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spenciegoob · 3 years

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Who Needs Luck?

A/N: hi! I solely wrote this because of my 3 recent visits to NY (no, I sadly did not meet mgg)... plus i’ve been going there my whole life.. this is becoming the longest authors note, but as i’m writing I just want to say the people who work at food trucks in nyc are the nicest people ever, ask them about their day (AND TIP OMG PLS)

Summary: Reader invites Spencer to go to New York City with her where he finally sees the beauty right in front of him.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff!

Content Warnings: reader can’t drive very well (I apologize if this is a callout post), slight road rage, language

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4K

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I never considered myself a lucky man. Life had proven time and time again that no matter how many four leaf clovers I set out to search for, how many pennies on the ground faced heads up I stumbled across, luck was never on my side. I’ve learned to live with it, accepted my fate as the world’s smartest punching bag long before I was even in college.

But then I met her, and as cheesy as it sounds, I didn’t need luck that morning.

The second I woke up, the universe seemed to have it out for me specifically. I swung my legs over my bed, and in my half asleep daze stepped on my glasses, successfully breaking them. Unable to see on my short trip to the bathroom, I stubbed my toe… twice. Once I finally finished my morning routine more methodically, I walked out of my apartment only to bump into a stranger, sending the coffee she was holding all the both of us.

I had tried to apologize so many times, cutting my words short when they didn’t feel right. I had gotten through a series of “I’m, uh, oh, I, you,” before her smile interrupted my thought process, leaving me awestruck instead.

“That’s okay, but you owe me a coffee now.” She giggled, actually giggled, even with the scorching liquid causing her shirt to stick to her body. “Maybe… together?”

I didn’t hesitate to agree, taking her up on the offer that weekend and never looking back. Even when a loud crash, followed by a quiet, harsh ‘shit’ woke me up in a startle, there was no regret. Maybe just a little concern for my girlfriend who now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, can be seen holding her knee on the floor of our bedroom.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered out, grabbing onto the dresser to stand straight again. Once she was on her feet, she came over to sit on the edge of our bed, immediately running her fingers through my hair. If I wasn’t so worried about her knee, I probably would’ve fell asleep again.

“Are you okay?” She giggled at my scratchy morning voice before nodding her head. It’s then I realized how the sun hasn’t even begun to rise, the room still pitchblack. “What are you doing up?”

“Getting ready to go to the city, sleepyhead,” she said as if it was the most obvious answer, but truthfully, it left me with more questions.

“At... 5 am?” I sat up, glancing at the alarm clock three times just to make sure I was reading it right. She may have always been a little strange, but usually at a reasonable hour.

At this, she stood up to continue getting ready for the very early morning. Now I notice why she fell, the piles of clothes leading to the closet had to have at least half of her outfits compiled together.

“Well, yeah. I want to get there before noon.” Even in my perplexed state, I rose from the bed and carefully tiptoed around haphazardly thrown clothes to reach her.

While wrapping my arms around her waist still hidden under my t-shirt, I questioned. “It’s right outside? You have 7 hours.”

She turned to look at me funny as if I wasn’t the one digging through clothes and waking up before dawn to walk literally 5 minutes to my desired location. My eyebrows must have subconsciously furrowed at one point, because she brought her hand up to stroke her thumb on my forehead. Immediately, I felt the tension melt, no longer caring to correct my confusion. She still did it anyway.

“Not DC, silly. New York!” I wish it were untrue, but my heart dropped at her words. She was leaving, going to a city I wasn’t familiar with beyond reading about, solving cases, and memorizing subway maps. Is this how she feels every time I board that jet?

“W-what? You’re just going to New York City?” I inwardly cringed at how desperate and sad I sounded, but I really didn’t want her to leave.

“Mhm,” she mumbled, turning back around to return digging in her closet.

“For how long?” Please change your mind. Please change your mind. Please change you-

Realizing that I was fully awake, she let out a boisterous laugh, allowing the way it bounced off our four little walls to return back to us. It was a sound most treasured. “I was hoping to get back around 9.”

“What?” I leaned back to look at her like she was absolutely preposterous. I mean, she was!

“Roadtrip!”

That’s how I found myself in the passenger seat of her car, no coffee in my hand because I wasn’t allowed until I have “a real cup of coffee.” Whatever the hell that means better happen soon, because as much as I loved watching the way she concentrates on the road in front of her, my eyes were starting to droop.

“It’s going to be another 4 hours. You can sleep, my love.” How she knew me so well, I will never be able to figure out, but I was out before we even made it across state borders.

That however, didn’t last very long. My girlfriend may be short and sweet, but behind the wheel? That’s a different story. The horn to her car is a very familiar sound when I’m jolted awake by a sudden stop.

“Really, asshole? Go!” She yelled, slamming her hand against the top of the steering wheel before looking over at me. “Hey, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to wake you yet. I forgot how awful drivers are here.”

“Where is here exactly?” I questioned, sitting up from my slouched position to find cars practically on top of each other on a road not wide enough for two lanes.

“New Jersey. We’re 10 minutes away.” Wow, I didn’t realize I slept for that long, and I have to admit I’m a little surprised I wasn’t woken up sooner.

“How are we 10 minutes away? It’s at least another 30 to get to the tunnel.” Looking at our surroundings didn’t help me determine our exact location. To the left of us, there were dozens of graffiti murals on the side of what I assumed was another elevated highway. To the right, sidestreets with local businesses ranging from auto repair shops to fast food joints to gyms.

“Nuh uh, stop analyzing mister. You’ll know when we get there.” She waved a finger in my directions, putting a pin in my scrutinization. I pouted right back, successfully playing along to the theme of her scolding me like a 5 year old.

“I don’t like surprises you know.” It was the truth, but her contagious laughter that filled the car made me slightly less disinclined to stop asking questions.

“Oh I know, but trust me, you’ll like this one.” She went to go reach over to grab my hand from where it was resting in my lap, but stopped short and retracted in favor of slamming the horn. “Oh, come on!”

***

“So you drove to a train station... in New Jersey?” I asked while she was… attempting to park the car.

“Well, yeah. I’ve been taking this route since I was a little girl.” Once she finally figured out how to evenly space a two door convertible in a very spacious parking spot, she unbuckled her seatbelt, and was quick to grab her bag from the backseat. “Well, come on mister, we’re going to miss the train.”

To be quite honest, I have never been so lost in my life. I could probably pinpoint our exact location on a map if I wanted to, granted I was given any sort of information, but part of me didn’t want to. Scratch that, all of me didn’t want to, because my entire life has been planned out in front of me before, but right now, I get to be spontaneous with the most beautiful girl on the planet.

“Don’t let go of my hand,” she told me, lacing our fingers together and pulling me forward. “Don’t stop to look around, you will get pushed.”

We made it inside, and if I thought the DC transit system was bustling with people constantly, this place was so much worse. There were hallways left and right, all packed with people in a rush. It seems everybody had some place to be and zero time to get there.

“Upstairs.” We walked up two flights before reaching a platform, buying our tickets and making it just in time for a train to arrive. “I know they come every 8 minutes, but thank god we made this one,” she said as she sat down.

The cart we were in wasn’t too crowded, and once I finally found a map on the wall across from us, I saw that it was a direct ride to the World Trade Center.

“You said you took this train when you were little?”

“Yeah, I went to the city a lot as a kid. This was the easiest, and the cheapest way there.” A small smile played at her lips, obviously the product of some childhood memory. “I used to hop it.”

“Of course you did,” I laughed back with her, thinking about how an innocent looking child would be the first person to get away with sneaking onto the train.

***

“I said it before, I will say it again. Do not let go of my hand.” This time it was more stern, and if I were being honest, I would say that it got me the slightest bit nervous. She must have noticed, she always does, because she continued. “Don’t worry, it just gets congested and I don’t want to lose you.”

She was right about that, it indeed was very congested, but that was okay because she was holding my hand, and I would follow her just about anywhere if it meant she kept looking over her shoulder and smiling when she saw me. Once we made it across the way, and in front of heavy looking glass doors, she turned to me and started walking backwards.

“You okay? This is definitely not off to a great start.” She was wrong, it was off to a perfect start.

“Yeah, I’m okay, but you might want to watch where you’re going,” I said before her back hit the door.

“Please I can get here with my eyes closed.” And then we were outside, and all 5 of my senses were hit immediately. The sun was shining down on us, and before I could complain about not bringing my sunglasses, she handed them to me. My heart fluttered at the innocent act, taking the sunglasses with such gratitude even though she had already moved on to retrieve hers. “Do you smell that?” She asked.

“There are a lot of answers to that question,” I told her, not knowing if she was talking about the smell of the construction happening at the corner, the permanent garbage smell or something entirely different.

“The hotdogs, silly. Come on, there’s nothing like ‘em.” This time, I laced our fingers together, not because I was scared of losing her, I was, but I just really wanted to be closer to her. She didn’t mind, in fact, she let out a content hum and leaned her head on my arm as we walked to the stand.

“Can I get four hotdogs with sauerkraut and two grape sodas,” she asked the vendor, who politely nodded before moving on to prepare our food.

“You’re going to have a heart attack by 35,” I said as I nudged her with my shoulder. She gave me a small push back before answering.

“Is that a doctor’s diagnosis?” She asked as she took our now ready food into her hands, after paying the man before I even had time to blink. I just grabbed the two cans of soda and followed her where she was making a beeline for a park bench. “Watch out for skaters.”

“Yes, it is indeed a doctor's diagnosis.” I unwrapped one of the hotdogs before taking a bite. I closed my eyes and let out a content hum. “It may be a little worth it.”

“Exactly.” We sat there quietly, enjoying the warm weather and sounds of wheels against pavement. At one point, she rested her head against my shoulder, and I am convinced wherever she went would be Heaven.

***

“Are your eyes closed?” We found ourselves with both our hands interlocked, my eyes closed while she walked backwards. I gave an ‘mhm’ before she continued. “We’re here, just keep them closed, and…” her words trailed off. “Okay open.”

I opened my eyes to her holding her arms out in the middle of the largest bookstore I’ve ever seen. “Surprise!” My eyes were bouncing everywhere. It wasn’t too crowded, the large stairwell across the store catching my eye first. There were bookshelves tens of feet high, all loaded with different genres and authors. To the right of us, tiny knick knacks and pins and socks. It was beautiful.

“Wow,” I whispered out, still stuck in my place admiring our surroundings. She was beaming up at me, a hint of pride at her successfulness to drag me 6 hours away to the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.

“The Strand has always been my favorite place in the city. Come on, let’s go explore.” She grabbed my hands again, pulling me deeper into the store towards a shelf labeled adult fiction.

***

Six books, three pairs of socks and a postcard later, we were back on the busy streets of New York, aimlessly walking and admiring the tall buildings and different attractions. Well she was, I was admiring the way she was looking around like it was her first time here. Maybe I should have been paying more attention to our surroundings, but no amount of skyscrapers or fountains could possibly ever match up to her level of beauty.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” I asked randomly, startling her into jumping a tiny bit before giggling. She stopped us, turning to face me fully before reaching up to grab my face in her hands.

“Once or twice.” The kiss we shared on the New York streets were no different than the ones before, but this time, it felt like a silent promise. A passing between two lovers that no matter where we are, our love is the most beautiful thing there is. “I love you too, dork.”

___

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kindness-ricochets · 3 years

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ur thoughts on wylan and kaz? as characters or ur general hc's for them together after soc or anything else. just ur general thoughts on these characters in tandem.

In writing my response, I rambled for a bit and may and may not have actually answered your question... so while I hope this interests you and is what you meant, feel free to drop a line if I completely missed the mark!

They’re perfect opposites—by which I mean entirely different in all the ways they’re the same.

Wylan and Kaz share an almost absolute emptiness of coherent thought regarding themselves, Wylan emotionally and Kaz physically. Kaz always pushes himself too hard, he never sleeps, he’s basically made of coffee and spite. Wylan can overlook any level of mistreatment because he is so thoroughly conditioned to it, except that he genuinely believes this can be a form of love.

As a result, both deal with grievous personal wrongs using a loved one as a proxy.

Kaz has every reason to hate Pekka Rollins as the architect of his trauma and sometimes he does acknowledge this. He’ll have lines about Pekka taking everything from him. That he “had a lot of things”. It’s about Jordie, always. Avenging Jordie’s death is a perfectly valid motivator, but Kaz takes it to an extreme degree. (This is an interesting contrast between him and Inej, too. Inej recognizes that what was done to her was wrong; though deeply traumatized by it, she is able to recognize that she was mistreated, that she can seek revenge for herself and others like her.)

Wylan has every reason to hate his father. But he doesn’t. Not only doesn’t he, he blames himself every time. Jan wanted a real son, a proper heir, it’s Wylan’s fault; who else would love him enough to be honest with him? It’s only when he learns about Marya that Wylan can begin to process what his father truly is. Eight years of abuse culminating in attempted murder and public humiliation is one thing… not at all intended to downplay the horror of Marya’s situation, not at all! Just that it’s the only way Wylan is able to begin to process his feelings toward his father.

Maybe as an aspect of this, maybe as a coincidence to it, both are very conscious of the people are them—it’s just that Kaz’s consciousness is ruthlessly pragmatic while Wylan’s is sweet. Kaz is always aware of every player, how to use them, and how to manipulate them. Wylan is concerned—about Jesper losing his guns, about Nina catching cold in her skimpy outfit, about Alys who was sweet and silly and meant no harm to anyone. A perfect example is their conversation about Jesper.

[“]Who knows? Jesper may even win his revolvers back.” “I hope so,” said Wylan as they hopped onto a browboat crowded with tourists and headed south down the Stave. “You would.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Someone like Jesper wins two hands and starts to call it a streak. Eventually he loses, and that just leaves him hungrier for the next run of good luck. The house relies on it.” Then why make him walk into a gambling den?

Both have a personal connection to Jesper; Kaz does his closest approximation to loving him as a brother, while Wylan’s little crush is starting to feel like maybe something more. And they have opposite approaches to his addiction. Kaz uses it. Ruthlessly. (Granted, this is Kaz at his lowest, but it’s not especially different from how he treated Jesper in the beginning of Six of Crows.) Wylan wants to acknowledge his problem and help him avoid his addiction. He doesn’t want Jesper to have to suffer the loss of something important to him. This also shows in how Wylan and Kaz think about each other. Near the end of Six of Crows, Kaz essentially thinks that he doesn’t care about Wylan’s dyslexia because Wylan has other talents, other uses. Wylan thinks near the middle of Crooked Kingdom that he knows Kaz had other motives, but he still helped Wylan a lot, and is a friend. Kaz’s evaluations are weighed by use, Wylan’s by emotional impact.

Now I’m going to get nerdy. Even more so. When I did developmental psychology, my favorite was always Erikson, who essentially broke human development into stages of crisis and resolution. The 4th is “industry vs. inferiority”—basically, competence. And they resolve to extreme opposite ends of the spectrum. Kaz is industrious, competent and capable, determined from the moment he was reborn in that canal. He doesn’t stop. He makes plans and acts on them. Wylan feels inferior, and often struggles—even with things he knows how to do, he needs to be told to do them, or can’t quite put two and two together about the situation around him. (The fact that Wylan’s crisis comes to a more positive resolution, that he begins to develop competence, throughout Crooked Kingdom is… frankly, wonderful. Wylan wasn’t inherently bad at things. He just didn’t have support to grow.)

These opposite resolutions also relate to where they fall on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Kaz is left without the most basic things, physiological and safety needs, things like food, water, and shelter. He has to adapt and he has to adapt fast—because he’s alone. And if he’s going to survive, if he’s going to see Jordie given justice, he needs to get to work. Wylan has those needs met, placing him at the point of psychological needs—belongingness, love, esteem. Jan took care of Wylan’s basic needs, but dealt him blow after blow toward his psychological needs through isolation and emotional abuse. This highlights another difference: Kaz’s damage wasn’t dealt by someone who hated him. Pekka was just indifferent. The Barrel was full of lost children who would take a mouthful of bread from a weaker boy because they needed it to survive. It was indifference, for Kaz. But for Wylan, it was at best disdain, at worst hatred.

This sets them apart from the other Crows. Inej was 14 when she was taken by slavers. Jesper was around 16 when he was sent to Ketterdam for university. Nina was 16 or 17 when the Fjerdans took her captive. Matthias was I think 11 when he lost his family, which places him just on the cusp of two of Erikson’s stages, but the relevant resolution is to the fifth stage of identity vs. confusion—basically, “Who am I, and who can I become?” Those four developed competence in a more or less healthy way (purely in terms of competence since two were basically child soldiers, but still). Whereas Kaz overcompensates with relentlessness and Wylan freezes up. Both have this sort of jagged place inside them at exactly that point, that the others simply don’t have.

To me, this explains why Kaz and Wylan have the weakest balance between personal and professional lives. Kaz is always plotting, scheming. He has to learn to take a break from the monster and be the man. Wylan is locked up in his own mind. In his first narrated chapter, his first narrated page, he tells us that he feels out of place and doesn’t even know where to put his hands to look normal. Kaz is ready to take over the world while Wylan just wants to exist in his own little corner of it.

#six of crows #kaz brekker #wylan van eck

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hunnyuwu · 4 years

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My Baby Don’t Like It || NCT Jaehyun+Mark [part I]

Premise: What went wrong along the way? After everything we had been through, you still chose to leave me?

Pairings : Dad! Jaehyun x fem! reader x Friend! Mark

WC: 2.1 K

Warnings: explicit language, some extreme fluff

Part I || Part II || Part III

"Hey baby! How are you today?" You were crouched down on your knees, shooting a silly smile as the most adorable four year old in the world ran straight into your outstretched arms, worming his way into the crevasse of your neck. You cooed into the kid’s ear, happy to see the boy happy and healthy. He withdrew from his squirmy snuggles to plant his tiny, moist lips on your soft cheek as his little greeting to his beloved Noona.

"I'm happy to see you, Noona!" A smile lit up his round, chubby features before he nuzzled back into the crevasse of your neck. You rubbed the top of his head a few times, messing up his short black locks, before getting up so that you were finally standing at your own height.

"Thanks for looking after him today, Y/N."

Your heart beat slowed down to a steady, rhythmic pace immediately. The slow, heavy thrumming taunted you as it rattled in your within the hollow shells of your ears. You interlocked hands with the small boy beside you before lifting your chin to see the person before you.

A gentle smile blossomed over your lips, a wave of calm washing over your body as you examined the familiar face before you, "Of course, Jaehyun."

"Remember Y/N, I changed my name." Jaehyun gave you a teasing jab, a dumb grin occupying his eyes. You flinched a little backwards, knives stabbing your poor heart as memories flashed at the forefront of your mind.

‘Yeah, but you changed it for her.’

"A-Ah, right! Sorry, have a good day, Yoon-Oh."

You released a breath that were holding for a little while as you saw Jaehyun hop into the driver's seat of an extremely expensive, luxury car. The flashy woman in the passenger seat threw an overstated air kiss to the little boy beside you, glancing your way soon after. A scowl replaced the smile you were holding onto desperately as she simply smirked with triumph. Your free hand curled into a tight fist as you watched the car whiz away, to the point that your knuckles turned white and your nails threatened to puncture the flesh of your palm.

She removed Jaehyun from your life,

And he allowed it to happen.

You and Jaehyun had known one another since primary school. On a bitter, cold day in the autumn of your second year, Jaehyun nervously approached your lunch table to ask if he could sit with your group, which you guys obviously said yes. While the friends you had in that group all eventually slipped away from your life through your years of schooling, Jaehyun and you had managed to maintain a close friendship. The close bond and chemistry the two of you had was undeniable to the public and private eye. Everyone thought the two of you would eventually get married, which you didn't mind them thinking in the slightest. Jaehyun had always thought the same too, even though there was no official romance. Just adoring looks, sweet gestures, lovely memories, and tense atmospheres.

In university, you finally confirmed your feelings for him, ready for that next step with him. You finally realized that he was your destiny, and you thought you were his as well.

Next thing you knew, Jaehyun found a girl from his economics class and the rest is history. They had an accidental child early on in their whirlwind romance, the one you were currently watching playing with stackable plastic blocks. Anger boiled your blood... you still loved Jaehyun to the depths of your heart, to the point that you regularly questioned whether you would ever be able to move on, but you couldn't understand how dense he was when it came to his girlfriend: Jimin.

