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jell0buss-37 · 10 months

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Why not? (Peter B. Parker x reader) pt. 4

He is so broken. I just know I can fix him.

THIS. HOLY SHIT. Okay, so this is just oozing with honey sweet fluff.

Warnings: slight angst of insecurity, a steamy kiss, my heart was racing while writing this

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

You've known. You knew the first time you felt his lips gloss over your own. You tasted his musk on your tongue, a hint of something sweet to accompany it.

He wasn't one to easily accept help. He hated asking for it up front. You knew he can't act worth shit, and you knew when he was lying. You knew when he was uncomfortable, and when he was at complete peace. And you were scared, because it had been a month now. And you didn't know where he was and if he was okay.

You sit in your living room, the rain outside a constant downpour. A glass of wine in your hands, you sit in the dark, a single candle that reminds you of him sitting on your coffee table, as you go through the various article clippings, all written by him. You always would collect the first copy of anything with his work, carefully cutting them out and placing them in a box that you keep under your bed. You wore a hoodie he had left, the smell still almost fresh. So you knew he wasn't dead or anything. Thankfully, you still at least knew that much.

You knew it was him every time you shared a passionate moment with his spider clad self. And you knew it gave him confidence whenever he wore that suit. He was an insecure man, his pride too big to let himself admit that fact. And you would take what you could get.

After the first kiss, it wasn't until about two months later you'd share another. Peter had been distant, not like he was shutting you out, that would break him. But you noticed that there was an obvious line he was entirely too scared shitless to cross.

He'd avoid touch in general, and he never knew how much he'd actually been craving it from you, as you with him. You weren't exactly sure what was going on, but you knew to be patient with him.

At the time, it was really only just a sneaking suspicion that he was the vigilante hero. In fact, it seemed that Peter wasn't the only one avoiding you. You'd be there occasionally whenever there was some sort of crime to be stopped, and see him there. You'd hope to talk to him, about the kiss you had shared with him. And yet he'd disappear before you even got the chance to even try.

You were walking home from work that night, feeling your patience seriously start to tax. Peter had usually walked you home on later nights, but he once again had cancelled on you. You understood that he has his own affairs to handle, his own life and whatnot. But dammit, if it didn't hurt to be rejected whenever you'd ask him to do something he'd usually be more than up for doing. You started getting seriously irritated with him, coming up with a plan to confront him the next day to be honest. That is until you were suddenly knock to the ground in an alley. "Alrighty toots, you can make this easy for yourself if you just don't squirm-" before he could even finish, he'd been webbed to a wall across from you, his mouth webbed shut as well. You looked up to find your hero, his red suit a blur as he drops down before you, wordlessly helping you up and handing you your things.

Before he can swing off again, you already had a firm grasp on his hand. "WAIT- uh, just h-hold on a sec. Please." You plead with him he stops whipping around to look you in the eye. He was tall, an air of confidence about him. It was intimidating, and so… magnetic. Attractive. Your words dying on your tongue as your own confidence slips away, suddenly shy.

"Uh… I-I just. Um. Can I get maybe a lift home?" Your ears are flushed in embarrassment, beyond flustered. Now he definitely wasn't gonna talk to you ever again. And yet, he laughs. Laughs. His shoulders relax immediately. The knot in your stomach loosening at the sound, so comforting and familiar.

"Alright, fine. Hold on tight, pretty girl." He teases, wrapping an arm around you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your cheek to his own, feeling even hotter than before somehow. You feel the wind whipping around you, stinging your warm cheeks, your heart in your throat from the sudden weightless around you. You squeeze your eyes shut, too scared to look down, until you feel you guys at a standstill. Just hanging there.

"Open those pretty eyes, honey." He whispers into your ear, his warm breath fanning over your ears and neck, which blossomed in a deep red now. You listen to him, opening one eye slowly, then the other as they're blown wide from the view.

It looked like you guys were hanging from the roof of another building, and when you look down, your stomach drops as well. You hadn't expected to be so high up. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, tightening your hold on him, and he laughs, also wrapping his arm around you tighter, ensuring you felt safe. He's quick to swing you to the roof of your apartment building, landing safely. And yet, neither of you move to leave eachothers arms.

You breathe in his scent, the smell of warmth and familiarity dripping from his musk. You stare up into his eyes on his mask, as he does you. "Why… did you kiss me?" You breathe out. He huffs out another chuckle, warming your heart. "Couldn't help myself." "Do you do that a lot?" You question. "What, kiss the girls I save? No. Your the first." He says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "No, I meant do you always know where everyone lived?" You tease back. It's his turn to be flustered, as he scrambles for an excuse. "I-I, well… I just ha-had that uh, intuition! Hah, something like that- woah, whatcha doing there?" He moves his face away from you, as well as his body, his hands on your wrists, which where on the edges of his mask to lift the bottom.

"Relax, I won't take it off entirely. I just wanna see something…" You chide. He's hesitant, pondering what you could be doing. The possibility of another kiss flashes his mind, and he feels a sudden pull at his heart strings. A sudden ache taking over his gut at the idea, and he's quick to relax in your hold, giving up complete control to you eagerly.

You back him into a wall on the rooftop, leading to the entrance of your building. He rests his hands on your waist comfortably. You lift his mask, ever so slightly, exposing his lips and the bottom of his nose. Just a little more, you lift it on the bridge of his nose. It's just as you'd suspected. He has his eyes closed, waiting with baited breath to feel your heat on his own, when suddenly he feels this searing pain on the bridge of his nose. "A-AAAH, DAMN-" You'd repositioned his nose, which he had broken that same night on an excursion with a certain rhinoceros villain before this little adventure with you. Before he can let curses spill from his lips however, he feels them completely encompassed by your own. You slip your tongue past his lips once he's been taken aback from surprise.

He whimpers into your mouth, his own tongue eagerly lapping at your own. His hands going to pull you into his own body, a hand carding through your hair, the other slipping beneath your shirt on your back, feeling the heat from your body. Your own hands exploring him, a hand on his neck and jaw, the other brushing your fingers along his chest, the feel of his heart hammering against your palm causing your own to race. The feeling causes chills to deliciously run down his spine.

The kiss is sloppy, but deep. Experimental, and yearning. Your mouths disconnected with a slight pop, a light string of saliva breaking from between you two, leaving you panting. He however, was completely breatheless.

You knew he had a broken nose from the slight blood spot on his mask, as well as his wincing. You weren't a nurse, but you knew that adrenaline was the perfect pain killer, and what better way to get his blood pumping than an extremely steamy kiss? You kiss his jaw, and another light peck just beneath his ear, feeling his pulse quicken. You smile, as you whisper against the shell of his ear. "Sorry. I couldn't help myself." You smirk. And with that, you leave him to stand there, completely frozen from shock, as the door to the building shuts behind you.

Peter was a lot more responsive to you after that. Jumping at any opportunity to follow you around after the event. This definitely confirmed your suspicions, especially given that his nose was crooked after that. You'd trusted him to come to you in his own time, truly.

The appearance of Spiderman was much more frequent after that as well. Suddenly stopping by almost two to three times a week, heated kisses and passionate moments being shared between you two. He'd even stop by in the night, coming to rest with you in your bed, cuddles and exploring hands, watching over you as you slept, feeling completely at ease. "Almost like twilight! Except I don't like, wanna eat you or anything." He'd joked once. This went on for about a year. You two feeling like two teenagers again, even though you guys were just 28 and 30 at this point in your lives. You two having been close friends for over a decade now.

When the time came that he told you about his identity, he was absolutely terrified. He didn't know what you'd think, absolutely scared of losing these timid moments with you, some of his most peaceful memories, as well as you. And so he'd whispered it against the skin of your chest, your back, wherever his lips had rested, with his mask off, whenever he thought you'd not be listening, too deep in sleep. But you'd smile every time he breathed these words to you.

One night you had decided to finally admit your own secret to him. After a night of shared vulnerability, he'd whispered it again, and you'd turn around to face him, looking into his soul, as he waited with baited breath for your response, scared shitless. And yet, all you did was smile, pressing a light peck to his now crooked nose, "I know. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." You whispered against his own skin, thus drifting off to your own dreams. His heart pounding so loud in his ears, so much relief flooding his veins, his heart swelling. He had never felt so calm, all of his anxieties dissipate into the night air within the safe confines in your room.

You were a goner from the beginning, and you always knew he was too. From the beginning, you'd known.

#peter benjamin parker #peter b parker #peter b parker x reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse

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acey-wacey · 2 years

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Not Going Anywhere

Pairing - Jade Leech x Reader

Synopsis - Through a mishap on a school trip, you and Jade end up stranded in the middle of nowhere and are forced to stay the night at a local B&B (you know exactly where this is going).

Genre - (take a wild guess) enemies to lovers, fluff

Notes - this is very slightly based on the movie Leap Year because i watched it yesterday and if you haven’t seen it, you should, its super cute.

"This is all your fault, Leech!"

You crossed your arms and huffed as you turned away from Jade. He scoffed in disbelief and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to alleviate the headache that was you.

"Oh, of course it is," he snarked, rolling his eyes at your stubbornness. “Though, it really does seem like we would never be in this situation if not for your ignorance.”

Your cheeks puffed up in annoyance and it took every ounce of self-control not to punch him outright. He always managed to get a rise out of you with his calmness when you knew that he was really just as unhinged as his brother.

You and Jade Leech had hated each other since the moment you met eyes. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. You had been immediately captivated by his patience and intelligence and you had marked him as the object of your attraction for about two minutes. As soon as you spoke a word to him, he told you he thought you were dull and not interesting enough to get to know. After that, you took every opportunity to show him how interesting you could be.

You made it your personal goal to annoy him as much as possible. It aggravated you how he always managed to deflect your quips so easily. If you hadn’t hated him, it might’ve only made you fall further. Your mutual dislike had evolved into a full-blown rivalry and because of it, you were now stuck in the middle of nowhere.

It was all Jade's fault. It always was. During the second year school trip, you had caught him sneaking away from the group suspiciously and followed him, determined to catch him in the act. He had spotted you and started arguing about why you were there and before you knew it, the whole group was gone along with your only way back to campus.

"What is your problem?" you laughed exasperatedly and turned back around to stare Jade down. "You always mess stuff up for me!"

"You are so arrogant, you know that?" He matched your intense gaze and smirked with his signature smugness. "Not everything is about you, Y/N."

You opened your mouth to retort but were interrupted by a heavy rumbling in the sky. You groaned upon seeing the grey clouds that had moved in during your argument. Jade blinked out of reflex as a wet droplet hit his cheek. The dark speckles slowly accumulated on the road, eventually building up into a downpour of rain. You raised a hand to shield your face from the rain as Jade started running for the nearest building. Upon seeing your lack of movement, he rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand, pulling you with him towards the closest light he could find.

Jade pulled you under the porch awning of what appeared to be a small B&B. You peered in the frosted glass windows, only making out the outlines of people against the warm light. You clicked open the door knob and, relieved to see it was open, pulled Jade inside with you.

The warmth immediately enveloped you like a blanket, washing away all your previous anxiety from being stranded. You and Jade stood there, catching your breath against the door frame until the clerk cleared her throat.

“Are you quite alright, dears?” She examined your sopping wet figures with concerned eyes. You smiled at her kindness as you walked up to the counter. “Are you needing a place to stay?”

“No, no, thank you,” Jade immediately responded, earning a jab in the arm from you. He turned to you with a look of confusion on his face.

“What?” he whispered under his breath while assuring the clerk that all was well. “We don’t need somewhere to stay.”

“Does that rain look like it’s going to stop anytime soon?” you whisper-yelled back at him, gesturing to the window, darkened by storm clouds. Jade rolled his eyes before taking a deep breath to regain his composure. You interrupted him before he could retort. “And before you say anything about going back to school, why don’t you take a second to remember why we’re here in the first place?”

He rolled his eyes, trying not to give away the fact that he was about to say exactly that.

“We would love to stay here for the night, ma’am. Thank you,” you smiled t the woman, ignoring Jade’s comment of “suck up”. “Just charge our room fee to Mr. Dire Crowley. This is all probably his fault anyway.”

The woman smiled and nodded before tapping something into her computer and leaning under the counter to fetch you a room key. She handed it to you and you took it graciously, expecting her to get another for Jade. You waited a bit too long before realizing she didn’t have two keys.

“There’s only one key,” you brought it to her attention and she nodded politely. You gestured to yourself and Jade. “And there’s two of us.”

Her eyes lit up in recognition and she waved a hand dismissively.

“I’m very sorry, we don’t have any other rooms available,” she smiled at you sympathetically as you stared at her in shock. "It shouldn't be problem for you kids though. You make such a cute couple!"

Your shoulders tensed up and you became painfully aware of Jade's hand in yours. You never even noticed that you hadn't let go. You pulled your hand away as quick as you could and glanced at Jade, trying to ignore the heat on your neck.

"We're not- I would never-" you stumbled over your words, trying to alleviate your embarrassment while not looking stupid in front of your arch-nemesis. You still managed to look stupid though, as he was completely calm through the entire endeavor, his crimson-tipped ears the only thing giving him away. "I wouldn't date him in a million years."

"Oh! I'm sorry then!" The woman averted her eyes in embarrassment and waved her hand at you. "We really don't have any other rooms though."

"Thank you, ma'am," Jade spoke up. You had to suppress a scoff at his fake kindness reserved only for victims and teachers. "We really appreciate your kindness."

The lady offered you a sympathetic smile as you practically shoved Jade up the stairs to your room.

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

You flopped down on the bed as soon as you had finished with your shower, relaxing into the cushions. You were about to fall asleep when you heard someone clearing their throat.

Jade raised his eyebrow at you from the end of the bed.

"And when did we decide that you get the bed?" he chastised, making you raise your head to meet eyes with him. You flipped him off and he laughed bitterly as you collapsed back into the pillow. "How about we flip a coin for it?"

You groaned and sat up on the edge of the bed. You ran a hand through your wet hair and glared at Jade, not noticing how he averted his eyes at your movement.

"Fine," you reluctantly agreed, ignoring the dropping of your stomach at his smirk. You recognized the smile from whenever he was about to swoop in on some innocent prey. You pulled a penny from your front pocket and held it in your palm. "We'll flip."

"Heads I win, tails you lose," said Jade as you flicked the penny upwards. You caught it in your palm and flipped it onto the back of your other hand. Heads. Jade flashed a toothy grin as you scowled. "Looks like you're sleeping on the floor, Y/N."

You pouted and grabbed a few spare pillows and a blanket from the closet, trying to make yourself comfortable on the floor. It was only then that you realized what Jade had done.

"Heads I win, tails you lose?!" you fumed at Jade, watching his expression change to playful laughter. It would've made you blush to see him so off his guard if you weren't already hot with anger. "You're a dirty cheater!"

"If I'm being honest, I didn't think that would work," Jade laughed into his hand, covering the smile you had only ever wished to see directed at you. "I thought you were smarter than that."

"I am smart! You're just... dumb," you grappled to come up with a good comeback while your embarrassment grew by the second. You composed yourself and put your hands on your hips demandingly. "Cheaters forfeit so I get the bed by default."

Jade barked in laughter at your declaration.

"Now who's cheating?"

"Don't dish it if you can't take it."

He rolled his eyes and sighed before plopping down on the floor and making himself comfortable. You wanted to feel proud of your victory, but you couldn't help but feel bad that he was left on the floor while you sat pretty in your queen size.

"You know," you started, causing Jade to look up at you. You couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eyes out of fear you would see his repulsion at you. "It is a pretty big bed."

"So it is," he offered gingerly, almost afraid to break the atmosphere you had created.

"And I'm not going to use all of it, you know?"

"Of course."

"I was just..." you stuttered the words, the anxiety building as you wondering how he might respond. "Do you want to share?"

Jade smiled in a way you had never seen before. It was teasing but not like the malicious smirks you had seen before. No, this was more playful, almost like... flirting?

"I thought you'd never ask."

He jumped onto the bed, making you laugh hysterically. He propped his head on his hand and stared at your face lit up with laughter. Eventually, you calmed down and looked over to see his tender gaze. It only lasted for a second before he resumed his normal, politely sarcastic smile.

"We should get to bed," Jade affirmed. You nodded your head, anxious to disperse the tension. You turned away from Jade, cursing your traitor face for showing the blood flooding your cheeks.

He turned his back to you and glanced over his shoulder, hoping to catch one last glimpse of you.

All your earlier exhaustion came flooding back to you as you snuggled into your blanket. Sleep came so quickly you didn't even feel the arm snaking around you waist.

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

Your eyes blinked open as the light from the window flooded your vision. You sighed and relaxed back into your bed. You rolled over and smiled as your head fit perfectly into Jade's neck.

Wait a second.

You jolted awake as you remembered where you were; the rain, the B&B, Jade Leech, it all came flooding back to you. You didn't process the stirring figure next to you until Jade was already partially awake and pulling you closer. You tried to escape his grasp but his arm held firm around your stomach.

"Stay," he mumbled, soft and drowsy enough to make you shudder. He was vulnerable, exposed in a way you had never even imagined was possible. You relaxed into Jade's touch and closed your eyes again.

"Okay," you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. You took a deep breath and felt your head sink into your pillow. "I'm not going anywhere."

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #disneytw #jade leech #jade leech x reader #octavinelle

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lessthanpure · 6 months

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Making the Best of it Chapter 5

Fandom: Baseball RPF

Pairing: Pete Alonso/OFC

Others: Jeff McNeil

Summary: A bad day. Then a better one. Then someone else has a bad day.

Word count: 3412

Notes: So this is a little different than the other chapters. A new character gets a chance to shine! Let me know what you think.

AO3 Link

Sloane has an awful day at work. Someone texts and she sighs before she reads it. Pete. 'Do you want to come over tonight?'

'I had a shitty day. Might not be good company.'

'Do you want to talk about it?'

Sloane debates. 'Sure. I could vent.'

'We can talk on the phone or you could come over. Your choice.'

'I'll come over.'

Sloane gets ready and goes.

Pete lets her in, concern on his face. He stands aside to let her in. He sits on the couch. "So. 'Bad day' as in ‘one thing sucked really bad and it ruined the day' or 'bad day' as in 'everything sucks’,'" he asks.

"Ugh. Everything sucks."

"Do you want me to just listen or provide commentary on everyone that sucks?"

Sloane laughs. "Commentary would be appreciated."

"Go for it."

She flops onto the couch next to him and puts her feet in his lap. He puts his hand gently on her ankles and waits. "God, just fucking," she starts. "There's this asshole at work. Devon. Thinks he knows best just because he's an Alpha."

"I hate those types."

"So do I. And he's been there for two years less than I have. I outrank him and he still tries to tell me how to do my job."

"Ugh," Pete remarks.

"And my boss does next to nothing about it. He does say that I know how to do my job so kudos to him, but he isn't in every meeting. And when he isn't there, Devon tries to take over every conversation, even about things he doesn't even work on! He has no idea what he's talking about over half the time but he acts like every word out of his mouth is gospel or something."

Pete nods, commiserating. "Sounds like a grade A asshole."

"He really is. And then he had the audacity to bring up that I wasn't at work for two months!"

"Wait, when you were healing," Pete asks.

"Yep. And obviously I didn't tell him any of my business, but he whined on and on about how I shouldn't have gotten that much time off. I did every bit of the work I missed and he still complained." She growls. "And then he had the balls to ask if it was 'that time of the month' for me."

"He does know that's super inappropriate, right," Pete raises an eyebrow.

"Obviously not. But I have a couple of guy friends who are in his department, he apparently will brag about how many Omegas he's had sex with in their Heats. According to him, he's God's gift to Omegas." Pete snorts. "I know, right?!"

Pete looks at her. "Sounds like it was a really rough day."

"That's not even the worst of it," Sloane admits in a sigh. "I have this asshole ex that cheated on me. He messaged me on Instagram, saying he wanted to 'catch up' and 'reminisce.' I blocked him, of course. Thought I did it ages ago but I guess I didn't."

"Wow. Today really sucked for you, then." Pete doesn't sound jealous, which pleases Sloane. She hates when guys get uppity if their partners even mention their exes.

"Yeah," she huffs. She sits against the arm of the couch.

"This may not be the best time to bring this up," Pete says, and she looks at him. "But do you want to go steady?"

"You mean be boyfriend and girlfriend and exclusive," Sloane asks. Pete nods. "Yes."

"Good," Pete smiles. There's a huge crack of thunder and they look out the window.

"Aw, crap," Sloane whines when she sees the downpour. "That's gonna suck to go home in."

"Did you drive?"

"LIRR. But I still have to brave the rain to get on the subway." Sloane’s phone makes a noise and she gets it out of her pocket. She checks it. "Fuck!"

"What?"

Sloane sighs and drops her phone, covering her face. "My LIRR line is down. Limb fell on the tracks."

"Stay here tonight," Pete offers. "I'm sure it'll be cleared in the morning."

"That's sweet of you, Pete. But I don't have any clothes."

"You can sleep in some of mine. Wear today's clothes when you leave."

"You just want me in your clothes," she teases.

"That's only part of it," he smiles. "You can stay if you want."

Sloane smiles and nods. "I do. Thanks."

They watch TV for a bit and then go to bed. Pete hands her some shorts and a shirsey. She changes into them. She gets in bed after she brushes her teeth with a spare toothbrush. Pete brushes his teeth, too, then comes into his room. He rumbles at her back, and she looks over her shoulder at him. "Don't think I didn't see the name, sir," she teases.

Pete chuckles and gets in. He noses the back of her neck and she relaxes with a sigh. “Sleep well,” he says.

“You too.”

They go to sleep.

Sloane wakes up to Pete’s alarm. He silences it. “Shit, sorry. Didn’t realize I didn’t cancel it,” he says.

“No worries,” Sloane sits up, stretching. “I have to get up anyway.” She checks her phone- her LIRR line is clear.

She gets ready, dropping Pete’s clothes in his laundry. Pete smiles and kisses her. He tastes like toothpaste, which makes her giggle. She brushes her own teeth and he watches her, eyes soft. She steals another kiss when she’s done. There’s a strong knocking on the front door. Pete frowns and gestures for her to wait there.

Pete goes to the door, confused. “Who is it,” he calls through it.

“Jeff.”

Pete opens it, seeing his best friend. “Hey.”

“Sorry man, this was closer,” Jeff slides past him. “I really gotta take a piss.” Jeff heads straight for the guest bathroom.

Pete rolls his eyes and closes the front door. He goes back to Sloane, who is getting the last of her things together. “Talk to you later,” Pete murmurs and kisses her.

“Talk later.”

“Thanks, man, I really needed- oh,” Jeff says, appearing in his doorway. “Sorry, I didn’t realize Sloane spent the night.”

“Hey, Jeff. I was just leaving.” Sloane goes to step away but Pete pulls her back and kisses her. She kisses back and then pulls away. “I gotta go. Bye, boys!” She leaves the apartment. Pete looks at Jeff’s red face, amused.

“Shit man, I’m sorry if I interrupted something.”

“You didn’t,” Pete shrugs.

“But I could have.”

“You didn’t,” Pete repeats. “You need anything else?”

“No. No, I’m good.”

“Alright.” Pete lets him out and then hops in the shower.

Sloane has a better day. She texts Pete. ‘Thanks for last night. I really needed that.’ She sends it.

Pete is in the shower after practice and Jeff is already done and changed. Pete’s phone makes a noise and Jeff leans over to tell him who’s texting like he always does. He means to read just the name, but the whole text comes up on screen. He feels his face burn instantly. “Pete, Sloane texted!” They’re the last two there.

“In a sec,” Pete calls back. He comes out shortly in a towel. Jeff hands him his phone. Pete smiles at the screen and texts back. “Thanks for letting me know, I wouldn’t have seen it for a while,” Pete says, putting it down.

“No problem,” Jeff says too-quickly.

“What’s up with you,” Pete asks, starting to pull on his clothes.

“Nothing.”

“You saw the text, didn’t you,” Pete laughs. Jeff is relieved he isn’t pissed.

“I tried to just read the name,” Jeff defends himself.

“No worries. Thanks again.” Pete is now dressed and puts his duffle bag on his shoulder. “Later, man.”

Jeff manages to forget the text for the rest of the day. He goes home. As soon as he’s in the door, the text pops into his head. Thanks for last night. I really needed that. Jeff drops onto his couch, hardening. He glares at his lap. That’s his best friend’s girlfriend, he shouldn’t think about her all warm and on her back. He shakes his head violently to clear it. He must be too horny. Yeah, that’s it. He goes to his room and surfs his favorite porn website. The fact that the Omega in the video he chooses looks kind of like Sloane doesn’t make it to his thinking head. He strips and touches himself to the sounds coming out from his speakers.

