#also Buttercup not wanting to leave so she holds onto his hand and her face is just 🥺 *stay

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 1: At First Sight

Pairing: hitman!jk x female reader

Genre: E2L, romance, angst, drama

WC: 4.5k

Warnings for this chapter: alcohol consumption, language, stalking kind of? I think that's all lol. Pls let me know if there is anything else I should put.

tag list; @teresaisla @hopekookies @moonchild1 @barbellastyles98 @ggukkieland @mwitsmejk @yukiehyukie

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn't sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn't his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger. 

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A bright smile graces your features as you tuck the little star-shaped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into a tiny container, just barely getting two of them to fit as you squish them down a tad bit in order to get the lid clipped on.

Then you grab a little tangerine and a cheese stick to drop into your lunch bag along with the sandwiches, counting the number of items aloud to yourself as they make themselves at home and then you zip it all up.

"Th-There we go!" You lift your lunch for the day in triumph.

Your phone startles you when it starts to ring, then you grapple in your purse to find it. You pull it out and answer right before the last ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, girl! Are you ready to go? I'm downstairs." The voice of your best friend comes through the phone and you look at the clock on your microwave. You stare at the little black screen, confused as to why the time isn't showing up before remembering that you were never able to figure out how to display the clock when you bought the microwave three years ago. So, you hold your phone out to look at the time.

6:32

"Oh geez! I didn't r-realize the time. I'll be d-down in a minute, k?" You say, earning a lighthearted laugh from the girl on the other end.

"Take your time, hun. I'm not in any rush."

You thank her quickly and hang up, then you run to your room to grab your favorite pink cardigan and throw it on over your white shirt. As you're hurrying out and grabbing your lunch, you stumble and knock your knee into an open lower cabinet that you had forgotten to close the previous night after pulling a pan from it to make dinner.

"Ouch!" You hiss in pain and rub the sore spot, although it does nothing to ease the ache. Then you grab your purse and run outside, almost forgetting to lock the door. But you remember just in time and clumsily lock it before rushing down the stairs leading to the parking lot of your apartment complex.

Your best friend, Mina, is laughing. You can see her through the windshield as she waves to you. Lifting a hand to wave back, you don't realize in time that your arms are full. You drop your lunchbox and have to crouch to get it again, only taking up even more of your time.

But Mina finds it hilarious and tells you so as soon as you slide into the car and fumble with your seatbelt to get it buckled.

"Honestly, ___. I can't believe you're still single. If I wasn't straight as a board, I'd be head over heels for you and all your shenanigans." She states in a matter-of-fact tone as she pulls out of the parking spot.

A blush creeps up your neck and you try to laugh it off, "D-Don't be silly." You whisper, turning your gaze outside to look at the fluffy white clouds decorating the sky beautifully. You smile and lean your forehead against the glass as you imagine lying on a soft cloud, just drifting in the air.

"If you c-could go anywhere at all, where would y-you go?" You ask Mina suddenly, turning to her. Her eyes are focused on the road but she bites her lip in thought at your question. "Mm, probably Italy. What about you?" She's used to your sudden questions and ramblings, so she smiles when you start to go off.

"I'd wanna go up in the c-clouds. I wanna sit on one and maybe even see a r-rainbow up close! I wonder if I could slide down the rainbow..." Your brows furrow in deep thought. "Or would I f-fall?" You turn to her again and she glances over to see your signature puppy dog eyes that you use when you are either confused, upset, or want something.

Mina turns back to the road, a tiny ache in her heart that she hides with a bright smile, "Girl, you would ride that rainbow straight down into a pot of gold!"

"Really?" Your eyes widen and you feel your heart lift at the image.

She nods and you giggle happily, "You can come w-with me, Mina." You say confidently, your gaze turning back to the sky. "We can sleep in the clouds and slide down rainbows for the rest of f-forever."

"Sounds like a deal."

By the time Mina pulls up to the school, you've discussed everything you'd do up in the clouds and what you'd eat when you're hungry (stardust, you've decided, is the best meal anyone could eat.)

You unbuckle and gather your things. Then you remember something and turn back to Mina, "Oh yeah. W-When are you leaving on your business trip?" You ask a tinge of sadness in your voice.

"This weekend," Mina says solemnly. "I'm sorry I won't be able to drive you for a while. I'll be gone for a month this time."

That makes your heart sting but you manage a small smile, "D-Don't worry about me. I can walk! I'm gonna m-miss you though."

"I'll miss you too, buttercup. We'll hang out this Friday night before I leave the next day. How about that?" Mina asks kindly.

You nod enthusiastically and she smiles, "Ok, get your butt in there before you're late! The bell rings in half an hour and you can't be late on a Monday." She urges you and you nod, hopping out of the car and thanking her again for the ride, reassuring her that you'll walk home from work today.

You blow her a kiss and she laughs as you turn and hurry into the school.

You're all set up only a few minutes before the kids are supposed to arrive, so you go onto Pinterest and look through your fairytale boards, feeling a little spark of joy in your chest.

A couple of minutes later, the kids start streaming through the door, greeting you with the same amount of enthusiasm as you greet them. Your kiddos love you so much that all the other teachers are jealous and they let you know it every day. Of course, you have the sweetest kindergarteners and they're always the best for you.

"Hello, Teacher! Good morning Miss ___! Teacher, look at my new haircut!"

"Hi, Jina! Hello M-Minhhyuk! Kun, your new haircut l-looks so good!" All the kids have bright smiles on their faces by the time they've settled in their seats.

You always start the day off by getting everyone to stand and do a few stretches, then you sing the nursery rhymes you learned yesterday and start learning a new one. You honestly have as much fun as the kids during the school day.

"Ok, l-little ducklings, have a seat!" You get their attention and they immediately oblige. Next, is the alphabet that you guys have been working on since the beginning of the year. Every little one sings it perfectly all the way through and you give them a round of applause and they each get a little punch in their reward cards.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly, with only one temper tantrum thrown and that was resolved quickly.

It's nearing the end of the school day and the kids are all playing during their free time. You're sitting with Ae-Cha, a small and fairly quiet girl, playing with colorful blocks; the both of you competing to see who can build the highest tower. You've learned that she responds well to playing games when there isn't too much talking involved.

You're constantly glancing around the room to make sure everyone is safe and playing nicely and you're always pleased. They've all improved so much since the beginning of school back in September. It's June now and they've all learned their alphabet and how to play nicely with their new friends, along with so many other things. They've really made you so proud this year. You can even hear them reciting the alphabet and nursery rhymes to each other as they play.

Your heart warms at the sound of tiny voices filling the room as they sing. Then you glance at the clock and realize the bell will be ringing in a few minutes. So, you declare Ae-Cha the winner with her foot-high tower of blocks and she beams proudly. Then, you get up and clap three times, "One, two, th-three! Eyes on me!" You singsong, then smile when the kids immediately respond by clapping twice and shouting "One, two! Eyes on you!"

"G-Great attention today, everyone! Alright, the bell will ring soon. Who can tell me w-what that means? What are we doing n-now?" A few little hands go up and you point to the little boy that raised his first, "Yes, Joon Woo?"

"We...Uhm...time to clean up toys...Uhm..." You smile to encourage him and he finishes cutely, "Time uh, to clean up our toys and pack bags."

"Yes! Thank you, Joon Woo. It is t-time for us to clean up and make sure our bags are packed up and ready for h-home!"

The kids start to pick up their toys as you put on the cleaning song that you play every day for them. You all sing along until the room is all tidied and their bags are packed with their homework papers.

You always give them little mazes to do for homework to get their little brains to learn to concentrate, along with instructions on what to draw to show the class the next day. Today, their homework is an extremely easy maze, a coloring page with the alphabet and instructions to draw themselves doing their favorite activity. The kids always love drawing pictures and sharing them with the class and it's a good ice breaker for the shy ones at the beginning of the day.

You always have less and easier homework for the kids on Mondays and Fridays, it just seems fair to you that way. You also feel like it's good for kids to express themselves and be able to share what they like and dislike. You've found drawing helps with communication and creativity for the kids in your class.

The sound of the bell ringing makes a few of you jump, then you hurry to the door. "Alright, ducklings! T-Time to line up!" A few of the kids make quacking sounds as they line up, giggling and talking to their friends.

You smile and open up the door, holding it as the kids walk out in a straight line, some of them still quacking like little ducks.

You lead the kids to the front of the school and make sure they get into the correct line for the bus if they take it. You wave goodbye to them as the kids that take the bus climb on and they run to a window to wave back to you.

The rest of the kids that are left are soon picked up by their parents or siblings. You wave to Ae-Cha, the last student to be picked up. She smiles shyly and waves back before hurrying after her big sister.

After that, you go back to your classroom and finish a few things before packing up to go home. As you're leaving your classroom, you run into one of the other teachers coming from his own room.

"Oh, h-hello Mr. B-Baek!" You bow, missing the ugly sneer on his face as you smile brightly at him. He pushes his glasses further up his nose as he scrutinizes you with his beady little eyes. "You don't belong here, Miss ___." He snaps.

You look at him in confusion, "I-I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"I've waited the entire school year to say this to you. But now that we are nearing the end, I think you should know that you have no business being a teacher at this school. You ought to make the right decision to discontinue your work here." Mr. Baek watches your face fall with a sick sense of satisfaction.

"B-But, why?" You ask, still not understanding.

"First of all, you're inexperienced. You just got out of college last year, am I right?"

You nod uncertainly.

"You're still a child. Why should a twenty-two-year-old girl come marching in here and take a spot that should have been given to someone with more experience? And especially someone like you." He glares at you before turning on his heel and walking away briskly.

Someone like me? What does he mean by that?

You watch after him, feeling a tiny pinch in your chest. You aren't sure what he means, but whatever he's talking about, it sounds like he believes you shouldn't have become a teacher at all. At this school or another. You'll have to ask Mina later because you really have no idea where his rant came from.

Is there something wrong with you becoming a teacher?

You shake your head and laugh it off, "He's probably just had a bad day." You tell yourself as you make your way out of the school.

As you walk home, you sing quietly along with the song in your headphones, a little skip to your step.

You never notice the dark figure across the street, his eyes trained on your every move.

One day earlier...

Jungkook groans as he tosses and turns in bed, searching for his phone to turn the alarm off. He finally finds it and hits dismiss, tossing the phone back down and rubbing his eyes with a tired yawn.

After another minute he sits up and looks out the window, frowning at the sun seeping in and pooling across his floor in a golden river. He stares at a small bird that lands on his windowsill until it flies away.

Jungkook yawns again and reaches up to rub his eyes for the second time. After a few minutes, he's finally able to drag himself out of bed and into the shower. He almost falls asleep again in there, but he manages to make it out after half an hour.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he makes his way to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of soju that's sitting on his tiny dining table to take a small swig from, finishing off what he'd left last night after his third bottle right before he passed out in bed.

He sighs and grabs a bagel, searching for the cream cheese he swears he saw in his fridge last night. A small smile appears on his lips when he finds it. He snatches it and makes sloppy work of spreading it on his bagel before tossing the leftover trash onto his counter and plopping onto the couch, snarfing down the first half of his bagel in thirty seconds.

Jungkook sighs through his nose as he tiredly chews his breakfast, then he glances down and sees the file he'd left open on his coffee table last night. He swallows the bite he has in his mouth and leans forward to read over it.

Y/L/N Y/N...

Why is that name so familiar?

He shakes his head and flips the file closed, then he leans back on the couch, wanting to spend his Sunday relaxing before he has to get to work on this case. He isn't going to think about it again until tonight.

Jungkook settles down and lays his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

He won't think about it.

Jungkook lays there for a minute, then he opens his eyes and lifts his head, glaring at the closed file on the little table.

He grunts in annoyance and drops the other half of his bagel onto the table, grabbing the file angrily and sitting back again. He opens it and starts to reread everything he's read many times since Friday. There's just something that has felt off since he met with Mr. Ling, but he can't put his finger on what it is.

Jungkook squints at the name he's read a thousand times.

Y/L/N...Y/N...

"Ugh." He rolls his eyes, frustrated at not being able to remember where he's heard that name before. Then he looks at the occupation.

Teacher at Sunshine Kindergarten.

His brows furrow again, much like they have each time he's read this. He's never had a hit on a teacher before, let alone a Kindergarten teacher. That's such an odd target...

Most of his targets in the past have been sleazy business owners, rapists, leaders of gangs that have terrorized neighborhoods for years, even other hitmen. He's never had a problem with those jobs, but there's something about this one that's telling him to be careful.

Maybe it's because he knows nothing about his client, except for the large sum of money he must have due to the pay he's been promised. Other clients of his were more than happy to explain why they wanted him to do what he does. They never paid him until after the job was done, either.

That leads Jungkook to believe that this guy (or girl) is desperate for his services, convincing him to do it with payment before and after. Almost as if Jungkook would refuse after he found out who the target was...

Jungkook flips the page and scrutinizes the picture of the target.

She's very simple looking, Jungkook thinks. The girl in the picture is wearing a white flowy skirt with a blue blouse that covers her whole arms and white chunky tennis shoes. Her hair is in a low ponytail and it seems like she has headphones in as she walks down the street. There's a tiny smile on her face as if she's thinking about something that makes her happy.

Jungkook doesn't find her particularly beautiful, but she isn't ugly either. She's just very...

Simple...

Jungkook shakes his head, his eyes going over the photo and the girl's smile one more time. Maybe she's a double agent? Or a part of the mafia disguising herself as a school teacher?

He can't figure it out.

It doesn't matter much though, the job seems simple enough and the pay is more than he's ever gotten. After looking through everything once more, Jungkook closes the file and grabs his bagel, quickly eating it before getting up to get dressed for the day.

That night, Jungkook lays out his outfit for the next day.

It's all black, but not suspicious-looking. After all these years, he's been able to design the perfect outfits to avoid attention being drawn to him and simple enough so that no one would think much of him if he were to catch anyone's attention.

It might seem simple, but he prides himself on being able to get each part of his job perfectly designed for each case he gets.

Heaven knows it's taken him years to accomplish.

After he's gotten that all figured out, he walks over to his closet and pulls out a small safe. Setting it on the bed, he swiftly unlocks it and looks inside. He pulls out a few things, examining each of them before he sets them one by one onto his bed. Once he's got the items all laid out, he steps back to look it all over.

"I should wait to decide..." Jungkook mumbles to himself. After a minute of staring at everything, he nods and gathers it all up, carefully putting it back into the safe and locking it tightly. Then he brings it back to his closet and shoves it into the darkest corner where it lives.

That can wait.

He pulls his phone out and checks the time.

11:45

"Damn it," Jungkook mutters. He had wanted to get some sleep earlier tonight since he would have to be awake early tomorrow.

He changes into some shorts, then he yanks his shirt off and immediately climbs into bed, not even bothering to shower or brush his teeth. He really couldn't care less with how tired he is. And he hasn't even started yet.

His alarm blares at an ungodly hour as Jungkook groans loudly, resisting the temptation to chuck his phone across the room.

"I hate Mondays." He mutters angrily, setting his phone back on the nightstand far from gracefully.

He miserably drags himself out of bed and into the shower, going through his morning motions almost like a robot. His brain isn't fully awake and it's just on autopilot right now.

An hour later, he's just finishing his coffee, his eyes no longer squinting in exhaustion. Jungkook unceremoniously drops his coffee cup into the sink, promising himself he'll clean it up later, then he sighs as he grabs his black boots, walking to the couch to sit and pull them on. After he's done lacing them up, he grabs the file he's been avoiding like the plague since yesterday morning.

He mutters to himself, looking at the name on the page.  

"I know that name."

Then he smacks his forehead to get himself to focus again. He stands up and folds the page with the girl's information and then her picture and tucks them into the inside pocket of his black jacket.

Time to get to work.

Jungkook spots the girl almost instantly, the second she steps out of a black car. He glances at the driver, but can only see a person with shoulder length black hair waving. The girl from the picture has a bunch of things in her arms as she blows a kiss to the short-haired driver.

Jungkook has been here since six-thirty in the morning and just as he was beginning to think she called in sick for work, he's finally gotten a chance to see this girl in person. She looks exactly as he remembers from her picture...plain.

She's even wearing the same white skirt and chunky tennis shoes, although this time she has a different top. Her hair is in a high ponytail this time.

"Well, ___. Nice to meet you." Jungkook mutters, watching closely.

After a moment, the black car drives away as the girl scurries into the school, tripping on the last step before straightening herself out again, then disappearing from his sight.

Huh.

Jungkook stares at the door for another minute, then he makes his way to the stores nearby, knowing he's gonna have to wait until the girl leaves. School for the young kids typically gets out at around three-thirty. So, he'll have to be back here around then.

He's definitely going to need to find something to do to kill time.

Jungkook heaves a sigh of relief when he hears the school bell finally ring.

He hurries from the clothes store he was browsing and down the street a block until he's almost across the street from the school. He finds a good spot where he can sift through some newspapers at a little stand and still have an eye on the school.

After a minute, he sees a long line of tiny children coming out from the school. The girl is with them and smiling brightly. Jungkook thinks he can hear some of the kids quacking like ducks. He tries not to look puzzled as he goes back to talking to the person working the paper stand. Jungkook makes small talk with the old man, still keeping an eye on the girl across the street as she waves to each child that leaves.

If she's some mafia boss disguised as a kindergarten teacher, she's one hell of a good actress.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The old man inquires curiously.

Jungkook laughs softly and shakes his head, "No. I've been so busy with my work I never got the chance to date."

The man nods knowingly. They chat a bit more and Jungkook finds himself trying to balance talking to the man and watching the girl.

"Well, did you want to buy a paper for the day?"

Jungkook turns his gaze back to the old man and nods, "Yes. Two, please. My neighbor would probably enjoy one as well."

The old man laughs and nods, taking the money Jungkook hands him and giving him two papers, "What a kind young man you are. Someday you'll find a lovely young lady, don't you worry, son. You will realize that work is important, but love is even more so."

Jungkook just laughs and thanks the man, then he opens the paper as he slowly starts walking, pretending to read.

He stops at a bench and sits down to wait. The girl went back into the school a few minutes ago, hopefully, she won't be in there long.

Luck seems to be with him today, because, after only about five minutes, Jungkook sees a familiar white skirt flowing as she skips down the steps of the school.

He folds his paper carefully, tucking it into his back pocket. The girl puts little earbuds in and immediately starts to mouth the words of whatever song she's listening to. Jungkook tugs his black baseball cap down a little more as he follows on the other side of the street.

The girl has a bag decorated with cupcakes and cookies that bounces up and down as she dances a little.

What is she, twelve?

Jungkook watches in confusion as the girl stops to pet a dog, giggling when the puppy licks her hand. She straightens up, then after another minute, she seems to get distracted by something else.

Jungkook looks carefully and notices she's picked up a flower that was laying on the ground, seemingly trampled on. She gently holds it in her hands as she continues on her way. It goes on like this for the next fifteen minutes, the girl waving to people and smiling almost the whole way.

By the time she is walking up the steps to her apartment, Jungkook is dying to just get back home. That must have been the longest most annoying walk he's ever taken while tracking someone. The girl had stopped over twenty times, distracted by something else each time, he's sure of it.

Just to be sure, Jungkook lingers around the apartment building a little longer, but when it seems apparent that the girl is going to be staying there, he finally heads home.

Geez, Jungkook thinks in annoyance as he climbs the stairs that lead to his own apartment. His head is spinning with so many questions while he unlocks his door and yanks his boots off with a groan.

But when he plops down onto his bed in his tiny studio apartment, he just stares at the ceiling, his mind suddenly blank apart from one question.

Who in the hell would put a hit on this girl?

Copyright © @writemywaytoyourheart 2021

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a/n: I hope you guys are liking the setup so far, thank you for all the positive reactions from the prologue!

#jeon jungkook #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #bts reactions #bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts jungkook angst #bts angst #jungkook scenarios #BTS jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fic #hitman!jk #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts x reader #bts x y/n #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #kim namjoon

[theratsareinspace]

Cigar Smoke and Metal-Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Check out the Masterlist for the complete fic!

Chapter 17

“This is it” You said as the cab pulled to a stop.

Donna thanked the driver in Italian and left the car; you followed after her.

Karl was too busy jamming out to his music to notice that you had both left. You bopped him on the shoulder, and he realized that you had arrived. He paused his music and exited the car, marveling at the castle before you.

“It’s less of a fixer-upper than I thought it would be.” He remarked, putting his earbuds in your knapsack.

“Karl, all the windows I can see are broken in some way… we got a big project on our hands.”

“Nah, I can do this myself. Give me a week.” He rolled up his sleeves. “That’s how long it took to repair my factory and it was worse n’ this is.” He summoned a piece of metal that was laying nearby and balanced on it.  “Bring me my power tools.” He shot off like a rocket, fusing metal to all the holes in the walls and the roof.

You quickly dug through his bag and found his tool box, one of the only things from the village he actually wanted to take with him. Leaving the box on the ground, you and Donna busied yourselves with taking all the bags inside and designating rooms. You chose a room with peeling floral wallpaper and tattered beige curtains on the windows-- a pretty good place to start renovating the inside. You tore down the curtains, letting light flood the room. You set the tattered curtains in the corner and stood back to admire the room. It was spacious, with hardwood floors and an attached bath. The closet was also very large, and it was split into his and hers sides. Well, he only wore like two outfits, max, so maybe you would take just a little of his space…

Once you had gotten all of your outfits situated in the closet, you took a step back to admire your work.

“Buttercup! I’m hungry!” Karl called, entering the room. He had removed his button-up, only wearing his ratty green tank-top. His remarkably toned muscles glistened with sweat, and his hair was tied back into a messy bun.

You had to stop and stare at him for a moment.

He removed his sunglasses. “What, is there something on my face?”

“Muh… greh… bleph…” You were unable to form coherant words.

“Oooh, you see something you like, bumblebee?” He flexed his arm muscles, making you practically drool.

“Well… I, um…” you cleared your throat. “What… what do you want to eat?”

“I don’t know… the only snacks we have in this castle are apple slices and me.” He said with a smirk, putting his hand on his hip.

You rolled your eyes. You turned away, trying to hide the striking blush dusting your cheeks. “We’ll go into town, then. Go shower, I’m not taking a sweaty hobo man to the store.”

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled and went into the bathroom.

You left to get together a grocery list.

When you returned from asking Donna what she wanted, Heisenberg was sitting in the living room area. He had changed into diesel jeans and a band t-shirt, and his hair was swept into a pony-tail of sorts.

“Ready to go?” He asked, standing up.

“Uhm… uh-huh…” He looked even hotter in regular clothes than he did in his village garb.

“Buttercup, I don’t mind if you drool over me, but do y’ have to do it every time you see me? I know I’m a hunk, but we’re losing daylight.” He teased, ruffling your hair affectionately.

“You’re a moron.  Donna brought back the rental car while you were gone. I’ll drive.” You went downstairs.

He followed. “Why can’t I drive?”

“Because you don’t have a valid driver’s license, and I do.”

“Wait, for Italy?”

“Yes. What did you think Donna and I were doing while you got detained by TSA for six hours?”

“Fair.” He got into the passenger seat.

You turned on the car and set the gps on your phone to go to a local grocery.

“What does gps mean?” He asked, entranced by the map.

“Global positioning system. It has a map of… well, almost the entire world.”

“Woah!”

Heisenberg proceeded to fanboy over every new thing you passed.

“So, you’re telling me that light thingy helps with traffic flow???” He asked, staring at the stoplight in wonder.

“Mhm! Green means go, yellow either means slow down or speed up depending who you ask, and red means stop.” You said, turning into the parking lot of the grocer.

You parked and brought Heisenberg inside.

“You’re the list-master. Tell me what we need, and I’ll drive the cart.”

“Why is there six bags of apples on this list?” He asked, squinting at Donna’s curly handwriting.

“Donna wanted them, I guess. She likes apples.” You went to the produce section and put the bags of apples in the cart.

Karl was in awe yet again. “I’ve never seen so much stuff for sale in one place… what even is a melon baller? Looks like you would use this to scoop out someone’s eyeballs or summin’… woulda been useful in soldat construction…”

“Something we don’t need.” You said with a laugh. “You can’t talk about human experimentation all the time, you’ll get yourself arrested. If you get distracted by random junk all the time, you’ll have to hold onto the cart.”

You made your way through the grocery store. Shopping with Karl was like shopping with a toddler— he begged for every cookie or candy he saw.

“Buttercup, this cheesecake looks amazing. Can we buy it?”

“No.”

“But whyyy?”

“Donna was baking something at home, I’m pretty sure. Besides, sugar isn’t good for you.” You sighed, not knowing how long you’d be able to take that sexy whining voice of his before you broke.

“Why does it taste so good, then?” He asked as you both got in line for the check out.

“I dunno.” You were called to a lane and he loaded the items onto the conveyor belt.

“Okay, there’s somewhere I want to take you.” You said as you got back into the car.

“Where?” He asked.

“It’s a surprise.”

You pulled out of the parking lot and drove a minute until you saw the familiar storefront of the lactose monarch itself.

You pulled through the drive through and ordered two chocolate sundaes.

“What is this?” Karl asked, looking around.

“Shhh. You’ll see.”

You pulled around to the front and got your sundaes, handing one to Karl. You pulled into a parking spot so you could see his face as he ate the first bite.

He looked at it. “Is this that ice cream stuff you were talking about?”

You nodded. “Take a bite, it’ll melt soon.”

He tentatively took a small bite. His eyes lit up.

“Woah!!! This is… this is amazing!!! It’s ingenious!!!”

“Don’t eat it too fast. You’ll get brain freeze.”

You smiled, thinking about how adorable he was when he experienced new things for the first time. You hoped you would be able to see his enthusiasm many more times in the future.

Taglist: @xyinparadise @baphometwolf666 @lost-mother @arlotg @lazuli-leenabride @goddessofwaifus

RPlease send me a message or drop a comment if you would like to be tagged!

#reader insert #resident evil #resident evil viii #resident evil 8 village #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x y/n #karl heisenberg x you #heisenberg #house heisnburg #house heisenberg #karl heisenburg #re8 heisenberg #karl heisenberg

[trulymadlysydney]

Scorpio Season: Two

Harry is the ghost that haunts the sorority house, Misty is the only one who can see him, and Scorpio season is far too short.

tw: Death, brief mentions of sexual assault, lots and lots of filthy smut

(This is also 26.k words so like... be prepared for a long read)

Read Part One Here

***Do Not Repost Without Permission***

It’s Halloween, and Misty is drunk.

Okay, so perhaps she isn’t quite drunk, but she’s getting there, and Harry is doing his best to take care of her.   (And his best isn’t exactly good enough, considering she’s the only one who can see him.)

It takes him fifteen minutes to get her attention, and he lets out a sigh of relief when he finally sees her walking towards him- dressed head to toe like the devil (if the devil were, of course, sexy and wore a skin tight red dress and fishnets).

When she reaches him, she smirks, and he doesn’t know why.   “What?” She asks, raising her eyebrows challengingly.

For the sake of Misty’s pride, Harry turns away before anyone can see her talking to nothing.  “Follow me,” he says, nodding over his shoulder and leading her into the hallway.

They turn the corner into her bedroom, and Harry gently closes the door behind them. When it’s just the two of them, Misty grins.  “What’s up, buttercup?”

Harry smirks. “You doing alright?”

“M-hm!” Misty says with a nod.  “You want a drink?”

“Can’t, love.”

Misty’s smile slowly fades into a frown.  “You mean ghosts can’t let loose? Have a little fun?”

“Who says I’m not having fun?”  

Misty considers his words and offers him a shrug.  “I mean you’re just watching a bunch of drunk college kids in stuipd costumes get even more drunk and make out with each other.  That isn’t really my idea of a good time.”

“And yet here you are.”

Misty giggles.  “You know what I meaaaan.”

“I’m watching you,” Harry says smugly.  “That’s all I need.”

She laughs again, turning away so he can’t see the tinge of embarrassment on her face.  “Don’t watch me,” she says.  “Creep.”

“Not a creep,” Harry insists, plopping onto her bed.  “Just want you to take care of yourself.  That’s all.”

“I wish you could take care of meeee,” Misty says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively and punctuating her sentence with a half-hiccup, half-giggle.

Harry doesn’t know if Misty meant to say that, or if she even meant it in the way that he’s taking it,  but he knows that if he had a beating heart, it would be racing at her words.   He brushes it off, smiling at her softly.  “M’taking care of you right now, aren’t I?”

“S’not what I meaaaaan,” Misty says, through another giggle, and now Harry knows exactly how her sentence was meant to be taken.

He laughs.  “Sunshine why don’t we get you some water, hm?”

“I like it when you call me that,” Misty says, sauntering clumsily towards Harry.  “‘Sunshine.’  Makes me happy.”

“I like making you happy,” Harry replies softly.  “Now, will you make me happy by getting yourself some water please?  I would get you some myself but, you know.”  He gestures vaguely with his hands.

“You can’t!” she says, tittering to herself.  “Cause you’re a ghost.  I know that.”

Her words sting just the tiniest bit, even though Harry knows she doesn’t mean it in a negative way.  He laughs them off anyway.  “You’re stalling, Misty.”

“I’m not stalling!” Misty says.  “I wish I could stay in here with you all night.”

And God, Harry wishes that too.

“And miss all the fun of the party out there?” Harry asks, eyeing her as she wobbles a bit around the room.  “I saw the way those guys were looking at you.”  He wiggles his eyebrows, and laughs as she gags.

“Ew,” she says, face twisting up in disgust.  “They’re the worst.”

“You didn’t like their flirting?  I thought that the trick the one guy did with the beer can on his head was very appealing. Especially with him dressed like a Greek God and all that.”

“You’re stupid.”

Harry grins.  “Water, Misty, “ he reminds her.   “You need to get yourself a glass of water.”

“Alright alriiiiight!” Misty holds up her hands in surrender. “You’re so neeeeeedy.”

Harry giggles, rising to his feet just in time to steady her a bit when she wobbles.  She laughs softly at the feeling of his cold hands against her hips, turning in his arms to face him.

“You smell good,” she says, her face mere inches from his.  “Have I ever told you that?”

Harry realizes that he’s held his hands in the same spot for just a tick too long, and he quickly drops them to his sides.  “No,” he says,  “Never told me that.  What do I smell like?”

“Like…”  Misty sniffs the air dramatically.  “Like cinnamon.  You’re laughin’ at me but it’s true!  Smells really good.”  She frowns up at him, as if a new thought just crossed her mind.  “What am I gonna do when you’re gone?”

Now her words really sting, and Harry struggles to just laugh them off this time.  Still, he knows tonight isn’t the time for sadness, and he doesn’t want to ruin Misty’s buzz.  So he grins.  “Buy a cinnamon candle?”

Misty pouts.  “Not the same.”

Harry laughs, booping her nose with the tip of his finger.  “Now I know you’re stalling.”

“Is it working?”  Misty grins mischievously up at him, and Harry shakes his head.

“No,” he says through another laugh.  “You little sneak.”

Misty giggles.  “But you’ll stay with me, right?  All night?”

“If you want me to.”  Harry nods.  “Yeah.  You can’t talk to me though.  Unless we’re in here.”

Misty frowns.  “I know.  Sucks.”

She turns like she’s going to leave finally, but then stops again.  “Why can’t you show yourself in front of everyone?” she asks, as if the thought just dawned on her.

Harry sighs, because as much as he knows she’s stalling, it is a valid question.  “I suppose I could,” he says, “If I really wanted to.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Not really, no.”  Harry offers her a half hearted shrug, and when he sees her face drop he quickly tacks on, “Not that I don’t want to be able to openly spend time with you, of course! You know I do. It’s just difficult.”

“Why is it difficult?” Misty cocks her head to the side like a curious child, and it’s so cute Harry could burst.

“It’s exhausting,” he explains.  “As ghosts we only have so much energy. And it’s affected by the energies of others in the room as well. Manifesting takes up a lot of that energy, especially when you’re manifesting in front of a lot of other beings.”  He smiles, pausing to allow her to process what he’s just said before continuing his explanation.

“When it’s only you who can see me, the amount of energy I’m putting forward is far less than, say, the amount it would take for me to manifest in front of everyone else.  On top of that, being around all different energies-- feeling them interact with your own-- you sort of adopt those energies as well.  You take them upon yourself.  I don’t like doing it.  It doesn’t feel good.”

“Oh.”  Misty frowns.  “That sucks.”

“It does suck,” Harry says, nodding his head.  “Especially since I can’t walk around tonight and show you off the way you deserve.”

Misty giggles shyly, and Harry beams at her before continuing.  “Now if you don’t go and get yourself some water, I’m going to have to expose myself to everyone.”

Misty’s laugh is louder than it usually is, and Harry has no choice but to laugh along with her.  “Okay!” she says.  “Sorry! God.”

Misty makes her way over to the bedroom door with Harry close on her heels. He holds his arms out just in case she needs extra stabilizing.  As soon as the door opens, she’s met with a loud cheering from the people in the hallway.

Harry recognizes Rosie and Greg, but there are two other guys there that he’s never seen before.  And by the looks of their cheers, they’re super happy to see Misty.

“Mistaaaaay!” One of the guys, who is dressed as a lifeguard, shouts.  “What were you doin’ in your room all alone?”

Harry scrambles to come up with an excuse for Misty, when she surprises him and comes up with one all on her own.

“My little sister was calling me, weirdo,” Misty says. “She forgot our parent’s wifi password.”  She glances over her shoulder and shoots Harry a very subtle wink, and honestly Harry’s impressed.  He chuckles to himself, shaking his head.

“Quick thinking there, sunshine.”

Misty ignores him but her smirk does not go unnoticed.  Her attention is quickly pulled, however, when the original guy speaks up again.

“You’re lookin’ good tonight, girl.  You know Josh is looking for you?”

And just like that, Harry’s ears are perked and his stomach is sinking.

“Yeah?” Misty asks, completely uninterested as she tries to push through the crowd. “Well I’ve been here!”  She almost seems to sober up, and Harry is intrigued as to why.

“You should go see what he wants.”  Lifeguard wiggles his eyebrows, and Harry takes a protective and unintentional step forward.

Misty rolls her eyes, seemingly unbothered.  “If it’s really that important he can find me.”

Lifeguard whistles.  “Damn, Misty, alright!   Not interested?”

Misty spares a quick glance in Harry’s direction.  “I’m not, no.”

It should make Harry feel much, much better.  It really should.  But it doesn’t.

Misty, of course, offers no time for explanation-- which she shouldn’t, Harry knows, but still. She only continues to push through the crowd, with Harry close behind-- and he tries to ignore the random shivers from the people he accidentally walks through.

“Misty--” He says quietly.

“It’s fine.”  It’s barely audible, and of course Harry can’t blame her for that; for fucks sake, she can’t look like she’s talking to herself.

Misty stumbles a bit as she enters the kitchen, opening the fridge and reaching inside for a jello shot.  Harry keeps a close eye on her-- not because he feels he has to, by any means, but mostly because it’s getting to the point in the night where things are starting to get a bit nutty.  The boys are becoming handsier, the girls are becoming more giggly and loud.  In his lifetime, Harry had been to quite a few parties-- so he knows exactly the direction this night is headed.

Misty is about to close the fridge when Harry offers her a pointed look.  “Forgetting something?”

“Water!” Misty says out loud, without thinking.  “Duh! Sorry.”

She reaches into the fridge just as a voice comes from behind Harry.  “There you are, babe! Who are you talking to?”

Harry and Misty turn at the same time to see who the voice belongs to, and Harry immediately frowns.

He comes to the conclusion (based on little to no evidence) that this must be Josh-- just by the way he’s eyeing Misty like prey.  He’s dressed like Tom Cruise from Risky Business, only he’s left the shirt unbuttoned far enough that his abs (or lack thereof) are visible.

Misty speaks, confirming Harry’s thoughts.  “Hi, Josh.”

She sounds less than thrilled to be seeing him, and she goes stiff when he throws a hand around her waist and pulls her in for a hug.  He leans in to kiss the side of her head, but Misty quickly ducks away, regaining her distance from him and opening her water bottle.

“Not happy to see me?” Josh pouts.

“No, I am,” she says, unconvincingly.  She opens her water and is about to take a sip when Josh scoffs.

“You’re drinking water?  Lightweight.  Thought you were gonna get lit with us!”

“I am!” Misty insists. “Just don’t want to end my night with my head in the toilet.”

“You know I’d take care of you babe,” Josh says.  “What’s in your cup tonight?”

Misty takes a few long sips from her water bottle, eyeing Harry pointedly, before she speaks.  “Uh.  I don’t know exactly, Kennedy made it for me.”

“Hell yeah,” Josh says, eyeing her glass.  “You’re runnin’ low though, want me to get you another?”