Jimin wasn't your average, plain Jane college gal. She was simply receiving a business degree for the sake of having the piece of paper that she didn’t even work for. Jimin had her daddy's money and company waiting for her once she deemed herself ready for the role. When Jimin set her eyes on Jaehyun the very first class of economics, it was game over for anything between you two. Jimin made it her mission to claim Jaehyun as her own personal property, in other words her personal boy toy, basically making it her life’s mission to rid of you in his life. Or as she specifically explain it, 'spending quality time with boyfie while they were young.' You saw through her sugary sweet act from the moment you laid eyes on her when Jaehyun introduced the two fo you.

She was a brat, a snob, a snake, and any description with negative connotation that you could think of. You hissed as you remembered that the woman even convinced him that 'Yoon-Oh' was a more handsome name than Jaehyun. ‘How could he be so under her spell to not see the sort of shit she puts him through?’ You wondered.

‘The least she could be is a sweet, decent person to make Jaehyun happy in life.’

That would have satisfied you, but in the end, you knew that people never really get what they want. You were left high and dry while a snobby rich whisked Jaehyun away like he was never there to begin with. And the fact that the woman barely paid any attention to her child made you absolutely sick to your stomach. Hot tears pricked at your eyes as you watched the innocent boy giggle as he was currently in the midst of building a little block boat.

‘Taking random selfies with your extremely adorable child for your dumb Instagram page does NOT count as parenting, Jimin.’

As you reminisced on all of the times that you had to deal with Jimin's endless childishness and her possessiveness over Jaehyun, you felt a little tug at your sleeve. You smiled tearily as you saw one thing that significantly brightened up your bleak life.

"Noona?"

"Yes, Baby?"

"Why do you look so sad today?"

Your heart constricted like someone was squeezing it tightly, already feeling regret as you had been too absorbed in your own thoughts to give him your full attention. You didn't have an early education degree for nothing.

"Ah, just little things, Baby. Don't worry about it."

"But I don't want Noona to be sad! We should get you ice cream like you do when I get a boo boo!" Jaehyun's son, Jeno, happily suggested, probably just wanting to eat some ice cream himself. You were put into a bout of laughter as you lovingly looked at Jeno get up to 'go get you some ice cream to fix your inside boo boo.'

You complied as you simply couldn't ever say no to the precious boy, so you were on your way out to the local grocery store near your house, which you hadn't gone to in awhile. You peered down to the eye smile prince himself who was happily skipping alongside you, his tiny hand wrapped around the middle three fingers of your hand, a gesture that you you screaming in an internal maternal mess.

Jimin and Jaehyun have been so neglecting of this poor child lately, always going out on day long dates and luxurious overseas trips, obviously as per Jimin's request.

You had to say, you were extremely disappointed at Jaehyun for forgetting his caring, sweet roots. The child you were currently leading into a small grocery store was basically your own, you were more of a mother to him than Jimin could ever be.

"Hey, Y/N!"

You looked around to see who called out your name when you spotted a familiar face, causing you to stumble back with pleasant surprise.

"Oh hey, Mark! I didn't know you worked here! Master's degree yet?" You led little Jeno over to the cash register to greet him, gushing over seeing the adorable guy once again. You knew Mark when you were a senior in college, him being a spry sophomore at the time. While he was a music major and you were an early education major, you two fatefully ended up in the same science requirement classes, leading to a beautiful, supportive relationship to blossom between the two of you. You hadn't been able to see him as of late as you were busy with your job.

"Yeah, I’m here part time. Needed some money so I can pay off my college debt as I'm looking for a gig at the moment. But anyways, uhhh, y-you look beautiful as ever, Y/N. Is he your child?" You blushed at his compliment while looking down at little Jeno who Mark was gesturing to gently. Jeno was shooting Mark a suspicious glare causing you to giggle as you dropped a hand to pat his head.

"No, this is Jeno, Jaehyun's son. I regularly babysit him."

Mark gave you a confused look, something wasn't adding up for him.

"You and Jaehyun aren't together?"

You were taken aback at his lack of knowledge. You even told him about Jaehyun's girlfriend a long time ago, but it seems like he didn't remember. Besides, you and Jaehyun were very, very not together.

As you were about to explain, Jeno took the spotlight.

"Daddy should date my Noona! She's a lot better-"

"Shh, you shouldn't say stuff like that, Jeno." You cooed to comfort the pouting kid as you hoisted him up onto your waist to rock him a little. He was getting a little heavy for this, but you didn't mind throwing your back out for him.

Mark laughed to himself, throwing a loving gaze your way as you and Jeno bickered for a little. His insides turned to goop as he fell down the tempting rabbit hole once again.

"Well, if you're not with anyone right now... c-could I ask to maybe take you out on a date sometime?"

You abruptly paused your conversation with Jeno to whip your head to the blushing male. A little blush to match his crept up to your cheeks as you reeled over what he just said in your mind like a broken cassette.

"You want to... go out with me?" You whispered with a tilt of your head, needing a firm confirmation from him before you let your mind start playing tricks on itself.

"Yeah, if that's fine with you." Mark restated, biting down on his bottom lip as he awaited your answer.

Thoughts of Jaehyun’s beautiful, warm smile plagued your mind like a disease; you were still very much in love with him. Even if his actions gave you a whole list as to why you should give his ass up in a heartbeat.

You looked back into Mark's eyes, finally making up your mind.

"I'd love to, Mark."

"Really?" He choked out, already expecting a rejection coming his way. You were oblivious to it, but Mark had the largest crush on you ever since you became partners for your science class. Whenever he even thought of asking you out, he remembered how close you were to Jaehyun, so he always chickened out.

This was finally his chance.

"Yeah, of course I would." You said sheepishly.

"But what about Daddy?"

You looked back to Jeno who was inches away from your face with round, glassy eyes. You sighed as you gave his cheek a quick little peck.

"Your Daddy is happy with your Mommy, Jeno. Don't worry, you will always be the number one man in my heart, okay? We will have a bunch more playdates!"

Mark watched as you comforted Jeno, feeling his heart thump violently against his ribcage. He knew you were the one for him, and he truly pitied Jaehyun, for he couldn't even see the true beauty that was sitting in front of him for so many years. Mark prayed above, thoroughly thanking fate to bring you to him today.

"Excuse me, but are you checking out right now?" An elderly woman appeared behind you with a harsh glare, a sharp tongue to match her tapping foot. You bowed quickly, not too much so that Jeno wouldn’t fall off, muttering small apologies as you moved out of the way.