“Oh God, right there,” the Omega gasps. Jeff closes his eyes.

"Come on," the Omega urges. Jeff pushes her onto the bed on her back. He slots between her thighs, kissing her. He slides down her body and his tongue finds slick. The Omega whines, pulling his hair. He lets her guide him. How he loves Omegas that aren't shy about what they want. She drapes her legs over his shoulders and pulls him in. He makes her cum twice on his tongue before he lets himself take his pants and boxer briefs off. She purrs when she sees him and Alpha pride washes over him.

He gets inside of her and fucks her. She moans the entire time and he sets his teeth into her tan shoulder. He bites down gently and she chirps. The sound practically makes him knot, but he holds it back. She puts her mouth to his ear. "I want you, Jeff. I've always wanted you. Knot me."

"Not yet." He makes her cum on his cock and rocks into her until he knots. "Sloane," he groans.

Jeff’s eyes fly open, but not in time to stop himself from cumming. He stares at his ceiling, panting. He calms down and glares at his laptop screen like it’s to blame. He huffs and cleans up, closing the video with an irritated click. He jumps in the shower and tries to forget the fact that he jerked off to the idea of fucking his best friend’s girlfriend. And it almost works.

Jeff is having cereal the next morning when his phone chimes. He grabs it. Pete. His hand pauses but he takes the spoonful and chews. ‘Hey, man. You want to hang out with me and Sloane today? She claims she can kick our asses at Guitar Hero.’

‘Maybe another time,’ Jeff replies. When I can look either of you in the eye.

Jeff finishes his breakfast. ‘Aw, come on. I know you don’t have anything concrete,’ Pete texts. Jeff is about to text back ‘how do you know’ when a second text comes in. ‘She’s asking for you.’

“Fuck,” Jeff says loudly because he gets kind of hard from the idea. He resolves to pick someone up tonight. Preferably someone who doesn’t look like his best friend’s girlfriend.

‘Fine,’ he texts back, kind of hating himself.

‘Sweet. Come by around two.’

‘Sure.’

Jeff works out at home for a few hours before he distracts himself with cleaning. The time rolls around and Jeff grabs his keys, heading to Pete’s apartment. He gets buzzed up and walks up the stairs to work out some excess energy. He knocks. Sloane answers the door. “Hey, Jeff,” she smiles. Jeff’s breath catches. “So glad you could make it!”

“Well, I couldn’t let my Guitar Hero skills be bad-mouthed,” he replies. She stands aside and lets him in. He tries not to stare at her ass when she walks past him. She goes to sit on the couch but Pete pulls her into his lap where he’s sitting in his armchair.

“Pete, you have company,” Sloane laughs, squirming.

“It’s just Jeff,” Pete replies, kissing her jaw. Sloane rolls her eyes at Jeff and pulls away.

“Still company.”

Pete chuckles and lets her get off his lap. “It’s cool,” Jeff shrugs, sitting on the farthest point on the couch he can and still see the screen enough to where he can play. “I mean, you two are a couple. It’s fine.”

They play Guitar Hero until Sloane has beaten them both five times. Jeff has an excuse- he’s watching Sloane’s fingers and imagining them on his body. Pete might be thinking of the same thing.

“Now do you believe me,” Sloane asks, looking at Jeff.

“Yes.”

“And all that skill goes to waste,” she teases. Jeff feels his face heat up. Damn his tendency to blush. “I’m just kidding, Jeff.”

“I know.”

“Come on, you pick the next game,” Sloane offers. Jeff gets up and looks at Pete’s game shelf. He picks up HALO. “I love HALO,” Sloane smiles like he had just given her chocolate. Then the image of him licking chocolate syrup from her skin comes into his head. Jeff looks away. “Hey, you ok,” Sloane asks, voice concerned.

“Fine. I have a little headache, probably from staring at a screen for that long. I should head home,” Jeff lies.

“Not even one game,” Pete asks. Shit, Jeff almost forgot about him.

“Nah, it hurts.”

“Ok. Feel better. It was great seeing you,” Sloane says.

“I will. And it was good seeing you, too.” He stands. Pete does too and they do their handshake before Jeff cuts his losses and tries not to run away. He sits in his car and curses himself out. This has to stop.

“Did Jeff seem a little weird to you,” Pete asks when Jeff is gone and far enough away.

“Maybe. I don’t know him as well as you do, though,” Sloane says. She settles in his lap, curling into his chest.

“True,” Pete says as he wraps his arms around her.

“Maybe you should ask him what’s up at your next one-on-one hangout session.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

They kiss softly. Sloane turns on his lap, settling over him. She puts one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek and kisses him deeper. They slide their tongues against each other’s, panting quietly. Pete presses kisses down the side of her throat, making her whimper.

“Wanna go to bed,” Pete asks quietly between kisses.

“Yeah,” Sloane breathes. She gets up and leads Pete to his room. She falls onto the bed and he follows her, bracing himself over her. They kiss heatedly and Pete gently touches the bottom of her shirt. She sits up and puts her arms over her head. He pulls off her shirt and licks the join of her neck and shoulder. “Can you knot me?” Pete stills.

He pulls back, eyes dark. “Are you sure?”

“Green,” she smiles. Pete laughs lightly.

“Green,” he agrees. They undress each other and Pete takes out a knotting condom, putting it on the bedside table. They kiss heatedly for a bit, until Sloane is squirming with impatience. Pete pulls back enough for her to see his teasing smile and slinks down her body. He eats her out and she bucks into his mouth, hands buried in his short hair. He makes her cum three times until she’s pulling at his shoulders desperately. “Tell me what you want.” She shivers at Pete’s voice- it’s deeper than normal and has a growl threaded through it.

“Your knot,” Sloane moans.

Pete shudders and nods, crawling back up. She helps him with his clothes and he grabs the condom, rolling it down his length. He stares into her eyes.

“I’m sure,” she smiles. She touches the back of his head. “I’m sure.”

He nods and steadies himself as he enters her slowly. She moans quietly and he sinks in halfway before pulling back out until only the head is inside. He slides back in, trying to keep his movements slow and easy. They might have had sex before, but he’s still a lot to take. Sloane moans again and puts her hand on his back, curling it and urging him on. Pete shudders at the feeling of her nails and sinks in to the hilt. He stays still even as he wants to rail her, letting her adjust. “Pete, move,” Sloane says, voice breathy.

“You sure?”

“Green.”

Pete nods and pulls out halfway and pushing in a little harder. Sloane wraps her legs around his hips and pulls him down, kissing him. He growls and shoves in harder than he planned, making her gasp. He pulls away from her mouth, about to ask her the color.

“Green, green Pete, fuck .” Pete laughs in relief and rests foreheads with her, fucking into her. She makes pleased noises and he growls lightly. He inhales when that makes more wetness drip out of her. He growls again and angle her hips up, fucking her harder. “Fuck, Pete!”

He buries his face into her neck and growls and makes other Alpha noises of pleasure. Sloane cums and he snarls, instincts kicking in. He pulls her up more and starts to stretch her more with his cock, angling for the spot that is sure to make her whimper. He snakes a hand down and rubs her clit, and she whimpers and cums again.

Sloane whimpers and moans, addicted to how Pete makes her feel. He’s strong and capable and he’s such a good Alpha. “Pete,” she whimpers.

“Sloane,” Pete snarls back. She shudders at the lust in his voice, like it wasn’t enough to smell it. Pete’s strokes start to shorten, and she knows that sign. “Sloane, I’m gonna-”

“Yeah, yeah, want it,” Sloane babbles, clawing at his back. “Inside, Alpha, inside.”

Pete snarls and shoves his knot in, shuddering as he cums. He pants as he comes down, tasting slick and cum and sandalwood and vanilla and arousal smoothing down his tongue and palate. He hums as he listens to Sloane’s heartbeat slow down and gently lies on her. She strokes down his back, nosing into his hair. “Good,” he murmurs the question.

“Great. You?”

“Fantastic.”

They both laugh quietly. Pete lifts his head and kisses Sloane again. She hums and they kiss leisurely but passionately. He starts to rock subconsciously, and Sloane doesn’t help matters- she tightens her legs on his hips.

Sloane hums as Pete starts to try to fuck his cum into her. It’s Alpha instincts- shove that cum inside, make sure it doesn’t slip out, give it the best chance to take. It alway feels incredible, but Pete’s huge cock and solid knot makes it better. She gently bites his lip and he growls. She feels it in her tongue. She pulls her mouth away and chirps back. “Fuck, love when you do that,” Pete says. Sloane warms.

“It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s sexy.”

Sloane looks away and Pete strokes her jaw, guiding her face back. “I love all your noises,” he admits. “Love your moans, your chirps, your purrs,” he details, nosing down her neck. He licks the sweat from her skin. “Love your scent, love your taste,” he continues. “Fuck, I’m addicted to you,” he growls, rocking into her. He plants his palms on the bed beside her shoulders and pants as he moves.

“Fuck, Pete ,” Sloane moans, arching to get a good angle. Pete groans and shudders as he cums again and Sloane moans quietly as she feels it. She’s only been with one Alpha who could cum multiple times- it’s a recessive gene- and it was addicting then. It’s indescribable with Pete. She whimpers and gently pushes at his shoulder.

Pete slides his hands to her back and rolls onto his back, looking up at Sloane, concerned. “Fuck, Sloane, did I-”

Sloane braces her hands on his stomach and rocks on his knot. He groans through his teeth, all concerns of having hurt her vanishing. He pants and hitches his hips up. He strokes her clit with his thumb and she shudders and moans through another orgasm, her wetness seeping out of her and slicking his lap. He pants. “Fuck, Sloane .”

Sloane hums and lays on him, adjusting only slightly. They fit together well. He wraps his arms around her and settles.

Forty minutes later, Pete’s knot deflates and Sloane climbs off of him with obvious reluctance. He smiles as he takes off the condom, admiring his Omega stretched out on his bed. She chirps at him. He chuckles as he ties off the condom, getting up and tossing it. He sets a shower to hot and leans against the doorpost. Sloane gets up and comes past him, getting on her tiptoes and pulling his head. He leans down and she presses a lingering kiss to his cheek. She laughs and gets in his shower. He smiles and follows her.

#pete alonso imagine #new york mets rpf #new york mets imagine #baseball imagine #baseball rpf #alpha beta omega dynamics #a/b/o dynamics #my fics

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harry-writings · 3 years

Text

The Happy Years

- The one where Y/n is unhappy in her engagement and finds an escape with her former lover

Part 1

Masterlist

(A/N) IM SO EARLY IM SORRY I KNOW I SAID 9PM BUT IM DONE SO MUCH SOONER THAN EXPECTED OKAY IM SORRY LOVE YALL <3333

Three years later.

The heaviest of thunderstorms hit the city of London by early morning, the loss of the sun and the gloom of the day leaving Harry bedridden for the first time in weeks.

He always tried his best to avoid days like this — trapped within his home, caged in memories that make every step he takes heavier than the last, wishing for just the smallest taste of salvation — because it’s when he’s left alone between these walls that the darkest parts of him come out, ravaging, feeding off of what’s left of him.

Rain reminds him of the day Y/n left. Thunder reminds him of Malibu. Malibu reminds him of all the things he ever used to do with her — on the bed, on the couch, in the hallways.

There’s no escape from what he’s done.

But when the time hits two in the afternoon and Harry still hasn’t gotten up from under his blankets, he decides that doing even the bare minimum with his day would be some sort of accomplishment.

He decided to get the mail.

And what a terrible decision that was, Harry thinks, as he sees an envelope addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting by an unfamiliar name. Something about it upsets his stomach and throws him off key, knowing in his heart that he shouldn’t open it, but it’s heavy in his hands and he can’t ignore the temptation of it all.

Another terrible decision he’s made.

Please join us for the wedding of Alfie Lexington & Y/n Y/l/n.

Saturday, September 25, 2021 at 3:00 PM.

Dartmouth House. Mayfair, London.

The downpour feels like a drizzle compared to the cries Harry lets out as he reads the wedding invitation, his worst nightmare playing out right before his very eyes and if he wasn’t already so fucked up, he’d try his best to ignore it.

Y/n played her move. She wants him to strike back. She wants to win and watch him lose more than he already has. That’s all she has left of him.

His lips tremble as he sniffles, the invitation shaking between his palms as he lets reality sink in.

Y/n is getting married.

Y/n is happy.

Y/n is going to spend the rest of her life with somebody other than him — somebody that was once his friend.

It's unfathomable to him. The connection him and Y/n shared was unlike any other. They were drawn to each other instantaneously, their feelings of infatuation never once dying down because it was simply incapable of doing so.

They put each other first. They made each other better people, helped each other grow through all the droughts and winter days, and continuously found ways to become closer to one another. They were so comfortable and confident in their company, and so every day they spent together within those four years had never been anything less than pure happiness.

They were meant to be. He didn’t see it then, but he sees it now, and now that’s all he sees because everything he sees is her.

To know that it’s no longer the same for her kills him from the inside out, because now she really doesn’t belong to him.

He lets out a sound that can only resemble what would be a whine and a groan made together, sobbing as he flips the invitation around, only to find another saved date he just doesn’t have the heart to see — an engagement party for all the invited to join.

He’s so overwhelmed with devastation that his brain becomes fogged, his body disassociating from itself as he rips the invitation apart, growling and screaming and wailing as he just keeps ripping it and ripping it and ripping it.

He’s destroying it in the same way it destroyed him until he gives up, slamming his fists down upon the counter, losing control of himself beneath all his pain and regrets. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to happen. This isn’t what was supposed to come from this life.

He’s barely surviving as it is.

And he just needs to see her again.

But he doesn’t know how he’d react once he does. Whether he’d want to kiss her, to hate her, to love her all over again, he doesn’t know. His entire world is collapsing and he doesn’t know how to save it from falling apart. He can’t take any more risks when it comes to her.

But what is love without fear and danger? What would it say about him if he were to walk away from this now instead of trying just once more with her?

So with a heavy heart and a sobbing chest, he doesn’t take his chances.

And Y/n simply just couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.

Harry is standing at her doorstep, soaked head to toe, shaking in his bones. His lips are a light shade of blue and his eyes an alarming shade of red, somehow wetter than the rest of him. And as the thunder rumbles beneath her feet and nearly sends her to her knees, it goes to show her that he really is here, standing at her doorstep, and it’s not just a dream.

And she must have been struck by the shock of his presence because her tongue is suddenly tied, her throat dry, her lips fallen open yet forgetting how to breathe.

She just looks at him, soaking him all in, trying to understand what exactly led him back to the biggest mistake of his life.

“Harry?”

“So that was your way of getting back at me?! After three fucking years?!”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her eyebrows furrowing in defense. How he could possibly accuse her of something she didn’t even do — considering she hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to him since the moment she left Malibu — makes her feel even more betrayed than before.

He should know her better than this. He should know her from the inside out at this point, but she supposed three years really is a long time, because she’s never seen this side of Harry before. He seems so different to her now.

“Don’t you dare come to my home and try to make an ass out of me! Since when have I ever been the kind of person to get back at somebody?!”

Harry stutters for a moment, his anger and jealousy and hurt blinding him from the truth that Y/n never goes out of her way to get even. Her heart is too big, but he can’t shake this feeling that the person who sent him the invitation was out to do him harm.

And nobody had more of a reason to hurt him than Y/n.

“So the wedding invitation, then? You had nothing to do with that?”

He speaks it condescending, as if he didn’t believe a word she said, but that’s not what it comes down to. It comes down to the fact that she has moved on and found herself somebody so much better than him, and he has no one.

She shakes her head as if to gather her thoughts, confused about how he even found out about the wedding considering Harry quit the firm just hours after he left Malibu, leaving him with no contact to anybody that had any string tied back to her.

“Of course I had something to do with the wedding invitations! I’m the one getting married!”

She pauses then, her cold demeanor dropping into something Harry wants to say resembles a hint of relief, but it’s much more cross than that, much more serious, and he doesn’t expect what’s coming next.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Me getting married?” She speaks it through a small, bitter laugh. “I should have known the only way you’d fight for me was by being with somebody else. You never could stand being second to me, as ironic as that is.”

“I could give two shits about you getting married.” He lies through clenched teeth, his stomach sick at the mere thought of it. “But I do have an issue with you inviting me to your wedding after walking out on me.”

Her head snaps back up to him.

“Wait, Harry, what are you talking about?” She frowns, trying to make sense of it. “I didn’t invite you to the wedding.”

Why would she?

They are no longer friends, no longer much of anything, so for her to take time out of her day to sabotage anything but herself wouldn’t feel right to her. Besides, it was her decision to never speak to Harry again, she wouldn’t ever take her word back.

Harry frowns then, too, because she isn’t faking her emotions. She’d always been terrible at doing so, and the way her eyes scream and beg for answers can’t go ignored. He, again, feels like the absolute worst person in the world.

“Then who did?” He whispers.

There’s only one possible answer.

Seven months ago.

Alfie insisted that he and Y/n had a New Year’s Eve party. They’d never had one before, as Y/n much preferred staying in with a bottle of champagne and celebrating with a lobster dinner and late night reruns of The Honeymooners.

But Alfie was persistent. Very persistent. Too persistent. So persistent she had no choice but to give in, and she just didn’t understand why.

She didn’t understand it as days passed and all Alfie talked about was the stupid party. She didn’t understand it when he rented out one of the most expensive venues. She didn’t understand it when he laid awake the entire night before, too anxious to fall asleep. She didn’t understand it when he asked her to wear his favorite dress.

She wished that she did the moment it happened.

The clock was ticking.

“Five!”

Alfie reached for Y/n’s hand.

“Four!”

Y/n noticed something shift in the air.

“Three!”

Alfie reached his other hand into his pocket.

“Two!”

Y/n knew what was coming.

“One!”

Alfie dropped to one knee.

“Happy new year!”

It was every girl’s dream — the fireworks, the balcony, the view, the prince charming that would whisk her away to spend the rest of eternity together — yet it couldn’t have felt any more like a nightmare.

It wasn’t what she wanted. Not then, not ever before, not once during the span of their relationship, and time seemed to have stopped moving forward.

There she was, in the center of the universe as everybody stopped and stared, gasping and gushing at the sight of a man on his knees for a woman. An act of vulnerability, of love, of submission, yet it didn’t feel like any of those things.

It all felt so wrong.

She began to cry.

To everyone else, it seemed as though she was crying from happiness. Her devoted boyfriend of two years finally asked for her hand in marriage, to be the mother of his children, to spend the rest of their lives tied together by a vow, unable to be broken. So it was no surprise when everybody let out an awe of endearment, nobody (not even Alfie) knowing her well enough to distinguish the difference between her happiest and saddest cries.

Harry would have known.

And that was all it seemed to come back to in that very moment in time.

Harry.

What she would have given to feel his hands on her waist, blocking her body from view with his, taking her away from all the unwanted eyes on her fragile body. He would have done it in a heartbeat because he always did — he always found a way to help her escape her horrifying realities, even the sweetest of ones.

What she would have given for it to be him kneeling in front of her… this all would have been so different.

Her lover of two years was promising her a future, yet all she could think about was somebody stuck in her past, yet so heavily prevalent in her present.

But she couldn’t say no. How could she when everybody expected the answer he was looking for, ready to toast to the bride and groom? How could she when phones captured the beginning of the rest of their lives, ready to share for all to see?

But she couldn’t say yes, either.

She settled for a nod of her head.

The crowd cheered, some clapping, others clinking their glasses, lovers kissing. She only caught a glimpse of those celebratory moments before everything around her drowned in her tears, voices of congratulations so distant beneath her heavy, hyperventilated breaths.

Alfie embraced her, then, and she felt his laughs of euphoria rumbling in his chest as hers met his, and she couldn’t even pretend.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, her expression void of everything that she should have been feeling. And her eyes went blank as they caught a reflection of her through the balcony windows — the last time she ever saw herself for what she truly was.

That same day.

Y/n was a mess waiting for Alfie to get home.

Seeing Harry again filled her with so many different emotions, she didn’t know which one to start with. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to destroy everything and everybody that dared get in her way, she wanted to disappear. Yet she had done none of it. All she could manage to do was pace around her bedroom, biting at her nails and getting lost in her scrambled thoughts, her mind and body moving at a million miles an hour, unable to be tamed.

This is precisely the reason Y/n never wanted to see him again.

He does things to her, he always has. She hardly has any control over herself whenever it comes to him and she fucking hates it. No matter how sad, how mad, how hurt or how upset, there was something about his presence that made her see past all of that. It saddens her how much she used to love it.

But her moods swing at her relentlessly, the sadness turning to anger because yes, she is angry. She’s angry that he still has this much of a hold on her, especially after everything he’s done, and she’s even more angry that he hasn’t yet apologized for it.

Because it was all getting better. The constant wondering about what he’s doing or who he’s with and the continuous string of thought always leading back to him was all finally falling into its place. She was finally finding her place.

And then her fiancè did this.

When she hears the bedroom door open, she hardly gives Alfie any time before she starts a fight, wishing nothing more than to take it all out on him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/n fumes, everything tainted red with anger as she looks into his eyes and feels nothing but hurt and betrayal. “Inviting Harry to our wedding behind my back?! Do you not remember what he did to me?! Do you not realize what you just did?!”

He frowns, not sarcastic or menacing, but he genuinely seems upset that she’d ever even ask him such a question.

“Y/n…” Alfie sighs, and she suddenly hates the way he’s always managed to remain calm in the most heated of arguments. She wants to start a war with it, to go for the kill, to make him crawl and beg and bleed for her forgiveness. “Of course I remember what he did to you, which is exactly why I did it.”

Her hands turn to fists.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“I wanted to hurt him for hurting you! God damn it, Y/n… after finding out what he did to you all I could think about was ripping him to pieces and that urge never left me, especially after we got together.”

He slumps himself down at the foot of the bed, loosening the tie around his neck, almost too aggressively. And if she wasn’t so out of her mind enraged, she would try her hardest to understand his side.

But there is no excuse for this. There’s no excuse for any of it.

“So now you use our marriage as a way to get back at him?!”

Y/n may not love Alfie the right way, but she had never stooped so low to treat her marriage like a weapon, ready to strike at any moment in time. It wasn’t something she used to inflict pain onto anybody else but herself, no matter how hard it had gotten.

And though she once believed their engagement meant more to him than it ever meant to her, she can’t help but feel as if that’s just another lie she’d been forced to live with.

He went behind her back deliberately to hurt somebody even she never intended on hurting. He knew what was to come of this and yet here he is, letting it all happen for satisfaction’s sake.

It feels like all she will ever be is used.

“Is that what this is to you?! A point on your scoreboard?! A big ‘fuck you, i won!’?”

“Isn’t that what this is for you?”

“Don’t you dare turn this into my problem.” She spits through clenched teeth, punching at the dresser beside her with the side of her fist, face burning with fury. “I’m not the one sending him our wedding invitations!”

“And I’m not the one staying up past midnight scrolling through pictures of him on my phone!”

Her mouth shuts then, her hard and pressed features softening at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

She had been looking at pictures of Harry almost every night since Malibu, she just never expected to get caught. She could physically feel Alfie fall asleep against her, so she always waited thirty minutes before she took her phone out, looking back at everything that once was.

It was the only thing she ever truly wanted.

It’s what she kept going back to — a habit that came as naturally as telling her best friend about her day, about her perspectives on the world, about the lack of guidance in her life — like a phone call at the end of the day as a way to unwind.

She had make believe conversations with him as she scrolled endlessly through her favorite photo album, the thickness of his accent engrained in her mind as she thought of everything he’d say to her if he were still around. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d live vicariously through the memories they made together and replay those moments all night, until they lulled her to sleep.

“I told you from day one that —”

“That you’re never going to let him go, I know. I know that he was the love of your life at one point but this is just pathetic now, Y/n. Absolutely nothing short of pathetic.” She frowns, his choice of words making her heart sink because he knows exactly how to do it. And he sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his face as if he were in agony. “I didn’t know this was the kind of shit I was signing up for.”

Her eyes brim with tears but don’t offer anything more, only upset that he couldn’t find a way to understand her when she’s trying so hard. But he never has and he never will — not in the way she needs him to and not in the way that could ever make this work.