Before Misty can even answer, Josh has taken the cup from her hands.  He’s walking over to the stash of various liquors on the counter, and Harry immediately moves to stand beside him.  He watches carefully as Josh pours the liquor into Misty’s cup.

“Heard you talkin’ in here,” Josh says.  “Who were you talking to?”

“What?”  Misty and Harry share a quick glance before she speaks.  “Oh.  No one.  I was talking to myself.”

“Yourself?”  Josh scoffs, still pouring vodka into Misty’s drink.  Harry has to stop himself from reaching out to stop him from pouring.  “You’re a little weirdo sometimes, Misty.  You know that?”

Harry lets out an annoyed sigh, wanting more than anything to put Josh in his place. Misty only smiles passively.  “I know.”

“Quite a bit of fuckin vodka he’s putting in there,” Harry says.   “He’s trying to get you drunk, love.”

“I know,” Misty repeats, both to Harry and to Josh.

“Hot little weirdo though,” Josh says, adding only a tiny splash of cranberry juice before turning around to offer Misty her cup again.  He pauses, just as he’s about to hand it to her.

“Did it suddenly get cold in here?”  he asks, glancing around him.

“I could kill him,” Harry states, emotionless.

Misty has to fight a giggle, reaching forward to take her drink from Josh.  “No, I don’t feel anything,” she says.  She takes a quick sip, immediately regretting her actions when her esophagus is burned with the taste of vodka.

Misty shivers and gags, coughing in an attempt to get the horrible taste out of her mouth.  “Jesus, Josh, what did you put in this?”

“Vodka cran baby!” Josh says.  “Know you like those!”

“Vodka with a fuckin’ shot of cran,” Harry adds.

Misty coughs, putting her cup down on the counter.  Josh frowns.  “You don’t like it?”

“No,” Misty chokes, “I mean it’s fine but… fuck, dude, how much vodka did you put in there?”

“Nothing you can’t handle, Misty!” Josh steps forward, hip checking Misty and nearly knocking her over.  “You’re a tough little girl aren’t you.”

“I really could kill him,” Harry adds.

Misty clears her throat, finally done with coughing.  “You need to work on your bartending skills, Josh.”

“Yeah?”  Josh puts his cup down, moving in on Misty.  Before she even has time to react, he has her pinned against the counter, with both his arms trapped on either side of her. She leans her head back in an attempt to get further away from him.  He, completely oblivious to social cues, only grins.  “Maybe I do.  But I know of one skill I don’t need to work on.”

“Josh—“ Misty couldn’t lean any further back if she tried, and she glances at Harry out of the corner of her eyes.

Josh leans in, pressing his lips to Misty’s neck. “C’mon, baby, you know what I’m talking about.  Don’t you remember how good it was?”

Harry takes a step forward as Misty manages to get her hands unpinned and shoves them weakly against Josh’s chest. “You’re drunk,” she says.

“And you’re not?” Josh licks his lips, trying to kiss Misty again. “Take another sip then.”

Harry has never felt so helpless in his entire existence, and he doesn’t even think twice before reaching forward to yank Josh off Misty. Misty coincidentally pushes at his chest at the exact same time, sending Josh practically toppling over.

He regains his balance after a moment,, glancing at Misty with a confused look.  There’s a thick silence in the air, and Harry instinctively takes a step between Josh and Misty.   Josh glances around, as if searching for whatever just yanked him, and Misty shoots Harry a nervous look.

A menacing grin spreads slowly across Josh’s face, and he swipes his teeth with his tongue. “Damn, girl. You’re strong.”

Misty blinks back at him, swallowing. “Josh,” she says slowly. “I’m not interested.”

“That’s not what you said last time.”

Harry feels like his insides are on fire with anger, and Misty rolls her eyes.

“Yes, it is actually.  Interesting how you don’t seem to recall that.”

“Say the word and I’ll kill him,” Harry says.

Misty rolls her eyes, which goes completely unnoticed by Josh as he continues his tirade. “Look, I know you’re just being stubborn and I get it! I do.” He picks up Misty’s abandoned drink, sloshing the cup around in his hand. “Why don’t you just finish this drink I made you and then come find me when it hits you and you stop being such a prude?”

Harry can’t hold back any longer, and he doesn’t even think twice before he moves in- slapping the cup and tilting it all over onto Josh’s skin and his stupid white shirt.

Josh shrieks, and the look on his face is a mix between shock and confusion. He eyes the now empty cup in his hand as if he can’t believe he just spilled it all over himself. Misty scoffs quietly to herself.

“Wow Josh, you might want to lay off the drinks.”

“Fucker,” Harry adds.

“I’m not that drunk!” Josh insists, raising his voice and taking a step towards Misty.  Harry immediately steps between them once again, ready to push him away at a moment’s notice.

It’s at that exact moment that Kennedy walks in, saving the day.  She instantly notices the tension in the room, and her eyes dart between Misty and Josh.  She laughs when she notices his spilled drink.

“Woooow,” she says.  “What happened here?”

“I stumbled,” Josh laughs, trying to regain his composure and play the situation off.  “Misty saw it, huh?”

Misty shoots Kennedy a glance before muttering, “Yeah.  It was crazy.”

“Mm,” Kennedy says, and it’s obvious that she seems to have an idea of exactly what happened. She doesn’t like Josh, that much is obvious. Harry is immensely grateful for her, knowing that she’s going to take care of Misty in a way that he can’t.  “Well you should probably get that cleaned up, huh?  And maybe lay off the drinks a bit.”

Kennedy immediately walks to Misty’s side, and Harry can tell Josh knows his game is over by the look he gives. Neither Kennedy or Misty hint at being upset, and Misty shoots Harry a thankful look.

“I’m not drunk, Kennedy,” Josh lies, a smile on his face that makes it very obvious that he’s offended.

“Okay,” Kennedy scoffs.  “How bout you, Misty?  Need another drink?”

Misty’s eyes dart from Kennedy to Josh to Harry, who watches her with helpless and sympathetic eyes.  Misty wants more than anything to curl into Harry’s side, but she knows she can’t, and she’s thankful for Kennedy for stepping in when she did.

“Uh,” Misty says, clearing her throat.  “Yeah, actually, I do.  This idiot here spilled mine.”

Kennedy rolls her eyes, but it’s apparent she knows about the situation with Josh.  “What a douche,” she teases. shooting Josh a look as if to say she’s not actually teasing-- she means what she’s saying.  “Why don’t you go clean yourself up.  Misty, I’ll make you another drink.”

Josh rolls his eyes, scoffing as if he can’t believe what just happened.  “Yeah,” he says.  “Alright.”  He winks at Misty, shooting her an overly confident “I’ll see you later” before exiting the kitchen.

Kennedy, Misty, and Harry all watch him exit most ungracefully before Kennedy turns to Misty.  “You okay?  Like, actually.”

“Yes,” Misty lies.

“No,” Harry adds.

Kennedy rolls her eyes as she gets to work making Misty another drink. “He’s a fuckin douche canoe. I can’t believe he even still thinks he can talk to you.”

“I know.” Misty grabs a paper towel to clean up the bit of the drink that spilled onto the ground. “I don’t either.”  

Harry watches Misty, continuing to feel helpless— almost as if he’s butting in on a conversation he shouldn’t be. But he doesn’t move. He remains still, almost frozen in place as he watches Misty clean up the mess he made.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I should’ve planned that better.”

“It’s okay,” Misty says, both to Harry and Kennedy. “I’m fine. He didn’t do anything.”

“He wouldn’t have given up though,” Kennedy says, pouring the actual correct amount of vodka into Misty’s cup. “He’s a creep.”

Misty sighs. “He is. But—“

“No buts.” Kennedy and Harry both say this at the exact same time, and it takes Harry a moment to process.

“God I hate him,” Kennedy says. “Don’t let him intimidate you.  Here.”  She finishes mixing the drink in Misty’s cup and hands it to her. “Stay with me, yeah?”

Misty smiles gratefully at Kennedy. “Thank you.”  She glances over at Harry, a soft grateful smile directed in his direction as well.

Kennedy and Misty make their way out of the kitchen, and Harry once again feels helpless as he follows them.  Should he leave her alone? She asked him not to, but now he feels awkward and, if he’s being honest, angry that he couldn’t help her more.  

Harry numbly follows Misty and Kennedy through the house and into a cozy but messy living room filled with tons of other drunk people.  He feels a slight sense of relief when, immediately upon sitting down, Misty’s eyes search for him. She seems to visibly relax when she sees him, and he smiles sadly at her.  He reaches out to stoke lovingly at her cheek, and try as she might to not react, she can’t help but flutter her lashes closed for a brief second and lean into his touch.

The rest of the night seems to pass by slowly.  Misty hardly touches her drink at all, and as normal as she’s behaving around everyone else, Harry-- and Kennedy, it seems-- can tell that something is wrong.  She seems sad, her eyes less bright, and as the hours tick on she becomes less and less secretive about her glances towards Harry.

The party ends-- finally-- around 3am, with most of its guests falling asleep in various places throughout the house.  Misty moves slowly, helping Kennedy clean up the apartment, and Harry follows her anxiously-- wishing he, too, could help.

“Are you okay?”  Kennedy asks, once she and Misty-- and Harry-- are alone in the kitchen.  “Like, actually.”

“Yeah,” Misty insists.  “My buzz just wore off and like… I dunno.  I just want to sleep.”

“I get that,” Kennedy says, turning on the sink to wash out a glass.  “Well why don’t you go up to bed?  I’ll finish up in here.”

“I don’t want to leave it all to you--”

“I’m good! I’m just gonna do a couple more dishes and then head up to bed myself.  We can do the rest tomorrow.”

Misty hesitates, glancing from Kennedy to Harry before sighing, smiling a little relieved smile.  “You’re the fucking best, Ken.”

Kennedy grins.  “Duh.  Go get some sleep.”

Misty throws her arms around Kennedy from behind, giving her a big squeeze and pressing the most obnoxious kiss to her cheek before bidding her goodnight.  She still seems upset-- something is still very clearly on her mind, but she seems a bit relieved that she’s finally able to leave.  

As she pulls away, she shoots Harry a questioning glance, as if asking him to come with her.  He nods, holding up his finger to indicate that he’ll be right there.  Misty smiles, nodding her head before disappearing out of the kitchen.

Harry turns back to Kennedy, making his way slowly towards her.  He reaches forward, hesitating before giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.   He’s thanking her, in the only way he knows how to without revealing himself, and much to his relief, Kennedy only jumps slightly before giggling.

“I knew you were here,” she says softly.  “Whoever you are.  And I know you care about our girl, too.  Don’t worry, I’ve got her.”

Harry smiles to himself, wishing he could verbally thank her.  But just her knowing about his existence-- and being okay with it, at that-- means more to him than he can explain.  So without any more delay, he disappears from the kitchen and makes his way to Misty.

He finds Misty in her room, waiting in the doorway, and she smiles when she sees him.  He makes his way quickly into her room and she closes the door behind him, her face immediately dropping the moment it’s closed.  Harry waits for her to speak, but she doesn’t-- she only busies herself with retrieving the items she needs in order to get ready for bed.

“Are you alright?”  Harry finally asks, voice gentle.  He doesn’t know if he should step closer, touch her, hug her, or just stay away, so he stands awkwardly off to the side.

“I’m alright,” Misty says, most unconvincingly.  

“You sure?”  This time he does take a step towards her.  “I don’t think--”

“It’s nothing,” Misty insists.  “Seriously. He’s a creep.”

‘You shouldn’t have to deal with him,” Harry says.  “Does he treat you like that often?”

Misty pauses, then sighs, nodding her head slowly. “And everyone kinda just… lets him get away with it because….” she scoffs cynically, “He’s Josh.”

“Fuck Josh.  Where does he get off?”

Misty shrugs, opening a drawer and rummaging through it in search of a t-shirt.  “It’s just who he is.  I don’t know.”

“Well I mean…”  Harry isn’t sure how to word his next question.  “What makes him think that he can mess with you like that?”

“It’s literally nothing,” Misty says, exasperated.  She pauses, considering her words before turning to face Harry.  She opens her mouth, then closes it, and then finally decides to speak.

“You really want to know what happened?”

“If you don’t mind,” Harry says.

Misty sighs again, removing her little devil horn headband.  “We were drunk at a Kappa party my freshman year.  We kissed a little.  I was… stupid.  He kept pouring me drinks, and I just… kept taking them.  And….”

Harry waits for a moment, before gently pressing her a bit more.  “And?”

“And stuff happened.  We didn’t like, have sex or anything. I know that for a fact.  But he…”  She trails off, lost in thought, before continuing. “I don’t remember a whole lot of it.”

Harry is furious, and he wants more than anything to go find Josh and kick his ass.  But he knows that isn’t what Misty wants-- and definitely not what she needs right now.  So he stays put, offering her a sympathetic sigh.  “Oh, Misty.”

“It’s okay,” she offers. “I remember he made me a drink that was particularly strong. We went up to his room and then… next thing I remember I was throwing up in the yard.” Misty laughs bitterly. “My big was the one that found me. With him, I mean. That’s how I know we didn’t have sex. But she saw what we were doing and I—“ Misty trails off, shaking her head. “I don’t remember it at all.”

Harry swallows heavily as he takes in her words, scanning her face. The way Misty is looking at him right now, with her big soft eyes and genuine smile, he’s feeling guilty for even bringing it up.

“So. That’s what happened.”  Misty shrugs.  “I wish it didn’t, but it did.  And that’s it.”

Harry runs a hand through his hair, feeling for the first time just how cold he really is.  The only thing Harry can settle on in this moment is a sigh, and so he lets all of his anxieties out in a big puff of air that actually, admittedly, does make him feel better.  As soon as he’s pushed all the air out of his lungs, his guilt increases, and he meets Misty’s eyes.

“Misty,” he says softly,  “Sunshine.  I’m so sorry.”

Harry reaches for Misty, nervous that he’s pressured her to talk about something so personal. She does lean into his touch-- thank God-- and she lets out the deepest sigh she feels she’s ever let out in her life.

“Harry….I don’t know how to navigate a situation like this,” Misty admits, voice hardly above a whisper.  “I only want to make you happy.”

“Darling, you do make me happy. I can’t believe he would ever—“

“It’s not about him,” Misty says. “I’m okay. I’m talking about you. I don’t know how to navigate… this.”

Harry pauses, realizing that she’s talking about the blatant chemistry between the two of them. “Well, I—“

“You’re just…. such a wonderful guy. And I wish—“ she trails off, as if second guessing her words, before starting her next thought. “All I know is that you’re someone I just… want around. All the time.”

“I want to stay around,” Harry says gently.  “I wish I could stay around longer.”

“Me too.”  Misty smiles sadly up at him.  “Our situation is unique.”

“Unique,” Harry repeats.  “That’s a nice way of saying ‘weird as hell.’”

Now Misty giggles.   “But I like it,” she tacks on quietly.  “I like…”  She trails off, closing her mouth as if the rest of that sentence hangs heavy on her tongue.

“I know,” Harry offers.  “I do, too.”

They stay like this for a moment, before Misty sighs.  “I have to get ready for bed now.  So--”

“I’ll go!” Harry says quickly.  “I’ll let you get to sleep and--”

“No, wait!” Misty holds up her hand.  “I’ll be right back.  I’m gonna change and stuff in the bathroom.  But then I’ll come back so we can… say goodnight.”

Harry wonders what exactly she means by that, but he doesn’t even allow himself to question her.  He smiles.  “Alright.  I’ll be here.”

Misty looks almost relieved.  “Alright.”

Misty disappears into the hallway, leaving Harry behind with the silence and his own thoughts. He knows Misty is still a bit buzzed, sure, but her words were pointed.  He tries not to overthink what she could have potentially meant by ‘say goodnight.’

He sighs, walking around her room and trying to distract himself from the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach.  He looks at the pictures in the frames along her dresser, the unfinished homework lying on her desk, the paddle made by her “big” hanging on the wall.  All these pieces of Misty’s life make him smile, but what really gets him is the framed picture on her bedside table.

It’s a picture of her family, taken from when Misty couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old. She’s smiling the biggest smile Harry thinks he’s ever seen, and she’s the spitting image of her beautiful mother, who stands behind her, laughing.  

Beside her mother stands her father, a tall, broad man with some wrinkles around his eyes and graying sideburns.  He looks like the kind of guy that Harry would love to chat with, sharing a whiskey neat or two while giving each other shit.  He seems pleasant, and he seems like a wonderful man just from this picture alone.

Surrounding Misty are her siblings: an older brother, and a younger sister and brother.  Harry wants more than anything to be able to meet them.  To have to earn the respect of Misty’s older brother, to spoil her younger siblings and make them love him.  He wants to be close to the whole family, really.  He wants to be the boyfriend that Misty brings home one year for spring break.  The boyfriend who brings a new plant for her mother, who watches football with her father and impresses them with his knowledge of American traditions, despite being british.

Harry wishes, more than anything in the world, that he was still alive.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been staring at the picture until he’s startled by Misty’s presence as she enters her room once again.  He jumps a bit, and Misty giggles.

“Hi,” she says.  “Sorry.  Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Hi. Ghosts don’t get scared.”

“Debatable,” Misty says.  Harry gets a good look at her, and he’s completely enamored. He’s just watched her transform from a sexy demon, with dark makeup and long lashes and the plumpest red lips he’s ever seen-- to the most adorable person he thinks he’s ever laid his eyes upon.

Her makeup-less face reveals a few zits on her cheek, her lips look chapped, and she’s dressed only in a long t-shirt and shorts.  She discards her costume into her hamper without a second thought, completely unaware of the way Harry is watching her.

“You look cute,” he says, as she pulls back her comforter.

“Shut up,”  she says, rolling her eyes as she crawls into bed.  “Ew.”

Harry snorts.  “I’m serious.  You’re so pretty.”

“Well,” she says, plumping up the pillows behind her.  “You’re so nice, but I’m going to have to respectfully tell you that I think you’re lying.”

“Well,” Harry mocks, “agree to disagree then.”

Misty relaxes against her pillows, rubbing sleepily and adorably at her eyes for a few moments.

“Thanks for being so wonderful to me,” she says after a bit, pulling the covers up tighter around her hips.  “Like, all night I mean.  You didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t be silly,” Harry says.  “I care about you.  I had fun.”

“Me too.  I just…” she sighs, and Harry takes a step towards her.

“What, love?”

“I just wish you could’ve actually like… had a good time.  Like, drank and hung out with us and stuff.  I wish I wasn’t the only one who could see you all night.”

“You don’t like havin’ me all to yourself then?”  Harry fake pouts.  

Misty rolls her eyes, but she smiles anyway. “It is nice to have my own personal ghost, but I just… wish you weren’t one.”

Harry smiles sadly.  “Me too,” he says.  “But I like watching over you.  Like your own personal guardian angel or summat.”

Misty giggles.  “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Feelin’ okay?” Harry asks, trying to change the subject. “Need more water or anything?”

“No,” Misty says. “Think I just need to sleep off the rest of this buzz.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees.  “Sometimes that’s best.”

“Yeah.”  There is a weird sort of tension fizzling in the air between them, as if Misty has something else she wants to say.

Harry waits patiently, watching as she avoids his gaze. She seems deep in thought and on the verge of asking something, but when she doesn’t Harry realizes that maybe he’s the one being awkward. Maybe she wants him to leave now and she’s too polite to tell him so.

So Harry clears his throat. “Alright. Well. Goodnight, bug.” He nods in finality.  After a few more seconds, he takes a step back before vanishing right in front of Misty’s eyes.  He’s about to actually leave, and he figures he can go inspect the house.  Maybe see what damage has been done, and try to discreetly clean up a bit in order to help speed up the process tomorrow for what he knows is going to be a very hungover group of girls. But something catches his attention that he absolutely cannot ignore.

“Wait, don’t go!”

Misty’s voice sounds so pitiful that Harry can’t even pretend like he’s not going to come back.  He manifests immediately in the corner of her room and he coos at her.  “What is it, sunshine?”

“Can you sleep with me?”

She seems so embarrassed to be asking, it makes even Harry’s cheeks flush.  “You want me to… get in bed with you?”

Misty nods, eyes bigger than Harry’s ever seen.  “Yeah,” she mumbles.  “Can you?”

Harry doesn’t remember the last time he spent a night in a bed-- much less with a beautiful girl-- but the thought of doing it tonight excites him.  He doesn’t want to come across as too eager, of course, but he can’t help but feel touched by her request, and he all but runs to her side.

As he makes his way towards the bed, he speaks.  “I might be a little bit cold,” he offers.  He looms over her, reaching down to brush a bit of her messy hair off of her forehead.

“S’okay,” Misty sighs, “I have lots of blankets.  Just wanna cuddle.  Is that okay?”

Harry smiles at how cute she looks, bundled up and sleepy in her bed.  He chuckles softly, reaching to tug gently at her covers to pull them back for himself.  “Yeah,” he says,  “That’s okay.  I can do that.”

As Harry settles himself in bed, he tries not to beat himself up too hard for the slight shiver in her body.  She obviously doesn’t seem to mind as she cuddles up close to him instantly.  The feeling of her warmth is almost too much for Harry to handle-- similar to the feeling of getting into a hot tub too quickly-- but he doesn’t mind.  It feels so good, and if he closes his eyes he can pretend, just for a moment, that he’s human, too.

“Can ghosts sleep?” Misty asks abruptly, tearing Harry from his fantasy and reminding him of his actual form.

Harry chuckles. “Yeah, we can sleep,” he says.  “It’s not exactly the same as how you sleep, though.”

“What’s it like then?”

Harry thinks for a moment, choosing his words carefully to explain this in a way that it makes sense.  “You know how I mentioned I can visit dreams?  When I’m… gone.”

“Yeah?”

“So if I go to sleep while I’m here, I’ll just go there.  To the dreamscape.  Where I can visit anybody’s dreams that I want. That’s usually how I visit my mum or say, a friend.”  Harry chuckles.  “Or someone who wronged me in the past.  So I can haunt their ass.”

“But you’ll still be here when I wake up right?”  She sounds so sleepy, almost needy, and it makes Harry hold her that much tighter.

“If you want me to be,” he answers.

“I do,” she says softly.  There is a beat of silence before she’s changing the subject again. “Tell me what it’s like.”

“What?”

“The dream stuff.  Like how do you just… do that?”

“Mmm. It’s like… how can I explain…”   Harry thinks carefully once again.  “I’m in a black… room?  Sort of.  Like where I go when I’m gone.  And there are a ton of doors, right?  In this room I mean.  And I can enter any one of them that I’d like, at any time. Anywhere in the world.”

“You can enter anybody’s dream?”

“Mhm.”

“At any time?”

“At any time.”

“Woooooow.”  Misty’s sleepy exclamation tickles softly against his neck.  “That’s so cool.”

“It is yeah,” Harry says, smiling to himself.  

“Can you come into my dream tonight?”

“If you want me to, yeah.”

“Can you make me dream about you?”

“Well,” Harry says, tracing a circle into Misty’s spine.  “Yes and no.  Whatever you’re dreaming about, I can enter it if I want to.  But I won’t know what you’re dreaming about until I’m in there.”

“Oh,” Misty says through a yawn.  “Ew.”

Harry snorts. “Why ‘ew?’”

“Because what if I’m dreaming something embarrassing?”  

“Then I can embarrass you about it forever,” Harry says.  “How fun!”

Misty pulls Harry closer, burying her face deep into his neck.  He can feel her visible frown, and it makes him smile.  “Don’t pout,” he coos, scratching at her back.

“Don’t tease meeee,” she whines, but the way she says it sounds like she has another thought to add on.

Misty hesitates, and Harry gives her time to think about what she’s going to say.  She arches her back the teeniest bit, leaning into a particularly good scratch, and it makes Harry smile. Finally, she finishes her thought.

“I actually did have a dream about you the other night,” she says,  “although now I’m guessing you already knew that.”

Harry nods.  He did know that, because it was his doing. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened; if anything it had just been pretty mundane-- similar to every day he’s spent with her in real life.  But it felt more real, more permanent, more tangible.  Harry had been careful, of course, not to be too obvious with it-- he didn’t interfere with the natural plot line of her dream as much as he normally would if it were a real visit.  He had just wanted to spend more time with her, and it had been lovely.

“Was it weird?” He asks, although he already knows the answer.

“It wasn’t weird,” Misty says.  “You were just kinda… there.  But I…” he feels her body tense up, and she curls herself even further into his side, as if hiding herself.  “I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

Harry feels his breath hitch in his throat, and his fingertips cease their movements along her spine.  “Yeah?” he chokes out.

“Yeah,” she whispers back.  “Is that weird?”

“It’s not weird, sunshine,” Harry whispers.  “I wanted to--”  He trails off now, letting the rest of his sentence fizzle out in a sigh.  “It’s not weird,” he repeats.

“I’m falling asleep,” Misty announces through the softest yawn Harry thinks he’s ever heard.  “It’s not weird right?  Like, things between us aren’t weird just cause I got drunk and kinda… confessed some shit?”

“Confessed what?”  Harry says.  “You’ve told me nothing.”

Misty giggles  “You’re a good man, Harry.”

“I’m not a man,” Harry teases.  “I’m a ghost.”

“Can you not be annoying for like, one whole second?”

It’s Harry’s turn to giggle now. “Alright, I’m sorry. I’ll chill.”

Misty yawns again, and the feeling of her breath against his neck makes him shiver.  He smiles, snuggling his cheek against the top of her head. “Well,” he says.  “Goodnight, sunshine.”

“Goodnight, Harry,” she mumbles.  Without thinking, she presses the softest little peck against his neck that almost goes unnoticed by him. It makes him freeze, letting out the rest of the air in his lungs in a little sigh. He doesn’t know if he should kiss her back or not, but she doesn’t seem to mind either way.  So he lets it slide.

But he spends the entire night replaying the feeling of her lips against his neck over and over and over again.

------

Misty sighs as she reaches into the fridge for a bottle of water.  Somehow she’s been roped into a conversation that she wants no part of; gossip between Lindsey and Rosie about Lindsey’s boyfriend who’s been openly cheating on her for weeks. Perhaps she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but somehow Misty has found herself listening to the girls chat away, one feeling sorry for herself, and the other kissing her ass.

When Misty closes the door, she jumps when she sees Harry, who has manifested right in front of her.  She lets out a frustrated sigh through her nose, and Harry grins cheekily at her, raising his eyebrows and daring her to speak.

“What’s wrong, Misty?” Rosie asks, and Misty realizes her little scare hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Misty glances between Harry and the two girls, who stare expectantly back at her.  “Uh,” she says,  “Nothing.  I… thought I saw something.  Sorry.”

“Is it that fucking ghost again?” Rosie’s face grows pale at her own words. “I swear to God if that fucker is back I--”

“No,” Misty says, cutting her off.  “He-- it-- isn’t back. Continue with your story.”

Lindsey launches right back into it, hardly giving Misty’s words a second thought. “Anyway, Brad was like, totally flirting with me that night right?”

“He totally was,” Rosie replies.

“Thank you! I thought he was, and Jade thought he was, but then now he’s back with Jessie again and--”

“God who cares about any of this?” Harry’s voice drawls in Misty’s ear. “She’s been going on and on about this for ages.”

Misty sighs softly so that only Harry can hear her.  She knows she can’t verbally respond to him, but he hears her response and smirks. It’s then the idea pops into his head.

“Whatever you do, don’t smile,” Harry says, voice low and teasing in Misty’s ear-- a surefire way to make her smile.  

The corners of Misty’s lips twinge and she visibly gulps, and Harry knows he’s got her.

“I said don’t smile,” Harry, sing-songs, inching closer to Misty’s ear and trying his hardest to get her to break.  “You’ll look like a crazy person.  Can you imagine?  Lindsey’s pouring her heart out, and you can’t stop smiling?  What will they think?”

Misty clears her throat a bit more aggressively than normal as a desperate plea to get Harry to shut the hell up.

“No,” he replies, with a cheeky grin, knowing exactly what her noise meant.  “I’m not going to stop.”  

Misty holds her breath as an attempt to hold her composure as Harry continues.  “Imagine if Lindsey’s water like, came out of her nose right now. Wouldn’t that be crazy?”

Harry notices the way Misty runs her tongue over her teeth, setting her jaw firmly so as not to slip up again.  And honestly, he’s impressed.  He presses her further.  “Did you know I could make that happen?”

This time Misty’s breath hitches, and she eyes Harry threateningly out of the corner of her eyes.  “I really can,” he says. “I can snap my fingers and she’ll be like a faucet.  A free flowing spirit.”

Harry thinks he’s almost got her, her lips twitch up again and she raises her water bottle to her lips to cover it up.  Harry snorts.

“Nah, I’m fucking with you,”  he says,  “you think I could really do that?  Who do you think I am, fuckin Harry Potter?”

Misty rolls her eyes without giving it a second thought, which luckily goes unnoticed by her sisters-- but not unnoticed by Harry.  He raises his eyebrows.

“Ope! Careful there.  Going to give yourself away, eh?”

When Misty stares blankly ahead, Harry laughs.

“Wow,” he says, “so you’re really not gonna smile, are you?  You’re good at this.”

His tone makes Misty think he’s giving up, and she gives a subtle smirk of satisfaction in his direction.  

But Harry is nothing if he isn’t persistent.  And he is not going to give up that easily.

It’s when Misty raises her arm to run a hand through her hair that Harry gets his idea.  He doesn’t even allow himself time to think about it before he’s setting his plan into action.  Before he knows it, he’s going right for Misty’s ribs.  

Harry digs his hands into Misty’s lower ribs, squeezing a few times, and Misty folds instantly into his arms.  She lets out a surprised shriek mixed with an almost honking laugh, and both Lindsey and Rosie stop the conversation immediately to shoot her a puzzled look.

It’s all too good, and Harry is so utterly pleased with himself right now.  He’d be lying if he said this kind of power didn’t go to his head, especially when Misty immediately realizes that she’s got to stop giggling.  Harry doesn’t let up on her ribs, lowering a hand to pinch softly at her side, and Misty tries desperately to cover up her remaining giggles with a cough.

Harry would also be lying if he said that seeing her laugh like this didn’t turn him on.  But that is neither here nor there.

After a few more seconds of tickling her and watching her desperately try to contain her giggles and cover them up with the fakest coughs Harry’s ever heard, he decides to show the poor girl some mercy.  He removes his hands from her torso, and it takes her a few seconds to realize she’s free.

The silence that follows is charged with awkwardness, and Harry almost feels a bit bad.  Misty, whose face is visibly hot, reaches for her water bottle on the counter and takes several long sips from it.

“You alright?” Rosie asks, slowly raising an eyebrow.

Misty gulps down one more sip and gestures vaguely at her throat.  “Yeah, sorry I just--”

“Have a tickle in your throat?”

Harry beams, voice low in Misty’s ear.  “Something like that,” he says.

Misty closes her eyes and lets out a long sigh, as if she’s just heard the worst joke of her life.  Harry snorts.  “I know,” he says.  “That was a good one, wasn’t it?”

“Linds, I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Misty says,  “But I have this huge paper due in a couple of hours and I’m super behind so--”

“Oh is it that stupid paper for english?” Lindsey nods sympathetically.  “I worked on it like, all night last night.”

“Yeah,” Misty lies,  “I have to work on it.  I promise in a few hours I’ll be right back down to--”

“No worries, baby, do your thing!” Lindsey says, shooing Misty with her hand. “I get it.  You’re good.”

“Thanks.”  Misty begins making her way out of the kitchen without even sparing so much as a glance in Harry’s direction. “I want to hear all about it later though.”

Misty storms up the stairs with Harry close on her heels. He is giggling the entire way, but Misty doesn’t even smile.  It’s about halfway up the stairs that Harry begins to get a bit nervous.

“You have to admit that was good,” he says through his laughter, obviously trying to lighten the mood.  “Come on.”

Misty ignores him, continuing her path to her room.  When she arrives, she doesn’t even check to see that Harry is behind her.  She closes the door a bit harder than she intends, and Harry effortlessly glides through it.  The silence that follows is absolutely deafening.

She turns, agonizingly slowly to face him, and the look on her face is unreadable.  Harry isn’t sure if the smirk on his own face is appropriate or not, so he tries his best to suppress it while he waits for her to say something.  When she doesn’t, his lips twitch.

“I take it you’re angry,” he tries.

“How could you do that?!” Misty hisses, the sort of whisper that’s stupidly loud.  He knows she isn’t angry, not fully, but he almost worries he took things a step too far.

“Sunshine, I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“Made me look like a fucking idiot.” Misty runs her hands through her hair and shakes her head at him.  “And for what?  So you could get a laugh?”

Harry tries desperately not to smirk, but the corners of his lips turn up ever so slightly-- giving him away. “Yeah.”

Misty stops, not exactly expecting that answer.  She pauses for a moment before sighing through her nose and closing her mouth.  “Ridiculous,” she mumbles, before brushing past Harry to rummage through her closet.

“I really think you should lighten up,” Harry says, walking over and plopping himself on her bed.  “Wasn’t meant to be a personal attack.”

“Lighten up?!” Misty says, whirling around on her heels.  She hesitates, realizing that she’s raised her voice a tick too loud.  She takes a step towards Harry, lowering her voice significantly before speaking.  “You think I need to lighten up?  Harry, you--”

“I didn’t mean to ruin your bloody day, Misty, Christ.  I was just trying to make you laugh.”

“Well don’t.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

There’s an intense pause between them, and Harry doesn’t shy away from Misty’s intimidating stare.  In fact, there is hardly any emotion on his face at all, and Misty can’t tell whether it infuriates her or turns her on. She can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks growing hotter by the second, and she lets out a flustered sigh.

“You seem like you have something else to say,” Harry states calmly.

It’s so unfair, Misty thinks.  It really fucking is.  She scrambles to find words to express how she’s feeling, but her brain is cloudy with the thought of how goddamn attractive he is. When she really thinks about it, she isn’t angry at all, really.  The thought of Harry being able to do whatever he wants to her- whenever he wants- in front of people both embarrasses her and makes her excited.  

Truth be told, she’s never been more excited in her entire life.

Harry raises his eyebrows expectantly.  “Well?”

“I don’t have anything else to say,” Misty says quietly.

“Are you sure?”  Harry asks, rising to his feet and taking a cautious step towards her.

Misty lets out a frustrated breath, reaching up to push her hair off of her face.  “Yes, I’m sure! Will you stop doing that?”

Harry scoffs, mockingly.  “Stop doing what, Misty?  Trying to call you out on what we both know is true?”

“No!” Misty’s voice is dangerously loud, and she catches herself again before she can get any louder.  She rolls her eyes at herself before continuing at a much softer pace.  “Stop… looking at me like that.”

And oh, now Harry understands.

Harry shakes his head.  “I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Yes you are!” she insists, closing the space between them just the tiniest bit more.  “You’re always looking at me like… like that!”  She gestures indistinctly.

Harry licks his lips, eyebrow subconsciously raising challengingly.  “I’m going to need you to be more specific, Misty.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Sunshine,” he drawls, voice thick as honey,  “all I ever want is to make you happy.  That’s a promise.”

Misty swallows, nostrils flaring as she tries to get her breath under control. “Harry, I…”  She trails off, because truth be told she doesn’t know where she was even going with this thought.

“What?” he asks, taking another step towards her.  “Tell me.”

After a beat of intense silence Misty groans.  “I don’t know! You’re so annoying and you’re so perfect and you make me so happy and I just--”

“What?” Harry says, inching closer.  “You just what?”

Misty lowers her voice, eyes thick with sadness.  “I just… don’t want to be feeling this way about you.  I can’t.  But you make it impossible to not.”

“To not what?”

“Fall for you.”  Misty sighs.  “I’m trying so hard not to because… well, you’re not actually here  are you?”

“Can you see me?”  Harry asks, matter-of-factly.

“Well, yes, but--”

“I’m here.”  Harry reaches forward, lightly caressing Misty’s arm.  “I’m right here Misty.”

Misty glances down to his hand, then back up at him.  “Harry, I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

He pulls away, not wanting to pressure her into feeling any type of way at all. “What do you mean?”

“I mean-- God.”  She lets out all of her air and shakes her head, almost cynically.  “Harry I… really, really like you.”

If Harry had blood running through his veins, it would run cold at her words.  “You do?”

“Have I not made it obvious?”  Misty scoffs.  “Fuck, dude, you’re so perfect.”

“I’m not,” Harry says in a breath.  He steps forward.  “Misty, I’m not.”

“You are,” she insists.  “I want you so bad, Harry.  And I’m scared.”

Harry processes her words slowly, and he knows he shouldn’t say what he’s about to say. But he does it anyway.

“I’m scared, too,” he admits softly, feeling more human than he’s felt in a long time.

