forearms only hidden by the rags that clung to its chest.

Before you could process the situation, Jezebel let out another yelp. In an instant, the beast lunged down from its perch, landing with a ground shaking thud nearly five feet before you. “No!” Jezebel’s open palm collided with the space between your shoulder blades as she pushed you toward the monster. The last thing you saw was her backpack falling to the ground as she began running toward one of the homes. You landed face-first in the snow, groaning as all the air in your lungs were forced out. The beast snarled, once again showing its teeth as it hunched down to your level. This was, most certainly, not the way you envisioned dying. Things like this weren’t supposed to exist; this is myth, this isn’t real. It all felt like bad dream gone worse that you couldn’t wake from.

“Pesky creatures, aren’t they?” A new voice called out as the horrendous sound of metal crushing bone and muscle slithered through your ears. The disgusting feeling of gore instantly trickled down your hands. “Please,” the voice continued, “feel free to thank me anytime.”

A moment later, the stranger let out a scoff with the squishy suction of whatever he had used to quiet the monster. The tap of a boot on your elbow finally prompted you to uncover your eyes. “Or don’t.”

“I,” you started, opening and closing your mouth multiple times unable to find the right words, “thank you.”

“Oh.” He tiled the stiff rim of his frayed hat back, exposing a pair of circular sunglasses perched upon his nose. “Foreigners, eh?”

“Yeah, um.” You gathered yourself, finally pushing up to stand on your feet. “We got lost.”

“And ended up here, no doubt.” A stifled chuckle left his lips as he tilted his hat back in place and swung whatever he used to kill the beast over his shoulder. “If I were you, I’d get the hell out of here.”

Without another word, the stranger sauntered off with a backward wave of his hand. “Oh, and have someone clean this mess up.”

“Y/n!” Jezebel’s shrill voice called as she returned with a rather confused villager. He held a shotgun with both of his hands, Jezebel shone a flashlight in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” The villager moved forward with extreme caution after peering around you dumbfoundedly seeing the crumpled body.

“I’m fine, no thanks to her.” You spat, anger swelling in your throat causing a particular acidity to your words.

“All of you! Inside this instant.” A matronly holler came from behind Jezebel and the villager. “You know Miranda’s protection only runs so far as we grow closer to this time.”

Who is Miranda and, more importantly, who was the man who saved you?

The home you were ushered into was on the outskirts of town. It was one of the larger estates given the fact that some people seemed to live in one-room shacks. Upon entering, you were greeted with the warm glow of yellow light trickling in from what looked to be a formal living room. The sweet aromas of honeyed tea wafted through the air, drawing further in as the woman led the three of you deeper into the home. What was worse? You pondered. Being killed by that beast or potentially being murdered by the inhabitants of this home? You couldn’t decide. Thus far, the two gave no indication of malice.

“Please, sit.” The woman pulled out two of the chairs at her table, the wood scratching against the floor. “I’ll fetch the tea.”

Jezebel was so brainless. She smiled at you as if she hadn’t just offered you up as a midnight snack. Surely there was no hamster running on that squeaky track that powered her.

“What was that thing?” You turned to the man who was now seated to your right. “The monster.”

The man ignored your question, instead grabbing a piece of rounded bread from the plate at the center of table. Slathering butter on it, he looked to you. “How’d you kill it?”

“I didn’t.” You frowned, recalling the mysterious man who saved your life without even dropping his name. The villager raised his brows and kicked his foot up on the table. He was waiting for more information. “Some man came out of nowhere. He had some hammer-like weapon.”

As soon as he processed the words, his foot fell from the table and he leaned forward, uncomfortably close. You could smell the distinguishable bite of alcohol percolate from his lips. “Did he wear glasses? A hat?”

“He did.” The words slowly drifted from your mouth. “Hair to about here.” You motioned to the halfway point of your neck.

“Adelina,” the man called, presumably to the woman who guided you inside. He got up quickly, rushing to the other room leaving you and Jezebel alone.

“What the hell is going on here?” You whispered in a harsh tone, leaning forward to get closer to her. “Is this not weird at all to you?”

“I think they’re nice people.” Jezebel responded at full volume without a second of thought.

“That’s coming from someone who tried to feed their supposed best friend to a monster.”

“I was buying us time to get help.”

“Help? I almost died!”

“But you didn’t.”

“When we get back to the U.S. I never want to speak to you again.” You seethed. How could she be this bad? You knew there were a few… a considerable amount of screws missing from Jezebel, but how in God’s green earth does she justify her actions at this point? The thought of it accompanied by her dazed and empty stare only fueled the fire of anger more.

“Dear,” the woman, who you now knew was Adelina, reentered the room accompanied by the man with a tray of cups and a kettle in her hands. She set a delicate china glass in front of you, softly filling it with a reddish colored liquid that she assured you was Celestial Seasonings, a tea imported from Africa. “I hear that you’ve met Lord Heisenberg.” Placing a hand over her heart, she gave a warm smile that only sent another wave of dread through your body. There was something so alluring about this woman, yet so sinister.

“Lord, who?”

Adelina stiffened, craning her neck to the side as she plastered a forced smile upon her lips once more. You had upset her, that much was obvious. “One of the four Lords that rule here alongside our dear Mother Miranda.” She explained, pushing the cup of tea closer to your body. Jezebel had already finished her first glass. Warily, you lifted the cup in your hand and allowed the warm water to heat your frozen body. An elongated finger pointed to the framed painting that hung to the wall. “Mother Miranda protects us here.”

Mother Miranda. You could only focus on the image of the woman silhouetted by six black wings and a halo outlining her head. Her eyes were indistinguishable behind the raven-like mask that clung to her face. Adorned in a black garb, she looked to be a holy figure in this town. But like Adelina, something just wasn’t right with Miranda.

The unsettling reverb of crickets and cicadas chirping grew louder and louder with each passing hour. You counted the seconds between waves of mass chorus; so far, it was roughly thirty seconds between each bleating scream of their nightly tune. You couldn’t sleep. Despite the somewhat comforting, but entirely unsettling welcome given by Adelina and Marion, you couldn’t help but feel like a caged animal in the tiny cupboard room they had given you. A curious thought tickled the back of your mind, willing you to remain as alert as possible after an exhausting day of hiking; where had they put Jezebel? Not that you particularly cared at this point. After the attack she had done a 180, dropping all suspicion of malice in this village. She simply flushed the pictures of hanging heads and wild beasts from her memory. You sometimes envied her lackadaisical memory accompanied by a fanatical view of the world. Living blissfully ignorant, especially in a situation like this, seemed to serve her best.

After a small dinner of fish that smelled of ammonia, of which you politely picked at, Adelina insisted the two of you stay the night. “The beasts will return!” She exclaimed, holding a firm hand over the intricately carved wood of the doorframe. “Early tomorrow we can arrange for a car to pick you up from the next town over.” Hushed murmurs climbing up from the cracked floors pulled you from your thought. The voices spoke in an incomprehensible argument.

“I’d quite like to keep...” the words faded in and out.

“No, no, no. Don’t be ridiculous...”

“What if....”

The floor spoke a soft squeak from beneath your feet as you shifted to get closer to the voices. Their conversation stopped, and you waited with bated breath for it to continue.

“We have to offer someone up tomorrow.” It was Adelina.

“I know, I know.” Marion sounded frustrated. “But you know Mother Miranda prefers only the purest. How are we supposed to know if either of them are-”?

The words faded once more as the two moved from room to room. Walking on the sides of your feet, you followed. Peeking around the corner, your eyes landed on Adelina and Marion illuminated by a flickering fire. They stood close to one another, keeping their tones low.

“Clearly, we offer the frumpy one. Take a look at her. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s unexperienced.” Adelina snickered, taking a seat on the worn couch with her back to you. “She wouldn’t fit in here anyway.”

“The dumb one would get along nicely with our son.”

“I agree.”

A knock at the front door sent a shiver of adrenaline down your spine. Quickly scrambling to hide, you took in a deep breath as Marion passed by with his shotgun in hand. From the parted door, you could see the sun barely peeking over the horizon. Had it really been that long already?

“Are you sure she’s pure?” The new man stood in the doorway rushed past Marion, looking in the direction of the room they had put you in.

“I suppose we could check.” Adelina called, rising to join the others. “The both of them had that tea. They shouldn’t wake until the ceremony later today.”

“Is she in there?”

“Yes, the other one is upstairs.”

“Let’s check this one first.”

With heavy footsteps falling upon the rotting floorboards of the somewhat dilapidated home, you slunk further into the shadows of the room behind you. The glint of something metal caught your attention; a small handgun sat perfectly on a dresser as if set there intentionally for you to find. Holding your breath, you crept forward to it. You’d never shot a gun in your life, but you knew the basics... both hands, check for ammo, rack the slide, pull the trigger. At least, that’s what the movies told you.

“Out of bed so soon, are we?” The soft voice turned malevolent as Adelina appeared in the doorway of the room. “I wouldn’t use that if I were you.” She motioned to the gun that was aimed rather unskillfully for her chest.

“What the fuck is going on in this village?” You spoke with purpose now, tone wavering slightly as Marion stepped behind his wife.

“You don’t understand things around here, girl.” Adelina spat, moving aside as Marion began charging into the room. The loud blast of the gun echoed from the walls of the home followed by a harsh curse and the sound of a body crumpling to the floor. You had shot Marion in the leg; he’d live.

“No,” you started, re-racking the slide as Adelina’s other friend approached wielding a similar gun to your own. Adrenaline washed over your nervous system, your hands shook violently, but you attempted to remain composed. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. This isn’t normal! Tell me what’s going on now or,” your eyes trailed down to Marion who was attempting to control the flow of blood from his wound.

“You wouldn’t.” She laughed bitterly.

“Like hell, I wouldn’t.” You exclaimed, training the gun onto her. “Now tell me, what’s happening here.”

“You’ll understand soon enough.” Adelina’s friend’s words were the last thing you heard before your ears rang and the sting of a bullet burnt white hot in your shoulder. You weren’t sure if your gun ever went off again.

Despite being tied, bathed, dressed, and currently sitting on a freezing alter-of-sorts, you still hadn’t the slightest clue as to what was going on. A crowd of villagers surrounded from the south, all carrying on with a rumble of conversation. Adelina shot daggers at you, Marion as well, from a small, inclined hill at the edge of the crowd. The clothes you wore were your own, she had fished through your backpack claiming that it was of no use to waste a nice dress on “someone like her.” Jezebel was likely still fast asleep at their house.

A woman with the likeness of the framed photo you had seen appeared out of nowhere. So, this was the famous Mother Miranda that everyone regarded so deeply. She stood before you as the crowd’s voices hushed and their eyes became hazed with looks of admiration and devoted appreciation. Surely, she was a human, deities and gods didn’t exist in a physical form, you assured yourself.

Without a word, Miranda moved gracefully as if flowing across the ground to stand before Adelina. Taking her face between her hands, she whispered what you assumed to be praise as Adelina’s lips moved rapidly thanking Miranda. She then moved to Marion and grazed her hand against the wound on his thigh, speaking of how his steadfast devotion would quickly heal any injuries of cruelty spread by evil. When her attention finally fell back to you, she frowned. Stalking around you in circles, Miranda’s imposing figure made you want to shrivel to nothingness.

“Thank you.” She turned to the villagers as if to dismiss them. “When the time comes, I will return for another.”

The black wings you had seen in the photo sprouted from her back, shielding your sight of the villagers as they retreated to their homes. Hopeful cries and shouted blessings to Miranda echoed from the crowd as the village gate slammed. The only evidence of them once populating this empty square were flowers and offerings of fruit and grain left for the supposed goddess.

The world swiftly darkened once more.

Part 2 - Paths Meet

I promise there's more Heisenberg in the next part..

Feedback is always appreciated

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #resident evil village #resident evil heisenberg #re8 heisenberg #heisenberg imagine #lord heisenberg

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strawberrybitch3 · 3 years

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Idontwannabeyouanymore

Regulus Black x reader

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Regulus is forced to have the dark mark and can’t hold his emotions in anymore when you find out.

This is terrible but I’m blaming it on me being tired but this song has been stuck in my head all day and I needed to find a way to get it out. And no I don’t know how many words this is and no I will not be checking I’m to tired and lazy also no specific pronouns are used.

Enjoy

If tear drops could be bottled, there’d be swimmin’ pools filled by models.

Tears ran down your face as you stared at Regulus, the dark mark staring back at you with disgust over who you were. A muggleborn who unfortunately fell for the one person you shouldn’t of. And yet, he seemed so kind to you. A quiet boy who just needed to be shown how to be loved properly, and then this happened.

Regulus stared back at you, tears streaming down his face as well. He wanted to tell you how this wasn’t suppose to happen. How he was getting ready to leave and had gotten caught. How his ‘family’ had strapped him to a chair and burned this thing onto his skin forever.

He couldn’t even say it without being disgusted with himself.

He felt like screaming.

He felt like he was drowning.

Told a tight dress is what makes you a whore.

You shook your head, trying to convince yourself this wasn’t happening. Merlin you prayed this was a bad dream. But it wasn’t. Bad dreams meant you could wake up to the goodness of the world. There was no goodness left now.

Regulus took a step towards you, cautious of what your reaction would be. You let him grab your hand and lace your fingers together. The two of you hidden away in his empty dorm. His roommates probably thought you would be crying for a different reason. Thought you’d be having fun.

Fun.

Nothing seemed like fun anymore.

If I love you was a promise, would you break it if you’re honest?

“I didn’t want it,” he whispered to you softly, voice breaking at the end. Of course he didn’t want it. Every conversation you’d had with him about it he’d been so against everything his family had said and done. Sirius leaving had really made him reevaluate his family and their beliefs.

“I know,” you whispered back, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. His arms wrapped around his waist as he began to sob into your chest. Your heart broke. How could someone as cruel as his mother and father break a boy so kinda and gentle. Regulus didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this.

Tell the mirror what you know she’s heard before.

A plan began to form in your head. There had to a charm of a potion that could get rid of it. Maybe you could make one. It couldn’t be that hard right?

You whispered comforting words to Regulus and played with his curls until he calmed down. He felt so scared, so lost and angry with himself. How could he have let this happen? Why didn’t he leave with Sirius? Why didn’t he leave sooner? Why didn’t he run into your arms and left everything behind when you asked him to?

You pulled Regulus away from you for a moment, wiping the tears off of his face with your thumb before letting your hand rest on his cheek. He leant into your embrace and shut his eyes. You always knew how to make things better. Even if you said nothing, your presence made him feel lighter, happier than when he was with anyone else.

“I’m gonna get you out Reg ok. We’ll figure something out, we always do.”

Regulus smiled weakly at you and opened his eyes. He pulled you towards his bed and led down, pulling you down with him. Regulus snuggled into your chest, sobs reduced to sniffles. You were his guardian angel. And Merlin help anyone who tried to take you away from him.

I don’t wanna be you anymore.

#writers on tumblr #writing #regulus black #fanfic #regulus black x reader #regulus deserved better #the marauders #marauders #sirius black #angst #comfort

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hes-writer · 3 years

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Patreon Masterlist

These are exclusive fics that you can read on my Patreon!

* = complete, ^ = in-progress, + = will be posted on tumblr, (s) = smut (implied or mentioned) writing count: 78 pieces

**billing cycle currently paused** | new patrons will still be charged

This is a reupload of my masterlist with sneak peeks of each piece so you know what's up :D

Multi-Part Series | One Shots | Drabbles | Extras

* Unwavering (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) - 6.5k, the one where harry cheats (again)

"Right. Maybe we can go out tonight to grab some dinner," She suggested, a hopeful glint in her eyes and he almost felt guilty for putting her on the back burner of his mind. "I really have to go, baby," Peeking his head around her frame, he spotted the untouched toast and apple juice resting on where he should be. "I'm sorry."

^ + Roommate Series (3) (4) (5) (6) - 9.8k, the one where harry and y/n are roommates

He sighed, “I finished my coffee ages ago. I was just waiting for you to finish studying so we could leave together and go home,” Y/N dropped her fingers from his wrist, slouching the slightest bit as butterflies attacked her stomach. “Don’t look at me like that. I just wanted you to get home safe,” He nudged her forehead with the ball of his palm, his face contorting to annoyance.

^ + Notes on Camp (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) - 16.5k, the one where harry and y/n are camp counsellors

Y/N looked around to be met with puckered lips and clenched hands as the campers practically requested for her to kiss their favourite counsellor. Wide, hopeful stares were willing her to commit.

“Alright, alright,” She bent her upper body to reach his cheek, licking over her lips once before pressing it on his skin. It was only a quick peck and then she pulled back. He stayed unmoving.

Jacky and Emy poked their finger at him on opposite sides. His cheek dimpling with their small indents. “Maybe you should do it again?”

* Friends Don't (1) (2) (3)- 3k, the one where lines are crossed

“It’s Harry Styles fanfiction on Tumblr,” She suggested a conversation, shyly smiling in embarrassment. “I can see that,” He murmured, using his thumb to scroll through the rest of the story, “It’s . . . interesting. People write these about me?” His retort made the situation seem like an utter surprise.

* Digress, Progress, Regress Series - 5k, the one where harry falls out of love

Y/N wondered if there was a chance to fixing what has been lost--what has disappeared as the canvas soaked through in a permeated osmosis. Coating the brush of blue with white paint took several layers to completely cover the mistakes. There had to be an effort in wanting to make the faults and errors completely opaque from the eye; the bleary, watery irises soaked with tears, dampening her lashes in a thick haze as she cried.

Tickle Fights (1) - 1.2k, the one where bff!y/n teases harry about his boner

“What’s going on here, Harry?” The light tone of her voice indicated that she was teasing him, paired with the subtle movements of her lower half. Harry whined in response, feeling the blood rush downwards to make him even stiffer. “Does this feel good? Got hard over me straddling you, huh?” It was almost degrading, the way Y/N formed her question yet Harry couldn’t help a whimper from lingering in the air. He nodded, hands sliding down to grip at her moving hips.

Real Mature (1) (2) - part two is patron exclusive! - 603 words, the one where bff!harry and y/!n fight

“You shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for being bitter about you and Ruby,” She rested her forearms on his shoulders in a slant when he stood to his full height. “I know you’re happy with her,” Harry gave her a shy smile that confirmed his words. Ruby is someone special to Harry now and Y/N had to learn how to share his time, attention, and affection. “I reckon I’m just missing you a lot more now,” Y/N’s tone was sad and despondent, trailing her gaze to the floor where she almost chuckled at Harry’s fuzzy bunny slippers which she had gotten him.

^ Fine Line Series: Adore You - 1.1k the one where harry and y/n are friends with benefits

Still, with her back against the wall and Harry’s fingers still gripping her hips—she waited for his response. I told you I loved you. Say it back, Y/N thought. “I love her, Y/N,” He mumbled against her neck in a drunken stupor. So close.

Kinkmas Blurbs (1 - 7) - 4.6k, the one where it’s all smutty

Maybe it was the way that his jaw ticked harshly every time he threw his head back at a particularly good stroke. You wondered what he was imagining that had him bucking his hips to his fist before realizing that the movements would probably cause you to wake up. Still, his hooded lids didn’t peel open—not until a core shaking fondle of his heavy balls forced a choked whine out of his throat.

Harry’s neck snapped to your figure, catching the way you looked at him as if you were in distress that he wasn’t cumming anytime soon—not when you were there, willing and able to help.

“Fuck, love. ‘M sorry,” He mumbled, not stopping the flicks of his wrist. In fact, you swore that you could hear the squelching of his clear pre-cum squishing between his fingers.

The Secretary (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) 11k, the one where harry is the CEO and y/n is the assistant (cheating fic)

Two months ago, Y/N unburied a not-so-hidden secret that Harry tried to bury. Two months ago, Y/N walked in on her boyfriend and his secretary fucking on his office table. Two months ago, Y/N experienced everything from pain and discomfort, to disappointment and being scornful. She threaded the line of confronting him or waiting for the day he came forward and admitted it himself. There was a desire for Y/N to see Harry sweat beneath her beady eyes, watching him scratch the back of his pants in a nervous manner. She wanted to hear him stutter as he spat an excuse, she yearned to see him pleading with his gorgeous green eyes for her to stay. Y/N craved for his throat to close up, whimpers choked from his trachea because he was losing his stability as she walked away from him.

(s) Tension (1) (2) - 5.3k, the one where harry and y/n hate each other

“S’that why you hate me so much?”

His fingertips tapped his thigh methodically, crumpling a faint thud against his jeans. With how close they were sitting, Y/N’s bare knee brushed against his clothing. A burn of desire and anticipation lit inside of her like a dose of gasoline another in a flaming hot fire.

Harry shook his head, “Don’t hate you."

Champagne Problems- 4.4k, the one where marriage is a sensitive topic, the 1 - coming soon!

The freshly popped bottle of champagne poured into the flute on the table beside her bubbled and simmered, the sizzling reaction of the golden liquid ignited a moment of realization within her. The reason why her body felt more weighted, why tears filled her glazed eyes, pricking her corneas and threatening to spill down her face. Y/N’s heart had cracked–she was certain that everybody around her could hear it.

One Shot

(s) Achy Back - 813 words, the one where harry draws y/n a bath

A pout sat on her face as Harry stopped himself from ducking his head and catching her plush lips with his, craving the sweet taste of her and her strawberry lip balm. Her arms wrapped around his snatched waist, halting his breath at the tightness of her embrace and settling for a kiss on her forehead, the scent of her shampoo wafting in his nostrils, knowing that she had taken shower hours prior.

A Letter to the Man I’ve Loved - 1.5k, the one where harry receives a letter from his ex

Is it really worth it to look back in retrospect about ‘what had been’ when she can think about ‘what could have been’ if both of them realized their faults? Granted, he was more resilient in that sense than her, but he was no better at the time. She made mistakes and it had haunted her to this day, practically killing her with each moment she spent without him by her side.

Renegade - 981 words, the one where harry and y/n do a tiktok dance

“What are y’doing?” Harry asked, his eyes wide as his large palms ruffled the fluffy towel on his damp curls. The steam from the bathroom escaped to your bedroom where you were panting with effort, your chest heaving so hard that the peaks of your breasts rose with each breath.

“Uh, what are you doing?” You retorted slowly, hiding your hands behind your back were your fingers gripped your phone. Your thumb dug hard on the volume bottom, frantically trying to decrease the music from the phone speaker.

(s) Drop the Towel - 644 words, the one where harry does the ‘drop the towel’ challenge

You gasped at the sight, the knife clanging on the marble counter, “Ooh, hi there,”

He smirked cockily, watching your eyes observe his body, tongue subconsciously peeking out between your lips until you snapped your head to the window, “Oh my god! There are people out there, Harry!” You wailed in alarm, bending over to hand him his towel.

All I Ask - 2.2k, the one where feelings aren’t mutual

“I don’t want to be scared of what will happen tomorrow or if all we have is right now because we’ll have nothing left but I am,” A sob ripped through his throat, emotions were heightened tenfold because she was so close yet so far and they were still Harry and Y/N but at the same time they weren’t. They’ve changed over the span of one night. “All we have is tonight,”

Little Prince - 583 words, the one where 7-year-old harry takes care of his best friend

“Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay? I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen. I swear I wasn’t mad at you, I was just jok- Why are you smiling?” Harry yelped, panic evident in his shrill voice. His hands wandered towards her face, tilting it left to right, up and down, searching for any visible and invisible injuries besides the bump on her forehead.

Stressed Out - 1.8k, the one where y/n has a huge term paper due

“What d’ya mean I don’t get it?” He closed the paperback, making sure to clip in his bookmark to save his spot.