“I’m not sorry for what I did.” She confesses sadly, her bottom lip between her teeth and fingers picking the skin around her nails as she tries, yet again, to make him see. “He was my best friend before he was anything else to me. There was a time in my life where he was all I had.”

And though her heart is still with Harry in every aspect of every way, it’s true. He was her best friend and that’s what she misses the most. There was so much to him that meant so much to her and none of it could ever be replaced, not even by Alfie.

“You know I love you but you also know I'm not the same woman you fell for in Malibu. I’m my worst self when I don't have him around and your favorite parts of me don’t exist without him. Don’t pretend like you don��t see that.”

His hands twitch against his lap, his shoulders slumping because it’s true. The most lively and brightest parts of herself had died the first step she’d taken away from him that night. Sure, she’s still the most resilient and beautiful woman Alfie had ever known, but she’s never been the same since then.

She’s still in love with him and there’s nothing for him to do about it. He didn’t see it until he saw the way she sulked over Harry that night, all those years later, with a diamond ring on her finger that just seemed to weigh her down even more.

None of this means anything to her.

“It’s been three years, Y/n. Just find yourself a new best friend and move the fuck on already. I’m getting sick and tired of this.”

What he doesn’t understand is that she is, too.

Two weeks later.

Y/n shouldn’t be this alone at her own engagement party, but it’s the impossible things that always manage to find their way to her.

The party consisted mostly of Alfie’s friends, considering Y/n is much more of an introvert than he is and the small number of friends she does have seemed to have disappeared within the sea of unfamiliar faces. She felt lost for a moment, but when she finally found her fiancè, he had been too invested in his own friends to spare her a single one of his glances, and it soon became disheartening to wait for him to acknowledge her when the thought of her never once crossed his mind.

So she ends up on the steps of their back porch, sipping on a glass of champagne, overlooking the garden, breathing in the silence.

She closes her eyes and succumbs herself to the summer breeze, wondering what she has to do to find a single glimmer of happiness. Her life is just so sad, a labyrinth of betrayal and hurt and heartbreak she can’t ever escape.

Darkness is all she sees when she thinks about her future. There is nothing for her to look forward to. Every day will come and go the same way it has been — unwanted, dreaded, wasted, another failed attempt of contentment. It all seems so hopeless to her now.

The champagne doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to a lonely Y/n, and it isn’t nearly enough to curb her mood, either as she huffs at her empty glass, wishing she had taken another.

She sets it down next to her, placing both her elbows on her knees, getting lost in her world of sorrow, long forgotten by her lover.

Harry is the first one to find her.

He had parked his car across the street from her shared home with Alfie, and even from his distance he knew Y/n wouldn’t be inside. He knows her too well to know she wouldn’t find her place in crowded rooms where the attention is all on her, even if it was all in the comfort of her own home.

And the fact that Alfie didn’t know her senses of belonging well enough to accommodate them made him seeth. She is an independent, a lone wolf, a woman who moves solely in her own way and anybody who’s ever loved her knows that above all else.

He doesn’t care for her.

And he doesn’t need to go looking for her because he can feel her, as if the universe somehow bent its laws of gravity and pushed him straight to her back porch steps, where he finds her all alone.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand fall softly on her shoulder, but immediately sinks into comfort when she sees that it’s Harry moving to sit beside her, his hand refusing to pull away.

Finally, she has a friend.

“Hey.” She says softly, one of the corners of her lips turning slightly upward at his unexpected visit. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

He smiles briefly at her before he overlooks the garden, his fingers squeezing at her shoulder before resting his palms over his lap. And there’s something about being next to her again that makes everything around him fall back into place. This is where he’s meant to be.

“Honestly, neither did I, all things considered.” They both let out a chuckle, the atmosphere between them so horrifically sad yet so incredibly right. “But I just really felt like I had to be here for you tonight.”

Despite the years that had passed and everything that drove them apart, Y/n remains who he loves most in this world. His connection to her never died, so the sudden gusts of off and disturbing feelings Harry used to get whenever Y/n was troubled had never left him. He felt it all just as strongly — her anxieties, her fears, her tears and everything in between. And he’s glad that part of them never died because the look in her eye tells him everything he needs to know.

She’s absolutely miserable.

She sighs, the corners of her lips falling as she stares at her engagement ring, her thumb and pinky twisting it around her ring finger, itchy and heavy no matter which way it's worn.

“Me and Alfie aren’t doing so well.”

She didn’t have to say it because he can already see how treacherous they are together, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to hear.

He lost his right to be selfish with her in Malibu, and though he does gain a sense of happiness knowing he may have a chance with her again, it’s significantly outweighed by her sadness. Nothing had ever pained him more than that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shakes her head, her fingers reaching up to tuck fallen pieces of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t be. I don’t really know why he decided to do this, anyways.”

Harry’s lips fall.

“Marry you?”

Y/n’s leg begins to shake, her greatest and most absentminded nervous habit. And Harry had always been quick to place his hand over her thigh and rub at the surface, meeting her eye halfway and taking a deep breath in, to which she would always follow. He hesitates to do so tonight, but settles for it anyway.

She looks appreciative beneath it all.

She’d forgotten about Harry’s subtle favors over the past three years, so to feel it all again when she has been so low and neglected feels like a blessing to her. It feels like somebody finally cares for her, and that’s all she had been wanting all along.

Harry, she feels, is the only one who ever truly has.

“We just never talked about it. It was this big, ginormous, unavoidable, life changing question thrown at me with no warning at all.” Her forehead falls to her palms, as if humiliated by the memory. “In front of everybody.”

Harry’s heart crumbles from within him because nothing Alfie has given her has been anything she’s wanted, and that’s not what she deserves.

He remembers it so distinctively now — the way she poured her heart out to him just a few months before Malibu. It was the third Valentine’s Day they’d spent together and Y/n got so drunk, she spent nearly the entire night venting to him about everything she’d feared when it came to her future relationships.

With her head on his shoulder and her leg slung over his hips, Y/n’s thoughts were so destructive, she couldn’t bear to entertain them any longer, so she decided to let it all out.

“And what if my boyfriend proposes to me in a room full of people? I’d drown in sensory overload. And what if I want to say no? Or maybe? Or yes, just not right now? With all those people looking at me? I think I would pass away.”

Harry looked down at her in subtle curiosity, his fingers playing with her hair in the way they always liked. She was the only thing in his sight that wasn’t spinning out of his control.

“So how do you want to be proposed to?”

She hummed, as if contemplating her answer. But she knew. She already knew.

“In bed, probably. It’s so intimate and private there. So non-traditional. You’re the most done down at your first hour and something about someone wanting you at your worst, forever, is so poetic.”

She looked up at him with doe eyes merely seconds after.

“Will you make sure he does that for me, please? Promise me you’ll try.”

He smiled the best he could at her, pressing his lips down to her forehead. They lingered there for a moment, and Y/n’s breath was taken away.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

What makes the memory even worse was how much he really did love her and how blinded he was to it. He kissed her. He held her. He played with her hair. He slept beside her that night. He kissed her again goodnight. He brought her breakfast in bed the next morning. He did it all over again.

It couldn’t have been any more obvious.

But there’s something about the way she hasn’t expressed any of those concerns with Alfie that doesn’t sit right with him. It just doesn’t make any sense to him.

“Been with him for how long now, two years? And you really didn’t expect him to propose to you? Have you met you?”

She sulks herself deeper into her knees.

“I don’t know. I guess — I guess I just never really thought about it.”

Never thought about it?

“But you’ve always wanted to get married.” He says it more like a question than a statement, genuine concern and confusion in his tone of voice as his eyebrows furrow, trying to comprehend it.

She looks up at him with a void, empty expression.

“Yeah, but never to him.”

Her eyes linger on Harry’s for just a beat longer — just long enough to catch a glimpse of the way his lips fall and the way his face drains of color — before she blinks away from him, turning her gaze back toward the garden. The flowers have never looked so lifeless.

“Y/n… if I had known how you felt, I —”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Y/n shakes her head, looking back down at her trembling hands, tears now burning in her eyes as the sudden sadness of the conversation starts to weigh down on her. “You had four years to feel the same for me and you never did. My feelings would have done nothing to yours.”

“And I never did?” Harry asks incredulously, his voice low and faltered behind the heaviness of her words. “Is that really what you’ve been living with the past three years?”

Loose tears begin to fall down her cheeks because yes, she has been living with his unrequited love for six years and no, it’s never gotten any easier. It’s pathetic and ridiculous and the most unexplainable form of grief she’d ever carried, but it’s the most devastating kind. “How could I think any differently?”

“Because it was real, Y/n. Fuck.” He lets out a strangled, dry chuckle upon his words as he runs his shaking fingers through his hair. He’s nervous, absolutely terrified because if he fails to show her how deeply he feels for her now, he may never get the chance to again, and losing her is no longer an option for him. Not when she’s so close. “Because you know me better than anybody else and you know I wasn’t faking it with you. How could I have been? You would have seen right through me and you know it. You always do.”

Perhaps the love blinded her. Perhaps her heart was so invested it deceived her to see only the things she wanted as a subconscious form of self-preservation. It’s not an impossible possibility, and it’s certainly one she believed in throughout all this time, but a part of her can’t help but find a hint of truth stuck somewhere between his words.

The kissing, the touching, the tasting, the laughing and the loving did feel real to her. It felt real when she saw the way he smiled after every one of their kisses, and the way he reached for her when it was just to two of them, like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he moaned against her, and the way he told her he loved her, like he meant it.

She knows all of his movements and all of his habits — knows all the signs of his stress, his sadness, his tension, his ease. She knows the emotions he wears and the ones he doesn’t, notices everything he does and doesn’t do, and never once did anything he did with her seem anything less than genuine.

She hates that it’s taken her so long to see that, but it doesn’t fix all that he had broken now that she does. She wishes that it could, this life would be so much easier for her to live.

“You really hurt me.” Her voice quivers, low and quiet as she speaks her truth, and it breaks his heart all over again. Never has he heard her sound so sad in his life, and it’s all because of him.

“You think I don’t know that? I hate myself for everything I put you through because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He pauses, waiting for her to say anything else, but it doesn’t come. All there is for her to offer are her silent cries and waterfall eyes.

“That night with Lydia… nothing happened. She caught me off guard and I panicked because how could I not? She was giving me everything I thought I wanted yet all I could think about was how I wanted it to be you.” Y/n’s breath falters then, a knot forming in her chest as she revisits the sight of that horrific night. “I tried so hard to talk it out with her, but she wouldn’t let it go. She kept persisting and persisting and she didn’t give me the chance to explain myself before you walked in on us.”

She didn’t truly know what happened between him and Lydia, but she had her ideas. Whether they kissed, touched, confessed their love or crossed bases, the truth would have only made it worse for herself. Ignorance was bliss when it came to them.

But she didn’t think nothing happened, either, especially when the first words that Y/n heard Lydia say to him that night was I love you, too.

Too.

Like he said it first.

She really hopes he didn’t, but she’s so afraid of his answer that she doesn’t ask.

But she doesn’t say anything else, either, because there’s so much more she needs to hear from him but she doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know what to do, yet she wants to know everything.

“You were all I ever wanted and I’m so sorry for the way I had to find that out. I’m so sorry that I had to hurt you to realize how ridiculously in love I am with you.”

And how ridiculous it’s gotten.

“It haunts me. It follows me everywhere I go. Every morning, I think about the way you slept beside me in Malibu and how perfect you looked before you even had the chance to wake. I still reach for you even when I know you’re not there just so I can say I tried. Every time I walk the street, I somehow convince myself that I see you walk past me and I always turn back just in case I missed you. Then I spend the rest of my day wondering where you are and how much happier I’d be if you were with me.”

And it’s all so true.

She is around him at all times. Her spirit lingers in the air he breathes, her shadow alive in every ray of sun that touches his skin, unable to be soaked away. The ghost of her is everywhere he is, always, and it pained him just as much as it comforted him.

“I come across all these women and go on all these dates in hopes to find someone that makes me feel half the things you do, just to go home hours later and watch all the stupid videos and photos I’ve taken of you throughout the years because it’s you that my heart is after. Nobody else.”

She melts into herself at his confession.

To know it wasn’t one-sided — the longing, the missing, the wanting so bad that he couldn’t help but look back at all their memories together. Whether he was beside those women or not, she had done the very same thing, and it’s almost as if those hidden moments of desperation were a silent call to one another.

He reaches his hand to her thigh again, his skin warming her to her bitter core, setting a fire in her that had burnt out many years ago. And she doesn’t stop staring at it.

“I love you, Y/n. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything else in this world. I love you so much that it drove me crazy to think about you spending the rest of your life with somebody else because I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of mine without you. But that’s my heartbreak to live with, not yours.”

But it is. It is because he’s the only one she’s ever wanted and living her life with someone else was once unimaginable. It still is. Even through her relationship with Alfie and everything they’ve built together, it wasn’t ever the same.

And it’s not a matter of her not loving him, because she does, just not in the way she loves Harry. He is a high she constantly fiends for, an intoxication that keeps her wild and free, an addiction like no other. Being without him makes her feel sober — in a constant state of withdrawal, falling down deeper into her urges, dependent solely on her relapses — and Alfie is just the mild distraction.

All of this is her heartbreak.

His fingertips rub softly at her leg.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don't know how I’m ever going to find a way to move on from you, and I don’t know if I ever will, but at least I had the chance to tell you everything you deserved to know. I didn’t think I’d ever have it.”

She still doesn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect anything more.

He wishes he could stay with her for just a bit longer, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome (if he could even call it that). And he starts to cry as he thinks about leaving her alone again.

She’s forever going to be his hardest loss.

“I have so much more I want to say to you, but this is your night with Alfie. I don’t want to be the one to hold you back from it.”

He squeezes the top of her thigh, dreading the let go. This may be the last time he sees her or speaks to her for a while, and that in itself is enough to make this so much harder on him.

“I’ll miss you everyday.”

He can’t even look at her as he says it.

His eyes are flooded with sadness as he stands from where he sat beside her, shaking fingers wiping at his tears, his heart the emptiest it’s ever been yet his chest heavier than ever before.

It suddenly dawns on her that she never wants to see him walk away from her again. She doesn’t want to go another dreaded day without him beside her, or go the rest of the night thinking of everything she could have said, but didn’t.

She wants him. She loves him. And she doesn’t want him to go.

“Wait.” She grabs his hand in both of hers before he can make it too far, her eyes wet but the brightest he’d ever seen them. “The party doesn’t end for a while and — and Alfie hasn’t come looking for me since it started, so…” She hesitates, his hands still in hers, and everything is right in the world again. “Do you want to take a walk with me? It doesn’t matter where just, please stay here with me?”

And how could Harry ever say no to her?

He lifts her up from where she sits, the first real and genuine smile he’s seen out of her since they’ve reunited spreading on her lips, and he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

They stray further than expected, catching up on everything they’ve missed throughout the years. It all feels so easy and so right, as if time had hardly passed between them, yet they’ve never felt more apart. Never once did they expect to live in each other’s world through late night storytelling and clandestine getaways.

They laugh. They cry. They reminisce. And they don’t let go of each other’s hand the whole night through.

Y/n returns to the back porch a couple hours later, grabbing the finished champagne glass she’d left on the top step to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Not that she necessarily has to, she doesn’t feel as though she’s done anything wrong, she just couldn’t imagine what would come from this if Alfie was to find out.

She slides the back door shut quietly behind her, the remaining guests only giving her a small smile of acknowledgement, none at all suspicious. Some offer her hugs and mingle with her, congratulating her as if it were their first time doing so, telling her how perfect of a marriage she and Alfie are going to have.

If only they knew.

But it isn’t until the last of the lingering guests make it out the door that Y/n and Alfie are left alone — the most dangerous place for them to be. And neither of them speak a word to each other, just meeting eyes for a brief moment in time, as if avoiding everything else that came with the night.

The air is heavy, the chill brutal, but it’s what Y/n is so used to. This is her normalcy.

“I’m glad you had fun tonight.” Y/n says plainly, gathering all the littered champagne and wine glasses floating around the kitchen.

In any other circumstance, she would have stood her ground much more strongly, but the bitterness inside her subsided to something much sweeter after her time with Harry. The weight of the world is gone, it seems, the moon and sun and stars aligned perfectly in her universe. She is weightless, floating, her spirit dancing along the edges of her own personal heaven.

The silence Alfie responds with doesn’t strike a nerve like it usually would. It rather goes unnoticed, only furthering her into her illicit dreamland.

Harry’s touch lingers on her skin and she can feel it all the same even though he’s gone. A shiver runs down her spine as she thinks back to the way his lips pressed against her cheek before parting ways, muttering the quietest goodnight, lovie against her skin, leaving her breathless.

She is endlessly hypnotized by him, forever under his spell, as if his lips were made of magic.

And Alfie’s heart sinks when he sees the look on her face. It’s been years since he’s seen it, yet it’s all so familiar once he does. It’s the same look he fell in love with when he first met her in Malibu.

It’s all so clear to him now.

“So we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t leave our engagement party with Harry?”

Y/n lifts her head to look at him properly for what seems to be the first time tonight, his question catching her off guard since she had so rightfully assumed he wasn’t concerned about her whereabouts, and Harry didn’t make his presence known to anybody but her.

But she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t deny it, doesn’t try to scrape for excuses that’ll only dig her in deeper because she doesn’t regret what she did or why she did it. She has no reason to.

“And we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t completely exclude me from our engagement party?”

Alfie’s hands slam against the kitchen counter, a bitter and sarcastic laugh falling from his lips, as if she had said something untrue. “So I don’t give you attention for two minutes and you decide to run off with some other guy?”

“Two minutes? Try two hours on a night that was supposed to be for us.” It’s her turn to slam her hands down, except hers land on her thighs. “I was sitting on our back porch all night and nobody, not even you, came looking for me.” She sits down on the island stool with burnt-out eyes and heavy shoulders, drained from the reality of their relationship, tired of trying for somebody that’s never held her heart the right way. “Harry was miles away and even he found a way to find me.”

And just like always, it all circles back to Harry.

She’s never been one to compare — verbally, at least — so there is a gloom that hovers over her after she says it, the guilt settling in her bones, but it’s the reality of their situation. An old lover held his hand out to her while Alfie refused hers, and it ended up exactly where it had always belonged.

“All you had to do was ask me to be with you.” He sighs, depleted, because it’s true. He would have been there the second she called his name. It’s the fact that she didn’t that shows him how incompatible he is with her wants.

“I shouldn’t have to.” She frowns, fingers fiddling with the skin around her nails as she contemplates what there is to say next. “Is that how this marriage is going to work? Me begging you to be there for me all the time? Because I’ve never been that kind of person. I will never be that person.”

Alfie breathes heavily in response but doesn’t know what else to do or say to get her to stay. She’s slipping right through his fingers and he can physically feel it — can feel the way she feels for another man, can see the way her eyes refuse him, as if hiding away from something.

But this isn’t about him, it can’t be because it was all going so well, so much better than ever before and nothing ever pushed her away, until Harry.

This is all him.

“You know he doesn’t love you, right?” Alfie breaks the silence, her heart along with it, because she needs to be reminded how badly he had done her wrong. She wouldn’t be turning him into the villain if she did. “He lied to you. He used you to get what he wanted. He —”

“He does love me.” She interrupts him because she doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want him to talk her out of this, no matter how much she should. But it’s on the tip of her tongue, almost breaking from its resistance, and she can’t swallow it back down now. “He was there for me more than you were tonight and he’s not even the one I’m engaged to.”

Another deafening silence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He understood her, loud and clear, but she’s speaking between the lines. There’s a part of her that’s holding back from something and he already knows what it is, he just needs to hear her say it.

So she does.

“I’m in love with him, Alfie.”

If the confession of her disloyalty wasn’t enough to tear her apart, the choked back sob she heard from Alfie undeniably did so.

She shuts her eyes, pained, unable to take it.

He doesn’t deserve this, but she’s left with no choice. She’ll only hurt him more if she stays.

So she doesn’t.

The morning after.

Harry didn’t know what was to come after he confessed his love to Y/n — whether it be a new day of a new life away from her, or the beginning of something so beautifully timeless, he had no idea.

The closure warmed him enough to lull him to sleep, to keep him deep in a dreamstate where all he envisioned was sunny days and the touch of her hand in his. He had never felt so light, so free, so liberated from the cage of guilt and unspoken truths that even if he were to never see or hear from Y/n again, it would have been okay.

He said what he needed to say, she heard what she wanted to hear and that’s all he could have done without interfering with her relationship.

But what he wakes up to is far from anything that ever crossed his mind.

Seven missed calls and five text messages. All from Y/n.

H, please tell me you’re awake. I need you.

I ended it with Alfie.

I don’t have anywhere to go and you’re the only person I want to see right now. Can you meet me at the coffee shop? I really need to talk to you.

Please wake up.

Harry sits himself up in a state of panic, his eyes jumping between the time she had messaged him last and the time it is now. And he springs himself out of bed when he realizes that he hasn’t missed out on her yet, planning to get to her as fast as he can as he throws yesterday’s outfit, not at all caring about how it makes him look.

She ended it with Alfie.

He’s the only person she wants to see right now.

She needs him.

That’s all he can process as he scurries down the street, thinking of everything he has left to tell her to try and win her heart again. He knows he’s undeserving of it, and she does too, but that doesn’t stop him from loving her the way that he does.

His life is meaningless without her, so dry and bleak and depressing he can’t live another day like it. He can’t and he won’t because he’s going to fix this. He has to fix this.

And it doesn’t take him long to find her because there she is, sitting at their usual outdoor table, a large hot tea held between her hands, her leg shaking, her eyes distant. It's such a heartbreaking sight, and he suddenly wonders if she ever sat there after their breakup, waiting for him, hoping he’d do the very same.

The thought makes his head twitch to the side and fingers twist with guilt because no, he never did. He never went back to that coffee shop since the goodbye. It would have hurt too much, it would have reminded him of everything he’d ever done wrong and he couldn’t bear to face the person he once made of himself.

That person died along with her.

She stands from her seat when she sees him walking toward her, exhausted mentally and physically enough to nearly fall from her feet in the process. But her heart is racing a million miles an hour, her stomach fluttering as he grows nearer, her senses of anything but the love she has for him disappearing to nothing, as if it were just the two of them.

And she just needs to know if it feels that way for him, too.

“Y/n —”

“Did you mean it?”

Harry hesitates then, stopping in his tracks, his head tilting at her in curiosity but his features are softer, sadder, as if the question somehow broke him down further than before.

She doesn’t need to elaborate because he already understands what she’s asking. It was his mistakes and his selfishness that led her to question all his intentions, to doubt every sentiment he’s ever given to her, to wonder what was real and what was pretend.

But he doesn’t know what to start with, he doesn’t know what she needs to hear from him to be satisfied with his answer, or know if what he doesn’t say is what breaks this relationship.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you meant it.” Y/n demands when he fails to answer her, tears flooding yet her face pressed and hard, committed to hearing every last bit of truth he has left. “Because I gave up everything I had for just the smallest possibility that you did. And that may make me weak, that may make me pathetic, and I may hate myself for the rest of my life knowing I made that decision but I can’t help feeling the way I feel for you.”

This is his last chance.

The window of opportunity is open and he is more than willing to dive head first out of it, but he can’t get ahead of himself. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong anything and he will have to endure an eternity of misery without her.

So he gives her more than she demands.

He grabs her face between his two hands, gently stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his gaze set on hers so that she can see how deeply he feels for her and how desperate he is for her forgiveness.

“I meant it.” He breathes out, his lips so painfully close to hers, she can feel his breath as he talks and it makes her legs shake from beneath her. “I’m in love with you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want.” He leans in closer, ever so slightly, just so the ghost of her lips can meet the ghost of his. “There’s never been anybody but you. Just you. Only you.”

Her breath stammers, quivering and cracking as she flutters her eyes shut at his words, unforgiving tears pouring down her cheeks. And she doesn’t know why she’s reacting this way — the love of her life is giving her everything she’s ever asked for and yet all she can manage to do is break down from everything she’d been keeping inside for so long.

He knees buckle as a particularly violent sob nearly takes her down, and if it wasn’t for Harry’s strong hold on her, she’s sure she would have collapsed to the floor.

Her tears, his shirt, his hands, her back.