"You better give me a discount for the ice cream, Mark!" You yelled as you walked away with Jeno over to the ice cream freezer. Mark gave you a cute little smile before diving back into scanning the items that that woman gave to him. Though it has been hard in your journey to give up on Jaehyun, there may be just as amazing men that would be better for you out there. You sighed out happily, maybe things were going to improve for you in the future.

~~~

Part I || Part II || Part III

This mini fic is the result of when I learned that Jaehyun said he would have basically been a teenage dad if he wasn't an idol 👁👄👁

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years

Text

“Forget what I said,

It’s not what I meant

And I can’t take it back

I can’t unpack the baggage you left.”

- Falling, Harry Styles

A/N: the long anticipated third installment of “that angsty threesome story.” this shit hurted y’all. that’s all i’m gonna say. hope you enjoy :)

Sharing Isn’t Always Caring masterlist

word count: 13k

content: A N G S T, drunk sad!harry, melancholic relationship flashbacks, and Niall being an amazing friend. oh and lots of pining pain

preview:

“Y/N, I am so sorry.”

He really didn’t know what to expect on her part but he was willing to take anything she deemed fit. Screaming, yelling, cursing— anything. Anything was better than the suffocating silence that had been hanging over his head for what had felt like eons.

What he didn’t expect was the energy he received in response. It wasn’t brutal or enraged or bitter, it was just…hollow. It was tired and defeated, as if she’d spent hours combing through her feelings to the point of surrendered exhaustion. She held no spite or resentment, just a tone of flatlined renunciation and honest common sense.

“I know.”

The answer was curt and calm and for some reason, it packed a harder punch than anything he could’ve imagined. He would have rathered she tell him off and shout in his face and even slam things; at least then he would know she was still sorting through the ordeal and trying to come up with a resolution.

But this was way more difficult to stomach. If she had no screaming or crying left in her, it meant she had already come to her senses on the matter. It meant he had no wiggle room, no chance to change her mind, no way to win her back. It was cold and condemning; it felt like a death sentence.

or Harry and Y/N breakup after the incident and the next two months are the worst either of them have ever known

///

Two months and thirteen days.

That’s how long Harry and Y/N have been broken up.

It’s poetically ironic, if you ask him, and he felt like the universe was playing a cruel game at his expense. Though it’s not like he didn’t deserve it.

The length of time that had passed was coincidentally parallel to how much time he had spent sitting on his couch that dreaded Saturday morning— which had been two hours and thirteen minutes— wringing his hands, boiling in his regret, and waiting for her to come out of their bedroom with a verdict on their relationship.

When Y/N had finally surfaced from her hiding spot, she had barely acknowledged him other than a few one-worded, snipped answers to his questions. She was headed out, she’d said, and that she would return later. Her path had been straight for the front door and the body language and aura she had displayed from the frame of their room door to the frame of the front door had been enough to clearly communicate a simple message: Don’t come after me.

He had followed her to the edge of the corridor that led to the exit, but he knew better than to chase her once she was out of the door. He remained put and watched her walk out without so much as a glance back.

She needed time, he had assured himself. Y/N needed a chance to cool off on her own and smothering her would do nothing but dig him further into the hole he was already neck-deep in.

In hindsight, Harry should have gone after her. Maybe it would’ve made a difference, or maybe it wouldn’t have at all, but all he’s aware of now is that he’d never know.

The minute she got back, a few hours later when the sun had just finished dipping over the stretch of forest that extended beyond the balcony of their apartment, he could immediately tell he had to prepare for the worst.

From the second Harry had met Y/N, he had always been able to read her. It’s something he prided himself in and something he always admired about the connection they shared— that it had been instant. It had been one of those rare pockets in life when he met someone and clicked with them automatically, so effortlessly that it was almost fictional. He’d always been a hopeless romantic and he had his mother and sister to thank for that; growing up with two women who constantly fed him stories about true love and the importance of emotions had molded his relationships down to the very core. And through that characteristic, which had been engraved within the man he had grown into, was how he and Y/N so easily came to be.

Harry had been able to read the nervous excitement she was wading through on their first date, watching her with fond amusement as she had contemplated the menu, trying to pass as nonchalant but being betrayed by the obvious cinch in her brows.

He had been able to read the first time she had wanted him to kiss her, eyes absorbing her features like the pages of a novel. He had picked up on the metaphors she depicted in the form of wine-swollen lips twitching with longing anticipation. He had picked up on the similes that translated into her slowly dilating pupils, the glittering specks of color that shimmered in the depths of her irises dancing with anxious enthusiasm as his face drew closer to her’s. He had picked up on the analogies that painted themselves onto the warm, supple skin of her cheeks as he cupped the side of her face with the palm of his large hand, fingers tucking lose strands of hair behind her ear as he thumbed over the faint smile lines chesiling themselves into existence along the edges of her mouth, her action thick with enamored awe.

He had been able to read just how taken Y/N was with him the first time they had slept together. It was certain in how she had clung to the bare, sweaty muscles of his shoulders as her nails clawed memories along the soft sides of his torso, her head dangling over the edge of the kitchen island to allow him the intimate comfort of pressing hot, wet moans to the searing skin of her throat. He had whined and shuddered as he’d spread her open over the cold marble surface, fogging it with the heat of their conjoined bodies, the air tinged with the scent of desperate sex and blurbs of orgasm-drunken praises that to this day he can feel burn his lungs. Barely coherent mumbles of “God, been needing you for the longest time now.” and “Fuck, you’re an absolute dream.” and he had even made himself susceptible to some of his deepest vulnerabilities, confessing how quickly and dangerously he was falling for her in a breathless little whimper of, “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Tiny zaps of invisible electricity had passed through her fingertips and into the flexing tendons of his back, revealing that she was just as scared and jittery and needy and absolutely whipped for him as he was for her. He had never been able to read her better than at that intense, emotion-packed moment, and he knows he’ll cherish that wordless instance of assurance for as long as he lives.

The only other occasion that competes is the first time Harry had known Y/N loved him. They had planned to go bar-hopping with their friends but, in a spur of laziness and utter disinterest, had decided to stay back. The night had been filled with board games and hot chocolate and half-burnt quesadillas because Harry had bought a new panini press that he didn’t quite yet know how to work. He knew she loved him when he beat her at CandyLand for the third time in a row and in a whirlwind of victory dancing, he had knocked the coffee table with his knee and ended up with cooled cocoa all over his striped pajama pants rather than in his belly.

He knew she loved him because she wasn’t upset that she’d have to help get the stain out and she wasn’t mad that he’d gotten marshmallow goo on the carpet and she wasn’t angry that his silliness had ended with her favorite vase rolling across the ground. All Y/N had been focused on was Harry and that ridiculous wide-toothed grin of his, her own lips nestling into an endeared smile as he giggled out of sheer shock at his ruined pants, clutching his stomach and throwing his head back against the couch cushions. Through teary, delight-blurred vision he saw her staring at him with this doe-like gaze, her eyes soft and glossier than he’d ever seen them, a tender laugh evident on her cheeks. Her eyebrows had been slightly furrowed with a type of disbelieving wonder at the utter moron she had chosen to share her heart with, but specifically at how she loved him all the more for it.

That’s when Harry had read that she loved him and she had confirmed it with words about ten minutes later as they both sat on their knees against the ground, scrubbing at the mess he’d made and sharing soft little snickers under their breath.

In the end, all of these milestone moments in their relationship had all funneled through his mind the minute Y/N had walked back into the living room on that forsaken day, hours later. They all sped past the inside of his eyelids every time he blinked, each one dissipating with each step she drew closer. She had stood before him as he sat forward tensely on the couch, forearms propped on his knees as he grasped his knuckles nervously, though they had stopped cracking ages ago.

It all flashed back to him like a film on fast-forward and it was because for the first time ever, he wasn’t able to read her face and it fucking terrified him.

Y/N’s eyes were the first factor that had given away the impending end. Even at the darkest of times, Harry could always count on Y/N’s eyes for support. They had always held a permanent admiring warmth towards him, even beneath clouds of rage or annoyance or worry. They had been empty that day.

Her lips had been etched into a emotionally-detached straight line, though the corners dipped down ever so slightly. Her eyebrows were void of any wrinkle, groove, or lifting that would suggest even a smidge of sensitivity and somehow her cheeks seemed more sunken in, as if the last couple of hours had aged her years.

Y/N had approached him with her hands cradling each other before her stomach, footsteps heavy against the carpeted ground, muffled yet somehow loud. She’d taken a seat before him on the glass coffee table, knees pressed together tightly and unintentionally brushing his as she settled her hands into the crease between her inner thighs, nails digging into her palms. Her shoulders hunched forward as if the weight of the world was using her back as shelf, the flyaway hairs that had fallen from her ponytail kissing along her jaw and caressing her temples almost apologetically, as if trying to comfort her for what was next.

Y/N hadn’t spoken a single word before Harry was already breaking down.

It wasn’t dramatic or spontaneous like the break-up scenes in the rom coms he often fancied; it was quiet and concise. The hot tears streamed down his cheekbones and followed the slope of his sharp jaw, squeezing out of his tear ducts and rolling along the bridge of his nose, itching the very tip, to which his instincts responded by spurring him into wiping away the water with the front of his shoulder.

Harry couldn’t bring himself to look up at her out of self-hatred and shame— how could he be as selfish as to cry when everything that was about to unfold had been solely of his doing. He knew he didn’t deserve the best outcome, but he had hoped for it. Prayed that she could find it in her tattered heart to grace him with the option to rebuild what he had so recklessly torn down. He didn’t deserve it and he’d felt like he never would, but he had promised himself he would try and earn it if she gave him the chance.

But that was just the hopeless romantic in him flaring up again. Reality was sharper and much icier.

Harry had taken in a deep, trembling inhale, feeling it cut his lungs and tug at the pit of his stomach. He’d released it in stuttery spurts through his nose, back muscles contracting with dread. He found it in himself to uncoil one of his index fingers, gently grazing the curve of Y/N’s right knee with the bed of his nail.

She’d tensed up momentarily, toes curling into the rug below her feet, but didn’t shed him away. It was the first time he’d touched her since last night and though it made her feel sick to her stomach, she figured she’d allow it as a parting gift.

The air stood still for a few elongated seconds that seemed to drag out for an eternity. Finally, one of them spoke up.

“Y/N...” Harry had choked on the singular word, swallowing thickly in an attempt to recuperate.

The syllables seemed to lodge in his throat, outright refusing to emerge, likely due to the fact that he spent the day soundlessly moping to himself. He forced them out anyways in a low croak.

“Y/N, I am so sorry.”

“I know.”

Harry had cleared his throat softly, mind treading through his jumbled thoughts to try and sew together a worthy sentence, the pad of his forefinger tracing down the visible threads of Y/N’s worn jeans.

“I didn’t mean any of it.”

Though it’s the truth, it sounds feeble and pathetic. His words had then started tumbling out of his mouth with no rhyme or rhythm but simply in an attempt to communicate his rawest emotions.

“That’s not an excuse or anything, but I just want to make sure that you know. And if I knew all of this was going to happen, I would’ve never brought it up in the first place. You’re important to me— I hope that all the time we’ve spent together shows that— and to lose you over something like this…” Harry pauses, choking up at the sheer notion of having to let her go. He continues his speech slowly to avoid another mishap, though it quivers nonetheless. “To lose you over something that was so stupid on my part would tear me to shreds, Y/N. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. There’s nothing I can do now except apologize until my voice gives out and pray that you give me the chance to make it up to you. I know I don’t deserve it and I know that the damage I’ve done could be beyond repair, but I also know that I will spend every second trying to mend it if you allow me to. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you and I know we’re young and that it sounds dramatic and I’ve been told a billion times over that I love too deeply for my own good but I don’t care because I know it’s the truth. Without even the slightest bit of doubt.”

His words had echoed across the walls of the flat, the dim buttery light of the single lamp in the living room casting their seated shadows over the creme surfaces. The dark silhouettes of their bodies seemed to absorb his message, picking it right out of the air and engulfing it into the ominous shade.

All that could be heard was Y/N’s faint breathing as she processed his confession and the occasional sniffle on his part. The silence stretched for exactly two minutes and fourteen seconds— Harry had counted. A frail distraction, but a distraction either way.

A deep inhale had cut off his mental stopwatch and he could tell Y/N had cried recently before arriving because the air had to force itself through her stuffy nose. His index finger had twitched anxiously against her knee. He found himself counting again, this time the target had been the thin lines of the rug beneath the reinforced glass of the coffee table. He hadn't known it then, but his urge to count whatever he could to pass the time had been the start of what would later develop into a coping mechanism.

“I don’t know what to say.”

It had only been a day but Harry had missed the sound of her voice more than he’d ever care to admit. She was talking to him rather than at him and it was enough to halt the fresh flood of tears that had been gathering across the glossy sheen of his irises. It was a victory, no matter how small.

The sentence she spoke, however, was a whole new battle he had to face within itself.

The words hurt, but luckily, they didn’t cut. There were dozens of harsher possibilities of what could’ve come out of her mouth and that makes him thankful for what he’d received.

Harry had shifted in his seat, pulling the sleeve of his old Greenbay Packers sweatshirt over his free hand and tucking his arm across his stomach. His other hand remained on Y/N’s leg as non-intrusively as possible. “Is there anything you want to get out? Anything at all? I want to hear it no matter how bad you think it is. I deserve it as much as you deserve to express your feelings.”

He hadn’t noticed when, but at some point he had absentmindedly tilted his head up to look at her. What brought it into clear attention was when she did the same and their eyes met.

Y/N’s expression had crushed the oxygen from Harry’s lungs.

He had hoped it would be different after everything he had said. That her eyes would hold some form of love within them, even if it was shrouded with sadness and disappointment. He had aimed to draw an ounce of forgiveness from her that he could cling onto and expand; he had aimed for redemption.

Instead, her eyes held the same barren gaze that she had doted when she had walked in— vacant acceptance.

Her own speech had confirmed his worst fears.

“I don’t know if we have a future together. All I know is that right now, I feel like I could never forgive you for what you did. Watching you treat someone you barely knew the way you treat me made me feel like what we have isn’t real. Sex can be something both meaningless and meaningful and the lines between those two is finer than most people think. And even though I know in my heart that you’re telling the truth about not feeling anything towards her, I just can’t let it go. I can’t. I can’t get over the fact that you called her what you call me. That you kissed, touched, and held her the same way you do me. You made her feel the same way you make me feel. And the whole time, I was sitting there watching you do it, begging you not to and trying to communicate to you that you were crossing the line and you didn’t even notice.”

Y/N had lifted her hand from her lap, running the back of her wrist across her cheeks messily. Harry could see the tears sparkling on her lashes and he felt like his chest cavity was going to collapse in on itself.

When she had spoken again, her voice was tight and packed with all of the pain she’d been holding onto since the incident happened.

“You took all of the private little things that had built our relationship and shared them with someone else just to get your dick wet.” She releases a short spurt of a laugh, miserable and humorless, her palms smacking down against her thighs as she shrugs her shoulders for emphasis. “Intimacy is the most important factor of genuine love and you went and tossed it around like it was nothing. We’ll never be able to regain that; not in the way we had it before. I don’t know if I could ever trust you with it again. I shared myself with you because I love you— we opened up to each other in that way because we worked up to it. And now that you so carelessly let yourself have it with someone else, I’m too disappointed and hurt and fucking terrified to let you see me vulnerable like that again.”

Y/N had locked her eyes with Harry’s and his heart had shattered into a million shards.

They had been swollen and bloodshot, tiny red veins webbing across the dull white, scraping at her irises and relentlessly chipping the color from them. There was no twinkle left whatsoever; the specks that normally decorated around her pupils had completely defused, disappearing into the murky sea of the muted shade behind them.

“You broke my fucking heart, Harry, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let you pick up the pieces.”

He had never heard her say his name like that, so dismal and void of emotion. He’d never felt more unworthy of love than at that moment and he knew there was nothing he could do to change her mind. He’d fucked up and now he had no choice but to marinate in it for the rest of his days.

The process of separating was painfully fast.

As it turns out, when she had left the morning after everything had happened, she had gone to visit Niall.

Niall had been the mutual friend that had introduced Harry and Y/N in the first place so, naturally, Y/N’s first instinct had been to seek his counsel. She had kept the details of the breakup to herself but from how distraught she had seemed when Niall had opened the door to his flat, his hair sticking up at weird angles and his eyes crusted over with sleep, he had known it was not on good terms. She had stood there with dried trails of tears staining her cheeks as her entire body shook like a leaf and the second he had opened his arms caringly, she immediately collapsed into them, violent sobs wracking her body unapologetically.

The Irish lad was as big-hearted and supportive as friends came and it was seen in how he offered her the spare room in his apartment that was normally occupied as a home gym.

“I haven’t had a roomie since I was twenty but as long as y’don’t leave your dirty underwear in the living room, I think we’ll get along just swell.”

With Niall’s help, Y/N had finished moving out by the end of that same week.

They did the brunt of the job while Harry was busy at work, though there was an awkward instance when he unexpectedly came home early on the last day of moving.

Luckily enough, Niall had been the one retrieving the last couple of items so Y/N was saved from the ordeal.

The two men had contemplated each other, Niall standing with the cardboard box tucked beneath his arm while Harry stood parallel to him stiffly, keys grasped tightly in his fist. Harry didn’t know how much Niall knew of what had happened, and he didn’t want to stick his foot in his mouth, so he had remained silent until the blue-eyed boy finally spoke up first.

“Mate, I don’t know what happened between you two or why, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this torn up before.”

Harry had sighed, partially in relief, but mostly in forlorn agreement at Niall’s comment. This was Y/N’s indirect way of telling him that the reason behind their breakup was meant to be kept a secret amongst their friend group. It was one last act of kindness towards him on her part because both of them knew that if word got out on what had happened, everyone would likely turn on Harry and shun him out. Y/N didn’t want that for him— despite everything, she found herself genuinely wishing him the best because she still loved him. A part of her always would, no matter how deeply she tried to bury it.

The last thing she needed was to cling onto bitterness and make him suffer; it would be counterproductive considering her end goal was to move on. The whole situation would stay hidden and hopefully everything would eventually blow over.

Avoiding each other proved trickier than expected in the beginning, but it gradually became routine amidst their everyday lives.

Y/N avoided grocery shopping at Harry’s favorite market and he proceeded to change the coffee shop he went to every morning before work, well aware that it was the one she fancied the most due to the specific brand of creamer they carried. Y/N insisted on the second closest movie theatre whenever she went out with her friends for a film, knowing that Harry liked the one closest to Niall’s apartment because it was smaller, more homey, and did free refills on popcorn and drinks. Harry started frequenting the gas station near the twenty-four hour gym instead of the one near Y/N’s place of work and started doing his early morning jogs at the park on the opposite side of town, which wasn’t too bad considering it was only about a ten minute drive. Y/N stopped going to art museums all together— they were mainly Harry’s thing, either way.

When it came down to their friends, they did the best they could. Whenever there would be a plan to go out for lunch, dinner, drinking, or any other event, they made sure to invite one and not the other, alternating turns. It kept the situation fair, though birthday parties were much more complicated. Staying on opposite ends of the club or flat would have to do.

No one ever questioned the breakup too thoroughly, thankfully. All Y/N told them was that it ended really badly and that what was best was that they stayed clear of each other. Harry stuck to whatever he learned Y/N had said, brushing off the occasional curiosity thrown his way with a tired, “I’d rather not talk about it, yeah?”

They were grateful to all of their friends for not pushing for details too much and respecting their privacy. Family members were harder to shake off, but both managed to keep things under wraps with the right amount of sternness.

///

Three weeks and four days had gone by, according to Harry’s calendar, and things were remaining seemingly civil. That is, until Harry had a bit too much to drink on the fifth day and ended up drunk calling Y/N as he sat on the floor of his kitchen, eating from what he was sure was an expired box of Cheerios while counting floor tiles and wondering why the fuck he even liked tequila in the first place.

The phone had rung three times and then the line abruptly cut off, sending Harry right to voicemail.

“Hey, this is Y/N! Sorry I couldn’t come to the phone right now, just leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible!”

His eyes had immediately begun to water as her voice crackled through the speaker of his phone. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d heard it and he hates that he had almost forgotten its gentle trill. The bright chime of her words were so different than the last time he’d heard her speak— her tone was easy and good-natured rather than dismal and hurt and he missed when she would regard him that way. Now, it was directed at a random person on the other end of her phone line who she might not even know and for some reason, that made his stomach twist.

The Cheerios had started to taste funny so he opened the cabinet across from his spot on the ground and chucked them in the bin. He had then leaned back against the wall of the kitchen island, head repeatedly thunking against the polished hardwood as he redialed her number and waited, tiny hiccups plucking at his vocal chords and shuddering his shoulders without consent.

This time, it had rang only once before cutting off, meaning that she knew it was him and that she was actively delicining.

But Harry’s stubborn and insistent— which admittedly are some of his worst traits— and the fact that he had been shit-faced had fueled these characteristics. He’d continued to call her another four times before the line was finally picked up.

His voice had filled with enamored relief as he quickly sat up, a weak smile starting to spread his cracked lips. “Y/N, hi, I—”

“Harry, you gotta cut this shit out, man.”

It wasn’t Y/N. The person speaking had a much deeper voice with a smooth, raspy undercurrent covered in a heavy Irish accent. Their tone held a stern yet concerned edge.

“This isn’t good for either of you. You’ve got to try and move on, H.”