A pregnant pause slithered the room. Her fingers typing against the keys of her laptop ceased as she shot him a glare, “You’re not studying, are you? All you do is write songs, fiddle with a few instruments and sing it in front of people who adore you,”

Valentine’s Day - 1.5k, the one where harry runs into trouble and y/n is there to save him

“Shit! Are you crazy?” Y/N gasped in surprise when the passengers seat was occupied, the door opening and slamming shut all while the car moved at a speed of 15 km/h —cursing her forgetfulness for not clicking the locks shut.

“Keep driving!” The passenger shouted, looking back through the windshield.

Dream With Me - 1.3k, the one where y/n has trouble sleeping

Harry’s admiration gets interrupted when a sudden jolt took over Y/N’s body. He dropped his mouth open a little in shock, rubbing her back soothingly when she whimpered quietly, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe with me,” She must have had experienced one of those moments when she was falling until her vision drooped to a shaded black.

Pet Name - 1.2k, the one where bff!harry just wants y/n to call him by his pet name again

His voice emulated a soft, syrupy tone that lingered in the air whenever he spoke. He was the colour honey itself–golden and yellow like the colour of the sun. Harry was bright in its sense of intelligence and the way he illuminated the whichever room he entered. His kindness catered to everyone’s needs and left pieces of his heart wherever he went.

Harry was honey.

Shave - 768 words, the one where harry helps y/n shave her coochie

She sniffles some more, “I’m trying to shave, H. It’s so itchy but I-I can’t reach down there,”

Y/N began to sob. The rattle of the razor clanking on the bathtub floor where she sat her bum on the edge. Her baby bump was causing her to teeter over the porcelain which urged Harry to swiftly plant his hands on her to keep her steady.

“I’m so huge! I’m the size of a house,” Y/N palmed the crest of her bump, rubbing it loosely as she admired the stretched skin yet slightly wishing that it would disappear and she was holding their baby in her arms instead.

(s) Don’t Worry, Darling - 1.5k, the one where y/n rides harry

He slipped down the headboard, resting his back flat on the mattress with Y/N sliding with him. She positioned her feet to rest near his knees, wrapping their limbs together so she could have some sort of sanity whilst Harry incepted on his shattering thrusts. Feet were planted on the mattress to give his lower half elevation to propel his hips against Y/N’s core. Harry’s fingers left white marks on her skin, gripping the plush flesh and essentially spreading Y/N open as he rapidly shoved his dick over and over inside of her with no signs of slowing down. He staggered for a few moments when her pulsing core emitted dazing throbs over his leaking cock but Y/N was quick to duplicate and resume the pace he had set with the movement of her hips.

To Be Loved - 2.3k, the one where y/n’s feelings are more than friendly

“I love you. Don’t you love me back?”

Harry’s eyes visibly widened, clearly taken aback by the question spewing from Y/N’s mouth. Her heat cheeks and a shy stance; knees knocking against his knobby ones while her dainty hands interlaced her fingers.

Revelation - 2.1k, the one where famous!y/n and harry are spotted together (pre-relationship)

Before there were Harry and Y/N--the power couple--there was Harry and Y/N.

Y/N, who was one of the most sought after female artists in the industry because of her angelic voice. The woman who had managed to catch the lingering stares of every household and the ears of many listeners with her truthful songs; narrative from the experiences she had gone through and shared through the art of songwriting.

Harry, who was quite the artist for the night. Harry’s limbs were being pulled metaphorically every which to ensure that the cameras captured him clapping respectfully in the audience. Others were asking him to stay for a bit more time backstage for content for an upcoming video. Right now, he was sat in his uncomfortable chair beside a handful of producers and well-known singers. A brief hug and whisper with Ariana Grande were enough for their fans to implode about a possible collaboration, granted that Harry had written a song for her album before. But Harry was certain that that feature wasn’t coming for a long while.

Apple Cheeks - 1.1k, the one where harry says something and y/n isn’t listening

Clearing his throat, he began, “I love you, Y/N. And I know that it might be too soon considering how short our relationship has been so far but I-I really do have strong feelings for you,”

Harry dropped his gaze as soon as he managed to peel off the first three words from his hoarse throat. “You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted to let you know that I really care for you and me. I definitely something for us in the future and I hope you feel the same,”

Dreadful seconds shivered up Harry’s spine. His stare was still fixed on her shuffling feet and the floor. It was painful to hear nothing but silence so Harry decided to courageously lift his head up.

Affliction - 1.5k, the one where Harry breaks down (TW: depressive thoughts)

It wasn’t even that Harry did not know how to say ‘no’ because he truly did. However, anyone would be worn-out by the amount of exhaustion carried on his back. That cold shudder of loneliness--even when he wasn’t alone-- because nobody shared the experience of defeat with him. The twitch of his ears straining to listen when nobody would do the same for him. A subtle jerk of the corners of his lips because he could not keep the smile plastered on his face like paint chipping off the drywalls. The flutter of tired lids waiting to be shut tightly as tears were wrung from his green eyes, lashes tickling his skin underneath the violent colour of his eye bags.

From the Dining Table - 748 words, the one where y/n’s new boyfriend looks a lot like harry

Y/N wondered if her former lover shared the same thoughts as she did. The girl that he woke next to—was she still there? Did they share the bed together—not just in the morning—but the nights as well? If so, did Harry love her like he did with Y/N? Or was he just pretending to be okay like she was?

Blanket for Two - 990 words, the one where y/n kicks harry out of bed

And now, Harry was in bed with the woman he loves. Her light snores echoing in the dim room and he was staring up at the ceiling, shivering in his bones. If she were awake, Y/N probably would have made a snide, joking comment about how he shouldn’t sleep naked, especially in the winter. Not like she didn’t do that either--she was practically naked with the thin camisole over her body. The difference was that Y/N had an extra layer of blanket keeping her warm, shielding her skin from the night air and Harry only had the friction of his palms rubbing against his arms. He was sure that he was a hint away from his teeth chattering. Harry had half the mind to dip his freezing feet beneath the blanket and jolt her awake with the change in temperature.

That’ll show her, he thought.

Around 1:32 - 3.2k, the one where y/n has a wet dream

“What?” Harry spat, tugging his shirt over his head, waiting for you to form a coherent excuse. “‘Think that jus’ because you woke up horny from a dream that y’can touch yourself? What a slut. Are you that desperate?”

Your cheeks flamed at his words of degradation, doubling your arousal and one that had you smushing your thighs together to relieve the ache. You rolled your eyes as he continued his rant instead of using the time to keep you satisfied. That was his job, wasn’t it? To make you cum and make you feel nothing but pleasure, yet here he was shaming you for touching yourself. Granted, you did it without his permission and done so while he was asleep beside you, but still.

“Wouldn’t have touched myself if you treated me well.”

+ Stories in My Eyes - 1.2k, the one where dad!Harry gets woken up in the middle of the night

And while he liked to think that he had gotten the hang of—quite literally— his kid dangling on his leg like some sort of koala, pulling on his hair every time he gave Beau a piggy back ride, and the random visits late at night where the small child would stand at the doorway with his teddy bear so quietly only to say, “Can I sleep with you and mumma?” He was not at all prepared for tonight’s’ events.

+ Feather Boa - 1.5k, the one where harry comes home after the Grammys

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Oh, stop that!”

“Stop what?” Harry nudged the strap of his custom tote bag higher on his shoulder.

“You just won a Grammy, you goose!”

Harry’s gaze softened, endeared at how happy Y/N was for him. She was jumping on the tips of her toes, hands clasped in front of her as she stared at him with admiration and awe.

(s) Roughed Up - 2.8k, the one where harry’s domestic and y/n’s mind wanders

You whimper in return, almost collapsing straight on his body when Harry uses your body to move you up and down his cock. His curls flop on the soft pillow beneath his head, sweat matting the tiny hairs to his face. The way he looks at you with such intensity and a certain kind of awe as if he couldn’t believe that this was really happening is rewarding. Hooded eyes observing how your body twitches in his grip, gasping at how strong he felt underneath you like you were merely a ragdoll to be played wit

Pudding Cups - 1k, the one after harry steals food from the kitchen (Notes on Camp Extras)

“So is it common practice for counsellors to steal food from the kitchen?”

Harry lifts his head up at inquiry, shifting his attention from gently taking out the contents of the reusable bag towards Y/N. She was laying on his mattress, flat on her back as she stared at the wooden ceiling. If she looked closely, Y/N was sure that his light bulb was flickering the tiniest bit and usually, she would’ve been freaking out over the fact that she was in the middle of the woods, hovering over a potential power cut. But the fear subsided once she reminded herself that Harry was around.

“Hopefully not,” He muses with a suggestive eyebrow.

Drabbles:

(s) Drabble #1: Fratboy!Harry - 469 words, the one where y/n meets fratboy!harry at a party

Y/N snapped her head towards the member. When she applied for the rush, she didn’t expect that she would have to sleep with someone in order to officially join the sorority. “What? Why him?

Sadie chuckled, sensing the panic in her voice. “Don’t worry, Harry’s nice. Besides, everybody does it,” She swirled her drink around, mixing the liquids together. Her lashes draped over her cheeks, almost touching the apples. “Are you in?”

Drabble #2: Asshole!Harry - 848 words, the one where harry cheats

You were calm, silent, and patient to see where he would take the conversation. Guilt was not present when you stood face to face in a battle of tranquility that pierced through your heart. His eyes gleamed in concealed smugness while his tongue curled in endless apologies. You knew him too well that he didn’t even stand a chance to hide his true intentions. But to Harry, you were a naive little girl that failed to acknowledge the difference between his acting and the truth.

(s) Drabble #3: Tease - 1.4k, the one where harry teases y/n

Harry plunged two fingers in her hole carefully, biting his lip to suppress the sound he was bound to release from the feeling of her wet walls suffocating his digits. He delivered punctual thrust, making sure to graze her sensitive spot to heighten her arousal. “Harry,”

He stepped back abruptly, pulling his fingers out and creating distance between them. “We have dinner to get to,”

(s) Drabble #4: Dessert - 1.7k, the one where y/n makes dinner but harry wants dessert

His thoughts were always about her no matter how hard he tried not to. And the fact that she took the time out of her day to prepare him something that he will enjoy; well, Harry’s heart just about swelled up to three times the size in his thumping chest.

She pulled away, shaking her head adamantly, “No way! I spent all day cooking and you’re not gonna skip it just to eat my pussy,”

He the corners of his eyes squinted in offence at her description, “Your pussy’s top tier, baby.” Harry ‘tsked’ his tongue, “If yeh didn’t know that already, then I’m doing a horrid job,”

(s) Drabble #5: Mine - 579 words, the one where harry is obsessed with y/ns tits

But he couldn’t exactly do that when all Harry wanted to do was do her. The smooth skin was supported by a navy blue push-up bra; he could tell by the lace mesh that he could see peeking out. It gave Y/N every favour because Harry was trying so hard not to let saliva pool in his mouth and drip out in a line of drool, his eyes widening with each movement she made with her arms, jostling her boobs a little bit here and there.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” Y/N waved her arms to catch his attention. A frown creased her brows as he blinked sluggishly before finding enough coherence to recognize that she was trying to talk to him.

(s) Drabble #6: Early Mornings - 1k, the one where harry thinks y/n is prettiest in the morning

“Get to see ya’ when you’re most beautiful,” Harry tickled his nose on hers, smiling at the way the feature scrunched up as she giggled. He groaned at the contractions her walls gave while her tummy flipped in gentle laughter. “Oi! What’s so funny?” He smushed her face with kisses, pausing his thrust halfway through which had her whining.

Drabble #7: Getaway - 952 words, the one where harry is always cold in the mornings

"Y/N, have you taken my purple bathrobe?"

“No,” Y/N tugged the lavender coloured fabric by the sleeves first. Then, by the lapels draping over her chest, drawing them tighter to block the gust of wind currently caressing Harry’s floppy curls.

Twisting his body, a knowing look overtook Harry’s face as Y/N exited the cabin door. The sheepish smile on his lover’s face granting all the information he needed for this morning’s chilly inception.

There she was, clad in the said purple bathrobe.

Drabble #8: A Little Chilly - 451 words, the one where harry sleeps on the couch

“‘S my bed. Dunno why Lydia can’t jus’ stay on the couch,”

“It’s Y/N!” She wailed, walking closer to the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Dear, we didn’t know that you were coming home,” Anne tried reasoning with him, not seeing the gravity of the situation as Harry was making it out to be.

Text Messages:

Text Messages #1 - ‘would you love me if I was snail?’

Text Messages #2 - ‘did you know we had a quiz today?’

Text messages #3 - ‘did you steal my hoodie?’

Notes/Behind the Scenes

Notes: Tarnish

Notes: Stressed Out

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #masterlist #hes-writer

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elsewhereuniversity · 3 years

Text

rescue mission

It’s been five weeks and two days since Fake Dana was kil- disappeared and Real Dana came back. I didn’t know exactly what would happen to me should I complain about it to anyone but the dean, so I was laying low, but… the recent discovery of my roommate’s skin being a bright shade of green changed some of my plans.

When I told him - Threeox - about Real Dana murdering Fake Dana, and now living invisibly on the campus (I’d never seen her again), he sighed, locked the door and windows, before making me sit on the floor between our beds and getting out a small wooden key out of a seemingly lidless box made of shimmery dark brown wood. The box was amazingly carved, so much so that looking at it too long made me dizzy, and I had to close my eyes not to faint as the patterns on the lid started to sway as to a sharp breeze.

“Threeox, what’s that about ?” I asked, a little confused - and a whole lot scared.

That was probably not my smartest move - Threeox doesn’t talk per se, he just… gets his point across in a remarkable way that I had yet to pin down. A series of drawings of a cat with five eyes and a full ten minutes of interpretative dancing later, I kind of gathered that Fake Dana was trapped in the mirrors in the North Dorm, and couldn’t get out because of all the iron.

Naturally, I tried to organise a rescue mission, but gathering partners proved difficult. Real Dana apparently gained quite a reputation among the Student Witches, and everyone kept looking at me weirdly when I asked where Fake Dana was and if we could, like, rescue her maybe ? No one wanted to talk to me for more than two minutes, fidgeting uncomfortably and asking me if I’d packed my suitcase yet. I wasn’t going anywhere without Fake Dana, but hey, who am I to contradict the masses ? I’d just have to lay low a little longer.

It started on rocky grounds but I did gather for this mission a few seniors, all knights that had a history of being kind(er) to the Changelings, even though I’d never heard of them before. Their names were Toll, Bell and Eulogy, which - okay, some of us have weird names, but… It’s not that hard to pick a happy one. I couldn’t quite remember what mine was now but people had no trouble remembering me when I talked to them, so I assumed that was fine.

Add to the knights a freshman, EXO. Freshmen are probably a bit too young and frightened for that, but the fearless EXO wasn’t, uh, exactly a freshman ? Freshperson ? They were at least two metres tall and they had that look in their eyes that told you not to mess with them or they’d do unspeakable things that I, well, couldn’t speak of. Just know they were good for stuff like this. Or so I assumed, since they were the one who brought the knights to my bi-weekly “Where is Fake Dana” search.

We got some supplies: the baseball bat Fake Dana hid under my bed that one night the dean decided to do a room check, a good couple teaspoons of charcoal, some rags, a freaking battleaxe that Toll swooshed around like it weighed nothing, and that one river rock the archivist kindly lent us, and we departed for the wild wild north. Midnight seemed an appropriate time.

The dorm looked fancy, not gonna lie, the iron structure glimmered and almost rippled under the moonlight. I felt EXO shiver as we entered, their eyes losing any life that they might have had, their skin getting that weird greenish hue it didn’t have just moments before. The knights also shivered, but that might have been the cold.

The entrance was deserted, no sign of life save for a calico cat who meowed at us and tried to eat my shoelaces. She promptly departed when I told her they were a gift from the president, though I didn’t specify which president. It was the president of the cross-stitching club I was in in middle school, and she, uh, suffered from a slight eye issue after she looked through my hagstone. I mean, I did warn her about seeing the Nethers through the hole, but she didn’t listen.

Anyways, enough of that. Toll started to hack at the nearest door with his axe, waking up the poor unsuspecting students living there. “Where the fuck is she ?”, I asked, peeking around Toll’s shoulders. The two girls looked at each other, at Toll’s axe, at each other again, and one of them ended up spitting out “Basement. Third door to the left. Hope you die a slow, painful death, girl, you deserve it.”

Eulogy, true to her name, sang a few verses in Tamil, and we all collected our spirits before walking towards the basement. The iron in the walls seemed to sing to the beat of our steps, the doors creaking to the rhythm of our breaths. EXO seemed paler and paler under the dimmed overhead lights, until Eulogy sprayed us all with what I can only assume is water from that Wishing Well we’re not exactly supposed to talk about. That seemed to calm us down a little. I squeezed EXO’s hand when they looked at me questioningly, my smile thin and eyes dulled by fatigue. I couldn’t sleep that well since Fake Dana was gone, so I just wanted this to be over with already.

The third door was cracked open, but no sounds emanated from behind the heavy iron and the weird, Tolkien-inspired words of advice in elvish. I could recognise “The way is shut, and the Dead keep it”, which wasn’t even the full correct quote. The door swayed to an invisible breeze and it opened way too silently for something made of rusty metal. As we went down the stairs, we could hear the stone crackle with contained electricity, so much so that Toll, Bell and Eulogy decided to stay up to guard our backs. EXO grit their teeth but didn’t stop, grabbing Toll’s axe on the way.

“Good luck, bro, and good riddance, you girl,” Eulogy waved, and the three knights were gone as if they were never here. I wondered what she meant by that, but I couldn’t ask in time. EXO gestured to the stairs, mouth shut tight. I was kind of getting tired of everyone telling me I should leave, so I hoped at least Fake Dana would help with that. Hadn’t I been working so hard to rescue her ?

At the bottom of the narrow stairs were two doors, also made out of metal, and what Threeox told me about - the mirror.

Ten feet tall, circled with iron chains, the metal behind the glass pane was reminiscent of clouds, though it was most likely silver. I could see a prostrate silhouette in the bottom right corner, faint tremors running through her whole body, sobs muffled, whimpers of pain spread between fits of coughing.

I yelled something I couldn’t really understand, a guttural sound that made her raise her head, and I saw Fake Dana’s eyes grow wide as she recognised me.

“Missed me ?” She smiled, teeth sharp.

My throat went tight as she started to slam her fists against the glass. “It’ll be okay soon. I promise,” I said, examining the lock keeping the iron chains together.

“Hey, move, I’ll take care of it,” a voice I pinned on EXO whispered in my ear. “Tell her to stand back.”

I did so, and Fake Dana retreated to the far side of the mirrorspace. With three swipes of his axe, EXO managed to hack away most of the chains, and the rest I hastily discarded, fists pounding on the glass as Fake Dana pounded back.

“The key. The lock.”

“Fuck.” I started rummaging through my satchel, finally finding the small piece of wood that has slithered into the bag of crackers I keep for the crows. “Where is that fucking lock ?”

EXO gestured to the back of the mirror and helped me turn it around, their skin starting to sea as they kept pushing the metal. They eventually managed to shift it enough that I could wrestle my arm in and fit the key into an oddly shaped keyhole.

The back of the mirror started glowing a pale green before cracking open, revealing a room barely large enough to fit Fake Dana. Tears welling up in my eyes, I did my best to extract her without causing her too much damage until she finally made it out to the other side.

“Friend,” I said. “I didn’t think I’d ever find you ! Thankfully Threeox helped, and there’s - look,” I continued, turning back to face my rescue team, forgetting it was only me and EXO now.

They were smiling, too, and they gestured at the stairs. I understood what they meant - out.

I turned to Fake Dana again, still somewhat relieved to see her dry her tears and gracefully get up without giving me the time to offer help. She smiled like nothing was wrong. I followed her up the stairs and into the hall, her naked feet sizzling and leaving angry red marks on the floor, probably due to the iron dust covering every inch of the place. EXO swung the the front door open, touching the iron pane with a quickly blistering hand, and as I looked at them more closely, I couldn’t help but mouth “Threeox”.

“Oh shit, right, come here !” Fake Dana grabbed my face with both her hands, her palms wet with leftover tears and blood, the feel of them sending shivers down my spine. She spat in my eyes like she’d done before, and suddenly the night became less bright, her skin less pale, EXO’s features morphing into the face of my roommate, skin going from that red I’d been kinda surprised about, to the vibrant green that the cat warned me about.

Toll, Bell and Eulogy were nowhere to be seen. I started wondering if I’d dreamed about them, if they were ever here at all. Their names had stuck in my mind and once again I wondered what mine was. I know Sizzle, my roommate, was quite upset before shoving me out of the room - which room was that again ? 17 ? 23 ? I forgot.

Fake Dana interrupted my thoughts with a light shove on my arm. “You can leave, now, you’ll remember who you are soon. It’s okay, it’s done.”

“What’s done ?” I tried to ask, but my eyelids suddenly became so heavy I had trouble keeping them open.

The last thing I heard were guttural sounds, so unlike Fake Dana’s voice, and a wet caress on my back.

I woke up on this train a few moments ago. I don’t know where it’s going, except from “Far away” and “Not where I came from”. My suitcase is filled with all my belongings, except the iron jewellery I acquired during my two years as Elsewhere U. And as I look at the landscape we are zapping by, I do not recognise the streets nor the trees.

The only thing keeping me from falling asleep again is the sticky red liquid pouring out of my nose, making me curse out loud as I scramble for a handkerchief. The blood stops flowing after a while, and I catch my reflection in the window across me.

I have several streaks of white hair, the contrast sharp with my otherwise dark brown ponytail. My eyes are bloodshot and I have blood caked on my face in the shape of hands. My skin is pale, my eyes gleam a quickly fading red.

I remember it now. My name is Dana.

#hazblogs #rescue mission #stories #long post #dana #exo #threeox #fake dana #mirrors #submission

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bakugohoex · 3 years

Text

“y/n, if it was the end of the world and you asked to talk, i’d be there in a heartbeat”

pairing: wakatoshi ushijima x female reader

cw: fluff, angst, crying, langauge

word count: 3800+

a/n: this took like three hours to write so hopefully it doesn’t flop, i’m scared it might because it’s an ushijima fic and i don’t know that many people who acc simp over this man

summary: in which your recent break up had made you realise your unknown feelings for your roommate ushijima, whilst he’s trying to distract you from your break up, you end up meeting your ex where your feelings get revealed

↞ back to haikyu!! masterlist

The slam of the door signified the end of the long tumultuous relationship. It wasn’t like you loved the guy, he was the one to pursue you and he was nothing more than a passer-by in your life. So, why were you so upset? It was mainly the comments when the two of you had been arguing in your apartment. You were glad your roommate wasn’t here and at practice, you didn’t want him to witness the words that came from his mouth.

“You really are a fucking whore, you’ve probably been sleeping with that volleyball player” He was pacing back and forth, a tear falling down your face.

“I fucking wish I had.” You spoke nonchalantly, you had stopped caring about the relationship.

“You wish you had, stupid cunt, at least I had the balls to sleep with other girls, you really think you’re the shit don’t you.” He paused. “You’re worthless and no wonder nobody has stuck around.”

You wiped your tears away, going to the mirror in the bathroom. You knew Ushijima would be home soon and you didn’t need him to see you crying, you didn’t want him to ask about what had happened. Why did you even say you wish you had slept with him? You tensed more tears falling down your cheek. How fucking dare, he say all that shit about cheating, who was he to give an opinion on you anymore.

You shook your head wiping your tears, you were glad the weekend was here, not wanting to go back to classes at all. The university life was hard and being younger than Ushijima he had already become a professional volleyball player whilst you were in your last year.

He had met you through mutual friends and you two were both in need of roommates. It was the only reason for the arrangement to occur, you both rarely saw each other, mostly in the mornings before classes and practices and in the evenings. On weekends there was an exception with no early morning practice, so you saw him a lot more.