This is the closest they’ve been to each other in so long, his heart nearly shatters along with hers. He missed this more than he missed anything else in this world.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Harry shushes her, his lips settling on the top of her head as he presses chaste kisses on it, his fingers combing through her unbrushed hair. “I’m with you, okay? I’m never leaving you again.”

And he holds her for a while, tying her together as she falls apart in his arms, vowing to her over and over again that this is all over. All the pain is over. Everything will be different now.

And it was.

It felt different when Y/n and Harry spent the rest of the morning sitting in their favorite coffee shop, at their favorite table, drinking their favorite lattes. It felt different when Harry reached his hand over to hold hers, this time with no ulterior motive.

It felt different when she held his hand back, and when she smiled down at where they were intertwined, as if they were an extension of each other.

And unlike the last time they were there together, he doesn’t have to let go.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #IM EARLY I KNOW IM SORRY BUT I FINISHED SOONER THAN EXPECTED #WHOOP WHOOP #LOVE YALL

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xcrystalzero · 3 years

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Hi there~ I'm new to your blog but I just wanna say I love your headcanons! They're so cute~ 💘

if this hasn't been done already, could you possibly do Pomegranate tea + english breakfast tea for Kaeya or Diluc? Your choice! (Or even both?👀 whoever you feel more inspired to write about!)

Thank you in advance, stay safe!😊🙏

Hello! Thank you so much!! Well, I love both of those fine gentlemen, so I decided to write for both of them! Warning, contains spoilers for both Kaeya and Diluc's stories so do not read any further if you haven't gotten there yet and don't want to be spoiled.

Kaeya:

pomegranate tea: at what point did they know they loved their s/o?

For some people, love is just something that grows to be a part of their relationship, a simple progression of emotions. That however, is not the case for Kaeya Alberich.

The rain showed no sign of letting up. He had been caught by the storm on his way back to Mondstat from a scouting mission and had took refuge in a cave to wait it out. The rest of the party had gone on out of there before him so he had not doubt that they had already made it back to Mondstat before the storm had started.

Ah, just him and the rain. How nostalgic...

"Kaeya!" Well, apparently not. Kaeya pulled himself to his feet as he made his way to the entrance of the cave, glancing outside. There you were, completely drenched as you wandered back and forth, calling his name into the wind.

"[name], here!" he called out, managing to grab your attention. Even through the fog and downpour, he can see the grin on your face when you spot him and run over.

"What are you doing out here?"

You stand just out of the range of the rain now, seemingly unaware that you're soaked as you smile at him. "I came back to find you! This storm is kind of nasty so I just wanted to make sure that you were okay."

At that, Kaeya smiled. "Oh come on sweetheart, don't you know? Cryo is always stronger in the rain."

You scoffed at that as you set your bag down - whenever you had waterproofed your bag, he didn't know - had pulled out a towel as well as an apple which you offered to him.

"You might be stronger in it, but I know you don't like the rain."

How had you noticed? Kaeya aimed a quizzical gaze at you. "And why would you think that?"

"It's kind of obvious..." you remarked, rubbing the towel over your head in an attempt to dry off. "That's why I came over. Whatever it is, a little company should at least help a little bit right?"

It felt like Kaeya's heart had stopped in his chest. The feeling was strange, as though his chest was actually constricting at your words. What... was this? Eventually, he managed to speak.

"I suppose you're right..."

english breakfast tea: would they want a family?

I feel like this may let some of the Kaeya simps down, but it has to be said... I don't think that Kaeya would want a family in the near future, possibly even at all. Family is already a bit of a touchy subject for him. The only blood relative he remembers abandoned him under the pretense of fulfilling some old prophecy. He had thought he had found a new family with the Ragvindrs but that ended in nothing short of disaster.

Thus, Kaeya has come to a conclusion. He's just not cut out for families. Every one he's ever been a part of has come to a devastating end and he's convinced that he is the sole reason why.

Perhaps if one day, his internal struggles come to an end, he might consider it, but even then. He doesn't want to put himself or anyone else through the pain he's felt in the past. It's just safer to keep a distance.

Diluc:

pomegranate tea: at what point did they know they loved their s/o?

Diluc knew he loved you when he shared a secret he never thought he would, and yet, you still stayed.

"I tried to kill my brother." The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them.

You freeze in place, page from the book you were making your way through half-flipped as you slowly turned your face up towards his. You're silent for a moment and when you do speak, you pick your words carefully.

"I wasn't aware that you had a brother..."

Oh, you know the man he had once considered a brother and yet, Diluc knows that there's no way you could have made that connection with the knowledge you had. "We're not close anymore..."

"What happened?" You snapped your book shut, setting it down on the table beside you as you stood. Slowly, you made your way over to the couch Diluc sat on, sitting a comfortable distance away as you leaned in to listen.

And so, he told you. About the family he had once had and how in a single night, it had come to an end. He told you about the grief he felt, and then the shock, and then the anger and how he had taken it all out on a single person, and then things had never been the same.

He had been talking for a while but you've never once showed a sign that you wanted to leave. You continuously regarded him with that warm look as though his story was becoming your own as you listened.

Eventually, he ran out of words. You sat in silence for a moment before he spoke again. "You probably hate me don't you?"

"No." Your response was immediate, causing his head to fly up as he sought out your gaze. What he saw there wasn't an accusation or pity. It was a simple and straightforward resolution. "I am glad you trusted me enough to tell me all of this. And now, you don't have to suffer alone anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm here with you now. We can work through this together."

And just like that, Diluc Ragnvindr fell in love.

english breakfast tea: would they want a family?

In his heart, there is nothing he wants more, but he's just not sure that he's ready yet. Just like Kaeya, Diluc has already lost his family once. Unlike Kaeya, while he does feel guilty, Diluc understands on some personal level, that his experience is not what all families are destined to be like.

He's still scared though. Some strange part of him is sure that he's part of the reason why his family ended up the way it did and he doesn't want to transfer that burden to anyone else. With the correct person however, he might be convinced that it was not his fault and that there is in fact, a chance here for him to start over. To be able to start a new family and be able to protect them until the end.

It would take time, but he'd get there eventually.

request a tea prompt!

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #geshin impact kaeya #kaeyagenshinimpact #kaeya #kaeya x reader #diluc #genshin diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #prompts #tea #tea prompts #pomegranate tea #english breakfast tea

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cryoaquila · 3 years

Text

downpour

summary - trying to move on is difficult when you don’t know how.

pairing - childe x f!reader

tags - tags contain spoilers! break ups, strong language, death, angst, feels, alcohol mention and consumption, drunkenness.

wc - ~3.3k

a/n - so, i wrote his sister, tonia, in this as a supporting character. let’s just say she isn’t as young as teucer lol. she’s probably like in the 18 - 21 range here.

he had so many names and nicknames given by multiple people with varying degrees of like and dislike for him, but you knew him by the pet name you had given him when you two started dating: childe. he was hyper, never stopping to take a break unless an injury forced him down, but that’s where you came in, taking care of him until he was well enough to go off on another journey. wherever he went, you went, whatever wild antics he thought of you were always right beside him waiting to pick him up and dust him off. you gave him your world, and he gave his world to you. you thought he was the one, even when he turned to you with a black eye and broken nose, you still loved him. you both weren’t just a couple, you were the best of friends, the two of you against the world, not even the hardest difficulties could break you up, or so you thought.

but then she stole his heart away from you. he met her, and they clicked in a way that you thought couldn’t be possible. he stopped chasing after thrills and started chasing after her, and she just pulled him along. you tried to keep up with him and with her, but eventually, you finally gave up and let him go.

you wondered if he was happier now that he was with her. hell, they could be married for all you know. you held a grudge against him for leaving you as he did for another woman, and yet... you still missed him in your life. after these years apart, you still loved him, something you hated admitting to yourself. you couldn’t move on with these feelings holding you down, and thus you tried everything in your power to help yourself forget about him, as he probably forgot about you a long time ago. you lower your head down against the cool wooden table below, thinking to yourself as glasses clinked together and people spoke in drunken, slurred speech. for a second, you think about ordering something but decided against it as you weren’t feeling up to eating or drinking, the only thing you were feeling was overtly numb from the mix of longing and unforgiving. the bar noise was welcoming. you came here to feel less alone and isolated, and the liveliness of the place was a comfort that helped you focus on other things besides him. hearing all the noise around you made you feel better already.

that was until he entered the bar.

your eyes widened and, without even thinking, you duck your head below the table. you were trying to heal! to get him off your mind! what was he doing here!? he knew this was your favorite place, why’d he come here? was he going to bring his girlfriend here? did her forget about you and how much you enjoyed this little hole-in-the-wall bar? your thoughts and questions turned your mood sour. well, you wouldn’t give him what he wanted. no, you’d hide, and pretend you weren’t here. he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of rubbing his relationship in your face.

you watched his actions with scrutiny. he went straight to the bar, and you expected him to order something for his date, but instead, he asked the bartender a question, “hey, i’m looking for a woman who lives in this town and frequented this bar a lot.” the bartender looked at him with raised eyebrows and childe quickly dug around in his pant’s pockets, “um, here, i have a picture of her...” he yanked a photograph from his pockets and unrolled it before showing it to him. you tried to see who the picture was of, but the angle made it impossible. you wondered if it was a picture of you or...?

the bartender eyed him and the picture curiously before shaking his head and saying something along the lines of how he hadn’t seen her in a while. one might think that was an admission that the photograph wasn’t of you, but sadly it didn’t help. the bartender never noticed you. in fact, if you wanted to order something you always had to go up to him directly and get his attention to order.

“oh, alright, don’t worry about it. thanks.” childe sighed, sounding deflated as he rolled up the picture, stuffing it back into his pocket before leaving.

you finally free yourself from your hiding spot, grimacing as you did so. him visiting caused unnecessary feelings to resurface, feelings you were trying to get over. having your night ruined, you decided to leave the bar and go get some rest instead.

the second night you tried to stay away from the tavern, but couldn’t help it. the feelings for him became too grand, and you felt nothing but your aching heart and tears form in the corner of your eyes. thus, you made your way back to the same place, as usual, to try to get your mind off him and onto the bustle and happiness of others. you walk in and sit at the same table you always do, in the back, a perfect place to just sit and watch the people drink away the night. the bartender didn’t notice you, once again, but that’s fine. you’re not here to talk or eat or drink. you’re there to heal, to feel anything beyond want for him. maybe one day you’d order something and mingle with the crowd, perhaps even find someone else to date, but today was not the day for that.

as the night lazily ticked on, you watch people come and go, drinking and chattering, enjoying the activity. that was until he entered again. you glare in surprise and huffed in anger that he returned. what was he doing? why didn’t he just go back to his girlfriend?

however, your gaze softens into worry when you notice how unwell he looked. heavy black bags hung under his eyes, his hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed, and he was wearing the same attire as yesterday - you wondered if he was sick. you continued to watch as he slunk down at a table in silence. the bartender, upon seeing him, left his position behind the bar and walked over to his table.

“did you find her?” he questioned him.

“... yes...” childe’s voice was barely a whisper and you strained to hear.

the bartender scratched his chin for a moment, “she someone you love?”

“... yes...” he said something else, but you weren’t able to catch it. after a pause of silence, he spoke again, a little louder this time. “it just took me another woman to date and dump to figure out how much i love her. but it seems i figured it out too late.”

the bartender hummed a soft tune, turning, “i’ll get you something to drink, on the house. you sound like you need it.”

“make it a double order.” childe requested before resting his forehead against the table.

you were at a loss. so he had broken up with his girlfriend, perhaps that’s why he looked so sickly. “too late?” you mutter to yourself, resting your head in your hand as the bartender came back with two pints of beer for childe. “too late for what? for me to take him back?” you thought about your own words - did you want him back? you bite your lip, you loved him, but you weren’t trying to love him. you came to the bar to move on from him, but it was becoming a difficult task as his presence alone was causing you to feel that warm feeling of love all over again.

the rest of the night you watched him silently drink himself into a stupor, unsure of what to do. you needed time to get your thoughts and feelings together. maybe tomorrow you’d finally have a chat with him and you two could figure out what to do. for now, he was far too wasted to hold a thoughtful conversation.

the third night you start going to the bar for a different reason than before. it was like you were drawn there, at the same time per usual, the want of seeing him being your driving force. you still were at a loss whether you’d get back together with him or not, a mix of feelings holding you back, but at the very least you decided to chat with him today about it. he entered, a new routine for him, and somehow he looked worse than before. you started worrying for him as he ordered another large pint of beer. he never was much of a drinker, but suddenly he was downing pint after pint two days in a row. you decide now would be a good time to confront him, before he got too intoxicated, and perhaps seeing you would lift his spirits while subsequently erasing any amount of healing you had accomplished. you stand from your table, but the bar door clanging open caught your attention. a woman you recognized entered the bar, it was childe’s younger sister, tonia. she went straight to his table and slammed her hands down, “you can’t keep doing this!” she shouted, causing every patron to glance at them awkwardly, whispers echoing throughout the bar. you sat back down, staring in disbelief at the poor-timing of her entrance.

“i can do what i want.” childe muttered back brazenly.

she grabbed a tuff of his hair, lifting his face up from the table, “look at you, you’re a mess.” she let go, dropping his face back onto the table. “and this poison isn’t helping you.” she picked up the two pints of beer he ordered and poured both of them out onto the floor below.

he turned his head to the side, his cheek resting against the table as he watched her with an uninterested expression, “hey i wasn’t done with that...”

“you are now!” she said cheerfully, dropping the now empty pint glasses back onto the table with a clink.

the bartender watched her and sighed, “ma’am you can’t just-”

she turned on her heels, glaring at the bartender who stopped midsentence before clearing his throat, “carry on.” he said, going back to mixing drinks for the normal customers.

tonia sat next to her brother, crossing her legs as she looked him over. “you look like you’ve lost a little weight. have you eaten anything in a while?” she muttered, poking at his side.

“no.”

“you need nourishment.”

“I need her.”

her mouth hung open as she tried to find the right words to say, but she couldn’t come up with anything. after an awkward pause she glared at childe, “the younger sibling taking care of the older sibling, oh how our roles have switched.” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “sorry, just, seeing you like this... is hard. but i should be kinder...”

he was quiet for a moment, the bar’s chaos now nothing but a quiet whimper as people began leaving for the night. “i’m sorry, too. i just can’t help-”

“no, no, there isn’t any need for you to be sorry. you act however you need to to get through this. but, some of it is detrimental to your health... you know... i think you should see someone... professional, to talk to. i can help you get an appointment...”

“... that... would it help me?”

she smiled at him. “of course it will! now, c’mon, let me help you home, there’s some leftover food waiting for you!”

“is it... your cooking?”

“hell no, our house would be burned to the ground if it was!” she laughed loudly.

“good, i’m glad it’s not yours!” he chuckled, and it sounded so pleasing to hear him laugh, even if it was only for a moment. you realized something as you watched him rest an arm over tonia’s shoulder before the two left the bar together, causing you to miss your opportunity to talk with him. what you had realized was that you still loved him. even after what he did to you, even after all his screw-ups, he was still your world. you realized you felt a spring of joy from seeing him feel just a little better, and you wanted him to continue to get better. you wanted him to be the best that he could be. you cared for him. you wanted to watch him heal from the break up and feel better day-by-day with you by his side. you finally admitted it to yourself: you forgave him. you forgave him for the mistake he made those years ago. and, not only that, you wanted to get back together with him. you wondered if he’d be back tomorrow. just in case, you’d wait at the bar before seeking him out as he had tried doing for you.

the fourth night you felt relieved when he came into the bar. you decided to confront him as soon as he sat down before tonia or anyone else could interrupt. you slowly went over to his table, his forehead pressed down once again. you reached out a hand to tap him on the shoulder, but stop short before touching him, and instead brought your hand back to your side before saying softly. “childe...” he jerked his head up, looking around the bar wildly.

that’s when tonia came in, “i was hoping i wouldn’t find you here again. c’mon brother, i thought we were getting somewhere yesterday, but here you are again. what happened?”

“i heard her...” childe uttered in disbelief.

“you... what?” tonia questioned, walking over to his table.

“i heard her voice, just now...” his tone was so soft as he continued to look around.

you blink a few times, trying to see if you were dreaming. “that’s because i’m here...” you mutter as they continue on with their conversation.

“no, you didn’t.” tonia sighed.

“yes, i did! i heard her i... i heard her, i swear...” he argued back, getting a little more desperate as he tried to convince her.

“you did! he did!” you shout, but they act like they can’t hear nor see you.

“ajax please, you heard nothing. she’s... she’s gone-”

“i know she’s gone! i know she’s fucking gone!” he shouted, slamming his fist against the table, causing both tonia and you to jump, “why her!? it’s not fair! why not me!? i’d take her place in a heartbeat...”

“ajax please don’t say such things, if teucer ever heard you talk like that he’d cry all night long!” tonia snapped.

this caused him to become quieter, his tone turning from yelling, “i... i won’t say anything like that again, sorry. i just... i shouldn’t have let her go.” his voice cracked as he held back tears, his head hanging low, “i made such a huge mistake, a stupid mistake. i didn’t realize that until it was too late. she was perfect. the calm to my storm. and now she’s gone. i can’t tell her how much i love her.”

“you still can, you know. you can say it at her grave... have you been yet?” tonia asked.

“n-no... i couldn’t... i just... if i see it then... she’d really be dead.”

“but... she is dead. you have to come to terms with that. whether you see her gave or not, she’s dead.”

his body shook as he whispered, “i know. i know...”

tonia rubbed his back, “i’m here for you...”

“i want to see the grave...”

“maybe tomorrow, when it’s light out.”

what were they talking about!? your eyes were wide as the words circulated in your head. dead? grave? “childe i’m here, i’m here, i’m right here. please, look at me. look at me! i’m not dead! no way! no... no way...” you say, you shout, you try to get his attention, but he never looks at you, and neither does she, nor the bartender, nor anyone in the bar.

no one can see you.

no one can hear you.

you run out of the bar in panic.

the next day was terrible. you had spent all night trying to grab the attention of anyone: passersby's in the street, driving cars, shop owners, anyone, but nothing, they walked by like you didn’t exist, like you weren’t there. what was happening to you? your memories were a blur, days were a blur, all you remember recently was attending the bar. had you even ever left the bar? you couldn’t recall. you couldn’t remember. your thoughts were a fog besides the nights at the bar and the conversations you overheard from childe.

you curled up outside the bar’s closed doors, forehead against your knees, confused, lost, hurt. and that’s when you heard his voice, like a song to your ears, cutting through the misery. you snap your head up, seeing him walking with his sister down the opposite sidewalk, both dressed in all black. you decide to follow them as they walk the city streets. you needed answers. the bustling downtown turned into quiet city limits as they came to a small gated area.

“here.” tonia said, opening the gate, “how are you feeling?”

“... bad.” childe answered.

“bad,” you answered, too.

“s’okay, if you still can’t we can just-” tonia began closing the gate, but childe topped her.

“no. i want to see it... i’m ready.”

you stood by the open iron gates, staring helplessly in front of you. multiple gravestones lined the gated land, and there went childe and his sister, heading toward one particular grave that made your stomach tie itself into knots. you take a step forward, and then another, forcing yourself to follow, and you wondered if this was how he was feeling right now.

you were still behind them when they finally came to a stop. both their heads bowed in silence before childe looked up to the blue sky above, closing his eyes as he muttered, “it’s a terrible day for rain.”

“but brother, it isn’t raining.” tonia responded, looking at him curiously. that’s when she noticed a tear making its way down his cheek. “oh, i see what you mean. indeed, it is a terrible day for rain.”

you walked over to stand beside childe, opposite of tonia, and looked at the grave in front of them. there was your name. and your birthday. and another date that felt terribly familiar. and plenty of flowers surrounded the stone. it was just as he had said - you had died. and yet, the anxiety you were feeling before vanished and you were left with a certain calmness that washed over you, almost like you had always known, but hadn’t... accepted the truth yet. no, not when there were things you still needed to know and do... and then, it all made sense to you.

“let it out.” tonia said, and as if that was all he needed, he began sobbing loudly, his whole body jerking with each sob. you had never seen him cry before, not even when he broke bones, it was quite a shock to behold. “it’s alright, it’ll be alright. i’m here for you, your family is here for you. we love you.” tonia comforted him, rubbing his back as he cried on her shoulder. you were thankful she was there for him.

just then, you felt an airy, light feeling breeze flow through you. you finally realized that you had everything you needed to pass on peacefully. the things holding you to the mortal realm had been completed. you had forgiven him, confronted your own love for him, and found out that not only he remembered you but he still loved you. and now, looking at tonia hug him as he sobbed into her shoulder, you knew he would be ok. he had his family to support him as he worked on healing. you knew it’d still be a rough road ahead, yeah, you knew that well, but, eventually, he would be ok.

he would be ok. that’s all that mattered.

he would be ok was your last thought before you moved on.

#genshin impact #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe #tartaglia #genshin x reader #genshin impact oneshot #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact writing #childe x female reader #written

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bratkook · 3 years

Text

eleven months. (m) myg. one.

masterlist.

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: fluff, slow burn!!!, eventual smut, warnings: none this chapter. word count: 2.8k author’s note: this chapter is on the shorter side, just diving into them meeting and giving you all a small glimpse into them as individuals! im really excited for this story so let me know what you think, feel free to scream about anything in my inbox bye ily lmao summary: it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what’s coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.

Yoongi loves the rain, really he does. The way the clouds gloom over the city, encompassing it in this darkness that reminds him of underexposed film. He wishes he could always see the world through this filter, always smell the scent of wet soil and tarmac as he makes his way through the streets. Something about hearing the soft patter hitting the sidewalk, bouncing off the rooftops and dripping from the gutters calms him. A soft smile spreads across his face as he exhales the smoke in his lungs, letting the stick hang loosely off his lips while his hands clutch onto his umbrella.

When he stomps his foot into a wide puddle, the cold water splashes up onto his ankle and he grimaces. He hates being caught in the middle of rain. It didn’t matter if he had his umbrella or not, or if he managed to bundle enough for the downpour, he hates stepping into puddles and getting his socks wet. Hates how some of the raindrops that slipped under his umbrella—since it was now raining sideways—have managed to make his cigarette slightly soggy.

Pulling the cigarette out of his mouth this time, he holds it in front of his face with a frown. It was halfway done but no longer burning properly due to how wet it had become.

What a waste.

As he passes a trash can, he stubs it out fully and tosses it inside, a small pout on his face at the loss of something to fidget with. But then he sees the glowing sign inching closer, the bright neon yellow standing out in the grim weather. The illuminated Rkive360 in the distance stops him from slipping out another smoke, choosing to stuff his unoccupied hand into the pocket of his jeans, moving his legs a little faster to get to his destination.

The bell at the top of the door jingles as he stumbles in, his foot tripping over the small lip of the mat by the door. That was a safety hazard he’d playfully bitch to Namjoon about later.

“Yoongi, hey!” When he balances out, closing his umbrella and giving it a good shake by the door, he looks up and grins at Taehyung. He spots him standing by a flat spread of clothes a few feet away, folding out some new items as he stares at Yoongi with a genuine smile. His curls flop over his eyes and Yoongi chuckles to himself as he wonders how a guy like him was here folding shirts when he should probably be the face of Gucci or something.

Well, that’s life.

“Hey man,” Yoongi mumbles out, his eyes catching the plastic bin beside the door that’s labeled ‘umbrellas here’ in a messy scribble he can only attribute to Taehyung. Not needing to be told twice, he sticks his dripping umbrella upside down into it and shuffles inside the shop, taking a minute to look around like he always did.

Record stores have always been his safe space, even as a teenager. The amount of time spent in one after school, loitering inside with his friends as he sorted through the racks of CDs and vinyl, exiting with his bag of new goodies that left him excited to get home and play them. It was god sent that his best friend decided to open up his own place years ago, keeping it fully stocked with anything he could imagine. Maybe Yoongi was a little biased, but this was definitely the best shop in the country.

It’s a welcoming place, pops of color in every corner, tall standing sculptures mixed in with displays of music, autographed albums and posters framed onto the wall behind the counter. It’s the full embodiment of his best friend, down to the tiny KAWS figurines perched beside the register and the music playing through the speakers. The small melody in the background fills his ears once the door is shut, recognizing the song playing as Dang! by Mac Miller and he bobs along as he approaches Taehyung.

“Quick question,” he starts, his hands coming up to shake at his gray hair that was slightly damp from the rain. Taehyung sets the shirt down, resting both of his palms on the table as he leans towards Yoongi with interest. “Any chance you guys miraculously got Seventeen Seconds in your stock this week?”