It was Niall and he was on Y/N’s phone and Harry could feel himself about to vomit.

He had forced himself to speak, clutching his stomach with one hand as if it would keep the bile from rising. His words came out slurred and numb, tongue feeling heavy and unbelievably large in his mouth. “Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s asleep and you should be, too. It’s three in the morning.”

Harry’s brows had cinched down angrily over his lashes. Somehow, in his muddled brain, he was able to form a coherent train of thought about the current situation. If Y/N was asleep, that meant her phone had probably been on a nightstand beside her bed or splayed across her duvet or even on the floor considering she had a habit of twisting and turning too much. If Niall had picked it up, it meant he had to be in close proximity to her. It meant he had been in her room, possibly in her bed...

Harry’s throat burned as acid rose from his stomach.

“I wanna talk to—”

He was cut off by the alcohol he’d had earlier resurfacing and splattering across the off-white kitchen tiles he’d been counting.

The spluttering noises filtered through the phone crystal clear, much to his friend’s disgust.

“Jesus, Harry, just get yourself together, will you?” There’s a pause on the other end of the line and then Niall’s voice had come through again, gentler and less annoyed. “Do you need me to come over and help?”

“No.” Harry had blurted out with panic evident in his demeanor. He’d wiped at his soiled mouth with the sleeve of his black Nike jumper, staring hollowly as the mess before him traveled across the cracks of his floor. An all too familiar swelling had started to fill his tear ducts. “No, I’m fine. Goodnight.”

Apparently, it had been the third time he’d drunk-called in the span of two weeks, though he didn’t remember the first two times. He did remember this third time though— the stench stuck to his sweatshirt for a while.

///

The next month that followed that cursed Friday night had been significantly better for Harry.

He went out with friends and actually had fun more times than not, as long as he didn’t let his mind wander to what Y/N could be doing since she wasn’t with the group. Slowly but surely, he began to mend.

The movies had always been his and Y/N’s favorite date idea so the first couple of times he’d gone out to see a film after the breakup had been tough, but he’d powered through the rough patches. Their favored seats at the very back of the cinema had gradually just become exactly that— seats. He was eventually able to enter a theatre without even as much as a glance to the last row. When Harry would go out to eat, he relearned not to order in excess anymore since he wouldn’t be needing those extra fries or two extra beef tacos or those couple buffalo wings she used to pick at religiously. Going out for drinks was easier on his wallet now that he could drink both of the two-for-one Happy Hour shots, the only issue being that sometimes he’d forget and order the next round while he had a perfectly untouched whiskey shot right there. He had sworn off tequila— he could still feel the way it had seared his throat, somehow manifesting an aftertaste of honeyed cereal.

Niall usually went out with the rest of the gang, but not as much as he used to and that bothered Harry extremely— bothered him to the point where he’d get the overwhelming urge to tear his hair out if he allowed himself to amble in his head too much. He hated being the jealous type, especially when he was no longer entitled to it. Especially not when Niall was such a nice best friend, willingly present for him on the nights where things went downhill and he needed someone to pick him off the ground— literally— and tell him that he would be alright.

The days Niall missed out were spent with Y/N and it wasn’t a secret. Harry had heard about how much closer they’d gotten recently through conversations that would happen across the other side of the booth, when his friends thought he wasn’t paying attention or that he was too sloshed to be properly present. He wasn’t, though. He was hyper-aware of every anecdote and syllable exchanged and it would make his mouth go sour.

One night, he had drummed up enough courage to ask Niall outright about Y/N. They’d been out bowling and the Irish brunette had been standing off to the side waiting his turn, sipping on a pint and cackling his ass off every time Adam rolled the ball into the sideline gutters.

Harry had been standing next to him for a while, leaning back against the machine that redispensed the bowling balls, taking tiny gulps of his third white rum margarita. The liquor filled his tummy with a certain type of empty warmth that numbed his better judgement and before he could talk himself out of it, the words were escaping his lips in a low, sheepish tone.

“How’s Y/N?”

Niall had paused mid-sip, his entire body going rigid for a second as he kept the rim of his large glass perched at his lips. He had then pulled back from his beer, licking the froth off his Cupid’s Bow and craning his neck to acknowledge the green-eyed boy directly.

“She’s doin’ good. Treading through the bills and tryin’ t’fill the rest with thrills, like we all do.”

Despite the light nature of his response, Niall’s accent had been heavier and Harry’s not sure if it was due to the alcohol or the tension-packed subject of conversation. Probably both.

Harry had nodded his head slowly— casually— and taken an ice cube into his mouth, cracking it with his teeth in the way Y/N used to scold him for. He had stared intently at the condensation gathering around the tips of his warm fingers for a few heartbeats before looking back up at Niall with aching curiosity.

“Is she happy?”

The Irish bloke had opened his mouth to answer, and then hesitated, thinking over what he had been about to say. That teeny fraction of time filled Harry with enough nerve-grating suspense to that he was sure he’d pop a blood vessel.

Niall had cleared his throat softly, sighing tiredly through his nose. “She’s better than she was right after the split.”

Harry hates that Y/N’s doing better. He knows how petty and selfish it comes off, but he can’t help it. If she’s doing better without him, it means she might never need him again— it means he’s replaceable to her. He can hardly fathom that thought without the backs of his eyes prickling.

Harry had swallowed thickly, nose stinging and jaw clenching. “Is she seeing anyone?”

Niall tilted his cup against his mouth, savoring the tanginess of the beer, grateful for its help in making this talk way easier. He’d given Harry a sympathetic slink of his head. “I don’t think that’s the type of question you should be asking, Har. One day, you might not like the answer you get.”

Harry’s fingers had tightened around the stout cylindrical glass in his grasp, rings biting into his skin. His voice came out strained but unwavering. “Is she?”

His friend’s blue eyes had flitted across different points of his face, sussing out Harry’s attitude and whether he could be convinced to back down on this specific topic.

When it was obvious he wouldn’t budge, Niall sighed heavily once again, this time through his lips. “She’s not, no.”

Harry can’t quite place a name to the flood of emotions that had crashed into him like a tidal wave. The closest he can relate the experience to is breaking the surface of an ocean of suffocating uninformed doubt, instead filling his lungs with illogical optimism and stunned relief.

There was hope for them, even if the sliver was fine as a hair.

Harry had found himself drawing closer to Niall, eyes doe-like and pleading, the neon lights of the bowling alley washing his face out with bright purples and drunken blues. “I wanna see her.”

“You can’t.” The objection had been quick and authoritative, causing Harry to blink as if he’d just been smacked between the eyes.

“Why?” It was a stupid question— he knew why. It wouldn’t be healthy for either of them.

“Because you’re only going to set yourself back. And even though you might not be thinking of the consequences it could have, I am, and I’m not going to let you hurt her or yourself more than you already have.”

And that’s when Harry realized that Niall knew. He’d heard the whole story.

The guilt-ridden young man had broken eye contact, looking down at his scuffed heeled boots. “You know.”

“She told me a while back.” Niall’s confirmation had hung across Harry’s shoulders like a lead jacket. “You fucked up, mate. Bad.”

A weak, remorseful, “I know.” was all he could muster.

“She knows you didn’t mean it, but I don’t know if you can come back from this, H.”

Harry repeated his previous phrase, but this time, it had been heavy with a form of undignified recognition. He was slowly coming to terms with the crushing possibility that he might never get her back.

He’d downed the last of his drink, feeling it reluctantly settle into his stomach. He had then locked gazes with Niall once again, his own conflicted and needy, which in turn caused his friend’s to mold into one of deep worry and pity.

“Will you just...Will you tell her that I love her so much. That I love her to the point where it’s pathetic. And that I’m so fucking sorry. That a day doesn’t go by when I don’t think of her and that I’d give fucking anything to earn her trust again...And that I found her Sherpa jumper under the bed and washed it in case she wants it back.”

Niall had snorted lightly, shaking his head in amusement at Harry’s ability to be so unintentionally pure even under the most stressful circumstances. He’d tossed an arm across the jade-eyed boy’s loaded shoulders, pulling him into a hug that was very obviously needed.

The reluctance had melted out of Harry in less than a breath, his arms wrapping around Niall’s torso, face pressing into the shorter man’s broad left shoulder. The tears he was holding back were evident in his quaking voice. “I miss her.”

Niall had remained silent for a while, not wanting to push any more boundaries.

He had made due with running his palm across the expanse of Harry’s back in soothing circles, only speaking up when he felt his mate’s tears seeping into his knitted sweater.

“You’re gonna be okay, yeah? You’re gonna get through this.”

Niall wasn’t entirely sure if his words were the truth. All he knew was that he wanted to be there for his best friend, so he comforted him to the best of his ability and prayed that whatever happened in the couple’s future would bring them closure.

Harry had gotten home that night feeling deflated and more regretful than ever. The emotional exhaustion had fused into his muscles and joints and he’d ended up collapsing on the couch, too depleted to take the walk down the corridor that led to his bedroom.

His sleep was restless and worthless, as it tended to be of late, but it beat having to sulk consciously. The pain was less sharp and his sorrows were covered in a hazy fog that somehow made everything bearable. He slept well into the afternoon and awoke with a mean kink in his neck and a dull thumping in the back of his skull— karma, obviously, for his lack of self-care and shitty drinking habits. Nothing coffee couldn’t fix.

///

As it turns out, Niall had struggled some to pass on Harry’s message to the intended party.

Y/N had been sitting on the couch when he’d gotten home from the bowling alley, snuggled cozily in a Friends blanket Niall had gotten last Christmas in a game of White Elephant. She had been so focused on an episode of Master Chef that she hadn’t even heard him unlock the door.

Y/N had momentarily glanced away from her show when she saw Niall enter the living room through her peripheral vision, watching as he toed off his rusty brown Clarks boots, kicking them into the corner beside the television stand. “How was bowling?”

“It was good! Mitch beat me by two points but, frankly, I think he cheated while I went to refill my pint.”

Y/N had scoffed in amusement, taking a sip of the chamomile tea in her Mickey Mouse mug, shaking her head distractedly. “Can you even cheat in bowling?”

Niall had shrugged his navy blue peacoat of his shoulders, draping it over the backrest of the worn recliner that was perpendicular to the couch she was currently inhabiting. He’d arched his eyebrows challengingly. “Obviously there has to be a way ‘cause I never lose. And especially never to Mitch and his shitty hand-eye coordination.”

Y/N had set down her mug in the small hole created by her crossed legs, the warmth of the drink radiating through the ceramic cup and seeping through her cloud-patterned pajama pants, heating her inner thighs soothingly. Her expression had then matched up to his, brows raised tauntingly. “Or maybe you were just off your game.”

Niall had slumped into the old recliner, sighing heavily as it creaked and extended. The Irish bloke had snuggled deeper into the cushioning of the seat, absentmindedly wiggling his toes in their rainbow polka-dotted socks before giving his housemate a pointed look. “Maybe you should shut up and go back to watching random people make squash noodles.”

“Actually, it’s eggplant ravioli.”

“Actually, that sounds like arse.”

A round of bubbly laughter had belted out of Y/N and it had been contagious, the same type of giggling escaping from Niall’s lips. Then, comfortable silence had fallen over the two as they centered their attention back onto the cooking show.

Niall hadn’t been sure how to approach the topic. There was no real proper segway into conversations about exes— he didn’t want to upset Y/N with the sudden intrusion on her healing process. But he had made a promise to Harry.

Aside from the obvious negative factors, mentioning him would also give Niall insight into how she was currently feeling about the entire situation. He’d be able to accurately gauge what her emotions had resolved on the matter and therefore be able to give Harry a solid response on whether he had any chance left for reconciliation. He’d be able to confidently tell him whether hanging on was worth it or if letting go was the best choice.

Though Niall and Y/N had been living together for almost two months, she hadn’t started opening up to him fully about the breakup until three weeks in. And even with the whole story laid out bare for him to examine, Y/N shared very little of her mending path with him until they were five weeks in. For a while, her version of “opening up” was simply telling him what had occurred and he’d had to fill in the rest of the mental and emotional blanks himself.

It had not been hard to come to the conclusion that she had been feeling like utter shit right after it happened— insecurity was awfully present as well as the haunting weight of thinking she wasn’t enough. Though Harry had put those worries to rest the day they had separated, they still lingered in her subconscious, constantly poking and prodding and picking at the membrane of recovery she had developed around her heart.

Y/N had felt numb for days after she had ended things. Boiling anger had created a buffer for the pain that was dwelling just under the surface and it had powered her for about three weeks. Then, at four in the morning on a random Thursday, her real emotions had burst through the fine cracks that had been webbing themselves into that unstable wall of rage.

She’d had a dream about him that was actually a memory. There wasn’t anything particularly special about the scene as it had been one of many alike— they had been cuddling on the couch. But for some reason, it cracked something inside her.

It had been scarily vivid to the point where she could feel the ridges of Harry’s finger pads tenderly passing over the skin of her exposed arm as she had laid between his legs, her head nestled into his strong chest, ear drums thumping with the sound of his relaxed heartbeat. She could feel his breathing, pectoral muscles rising and falling with penetrating inhales that had fallen into rhythm with her own. There had been faint movement above her and a sudden warmth had erupted across her forehead, his lips flushing caringly between her brows. The heated glow had washed down her temples and nose like syrup, vignetting her mind with a feathery, sleepy haze. It dripped over her tingling cheeks and buzzing ears, running down her neck and infusing into her chest, calming her from the inside out. He had whispered something unintelligible against her skin, his deep voice warbled as if he was talking underwater. Though she couldn’t make out what he was saying, the mellow, pleasant tone of his voice was enough to lull her. She had never felt happier, more fulfilled, and more at peace than at that moment.

Harry had always been the one factor that could drown out the static of her troubles with the simplest caress of his touch. He could make any problem sink away just by cupping her jaw and thumbing over her cheekbones. Could make the end of the world creak to a stop just by knitting his mouth to her’s. Could melt away any obstacle by brushing his palm over the dip of her spine. He had always been there, and at the time, it had felt like he always would be. Through that assured remedy of relief, she had been able to live her life one step at a time, bracing even the worst moments with a clear mind and strengthened energy, all because he stood behind her— with his warm hands and consoling aura— every inch of the way.

Y/N didn’t have that anymore and though she pushed it down and claimed it didn’t phase her, she was falling apart inside.

It was only a matter of time before it came rushing out all at once.

She had jerked awake from the dream as if she’d been stabbed, face wet with tears, her pillowcase dampened to the point where she would have to replace it. The breakdown that followed hadn’t included any screaming or slamming or stomping; it had been quiet and concise, much like Harry’s on the day she had left.

She’d laid on her side, wrapping her arms around herself and tucking her knees to her chest, drawing into her body as if it could keep all of her feelings from spilling out. Heavy tears had swelled her already bloodshot eyes, her entire face stinging as fresh sheens of water washed down the dried saltiness of the ones prior. Her nose had run so badly she’d had to resort to using an old t-shirt as a tissue. The sounds that had escaped her were low and broken— cracked, stuttery whimpers with no real words behind them. The noises were just another outlet for the aching to seep out; her eyes just weren’t enough.

Her back had hunched over as she constricted into herself even further, burying her face into her sopping pillow, feeling hot tears soak into the saturated fabric. She could barely breathe that way and it helped calm her down some— no air meant no sobbing. No sobbing meant she was on the way to picking the pieces back up to put herself together again.

It took her awhile to come to her bearings. Her body had stopped shaking but the tears didn’t seem to want to go away. It irritated her that she couldn’t control this— she hated not being able to do anything other than just drown in it.

Without meaning to, she had released a gut-wrenching growl of frustration that tapered off into another round of heart-breaking sobbing. Her stomach throbbed, the pain so deep it was almost palpable.

Y/N had hoped the pillow would muffle it enough not to wake Niall, unaware that he was already up. He’d awoken on his own, making a trip to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. He’d been sipping at it slowly, mind still stuck in a meaningless dream, when the sudden noise had echoed down the hall that led to Y/N’s room.

Niall rubbed at his tired eyes with the palms of his hands, irises grey with sleep. He had blinked a few times, downing the rest of his water and setting the glass down carefully onto the marble counter, trying to limit any sound interference as his ears strained to listen for any more crying. He had wanted to make sure he wasn’t imagining it in a half-unconscious stupor.

But no, it was very much real. If he focused enough, he could just barely hear the soft sobbing coming from his friend’s bedroom. He had a good guess on what it was about.

He’d stood still for a moment, mulling over what he should do. His first instinct had been to go in and comfort her, but with more thought, he wondered if it would be better not to meddle in her grieving out of respect for her privacy. He knows that if he were crying over a bad breakup, he’d want to be left alone. But he also knows that shouldering a burden like the one she’d faced could put anyone in a really dark place; he wasn’t just going to stand around and let her crash and burn.

Niall had wandered down the corridor attentively, footsteps light as to not startle Y/N. He’d turned to knob to the door with immense care, pushing it open with his shoulder and peeking in.

The crying had stopped abruptly, which gave away that she knew he was there. He couldn’t see much in the dark room— the moonlight filtering in through the cracks in the curtains didn’t do much for the fact that he was lacking his glasses— but he could see the silhouette of Y/N’s body curled up under the duvet, trembling ever so slightly with the effort of keeping in her sobbing.

Her housemate had cleared his throat to get rid of the gravel in his dormant voice, as well as to fully alert her of his presence. His words had still come out in a raspy croak, but at least they were understandable. “You alright in here?”

Y/N had sniffled feverishly, desperate to put out a collected facade. She hated when people saw her so vulnerable without her anticipating it.

“Y-Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for checking in.”

Her voice had cracked near the end of her response, giving away that she wasn’t good at all. The air had been silent for a moment, then Niall’s muddled footsteps thudded against the thick carpet.

Y/N could feel him standing behind her, his body heat radiating off him like a furnace, the soft scent of his ocean-scented deodorant tickling her itching nose. “Are you sure?”

There had been no response other than the comforter tightening around her frame. Her hair was splayed across her face in a wild, matted mess, keeping him from being able to read her features.

Niall had sighed heavily and then the bed had dipped with his weight, sheets shifting and springs squeaking as he settled into place beside her, swinging his legs up onto the mattress.

More silence followed, Y/N refusing to budge. She hadn’t wanted to drag him into this considering he was still friends with Harry; she didn’t want to split him down the middle or force him to take care of her alongside her ex. She knew Niall too well, certain that he had been offering help to Harry, too. She’d heard him answer the array of drunken phone calls on her behalf so she wouldn’t have to deal with more trauma. She’d heard him leaving the house at unintelligible hours only to return smelling like Harry’s favorite vanilla cinnamon candle. She’d even found one of Harry’s t-shirts (which she had gotten him herself) in the laundry basket, which had probably been lent to Niall after an alcohol-related accident.

Niall was too kind for his own good— too caring. Y/N had learned a lot about him in the time they had lived together and the one characteristic that stood out more than anything was his savior complex— his default setting to provide love and assurance to anyone that needed it, no matter the stress it put on himself. She didn’t want to take unfair advantage of that.

Her friend’s voice had torn her out of her guilt trip, loaded with adamant concern. “Y/N, I’m not leaving this room until I know you’re genuinely better so stop being stubborn and let me help.”

She’d jerked suddenly when she felt his large hand coast up her back. His touch was gentle and nurturing, squeezing her shoulder expectantly. It wasn’t hard for her to let go into him.

Y/N had turned towards Niall, hand ducking out from beneath the duvet cocoon she’d swaddled herself in, moving her hair out of her splotchy face. Their eyes had locked and she’d immediately felt the remaining anguish flush out of her system.

The look on his face was so kind and protective and it made her feel safer than she had in the last couple of weeks. Even in the limited lighting, she could see his eyes were glossy with the genuine desire to help her heal, inviting her to share her problems with him, silently promising that they could shoulder the weight of it together. She didn’t have to fight this on her own.

Y/N had spent the rest of the night in Niall’s arms, crying into his chest and utterly drenching his Eagles t-shirt, though he didn’t complain once. He had kept his lips pressed to the top of her head, running his warm palm up and down her shuddering back and telling her that she shouldn’t bottle up her feelings— that it didn’t make her weak to show them, that openly sorting through them with someone else would make it less scary, and most importantly, that it was “okay not to be okay all the time.”

For the next month or so, Y/N and Niall’s heart-to-hearts had been a real breakthrough for her. All of her undealt fear and self-doubt no longer badgered her anymore— it was almost all gone. She hadn’t felt this emotionally liberated since before the split and she could feel the shards of her heart welding themselves back together, ushering her into a more healthy, serene state of mind. She was on the road to her old self again and the relief it brought was otherworldly.

It could be seen physically, too. The bags under her eyes had faded and her face carried a certain rejuvenated glow that it had lacked for weeks. Her smile and laughter were buoyant and loud again, not hindered by any inner conflict anymore whatsoever. When she went out with her friends, she didn’t find herself mentally checking out in the middle of conversations or movies or drinks like she had plenty of times before. She actively participated and engaged in events instead of just going through the motions and it felt so fucking good to get a taste of actual joy for the first time in so long. Things were looking up, and though she still had that hole in her chest that only Harry could fill, she was learning to deal with it in a beneficial and independent manner. It was okay not to be okay all the time.

///

All of these instances had scattered across Niall’s eyes, whirling around in his skull as he sat back in the old recliner, trying to decide if he should pass on Harry’s bowling alley message onto Y/N. He knew she was doing way better, but he didn’t know if hearing from Harry would break her all over again. He didn’t want that, but he also didn’t want the sheer sound of his name to send her into a self-destructive spiral for the rest of her life— she had to learn to cope with him being mentioned regularly because it was bound to start happening again. People couldn’t walk on eggshells around both of them forever.

And Niall also needed to know where she stood on her relationship to the British boy— whether she was willing to give it another shot or whether it was best to tell Harry to move on completely. They were adults, after all, so questions needed to be answered and ties needed to be either tightened or severed for good.

“Harry was there.”

“I know, Niall. That’s the reason I wasn’t.”

Her tone had taken him by surprise. It had been jokeful and amused, holding no obvious resentment he could detect. It’d been a good start to the Ex Talk, if Niall had ever seen one, as long as it didn’t turn into her using humor as a deflecting mechanism.