You walked out of the bathroom, needing food to fill the sad ridden hole in your heart. “Y/n, you home.”

You heard Ushijima’s footsteps come towards the kitchen. He was sweaty and tired from practice; you hid your sadness with a smile. It was fake and he could see in your eyes the fresh tears indicating that you weren’t okay, he didn’t ask knowing that you might just need space.

“How was practice?” You asked finding some milk, wanting cereal even though it was hitting 8pm.

“It was fine, Kageyama’s getting a lot better setting for other people.”

“He’s the new guy, right?” You had heard about Kageyama from Bokuto who you had known since high school. He told you about the training camps he had been on with Kageyama and Hinata.

“Yeah, in my last year, his school beat us.” He spoke tiredly, it seemed like he had gotten over the lose as quickly as it happened. “You only have cereal at night when you’re sad.”

“Oh, you noticed.” You whisper pouring the milk on the cereal.

He nodded, resting his head on his hand. You spoke again sitting in front of him, he looked even more tired than normally. But was still staying up to talk to you, “I’m now single.”

“Oh, are you okay?” He didn’t know what else to ask looking up at you with his olive eyes looking up at you, to anybody this would look like his normal stoic self but you his eyes showed a type of comfort.

“Yeah, we both said some stuff we regret.” The five words you had previously shouted skimmed through your mind.

He grabbed another bowl on the side, taking the cereal and milk and eating as well. You smiled softly at the boy, helping him make sure nothing spilt on the sides. “As long as you’re happy.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” You whisper, you both sat in a comfortable silence, eating and just appreciating the presence both of you brought.

“Practice got cancelled tomorrow.” You had been washing the dishes as Ushijima walked back in having got changed, the grey joggers and white shirt encased his muscles and hard body.

You turned to face the boy, ever since saying the words all you could think about was ripping his clothes off and letting him take all of you. You knew he has a big cock; it was obvious not just from how you could sometimes see the indent through his joggers especially now. But the amount of big dick energy memes that Ushijima got from his friends that you had to explain to him.

He smiled to you, grabbing his water bottle before speaking again, “we should hang out, you can get over your boyfriend then.” He was very blunt about your feelings towards your ex-boyfriend and as much as you wanted to be isolated in your room. You needed to prove to him and yourself that you weren’t going to stay pent up over a relationship that didn’t matter at all.

“Sure, what do you want to do?” You ask, his gaze moving from his phone to your smaller frame, you had come closer to him and he gulped at how you were almost touching arm-to-arm.

“Hoshiumi told us about this new restaurant that opened up, they serve sushi.” You smiled at the boy.

“I can go for some sushi.” He smiled back putting a hand on your shoulder, it sent a burst of electricity through you and all wished for was that hand wrapped around your neck.

He left as soon as he came, you could sense he needed sleep so let him go without another word. You went into your own room, it had potted plants and pictures from high school and university, there were some with Fukurodani’s team, you and Akaashi, you and the MSBY Black Jackals and even you and Ushijima from a night out.

He was tipsy which led him to be blunter which you enjoyed hearing his opinions of people. His arm was lazily around your shoulder as he bent down his mouth to your ear. The photo was amusing and brought you joy at the close contact.

You didn’t bother staying awake, trying to fall asleep, but all you could do was cry.

He shouted out, “you’re so fucking stupid, get it through that thick skull that you were always just my sex toy.”

The words echoed through your head as more tears fell down your face. You didn’t care about him, you hated him. But the more you thought about the wasted days on him and the loveless sex, it angered you.

You had fallen asleep, but nightmares ran through your head, you were panting in your sleep, moving back and forth at the feeling of worthlessness. You screamed waking up, sweat dripped from your forehead as tears fell down your face. It wasn’t the normal tears you had had, you were sobbing, the wetness never ending.

You heard your door open, seeing a shirtless tired Ushijima walk in, he didn’t say anything, only moving to sit on your bed. He saw the tears and breathlessness, you both didn’t speak, until you felt his arm around you softly.

The way you instantly clung onto him, the tears falling. Even if you could never have the stoic boy, it was nice to have him around you. “What happened?”

You were about to explain the dream before he brought a finger to your lips to stop you. “Not about your dream, about him, what did he say to you?”

You looked up at him, his arm still around you, your hair dishevelled and most of all your face damp, “he called me w…worthless, a cunt, a whore, just a…a sex toy.”

Ushijima’s jaw clenched at your vulnerability, “if I ever see him, I’m going to kill him.” He mutters, it was probably the first time you heard any emotion come from him. “He’s fucking stupid Y/n, he never deserved you.”

“I know, I hate h…him, but the w…words, am I not everything he said.” Tears continued to fall as you felt Ushijima’s hands cup your cheek wiping the tears away. You leant your head against his exposed chest, he looked down at you, a softness collapsing inside of him.

“Y/n, you should’ve talked to me before.”

You look at him, he didn’t look at you, looking at the pictures and plants, a soft smile as he saw the photo of you two. “You were tired, and you have other things to worry about than…”

He interrupts you gazing into your eyes, “Y/n, if it was the end of the world and you asked to talk, I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

A soft smile placed on your face, you truly appreciated him. He let you vent your feelings for a couple more minutes before you got tired again. “Can you stay?”

The whisper and hesitation in your voice made Ushijima give a small smile before nodding. He may be a man of little words but the way he slept beside you, you hesitated to create any contact. But as you turned on your side facing away from him, you felt his arms moving to your waist. The way you felt protected and loved, your back pressing against his base chest, it was paradise and everything you needed.

You both woke up entangled in each other’s arms, your body had turned inwards as Ushijima slept on his back. A secure arm still around you but your own hand had rested on his chest, feeling each muscle tense under you.

“Good morning.” His voice was rough and tired, you giggled at how he remained under you. It was as if he wasn’t acknowledging the closeness.

“Morning.” You smile back, “what time are we going to the sushi place?”

He checks the clock on your beside table, seeing it only being half eight. He turns to face you again, “we should go mid-day I want to show you something afterwards.”

You nod at the boy but the nosiness in you made you start to annoy the boy, “what do you want to show me?”

“It’s a surprise Y/n.”

“You’re so mean Toshi.” The nickname fell off your lips without you realising, his face hinted at some redness before he didn’t meet your gaze.

“Be patient Y/n.” You rolled your eyes looking at your ceiling, glow in the dark stars scattered across.

“The stars don’t even glow properly, why did you buy them?”

You elbowed his side, which you forget was bare, he didn’t move probably not even feeling it, “they were a present, I love stars and space.”

“I can tell.” He spoke getting up, his back was away from you, he rolled his shoulders, making you see his back muscles all you wanted to do was touch them and scratch them all up. “Get ready.”

He left the room, not even meeting your glance, you quickly did your morning routine, before going to make breakfast, making some for Ushijima after last night. You heard the shower turn off just as you put down the plates of pancakes, he walked in his hair wet and down. He was too pretty to be human; the way water beads fell to his torso where his joggers encased his thighs.

You were almost drooling at the boy, everything you had taken for granted before was becoming increasingly perfect to you. “I made pancakes” You gulped out.

“Thank you.” He sat in front again, as you passed him a plate, he started to speak about his friend who had become a chocolatier, his friend seemed to be the opposite to him. “You remind me of him, he was always the enthusiastic type.”

“I’m surprised you were friend’s with him, he seems more talkative than you are.”

“I grew comfortable with him to express myself more, I talk more with you than I normally do.” He spoke eating, you could see the maple syrup wrap around his lips, he licked them. Your mouth agape as you couldn’t control the feeling inside of you. It was a small action that made your legs tense moving closer together.

He continued to speak, getting more comfortable to talk more than he normally did. Even you had said less words than he had, and you were normally the one to carry conversations.

“I’ll wash up, you get changed.” You nodded at the man, as you skipped away. He watched how you moved thinking of last night.

You were vulnerable and all he wanted to do was make you know that you were wanted. Holding you in his arms all he felt was an electric love flow through him. Your tight shirt had hung on you perfectly, he could see every part of your body and the shorts did little to hide your legs. If you hadn’t have been crying, he would’ve taken you right there.

He continued his thoughts about last night as you got changed. Contemplating to what to wear, you wanted to look nice, even if it wasn’t a date, you wanted to make him swoon. You saw the chilly outside, finding some trousers that hugged your thighs before flaring out at the bottom, you wore them and an oversized sweatshirt. You couldn’t be bothered to wear a coat and as you dried your hair letting it set you did your makeup, you looked perfect well that’s what you hoped he would say.

You walked out, trying to find your shoes with a small bag around your body. Ushijima had been waiting leaning against the sofa, his face concentrated on his phone. He had no social media, so you had no idea what had been intriguing him as much as it had. You often tried to plead him to get something so you could send him funny memes, but he’d remain silent patting your head like a dog. It was a silent way of him say no kindly.

He looked up, his white button up shirt and jeans on fitting him nicely. He was never one to care about his appearance, but the white shirt left nothing to your imagination, you could see every indent, he held a coat in his arms, as he eyed you up and down.

“Do I not look nice?” You were hesitant on your outfit choice now.

He scratched his head looking at you, “You look perfect.”

You smiled looking down, “we should get going.”

The walk and drive to the sushi place was quiet, you had been longing for any type of touch from him. But he kept his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel as the other was biting his nail. The tension in the air, he wanted to ask if you were doing okay, but didn’t want to make you sad.

He went against the thought anyway and asked, “are you doing okay?” He was parking the car, looking out the back window, his arm around your seat, as you could see his arms, the way his biceps tensed and face locked. He was a beauty, and you were swooning hard.

“I’m fine, I want to thank you for last night, it really meant a lot.” You stopped looking at his arms, the way your head had been a mere inch from his arms.

You looked down at your fingers waiting for him to speak, “Everything I said last night was the truth.” You nodded not wanting to say anymore.

You both started walking towards the sushi place, it wasn’t that cold, but you could feel a cold breath of air hitting your face. You wanted to just wrap around the tall boy but went against your thoughts as he opened the sushi place doors.

It looked nice and cosy and there was a mass of customers, clearly a popular place. You both got lead to a table, it was cute and near the window, so you could admire the sky. “It’s on me, so choose whatever you want.”

You looked at him, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, “I can’t let you do that, it’s…”

“I want too.” You didn’t bother fighting, both ordering what you wanted.

You started to talk about Uni and how much your professors hated you, “I’m serious, I was like five minutes late and I got a shouting out at the end of the lecture.”

“You should’ve just explained why you were late.” He played with the straw of his drink.

“I couldn’t really be saying I was late because I had been binge watching My Hero Academia, could I?”

“Was that the night, I had to come into your room to tell you to shut up.” You face flushed at how Ushijima had seen you wrapped in your covers watching the show, your eyes had been bloodshot, and bags had formed under your eyes.

You nod as he smirks, “you looked like a raccoon.”

“hey, raccoons can look cute.”

He raised an eyebrow, “I don’t know what kind of raccoons you’ve met.”

Your food came as you gave a soft smile at the boy, “Did you know racoons have actually be around for 40,000 years.”

He stared blankly at you, “there is no reason for you to ever need that information.”

“There is, I can annoy you with random facts now.” He remembered every time you’d come into his room and tell him a stupid fact you had learnt about from Tiktok.

He watched you eat, and speak, the conversation allowing both of you to talk and laugh, even the stoic Ushijima allowed himself to laugh a couple times. It wasn’t as silent as you had thought it had been when he asked last night.

But good things don’t last, you heard the door open again, before seeing the waitress bring in a couple, they sat beside you, and Ushijima’s face fell as soon as he saw who it was. He was ready to punch the man but restrained himself as you hadn’t noticed them.

“Y/n.” Hearing your name you turned and saw your ex.

Your face fell as you stopped talking about what you had learnt in an astronomy society you had joined at uni. “Oh.”

“Whose this?” The girl in front of him asked as she looked at disgust at you, but at the sight of Ushijima she began flaunting herself.

“This is my ex, moving on with your roommate, I was right then, you had slept with him.” You didn’t speak keeping quiet, “you always were a slut.”

Ushijima’s blood boiled, what right did this insignificant man have to belittle you, “She’s hasn’t, yet, but when she does, just know that I’ll fuck her better than you ever could, and I’ll make her cum more than you ever will.”

Shock. Your eyes widened at Ushjima’s bluntness, you knew he was blunt but this, this was another level. He looked at you as if he hadn’t just said what he said.

“Fucking whore.” Your ex muttered but you ignored him looking at Ushijima.

“I’m going to go pay.” Ushijima mutters, you stayed silent, still in shock, your ex and his new girl kept to themselves, but even she looked at Ushijima who was paying, her gaze never left him. Your ex had grown frustrated with the lack of attention on him.

Ushijima was perfect to look at but all you could think about were the words that had came out of his mouth. You took a breath of air as he walked back, he put his hand out.

Your face softened as you took it, he helped you up before you felt his grip tighten not leaving you. He didn’t speak about his early remark, and you were silent, different things going through your head. But most of all, was this a confession of love or just him wanting to fuck you.

“The surprise is a couple minutes, are you okay to walk?” You nod not speaking, he stares at you knitting his eyebrows in confusion, “did I say something wrong?”

His lack of awareness made your heart beat, even he didn’t realise the implications of what he said. “No, everything’s fine.”

You followed along, his hand still wrapped in your own, he would squeeze it occasionally, but you ignored it. You finally reached what looked like a museum. Confusion filled your face before you looked at the sign outside.

‘Talk on everything to do with space, 2pm in the main auditorium’

You looked at Ushijima, “how did you know I wanted to go?”

“I heard you a couple weeks ago, you asked your ex if you could both go, and he said no. I got us two tickets.”

Ushijima smiled showing the two tickets, the date stamped of when he bought it had been weeks ago, you smiled at him. Before you both went inside, you stopped him, “what you said in front of my ex, did you mean it?”

“What?” He questioned before nodding, “Oh, yeah as much as I do want to fuck you, I thought this date would be better.”

“D…Date.” You hadn’t even realised this was a date at how oblivious you were.

“I wouldn’t ask anybody to get sushi and watch the stars with me.” His lip twitched upwards.

The word ‘date’ still ran through your head at how confused you were. “I didn’t know.”

“I assumed you did, I should’ve been straight forward as usual, my apoli...”

You stop him, grabbing his shirt forward, he leant down knowing what you were about to do. Before your lips attached to one another, his hand moved to your waist bringing you forward, he had to bend his back to reach your height, but he didn’t care he just wanted to feel your lips on his. He continued to deepen the kiss, his hands gripping your sides, before one moved to your neck, softly wrapping it around your throat. You moaned a sign you liked it as he continued to lightly press it.

His tongue flicked against your lips, you moaned his name, a sound he had been craving to hear before his tongue wrapped around your own, your breathing heavy, you were glad nobody was near you, all being inside due to it getting more frigid. He finally let you go, his hand still on your neck but moving to your cheek, his thumb brushing up and down.

“I like you Toshi.”

“I like you too Y/n.” It was the words you both had longed to hear from one another, and he grabbed your hand again bringing you even closer than before, you walked into the show, happily and content with the new relationship blossoming between you two.

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serendipitystyles · 4 years

Text

Mercy

Pairing: Roommate!Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: Exactly 4,100

Summary: Having a roommate is hard, benign in love with them is harder. What’s hardest, though, is them not loving you back.

Warning(s): Mutual pining, sadness, both parties being lowkey dumb, sudden changes, a letter, absolutely no dialogue

A/N: This is my third piece for the Illuminate Masterlist!! I don’t personally like the way that this one ends, but I do like the fact that this is my first piece without any dialogue. I hope everyone enjoys it!! I cried writing it, but that may be just because I’m emotional. Hopefully it’s not too bad jfhdskaj.

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You've got a hold of me Don't even know your power I stand a hundred feet But I fall when I'm around you

Having a roommate can be hard, that’s a known fact. You must get along with your roommate, communicate, and have compatible personalities for the arrangement to work. If any one of those things are off, the entire thing can fall apart.

Having a roommate is hard, but having clearly unrequited feelings for your roommate is even harder. There were multitudes of issues that came with this.

He couldn’t see you in your shared living space without his stomach tying itself in knots. When you were in the same room with him, close enough to where he could smell your perfume and hear you breathe, his heart goes into overdrive. It’s like his pulse is trying to get first place in the race, and he can’t slow it down for the life of him. Which isn’t always a great thing because he’ll get out of breath quickly and then he’ll have to go on the search for his inhaler because he genuinely cannot breathe.

It hadn’t started like this, Harry hadn’t always had feelings for you. But after living with you for almost a year, he had gotten to know every part of you. He had seen the ups and the downs, the good and the bad. He was there when you were laughing so hard that tears were streaming down your face, and he was also there when you were sobbing to the point that you almost got sick.

He had seen you at your worst, but that didn’t mean that much to you. He was just a friend, a close one at that.

That killed him. More than anything, he didn’t want to be your friend. He yearned to be the person that you fell asleep with and woke up curled into. To be the person that got to show you the love and affection that you deserve. To get the privilege of loving you.

But he knows that the feelings are unrequited, knows that you don’t see him that way. At first, he had thought you could. That maybe, just maybe, you could have the tiniest hint of feelings for him.

But that thought was quickly squashed by the boyfriends, and the one night stands, and the crushes. All of which you talked to him about. He knows you, talking to someone you like about things like that isn’t something that you do.

Harry had spent a long time mourning something that had never begun, and then he realized that the feelings weren’t going to go away. He hoped and prayed that they would, but they never did.

So, he spent just about every single day wishing that he was yours, but never being able to say that he was.

He spent his waking hours being constantly brought down by you. Not in a purposeful way. It’s just that as Harry Styles, the worldwide musical sensation, he was sort of used to getting what he wanted. He wasn’t cocky or anything, but he was confident in who he was. But there was just something about you that made him feel completely inferior, all because he wasn’t someone that you had feelings for.

Show me an open door Then you go and slam it on me I can't take anymore I'm saying baby

Living with Harry was pure torture. There’s no other way to put it. Living under the same roof with someone that you’re head over heels for, but not being able to show them is absolute torture.

You had tried to tell him, tried to hint to him that you were into him. For a while, you would hug him more, would just go up to him and hug him at random times. You’d order him food when you ordered your own, even if he didn’t ask for it. You’d invite him to watch movies with you and then say you were cold so that you could share the blanket with him.

He never seemed to take the hints, however, never seemed to understand what you were trying to say. At first, you thought ath he was just being dumb about the whole thing and not realizing that you were trying to show him how much you cared about him.

But then you pulled the timeless trick, the one that everyone used at least once in middle school, you talked about other guys to see if he got jealous. When he didn’t, when he just talked about them with you and gave you advice on how to get with them, you realized that it wasn’t just the fact that he didn’t see the hints, it was that he didn’t care. And that hurt more than you thought that it would.

After that, you were scared that you were going to act differently around him, so you closed him off a little bit, stopped dropping hints and just went back to how you used to be. It made everything feel weird at first, seeing as you had been acting that way for months.

What really confused you about the whole thing, though, was that he seemed to not have feelings and to not care if you would date someone else, but every time you would bring someone to meet him, he automatically hated them. On any occasion when you were just lounging around the house, he would randomly come up to you and put his arms around you, cuddling into you and holding you close. For a while, he would always find a way to be touching you.

You thought that you would be happy that he was like that, but the mixed signals that he was throwing out were driving you crazy. You didn’t know how you were supposed to get over him, to accept the fact that he didn’t reciprocate the feelings that you had, when he acted the way that he did.

Please have mercy on me Take it easy on my heart Even though you don't mean to hurt me You keep tearing me apart Would you please have mercy, mercy on my heart Would you please have mercy, mercy on my heart

In all honesty, he knew that you didn’t mean to put him through the pain that you did. He’s completely aware of the fact that you don’t purposefully break his heart. You just don’t have the same feelings that he does, and that’s okay. He’s not going to beg you to love him. He just wishes that the pain of living with you and not being yours would subside.

There are a lot of things that he’s learned since the two of you moved in together. But the most life changing thing that he’s learned in that time is that not everything works out. And not everything can be fixed or altered to where it does work out.

There are just some things that aren’t meant to happen. He didn’t want to believe that for a long time, didn’t want to think that there are some things, some aspects of life, that are truly unattainable. He’s always believed that everything is possible, so for him to realize, and accept, that not everything can happen was a major step for him.

He thought that realizing that you were out of reach would make it easier to cope with the pain of unrequited love, but that’s not what happened in the slightest.

If anything, it seemed to make it even worse. He would look over at you while you were eating dinner or watching a movie together and he’d get entranced by your beauty. And then, ultimately, he would get sad and want to go back to his room.

The fact that you were so perfect, so wonderful and lovely, yet so out of reach killed him inside.

He found himself wanting to find a new place, to move out so that you didn’t have to deal with his pining (that he knew just had to be completely obvious) and so he didn’t have to torture himself by loving you and being so close yet so far away from you.

He ended up deciding against that idea, knowing that it would take you forever to find a new roommate that you liked and that you couldn’t pay the entirety of the rent by yourself. For a bit he thought about paying his half of the rent until you found a new roommate, but he knew that if he wasn’t actively using the space, then you wouldn’t accept his money.

And regardless of how he felt, he wouldn’t leave you to struggle on your own.

I'd drive through the night Just to be near you, baby Heart open, testify Tell me that I'm not crazy

You’d do anything for him. How does he not see that? How does he not care?

In the time that you had been sharing an apartment with him, he had never once let you help him with anything. It was frustrating more than anything.

You caught him one night stumbling through the door at three in the morning. He was so clearly drunk, and by the looks of it, he wasn’t doing well. You tried your hardest to help him get to bed, but he pushed you away, claiming that if he needed anyone’s help, it definitely wouldn’t be yours.

The night, you had gone to bed crying, not understanding why he was so against you helping him.

The next day, he didn’t say anything about it, and neither did you. He acted like there was nothing to talk about, and you just didn’t want to relive the embarrassment of being told that he’d rather have anyone else help him than you.

What you did to get that side of him, you couldn’t figure out. You hadn’t done anything to him at all, especially not lately.

Maybe he just figured out exactly how whipped you are for him and he finds it weird. Maybe he thinks you’re crazy, maybe even a little pathetic for being so in love with him when he couldn’t care less about you.

I'm not asking for a lot Just that you're honest with me My pride is all I got I'm saying baby

There’s nothing that Harry hates more than hurting you. He hates himself every time the flicker of it passes through your eyes when he pushes you away. When he lies straight to your face and tells you he doesn’t need you. When he pushes you away.

He tells you that it’s for the sake of your friendship. That no matter what, he doesn’t want to ruin that with you. But the truth, the part that he doesn’t want to admit, is that he’s trying to make everything easier on him.

He knows it’s selfish. He’s aware of the fact that he’s being rude to you for reasons that aren’t valid. He feels like an awful person for it, but he doesn’t know how to stop doing it. He wants to treat you how you deserve to be treated. He wants to stop making you upset, but he genuinely can’t figure out how to.

He wants to tell you everything, explain it to you so that maybe you’ll understand. But Harry can’t even let his pride go. It always gets in the way of him making the right decisions.

Usually, he can stop his pride from getting too involved in situations. He can stop it from ruining things. But here he was, hurting you, and not being able to fix it because of his pride.

Please have mercy on me Take it easy on my heart Even though you don't mean to hurt me You keep tearing me apart

You were indecisive. Always had been, probably always would be. This is the exact reason why you’re up at the crack of dawn debating the pros and cons of moving out.

You don’t want to leave him, that’ll probably hurt the most. But there’s just so much that you can’t take anymore. You can’t handle him pushing you away more and more every time that you’re around him. You can’t handle the way the apartment feels empty even when both of you are home. You can’t handle the way that the silence is deafening because nobody ever speaks.