Taehyung hums in thought, his brows furrowing together as he tries to mentally sort through the massive boxes of new vinyl Namjoon had brought in a few days ago. New shipment comes once a week but every now and then Namjoon goes out of his way to find specific records, never missing with his selection.

A small flash of blurry trees crosses his mind and then he's smiling at him. “Yeah, we actually got it the other day. Pretty sure Namjoon hunted it down for you since you’ve been asking. It should be in the back.” His thumb points behind him, towards the display tables that held all the LP’s available at the store, a very familiar spot.

Yoongi mumbles out a thanks as he makes his way over, eyes already locked onto the bin that he knew would hold his prized possession. It’s not until he gets a few feet closer that he sees your crouched frame over a box, figure slightly hidden by a giant CD rack. You’re rummaging through the records, almost making him flinch when you quickly stand back up and find their proper spot in the display. You don’t notice him approaching until he’s right beside you, eyes once again glued to the bins lined in alphabetical order once the initial shock of another person subsided.

That’s when you give him a glance, sending him a soft smile as you slip the record in its rightful spot, crouching back down to grab the next bunch. His hand pauses on the edge of the bin at the glimpse of something familiar, momentarily distracted by your shirt. When you stand back up, feeling him staring at you, you slowly turn to face him once more with your eyebrows raised up in question.

He takes note of the tag clipped to your shirt, it reads Sana but he’s used to dealing with Sana and you are definitely not her. You’re new.

The smile remains on your lips as you rest your hip against the edge of the table holding up the record bins, preparing to put your best customer service voice to use. His eyes glance at the writing on your shirt again, cracking a grin when he confirms it's a New Order shirt tucked into your black jeans. “You like New Order?”

Your smile falters slightly, your arms crossing in front of you as you narrow your eyes at him in defense, not entirely sure how to take his tone. “If you’re about to ask me to name five of their songs I’ll have to walk away to avoid getting fired.”

His smile widens at that, soft and gummy, breaking his cold appearance as his arms raise up in front of him in surrender. “No, just an observation.”

Your demeanor softens again, your arms sagging back down to your sides and smiling once more. “Good, it's my first day on the job and I’d really like to keep it.”

Yoongi chuckles softly, going back to his searching for his precious album, leaning over the third bin dedicated to bands starting with the letter C. His nimble fingers flip through the LPs until he gets to the Cure, sorting through Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, passing Pornography until he reaches Wish and his brows furrow, flicking back and forth as if the album he wanted would magically appear.

“Need help finding something?” You speak up again when you take note of him sorting through the same chunk of vinyl. He grunts lightly, letting the stack slant back in a heap as he purses his lips.

“Yeah actually, Taehyung said you guys got the album Seventeen Seconds but I don’t see it.

You step back from reorganizing the bin labeled S, trying to remember if you had brought the record out or if it was still sitting in the second box ready to be unpacked. Your brain was already overwhelmed from all of the information you had been given on your first day, trying to unscramble the entire backroom and it’s countless boxes—most of which were unlabeled because Taehyung said it’s not necessary since he knows where everything is.

Much like Taehyung, you recall seeing a flash of the album cover when you sorted through the new box of records, knowing exactly where it was tucked away since you had been the one to store it. You were under strict orders to not put it out on the floor, because according to Namjoon, if someone else took this album you’d be attending his funeral.

“Oh, uh gimme a sec.” You shuffle away, leaving him behind as you approach Taehyung, still folding away. “Hey, Tae?”

He hums in question, turning to stare at you with a small smile. “Whats up?”

“That guy is asking for Seventeen Seconds but Namjoon told me he’d be murdered if I gave this out to anyone.”

Taehyung starts laughing instantly, setting the shirt down as he stares at a confused looking Yoongi still standing by the LP’s. “Yeah, he was saving it for him specifically.”

“Got it, okay. Thanks.” You make a beeline back to the tables at the back, passing Yoongi with a polite smile. “Be right back!” you exclaim, wagging your finger at him as you make your way towards the back room, clearly on a mission.

Yoongi just stands there as you enter the employee stock room, not trying to cross any professional lines and follow you since you have no idea who he is. It's only a few feet away and you left the door propped open so when a few minutes pass and he hears rustling, followed by a heavy sounding thud and some curse words, he can’t help but wander over and peak his head in.

“You okay?” he asks, leaning against the door frame with a smirk on his face when he sees the way you’re frozen, one foot on the ledge of the shelf and the other on a not so sturdy looking stool, caught in the act of a poorly made decision. Below you lay two brown boxes that carry shirts you’re meant to unpack later, definitely the cause of the loud thud he had heard.

“Yep,” you confirm as you pluck out the record you need, shoving the box back into its safe spot and hopping down haphazardly. “Here you go.”

Grabbing the record carefully, he flips it over to skim the track list and smiles widely when he looks back up at you. That familiar warmth fills his chest as he holds the new item, making him feel the same way he had as a teenager when he bought his first LP. He had been searching for this vinyl for months now. It wasn’t as if it was no longer in production, he just couldn’t seem to find it in stock anywhere he looked and buying it internationally was the last resort he would take since the shipping fees were downright illegal. “Thanks.”

You’re already hunched down on the floor as you open up one of the boxes that had fallen in your haste to scale the shelves, deciding to just unpack in now since you were here.

“Yeah, no problem. Tae can ring you up at the front.” Sending him off with a smile and a wave, he takes that as his cue to exit, making his way to the front again.

When he leaves the backroom you flop onto your butt with a huff, your legs sprawling out with the second box in between them. You were hoping your words didn’t come across as rude to him but you couldn’t take the way his sharp eyes stared at you. Had he lingered any longer you would have embarrassed yourself, it was a miracle your footing hadn’t slipped on your way down from the shelves. You can’t imagine your ego being able to recover from a tumble like that.

Taehyung spots Yoongi leaning against the front counter, setting the final shirt down and going to stand behind it with a smile. “Did you find everything okay?” he asks automatically, the general phrases they had to use coming out without a thought and Yoongi scoffs, sliding the record across the counter and nodding.

“Of course I did, you let Namjoon know that I said your customer service is unmatched.” His finger gently rubs against the first black KAWS figurine, smiling at the remaining four as he remembers how Namjoon had excitedly told him that this was their friend group, representing them all perfectly.

Taehyung grins with a roll of his eyes, scanning the album and slipping it into the brown paper bag they provided. “Wonderful. Your total is 40,000 won.”

“Wow, your customer service voice is phenomenal.”

Taehyung laughs now, his nose crinkling up at Yoongi's sarcastic tone, watching how Yoongi grins back at him, succeeding in getting him to crack. “Fuck you, man.”

“Ah, there he is.” Yoongi hums with a chuckle as he pulls out his wallet, sorting through his bills and handing them to Taehyung. “Who’s New Order girl?”

Tae raises his brows as he enters the amount into the POS, the drawer popping open against his hips. “Oh, Y/N?” Yoongi only shrugs, you had Sana’s name tag on so how the hell should he know.

Taehyung stuffs the money into the drawer and slams it shut, ripping off the receipt from the machine and slipping it into the bag. “She just started today, can’t remember where she moved from, some place far though.” He shrugs as he hands the bag over to Yoongi.

The older boy ruffles his damp hair up, accepting the bag with his right hand. “Oh, cool. Well thanks, I’ll see you guys later then?” Taehyung just waves him off with a smile, similar to the way you did and he laughs to himself when he realizes Taehyung must be the one in charge of training you.

As he approaches the front door he pulls out his pack of cigarettes once more, sliding one out and slipping it between his lips. He finds himself looking towards the back of the shop again, seeing you resuming your organization, but your head lifts up as you feel him staring at you from his spot at the door. The spark of his lighter flashes across his face when he lights up his smoke, opening his umbrella once more now that he's partially outside. When your eyes meet, he smiles around the stick, giving you a nod before turning and walking back out into the rain.

You watch as his figure disappears down the street, his dark silhouette blending in with the rest of the people roaming the city, and when you can no longer see him through the store window you turn towards Taehyung. He’s stood at the POS, fidgeting with the screen, but when you call his name he glances up at you. “Is he a regular?”

He nods in response, eyes going back to stare at the screen as he begins to print out a sheet to fulfill the online orders the store received. “Yeah, he comes in at least once a week. Buys strictly vinyl. I think Namjoon mentioned he’s a music producer, or maybe it was a DJ, I can’t remember.”

Taehyung evidently doesn’t have the best memory, that much had been made clear in the short span you’ve known him. He had forgotten your name twice during your interview, Namjoon having to subtly repeat it for him, he had also asked you three times where you were from and at first you thought he was joking but when his face remained serious you realized he had really forgotten already.

“Hey, where’d you move from again?” he asks one more, genuinely curious as if you hadn’t told him a handful of times already.

“I told you, Iceland.” It’s a lie, but when he hums in thought—pretending to suddenly remember—you chuckle at the newfound way to mess with him.

He’s quick to start questioning you about Iceland, nodding along to the lies you spill while you both go back to your tasks of sorting albums and folding shirts. It makes your first full shift eventful, passing jokes back and forth as the sky grows gloomier. As distracting as your conversations get, you can’t help but glance up through the windows whenever a dark clad figure walks by, the thought of the sharp eyed stranger lingering in your mind.

#min yoongi #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts fics #bts imagines #new #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #heartsforbts #bangtaninn #btscreatorscorner

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apixrl · 3 years

Text

YOUR EREN.

eren jeager x fem!reader

WARNING(S): angst. slight manipulation. s4 spoilers. brief mentions of (but not actually) throwing up at the end.

word count: 5.9k

song: a soulmate who wasn't meant to be // jess benko

note(s): oh, that sound? it's just the sound of my tears whilst writing this oneshot. no biggie

The prison cells underneath headquarters were as dark and dreary as ever as you stood opposite them. Whilst the windows were generously large, the night sky was not so giving. Clouds were gloomy and blocked out the moon and stars, replacing it with a heavy downpour of rain. If you listened closely, you could pick up on the faint 'pitter patter' as droplets met the pebbled ground outside, the sound comforting compared to the echoing silence within the walls. Mattresses were placed in the corners of each cell, old and tattered after years of use by many different faces. You could only imagine their discomfort as you'd never been required to sleep on them, your record in the Scout Regiment practically a clean slate after your years of service. You were someone who took your position as a soldier seriously; respected your superiors and did as told when told.

As for Eren Jeager? It seemed in recent events he was past the point of caring.

Such a fact was blatant as you stared at him through the prison bars, your back pressed against the wall, body stiff and fearful of what would happen if you tried to step closer. Eren's gaze was terrifying to witness even from the odd angle you stared at him. His eyes locked on the ceiling as he lay flat on his back on the bed of his cell. His hair had been pulled back into a messy bun, some strands not long enough to reach so far back were fated to live a life of their own. They glued to his temples and forehead and even entwined with the strands pulled back. You couldn't decide if the look was flattering or not.

"I...," You blurted out without thought of what you planned to actually say, your pathetic attempt at making conversation followed up with a nervous whimper. Eren barely inched a muscle when you broke the quiet, from his eyes to his hands that lay lifeless at his side. He remained laid down as if you weren't even there. That made your heart weep in the worst of ways and your mind qualm - to think the last time you were together he was holding you in his arms as you gazed under the stars. And now he could barely spare you a second glance.

"It's been a while since you were last cooped up in one of these cells," You eventually tried again, calming yourself down as best you could by trying to be light-hearted. "Remember when we would play cards through the bars when I could visit? Those were fun times," You smiled sadly at the memories, eyes drifting away from Eren and towards nothing in particular. The smile then faded, the yearn to experience easier days once more hitting you as hard as stone. "If only we could experience them again,"

Your tone lowered, left unhinged since you knew mourning for what was no more was a waste of time. But you couldn't help yourself. All you wanted was to live in the past, where the titans were slane and the Scouts had reached the sea. All you wanted was to live out your days with your friends, talk and laugh with no need to worry about the rest of the world. All you wanted was to fall into Eren's embrace, to love him with all your might as he did you. There was a short period where that was your life, one filled with simplicity and peace after years of blood and death and gore that haunted your every nightmare. It had been pleasant, and you missed it. More than you were willing to admit.

If only Eren hadn't pushed things too far.

Eren's eyes shifted after a prolonged silence, travelling from the ceiling to you across the way. He was quick to take note of your vacancy, your conflict as you stared at him. How you created your own form of a jail cell by restricting yourself to the opposite side of the room. Maintaining a safe distance like you sensed you would get hurt stepping too far. Eren sighed loudly at that fact. Which caught your attention, E/C eyes flicking back to him at the sound. Eren pushed himself upright, eyes leaving you to stare at the floor before he hoisted himself off of the bed. Then, he turned to face you, searching for you through the wisps of his unkempt fringe.

You held your breath when he did, unable to fathom just how uncomfortable his gaze made you feel. Typically, Eren looking your way would send butterflies to your stomach. Your heart would perform somersaults and beat soundly with joy. Your cheeks would heat up, to which he would smile and tease and call it cute - merely deepening your flustered state like it was some fun game.

But this time, upon him meeting your gaze, nausea swiftly followed after. Rising concern over unconditional love based on his expression alone. It was empty. Unreadable. Nothing you had ever seen him display before. You had witnessed most if not all his worst moments up front but none of them - none of them, came close to just how desolately devoid he looked in that moment.

His lips didn't twitch, firmly held together as they added to his glaring aura. His brows arched sterner than Captain Levi's when you failed to clean a room up to standards, you didn't think it was possible for them to be so closely knit. But the worst part that made you truly sick to the stomach at the unfamiliarity of it all, were his eyes. Their usual bright and gleaming jade green blend that had entranced you from the instant you met Eren were now bleaker and more stationary than ever. They no longer held a zest and determination that motivated you to fight another day, no notable twinkle against the dimly lit room. Only a barren vacancy the most broken are succumbed to display.

You felt the need to comment on it, communicate to Eren just how worried you were. That you wanted to help him because you cared about him more than anyone else in the entire world. You were willing to lay your life down for him, and had even nearly become an anonymous number in the ranks because of that sheer will alone. However, before you had the chance to open your mouth, Eren beat you to it.

"Did Hange send you down here to try and sway me?" Eren asked half-rhetorically, taking a couple of steps forwards until the bars of his cell stopped him. "You of all people should know you can't stop me, so why even bother?"

You were taken back by his bluntness, even more so by his disregard for your previous words. Like you had never said them in the first place and he was the one initiating conversation. Perhaps it was so Eren felt he had the control, asserting dominance in a relationship where he already held more than half of it. His aim was unclear, but you persisted nonetheless.

"No, they didn't," You said. "I came here on my own accord, Eren," You shrugged your shoulders aimlessly. "I wanted to see you. I-I've missed you," Eren's eyes narrowed in suspicion, studying your frame for any sign indicating you were lying. He came out with no clear answer as from the instant you had set foot in the room you'd been shaking like a lamb bleating after its mother. Afraid. His arms crossed over his broad chest still in doubt, the action reminding you just how much he'd changed over the last few years. He was taller, looming over you even whilst feet apart. He was no doubt stronger, evident with or without the fact he held the power of three titans within him. Eren was no longer the vigorous and unruly boy he once was, who devoted his strength to rid the world of all the titans. He was now an indestructible force that vouched for freedom, his will to fight unshaken by no one.

"If you missed me so much," He started, looking down at you with what only felt like shame. "What took you so long to visit?" Raising a brow, you realised he held a point with his inquiry. If you proposed you missed him why hadn't you visited? The truth was you were scared of who you would find on the other side when you did. Levi and Hange had given you the option since the first day Eren was placed in his cell. But no matter the undying need to have Eren in your line of sights again, you failed to find the courage to make that final step.

"I wanted to, I-I really did," You said in a panic. "I was just scared! I didn't know what to say or how to speak to you after... after...,"

"After what?" Eren reprimanded, glowering at you as his hands wrapped around the iron bars. Your eyes widened and you whimpered, shaking your head frantically as a means to apologise.

"N-No Eren. I didn't mean it like that I just -," You swallowed thickly, your breathing quickening as Eren's pressing stare intimidated you more and more by the second. You hated how much you were falling apart. Where had your Eren gone?! Your Eren who always fretted over you during and after battles. Your Eren who grew antsy at Jean or Connie if they got a little too comfortable in your company. Your Eren who snuck into your room past curfew to share stories of his life late into the night. Your Eren who crammed his lips on yours when he couldn't hide his feelings any longer, confirming your relationship would turn from friendship to deepened love. You missed your Eren. You wanted your Eren back. Was that so much to ask?!

"You just what?" He spoke harshly, impatience riddled within every letter and syllable. You were quick to notice his grip on the bars tighten to the point you thought he'd snap them clean in two.

"I...," You trailed off, finishing your cut sentence with a defeated sigh. Your hands lowered to your sides as your head hung forwards. Perhaps being upfront with him was the only way you could go. "You killed people, Eren. Innocent people that hadn't done anything wrong! You ate somebody. Women, men and children crushed under debris like they were nothing. Y-You... you made Armin destroy that port and your decision making got Sasha killed!" You brought a hand to your forehead, not realising how distressed you sounded as you recalled that night. Tears started forming in your eyes, lip trembling. "Shit! I nearly... if Jean hadn't shot that Marley soldier first then I would've...,"

You had experienced a rocky start during the raid on Marley. One of your biggest flaws as a soldier was your will to take another life. Life as in... a human life. You despised the concept and did everything in your power to avoid it all costs, even if your fellow soldiers disagreed (especially Levi's, who persisted humans could be just as bad as titans when it came to killing). That exact flaw came forth when you first encountered a Marleyan soldier, and your hesitation almost ended with a bullet between your eyes. Had Jean not been behind you just in time... your grave would have been undoubtedly determined. There was a time where Eren was the same as you, never wanting to act and inflict harm on other humans. But times had changed since then. Oh, how you hated how much it had changed since then. None of it was fair.

A silence ensued, your stifled sobs the only thing willing to break it. Eren watched you motionlessly, the glare still apparent on his face as your emotions got the better of you. You hadn't realised just how shaken up you were from what happened. Sure, you had faced death many times, but always at the hand of titans. Where you had to evade giant swooshing limbs and teeth that could churn your flesh as cows do cud. Never had you looked another human in the eye and watched them contemplate killing you. To aim a gun directly your way and prep the shot as you realised what their intentions were. Then a feeble attempt to escape approaching death, all too distracted with your life flashing before your eyes for you to see the way out. That was one of the scariest moments of your life. You never wanted to endure it again. Never.

"Come here,"

You stiffened up, looking at Eren amidst dishevelled strands of H/C hair falling over your face. His glare had left and his face had returned to its neutral state, his eyes boring into you with his demand lingering in the air. You wiped your nose on your sleeve as well as your eyes, confused by the abrupt change in atmosphere. A truly weird circumstance and turn of events you weren't expecting indeed. At first, you weren't sure doing as Eren said was a smart idea, having heard Hange's experience with him during a debrief. You didn't believe Eren would treat you with the same sort of disrespect, but you also didn't want to take that risk just in case.

"B-But...,"

"Just do it," He roughly snapped, suspense in his tone kicking you up the hind to move. With a yelp, you pushed yourself off of the wall - back sighing out in bliss after starting to ache because of the uneven rocky surface. You gingerly stepped towards Eren, biting down on your lip to stop it trembling in fright. You came to a stop once close enough to the iron bars, hands going to wrap themselves around them, around the same ones as Eren. Whether you intended for that or it was just subconscious instinct you didn't know. Finally, your eyes dropped to the floor, lost on where to focus. Eren hummed a complacent sigh at your actions, head tilting to the side as he looked you up and down. You couldn't find an answer to what was running through his mind, blank gaze concealing all form of emotion and clarity. Then, just as you thought the silence couldn't grow any more powerful, Eren lifted his hand and reached out for you.

You gasped at the sudden contact, the feeling of Eren's hand cupping your face sending all sorts of sensations through you. His palm was warm despite the cool air of the prison cell. It was as though his hand was constructed to cradle your cheek, moulded into the perfect structure to which you filled in the empty spaces. His hand felt soft even after years of wear and tear of fighting and training, fingers long but not at all discomforting. You had forgotten just how pleasant the feel of Eren's thumb across your cheekbone was until he initiated the motion, almost a way to lure you in. And with your deprivation of his touch - of him. That was enough to have you wrapped around his finger.

"I forgot how nice it was to hold you like this," Eren declared monotonously, though his expression betrayed his lack of care. Something about it had calmed, but he didn't allow it to stay for long, gone so fast that if you blinked you would have missed it. You inhaled deeply, head tilting to the side as you nuzzled into his hand. Seeming satisfied with that, Eren proceeded. "That and just how easily you melt under my touch,"

"Eren," You uttered no louder than a whisper, eyes closing tight as you welcomed his touch. You despised how much he was correct, that you became putty without him even needing to try. That was the impact of love, after all, it makes people act in crazy ways and do some incredibly crazy things. But you couldn't ignore the odd funny feeling still pitting your gut, begging you to stop falling to Eren's will before it was too late. You couldn't get carried away, he had committed obscene criminal acts without jurisdiction. That was more than enough to get him locked up for life, regardless of the war you were fighting. You should be disgusted by his actions, his corrupted thinking and the way he went behind the Military's backs to further his own idea of freedom. You were disgusted.

But you also loved him. Way, way more than you were disgusted.

A frown merged onto your face, blending awkwardly with the once peaceful content that Eren noticed as fast as it appeared. He managed to figure out the thoughts running through your mind also, the young adult lamenting a sigh and he opened his mouth to speak. Not before his hand drifted down to your chin, tilting your head up to make you look at him. His thumb planted on your bottom lip as he grazed over it.

"I'm trying to build a future for Eldia, Y/N," Eren spoke firmly, your heart having a brief elation to the way he said your name. It had been far too long since you had heard him say it. "A future for us, where we can be free and live our lives the way we want to,"

"I know," You began, eyes opening to meet Eren's. "But there are other ways, Eren. More humane ways. We don't have to kill anymore if we just-,"

"There isn't another way," Eren interrupted, his ministrations of stroking your chin coming to an abrupt halt. "We've tried other ways and they haven't worked," Eren evaded your disheartened stare. "I'm sick of it not working,"

"We all are, Eren. Stop making out that you're the only victim here," You paid no mind to Eren's reaction. "We're all victims of this shitshow that's our reality, and we're all just as much the culprits of it as well! All w-we do is fight fire with fire and add more ashes to the pile with each person we slaughter," You felt your grip tighten on the bars, gritting your teeth harshly together. "I'm sick of all the violence and suffering! I just want to go back to the days when we could be at peace. Where we could laugh and joke because the main problem - the titans, were dealt with! I became a soldier to fight titans, not to embark on an endless war where both sides are human and neither is willing to cooperate with the other,"

"Those days are gone," Eren spoke sternly, though it softened up when he noticed you look away. "But they can return," He pressed his forehead against the iron bars, staring at you through deadened eyes. "We can live a life of freedom together once I finish what I started, all I need you to do is stay by my side and to have faith,"

Your eyes widened, gawking at Eren with complete and utter disbelief at his words. His persistence came off like the cruellest of sicknesses, corrupting Eren's mind to the point of insanity. His moral compass was in shambles as was his sense of humanity. The way his eyes were numbed right down to their pupils, blinded by his visions of a future for Eldia that came with the cost of the rest of the world's suffering. It pained you to witness such a change, to witness Eren's descent into madness as war took over his every thought and breath. Suddenly that foreign feeling in your stomach became clear as day, and you abhorred it with a deadly passion.

"I don't want to be free in a world built on other people's suffering," Your hands fell down to your sides, heartbeat racing as you avoided Eren's gaze. He quirked a brow, eyes piercing into you once he realised what you meant, and his chosen tone suggested he didn't like that one bit.

"What are you trying to say?"

You faltered, both as a mental brace and a state of refusal to your next actions. A second or so passed before you took a step back, creating a distance that did more damage than healing. With a shaky breath, you answered his question.

"I love you Eren, with everything I am. B-but I can't stand by your side if this is the path you're going to take," The tears were already brewing, doing everything you could to blink them away. "I won't sit by and watch the rest of the world crumble because of your selfish desires,"

You hated the words you were saying, how you said them and who you were saying them to. That it had all come to this, where Eren became the threat to humanity rather than its saviour. He only had so much time left and had you known that his way of spending it was to spiral the world into chaos - perhaps you wouldn't have grown so attached.