“He asked about you.”

Y/N’s hands had tightened around her mug, crossed legs shifting her weight. She had broken away from the television screen, meeting Niall’s cautiously hesitant gaze. Her eyes had held an emotion that he couldn’t quite place— it was mostly blank, but it held a smidge of something he could only think to refer to as pained curiosity.

When she’d spoken again, it had been soft and fragile. “What’d he say?”

Niall had leaned forward in his seat, elbows propping onto his parted knees as his fingers sifted together, chin resting on his knuckles. His voice had been as cautious and hesitant as the look in his sky blue irises. “He said to tell you that he misses you and that he’s terribly sorry. That he’d do anything to earn your trust again, that a day doesn’t go by that he doesn’t think about you, and that he loves you so much ‘to the point where it’s pathetic.’ His exact words.”

Y/N had been quiet for a while afterward, the TV droning on in the background with chefs running around kitchens, cursing about food burning and incorrect ingredients. Niall hadn’t pushed her on an answer; he’d simply sat back with his hands flat across his belly, allowing her all the time she needed to process the speech.

When she finally spoke up again, her voice had been taut, strained by the heaviness of the message she’d received. “Anything else?”

Niall had intentionally left the lightest part of the conversation for the end, hoping it would provide her with some form of ease, as minimal as it would be. “Yeah, he said you left your Sherpa jumper at his place and was wondering if you wanted it back. If I were you, I’d say yes. Fleece sweaters are fuck-you-in-the-arse expensive.”

His comment had the intended affect, his heart fluttering with relief as he watched Y/N’s face break into a huge grin, eyes crinkling as airy laughter bounced all around her. Some of the tension in her body remained, but most of it had dissipated out. A fraction is better than none.

Y/N had managed to talk through her giggles. “Yeah, I think I would like my sweater back, actually.”

“Great!” Niall had clapped his hands together once, head wobbling in a jerky shake for silly emphasis. He’d pushed his palms against the armrests of the recliner, catapulting himself onto his feet and pointing at Y/N playfully. “I’ll get that sorted for you, then. Now, if you need me, I’m gonna be in my room, passed out on my bed for the next twelve hours, neck-deep in a beer coma. Feel free to check if I’m breathing every now and then, yeah? Got a dentist appointment next week that I’d hate to be dead for.”

Y/N had sat on Harry’s words for the next week or so. They hadn’t spurred her into a meltdown (as she’s sure Niall had worried they would), but they did loiter in the back of her mind, keeping her awake past appropriate hours by playing her heart strings like a violin.

There was one part of the message specifically that took up a chunk of her sleep more than the others, scattering inside her head and running along the crevices of her brain, the meaning behind it stirring the pit of her stomach into a hollowed frenzy: I love you so much to the point where it’s pathetic.

That one measly sentence carried so much baggage to unpack.

Harry’s choice of words were transparent on how he was dealing in the aftermath of the split.

Y/N knew how much of a hopeless romantic he was— it had been obvious in the way he had put her on a pedestal for the entirety of their relationship, constantly showering her with all different types of affection to let her know how much he cherished her. It ranged from the simplest gestures— like keeping her favorite chocolates stocked inside the pantry at all times— to extravagant actions— like randomly buying her an expensive necklace she’d stared at for a bit too long at the mall. He was always aware of her, always going out of his way to show her how much he loved her, and she had never felt more appreciated than when she was with him.

When it came to expressing that love verbally, Harry only ever connected it to words that carried positive connotations. Words like, “truly,” “madly,” “deeply,” “immensely,” “entirely,” and “wholeheartedly.” He wanted her to know that when he thought of her, any negativity was immediately expelled from his mind; she could always make him happy, no matter what.

This being taken into consideration, one can understand why Y/N had been utterly baffled when Niall had told her that he’d referred to his love for her as “pathetic.” It gave her insight into just how hard he was taking the breakup— hard enough to the point where he was so desperate to get her back that he felt pathetic. This told her that he loved her so much he was willing to admit that it was sad and pitiful, especially since he was a grown man, and especially because they’d been split for just over two months. That span of time is long enough for a person to at least start moving on; long enough for someone to sever themselves from that stage of hopelessly clinging to what once was and to look forward to what the future could bring.

But instead, Harry had allowed himself to regress back into a lapse of needy pining, pleading with Niall— and in public, no less— to tell her that he missed her so much it was embarrassing; that he cared for her to the extent that it was humiliating; that he loved her to the point where it was miserable. He wanted her to know that what he had done had been tearing at him nonstop since it happened, that it would likely haunt him for years to come, and that he would never forgive himself for it.

All of these confessions weren’t any different than what he had told her the day they had broken up— they were the same bullets he’d hit when he was sitting before her, teary-eyed and distressed, begging her to give him another chance. However, for a reason unbeknownst to her, they penetrated deeper this time, slamming her square in the chest like someone had punched through her ribs, squeezing her heart with their fist.

Maybe it was the fact that she had finally let go of the splintering anger she’d been clutching onto from that day, which had likely blinded her from absorbing the rawness behind Harry’s apology. Maybe it was that she’d had weeks to work through all of her jumbled emotions, finally untangling herself from the bitterness that had been clouding her mind for what felt like ages. Maybe it was just the simple notion that she fucking missed him— missed him more than her pride would ever let her admit.

Missed the way his nose would scrunch up in distaste when he didn’t agree with something, the way the edges of his eyes would wrinkle when he smiled, missed his boyish giggling and how it would go up in pitch when he laughed too hard. She missed the way his dimples would carve into his cheeks when he smirked, the way the little mole under the left corner of his lips would jolt with the slightest motion of his mouth, and the way his large, warm hands would feel as he would knot their fingers together, his thumb caressing over the tops of her knuckles.

Y/N missed the way her head would sink into his chest when she would hug him, his arms cradling her against his body while he played with the ends of her hair. She missed the small group of freckles at the base of his neck— missed tracing them with her lips while he chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting into spontaneous giggles at the feathery sensation. She missed the way he smelled, like mandarin shampoo and musky, spiced deodorant and his ocean salt cologne and that stupid fucking candle.

Y/N had remained on the fence for a few days about what to do, mentally jotting down the pros and cons of reaching out to Harry to make amends. The defining moment had been the day she’d gotten her sweater back.

///

Niall had gone out with Harry to see a movie, returning home with the Sherpa jumper hung across one of his forearms, tucked into his elbow. He’d held it out for her between his thumbs and index fingers, flapping it back and forth triumphantly, eyebrows arched with dramatic glee as a huge goofy grin buckled his cheeks. “Look at what we have here, then!”

He’d tossed it towards her on his way to the kitchen, belting out a cocky, “You’re welcome!” over his shoulder before disappearing behind the archway.

The minute Y/N had caught the hoodie in her arms, the scent hit her like a bus. It invaded her nostrils without permission, sending a sharp ache through her chest.

It was perfectly faint since Harry’s smell never tended to be overpowering— he had a very light hand when it came to cologne, well aware that too much could be agitating. That being said, the brand he used was potent even when dispensed in small amounts, so it’s salty sea aroma usually lasted through a couple of washes. He had probably nonchalantly chucked the jumper into the laundry with his clothes, which had resulted in the smell being strung through every single thread of the fabric.

Beneath the initial layer of his cologne laid the softer scent of the vanilla cinnamon candle that she knew too well. It was tender and homey, just the right ratio of sugar and spice, its cozy undercurrent enveloping her in familiarity.

It launched her into a round of fleeting flashbacks.

The fractions in time consisted of a winter day spent snuggled on the sofa under thick blankets, half-empty mugs of hot cocoa discarded on the coffee table and a Netflix show drawling on aimlessly in the background. Not a single soul had paid attention to the screen; Y/N was too busy straddling Harry’s lap, planting wet, sloppy kisses down his throat as he dangled his head over the side of the armrest, hands gripping her hips needily as she rocked against the bulge in his sweatpants, a dreamy, pleasure-drunken smile adorning his swollen lips. Low hisses and weak whimpers had resonated from deep in his chest, rolling off his tongue as his mouth had absentmindedly fallen open at the warmth growing between her thighs. Her fingers had twisted into the loose curls along the back of his skull while she’d gasped his name all breathy and whiney along the underside of his jaw, working herself against him at a desperate pace, his palms trailing underneath her pajama bottoms to grope at her ass.

Harry’s voice had been distant and echoey in the memory, but it made her cheeks sizzle nonetheless. “God, I love you so fucking much. Could spend the rest of my life between your thighs...Could spend the rest of it anywhere as long as it’s with you.”

Another flashback had shuffled forward like a deck of cards. This one was of a foggy, rainy evening spent napping soundly in their bed, limbs tangled messily with their bodies half-naked, her heated lips pressed to the lulled pulse that throbbed beneath Harry’s flushed neck. His hand had been petting over her mussed up hair, mouth pressed lovingly to the ridges between her brows, smoothing them out in order to defuse whatever was troubling her in her dreams.

She’d awoken, her eyelids heavy with the remnants of sleep, her mind partially conscious as she had taken in a long inhale, blowing it out through her nose. Harry had run the pad of his thumb over her lashes gently, helping her get rid of the blurriness that had taken her under. She had blinked up at him drowsily, a watery smile spreading her buzzing lips. Harry hadn’t said a single word and he didn’t have to— he’d just stared down at her over the tops of his lightly colored cheeks, the right edge of his mouth flicking upwards in endearment, his bright jade irises glossy with fondness. He didn’t have to say a single word because his expression silently told her everything she needed to know.

Y/N had snapped out of the memories in the blink of an eye, a sudden tickling sensation bristling down her cheeks. She’d reached up to touch her face in confusion, the tips of her fingers coming back wet, the water glinting cruelly under the dim lighting of the living room. Her brows had furrowed in objection, both at her tears and at being so abruptly yanked out of moments in her life when she had been the happiest. Her body reacted out of instinct, desperately searching for a trace of him to clasp onto, her hands fumbling to bring the flouncy material of the sweater to her nose.

She’d taken a saturated breath in, the pleasant odor hugging her trembling frame and kissing her heart. The tears had then started flowing freely across her waterline and down the bridge of her nose. They had seeped into the fleece hoodie and she’d immediately jerked back from it, not wanting the treasured item to suffer the same fate as most of her pillowcases. She didn’t want to do anything that would make her have to wash it— she refused to let the comforting aroma leave her.

Y/N spent the next three days in that jumper, only taking it off to shower. She wore it religiously, taking it to work, to the superstore when she went grocery shopping with Niall, to lunch with a friend, to a doctor's appointment she barely paid attention to, and even to bed. In the span of seventy-two hours, she had developed an addiction to the scent that was woven into the fluffy article of clothing, needing to have it around her at all times in order to function properly.

It was sad, really. It was just a smell and she knew it would eventually fade away, but she just couldn’t help herself from wanting to be wrapped in it every second of the day. It reminded her of a time in her life when everything seemed flawless— where there wasn’t a gaping hole in the center of her chest that could only be filled by the one person who had accidentally hurt her beyond compare.

Y/N couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the flood of memories that the stupid hoodie had fished out from the corner of her subconscious, where she had shoved them with the intent of never looking back. They loitered her dreams, broadcasting over the inside of her eyelids for hours on end, dissolving away when her alarm blared beside her ear, leaving her with a hollow feeling toiling at the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know how long she could deal with it, but her sanity was starting to wear thin, cautioning her that she had to do something or else she’d go absolutely mad.

On the night of the fourth day, Y/N finally cracked.

///

Two months and thirteen days.

That’s how long Harry and Y/N have been broken up.

It is currently 11:43 PM, meaning that in a meer seventeen minutes, it would be two months and fourteen days since the split.

Harry is laying in bed, as far away from his digital clock as possible, watching a random Christmas movie that Netflix had recommended, one hand buried in a bowl of kettle corn that he’d already refilled twice as the other holds his phone an acceptable distance above his face.

The movie is cliche, if he’s being honest; something about Santa Claus dying and passing on the torch to his dead-beat son that didn’t want it, so it ended up going to his overly-perky younger sister instead. The twist was supposed to be that a woman had never been Santa Claus, but he could see that ending coming from a mile away, what with her natural ability to get along with kids and the fact that she dressed like a literal Elf on the Shelf. It’s heart-warming in the way that all Christmas films are and it had the witty humor one would expect it to, alongside a cute furry animal sidekick that people couldn’t help falling in love with.

But it just didn’t really impress him. The message is sweet, the execution could’ve been better.

Yet, he only deemed it fair that he finish the movie. He’s already three-fourths of the way done and though the intended surprise was obvious, he might as well see it through.

In the middle of the climax scene where the young woman was putting on the Santa suit for the first time, his phone dings with a chime he hadn’t heard in too long— two months, thirteen days, twenty-three hours, and forty-four minutes, to be exact.

Harry had been so startled he’d dropped his phone on his face.

“Ow! Fucking hell!”

He sits up in one quick, stiff motion, the hand knuckle-deep in the popcorn bowl flying up and knocking the dish upside down, the sticky kernels rolling across his disheveled duvet. The sleek black device falls into his lap, nose pulsing in pain as it had taken most of the heat, his caramel-coated hand rubbing messily along his flannel pajama pants to try and get rid of the stickiness. He then pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger to stifle some of the stinging, bumbling to get his smartphone into the palm of his clean hand.

The screen lights up with a text message and Harry blinks a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it in some type of pain-induced hallucination.

But no, the message is very much real and it’s authenticity sends him into a dull stupor for a minute. He comes back to when the phone vibrates with another ring, alerting him for the second and last time that the person he wanted to talk to the most had actually reached out to him; it was in his best interest not to keep her waiting.

Y/N: Hey, are you free to talk tomorrow?

#siac #Sharing Isn’t Always Caring #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagines #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry styles angst #angst #harry styles fic #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb

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sugarcrash · 4 years

Text

Polaroids // Ethan & Grayson Dolan (Pt. 1)

Summary: Y/N wants what Ethan doesn’t, and Grayson wants what he can’t have, which leads to unforeseen consequences...

Warnings: kind of stalker!reader, not a lot of dialogue - more just backstory

Polaroids.

She had so many of them. Boxes and boxes, shoved under her bed, hidden from the world.

Any normal person would take one look at her collection and simply think “She’s crazy.” That part was only partially true.

She’d switch them out to put on her wall, lined with white string lights and her treasured photos on clothespins. The snapshots of memories and memories from over the years. Most of them were of one thing. Well, technically two:

The Dolan Twins.

More specifically, Ethan. She liked to flip through her favorites some nights, right before she fell asleep. Her all-time prized photo, though, was his rose one. The beautiful red flower sat between his cupped hands, and she liked to imagine that he was giving it to her.

The trio had quite a bit of history together, having met about 2 or so years ago when they just so happened to be at the same coffee shop she was on her vacation in Australia. No matter how hard the girl tried, she’d never be able to forget the first words he’d ever said to her.

“Wow.” he had said, “You’re, like, from a dream.” That was all she ever wanted, to be someone’s dream girl. Even though he went on to explain that what he meant was he had a dream that they’d meet someone knew today, her heart was telling her that he meant the words in a different way.

The way she wanted them to mean. Now, Y/N was not creepy or strange, at least, that’s what she believes, but when she wants a guy, she won’t outright say it. Instead, she watches (”But not in a creepy way.” she likes to think to herself at night. “Just in a ‘I-have-a-crush-on-you way.”) She waits.

She waits for them to notice her, to realize that she’s the perfect one for them, to finally fall in love with her like she plans. Y/N’s got diaries and journals and notebooks filled with stupid date plans and dreams and crushes, things she’d say to them or wish they’d know.

But they never do. In fact, at 19 years old, Y/N has not had a single lover. She feels used, like they string her along just to watch her fall apart all over again, like she has so many times before. Silly little girl, that Y/N is. Doesn’t she see? Nobody’s ever wanted her. It all lives in her head.

It all lives in the snapshots of her Polaroids, the captured memories, the stolen images, preserved forever. She always promises to take good care of them, and she does. No eating or drinking by them, no touching them when you feel sick or drunk, no letting others touch them. These are what she likes to call her “Picture Rules.”

The photo of Ethan and the rose, her favorite, has its own little box, tucked away in the very, very back of her closet. So, even if anyone finds the other Polaroids, they could never find that one. Her favorite of Grayson, which is the one in the forest’s lake, has its own box, too. It’s just less hidden.

The twins are used to her constant picture-taking. They know that she gets easily attached to people and things. They’re aware that she’s scared they’ll leave her. So they comfort her, keep her close and protected.

Ethan and Grayson are okay with this. As we all know, they’re big guys. Dominant guys. They need someone to take care of. They need to be the rocks, the protectors. Luckily for them, Y/N is there.

Currently, the three were snuggled up on the twins’ couch together, Y/N chucking little pieces of popcorn at Ethan’s face while Grayson tickled her to get her to stop, the movie playing behind them being ignored.

“Gray!” Y/N squealed. “I-I can’t breathe!” a giggle left her lips, which made Gray’s heart explode.

Ethan grinned and threw some peanuts from the container into her hair, laughing when most of them got stuck. “Y/N, you’re such a nut head.” he laughed loudly at his own stupid pun.

The girl rolled her eyes, and, with one last tug, wiggled away from Grayson’s trap. She began to run, making the boy hop up and chase after her. “Come here, you weirdo!” he yelled. Y/N’s laughed chimed from the next room as they played their game.

Ethan whipped out his phone and chuckled at the actions, running around to capture his brother and friends’ movements. Eventually, Gray gave up looking and sauntered back into the living room, breathless, and laid down on the couch.

“Get up, you lazy bum!” Ethan smacked his brother upright in the head before turning back to his device, posting the filmed adventure on his Snapchat story.

“Y/N/N! I give up, come on out!” Grayson screamed into the now-quiet house.

“I don’t trust you!” he heard her quiet speech come from somewhere unknown.

“I promise I won’t chase you!”

“Okay, fine.” she sighed audibly. Grayson’s head poked up from his position to look around for when Y/N came into the room. But when she didn’t appear, he groaned and plopped his head back down.

The girl entered the room a few seconds later, and seeing that Grayson couldn’t know where she was due to his lack of vision, jumped on his back and straddled it.

“Oof.” a low guttural sound emitted from the boy’s chest as she made her landing. “Get offa me.”

“No, but I can give you a back massage?” she said it like a question, awaiting his answer.

He hummed for a second before speaking, “Okay, sure.” he would never admit it, but he loved her back massages, and wished they could last forever.

“Can you give me one after?” Ethan asked from his spot on the chair. “My back hurts from laying sideways for an hour.”

Y/N blushed and shyly smiled. Her crush had never asked for a massage before, and the thought of being so close to him made her heart thump louder and her legs turn to jelly. “Yeah, I can do that.”

After a few more minutes of kneading Gray’s muscles, she climbed off him and went to the next room, where her backpack was.

“Hey!” Ethan called out. “Where’s my spa session?”

“One second!” she called back. “Let me just get my camera.”

She retrieved one of her most prized possessions from her bag and returned to the living room just moments later, putting in a new stack of film to take pictures with, seeing as she was almost out.

When she turned to Grayson, he was close to sleep, looking adorable with face his face mashed into the couch cushions, a hoodie engulfing him as his dark hair stuck out in many places. Perfect.

Y/N steadied her camera, ready to capture the photo. She pressed the shutter button, and a flash of light went off. She stayed still for a second more to make sure she got it, and the picture began to process, the piece of plastic slipping out of the bottom.

The girl plucked it out of the space and waved it around a bit before setting it down on the coffee table, going over to Ethan. “You might want to get on the floor.”

He grinned up at her and nodded, getting up from his spot and laying himself down on the fluffy gray carpeting. Y/N positioned herself so she sat on his back, just as she did with his twin.

“Totally non-sexual.” Y/N thought to herself. “Totally.” She was right, it was non-sexual. But that didn’t stop her from thinking otherwise as she used her hands to loosen his muscles. It was especially hard to think of anything else when he let out a moan at the feeling.

She gulped thickly, and after about 5 minutes, got up from E’s back to check the photo she had taken. It magnificently captured his beautiful face, his hair and everything else. Y/N smiled, noting that her photography had certainly approved over the years.

“Does it look good?” Ethan asked, appearing behind her.

“Yeah.” she breathed. “Another picture for the books.”

That night, after saying her goodbyes, she went through her routine like normal. Wash your face, brush your teeth, set your alarm, read, and then, sleep (Though, “read” was often replaced by “stare at pictures”)

It was what she’d been doing every night for basically the past year. It almost made her excited for nighttime. Though tonight, she didn’t want to sleep. She also didn’t want to wash her hands ever again. As she looked at her favorite twins’ pictures, she lingered on Ethan’s for far too long.

The feeling of her hands moving against his back made her heart sing and soar and she could feel herself getting even a bit aroused at the thought of it. Y/N had engraved the encounter into her mind, hopefully forever. Sure, they had hugged before and Y/N had kissed him on the cheek once or twice, but none of it had been like that.

It felt so right to her. For once, Grayson wasn’t there to interrupt. Well, he was, but he was sleeping, and we all know he’s a real deep sleeper. Y/N’s mind was yelling at her, “He likes you! He likes you!”

But we all know what a silly little girl Y/N is. She’s blind to love and reality. She likes to create images and dreams. It’s just the sort of person she is.

And so we leave her, staring at photos of her favorite boys in the darkness of her room, lonely yet again as she imagines if her life were different. If it were how she wanted it to be.

Now, you may think, “Oh, we’re leaving her? The story’s over? What happened next?” Poor Y/N. You’ll see soon enough, the universe has a strange way of making everything perfectly wrong go perfectly right.

But I can assure you, this adventure has only just begun.

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brixter-belisario · 4 years

Text

I almost choked off the last statement she just said.

"So are you saying you want to TIME TRAVEL?!" I exclaimed

“Uhuh!” she exclaimed."As I have researched, Einstein's theory of special relativity says that time slows down or speeds up depending on how fast you move relative to something else. Approaching the speed of light, a person inside a spaceship would age much slower than his twin at home "

"A photon is very small, Besides you have to be so small like a sub-atom for you to pass through a wormhole. How is that possible? and a fact that We can’t be a sub-atom it is so tiny!."