There’s a part of you that thinks - or more like hopes - that he doesn’t mean to hurt you like this. That maybe there’s just something going on with him that you’re not aware of.

But the bigger part of you, the part of you that is thinking logically, believes that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Would you please have mercy on me I'm a puppet on your string And even though you got good intentions I need you to set me free Would you please have mercy, mercy on my heart Would you please have mercy, mercy on my heart

He was slowly going insane sitting in his room and not having the guts to just walk down the hall and knock on your door. Anyone else would have told you by now. Anyone else would have just gotten over themselves and told you how they felt.

Why couldn’t he just get up and make his way to you? Why couldn’t he seem to make the right choice here?

For the past few months, everything had felt like it was being controlled by you in some way. It wasn’t like you were legitimately controlling his actions, but there was always that thought in the back of his mind asking what you would do or what you would want him to do.

While lying on his bed, he’s aware of the fact that you would want him to just man up and tell you, that you would just want him to have the courage to go after what he wants.

For the first time in what felt like years, he goes against what he thinks you would wish for him to do. He’s relieved at the time. He’s so glad that he has the willpower to act the complete opposite of what his thoughts about you tell him to.

If he had known just how bad that one decision would have messed up everything, he wouldn’t have been nearly as relieved that night.

Consuming all the air inside my lungs Ripping all the skin from off my bones I'm prepared to sacrifice my life I would gladly do it twice

You feel bad for leaving him, for deciding to move out. But after thinking about it, the cons majorly outweighed the pros.

That night, you decide that you’re moving out. You’ll pack your clothes and some boxes, load up your car, and have your friends come pick up whatever’s left.

You don’t really want to leave without saying anything to him, but there’s nothing that you could say to him that you think he would listen to. He doesn’t even want you around him most of the time. There’s no way that he’d want a face to face about why you’re leaving.

So, you do the next best thing. You write a letter. You sit down at your desk and pick up your favorite pen. Pulling out your notebook, you begin to write.

After you’re done, you take your clothes and the few boxes that you could get packed to your car. Before you say your final goodbye to the space that you’d called your mind for so long, you leave the letter on the counter next to the coffee pot.

He’d find it in the morning, right after he woke up. You’d be long gone by then.

You shrug on your jacket and make your way out of the apartment, locking the door behind you and holding back the tears that had been threatening to surface since you had the initial thought of moving out.

Consuming all the air inside my lungs Ripping all the skin from off my bones I'm prepared to sacrifice my life I would gladly do it twice

He didn’t sleep well. His brain had kept him awake, coming up with scenario after scenario of how things could have gone if he just told you how he felt. More often than not, though, those scenarios ended up having a horrible outcome.

He trudged out of his room at the crack of dawn, knowing that once he woke up he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Not after how hard it was to get to bed in the first place.

The entire walk to the kitchen, something feels off. It’s like there’s something missing. He doesn’t dwell too long on it. He’s not usually out of bed this early. Maybe you’re still asleep.

When he gets to the kitchen, he doesn’t go straight to the counter. He stops at the pantry first, pulling out some crackers to snack on. He makes his way over to the counter to brew some coffee and the envelope that he’s faced with makes his blood run cold.

Why was there an envelope with his name on it on the counter? In your handwriting? And why did you feel the need to write a letter instead of just coming to him and saying whatever needed to be said?

He doesn’t open the letter yet, deciding instead to brew a pot of coffee and drink a cup. He knows that he’ll most likely need to be completely awake to read the contents of the letter.

Please have mercy on me Take it easy on my heart Even though you don't mean to hurt me You keep tearing me apart

You didn't know when he’d be up. You didn’t know when he’d see the letter. You didn’t even know if he’d read it. What you did know, however, is that you weren’t ready for the next twenty four hours. If he found the letter and decided to read it, he may text you to talk about it. Or even worse, he may not text you at all. He may just let everything die right then and there.

Your worst fear of the entire thing, though, was that he wouldn’t read it at all. That he would notice that you left and feel such a sense of betrayal that he would just throw out the letter.

If he never read it, you wouldn’t know. Chances are, you wouldn’t know what he did in general. But there was a part of you that was wishing upon everything that he would read it. That letter said everything. And if he decides to read it and not want to say anything, then that’s fine. But the thought of his not reading everything that you wrote down was gut wrenching. You had poured your soul into that letter and left it for him.

Would you please have mercy on me I'm a puppet on your string And even though you got good intentions I need you to set me free

He took the letter back to his room after checking the house for you. You were gone. He had pushed you to the point of leaving. Had he really been that daft? Were you really hurting that bad? He had been so caught up in himself that he didn’t even realize that you were going through things of your own.

As he opens the envelope, he can feel his breathing get heavier. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get through this.

He unfolds the papers that you poured your heart into and behind to read.

Harry,

By the time that you read this, I’ll be gone. I’ve thought about this for a long time. Thought about the pros and the cons of leaving the apartment. I know it’s awful of me to leave without saying anything to you, but I just can’t take it anymore.

I also know that it’s horrendous to tell you what I’m about to in a letter, but there’s no way that I could have been brave enough to say this to your face.

I’m in love with you. Like head over heels, wrapped around your finger, whipped. I don’t know for sure when it happened. I don’t know the exact day. I do know that there wasn’t one single moment that made me fall in love with you, it was a collection of every memory that we have with one another.

It was the first time that I saw you. You were the most famous person that I had ever met, but I didn’t even know that. I’ve always stayed away from social media and there were a limited amount of people in my life. But you walked into that store that day and you were immediately the only person that I could see. You blushed at me, stopped and asked if I wanted something. I was so confused at the time, but now I understand that you probably thought that I was a fan. When I said no, you just smiled and went on with your day.

It was also the day we became roommates. You called about my ad (which probably was an awful way to find a roommate now that I think back on it, but I’m glad that I did it because without it I wouldn’t have found you again). You were so nervous. You looked like it was the most important meeting that you had ever been in. You impressed me with how nice you were.

It was all the times that you held the door for me. All the times that you put me first when you didn’t have to. It was every time that you let me borrow your clothes because they made me feel more comfy.

It was every time you’d look me directly in the eyes while we talked. I knew you were listening to every word that I had to say when you did that.

It was everything that you did for me. It was like every action was a piece of the puzzle that made me fall in love with you.

I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time, but there was always something holding me back.

At first, it was me. I was scared that I’d ruin the friendship. That someone like you could never in a million years like me. I was terrified that if I told you about the feelings that I had, you’d be disgusted.

Then, we were drifting. I don’t know if it was you, or if it was me, or if it was the both of us. But we weren’t the same that we were. We were different, farther from each other than we ever have been.

And then you came in drunk and I tried to help you. I tried to get you to bed. You told me you’d rather have anyone else’s help than mine. Anyone but me.

That’s what really pushed me. I couldn’t live under the same roof as you and be so helplessly in love with you and have you not even want me around.

So, I made the decision to move out. I know that you’ll need to find a new roommate. I already have a few people who are looking for one. I’ll leave their numbers at the end of this letter along with their names.

This has gotten a lot longer than I ever intended for it to be, but the point is: I’m in love with you. And if you want to leave it at this, that’s okay. If you never want to talk to me again, that’s okay. I don’t need you to be in love with me. I just want you to be happy. Do what makes you happy, H.

All the Love,

Y/N

I'm begging you for mercy, mercy Begging you, begging you, please, baby I'm begging you for mercy, mercy Ooh, I'm begging you, I'm begging you

By the time that he finishes the letter, there are tears freely flowing down his face. He can’t hold it back.

You love him? God, he messed this up big time, huh?

He doesn't know what he can do to fix this, but he knows where to start.

I read your letter, saw the numbers and names. Thought I’d tell you that I don’t want another roommate. I just want you. Can we meet somewhere to talk?

He puts his phone down, waiting for the reply that he may never receive.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little piece that I whipped up :))

If you have any questions or comments, you can send me an ask here!!

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#Zoey Writes #hs #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #2020

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Until Yesterday

➜ Words: 10.4k

➜ Genres: 75% Fluff, 22% Angst, 3% Smut

➜ Summary: You and Taehyung are hopeless as you are hopeless romantics. But five months after tying the knot and saying "I do", you're hospitalized after a car accident with him. But upon waking up, the doctors tell you that you don't have a husband.

➜ Notes: Inspired by the movie The Vow (2012) and a bit of The Notebook (2004). This is purely an indulgent fic for all my hopeless romantics out there, so it’s a bit different from my usual!

cr.

Marriage was nothing like they told you. It’s true that not much has changed from when you were dating or engaged, that merely the title of your relationship has slightly altered, but you have no regrets doing it at all. They always told you to wait until the honeymoon phase was over — that you'll find yourself tired and driven crazy by him. They told you to wait a few years down the line when you’re not having sex anymore and you’ll be so sick of each other, it’ll be like living with an awful roommate-child than being a couple in love. You’ll be bored when something becomes a normal routine, they said. But it isn’t like that at all. If anything, you’re more in love with Taehyung than ever. “We should put the couch right here.” “Well, we need to buy a couch first, Tae.” “Didn’t you like the leather one we saw today?” “I mean...I didn’t love it and it’s a bit pricey, don’t you think?” “It’s fine. Leave it to me and the bank account!” The blonde grins and pats his own chest and it only garners your scoff. “I’ll take care of you. It’s the least I can do.” “I make the same as you, idiot.” It took years of hard work and dedication for the two of you to get to where you are, to have landed your dream jobs and built your dream house together. But of all the sweat and tears, you wouldn’t trade the outcome for anything else. The house was newly built in a developing neighbourhood, the scent of cut wood and paint still lingering in each room. The white picket fence surrounds the seashell home with the dark brown roof, glass windows large and bringing light into the open concept structure along with the skylights. It has the cherry wood door reminiscent to that of your old dollhouse and a swing out back tied to the tree that Taehyung wanted. It was all the two of you could’ve ever dreamed of and you’re eager to move in, to bring in your furniture and allow this home to grow with you. “Why is the master bedroom larger than I remembered?” Taehyung’s laugh echoes down the hall and you hear footsteps becoming louder against the wooden floorboards. “Maybe the construction team came in during the middle of the night and expanded the room for us for free.” “Yeah maybe,” you playfully quip back at him. “Maybe they’ll consider expanding our backyard too, so we can put that marble fountain in. It might cost more than this house, but you said I could trust in you and the bank account, right?” Taehyung peels you off of him when you glue yourself to his side and giggle. Batting your lashes at him has little effect. “Fountain is still a no-go, sweetheart.” You grin at him and waltz to the adjacent room, peeking your head into the modest space. “We still need to decide what to do with this spare room, Taehyung. If we want to turn it into another bedroom for when your mom visits or maybe an office.” Suddenly, arms wrap around your waist and you ease as your husband props his chin on your shoulder. It’s one of his many habits of his that you love. “How about we save it for a nursery?” The corner of your mouth quirks and you turn your head. “Are you sure?” “As sure if you are.” You spin around in his arms to plant a kiss against his mouth — one where Taehyung steals the opportunity and deepens it, catching you off guard. He pulls you in by your waist when you threaten to pull apart and he smiles at the whimper that comes out of you. When the pair of you finally part, you’re unable to resist the smile that spreads into your cheeks and your arms loop around his neck. “Kim Taehyung, aren’t you blessed? There’s no one I’d rather have a baby with than you.” His mouth forms into a rectangular grin. “You shouldn’t tempt me when we’re going to be late for our reservations already.” “Late?” Your lips fall and you check your watch before your eyes grow wide. Taehyung laughs and strolls behind you as you rush out, grabbing your coat and screaming at him to get the car started. It’s another one of those date nights. One where intimate conversations are shared over a candlelight dinner. Until Taehyung accidentally catches the tablecloth on fire and the candlelight is removed by an exasperated waiter and the intimacy in your discussion ends up with him doing something dumb and water nearly spewing out of your nose from laughing, and the other patrons are glaring at the ruined atmosphere. Still, with a generous tip paid, you leave full and happy. “Anything you want to watch tonight?” you ask as he’s driving. It’s peaceful with the roads emptier at this time of night and the radio playing some generic pop song in the back. You count the lamp posts that pass by. “Hmm...how about we do something else tonight.” Your head turns. “Like what?” Taehyung steals a glance at you and smirks. “I was thinking that we would drive back to the new house and break in that mattress we just got. Maybe get that kid you were talking about.” You scoff, looking straight out the windshield as you feel your face heat. Even after so many years with him, he still knew what to say to affect you. “It’s not that easy, you know, and that mattress is still wrapped in the living room.” “It’s fine. Better start now than later. And it’s our house, we can taint it however we want to.” It doesn’t take much for you to agree — and you do so in the midst of laughter. You shamelessly stare at Taehyung’s profile, the strands of his blonde hair that desperately needs a trim, his long lashes that you’ve always been envious of, the slope of his nose and his thin lips that always knows how to kiss you right. Taehyung’s thick brow cocks when he notices your blatant staring, but you don’t care. You’re just filled with joy and at a loss for words at how he’s with you. He’s yours. The two of you are too wrapped up in one another to pay mind to the car behind you. To the piercing beam lights. The wheels that screech against the asphalt. The sheer speed of the vehicle and recklessness of the intoxicated driver. So when the rear of the car is slammed into and you both lurch forward into the intersection of the road, it’s a shock. // The white fluorescent burns your eyes. It’s hard to see and you can’t feel your body. Not even your fingers that begin to twitch. You’re disoriented and delirious, not sure what day it is, how long you’ve been out, where exactly you are. It’s all muddled in your mind. All you can discern is a constant rhythm of beeping beside you and the odour of disinfect filling your senses. You’re scared — but you’re overwhelmed with the thought of Taehyung. Taehyung. You jolt in your spot and the rhythm of the machine quickens until it’s like an alarm, sounding aloud and making you panic even more. But then there’s a rush of people entering the room, white coats and scrubs checking the machines and lines hooked up from you. “Ms. Y/N, I am doctor Jeon.” There’s a man looking down at you and you blink blearily at him. “You’ve been in a coma for three days now. Is there anyone we can call for you?” “M-My husband,” you cry out with a parched throat. The doctor looks to the nurse but she frowns and shakes her head. “The patient doesn’t have a husband.” You don’t have a husband? At once, sobs wrack through your entire body and you thrash despite the aches in your bones and your ankle wrapped in bandages. The doctor and nurse are alarmed and you choke out the words— “I-Is he okay? Is he dead?” “Ma’am,” the doctor calmly says, “you were the only one injured on the scene.” Before you can utter a word, a man comes from the doorway. His hair is dark, matching the hue lined underneath his exhausted eyes. His features are soft and evidently tired like he hasn’t slept in the past few days. You don’t know who he is but he stares right at you — and then a relieved smile draws upon his features, one that is too comfortable and familiar. “Y/N?” His voice is deeper than expected and he closes the distance. The nurse is visibly confused, but he quickly introduces, “I’m her partner, Min Yoongi.” You recoil back before he can touch you, even when the hurt comes across his expression. “I-I’m sorry.” You don’t know who he is. “I think you have the wrong person.”