"I can't - I...," Since he hadn't said anything, you felt the urgency to speak. "Eren you have no idea how much I want to but this isn't how I saw our future -,"

"What future?" Eren persisted, not giving you a chance to reply. "Eldia has no future within the walls, these cages! It's time we give the world a taste of its own medicine, so what if a couple of lives are taken out on the way? It's not like they give a damn about ours," Eren scoffed when you shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes and the stinging sensation that came with it was painful to deal with.

"Please, Eren. Think about what you're saying," You pleaded and begged. But you knew it was no use, Eren too fixated on his 'destiny' to see logical reason. Merely the look in his eyes was proof enough to tell you that. "What happened to you? When did you become so heartless? Where's the Eren I knew all those years ago gone? Don't you miss it back then? When we weren't cheating death and we could simply be us? Be two dumb teens in love and the only thing that mattered was that love we shared? Do you even think about that anymore? About me? What about -,"

"Stop it," Eren stopped you, voice acting as a silencer to your blubbering drabble. Flinching at the interruption your mouth clamped shut, and your eyes darted for Eren in surprise. Despite locked behind bars, you were still terrified, and it felt more like you were the prisoner of the pair. With a low growl, Eren raised a clenched fist and thrashed it harshly against the bars. It made a low but loud 'thunk!' sound that hit your ears like impending doom, deafening all around you excluding that of Eren and the words he uttered next. "I'm sick of listening to you whine about shit that's not even important,"

"W-what?" You stammered in question, voice unsteady. "What do you mean it's not important?"

"Do you really think that amidst all of this I have time to be playing boyfriend?" Eren half-mocked. "I've got bigger priorities than you right now," He didn't look you in the eye, nostrils flared as his gaze lingered on the floor. Your legs nearly gave way at what you were hearing, each word a fatal stab to the stomach. Each stab even more malicious than the last. So that was it? You didn't matter anymore? Were you just some pawn in Eren's plan until he didn't feel he needed you anymore? Had his love ever been real or was it all a hoax to manipulate your every waking thought?

A minute passed of still silence, one of the many that evening. Your eyes never left Eren, searching for something to indicate he was joking. As well as contemplating pinching yourself in hopes you woke up from this horrible nightmare. Maybe you'd wake up in your Eren's arms, safe and secure as you lay beside him - his gentle breaths from deep sleep tickling the back of your neck and helping you forget the entire reason you woke up. But sadly, no such thing happened. You never woke up from anything but were instead left to face an Eren you barely knew anymore. Endure the pain as he pounded words into your head that gashed crueller than the worst of war wounds.

Realising this, you felt an urge to laugh, unsure what else there was you really could do. Crying was ineffective, and there was no way you could let Eren get the better of you. That's probably what he wanted anyway, for you to turn around and beg on your hands and knees. So as your hand met your face, you released the smallest of chuckles, lacking in humour but overwhelmed with an unforeseen emptiness. It definitely caught Eren by surprise, but he was fast to not hide it as he pressured that vacant stare onto you yet again.

"You insist your plan is the only way to get us our future, but I'm not even sure what future you mean anymore," You hesitated, trying to gain control of your lip which began to quiver erratically. "Clearly it's not the one we imagined together when we were younger,"

"If only you weren't so blinded by your emotions," Eren avoided your words, something you noticed and felt more agonised by than relieved. "Stop thinking with your feelings and see the logic, already. It's so annoying,"

Almost choking on the sob you tried to hold down, you bit down harshly on your lip - any harder and you probably would have drawn blood. You did everything you could to ignore Eren's words, but you were so hurt that you were losing the means to do so.

But you couldn't let his words consume you and manifest them into truth. You had to be strong, use whatever power you had left to regain your composure and come out the bigger person. Eren had always been a stubborn brat, Levi's nickname reigning true now more than ever.

"Use your head and think, Y/N," Eren spoke slowly, leaning his weight back onto one foot. He stretched his arm out towards you, held out for you to take. "Maybe if you stop caring for those that'll just kill you off for sport you'll actually comprehend why you're following the wrong cause,"

His words were suffocating and barbaric, not at all inspiring or persuading in the slightest. It didn't make you feel hopeful, it made you feel trapped. All you wanted was for it to stop. It wasn't love no matter how much you adored him. It wasn't healthy no matter the good memories you had shared. You had to stop the past messing with your head. You had to stop Eren messing with your head. You wanted to get out and escape. You needed to and as soon as possible. So, taking a moment to regain your composure, your hands raised to adjust the collar of your jacket and you looked over at Eren. An apologetic expression on your face for deciding to cut the visit short.

"I think I should... should go check on Armin and the others," You started, not sure what Eren would make of that. He appeared to show confusion, blinking once your words processed and frowning based on how sudden they were.

"Why would you need to do that?"

"They've been busy, and they're probably looking for me," You made up on the spot. "I didn't tell them I was coming to see you," Eren was silent, eyeing you up and down before he scoffed.

"You know I can tell you're lying, right?"

"W-Why would I lie?"

"For the same reason all people lie," Eren said. "To avoid what you're too scared to face," The way Eren spoke made everything feel much, much worse. A heavy amount of disrespect originated from this new flesh of conceit that Eren displayed on full. He had always been one to boast, but never in the form he showed in the present.

Listening to his slander any longer was something you simply couldn't handle. Not today, anyway. Fatigue was starting to claim control over your thought process, emotionally drained from talking to Eren. He had selfishly left you in a constant state of confusion and agony, making you ask yourself more questions than answering them. It utterly and totally sucked, being honest, and you had no clue where your relationship stood. Was it over? Were you still even together? Had he even seen you both as a couple this entire time or was it all just a big lie?

"So what were you trying to avoid when you spent all those months lying to us?" You were tempted to leave without another word said, but you knew you'd regret not asking your question. Which had popped into your head at the last moment as you pondered on Eren's words. Using them against you seemed to strike a nerve, as when you expected Eren to talk he did no such thing. Instead, he glared at you for being caught out, prompting your next words to follow. "I'll... I'll see you later, Eren,"

And with that, you started walking away.

You did everything in your power to not look back, focusing your gaze on the exit that was a little way ahead. Eren's stare etched itself into your back on the way out, leaving an even deeper wound than before which would probably scar for sure. Your footsteps dragged across the floor like you hauled twice your body weight behind you. Walking upstairs had never been such a demanding challenge before in your life. To think that you possessed the energy to traverse the walls but absolutely none to conquer thirteen mediocre steps.

You made it around ten steps up, just about to reach out for the door handle - when Eren's voice finally filled the room again. It brought your rushed exit to a halt with ease, much to your dismay, and what he had to say did nothing to help your situation.

"Who's to say I ever lied?"

Your heart both soared and sank at the same time, the conflict in your head skyrocketing as your thoughts drove you mad. What did Eren mean by that? Lie about what exactly? It was the way his words were always so devoid of clarity that hurt the most. The brunette was exceedingly blunt yet always left you inquiring more, prying further until it was too late. A mind game that pulled you in and kept you playing. You admittedly almost swayed.

But so close to the door, your hand wavering in the air just begging to open it - it was enough to prevent such a thing a happening. You knew if you headed back it would be the end, you would somehow get more hurt than you already had. It was a risky move you didn't want to place your bets on, you had come too far to be foolish.

So taking a deep breath you reached out for the handle and gripped it tight. You turned the knob and braced yourself to leave, blocking Eren from your mind as you lifted your foot to the eleventh step. Then the twelfth. Then the thirteenth, and finally onto the floor above the jail cells.

Closing that door behind you felt like the freshest of cleanses, your body sighing out in relief when it clicked shut.

Sadly though, you didn't have time to celebrate. The whole encounter surely caught up with you, as did the tears you had been saving for when you were finally alone. Just like they guaranteed, the hot, salty liquid singed the corners of your eyes and the tears returned. Before you could do anything, a cry broke out and you staggered until your back hit the door. The hinges jolted loudly, most likely attracting the attention of someone nearby. Whether it be a guard around the corner or one of your friends in search of your location. Maybe even Hange or Levi coming to check up on you. Whichever it was, they were in for a shock.

Your heart raced with anxiety, mind and body overwhelmed by inner turmoil that made you sick to your gut. The nausea was so bad you had to hold your stomach with your spare arm, fighting the urge to violently vomit all whilst controlling your reckless sobs that didn't cease their slander. Your vision went blurry from how much you broke down, unable to blink the tears away no matter your efforts.

Fearing the unknown had always been a part of who you were. But had somewhat simmered down as you grew older and developed mentally through being a soldier. However, all that progress reversed in an instant as your mind flashed back to the thought of Eren. How someone who used to possess so much passion now resorted to an empty vessel. The way he admitted to your insignificance with such little struggle, only to proceed to confuse you even more by implying he had never told a single lie. Was he even talking about you when he said that? Or something else completely unrelated?

A little bit of confirmation wouldn't hurt anybody.

It was odd to have Eren be the reason for your tears after so many years of him typically being the one to dry them off your face. Though thinking about it, he had been the leading cause for a lot of things as of late. The number a very concerning amount indeed. You barely even recognised him anymore. The once caring soul you fell in love with was no longer there, replaced with a man who had discovered the bittersweet lust for power based on a corrupted idealogy. Such a ruthless lust that it no longer mattered how that idealogy came to be, just as long as he managed to taste an essence of it.

You hated it. You hated that of all people it was Eren who tumbled down that drain. How did you allow yourself to fall in love with someone so possible of committing such atrocities? To worship him and give him everything you had, only to be told it was all for nothing and you were fighting a losing battle. You knew it was hopeless to hold on and believe that your Eren might return but at this rate that seemed unattainable. Not after witnessing him firsthand. The only thing left now was to move on and pray the world was on your side.

Part of you didn't want to move on though, so familiar with Eren as your crutch that a world without him sounded terrifying. You had grown so used to his presence in your life that all of this still felt so surreal no matter the fact you were very much living in it. Living in an endless hell that never allowed anyone a moment's peace. Not you. Not even Eren. Not a single human being on the planet. Nobody.

Just... where along the line had it all gone so painfully wrong?

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #eren jeager #eren jeager x reader #x reader #angst #eren yeager angst #eren yaegar #eren aot #eren fic #eren yeager fic

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siriusmydeer · 3 years

Note

Hey! Could you do a Regulus fluff with the prompt 17. “This reminded me of you.”

from a boy, to a man

regulus black x fem!reader

summary: regulus finds his way back to you after destroying the horcruxes.

word count: 2.0k

warnings: mentions of self harm (bleeding, scratching, scabs), insinuations of depression, mentions of anxiety, self hatred, poor mental health/not taking care of ones self, angst-fluff

a/n: amelia amelia i wanna kiss u thank u sm for helping me baby @fives-cup-of-coffee

dark stygian swirls. the infinite markings submerged in his pallid sickly flesh that had healed prolongingly into a lustre of peach. but the black branding lay delineated, every curvature, every edge lay as detailed as when it had first been cursed into his complexion.

the relevance of scrubbing his nails against the dermis until it scalded the nerve endings in his left forearm had become insignificant. the carmine scabs fading over time but the reminder of his baleful past prompting his memory.

the branding was the only thing that could make him clutch his arm in a bashful sense. yet the only talisman evoking his senses to remain his strong demeanour was the minuscule silver-plated band that lay on his thumb tightly.

jewelry. it was your familiarity.

necklaces, rings, earrings, they all somehow coordinated with you, your essence. something complimentary to you complexion, soothing important to your family as they were heirs.

when strolling the corridors you received the compliments, it was rather flattering. it was something people began to notice over some time, but you never had owned a bracelet. it was common to own bracelets such as heirlooms but you had never received such an entity until the age of eleven.

august 28th, 1971

the sun was fading into the familiar evening hues of feverish vermillion and a slow fading shade of apricot blending into the sky. the prelude to dawn at its beginning while you gaped at it intensely, the fresh pricks of grass hitting your bottom under the shell-pink dress you had been dressed in as well as the small gusts of wind looming through the air as a small reminder of where you had been rather than slipping into your mind into an abyss of daydreams.

the wind began to increase, hitting the delicacy of your skin. the little nips at your skin producing a small shiver from the curvature of your spine to the muscles in your legs. the moment was serene, like something you read about in fairytale books about a princess awaiting her prince, almost silent. until a faint boyish voice had interrupted the tranquillity.

“’ve got a gift for you.”

your body slightly sprung at the sound interrupting the deep prolonged silence. You began to crane your neck behind you, a short boy awaiting for you to glimpse at him, your eyes were met with deep aquamarine irises that swirled in the hues of virescent green and cerulean blue. a small twinkle found carved into his irises in them at your attention.

“regulus,” you muttered, viewing as the boy sat next to you with something particularly large clutched in his hand.

he held up a gold circlet with intricate detailing that had been engraved in the brass item. as well as an emerald gem placed directly in the centre. the main focus of the bracelet, if you will. your brows began to force together into a pronounced frown, your optics glancing from his digits clutched around the object to his features, his shell-pink lips fixed into a quirk as well as a small gleam of virtue flaring in his irises

“what’s this for?” you began to query, taking the rather dense manacle into your palm and staring at it for a moment. “it’s a bracelet, i know that you don’t have any so i got you one.” he retorted faintly, a small sense of pride and adoration swelling in his belly. but he wasn't of age to particularly identify those feelings yet.

“think of it as a present, before school starts.”

your face steadily began to upturn at his endeavours, a scramble of letters trying to escape the cavern of your mouth in a enliven venture to thank him for his doting thoughts about you.

the memory becomes a slow fading blear as recollects his thoughts and narrows his eyes in a sneer at his maimed reflection. the caliginous imprint taunting regulus through the obstruct mirror, his hand beginning to clutch over the mantle flesh ensuing the laceration that had been flung under the downpour of searing water minutes prior.

he recollected every detailed moment of that night, the way your eyes glimpsed at the bracelet every couple of seconds in elation. even at eleven years old in a floral shell-pink dress, in the distance you looked so angelic. he didn't know as an eleven-year-old boy and now only loathed himself for realizing so much later in life.

following his departure, he had glimpsed down at the silver ring that was clung onto his thumb that you had gifted following the bracelet, a ring he had to move around several fingers till it fit perfectly again. this incident similar to a parallel between scenarios. the small band holding himself together in a way that couldn't be understood by another.

the girl he had loved, adorned, the girl that was now a woman who had let him weep into her shoulder, the woman who made sure that he would take care of his body to keep it in a healthy state, the girl that was now a woman that would cheer for him amid his quidditch games till her throat was raw, the girl who was now a woman whom he still had loved wasn’t there to clutch onto his arm and whisper to him that everything was going to be alright.

the subconscious that laid embedded into your skull was subsequently pivoting in rapid twists till it was firmly knotted without anymore pondering to be completed. the footprint of where the boy had once been subtly faded without a trace as to where, the boy who grew into a man with mangled black tendrils that sat in entangled twists, the man with a structured jaw whilst he was old enough to spew out curse words to his mother, the boy who was now a man who you loved had vanished beneath your fingertips without a trace.

the man that was once a boy had taken a vow that potentially concluded his life and vanished for, ‘your safety,’ as he pronounced before departing from your vapid figure. the last i love you escaping from his lips as a final message in case it would be the last time you would hear it from him.

then you became alone, all fucking alone.

he huffed whilst pacing almost becoming nauseated, crackling at his knuckles due to the submerging coarse of anxiety running thickly through his blood. it was enough to swivel into the crevices of his spine and sprawl into his brain like sporadically placed letters in an intense game of pool, his mind configuring ways on how to address you after almost a year of his blatant absence.

the minuscule of a second he had after the duration of his completed mission, regulus had ventured to find almost every piece of detailed information that had been absent in his mind for the last ticking days where he hadn’t spoken to you. almost as if he hadn’t played the recurrent memory of you laughing at his foolish jokes in the slytherin common room in the deep hours of the night following a few hushed whispers, in a recurrent loop to the point where he could recall every faint characteristic that you had worn with pride.

your thumbs were absentmindedly twiddling in an abyss-like daydream, similar to the ones you had as a young girl, the collision of decrepit wood and firm knuckles splintering the perpetuating silence that had sunken depressingly into your flat. a look of puzzlement contorted onto your features, you paused and speculated as to whom was at your apartment as you weren't used to having such visitors.

opting to leisurely trudge to the door in exhaustion, the door had revealed regulus arcturus black with an ivory box clutched in his hand and a nervous grin quirked on his lips. you stopped, taken back for a moment. a revelling thought peering into your conscious mind to ultimately shut the door closed and pretend this moment, the moment that you had dreamed of till the early hours in the morning wasn’t occurring. instead, grappling at his hand and pulling him into a close-knit embrace till you could feel like hast respires in his chest along with the palpitating beats of his trembling heart against your sternum.

he sighed in relief, his hands melding into the curvature of your waist. the tension in your frame gradually disentangling from the days that had surpassed without the boy who was now a man, a man with a sallow complexion and sickly carved features stood in front of you with now a tearful grin that was almost quivering awaiting forgiveness that he was frightful he would never receive.

“what have you done to yourself, regulus?” your hands melded into the sharp curvature of his cheeks, the balmy embrace of your hands warming his figure like a camper that had created fire without months of warmth. his optics began to gape at the floor of your flat, ignoring your question with the clearness of his throat.

“nevermind me, this reminded me of you.” he clarified while bringing the box into your viewpoint. “regulus.” you pardoned him but taking a grasp on the box and setting it down on the oak-wood table with a small ‘clink.’

“what’s happened to you— why didn’t you come back for me?”

“i was scared, i didn’t want to leave you. i promise you that, i just— i didn’t want to come back and you would hate me.” regulus confessed with a stutter, a mild nervous tic he had obtained when he was young. as well as when he ventured to drag his slender fingers between his swoop of curls but found it rather difficult as they were mangled together.

you frowned disquietly. the boy that had endured your whines, and your tantrums as to when a fifth-year hufflepuff had ticked you off rather irritatingly. the boy who was now a man, whom you had loved, and he knew you had loved. continued to think that you had hated him when that had been opposite.

"I don't hate you, reg. I never have, I don't think you can hate the person i love the most." his hands fell back in place to the contour of your waistline, the palms of his hands steadily dragging themselves in a comforting motion while your fingers delicately pushed into his hair.

“your hairs a mess, reg,” you observed with a sated smile, the smallest of a chuckle escaping his lips after his mouth had almost been sewn shut by voldemort himself. the thought of regulus laughing could’ve turned heads now because of how unusual and unfamiliar the sound was. but it was the same child-like giggle he expressed on the hogwarts train several years ago.

“yeah,” he chuckled again, louder this time. he felt the small indulging swirls coming up from his eyes, the downpour of tears almost cascading down his cheeks before he brought his digits to slide them across his sockets, “brush it for me? like old times?”

he wasn’t sad anymore, he didn’t feel dejected, he didn’t feel the urge to lay in a bed that was poorly made with creased sheets and never get up again, the tears threatening his face were delightful ones. they were tears of elation, that the girl who was now a woman had remainingly loved him.

he was home, an unfamiliar concept now wrapping him in an unyielding enclasp. regulus was home.

he sat upon a bench, looking at a reflection no longer splintered with guilt, or narrowing eyes. his eyes moved in an upward motion, his irises seeing the way you languidly dragged a brush through his tuffs and a small smile quirking at your lips.

“i love you, too. i didn’t want you to think i forgot.”

taglist: @fific7 @kittykylax @wisedreamcatcher @ronbrokemyheart @amourtentiaa @five-cups-of-coffee @serenitywilderness @i-love-scott-mccall @artemis1orion @miss-starkov @siriusbarnesslut @famdomhideout @hufflepogue @kirascottage @luvvninaz @miraclesoflove @black-like-my-soul @slytherclawbitch @90steaology

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lockefanfic · 3 years

Text

White Silk

Parts One, Two, and Three of this series of oneshots.

There were only few moments in your life when you truly cared about the weather.

Once when your much-anticipated camping trip was spent inside your tents hiding from a torrential downpour. Another time when your apartment’s air conditioning broke down during an unprecedented heat wave. A final time when icy roads brought you close to you wrapping your car around a tree.

This was another one of those moments. Outside, what seemed like the storm of the century battered the building relentlessly, turning the day into a dark, stormy mess.

Inside, however, Lee Jieun somehow still managed to shine.

She was utterly beautiful - no, beautiful seemed inadequate to describe the sight. She stands with her back half turned to you, her perfect silhouette framed by the window. And while it is dark and stormy outside, she somehow still manages to glow, her very presence seeming to battle against the gloom that pervaded the rest of the day, seeming to defy it, seeming to tell it “No, your rain and clouds will not dim my brightness.”

She turns when you enter the room - and time slows to a crawl. It was like one of those moments in the movies when the female lead meets the male lead for the first time. As she turns her head, her hair, unstyled and seemingly also unbrushed but somehow still flawless, whips carelessly over her bare shoulder, almost as if in slow motion - a shampoo commercial come to life.

Wrapped around her lithe, thin frame is a white silk dress. Made of the finest of materials and woven by the most talented of seamstresses, it is almost a work of art in and of itself - but without the young woman on whom it draped it is little more than a useless scrap of overpriced fabric. No, the woman made the dress, and not the other way around. It is she that makes the dress beautiful.

From the second you met her so many years ago you’d thought she was the most beautiful woman you’d ever met - but right now, as a bride on her wedding day, you knew she’d never been more beautiful. All women are beautiful - but on their wedding day they glow just a little brighter.

Jieun’s eyes meet yours. A glimpse of a surprised reaction - one she quickly hides. She opens her mouth to speak, and you expect some eloquent, powerful observation on the storm raging outside, and how it will not affect her spirits.

“I need some fucking alcohol,” she spits.

You smirk a little at her first words of the day to you. She looked like a princess, but sometimes she had the tongue of a sailor.

“Sorry,” you answer as you step towards her, “there’s no bar on the premises, unfortunately, although I hear the reception will have one. Cash bar, though, so best hit up an ATM before arriving.”

Jieun sighs and returns her attention to staring out the window. You feel the room get a little dimmer as she takes her attention away from you.

“Of course not. Nothing today can go right, apparently.”

You stand beside her, staring out the same window at the angry grey skies and the seemingly endless torrential downpour.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says after a few shared seconds watching the raindrops trace random patterns on the glass.

“You’re not exactly kicking me out.”

Jieun scoffs. “Well everything else today is going horribly wrong so yeah, why the hell not have you show up?”

“What else is going wrong, exactly?”

“The photographer came down with a cold, so the best we can muster is my cousin and his fucking iPhone. The hair and makeup artist I hired is stuck in traffic on the other side of the city and probably won’t make it here on time, which is why I currently look like a fucking college student on the wrong end of a weed bender. The florist thought the wedding was tomorrow, so the only flowers we have are those sad looking almost-dead bouquets from the fucking gas station. Oh, and the reception hall had a goddamn double booking and neglected to tell us that the banquet hall won’t be available until 10pm, once the fucking high school math olympics has finished its awards ceremony!”

You frown. There wasn’t really much you could do to ameliorate the situation.

“Clusterfuck and a half,” you state.

“Clusterfuck and three quarters,” she counters, “coming real close to two full clusterfucks. Compared to all the bullshit that’s already gone down today, yeah, fuck it, you may as well be here, even when you very clearly shouldn’t be. I’m getting married today, if you didn’t notice.”

You glance over to her for the first time, and even though she is currently wearing a frown on her cute little features, you are nonetheless still struck by her beauty. Such a cheesy thing to admit to - being awestruck by a woman. It was something that surely only happened in books and movies and on Netflix; surely in real life no woman could ever be so beautiful as to render a man temporarily physically paralyzed.

But Lee Jieun had a way of doing that to you. She did it when she walked into the busy downtown Korean barbeque place that your mutual friend had dragged her to on that fateful day so many years ago. She did it when she just so happened to sit next to you, and again when she reached out her slim, pale hand and introduced herself with a cute handshake and a blinding smile.

And she did it every single day you’d met her since. Today was no different, even if it was one of the most important days of her life.

“I overheard one of the bridesmaids saying you weren’t doing so well,” you say. “I had to make sure you were going to make it up the aisle.”

“Well I feel nauseous as fuck at the moment so I might make it up there only to barf all over the goddamn groom when I get to the altar.”

“What a lucky guy.”