“I’m scared that I’m going to really fall for you,” Misty continues, “because I know you’re just going to have to leave in the end. And I’m going to be sad, and I’m going to miss you, and—“

“Well then why don’t we just pretend?” Harry tries. “We’ve still got a few more weeks, haven’t we?”

“Yes, but the thought of you leaving won’t go away, Harry! It’s all I can think about. Every time I feel something for you I’m reminded of our situation and how you’ll never actually be mine.”

“I hate it,” Harry agrees, his own voice matching hers in volume now. “I absolutely hate it, but Misty, we can’t let that thought hang over the time we have left like a raincloud.”

“But--”

“You make me feel alive again, Misty!” Harry doesn’t mean to cut her off, but he can’t help it.  “I know that’s forward, and we haven’t known each other for all that long, but it’s true.”

Misty looks like she wants to cry, and her eyes feel thick and heavy.  She wills herself not to break, taking a moment to regain her composure before speaking.  “Harry, I don’t know what to do,” she whispers.  “I don’t… we can’t--”

Harry leans in, taking Misty’s chin in between his thumb and forefinger.  He tilts her head up softly, effectively quieting her, and she realizes her lips are still parted. Harry can feel her breath, and it feels far too intimate to be real.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice tender and quiet.

Misty blinks up at him. “God,” she breathes, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that.”

Harry smiles, leaning in gently and fastening their lips together slowly.  He takes her top lip between his own, and he can feel her instantly relax against him. She smiles faintly into the kiss as well, but makes no movement to pull him closer— as if she’s still a bit unsure.  He kisses her again, then pulls away, scanning her face for any sign of discomfort.

“How do you feel?” He asks after a moment.

“Like I want to do that for the rest of my life.”  Misty reaches up to cup Harry’s face and bring him in for another kiss.  

Harry, of course, happily complies to her nonverbal request, snaking his hands around her waist and holding her gently to him.  He timidly peeks his tongue out, gliding along her lip as if asking for permission, and she willingly submits— opening her mouth for him to lick into.

Misty giggles into his mouth the minute their tongues interact, and it makes Harry pull away. “What?”

“You taste good,” she says. “You taste…. sweet. I don’t know. I love it.”

“Oh.” He grins, pulling her back into him to pick up immediately where they left off.

It’s beautiful, and Harry feels happier than he’s felt in a long time now that he’s finally kissing her. He licks into her mouth softly, trying to convey all the words he isn’t yet brave enough to say.

“Harry.”  Misty pulls away, smiling up at him.  She’s so happy that it feels like everything her eyes land on is glowing. “God, I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Why didn’t you do it then?  I wanted it, too!”

“Well why didn’t you?!”

Harry grins.  “Wanted to see how long until you gave in, I suppose.”  When Misty rolls her eyes, Harry chuckles.  “Alright I’m kidding.  I guess I was just… scared.”

“Me too,” Misty admits.  “I mean… feelings are scary one way or another, but then when you add our situation in there its…”

“Weird as fuck,” Harry says, nodding.  “Yeah.  I hate it.”  He smiles, cupping the back of her neck and bumping his nose tenderly against hers.  “But I don’t fully. I’m very happy that I have you, sweet girl.”

Misty smiles, leaning gently into his touch.  “Kiss me again,” she asks,  “Please.”

Harry grins, pulling her close to him and pressing his lips gently to her forehead.  “With pleasure.”

They continue like this for a while, giggly and unsure and so, so happy.  It is weird, as they both admitted, but it’s so incredibly wonderful and fills both of their hearts with a warmth that neither of them have felt for a while.  And as Harry continues to kiss against Misty’s smile, he forgets his situation— if only for a moment— to revel in the fact that he’s kissing the most beautiful girl he’s ever known.

He doesn’t think his entire existence could ever get better than it is right now.

------

Later that night, Misty sits cross legged on her bed, fresh from a shower and rubbing lotion into her arms while Harry explores her vinyl collection.  She’s wearing the cutest t-shirt and pajama shorts combo Harry thinks he’s ever seen, and it’s driving him crazy.  Things are definitely not awkward between them by any means, but the whole situation feels silly and exciting, like two middle schoolers who just admitted they had a mutual crush on one another.

Misty nods towards the Fleetwood Mac record Harry currently holds in his hands.  “I found that one at a garage sale,” she says.  “Luckiest find of my life.”

“No kidding.”  Harry turns, smiling at her.  He holds the record up.  “Do you like Fleetwood Mac?”

“Nah, just thought the vinyl looked cool.  I don’t even know any songs by them.”

Harry halts all movement, eyeing Misty to figure out if she means what she’s saying.  She’s got him for a moment, her expression remains completely unbothered as she rubs her vanilla lotion into her arms.   But then she giggles, face twisting up like she can’t believe Harry would even ask her that.  “What the fuck kind of question is that, Harry?  Hello?  Why else would I have that?”

Harry snorts.  “You know what?  I’ve had enough of your sarcasm.”

“My sarcasm?” Misty says.  “You’re one to talk!”

“Me? I’m a dream!”  Harry returns the record to it’s rightful spot and makes his way over to the bed.  “You on the other hand--”

Harry reaches for a pillow to whack Misty with, but Misty is quicker.  She grabs the other pillow on her bed and shields his attack, squealing as he continues his fight on her regardless.  He eventually tosses the pillow aside, going for what he knows will absolutely get her to cave and digging his fingers into her sides.

Misty squeals, instantly bucking into his touch as he squeezes at her.  “Wait, no! Fucker!  This is cheating!”

“Careful!” Harry taunts, fingers wiggling up to her ribs. “No one else knows I’m here! Would be awful embarrassing if they heard you talking and giggling to yourself, wouldn’t it?”

“Well then fucking stooooop!” Misty whines, wriggling under his grasp.  “Why are you making me--” She is cut off by her own cackle before she continues-- “Do this?!”

“Because I can.”  Harry beams down at her, leaning down to press a kiss to her nose.  “Because it’s cute and you like it.”

“I don’t like it!” Misty practically howls.  “You’re annoying!”

“Oh,” Harry says, ceasing the movement of his fingers.  “I’m annoying?”

“YES!” Misty whines, pouting up at him.

He smiles, leaning closer into her face and enjoying the heat radiating off of her cheeks.  “Do you really not like it?”

Misty pants, catching her breath and smiling up at Harry.  “No,” she admits after a beat.

Harry squirms so he’s fully on top of her now. “‘No’ you don’t like it? Or ‘no’ as in you do like it and don’t want me to stop?”

Misty reaches up to cover her face as much as Harry’s body pinning her will allow.  “‘No’ as in… don’t stop.”

Harry grins, pressing a kiss to Misty’s nose.  “I figured.”

Harry trails his lips lightly along Misty’s cheeks leading up to her mouth, pressing smiley kisses to the soft skin and loving the way he can feel her smile beneath him.  “Pretty girl,’ he mutters.  “You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

When he finally fastens his lips to hers, Misty sighs.  She opens her mouth willingly, allowing him to lick his way in, and she delights in the sweet taste of his tongue against hers.  She allows her hand to trail up Harry’s icy neck, tangling her fingers in his hair before she tilts her head away slightly to speak.

“You know,” she muses,  “You could be awful mean to me if you wanted to be.”

Harry quirks an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side teasingly.  “Do you want me to be mean to you?”

Misty only sighs. “If you have to ask--”  She trails off, fingertips lightly toying with the hem of Harry’s shirt.  There’s a moment of tense silence in which she bats her eyes up at him innocently, and that’s all the starting gun he needs.

“Ohh, sweetheart,” Harry coos.  “You’re going to have to be more convincing than that.”

Misty groans, her facade crumbling away little by little.  “I cannnn’t,” she whines, hiding her face in her hands.  Harry can see her smile between her hands however, and it eggs him on.

“You can,” he says, voice almost mockingly sweet. He rises to sit on his knees. “Know you can.  You just won’t.”  

Harry reaches up, trying to gently coax her hands from her face as best he can. “You know why you won’t?”

Misty peeks through her fingers, shaking her head but not verbally answering Harry.  He flashes her his cheekiest dimpled grin.  “Because you want me to make you say it. Am I right?”

Misty giggles as Harry successfully lowers her hands.   “You can’t make me say it,” she says teasingly.

Harry shrugs, placing his hand on Misty’s calf and squeezing lightly.  “It’s true.  I can’t. Can’t make you do anything you don’t want to, baby.”  He walks his fingers up her leg, tauntingly tracing his pointer finger around her kneecap and making her shiver.  “But darling, this cute little act of yours is only going to get you so far.

“It’s gotten me far enough, hasn’t it?” Misty licks her lips subconsciously, reaching forward to scratch behind Harry’s ear.  “Obviously things have gone my way.”

“Have they?” Harry says, cocking his head.  “I haven’t given in yet, have I?”

“How much longer until you do?” Misty asks, giggling nervously.

Harry shakes his head, leaning in to press a kiss to the side of Misty’s chin.  “Dunno,” he says.  “Wanna see how long you’re going to act like this for.”

Harry presses a few more rapid kisses directly to Misty’s chin before trailing them up to the fleshiest parts of her cheeks.  After a few kisses there, he pulls away.

“Your cheeks are so hot, sunshine,” Harry muses, reaching up and tracing a knuckle along the tender skin.  “Why?”

“Hot in here,” Misty breathes, voice so low that Harry can barely even make out what she’s saying.  

Harry’s honey drip of a voice sends shivers down Misty’s spine when he speaks.  “No,” he says with a grin.  “That’s not it.”  

With his other hand, Harry trails his fingertips down the sensitive skin of her arm, making her squirm a bit.  “Know what I think it is?”  His fingers squeeze delicately over her hips before resting on her exposed thigh-- where he gives her a soft scratch.  “I think somebody is embarrassed about how badly she wants me to be mean to her.”

Harry leans in, pressing an icy kiss to her neck that makes her instinctively tremble.  A breathy moan floats past her lips as Harry ghosts his own along her collarbone.  He takes his time with this, really inhaling her scent and her warmth as he makes his way down her body.  His fingers trace delicately along the waistband of her pajama shorts, her stomach jolting a bit when he hits a sensitive spot on her hips.  Misty watches his face with parted lips, so completely enamoured by him and his touch that she’s rendered speechless.

Slowly, gently, Harry lowers his hand to the spot between her legs, feeling the damp heat against the soft fabric of her short pajama bottoms.  He grins, slowly adjusting to sit up on his knees once again.  He takes her in, her entire body, and allows himself to really savor this moment.  When his eyes fall on the beauty between her legs again, however, he stops.

“And you know what else I think?” Harry says, grinning over her as his fingers tease her waistband once again.  “I think you like being embarrassed like this.  I think you like that I can do this to you, and we’re the only two who’ll ever know about it.  Hm?  Am I right?”

Misty gulps, goosebumps prickling her skin and lips glistening.  She nods.  “Yes,” she breathes.  “You’re exactly right.”

“I knew it,” Harry says, hooking his fingers into her waistband. “Filthy girl, aren’t you?”  He begins lowering the shorts from her hips, never breaking eye contact and smirking at how willingly she complies with his movements.  When he pulls the shorts past her feet he flings them carelessly to the floor, then glances down at the ever-growing wet spot on the fabric between her legs.  He grins up at her.  “Messy thing you are, too.  Look how wet you get just from some teasing.”

“Harry--” Misty breathes.

“Love it when you say my name like that, darling,” Harry purrs.  He leans forward to press a kiss directly to her bellybutton. The kiss is wet, and the sound of it mixed with Misty’s beautiful sighing is enough to make Harry melt.  He can’t help but to close his eyes and take a deep breath in, sighing when he’s met with her heavenly scent.  “Smell so fucking good,” he mumbles.  “Haven’t smelt anything like this in years.”

“Don’t--” Misty breathes,  “Don’t tease.”

“Ohh,” Harry tuts, tracing the spot where her inner thigh meets the fabric of her panties.  “Poor thing doesn’t want me to tease?”

He glances up at her from under his lashes, and the look on her face sends Harry over the moon.   Her eyes are wide and the smile on her slightly parted lips is so warm and inviting that Harry almost has a hard time keeping this up.

“Well, I find that hard to believe.”

He sinks his teeth into the waistband of her panties without any warning, and she gasps at the sudden sharpness mixed with the temperature of his mouth on her hips.

Misty lets out an unfiltered moan and immediately flings her hand up to her mouth to keep herself quiet.  She gives herself only a few moments to compose herself before whispering, “Harry, I… I need you--”

“Aww,” Harry coos, his teeth still hooked around her panties. He shakes his head a bit, curls falling in his face as he pulls the fabric away from Misty’s skin. “Needy,” he mutters, tugging a bit in an attempt to remove the panties.

When the lower half of Misty’s body is exposed to the chill of Harry’s skin, she shivers, and he delights in the movement for the first time since he’s met her.

“Know I’m cold,” he says quietly, teeth still clenched around her panties as he drags them down her leg.  “But it feels good, doesn’t it?”

Misty nods.  “M-hm…”  She’s eyeing him, and he’s moving slowly because he can tell she has something she wants to say.  He discards her panties onto the ground and tries not to outwardly show just how fucking delicious she looks right now.  He’s practically drooling at the sight of her, but she’s nervous, and he doesn’t want to push her too far.  So instead, he trails his nails slowly up her calf, looking only in her eye  and waiting patiently for her to speak.

“Nervous?” he asks.

“Well, no,” she says.  “But I…”  she trails off, squirming when his eyes land between her legs once again.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…” she starts, squirming a bit.  “I didn’t shave.”

Harry almost laughs at her when she says this. “Oh, darling. That’s what’s got you so nervous?”

She nods.  “Yeah.  I mean, I didn’t think… I don’t know.”

“Your pussy looks amazing,” Harry says, deciding to just bite the bullet and be as forward as he feels.  “Looks fucking delicious.  Smells delicious as well.  I certainly don’t mind a bit of hair.”

“You don’t?”  she asks, sitting up.

“Are you kidding?” He reaches forward, brushing against some of the hair with his finger.  “Fucking sexy as hell.  Don’t be silly.”

“I mean,” Misty says quickly, “I suppose it’s probably been, like, a minute since you’ve seen a pussy.  So I guess any pussy is gonna be fine.  I mean, not to assume your preferences, or anything, but you know--”

Harry leans forward, biting Misty’s thigh and making her yelp.  “Shh,”  he mumbles.  “Please.”

Misty giggles nervously. “Okay,” she says.

Harry leans down and kisses the spot he’s just nipped at, trailing his lips up her thigh and settling himself on his stomach. Being this close to her core ignites something in him that he hasn’t felt in years, and just the smell of her alone makes his mouth water.

With one hand Harry coaxes Misty’s leg up and over his shoulder, and now with a clearer view of her beautiful pussy he licks his lips.  

“You’re already so wet,” he observes. “Wanted it this badly, did you?”

“Want you,” she replies, squirming. “So bad.”

Harry takes his time with it, eyeing her body up and down before leaning in to press the most velvet soft kiss directly at her center  His scruff tickles her lightly, and she lets out a sigh.

Harry hums against her core before really diving into his work, peeking his tongue out from between his lips to lap delicately at her clit.  He watches her from under his long lashes, waiting for a reaction from her as he explores her with his tongue— wanting to find the best spot to really devour.

She watches him intently, as if in a daze, while he sucks at her, and it takes him a moment to realize she’s holding her breath. So he pops off of her clit gently, making her jolt, before reaching up to place a hand on her belly. “Breathe, baby.”

Perhaps Misty didn’t realize she was holding her breath, because she lets it all out in a puff. Her tummy immediately grows a bit and Harry loves it, loves seeing her fully relaxed for him like this.

“You okay?” He asks. “Genuinely.”

“I’m okay,” she says.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Cross your heart?”

Misty snorts.  “I swear on my life, Harry, come onnnn.”

He giggles, “Alright alright.”  Without any further warning, he leans down and presses the softest kiss directly to her clit, resuming his work and licking against her.

The only noises in the room are Misty’s heavy breathing and soft sighing, mixed with the wet noises of Harry’s mouth-- and it all feels so filthy and intimate that it makes Harry lose himself in his work. He moans, even louder than she does, and it makes her back arch a bit off of the mattress.

“Harry--” she sighs.

Harry tilts his head, ghosting his lips against her thigh.  “Careful,” he says.  “I don’t have to be quiet. You do.”

Misty smiles to herself, enjoying the feeling of his tongue between her legs. The sensation of his temperature down there is something she’s never experienced before in her life, and it makes the entire experience all the more intoxicatingly wonderful.

“God you taste so fucking good,” Harry mumbles, pulling his head back only slightly and reaching up to rub at her clit. “Like fucking honey. Delicious.”  He lowers his fingers to collect her wetness, observing the stickiness coating the digits before raising his hand to her mouth.

He doesn’t even have to tell her to do anything, she’s already opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out. Harry rests his fingertips on her tongue, and she envelopes them with her lips, giving them a nice long suck that causes Harry to make a most obscene noise in the back of his throat.

The temporary distraction lights a fire in Harry’s soul, and he ducks down to bury his face in her pussy once more. She arches her back when he hits a particularly good spot, and she accidentally bites down gently on his fingers— which Harry is surprised to find that he loves the feeling of.

Harry hums against her, wiggling his fingers a bit as a silent request for her to loosen up.  She opens her mouth, unable to contain the moan that escapes her lips when she does so.  Harry envelops her clit with his lips and sucks harshly, and she squirms against him.

“Harry--” She breathes.  “It’s so… fuck-- you’re so good…”

“Quiet now,” Harry mumbles against the skin of her thigh.  “Unless you want them to know how filthy you are.”

“I don’t care,” Misty pants breathlessly.  “I’ll blame my vibrator, I don’t care,  I’ll--- oh fuuuuck.”  She’s cut off when Harry sinks his teeth into the flesh of her thigh, and even he moans at the sensation.

“Fucking shit,” he mumbles as he pulls away, admiring the dents that his teeth left and the string of saliva trailing from his bottom lip to her plushy skin.  “You taste good everywhere.”

“More,” Misty pleads.  “Harry, more, please.”

Harry sits mesmerized by the imprint of his own teeth on her thigh.  “They’ll think you’re crazy if they hear you.”

Misty groans, and Harry instinctively reaches up and covers her mouth without hesitation.  He considers stopping, punishing her for not listening to him and being loud.  But looking up at her, seeing how needy and fucked out she already looks has him weak.  So he buries his face between her legs and prepares to finish the job, licking her out like it’s the one thing he was born to do.

Misty’s hand flies to Harry’s hair and she tugs so hard it makes him wince.  Honestly, it’s the best feeling he’s felt in ages.  No one has pulled his hair like this since long before he died, and the feeling alone causes him to moan out loud against her core.

“Fucking shit, Misty,” he mumbles.  “Do that again.”

“You like that?” Misty cries breathlessly, her fingers moving frantically to grasp at his curls once again.  

Harry groans, lapping against her clit and enjoying the most pleasure he’s felt in years. “Misty,” he breathes, relishing in the way she twitches against the tickle of his breath against her skin, “You’re so fucking perfect.”

“Fuck,” Misty groans.  “Holy shit--”

“Is this good sweet girl?”  

“I need more,” Misty cries, and who is Harry to deny her of her simple request?

He reaches down, fingering gently at the wetness pooling between her legs before teasing a single finger into her-- never once removing his lips from her clit.

He sucks harshly while his finger simultaneously searches for the spongy spot inside of her. She squirms around his digit, and Harry has to use his other hand to pin her hips down.

“Hold still,” he instructs.

“I can’t,” Misty whines. “I need another finger.”

She’s practically begging at this point, and it makes Harry so smug. “Ohhh,” he says, lips ghosting her thighs again, “So you’re the one calling the shots, are you?”

He’s teasing, of course, because he knows that she absolutely is the one in control of everything that’s going on right now.  But the way she’s dripping, tugging on his hair and practically shoving his face into her-- as well as verbally begging him-- strokes his ego.

“Please,” she groans.  “I want-- fuck-- I need to cum.”

Harry smirks up at her, tutting his lips.  “Not even embarrassed to be so needy?” he teases.    “My god…”

As much as he loves to tease her, though, he wants to make her cum more than anything else. And seeing her on the brink like this-- already-- makes him all the more eager. So he adds a second finger, pumping his digits in and out and lapping at her clit like it’s his last meal.  

She lets out an obscene moan, louder than any of the others she’s let out, and he knows she’s close. But for the sake of her pride, he knows she has to stay quiet. So he removes his hand from her hip and presses it to her mouth.

“Quiet,” he instructs, giving her face a little squeeze before putting his entire heart and soul into eating her.  

Misty is wiggling like mad now, and it takes everything in Harry to keep his mouth on her.  He knows that if he lets go of her mouth to try and pin her hips down again, she’ll expose herself— loudly— so this is a challenge Harry gladly accepts.

She stills briefly when her orgasm hits, and then her thighs are trembling around his face.  Her stomach is clenched and she’s drooling against the palm of his hand.  Her muffled moans are music to his ears, but they do sort of catch Harry off guard because he’d never guess that she’d be such a vocal cummer.  Of course, he isn’t complaining, and he wishes that he could hear her, completely unfiltered, with no one around to catch them.

Misty’s stomach relaxes a little bit at the same time she lets out a few little cries, and Harry realizes that she’s finished-- although her pussy continues to flutter with aftershocks against his tongue.  He slowly removes his hand from her wet mouth and looks up at her from under his lashes.

She looks utterly fucked, with tears in her eyes and chest rising and falling gently as she tries to catch her breath.  Harry is fascinated, thinking he’s never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life, and he realizes that he hasn’t moved in a while when Misty squirms beneath him.

He removes his lips from her but continues to watch her, relieved when her features seem to relax and she lets out a breathy giggle.  “My god,” she says, voice somewhat hoarse.  “That was--”

“A dream,” Harry says, now allowing himself to relax a bit as well.  He looks down at her soaked pussy and grins.  “You’re messy.”

“Can you blame me?”  Misty reaches up to run a hand through her hair.  “Fuck, that was good.”

“Yeah?”  Harry smiles.  “I’m so glad.”

Misty hums, reaching down to playfully muss up Harry’s hair.  “Now, come up here so I can take care of you, pretty boy.”

Her words hit Harry’s heart, causing it to sink immediately. “Oh, doll,” he tuts,  “God, I wish you could.”

Misty frowns.  “What do you mean?”

“No blood in my veins,” Harry explains sadly, still making no effort to remove himself from between her legs.  “No blood… no boner. I don’t get hard.  I don’t cum.”

“Holy shit.”  Misty props herself up on her elbows, looking down at Harry and causing the cutest double chin Harry thinks he’s ever seen.  “Seriously?”

Harry nods.  “Seriously.  So even if you did… I wouldn’t feel anything.”

“Do you…” Misty’s voice gets quiet, as if suddenly going shy.  “Do you still get horny?”

“Yeah.”  Harry kisses Misty’s knee.  “Of course. You think I don’t feel anything while I’m eating your beautiful pussy?”

“I don’t know!” Misty whines.  “I feel like there is so much about you that I’m still learning.”

“Well,” Harry says with a sigh.  “You turn me on.  More than anyone I’ve ever known.  My body may not be able to physically show it… but you do something to me that I haven’t felt in years.”

“So I’ll never be able to suck you off?”  Misty pouts.

Harry smiles sadly.  “I’m afraid not, sweet girl.”

“Holy shit.” Misty frowns. “That fucking sucks.”

Harry laughs. “I mean… it’s not so bad. I get to make you feel good.” He licks softly at her pussy in an attempt to begin cleaning her up, and she flinches out of sensitivity, causing him to chuckle.

“I hate it though,” Harry admits, “kind of. I hate that I can’t…. well… pardon my French here but—“

“Fuck me?” Misty finishes. “You hate that you can’t fuck me? Because I want you to.”

Harry snorts. “Well damn, miss Misty. Never expected you to be so forward but yes, I hate that I can’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked.”

Misty frowns. “I just want to make you feel good.”

“You do make me feel good.,” Harry says with a smile. “Every second that we’re together feels better than the last.” He licks at her pussy once again, smiling at the way she wiggles against his tongue instantaneously.

“Now,” he says, “let’s get you cleaned up and get that English paper done, hm?”

-------

It’s the night of Misty’s sorority homecoming, and Misty is having a less than ideal time.

It isn’t that the venue isn’t wonderful, or that her friends aren’t being lovely. Everything seems perfect from the outside, and Misty knows she should be enjoying it. But her problem isn’t with the event itself— it’s the fact that she’s here alone.

Because the one person she’d wanted to bring as her date happens to be a ghost.

Harry had watched her get ready all day, constantly telling her how gorgeous she looked and laughing, amused, when she’d tried countless times to get him to give in and come with her. Of course he wasn’t going to do that, and she understood, but still.

He’d sent her off with a kiss, reminding her one last time how absolutely stunning she looked and promising to be waiting up for her the minute she returned home.  And she’d left, reluctantly, because she knew he was right— she did need to go off and live her life.

But god, what she would give to have him here right now.

“Misty!”  

Misty realizes she’s been staring at the wall, the drink in her hand nearly spilling over, when she’s startled out of her thoughts.  Angie walks excitedly towards her.  

Angie, of course, looks stunning.  She’s wearing a long, blue gown that compliments her eyes nicely, and her hair is done up in curls that are so perfectly put together they don’t even look real.  She flashes Misty a warm smile as she approaches.

“Girl!” she says.  “What’s wrong with you? You alright?”

Misty smiles, realizing that she probably looks silly all zoned out like this.  “Yeah, no, I’m good! Sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“You look sad,” Angie says, worry creasing her eyes.   “You sure you’re just tired?”

Misty sighs, because god, she really wishes she could explain her situation to Angie. Or anyone really.  “Yeah, I’m good.  Sorry.”

“Well you should get out there and dance!” Angie says encouragingly.  “The DJ kinda sucks but like, if you take a shot beforehand it’s not that bad.”

“He does kinda suck, doesn’t he?” Misty giggles.

“Oh, also…”  Angie hesitates before speaking her next sentence.  “Josh is looking for you.”

Misty rolls her eyes, but Angie continues talking.  “I knoooow, I know he sucks but like… I don’t know, maybe if you got drunk and made out a little bit it would--”

“Why would I do that?” Misty asks.  “He came here with Brooke anyway!”

“Oh yeah, and she’s pissed about it,” Angie giggles. “Everyone knows he was just trying to make you jealous.  Poor Brooke.”

“Yeah,’ Misty says.  “Josh sucks.”

“You know, I don’t know why you won’t give him a chance!” Angie leans against the wall, taking a sip of the bright orange drink in her glass.  “I mean, he like, very clearly wants you.”

“I don’t want him,” Misty replies.  “Like, at all.  If he can’t take a hint, then--’

Misty trails off when she notices Angie squinting over her shoulder.  “Who the hell--”  Angie whispers.

“What?”  Misty turns slowly, and her jaw drops when she sees what it is that Angie is looking at.  

In walks Harry, physical body and all, waving at everyone like he’s known them all his life.

Is she dreaming? Surely she has to be.  She shakes her head, then reaches up to her forehead as if to check her temperature.  Can everyone else see him?  How is he here?

Her movement catches Harry’s eye, and he beams at her, turning his full attention towards her and heading in her direction.  “Misty!” He calls, waving at her.

Angie’s jaw is practically on the floor, as are the jaws of almost every girl in the room.  “You know him?” Angie asks.

And honestly, Misty isn’t sure what the right answer to that question is.  “I--” is all she can manage to get out.

Harry approaches, and Misty is not only greeted by his delicious cinnamon scent, but a strong, spicy cologne. He looks delicious in this suit, and when he hugs her she shivers, partly because of his cold skin and partly (mostly) because she can’t believe her eyes.

“Hiya, darling,” Harry says, wrapping Misty up in a chilly hug and kissing her cheek.  “You look absolutely beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” Misty manages to stammer out, although her facial expression must give away how confused she is.  

Harry only smiles down at her, reaching up gently to close her mouth.  He then turns to Angie with a pleasant smile.  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says, extending a hand.  “I’m Harry.”

Angie wastes no time, reaching forward to shake his hand quickly.  She seems taken aback by the temperature of his hands, but Harry pays it no mind.  Instead he brushes it off with a quick, “Don’t mind the cold hands.  Can never quite get used to the weather out here.”

Misty giggles, awkwardly, wrapping her arm around Harry’s back.  “Darling,” she says, as forcibly normal as possible, “I had no idea you were coming tonight.”

“Wanted to surprise you!” Harry answers cooly, before turning back to Angie.  “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t catch your name…?”

“It’s Angie!” Angie blurts, cheeks growing redder by the minute.  She giggles like a little schoolgirl.  “Misty never mentioned she had a boyfriend… much less such a handsome one.”

Harry smiles.  “I’m flattered, Angie.  Thank you.  But no, actually, Misty and I are just casual for now.  We met a few summers ago during her spring break back home.  We’re… oh, I don’t know what to call it… talking? I suppose?”  Harry laughs, grinning down at Misty.

Misty, still in shock, misses a beat before realizing that he’s addressing her.  She laughs stiffly.  “Yes,” she says, “‘talking’ is a good word.”

Harry grins back at Angie.  “And you?  Where’s your lucky fellow tonight?”

“Oh,” Angie says, biting at her lip, growing visibly excited at the mention of her date.  “He’s um… he’s somewhere around here. I guess we’re uh— talking as well.”

“Ah,” Harry says, “I see.”

He’s so ridiculously chipper, so casually cool, and Misty is growing more and more impatient by the minute.  She laughs, accidentally cutting Angie off just as she begins a sentence.

“Angie, I’m sorry, but would you mind if I took Harry outside for a bit? I didn’t realize he was going to be here tonight and we… uh…” She looks up at Harry, who only grins smugly back at her,  “We have a bit of catching up to do.”

“Oh sure!” Angie says.  “Of course, babe, go have fun.”  She smiles brightly at Harry.  “It was so nice meeting you, I’ll catch up with you both later, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Harry says, warmly. “Of course!”

Misty smiles at Harry,  but the look in her eyes informs Harry that she has a lot to say.  He smiles, so ridiculously casual and sweet, and takes her hand.

“After you sunshine,” he says.  

Misty rolls her eyes, but she does smile softly to herself as she leads him outside. Harry doesn’t know if she means to, but she gives his hand a slight squeeze as she walks.  He gives her hand a squeeze right back, far more intentional than hers, and her breathy little giggle does not go unnoticed by him.

Harry eyes the room, taking in his surroundings and looking for who he has decided is his number one enemy in life (and technically death)-- Josh.  He doesn’t find him at first, and he has to admit that his heart sinks a bit at the thought of not being able to show Misty off right to Josh’s face.  But then he finds him, outside smoking a cigar with a few other guys, and Harry perks up once again.

Misty doesn’t even acknowledge the boys as she continues to lead Harry to a quiet corner of the garden, but Harry of course isn’t going to stand for that.  Not when he has the satisfaction of seeing Josh’s face light up upon Misty’s arrival only to completely drop half a second later when he sees she’s with somebody.  Harry’s not letting it end there.

“Evening, guys.”  Harry raises his free hand to his forehead, giving the group an effortless salute.   “Gorgeous night, innit?”

Josh takes the bait, immediately stepping out of the circle and making his way over to Harry and Misty.  Misty doesn’t even notice until Harry is resisting her tug, and when she turns around to see who’s approaching she rolls her eyes.  “Fuckin hell,” she mumbles.

Harry, of course, has the complete opposite reaction, smiling warmly right back at Josh.

“Hey man!” Josh says, holding out his free hand.  “I’m Josh.  Don’t think I’ve ever seen you around?”

“Never been around,” Harry says matter-of-factly.  He takes Josh’s hand with a grip so firm Misty can sense it.  “I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry!” Josh’s smile is so fake Misty wants to scream, and she wishes she could evaporate into thin air to escape the awkward tension in the air right now.  “How do you know Misty?”

“I’m from her hometown!” Harry says.  “Met her a few spring breaks ago.  We’ve been casual for a while now.”

“Have you?”  Josh looks pointedly at Misty, and she rolls her eyes.  Harry never looks away from Josh.

“I would say so, yeah,” Harry smiles.  “On and off of course.”

“I see.”  Josh nods stiffly.

“Oh wait!” Harry says suddenly, as if a thought has just occurred to him.  “Ohhh, you’re Josh!  Misty here has told me quite a bit about you!”

Misty can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as she glances frantically between Harry and Josh.  Josh smiles.

“Oh yeah?  All good things I hope!”

“Mmm…” Harry says in a questioning tone, shrugging a bit but maintaining his smile.

Josh stares blankly back at Harry, completely unsure of how to process what he’s just said, and Misty can’t help but giggle.

“Okay, well!” she says, trying and failing to hide the smile on her face.  “This has been super lovely but Harry and I have quite a bit of catching up to do, don’t we?”

“We sure do, pumpkin!” Harry wiggles his nose exaggeratedly at Misty and she laughs.    He turns back to Josh.  “Nice to finally meet the famous Josh,” he says.   “I’m sure I’ll see ya around!”

“Uh,” Josh stammers.  “Yeah.  See ya.”

Misty tugs Harry away from Josh and over to a secluded corner of the garden, and Harry shoots Josh a pointed and intimidating look over his shoulder before turning to Misty.  She tries to be serious, but she can’t stop herself from giggling.. “Harry what the hell!” She hisses.

He smiles.  “Surprised?  Happy? Do you want to kill me?”

“Um, yes to all of the above!” Misty lightly slaps his arm.  “What are you doing here?!”

“Wanted to surprise you,” he says, reaching forward to gently hook his pinky with Misty’s.  “Figured a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be alone on a big night like this.  I wanted to help make it special.”

Harry leans in and places a kiss right on Misty’s cheekbone.  “Besides,” he says, softer,  “I couldn’t give Josh the satisfaction of thinking he had a chance tonight.”

Misty giggles, oblivious to the way the nearby group of boys are all watching her longingly.  Harry laughs along with her, kissing her nose and then her smile.  “Are you happy, sunshine?”

“So happy,” she says, kissing him back.  “Beyond happy.”  

Misty pulls away, eyeing Harry in his suit.  Never in her life has she ever seen a more handsome man, and she lets out a hum of satisfaction.  “But,” she says slowly.  “I don’t… understand.  Your energy--”

“I’ll be fine, love,” Harry insists.  “It’s one night.  As long as you’re happy.”

“Yeah but--”

“No buts.” Harry smiles.  “Now, something tells me you haven’t danced much tonight. Is that true?”

Misty smirks.  “Didn’t feel right dancing without you.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Harry says. “We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”  He holds his arm out to her, raising his eyebrows.

Misty eyes his arm before giggling and linking arms with him. She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you.”

Harry leads her back inside, shooting Josh one more pointed look before holding the door open for Misty.  She’s like a giggly schoolgirl as she walks through, taking Harry’s hand in hers and giving it a long squeeze.

Misty practically floats onto the dance floor as a slower song begins, and Harry can’t believe she’s real. He twirls her under his arm, admiring the way her skirt swishes and catches the dim lights. She beams up at him brightly before wrapping an arm up around his shoulders and pulling him in. They begin swaying together as Harry pulls her in closer by her hips; the scent of her perfume just below his nose. He can feel her sigh contentedly against his chest, and it makes him smile to himself.

“It’s so nice to finally dance with you like, out in the open and stuff,” Misty says.  “Instead of looking like I’m possessed.”

Harry laughs.  “I know.  It’s nice to be seen.  It’s nice to show off my dancing.”  The minute he finishes his sentence, he spins Misty out, then in, before dipping her.  She squeals, giggling up at him and going limp in his arms.

“Love hearing you laugh like that,” Harry says, mirroring what he’d told her the first night they danced together.  “I mean it.”

He pulls her back up into him, her hair flying behind her.  “No one makes me laugh the way you do,” she admits.  “I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.’

A comfortable silence falls between the two of them for the next few moments, and they can’t seem to keep their eyes off of each other. Harry let’s out a boyish giggle and leans forward, pressing a peck to her nose.

“You know,” Misty says. “You’re actually a pretty good dancer for a ghost.”

“I’m not sure whether I should take offense to that or not.”

“It’s a compliment,” Misty laughs. “I’m just impressed. A lot of guys I know aren’t really good at dancing.”

“I was known to be quite the dancer in my day,” Harry says, spinning her out and then quickly back into him once again.

“Really?”

Harry gives Misty a soft little hip check. “Not at all.”

Harry and Misty laugh their way through the rest of the dance, hardly even realizing when the music slows to a stop. Harry leans down, pressing the sweetest kiss to Misty’s lips before she even has a chance to say anything, and she smiles into the kiss— communicating exactly how she’s feeling just by her kiss alone.

After a few more dances, they make their way to a table, giggling and out of breath. Harry orders Misty another drink, socializing with everyone at the table like he’s known them his whole life. And as Misty watches him through slightly buzzed and love drunk eyes, she allows herself to feel, just for the moment, that everything in her little world is perfect with Harry.