It’s hard to cope — your entire universe has been flipped upside down and you don’t know what to think. Suddenly by opening your eyes, your entire life has been swept from underneath your feet. Everything that you loved and cared about is gone. And you’re left alone to deal with it. “I-I remember being with my husband. We were driving back from dinner and planning to take a detour to the new house, but then a car rear-ended us and we were brought out into the intersection,” you recall. But the doctor’s brows furrow. “I see. Well, I can tell you that you weren’t in a car accident, Ms. Y/N. You were injured after falling down the flight of stairs at the subway station. You’ve been in a coma for three days.” It doesn’t make any sense and you squeeze your temples. But it hurts. Everything feels like a dream, like you’re floating and not truly grounded in reality. Your surroundings are hazy and you wonder if this is just a hallucination — a very frightening one, a world where Taehyung doesn’t exist. “What year was the car accident?” the doctor asks suddenly and you exhale, trying to remember the date. “It was late January of 2016.” “Ms. Y/N, it’s 2020 right now.” It’s a shock through your system. At first, you sputter, choking on your own spit. The doctor is kind enough to give you a moment but when you press your hand to your chest, you wince at the bruises around your wrist. Then you open your mouth and close it, finding yourself rendered absolutely speechless. Your brain is melting into itself and you have an urge to get up and scream. “What?” “It looks like you have a four year memory gap,” Doctor Jeon says as if he’s prescribing you with cold medication and if you weren’t bedridden, you might just throttle him to the floor. “It’s okay, these things happen with your sort of injury. It should be fine and only temporary. You can get your memory jogging again after looking at mementos, pictures, or talking to the right people.” “Anyways, we’ll keep you here for a few more days just to monitor that head injury, but it looks like your ankle is healing nicely. There’s no cause for concern, really.” The doctor ends up leaving and you repress the urge to cry again. You don’t know where Taehyung is and you miss him. // Your so-called partner appears days later to help with your hospital discharge and pack up your belongings. You learn his name is Min Yoongi and that he’s two years older than you are. He works as a car mechanic in a shop and you’ve apparently been with him for a whole year. Yet, you can’t help but stay guarded, watching him from the corner with your arms crossed while you try to decipher his impassive expression. The man is quiet, but not in an angry or frightening way. He never asks you questions, makes demands out of you or once appears exasperated with your distant behaviour. He seems gentle somehow. You wonder what your relationship with him was like. “T-Thank you,” you murmur as he packs the slippers he had brought for you into the duffle bag. Min Yoongi turns his head and the corner of his mouth pulls into an oddly warm smile. His voice is husky when he says, “You don’t need to thank me. I’m just happy to see you walking around again.” You’re taken aback. You aren’t used to receiving this kind of love and affection from someone other than Taehyung and from a stranger no less. It makes you unsettled. Conflicted. The car ride is smooth. Yoongi helps you into your seat and buckles you in without making you speak much of a word. You’re not sure where you’re going, but you spend your time looking out at the window and taking in what you’ve missed for four years, or rather what your mind no longer recalls. Luckily, it seems like the world hasn’t changed too much. The streets are familiar, lined with lamp posts and bike racks. There are different billboards and some buildings you don’t recognize, but it looks like many things have stayed the same. The street names, avenues and boulevards, the people jogging and walking their dogs — it hasn’t changed. “Hey, Tae—” Except for the person driving beside you. You turn your head and blood drained from your face, realizing that it’s not your husband you’re sitting beside. “N-Never mind.” There’s a moment of quiet. Then Yoongi’s lips part. “It’s okay.” He glances at you and your eyes meet. “It’s okay,” he repeats with a small smile that makes you even more burdened. The apartment is modest yet cozy. A living room with cushions out of place and souvenirs on the shelves next to the television. The kitchen is to the left, cups in the sink and refrigerator haphazardly filled with take out boxes. It’s lived in, full of memories that you don’t have. But above all, you notice there’s only one bedroom and there are male belongings assorted with yours. Shaving cream. Gel. Cologne. “You live here?” you ask Yoongi, coming to the living room where he was giving you a chance to look around for yourself, perhaps hoping that you would remember something. “We live together,” he corrects with a tiny smile. “But it’s okay. I’m planning on staying at a friend’s place, so you don’t have to worry about me being here if that makes you uncomfortable.” “You…” Your mouth opens before closing, startled at how considerate he is. “You don’t have to. I mean, this place is yours too. It seems unfair if I kick you out. You should...stay.” Yoongi smiles and you shy away from his attention. “I...might not be comfortable sharing a bed with you though…” “Okay.” He nods. “I can take the couch.” That night, you lay awake in the foreign bed, unable to sleep and staring at the ceiling. It feels like you’ve been asleep for four years anyways, although it’s technically only been three days. Your brain is swimming in confusion. You’re not sure what to think. One moment you were with Taehyung and the next, you don’t have him beside you anymore and you’re with someone else. Taehyung…. You reach over to the nightstand and switch on the lamp. A dim yellow light softly fills the room and you begin to truly investigate your surroundings. On a pinboard near the door are pictures of you and Yoongi, selfies taken where you’re both smiling with one another, one of you at a carnival and another at an aquarium. The vanity drawer holds jewelry that you don’t recognize, perhaps ones that Yoongi had bought for you. Your phone contains grocery lists and miscellaneous notes that make no sense. There’s nothing on your social media, no connection, nothing once you search his name up. All you discover is work-related things in your calendar, more pictures of you and Yoongi and affectionate texts between the two of you. There’s no trace of Taehyung whatsoever. But when you dig into the closet and find a box at the top shelf hidden away, your answer is found. It’s inside a box of paperwork — school awards, certificates of achievements, evidence of your first paycheck, your birth certificate, social security papers, and divorce papers. You and Taehyung got divorced in April 2018. Two years and eight months after getting married. And it’s been a year and ten months since. The paper crumples underneath your hands and you gather your knees together on the floor as quiet sobs break through you once again. You don’t know what happened. Where it all went wrong. // When morning comes, you hope the swelling and redness of your eyes from crying so much isn’t noticeable. If it is, Yoongi doesn’t say anything and only regards you with a gentle smile. “I was going to stay home today, but I thought it might be overwhelming for you,” he says before you can protest otherwise, “so I’ll be at work. Take it easy, okay? You can call me anytime you want for anything. My number is in your phone.” You nod. “Thank you, Yoongi.” His smile is sweet. “I already told you, it’s not a problem.” But half an hour after Yoongi leaves, you prepare for your own departure. Hobbling with your weight on one foot and off the one with your injured ankle, you grab a coat and the car keys laying on the counter. It takes a moment to figure out which one is your vehicle in the lot but you find it after pressing the panic button. It looks brand new — apparently recently repaired and the reason why you had to take the subway and how you got your head injury in the first place. It might be wrong to leave without giving a warning to Yoongi, especially when he’s so worried about you, but you can’t stay idle at the apartment. You can’t sit still. You need answers. You drive to the house — turning down the familiar streets and roads before coming into the neighbourhood that feels like you had been in just a week ago when it’s probably been years. But you don’t recognize it anymore. It's more developed than you last remembered. What once were empty lots have other homes built. All the sidewalks are paved, there’s an elementary school down the avenue, a new playground that shines, neighbours that have moved in. What hasn’t changed is the house itself. There’s still the white picket fence that surrounds the seashell white home, a shade you had personally picked yourself when building it. The roof is a dark brown and the front door cherry wood. The glass windows are large with baby blue curtains and you wonder if there’s still the swing in the backyard…. You get out of the car, feeling your emotions swell up to your throat and your eyes becoming watery as you gave upon the house. This was the place you had built with Taehyung. The place you both had planned to live in for years. The place you wanted to raise your kids, grow old and retire in. It was perfect. The combination of your dreams. Where did it all go wrong? You close the distance, limping up the path to the door and knocking on it. After a moment, you ring the doorbell properly. But even then, there are no answers and you notice that the Kim nameplate under the mailbox is gone. Of course. It’s been over four years after all. You cross the street back to your car again, but not before catching sight of a woman bringing groceries up her driveway and towards her own house. “Um, excuse me.” She turns at your voice, brows lifted. “Do you happen to know who lives there?” You point to what was once your home. But unfortunately, she shakes her head. “Sorry, I don’t. I know that house has been sold a few times and the owners have recently changed again.” “Oh. Thank you.” It’s hard to leave the house behind you, but you keep your foot on the gas pedal and drive, never glancing out the rear-view mirror in fear of bursting into tears again. You still have more questions than answers, so your next destination becomes downtown where Taehyung’s engineering firm is. The two of you had met in school, back when you were awkward and chasing after your ambitions of being a chemical engineer like your aunt while for him, he wanted to take his childhood lego dreams to the max and become a civil engineer. Your neck hurts to look at the top of the skyscraper, the many windows reflecting the bright sunlight into your eyes and blinding your vision. If there was any place where you could find Taehyung, it would be here. It’s his dream job. What he had wanted for so long and legitimately cried when he found out he got a position at. You remember that day, how proud you felt of him for achieving such a goal. But when you approach the receptionist at the lobby’s desk, her response only fires the confusion further. “Sorry. We don’t have a Kim Taehyung working here. Are you sure you’re not mistaken?” You miss him. And you wonder at what point, he wasn’t a part of your life anymore. // In an attempt to find Taehyung, you contact your friends and work your way down your list of contacts on your phone. They’re happy to hear from you, some even knowing about your accident and asking if you’re alright. But when you ask about Taehyung, they tell you that they haven’t spoken to him since the divorce. That they’ve lost contact. That the months leading up to it, the two of you were distant from them and they’re unsure of the reasons for what had happened. It was frankly unexpected. “You always told me it wasn’t any of my business, dear,” your mother says over the phone. “You actually got quite upset when I asked, so after a while I didn’t anymore. Do you want to talk to your dad? He’s watching the news right now.” “No.” You press your temples, holding in your sigh. “It’s fine.” Frustration overwhelms you. No matter where you turn, you can’t seem to get the reasons for yourself. You can’t find him. “Is the take out okay?” At once, you’re snapped out of your thoughts and you lift your head to meet kind, cat-like eyes staring at you. “It’s good,” you try to smile and nod. He seems to sense how disconnected you are. “I’ll learn how to cook. I know you like carbonara, so maybe I can find a recipe this weekend and try to make it, so we don’t have to eat out all the time.” You stare at the man across from you. How tired he seems, his dark hair shagging in front of his forehead, his downcast head facing his food as his fork scrapes against the bottom container, never quite taking a full bite. Yet whenever your eyes meet, his plump lips always tugs into a small smile and his eyes crinkle. “I’m sorry.” Yoongi’s brows lift at the sudden apology. “What for?” “For not remembering you.” Even if Min Yoongi is a stranger, you can feel how intimate the pair of you used to be by the photographs you’ve seen, by the way he still regards you. You feel guilty for not being able to return his affections. “It’s fine. It’ll come back with time, right? Don’t stress out about it too much. It won’t do you any good.” “Yoongi.” You have his attention by the way you say his name like he hasn’t heard it uttered from your lips in quite a while. “I went searching for my...ex-husband today.” It’s foreign to call Taehyung that. It’s unsettling and makes you uncomfortable. But your eyes never divert from Yoongi’s. “I need answers.” “I know,” he murmurs in a low voice, still playing with his food. As intimidating as he might appear on the surface, you’re quickly learning how considerate and soft-spoken he really is. “And I want you too. I don’t want you to have any regrets. I want you to know you’ve made the right choice by being with me.” Your heart squeezes at his thoughtful nature and you sigh lightly before stuffing your mouth with some of the noodles, trying to alleviate the tension. “You’re a good man, Yoongi.” He chuckles, gummy smile emerging for the first time that you can recall. “Maybe that’s why you chose me in the first place.” // The avenue is nostalgic, a street that you and Taehyung spent many dates at with its cheap street food and cute stores. And when you were both working, it was the halfway point between your workplaces and where you’d meet to have lunch on those special occasions. A few things have altered from when you remembered them, the stationery shop closed and that ice-cream parlor changed into a pancake café instead. But for the most part, it remains the same. You aren’t sure what you’re doing here. Of all your ways and methods in searching for Taehyung, even you know that it’s unlikely you’ll find him on a Tuesday morning at such an obscure location. But it’s where you’re drawn too, where your body told you to go and your mind followed. Otherwise, you’re not sure what to do anymore or how you should contact him. You wonder if it’s too drastic to drive hours away to visit his mom on the off chance that she’s still living in the same place after four years. If she moved, the journey would be for nothing. But even then, if you somehow found him and reached out, would he even be willing to talk to you? A sigh escapes your parted lips. You tilt your head up to the sky, wondering where on earth he is. And in your reverie, you fail to notice the strapping brunette humming to the music he’s listening to. Not until your shoulder collides with his as he’s walking the opposite way. But instead of an apology spilling from your mouth, you’re interrupted by a call of your name— “Y/N?” It's shock that has taken hold of his expression. His hand rips out his earphones and the loud music becomes silenced from his world. With the way he looks at you, it would be like he’s seen a ghost. A stranger from his past. In your mind, it’s only been a week since you’ve seen him. And you’ve been missing him so much. On sheer instinct, you wrap your hand around his wrist, afraid to let go. “Taehyung.” // It’s awkward, the stiff air almost suffocating your lungs. You’re sure that the first date wasn’t even as bad as this. But you don’t mind whatsoever, even if he’s shifting uncomfortably at the intent way you stare and how it makes him break out into a sweat. Even if Taehyung hates you now, as long as you can see him like this, it’s enough to bear. Taehyung clears his throat, diverting his vision elsewhere. “So….you look like you’ve been well.” “Not really,” you murmur. Taehyung is still a man of intense habit. His drink order hasn’t changed, a cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings. At the same exact coffee shop since you were dating. And he’s taken the same table in the corner of the shop too, the spot of your many study dates. It’s these habits that have led you back to him. “I heard you weren’t working at the engineering firm anymore,” you say after another tense pause. Taehyung’s brows curiously raise. “I haven’t been working there in years. You knew about it.” “Did I?” He’s wary that you can’t recall. “Yeah….” “What are you doing now?” “I’m in animation.” Your eyes widen, surprised. “I never knew you could animate— well, I knew you could draw, but you never even watched much animation.” Taehyung shrugs. “It’s a good fit. I didn’t know I’d like it either until I tried.” Your expression softens, a tender smile pulling into your cheeks. Taehyung’s gotten older but in a refined way. His hair is back to its natural colour, a few wrinkles set into his skin but his features are sharper and less rounded and boyish. He seems less mischievous and irresponsible too, a little more mature and quiet. Or maybe he’s reserved because you’re his ex-wife. The thought makes you nauseous. He sips his drink. “So...what have you been doing?” “Not great. I recently got into an accident, Taehyung.” That seems to grab his attention and his eyes become rounded while you brace yourself. “Apparently I fell down a flight of stairs at the subway station and I was in a coma for three days.” “Oh shit. That...must’ve sucked. I...I’m sorry to hear that.” “I’m fine now.” You pause, clear your throat. “But the last thing I remember is us, Taehyung. We were planning to spend the night at the new house and we got hit by that car…” “I remember.” He nods slowly and murmurs, “But the accident wasn’t that bad, Y/N. We were only bumped.” “I don’t remember that,” you tell, earnest eyes connected with his that makes him believe you. Even after all this time apart, Taehyung can still tell when you’re lying and telling the truth. Your voice raises in pitch, in frustration and exasperation. “And...and I’m trying to understand how this happened. I’m trying to understand how we…..how we ended up divorced.” Taehyung’s brows furrow and he fiddles with the paper cup. “What’s there to tell? We fell out of love.” “That doesn’t make any sense!” Your shrill voice garners the attention of other patrons, but you don’t pay mind to them. “We got married and were planning to have kids and we just built a house in a new neighbourhood—” “We lost that house.” Taehyung doesn’t look at you. His downcast head allows his eyes to stay on the floor. He looks small — shoulders slugging and frame slumped. “I lost my job and then we lost the house. It went downhill from there and one day, you couldn’t do it anymore and packed your bags. You were the one who divorced me, Y/N.” You’re stunned, unable to get a single word out at the revelation he’s given you. An answer to your questions that you had never expected. That you didn’t want to hear. Taehyung’s eyes are saddened and he never once meets your gaze. “You’ll remember sooner or later. I’m sorry this happened to you, Y/N. I really am. But it was still nice to see you.” He gets up before you can protest, leaving as fast as he came into your life again. // Yoongi arrives home visibly tired, his hair in a disarray and his navy workwear stained with oil and grease. Still, he greets you with a warm, sleepy smile that you still aren’t used to. “I saw my ex today,” you tell him during dinner, breaking the silence by deciding to be open and honest. It at least alleviates some of the guilt weighing on your chest. “I found him coincidentally.” Yoongi’s eyes flicker up, peeking at you. “How did it go?” “It didn’t help. I’m still confused.” You can’t understand why you would ever leave him, even if you lost the house and he lost his job. It didn’t make any sense. “Do you know anything about the divorce, Yoongi? Did I….ever tell you anything?” “You told me that he was pathetic,” he informs but without any malice like he’s simply stating facts. “He was unemployed for two years and didn’t get off his ass to find a job. Hey, your words, not mine.” The corner of your mouth curls even when you’re still stupefied. “Are you alright, Y/N?” An exhale leaves your lips. “I’m not sure.” That night, you find another box in the closet while alone in the bedroom. There are pictures of you and Taehyung from when you were younger and just friends, small mementos like movie tickets and keychains won at arcades while you were dating, and photographs of the wedding day, the two of you with enormous smiles and swollen cheeks. But they’re buried underneath your belongings with Yoongi. // His expression is one of repulsion, like he bit into a lemon or something bitter. But you don’t pay any attention to it. “What are you doing here?” Taehyung is incredulous to see you in the morning, standing in the same café as if you own the place. “I’ve been waiting since eight,” you complain and he repeats his question with increasing skepticism. You suppose it’s not everyday your ex-wife is waiting to run into you, so you don’t blame him for his apprehension. “I’m trying to understand how the two of us got divorced. I know this is probably really weird since for you, I’ve shown out of nowhere after two years.” “You think?” You ignore his playful quip. “But for me, my last memory is still going on that date night and getting into that car accident.” Before Taehyung can utter a word, the barista is calling him as the next person in line. “Can I get—” A cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings. “A cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings,” he says without missing a beat and your mouth tugs into a smile. Lots of things may have changed in the time that you no longer remember, but the fact of how constant he is comforts you greatly. You wait with Taehyung at the counter, feeling his eyes glancing at you every so often. When your eyes meet, he realizes he’s been caught staring. “Once I remember again and make sense of the situation, I’ll leave you alone,” you say even if it hurts, but the last thing you want is to be burdensome to Taehyung. “I just want to understand and get over it and move on like you have.” Taehyung sighs, never saying a word. He picks up his drink and you follow along with him, quietly as to not disrupt the comfortable silence between the both of you. He walks down the street and enters the modest grocery store, beelining to the deli to pick up a ham sub. But he notices your quirked brow. “What?” “No.” You shake your head. “Just reminds me of uni. You used to eat those too. Same brand and everything.” The man scoffs lightly, but he knows. You’ve pointed it out to him many times in the past that he has a tendency to stick to specific habits — the odd quirks that you once said you loved about him. “Like what?” he had once asked when you mentioned it. “Like you always put your beverages on your left side and you chug half a glass of water before going to bed and you always close the entire toilet when you’re done going to the bathroom and you have the same brand of cereal every morning and after you sneeze, you always scratch your nose every time,” you had said in the midst of giggles and then lifted yourself up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry. They’re cute and it’s part of why I love you.” The two of you walk together down the street. The early morning air is crisp and chilly, slightly nipping at his nose. He grips his drink still steaming to warm his hand and Taehyung can’t help stealing a glance at you, wondering if you’re cold too. “How’d you get started into animation?” “Huh? Oh. Well, if you really want to know then after you packed your bags and dumped me, it was a pretty good wake up call.” Taehyung laughs as if he’s recalling a funny memory, but then his expression softens, touched with sorrow. “I decided to get myself picked back up and get a job. They liked my personality enough at the interview to give me a chance. At first I didn’t know what I was doing, but I learned and I like it a lot.” He turns his head when your silence is prolonged. But his eyes widen when he finds your tender smile. “I’m happy for you, Taehyung.” And you really are — even in spite of him not technically being a part of your life anymore. // The next day, Taehyung is not any more impressed to see you there at the café. You enthusiastically smile and wave at him. And when the barista calls the two of you in the line, you have no hesitation. “Can I get a cappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings? And just an iced americano for me.” Taehyung eyes you when you pay and stroll to the other counter to wait. “Don’t you have a job to go to?” “I’m still technically in recovery and it’s not like I can work if my head’s a mess.” Taehyung scoffs lightly. “What do you want to know this time?” He can tell by the look in your eye that there are questions on the tip of your tongue. And when you take out a whole laundry list like it’s things you need to buy at a grocery store, a rectangular grin plasters on his face. Taehyung wouldn’t expect any less of you. “Hey, I was thinking about it all night, alright? I was afraid I was going to forget so I wrote it down.” He leans over to look at the list but you move away. “Don’t peek.” “Okay, okay.” He laughs and gestures for you to start. “First question. What did I say before I left?” You look at him, eyes meeting his. “What were my exact reasons for the divorce?” He hums a low note, staring off into the distance. “I don’t remember well. You called me a motherfucker though,” Taehyung chuckles and becomes solemn. “Probably something along the lines that I’ve stopped trying and that you were leaving. There was a lot of crying and screaming. I…..don’t really like to think about it.” There’s a pause and you clear your throat, paper in your hand crinkling and forgotten. “Why didn’t you ever do anything to stop it?” A sigh leaves his lips and he runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’m an idiot. But it’s not like I could’ve forced you to stay with me.” “I’m sure if you had said something, I would’ve stayed.” Taehyung’s smile is meek and sad, not at all like how it usually is. You wonder just how much you hurt him, how much you hurt each other. “A lot can happen in two years, Y/N.” A lot can happen in the two years they were apart too. “Have you been seeing anyone?” “No. I haven’t,” he says. It’s a question that tumbled out of you, one not on the list. // The evening comes and you hear the front door open and shut. Immediately, you call out from the kitchen, “Hey!” Yoongi emerges from the hall with another tired smile. “Hey.” “I got takeout for us,” you say while heating said food up. “How was work? Busy again?” “A little.” The man comes closer to see what you’ve bought but before he’s able to assess, he mindlessly leans in and plants a soft kiss against your cheek. You instantaneously freeze, the muscles in your body becoming rigid and tense, and Yoongi realizes. “I’m sorry. It’s a bad habit.” He pulls away, disheartened and guilt wells up in your throat. “It’s okay.” Yoongi nods and he shrugs off his coat, walking back towards the hall to hang it up, but you stop him before your conscience can berate you, before you hurt him further— “I saw him again. This morning.” He halts. He stands still as you watch his backside. The both of you know who you’re referring to. “How was it?” Yoongi inquires hesitantly as if he’s not sure if he even should. “It was good,” you murmur. “I got a few more answers.” His head turns, the black strands of his hair sweeping against his forehead. Yoongi’s gentle eyes are glossed over, his tone low and husky as he quietly asks, “Can’t you get answers without seeing him?” “I…..I’m sorry, Yoongi.” You divert your vision, but from the corner, you can see the way his mouth curls gingerly. “It’s okay.” But you know that it isn’t. It’s unfair to him to wait for your memories to return, for you to continuously see someone of your past as he waits for you to come to love him as you once did. The man retreats into the darkness and you feel guilt overwhelm you. // When Taehyung wakes up, does his daily routine and heads to the café, he opens the door and expects to see you. Standing there, waiting for him as if you were the owner or a barista working full time. “Are you sure you’re not healthy enough to go back to work?” He grins, brows lifted and almost impressed at how adamant you are. “No.” You loll your head to the side. “I’m still feeling tired.” Taehyung scoffs lightly, noting that you always show up earlier than he does. “Tired, huh?” “You must be tired too. Your shirt is inside out.” “What?” His line of sight follows to where you’re pointing and Taehyung looks down to see that his shirt is indeed inside out. He groans in embarrassment as you laugh. “Did you not notice?” He doesn’t answer, grabbing his drink from the counter once the barista calls his name and he books it out of the shop. But not without you following behind him and still giggling. “Are you sulking?” You quickly catch up to him and quirk your head almost to his shoulder. “I’m just teasing, Tae. It’s not that noticeable.” “You noticed it.” “Well I’ve always noticed everything about you.” He clicks his tongue in feigned annoyance and stops, making you halt on your heels. “Don’t flirt with me, woman. Didn’t you say you were seeing someone?” You scoff, continuing to walk and this time, he’s the one who follows after you. “Who says I’m flirting with you? I think you’re terribly mistaken and quite frankly, full of yourself.” Taehyung grins. “It’s not my fault I was born this handsome and have so many people regularly flirting with me.” “Uh-huh. You’re beginning to sound like Seokjin.” “He’s not half as handsome as I am.” You burst out laughing, knowing that your old friend would probably throw a fit if Taehyung openly fought him for the position of most handsome in your group of friends. “I beg to differ.” “Then why didn’t you marry him back then?” “Should’ve,” you sing-song much to Taehyung’s chagrin. The pair of you stop in front of his building, the destination of every morning journey. You know this is where you’ll have to leave him off and see him again tomorrow, wait for just these ten minutes of conversations and banter. But unusually, Taehyung doesn’t bid you farewell right away. He doesn’t run away with his tail in between his legs, shooting you a playful glare over his shoulder. Instead, he stops with you and smiles. Taehyung lingers on the sidewalk with you. “Y/N…” He gazes at you. Your eyes connect with his warm irises and something lodges in your throat, an emotion that only seems to come with him. “Hmm?” There’s held silence— “There’s a bug in your hair.” “What?!” His palm slaps your forehead before you can flail, not enough for it to hurt, but enough that you’re stunned. You lift your hand to rub the spot and at the same time, a rectangular grin spreads into his face. Taehyung laughs childishly. “Kidding.” “Are you five years old?!” you shout but it only eggs him on more. “Sorry, sorry.” He bats your hand away and his fingers come to rub the spot for you instead. “I’m pretty sure it was your face cream and not a bug.” The proximity is closed. You can feel his breath against your face, count his thick lashes, draw constellations through the tiny freckles around his nose. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise into your cheeks and Taehyung catches it. For a moment, his eyes linger against your lips and yours follows down to the dip of his cupid’s bow to the corner of his mouth. There’s a thick tension between the two of you, a kind of intimacy not found between a pair of old friends on a normal morning. It’s a kind of longing that you recognize in Taehyung’s gaze as it’s similar to your own… You lean in to close the distance completely. But then Taehyung abruptly pulls away. His vision is diverted to the ground. All traces of mischief are gone. His mouth has fallen into a straight line, brows knitted together as if he’s in physical pain. “What are we doing, Y/N?” He doesn’t wait for a response. Taehyung turns and walks away while the knots in your chest constrict you. But you run after him. You take three strides before he can vanish from your life — like what you found when you woke up in that hospital bed. The thought of that returning is terrifying. “Taehyung!” “No!” He turns around to face you, shutting you down before the way you call his name can affect him. You’re taken aback by the hurt etched on his expression. “It took me two years to get over you and even now I’m still not over you,” he declares angrily and your eyes widen. “And then you come out of nowhere to make a mess out of my head, playing these games.” Your brows furrow, upset at his accusations and you shout back at him, “What games?!” “I know that the moment you remember again, the moment you get over your stupid fucking amnesia, you’re going to dump me!” Taehyung swallows hard. “You’re going to make me go through all of that again. It’s downright cruel, you dense woman!” “Don’t call me dense!” Without conscious decision, tears begin to shed down your face and you shake your head. “You know that that isn’t my intention.” “I know.” Taehyung sighs. “But it’s going to happen anyway.” The pair of you look at one another and then the doors to the building open. A tall man with dimples comes out and is absolutely bewildered at the ruckus. He’s seemingly familiar with Taehyung, perhaps a colleague of his. “Is something wrong, dude?” “It’s fine.” “Who’s this?” the stranger asks curiously, smiling at you. “She’s my ex-wife.” The man is caught off guard, eyes becoming rounded. “I didn’t know you were married.” “Yeah, well, I used to be.” Taehyung peeks at you in a silent farewell and you watch his backside leave.

When Taehyung wakes up, does his daily routine and heads to the café, he opens the door and then his breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t know why disappointment seems to overwhelm him when you’re not there and he wonders since when he expected you to be in the first place — standing there, waiting for him. He stands in line by himself. Makes his order by himself. Picks up his lunch by himself. Taehyung walks to work alone. And every so often, he unconsciously glances to his side and then sighs when he catches himself. He’s not sure why he keeps anticipating you to be with him. Why he allows himself to feel frustrated when he remembers you’re not here. You’ve become Taehyung’s habit. And now you’re gone.