“Damn straight. He gets to spend his entire life boning this hot piece,” she says with an exaggerated flourish of her hand over her body that was more sarcastic than serious, a deadpan frown on her face.

“I’m jealous,” you say.

Jieun buries her face in her hands, where she lets out a long sigh.

“Are you sure you don’t have a shot of soju in your jacket or something?”

“No,” you say. “I do have these, though.”

“I swear to god if you’re referring to your balls I’m gonna punch-”

When she lifts her head from her hands, she finds you with your arms wide open and the cheesiest of smiles on your face.

It begins slowly - just a slight crack of an upward tilt at the corners of her mouth, like a small ray of light piercing dark clouds. Eventually her soft pink lips and cute cheeks follow suit, and soon the metaphorical clouds part, her face surrendering to the reluctant smile and short chuckle that she allows to escape her mouth along with an adorable little snort.

She steps forward into your embrace, and you wrap your arms tightly around each other.

“You’ve always been there for me,” she says, her words muffled by your chest.

“I always will be.”

“Even when I’m married?”

“Especially when you’re married. Married guys can be dicks.”

Jieun chuckles again, and the soft vibration of her laugh against your chest makes your heart sing. She presses herself closer against you, as though she were fleeing from the accumulating problems of the day and had just found a hiding spot in your arms.

“How much time do I have?” she asks, barely audible.

“About an hour or so, I’d say,” you reply. Only a few of the guests had arrived and the groomsmen and bridesmaids were occupied with putting out the myriad of little fires that came up during weddings. There was still some time to yourselves before the start of the show.

“Then kiss me,” she says, lifting her head from your chest.

Time slows again. Time moves slowly, almost incrementally slowly, as you bend your head to kiss her.

It felt so wrong, so dangerous - but it also felt so right, so perfect. You should not have been there, not on her wedding day, mere minutes before she was to walk down the aisle. You could have, and perhaps should have, been anywhere but here.

But Jieun had always had that hold over you. You didn’t think yourself whipped for any other woman in your life, but when Jieun called you answered - no questions asked. You hated yourself for it sometimes, hated that a woman could have such overwhelming control over you, could have you wrapped around her finger like she did.

But one smile - and sometimes, one kiss - was all it took to remind you why you did it: you were in love with her.

The kiss deepens, becoming something more passionate, more needy. Tongues begin to explore familiar mouths and find their counterparts willing and ready to touch and taste. Hands tighten around torsos. Hips press against hips. The bride tries to find solace from a day of ruined plans in the kiss and embrace of a man that meant so much to her.

You are happy to leave it there - merely seeing her was already probably a mistake - but Jieun was never one to stop things she had started. She breaks the kiss and pulls at the back of your head until your mouth is on her neck, and you begin devouring the sweet, pale flesh there with your hungry lips and tongue. She cranes her neck up and back, offering up more of herself to you.

Her hands slip between your bodies to work at your belt, which she quickly undoes.

“Here..?” you manage to gasp in between kisses. She was taking your breath away, again, although this time for another reason.

“Here,” she snaps, as though she were surprised you would even dare to ask, “Everything else is going wrong. I need this now. I need you now. Fuck me like you always do. One last time.”

Before you could say anything further she has you out of your boxers, her slim fingers suddenly cold and chilly around your quickly hardening shaft. Soon she has you at full stiffness. It doesn’t take you long. It never did. Especially not now, given the circumstances. Given the knowledge that the hand wrapped around your shaft and pumping it up and down would soon have a shiny diamond ring on it for the rest of her life.

You groan into her neck as the pleasure she is conjuring inside your body begins to overtake your senses. You feel her cheeks move against the side of your face - a wicked smile on an angel’s lips.

You are content to let her have her way with you, but you are reminded of her request - to fuck her the way you always did. And when you fucked, you were the one in control. Her innocent, girl-next-door exterior belied the fact that she loved to be taken, loved to be called names and used - and you weren’t one to disappoint her, even today, on this most important of days. You hated yourself sometimes for how much control she had over you in your day-to-day life; but you relished the fact that in your most intimate moments the roles were very much reversed.

You bring your hands to her shoulders and turn her around until she is facing the wall. She lets out a gasp of surprise - one that turns into a low moan as you press yourself, and your stiff shaft, against her. She braces herself against the glass, her forearms and palms flat against it.

Your hands, still on her shoulders, trace the top edge of the perfect white dress wrapped around her like a second skin. When they reach the front of her dress, you grasp the top edge and pull downward.

Jieun gasps as you pull the dress down to expose her breasts, and you grin devilishly over her shoulder as you watch her reflection in the glass as her small, perfect round mounds bounce free from their silk prison. Before she can react further your hands are already on them, squeezing them none too gently, enjoying the feel of her body molding itself into your hands, her already stiffened nipples poking between your fingers.

“You gonna let me fuck you on your wedding day, Jieun?” you hiss into her ear.

“Fuck yes,” she hisses, her breath a mist upon the glass, “I want you to fuck me right fucking now.”. She reaches down, pulling her long, flowing skirt up to bunch it around her waist. It takes her a while - her skirt is so long - but soon the pale, perfect round cheeks of her pert little ass are laid bare, your cock pressing impatiently against her lower back.

You smirk at the sight of her, the perfect little bride on her wedding day, now a wanton, needy little thing, begging for it, begging to be fucked in a dress that was supposed to symbolize her innocence with its pure color. She wasn’t even wearing underwear, as though she knew this would happen, was expecting to be fucked wearing this dress.

“Fuck me,” she snaps, as though every moment you kept her waiting was making her more and more upset. “Fuck me please. I’m so wet for you.”

“Such a slutty little bride,” you observe. ‘So wet and hot already, and I’ve barely touched you.” You pinch her nipples. She sighs. You grin at the sight of her in her pristine white dress, an angel engaged in an act that was not at all angelic.

“Fuck yes. I’m such a slut. Such a slutty little bride. Now fuck me!”

“You want to get fucked against this glass in your pretty little white wedding dress?”

“Mmmm!” Jieun gasps, every sound that leaves her throat dripping now with need, “Please, fuck me now. Fuck this bride’s tight little pussy until you cum in it.”

You let go of her breasts, but not before giving her stiff nubs one last pinch that elicits a sharp gasp from her throat. Your right hand drifts to your cock, you line up your tip with her entrance, and within moments you slip inside Lee Jieun’s body.

You’d had her plenty of times, but today is different - and you wonder if perhaps the circumstances and the sheer audacity of what you were doing somehow added to the way she felt around you. She was slick and hot and wet and so, so very tight. It almost drove you insane to be inside her. Judging by the way her fingers curled against the hard glass, seeking something to claw into as she is filled with your cock - Jieun felt the same.

“Fuck,” she hisses, the curse word leaving her mouth in a breathy sigh. You both take a moment to savor the sensations - hers of being filled, yours of her wet, hot body wrapping itself around your stiff, aching shaft.

You don’t waste any time. You had little to waste, nor did you have any desire to deny yourself the pleasure her body promised. When you withdraw your shaft from between her round cheeks to find it glistening with her juices, you quickly drive yourself back in - this time to the hilt.

Soon you are fucking Lee Jieun against the glass, her naked breasts pressed against it, stiff nipples crushed against the cold surface as she is taken roughly, your cock pumping in and out of her wet, slick pussy at a frantic pace.

If she had problems with the liberties you were taking on her body she was not showing it. Her reactions told you much the opposite - that she loved each thrust into her needy pussy, loved feeling you piston in and out of her at the quick, hard pace you had set for yourselves.

“Oh my… oh my fucking god,” she hisses, her face pressed now against the glass, a soft mist forming on it with each hot breath that leaves her lips. “Fuck me, fuck me like this.”

You are almost afraid to look down, almost afraid to watch your cock pump in and out of her needy body - but you eventually tear your eyes from her pleasure-stricken face to glance down between your torsos.

Her juices are flowing freely, lathering your stiff shaft with a thick sheen of her slick, glistening wetness. Her lips grip every inch of your shaft, parting softly to welcome it in with each thrust, grasping it tightly with each withdrawal as though not wanting to let it go. You reach down and squeeze her tight little ass with both hands, filling your hands with her cheeks, parting them slightly to give you a better view of each thrust of your cock into her slick, wet pussy.

“Oh… oh fuck!” she gasps as you reach a new depth, bottoming out your thrusts now as you fill her with every inch of you, filling the mewling young bride as deeply as you could with stiff cock.

“Fucking take my cock, Jieun,” you snap, bringing your hand up to her chin to tilt it toward you. “Fucking take it.”

“Y-yes! Fuck me… I’m yours. I’m yours!”

The filth of her words, of her submission to you, would have been pleasurable any other time. But now, mere minutes from her marriage - it meant something more, something more perverse - and something more deliciously sinful.

You reach around her torso to grasp a round breast with your free hand, finding her stiff nipple and teasing it at first before pinching and twisting the sensitive bud. You turn her face toward you with the hand on her chin, wanting to watch as every thrust into her body twisted her small, adorable face with little spasms of pleasure. For a few long, delicious minutes you fuck the mewling, squirming young bride against the glass, the pleasure you both found in each others’ bodies far outweighing the filthy wickedness of your act.

“Is your husband going to fuck you like this every single day? Fuck your needy, slutty little pussy whenever he wants?”

“Y-yes!” she manages to gasp, her words interrupted by each thrust of your cock into her juicy pussy, “Yes… whenever… wherever… however he wants!”

“And you want my cum dripping down your legs while you walk down the aisle? While you get married?”

“Yes! Oh fuck please I want it, I want your cum inside me, I want it dripping out of my pussy oh please oh fuck, cum inside me oh fuck cum inside me please, fill my pussy, fill me with cum, fuck me, fuck me, oh, oh I’m cumming, oh--!”

You always dreaded Jieun’s orgasm during sex, because it was so powerful, so overwhelming - not only for her, but for the both of you. And it usually meant that you came soon after.

Jieun turns into a mewling, quivering mess of flesh, held up against the glass only by your hands on her chin and breast - and the cock still pistoning in and out of her pulsating pussy. You fuck her through her orgasm even as you feel your own beckoning, concentrating on each thrust, pushing yourself as deep as you can inside the young bride before pulling out only far enough to thrust right back inside her.

The random pulsating of her slick pussy, the wordless cries of pleasure brought upon her by her orgasm, and the soft breast in your hand - it all combined to push you dangerously close to the edge. But the thought of it - of fucking this needy young woman mere moments before her wedding - and at her demand, no less - it pushed you right over it.

You push yourself as deep inside her as you can go before you finally allow your orgasm to overtake your senses. Your mind tunnels, becoming focused solely on your pulsating cock as it spurts hot, thick semen deep inside Jieun’s tightly gripping pussy. The bride gasps - a soft, lustful sound - with each rope of cum that splashes into her depths, each stream further adding to the mess you’d made inside her body.

You both spend a long minute trying your best to piece your realities back together after your respective orgasms have shattered it, both reduced to heavily breathing, barely standing masses of suddenly weak flesh. It was a quick little session - not more than a few minutes from her first kiss to your mutual orgasm - but it still left you both exhausted, chests heaving in an attempt to refill lungs drained of air.

You reach up, tilt her chin to yours once more, and you give her a kiss - one that was more affectionate than perhaps either of you were ready for, but one you find her returning willingly and passionately.

Slowly you draw your softening shaft out of her body, and Jieun tries her best to clean herself up and look presentable, doing her best to look as though she didn’t just have rough sex minutes before walking down the aisle.

There is a knock on the door. It opens just wide enough for the maid of honor to poke her head inside - and you are thankful that she didn’t decide to do so a few minutes earlier, lest she catch you fucking the bride against the glass. She gives you a quizzical look.

“Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?” she asks.

“I think we’ve used up all our bad luck for today, Nayeon,” Jieun answers. “What’s a little more bullshit on top of the shit sundae that is our wedding plans?”

Nayeon frowns, confused by the bride’s nonchalance towards the day’s ruined plans. “Aish. Anyway, the makeup lady is here. And one of the groomsmen managed to track down a photographer. One of you should talk to him.”

“Thank you, Nayeon. We’ll just be a few minutes,” you reply.

The maid of honor gives you both a look before she closes the door behind her.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Jieun says.

“Me neither.”

“I’ll see you up there. You’re walking down that aisle first. Try not to trip.”

“Try not to drip.”

Jieun gives you a punch in the arm, but her hand lingers there for a moment, before sliding down and grasping your hand in hers.

“I love you,” she says.

“And I, you,” you reply.

You kiss her, and the peck on the lips turns into a soft but passionate kiss. She gives one last look out the window and the cloudy, stormy weather that continued unabated outside, although it all seemed to matter a little less to the both of you.

“Let’s go get married,” she says, the smile on her lips all the sunshine you ever needed.

Author’s Note: Short but hopefully sweet. :) I had to sneak in an “I, you” (IU) reference in there somewhere lol.

So I felt kind of bad about the way Green Silk ended and wanted to have a similar twist but this time with a happy ending lol. Also lol at maid of honor Nayeon, I bet being IU’s maid of honor would be a dream come true for her haha.

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #male reader #pov smut #lee jieun #iu

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mingoyeob-archive · 3 years

Note

45 and 78 with jungkook pls🥺(Btw i love your writing and take your time for part 3☺️)

under the oak tree drabble game ⚔️🌳 to make up for my delayed release of part 3 of under the oak tree i’ve decided to do a drabble game! send me a number + any of the characters from under the oak tree and i’ll write you a drabble :)

hi thank you guys so much for requesting and also for being patient with me anon! I combined these two asks because you both asked for 78 so other anon you get a little something extra haha! I hope you enjoy <3

45: “Take.It.Off” + 78. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any more gorgeous” - jjk x reader - word count: 1.4k

Around the castle people buzzed and shuffled, zipping past one another like moving pieces in a well organized machine. The sound of numerous conversations and orders being shouted from left and right was only beaten out by the loud rushing water from outside, heavy drops of water hitting newly installed stain glass windows and ringing off like canons. Rain was nothing new to the occupants of Uwhen and not even the downpour outside could stop the bustling maids and the boisterous knights that littered every hall. So it was to Jungkook's surprise when he heard the noise come to a halt, turning his head to follow the direction of everyone's gaze trained on the main entrance. His eyes fell upon the distressing, albeit slightly amusing, sight of you standing drenched from head to toe, looking akin to a shaggy dog he had once seen fall into a river as a young boy.

It wasn’t your fault of course, this was your first rainy season after all. Sure there were a few cloudy days and drizzles that happened here and there but for the most part Aster was typically a sunny land with what seemed like never ending summers. So how were you expected to know that during this time storms came through quicker than the drop of a hat, nose untrained to picking up the fresh scent of lingering salty rain that was always a tell-tale sign of what was coming. And by the time you were able to feel the light drops of water landing on the top of your head it had already been too late and the next thing you knew you were trudging through thick mud, struggling to pull the train of your dress and walk with the weight of your heavy petty coat holding you down.

“Y/N!” Jungkook exclaimed and rushed over to you in only a few strides. His hands found themselves landing on your shoulders as he worriedly looked you over, eyes full of concern. He could feel you shaking under his fingertips. “What the hell happened to you, my love?”

You could only gaze up at him through wet lashes, lips set heavily in a pout. You could tell he was waiting for you to answer but you were too caught up with the fact that everyone had stopped to stare at the pair of you. Too afraid to sound like a fool, you had no intention of explaining yourself out here in the open, only letting out a small whimper as you huddled your arms close to yourself to stave off the cold. Jungkook noticed your hesitation, head whipping around to glare at the onlookers who had stopped to see what all the commotion was about. “Fucking hell- what are you all looking at!? Get back to work!”

Like a flip was switched, the noises returned and everyone went back to rushing past each other. All except your hand maiden who came running over the minute she saw a clear path over to your dripping figure. “Lady y/n! Let me get you back to your bed chambers and I’ll run you a fresh bath and get you a new pair of clothes and-”

“No need.” Jungkook had brushed past the maid, arm locked heavily around your frame as he started escorting you back to your room, not even sparing her a glance. “I can do all of that perfectly fine on my own.”

She sputtered and followed hastily behind you two, “But- but sir! Are you sure you don’t wan’t-” Jungkook's steely eyes had her mouth clamping shut and she stopped dead in her tracks. “Of course, my apologies. Please let me know if you need anything else, my lord.” She didn’t even wait for a reply before bowing and leaving in a hurry.

Jungkook merely grunted and continued walking the two of you up the staircase, your graze trained behind you as you watched your hand maiden scurry away. “You didn’t have to be so rude, you know.” You muttered, letting out a small hmph. Jungkook just gazed down at you briefly before pretending as if he didn’t hear your snarky comment. Though you swore you saw the hint of a smile twitch at the corner of his lips.

Upon arriving at the room, Jungkook had immediately pushed you into the center of the room, broad shoulders looming more than a few inches over you just an arms reach away. He sighed slowly and crossed his arms, “Take it off.”

You deadpanned, “What?” you say. You had heard what he said, but you hoped he wouldn’t say it again. That hope was mistakenly misplaced.

“I said take your clothes off. They’re soaking wet and you’ll get sick.” Jungkook said, talking as if this whole thing was just a giant nuisance. His facial expression was cold (as usual), so it was hard to really tell if he was serious or not (also very usual). “Once you undress I’ll give you a bath-”

“No no I’m fine! Haha no need for that, yup completely fine.” Your attempt at passing off the situation in an effort to avoid his offer was very unconvincing. “It’s not even that cold, I’ll dry off soon.” That was a lie. You were freezing, Jungkook could practically hear your teeth chattering as you spoke.

You were obviously uncomfortable with his request. He wasn’t mad, in fact, he completely understood. Despite being married for 3 years (most of it being spent apart except for one short night), he had only ever seen you naked once. At least in real life it was only once, his dreams were a completely different story.

Jungkook just shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, “Y/N…” he let out a sound of annoyance and took a deep breath to compose himself before dropping his hand and fixing you with a steely glare. He hated having to get stern with you. “Take.it.off.”

This time you could definitely tell he was serious and your nervous smile immediately dropped, replaced quickly by a look of defeat. You knew you had lost this time so there was no point in trying to push off the inevitable so instead you just sighed and began undoing your corset, Jungkook standing quiet as he watched. You could practically hear a pin drip, the room was so silent. It was deafening.

When Jungkook saw your fingers get to the last loop, he waited with bated breath. Finally, he thought, he really had to talk to someone about making your dresses less complicated to get off (for your convenience, of course). He watched you gulp just as the cord was set free and then stared transfixed as the material fell, pooling around your ankles. If he wasn’t already holding his breath, he would’ve choked. His dreams were doing you absolutely no justice.

By now your face was on fire, heat feeling your cheeks to the point you no longer even felt cold. And Jungkook's stare was only making it worse, your head filling with so many nervous ramblings and worries. Have I gotten fat since he last saw me? And was that stretch mark always there? Wait, when did my thighs get so big?

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any more gorgeous.” your breath caught in your throat. Jungkook had whispered the words completely in awe, irises finally filled with something other than stony resistance (dare you say, love?). You don’t know how, but for some reason those simple words had all your insecurities fading away, at least for the time being. Because the way he looked at you in this moment, it didn’t matter if you had gained a stretch mark or two, cause you knew he would still see you as nothing less than beautiful.

It was hard for you to say exactly how he was feeling since he didn’t say much else before turning around to head into the bathroom (presumably to run that bath that he mentioned earlier), but for someone who was a man of a few words, just one sentence could mean a thousand. And you hoped he would stay with you long enough for you to hear a thousand more.

#drabble game #bts #under the oak tree #jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #knight jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic

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jeehye · 3 years

Text

Fragments (Shigaraki x Reader)

shigaraki x f!reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol, blood, gore, anxiety, death, trauma, OOC shigaraki

genre: angst

word count: 1.2k

song choice: ventus’ theme - lizz robinette

a/n: hello i am jeehye! i hope you enjoy ;w; please read the song quotes as like quotes / “fragments” from y/n ( you of course :3c)! this goes into intervals of flashbacks, so I hope it isn’t too confusing! i tried my best to separate everything.

“Don’t be afraid, I won’t let shadows touch your dreams”

What was this nightmare his mind trapped himself in?

Heavy downpours of rain came crashing down against the three panel, cracked window, some of the raindrops getting through the fractures and causing water damage. Thunder followed suit, roaring through the sky, and shaking the beaten down building.

The weather was almost befitting of how he felt inside after she left him.

No.

After she abandoned him.

And even though she was gone now, he was still haunted by her.

“When you awaken I will be by your side”

He could hear fragments of her voice serenade his subconscious mind. Occasionally, these fragments seemed so real that he thought he heard her in the room with him. Sometimes he even swore he felt the ghost of her hand brushing the hair away from his eye, causing him to scratch at his neck raw in a fit of anxiety.

Her very existence, or what was the remainders of her existence, plagued him every day.

He tried drinking to get these fragments out of his mind, but when he became subdued by the alcohol it just made these feelings, these memories, more intense—more unbearable.

And he hated it, he loathed how much of an affect a person had on him. It made him want to decay his mind—anything to get her out of his head.

Memories of her always got carried a long with a soft breeze, the scent of her followed with it.

“we’ll look up skyward and the stars, they will shine in your eyes”

The couple sat a foot apart from each other, both staring off into the cosmos above them. There was a slight breeze that carried her sickly-sweet scent and all he wanted to do was envelope himself in it.

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes before she broke it.

“I wish we could leave this all behind one day,” she said, hugging her legs tightly as her head rested on top of her knees.

He turned his gaze towards at her, the sight of her nearly taking the breath out of his lungs. She looked like an ethereal goddess—her silky, h/c hair falling perfectly around her face and the moonlight shining in her gorgeous e/c eyes.

The white-haired man hummed in response, too captivated by her beauty to give an actual verbal answer.

“You know…I am not afraid of dying”, She smiled sadly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “Sometimes I feel like this is the destined, sick fate we villains have”.

The glimmer of silver caught his eye, and he moved his attention to the thin band that adorned her dainty ring finger, which symbolized the promise they had made together.

“Do not talk about stupid things,” he frowned, not fond of this conversation they were having. “You made a promise you were not going to leave me”.

He started feeling the sensation of something crawling on his skin, and as he lifted a hand to scratch the itch away, she slinked her arms around him.

“I will never leave you Tomu”, he could feel her soft lips being pressed on the back of his head and part into a smile, “I will always be here, even if I become a fragment of your memory”.

‘Never’, he thought to himself.

His hands balled into a fist, his knuckles turning ivory from the grip he held them in. He should have never believed her empty promises and kind smile. He was a fool for ever believing a word that graced her lips.

“You no longer have to face the evil in the dark”

Shigaraki let out a blood-curdling scream and punched the mirror in her—his room just to feel something other than the pain from his heart.

He could feel the blood dripping from his hand, but other than that it felt numb.

He slumped to the ground, his bloodied hand scratching ferociously at his neck, smearing the red ichor around.

“You fought so bravely, my dear”

“Boss! Y/N…she isn’t going to make it!”, the raven-haired fire-wielder shouted, holding her near lifeless corpse in his arms as he rushed towards Shigaraki.

The moment he took one look at her he could feel his whole world shatter and break a part right in that instance. He took her from Dabi’s arms, carefully making sure he left a finger from each hand off her.

Shigaraki slunk to the ground, coddling her.

She was so pale, as if all the color was flushed out of her.

“I told you to stay out of this fight”, He cried, applying pressure on her stomach wound with eight of his fingers. He could hear his heart booming from his chest, he knew she was not going to make it.

She looked up at him hovering over her, blood pooling in her mouth and dribbling down her chin. “If I didn’t do anything it would have been you instead”, she grasped his cheek and rubbed her thumb against his tear-stained face.

He left out an exasperated cry and started hyperventilating, his shoulders convulsing from his breakdown, as he continued to apply pressure onto her wounds. “You can’t leave me Y/N, you promised!” He screamed out.

Y/N gave him a sad smile, “Protecting you Tomu is more important, and I promised I would protect you no matter the fate I may face”. She pushed his hands away from her stomach, “You have to go, the heroes will catch up to you if you do not leave now, Dabi please…”, she motioned Dabi to get Shigaraki off her.

Dabi reluctantly grabbed Shigaraki’s shoulder, which he aggressively shrugged off. “I can’t leave you like this; we need to get you patched up; you need the doctor!” He sobbed, trying to lift her body but fumbling from the shock and exhaustion his body was going through.