———

About an hour and a few drinks later, Misty wanders into the restroom, leaving behind a very happy Harry— who chats effortlessly with the other people at their table.  She realizes halfway through her journey that her face hurts from smiling, and she giggles to herself quietly.

Her situation may be incredibly unique, but she’s so lucky to have Harry here on her arm this evening.  She giggles, throat thick with the sweet drink she’s been sipping on and eyes hazy, before washing her hands and making her way back out into the hallway.  No one is around, and she begins to make her way back into the large dance hall when she nearly runs someone over as she turns the corner.

“Oh, sorry!” She looks up, immediately relieved to find that it’s Harry she’s bumped into.

He smiles down at her.  “Slow down there, speed racer.  Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“Coming to find you,” she says, smiling at him.  She rises up onto her toes and kisses his chin.  

“Mm.”  Harry hums, tilting his head to kiss her lips.  “Having a fun night?”

“Yes.”  She wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest and inhaling the delicious cinnamon scent of him.  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Yeah?” Harry presses a kiss to the top of her head.  “Me too.  So glad.”

Misty pulls away, licking her lips and adjusting Harry’s bowtie that she’d accidentally muffed up.  “How are you feeling?”

“Fine!” Harry insists.  “Like I could run a marathon.”

‘Oh yeah?”  Misty eyes him quizzically, and he laughs.

“I mean… no,” he says. “But I feel fine.”

Misty groans.  “You’re using too much energy.”

“Will you stop?”  He asks, pulling her closer by the small of her back. “I’m fine.”

“Promise?”

‘Promise?”

“Swear?”

Harry chuckles.  “Swear.”

“Cross your heart?”

Harry boops Misty’s nose.  “And hope to die.”

Misty rolls her eyes, reaching up to comb her fingers through Harry’s slightly messy hair.  “You’re not funny,” she says, booping his nose right back.  “But you are handsome as hell.  Especially tonight.”

“Yeah?”  Harry tilts his body, tugging at the ends of his suit jacket.  “Like it?  Picked it out myself.”

“How?”

Harry winks.  “Magic.”

“Oh god,” Misty giggles.  “Well, however you actually did it… I’m glad you did.”  She runs her hands along his shoulders and down his arms, squeezing his hands gently.  “You look fucking delicious.”

“Hardly.  You’re far too sweet to me, angel, but I figured that if I was going to be this beautiful girl’s date tonight, I needed to look the part.”

Misty hums, pulling him in by his lapel and buttoning her lips with his. He smiles against her mouth, and she licks eagerly against his bottom lip.  He knows exactly the kind of mood she’s in just by the way she’s kissing him, and he reaches up to cup the back of her neck.

“God,” she breathes, lips ghosting his. “The things I would do to you.”

Harry gulps, loving the forwardness coming from her pretty lips. “Yeah?” He nods, as if urging her to go on.

“Mm, I could devour you. It’s all I want.”

Harry tilts his head, pulling Misty closer and kissing her ear. “What else do you want?”

“To feel you,” she says. “I bet you’re so big.”

Despite having no blood in his veins, Misty’s words stroke Harry’s ego and twist his stomach into knots.  “Mm,” he hums, trying to maintain his smug demeanor.  “I am, actually.”

“Damn.”  Misty pouts, softly fingering at Harry’s bowtie.  “God I wish I could suck you.”

Harry gulps, because fuck does he sure wish that as well. He raises a hand to brush Misty’s hair back from her face, eyes flickering between her lips and her eyes.  “I know, sweet girl.  Me too.”

They spend a few moments just looking at one another, speaking without words.  Harry gently caresses her cheeks, wishing more than anything that his touch wasn’t so damn cold.   He clears his throat softly.  “We have to get back out there, you know.”

“I know,” Misty sighs.

‘You look so beautiful.”  Harry smiles, reaching forward to take Misty’s hand in his own.   “Never seen anyone so beautiful.”

“You’re one to talk,’ Misty says softly, making Harry scoff.  “Can’t take my eyes off of you.”

“Then don’t,” Harry teases.  “Does wonders for my ego when you look at me like that.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Misty hums, reaching up to thumb at Harry’s cheek. “I want you,” she says quietly.  “So fucking badly.”

“Yeah?”  Harry says softly, gears turning in his head as he realizes the exact kind of mood Misty is in.  “What is it you want exactly, baby?”

Harry has only known Misty a short time, comparatively speaking, but he knows her well enough to know exactly what buttons to push.  He knows what that look in her eyes means, and he knows how to turn her on with only his words.  

He also knows that making her put into words exactly what she wants turns her into a messy, embarrassed puddle that turns them both on.  So he watches her expectantly.

“Well,” Misty says slowly, heat radiating off of her face.  “I want…. To suck you off.”

“I know,” Harry coos, trailing his fingertips along her jawline.  “Said that already. But you know you can’t, baby.  Doesn’t work like that.”

“I hate it,” Misty pouts.  “I just want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

“Making you feel good makes me feel good,” Harry says.  He waits for a response, and when it doesn’t come, tense idea forming in his head comes to fruition.

He reaches around to cup the back of her neck, scratching lightly at the hair there.  “You want me to make you feel good right now, pretty girl?  Hm?”

Misty snaps almost fully out of her trance then, glancing around nervously.  “Harry, we can’t right now.  Are you joking?  We’re in public--”

“Why not?”  Harry grins down at her.  “You know I can disappear.  Make it so that only you could see me.”

“Yeah but--”

“Nobody would know,”  he shrugs, tacking on a quick,  “that is, if you can keep quiet for me.”

Misty sighs sharply at his words, and he chuckles.  

“Sunshine, if you don’t want to, I won’t.”

“No, I…”  Misty lowers her voice, despite the fact that they’re still the only two in the hallway.  “I want to.”

“Yeah?”  Harry asks.  “You sure?  Not trying to pressure you.”

Misty looks up at him, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re not pressuring me.  I’ve always wanted to do some raunchy shit like this.”

“Oh yeah?  Bit of an exhibionist are we?”

Misty giggles.  “Harry.”

“I’ll go under the table. No one will even know I’m there.  Even if they look.”

“But where should I tell them you went?”

“Hm.”  Harry hums, considering this for a few moments.  “Cigar break.  Went out to smoke.  You were out with me for a bit but I got a phone call and you got cold.  So you came inside.”

Misty frowns. “You don’t smoke.”

“I’m also not a living human being, but here we are.”  Harry grins, pulling Misty in closer and lowering his voice.  “Gonna let me make you cum, pretty girl?  Hm?’

“Yes,” Misty whispers back, shyly avoiding his gaze.  “Yes.”

“In front of all these people?” Harry asks teasingly.  “Naughty.”

“Harry--”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to her nose.  “Alright, alright.  Go sit at the table.  I think they’re about to serve dessert anyway.”

“And you’re going to miss it?”  Misty pouts.

“Misty,” Harry says,  “You know damn well I’m going to be enjoying my own dessert.”

Misty rolls her eyes.  “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“You did, yeah.”  He pinches her butt.  “Now go.  Please.  I’m hungry.”

“Oh my godddd. Fine.”

She presses one more quick kiss to Harry’s cheek and turns to leave, but he reaches forward-- taking her hand and spinning her back around.  “Wait.”

“Hm?”

“When I come in, you’ll be the only one who can see me. You’ll have to cover for me when I get under the table.”

“Okay.”  Misty nods.  “I’ll pretend I dropped something under there, and I’ll lift the table cloth.”

Harry grins.  “Alright.  Good girl.”

“God,” Misty laughs,  “You’re relentless, huh?”

“What do you mean?” The way Harry’s smiling, he knows exactly what Misty means.

“You just want to get me as worked up as you possibly can, don’t you?”

“You caught me.”

Misty rolls her eyes.  “God you’re annoying.  Okay, I’m going.  See you soon.”

“See you soon, bug.”

Misty turns once again to exit, and Harry gives her bum a quick and subtle slap, which makes her giggle.  

As Harry watches her go, he tries to ignore the ache in his bones.  He’s exhausted-- of course-- from exuding so much energy, but he doesn’t even care.  It feels so good to feel alive again like this.  To be on the arm of a pretty girl, in the midst of a bunch of young happy people with their whole lives ahead of them.

He sighs, pushing his yearning feeling far out of his head and ignoring the exhaustion in his body.  He’s going to give Misty a few minutes to get settled in her seat before he joins her, and he thinks maybe he should go hide in the bathroom for a moment to give himself a bit of an energy break.

The idea is quickly shattered, however, when Angie and her date turn the corner, giggling all over one another. Angie stops dead in her tracks as soon as she sees Harry, and she grows visibly embarrassed.

“Oh! Harry! Hi!”

Harry smiles politely. “Hello Angie. This must be your lucky man.”

Angie smiles shyly up at her date. “Yeah,” she says, “this is Eric. Eric, this is Harry.  He’s Misty’s date tonight.”

“Hey man!” Eric removes his arm from around Angie’s shoulders and holds it out for Harry. “Nice to meet you!”

Eric seems like a pleasant guy, a bit on the short side with big brown eyes and hair that has been perfectly gelled for this evening. Harry shakes his hand warmly, grateful for the fact that Eric hardly seems to even notice the temperature of his hands.

“Where you from, brother?” Eric asks. “Never seen you around before.”

“I’m from Misty’s hometown.”  Harry nods. “Known each other for ages. It’s a sort of casual thing between us, you know?”

“Right on!” Eric grins. “Sort of casual for Ang and I too, I suppose.”

Angie’s face falls just the slightest bit for only half a second, and if Harry had blinked he’d have missed it. She smiles. “Yeah!” She adds. “Super casual.”

“How wonderful.” Harry grins. “You’re a lucky man, Eric.”

Angie blushes at Harry’s words, then gives Eric’s arm a squeeze. “Harry you’re way too nice.” She lets go of Eric’s arm, turning towards the restroom door. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom, if you guys will just excuse me for a second.”

Harry and Eric mumble their goodbyes as Angie makes her way quickly into the bathroom.  Harry smiles at Eric, nodding his head as a parting gesture before turning to make his way to Misty.

“Wait, Harry.”

Eric’s voice surprises Harry, and he whirls back around.  “What’s up man?”

Eric seems hesitant, opening his mouth and then closing it.  He laughs, as if embarrassed of his own self, before speaking.  “Man… I don’t know why I’m asking you this.”

Harry steps back towards Eric, his friendly smile never leaving his face.  “You alright?”

“No I’m good! I just… maybe it’s cause I’m drunk… but I’m--” Eric sighs.  “Dude, I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?”

“Angie,” Eric admits.  “You know, like, I really like her and I-- I don’t know.”

“Mm.”  Harry nods.  “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if… if she feels the same.”  Eric seems nervous, and Harry smiles reassuringly.

“Are you kidding me?  Do you not see the way she looks at you?”  Eric’s eyebrows furrow, as if what Harry is saying makes no sense to him, so Harry continues.  “She looks at you like you hung the bloody moon, mate.”

“Seriously?”

“You know, I asked her about you earlier. ‘Course, I didn’t know who you were.  But when I asked who her lucky man was, her face lit up like the sun.  How long have you been an item?”

Eric smiles a dimpled smile, seemingly relaxed.  “Almost two months now, I would say.”

“Why the hesitation, then?  If you don’t mind me asking.”

Eric sighs.  “I don’t know, man.  I guess I just…I don’t want to do things wrong.”

“You want to know what I think?” Harry takes a step forward.

“Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

Harry takes in a big breath, pondering the words he’s about to say. He opens his mouth, then closes it, before taking a step towards Eric. “I think,” he begins slowly, “that life is too short.”

Eric chuckles. “Man, it really is, huh?”

Harry nods. “Way too fucking short—pardon my French- to let perfect moments pass you by.”

“Yeah?”

“Mate, if you really feel this way about her, and you know you have this beautiful connection… why wait? You know what I mean?  There were--er, are-- so many moments in my life that I look back on and think, ‘god if only I hadn’t been so stupd.  If only I had done this, or said that.  If only, if only, if only.  And I think…”  Harry sighs.  “I think that when it comes to telling someone how you feel about them…  it’s important to be honest and vulnerable. That’s what makes you feel human.”  Harry smiles, almost lost in his own thoughts.  

“And feeling human,” he adds,  “The good and the bad, is what life is.”

Eric doesn’t reply right away. He smiles, taking in everything that Harry is saying to him. “Shit dude,” he says, after a long while. “That’s some profound shit.”

“Nah,” Harry says, playing it off with a cheeky smile. “We’re just drunk.”

Eric laughs at this. “Maybe. But that was really good advice.”

Harry shrugs. “Just telling you what I wish someone had told me.”

“Yeah.” Eric grins. “Well thanks man.  Ang and I were coming over here to like….” Eric lowers his voice, “.... do stuff, but like, I want her to know it’s more than that for me. You know?”

“I know.”  The door to the women’s restroom begins opening and Harry raises his eyebrows cheekily. “Off you go then,” he tacks on quietly.

Harry turns to exit just as Angie enters, and he can’t help but feel somewhat giddy in his stomach for Eric. He hears Eric and Angie chatting softly behind him when he’a suddenly stopped by the sound of his own name.

“Harry!”

Harry turns on his heel. “Hm?”

“Thanks.”  

Angie glances between Eric and Harry, a bit confused but still smiling. Harry shoots her a quick wink before raising two fingers to his eyebrow and saluting Eric loosely. Eric smiles, an unspoken confirmation between him and Harry, and Harry rounds the corner, leaving him and Angie to talk things out.

And now, there’s only one pressing matter on Harry’s mind:

Making Misty cum until she can’t think straight.

Misty’s stomach churns as she watches Harry enter the room.  She is so nervous for what she knows is about to happen, and yet she’s so excited.  She makes casual small talk-- of course about Harry-- with the others at her table.  “Yeah he went out for a cigar and then got an important phone call from work” and “oh yeah, we met a few springs back.  It’s been very casual” and “God, I know, he’s handsome, isn’t he?”

Harry’s eyes never leave Misty’s face, and he’s smirking so deeply it makes Misty’s stomach (and other parts of her) twitch. “Hiya, baby,” he says quietly, and Misty has to raise her drink to her lips to cover up the enormous smile on her face.

“You remember you have to help me out here?” Harry asks, and Misty doesn’t answer him. Instead, she subtly knocks her knife off of the table.

It doesn’t cause much of a commotion, just enough for the others at the table to glance in her direction.  “Oops!” Misty says, “My bad!” She leans over, lifting the tablecloth and shooting Harry a subtle glance.

He grins. “Sneaky girl,” he mutters, before dropping to his knees and crawling under the bit of space that Misty has opened up for him.

Misty tries to cover up the rustling of the tablecloth as Harry crawls, and luckily the movement goes pretty much completely unnoticed by all of her drunken peers.  Harry settles himself beneath the table, and grins at her.   He presses a kiss to her knee.  

“Still good with this?”

“Yes,” Misty whispers.  “Are you?”

Harry scoffs, gently running his hands up her calves.  “What a dumb question.”

Blood rushes to Misty’s cheeks as she drops the tablecloth and sits up straight. She offers the others at her table a forced smile, but no one seems to notice or care.  She squirms, parting her legs ever so slightly.

Harry reaches for the bottom of her long dress, taking his time and really teasing her by building up anticipation as he drags the fabric up her calves. He kisses the skin he exposes as he goes, taking care to love on her knees a little extra because he knows they’re sensitive.  Misty instinctively opens her legs a bit more, and Harry chuckles quietly.

“Gonna need you a bit more open than that, love.” He gently pries her knees apart, bunching up the fabric of her dress and gasping quietly at the sight before him when he realizes what he’s looking at.

“Ohhh, baby,”  he breathes, “no panties?”  He reaches forward with a single finger, teasing at where he knows she’s already damp. “My god, you’re a dream.”

She wiggles a bit in her seat, hoping for more friction from Harry’s finger, and Harry chuckles almost menacingly. “Squirmy little thing, aren’t you? Barely even touching you yet.”

Harry leans in, pressing another slow kiss to her knee before trailing his lips and tongue up her thigh. He drapes the skirt of her dress over his head, immediately shivering at the feeling of her warmth and wondering if she likes the sensation of his coldness.  

Under the protection of her skirt, all Harry can see, hear, and smell is Misty, and he takes a moment to really soak it all in. Her scent is intoxicating, and he swears that if he were alive, he would be more than content to live out the rest of his days with his face buried between her legs.

Harry takes a big deep breath in through his nose, and exhales slowly, making a point to blow against her skin. He can feel her subtly shiver, and he grins.  This is going to be easier than he thought.

For him at least.

“Now careful,” he taunts.  “Gonna keep quiet for me?” He smirks, pulling away to tease her skin lightly with his finger.  “That was a trick question.  Know you’re going to because you don’t have a choice.”

Misty kicks lightly at Harry, and he grunts.  “Ouch.  Feisty thing.”  He grins. “Alright, alright.  I’ll stop teasing.”

And somehow, Misty doesn’t believe him.

Harry leans in, licking and kissing softly at her clit, just to get her nice and relaxed.  His curls tickle at her thighs, and he hooks his arms around her legs to hold her in place. He’s hardly even started, and yet she’s already so wet. He’d be lying if he said that didn’t do wonders for his ego.

He can faintly hear the conversation going on above the table, but he does make out his name and something about missing out on dessert.  

“He’ll be fine,” Misty says.  “I’ll grab him a slice in a bit.”

“What a generous girl you are,” Harry mumbles, although he isn’t sure if Misty’s heard him or not.  If she had heard him, though, he doesn’t give her time to react.  He opens his lips wider, lapping at her clit from a new angle that makes her shiver.  She squirms in her seat, lowering herself just a bit so that Harry has easier access, and he unhooks one of his arms from her legs to rub gently at her clit while he repositions himself.

Misty squirms against him, and her hands make their way under the table.  Harry isn’t sure what exactly she’s doing until her skirt is lifted up from over his head, and he blinks in the dim light.  

“What, baby?”  he asks.

She threads her fingers through his curls, squeezing, before gently trying to push his head back down.

“Oh you want my hair?”  Harry chuckles. “Cute.”

He licks gently at her clit, enjoying the way her fingers scratch a bit harshly into his scalp. He hums. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Misty jolts when Harry kisses a specific spot, and he chuckles. “Ohhh...You liked that, didn’t you?”  Harry pulls back, examining the spot he just kissed.  “Noted.”

Harry leans in then, attacking the same spot he’d just been lapping at, and the way Misty yanks suddenly at his curls informs him that it’s definitely a good spot.  He moves his hand to grip either side of her waist.

“Misty,” Harry gulps quietly, grasping at her as if he can feel her slipping through his fingers. “Baby, please, I need—“

Misty’s fingers curl into Harry’s hair even more, tugging slightly until Harry finds himself with his forehead pressed to her thigh. He shivers, mumbling against her skin,  “Need you to open up just a bit more for me, baby.”  Without thinking, he presses a kiss to the fleshy spots just below her pussy as she continues to scratch affectionately at his head.  “You’ve done such a good job.  Been good so far.  Need you open.”  Harry sponges kisses along the hem of her dress.

Misty pulls Harry’s head up gently by his curls and rubs her thumb along his cheekbone before squeezing lightly at his cheeks, opening her legs more and pulling him closer to her pussy.

Harry needs only that squeeze as a starter gun, and then he’s off. His hands find their way up to her hips as he bunches up her skirt.  He presses several chaste kisses to the velvet soft skin of her inner thigh, taking his time to soak in her warmth before attaching his lips to her pussy again.

He flattens his tongue along her, licking a long broad stripe just to get the wetness all soaked into his tongue before wrapping his lips around her clit.  He sucks softly, flicking his tongue between his slightly parted lips to give her a heavier sensation.

Misty hums quietly, letting her nails trail along his scalp to the back of his neck.  He knows she wants to moan, and it only encourages him to work harder.  He removes his lips from her clit with a popping noise that startles her, and she lifts the tablecloth ever so slightly.  Their eyes meet, and Harry can tell she’s already fucked.  He grins.

“They couldn’t hear that,” he reminds her. “You’re the only one who has to keep quiet here.”

There’s a visible lump in Misty’s throat as she sighs, begrudgingly removing her eyes from Harry and focusing on the party occurring around her.  Harry clicks his tongue.

“Ohh,” Harry coos,  “poor baby.  Feels so good and she can’t even moan for me, can she?  Sweet girl.”

Harry pulls the tablecloth out of her hands, yanking it back down before resuming the movement of his tongue against her clit. She squirms against him, obviously growing impatient.

“You love this so much,” Harry says,  “don’t you, sunshine?”

Harry doesn’t know if he’s ever in his existence had it this bad for anyone before, and somewhere deep down he knows that Misty fully cognizant of the power she holds over him. It’s exciting for the both of them really, and Harry knows that Misty does not take it lightly.  Still, he loves the exhilaration of teasing her to no end-- he loves how wet it gets her and he especially loves being the only one who gets to see her like this.

Harry lets out a low-bellied grunt, and Misty sighs, an almost inaudible mumble of “oh god” passing her pretty lips.  Harry removes his mouth from her clit, tilting his head to attach it instead to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh with a mumbled coo of,  “Careful.”  He sucks harshly, pulling until he feels her skin against his teeth and then he lets off with a pop.  Misty wants to moan so badly it’s killing her, and Harry can see her toes curling in her heels.  He kisses the spot he’s just bitten, where he knows a mark is already beginning to blossom.

“Feel how wet you are?” He asks.  “Feel how messy you get just from a bit of teasing?  Are you not embarrassed to be so wet??”

“Christ.”  Misty’s voice is so low only Harry can hear it, but he smiles against her inner thigh when he does.

“How cute,” he muses, reaching out to feel the stickiness pooling between her legs. “I wonder what everyone would say if they knew how messy you get for me.” He brings his fingers to his lips, tasting the wetness against his fingertips and humming to himself.  “Wonder if they can smell you.”

Harry buries his tongue directly into the center of her and shakes his head a bit, ignoring the one loose curl of his that falls into his face.  He can feel Misty’s entire body tense up, and he knows she’s close.  He takes his opportunity to make it a million times worse for her; with one hand he reaches up and spreads her lips further apart.  With the other hand, he gently tickles at the back of her knee.

She squirms, partly from his touch against the sensitive part of her leg but mostly from the sensation of his tongue against her clit.  He can see her fingers clench against her chair, and he smiles before buying his own fingers inside of her warmth.  Misty all but lurches forward, and Harry is almost worried he’s given her too much too quickly.  Still, he’s nothing if not a tease, so he curls his fingers gently inside of her.

He smirks, deciding that she’s had enough teasing and wanting to make her cum. He can hear her let out a quiet, breathy giggle, obviously confused at the sensations she’s feeling, overwhelmed with the desire to both laugh and moan, and when he thinks she’s had enough he pulls his fingers away from her knee.

Harry hums against her core, shaking his head. “Cum for me, sweet girl.”

Misty grips the edge of the table at the same time Harry notices her stomach clenches, and then he knows she’s cumming because her knees begin trembling.  He can feel her orgasm pulsating through her, and he works her through it patiently with his tongue.  He curls his fingers a bit more, and sucks a bit harsher, and for a moment he completely loses himself in his own actions.

He’s never seen Misty so wound up, and she lightly stomps her heels against the ground in frustration.  He knows she feels good-- hell, he feels good, too-- and he tries his best to keep her as grounded and still as he possibly can.

It’s when she tangles her fingers in his hair to lightly tug his head away that he realizes he hasn’t stopped, and she’s completely spent.

Harry sits for a moment, staring at her soaked pussy and now slightly bruised thighs, and he admires his work.  She combs her fingers lovingly through his curls, and he knows she’s thanking him for making her feel so good.  It’s then, of course, that he realizes exactly how exhausted he is.  He turns his head to kiss gently at her wrist, then allows himself to sit for a moment and catch his breath.

He doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to last like this. He’s never used this much energy in manifesting before, and he didn’t expect it to be this hard. But Misty is having a wonderful time, and of course so is he— he doesn’t want the night to end by any means, but god, is he ready to lay down.

Harry musters up all the strength he can manage and taps Misty’s knee. “Can you let me out, sweet girl?”

It takes Misty a moment before she lifts the tablecloth, pretending to mess with her heels.  She gives Harry the softest smile the moment their eyes meet, and she looks completely wrecked in a way that only he would recognize.  He chuckles.

“Got you that good, did I?” He begins crawling out from under the table, trying his best to cover how exhausted he is.  As he passes Misty he presses a chaste kiss to her nose, making her giggle.  “I’ll be back.”  

He rises, weakly, to his feet-- and he hopes Misty doesn’t notice how slowly he moves, but she does, and she frowns.  He brushes it off, refusing to make it into a big deal, and then disappears from sight.

Misty is left, trying to cover up the fact that she’s struggling to catch her breath-- and she smiles the moment she sees Harry physically enter the room.

He’s grinning- because of course he is— and his finger guns in Josh’s direction do not go unnoticed by Misty. She rolls her eyes as he approaches the table, smiling brightly at everyone in the small circle.

“Sorry,” he says convincingly, “my mum called.”

Misty smiles up at him. “Oh that’s okay, my love! Everything okay?”

Harry grins at her, reaching over to take her hand in his own. “Everything is absolutely fine. Couldn’t be better, in fact.”

Misty grins, obviously flustered just by the way he’s looking at her. “Yeah?”

He leans forward, kissing her nose lightly.  “Yeah.”  

Harry turns to everyone at the table, smiling that charming smile that Misty is so obsessed with.  “Now,” he says, “Am I too late to get a slice of this cheesecake?”

----

Harry drops, completely spent, onto Misty’s bed.  As soon as she closes the door behind her she rushes to him, immediately undoing the laces on his left shoe.

He’s paler now, his skin looking thin and white, and he smiles sleepily down at her as she gets to work tugging his shoe off.  She seems worried, but he only chuckles.

“Had so much fun with you,” he says, voice weak.  “Did you have fun?”

“Harry, you shouldn’t have put so much energy forward.”

“Wanted to,” he says.  “Worth it.”

“Harry,” Misty coos, tugging the shoe off of his foot before working on the other.  “My god, look at you.”

“Just sleepy,” Harry says.  “I’ll be completely back to normal tomorrow.  Promise.”

Misty is unconvinced; she frowns as she tugs off his other shoe before sitting fully on the bed, crawling up the length of his body.

“I’m gonna undress you,” she says.  “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighs,  “‘Course it’s okay.”

Misty begins by unbuttoning his suit jacket, then the buttons of his shirt. Harry watches her the entire time, reveling in her warmth. “Feels nice to be taken care of like this.  Wish you didn’t have to.”

“Harry, it’s the least I can do.  You’ve done so much for me.   You shouldn’t have come out tonight.  You should have…”  She notices the way he’s watching her, and it catches her off guard.  “What?”

Harry grunts, trying weakly to prop himsef up on his elbows.  “Do you realize,’ he says, voice frail, “that this is the most fun I’ve had in years?  That getting to feel alive, with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known, is worth any pain I might be in now?”  He catches Misty’s worried frown, and quickly tacks on, “But I’m not in pain. Just sleepy.”

Misty sighs. “I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault.”

“Awfully selfish of you,” Harry teases. “Not everything is about you, you know.”

Misty rolls her eyes, using all of her strength to sit Harry up and remove his jacket. Harry chuckles, a weak laugh that trails off into a cough. “I promise,” he says, as she settles him back down. “I’m okay. I’m just sleepy. It’s not like I’m dying.”

He watches her expectantly, waiting for a reaction and obviously proud of his stupid joke.

Misty shoots him a deadpanned glare that makes him cackle. “Come onnn,” he says, “that was a good one!”

“How can you still be so annoying when you’re so exhausted?” Misty says, chuckling as she works to unbutton his shirt.

Harry doesn’t answer her, propping an arm up behind his head and watching her work.  She allows her eyes to trail down his body as she reaches the bottom button, pausing at a small patch of hair she notices leading from his bellybutton down into his trousers.  Her breath hitches in her throat as she comes to the realization that she’s never seen him beneath his clothes.

Harry seems to realize this at the same time, and his smile fades just a hair.  “What, baby?”

Misty doesn’t answer him.  Instead she slowly pulls the two sides of his shirt apart further, exposing his entire torso.  She lets out her breath slowly, surprised at how completely normal he looks. She reaches a hand forward but stops herself, unsure if she should actually touch him.

“You know I used to have a tattoo there,” Harry offers.

Misty’s eyes flicker from his tummy to his face.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I had a ton actually.  But I guess when you die, they don’t come with you.”

“What were they?”

Harry trills his lips.  “God I had so many I don’t even remember all of them.  There was a butterfly right here--” he points to the direct center of his stomach, --”some swallows here--” his collarbones,  “and…” Harry smirks, pointing to his hip bones.  “Some ferns here.”

“God.”  Misty continues to scan at his body, eyes landing on a soft purple mark on his ribs.

Harry knows immediately what Misty sees, and he smiles softly at her, taking her hand in his as his face takes on a far more serious expression.  “Where I landed,” he explains. “When I—“

“Oh my god...” Misty is torn between wanting to touch the scar and wanting to leave it be, and Harry seems to be completely sympathetic to that because he only chuckles.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” He asks. “Took me a while to get used to.”

“I didn’t…” Misty trails off, confused as to how she should even word her question. “I mean, I didn’t think—“

“I know,” Harry says. “It’s weird. I mean how could you ever even know what to expect to see on a ghosts body? How could you  expect, like… a sign of death on another body.”

“I just—“ Misty genuinely doesn’t know what to say, and she’s so thankful that Harry doesn’t pressure her at all.

“I know,” he repeats. “It’s weird.”

“Can I…” Misty’s voice is hardly above a whisper when she speaks. “Can I touch it?”

Harry smiles softly.  “If you’d like.”

“I--”  Misty trails off, unsure of what exactly it is that she’d like to say.  She reaches forward with a timid hand, almost pulling her hand completely back before touching the gentle purple mark.  It’s not raised-- she doesn’t know why she was expecting it to be-- but it’s colder than the entire rest of his body.  She gasps without even realizing what she’s doing.  Harry flinches slightly at her touch, but he doesn’t move.

He allows Misty to run a loving finger over his scar, taking in exactly what it is she’s looking at, before he speaks.  “Are you alright?”

“What?”  It takes Misty a moment to realize what he means, and she tears her eyes from the scar immediately. “Oh god, yeah, sorry.  I’m okay, I just--”

“It’s weird,” Harry says for what feels like the ninetieth time.  “I know.”

Misty sighs, hesitating a bit, as if she wants to say something more. She scans his body again, glancing up at his eyes sadly, before slowly moving forward.  

She moves as if in slow motion, and Harry watches her with baited breath. She squirms a bit, angling her body a certain way, and lowering her face towards his torso.  Harry realizes with sadness what she’s doing, and pressure builds behind his eyes when she lowers her lips to the purple scar.  She presses the most velvet soft kiss Harry thinks he’s ever felt into his flesh, and his eyes cloud with mist.

Misty trails her lips from his ribs up to his collarbone. There is nothing but love in her movements, and Harry tries to swallow down a lump in his throat.  His breath is shaky as he looks down at her, loving on his body.  

She seems lost in her movements, kissing all over his torso as her lashes flutter slowly.  She lowers her lips to his stomach, and he can’t stop the single tear that slips from his left eye.

He hasn’t been loved on like this in years, and he’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

There is no sexual intention behind her kisses, and her low breath from her nose tickles gently just above his belly button.  Harry reaches up to dab at his eye, trying to prevent another tear from escaping.  “Misty,” he says, voice cracking the slightest bit.  “Darling--”

“Harry,” she says softly against the skin of his tummy.  She lifts her head, looking into his eyes and giving him a sympathetic smile.  She reaches up to wipe at his cheek with her thumb, and she doesn’t move her hand away when she’s done. She sighs.  “You are so, so beautiful.”

“Misty,” he says.  “I don’t--”  He trails off when she pecks at his collarbone, trailing warm, wet kisses up his neck.  She noses at his cheek when her lips hit his chin, and then she’s kissing his lips.  It’s all so gentle, so ridiculously intimate and sweet, and Harry doesn’t even realize he’s still crying when two more tears roll down his cheek.

“My sweet boy,” she says, pulling away to wipe gently at his cheeks.  “My god.”

“It’s not fair,” Harry whispers.  “It’s not fair.”

“I know,” she says, continuing to run her thumbs over his cheeks.  “I know, baby.  But it is what it is.  And Harry…”  She smiles softly.  “We can’t let it hang over the time we have left like a raincloud.  Hm?  Remember that?”

Harry laughs in spite of himself, knowing that she’s repeating his own words.   “I know,” he says.   He reaches up weakly to cup her face as well.  “I just want to be able to love you the way you deserve. Fully.  Without fear.”

Misty’s heart freezes the minute she hears Harry speak the word “love” but she doesn’t react.  Instead, she leans in, kissing his jaw.  “Harry,” she says slowly.  “I know it’s not ideal.  But you have given me the best month of my entire life.  I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“Don’t,” Harry says, “Don’t say that.  You don’t need to thank me.  Misty I--”

“Shhh.”  Misty rubs her thumb along his bottom lip.  “I know.”  She smiles now, trying her best to hold back her own tears.  “I’m so… so thankful for you.  My beautiful boy. We will meet again, okay?  I promise you.”

Harry swallows thickly.  “I know we will.  I’m coming back the moment I can.”

“See?” she says, smiling.  “And next time will be even better.  But you know what?”  she sniffs, feeling herself slip further into sadness and begging herself not to cry. “We’ve still got a few more days, yeah?”

“We do, yeah.”  Harry chuckles, reaching up to wipe at his eyes.  “God, I’m a sap aren’t I?  I didn’t think this was going to hit me so hard.”

“It’s good, my love!  Sometimes it’s okay to let your emotions out like this.   You’ve done so much for me.  Let me love on you a little bit for a change.”

“You love on me constantly!”

“No,” Misty says.  “Not enough.”  She kisses him again before sitting up.  “Let me get changed.  We’ll go to sleep.  We both need it.”

Harry watches her rise to her feet, and he reaches up to wipe at his damp face.  “You’re too good to me, sunshine.”

“Yeah, yeah.  You can thank me later.”

Harry snorts and Misty throws him a joking glance over her shoulder.  “I’ll be right back.”

Misty disappears into the hallway, making her way to the bathroom to wash her face, brush her teeth, and put on a t-shirt.  She allows herself a few tears, crying quietly to herself for only a minute because god, it hurts so bad.  It hurts feeling something so deep for somebody who isn’t even alive; for someone who she knows she’s going to have to spend 90% of the next year without.  

As soon as she allows herself that moment of weakness, however, she forces it to pass.  Wiping her tears away, she continues with her bedtime routine, making sure she doesn’t look like she’s been crying before making her way back into her bedroom.

When she gets there, Harry is fast asleep on top of her bed-- still in a state of various undress.  She recalls him telling her that ghosts don’t sleep, not exactly, but he looks so peaceful-- wherever he is right now.  

Misty works to gently undress him the rest of the way as he blinks sleepily, hardly even responding to her at all. And when he’s in only a pair of boxers, Misty crawls into bed beside him after turning off the light.

She rolls onto her side, watching him as he sleeps-- or, whatever it is ghosts do.  He looks so beautiful, and she reaches forward to gently stroke at the scar on his ribs again. She loves him, she thinks.  Even though she’s only known him for a short amount of time, she loves him. And there’s an ache in such a weirdly specific part of her heart that she can’t even begin to put into words.  

Pressing the gentlest kiss to Harry’s temple, she cuddles into his side, and he subconsciously wraps an arm lazily around her.  Misty wills herself not to cry-- not to think about the situation at all-- as she drifts gently to sleep.

-----

It’s a somber day.  Colder than usual.  Misty sits with her feet dangling over the side of her bed, and Harry stands off in the corner of her room, nervously fidgeting with some of the trinkets on her shelf.

They know it’s coming.  They’ve known it was coming for the last few days, but they’ve both been avoiding the subject, pretending that if they just ignore it, it will go away.

But it won’t go away.  And Harry has to leave.

Harry glances out the window.  It’s gray outside, matching the atmosphere in the room.  The trees blow angrily outside Misty’s window, and Harry swears he can feel the wind in his body.

“Looks like it’s going to rain,” he remarks casually.

Misty doesn’t reply, and he turns around to see her just staring sadly at him.  She isn’t crying, not yet anyway, but her eyes look damp.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Her voice is quiet, like she doesn’t want to be asking the question, and she won’t even look directly at him. It makes his heart-- however dead it is-- feel like its shattering, and he takes a step towards her.

He brushes her hair behind her ear.  “You know I wish I could,” he says, equally as quiet.