There’s a timid knock at the door. A moment later, it cracks open. “Hey, dinner is ready….” Yoongi’s puzzled to find you standing on a stool, reaching to the top of your closet but he smiles, glad to see you lively again. “What are you doing? Do you need help?” “It’s okay.” You grab the album you were reaching for and wipe off the layer of dust that covers it. “I just remembered I kept old albums up here. Jeez, it’s so dusty.” Yoongi’s brow lifts. “You remember?” You nod, smiling at him. “I do.” The album is flipped open and you step off the stool to sit on the edge of your bed. Yoongi watches you for a moment and exhales softly. “Well, I’ll leave your food on the table.” You thank him and he takes his leave, shutting the door. You guess no matter how bad your relationship with Taehyung got, you never had the heart to throw away or burn the photographs. And you’re glad. The photographs of your wedding day are still in tip-top shape, images showing the pair of you glowing in the sunset with his arms wrapped around you. You remember that wedding dress and that suit of his that had to be tailored twice. You remember being late to the ceremony and having to run with Taehyung who snuck out to see you beforehand even though he wasn’t supposed to...… There are also photographs of your honeymoon, a vacation to the Caribbean, and another trip of Europe that you went on during your university days. But above all, there are photos of the pair of you in front of the newly built house. Proud and ecstatic. The seashell white home with the dark brown roof and large windows and skylights standing tall behind you two. Ready to house your future. Some things change but these memories won’t. // The sprinklers spritzes across the freshly mowed lawn, a sputtering hiss that leaves a mist in the air. You step up the stone path to the cherry wood door, noticing the golden nameplate under the mailbox, but you don’t dwell. In your haze, your closed fist comes to steadily knock at the door. It swings open. Inside, you find someone with warm eyes, brunette hair and a boxy smile. He encapsulates the sunlight itself, so bright that it’s hard to discern who exactly it is. But you feel like you know. Like you had known before you even knocked and the door opened. The man calls your name. And you’re shaken awake from the beautiful dream. And you wake to an empty bedside, tears welling up in your eyes. It’s the middle of the night, darkness surrounding you and weighing heavily against your body. But you fight against it and rip the covers off of your body, grabbing a cardigan off your chair and rushing down the hall. Yoongi is stirred from the noise and gets up from the couch. “Where are you going?” he asks in a husky voice, running a hand through his hair that’s sticking in all directions. But the sleepiness leaves the man as he watches you shake your head, struggling to put on your shoes with tears in your eyes. “I-I need to go, Yoongi.” But for the first time, he reaches out. Yoongi’s hand clasps around your wrist to stop you, having an inkling that you might never return. “I won’t let you.” His foot is finally placed down, but the decision has long been made. “I’m sorry, Yoongi.” “Don’t say that,” he desperately pleads. “But I am. It’s unfair to you. That I’ve treated you this badly while all you’ve ever been is patient and considerate and understanding. But I don’t want you to wait for me anymore.” “You’re not going back to your asshole of an ex-husband. He was horrible to you.” “Yoongi, what do you expect me to do?” It’s a genuine question that you ask. You’re at a loss and the words choke out of you, but you had these feelings the moment you had awoken in that hospital bed. “I love him.” The pause draws on and you lower your gaze. “It’s not fair for you to wait for me to love you instead. I’m in love with Taehyung.” Yet in spite of your words, Yoongi still pulls you into him. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes you tight as if you might vanish between his fingertips. You come to realize that you never gave Yoongi a chance to express his love to you — you never kissed him or held him despite how long he waited. You feel him tremble against you. The man who you had woken to presses his face to your shoulder, his quiet tears staining your thin clothing. You return his hug, arms lifted around his torso and grasping him close. You remember who he is. You know well. He’s Min Yoongi, the man who you loved. After a moment, he releases you. “Go.” You nod. “I’ll always be thankful to you, Yoongi. More than you’ll realize.” // The car door slams shut. You cross the street, approaching the house that still stands tall on the quiet suburban street illuminated by lamp posts. You’re not sure what you’re doing here at this time of night and you know you’ll just be disheartened when you see another family inside, living in the space that was meant for you and Taehyung. But you needed to see it. It’s your home. What you made with Taehyung. Physical proof of your planned devotion to one another. The house is dark and you assume that the people inside are long asleep. So you take a moment to gaze at it, heart aching inside your chest, and after ten minutes, you turn to walk away and leave your home behind. But then a car drives down the road. It’s a modest vehicle and as you wait for it to pass to cross the street, it instead pulls into the driveway of the house. The headlights turn off. The engine dies. The car door opens. And you freeze, watching the person emerge. “Taehyung?!” The strapping brunette man is unmistakable. He’s dressed in his work clothes, casual sweater and black trousers, his leather crossbody bag slung across his torso. He looks tired from what you can see with the glow of the many street lights, his hair messy and eyes weary. But he still has the energy to be shocked at your sudden presence. Shocked as if he’s been caught in the act. “What are you doing here?” You speak on an exhale. “Y-You bought the house back again?” He bought it after the two of you lost it. Even when there’s no reason to. Not unless it still holds sentimental value. Not unless the memories held in there were ones he still cherishes. Not unless he still loves you. Taehyung murmurs your name, “Y/N…” You run to him, closing the distance, throwing your arms around his neck. And you kiss the silly man breathlessly, pressing your mouth against his and swallowing the groan that leaves his lungs. His arms wrap around your back, holding you close and quickly reciprocating. His head tilts and his tongue slips into your mouth, drawing noises out of you like when you were young and still exploring one another. But it’s a kiss of sadness and longing — yet still sweet even after so much time has passed. After a handful of seconds, Taehyung pulls away. “W-What are we doing?” He shakes his head, letting go of you. But you grab hold of his hand. “I still love you, Taehyung. I love you.” His earnest eyes search yours. “How….how do I know you won’t just remember why you wanted to leave me. How do I know it won’t happen all over again? We’re still the same people, Y/N. It didn’t work once.” “I don’t care,” you spit at him desperately. “To me, it feels like it was until yesterday that we were still married and in love. And right now, right now I still love you, Taehyung. I miss you. I don’t care what happened, that you lost your job, lost the house and started to feel bad about yourself and gave up on us.” Taehyung’s eyes are rounded and his lips part. “You….remember?” You nod. “I have gradually for a while now.” Bits and pieces had fallen together the longer you spent with him, the more you looked at pictures and mementos, and searched your memories. They were loose puzzle pieces, moments of time, until you fit them together to create a whole picture. To finally understand why things happened the way they did. And you can finally recall the downward spiral of Taehyung all those years ago. How he abruptly got laid off, losing his dream job that he had worked so hard to obtain, how the two of you lost the house when your sole income was no longer enough and how depressed he became about losing that home. How he sat at his desk for two years in the dark, playing games and wasting time, giving up on searching for a job and refusing to get himself help in his poor mental state. You remember how he ignored you until you felt like his mother and couldn’t take it anymore. How he pushed your sanity enough that you had to walk away before you were damaged. But in spite of all that has happened… “I still love you.” He’s an absolute shit, but you love him. Without being able to blink, Taehyung tugs you in by your waist and he presses his lips against yours, holding you close to him. You smile against his mouth before your hands lift to cup his cheeks, cradling his face as he deepens the kiss. It’s desperate, hungering to make up for lost time, fulfilling the yearning that has dwelled between the pair of you each time you spoke. Taehyung kisses you like he’s missed you more and the pair of you barely manage to break apart to stumble into the house. “I can’t believe you bought this place back.” It’s a whirlwind, nostalgia slamming into you as you step into the foyer. You’re overwhelmed with emotion, feeling a staggering urge to start crying. “Had to do a lot of negotiating, but I did it,” he murmurs proudly, happy to show you how he’s picked himself up, how he found another passion and followed the path, that he’s no longer so pathetic. “All on my own too.” “Taehyung…” He kisses you again, less gentle than before. He’s merciless, hands placed on your hips and your back arches into him until the force of his body causes the two of you to fall backwards onto the floor. Taehyung catches your head so that it never hurts and he hovers over you, leg between your knees while he peels off his coat. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, gazing into your eyes. “I never got to tell you that. I’m sorry for hurting you.” You nod, grasping at his forearms that’s next to your head and he takes the opportunity to lean down. Taehyung lay pecks against your cheek until he moves his way down to suck bruising kisses into your neck. You cry his name, writhing against him as he palms your breast and leaves his marks all over you. Taehyung eats you out on the cool tiled floors of the foyer entrance, filling the house with obscene sounds that make you embarrassed. But you can’t complain, not when you’re sobbing his name and your fingers are sinking into his hair. You end up cumming all over his swollen lips and chin, and you bat at him when he grins and says it’s delicious. Before Taehyung can completely ruin the mood, you grab him and with little warning, his cock sinks into your cunt, head poking right at the entrance of your cervix. You feel full and he begins to pound into you, satisfying that itch you’ve had for so long. Taehyung makes you look at him the entire time and as you hold him, it hits you just how much you missed him. Tears leak from your eyes and it only eggs him on to be rougher. His fingers sink into the meat of your thigh and his mouth leaves hickeys down the valley of your breasts to admire later. You cum again and then he presses his pelvis into yours and cums in you as well, painting your walls in white. Despite being sweaty and sticky, Taehyung kisses you again and the two of you hold one another. He’s sweet and affectionate until he starts to push his cum back into you with his fingers when you begin to leak. “Now you’re not even trying to hide the fact you want me to get pregnant.” The man mischievously grins. “Last I checked, it was yesterday that we wanted kids.” You burst out laughing, unable to argue with that but…. “We’re not even married anymore. What would your mom think?” “She would probably cry tears of happiness if she knew we were together again. And marriage…” He interlaces his hands with yours. “We could make it happen again. If you want.” You nod. “I do.”

It’s another chance. Another do over. You wonder if you had never lost your memories and tried to chase them down, if you would’ve ever reached out to Taehyung again and reignite the spark between the two of you. Had you not found him again, you wonder if you would’ve known that he’s picked himself again and returned to the man you fell in love with. It’s hard to say but those things are yesterday’s problems. Today, you look towards the future. “Wake up, sleepy head.” On any other day, you might kick him in the knee for waking you up on a weekend, but it’s been so long that you don’t mind whatsoever. Taehyung’s mischief is world’s better than waking up to an empty bedside or to someone you can’t genuinely love as much. “Ugh.” You open your eyes and immediately slap a palm against his mouth. “Don’t kiss me. Morning breath.” Taehyung peels your hand off, grins and smooches you anyway. You laugh and quickly reciprocate. When it’s all done and over, he snuggles into you. “You know…” You’re wrapped in each other’s arms and you slowly blink awake, glad that you’ve finally woken up with him beside you. “...those brown walls in this room are going to have to change.” Taehyung laughs. “Happily.” There’s nothing been more certain of. You want to spend tomorrow with Taehyung and the day after that and the day after that. Until eternity.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fanfic #throw away your logic y'all #and indulge in some hopeless romance

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cuddlepilefics · 3 years

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Nap time, baby

Fandom: Stray Kids

Little: Chan

Caregiver: Felix

No one’s POV.:

Working on their new album, 3racha and especially Chan were getting back to the dorm later and later each night. Today was especially tough because JYP rejected almost half of the songs they had been working on. When the clock was nearing two in the morning, Chan sent his two dongsaengs home. It was obvious that Changbin had been struggling with a headache for the past few hours and Jisung was spacing out so much, the leader doubted he was as awake as he claimed to be. The two also didn’t put up as much of a fight as he had them expected to, though they begged him to go back to the dorm with them. Chan couldn’t afford going back yet. There was still so much work to do and it would only continue to pile up if he didn’t get it done with now. Sure, he was beyond exhausted but even if he went home with his friends now, he wouldn’t be able to sleep, knowing what was waiting at the studio for him the next day. To make matters worse, Chan started do doubt his composing skills with how many of their new songs had been cancelled. He had poured his heart out on the paper and hearing that that wasn’t enough for Stay hurt him more than he wanted to admit. Still he didn’t want to give those songs up completely, so when Changbin and Jisung left, he opened those files and played around a bit. Maybe with a bit more editing, they would be good enough.

When Chan finally locked up the studio and went home for the night, it was five in the morning. He shuffled into the dark and quiet dorm, knowing he was the only one still up. He didn’t even bother to take a shower because he knew he had to be back at the company in only a few hours and he wanted to get the most sleep out of the time he was given. Tiptoeing into the room he shared with Changbin and Felix, he found both of his dongsaengs knocked out in their beds. Changbin’s face looked so much more peaceful and his eyebrows weren’t furrowed in pain like they were earlier. Just to be sure, the leader quickly collected painkillers and a bottle of water and placed them on the rapper’s nightstand. Hopefully Changbin wouldn’t need them and would be fine when he woke up. Then he took off his shirt and slipped into bed, letting the softness of his blanket envelop him. As his tense muscles relaxed into the mattress, it took almost no time for sleep to pull him under.

Everything was dark around them, the music had just ended and now there was silence. No reaction from the crowd in front of them, the lightsticks turned off. Looking around, he found the terrified faces of his dongsaengs, waiting desperately for the usual cheers that they got after a performance but there was nothing, just a black ocean of silence and it was slowly drowning them. He hadn’t worked hard enough, didn’t produce good enough music. He was the reason his members, his brothers had to experience their first black ocean. When the first tears fell from the youngers’ eyes, Chan couldn’t take it anymore. This was his fault because he was a terrible leader, a terrible friend and a terrible hyung. He just wasn’t enough. His head started to spin and slowly got fuzzier as his throat tightened with the urge to cry. He felt like falling as the darkness swallowed him.

Panting Chan shot up in bed, still feeling fuzzy and still surrounded by darkness. He couldn’t see anything in the dark that surrounded him, he felt lost and alone as a sob tore from his throat. There was some quiet shuffling, which Chan couldn’t hear over his cries, before the darkness disappeared, illuminated by a bedside lamp on the other side of the room. Then there were arms around him, he wasn’t alone anymore. In the dim light, Chan blinked at his Aussie brother through tears and buried his face in the worried boy’s shoulder. “Hey, hey, it’s okay mate. Whatever you thought was happening, it was just a dream”, Felix soothed in a low voice, running his hand up and down the older’s bare back. The only reply he got were more sobs and he looked over at his other hyung, who was still knocked out on the third bed in the room. Carefully, the dancer grabbed Chan’s arm and pulled him to his feet, guiding him to the living room. The leader was clinging to him like his life depended on him, like he would lose him in the darkness, that could return at any moment.

“Hyung, …too dawk – not enough”, Chan whimpered, while Felix tried to wipe the tears that just continued to run down the leader’s cheeks. Finally, it clicked and Felix realized the other had slipped into his headspace. He removed his hands from Chan’s face and let the little bury his head in his chest. Chan soon started to suck on the fabric of Felix’ sleep shirt, leaving a wet spot, and slowly his breathing evened out and the tears stopped falling as the only thing he focused on were Felix’ heartbeat close to his ear and the calming scent of his shirt. When Felix felt the other had calmed down enough, he whispered: “You’re okay now, kangaroo. It was just a nightmare, not real at all.” Chan nodded and glanced at the clock, realizing he had only had about two hours of sleep. Whining, he pressed himself closer to Felix, who chuckled and ruffled his head. “Want to try and sleep some more?”, he asked, ready to tuck the little back in. Chan shook his head and whimpered. He knew the bad dreams would come back to haunt him, if he dared to close his eyes again. The caregiver sensed his fear and turned on the TV, searching for a cartoon to distract the little. It seemed to work and Chan even tolerated him leaving the room for a moment. He wanted to get the little a hoodie and make some hot chocolate. The leader giggled cutely when Felix put the hoodie over his head and pulled the hood over his face for a second. When his eyes fell on the cup of hot chocolate, covered in marshmallows and sprinkles, he immediately made grabby hands at it and the caregiver had to remind him to slow down or else he’d burn his tongue. The nightmare long forgotten, the two Aussies enjoyed their cartoon and cuddled on the couch waiting for the rest of the group to wake up. Sure, Felix was tired and cursed having to get up early but it wasn’t earlier than necessary. If he could get up early for their schedule, he could get up early for his little too.

Before they knew it, an hour had passed and the members sleepily shuffled into the kitchen to quickly force down a small breakfast before they’d have to head to their schedule. Minho was the first to spot the two Aussies on the couch and approached them, asking what they were doing up so early. Felix sighed and sat up with Chan still in his lap, explaining: “Our little Channie here woke up about an hour ago from a bad nightmare and he was too scared to go back to sleep, so we just stayed here.” – “Oh, he slipped?”, the second oldest asked. They all knew about their leader’s headspace, although it had been a while since he last slipped. Felix nodded, whispering that it was about time after neglecting his little side for weeks. Minho could only agree and promised Felix he’d find a way to let both him and Chan stay at the dorm today. The leader wouldn’t like taking a day off but he needed to rest and hopefully being little would make him comply easier. After breakfast, Changbin sat down next to his roommates on the couch. “Don’t worry about today, Jisung and I will have it handled at the studio and Minho and Hyunjin said, they’d just teach you they dance moves for the new choreography some other time”, the rapper smiled, “Just please get our kangaroo here to rest because I’m honestly surprised how he can still go on with how little sleep he has had recently. It’s good he finally slipped, so he can let go of the stress for a bit.” – “I’ll try my best. Right baby? We’ll spend a nice day full of cartoons and naps”, the caregiver cooed. Chan bit his lip, feeling guilty as he watched his members leave the dorm for work. Memories of his dream kept resurfacing, despite being little, he could feel that he should pull himself out of it and go to work too because he wasn’t working hard enough. He was letting his brothers down who had to work harder now that he stayed home. He wasn’t enough.

Felix watched the leader’s face grow sad and was quick to pull him from his thoughts with a lighthearted hair-ruffle, laughing: “Let’s make breakfast, cutie. Hyungie hasn’t made pancakes in ages.” The dancer quickly mixed the batter together and let the little stir the finished batter, so he’d be occupied while Felix got the pan ready. Chan watched in wonder as his caregiver flipped the pancakes like it was the easiest thing in the world. Felix also chopped up some fruit and decorated the little’s pancakes with a cute smiley face, while simply stacking his own pancakes and adding some fruits on the side. He put the bowl of chopped strawberries into the fridge for later and carried the two plates to the dining table, Chan following him and clapping his hands excitedly. The first difficulties started when the little got emotional over having to destroy the cutely arranged food on his plate. Felix dried his tears and when the leader was ready to finally eat, he fed him his breakfast. After cleaning the dishes, they moved to the couch again to watch some more cartoons and nibble on the strawberries. The morning seemed to be going well, especially because Felix knew about the little’s love for strawberries and continued to feed him while watching TV. Sadly, the mood soon took a turn when the bowl was empty and he asked Chan to go brush his teeth. “Nuh! Nuh wanna”, the leader frowned, stomping his foot when Felix dragged him to the bathroom. After a bunch of threats and the caregiver counting down, Chan gave in and brushed his teeth but continued to sulk afterwards.

He sat on the opposite side of the couch from Felix and when the dancer asked for cuddles, he shook his head and shifted further away. The little hadn’t said another word to his caregiver and still didn’t feel like it. He was upset at him for making him brush his teeth and threatening to take his favorite plushie, a stuffed husky, away for the rest of the day. Suddenly, the screen in front of him turned black and he turned to Felix with a shocked expression. Felix sat there with the remote in his hand, giving him a challenging look and stating: “Wow, you’re finally looking at me.” – “Tuwn on!” – “No, mister. First you listen to me. You need to drop your attitude right now because you’re being cranky for now reason”, the caregiver warned sternly. Chan’s eyes started to burn. Felix wasn’t mad yet, just warning but his voice sounded scary. Felix sighed and set the remote down on the coffee table. He could see the other’s wobbly bottom lip, so he hummed: “What’s really going on, Channie? You’re usually so well-behaved and never cause trouble for your hyungs. This is not like the sweet little boy I know, so please talk to hyung.” The caregiver’s voice had gone soft and his face showed nothing but worry, so the little couldn’t do anything but break down. Felix opened his arms an invitation because he wasn’t sure the leader wanted to be touched right now.

Sniffling, Chan crawled into his caregiver’s lap and tried to absorb as much of the other’s warmth as he possibly could. Felix petted his messy curls, which felt so comforting that the little just melted into his touch. “Channie tiwed”, the little whimpered, “Nuh feel good, evewything huwts.” The dancer frowned, he should have known. His baby was extremely overworked and sleep deprived. He always gets a bit cranky when he’s tired and Felix couldn’t even imagine how tired the leader must be. It also didn’t come as a surprise that he felt achy from working so much and resting so little. The dancer rubbed his back and kissed his forehead, whispering: “I know, sweetie, I know. Do you want to take a nap?” Chan shook his head and sniffled a bit, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. “Insomnia?”, Felix questioned and the little nodded with a pitiful whine. Then the dancer had an idea. He stood up, koala-carrying the other to the bathroom and starting a warm bath. “It’s okay, Channie. Why don’t you take a nice and warm bath and relax for a bit? Look, hyungie got you a pretty bathbomb too”, the caregiver promised, pulling out a large purple bathbomb. Chan calmed down and removed his clothes. The warm water relaxed his muscles and he giggled when the water started to bubble from the bathbomb Felix had dropped in.

Soon the water had turned a deep purple shade and lavender scented steam drifted through the bathroom. Felix had left only for a second to get the little some fresh and comfy clothes but his heart broke when he saw Chan just laying in the tub and staring at the ceiling above. The bath toy, his beloved rubber ducky sat untouched on the rim of the tub, the little not having the energy to play. The caregiver placed the stack of clothes down on the sink and crouched next to the tub, humming: “Hey kangaroo, want hyung to wash your hair?” Chan nodded and with some struggle sat up, turning his back to Felix. The dancer took some shampoo and made sure to take a few minutes to massage the little’s scalp he also used some conditioner afterwards because he knew the other didn’t take care of his frequently died hair enough. Chan yawned when he climbed out of the tub, a large fluffy towel wrapped around his shoulders. He put on the clothes Felix had picked out and sat on the closed toilet lid while the caregiver dried his hair and applied some moisturizer to his face. “Want hyung to make you a bottle?”, Felix asked, guiding the little to the couch. Chan nodded and curled up with one of the cushions while the other went to the kitchen.

Felix still had hopes to get Chan to sleep, so he decided to feed him the bottle in bed. While the leader sat in the center of his bed indecisively, holding his plushie in his lap, the caregiver placed the bottle on the nightstand. Pulling his favorite blanket off his own bed, he smiled at the little: “Now, let’s get you all comfy. Hyung will lend you his favorite fluffy blanket to wrap you up all nice and cozy. You can cuddle Skye (plushie) and have your bottle.” Felix sat down against the headboard of Chan’s bed. He parted his legs and let the leader sit between them with his back against the caregiver’s chest. Then he pulled the blanket over them and tucked it around Chan’s broad shoulders. The leader was always a bit shy about his little side, so it was easier for him to drink from a bottle when they weren’t facing each other. Felix ran one hand through Chan’s damp curls to get him to relax and used the other to raise the bottle to the little’s face, who was quick to latch onto it with his lips. The more time passed, the more the caregiver could feel the little relax and by the time the bottle was empty, Chan had completely melted into him. Felix set the bottle on the nightstand and shifted them into a lying position, with the blanket tucked around them comfortably. The leader certainly seemed sleepy now.

They lay in comfortable silence for almost half an hour and Felix was certain that the other was asleep. At least till the boy on his chest whimpered: “Hyung, Channie nuh can sleep.” His voice was weak from exhaustion and muffled from the fabric of Felix shirt and the blanket. The caregiver’s heart broke. He had hoped so hard that his little was finally getting the rest he needed. “It’s okay, little kangaroo. You don’t have to sleep, we can just lay here and cuddle. Do you want hyung to read you a story?”, Felix cooed. He knew the harder he tried, the harder it would be to fall asleep. He pulled out his phone and pulled up a random bedtime story he found on the internet. Making sure to keep his voice low and his accent prominent, Felix started reading, a small smile on his face when Chan played with his fingers. The little seemed so fascinated by the dancer’s tiny hand that, like the tiny baby he is, he had to take it into his mouth. Felix got startled for a second but chuckled when Chan started to suck on two of his fingers. He really needed to buy the little a pacifier at some point, so he wouldn’t just take anything like Felix’ shirt, hoodie strings, his sleeves or Felix’ fingers into his mouth. Though it didn’t really bother him because he saw how at peace the leader looked and he wouldn’t dare pull him hand away. Felix almost squealed with joy when he finally heard soft snores from the boy in his arms but stopped himself to not disturb the little’s rare sleep. He kissed Chan’s head and put his phone away, whispering: “Alright, it’s nap time, baby.”

#stray kids #skz #whump #angst #fanfic #fanfiction #little #little space #litlespace #headspace #agere #age regression #bang chan #lee felix #chanlix #fluff #comfort

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mystrangerfics · 3 years

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You Always Got Me

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Description: Anon: 3 , 100 , 57 , 77 crying bill??? Thank you angle 😘

Work Count: 1953

Complete Story Warnings: Language, Sexual Themes, Violence, Suicide

You were done. So done. You had been dating Billy for almost a full year and it had not been without hardships. His relationship between him and his father had always led to him acting out and being hard to understand but you had thought moving in together would help him. It was almost like things had only gotten worse. He drank constantly, he would randomly become angry and distant. You could have gotten past all of it but when you came home to find him with another girl in your bed, you were done.

"Baby, Baby, please?" Billy begged as you began packing a bag, his mystery woman quickly putting her clothes on behind you.

"Please, what?!" You hollered as you ripped your bag back from his grasp.

"I can fix this," he whimpered and shook his head. He stood before you in nothing but his jeans that he had quickly pulled on and hadn't bothered to button or zip.

"No, you actually can't this time," you argued as you continued to throw things in your bag.

"But," Billy whimpered and tried grabbing the bag back from you again. "We're meant for each other."

"Then who the fuck is that?!" You screamed, pointing at the woman who darted out of the bedroom.

"She's no one! You're the only one I want to wake up next to," he tried to pull the bag from your grasp again.

"You sure have a funny way of showing it!" You snapped and pulled the bag back again, getting the rest of your clothes in it that you would need for now. You headed across the hall to the bathroom and Billy quickly followed.

"You can't leave me," he brokenly whimpered, picking at your stoned heart. "You always got me."

"I'm not doing this, Billy," you said, holding onto your resolve. "I put up with your nightmares even when you hit me or try to choke me in my sleep. Your constant mood swings where you're happy one minute and mad at me the next. I put up with your being jealous and suspicious of everything I do and everywhere I go. And now to come home to this! Go fuck yourself!"

"I'll do better. I can do better," he pleaded as he followed you down the hall. He saw you going to the door and quickly got in front of you, holding your arms as he dropped to his knees. "Please, baby. I love you. I love you so much," he cried and buried his face against your stomach. "Please?!"

Your eyes watered and you clamped them shut, cursing yourself. "Billy get off me," you tried and pushed at his shoulder softly. "Let me go!"

"No! You'll leave me," he cried and looked up at you. "I'll do whatever you want. I'll fix us. Please just tell me what you want me to do?"