She looked at him, her eyelids getting heavier every second she was awake, “Go”, she pushed his shoulder to encourage him to leave, using the last of her strength, and breathed out her last words.

“I love you Tomu”.

Shigaraki looked at his hands, pieces of the mirror sticking out from his knuckles. His hands were almost as bloodied as they were when he held her for the last time.

He bit his lower lip to fight back the tears, he could feel himself calming down from his outburst, and the anger was now replaced with shame.

Shame that he wasn’t there to save her.

Shame that he blamed her for leaving him.

He felt the band around his neck burn against his bare chest. He grabbed what was attached to the necklace with four of his fingers and stared at it.

It was the ring that once graced her finger. The ring they made a promise with.

Shigaraki looked at it pitifully, tears flooding down his face. He missed her. He missed everything about her, and all he had left were the memories and this ring.

He laid on the cold, damp floor and cried. However, just as he did so, he felt a hand rub his back and a cool chill surround the room along with her scent. Normally he would have grimaced at the fragment of her, however in his current state it was so comforting that it lulled him to sleep.

��Just rest your mind and leave your pain behind”

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gentlemancrow · 3 years

Note

idk if you’re still taking requests so no pressure but maybe jmart 18 about jon’s scars? or,,, honestly however you wanna interpret that lol

Hehe bet you thought you weren't getting one. But of COURSE you're getting one! <3 HERE YOU GO!! Sorry it is late I am not a fast writer haha! This was a VERY interesting one to interpret and I got a little wonky and metaphysical there for a bit WHICH I LOVE and THE IDEA MIGHT HAVE BEEN A BIT LONG FOR A DRABBLE BUT! It's soft and I'm soft and I enjoyed this one SO SO MUCH ; w ; I hope you do too!!

Jon had Seen enough. Martin had decided that long ago. He had witnessed enough, been forced to witness enough, been the vessel into which literally everything had funneled into in an unrelenting typhoon of unspeakable, unfathomable horrific knowledge comprehensible only to him long enough that he damn well deserved the luxury of imperception. He had earned the right to not notice when Martin accidentally bought the wrong brand of chai, the one he insisted tasted like someone rubbed a stick of cinnamon on plasterboard and jammed it in a cardamom pod, but honestly tasted just like the one he preferred. The universe, whichever one they happened to be in now, owed him not realizing the buttons on his cardigan were one off until they were about to head out and Martin had to fix them, fingers humming with the warmth of him lingering in the cashmere every time. He deserved to forget his keys and then also have to go back to check that their flat door was locked twice, just to be sure. He deserved tossing cabbage in the trolley at the market, only to get home and realize it was a head of iceberg lettuce instead, and also he had completely forgotten the onion anyway so back he would have to go. Tiny and insignificant, patently human foibles that any normal person might tally up to a really rotten day overall and gripe about over a glass of Châteauneuf-du-Pape he had won as gleaming, pyrrhic badges on the ruins of his humanity yanked back from the claws of the yawning, devouring dark matter of the cosmos and stitched painstakingly back together with love.

But mostly Jon deserved to not notice the way people looked at him.

He need not see the painted-on expressions of strangers that ran the gamut from quiet pity, to voyeuristic curiosity, to outright revulsion that Martin could not help but see everywhere they went. They had no idea. Not even the slightest inkling of what, exactly, had composed that magnum opus of horror and pain scarred resplendently on his flesh, his bones, his sinews and synapses. To even try know was to go mad, the mind looping through and around and between consciousness and logic and love and fear and philosophy and metacognition until it squeezed into an ouroboros black hole singularity of dense unknowing that collapsed in on itself and perished in cataclysm. They had merely gotten lucky that being extruded through the plumbings of creation seemed to straighten out their fibers enough to be woven back into the fabric of reality, but they were too kinked and snagged and gnarled to ever lay fully flat again. And that was why they stared.

The invasive beings of Jon and Martin had come to mutual terms with it long ago, but they also knew they would be forever incongruous with an innocent world, with a world where they did not belong and that collectively looked at them both like an ontological cancer, benign but festering and ugly. They would never know the thing that crouched behind the stars with pointed knees and elbows that even then, groped to find their new world in the lightless vast, and Jon deserved to not perceive any hints of that either. He deserved their quiet, their peace, their wordless human acceptance.

Jon deserved to be innocently chewing a periwinkle-painted thumbnail in front of the ice cream counter, just as he was that gossamer spring afternoon, turning woeful and forever mismatched brown and green eyes at his husband and asking if he should get mint chip or rum raisin before deciding, actually, could he have a sample of the salted caramel ribbon first? He pointed eagerly at the various frozen tubs behind the glass with his gnarled right hand, where the fingers never did quite open or close properly again, and missed in his wonderment at the veritable cornucopia of sweet delights available to him the mingled look of pity and horror on the cashier’s face as she doled out samples at his request. Martin lurked protectively behind, silent, sentinel, seeing it all, a hot brand of fury boring its way through his chest as he glared icy blue daggers at the clueless young woman, who only compounded her crimes by complimenting the permanent white forelock in his ginger curls as she took his order.

Martin snatched his double scoop of rocky road and pralines and cream out of her hand with a withering scowl and said nothing. Jon, frowning in the dread shadow of Martin’s hushed wrath and finally deciding on just the mint chip, took it upon himself to pay while the poor young woman skirted around both their gazes. They took their ice cream to enjoy in the balmy sun on the metal patio tables outside the shop under a cloud of unspoken insults and slander which Jon was more than happy to pop open the conversational umbrella beneath before the downpour.

“Something wrong?” he asked solicitously.

“Nope. I’m fine,” came the curt answer, suspiciously also lacking in eye contact as Martin stabbed his pink spoon into the rocky road.

Jon’s mismatched eyes narrowed shrewdly. There was one thing that never escaped his notice, even now, and that was the painfully obvious way Martin always broadcast his inner hurts and the physical language of his turmoil he had become fluent in over the years.

“Okay, yes you are probably fine. And I’m guessing it has nothing to do with you actually, because you’re angry and you rarely get angry on your own behalf, which means it’s probably something to do with me or some perceived slight. What happened in there? Did someone make a snide remark about my eccentric ice cream selection? The long skirt on a warm spring day? Oh, no, I’ve got it. It was probably the earrings, yes? I knew I should have gone with the feathers instead of hoops, matches the outfit much better.”

The corner of Martin’s mouth quirked up in a hapless, crooked smile as Jon coaxed a laugh out of him, and he looked up into his gaze adoringly to grant him unspoken conciliation.

“No, no not at all. Nothing like that. It’s nothing, love. It’s not a big deal. Just low blood sugar or something. Just eat your nasty mint chip or rum raisin or whatever that unholy concoction is,” Martin snorted, gesturing at his cup.

“Liar,” Jon crooned with loving reproachment, reaching out to thumb a little bit of rum raisin on the tip of Martin’s nose as punishment.

Even breathed with such unfettered, undying affection, Martin hated that word. He hated how transparent he still was to the man he loved, how much he still truly saw him, saw through him. At least all it took to compel him now was a little melted ice cream rubbed clean off his nose and a winsome smile with love-puddled green and brown eyes.

“Okay, okay… fine,” he admitted with a resigned smirk and a sigh, “I don’t like the way they look at you. Okay? That’s all.”

Jon’s brow knitted together curiously.

“Hmm? Who? What do you mean?” he asked.

“Everyone!” Martin finally effused in frustration, “Everywhere! They look at you like you’re… like you’re damaged goods! Like you’re some pitiful beaten animal on the street, or worse, like you’re some sort of- some sort of um…”

“…Monster?” supplied Jon, lips pursed and lids drooping.

“…I wasn’t going to say that,” Martin stammered.

“What other word is there?”

“Fine, they look at you like you’re a monster. They take one look at your face or your throat or your… your hand. And I can just see it on their faces. They look at you like you’re a monster, and I hate it. You don’t deserve that. You never did! They don’t even know you! They don’t know what happened to you…! And sorry, Jon, but I get angry about it because it’s not fair, and I can’t exactly go about lobbing right hooks into the faces of everyone who even looks at you cross-eyed, now can I? Much as I’d like to…"

Jon went quiet as he listened, dabbling first in the rum raisin, then indulging in a little mint chip chaser, cocking his head to the side thoughtfully as he nibbled on the plastic spoon.

“Is that what you see?”

The color rolled out from Martin’s freckled cheeks along with the very spirit from his eyes in a fog, his entire mien awash in pallor.

“What? How could you say that to me? I would NEVER think that about you, Jon! How could you ever think I would think that? I-I know I said some awful things in the past about your scars, but I-“

“No no! Martin, no! Of course not! I know you would never!” Jon cut in, reaching across the table to snatch his hand and squeeze it reassuringly, rubbing his knuckles and over his wedding ring, “You misunderstand! I was asking if that’s what you see in their eyes?”

Martin clung to Jon’s hand, heart palpitating and breath easing.

“Oh…” he blurted dumbly, flushing with lively hues of reds and golds once more, “I-? Of course I do, what else could it be?”

“I don’t see that. I don’t see that at all,” Jon answered simply, “It’s… hard to describe but, damaged goods, disgust, morbid curiosity, those are all… Hard things. They have sharp edges. And when people here look at me, I don’t feel anything hard or sharp, it feels… soft? It feels gentle.”

Shaking his head, Martin frowned.

“Gentle? How is openly gawking at someone’s scars in any way gentle?”

“It’s just a feeling I have. I suppose,” Jon mused, thumbing at his beard with his free hand as he constructed an analogy that would make sense in his mind, “Mmm… Think of it like this. Humans, life, we’re all very visually oriented creatures, right? We respond to visual cues in our environments that are universally understood. We wear these rings so that everyone knows we belong together, just the same as bright colors usually mean poison, or how specialized feathers, or horns, or dewlaps and the like let others know they’d be a good mate, or how some things look like eyes or like entirely different creatures to scare off predators, and so on.”

The creases in Martin’s forehead only deepened in confusion.

“Okay sure, but scars aren’t a natural adaptation? We don’t look at scars the same way we look at pretty eyes on a moth wing or something.”

“I know that, that’s not what I’m saying,” Jon reiterated tenderly, “What I’m saying is I’ve always felt like my scars are a visual cue, but one that says to others ‘treat me gently’, because clearly I haven’t been. And it’s… well it’s been quite nice. You were about to tear that poor girl’s head off, but didn’t you see how she not only gave me about six samples when the sign clearly said two per customer, but then she also gave me the rum raisin ‘by mistake’ and then conveniently forgot to charge for it?”

“Wh-did she?” Martin gasped in shock, rewinding the transaction to remember that indeed, Jon had only asked for mint chip, but there was clearly also a generous scoop of rum raisin in his cup, ”She did… No I… I guess I didn’t notice…”

Jon let Martin’s hand go to cup his cheek pointedly in his scarred palm, running his thumb over the soft curve of his cheek and the spray of his ruddy freckles comfortingly.

“You want to know what I think? I think what you perceive as disgust or aversion or even pity is just fear, like you had. Fear of pain, fear of disfigurement, of fallibility. People are always afraid of seeing what can become of their mortal bodies, but that has nothing to do with me, or being disgusted by me. People are, at their cores, good and gentle, Martin. I know they are, we both do. They see me, my cane, my limp, my hand, my gray hair, my face, and they don’t even ask, they just know, on some primal level, that life was not kind to me. And so in some tiny way, like free rum raisin, they almost always try to give something back to me.”

Jon had known. He had noticed. It had never escaped his perception as Martin had assumed. Jon had known all along, but it was only Martin who still saw daggers in the smiles of strangers while he had taken the last vestiges of his powers irrevocably branded on his body and soul and sowed something delicate and beautiful and blossoming in his new earth. Martin had made a weapon. Perhaps no less delicate and beautiful, but still cold and sharp and deadly. The razor white edge of the sun through frigid fog.

“I’m so sorry, Jon,” Martin choked, his throat pinching shut with the threat of tears, “I-I had no idea…. I-I only thought…”

“It’s alright, please don’t cry, darling, you have nothing to be sorry for. I understand. You only thought you were protecting me. I protected you for so long, when you were desperate to do the same for me, to save me, but had no power to do either. Now you’ve got your turn to do the protecting in earnest, and honestly, it’s a… can I- can I say hot? Can I say it’s a hot look on you? Or is that weird?” Jon asked, tips of his ears blushing coyly.

Martin managed a laugh as he sniffed back the tears and thumbed both sets of lashes dry under his spectacles.

“It’s a little weird for you, in particular, to say it, just because it’s you. But I’ll take it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Perhaps then, Martin thought as Jon leaned over their whimsical little metal table outside an ice cream parlor by a park with a striped canopy above them and birds singing and kissed his tears away and then kissed his lips into a smile, that sharp things needn’t always be weapons. Perhaps his sword was, in reality, a spade, or a hoe, something to tend and nurture the new and fragile happiness Jon had tilled. Gentle things deserved gentle protection, and he was still going to devote every iota of his being to protecting Jon until the end of their days. After all, as they finally got to enjoy their slightly melted ice cream, Jon still dribbled a bit of rum raisin down his beard and carried on none the wiser. Martin let him go on like that, blissfully unaware, talking about Polyphemus moths and the myth of the cyclops and something about someone going about as Nobody, until he finally reached out with a napkin to attentively wipe it away.

Other than a gracefully paced ‘oh, thank you dear,’ Jon never missed a beat.

#The Magnus Archives #TMA #JonMartin #Jmart #Fan fic #Crow Writes #Ask Drabble #Fricklefracklefloof

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inkmemes · 3 years

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ryan ross lyric sentence starters ↪ taken from various songs he’s written, lyrics he’s sung, & poetry he’s penned. trigger warnings for mentions of sex, cheating, drugs. alter as you see fit ♡

“so close …”

“i am composing a burlesque.”

“i'm all alone in an afterglow.”

“but we haven’t even met yet.”

“this war ain't gonna fix itself.”

“you can’t be lonely.”

“you're gonna have to dig your way out.”

“she was nowhere to be seen.”

“some people never change.”

“i know i broke your heart. mine is broken too.”

“i'm carving pumpkins.”

“i'm afraid that i may have faked it.”

“though you tried to cut me down it wasn’t deep enough.”

“this may call for a proper introduction.”

“i know it’s mad.”

“all the lights are on, but no one's home.”

“a year ago, i was dreaming of where i am now.”

“charm your way out.”

“we're all too small to talk to god.”

“you’re invited.”

“it's not so pleasant.”

“if you're going, then go.”

“i was suspicious and naive.”

“we're still so young, desperate for attention.”

“things have changed for me, and that's okay.”

“that's the spirit.”

“watch your mouth.”

“it started with a simple kiss.”

“don't you move.”

“what a wonderful caricature of intimacy.”

“we'll never go hungry.”

“praying for love in a lap dance and paying in naivety.”

“i lie in silence and feel like a fool.”

“grab your hat and fetch a camera.”

“your eyes are the size of the moon.”

“it's time for us to take a chance.”

“you should take this heart of mine.”

“how did i get here in the right from wrong?”

“i know it just doesn't feel like a night out.”

“it just made her more interesting.”

“she didn't even see me.”

“do you know what i mean?”

“i'm wrecking this evening already, and loving every minute of it.”

“i sure do make an easy target.”

“someone i love loves someone else.”

“don't bother waiting up.”

“don’t you go down.”

“you vanished when you'd gotten what you came here for.”

“would it be alright if we just sat and talked for a little while?”

"when did he get all confident?"

“you know it will always just be me.”

“i feel the same.”

“all my forgotten poems are a joke.”

“she'd wanna kiss you all the time.”

“i want a big celebration.”

“i'll ignore my heart and lie to the truth.”

“film the world before it happens.”

“that's just ridiculously odd.”

“it grows like fancy flowers.”

“he tried to save the calendar business.”

“i wonder if this was physical or if it could have been in my head.”

“i wouldn't be caught dead in this place.”

“you're pulling the trigger all wrong.”

“i saw you, i met you, i loved you.”

“so let me set you free.”

“i'm aware that you're scared of my heart, but it's here.”

“northern downpour sends its love.”

“you better put that pen to paper.”

“if you're gonna preach, for god sakes, preach with conviction.”

“haven't you heard that i'm the new cancer?”

“i know i broke your heart.”

“i am something velveteen.”

“we're locked inside.”

“just don't put your teeth on me.”

“when i’m good, i’m the baddest.”

“i’m up, looking for you now.”

“you can call me tonight.”

“it sure as hell ain't normal.”

“haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?!”

“we sure are in for a show tonight.”

“can't take the kid from the fight.”

“she's got me twisted in love.”

“i could've waited for the train to come.”

“you could love me if i knew how to lie.”

“if it were me, i'd write another song.”

“i fell from the heavens as a fetish.”

“i am renewed.”

“i hope that i've still got your help.”

“take a look at what you got me into.”

“we should feed our jewelry to the sea.”

“who could ask for any more?”

“i'm pouring out my heart for paper.”

“i need to leave you but i never will.”

“i forgot how to call you.”

“just stay where i can see you.”

“it's the greatest thing that's yet to have happened.”

“i’m doing my best.”

“she didn't choose this role.”

“life is not a fairytale.”

“our loneliness will keep us warm.”

“i don't mind taking a photograph.”

“you're gonna bend until it breaks.”

“maybe something in my blood could lift my spirits up.”

“i am out of my mind.”

“imagine knowing me.”

“i hope it's where i belong.”

“is it still me that makes you sweat?”

“your speech is slurred enough that you just might swallow your tongue.”

“i must be lucky to have you be the one who loves me.”

“but who could love me?”

“you clicked your heels and wished for me.”

“give me your attention.”

“you set the house on fire.”

"man, it feels good to feel this way."

“i've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck then any boy you'll ever meet.”

“if the clouds were singing a song, i'd sing along. wouldn't you, too?”

“i know i've been wrong.”

“kissed a girl in the lobby ‘cause she asked so politely.”

“i can't get out by myself.”

“true love like ours is worth so much more than a diamond ring.”

“it never made her happy, 'cause she couldn't ever have me.”

“i do drunk dialing minus the alcohol.”

“i hope to god he was worth it.”

“he looked like he was barely hanging on.”

“why do i find myself outside at your window in the night?”

“i'd put a statue of myself upon the shelf.”

“they spill unfound from a pretty mouth.”

“ i'm going to need you to keep time.”

“you better back your shit up.”

“i think i owe it to you to try to be every hallucination you see in me.”

“you do this all the time."

“you're not what he's thinking of when he's with the other girl.”

things have changed for me.”

“this was no accident.”

“it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.”

“just sit back and relax.”

“i, for one, won't stand for this.”

“we play by donner party rules at all times.”

“the glitter is gone.”

“boys will be boys.”

“you're all that's left for me.”

“my mind is all mixed up.”

“who knew that love was a dangerous drug?”

“'she couldn't ever have me.”

“isn't this exactly where you'd like me?”

“we can play normal for a few days.”

“i ground my teeth and you bite your tongue.”

“in case i lost my train of thought where was it that we last left off?”

“it seems i’m someone i've never met.”

“i think i made you up.”

“it never gave a damn about me.”

“perhaps, i was born with curiosity, the likes of those of old crows.”

“i'm cold, i'm hungry, but i'm bored.”

“i don't want no gifts.”

“the monster mash is playing.”

“do you really even live here?”

“this kind of thing always happens.”

“you were right. i was wrong, like i always am.”

“i missed your skin when you were east.”

“i feel as if i’m a figurine.”

“every night is the same.”

“ i'm sure i didn't ruin her.”

“i could have sworn we danced slow before.”

“i'm seated and sweating to a dance song on the club's pa.”

“it's nice to think that you are always wanted.”

“am i who you think about in bed?”

“you'll never know until you're there.”

“come on, this is screaming ‘photo op’.”

“you and i will always be ‘the dream’.”

“any practiced catholic would cross themselves upon entering.”

“it was a scream when we were young and dumb.”

“i know i should've never left.”

“who can i believe?”

“she always had her fangs at my jugular vein.”

“and a few more of your least favorite things.”

“in matters of opinion, love has gone insane.”

“if i go to hell will you come with me or just leave?”

“in the house of mirrors, ain't nothing keep you safe.”

“you know that you feel it too.”

“now we're making some progress.”

“god damn, i’d hate to see what i’d do under the influence.”

“i’m only reflecting your perfections.”

“just a first kiss to face the new year.”

“we’ll sit in silence.”

“you're a regular decorated emergency.”

“euphoria is a risk on the floor.”

“she could never win me.”

“love is all i'm really after.”

“have some composure,.”

“this was a therapeutic chain of events.”

“on the hotel floor, drinking warm champagne.”

“we need to talk.”

“every word gets you a step closer to hell.”

“let me help you please.”

“i never said i missed her when everybody kissed her.”

“now i know it's just a matter of time until i make her come.”

“if the world were ending, would you kiss me or just leave me?”

“forgive me if i’m not quite ready to give them to you.”

“i want to know what everyone knows.”

“you told me not to fear the dark.”

“the weather is impeccable.”

“i don't love you, i'm just passing the time.”

“i can't help but to hear an exchanging of words.”

“love is established philosophy.”

“but it might’ve been the calm that comes before the storm.”

“let's sing it like you mean it.”

“there's a devil in the corner.”

“there’s never anything good on tv.”

“everything goes according to plan.”

“i ran from love like it was laced.”

“i guess we're back to us.”

“we can't help ourselves.”

“i remember fuckin' in the falling rain.”

“i wasn't born to be a skeleton.”

“i couldn't quit her.”

“everything's gone missing.”

“we must reinvent love.”

“i know it's sad that i never gave a damn about the weather.”

“what do i know?”

"the best part about you was me."

“check the pocket of my leather jacket.”

“i am truly made of one million glowing constellations.”

“i mean, technically our marriage is saved.”

“she's a dangerous place.”

“even the truth is wrong sometimes.”

“was it god who chokes in these situations?”

“i feel like something on strings.”

“she couldn't ever catch me.”

“i try not to think about it and you.”

“i know it's just a matter of time.”

“i can't prove this makes any sense, but i sure hope that it does.”

“you know you should take it a day at a time.”

“i never said i’d leave the city.”

“it's the greatest thing you'd ever imagine.”

“i might have lost control.”

“i'm in a rut but still adored.”

“i'll keep my distance.”

“i need to take a vacation.”

“it's almost halloween.”

“is it a fairy tale?”

“well, this calls for a toast, so pour the champagne.”

“you can't stand it.”

“i'm exactly where you'd like me, you know.”

“we were always thick as thieves, you and me.”

“maybe i will, maybe i won’t.”

“all i want to do is dig a hole with you.”

“stop stalling.”

“it truly is enough to be alive and be in love.”

“i can't believe my eyes.”

“if i were to die tonight, would you cry, or deny my place in your life?”

“you are at the top of my lungs.”

“things do like to build up and fall apart at the same time for me.”

“why can't we just be friends?"

“i never know where the evening goes.”

“i want to go where everyone feels the same.”

“i fell in love again.”

“all i do is lie.”

“they asked for it.”

“was it all a dream?”

“all your wishes, they will sink like stones.”

“i wandered through the sunshine.”

“living even one minute without you is a moment i'd rather not have to live to see.”

“i want to go where everyone goes.”

“i think that i have had enough.”

“asked to be her husband; she already had one in prison.”

“true love is scarce.”

“somehow it still came undone.”

“things are shaping up to be pretty odd.”

“is ‘young’ a word for ‘dumb’; a word for ‘fun’?”

“said i'd let you keep it forever.”

“i never said i’d leave this town.”

“guess i'm going to a party.”

“damn, this is rough.”

“someone should have told her that pretty ain't a job.”

“something changed along the way.”

“i can't convince myself that you were good for more than cheap thrills.”

“now i’m the only one to blame.”

“let's not get selfish.”

“i hardly knew a thing about you.”

“give your feet a chance, they'll do all the thinking.”

“make a name for yourself.”

“it's useless searching in the cupboards.”

“i won't cut my beard and i won't change my hair.”

“it’s just the end of the world.”

“back to the room where it all began.”

“what was it that you put into my guts?”

“what a shame.”

“we'll leave the past out to pasture.”

“i know the world’s a broken bone, but melt your headaches, call it home.”

“everybody knows it but you.”

“it looks like the end of history as we know.”

#rp meme #rp prompt #rp starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #'ink ...' u say. 'i know' i say #if u know my newest rp blog and u see this ... simply Do Not Perceive Me #im having me time get OUT #let me live my LIFE

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