"well we can't be very small as an atom, but the only thing that can go through a warm hole is to be a sub-atom. so I came up with an idea on how if we will make a machine that could glitch our genes into a very small piece like an atom, but first we have to consume so much energy that enables it to be effective. And we will use the black hole to get ener----" I cut her.

“not even a people experience dwarfism can pass through a photon....” I joked trying to lure the topic. “ I'm just kidding” it seems like she got pissed so I take it back to the topic “so what if you are trapped in a black hole, and you can’t get back here on earth. Uhhhh... That! It would be my greatest a-agony!" I said

"I know, everyone's fear is being left by someone. And I won't leave you, my boy. Not if you will sabotage the blueprint I let you made!” she said

“Wait for what!?” I almost shout out of my shock.

“Just kidding!” silly girl!

“So what's your plan?” I ask her

“I have researched so much about the functions of time in our universe, I almost over familiarized its significant functions, so I came up with an idea, what if I will time travel? Make history in the world.” She points me “ And to address your concern Mister!, Dimension hopping also handles traveling into the future, since its traveling into alternate possible futures. Someone returning to the present with future knowledge only would know what might happen, not what will. This allows the traveler to take action, instead of being locked in." She pauses for a moment “AND THERE IS NOTHING FOR YOU TO BE AFRAID!”

"But black holes are thousands of light-years away from us" I reasoned out, "And to use its strong gravitational force you have to come near it. And if you come near to it, possible that you can be spaghettified by the black holes” I said to her concisely

“Well as I said I will make a blueprint of it!” she smirk and look at me TSS! Silly girl!

Days passed and I come to see my girl she was at her room busy with her stuff on her table, I saw her doing something at a big paper, and when I get to see the whole paper, its a BLUEPRINT. She means to say she is making a blueprint. "Love, I created a blueprint on how I could make it"

And Simply like that, our conversation 20 years after, got me nervous and also proud at the same time. Because we did it! I mean she did it, she made a machine that can glitch a gene into like a sub atom by the use of energy coming from a black hole. she is extremely desperate to make a history to the world, she wants to time travel! And now She's an astronaut and I'm an engineer. She flew to the sky while I make her jet, I also make sure that her suit will not malfunction as she did this mission. I almost recheck all the functions that she is using by the time she's in space, from the oxygen vessel to the suite.

"Are you ready?" I asked her “Well you should be, you’ve been dreaming this and this is becoming real, now prove to me my lady, and you’ll be back! You’ll be back and we will get married!” I sobbed and wiped off the tears flowing down in my face “ And I'm proud of you" I said, "your objective is to make history and standing here in with this jet I made is already history, I am so proud of you my lady!"

She comes near to me and holds my hand “thank you, love! Thank you for always there supporting me with my ambition. Thank you for being there for those times that I even doubt of myself but you are there who keeps on cheering me to do it again, and thank you for helping me create the crazy machine” we laughed at each other “i-I'm ready” she said

"You seem panicking," I noticed

"I'm a bit scared. What if something comes wrong?"

"we've planned this for almost a decade and I use all of my best to secure that you are safe in that suite and you are safe in the jet I made. Don't worry my love" I said, "Nothing will go wrong"

"I hope so," she said, "I do," she said again and showing me her face as if something will happen.

"I'll be waiting for you," I said, "remember? I will marry you after you came back!”

"yeah, i will be back," she said, and I kissed her and giving her my last hug.

At a glance, I saw her walking away, going through the simulated black hole along with some scientists.

She looks back I was trying to compose a word but the last I knew that come out at my mouth is "I love you" she smiles so wide, so genuine and mouthed "I love you more" my silly girl again.

I witness her stepping into the artificial black hole as to how she slowly steps and go through the black hole, it was all sound safe not until A hour later the ESA cannot detect them in the space, which means that they were lost in the space. I was shaking at the moment a lot of questions bugged me, a question that was composing around my brain. What if they can’t be back? I was shaking I don’t know what am I going to do, and due to panic I am even making a scene here I was begging at one of the scientists to recheck if they can detect there spaceship again. But ended up nothing.

Days, weeks, and even months passed by, everyone lost their hope. Some even counted them dead, I was also about to lose hope but I keep on convincing myself. "no, I'm not taking any conclusion. I'll only consider her dead once I saw her stagnant body. As long as I can't notice anything, I won't believe even a single thing they say."

In those days that were passing by, I was out of my mind, I kept on thinking of her that even my responsibility as an engineer is compromised, I was out of my mind. One time my friend Julia was there to visit me at my apartment. I felt her sympathy the way she comforts me gives me more hope. Days and days Julia was there consoling me, I felt her concern in times when I don’t eat due to reminiscing the days when she was here, she is taking care of me, we cuddle on bed and—

“what are you thinking?” Julia asked out of nowhere

“uhmm.. nothing” I responded,

“this past few weeks I notice that you're always daydreaming, are you okay?” “I think so,... I miss her” I said pouty.

She put the tray on the table, and sit beside me, “She's dead rick” she said “scientists can detect their spacecraft, and its been almost a year rick! Move on!” she added

“No, She’s not dead!. I will not consider them dead, not until I witness their stagnant body!” I said out of my anger and stood up. I was about to go to my room when I felt her hand tap at my shoulder. I stilled for a moment and trying to absorb what is she doing.

“Rick, you don’t need her anyway, I'm here rick, you don’t need her. I know you’ve been got off your sexual need, well you can have me rick. I'm here rick~” “Sorry Julia!, but I only see you as my little sister. I can’t be with you.” I said politely and saw her eyes with full mix emotion. She took back her hand at my shoulder and turn back. I even see her sobbing. I am so sorry Julia, I am so much in love with the girl I am with 20 years ago.

I was sitting at my couch and leaning my back on the sofa relaxing out of the drama. I was at peace when I heard my phone ringing. It was one of the scientists so I answered.

“We receive something from the space~” I cut him and got off the couch and took the key out of my pocket And drove faster to the basement. “I’ll be back my love!”

"What the fuck is this?" one scientist said, "A photon passed through a wormhole just to send this?!"

My eyes grew bigger, hope fills in me. I remember the day when she said that if we can be a sub-atomic we can meet each other in the future. And so this is it! "THAT'S HER!" I exclaimed, "She did it! She wants to prove that Einstein's theory is true now she did it! She manipulated the time and utilized the wormhole just to glitch genes into a sub-atomic. She composes that, that message is from her! She’ll be back!”

Just like that, everyone was filled with hope not until one of the scientists can no longer again detect their spacecraft. Some theories are spreading, gossips are very rampant but most firm one is they are swallowed by a wormhole and stuck in a very dark new universe. Some scientists even declared them dead as they can no longer detect their spacecraft. I was so devastated, I even begged one of the scientists to recheck it, sounds funny but this scene happens year ago.

Everything was in duskiness, I can't rest at night, I almost isolated myself just to cry, staring at the stars, missing her so bad. I can't keep my life go on, I can't live my life without her. Everyone was devastated and even lost their hope, there are around 20 passengers at the spacecraft, each of their families declared dead as the announcement was distributed. it was my bad moment not until I got a call from ESA it was one Sunday afternoon saying they got a really strong electric energy coming in the Earth atmosphere. It means someone's coming.

I knew it. I fucking knew it!

As fast as I can, I get to go to the basement and saw the spacecraft, THE SAME SPACECRAFT, THE SAME PEOPLE, SAME FUCKING PEOPLE. I wasn’t able to compose any word. I am so shocked, in all those years that pass by, they still made it. They got to get out of the vague dark universe inside a black hole. My eyes got fixated at the woman being encircled by people, using the suit I made, I can still remember what did I put in there, her suit is the most special than the other. she is crying as she hugs everyone.

"I can’t believe….. it! It was insane. We are trapped at…. something dark inside a wormhole… it was like.. a universe, a new UNIVERSE!!" she exclaims, crying, "I'll write a book about it!!” she was panicking, she was roaming her sight at the people composing around her.

“Where is my love? I gotta see him! Where is he? I gotta tell him that einsteins theory is real, the faster you travel the slower pace you get old.” she said while catching my figure.

She paused a moment as the times she sees me, slower she come near to me, as the gap is compressing I felt her eyes with a lot of emotions until Her tears Fell.

"Congratulations, you did it!” I said in a straight voice, tears are now trying to fell out at my face

As she was inches apart from me, the thought of what she said when we were high school recall.

"For you to travel, you need to have very high speed so that you pass through a warm hole, and so by that, you can get to go in the future," she said, "What does that mean?" I asked

"The time dilation could break the time manipulation, like for instance, living in space for a year is like living in the earth for a decade. So basically means that if the mission takes almost a year our love story will ends in a decade generally but YEAR specifically."

I smiled and try to hold back my tears flowing down in my face. “You did it! you manipulated the time. Welcome back to earth, this is now the present” She was sobbing removing the tears flowing down in her face I can’t believe that her research is real. Einstein’s theory is real.

"S-Sorry..." she said in a stumbling voice while look at the old quality of my face.

"You're too late," I said, and I smile, so weakly

“I waited for 70 years straight." and my tears fell,

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deakyjohns · 5 years

Text

Friends Will Be Friends - Ace!Reader x Queen

Based off the following prompt: Hello I’m sorry to bother you but could you please write a Queen x asexual reader please? Where the reader slowly realizes she’s asexual then is scared to admit it to the boys?

Warnings: Not a ton! Reader is anxious about coming out, so there are potential triggers there. [word count: 2,265]

pls note: i don’t identify as ace but i am queer, so i’ve done my best to express what? coming out can be like? but everyone’s experience is different. hopefully this does some justice to that notion! <3

You knew everyone meant well.

That when Freddie told you anyone would be lucky to have you, or when Roger jostled your shoulder, pointing out potential suitors, it was because they cared about you. They thought it was what you would want. You used to think it would be what you wanted, too.

You weren’t sure how to tell them. It had been difficult to even figure it out yourself. You always understood the feelings you had, but putting a name to them had been something else entirely. Through your teenage years, you’d begun to find slight differences between yourself and your classmates. When they got excited about dating and relationships, you found yourself more interested in the books you were reading and the music you liked. You cared about your friendships and loved meeting new people, but you never really liked the idea of dating.

You used to assume it just meant you hadn’t met the right person.

In a few attempts to give it the old college try, you had gone on dates. Once or twice you’d had nice conversations with people over dinner or a drink, but you didn’t feel yourself longing to see them again. A date that you hadn’t had a particularly good time with once tried to kiss you, and you’d pushed him away out of instinct. He’d mumbled an apology and a good night and you hardly answered before flying up the stairs back into your apartment.

You leaned against your door, letting out a long breath. Part of you wondered if you should have just tried it to see if you’d enjoy it. But the rest of you knew you wouldn’t have.

It frustrated you to no end that the world, everyone around you, really, expected you to be a certain way when you just weren’t.

You didn’t want to think there was something wrong with you, but you felt like you had to look for answers. What was it that made you different? Why, when people talked about marriage, sex, and dating, did you feel like you came from some other world?

As silly as it made you feel, you found yourself at the front desk of the nearby university’s library looking for answers. A kind-eyed and young librarian peered at you through her glasses.

“Can I help you find something?” she asked politely.

“Yes, actually. I’ve got to write a paper for my human sexuality class?” It was a bit of a shot in the dark, but you were fairly sure you could get away without too many questions.

“Oh, sure. Are you comfortable with the Dewey Decimal System? I’ve just got to log a lot of returns up here.”

“Yes, no problem!” You’d had to prowl the shelves in search of horrendously obscure books before.

“Great,” she said, relieved, “thank you. You’ll want to head down to the early 300s. It’s got sociology and all that. Try… maybe 301 or 306?”

“I will,” you said, “thank you. Good luck with all those.” You pointed to the hefty pile of books on the cart beside her and she let out a quiet chuckle.

“Thanks. Good luck with your paper.” It took you a second to remember: you’d told her you were writing a paper.

“Oh, yeah, thank you!” And with that, you shuffled off into the stacks.

It took a while before you found anything that resonated with you. But eventually, after paging through countless indexes and glossaries, you found something that resonated with you–– and deeply.

You left the library with a bit of a spring in your step, but also a sinking feeling in your stomach. It felt so good to understand yourself. But understanding yourself meant that you’d be able to tell people. And you had four dear friends that you feared might not understand you the way you did.

You’d met Brian and Roger right as Smile was falling apart. Roger had tried to chat you up at the bar and since he’d made you laugh, he thought he was getting somewhere. Right as you were about to politely decline anything beyond a friendly drink, Brian came over, distressed. He let loose that Tim Staffel was thinking of leaving before Rog could make a snide remark about being interrupted, and when you expressed your despair at the possibility of the band breaking up, they both seemed cheered. You’d greatly enjoyed the music, and told them so. The night had ended with the three of you closing down the bar and the boys walked you home (or stumbled you there, on Roger’s part). After concerts, they began to count on seeing you, and you were swiftly introduced to Freddie and later John. You came to their shows as often as you could and soon you were part of the family.

What had started as the boys inviting you to parties after gigs had blossomed into a real friendship–– one you could never imagine living without. Sometimes you’d spend time with them while they were recording, and they’d even brought you along on tour for a few weeks once. You’d shared an apartment with John for a stint when neither of you could afford rent alone, and there had been many nights when the five of you all woke up in someone’s apartment, tangled together on couches, in beds, sometimes on the floor. You’d taken shifts in Brian’s hospital room when he collapsed on their first tour of the US.

You’d been through so much with them, and there was no way they’d abandon you just because you were different. They were all different, too. It’s why people loved Queen.

Your best friend and current roommate Amy reassured you of this about a hundred times as you got ready to go see the boys at a recording session. She sat on your bed as you tugged on a t-shirt and dug around in your closet for your favorite jacket.

“Those boys adore you, Y/N. And if they’re going to stop speaking to you over something like this, then they don’t deserve to call you their friend.” You sighed, voice echoing a bit as you spoke.

“I know, I know… But if for some reason they do stop speaking to me, it’s gonna break my heart. Even if it’s not worth the pain, you know?” Finally, you felt your hand brush against denim and you pulled your coat of it’s hanger, slinging it on. Amy stood and put her hands on both of your cheeks.

“They’re not going to. I really believe that.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead and you let out a soft chuckle.

“Thanks, Ames. I love you.”

“I love you too, babe.” You smiled at her and took a breath. With that, you picked up your bag and headed for the door. Amy’s voice drifted down the hall as you made your way to the front door. “And you let me know if something happens. I don’t care if those guys are famous, I will start a brawl!”

You laughed at that despite the pit in your stomach and hopped in your car. It was now or never, you supposed.

----

When you arrived at the studio, they were recording a song you’d never heard before. It was fun and a bit jaunty, which eased your nerves a bit. Brian stood in the booth, playing a guitar solo, and Roger and John were sat on couches at the back of the control room. Freddie sat, enraptured at the panel as you crept in, not wanting to disturb anyone.

John was the first to look up and notice you, and just as he was about to stand and offer you a much calmer and quiet greeting, Roger was on his feet and already halfway to the door.

“Y/N,” he cried, “just who we needed to see! Do you know, it’s been bloody boring without you all day.” You couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled you into a hug. Over his shoulder, Freddie glanced up at you and smiled, wiggling his fingers in greeting. Soon though, his attention was back to Brian, who was still laser-focused on his playing.

“It’s not as if I’m here all the time, Rog,” you protested, but he waved you off as the two of you separated.

“Well, we’ve been missing you anyway.” John nodded as he came over to greet you as well.

“It’s true, we were just talking about you,” he said, giving you a quick squeeze of a hug, “How are you, Y/N?”

“I’m all right. I’ve been wanting to talk to you all.” As you spoke, the sounds of the Red Special stopped.

“Hey there, Y/N,” came Brian’s voice over the speakers. “Good to see you! We’re just finishing up.” Freddie spun around and stood, planting a kiss on your cheek and grasping both of your hands in his.

“Yes, darling, do stay and have a chat. Brian here’s just finished his solo for Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy and we’re just about to have a spot of tea.” You grinned at the name of the song.

“One of yours, Fred?”

“Who else’s?” he replied with a dazzling smile, brushing his hair over his shoulder.

Once Brian emerged from the studio, the boys led you off to a little kitchen where Freddie put on a kettle.

“We’ve missed you,” Brian said, plopping down in a chair beside you, “How is everything?”

“It’s, er–– Well, it’s been good.”

“You said you wanted to tell us something?” John added helpfully. He always seemed to know when you were nervous, and you shot him a grateful smile. The kettle began to whistle and Freddie lifted it off the stove.

“Yes, I did,” you said, voice quieting a bit. Freddie passed mugs around and took a seat on your other side–– finally all eyes were on you. This wasn’t going to be easy, you knew that, but now with all of their gazes fixed on you with varying degrees of kindness and concern, you felt a little safer.

You cleared your throat in an attempt to push down the lingering anxiety. “Well, uhm… You all know that I don’t really… well, date. And, ah… I was doing some reading because I was feeling frustrated with everything and I…” You paused and took a deep breath. “I think I’m asexual.”

Time seemed to stop after you said it. It was still one of the first times you’d said it aloud, and your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you were sure you wouldn’t be able to hear their reactions. All of a sudden panic took over and you felt the need to speak again, as if you owed them an explanation. “I think I’ve known for a while now, but I never really had a name for it and then I went to the library and I started reading all these books and––”

A warm hand came to cover yours as it quivered on the tabletop and it was only then that you realized you’d begun to cry a bit. You looked up and Brian was smiling at you softly.

“That’s great, Y/N. I’m sure I speak for everybody when I say we’re happy that you’ve found a way to describe who you are.” He gave your hand a squeeze. “You know we all love you, and we’ll all be here to support you.” The other three boys gave you encouraging smiles and you nodded, reaching up to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“I’ve just always felt different, and finally it just got too much. I was so scared.”

“Aw lovie,” Freddie cooed, throwing an arm around your shoulders, “why didn’t you tell us? You know we all would have been happy to help.”

“Well,” John ventured, “I’m sure it was a bit nerve-wracking. Not everyone is kind about these kinds of things. But nothing is going to change the fact that you’re our friend, Y/N. You’ve got us, no matter what.”

“It’s true,” Roger said, “we’d all go mad without you. And besides, if you’re asexual, that means there’s just more for the rest of us, eh?” Freddie shot him a long-suffering look from beside you, but the comment made you laugh as Roger knew it would. As you let yourself laugh, you felt some of the anxiety draining out of you.

“Oh god,” you said, “I’m so relieved. I was afraid that you’d all never want to speak to me again.”

“Nonsense!” Freddie cried, “you’d have to really do something terrible for that to happen, and I happen to know you haven’t got a mean bone in your body.” He paused for a moment and then smiled, standing up and gesturing for everyone to rise with him. “I propose a toast,” he announced, lifting his cup of tea in the air. “To our darling Y/N, whom we all love so dearly, and whom we celebrate on this day of discovery.” Everyone laughed at this, and Roger added in a cheerful “Hear, hear!” as you all clinked your mugs together.

You all drank your tea and spent the next little while catching up and laughing, just as you always did when you spent time together. When it came time for the boys to begin recording again and for you to head home, everyone joined in a group hug, placing you at the center. Standing there, literally surrounded by some of your closest friends, you knew you’d always have people in your life who loved you for who you were.

#queen imagine #ace reader #queen x reader #my writing #brian may x reader #roger taylor x reader #john deacon x reader #freddie mercury x reader #bohemian rhapsody imagine #borhap imagine #we love kindness and support in this house!!!

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somerandomwriter1234 · 5 years

Text

GMW Fanfic - Farkle and Smackle: Ready for the Next Step

Summary: After years of long lasting friendship, finally it’s the day of Farkle and Smackle’s wedding. Nuff said.

Scene 1:

-Outside of a church one afternoon, a large group of individuals stood in front of Farkle who was speaking to all of them.

Farkle: Thank you everyone. I'm glad you all made it. And of course I'm very happy that you were able to be here for…

-Suddenly from nearby, Smackle ran towards Farkle as she smiled.

Smackle: Farkle! Catch me!

-Smackle then jumped into the air as Farkle's eyes got wide.

Farkle: Aaaaahhh!

-Farkle then moving quickly tried to hold out his arms trying to catch Smackle. Smackle landed in Farkle's arms but the two both immediately fell onto the ground.

Farkle: Uuuuggggg. Smackle… you okay?

Smackle: THAT WAS AWESOME! Now I wanna re-enact that scene from my childhood fanfiction where the magical pony known as Rainbow Dash leads her army of Transformers in their war against Voltron: Defender of the Universe! Of course, the enemy might have a secret ally since rumor has it that Optimus was their spokesperson as a part time job back in the 80's.

Farkle: Smackle, can you get up? It's time for our wedding rehearsal.

-Smackle then jumped up seeing the crowd of people in front of her.

Smackle: Yay! You brought everybody that's gonna be at our wedding tomorrow to the rehearsal.

-Farkle then got up as he stood near Smackle.

Farkle: Well there was no telling what kind of… unforeseen circumstances might occur on our wedding day. So I decided everybody should be prepared.

Smackle: Aww. You left wiggle room for me and my ingenious spontaneity. I love you so much my beloved. Ooo! But I hope you have some wiggle room in you right now. My Uncle Fred who is bringing his special piano to our wedding is dropping in from his flight from Sweden right now.

Farkle: Oh, does someone have to pick him up?

Smackle: No. That's why I'm glad you have wiggle room. He's dropping in right now. Look up.

-Farkle then looked up seeing both a man wearing a parachute and a large piano attached to a parachute dropping down towards him. Farkle's eyes then got huge as he screamed.

Farkle: Aaaaahhh!

Scene 2:

-In a large dining hall, several individuals were getting a large amount of food ready. Farkle entered the room and walked towards one of the individuals that was setting up: Lucas.

Farkle: Hey. Room looks great. You and Leena have done some great work in here.

Lucas: Thanks. By the way, you okay? Heard some screaming earlier... and then I saw a gorilla running around outside.

Farkle: Oh yeah. No big. I mean once you run away from bats, dealing with a hip hop dancing gorilla from Poland is no issue. Now from the looks of it, all of the guests are here except for…

-Suddenly Farkle's thoughts were interrupted by the voice of his friend: Riley.

Riley: Farkle!

-Farkle turned to see Riley walk into the room and towards her.

Farkle: Riley!

-Farkle and Riley instantly gave each other a strong hug and then sat at a table together.

Farkle: Riley, I am so glad you made it.

Riley: Wouldn't miss this weekend for anything for my long time friend.

Farkle: So where's Maya and…

Riley: Upstairs. And speaking of my wife… Wow. You and Smackle… getting married.