“And what would happen if you just… didn’t?”

“Didn’t what?”

“I don’t know.  Didn’t… go?”

Harry smiles sadly.  “It doesn’t work like that.  I don’t have a choice.”

Misty opens her mouth, then closes it again.  Her breath hitches in her throat before she lets it all out in a sigh.  “What’s it like?”  She’s speaking in a whisper.

“What is what like?”  Harry matches her tone.

“When you… go, I mean.  The process. Do you just like, fall asleep?  Or is it like you just blink and you’re in the void?”

Despite the heaviness of their conversation, Harry chuckles.  “Somewhere in between, I suppose.”

“Does it hurt?”  She gulps subconsciously, and she looks so curious and cute right now Harry could scream.

He shakes his head. “No.  Doesn’t feel like anything.”

“So one minute you’re here and the next you’re just…”  She trails off, and Harry sighs.

“Gone,” he finishes somberly.  “Yes.”

After a beat, Misty chuckles bitterly.  “Seems a bit unfair.”

“I’ll be back the first moment I can be,” Harry says, then adds with a smile, “If you’ll have me.”

“Of course I will,” she says, finally turning to face him fully.  She takes his cold hands in her own, and her warmth makes him shiver.  “I’ll wait for you every single day.”

“Don’t say that,” Harry says, shaking his head and sitting beside her on the bed.  “You have a life to live.  I don’t.”

Misty’s eyes grow damp, but she blinks back the tears just as quickly as they arrived.  “But I’m going to miss you so much,” she says through a shaky voice.

It all seems silly, really, for Harry and Misty both.  But neither of them can help it.  This connection they’ve formed in such a short amount of time weighs heavily on both of their hearts.  And Harry is certain that he would do just about anything in the universe to get another chance at life, if only to be with her.

“I’m going to miss you so much it’s going to hurt me every second,” Harry says, not a trace of humor in his voice despite the slight exaggeration.

Misty lets out her breath in a loud, shaky sigh.  She rests her head on Harry’s shoulder, and for a while they just sit there like this, him and her, pretending with all their might-- if only for a few minutes-- that this is just another day for them.  That Harry is human, and that they can grow old together.

“I have a selfish request,” Misty says after a while.

“Anything.”

Misty takes a deep breath.  “Will you come visit me?  In my dreams?”

“You already know that’s my plan.”

“Every dream?”

Harry chuckles.  “Well, that’s a bit of a tall order.  I don’t know if I’ll be able to come every night.  But, as often as I can, and as often as you’ll have me, I will come.”

“Promise?”

Harry turns to kiss Misty’s forehead.  “I promise.”

Misty closes her eyes and leans gently into Harry’s kiss, breathing in the scent of cinnamon that she’s grown to love so much.  “So when does it happen?” she asks, almost hesitantly.  “When do you… go?”

“I don’t know the exact moment,” Harry admits.  “Whenever the sun enters Sagittarius. Whatever that exact time is.”

“Is there gonna be a Sagittarius Season ghost?”  Misty asks.  “Ghost of Sagittarians past?”

Harry laughs. “I don’t think so, no.  But if there is, don’t go fallin’ in love with him now.  Sagittarians are nothin’ but trouble.”

“Don’t think I ever could,” Misty says, a bittersweet ache in her voice.  “Think I’ll only ever have feelings for you.”

Harry sighs, patting gently at Misty’s knee.  He savors her scent and her warmth for a few beats before he changes the subject.  “Your sisters will be glad to have you around again,” he says.  “I know I’ve been hoggin’ ya.  They must think you’re really goin’ through something, the way you’re keeping to yourself.”

“They wouldn’t understand even if I did try to explain it to them,” Misty replies.

Harry nods sympathetically.  “And you’re gonna have a hard time explaining to them what happened to your mysterious long distance boyfriend from back home.”

“Oh shit,” Misty says, worry suddenly showing on her face.  “What am I gonna tell them when they ask?”

“Tell them he died.”  The look on Harry’s face is so smug, and Misty can tell that he’d been holding onto that one for a while.  She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t even try to refrain from smiling.

“Oh my god, Harry.”

“It’s not wrong!”

“That’s not funny!” The smile on Misty’s face tells Harry otherwise, and he nudges her shoulder with his own.

“Alright alright.”  Harry smiles, reaching forward to interlace their fingers.  There’s a moment of drab silence, and Harry sighs thickly before finally admitting weakness. “God, I’m going to miss you.”

Misty’s smile softens, but it doesn’t completely fade.  She turns her head, pressing the softest kiss to Harry’s shoulder.  “I’m going to miss you more than you know.”

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between the two of them, and Harry interlaces his fingers with hers.  “Maybe you’ll meet a boy to take you to next year's homecoming,” he muses.

Misty frowns.  “That’s not funny either.”

“Not trying to be funny! Trying to encourage you to live your life, darling.  I wish I could still live mine.”

“You can live in my dreams. Rent free.”

With a snort, Harry stands up. “Oh I intend to. As much as possible.”

“Well good.”

Harry walks over to Misty’s window again, watching the trees blow in the wind for a few quiet moments.  After a bit, he speaks again.  “I have an idea.”

���Hm?”

“Let’s have fun tonight. Let’s watch a movie. I’ll manifest in front of everyone and we can end on a high note. Instead of being sad.”

Misty considers his words for a moment. “But I want you to myself.”

Harry grins. “So they won’t question it when we excuse ourselves early, will they?”

Misty rolls her eyes.  “Well, when you put it that way--”

Harry laughs.  “No one even has to join in with us if they don’t want to.  But I figure my last night here shouldn’t be spent so upset.”

“Yeah,” Misty agrees.  “But I’m still gonna be sad.”

“Don’t you want to remember me having fun?  That’s how I want you to remember me, at least.”

“Yeah but--”

“No buts!”  Harry holds his hand out to her.  “Come on then. You get to pick the movie.”

The evening progresses unbearably fast, and it isn’t long before Misty finds herself curled up into Harry’s side on the couch, watching him giggle alongside all her sorority sisters and their various partners.  She hopes he doesn’t notice her staring at him, but she can’t help it of course. He is so lovely, so full of some type of light that she has never seen before and cannot seem to get enough of.

As Misty watches him, she realizes how heartbreakingly human he really is.  He may be a ghost, but he died a young college boy— with so much ahead of him and so much to look forward to.  Never in Misty’s life has she seen a more genuine smile, nor has she ever met anyone as charismatic as Harry. Try as she might to forget it, she knows her time with him is coming to an end and she hates it. But watching him interact with everyone around him, as charming as ever, she realizes that he genuinely needed this.  He needed to feel alive, to feel apart of something once again.

So Misty leans closer into him. He smiles down at her, looking so full of life and warmth. He reaches down, pulling the fuzzy red blanket covering both him and Misty up over her shoulders.  “You alright?” He asks softly.

Misty tilts her head, leaning up to press a peck to his nose. “I’m wonderful,” she replies quietly.

Harry grins down at her, and for a moment the two are lost in their own little world— looking into one another’s eyes as if the entire universe existed in them.  As if reading her mind, Harry gives Misty’s lips a soft kiss.  The kiss is tinged with sadness, of course, because the darker it gets outside the less time they know that they have together.  So he pulls away, bumping her nose with his.

“You sleepy?” He asks quietly.

And Misty knows exactly what he means. “Mhm.”

“Mm,” Harry hums. “Me too.”

He moves to rise to his feet to make a graceful exit with Misty. “Well,” he says, addressing the room. “Misty and I are going to go up to sleep now. I have to head back home pretty early tomorrow and—“

“You’re going to fuck,” Kennedy says, matter-of-factly.  Misty and Harry both gape at her, and she laughs.  “It’s alright! No shame in that.  We’re all adults here.”

Misty laughs nervously, and Harry remains calm and smug.  “You’re hilarious, Kennedy.  I think I’ll miss you most of all.”

Kennedy laughs, winking and pointing finger guns at Harry.  Misty rolls her eyes, but she’s giggling as she turns to exit.  Harry follows close behind her and Kennedy calls out, “Be safe! Use protection!”

Harry and Misty giggle the entire trip up the stairs, and as they approach Misty’s bedroom, she speaks quietly.  “Okay, but how are you feeling?  Like, energy wise.”

“Fine,” Harry says, and he honestly means it.

Misty glances at him like she doesn’t believe him, and he snorts.  “I promise, Misty.  I mean it.  I didn’t use that much tonight.”

She rolls her eyes, making her way over to her bed and sitting on the edge of it.  Harry closes the door behind him, still buzzing from the fun he’s had today, and a playful smile spreads across his face. He turns slowly on his heels, eyeing her mischievously.

She looks back, tensing up a bit as a smile spreads across her face.  “What…”

Harry growls playfully, bounding over to her and tackling her onto the bed before she can even say anything.  She squeals, giggling as she and Harry come tumbling down.   Harry attacks her face and her neck in kisses while squeezing at her hips, and she squeals.

“No!” She shrieks.  “What are you doing?!  NO!”

He growls, nipping at her cheeks before lifting his head and grinning down at her.  “Gimme kiss.”

“If I do, will you chill?” She giggles.

Harry makes a face, pretending to consider her words.  “Mm… maybe.”

She lifts her head slightly, pecking at his lips, and he shakes his head.  “Better than that,” he says.

She kisses him again, but he only repeats, “Better than that.”

Misty lets her head fall back again, mouth falling open as the most lovely laughs bubble out of her lips. Harry seizes this opportunity, leaning down and kissing her open mouth with a dimpled grin.

Misty’s giggles die down the minute their lips interlock, but the smile never leaves neither her nor Harry’s faces as they kiss.  Misty licks gently into Harry’s mouth, and he immediately grants her access, swirling his tongue against hers. He speaks between kisses.  “You’re--” kiss, “so--”  kiss, “beautiful.”

Misty rolls her eyes.  “No you are,” she says, and Harry kisses her before she’s even finished her sentence.

He chuckles.  “No you.”

“Nooo…”  She pecks at his nose.  “You.”

Harry snorts. “God we’re disgusting, huh?”

Misty hums, reaching up to brush a stray curl away from Harry’s face.  “Yeah.  Ew.”

He leans down, burying his face in her neck and sucking softly.  He feels her melt against him, squirming a bit as she lets out a long, humming sigh.  He smiles, lifting his head to press another kiss to her lips before speaking.  “I have an idea,” he says.

“Another one?  Do tell.”

“How about……”  Harry sing-songs,  “One more orgasm for you.  As a parting treat.”

“Hmm…” Misty muses.  “Only one?”

Harry snorts.  “Or two.  Or… however many you want.”

“How many do you want to give me?”  Misty scratches lovingly behind Harry’s ear.

“Oh sunshine,’ Harry says,  “If I had my way I would never stop.”

Blood rushes to Misty’s cheeks and ears, but she tries to hide it.  Harry only laughs again, thumbing at her cheek.  “Gonna miss that.”

“What?”

“How easy it is to get you hot.”

Misty rolls her eyes, but she laughs.  “You’re an idiot.”

“Gonna miss that, too.  Love when you insult me.”

“Oh my god.”  Misty shakes her head.  “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Harry hums.  “With pleasure, sweet girl.”

They continue kissing for a bit as Harry undresses Misty gently.  He loves on every inch of her body, reveling in every single reaction he gets out of her. He tries to remember every detail that he can, and everything about the evening they’re sharing.  And when he makes her cum, four separate times, he savours her taste, her smell, and the noises she makes as best as he can-- without making himself even sadder than he is.  He knows she feels the same, noticing the way she continuously glances at him with more love in his eyes than he’s seen in a long time.

After hours of messing around with her, loving on one another’s bodies and sharing giggles and playful kisses, they realize it’s time to go to bed.  They undress one another, and Harry helps her remove her makeup-- which makes them both laugh the entire time.

When they find themselves in bed together, stroking lovingly at one another’s faces, they realize that they can’t run from the inevitable anymore. Their time together has been reduced to only hours, and there is nothing they can do about it at all.

“I’m going to miss you,” Misty says, tracing his features in the darkness.  “Have I told you that already?”

Harry laughs softly.  “Maybe once or twice,” he admits.  “But I’m going to miss you more.”

Misty sighs, kissing his lips gently.  “Promise to come visit my dreams as much as you possibly can?”

Harry leans into her touch, tilting his head to kiss the palm of her hand.  “I promise.”

“I don’t want to fall asleep.” She looks on the verge of tears, and Harry wishes there was something he could do to stop her.  At this point, however, he knows it’s inevitable.  So he tries to make her smile.

“You need to,” he says.  “Humans need sleep.”

“Maybe,” she says.  “But I need you more.”

“That’s not true, baby. You know it’s not.”  Harry strokes a spot just in front of her temple-- a spot he’s noticed over the past month that relaxes her more than anything else.  As if on cue, she yawns.

“Listen to me.  You are meant to live your life, sweet girl.  You are meant to be happy, and grow old.  Promise me you will.”  She frowns at him, but he doesn’t allow it.  “Promise me, baby.”

“I promise,” she whispers.  Harry smiles.

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I promise Harry,” she whispers, blinking against the sleep in her eyes.  “But I also promise that when you return, I will be waiting.”

“That’s fine.  You can wait.  But do not let it stop you from living.  You hear me?  Please don’t. I would give anything to live my life again.”

Misty yawns again, finally giving in to the heaviness of her eyelids and closing her eyes. She leans into him.  “I promise.  I’ll live every day in your honor, Harry.”

“Yeah?”

She smiles sleepily, still not opening her eyes.

Harry watches her, taking in every last detail of her sleepy face.  He can feel himself fading, but she doesn’t seem to notice, so he says nothing.  He ignores the pressure building behind his eyes, swearing to himself that he’s not going to cry.

Misty is also fading fast, succumbing more and more to sleep by the second.  Harry knows it’s going to be a hard year without her, but he takes comfort knowing she is surrounded by people who love her.

And it also doesn’t hurt that he plans on haunting Josh’s dreams so that he leaves Misty the fuck alone.

He smiles softly, completely unable to stop the tear from leaking from his eye.  He’s grateful that Misty’s eyes are closed, and he presses the slowest, most gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, miss Misty.”

Without opening her eyes, Misty speaks with a distant, sleepy voice.  “I love you too, Harry.”

Harry replays that moment in his head for the next few hours, reveling in the way those words sounded coming out of her mouth.

And when Misty wakes in the morning, Harry is gone.

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry fanfiction #fanfiction #Harry Styles AU #Harry AU #Harry Styles smut #Harry smut #smut #Harry Styles fluff #Harry fluff #fluff

[marjansmarwani]

there ain’t a language for the things I feel

4.8k || ao3

In the wake of a tragedy, the firehouse family tries to move on and pick up the pieces while holding onto hope that seems to slip further and further away.

But nothing's over until it's over and they're going to pick up all the pieces and put them back together, just in case. ----- Day 9 of @911lonestarangstweek: Free Choice

Me getting this done and up just at the end of angst week? More likely than you’d think.

Several people read parts of this as I was working, but @moviegeek03 needs a special thanks for helping me with some of the specifics 💜

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

The house at the end of the street looked like all the others. 

Its blue siding blended in perfectly with its companions on the quiet residential street and as Judd pulled into the familiar driveway, nothing looked amiss. From the outside, it looked like nothing had happened. From where they stood, everything was fine and this was just a normal day and an average visit. Right now they could be heading to game night or dinner. They could be stopping by to say hello, popping by unannounced as they so often did. But the minute they opened the door that illusion would shatter and they’d have to face the grim reality waiting for them, so they all hovered at the edge of the front walk by some unspoken agreement as they allowed themselves to avoid this for just a few moments longer. 

But ignorance couldn’t last forever so eventually, they moved forward. 

It was Paul that made the first move, pulling out his keys and selecting the correct one as he approached the door. He slid the key into the lock without a word, all eyes on him as he turned it, pushing open the door to reveal the scene beyond it. There was another moment of collective hesitation on the threshold before Judd stepped forward, grabbing the yellow crime scene tape and pulling it down so they could enter their friends’ living room - or at least, what was left of it. 

The once familiar space was unrecognizable as the furniture lay in shambles; splinters of each piece scattered across the room. If they hadn’t known where they were they never would have recognized the space. Nancy toed at the remains of a chair, shifting aside the debris with her foot only to reveal the dark red stain on the floor underneath. She turned away and let the pieces fall back into it.

They had just left the hospital, they had all seen the end result of this destruction. They had already known how bad it could be. Seeing it in this familiar context though? It drove it all home in the most unapologetic way. Nancy in particular was no stranger to the sight of blood, but seeing it in your friends’ home, knowing it belonged to one of them? That was something else entirely and no amount of professional detachment could make this okay. She turned away from the stain - ignoring the sound of glass crunching under her shoe from the shattered picture frames strewn across the floor - beside her to find Paul fingering an indent in the wall with a grim expression. When he felt her looking he met her gaze. 

“Knife mark,” he said by way of explanation, his eyes roaming the rest of the walls. “Several of them, by the looks of it.” 

Somehow the silence in the room seemed to grow even heavier in the wake of Paul’s words as they all took in the destruction and the damage and the fact that their friends had nearly died in their own home; that they still might, even now. 

The silence was finally broken by Judd, his typical drawl much harsher than usual as it sliced through the quiet and dismay that filled the room. 

“What the fuck happened here?” he demanded to the room at large, but he got no response. It was the same question they all had and as of yet, there were no answers. Only fear, pain, and a desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, this was as bad as it got. That maybe by some miracle their friends would pull through this, would survive this senseless act of violence. 

That somehow TK and Carlos would be okay, because the alternative was too awful to consider.  

---------

Marjan had been wrapping up practice when she got the call. It was Mateo on the other line, his shaking voice informing her that he was driving Captain Strand to St. David’s because he had been in the kitchen with the older man and Buttercup when he had been informed. 

It was what he had said next that had sent her crashing back down onto the bench, skates in hand and concerned expressions trained on her as she tried her best to not absolutely shatter at the edge of the roller rink. 

Nancy was at her sister’s, rolling her eyes at the antics of her nephews as she stirred the sauce on the stove and her sister gossiped about their Aunt Susan and her much younger boyfriend when her phone rang. Then she was out the door, the spoon abandoned on the counter with a shouted apology to her sister as she grabbed her coat and keys and tried to hide how much her hands were shaking as she reached for the doorknob and stepped out into the chilly Austin night. At least, she reasoned as she hurried to her car, if anyone did notice the way she trembled they would assume it was the cold — they didn’t have to know it was because it felt like her world was fraying at the seams. 

Paul had been on a date and he felt bad for leaving her at the restaurant, he really did, but there was no other option. He knew his mother would string him up if she ever heard he had done something so rude to any of his dates, but he also had a feeling that in this case even Cynthia Stickland would allow him this one. Maybe he should have taken her home first but she had assured him it was fine and he knew that he couldn’t have handled the wait. He knew that every moment he was driving in the opposite direction of the hospital would weigh on him, that he would crack under the strain and that was not second date territory. So he returned to the table after he ended his call, voice tight as he made his hurried apologies and she assured him that no, it was fine, that she hoped everything turned out okay. 

He had somehow managed a smile as he turned away and he thanked her for her sentiments, even if he didn’t share just how desperately he wished they came true. 

Judd had been getting their daughter ready for her evening bath when Grace had appeared in the doorway with his phone in her hand and eyes full of fear. He had taken the phone from her and sat heavily on the edge of the tub as Mateo quietly explained what had happened, and where they would be. Grace had already scooped up little Charlotte and merely shook her head when he looked at her. 

“You need to go, Judd,” she said softly, squeezing their little girl close as she spoke, “go be with them, and keep me posted. Tell them I’ll be praying.” 

And there was so much Judd wanted to say to that, so many thoughts in his head and so many feelings fighting for dominance that in the end, he said nothing. He simply stood on shaking legs and leaned forward to press a kiss to each of his girls, pausing for another moment to hold them both close before he stepped around them, grabbing his coat and heading out into the night. 

As he climbed into his truck he tried to tell himself that it would all be okay, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it. 

----------

“I talked to Mitchell before we left,” Marjan finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence filling the room. “She said that APD is done processing, so we can do whatever we want with...what’s left.” 

Paul looked up, pulling his gaze from where it had settled on a dark stain on the throw rug. “Did she say if they have any leads? Or even an idea of what happened?” 

She shook her head sadly, “No. There’s not much they can go on. None of the neighbors saw anything and all the blood...well, it won’t help to find their attackers, apparently. As for what happened, apparently they have some theories, but we won’t really know anything until one of them wakes up.” 

“If they wake up,” Nancy added, voice harsh and quiet as she looked at the destruction around them. She didn’t want to be a pessimist, but the others didn’t know. They knew it was bad, but they hadn’t gotten the rundown from one of the trauma nurses on duty. They didn’t have the medical training to know that what they had been through; that the injuries they had weren’t the kind you always recovered from. 

That they could just as easily be fatal, given the chance. 

Nobody chastised her for being pessimistic. They simply moved on, nobody willing to dwell on the questions they didn’t have answers to and the fears that they did. 

“We should still get this cleaned up,” Mateo said eventually, “so when they get home it looks like nothing happened.” 

His words were full of a certainty Nancy wished she felt, but no one countered him either. They all wanted him to be right, Nancy knew and she understood. She wanted him to be right too; she wanted that more than anything. 

So she took off her jacket and laid it across the ledge by the front door before pushing up her sleeves heading towards the kitchen. 

“I’ll grab some garbage bags,” she called over her shoulder. “Once we’ve cleaned up all the stuff we can’t save we’ll have a better idea of what we’re working with.” 

Noises of agreement followed her out of the room and as she pulled open the cupboard under the sink where she knew they stashed the cleaning supplies she allowed herself a moment to embrace Mateo’s unshakable optimism. They would get their home cleaned up so they had somewhere to come home to. They would get it back to normal so it looked like their home and not the nightmare they had walked into. 

They would put everything back together so maybe, just maybe, someday when she closed her eyes she would see how it had been before, and not the scene of destruction they had walked into today. 

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

“What happened?” Marjan demanded as she stepped into the waiting room, softening when she saw the faces before her all full of the same fear and panic she was feeling. 

“We don’t know,” Captain Strand said eventually with a small, helpless shrug. “Nobody knows. One of their neighbors was walking their dog when she saw the door open. She said something didn’t feel right so she went to check, and she found them.” 

He didn’t provide any other details, didn’t specify how they were found and that more than anything filled her with dread.   

“Gabriel is trying to get answers,” another voice shared, this one soft and thick. Marjan looked over to see Carlos’s mother in the seat beside the captain, her face pale and eyes full of worry, “I think maybe he thinks it’ll be easier to process if we know. Or maybe he just needs something else to focus on. Either way, he doesn’t seem to be having much luck.” 

Marjan followed the older woman’s nod to a figure in the corner, speaking into his phone as he turned his hat over and over in his free hand as his foot tapped against the floor. Even from here his distress was palpable; the fear and worry etched clearly into every inch of his face. It made her wonder once again what had happened. She may have only known Gabriel Reyes for a short period of time and not very well at all, but she knew him well enough to know that whatever had happened was bad. Gabriel Reyes loved his son, she didn’t doubt that. But the man was a Texas Ranger; he had spent a lifetime seeing unthinkable things. Yet here he was, clearly shaken to his very core. For something to have affected him this much...the very idea left a cold feeling of dread seeping through her core. 

“Do we at least know how they are?” she questioned again, voice quieter in the face of all the hurt and fear encompassing them. 

It was Tommy who spoke this time, the paramedic captain’s voice tight with barely concealed pain and worry, “They’re alive, and that’s something.” 

The way she said it made Marjan wonder what she knew and what she wasn’t saying. She wanted to push, she wanted to demand answers. She wanted to know what had happened to her friends; to two of the people that had become family to her. 

But it was clear they were all in the same boat, that none of these people knew any more than she did and that they all cared just as much. So she swallowed her questions and sank into the empty seat beside Mateo, glancing around at the others as she did. In some ways this was horrifyingly familiar but in others, it felt so different. Every other time they had at least known what had brought them here and what they were facing. This unknown entity; the uncertainty hung heavy in the air around them and it made her queasy. The questions mixed with her fear, leaving an unpleasant taste in her mouth. But there were no answers to be had and, even if there were, they wouldn’t help. 

She sighed and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair as she accepted the inevitable: there was nothing she could do but wait, and hope for the best.   

---------

People had always asked Paul why he wasn’t a cop, given his propensity to solve puzzles and spot patterns. There were the obvious answers, of course: that the police force was less than tolerant generally speaking, that the very institution wasn’t something Paul thought he could really take a part in. 

Then there was the less obvious but just as true reason: Paul wanted to help people, but he didn’t want to watch them suffer. He wanted to help people to escape the worst moments of their lives, not pick up the pieces after. Firefighters got to do that, cops didn’t.  

In that regard, he had a lot of respect for Carlos. How he could do that and still maintain a modicum of sanity and compassion was beyond Paul, but he truly admired him for it. Which, somehow, made this even worse. 

Paul already knew that he didn’t have crime scene investigation in him, that hadn’t been a question. But he couldn’t stop himself from trying to put together the pieces as he stood amongst the destruction of his friends’ living room. He couldn’t stop himself from seeing the patterns, from hypothesizing how each bit of damage was caused; on how each bit of blood was spilled. It filled his head with unwanted images the moments as it happened; of what they must have been through. 

He had never hated his skills more than he did at this moment. He didn’t want to see this, to imagine what might have happened. He didn’t want to move aside some of the debris to find some blood and wonder whose it was. He didn’t want to dwell on the idea of two of his closest friends suffering; being brutally attacked in their own home. A place that had felt safe, that had almost been a second home to Paul. But that illusion of safety had been shattered and now it just felt like an awful reminder, and he would give anything to be able to look at it objectively. 

A part of him wanted to keep going, to keep trying to solve the puzzle before him. It would help, a voice in his mind said, it could bring whoever did this to justice. 

And that was tempting. He did want to see whoever had done this pay for what they did. But he also knew that it wouldn’t actually change anything. Carlos and TK would still be hurt, the rest of their family would still be suffering. 

------

Home invasion. 

That was the reigning theory now. It was a home invasion gone terribly, horrifically wrong. They didn’t know whether they had been home from the start or if they had interrupted it; they didn’t know if it was random or if it was something that had been planned; if they had been targeted. They didn’t know anything, and Paul hated not knowing things.  

This was one of those things, someone had said. One of those random acts of violence with no real motive or explanation. Realistically, Paul knew they happened. He just couldn’t understand how it had happened to his friends. He had never put too much stock in the idea of fate - he firmly believed that everyone made their own choices in life - but he couldn’t help but wonder why them. Why did TK and Carlos - two people who had given so much of themselves to help others each and every day - deserve to have so much suffering? 

Eventually, they did find the culprit, or culprits, as they soon discovered when one of them tried to use TK’s credit card to pay at a gas station only a few miles from their house, but having the answers didn’t make it make any more sense.  

Paul had already known that catching their attacker wouldn’t make everything magically better, but he hadn’t imagined it would make anything worse. But as the detective on the case explained, he found he was wrong. Apparently, according to the one who would talk, he and his buddies had broken into an empty home. It was early evening and the lights were off so they had figured it was a good enough target. But they had been interrupted, he said, when two men had entered the house and caught them in the act. They had all been high, he admitted, so the details were fuzzy, but he knew that one of their group tended to have a particularly violent streak and that that night, he couldn’t be reasoned with. 

It was him who had used the knife, their informer clarified, but another had helped. He had thought the two men who had come in were dead by the time he had gotten his buddies to stop, he had admitted quietly, so he had pulled them out of the house as fast as he could and had never looked back. 

The room was so silent when the detective finished speaking that you could have heard a pin drop. The sound of Nancy’s chair scraping against the floor as she stood and rushed out of the room cut through the space like a gunshot and it was all Paul could do to simply breathe. Slowly the others reacted too, as Judd started swearing up and down and Marjan rose to follow Nancy, her own eyes moist but her back straight as she strode out of the room. He heard his Captain and Ranger Reyes asking questions but for once, Paul managed to shut that part of himself off. 

There was no making sense of this, he decided, so the best thing he could do was focus on helping them move forward instead; assuming that they got that chance. 

-----------

Mateo was pretty sure he had developed a stress response to the sight of Ikea furniture.  

It always seemed to appear in the aftermath of a tragedy, and he had seen it too many times in the past few years. After the condo fire, after his house blew up, and now as they set about replacing some of the furniture that had once stood in TK and Carlos’s living room.  

Maybe it should be a good thing, he reasoned. The furniture came with the rebuilding, after all. 

It had come when TK and Carlos had first bought this place and needed a couple of staple pieces quickly. They would buy real furniture soon, Carlos vowed, but until they could get around to it, some cheap and easy pieces would do. Mateo wondered if they had ever gotten around to it. He kind of hoped they hadn’t. 

“Man I hope they appreciate this,” Paul said as he flipped through the convoluted instructions for the bookshelf. 

“Of course they will.” Nancy countered from the other side of the room. “If they know what’s good for them.” 

The light and optimistic banter was a change from the days before. The others seemed more hopeful now, readier to believe the best of the situation. Mateo supposed he had himself to thank for it, he was the one that had insisted from the start that they would be okay, after all. 

But the thing is, he’s not so sure he even believes it anymore. 

As the others’ optimism grows, his own seems to fade. It’s been too long, a voice whispered in his mind. If they aren’t okay by now, they never will be again. 

It’s a thought that keeps returning and as many times as he shoves it aside, as he pushes it back; it just keeps coming and coming and coming. Mateo has always been the optimist. He has always been the one to think the best of everyone except himself. He had always believed that everything would work out. 

But he’s tired. There have been so many times and so many nights spent hoping when everyone else was doubting. There have been so many times when the worst should have happened but didn’t, by some miracle. And Mateo was okay with the idea of miracles - he had been raised Catholic, after all. But he couldn’t help but think they were running out, and that was something he wasn’t ready to face. 

So he shoved it back again and plastered on a smile as he sorted through the packaging to find the piece Paul was describing. Mateo Chavez was an optimist, he reminded himself. And optimists didn’t give up on their friends. 

No matter how bad things might look. 

----------

From the moment Grace had handed him his phone time had seemed to slow. 

It was the waiting, Judd thought, that made it drag on. All the hours sitting in the waiting room; the sleepless nights spent dreading a phone call to say that the worst had happened. They moved forward and they moved on because they had to, but every moment seemed to stretch as they grew further and further from a time when everything was fine and closer to the moment that could change everything. 

Hope seemed to ebb and flow as time marched on and optimism came in spikes. But it wears on them all and Judd wished time could just go back to normal, that this could all be over. 

But then he thinks of what “over” might mean, and he backtracks. 

For a while it seemed that maybe one of them had better odds than the other. That while one of them might pull through, the other might not. No one really talked about it; what that might mean for the one. They all loved them both and to have either of them with them would be a blessing, Judd didn’t doubt that for a moment. It was what they all wanted more than anything. 

But he was also in love, and he knew that those two had the same kind of love that he and Gracie did: all consuming, bright, deep love that wrapped you to another for the rest of time. To truly be one half of a whole. And - it was a thought he kept to himself, of course - he couldn’t help but think that the only thing crueler than losing them both was for one of them to lose the other. He couldn’t imagine facing that and he didn’t want to see anyone else have to go through it either. He knew people did - hell, Tommy was proof enough of that - but if he could he would do anything to spare them the pain of that. 

So he prays, more than he has in years. If there were ever a time to test the strength of his healing faith, it was now. 

And then, by some miracle, the news finally comes. 

He and the others are standing in their living room, taking in the newly repaired space. There isn’t a trace of the destruction they had found when they had first arrived and stepped past the crime scene tape to see the horror within what had been their friends’ home. It now looks almost as it did before: a warm, safe space they had all spent many nights in. A welcoming place that felt a bit like home. 

The walls had been repaired and repainted, the floors had been cleaned, the furniture had been repaired or replaced. The pictures had been rehung in new, undamaged frames and all their various knick-knacks and tchotchkes were sitting in their usual spots. The only thing missing now was TK and Carlos. 

It was Nancy’s phone that rang, her voice that cut through the room as she asked Tommy what had happened. It was the sight of her collapsing into one of the chairs that drew their attention and stole all their breath. And when she looked up at them, it was her smile and tear-filled eyes that let them know they could breathe again as she said the words they had all been waiting to hear: “They’re going to be okay.” 

And then time picked up again and as the others let out sounds of celebration and Paul picked up Marjan to spin her around, Judd simply smiled. 

They’re okay, a voice in his head repeated, everything will be fine now. 

And for once, Judd actually believed it.  

----------

It’s all TK can do not to roll his eyes as his dad insists on helping him out of the back seat of Andrea’s car. 

“Dad,” he said evenly, “I can walk, you know.” 

“Humor me,” his dad retorted in an unimpressed tone. 

TK opened his mouth to argue again but a soft laugh from beside him stole his attention instead. 

“Don’t even bother,” Carlos told him, “believe me, I’ve tried.” 

Somewhere between Carlos’s words and the warmth in his eyes TK found he couldn’t argue so he nodded and Owen shook his head, mystified. 

“I will never understand how you do that. If it were anyone else we would still be having this argument into next week.”  

Carlos simply shrugged modestly but TK spoke up as they headed up the walkway to their front door, “It’s just one of his many talents.” 

Owen looked beside him to Garbiel with an exaggerated roll of his eyes as Andrea let out a light laugh from behind them. Carlos gave TK a pointed look but it was only met with a grin, and his attention was so devoted to his boyfriend that he almost didn’t notice the small crowd in their living room until they were already there. From there he was forced to do a double-take. His memories of that night were hazy, at best. It was a jumble of pain and fear and worry for Carlos as he watched him being attacked through heavy eyes. His recollection may be less than clear, but he is certain their home had been left in shambles. 

Yet here they were, standing in a living room that might just be cleaner than they had left before heading to dinner all those nights ago; before they had come home to find strangers ransacking their home and TK couldn’t understand it. 

He looked back to Carlos who looked just as confused as he was before glancing over at the group in the center of the room; his team, their family. 

The question must have been clear on his face because Nancy scoffed. 

“What?” she demanded, “Did you really think we were just going to let you come home to that mess? It’s like you don’t even know us.” 

And TK didn’t have the words to respond to that. Instead, he simply glanced back at Carlos to see the love and gratitude he was feeling reflected in his warm brown eyes before he looked back at the others. He gave them a smile and when Judd moved forward to pull him into a hug, he went willingly, savoring the comfort and love that was emanating from every inch of this space filled by these people. 

Someday, when the shock wore off and they were a little stronger, they would find the words to tell them how much it meant. But for now he hugged them all a little tighter and a little longer, and let his whispered thank-yous suffice. They had a long road ahead of them and being okay would take time. But he knew now with more certainty than he ever had before that as long as they had these people, they would always be okay. 

#911 lone star #911lsfic #my writing #paul strickland #marjan marwani #nancy gillian #mateo chavez #judd ryder #userkimmy #userjilly #userac #userbones #tuserjamie #tuserpaige #reyesstrand #reyeslonestartag #jazzyjess #buckybarnesalways

[ashiemochi]

missing leon and so ah :( what are they doing rn?

i miss writing about them too :( Little check-up doesn't hurt <3

(rewriting this again bc my laptop shut down instantly bc my mom tossed a cookie at me and it ended up hitting my laptop-)

With Leon training vigorously for his mission to the Eastern Slav Republic in three days, he failed to notice a pair of cinnamon doe eyes gazing at him from the door.

When the DSO informed him of his new assignment all the way in Europe, his coach called him in to begin working out early to prepare. But was the coach there to hype him up? No. The guy was on leave be with his new baby born boy.

Lucky bastard.

Exhaling roughly when Leon released the weights back onto its place, the girl by the door could've sworn she saw his muscles ripple. Then Leon spoke sweetly. Flirtatiously.

"Enjoying the show, buttercup?"

So Ah pursed her lips to hold back a smile, which she failed at, before slowly making her way towards his glistening form of good sweat. The dull noise of her boots nearing echoed ever so faintly throughout the wide not so empty training grounds.

"Don't stop on my account."

Leon snorted at her words, leaning from underneath the pole to sit up. He then leaned down to pick up his water bottle from the side, subtly scanning her from the corner of his piercing blues as he began downing the bottle.

"What are you doing here?" Leon asked, genuinely surprised to see his girl since she too had her own training to stick to - at the BSAA.

So Ah hummed, as if impressed with how massive the training room the DSO owned before returning her eyes at him, "I finished early so I thought I'd drop by - oh, and I also got you this."

She fetched a protein bar from her purse and handed it to him with a small smile. Leon grinned at this, swinging his legs to the side to give her a spot to sit as he accepted the bar.

"God, I love you."