"I want you to let me go," you said quietly after a moment. Billy whimpered in a pained manner before he pulled his arms from around you. "I loved you, Billy. I loved you so damn much and you just let it all go," you told him, explaining how you were feeling. "I want you out by Monday. I'm going to stay with my parents," you said after a moment, no longer able to stand his sobbing that was tearing you apart.

"Where am I supposed to go?" He sniffled and looked up at you.

"Maybe you can ask the girl you were fucking if she needs a roommate," you countered before walking around him, doing your best to hold onto your anger so you wouldn't break and give in to him.

"Please don't walk out that door?" Billy begged as his heart shattered to pieces in his chest.

You stopped at the threshold, knowing this moment would determine how the rest of your life would go. You hung your head as your eyes watered up and your chest ached with Billy's pain and your own. "Goodbye, Billy," you muttered before closing the door in time to block his loud sob.

__ __

You returned to the house on Monday and debated going in upon seeing Billy's Camaro was still parked in the drive. You sighed before putting your car in park and getting out, you knew you were technically early. You hoped he was almost done packing and that you could avoid him until he left. You walked up to the door and walked in, glancing around a bit. Boxes were half packed around the living room, Billy's items appeared tossed in without much care or thought.

You quietly walked down the hall to the bedroom to find a box on the bed. Your eyes flared and you sniffled a little as one of Billy's denim jackets sat on top of the box. You reached out and gently ran your fingers over the material, having touched the jacket many times but you realized this could very well be the last. You looked away from it before you turned, seeing the light on in the bathroom and hearing the shower running. You slowly walked up to the door and rested your hand against it, trying to hear Billy in the room.

There was silence for a bit and you scrunched up your eyes. "Billy? Are you okay in there?" You asked, clearing your throat a little. "Billy? Can you hear me?" You asked when he didn't respond. "Bil-?" You were interrupted as you looked down, seeing water running out from under the door. "Billy?!" You hollered and violently shook the handle on the door, banging your shoulder against it. "Billy!" You screamed again before you backed up and kicked the door. You were glad it was cheap and gave on the third kick.

Your eyes landed on the tub and Billy laid in it, seeming to float in the water. A bottle of pills spilled over the floor and the water running over the sides. "Billy!" You tried as you quickly came over to the tub, stepping into it and hoisting his face out of the water. "Why are you doing this?" You whimpered to him as you held him against your chest and leaned back to unplug the tub, trying to drain it. You managed to fit your fingers into his mouth and pushed them to the back of his throat, wiggling them there. "Please, baby? Please?" You whimpered and when your fingers didn't work you felt for his pulse, finding a weak one. You jumped out of the tub and ran drenched through the house before getting the phone and calling for help.

You returned to the bathroom and knocked almost everything out of the medicine cupboard that was over the sink before finding the bottle you were looking for, Ipecac.

You crawled back into the tub with Billy, barely noticing the water still showering down on you both as you forced his mouth open and tipped the bottle into his mouth once you got off the cap. You held him to you while you waited and sobbed. You prayed he would wake up and you begged him to, hoping that in some way he would hear you.

When you had given up and rested your head down against his drenched hair you felt him tense before hearing a loud gag. A warm, thick substance covered your chest and you looked down to see Billy was throwing up the pills.

"That's it, baby. That's it," you quietly cooed and brushed back his hair, smiling in maddened relief. He groaned in a miserable tone before he weakly sat up and fell back on the tub. His eyes looked dazed as he stared at you, the water running over you both.

"Did I die?" He asked, seeming confused. "Is this my heaven?"

You sadly smiled at him and shook your head. "Billy you're going to be okay. The ambulance is coming," you explained.

He seemed stressed at this news and looked over, eyeing the pills that were scattered across the floor, wet from where the tub had run over. "You weren't supposed to be here til later."

"Well, it's a good thing I got here when I did. Billy, you could have died," you tried to explain, stressing the last word.

"What do you think i was trying to do?!" He asked, making you frown. "I can't move back in with my dad. I won't," he whimpered and you frowned.

"Billy, you could have told me. I can find somewhere else to stay," you offered.

"I don't fucking want that either. I just want-," he said before looking down, his eyes watering. "I just want you back." You looked down when his eyes came up, searching for yours. "I know I'm an asshole and complete shit to put up with but I love you," he tried. "I haven't loved anyone like I love you since my mom and it-," he cut off and shook his head.

You glanced back up to Billy now, he had never mentioned his mother or anything overly detailed about his childhood. He had always told you it wasn't your business and you had left it alone.

"It scares me. But the last thing I want is for you to leave me like she did," he whimpered and looked down, closing his eyes as they burned with tears. "I just need one more chance."

You frowned a little at him before you slowly crawled forward and rested your head on his chest, laying against his side. "You never told me about your mom," you said quietly and felt his arm wrap around your waist weakly. "What was she like?"

Billy was quiet for a few moments before a small smile came to his face. "She was a lot like you. She believed in me when no one did. She always loved me. She was really pretty," he said, his voice breaking down to a whisper on the last word.

"Well, wherever she is. I'm sure she misses you and she raised an amazing son," you told him, making him close his eyes and cry harder. He pulled you close to him and placed a kiss in your hair as you heard the sound of distant sirens.

__ __

Billy was allowed to come home after being under observation all night. You had stayed with him and watched him sleep, not leaving his side. When he was discharged, you were waiting outside in your car. You gave him a smile as he got in and you pulled away from the hospital.

"So I was thinking," you told him as you kept your eyes on the road. "About everything you said and everything that has happened." You saw Billy look at you out of the corner of your eye. You stopped at an intersection and let the other cars go. "Billy Hargrove you get one more chance to turn things around and if-," you couldn't even finish your sentence before his arms were around you, hugging you tight.

"Yes. Whatever it is, yes. I'll do anything," he told you as he kept his hold on you. "Thank you, baby."

You looked at him when he finally pulled back a little before pressing a small kiss to his lips, making him smile. "I love you."

"I love you too, baby. So damn much," Billy whispered, making you smile. He leaned in to kiss you again before the car behind you honked since you'd been sitting at the intersection for too long. "Fuck 'em," Billy said with a smile before his hand slipped onto the back of your neck and he pulled you into another kiss, bringing a smile to your lips.

#billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x reader #Billy Hargrove #stranger things #mystrangerfics #writing prompt #fic prompt #prompt request

65 notes · View notes

randomficsandshit · 4 years

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Bellarke Fic Rec

*NONE OF THESE FICS ARE MINE*

Please do not forget. I have not written any of these. I’m simply recommending favorites of mine over the years. If you love something, send the author your love, not me :) and if any links don’t work, send me a message and I’ll see what i can do, this is a pretty old list

There's A Nap For That

Word Count: 6k+

AU. Based on that post: "If you both agree to take a nap instead of going out, it’s a date." Or: The one where Bellamy and Clarke keep taking naps together. You know, platonically. See also: Let Them Rest.

If You Wear A Dress and Have an Animal Sidekick, You Are a Princess

Word Count: 3k+

AU. Bellamy can't not take care of every animal he sees, and Clarke can't not find it endearing.

*Mouth Like Heaven, Kisses Like Stars

Word Count: 4k+

His eyebrows are knitted together in a slight frown, the kind he usually gets when he’s trying to work out a difficult problem. Finally, he meets her eyes again and says, almost hesitantly underneath his mask of bravado, “Well, I’m always here to lend a helping hand if you need it, princess.” Clarke actually chokes this time, and it feels like all the breath has been knocked out of her. -or, the time when everything goes downhill and bellamy just goes down.

Wingwoman

Word Count: 1k+

AU. Clarke didn't think she'd need a wingwoman at the park playground when she's babysitting her one-year-old niece, but then Bellamy Blake strolls up, and Amelia rises to the occasion, luckily for her.

When Love Hits (Better Make It Worth The Fall)

Word Count: 4k+

AU. (She's All That) Four times Clarke gets hit on the head (+1 time she doesn't) during her last semester of high school, and every single time, Bellamy Blake is somehow involved.

All This Time

Word Count: 5k+

AU. Four times Bellamy innocently kisses Clarke, + one time he doesn't.

Take This Heart

Word Count: ~

clarke moves into bellamy's room. this is both soft and full of disdain for clarke's terrible... everything in season 3

You're Cool On The Internet, At Least

Word Count: 9k+

AU. Look, Clarke will not dwell on this. She will not get flustered just because a possibly cute guy on Facebook apparently shares her views on what constitutes a terrible person.

(Or: Clarke meets Bellamy on Facebook. They hit it off.)

(One of my personal favs)

We Came Out On Top

Word Count: 11k+

AU. “How can you guys be all like this and then be at each other’s throats during trivia night?” “Because it’s trivia night,” both Bellamy and Clarke said at the same time, sharing the same why don’t you get it tone. Bellamy, Clarke, and the trivia night rivalries only they care about.

She Does What The Night Does To The Day

Word Count: 5k+

AU. He assumes she would just giggle and continue petting him while saying how pretty he is, but instead, she pulls back with what might have been a leer had she not been three sheets to the wind, and says, “Your body is 65% water and I’m thirsty.” And then if that wasn’t bad enough, she stumbles out of his arms and fucking winks at him. Or at least he thinks it’s a wink. She used both eyes instead of one. or, the one where Bellamy is woefully and terribly oblivious.

The Giant Squid's Got Nothing On You

Word Count: 6k+

AU. Objectively, Clarke knows she’s probably right, but she still can’t help but lift her chin determinedly and say, “He is not going to find it.” She can barely hear her scoff in reply over the din of the cafe. “Yeah right,” says Raven, “The internet is forever, Clarke Griffin. He will find it eventually.” or, Clarke finds her new muse at the local cafe

Alone Together

Word Count: 11k+

AU. Clarke shows up at Bellamy’s apartment at exactly two minutes to midnight on a Thursday. He's not sure how she ends up staying the night — or why he doesn't turn her away, when it happens again. And again.

Cold As The Wind Blows (so hold me in your arms)

Word Count: 3k+

AU. Clarke gets trapped in the storage room overnight, but at least she's not by herself.

Tequila Regrets

Word Count: 6k+

AU. Clarke and Bellamy have been roommates for a while, and Clarke has been in love with him for almost as long, but when she finds out that his terror of a boss has marked him as her next conquest, Clarke offers to pose as his fake girlfriend for the staff Christmas party to scare her off. She did not think this all the way through.

Mutual

Word Count: 6k+

AU. As acts of rebellion go, Clarke knows that getting a tumblr is both minor and pathetic. But it's her secret, her own tiny, online space where no one knows she's Clarke Griffin, Hollywood A-lister. She's just some nobody with like five followers and opinions no one cares about. And then she makes a friend.

Wish On Everything

Word Count: 11k+

AU. It's not as if Bellamy wanted anything bad to happen to his mother. All he wanted was to get custody of his little sister, so he'd know she was taken care of. And after eight years, he's basically given up all hope of that. Then his mother does die, and social services tells him he gets Octavia.

Legs Crossed Towards Each Other

Word Count: 7k+

It starts with Raven wanting to set up Mr. Sinclair, out of what are probably genuinely good intentions. It's everyone else who turns it into a massive headache for Bellamy.

What The Hell Is The Catch?

Word Count: 6k+

Bellamy gets tickets to take his AP US History kids to Hamilton, and Clarke figures he's going to need a chaperone. She's happy to help out. And if he says she owes him for it? Totally worth it.

If You Wanna Reach Me

Word Count: 5k+

AU. Clarke: So yeah, in the dream it's like We're in New York, I think. I'm not really sure, but you know how it is when it's a dream and you just know something. So we're in New York.

Jasper: whos we??????

Clarke: Most of us, I think? It's always kind of hard to remember when it's a dream. Like I just thought "everyone's here!" but I mostly interacted with Bellamy.

Raven: did u mean: real life

Time Enough For Rocking When We're Old

Word Count: 14k+

boston > boston/camb/brook > housing > apts by owner $2-300 Roxbury small room in 3-br 1-bath house, spouse preferred (Roxbury) Pair of siblings looking for housemate. Due to extenuating circumstances I will share with interested parties, I would prefer a roommate who is willing to get married for legitimate personal reasons that do not include sex or anything sketchy. If not interested in marriage, room still available for $300/month plus utilities. Pets okay, no smokers, NO DRUG USE. Please don't just email me to tell me this is fucked up, I know it is, you really don't have to tell me. If you are interested in the marriage part, a female spouse is preferred, but male would be okay too. I promise I will explain this if you really want details, but I'm not putting it online. Serious inquiries only.

Must Love Intersectionality

Word Count: 2k+

AU. Bellamy hates his stupid history of colonialism class, until he makes a friend. Weirdly, the friend isn't actually in his class, they just share the same desk and like to write angry notes about the patriarchy. Bellamy's a fan.

Regardless Of Warnings, The Future Doesn't Scare Me At All

Word Count: 20k+

AU. 2 Chapters. After an argument with her mother about her unplanned pregnancy, Clarke Griffin ends up back in the small town where her father used to live, spilling her sob story to a sympathetic bartender. And then, somehow, she ends up moving in with the bartender and her brother.

(You Might Find) You Get What You Need

Word Count: 20k+

AU. Clarke needs a date to her ex's sister's wedding, and she's at the point of hiring someone off the internet when Octavia points out that her brother is always looking for money. So Clarke takes him instead.

Just As You Are

Word Count: 10k+

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single Clarke Griffin in need of a Latin tutorial partner will always end up paired with Bellamy Blake.

I've Been Dreaming Of You From The Other Side (I Know You So Well)

Word Count: 17k+

AU. Ten years ago, Clarke found out she had superpowers. Now she's all ready to start a new life: English teacher by day, vigilante by night. All she has to do is figure out how to be a superhero, avoid getting caught and shipped off by mandatory metahuman registration, and not strangle the stupid history teacher down the hall. It'll be fun.

She's Touching His Chest Now, He Takes Off Her Dress Now

Word Count: 26k+

If Clarke had thought arguments could actually lead to switching bodies with someone, she wouldn't have been surprised this one really did. But since that's actually impossible, waking up as Bellamy Blake is still a shock.

I Know That Fortune Is Waiting To Be Kind

Word Count: 20k+

When Bellamy is eleven, his mother dies, and he finds out his father was a prince, which makes him a prince too, albeit a bastard prince. And when he's twelve, his family decides he would be a good candidate for marriage to Princess Clarke of Arcadia. Princess Clarke thinks so too, but only because he agrees to come back in ten years and help her make sure the wedding never takes place. It seems like a really good deal, when he's twelve.

And Dream How Wonderful Your Life Will Be

Word Count: 19k+

Clarke has known Bellamy Blake for two months when she finds out two completely unexpected things about him: he's married, and he has an eight-year-old son. He's also getting a divorce and he needs a roommate, and she's got a spot. It's complicated.

One Deep Breath and One Big Step

Word Count: 17k+

Clarke Griffin has been groomed for Ark University and Sigma Kappa Upsilon sorority since she was a kid, and she's a little annoyed to discover, upon getting to college, that she really does like Sig-Kap. That she wants to pledge. There's just this weird thing where they don't seem to like her new friend Bellamy.

Write What You Know

Word Count: 13k+

Bellamy understands every individual choice that got him to this point. He started writing erotica to make some extra money, he didn't correct the assumption that he was a woman, made up some facts about his new persona, and now his publisher wants him to start making public appearances, so he needs someone to be that persona. And Clarke really is the logical choice. It all makes sense to him, when he thinks about it, but he will admit it is incredibly weird. Luckily, Clarke's still got his back.

When Can I See You Again?

Word Count: 13k+

Bellamy doesn't recognize a lot of people he meets at conventions, even if he's met them a lot. It's just hard to keep track. But the girl who comes once or twice a year is pretty easy to remember. And that's before her foster mom shows up in a panic because she took a bus to Vegas alone. After that happens, it's basically all over.

But They Ain't Doing It Right

Word Count: 14k+

“So,” he begins, running a hand through his hair. It’s a lost cause trying to work it back into some semblance of order. “What is this?” “What do you mean?” He doesn’t meet her eye when he says, “Once is a mistake, twice is a pattern,” too busy picking at a loose thread in his hem. “Wanna go three times and just make it a habit?” she jokes weakly, and his head snaps back up, eyes boring into hers. She flushes under the intensity of his gaze. “Actually,” he begins slowly, “That doesn’t sound that bad.” or, the friends with benefits au that got away from me

Phone A Friend

Word Count: 7k+

Clarke does not ask Bellamy for tips on having a threesome because she's hoping to have a threesome with him. He's just the only person she knows personally who has actually had a threesome, so he seems like her best resource. And when the opportunity to have a threesome with him presents itself, it's not like she's going to just say no.

I'm Swept Away and My Heart Ensnared

Word Count: 15k+

Raven hums low in her throat. “Well, at least Bellamy can make it up in time. So you won’t get too axe murdered.” Clarke wrinkles her nose, leaning on the banister of the upstairs porch. From here she can see the ocean, just a five minute walk away, and she breathes in brine soaked air. “He’s still coming?” “What do you mean if he’s still coming? He didn’t say anything otherwise.” She shifts from foot to foot, feeling herself colour slightly even though there’s no one there to see her. “I just assumed that because you and Miller couldn’t make it up anymore he wouldn’t come today.” “Why the hell did you think that?” “Because Bellamy and I aren’t exactly friends, Raven." or, Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin don't really like each other. Or at least that's what they tell themselves.

Afraid To Call This Place Our Own

Word Count: 22k+

(Single mom!Clarke and Teacher!Bellamy, with the usual angsty shenanigans.)

And Are We There Yet (Home)

Word Count: 2k+

A Bellamy POV and mini sequel to afraid to call this place our own. (this shit made me cry)

Bloodstains and Innocence: A Clarke Griffin Mystery

Word Count: 27k+

Police Chief Clarke Griffin knows three things: 1) Charles Pike is dead. 2) Octavia Blake is the prime suspect. 3) Bellamy Blake a giant pain in the ass with no business being involved in a murder investigation, and yet here he is, working the case alongside her. A hurricane is approaching the sleepy little island of Arkadia, NC as evidence begins to mount against Octavia and Clarke wrestles with her increasingly complicated relationship with Bellamy, all while trying to answer one simple question: Who killed Charles Pike?

Is There An IUD That Can Stop The Image of You and Me?

Word Count: 8k+

It's probably impossible to be friends with benefits with someone who might not even count as a friend, but "lab partners with benefits" isn't a thing yet. So that's probably the right term. Whatever it is, Clarke's enjoying it. As long as she ignores the whole feelings thing.

I’m Gonna Leave You Anyway

Word Count: 65k+

Modern AU inspired by the show You're the Worst, where Bellamy and Clarke hook up after a wedding.

And You Can Have This Heart To Break

Word Count: 37k+

Clarke knows she's being a little over-dramatic in her complaining about having to move to Maine, but it does seem pretty unreasonable of her mother to drag her to a small town in the middle of nowhere for the three months between high-school graduation and her starting college. As it turns out, the summer is great. It's just the summer ending that's the problem.

Museums and Mistletoe

Word Count: 1k+

Clarke buys Bellamy a museum ticket for Christmas and he acts like it’s the best gift he’s ever received. She buys one for herself too, because she knows none of their other friends have the time to go—finding a day they can all get together to exchange gifts is hard enough—and if it gets her an uninterrupted afternoon with her best friend and all around favorite asshole, she’s definitely not complaining.

When In Brome

Word Count: 57k+

Octavia is the one who tells Clarke about "Untitled Gladiator Project," because she thinks Bellamy wants to be on it, and also thinks Clarke is the one who will be able to convince him to do it. Plus, it turns out Clarke actually needs to be involved, because all of the gladiators are required to have girlfriends with them, and, honestly, the more she hears about it, the more of a mess it seems like. On the other hand, it sounds kind of hilarious, and definitely right up Bellamy's alley, so there's probably no harm in trying out. It might be fun.

It’s All Internet Interaction

Word Count: 11k+

Bellamy is less than pleased when soap opera star Clarke Griffin lands the lead role in the Callister reboot. So, naturally, he writes about it. It’s not supposed to blow up. She’s not supposed to respond to it either, but here they are.

Just Dive Right In (And Follow My Lead)

Word Count: 24k+

Clarke Griffin needs a partner. Bellamy Blake just happens to walk into her rink. (Or: Bellamy and Clarke as ice dancing partners, training together through the years to the Olympics.)

Sleight Of Hand

Word Count: 56k+

Notorious criminal prodigy Bellamy Blake has been tasked with a seemingly impossible heist. Luckily enough, he just might have the right crew for it. *Personal Favorite*

And Then We Were Chasing Comets

Word Count: 21k+

If you told Clarke Griffin that she would become best friends with the resident black sheep of Arkadia, she would have difficulty believing it, let alone the fact that he apparently wrote an entire book about her. (Or: Clarke and Bellamy through the years, as childhood best friends.)

See Me In Hindsight

Word Count: 16k+

“You’re kind of a mess,” He says mildly. “Thanks captain obvious.” The corners of his mouth twitch a little, like he’s holding back a smile. She is not remotely pleased by that. Not at all. Or, the one where they're project partners and maybe, perhaps, friends. (And maybe, perhaps, more.)

Challenge Accepted

Word Count: 30k+

He doesn't even like Clarke Griffin, he's pretty sure he hates how easy everything has come to her. So imagine his surprise when he finds himself at their office party looking through dick pics on her phone. “You can do better, Princess. In fact, I can do better.” As soon as she turns to him with raised eyebrows and an open mouthed grin he knows he’s said too much but she’s not going to let it drop. “Oh really, you think you can do better, Blake?” And he's never backed down from a challenge in his life.

Found Myself In A Second

Word Count: 5k+

The one where Clarke finds a lost wallet belonging to one Bellamy Blake.

Every Rose Can Sting You

Word Count: 15k+

Clarke expected to encounter annoying guys when she got forced into becoming the Bachelorette, but she didn't realise that the most annoying of them all would be the head cameraman. Because seriously, Bellamy Blake is a total prick. It's a good thing there's absolutely no chance of her ever actually liking him, because boy, would that be inconvenient…

Choking On Your Alibis

Word Count: 7k+

Bellamy gets a girlfriend and Clarke handles it spectacularly well

#bellarke #the 100 #fic rec #fic rec masterlist #bellarke masterlist #bellamy x clarke #beliza #the 100 fic #multi chap fic #one shot #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #raven reyes #octavia blake #eliza taylor #bob morley #the cw #fanfiction #bellarke fanfiction

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whumpingcrow · 3 years

Text

Ink Poisoning - Chapter 7

Fire and Ice

CW: bbu and everything that relates to that, discussion of noncon drugging, drugs/alcohol, injury description, blood mention, hypothermia/frostbite/basically whumpee left in the cold for too long, whumper playing caretaker, intimate whumper, noncon/dubcon kiss, general noncon/dubcon discussion and themes, sick whumpee, ptsd flashbacks/nightmares (let me know if i missed anything!)

"Jesus Christ, were you trying to kill him?"

"Shut up. Come here, help me keep him up so I can take the belt off."

Hands, warm hands on Gio, grabbing, taking, hurting. He shrinks away from them, he cries out, it hurts, everything hurts, his world is painted bright red with pain all the time, breathing is painful, moving is painful, existing is painful.

"He doesn't look so good, Nicko, I think we gotta go to the hospital-"

"He's fine. Here, hold this."

The world spins and jostles Gio around, and then he's off of the burning cold of the ground, enveloped in heat that's almost too much. It makes all of the dull aching that seems to have frozen overtime thaw out, and he begins to sob, chest heaving, gnawing pain clawing up his throat, and he can't even stop himself. He can't open his eyes, can't move at all, he's only able to cry, and it's just like the first round of training. He thinks, for probably the thousandth time, "I'm really going to die this time, this is really it for me, I'll never heal, it's over it's all over" and he cries and cries and cries.