Farkle: What makes it so wow? The fact that it took me so long to ask her, or the fact that I actually did ask her.

Riley: Both actually.

Farkle: Riley, listen… you've been a good friend to me for so many years now. So I need you to give me an honest answer to a question I'm about to ask.

Riley: Yeah. What is it buddy?

Farkle: Do... do you think I'm ready to marry Smackle? Am I ready for this next step?

Riley: Farkle… first off, you're smarter than most people for just asking that question. And second: I know you love Smackle. Because only love could cause you to look past Smackle's… quirks… and see her for the true caring and loving soul she is. You shouldn't prolong this any longer. You're ready to marry her. You're ready for the next step.

-Suddenly incredibly loud rock music and elephant noises could be heard causing Riley and Farkle to cover their ears. From nearby, Lucas turned the volume on a set of loud speakers down as he called out to Farkle.

Lucas: Sorry. I was just testing the sound system with the playlist Smackle left for me. Are you guys really playing Rock Music with Elephants as the soundtrack to your wedding reception?

-Riley and Farkle then looked at each other with faces of uncertainty.

Riley: Well maybe you're not ready for her taste in music. But that's a little detail you can work on later.

Scene 3:

-In a church sanctuary, many people were sitting in seats while at the front of the room Farkle stood in front of everyone as he spoke loudly.

Farkle: Okay, everyone. So after the opening music plays, we'll get to the part of the ceremony where…

-Suddenly a rope attached to the ceiling fell down near Farkle, and then Smackle appeared sliding down the rope and jumped right next to Farkle.

Smackle: Where I'll jump into the sanctuary like a Ninja Penguin from Nigeria.

Farkle: Smackle, I thought you were going to go down the aisle with your bridesmaids near you.

Smackle: Well this is just the rehearsal. I'll still go down the aisle once NASA gives me my supersonic jet pack back.

Farkle: Oh. So I guess now we have to make sure no planes are flying over the church tomorrow morning. Any other changes to the ceremony we should be made aware of?

Smackle: Hmm… Nope. I'm good. Thank you for being so flexible with all of my changes beloved.

Farkle: Well… you're worth it to me Smackle.

Smackle: You know Farkle… I never thought anyone would want to marry a silly girl like me. So when I finally found someone who was just willing to be my best friend, I decided I would be satisfied with just that. But when I realized that you wanted to marry me, it felt like an impossible dream was coming true. I can't wait to marry you tomorrow.

Farkle: And I can't wait either. Which is why I wanna get married right now.

Smackle: What?

-Farkle then got close to Smackle and held her hands.

Farkle: The pastor knew I was gonna do this along with everyone else here. Smackle, I don't want to wait one more minute of having my life not tied to yours. We have our closest friends and family here right now. We can make all of tomorrow just one super long reception full of any... interesting ideas you want to suddenly dish out. But today… I want this to be the day I marry you.

Smackle: So if we get married today and have no ceremony tomorrow… then we'll have extra time for the tap dancing buffalo from Ireland! You are brilliant!

Farkle: Well considering how spontaneous you are, I figured I might as well start.

Smackle: But where are our wedding rings. We're gonna need….

-Farkle smiled as he then got on one knee and took out of his pocket two wedding rings and held one in front of Smackle.

Farkle: Isadora Smackle… will you marry me right now?

-Smackle began to smile as she covered part of her face with one hand as tears of happiness began to come out of her eyes. Smackle then nodded as she moved her hand down.

Smackle: Yes Farkle. I will marry you right now.

THE END

#girl meets world #girl meets world fanfiction #gmw fanfic #farkle and smackle #farkle x smackle #smarkle #farkle #smackle

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godess-ofthe-underworld · 5 years

Text

See You Again (A Harry Hook x reader story)

woo next part finally!

Part 7

Summary: When Hadley, Daughter of the feared ruler of the Underworld Hades, is sent along with her 4 best friends to Auradon Prep she must leave behind a certain pirate who stole her heart. Will she be able to keep the promise she made to him or will it all go up in flames?

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in Descendants. Hadley and the plot between her and Harry are mine.

Warnings: mentions of abandonment

A few days later

After a failed attempt to con Jane into letting Mal see the wand, the five desperately needed to come up with a new plan.

Hadley sat in Mal and Evie's dorm helping Evie make a new dress, something the two loved doing together. Carlos was there too sitting at the foot of Mals bed with Dude, the campus mutt, somehow Ben got Carlos to like dogs. It made Hadley a little jealous. She may not have enjoyed her time in the Underworld but she did enjoy the company of her father's three headed guard dog Cerberus, who stood guard at the entrance to the Underworld. She missed him dearly.

Jay came crashing in showing off his new jersey.

He walked over to Mals bed.

“ Did your plan with Jane work? Are you going over to see the wand?”

“Do you think that I would be going through every spell in this book if I hadn't completely struck out?” Mals voice rose as she spoke.

Jay held his hands up in defense.

“Someone's in a bad mood.” Carlos said from the floor.

“ My mom is counting on me! I can't let her down.” Mal said flicking the back of his head.

“ Look we can do this!” Jay raised his voice causing the rest to look at him. “ If we stick together.”

“ And we won't go back, until we do” Mal stated looking around the room at the others “Cause we're rotten”

“To the core” the four finished.

“ Oh yeah, I found out that fairy godmother blesses Ben with the wand at coronation and we all get to go. I have nothing to wear of course!” Evie sihde.

Just sas Mal was about to say something there was a knock on the door

“Hold that thought.” Mal said rolling off her bed to answer the door.

Ben was on the other side asking how their day went.

The found out that only Ben, his parents, FG and his girlfriend where aloud upfront. Which hatched an idea in Mal's head.

“I think it's time Benny-boo got himself a new girlfriend. And i need a love spell.” Mal clapped and Carlos threw her spell book at her.

Later that night the five stood in the schools kitchen preparing the love spell in the form of cookies.

“It says we still need one tear.” Hadley pointed out in the recipe. She had been demoted to reader after she accidentally hard boiled two eggs in her hands.

“Well I never cry so..” Mal trialed mixing the batter.

“Then let's chop up some onions” Carlos offered from his spot on the counter.

“No. It says one tear of human sadness. And this love potion get the best reviews so we have to follow it exactly.” Mal stated.

“A tear's a tear.” Jay sighed exasperatedly.

“ That's not true Jay they both have antibodies and enzymes, but an emotional tear has more protein based hormones than a reflex tear.” Evie piped from next to Mal.

“ Listen to you!” Hadley praised.

Jay stared wide eyed before relaxing and shrugging nonchalantly.

,”Yeah I knew that.”

“You did not.” Carlos slapped Jay on the arm.

“Okay well someone needs to cry.” Jay stated.

“ someone start talking about Hook. That'll get us a tear.”

The smile faded off hadley's lips turning into a deep frown.

The other three looked in shock at what Jay had said.

However before anything could be said, Lonnie, daughter of Mulan, came bouncing in the door to the kitchen. Her new long soft curls, courtesy of Mals spell book, flowing behind her as she shuffled her way across the floor in her bunny slippers.

“there you are mal!” Hadley snapped out of whatever trance she was in and quickly covered the book in front of her.

“you all the girls want you to do their hair.” Lonnie looked to the bowl in front of the three girls.

“ midnight snack hu? Whatcha making?” she questioned working an eyebrow before dipping her finger into the batter.

The vks all shouted and told her to stop but she'd already eaten it.

“ what? Guys I'm not gonna double dip.” she stared wide eyed at the five in front of her.

“ feel.. anything?” Evie looked a little concerned.

“yeah, like maybe it might be missing something?” mal asked.

Jay hopped of the counter, stopping in front of Lonnie, smirking

“hey there" he flirted pushing back a piece of his long hair.

Lonnie stared at Jay for a second before giving a tight smile and shrugging.

“could use some chips.” Lonnie shrugged walking over to the fridge.

The looked confused for a second before sighing in relief.

“and those are?” Hadley asked as mal resumed stirring .

“chocolate chips. Only the most important food group.” she said excitedly throwing a small handful into the bowl. “didn't your moms ever make you chocolate chip cookies?” The five looked at her “ like when you're feeling sad and they're fresh from the oven with a big ol’ glass of milk and she just makes you laugh and just puts everything into perspective.” Lonnie smiled.

Hadley lowered her head. She'd never known her mother. From what her father always told her she was dropped off in the underworld not long after she was born. Her mother was too busy to raise a child. The only mother figure she really had was the Evil Queen when she and Evie met and even that wasn't that great.

“ Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“ Things are different where come from.” Mal piped up.

“ Y-yeah I know. But I just thought that, even villains love their kids.” The frowns already prominent on their faces grew darker, Hadleys eyes even began to brim with tears.

Lonnie looked around at their frowns before grabbing Hadleys hand.

“ How awful.” Her voice cracked as she spoke and a single tear fell from her eyes.

Mal noticed and reached over quickly wiping it away and flicking it into the bowl.

“yeah well, big bummer but we have to get these into the oven so thank you so much for coming by really really have a good night” Mal said as she escorted Lonnie to the door.

“Evil dreams!’ Mal waved as she left.

“Okay! Boys Cookie sheet! Hadley oven!” Mal pointed to each of them as she turned around and walked back.

“ You know what guys, I think I'm going to head back to the dorms.” Hadley spoke looking anywhere but them.

They stopped what they were doing and looked to her.

“Hey you okay?” Evie placed a hand on her shoulder, which she quickly shrugged off.

“ Yeah just feeling a little tired.” She nodded her head placing a small fake smile on her lips.

“ Okay.” Evie called as she walked away and out the door.

Hadley wrapped her arms around herself as she made her way back through the drafty, silent castle, The floor echoing as her heeled boots hit the hardwood. She knew Jay didn't mean anything by what he said, and there was no way Lonnie could have known about her family life but it struck a chord in her chest.

When she entered her dark room she, made her way over to her bedside table and kicked off her boots before grabbing her notebook with her sketchings and a pencil. She walked over to her big window that overlooked the isle. Opening up to the page she'd drawn Harry. She opened the window a crack to let in the cool night air. The wind blew slightly, pushing her blue and white locks around. The ever present storm cloud over the isle seemed darker and more violent.

She thought about what Harry was doing at that moment, he could be sleeping as it's late but Uma could have him on watch. She wondered if he'd thought about her since she left but knew it was silly to even think that. She knew he'd never see her the way she saw him, he was a pirate after all. But still, she couldn't help falling in love with her best friend.

(Hadley)

Wise men say Only fools rush in But I can't help falling in love with you Shall I stay? Would it be a sin If I can't help falling in love with you? Like a river flows Surely to the sea Darling, so it goes Some things are meant to be Take my hand, Take my whole life, too For I can't help falling in love with you Like a river flows Surely to the sea Darling, so it goes Some things are meant to be Take my hand, Take my whole life, too For I can't help falling in love with you For I can't help falling in love with you

A single tear fell onto the page.

thank you all for reading. if you liked this part and want part 8 please like, comment or reblog! also if you want to be tagged in this series to know when its updated please message me!

Tag list: @sexyshortie-universe

#harry hook x reader #harry hook #disney descendants #mal jay carlos evie #daughter of hades

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jazzycheshirekitten-blog · 5 years

Text

Soft kitty, Sad kitty, Little ball of glum

((In which Jade checks and Jazz after baths were talked about in the Crew chat and a weakness was shown in Jazz’s fasade

@rifleshotsandflowerpots

Jazz

Your name is Jasmine Lalonde. More commonly known as Jazz. You are totally fine. Completely. It's totally normal that you haven't bothered to get out of bed since you reached it some time after leaving Roxy and the rest. Currently, the only sign that you are in your room is the breathing lump under the covers that is you. You probably should be hungry, but you just want to sleep. Talking to people in the chat was probably a mistake. They all act so strange.... A boss apologizing to you? Very weird. At least it sounds like they won't give you any punishments at the moment.

Jade

Your name is Jade Harley and you're feeling a little guilty. Sure, maybe you weren't teasing Jazz as much in the chat but the way she was acting... well, here you are, looking for her. Bec has been an immense help, but the fact that she's in the base certainly helps. You let Bec do his own thing after leading you to her door and after a moment's hesitation, you knock on her door. "Jazz? Hey you in there??"

Jazz

You freeze. They've come for you! Maybe you're silent you'll be safe.... But you have a big mouth and a terrible sense of humor. So you say, "Am I anywhere?"

shadowdemon101

Oh there we go; she was in there! "Jazz, it's Jade; I'm just checking in on you! Is it alright if I come in??"

Jazz

"Um..." you say as you think about it. If she was her to punish you for something by order of the bosses you'd be punished eventually one way or another. Maybe this was a test? How does a normal person react to this? Honestly you have too much depression to deal with this sleeping to do to deal with this, but if it's a test you'd better not fail. So you eventually say, "Yeah, if you'd like. The door isn't locked." You remain under the blanket though.

Jade

You push open the door to look around the room, but your eyes are drawn to the lump under the blanket on the bed. Huh... maybe it was a good thing that you came by, as Jazz definitely doesn't appear to be okay. Closing the door behind you, you take a seat on the edge of the mattress, but make no motion to pull off the blanket. "Sooo.... whatcha doing under there?"

Jazz

"Sleeping!" you say in a voice that sounds like you're smiling. "It's one of my favorite pastimes, dear Jade~" You attempt to start purring but the purr defies you. Drat. "How are you my dear pup lover? I haven't seen you in a bit. Been busy?" you speak rapidly. Keep the focus on her. Yeah. Greta plan.

Jade

"I have yeah." You purse your lips, not buying what she's trying to sell. Heck even the purring isn't working quite right! "How 'bout you? You sure you been doing.... okay??"

Jazz

"Oh yes. I'm lovely. This universe is lovely. I am just marvelous and couldn't be better!" you say sticking your arms out from under the blankets to give her a pair of thumbs up.

Jade

"Jazz come out from under the blanket." You order flatly. "If you were fine, you wouldn't be hiding under a blanket."

Jazz

You are silent for a long moment then you try again with a whine, "But it's waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarm. Don't put a kitty out in the cold, Jade! It's too cruel!"

Jade

"Jazz. Come out, I know something's wrong." You tell her again.

Jazz

You move the blanket slowly till your eyes are showing then you stop. "Wrong? What do you mean? I am perfectly healthy and able to work when called upon. Not a thing is wrong. I am a fully functional kitty," you say in an attempt to be playful.

Jade

You do not buy that for one minute; you've lived here long enough to know. "Jazz, don't make this difficult. I can clearly see something is wrong. You're one of us now; that means we give a damn when something is wrong. That's why I'm here you silly cat. Now come out from there."

Jazz

You squint at her for a long moment. Is she trying to dig more into your weaknesses? No she seems... too much like... you don't know what but something similar to Deadeye when he was trying to convince you to leave your father. It's... actually scarier somehow than if she was digging for your weaknesses. At least that you could understand. You slowly sit up staring at her and feeling abnormally nervous. Hey at least you're not thinking about how you've lost all hope of getting your father back! "Um..." is all you manage to say in this situation. You look like you haven't been sleeping well with the darkness under your eyes and over all you just do not look in the most ideal health in the eyes of a normal person.

Jade

Jeez; Jazz looked like shit. The surprise of it is definitely showing across your face as you carefully cup her face with your hands. "Jazz what the hell?? You look exhausted! Have you not been sleeping?? Are you sick??" You can't help yourself; even though you don't know the dimension-hopping cat that well, you are worried for her health all the same. This cannot be from just you and Deuce's comments on bathing! "Here, you want me to go get Miss Paint?? She's a very good medic she can help you if you're sick or hurt."

Jazz

"I'm not sick," you tall her as you hold in a flinch at the unexpected touch. "I've been sleeping. I'm totally fine. I'm just...." you trail off as you search for a bullshit answer to give her.

Jade

"Jazz I'm not blind." You frown, a bit offended by her feeble attempt to lie. "You are not looking great. Hell, you looked better when I met you in the infirmary than you do now, and you had been shot." Was she.... homesick?? Her little device thingy; it couldn't take her home. You remember the explosion! Was that hitting her only now? "Jazz," You speak softly, looking directly into her eyes. "What's wrong?"

Jazz

Your eyes fall downward and you get a lot more nervous as you say, "I-I can assure you I am fully able to do any and all of my duties of called upon...." Is she supposed to report to the bosses on your state? On how fit you are? What if they think you're a liability instead of an asset. Your father would correct you when needed, but would they think you're worth correcting?

Jade

"Jazz I'm not asking about your abilities; I'm sure you are more than capable." You frown a little, not liking what you're seeing. It's not a side you were expecting Jazz to have, but it's a side you've seen but you certainly hope you're wrong. "I'm asking what's wrong Jazz; has someone hurt you? If so, we can tell the bosses. You can tell me; whoever hurt you, we'll make them pay."

Jazz

You shake your head, "No, no one hurt me..." You really don't understand and you aren't sure what she wants. It's weird. "I... I..." you mumble then bite your lip. "There... there was... a chance.... that I would be able to get my father back.... but things happened and that chance is gone for good and there's no.... no hope any more..."

Jade

Oh. Oh. She must've met Jake; he's the only other dimension hopper you know and maybe he had a way home? No, he must have; he came to get Dirk. But if Jazz is here like this, that means it must have failed. Shit; you make a mental note to text Dirk later. However for now, you gently pull Jazz close to yourself and give her a warm, all-encompassing hug. "Oh Jazz, I'm sorry. I really am."

Jazz

You're stiff for a moment then you melt into the embrace and curl against her as your eyes mist up with stinging tears. "I-it's... it'll be fine..." you mumble.

Jade

You rub her back as you hug her close. "You're allowed to cry Jazz; don't hold it in. Don't bottle up your emotions; trust me."

Jazz

"I... I don't get it... why are you encouraging my weakness?..." you ask her in tearful bemusement.

Jade

"Your weakness??" Now it's your turn to be bemused. "Jazz, being sad isn't a weakness, not really. You are allowed to feel sad when you're sad. You're allowed to feel happy when you're happy. You are entitled to your emotions; as long as it don't endanger the crew, you are allowed to feel whatever emotion you're feeling."

Jazz

"You're... really confusing..." you mutter as you lean into her more and rub at your eyes with a hand.

Jade

"Yeah, well," You huff a little, a little smile on your face. "You're not the first to tell me that~"

Jazz

You sigh and wrap your arms around her in return. "So... this really isn't any sort of test from our bosses at all? They aren't concerned that I'm... not... worth having around?..." you question, still not quite able to believe this isn't a test.

Jade

"Jazz this is not a test of any kind." You promise, cuddling her now. "This was me, all on my own, worrying that I had hurt your feelings in the chat. I know Deuce apologized, but I wanted to check up on you. Nothing more, I swear. You are plenty worth having around Jazz; as long as you don't betray us."

Jazz

You wouldn't betray them. That would be stupid on many levels. ".... Thank you.... I... I am not used to being worried about..." you admit to her quietly. If your father worried, he didn't show it like this. Usually if you'd stayed out longer than you were supposed to he'd lock in your room for a bit to think. But if he'd given you free leave to do what you liked, which wasn't often, you could be out quite a while and return with him only waving at you in acknowledgement.

Jade

"Well 'fraid to tell you Jazz, but now that you're one of us, we're gonna be worried about you." Well, most of us. You can't really speak for everyone of course, but you will. If that wasn't obvious already. "....again, I'm sorry about your dad. He seems very important to you."

Jazz

"He.... he was everything that mattered..." you murmur and fidget with your claws. "And... he gave up... everything to save me... and I still don't understand it..."

Jade

"...he must have cared enough about you to save you Jazz." You gently pet the top of her head. "I don't know what your life was before you came here, but I can't see any other reason why. But, I'm pretty sure that's what Dads do for their daughters."

Jazz

Normally you would purr, but you're not yet in a good enough place to do that. "But... he had a mission, a purpose and he was going to change the world... and I'm... I'm just his right hand... I did what he needed me to do..." you tell her, being more honest then you have been for sometime.

Jade

Hmm.... honestly that doesn't sound very good actually. But you don't say that; instead you continue to hold her close and pet her, encouraging her to continue. "How was he going to change the world Jazz?"

Jazz

"Uuuuuh.... I am not really supposed to talk about it..." you tell her. Plus you doubt she would like your father's goal of unleashing outer gods on the mortal plane.

Jade

As much as you wanna push, you know you'll have to be patient. "....if you don't want to, that's fine. But Jazz, you're gonna be okay, alright?"

Jazz

There is a long long pause before you finally admit, "I don't know..."

Jade

"I do." You tell her confidently. "Wanna know why?"

Jazz

You look at her, an eyebrow raised as you say slowly, "Yes?"

Jade

"Because you're capable Jazz. I know you are. Your dad helped to shape who you are, but you don't need your dad to survive. I can see that you're more than able to handle yourself. You just gotta remind yourself of that."

Jazz

That is comforting and terrifying. You look at her with wide eyes. "I... I hope I can live up to your belief in me..."

Jade at 9:12 PM

You give her one of your bright smiles, kissing the top of her head. "I'm sure you will Jazz. You just gotta believe in yourself too."

Jazz

"I am... fantastic... So of course I'll believe in myself," you say sounding not at all convincing even to you.

Jade

You give her a Look and continues to pet her head. "It'll take time Jazz; you don't have to push yourself now. But eventually, you're gonna believe in yourself too."

Jazz

"Can we... Talk about you a while?" you ask her. "I should like to know you better..."

Jade

"Me?" You hum; well, it probably wouldn't hurt. "What do you wanna know?"

Jazz at 9:25 PM

"Anything you are willing to tell me. Did you have family?" you ask of her softly.

Jade

"I did." You say slowly. "I... had a grandfather. But he was killed when I was very little. So I was on my own for most of my early years before my guardian found me."

Jazz

"Oh shit... Sorry..." you say awkwardly. "Um... Maybe something lighter... Like... Hobbies?"

Jade

You chuckle. "Don't worry; it was a long time ago. As for hobbies... well I enjoy gardening and flowers. Run my own flower shop too! Also dabble in mechanics but it's a bit limited due to the whole 1920s ban."

Jazz

"Oh how interesting. I should love to see your flowers and whatever you make..." you summon up a smile.

Jade

"I'm pretty good at flower arrangements! And with the past Valentines you wouldn't believe how many people were looking for bouquets!"

Jazz

"A busy bee were you?" you smirk a little. "If I also might be so bold... How did a nice girl like you end up working for the mob?" you ask with your head tilted to one side.

Jade

"Immensely." You laugh a little. "Me? Well.... I was recruited around 18 actually. I don't look like it, but I'm actually an assassin." You give a smirk of your own. "Specialty is snipers, but I do what I'm told~"

Jazz

"Oh! Oh that's very nice! Maybe I could join you sometime? Even if it's only to keep you company," you say, eyes bright and interest piqued.

Jade

"Well.... maybe on my next assignment, whenever that might be." You grin, pleased to see a little bit of a spark again. "Though I won't lie, stake outs can be a little boring~."

Jazz

You flop over taking her with you so you lay on the bed. You grin, "I am delightful company I assure you." You snuggle close and purr a tiny purr.

Jade

You squeak but laugh as you're dropped back onto the bed, but you don't mind. "I suppose I'll have to take your word then!~"

Jazz

"How did you and your fluffy boy meet? Also, where is he?" you ask as you look around.

Jade

"Bec? Aw he's around! Probably being lazy somewhere." Or chewing on some bones. "I met him when I was... what? Maybe 7? 8? He's been with me a long time, but he's very loyal and very spry."

Jazz

"I... I really like dogs. But a lot of dogs don't like me..." you admit to her.

Jade

Ooh. "Bec takes a little bit to warm up to, but I think he'd like you. He might be wary but he doesn't hate cats; once he sees that you're a good kitty, he'll be wanting all the pets from you~"

Jazz