She giggled at his little confession, cheeks turning red as she took her seat and Leon dove into his treat. So Ah watched him silently, contentedly, feeling the way his body heat was more intense due to his workout session; not to mention she could hear his fast-paced heartbeat. She could see from the way his eyes blinked that Leon was a bit tired; not only from his workout.

"You're thinking about the mission?" She asked, noticing how the agent stiffened a bit before chuckling breathlessly.

"Can't hide anything from you, now can I?" Leon teased light-heartedly before looking down at the half-eaten bar, "We've got intel that... That bioweapons were being used in the conflict. It's just a constant addition to the equation at this point."

So Ah frowned deeply before setting her hand on his, catching his eyes with a soft smile of hers; the same one that she's been giving since day one in an August's Wednesday.

"You're going to do well, Leon. I know you will. I don't care about the mission; what matters to me is that you come back in one piece." She said gently before tilting her head to the side a tick, "I mean, who else is gonna get me cinnamon rolls from our favourite bakery."

Leon scoffed, setting his bar aside, "Is that all I am to you; your personal errands' boy?"

She giggled when he faced her again, grasping her hand with his and she reached up her other hand to brush one of his damp fringes away from his face and she cringed involuntarily at how wet it was, making Leon raise an eyebrow at her reaction.

"You need a shower."

"You little - c'mere." Leon tugged her by her hand, lips close to touching hers but she yelped, attempting to push him away.

"No, Leon! You stink!"

"You're lying."

Giggles emitted from both of them before Leon managed to pin her down, hands on each side of her head and he smirked when her blush intensified.

"Can I kiss you now?"

So Ah held back a little squeal at the cute innocent question before humming, looking aside as if deeply thinking, "I don't know... I haven't decided if I really wanted one or maybe when we get home because I didn't get lunch ye-"

Leon rolled his eyes at her planning rambling before silencing her with his lips and he instantly received a soft sigh from her, smiling faintly against her lips at the sound. Pulling away with a gentle pop, her eyes stayed closed for a moment longer as if cherishing the lingering sensation of his lips on hers.

"Hmm..." So Ah mumbled dreamily, eyes fluttering open up at him with an equally dreamy smile, "I missed you."

Leon chuckled, leaning down close enough to bump his nose against hers, watching how his breath triggered her goosebumps to rise on her skin, then he grinned cheekily.

"I missed you too, buttercup."

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil infinite darkness #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy thirst hours #aphrotitty #cupid answers

[rivers-rambles21]

The one with the marathon

Part 7 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from  a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different  point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, (later chapters)

Mentions of PMS in this chapter! I’ve also given Y/N a couple of interests to add a bit more to the story to help it progress

Will include elements of TFATWS in later chapters

Chapter 7 |Chapter 6 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

You’d been doing your best to dodge Bucky as soon as you felt your body's usual symptoms start to develop. It started as it always did with feeling bloated before the short temperedness set in. Bucky was sweet and kind and he didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of your temper so you opted out of your usual Friday night pizza with him, giving the excuse of being called into work which he accepted with disappointment. 

Saturday morning came and as usual, painkillers did nothing to soothe the ache in your lower gut. Traipsing into your kitchen, you filled the kettle up with water before putting it on the hob and started to root around for your hot water bottle whilst you waited for the water to boil. 

A knock on your door interrupted your hunt and rather reluctantly, you made your way over to the door, unbothered by your sleepwear attire. 

Swinging the door open, you instantly regretted not ignoring it. 

“Hey doll” 

It was upsetting seeing Bucky look so good on a morning when you felt so rotten. Even worse, you were fully aware of how you currently looked - unbrushed hair, no make up and Bucky’s t-shirt which only just covered the tops of your thighs. Self consciously, you eased the door closed a little bit and shielded your body from view. 

“Hi Bucky, what’s up?” You asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. 

“Can I come in?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he tried to catch more of a glimpse of you. 

“Now’s not a great time…” You grumbled, feeling guilty as you saw the smile drop from his face. 

“Are you avoiding me?” The words rushed out of his mouth before he had time to stop them. 

Taken aback by his forwardness, you paused for a moment, your jaw opening and closing as you didn’t quite know how to respond. “I’m sorry, you don’t owe me an explanation. It’s just I heard you in your apartment last night crying but you said you were at work and I was worried-” 

He started to ramble as he panicked he’d overstepped the mark so you swiftly cut him off. “Don’t be, you’re right, I have been avoiding you.” 

“....oh” Bucky's eyes shot down to the floor as he nodded his head. Your admission cut deep and every insecurity Bucky felt rushed to the surface as he processed your words. “I thought-” he started but not quite knowing how to finish his sentence.

You cursed your inability to think before speaking as you reached out towards him, no longer caring about your appearance as you took his metal hand in yours. “It’s nothing you did, I’m just not myself at the moment, I’m not exactly great to be around when it's my time” You emphasised the last bit, hoping he’d get the hint without having to spell it out. 

You were wrong. 

Bucky lifted his head and looked back at you, confusion etched across his handsome features. “You’ve lost me” 

“Remember how you got that scar on the back of your head?” 

“Yeah my sister threw a book at me” 

“Uhuh, and do you remember why she did that?” 

“I ate the biscuits she saved for when she- oh!” It suddenly hit Bucky as to what you’d been hinting at and suddenly he felt like the world’s biggest idiot. 

“Safe to say me and your sister have the monthly mood swings in common” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Well...um… if you need me, you know where I am” 

“Thanks Buck” You smiled up at him and tried not to swoon on the spot as he leant towards you, his lips pressing against your forehead, gently kissing you as he cradled the back of your head with his hand. 

His thumb stroked the back of your neck as his lips left your skin, sending shivers down your spine. 

“I’m sorry for avoiding you, I thought I was saving you” 

“Trust me, I’ve survived worse” He joked, tucking one of your many stray hairs behind your ear. It suddenly dawned on you what your current state of attire was and you hastily tried to flatten your hair and pull the t-shirt down to cover more of your bare legs. 

Bucky tried his best to avert his eyes from your state of undress, not having taking note of how you donned his t-shirt beforehand, too focused on your wellbeing but he found himself failing miserably. You were too cute with your bed head hair sticking up in random places and slightly dark eyes where you’d not completely removed yesterday's mascara. And then there was his t-shirt. Fuck - he’d nearly lost it when you’d warn it the night you’d gotten locked out of your apartment but thankfully your legs were covered. But now? It was driving him mad seeing inch upon inch of bare skin, his t-shirt barely covering your underwear. He wanted nothing more than to shove you against the wall and run his hands over your impossibly soft skin. 

The sound of your kettle boiling over snapped him out of it and he watched as you darted over to the kitchen, leaving him standing in the doorway, facing away from you as he was positive he’d be able to see your ass as you walked. 

“I’ll come back doll” 

Before you had a chance to respond, he’d already closed your door behind him. 

Hastily, you made up your hot water bottle and quickly jumped into the shower, unsure as to when he would return. 

Half an hour later, Bucky was back at your door, grocery bag in hand. “I’ve brought you a few things for... y’know.” 

Opening your door wide for him, you chuckled at his awkwardness and gestured for him to come in. “You really didn’t need to-are those Peanut Buttercups?!” Rushing towards him you grabbed the bag out of his hands and began rummaging through his purchases. 

Laughing at your response he left you to it as he hung up his jacket next to yours as he usually did and took up his spot on your couch. 

“I remember what Rebecca was like and figured you might appreciate a bit of sugar.” 

You could only moan in response as you devoured your chocolate treat. Grabbing your hot water bottle from the side table, you made your way over to the couch and sank into the seat next to Bucky, resting your head against his shoulder. 

“Any plans for today?” You asked, holding up the last bite of your candy bar. 

“Nope” Leaning forward, he took the chocolate from you using his teeth as he finished it off.

“Then you’re in for a treat” You sunk deeper into the sofa as he lifted his arm up, resting it along the top of the couch cushion, letting you lean further into him. Bucky also took the opportunity to pull the blanket from the couch down onto you, tucking you into his side. 

To say Bucky was excited when you told him there were sequels to The Hobbit would be an understatement. For him to then find out they were turned into movies was almost too much.

He was in heaven. He was watching Middle Earth come to life, just how he imagined it would be whilst cuddled up against his favourite girl. 

He wished it could be like this all the time, when he was with you the memories of who he was before subsided, along with all the guilt and shame. Even when he was in Wakanda, he hadn’t dared to dream of having any sort of normal life, he’d accepted it just wasn’t on the cards for him. That he’d always be alone. 

When Steve left, that only solidified his belief that he was destined to be alone. Part of him was okay with that, this way he wouldn’t hurt anyone ever again. But the other part of him, the part that even Hydra couldn’t wipe out, longed for a companion, whether it be platonic or romantic.

Finding you was a miracle. You were so carefree, so honest, open and kind. You put up with his old fashioned ways, you didn’t make fun of his odd quirks or question why sometimes he needed to just be on his own. You both also had a lot in common, you both enjoyed modern technology and sciences and often found yourselves watching documentaries and educational pieces on TV together. Bucky was also delighted to learn you were obsessed with motorcycles and was planning a road trip for you both for when you next had some time off work - a surprise he was having a hard time hiding from you. 

Half way through the first film he felt you nodding off, having come down from the sudden sugar intake. Pulling you tighter against him, he kissed your head and lowered the volume on the TV, not wanting to wake you. 

As the second film started, you stirred awake, the cramps returning with a vengeance. As you opened your eyes you realised you’d snuggled into Bucky, nuzzling into his chest, leaving a small amount of drool on his black t-shirt. Jolting backwards, you hastily wiped your mouth and tore yourself from his arms in embarrassment. 

Bucky’s eyes hadn’t strayed from the TV as he remained completely emerged in Middle Earth. 

“Sorry I didn’t realise-”

He quickly shushed you as he continued watching the film. However he did miss your warmth and spread his arms wide, inviting you back into your previous position. “C’mere” 

Trying not to read too much into it, you smiled and sank back into his arms, sighing as they wrapped around you, his right hand resting over your stomach, soothing your cramps. 

It was well into the night when you finished your movie marathon, both of you enjoying every minute. You knew friends didn’t cuddle - not like this. They didn’t make your heart race like Bucky did. They didn’t make butterflies erupt in your stomach every time they so much as looked at you. 

You were in trouble.

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #romance #fluff #slow burn #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #tfaws spoilers #tfawts #tfatws

[wherethewordsare]

Jay’s 500 Follower Title Event!

This title was sent in by the amazing and wonderful @dapandapod and as always, betad by the love of my life, @kuripon. Thank you both for all your love and support. 

Bit of CW: The following chapter will include smut. This one is just straight up angst and pining. (sorry not sorry panda). Long post! If you prefer, you can also read it here on AO3

You Could be my Unintended: Part 1 Nothing was ever simple when it came to traveling with Jaskier, Geralt thought as he ducked another sword, bringing up his own in an attempt to disarm their assailant. 

“Couldn’t just leave her be, could you?” he growled and blocked another blow, this one aimed for the bard’s head. 

“I did, Geralt! I swear! She wouldn’t leave me alone!” Jaskier gasped as he moved back, his own dagger in hand. 

The elves moved forward again, backing the two of them closer and closer to the edge of the ridge. One of their own lay behind them, not dead, but Geralt didn’t envy him the headache he would have. The elves snarled at him again and made to push in again. 

“Just give us the bard,” one demanded while the other made another sweeping pass to try to cut at Jaskier. Jaskier danced away from the blade easily enough but lost his footing, nearly crashing into Geralt. 

“Not a fucking chance,” Geralt snarled back, baring his teeth. His stomach roiled with something he wasn’t ready to name but he couldn’t help the way his arm stretched out protectively over Jaskier. They were too close to the edge of the ridge. If they stepped back any further, they would be in fae territory and Jaskier would be lost. The feeling in his gut only grew heavier. 

Jaskier was saying something behind him but Geralt couldn’t quite make it out before the smaller of the two elves lunged forward, spearing Geralt full bodied back into the bard and back through the barrier. His medallion hummed when they passed through, making his skin tingle. There was an oof and the clattering of Jaskier’s dagger tumbling away from him as he attempted to catch the full weight of an armored witcher. 

In the scuffle, the elf was kicked away and Geralt rolled off of Jaskier, pushing him back down when he tried to follow. He stood over Jaskier, blade drawn and blood pounding through his body. 

“You want my bard, you fucking come and try to take him,” he barked. Everything on this side of the barrier was too bright, too loud, too lush. He tried to focus on the elves following them through the barrier but he couldn’t help but feel there was something else in the wood with them. 

Geralt’s chest felt tight as he panted. He had said his bard. His. What was he thinking? Jaskier had never been anyone’s, certainly not his. Never would be. 

“So you claim this bard for yourself?” said a soft crooning voice from behind him. 

Geralt whirled around, crouching down as if ready to spring. Behind him stood a fair elven woman, her hair framing her delicate features, a look of absolute tranquility over her features. 

“You can’t have him.” The feeling in Geralt’s stomach swelled and suddenly he was overwhelmed with a sense of desperation. I can’t lose him. Not like this. Not to you. 

Something in the elf woman’s face shifted and she raised a fine eyebrow at him. “I see,” she said simply. It crossed his mind for all of a moment that she could see straight into his thoughts. He tried to close off his mind but he couldn’t concentrate long enough. 

“Witcher, don’t,” Jaskier said softly, careful not to use his name. His hand had come up at some point to rest on Geralt’s calf from where he was still prone on the ground. His face was open and soft even with a weeping cut above his eye and dirt on his clothes. 

It was then that Geralt had realized that his medallion hadn’t stopped humming after they had passed through into the fae lands. He was under the effect of some kind of magic. That had to be it. That had to be why every mark on Jaskier’s skin, every drop of blood that ran down into the hollow of his throat made Geralt want to set the whole place ablaze. 

“Well?” the woman asked again. Everything around them seemed to go perfectly still. Even the birds stopped their fluttering and the insects had gone quiet. 

“I claim the bard as mine,” Geralt said flatly. He didn’t lower his sword or move away from Jaskier. 

She smiled at him and his medallion nearly shook his ribcage apart as some kind of raw magic wrapped around them both. Everything was bright and warm for a moment and then everything had gone dark. 

~

Geralt woke up with a pounding in his head. There was something warm and heavy laying against his side. Whatever it was, it smelled like home and safety and… 

Jaskier.

His eyes flew open and there in his arms, Jaskier was sleeping with most of himself tucked against Geralt while his one arm stuck out along the bedroll. It was completely bare. 

Fondness and panic warred inside him as he quickly but carefully unwrapped himself from Jaskier, having to untangle his legs. It wasn’t the first time he had slept next to him, but never had it been so… intimate.

He looked around for the elves that had been chasing them, for their packs, for anything that would explain what had happened to them and why he had woken up with a sleeping bard in his bedroll. 

“So you claim this bard for yourself?” The words echoed in his ears. There was a pounding ache behind his eyes as he tried to remember what had happened after that, but the only thing he could remember was the feeling of being happy.

He finally spotted Roach and their packs just beyond the line of trees that cinched in the clearing. He was going to grab their things and wake up Jaskier and they were going to get as far away from there as possible. 

Geralt looked back down at Jaskier and froze. When he had gotten out from the bedroll, the furs had fallen back, revealing Jaskier’s other hand. There, in bold dark lines were markings, like tattoos. Thick bands barely a hairsbreadth apart wrapped around his wrist. It reminded Geralt of the way his blade was beveled. The bands weren’t what made him freeze though. Around Jaskier’s ring finger was a wolf, small and sprinting, it’s head just below Jaskier’s knuckle. For something so small and fine, it was impeccably detailed. 

“I claim the bard…” Geralt looked down at his own hand, his eyes widening as his heart leapt into his throat “...as mine.”

Oh. Oh no. This couldn’t happen. Not to him and certainly not to Jaskier. Geralt thought he should leave. Run far and fast, try to outrun the thin bands, six of them that he did not have to be told were lute strings, and the buttercup that wrapped his ring finger in fine black lines. The fae had done something, some kind of trick that would tie the bard’s fate to his for the rest of his days. 

Fuck. He realized that it wasn’t just a matter of tying their fates together, but their lives. Geralt looked back over again at the marks around Jaskier’s arm, his finger. They were marriage bands. He had claimed Jaskier as his and they twisted his words in a way that neither of them could easily escape. 

Geralt knew that it had been his doing. The fae had looked into his head and knew that the magic needed that anchor. 

“Mm, Geralt?” 

He had still been looking at his own markings, the ones that made him Jaskier’s, when the voice snapped him out of his spiraling. 

“What happened? Did we win?” He sat up and groaned, bringing his hand up to cup his head. 

Geralt watched in horror as Jaskier froze, his eyes catching on the fresh marks on his arms. Jaskier turned his hand over and back again, his fingers spread as his eyes widened. Something like fear scented the air in a sharp spike. Any small hope Geralt had that Jaskier possibly, maybe would, if given the choice, not completely recoil at the idea fled in that moment. 

“You know what those are?” he asked, letting his own hand drop. Jaskier looked up at him with wide eyes and nodded. “We’ll find someone to remove them.” And then you’ll leave me, Geralt thought bitterly. 

Suddenly he remembered Jaskier on the ground, clutching at his calf as if to hold him back. He had told Geralt not to do it. He had known what was coming and he tried to stop it. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier looked away before Geralt could make out whatever emotion was flickering across his face. “I shouldn’t have talked to her. And now…” He lifted his marked arm as if in defeat. 

Geralt clenched his hand and turned away, marching back to Roach and their gear. He had to get them moving. He couldn’t just sit and watch Jaskier come to the realization of just what kind of monster he was now bound to. It was one thing to follow him around and sing songs and come and go as he pleased, but Geralt was willing to bet that Jaskier thought it something completely different to wake up and find himself practically married to one. 

Behind him, Jaskier slid from the bedroll and packed it before following. When he handed it to Geralt, his eyes locked onto Geralt’s wrist, his eyes going wide. For a moment, he thought it might have been wonder in his gaze but maybe that was just him punishing himself with a hopeless dream. 

He pulled away when Jaskier’s hand came up as if to trace the thin lines that now encompassed Geralt’s wrist. It was one thing to look down at his arm and know that even without the marks, even without the flower or the strings, they seemed to suit him perfectly despite their delicacy. But to have Jaskier see them, let alone touch them felt suddenly like too much, too intimate. 

“Sorry,” Jaskier stepped back, looking anywhere but at Geralt. That smell like fear trailed behind him, sour and unfamiliar. Jaskier had never been afraid before. 

They walked for what felt like ages almost in near silence. Geralt didn’t ride Roach, instead leading her by her reins on one side while Jaskier walked along her other.  Every now and then, he would catch sight of Jaskier’s hand swinging by his side, the silhouette of a wolf easily seen even at a glance. There wasn’t any chance Jaskier would want others to see it. They would see a bard with a wolf tattoo and they would know. And they would all think the same thing. 

That the bard belonged to Geralt, even if that would never be true. 

When they reached town, Geralt dug through his pack before he gave Roach over to be stabled for the evening. He turned to Jaskier and handed him gloves. He had hoped they would be subtle enough that it wouldn’t affect his playing but he wasn’t too hopeful. He was already planning on picking up extra contracts to make up for the loss of coin. It was the least he could do. 

He left Jaskier behind to get them rooms at the inn while he searched for a mage. There had to be a mage that would know how to take off the bands. His memory wasn’t what it had once been, too full of a lifetime and a half of monster hunting and loss to remember every little facet of lore. What he could remember, though, was that there was something about a potion that would take away the marks. The how of it was a bit fuzzier. The words “let the heart forget” stood out in his mind and he flinched. Maybe if the mage made him forget Jaskier, the bands would fade. Of course Jaskier would get to remember everything in perfect detail since it wasn’t his heart that had gotten them into this mess. 

The local mage had been no use, babbling on about “Why not try to enjoy the honeymoon before throwing in the towel". Geralt left with blood on his knuckles that hadn’t been his. The alderman had been far more helpful, supplying Geralt with a contract and a down payment. Forktails were dangerous on their own, but forktails that were mated and trying to nest just above where the farmers pastured their sheep were nearly impossible. 

The tavern door was ajar, a man standing just inside the frame behind several others. There was a bottle-neck of people blocking his way and he could hear why before he even reached the step. Jaskier’s voice rang through the air, a pounding tune thumped by at least a hundred feet within. 

Without thinking, Geralt rubbed at the marks around his wrist, smiling to himself. Even with the gloves, Jaskier managed to entice nearly the entire town into one building. He shouldn’t have been surprised, not really. 

The tone shifted suddenly and the stomping stopped with it as Jaskier’s voice, clear and high and sweet, crooned something new. It wasn’t something Geralt was familiar with but he could hear others inside picking up along with some of the lyrics before being hushed by fellow patrons. 

Geralt’s chest ached with it when he had no business hurting. There was something about a love held dearly, even at arms length. Jaskier wove a tale of loyalty and bravery about someone who would never know the singer existed, and certainly couldn’t love them back. Geralt wondered, his stomach souring, who could have grabbed the bard’s attention so thoroughly; yet Jaskier had never mentioned. Or maybe he had and Geralt hadn’t listened. 

He pressed in by the window and managed to catch a glance of Jaskier sitting on the bar, his face soft and wistful, between the shoulders of the tavern's patrons. There wasn’t a dry eye in the entire room. Geralt’s eyes moved down, his heart nearly stopping when he caught sight of his hands. They were bare, and the sleeve of the marked arm was pulled up slightly, as though he were purposely displaying them. He had to remind himself to not hope, not think too much about it. Of course Jaskier wouldn’t wear the gloves. They wouldn’t let him play. Of course his sleeves were rolled up a bit, it had to be stifling in there.

He rubbed again at his own markings and, for a moment, let himself believe that maybe he was the one in the song, the one that watched someone be loyal and brave but who would flit away from bed to bed at any moment. 

Geralt turned and made his way back to the stabes. He would just keep Roach company until he thought the coast was clear enough to make it up to his room without notice. 

Geralt didn’t remember falling asleep, and he certainly didn’t remember hearing Jaskier coming into the stall at some point. He had woken with a start at the gentle nudge to his shoulder. It was the fact that Jaskier’s voice and scent were familiar that kept him from drawing his sword. 

“There you are,” Jaskier said softly, tugging at Geralt’s cloak. “You missed quite a performance.” He reached somewhere beside him and the sound of a heavy coin purse jangled back. 

“You didn’t wear the gloves,” Geralt mumbled. Maybe he had needed more of a rest before running back out into a hunt. He felt sluggish and his shoulder ached from where he had been leaning against the wall. 

“I… no. I didn’t, I’m sorry.” Jaskier pulled away then and crossed his arms over his chest. There was that smell again, the one that Geralt thought might have been fear but now, as it cut through the bright warmth of a good performance, he could taste before the mood had suddenly soured between them. “I’ll wear them until you find a mage, then.” 

Geralt watched with a distant curiosity as Jaskier ran his fingers idly over the bands on his arm. He seemed to have caught himself doing it as well and tugged his sleeves down so Geralt couldn’t see them anymore. His own fist clenched by his side. He knew he wasn’t allowed to reach out, to touch those marks that had made Jaskier his, even if only for a short while. 

Jaskier cleared his throat, and took a step back, not looking up to meet Geralt’s eyes. “Ah, right. Anyway, they only had one room and the bed is yours if you want it. You’re the one who had to go trekking through the muck.” Jaskier smiled at him but it wasn’t nearly as bright as it usually was. 

Geralt wondered if being bound like this to one another was such a burden to Jaskier that even his smile was weighed down by it. A tightness gripped at his heart so hard he could have gasped with it. 

“I’ll be fine here,” he said finally when the silence had drawn on for far too long. “Good night, Jask.” Geralt made a point to settle himself down further into the straw of the stable, also refusing to look up. 

“Right then. Good night, Geralt.” Jaskier turned on his heel and stalked away, his arms still wrapped tightly around him. Behind him, that sour smell still trailed now cut with something like salt. It was not a usual smell for Jaskier and it only gripped Geralt’s chest harder.

#geraskier #witcher fic #long fic #also on ao3 #jay writes #jay's 500 follower event #title asks #title answers #hurt/comfort #the comfort is coming #next chapter #jaskier #geralt of rivia #eventual smutt #angst with a happy ending

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 28: The Pot Boils Over

Warnings:” strong language, sexual themes

Summar: Juniper finally comes clean to Heisenberg…

Feedback appreciated. 18+

Their interactions for the following days didn’t fare better. Juniper was touchy and moody, almost bursting into tears at some of Heisenberg’s comments. He was at a loss, used to her being a bantering partner.

She’d started avoiding the workshop, from a mixture of the smell and her recent lack of patience for his joking. At night Heisenberg would frequently hear her crying softly when she thought he’d fallen asleep or while she hid away in the bathroom.

It broke his heart.

He knew she was suffering, but wouldn’t talk to him. When he would attempt to get answers from her it seemed to push her father away.

So he started focusing on work more, spending more time away from the apartment.

His worry worked its way into a sharp blade, slicing into him when his mind would wander.

Was it his fault? It must be. That’s why she wouldn’t speak to him…

The thought swam darkly around his brain.

How did he fuck up?

The worry was blanketed with anger and annoyance, his usual response to hard to process emotions. He knew what being angry felt like, it was normal. It was easier to handle, he thought.

But it made him simmer like a kettle, ready to boil over every second. The deeper he sunk into worry and self-loathing without any type of answers, the higher the heat rose on the kettle.

After their most recent spout, it finally did boil over…

Heisenberg sat reading at the table, smoking a cigar quietly. Juniper bruised herself with cleaning up the dishes after their most recent meal. The smoke hit her face, making her wrinkle her nose. For some odd reason it sent a sharp bolt of annoyance through her.

“Do you have to do that?” She grumbled as she wiped down the table with a damp rag.

“What??” Heisenberg looked up sharply, confused.

“Smoke at the table while I’m cleaning.”

“And? It never bothered you before.”

“It’s bothering me now!” She snapped.

Heisenberg dropped the cigar in the ashtray, fixing her with a narrow gaze. “Just deciding to be a complete bitch to me or does it just come naturally?” He barked, leaning back in the chair.

“Excuse me?” Juniper threw down the rag, turning to meet his gaze.

They stared down at each other for a long, tense moment. Juniper was the first to break, looking away with glassy eyes.

“You are such an asshole.” She began to walk away, hiding her face.

“Me?” Heisenberg stood, anger rising, “You’ve been treating me like shit.” He went after her, grabbing her wrist in a strong hold. Juniper stopped dead but didn’t look back at him.

“Why have you been acting so damn weird?”Heisenberg asked, his brows knotting together. His voice was rough and accusing.

“Getting all buddy-buddy with Donna?” He walked towards her, “Being quiet as hell around me? Acting like I’m going to bite, what’s going on?”

Juniper’s shoulders shook a bit, refusing to turn toward him. He didn’t take the silence well, grabbing her arm and forcing her to face him.

“Juniper, fucking talk to me!” He almost begged, “If I fucked up just tell me.”

He saw tears start to fall from her eyes, her lips trembling. Heisenberg heard the cups and plates in the cabinets begin to shake and clink together.

He took a breath, trying to calm his voice a bit, realizing she was much more distressed then she was letting on.

“Buttercup?” He wiped a tear away, “What did I do?”

Juniper pushed him away a bit, “W-we messed up Karl.” On the chairs fell away from the table with a loud clatter, papers swirled around them.

Confusion clouded his eyes.

“K-Karl,” she stammered through tears, “I’m pregnant!”

His grip fell from her, his face losing color. In the wake of his silence she started to blurt everything out.

“I've been asking Donna to teach me how to sew and make clothes so I c-could maybe make things later.” Her hands covered her face, “And I've been trying to c-collect things that wouldn’t be suspicious.”

Heisenberg stumbled back a bit, his lips a thin line. His mind was a garbled mess, stomach totally flipping as he almost lost his footing. The floor felt like jelly under his legs and thought hammered through his brain. So much made sense now but damn…it was a lot to take in.

“I didn’t know how to tell you!” Juniper cried, “I thought you would hate me.” The papers and small bits of metal began to fly erratically around them, silverware rattled in the drawers as the kitchen knives threatened to pull free from the block.

She gulped, looking up at him, “Please say something. Say anything!”

She almost begged, “Just yell at me Karl, please!”

Heisenberg looked almost dumbfounded, eyes wide, as he asked in a low voice, “Buttercup, you’re pregnant?”

“Haven’t you been listening?”

“Are you sure?”

“I think so…I took a test.” She looked down, “And my stomach feels different…”

“Fuck.” Heisenberg whispered, crumpling into the kitchen chair. His hands balled into his hair.

Juniper stood still for a moment, trying to control her breathing. Everything in the room started to slow until the debris around them fell to the floor. The cabinets grew silent as the soft hum died. Juniper wiped her eyes with a shaking hand.

“How long?” Heisenberg’s voice was hardly auditable.

“About a month.” She admitted, padded closer.

He put his face into his hands, his thoughts a storm in his head.

“D-Do you want me to leave?” Juniper asked, her voice wavering.

He looked up suddenly at her, “Of course not! Just give me a fucking second ok.”

She nodded, worrying her hands.

~

It was a while before they had a real conversation about the matter, eventually sitting down to talk.

Shocked couldn’t begin to describe how he felt.

He shifted between bewilderment and fear.

“Heis…” Juniper knocked on the side of the doorway to the shop.

Heisenberg didn’t move, his chin resting on his folded hands, “Hm?”

“Can…can we talk?” Juniper’s voice was heavy, almost pleading.

“…sure.” He answered, his voice was not tinged with any ill.

She came forward, pulling up a chair to sit close to him. They sat in silence for a long moment before words tugged at her lips.

“You haven’t broken anything.” She observed, almost surprised.

“I’m not angry.” He said frankly, not moving his head to look at her.

“Then…what are you?” She ventured.

He mulled over his answer, not truthfully sure himself.

“Confused.” He finally admitted.

Juniper nodded in understanding, even though she had time to process everything.

“And a bit upset.” He went on, “That you waited so long to tell me.” Juniper opened her mouth but he continued, “We’re in this together…you shouldn’t feel like you have to hide shit from me.”

His words stung a bit but she understood his hurt.

“I’m sorry.” She reached out a hand, fingers finding his coat sleeve.

He gave a little rumble of acknowledgment.

“This also makes our lives a lot more complicated…everything is fucked.”

“Does it have to be?”

“Well it sure as hell puts me on a tight time limit on the whole ‘revolution’ thing.” He snorted.

When she didn’t speak he rattled on, “Your in danger…so much more than before. I’m not losing you again.”

His voice was determined, almost breaking under the weight of his promise to himself.

“And about…about the baby?” She held onto his sleeve even tighter, worry making her tremble a bit.

His lips were a thin line, eyes clouded. “We’ll figure it out…” he sighed, “Won’t let that bitch have it either.”

His words gave her a bit of relief; hearing his want to protect not only her but the baby quelled her fears of him rejecting the child altogether

“…you said you took a test?” He ventured, words breaking the silence that had blanked the room.

Juniper nodded, “I bought one from the Duke.”

“Where is it now?” He asked.

Juniper shifted uncomfortably.

“What did you do with it, Doll?”

“I…panicked.”

“Where?”

Her eyes teared up a bit, “I-I threw it off the balcony…into the scrapyard.”

Heisenberg gave a heavy, exasperated sigh. There was a silence between them for a moment before Heisenberg stood, “I have to find it.”

He paused, “What does it look like?”

“A little pink and white stick…made out of plastic.” She admitted.

“Of course it fucking is…”

~

It took him three days of sifting through scrap to find the test. When he found it he burned it until it was unrecognizable then disposed of it in the deepest reaches of the factory. Now that it was gone it gave him a small semblance of relief.

Even now Juniper acted like more of a mother then Miranda had: speaking fondly about the growing life and in the soft tones of her voice. The very fact she strove to learn new skills for the future child’s benefit spoke volumes to him.

He was still on the fence with how he felt, a mixture of fear and confusion. But seeing her be the thing he never had brought hope to flutter about his chest like a young bird.

Neither of them knew, or could recall, their true parents, no memories to guide them now. But they had each other and a dug in desire to keep this child safe.

The most important thing now was secrecy.

Heisenberg knew it couldn’t have just been a miracle of nature. It had to be the work of Mother Miranda, some sick scheme to breed a vessel from her strongest subject.

But fuck all of that.

This was his, his blood, his baby.

And he would do everything in his power not to let her sink her golden claws into it.

~

That night as they got ready for bed together Heisenberg practically scooped Juniper up and took her to the bed. She made little sounds of protest but he was persistent. Now that the immediate threats were sorted out he just craved comfort.

He flopped onto the bed, nuzzling into her. She wiggled into a more comfortable position on him, cupping a hand over his strong jaw.

“What’s all this for?” She smiled.

“You’ve been so worked up recently that you’ve been a prickly bitch to me for weeks…I just want to hold you ok.” He huffed out.

Juniper looked away, the guilt flooding back into her. She blinked away the threatening salt water, her heart clenching. She hugged onto him, “I’m sorry.” She sniffed.

He accepted the hug, nuzzling into her hair and huffing out deeply. “I know…” he murmured.

They lay there for what felt like hours, just enjoying each other’s heartbeat and warmth. Tension seemed to flow from them, the comfort washing away weeks of stress.

“I love you.” Juniper murmured into his chest.

“I love you too, buttercup.” He whispered back, dropping a kiss onto the crown of her head.

Heisenberg was still concerned for her and their situation beyond words, but the heaviness of the world could wait. He lay back, holding Juniper to his chest as he thought. The fact she carried his baby at that very moment still baffled him. Something deep in his heart sparked to life, burning brighter and hotter the more it all settled into reality in his mind.

He squeezed her softly, earning a little mewl.

Fuck…he was going to be a Father.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #re8 oc #heisenberg #in the steel steeds heart #resident evil

[jaskierek]

Wildflowers

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: Geralt finally found Jaskier, months after the dragon hunt, and now he has to find out what happened to him.

--

It took a minute for his mind to catch up. His palm rested on the ridged bark of the willow. He tried pushing, not really expecting it to move but not knowing what else to do. Jaskier had been right there. He’d been right there.

“Geralt?” His name came from behind and the Witcher fumbled on his knees to turn around, scrambling until his back hit the trunk of the tree. His instincts were going haywire, medallion vibrating incessantly. Something was very wrong and his impulse to attack warred with his need to protect because Jaskier was standing right in front of him. It was Jaskier but it wasn’t. There were parts missing.

He felt familiar, the curve of his nose, the line of his jaw, the tilt of his head. It was his strong brows, arched and hidden under the soft, brown fringe that had grown out. His eyes were still blue and open. His faded-blue doublet was open, revealing a soft chemise and dark chest hair that used to drive Geralt insane.

It was Jaskier, but it wasn’t.

Every living thing has a presence, one that most people can sense. It’s the feeling of being watched, being followed. The person before him had none. He had not sensed it as he had approached, he did not sense it when he was behind him.

“Geralt.” Not-Jaskier said again, lowering himself onto his knees so he was level with Geralt. He smiled. He smiled as if they had merely parted for a few weeks and had run into each other again. He smiled as if they were to go on another adventure together, to set off on the Path once more. Nostrils flaring, he tried to keep his breathing steady. This Jaskier’s eyes weren’t as bright. They were glazed over, as if he wasn’t really seeing what was before him. His once-pink lips and rosy cheeks were pale.

“Jaskier.” The name came from Geralt’s lips like a breath. He wanted to reach out, to touch him. He wanted to pull back and run away. He wanted to push Jaskier, have him land with a dramatic yelp and a scolding on his lips. He wanted Jaskier to push him, to be upset with him, to ask him why. He wanted anything but this pale imitation and gentle smile.

“Jaskier,” he tried again, “what-what happened to you?”

The bard’s brows pinched curiously, the smile looking more uncertain.

“What…happened.” He frowned. Red shocked the white of Jaskier’s chemise. It soaked through and spread like an ink stain on poetry. Blue eyes looked past the Witcher and his smile fell. He blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear his sight.

Geralt could only watch.

“Jaskier.” He whispered again. At the sound of his name the bard’s eyes snapped back to Geralt’s, soft confusion on his face. Red continued to dye his shirt. It gathered at the corners of his mouth, slipping down his chin and falling onto the green blades of grass between them. It was as if he couldn’t feel it, had no reaction to it.

Geralt couldn’t take it anymore. He reached out again, reached out to cup the bard’s face. Jaskier didn’t move to stop him, only continued to look in confusion. His hand paused before the bard’s skin. He ached to make contact, to sweep his thumb across Jaskier’s cheekbone.