"It's ok, Gio. You're alright now."

Now he's somewhere else, he doesn't remember leaving the freezing cold nightmare of outside, where he was lonely and shaking until his muscles felt like they were gonna give out and his skin felt like it was falling off. He must be in a bed, now, wrapped up in thick, warm blankets, laying on something sinfully soft. Panic rips through him, but everything is muted just slightly and all he can do to communicate his fear is a measly whine. He can't even open his eyes, they're held shut with a velvety exhaustion, the same one that holds him to the bed that he knows he's not worthy of. He wants to sit up, be awake, but trying to move is too hard, his skin feels like it's all shredded up where it brushes against the sheets. He wants to wake up, he hates to be asleep, he doesn't want to have any more bad dreams. He whimpers again.

"Giovanni, I'm here. I'm right here." He flinches when fingertips trace against his temple, then they are in his hair and he moans miserably. It hurts to be touched, mostly because it isn't enough. Life is agony and he feels like he's dying, he needs more than just a gentle hand in his hair. He needs a hug. He doesn't know if he remembers how to ask for that without sounding pathetically broken, so he doesn't try. He feels scalding hot tears streaming down his cheeks and falling into his hair. "Ugh, I'm so sorry, darling. I went way too far."

Gio doesn't understand. Too far? No, no this is about customary. Text book. Whatever he did, he can't remember now, was bad, bad enough to leave him in this condition, and so that means it was justified. He's never been told sorry before, he's never heard anyone who's hurt him admitting that they went overboard.

"Oh, please stop crying, Gio, you're breaking my heart." The hand is away from his hair, and Giovanni wills the tears to stop. He doesn't want anymore pain.

It takes all of his remaining energy to take in a shaking breath and force himself to whisper "I'm s-sorry, sir." It's rehearsed, even if it's broken up and weak, and he hopes that he says it good enough.

He hears a sigh, then the mattress sinks down a little next to him and the blankets are moved around a little. The cool air of the room slips under the sheets and it makes him shiver. That hurts, too, and he holds his breath until his lungs are tight so that he doesn't cry anymore. Then, strong arms are wrapping around him, drawing him against a body, warm and breathing and surprisingly gentle. He knows that this isn't right, it's not normal for an idiot boxie like him to be held, to be pressed up close against another person underneath covers for no other reason then to be held. Still, it's all he can do to not start bawling in relief as he buries his face against the chest in front of him.

He falls asleep again, nightmares full of blanked out faces and pain he doesn't ever think he'll forget plague his sleep, and every time that he starts to tremble or whine softly, Nicko pulls his wiry frame closer and pets through his hair and whispers that he's ok. He should have been doing this the entire time, he thinks, every time he heard Gio crying in his sleep or waking himself up to gasp and sniffle softly, he should have pulled him up into the bed and held him like this all those times. Now, as he's holding Gio's battered, frostbitten body against his own, he can't believe he was making them both miss out on the comfort. All it takes to calm Gio down enough to sink back into silent sleep is for Nicko to remind him that he's in harmless (for the moment, at least) arms, and then he whispers "you're ok, Gio, I've got you" into his tangled, blood soaked hair, and then he settles back into Nicko's grip and his breathing evens out. Nicko is baffled that it's that easy. He's also shocked at how, even though he hated Gio with everything that was in him hours ago, now he finds himself wanting to never let him go, to be this comfort to him forever.

------------------------------------------------

Nicko was inconsolable when he came back inside. Rory was the first person to try and talk him down, try to convince him that it wasn't Gio's fault and to let him back inside, but he wanted to listen to her least of all. Instead, he took a few more shots of burning tequila and yelled at her, told her to get out of his house. At first she didn't take him seriously, only grabbed onto him and pulled hard at his clothes, insistent that he "just calm down" because "it wasn't that big of a deal", but once he grabbed her shoulders and told her to get the fuck out of his face, she left in a hurry.

After that, his roommate, Ben, who he'd barely noticed when they passed him in the hallway, came out to the kitchen and sat next to him, pretending he wasn't trying to find Gio out in the dark, snowy backyard as they talked. It took about thirty minutes of Ben trying to timidly suggest that maybe it wasn't entirely Gio's fault before Nicko calmed down. Then, there was another long stretch of time where he carefully made Nicko feel like shit for hurting Gio in the first place, and hours after he tied Gio up there, Ben and Nicko went outside to retrieve him.

He was in much worse condition than Nicko thought he left him in, and he was a little afraid at how not aware he had been. Giovanni had been bleeding from his nose and mouth for who knows how long, and now dark marroon blood was cracked and dried and probably fucking frozen on his face and down his entire front. Even Nicko's belt, that was much too tight around Gio's frail neck, to the point it was bruising him, was covered in blood. His ears were a burning, bright red from the bitter cold, so were his cheeks and the tips of his fingers and toes. other than that, he was ghostly pale. More so than usual, which was concerning. But the most concerning thing of all was that he was passed out, head tipped back against the post and face blank and just unmoving. Nicko wondered if he passed out from the belt, he had thought that he would reach up and take it off himself once Nicko was inside, and he was disappointed in himself for doubting Gio's obedience. He was suddenly all to aware that this kid would do anything he thought Nicko wanted, or at the very least try with everything he has before exhausting himself. Rory, too, but only because he thinks he owes it to Nicko to listen to her as well. And here he is, soaked in his own blood and no doubt bruised from where Nicko kicked him right in his stomach, and he'll be sick from the cold, and he was so high before hand he probably had no idea what was going on.

He was probably so scared. He probably always is. That hadn't even occured to Nicko before, he was seeing him only on the surface, as the boxie he got for cheap to fuck around with, not as a human, not as something so broken and so easily frightened. He felt an overwhelming surge of guilt right then and there, especially when Ben said:

"Jesus Christ were you trying to kill him?"

I don't remember. Maybe I was.

"Shut up. Come here, help me keep him up so I can take the belt off." He had to keep his cool, he had to act calm and unbothered, couldn't let it show how much this shook him up.

Giovanni sounded just pathetic when they tried to situate him, even though they were both incredibly careful. Nicko was thrown off, he'd only heard Gio make noise when he was absolutely out of control with panic, horrified or when something had been hurting him for a long time, and even then it was quite. Well, except the time the Giovanni begged him with such desperation to stop touching him, horrified by his hands on him, the implication of him touching him somewhere else entirely. Nicko had been angry with him too, then, and he was starting to really feel the weight of his remorse.

"He doesn't look so good, Nicko, I think we gotta go to the hospital-"

Oh God, do you think he needs that? Oh fuck, I messed up.

"He's fine." Nicko insisted, mostly because he was horrified of what people would think of him if he brought Giovanni into the emergency room in this condition. They would know he did it, his knuckles were bruised and covered in Gio's dark, dried blood. He hadn't had time to wash it off in between his need to get more fucked up, yelling at Rory, and trying to allow himself to be calmed down. But he had to worry about getting Gio inside first, try to gauge just how bad the damage was. He slipped the belt off from around Giovanni's poor, bruised throat, he gasped feebly in response. Nicko barely caught him with a hand on his shoulder as he collapsed to his side in exhaustion. "Here, hold this."

The belt was passed off, like a baton in a race, and Nicko wasted no time gathering Gio's small, trembling frame against his chest and standing upright with him in his arms.

He didn't bother cleaning either of them off, Gio was much too exhausted for that. It was probably a better idea to get him warm first anyways.

Nicko's heart aches for him as he fades in and out of his dazed, disconnected state, crying when he's present enough to feel his pain.

-----------------------------------------------

Rory doesn't come back after that. Giovanni is sick for the next few days, he barely leaves Nicko's bed the entire time, Nicko works on bringing him back to health, he only drinks a little in the evening, just to be relaxed with Gio while he holds him and tries to sooth him enough to sleep. He's got a fever, hot to the touch and shivering all the damn time. It feels like the cold from outside has buried itself under his skin.

Except for when he's asleep.

When he sleeps, he's burning from the inside out. The mixture of his fever and coming off of the drug that had made him feel so fantastically far away, he remembers the nightmares. Sometimes he wakes up gasping, Shooting up in bed, shoving the too heavy blankets and Nicko's suffocating arms off of him with desperation to get away from the heat, in his dreams he's surrounded by bodies, too close and too hot and hands touching and taking and torturing. Other times, the burning inside is different, it's from dreams where he's all alone, everyone is leaving him, they don't want him he's just not good enough for them. Then, he wakes up and he's grabbing fistfuls of Nicko's clothes, pressing himself closer, closer, begging in a watery, wobbling voice, "Nicko please, please stay. Please don't go. Hold me, don't let go of me please."

So Nicko pulls him closer, and through the drunken, heavy veil of sleep, he finds himself placing soft kisses in Gio's hair, stroking little circles against his ribs, over his sharp shoulder blades, shaking with each gasping breaths.

Nicko misses Rory. He doesn't feel that bad about making her leave, not as awful as he feels for what he did to Gio, but he misses her, nonetheless. He misses a warm body, a touch more than panicked desperation. He finds himself wanting to touch Gio all the time, wants to tattoo him again, or toy around with him while he's completely there, when he can look sort of apprehensive and bothered and mouth-wateringly flustered. He's easy, and Nicko adores it.

When Gio starts to get better, it's relieving to everyone. He had said he didn't want to see Salem, not in this disgustingly sick and disoriented way. Once he gets a little more clearheaded, Salem is glad to see him in the kitchen when he gets home from school. Much too his- and surprisingly Nicko's -disdain, he's usually spending his time out of bed cleaning. He goes until someone insists he stops. They get worried when he gets pale and sways in front of the sink where he's been trying to wash the dishes. Salem often takes him to his room, which Nicko allows, and lays down on the floor with him, music playing softly through his speakers. Nicko, when he finds him in worrying pallor like that, takes him to his bed and asks him to lay down, to rest for a little while. Sometimes he joins him, sometimes he doesn't.

Gio starts to miss Rory when he feels better. He doesn't like how he feels with her drugs out of his system, for no one around to playfully treat him how he deserves; less than a person, more of a toy. Nicko is suddenly too nice and gentle, and Gio doesn't know if he likes it that much. He really doesn't like sleeping in his bed every night, he's too frightened now, especially when he's sober. He misses that amazing feeling he had the last time he saw Rory, even though the high and the new concussion and the fever made him forget almost everything that happened before Nicko came in and hurt him. He knew it was something bad, he was glad he wasn't really there to experience it.

One night, after waking up from another awful, empty and lonely dream, he turned over on the mattress, trying to find Nicko in the dark by dragging his hands across the sheets. He found his warm body, he shivered at how he was slightly overheated from his panic and his need to be close to someone in the obedient way he was supposed to, to be good for Nicko. He pressed himself close, timidly pressing his lips against Nicko's throat until it pulled him back into consciousness. He didn't seem upset about being woken up, simply finding Gio's thigh under the blankets and wrapping his sometimes threatening fingers around it and squeezing it with a pleased hum. Giovanni had tears on his face, they got onto Nicko's neck where Gio was getting closer and closer to Nicko with need and aching and yearning.

"What are you doing, Gio?" He asked. His voice was a hoarse rumble through his chest, Giovanni ran his hand over Nicko's bare chest, and he panted against Nicko's skin. Suddenly Nicko was aware of how bothered and worked up Gio was, and he pulled away from him. His eyes took a second to adjust, and from the streetlight outside, he could vaguely see his darkened, bruised eyes, shining with tears, staring at him wide eyed.

"You're my favorite person, Nicko." Gio was whispering, almost afraid to be admitting it. "I... I want to be close to you all the time. I don't want to bother you but it hu-hurts when I can't be."

He was so earnest when he said it, Nicko didn't think he was lying. He had no reason to, really. Nicko could see through the dark that his wide, permanently panicked eyes were flicking back and forth from Nicko's eyes to his mouth.

"Rory was right," Nicko started, his voice low and gravelly, "you're so cute. Especially when you say things like that."

Giovanni flushed at the words, and he was glad that it was dark enough that Nicko probably couldn't see him blushing hard. "You really think so?" He asked, voice wavering, like he was expecting Nicko to say "no you fucking worthless idiot. Not even a little bit do I think that".

Instead, he reached out and ran his thumb over Gio's cheek, across his jaw, and finally over his bottom lip. He smiled when Gio began to tremble at the touch, breath hitching in a beautiful way that was almost unnoticeable. "Yeah, Gio," he answered, "yeah, I do."

And then, before either of them changed their minds, Nicko pulled him close and kissed him.

Gio melted right into it, pressing his body flush against Nicko's, opening his mouth just a little as an invitation. He was perfect, he was made for this, for kissing and touching this way. But then Nicko felt guilty for thinking that. He had to remind himself constantly, every single time that Giovanni was looking irresistably adorable, that he was trained into being this way. Nicko couldn't even be sure that Gio really wanted it, or if he just thought he did because he knew it was what Nicko wanted. He was reminded again of what he'd realized when he saw Giovanni outside, saw that he hadn't even tried to get the belt off of his neck: Gio would do anything for Nicko. He had just admitted that Nicko was his favorite person, after all. Guilt started eating away at him yet again, so he pulled away from Gio.

"It's late." He mumbled, turning away from Gio altogether. "You need to get your rest so you can feel better."

He was answered by silence, and it made him sigh heavily. He didn't want to upset Gio, but even more he didn't want to use him, not when it didn't mean the same thing to him. "G'night, Giovanni."

Again, Gio was perfectly still and perfectly quiet. When he thought Nicko was asleep, he started to cry softly. He let his tears slide down his cheeks and wet his hair and the pillow. His fingers were pressed tightly to his lips. He wanted the ghost of Nicko's mouth on his to stay there forever. Eventually he exhausted himself, falling asleep crying, aching and burning for Nicko.

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nblesbianbenhanscom · 3 years

Text

you can read it on ao3 too. link is in the notes.

***

When Billy wakes up in the hospital, all he can hear is the sound of some dumbass machine beeping. He wants to make it stop, but when he goes to pull the blanket away, he’s stopped by the tubes and bandages.

He looks down at himself, frowning. He tries to think back, but all he remembers is getting in his car-- Steve Harrington slamming into his Camaro with an unknown car-- to go to Karen’s.

Had there been an accident? Had Harrington been involved somehow? He’s not sure and his head is beginning to throb so he decides to go back to sleep.

When he wakes up again, Max is sitting next to him in a guest chair, tears streaming down her cheeks as she holds his hand. They are alone. He wants to ask her what’s wrong, but then she begins to talk.

“Billy, you fucking asshole, you better stop this shit. Just wake up, please.”

Billy clears his throat and Max jumps as she looks up his face. Her eyes are wide, her hair a mess.

“Billy?” She whispers.

His mouth and throat are dry as he says, “Who were you expecting? Santa Claus?” It barely comes out as a whisper.

Letting out a strangled half sob, Max gets up and hesitates. He watches her blink several times.

“Billy, oh my god, you’re okay!” She leans forward and gives him an awkward hug. He pats her back, totally confused.

“Yeah, shitbird, why wouldn’t I be?” He asks.

Slowly she pulls back and looks at him. “You don’t remember?”

He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. He remembers a room, hot and humid, the sauna? At the pool? He’s locked in. Max is at the window.

I’ve done things, Max. Really… bad things. I didn’t mean to. He made me do it.

Billy shakes his head, no.

He made me do it? Billy thinks to himself. He who? Neil? No, not Neil. A shadow?

“I’m gonna go get a doctor,” Max says. She gets up and leaves quickly.

He’s not alone for long before a team of nurses and doctors come in and begin poking, prodding, and asking him questions.

At one point he looks over at the door and sees Max looking at him from the hall. There’s a girl next to her. A girl that shouldn’t be there. Billy’s not sure why, but she really shouldn’t.

Had he dreamt her? Had she died?

He can’t remember, and then someone asks him a question that he doesn’t know the answer to. He closes his eyes to try to answer but when he opens them again, both girls are gone.

Over the next few days, Billy drifts in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he wakes up alone, but more often Max is there. The impossible girl is there with her the most, but sometimes it’s Harrington or one of the kids. Sometimes he opens his eyes and it’s like his room has been invaded by quiet and subdued teeanagers. Sometimes he talks to whoever is in his room, but often he says nothing.

The weirdest times are when he wakes up alone with Steve, although this is probably in part because Steve is almost always asleep. Billy can’t understand why Steve of all people would want to be here alone with Billy.

***

It takes Billy several days to piece together what happened in the span of just a few days, all the death and destruction. Billy remembers bits and pieces, and he is flooded with guilt every time he sees the impossible girl, El. She was Chief Hopper’s daughter, but that didn’t make sense either. More people would know that Hopper had a daughter, right?

The one thing no one wants to answer is what happened to his car. Sometimes he thinks he remembers a crash, but he isn’t sure why.

One day he wakes up to find Steve staring at him from the guest chair. He’s sitting with his fist under his chin and Billy’s sure he’s not really seeing Billy.

Steve jumps when Billy clears his throat.

“Hey,” Steve says.

“Hey.” Billy keeps studying him. “Are you ok?”

Steve shakes his head a little. “I have some bad news.”

Scowling, Billy shakes his head. He cannot even begin to guess what Steve is going to tell him, how things could possibly get worse.

“Your dad sold your car to the junkyard this morning,” Steve says.

Throat tightening, Billy shakes his head a little. “Why?”

Steve chews on his lip. “Because I rammed the mayor’s car into it and totaled it that night.”

“The mayor’s car?” Bill asks.

He’s sitting behind the wheel of the Camaro, looking right at the kids, at his sister. His body is flooded with hate and anger and fear.

There is a loud crash as another car hits his, and he’s knocked around.

“Yeah, we kind of stole it,” Steve says.

Rubbing his cheek a little, Billy lets the news wash over him and then something clicks. He begins to shake so he pulls his blanket closer.

“I’m really sorry, Billy,” Steve says. “We tried to stop him, I tried to buy it off of him, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Billy shifts as he tries to figure out what to say as he bites back bitter tears. Everything hurts in a whole new way. He wants to go to sleep; he wants to go back in time to that night he’d left to meet Karen; he wants to go home to California.

He wants his mom.

“Billy?”

“Shut up,” Billy snaps. “Just shut up and leave me alone.” He doesn’t want Steve to see him like this. He covers his face with his arm as he lets out a small sob. He feels stupid. He’s alive and healing, he shouldn’t be fucking crying about something as stupid as this.

“I cleaned out your car before your dad sold it,” Steve murmurs. He sets a plastic grocery sack on the bed.

Billy lowers his arm and he chokes back a sob as he sits up and opens the bag. There’s some lighters, a bunch of cassettes, and an old battered shoe box. He wants to ask if Steve went through the box, but he’s so flooded with relief all he can do is pull the box close. With shaking fingers, he opens it and swallows hard.

The box is full of things from his mom that he wanted to keep hidden from Neil. Letters, notes, birthday cards, and several pictures. There are a few cassette tapes that shed’ forgotten when she left. When he was younger, he’d listened to them on low volume in the front room, and then later he’d made mixed tapes from them so he could hide the originals. He knew if his dad found any of these things, they’d get destroyed and then he’d probably beat the shit out of Billy. Billy had carried the box in his backpack as a kid until he finally got his car and he’d shoved the box away so Neil wouldn’t find it.

The most important thing though, was a small stuffed dog that had lost most of its stuffing over the years. He takes it out and holds it so, so gently with one hand and begins to stroke its ear.

Pulling it close, he covers his face again and begins to sob, his whole body shaking.

“Thank you,” Billy mumbles when he’s finally calmed down enough to talk. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” Steve says.

Billy drops his arm and looks up at the other man.

“No, Steve. It isn’t nothing. It’s everything.” Still clutching the dog, Billy reaches out and grabs Steve’s sleeve tugging him down. He knows he’s not gripping hard, but Steve comes easily. Billy wraps an arm awkwardly around Steve’s shoulders. It’s hard. The tubes get in the way, tugging a little painfully, and his whole body protests at the movement, at the touch, but he doesn't care. Steve is unsure at first, but eventually he wraps his arms gently around Billy.

“Thank you,” Billy whispers into Steve’s neck.

When they pull apart, Billy clears his throat and glances in the box again. With a heavy sigh, he closes it but keeps the dog under his arm. The dog had helped him through some of the worst nights of his childhood, and it has a comforting familiarity. He’s not even worried that Neil will see it because Neil hasn’t once visited him in the hospital.

Sighing, Billy lays back on his pillows. He watches Steve sit back down. He curls in on himself a little and turns to stare out the window. Billy falls asleep staring at him.

When he wakes up again, he’s still clutching the dog. Steve is gone and in his place Billy finds El and Max curled up in the chair reading comic books together.

***

The following weeks are hard. The dog never leaves Billy’s side and no one says shit. Steve comes alone every couple of days, and is often the one to bring Max.

No one brings up Neil, and Billy is too scared to think about what might be waiting for him there. He tries to not think about home , but when his dreams aren’t about him being flayed, they are him cold and alone on the street. Logically he knows this probably won't happen. There have been enough lawyers sniffing around, talking about getting him a settlement, but Billy doesn’t really want to be alone just yet, which is really frightening for him. He’s not used to needing anyone for anything, but considering he has a hard time walking on his own many days, he feels justified in not wanting to live alone.

One morning, close to when he’s supposed to get released, Billy wakes up in a cold sweat clutching his small dog. His throat hurts and he thinks he’s been screaming again. He stares up at the ceiling as he tries to catch his breath.

“That happen often?” Steve asks from the doorway.

“Wuh?” Billy jumps and looks at the door. “Jesus, Harrington, we need to put a bell on you or something.” He laughs, but it’s hollow.

“Sorry.” Steve folds himself in the chair. He leans on the arm and looks up at him. “So does it?”

“Does what?”

“The screaming nightmares. I could hear you from the goddamn elevator. Surprised nurses didn’t come running in.”

Shrugging, Billy asks, “What’s it to you, pretty boy?”

Steve smiles a little and shrugs. “Figure I have a right to know what my roommate gets up to in the middle of the night.”

Frowning, Billy asks, “Roommate?”

“Yeah… I mean if you want. I talked to Max and Susan and they think you would probably rather not live with Neil any more.” Steve sighs a little. “Robin’s been itching to move out, and like, this is the perfect excuse, honestly.” Steve chews on his lip and Billy just kind of stares at him numbly.

“No bullshit?” Billy asks finally.

“No bullshit.”

Pressing his lips together, Billy shakes his head, no, and sinks lower into the bed. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Steve says softly, genuinely confused, although that’s not hard for Steve.

“Because I don’t have any money, fuck face!” Billy snaps. Steve blinks once and busts up laughing. “Are you serious right now?” Billy growls.

Laughing so hard he’s actually crying, Steve wipes his cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I forgot the lawyers haven’t been up yet, but Joyce and Hopper helped get a huge settlement for you. All your medical bills are going to be taken care of, of course, but you’ll also be getting a monthly allowance for the rest of your life. Dude, you never have to work if you don’t want to.”

It’s Billy’s turn laugh, but laughing hurts and his tears are more from pain but he ignores them.

“No shit?” Billy asks.

“No shit.”

Billy opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He never has to go back to his dad’s house again. He can hardly believe it. He pulls the dog closer and takes a deep breath.

“Yeah, ok,” Billy says eventually.

Steve smiles at him. “It’s gonna be great, you’ll see.”

“Mhmm,” Billy says and begins to idly fiddle with his hospital bracelet while Steve starts telling him about the apartment. It’s not great, but it’s pretty nice, and big, and Steve just goes on and on about plans for cooking and parties and just everything sounds so nice.

And for the first time in a really long time, Billy can feel himself to start getting excited for the future.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #lil fic #came up with the saddest headcanon last night right before bed #and then i woke up and just had to write it #hope you like it #just a lil bit o fluff

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