You wiggle about to get a better look at her. "You really think so?" you ask hopefully. You honestly could use all the love and cuddles you could get right now.

Jade

"Yeah! He's a protective boy, but once he knows you aren't a threat to me, he'll like you." You promise. "...if you want, I could get him here now?"

Jazz

Your tails floof up with nervousness, but you nod to her silently and eagerly.

Jade

You sit up a little to pull out a silver dog whistle. The other dogs might start barking, but it should be fine. You blow three short whistles and then wait. ....there's then a flash of green and suddenly in the room, is the big ol' white fluffball himself, looking at his human obediently.

Jazz

The tails are at maximum nervous floof! You watch frozen. You really like dogs, but you are always afraid of them not liking you. And you technically were bitten by a dog girl already this week.

Jade

Bec sees his human, but also the strange shadow cat. His ears are pressed flat against his head, but you cluck your tongue at him. "No, it's okay Bec; she's a friend. Come say hi~" Bec tips his head but slowly, he hops up easily on the bed to give Shadow Cat a good sniff. Hmmmm..... smells like shadows and tears?

Jazz

You hiccup a little from crying before as you watch him and whisper a soft, "H-hello... Good to meet you..."

Jade

Bec tips his head. Shadow Cat is sad! He looks to his human, who looks relaxed around her. Well, if his human was okay..... You grin a little as Bec pushes his head under Jazz's hand and give her an expectant look. "See?~"

Jazz

Very cautiously, you deliver pets to the pup. "Good boy... Very good..." you say, a little more confident.

Jade

Bec looks pleased and presses closer between Shadow Cat and his human, tail wagging happily. "I told you; Bec seems to like you well enough~"

Jazz

Your purr starts to come to life and you scooch to make room for the fluffy good boy and pat the bed, "You can come up if you want... I already get my fur all over this bed he he." You give Jade a grateful smile. "Um... Thank you for... Whatever exactly this all is..." you say with a faint blush of embarrassment at your awkwardness.

Jade

Bec is already there! And snuggled between the two bodies because he loves attention~ And Shadow Cat seemed sad; he hopes he can chase the sadness away. "Hey, no problem!~ Just happy to help." You smile back. "We're friends after all~"

Jazz

You are silent again as you pet the puppy and then after a long embarrassed and hesitant pause, you speak, "This... may seem like a bizarre question... But... What does it mean to be friends? Why is it a word some people put importance into while others use it liberally?"

Jade

You are surprised by the question; that doesn't stop you from thinking it over. "Friends... a friend is someone you have a mutual bond with; someone you are close to. Someone you trust. However, some people see friends differently, hence the word "Friend" being used differently. For me, friends are someone I feel affection for, someone I can trust to a certain extend." "I like to think I have many friends, but there's only a select few that I consider close. Someone I would protect if with my life if I had no choice."

Jazz

"I see... It's either very meaningful or not at all depending...." you mumble as you mull over the concept more fully. ".... I think you are my friend too," you say to her.

Jade

You feel pleased. "Then I'm honoured that I am Jazz~ I'll do my best to stay as such."

Jazz

"Good," you smirk. "I am learning a great deal from you Jade... Maybe forces beyond our control saw fit to make us meet first in this universe for that reason."

Jade

Fates?? Control them from the beginning? Somehow that feels appropriate. "Maybe. Glad it did though~"

Jazz

"Do you have anywhere you need to be for a while?" you ask her.

Jade

"Nah. Me and Bec haven't got much planned at the moment."

Jazz

"Well then," you say as you try to cuddle them both, "Perhaps stay with me for a bit?"

Jade

Bec snuggles close to Jazz as you also press a little closer. "Sure; I could do with a bit of a cat nap anyway~"

Jazz

The purr increases and you close your eyes and relax as you whisper, "Good..."

Jade

You watch both Jazz and Bec relax and soon, sleep gently takes you too. Maybe it was a good thing that you went to check on Jazz...

#rifleshotsandflowerpots #long post #discord rp #((sad nyas #((Jade is a blessing

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diyunho · 6 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Mommy” Part 3

It was a well known fact The Joker’s girlfriend left him with four young children and disappeared. It was also known that his ex stepped up and took care of them even if she didn’t have to. The King of Gotham might have lost his woman, but he never lost his Queen.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

After 2 months

The Joker is alone in the VIP room, enjoying his solitude; he ordered everyone to clear the premises and wait outside since his business meeting ended earlier than expected. Out of the blue, the cell alerts of a new message. J slides the screen and a picture with you and Mia laughing pops up: you are both wearing matching headbands with yellow flowers, identical pearl necklaces and PJ’s made from the same fabric.

He barely smiles, when a new picture with you and now all the boys added in the frame pops up, apparently ready for bed. The Joker’s smile gets a little bit wider, then after a few seconds it disappears under the usual frown. He starts texting something back but changes his mind and erases the words, staring at the images one more time before placing the phone inside his pocket.

At the penthouse, you didn’t even wait for a reply since J never comments when you send him pics with the children; you get notifications they were seen and I guess that’s the best you’ll ever get.

“Kase honey, stop jumping on the bed, it’s time to sleep, ok?”

The four years old is still energetic so he keeps on jumping, chanting your name:

“Mo-mmy! Mo-mmy!!! Mo-mmyyy!!!”

“Kasey, be good and listen to me!” you try to make him behave while exiting his room with a clear purpose: taking Mia to her crib. The baby girl fell asleep in your arms, resting her head on your good shoulder. You are really not supposed to hold the kids or lift them up since it will take a while to completely heal from the injury you sustained, yet sometimes you can’t help it.

You carefully place her in the cradle, sneaking up into the room next door to make sure the twins are still dozing off. Thank goodness they are and you close the door to their bedroom, immediately rushing to Kase’s room when you hear the thud followed by crying.

The boy was hopping up and down when he accidentally moved too much towards the edge of the bed and landed on the floor right on his face. The carpet is soft but the impact scared him nevertheless.

“My poor little man,” you pick him up, worried he might have broken something.

Kase whimpers and hugs you, searching for comfort. You kiss the child’s head and caress his back, soothing the pain.

“Are you ok?” you wipe his tears, making him sit on the bed while you analyze him.

“Y-yes…” he stutters, sniffling.

“Then why are you crying honey?” you ask, cupping his face and the answer makes you hold in the laugh.

“Don’t know, mommy…”

“You’re silly,” you kiss his cheek, happy nothing bad happened. “You want me to read you a bedtime story?”

“U-hum, “ he nods, distracted by the offer. You get Kase under the covers and snuggle with him, reading until he falls asleep. And the busy day you had catches up with you, making you snooze in there before you have a chance to go to your own bedroom.

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

“Y/N…Y/N, wake up!” The Joker shakes you and finally gets a reaction; he’s been calling your name and you didn’t even hear his first attempts.

“What time is it?” you turn towards him and Kase instinctively moves closer, searching for the warmth of your body.

“It’s 2 in the morning. Come on, hurry up, we have to go: it smells like gas downstairs, I think we have a gas leak!”

“Jesus!” you wake up in an instant, pulling Kase in your arms and struggling to get up; your shoulder hurts since you carried Mia around yesterday. “I’ll take him, go to the car!” he wraps his son in the blanket, not fazed by the protesting moans.

“Dadddddyyyyy,” the boy yawns, closing his eyes, upset with the ruckus.

“You’re fine, brat !” J lifts him higher in his arms and follows you. You want to get the other kids, but some of the henchmen are already helping, having them in blankets and heading towards the elevator. The gas detector is beeping in a frenzy but you were so exhausted you had no clue.

“Yuck, the smell,” you cover your nose, waiting for J to catch up with you. “Are we going to my house until this is taken care of?”

“I suppose so,” he growls and you know why: The Joker hates your house, always complains it’s too small.

Situated on the property you use as the children’s playground – 3 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, a large living room and a spacious kitchen- the one level home is more than enough when needed. Since you live mostly at the penthouse, you never feel the need to upgrade. Usually the boys sleep in one bedroom and you sleep with Mia, this way J has his own room. If he’s not coming to stay when you take the kids there, you move Aiden and Zane to their father’s bedroom. Simple and easy.

Not for The King of Gotham though. “Simple and easy” are not his thing.

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

“It’s cold in this stupid house!” J complains as soon as he enters the master bedroom where you gathered all the kids in the same bed, waiting for the central heating to warm up the house.

“You know I don’t have the heat on when we’re not here; it’s not safe. Be patient, it will get hot soon,” the reply attempts to explain the obvious situation.

“Gimme 2 kids, I need to warm up. I’ll take them to my bedroom!” he gestures towards the twins.

The two year olds are not excited about their dad’s strategy: they are cranky and whiney because they got woken up in the middle of the night and transported to another location. They hold on to you, burying their faces in the pillows.

“Hugging all the kids, hm?” J snarls, irritated. No other choice but to crawl in the big bed also.

You choose not to comment: how is this your fault?!

The Joker snatches Mia that is sleeping in your arms and places her on top of him, moving Kase to his left, this way he has some bodies around to warm up with.

“That’s better,” he grumbles, covering everyone with an extra blanket. Kase reaches for you, wanting to go back to the spot next to his mother but J won’t have any of it:

“Stop wiggling and sleep!”

“I want my mommy,” his son complains and The Joker gets mad:

“What am I, decoration?! She’s literally a few inches away!”

“Kase, go to sleep honey, ok?” you plead, touched by how much the children love you. “Mommy’s here.”

In about 30 minutes the house reaches a comfortable temperature and J tiptoes out of crowded bed, wanting the privacy of his own room.

You keep on tossing and turning; your shoulder aches and you’ll definitely need some pain killers if you want to be able to rest. You slowly move away from the kids, not wanting to startle them. It’s so sweet to see the four innocent souls peacefully dreaming, curled up under the cozy fleece blankets.

“J, are you still awake?” you knock at his door.

“Yes, come in,” he turns on the lamp, curious on why you’re still up. You open the door and step inside.

“My shoulder hurts and I forgot the painkillers at the penthouse. Can we send…”

“I have your med,” he shows you his coat on the chair. “Upper pocket.”

“Oh, that’s awesome!” you sigh, digging in there and retrieving the much needed remedy. ”Thank you.”

“Here,” he dismisses your gratitude, handing over the bottle of water kept on the nightstand.

You swallow 2 tablets, taking a deep breath when the sharp pain pokes at the surgery site.

“Get in,” The Joker slides on the sheets, making space for you.

You almost choke on the water and he rolls his eyes.

“Are you afraid I’m gonna take advantage of you?”

“No,” you hesitantly debate on his proposition, confused about it.

“Then get in,” he reinforces his will. “Don’t look at me like that!” J glares in your direction, not a big fan of that intrigued expression on your face.

You listen to him though and comply.

“What did the doctor say? Do you need more blood transfusions?” he starts the conversation as soon as you are next to him. You bite on your lip, nodding a no. “Well, if you do let me know, alright?”

“OK…” you agree, perfectly aware on why he’s interested: after all the blood loss you sustained with the stabbing, you needed more to replenish what was depleted. They had you hooked up to the IV ready to go, when J had a fit because the doctor didn’t notify him of the procedure. The Clown Prince of Crime was furious he wasn’t asked to donate blood: he’s a universal donor, a match for all blood types. Of course the medical team had to apologize and be thankful they weren’t killed on the spot.

They also had to listen to his rant about how generously rewarded they were for being allowed to take care of the mother of his children and how they couldn’t even keep him updated on your condition. That was the first time you heard him talk like that and it was hard to hold in the tears: it made you aware he did appreciate the sacrifices his ex-girlfriend made over the years while taking care of his babies. The Joker just never showed it; he’s not that kind of person.

Needless to say you do have his blood running through your veins now. And you could have more if necessary.

You stare at each other in silence: you have a feeling there’s a purpose to his behavior.

“Why did you remove the tattoo?” J unexpectedly blurs out.

Ahhh, there we go: that’s why you were cordially invited to stay; he wants to talk about stuff bothering him. Might as well since you want to take a few things off your chest also.

You answer with a question:

“Why would I want my ex boyfriend’s name on my skin?!”

“I worked on that tattoo for weeks! It was perfect, my best one !” J cuts you off.

It’s always about him, of course.

“We weren’t together anymore, no point in keeping it…”

“I worked on it !!!”

This is not going well.

“The lack of a tattoo doesn’t…”

“I spent weeks on that ink!” he interrupts again.

But you can’t hold in your own escalating anger:

“Why did you always bring Anya back?! Why did you tolerate her behavior?! Why did you keep on getting her pregnant?! She was horrible! And you didn’t want to have any children with me when we were together ! I would have been a great mother!!”

You lick you lips, running out of breath after the valid outburst. The Joker’s eyes have a sudden threatening sparkle, not expecting you’ll turn the tables on him.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you !” he grumbles, annoyed. “But I have to?!” you fight back, more and more upset. “Why…” and your voice breaks…”Why did you like her so much?…”

“I don’t like anybody!” he mutters through his silver teeth.

“You did like her a lot, it’s obvious…” you sadly smile. “And she neglected the kids, almost killed her own daughter… She never cared about you either…So…why did you like her so much?” you persist, unwilling to quit. At this point there’s no use: you are both fired up.

“Get out of here!” his menacing voice shrieks. “Get out before I might do something I can’t take back !” he pushes you away, struggling to contain his temper. “OUT!”

You don’t budge and J continues to violently shove you towards the end of the bed.

“Get out I said !” he pants, provoked by your rebellious behavior.

You don’t even feel the shoulder pain anymore or anything else for the matter.

“Why did you like her so much?” you repeat and he covers your mouth, rolling on top of you. The Joker realizes you’re not attempting to escape his grip; you just gaze at him without squirming.

“Get out of my sight!” J hisses, annoyed at your apathy; you’ve been in charge of his security for years, he knows you can defend yourself.

Why don’t you?

He lifts himself up a bit in order to give you one last nudge that will make you fall off the bed, when your arms tightly wrap around his neck, pulling him back on top of you.

“Why did you like her so much?” you forcefully hold him close when J wants to escape the embrace. “Why did you like her more than me?” you whisper in his ear and start crying, unable to suppress the burning question you wanted to ask for years. “I was loyal, I really loved you and never cheated,” your shaky voice makes him pay attention. “And you still broke up with me. And I didn’t object continuing to work for you when you asked. And I took care of your children when you asked,” you start sobbing and his face is buried in your neck, still mad yet listening. “You told me you trust me and that I never stopped being the Queen…Queen of what?” you lift his head up so you can look at him.“Queen of nothing?” and the tears keep on uncontrollably stream down your cheeks, your heart aching a hundred times more than the stabbing wound.

The Joker doesn’t bother to react or protest when you finally slide from under him, catching your breath while sitting at the edge of the bed. You wipe your eyes and prepare to go back to the kids just as his words barely make it out:

“You’re my children’s Queen and The Queen of this city. And…and my Queen since I can’t find a better one I can trust…”

Instead of making you happy, the sentences deepen your gloomy mood. J gets under the covers, turning his back on you, done with it all. He senses you scooting over closer to him until your steady breath lingers on his neck.

“Why are you still here?” he grouchily mutters and he feels your lips pressing on his shoulder.

“You want me to go?” you sigh. “Or…can I stay?”

“Suit yourself,” he reaches for the lamp and turns it off, not opposing to your left hand finding its way around his waist.

You’re almost napping when The Joker reopens the discussion:

“If by some miracle one of these days you manage to keep a man and get married, you still have to take care of the children; that’s an order !” he spits out with a hateful tone.

“ I really love your children; I couldn’t abandon them,” you cling to him more, somehow comforted when your hand is being moved from around his waist and kissed after a few seconds.

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

The next day he avoids you.

You spend a lot of time outside on the porch, watching the kids play in the snow: even if is mid-February, there is plenty left for them to enjoy.

“Mommy… for you,” Zane gives you a snow ball, excited it made you smile. Mia is chewing one of her toys, cozy on the thick blanket she’s placed on at your feet.

“Thank you baby,” you kiss his nose, making sure to button up his jacket one more time. He likes to unbutton it; surely takes after his father, can’t keep stuff buttoned up. The thought gives you a sudden boost of positivity while watching him run back to his brothers. Aiden trips him and they both fall to the ground laughing, Kase trying to squeeze in between them because he wants to join in the fun.

“Don’t hurt yourselves !” you shout, the maternal instinct surfacing for the millionth time today and you help Mia up, the cute Princess standing without too much help; pretty soon she’ll be able to walk on her own.

You peak behind you through the huge glass windows, seeing The Joker talking to Frost. The King of Gotham is fast to throw something in the trash can, visibly irritated.

“Mommy, look !” Aiden yells, showing you the wall of snow he’s starting to build with his siblings.

“Good job honey!” you praise, waving at the boys and J steps outside, crabby disposition noticeable from a mile away. “Hey, did Frost tell you how long it will be until we can return to the penthouse?” you’re curious to find out since you hardly spoke to him since this morning.

“At least one week,” he growls, displeased at the news. “The pipes need to be replaced at the lower level. Only one duct was leaking, but they want to change all of them for safety.”

“That makes sense,” you grunt and lift Mia up, The Joker scolding:

“You’re not supposed to do that !”

“I know, I know,” you agree and he gestures for her. After finding herself in his arms, the little girl starts munching on his coat’s collar, babbling words that almost resemble “mama” and “dada”.

“Greeeat, another one to chew my ears off,” he frowns and it doesn’t go well with you.

“Why do you have to take the joy out of everything? Aren’t you happy Mia will walk and talk soon?” you sulk, not understanding why he can’t appreciate the little things.

Sarcasm follows:

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be? It’s something a kid never did before, right? Pfft,” he scoffs, ”you’re the one that got emotional when each kid learned to walk and speak; I don’t get the hype.”

“Of course you don’t,” you grumble, concluding the children must be hungry after playing for so long. “Darlings, come inside; it’s time to eat!”

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

You stop drinking your tea and elbow J, making him pay attention to the touching scene taking place at the kids’ table: the boys are eating and feeding their little sister also. Kase is actually standing, holding her hand and she nibbles on the chicken nugget offered by Aiden. As soon as Mia starts chewing, the boys eat some more too, waiting for her to finish what she has in her mouth.

Your eyes get teary; even if they did it before, you find it irresistibly adorable.

“That’s very cute,” you gulp, getting ready to help. The boys can mostly feed themselves, yet their mom’s intervention is more than welcomed.

J smirks, quietly adding more salad to his dish.

You head over to the counter, wanting to dump leftovers from your plate in the garbage can before helping the kids. The small box resting on top of the trash is discretely taking out by a curious Y/N. Is this what he threw in there earlier?!

You open it and hold your breath: it’s a gold bracelet; a simple circle beaded with a few diamonds, engraved with plain, meaningful words:

To: Mommy

From: Kase, Aiden, Zane and Mia

J hears you sniffling behind him and turns his head to see what’s going on. You hold the bracelet in the palm of your hand, speechless.

“Why is this in the garbage?!” you bite your cheek. “Help me put in on please.”

He doesn’t seem willing to fulfill your demand.

“I had no clue you dig in the trash now! Is it a part time job?” he mocks, cranky you found the customized gift he ordered eight days ago and decided to dispose of.

“Help me put it on,” you disregard his bitterness and J nags:

“It’s a gold hoop, easy to use, no clasp or nothing.”

“I want you to help me… please…”

That’s the point: you want him to do it.

“You’re annoying !” he yanks at you wrist, gliding the bracelet against the soft skin.

“Daaadddy, I’m thirsty,” Zane whines, coming over with his empty cup.

“Oh goody, someone finally needs me!” The Joker’s sassiness escalates for no reason.

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

You creep inside his bedroom without knocking and lean your back against the closed door, waiting.

“Can I sleep here?” you utter, not looking his way.

“It’s your house, isn’t it?” the indirect invitation follows and you crawl in the bed by him, keeping a safe distance. “We can fit the twins between us; why aren’t you coming closer? Or are you scared you won’t be able to behave?”

You actually giggle, surprised you feel nervous.

“I think I’m alright, ” and you bring your body near his, cuddling like you used to years ago when you were together.

“Here’s the thing Y/N,” The Joker lifts your chin up. “If you sense any activity bellow my waist, don’t flatter yourself. It’s just a natural reaction due to the closeness. Are you…are you fucking blushing when I’m just messing with you?!” he teases and you feel your cheeks burning.

“I’m not blushing,” you whisper, embarrassed at your stupid vulnerability.

“You totally are,” J grins and you are aware it’s true. You wiggle in his arms, cautiously considering your next words. The smile perishes on his lips when you ask:

“J…Can you make love to me?”

He looks surprised and you feel awkward.

“That was dumb to say,” you patch your mistake with a fake, clumsy laugh.

“Of course I can,” The Joker’s face comes really close to yours. “The question is if I want to.”

“Well,” you gulp, “do you want to?…”

“Maybe…” he gropes you, thinking. Or is he just pretending?

“Moommyyyyyy,” is heard from the next bedroom, Aiden starting to cry because he probably had a nightmare.

“Such a missed opportunity,” J chuckles and you get out of bed in a hurry, but he grabs your hand, squeezing it before releasing the hold: “Come back afterwards.”

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

The children weren’t used to find their mommy sleeping in the same room with their father, but that changed two years ago. They don’t know what it means, but one thing’s for sure: they love coming in the master bedroom at the penthouse and jump on the bed, waking up both parents and horsing around all morning until The Joker hides under the pillows, displeased with the noise.

Mommy never complains though; she always shows her affection and lets them touch her growing belly, telling them their new sister is in there. So fascinating for the kids! And they are getting more and more impatient, especially the little girl: she was told she will be the big sister and it sounds like an important task.

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

“Baby?” the three years old Mia’s squeaky voice inquires, excited and curious to see such a tiny doll in your arms.

“Yes honey, this is your sister Emma,” you smile, pecking her forehead. You are sitting on the floor with the kids around you and they are seeing their sister for the first time.

“Waahhhh, she’s so cute,” Kase caresses the small head, mesmerized.

“Can I kiss her?” Zane claps his hands, puckering his lips.

“Sure,” you agree and Aiden wants to do the same.

“Me too!” the oldest kisses her also and Mia pushes him away, pouting:

“She’s my sissy!”

“Hey, hey, no fighting! Emma is everybody’s, ok?” you try to alleviate the quarrel, amused it’s already starting. It took like…40 seconds for the rivalry to surface.

“Look daaa’yy, baby!” Mia snickers, presenting Emma to her father like some kind of treasure. He’s been sitting at his desk, watching their reactions. You smile, softly rocking the new born when it fusses from the commotion.

“I know, I made her,” he sneers, winking and the kids are completely absorbed by the new addition to the family.

“Can I hold her?” Zane extends his arms and you carefully place Emma in his grip, holding both of them so he won’t drop her.

You notice the Joker is the proud possessor of a very arrogant aura and you know why: he’s been bragging all afternoon that he makes very cute babies and no matter how the mom looks like, he compensates for the deficit. Such nonsense!

But the annoying truth is that he does make beautiful babies.

“Mommy, can I hold her too?” Aiden begs, getting you out of daze.

“Sure can,” you nod, wondering when the jealousy will actually kick in.

You are definitely prepared for the challenge: this might have been your first pregnancy, but it’s actually your fifth child. It shouldn’t be too hard since…

Once a mother always a mother.