Before he could, the air rippled and Geralt was left facing the leaves of the willow. He inhaled shakily, arm still outstretched. All he could see was the image of Jaskier, blood trickling down his face, seeping through his shirt. He clenched his eyes shut, pressing his palms into his eyelids until his vision went white and spots danced before him when he opened them again. Jaskier was still gone and the leaves were still there, hanging limply.

Geralt pulled his knees up, curling in as tight as he could. He felt himself shake as he rested his forehead against his knees.

—

“That one’s Draco.” Julia said, pointing up at the clear sky above them. Julian looked up from where he’d been pulling up grass with stubby fingers.

“Where?” He asked, squinting.

“There!” She insisted, still pointing. “See? There’s the tail and there’s the head.”

Julian huffed. He was no good at constellations. Julia had taken a liking to them recently, spending hours pouring over dusty, old books that Julian couldn’t care less about.

“Doesn’t look much like a dragon.” He muttered, looking back down at the grass and clenching it in his little fists.

“I thought you’d like it.”  

“Why?”

“Dragons, adventure, I don’t know. They’re always in those games you like to play.”

Julian looked up at his sister. Her shoulders were slumped and she was doing that thing when she was upset where she pushed out her bottom lip. Guilt settled heavy in his stomach. He knew she’d been sad lately and was just trying to share with him what made her happy.

He looked up at the stars again. It’s not that he didn’t like them, they were pretty and he could see why Julia had taken such a liking to them. It was just that they’d taken so much of her time that he was left playing adventure outside by himself. All the boys that his parents wanted him to befriend were older and mean to him so all he really had was Julia. Julian was learning that he didn’t like to share much, but he knew that that was unfair.

“It’s more of a wyrm than a dragon.” He offered weakly. Her blue eyes looked at him curiously. “Wyrms are long like snakes, dragons have big wings. It doesn’t have wings - the star.”

“The constellation.” She corrected but she was smiling. “Draco’s a better name than worm though, what an awful thing to call a collection of brilliant stars.”

Julian scrunched his nose.

“It’s not worm, it’s wyrm.”

“Sounds the same to me.”

“I hate you.”

Julia laughed and Julian realised it was the first time he’d heard her laugh for a long time. He looked down at his hands. He was getting that itch in his nose that he got when he wanted to cry. He pinched his nose, trying to get the feeling to go away.

“Hey.” His sister said softly. He heard her shuffle so she was sitting in front of him crosslegged. The end of her dress was green with grass stains. Mother wouldn’t be happy. Julia reached out and pulled his hand away from his nose, holding it in hers. He hated holding hands but he let her take it. “What’s wrong, buttercup?” It was that voice she used when things were too harsh for him and he wanted something soft.

Julian looked up. Julia’s eyebrows were raised, a small smile on her lips. Her blue eyes were darker in the nighttime. He thought they suited her better a bit darker anyway.

“Tell me about the harp one again.” He asked. She rolled her eyes with a sigh.

“It’s not a harp, it’s a lyre.” She said, sounding playfully tired of explaining it, but he knew that she loved talking about it. She gave his hand a squeeze before letting it go to point at the star. “It’s that one. See those five stars?” Julian nodded. “It’s called Lyra.”

She turned to him with a smile and he looked to her with big eyes.

“That one’s yours,” she said, “that one belongs to the artists.”

Julian watched her gaze up at the stars as if she wanted to be up there with them, miles and miles away.

He couldn’t help but hate them just a little.

—

He didn’t know how long he’d sat there, curled up.

Eventually,  Roach’s impatient whinny brought him back into the present. Geralt lifted his head from his knees, peering at the mare through the leaves of the tree.  She shuffled a couple of feet away from the edge of the willow, tail tucked between her hindquarters. Running his hand down his face, he picked himself up. He glanced back at the trunk of the tree, not knowing what he was expecting to see. Nothing. Just the serrated edges of the bark.

He pulled back the curtain separating him and Roach. She skittered nervously but allowed him to place his hand on her muzzle. Mumbling gently, he tried to soothe her despite his own instincts itching at him to leave.

Jaskier’s bloody chest flickered through his thoughts and he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Roach’s snout.

He couldn’t leave.

“I may not be able to find his physical body, but I can perhaps find his spirit.”

A spirit separate from the body.

Not an Ethereal nor any type of Wraith. Most Spectres resemble the state of their physical body. Geralt fought down the bile rising in his throat. If Jaskier were truly dead and appearing as some sort of ghost, he would appear decomposed in some way; blackened fingers, green-tinted skin, bloating.  There had been no signs of that on the apparition of his friend. Until the blood had begun to seep through, Jaskier had seemed normal, if a bit pale. That would not have been a possibility if he were a Wraith.

Geralt cradled that knowledge close to his heart.

Nevertheless, his medallion had confirmed the presence of magic. It didn’t resemble any spell he was familiar with, yet he wasn’t well versed in the more complicated magics.

There had been a time in Toussaint where a woman had been turned into a tree, he remembered. The love of her life had never returned and she was left, waiting for him forever, dwelling in her longing and grief. People living in the neighbouring town would hear her wails distantly when the wind rustled her leaves. Her sobbing had also been heard when the tree was harmed, blood spilling out of a wound on the bark instead of thick sap.

Reluctantly, Geralt turned back to the willow. It was not a plant he ever would have associated with the bard. Pale where he was bright, tired where he alive, weeping where he was…

Giving Roach one last pat, he pushed past the vines, tracing the knife at his side. His thumb brushed the space between the hilt and sheath. He pulled it out and rested the steel gently against the bark, breathing in.

He was hesitating. Why was he hesitating? Jaskier, bloody and confused flashed through his mind.

He pressed his hand against the trunk, right next to the point of the knife.

With a sharp exhale, he pushed the blade in and dragged it down the bark, revealing the lighter shade of wood underneath. No blood.

Geralt didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. He was left hanging in the space between.

Ah, the face of loneliness.

—

Not really sure what to do with himself, Geralt set up camp in the clearing not too close to the willow. He doubted he’d be able to sleep through the unease if he were too close. He wasn’t far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to spot someone underneath it though. He briefly thanked his enhanced vision.

He’d laid out what he needed at the edge of the field, his back to the line of trees. He doubted anyone came by often, or else he would’ve seen a notice for the extraction of a Wraith in the nearest town. Consequently, he felt comfortable leaving Roach and the beginnings of a fire pit as he went to hunt down his dinner. He tried to be quick about it, not wanting to miss Jaskier if he appeared again. He’d exhausted his rations of dried meat and bread on his trek to find Yennefer and then Jaskier.

He didn’t know how long he’d stay there. He knew he needed to find Yennefer, to ask her for help yet again. It was more likely she’d be aware of whatever curse had afflicted his bard. He knew this but he couldn’t help but long to see him. At least once more.

The Witcher returned with a rather thin rabbit. He’d gone for the first animal he’d seen. Yellow eyes scanned the open space as he returned. Nothing. No sign of the bard. Just the rustling of leaves. He looked to the willow, ears straining. No wails. He breathed a brief sigh of relief.

Sitting down beside the fire pit, he placed the dead animal down and started the fire.

“Hey!”

Geralt’s head snapped up at the shout. His medallion shuddered. Witcher eyes cut through the darkness to see a man sitting in the middle of the field. He swallowed, put the knife down and stood up, stepping around the fire to get a better look.

“I’m stargazing!” He yelled again, waving his hand and urging him to step closer. The impatient gesture was so familiar, Geralt almost smiled. He left the light of his fire and stepped further into the clearing.

The closer he got, the more Jaskier came into view. Brown hair blowing and blue doublet open against the cool wind. Bleeding mouth and reddened chemise, soaked through.

He felt the breath leave him. Something screamed in him to leave.

He stopped in front of the bard. Jaskier patted the grass next to him.  

It didn’t feel right, sitting beside him. Jaskier smiled and lay back, lifting his arms and resting his head on his hands. Blue eyes darkened, reflecting the sky. Geralt suppressed the trembling beneath his skin and lay back next to his friend.

A memory tugged at the Witcher, the same one that had pulled him to the meadow before. A warm day, their day together. One with flowers and colours and humming.

It was a sick imitation of it.

His throat tightened, he felt choked by it. He felt out of breath.

“Geralt?”

Geralt closed his eyes in a long blink as he turned his head.  

It hurt to look at him.

“What happened to me?” Jaskier asked, eyes still gazing at the stars. An elegant drop of red slid down from his lips. It fell to the hair curling at his nape. Geralt reminded himself that whatever he was, he wasn’t dead.

He was silent for a while, watching Jaskier look up. He hated it, the quiet. The undercurrent of Jaskier’s heartbeat had followed him for too long for him to be looking at the man and not hear it.

“I don’t know.” He finally responded. The bard smiled, a watery, wobbly thing.

His hair looked soft in the starlight. If he touched him again, would he disappear? Would he come back? Geralt didn’t know why he was appearing to him again now. Was he tied to this place or did he go somewhere else when he disappeared? Where was his body? He didn’t know if he wanted to see it if this was how Jaskier looked now. The image of Jaskier’s body, bloody and limp lying in a ditch somewhere flashed through his mind.

“I’ve always thought that Lyra belongs to the artists.”

Geralt was snapped out of his thoughts. He looked up at the constellation.

“Placed there by the gods, taken from the dead hands of a musician killed by a vengeful god.” Jaskier said. “Value only after death.”

The Witcher knew the myth. A lyre so great, it was said to have charmed even the rocks and streams. Music that quelled the voice of sirens, yet existing as a form of it itself. Although it had never been the lyre, had it? It had been the man.

“It doesn’t look much like a lyre.” Geralt commented.

There was a burst of laughter and Geralt jerked to look at the man next to him. He was looking back at him, a smile pulling at his lips.

“I knew you’d say that.”

—

Yennefer had been watching the bard for some time now. To be fair, his performance drew very many eyes. The sorceress grudgingly admitted to herself that he had some talent, him and the ensemble backing him up. It was a shame he was wasting it on bawdy tunes and bloody tales. She briefly wondered what a her own ballad would sound like. Though she had to admit, her’s would be its fair share of bloody.

The second she’d spotted the bard, her violet eyes had swept the hall for a certain gruff Witcher. She cursed herself for being disappointed when she hadn’t spotted him. Nonetheless, she’d brushed it off easily. It meant that perhaps the bard would stay away from her.

However, she was curious as to why he was here in Temeria alone. She distinctly remembered seeing him a year ago in Redania at a similar gathering, only three years after they had first met in Rinde. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on one’s desire for entertainment, their second meeting was rather uneventful. They had both steered clear of each other, the large banquet hall allowing for easy steering.  

Being a known sorceress meant that she was invited to many parties thrown by lords and dukes and any other form of aristocracy. She didn’t often attend, it was her bad luck to run into Jaskier twice now. Though it was to be expected, being a bard. What was not expected, however, was the bard’s seeming association with the leader of the Redanian Intelligence. His presence in Temeria, whose relationship with Redania was rather tense at the moment, was curious.

She took a sip of her crimson wine and tuned back in to what the lady beside her was saying.

“-prayer, oils, herbal treatments. Nothing’s worked!” The woman, Lady Webb, continued to explain her issues with infertility. Yennefer’s grip on her goblet tightened infinitesimally and she tilted her head politely. High society clients have deep pockets, she reminded herself. And all sorts of connections. And whilst she may not have found yet a treatment for her own…issues with fertility, she could perhaps be able to help this woman.

“-and when we mixed it, we learned that it was indeed me and so-“

“My Lady,” the sorceress interrupted, “come visit me tomorrow and we can ascertain what exactly the problem is. There are certain remedies that may work, but I cannot promise anything at the moment.”

The woman beamed at her and clasped Yennefer’s left hand, the witch held the goblet in her right afar so as not to spill it.

“Thank you so very much, dear.”

Yennefer gave her a tight smile, removing her hand from her grasp. She registered the end of the musicians’ set and set her glass down, excusing herself a bit curtly. Perhaps the bard would be a bit more fun and Melitele knew she needed a distraction.

The cast of musicians had disbanded for a brief interlude and she could spot Jaskier not too far from the stage, already chatting someone up.

“Jaskier.” Yennefer greeted. He turned from the young lady he’d been talking to, his face abruptly falling.

“Yennefer. What brings you to Temeria?” He asked, almost conversationally but the sorceress picked up on the undercurrent of displeasure. She gave him a lazy smile.

“Oh, you know, a smile here, an enchantment there and suddenly I’ve found myself with a lovely little cottage and an invitation to some local Count’s party.”

Jaskier bristled.

Yennefer watched the small blonde behind him look her up and down over the bards shoulder. With a disappointed sigh and a not-so-subtle glance at the man’s ass, she turned away and walked over to a table, grabbing a healthy glass of wine. Yennefer pitied her mildly, she had no intention of stealing the girl’s evening prospects from her.

“I am interested, however,” she continued, “as to what you are doing here?” He raised his brows questioningly.

“Really? You’re interested in what a bard is doing at a party? I would’ve thought my lute would give me away.” He said, pointing to the instrument resting on the small stage behind him.

She had to admit, he played the part well.

“Only interested as, if I recall correctly, you and Sigismund Dijkstra seemed very well acquainted in Redania only a year ago.” A knowing smirk and a tilt of her head had the bard gritting his teeth. “And whilst I know your taste is broad and varied, I wouldn’t have pegged him as your type.”

Blue eyes glanced around sharply, before an idle smile slid onto the man’s face.

“A travelling musician must take work were he can, sorceress, not all of us can have someone spilling their pockets at the snap of a finger.”

Yennefer let the subtle bite wash over her without a blink. She knew the bard did not think highly of her. The feeling was mutual. Though she had to admit, she was vaguely impressed. He wasn’t quite the ditzy bard she had thought, following his Witcher around like a lost puppy.

Yennefer hummed. “Do you remember the punishment for espionage in Temeria, bard? Was it death or simply a whipping?”

“What a macabre thought to have in the middle of such a lively party. Honestly, Yen, learn to live a little.” With a quirk of his lips, he turned back to his set, calling out to the guests to gather and dance. Not thrilled over the prospect of being caught in a crowd, she stepped away.

She’d catch Jaskier flitting around for the rest of the evening, chatting up lords and ladies, landowners and aristocrats. She’d also catch him scrutinising her occasionally, likely trying to determine some sort of ulterior motive. She let him watch as she created her own connections. Many were interested in having an Aretuzan witch at their beck and call and for now she’d let them believe she’d answer.

As the night drew to a close, few were left in the banquet hall. A table of men, determinedly still drinking, lovers in dark corners and balconies, the few who’d found good conversation and were languidly refilling glasses.

“Off to the lovely little cottage for you, then?” A voice asked from above. She looked up from her seat at an empty table. Jaskier stood, head tilted slightly, lute strung over his shoulder. His cheeks were pink, from performing or drink she didn’t know, and the ends of his hair curled from the heat. Yennefer swirled the wine in her goblet, watching the plum-coloured liquid ripple.

“Lovely cottages unfortunately don’t include free wine.” She answered, looking ahead and hoping the bard understood the dismissal in her voice. Whether he did or not was unclear as he took a seat beside her anyway.

“Let’s see then.” He said. Yennefer turned to him, confused. His hand was outstretched, reaching for her wine.

“Not afraid I’ll poison it, bard?” She crooned sweetly. Jaskier smirked and shook his head.

“Death or whipping, right?” He responded, smooth as silk. Yennefer blinked. She couldn’t help but laugh lightly, handing the goblet to him.

He took a sip and hummed, licking the red off his lips. She assumed he hadn’t been drinking much if he’d asked for it now. It was likely challenging to obtain state secrets when intoxicated.

“Not quite the wine of Toussaint, is it?” He handed the drink back. Yennefer tilted her head in agreement. With the state of Nilfgaard in the Continent at the moment, the famed wine was difficult to acquire. She’d tried.

“Does he know?” She asked, referring to the one person that connected them.

“No.”

Yennefer brought the wine to her lips and passed it back to the bard.

She wouldn’t say she liked the man, but it wasn’t a bad way to end the night, drinking together.

—

Jaskier appeared again the next morning.

Geralt was woken by his medallion not long past dawn.

This time, the bard was sitting under the tree.

As he approached, he saw the lack of blood on the man’s shirt and the tightness in his chest was relieved somewhat. This way, it was just Jaskier, his friend, sitting under a tree, waiting for him to join him. Still, it pained him to look into those pale eyes, not quite as blue as they used to be.

Jaskier watched him pull back the leaves of the willow and walk closer to him, sitting down with his back against the tree. He wished he could feel their shoulders brushing.

They were both silent for a while. Was he waiting for him to speak first? Geralt wanted to apologise but felt the words get caught in his throat. Would this Jaskier even remember what he’d said to him on the mountain? His memory seemed spotty. Selfishly, Geralt hoped he wouldn’t remember.

“My dear Witcher.” Jaskier said, so quietly he almost missed it. Geralt ached at the endearment. “My dear Witcher, do you think I’m dead?”

“No.” The answer came so swiftly it had surprised the Witcher himself. Yet his bard remained impassive.

“I think I am dead.”

“You’re not.”

“I feel it.” He was looking at Geralt with a mellow sort of sadness. “I feel this pain in my chest. Sometimes I’m choking on blood, other times I feel it in my throat but it’s dry, stuck to the walls of my larynx like peeling paint. Sometimes there’s so much of it, I can’t speak. All I can do it let it pour out of me as I heave. I’ve tried closing my mouth, but it comes nonetheless, it bursts at the seams like too much wine around a cork.”

He looked down at his hands with a frown. “My hands are so pale, I hate it. I bet my face doesn’t look much better. I bet it looks grey and ashen.”

He looked at him as if he expected Geralt to confirm his guess.

When he didn’t, he continued, “At least there’s no blood on me this time. I quite like this chemise and I don’t like seeing it ruined. I still think I’m dead though. I’m not quite sure where my body is.” He turned to look at him again and his brows furrowed in concern. “Why are you crying Geralt?”

He hadn’t even noticed the unfamiliar wetness of his cheeks until he’d asked. He touched his cheek gingerly and pulled it back, looking at the wet shine of his fingertips.

“Jaskier-“

“I know, I know, you hate it when I go off on a ramble but I feel like I should be let off just this once. I am dead after all-“

“Jaskier, shut up.”

“Come on, Geralt, I still-“

“Please,” the word cracked in his throat, “please, please stop talking. Stop.” He turned away from the man and pressed his palms into his eye sockets, trying to stop the tears yet they came unbidden like…like too much wine around a cork. He tried inhaling a shaking breath. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.”

Geralt looked at the bard. He was looking at him as if he didn’t quite understand why he was so upset but sympathised anyway.

“You’re not…,” he began then trailed off, not quite able to force the word past his lips, “you’re under some spell, Jaskier. I’m going to find Yennefer and she’s going to help you.”

“Yennefer,” the bard repeated with a sad smile, looking past Geralt somewhat, “longing and heartache and lust.”

Geralt frowned. “Jaskier, what-“

“Don’t leave.” He said, pale blue eyes snapping back to the Witcher. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I need to find Yennefer-“

“You always need to find Yennefer.”

“I need her to help you.”

“She cannot help me. You cannot heal the dead.”

“You are not- you’re not- Jaskier-“

“Just for a while. Just...just stay with me for a while, then you can go back to her.”

Geralt paused.

Weak. He was weak.

“She was the one that helped me find you.” He said after a while.

Jaskier huffed out a laugh.

“Guess that hagstone didn’t work then.”

—

Jaskier was humming as he strolled around the meadow. Geralt wondered what he was thinking. He walked in circles, following the line of trees. Every time he passed the Witcher’s camp, Roach would get skittish and step away, huffing nervously. He would give her a sad look and walk on. It was Jaskier’s form of quiet. Yes, he was humming, but the usual string of inane pondering and chatter was absent.

Still, Geralt felt a sort of comfort. The quiet stifled him now and the bard was to blame. He couldn’t bring himself to begrudge him for it. He thought he knew what being lonely was but only when he had driven Jaskier away did he learn true, aching loneliness. Geralt watched him scuff his heel on the ground, frowning, then carrying on.

Geralt was still not used to the incessant buzzing of his medallion whenever the bard chose to appear. The itch to find Yennefer and get her to help was ever-present. He was adamantly sure she could help. He didn’t allow himself to think otherwise. But Jaskier wanted him to stay. It pained him to think of the bard existing here alone. He had said he didn’t know how long he’d been there, but Geralt suspected he’d been there since all news of the famed bard had ceased. Two months ago.

“What are you doing?” He finally asked on his latest lap, putting his sword down where he was sharpening it. Jaskier stumbled, as if not expecting Geralt to say anything. He stopped and faced the Witcher.

“I’m walking.”

Geralt levelled him an unimpressed glare.

“Why?”

“Exercise.” He replied flatly.

“You’re being deliberately obtuse.”

“I wonder where I got that from.”

The Witcher didn’t respond, knowing that the silence would eventually be filled. Jaskier huffed and sat down across from him, elbows on his knees and cheeks resting on his knuckles. He looked like a crabby child. He looked down at the grass as Geralt waited for him to speak.

“I can’t leave.” He finally said, looking up at him. “The meadow.” He added on at Geralt’s look. “It’s like there’s a wall blocking me from moving past the line of trees.”

Geralt nodded slowly. He’d assumed as much. There was a part of him that hoped that Jaskier would have looked for him if he could have. He didn’t want to ask.

Geralt still questioned where Jaskier went when he wasn’t there. Maybe he didn’t go anywhere, maybe he simply chose not to reveal himself, present in the form of a willow tree. He wondered what his connection to it was. He knew now that the tree hadn’t been there the last time. Whatever had happened to Jaskier, he and the willow were linked, tethered together.  

“If I am dead, this is surely purgatory.” Jaskier muttered, pulling at the grass half-heartedly. Geralt watched him rip it out of the ground, opening his hand and letting it scatter back down.

He’d learned to become aware of the bard’s moods, spotting slumped shoulders and tight smiles. He just didn’t know what to do with that information. At first, he had believed it wasn’t his job to keep the man happy. He had chosen a life of hardship beside a Witcher, and he had to deal with the consequences. Yet Jaskier had a way of tearing down walls and situating himself firmly in someone’s life, earning affection, and it had grown harder to ignore him.

Nonetheless, Geralt still didn’t know what to do. Witchers weren’t particularly well-versed in the intricacies of human emotion, even less so their own. And while knowing physical comfort and soothing words supposedly helped, he still couldn’t figure his way around it. Jaskier had done it for him before, when Geralt was injured or what the bard annoyingly called ‘grouchy’. Geralt had yet to puzzle it out for himself.

He watched Jaskier pluck out another clump.

The silence itched at his skin.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” The bard asked sharply, eyes hard.

“Pull at the grass.”

Jaskier blinked at him then broke out into a grin.

“Why not?”

“It’s bad for it, makes it harder to grow back.” Eskel had told him that when they were children at Kaer Morhen. Geralt had found it difficult to care about much during the trials yet Eskel’s soft words and concern for the turf of the dark castle had made his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry.” Jaskier replied, biting his lip to keep from smiling. He tried smoothing the grass back awkwardly, as if to apologise. Geralt felt his lips quirk. “I’ll try to rein in my habit next time.” He informed the Witcher and Geralt grunted and nodded like a teacher satisfied at a lesson learned. Jaskier laughed softly and stood up, wiping his hands down his trousers before continuing on his circle of the field.

It was only later, as Geralt was falling asleep, that he realised that Jaskier had physically touched the grass. When he’d shot up out of his bedroll, the bard was nowhere to be found. He was somewhere in the space between his spirit and his body and Geralt ached to hold him.

—

Gods, it had been a long day. Dijkstra had said that his most recent case had been requested personally by the king. Jaskier didn’t believe that for one second. He didn’t know what to think of King Radovid, if he was honest. On the one hand, a brilliant strategist, on the other a paranoid, slightly brutal nutter. Consequently, the validity of this current job was a bit in question, but he accepted it nonetheless. The months apart from Geralt, though more comfortable in terms of lodging and food, proved decidedly less exciting.

Yennefer’s question two years ago rang in his head “does he know?” Jaskier shook it off. Geralt didn’t have to know everything. Melitele knew he didn’t. Fortunately for him, the Witcher didn’t seem interested in delving into the bard’s past, as opposed to the bard himself who made it his mission to glean everything out of Geralt that he could or that he was comfortable with sharing.

He’d been renting a small apartment in the Redanian town for three weeks. Two weeks in and he’d been practically tackled to the ground of the local marketplace, only catching a glimpse of blonde before he was bracing himself against a stall wall. He’d somehow found himself with an armful of Priscilla.

“Jaskier!” She’d exclaimed, arms around his neck.

“Priscilla,” he couldn’t help but smile, “what the hell are you doing here?”

“The real question is what the hell are you doing here?” She asked, pulling away.

Jaskier frowned, tilting his head in confusion.

“When I was passing through the next town over on my way to Tretogor, I heard that the famous master Jaskier was staying nearby.” She clarified. Despite having what some might call an over-inflated ego, Jaskier couldn’t help but flush. “Nearby in this lovely shithole of a place.” She added with a smile

“Ah, yes, I’m currently hired by Lord Bachar for a while.”

“Never heard of him.” Blunt as ever.

He wasn’t surprised, it was a small town but quite valuable for mining as it was close to the mountains. However, that did make it freezing which Jaskier noted as he regarded Priscilla who was most definitely not prepared for such weather. She noticed him gazing down at her dress, much too thin for the crisp air.

“I left most of my clothes with my horse, bard.” She clarified, rolling her eyes as they began to walk together, arm in arm. Jaskier laughed.

“You’re not allowed to say bard like that, you’re a bard.”

She tutted, waving her hand dismissively. “Semantics.”

“Right, of course,” Jaskier said, shaking his head, “are you staying long then?”

“Why? Looking to have a little fun?” She asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively. Jaskier briefly thought back to a couple of rather pleasurable nights but shook the thoughts out of his head. He was there for a reason, after all, and Priscilla’s rather lovely curves would have to wait. Anyway, he’d rather resentfully discovered that sex was not quite as enjoyable when one’s heart was dreaming of another.

“I’m only teasing.” She acquiesced. “Honestly, I wasn’t planning to, but after seeing you I realised truly how long it’s been.”

Jaskier looked away, guilt nagging at him. With travelling with Geralt and his swiftly flourishing career, he had to admit, he hadn’t seen much of his friend. Their time in Oxenfurt during the winter really being the only time he got to visit his peers. And Priscilla truly did hold a special place in his heart.

“I know, my dear, I’ve missed you terribly but duty calls.”

“Duty meaning trailing Witchers and singing for unknown Lords?”

“You make it sound as if my songs haven’t reached every corner of the continent.”

Priscilla snorted and rested her head on his shoulder as the walked.

“They truly have, Jaskier.” He couldn’t help but preen slightly at the pride in her voice. “Anyway, I was hoping that I could stay with you for a bit, if you’re going to be working for this Lord Barbar for some time.”

“It’s Bachar. He may be rather unknown but he can still send his guard after you.”

“Please, I’m too famous for that.”

After that, it was difficult to say no. Priscilla was already aware of his arrangement with Sigismund Dijkstra, however he’d hoped to keep her out of this case.

Lord Bachar had eagerly employed Jaskier the minute he’d heard of the famed bard’s presence in his town, throwing multiple banquets and events in the three weeks Jaskier had been there. The Lord had been raring to display Jaskier to everyone who’d watch. The bard supposed that was the drawback of ruling such a small town, the need to prove something.

Fortunately, but in Lord Bachar’s case more unfortunately, Jaskier had accepted. In the time he’d been hired, he’d grown to somewhat earn the trust of the Lord. Pushing ale into his hands between performances, Jaskier had managed to loosen his tongue enough to learn that the rumours that the Redanian Intelligence was concerned about were true.

With access to the manor under the pretence of needing to accommodate his set to the “echo of the Lord’s mighty hall”. He’d easily picked the lock to the office, praying that the lock wasn’t old enough that it would break under the damage of the picking. The drawers of his desk held the evidence he’d needed to send to Dijkstra. Papers detailing the illegal human trafficking that had been happening in the small but somewhat economically valuable town.

He’d also had to drug a guard that had been waiting outside of the study, bringing him some spicy wine for them to share. Jaskier knew how to use his natural talents, blinking big blue eyes and pouting his lips, leading the man to a storage closet with a sway of his hips. The wine hit him just as they made it in and the guard slumped against the wall. He’d likely woken up thinking they’d had sex and Jaskier had left. It didn’t bother the bard much, the man was attractive and if he was going to tell others about his time spent with the famous musician, however false it may be, Jaskier couldn’t find it in himself to be bothered by it.

Lord Bachar’s wife was rather meek but he would feel her eyes on him as he’d perform or talk to her husband. Not only was he being watched by her but also by the Lord’s witch. Jaskier had no clue as to why a small-time town needed a sorceress but he’d steered very much clear of her. She tended to stay by the Lady’s side anyway, leaving Lord Bachar open and vulnerable.

Jaskier’s long day in question had been at the end of his stay when he’d been asked to preform for a lunch banquet, the perfect occasion for Dijkstra’s Special Forces to storm the place and arrest the Lord. In the rush of events, people had been herded out, Jaskier among them.

He gave Dijkstra a quick nod before riding the wave of people flooding out of the hall. A shoulder pushed past him, trying to part the crowd, pushing through it and into the room rather than out. Jaskier caught a glimpse of dark hair as he stumbled from the force of the hit, clutching his lute to his chest. He quickly regained his footing, glimpsing over his shoulder before being pushed forward. He managed to catch a glance of Lady Bachar struggling in the grasp of a guard, trying to rush forward and run away with the crowd, eyes shining - in anger or desperation he didn’t know.

He hoped that she had nothing to do with the illegal activities he’d revealed.

“So,” Priscilla started as Jaskier pushed through the door of their rooms, “today was the day, huh?”

Jaskier groaned and went straight for his bedroom, throwing himself onto his bed face-first. He heard Priscilla come in, felt the bed dip when she jumped up beside him.

“How did Lord Rubarb take it then?” She asked. Jaskier couldn’t be bothered to correct her.

“Not very well, I think.”

Priscilla hummed sympathetically, lying down and stretching herself out beside him. Jaskier turned his head to look at her.

“Don’t know what he expected, honestly. Did he think he’d get away with it?”

Jaskier thought for a minute.

“Maybe he thought they’d let him.” Priscilla gave him an incredulous look. “I just mean, with the threat of Nilfgaard, trading routes are collapsing. Redania’s economy is already suffering. Maybe he thought, with some forced labour, he’d revitalise the kingdom through the mining industry and it would be overlooked because…”

“Because the rich would get to stay rich.” Priscilla finished.

Jaskier looked at her for a minute. Her blue eyes were focused on the ceiling, brows pulled up in frown. With a sigh, he turned onto his back, looking up. They lay in silence for minutes.

“His wife cried.” Jaskier said softly.

“Was she nice?”

Jaskier hesitated. “I don’t know.”

Priscilla nodded, then sucked in a breath and Jaskier knew from experience that she was about to say something that she wasn’t sure she should be saying.

“I’m worried about you.”

Jaskier blinked in surprise and turned to look at her, finding her light blue eyes already looking back.

“Why?”

“Why?” She asked disbelievingly. “Maybe because you spend half your time hunting monsters and the other half among…a different kind of monster.”

Jaskier gnawed at his lip. She had a point. He hadn’t even realised how dangerous his life had become, yet inexplicably he felt safe. How could he describe to her that he’d never felt safer and more alive than when he was with Geralt? That he couldn’t imagine spending his life beside anyone else?

“Well,” he began uncertainly, very much making it up on the spot, “I’m not doing the monster hunting, an actual monster hunter is, I just tag along. And really, the other stuff doesn’t take up nearly half of my time and it’s normally just dancing around and talking to people and as you know, I’m quite good at that.”

Priscilla scoffed but didn’t respond. Jaskier could tell he hadn’t soothed any of her worries but he really didn’t know how to.

He wouldn’t stop, he knew. It served as a thrill when he and Geralt split ways. A thrill that paid well and allowed him to travel comfortably and not sleeping on dirt ground. He couldn’t imagine himself settling down just yet, he was too restless, he needed to move. And this way he could spread his music throughout the continent.

After several more quiet moments, Priscilla broke the silence.

“I paid a mage to turn Valdo’s hair green.” She blurted so quickly, it took Jaskier a second to catch up. He looked at her to see if she was kidding, finding her grinning wolfishly to herself, clearly reliving the experience.

He laughed so hard, he rolled onto the floor.

—

Jaskier hadn’t appeared for two days. It was time to find Yennefer.

As Geralt was strapping his bags onto Roach’s saddle, he wondered if Jaskier would appear when he was gone. His mind conjured Jaskier’s pale blue eyes when he’d asked him not to leave. He of course planned to return, but Jaskier hadn’t seemed so sure. Would the bard even remember that he had been there in the first place? There was so much unknown about his current ghost-like state. Maybe he only recognised Geralt’s presence when he saw him, otherwise forgetting that he’d been there, that he’d looked for him.

Geralt scowled as he led Roach through the clearing, feeling like he’d swallowed a stone.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s soft, questioning voice drifted from behind him. Geralt closed his eyes, dreading having to explain his leaving. He slowly turned, coming face to face with the bard.

“Jaskier.” He grunted, trying to string together a convincing sentence in his head.

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question, yet it remained muted, not accusatory. Geralt still felt a needling of guilt.

“Yes.” He urged himself to say something more, to tell him why, to tell him that he needed to save him. And he couldn’t do it alone.

Jaskier nodded, brows pinched. He opened his mouth and Geralt braced himself. Then he disappeared. He blinked and felt something unpleasant tug at his ribs. He rolled his shoulders and contemplated staying a bit longer. He imagine the smile on Jaskier’s face when he’d tell him that he was staying.

He’d begun to catalogue Jaskier’s smiles over the many years, ever since he’d noticed the pattern of warmth spreading through his chest at the sight. There were the smiles he gave his crowds during a performance he was proud of, thriving on the high of attention and adrenaline. There were the breathless smiles he gave Geralt after they’d nearly escaped with their lives from a beast. It was a face-splitting, red-cheeked thing. And then there were the smiles when Geralt did something for him; stitched his torn pants, allowed him to sleep in briefly, bought him a warm meal. Though they were more rare and far between, those were soft and Geralt’s favourite.

Roach nudged his face with her snout, snickering at him. He gave her a look that said yeah, yeah, I get it.

He was about to turn back to his path when he saw Jaskier appear again. This time a few of steps in front of the willow tree. He saw him reappear and he saw him stumble back. Red spread across his chest and he looked down slowly. His knees buckled and he hit the ground hard.

And Geralt was running. Leaving Roach and sprinting to his bard, his Witcher speed carrying him headlong in a blink. And suddenly he was on his knees, skidding forward and catching Jaskier as he keeled forward onto himself.

Except he didn’t, his hands slipped through, Jaskier falling through his fingers in a ripple as he clutched his chest and gasped raggedly. The gasp giving rise to the blood flooding his throat. He heaved heavily onto the grass, pressing a palm to the ground, trying to hold himself up.

A noise escaped Geralt’s throat, one he didn’t remember making as he tried to grasp the hand braced on the ground. Of course, he only passed through, feeling only grass. He clutched it tightly in his fingers, feeling dirt press under his nails. He tried to call his name, only for the word to get caught in his throat, choking him as he watched Jaskier choke on blood.

The bard whimpered and pulled the hand away from his chest to reveal more of the red spreading, blooming across his white chemise like a rose unfurling. The arm holding him up shook and he looked up, looked up at something past Geralt’s shoulder. It was the first time he got to see the bard’s face fully.

Face pale, eyes glassy and pleading, swimming in tears. It looked like he was looking to someone. He opened his mouth, only to retch out more blood, spitting it out onto the grass. The begging in his eyes made Geralt look behind him, finding nothing yet wanting to scream help him please help him. He turned back to the bard whose arm had finally given up. He was pressing his head to the cool soil.

You feel like you just want to rest your head forever.

And Geralt felt terror claw at his throat, clearer than it had been for decades. He wanted to say something, anything. He wanted to yell at the bard to get up, to not give in to the ache in his body that was telling him to rest. He wanted to scream, to hold him, to press on the wound, to cup his cheek, to lace his fingers in his own and promise safety and everything that Jaskier deserved.

He wanted anything other than this powerless, helpless static where the words got caught behind a wall and his fingers passed through flesh with nothing but a mocking shimmer.

Jaskier rolled over with a grunt and only surrounded by green grass and budding wildflowers did Geralt notice the lack of blood pooling. It shocked the white of his shirt and stained his hand red but did not stray from the bard’s body. Jaskier released a shaky breath, blood spluttering over his lips and spilling onto his cheeks.

And Geralt was left to watch desperate, painfully vivid blue eyes pale and cheeks turn ashen until the only colour left was the stark red of blood splatter.

He was beautiful in death. Hair falling over and sticking to his brow in messy curls, skin porcelain, fingers curling in his hand and a shirt so scarlet like the indulgent silks he used to buy.

Geralt scrambled back and retched into the grass, heaving violently. Eyes wide and lungs struggling to inhale, Geralt found he still could not make a noise. He tried to scream, to cry out. The sound built up in his throat and got caught. Geralt painfully swallowed it down.

He turned and found Jaskier still there, unseeing eyes looking up as if cloud-watching. Crawling back, he let his hands hover over the body that he knew was not really there, that would pass through his hands like sunlight through the air.

He couldn’t look at him anymore, so he turned his gaze up to the clouds and lay himself beside his bard. Another cruel mockery of a day they’d already lived. His heart clenched painfully at the memory of sun-warmed skin and Jaskier’s voice. He felt hollowed out, like someone had scooped out the contents of his ribs and left him to lie.

And so two corpses lay together, chests gouged out.

#there will be more #some of them are kind of ooc #sorry #the witcher #my rambles #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #fic written #fanfic #angst

[achliegh]

Golden

SORRY FOR THE WEIRD SCHEDUALE RIGHT NOW!!!!

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Beta: @the-most-slyterin-hufflepuff & @punkkkboi

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death/suicide, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Chapter 11:

Monsters

I Think I’m Okay

Clay looked so good, and it was making Noelle feel some type of way. He was sprawled out on the couch, one arm over the arm of the couch by his head while his other hand was holding his phone. The leg on the inside of the couch was straight and his other was bent. He was wearing a pair of running shorts that he only wears at home that are just a little snug around his thighs. He was wearing a shirt that was old and well worn, it was short enough that it rested above his belly button, showing off his happy trail that Noelle can’t help but follow down with her eyes as she finishes sorting some clothes that she wants to donate.

Thomas and Noelle haven’t done anything sexual with Clay yet because they want to have a talk about boundaries and everything before they just… jump into sex. But, she was reaching her limit, Clay has been driving her insane lately. Even if it is little things that he doesn’t mean to be sexy, it makes her have to take a breath and calm down a little. Sometimes she even has to leave the room to give herself a moment to collect her thoughts.

She couldn’t take it anymore though, she was at the edge. She stands up and walks over to him, standing in front of him she puts her hands in her sweatpant pockets and just looks down at him. Waiting for him to look up at her.

“What’s up, Buttercup?” He clicks his phone off and puts it on his chest, putting both his hands behind his head and smiling up at her with his stupidly sweet smile. She swallows the cotton feeling in her mouth. She doesn’t say anything, she just straddles him, obviously taking him by surprise from the way his hands flew to her hips. “Feeling lonely?” He is rubbing his thumbs up and down on her hips in soothing circles as he looks at her full of adoration.

Making her stomach flutter.

Smiling, she leans down and kisses him. He returns the smile and the kiss, he expects it to stay gentle and innocent like all their kisses have been. But he is surprised when she grabs his face and deepens the kiss. Soon they are in a heated make out. Noelle is pulling his head by his hair into deeper and more intense kisses. Their tongues dance around each other but Noelle is in control. They pull away just far enough that they are basically breathing each other in, Noelle has this wild look in her eye that makes Clay feel hot all over. That dull heat all over turns into a sharp spike of heat when she starts kissing by his ear and whispers.

“I want to fuck you.”

He pulls away and looks her in the eyes again, it sends a shiver of excitement straight to his groin. Clay is someone who loves being used, loves being submissive, and thinks he loves her as well. His brain is almost gone into a submissive state but he picks her up and carries her to Thomas’ room. He sets her down on her feet next to the bed.

“You really want to fuck me?” He takes his shirt off and sits on the bed. Looking up at her with his big brown eyes in a way he knows drives people insane. Especially people like Noelle. She nods and walks towards him, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him so he lays down. Her hand travels down to his waistband with featherlight touches, she looks up at him for permission to take his shorts off and he gives it to her.

She yanks them off him and just about pulls him off the side of the bed, causing both of them to laugh, leaning down for a couple of kisses, Clay pulls her tank top off as she pulls away.

“You’re beautiful.” He looks at her and places one of his hands on her ribs and pulls her closer so she is straddling his waist. He smiles at her and sits up a little so he can start kissing on her collarbones and chest, he remembers Thomas mentioning how sensitive her boobs are. He smiles and wraps his arms around her waist as he starts showing her boobs some attention, she starts to squirm but doesn’t pull away, instead hugging his head to keep his face in her chest.

He loves boobies.

After a while she reaches around and grabs his wrists and pins him to the bed, so they are face to face.

“Let’s get you ready for me to fuck you, yeah? I can already feel just how much you’re dripping for me.” She smirks at him as she runs a finger up his shaft of his leaking cock. He swallows down a moan but his breathing starts picking up. “Get comfy while I go get some things.” She gives him a kiss and gets off the bed, wandering into the closet to get her things.

She comes back after a few minutes with a couple of fun things. First off, she is wearing a bright pink strap-on the dick is dark dark fuchsia and it was about the same size as Clay.

She also tosses a bottle of oil based lube on the bed and crawls over to him. Laying down between his legs and giving his thighs a few kisses.

“Have you ever been fucked before?” Clay was watching her but not answering as he had mostly slipped into his submissive state of mind. So, she pushes herself up and looks at him with a serious look. “Answer me Clay.”

“Yes, I have. Only once because I’m usually with women, who don’t want… this.” He gestures between them as Noelle rubs his thigh and grabs the lube. “Have you fucked Thomas before?” He watches her fingers rub together to warm up the lube as she starts lowering her fingers towards his entrance.

“Not Thomas, I’ve asked but he has never been into it. But… I have fucked a few people before and have been wanting to do it since. This strap is very special, not only does it go into you and make you feel good.” She bites her lip as she slips a finger into Clay who is nice and relaxed as well as extremely horny. “It also goes into me and makes me feel good.” She smirks as Clay takes a shaky breath as she starts moving her finger in and out of him.

“Fuck, really? That's uh- so hot!” It has been a few minutes and Noelle has added in another finger and is curling them to press into his prostate. She definitely knows what she is doing. Clay moves his hands under his thighs and grips them to pull them up higher. He hears Noelle curse under her breath and he whines, arching his back as she adds another.

“You’re doing so good for me baby, so amazing. I’m so proud of you.” Noelle watches as a flush appears in Clay’s chest and a sappy smile rushes onto his face. She moves her hips a bit so the dildo that is in her attached to the strap relieves her with some pleasure for a moment.

“Noelle.” Clay calls for her attention and she looks into his eyes and sees he is in another place. “Please, I need you.” She kisses his hip hiding her smiles and slides her fingers out of him, she grabs the lube again and pours it onto the dildo and spreads it over the plastic appendage. She smiled and happened to take a look at the clock.

“I think it’s time to call Thomas, is that okay?” Clay nods, she grabs her phone and was first going to just call him but decided that facetiming him would be more effective. She sets the ringing phone right next to them and teases Clay by tracing his entrance with the dildo. Thomas answers and she enters Clay, holding his hip and slowly pressing in, until Clay grabs her ass and pulls her in harder. He moans loud and Noelle joins him as she is also fucked.

She tries to talk to Thomas but his connection is too bad. So he hangs up and calls back with a normal call. She answers.

“Hi!” Noelle answers, out of breath and panting. “I was trying to facetime you to show you something beautiful but sadly we don’t have a good connection. Sad~.” Noelle purrs into Clay’s ear, which is also right next to the phone as she continues to slowly pull out and push in, groaning quietly herself.

“I- What are you doing? You have your sexy voice on!” She smiles and feels Clay wraps his arms around her and his legs as she starts moving fast, causing his moaning to get louder and squeezing her with every jolt of pleasure he feels from her grazing his prostate.

“Mm I’m doing Clay.” She smirks and nips at Clay's jaw. “You know what I meant right~ I’m doing Clay.” She hears fumbling on the line and knows Thomas is taking off his clothes. She whispers to Clay. “Let him hear how pretty you sound. Let him know you’re here.”

“T-Thomas! Ugh-ah I-I FUck.” Noelle would thrust in deeper or harder when he would try to speak and watch as his eye would roll back in his head. She herself was starting to feel herself getting closer to the edge and she knows Thomas doesn’t last long in bed. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck- FUCK!” Clay was gripping onto her anyplace he could, his back was starting to arch, his toes were curling on her back where his ankles were crossed.

“You sound so good, Clay.” Thomas was getting off to this by the sound of his voice and the random groans they could hear. Noelle taps Clay’s arm so he loosens them and takes him by surprise by pinning his biceps to the bed and starting to pound into him, hard and fast, but not too deep. Clay starts basically screaming, Noelle’s moans weren’t any quieter, both focused on their own orgasm’s getting cloers as Thomas listened and imagined what was happening.

Noelle and Clay start to sloppily make out as they get close, Noelle actually breaks first. As she is cuming she pounds into Clay, riding out her waves. Causing Clay to fall over the edge completely untouched and the hardest he has ever came.

Thomas muffled himself with his hand a few seconds after Clay. All of them panting, Noelle having collapsed onto Clay who is still out of it but is petting her hair.

“You two- are going to kill me.” Thomas huffs over the line, causing Noelle and Clay to smile. “What brought this on?” His phone call was becoming spotty and they don’t know if it was like that the whole time or if it was just starting.

“I was horny.” Noelle laughs a little as Thomas makes fun of her. “Your call is starting to break up, Doll.” Thomas said a glitchy goodbye after a while, staying with Clay as Noelle cleaned them up and made sure Clay was alright.

Noelle hasn’t been in this good of a mood in a while.

Leo and Clay knock on the door of Reg’s house, waiting patiently for their bestie to open the door. When Reg opens the door he is met with a rather uncomfortable looking Clay leaning against Leo who has the biggest shit eating grin on his face.

“Ummmm, did I miss something?” Leo’s grin gets even bigger as Clay turns red.

“Well-”

“Noelle fucked Clay so hard he can’t stand properly.” Leo cuts Clay off and receives a backhand to the stomach causing him to fold over a bit as he laughs. Reg can’t help but snort at them too. Walking, or limping, into the house the trio makes their way to the kitchen where a makeshift barber shop was set up.

“Okay so, Leo, you just want your head shaved right?” Leo nods and sits on the chair as he is scrolling through Finn and Logan’s joint tik tok account. Reg has noticed that's a coping mechanism for him when he isn’t around his boys. He can still see and feel the love from them even when they aren’t there.

Yes, Leo has somehow gotten the whole tiktok community to think he is homophobic… because he always duets their tiktoks in a way of making fun of them in a way they all know is just leo missing them, but some people don’t see it that way.

Like dueting their coming out video with him shoving popcorn in his mouth and then spitting it out when they kiss and acting disgusted and offended.

Leo lets Reg work on shaving his hair off while his eyes are closed and he just enjoys the chitter-chatter of his friends while his head becomes lighter physically and emotionally because his boys come back home tomorrow night.

They are coming back to him, willingly.

Leo is brought out of his meditative mindset when Reg pokes his head right above his left temple and says something that Leo misses.

“Huh?”

“You have a strawberry on your head.” Reg smiles at him and pokes his tattoo again.

“Oh yeah! I always forget I have that one until I shave my head again.” He smiles as he takes the mirror from Reg and looks at his hair and said tattoo. “I got it… in Georgia after I lost a bet. It’s my sweetest tattoo.” He hands the mirror back and Clay narrows his eyes at the chair from where he was leaning against the counter.

“Do I have to sit? Leo is taller than me and Eloise usually cuts my hair soooooo…. I vote he does it.” Clay sends them his usual blinding smile that convinces way too many people into giving him what he wants.

“Fine, but I can’t promise it will be good.”

“Thomas can always fix it.” The little smile that tugs at Clay’s lips is frankly adorable in Leo’s opinion. Leo has been with Clay through all his ‘relationships’ and no one has ever made Clay react like that.

He deserves to be this happy.

Leo gets to work on Clay’s hair, Clay usually gets the normal short on all sides and long on top. The top of his hair that he likes to have longer needs a trim though, so Leo lets Reg tell him what to do because they have been cutting their own hair since they were 12 because his parents said barbers and hairdressers were dirty.

Does Leo shave a bit too high in the back?

Maybe…

Does he tell Clay?

Nope! Because it’s kinda funny.

“What's the plan for your hair Reg? It looks nice long, honestly. 10/10 would smash. But, you said you had an idea but wouldn’t tell us.” Leo hops on the counter next to where Clay is leaning and causally bumps Clay a little. Making him catch himself and jolt a little from the soreness of his booty. Which again, bring on another smack to the stomach.

“I think.. I want a mullet.”

“The country lifestyle has really taken over you!” The two yeehaws high five and whoop a little.

“Non! I want a more, I don’t know, punkish maybe alternative style mullet? Does that make sense?” When the response is crickets Reg decides to pull of the photo of the man he saw with this hairstyle. “Make sense?”

“I think so, but your hair is curly and his isn’t so it isn’t going to look the same.”

“No shit Clay.”

“I was just saying!”

Reg smiles and rolls his eyes, Leo takes his phone. Looking closer at the picture he looks at Reg and then back at the picture.

“You can definitely pull this off. Let’s do it!” Setting the phone on the counter and hoping back off Leo pushes Reg down in the chair and gets to work. After cutting the first strand of hair he asks Clay to stand in front of Reg and hold the phone so he can look at the picture and work on the hair. Asking Reg how to do certain techniques.

Once the last cut is done, Leo once again looks at the picture and back at Reg.

“I think I did it…? I tried my best, dude.” Clay hands Reg the mirror. Holding the mirror up and looking at himself, Reg notices a few odd cuts but his hair is so curly that is styled right no one would notice. He feels this feeling, he doesn’t know what it is, but it fills his tummy and makes him feel like the person in the mirror is really him.

“I love it, I really really love it.” They stand and hug Leo, taking him off guard but Leo hugs back in the tight way he always does.

“I’m very happy I didn’t fuck it up. Also, point to me for making you happy enough to hug me.” They pull away and Reg can’t help but look at himself in the mirror again. He’s just waiting to look again and his hair is back to the military style cut he has had his whole life. It never does though.

“We should probably clean up, maybe we could sell our hair online and get some money.” Clay is looking into the closet where all the brooms are and pulling out three. “I would like to make it at least twenty more years before I keel over and if your brother sees this mess.. I give us two minutes after he gets home.” Tossing a broom at Leo, he does catch it, but accidentally hits the mirror out of Reg’s hand and it smashes to the ground. Loud enough to hear the mirror break.

Oh shit.

“Leo! That’s seven years of bad luck!” Leo rolls his eyes, Reg always talks about superstitions and Leo being the smart man he is. Doesn’t believe in them.

“Reg, that's not real. I have broken many mirrors and have never had bad luck.” He starts cleaning up the glass with said broom, he makes a pile of glass and hair. Going to grab a dust pan he just does his thing while he feels two sets of eyes on him. “What?”

“Leo, you literally have the worst luck.”

“No I don’t! Now get to cleaning maid boy!” Clay flips him off.

“I’m gonna turn on music as we clean like the children of god we are, after we should make food because I’m a hungry bitch.” Reg is tapping on his phone and turns on Monsters by All time Low, before grabbing his own ‘broom’ which is the only one left.. The little hand broom, so they are on their knees like Cinderella.

Leo walks into the apartment, it's empty, obviously. He sets his keys on the counter, automatically turning on some music from the same station he was listening to at Reg’s while they made dinner and cleaned up. He sits on the couch, scrolling through his phone for a bit, just mindlessly looking at things when he gets a text from his mom.

Text from: Mother Goose

8:27pm

Hi Merigold, I wanted to text you and tell you about how my check up went. I meant to do it a while ago but forgot when Peanut decided to try and eat my hair while I was grooming him. I was told I need to get another aid for my right ear because my hearing has deteriorated too much for me not to have one anymore. So now your mama is definitely going to start learning ASL, I think you should too.

8:29pm

Mama you know I don’t want to learn how to sign

8:29pm

But I’ll try for you

8:30pm

Thank you Goldie Locks! I need to go do my beauty routine before heading to bed! Peanut and I miss you baby.

Image.4457

Leo smiles at the picture of his mom sticking her tongue out in the same way Peanut is in the photo, he misses them a lot and it was really really hard the first week he was living here because he couldn’t take Peanut out and just escape the world.

But now he copes by letting Logan color in his back tattoo with scented markers as Finn lets him rest his head on his lap while he reads to them. Leo has learned that Logan shows his love in many different ways, but his favorite is drawing on the people he loves.

Connecting Finn’s shoulder freckles into shapes.

Coloring in Leo’s back piece.

Drawing a mustache on Sirius when he is asleep in random places.

He paints the Dumias’ kids nails and ‘tattoos’ them with a washable marker. Ever since they met Leo and Clay they have been interested in tattoo’s, having never seen Logan’s own tattoo.

Randomly drawing tiny smiley faces with an ink pen on his teammates.

Once he colored Dumo’s toes orange while he was sleeping on the couch while Celeste and the kids watched.

He writes little quotes on Celeste's left palm.

He can’t express his feelings with words, so he does with actions instead. Leo loves it, Logan has never colored the tattoo on his back in the same way more than once, and it always looks beautiful.

Fuck… He misses them. Then remembers the game is on live right now, so he turns it on to watch his boys play against Ravenclaw. He ends up falling asleep as Kuny gets interviewed in the locker room.

He will see them tomorrow.

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o'hara #james potter #thomas walker #Clayton Bruss #o'knutzy #o’knutzy #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast

[theratsareinspace]

Cigar Smoke and Metal-Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Check out the Masterlist for the complete fic!

Chapter 15

The Duke’s cart was dank and drafty. The warm stew helped, but as time went on, you grew colder and colder. Finding an old receipt and a pen, you decided to list out all the things you wanted to show Karl when you left. First on the list was taking him to Olive Garden. With his seemingly bottomless appetite for bread, you knew he would adore the never ending breadsticks. You also wanted to bring him to a midnight showing of a movie— indie movie theatres were always showing some horror movie or another at midnight to boost ticket sales. You knew you would hate it, but seeing the look on his face when he heard the screams and saw the gore on the giant screen would make it all worth it.

You stifled a cough as you tried to think of what to put next. There were so many things you’d love to show him, but your mind was growing strangely hazy. You began to feel weak, just as you had felt when you woke up from being plunged into the mold. You decided to put the list down, and just continue it in your head. He would love to go to an antique car show, especially looking at the cars with complex engines. You could imagine him geeking out over all the little contraptions and inner workings, none of which you understood. Maybe you’d save your money and buy him a old fixer-upper of a car; he’d probably have it up and running in no time. Maybe he’d take you on rides at sunset along winding roads, like you’ve seen couples in movies do. Eventually, your mind grew so hazy you were no longer able to think. You eventually fell into a dark, dreamless sleep.

“We’ve arrived back in the village. Everything seems well.” The Duke spoke, bringing you out of your sleep.

“Mmph… hm?” You sat up, your head spinning and your whole body tingling with weakness.

“The ladies Beneviento and Dimitrescu are waiting for you.”

Your brain was still foggy, but you understood his words.

Weird that Karl isn’t there, too…

You scooted to the edge of the carriage; the door opened to reveal the ladies. Donna was without her veil, clutching Angie tightly to her chest. Lady Dimitrescu was holding a bundle of cloth.

“Donna… what’s… what’s wrong?” You wheezed. “Where’s… where’s Karl?”

Donna only let out a small sob.

“We were successful in our mission, but…” Lady Dimitrescu grimaced. “Miranda managed to… my condolences.” She gently set the bundle of cloth in your lap, which looked strangely familiar.

No.

As your brain attempted to comprehend her words, you put a hand on top of the cloth.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Just like his heartbeat always sounds.

Or, sounded.

“… he… no… I…” you refused to believe them. “This is a joke. A cruel prank... Karl, if you’re…” you coughed. “If you’re listening, this isn’t… this isn’t funny… Karl…” you broke down into sobs, clutching the jacket to your chest. You felt arms wrap around you, but you didn’t know or care who it was. Your sobs turned into a violent coughing fit, and you were passed from one set of arms into another.

“Come, maiden. It isn’t good for your poor health to be out in this cold.” Lady Dimitrescu said. “You’ll be staying in the castle so Moreau can monitor you.”

“… Karl… my Karl…” you mumbled, not being able to think of anything else. Your eyes closed, and you faded into another dreamless sleep.

When you next awoke, you were in a comfortable bed in what you assumed was castle Dimitrescu. You were wrapped snugly in Heisenberg’s coat; his ticking heart was sitting on a nightstand. You couldn’t even look at it.

He can’t be gone. He just can’t. We had so many things left to do… He never even got to leave this place. I never got to show him everything I wanted to. I’ll never see his smile, or hear his laugh, or yell at him for smoking those stupid cigars, or working thirty six hours straight, or do anything with him ever again…

Hot tears began to flow down your cheeks. You tried to wipe them away, but you couldn’t move your arm. Now that you thought about it, you couldn’t really move at all. Black sludge was dripping from your eyes, nose, and mouth. You were bundled in blankets and jackets and Karl’s coat and yet you were freezing cold. Your vision grew hazy, and your eyelids grew droopy. You realized what Donna had meant when she said it would be dangerous to be in the village.

Miranda’s powers relied on the life forces of her victims. She probably used a lot of power, and therefore, life forces, in the battle.

In other words, the mold was killing you.

Karl, I’m on my way..

Your eyes closed.

Karl snapped awake, hyperventilating and wildly flailing. He looked around-- complete darkness surrounded him.

“Where am I… where am I???” He called into the darkness.

No one responded.

He looked down, and saw what looked like thousands of glowing figures sinking into the abyss below. He realized he was sinking as well, slowly picking up speed.

“No.” He mumbled, rapidly trying to swim upward. He didn’t even know what was up there; all he knew is that he did not want to go down there.

Suddenly, the top opened up, and light filled the void for an instant.

Another figure fell into the abyss;  it was slowly sinking towards him.

Karl struggled to swim up to the figure. His face paled when he saw who it was.

“Buttercup…” He mumbled, putting a hand on your cheek. You didn’t respond.

“No. I’m not dyin’, so you’re not dyin’ either. Come on.” He wrapped his arm around your waist and began rushing to the rapidly shrinking hole of light at the top of the void.

“We’re… gonna… make… it…” he grunted as he neared the top.

You slipped out of his arms, falling back into the void.

“Come on, bumblebee, you’re not making this easy…” He propelled himself back downward, grabbing your arm before you got too far. The light was shrinking away even faster than it was before.

“Come on… Come on, y/n, we gotta get outta here… we… we gotta…you gotta show me your world” he tightened his grip on your waist and reached towards the light. As soon as the tips of his fingers touched the light, everything surrounding them turned bright and brilliant.

Karl squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to the God he’d forsaken long ago that this worked, and if he didn’t live, at least you would.

You gasped as a cold breeze hit your face.

Was that a dream? Is he…

“KARL!” You shouted as you laid eyes on the unconscious figure next to you.

“Ugh… Buttercup?” He opened his eyes and slowly sat up. “We made it.”

“We did.” You said with a smile.

“You look good in my clothes, babydoll.”

“I know… do me a favor and never ever ever die on me again.”

“I’ll try my best, no promises, though…” He chuckled and cupped your cheek and kissed you, deep and passionate.

He pulled away after a moment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

“I don’t care, dummy. Just let me kiss you again.” You slammed your lips onto his, knocking you both to the ground, both totally and deeply in love with each other and not caring if anyone knew it.

Taglist: @xyinparadise @baphometwolf666 @lost-mother@arlotg

Please send me a message or drop a comment if you would like to be tagged!

#house heisnburg #house dimitrescu #re8 heisenberg #karl heisenberg #karl heisenburg #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x female reader #karl heisenberg x y/n #karl heisenberg x you #karlheisenberg #reader insert #resident evil #resident evil viii #resident evil 8 village #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #heisenberg #resident evil fanfic #fanfiction

[jaskierswolf]

The Grass is Greener Pt.1/3

Summary: Jaskier's mother is coming to stay and his garden is an absolute mess and his lawn mower has seen better days... luckily for him his ridiculously hot neighbour is there to lend a hand. 

Geraskier

CW: Shitty parents being shitty.

(Prompted by @alwenarin and based on this post by @infinite-mirrors)

________

Jaskier stared forlornly out at his garden. His mother was due to come over on her yearly visit and the next few days of his life were going to be hell. His mother was the sort to blast into his life like a fucking tornado, pull apart everything that he had built for himself and leave him broken, shattered into a thousand shards of glass. He wasn’t even sure why he still let her in, probably some childhood trauma that meant he was desperate to please her, to make her proud, but what did he know? He wasn’t a therapist, much to her displeasure. Anything would have been better in her eyes than a musician and occasional bartender.

He didn’t make much money. His band hadn’t taken off yet and only really had a small but dedicated following online that donated pocket money in exchange for small previews of new tracks or little poems that could be given to lovers or in greetings cards. Most of his rent was paid for in the tips he made at the bar. He was lucky to have the house at all really. He shared it with his housemates: Priscilla, his bandmate and ex, Essi, her younger sister, Valdo Marx, his former schoolmate, professional rival and absolutely twat face who lurked in his attic room and never really came out to talk to them, and last but not least, Regis, a kind scholarly type who had been living in the house before the other rooms had become available and most importantly made excellent homemade gin.

Said housemates had agreed to fuck off for the weekend so he could pretend that the house was his in a last ditched attempt win over his mother.

Of course, none of them had helped to tidy up before leaving and he’d spent the last twenty-four hours deep cleaning the house, and bolting the door to Regis’s bathroom shut. The gin in the bathtub wasn’t ready to bottle yet and he wasn’t exactly going to drain the tub of his elixir. He’d moved the furniture in his friend’s rooms around enough to make it look like they weren’t extra bedrooms, more… rooms that just happened to have beds in case he had company. Priscilla’s room now resembled a music room, Essi’s room had been turned into a makeshift study, Valdo’s he’d left a mess and claimed it was just an attic, and Regis’s room was sort of a library if you squinted hard enough.

That just left the garden.

“Bollocks!” He moaned.

None of them really cared much about the garden, apart from the box down the end which housed Regis’s herb garden for cooking. The rest of the garden a mess. The grass was practically a wild meadow filled with weeds. He quite liked it. He enjoyed looking at the dandelions, daisies and buttercups but his mother would have a fit.

Where was he even going to start?

Lawnmower. They must have one. He stumbled through his back door onto the patio and made his way to the shed that honestly barely lived up to its name. It was falling apart and leaked horrendously, but luckily inside was one rusty looking lawnmower.

“Bingo!” He grinned and pulled the mower out of the shed. It was heavier than it looked but luckily Jaskier was also stronger than he looked. Even so he wasn’t entirely how he was going to start the damn thing.

Perhaps Geralt would know…

Fuck.

Geralt.

Geralt had just adopted a newborn baby. Her name was Ciri. Most of the time Geralt just called her ‘Cub’ which Jaskier found to be incredibly endearing, a fact that had nothing to do with his teensy little crush on the mechanic.

He pulled up Geralt’s number in his phone. He’d been delighted when Geralt had given him his number, yes maybe it was because Jaskier kept turning up at Geralt’s doorstep after shifts at work because he’d forgotten his keys and none of his bastard housemates were answering the door and Geralt just happened to have a spare key, but the main thing is he had Geralt’s number.

After that they’d conversed a few times over text. Mostly if one of them was running to the shops and wanted to know if the other needed anything. Occasionally Geralt would text to ask Jaskier if he could watch Ciri for a short while if Geralt needed to leave the house. Once Geralt had even given him a lift to work because Jaskier’s bike had gotten a flat tire and he didn’t have enough time to walk all the way to the bar. So they weren’t exactly strangers but he wouldn’t really call them friends.

In fact Geralt was still listed as Hot Neighbour in his phone. He meant to change it, it was just that you couldn’t argue with the truth. Geralt was his hot neighbour.

 J —Hey Geralt! Is it ok if I mow my lawn? I don’t want to wake Ciri if she’s asleep. :)

He stared at his phone intently until about an eternity later, Geralt replied.

 G — The child must not be an obstacle.

Jaskier snorted as he read the response. He read it aloud a couple of times trying to mimic Geralt’s rough husky voice and managed to give himself the giggles.

His phone buzzed again.

 G — I can hear you laughing at me.

“Oh shit!” He almost dropped his phone and his cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Sorry Geralt!” He called into the air.

 G— Hmm.

Jaskier scoffed. Who text back “Hmm”? And why did Jaskier still find that so attractive?

But never mind that! He had the green light. Operation Finally Make His Mother Proud, or FMHMP for short, and yes you could absolutely say that if you tried hard enough, was go! He was going to mow the lawn like a proper adult!

He tried for about six years to turn the mower on but without any success. He kicked the lawnmower in frustration and the whole damned thing fell apart.

“Fuck it!” He yelled as he hopped about on his good foot that hadn’t been battered by lawnmower.

He sulked back into the house and flopped down dramatically on the sofa. It was over. His mother was going to hate him and he would die as a disgrace to the Pankratz name and the Lettenhove estate.

He was half way through his pity party when the doorbell rang. He grabbed his phone to check the time. Strange, his mother wasn’t due for another three hours.

“What the fuck?” He mused and padded over to the door. To his surprise Geralt was standing on his doorstep with Ciri tucked safely into a baby sling on his chest and behind him was a shiny lawnmower. “Ah. Geralt!” He grinned.

Geralt turned to the lawnmower and back to him. “Thought you might need some help.”

Jaskier blushed. “Right. Yes. Of course. Come on in!” He stood back to let Geralt through. “Oh, actually do you want to come round the side gate? The lawnmower probably shouldn’t come through the house. I’ve just cleaned up.”

Geralt grunted but followed Jaskier around the side of the house and into the back garden.

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” He grumbled when he saw the state of the lawn. “I thought you said you were mowing the lawn, not trying to find it!”

“Ah, yes, well. That is an excellent point.” Jaskier stammered, pulling at the hem of his shirt nervously. “You see my mother is visiting.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Your mother, how old are you? Twelve?”

Jaskier gaped at his neighbour. “Geralt!” He whined. “I’m twenty-nine! Mother is just a cow.”

“Hmm. Fine. Let’s do this.” Geralt pulled Ciri gently out of her sling and passed her to Jaskier. “Hold her. I need to grab her stuff. This will take longer than I thought.”

“Oh hang on!” Jaskier called after Geralt but it was too late and Ciri began to cry. “Umm. There there.” He cooed and rocked her gently. “Shall I sing you a lullaby, cub?”

She didn’t answer, babies rarely did, so he decided a lullaby would be fine and began to sing in hushed tones as he rocked her in his arms. Geralt wasn’t long but he seemed surprise to come back to Jaskier rocking his daughter to sleep in his arms.

“Hmm. She likes you.” Geralt noted.

He was carrying Ciri’s car seat and a bag was slung over his shoulder. In his other hand was a large electric contraption with some nasty blades at the end. He dumped the scary looking monster and placed the travel cot on the patio table. Once Ciri was safely asleep they got to work.

Or more accurately, Geralt got to work. Jaskier mostly just watched and made sure Geralt had all the refreshments he needed. He also kept the conversation going by listing all the grievances his mother had with him from her last visit, Geralt hummed and grunted but didn’t offer much in return but it didn’t matter. Jaskier was more than capable of holding an entire conversation by himself.

“And then she starts wittering on about how my sister has a perfect husband and a darling little angel.” Jaskier moaned. “So of course then it’s ‘Julian why don’t you have a wife?’”

“Julian?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier glared at his neighbour. “Don’t ever call me that, I beg of you.”

Geralt shrugged. “I won’t. Just asking.”

“And I tell her, for the hundredth time, to say partner or spouse or lover or you know… not gender specific because she knows! Geralt! She knows. I don’t know how many times I have to tell her.” Jaskier sighed. “Oh, umm I’m bisexual just to give you some context there.”

Geralt nodded. “Right.”

“So of course she starts complaining that I always have to make everything gay, and I’m like… ‘Mother, I am gay!’” Jaskier announced with wide arms.

Geralt looked up at him, pausing halfway down the lawn that was now starting to resemble a lawn. “So why not tell her you’re seeing someone?” He asked. “Solve both problems if you say it’s a guy.”

Jaskier put his hands on his hips and tilted his head. “Yeah.” He scoffed. “Until she asks to meet him.”

Geralt shrugged. “I could do it.”

Jaskier’s heart jumped in his chest. “You what? Geralt!”

“My ex has been bothering me about finding someone.” He grumbled. “Two birds, One stone.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at his insanely hot neighbour who was now apparently suggesting they… fake date??

“What exactly are you suggesting here?” Jaskier asked slowly. “You pretend to be my boyfriend for my mother’s visit and we what? Send a few photos to your ex to prove you’re moving on?”

Geralt smirked. “As long as you promise not to fall in love with me.”

Jaskier’s jaw dropped.

Well fuck. _______

Next

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt/jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri #dad geralt #surprise fake dating #I could be persuaded to write a second part #let me know if you want part 2 #Update there will now be three parts #ask and you shall receive #the grass is greener

[moun]

fkbu really need some more love if you agree. though i'm new here if you dont mind. will you write me a hc or a fic where daisuke's s/o feel lonely and unlove because he's always out for mission. and someday she follow him and suddenly see daisuke in danger and protect him like shielding him or something? By the way thank you so much. Have a great day, Buttercup! 💞💞💞 -🍰

You are so nice! And honestly I agree that fkbu deserves more love it’s a really good show with good characters. Anyway onto the short fic (or well I wrote it in more of a headcanon style because that’s what I’m best at).

Warning: a gun, cursing, fatal injury

With daisuke becoming a detective a couple months ago you’ve had a lot of time to yourself. Though at first you liked it and got a lot done now it’s lonely. With suzue working and you don’t want to disturb her because she’s probably busy. Then daisuke your boyfriend at work.

You don’t want to stop him from doing something that he seems to enjoy but, you also feel really... abandoned, unloved, alone, and just over all fairly touch starved.

So one day when you have the day off and are lounging on the couch and idea hits you. You’ve had this idea multiple times but didn’t do it of fear of getting caught or the plan failing and you never find him. You got the idea to follow daisuke. A crazy idea it seems at first... and you may be correct but you could play it off as you wanted to see where he works and surprise him.

Now you’ve never actually been to the office/ headquarters where he works so you’d need to know the location of his HEUSC. Which is fairly simple you could acsess that on your phone.

So you told suzue that you were leaving and then got in the car and head to your unknown destination.

As you got closer to the destination you thought was the detective agency when you saw cars unmoving and people rushing to get out of them as you heard gunfire. Among those cars was daisukes. Though no one got out. ‘For fuck sake daisuke’ you thought.

You got out of your car and made way to the area with caution. The sight you were met with was horrifying. A woman was pointing a gun at daisuke while he tried to negotiate with the woman probably offering money to her.

It looked as if she was loosing her patience with daisuke. And also as if she was about to pull the trigger. Without thinking you ran in front of daisuke and heard a gunshot.

You felt pain in your left arm and clutched the area just above your elbow. “Y/n?!?!” You heard but not from daisuke. Haru was there too and once he heard the gunshot he rushed over. Daisuke stood in shock but quickly rushed over to you.

The woman they were supposed to apprehend ran away as soon as possible. You could feel tears running down your face from the pain. Your legs grew weak as they felt like they were holding up a much heavier body and you wanted to collapse. You could feel yourself doing so. As if on cue daisuke picks you up bridal style and runs you to his car.

You feel yourself drifting off from the loss of blood. And as you do you feel daisuke take ahold of your hand and squeeze it.

You awoke in a hospital bed with daisuke and haru waiting by your side. Or well daisuke was pacing the room while haru told him to clam down and take a breather. You felt a pain in your left arm where you got shot and let out a hiss of pain.

Daisuke immediately stopped and turned to you. Haru quickly whirled his head in your direction. Haru could see the tension in the air and excised himself after saying that he’d glad to see you’re ok.

You could see both the fear, anger, and guilt in daisuke’s normally calm eyes. When you thought he was gonna get mad at you all he did was hug you softly. As if he held you any tighter you would break into a million pieces.

“I’m glad you’re ok” he said softly into your ear. Now you were the one feeling guilty you never should’ve gone out and done that. Though daisuke reassured you while also saying that you should stay at home for a while.

A/n: ok honestly that went from 0-100 real quick. Sorry if it’s not very good I’m still fairly new to writing fan fic so writing it in more of a headcanon style works a bit better for me at the moment.

#headcanons #fkbu x reader #fkbu headcanons #fkbu haru #fkbu daisuke #daisuke headcanons #daisuke kanbe headcanons #daisuke x reader #fugou keiji daisuke #balance unlimited daisuke #request ask