#it's more so that I think this song would reflect like pit of their soul/ never gonna admit this shit to anyone feelz | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

viccyfics · 4 months

Text

Femme Fatale

Rating: explicit

Fandom: Ghost band

Relationship: Swiss x Aurora

Words: 1515

Warnings: Tentacle dick, oral sex, sub and dom, mentions of bad aftercare, mentions of bad past relationships

Summary: Sub swiss and Dom Aurora oral to Femme Fetale by Twin Temple

Available here or or Ao3

"Such a good boy," Aurora smirked from behind her desk, applying her deep red lipstick in the mirror, but her eyes were on Swiss' reflection.

He was sat on the edge of the bed, hands behind his back, bead bowed in submission.

"sitting there so nice for me baby."

"Is sex appeal a deadly poison?"

Aurora glanced down at her phone to see what the song playing was, Cirrus had made her the playlist telling her that it would help a lot in the bedroom and so far the air ghoulette had been telling the truth.

What she wasn't expecting to see was the text notification from Cumulus;

"Make sure to fuck him hard and collect his soul Princess xx"

"I'm in the mood for destruction"

She couldn't help but shake her head with a chuckle, she had noticed very early on that the other ghoulettes had an almost game when it came to fucking Swiss and she was loving all the advice they had given her.

She had always been a very dominant ghoul even while in the pit, but there was an added layer of excitement with all the new sensations that came with being top side.

The toys were also a bonus.

"Don't be afraid of my pretty weapon Tell me what is so sinister about a woman?"

Placing her lipstick back down the desk. She slowly made her way to the tall ghoul.

Her hips swaying to the music, her tight underwear did nothing to hide the bulge of her tentacle trying to escape.

Swiss glanced up at her, both enjoying this angle. His eyes quickly caught sight of the squirming appendage, his mouth salivating at the image of it.

"We're all born with original sin"

"I like it when you're quiet like this." The multi-ghoulette mused, her hand coming up to cup Swiss' left cheek.

"Do you promise not to bite me?" she asked, although joking, she asked the question every time she put anything in his mouth that was a part of her body.

"I choose to use mine on men"

Swiss nodded in reply.

"You can talk baby, it's okay. You know I need you to actually answer me."

"No Mistress, I won't bite."

"La Femme Fatale

Come and follow me"

"Do you think you could take it down your throat?" The top of her tentacle was now slipping its way out the waist and, a little too early for her liking, but considering it had a mind of its own when it wanted to, it was doing an okay job of behaving.

"Into ruin and ecstasy"

That was all it took for Aurora to pull her lace panties roughly down her thighs one-handedly, using the hand still cupping Swiss' cheek to push his head forward a little.

The tentacle moved to try and reach out for the ghoul, the tip deepening in colour as it started to drop onto the floor.

"La Femme Fatale

God forbid I speak"

"Ah, shit..." Aurora hissed out as Swiss opened his mouth allowing the tentacle to find its place inside.

"Just shut up and kiss me"

Swiss licked his tongue from the base near her vaginal opening and back to the tip, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"I'm sorry women are necessary

To the survival of humanity"

"Just like that" she groaned, her hand moving from his cheek to the back of his head to grip at his locs to push the tentacle further into his mouth.

It certainly wasn't the longest in the band, or thickest for that matter, but Swiss still found it to be his favourite so far, but he'd never tell anyone but Aurora that.

"Such a good boy."

"lie with me, commit crimes with me"

Aurora couldn't handle this position anymore. Just standing there felt weird, but she couldn't help but love having Swiss look up to her.

She thought for a second before pushing his head back slightly and lifting her left leg, putting her bare foot down on the bed next to Swiss' thigh to give him more access.

"Use your hands baby, It's okay."

"I'm your nightmare, I'm your fantasy"

Pulling both hands quickly from behind his back, the right one gripped Aurora's thigh to keep her from pulling away as he sucked the appendage that was starting to wiggle down his throat.

And his left, going underneath her to stroke a finger along her folds.

"It kills you to love a lady like me"

"Fuck, Swiss just like that!" the ghoulette moaned when two fingers sunk into her body with a squelch.

Swiss let out a small moan, sending vibrations straight through the tentacle, pushing Aurora further into her lust-clouded mind.

"Well one day I'll put you out of your misery"

Swiss could feel the tentacle doing its best to try and stretch out to push past his uvula, but with no such luck.

His tongue still ran up and down its length, twirling around the tip and repeating.

"We're all born with original sin"

"Keep doing that!" Aurora cried out, both hands in Swiss' hair tightening, her thigh flush against his head.

She could feel herself getting close to the edge, and she knew Swiss wasn't far behind.

"I choose to use mine on men"

"Don't stop!" This was it, the final stretch before she came.

The final stretch until Swiss' mouth would be filled with her fluid.

"La Femme Fatale

Come and follow me"

Swiss moaned again, adding a third finger into the squirming ghoulette, his fingers pumping to no particular rhythm, her g-spot being stroked every time he pulled them out and pushed back in.

"Into ruin and ecstasy"

"Keep doing that baby." Aurora stuttered out, her legs shaking, "I'm about to cum, please don't stop!"

Swiss glanced up at her, most of his view being the hair brushing against his face, but he did catch a few glimpses of her face, sweaty and red, eyes rolled to the back of his head, lips trembling.

Gorgeous.

He knew better than to change up his movements now, even though his jaw was aching, his tongue was growing tired, and his hand was cramping up.

And the tentacle in his mouth kept thrashing slightly as Aurora's orgasm grew closer.

"La Femme Fatale

God forbid I speak"

"I'm coming!" Aurora cried out, her claws digging into Swiss' scalp, making him exhale through his nose in pain.

The tentacle jerked, her cum filling his mouth and spilling out from between his lips.

Aurora pulled away, her arms dropping down to her side and her shaking leg coming off of the bed.

She let herself drop to the floor in front of Swiss.

"Just shut up and kiss me"

The ghoulette looked up at Swiss from the floor, he had put his hands back behind his back, making no move to clean up his face.

His cheeks bulged as he refused to swallow until given the all-clear making Aurora giggle.

"You can swallow baby, it's okay."

Doing as he was told, Swiss tilted bus head back to Swallow it all at once.

"I'm sorry women are necessary

To the survival of humanity"

"Are you okay?" Aurora asked, not trusting her still shaking legs to lift her onto the bed just yet.

"I'm okay." Swiss spoke his voice hoarse.

"Did you drop?" Aurora queried putting her head on Swiss' knee.

"We're all born with original sin"

"No, but I don't know if we're done or not." Swiss muttered truthfully, looking away from the ghoulette.

"I choose to use mine on men"

"We're done baby, let's go clean you up."

"Thanks, Rory."

"La Femme Fatale

Come, follow me"

Aurora placed a hand on Swiss' knee, her head now lifted to help push herself up to her feet.

Swiss watched her carefully, keeping an she on her to make sure she didn't fall over as she grabbed a towel each for the both of them.

"Into ruin and ecstasy"

Heading towards the joined bathroom, Swiss could hear her turn on the water for the bath.

"Oh!" Aurora gasped, shocked to see Swiss in the doorway.

"I was gonna come get you." She commented.

"La Femme Fatale

God forbid I speak"

"You're getting in with me aren't you?" Swiss asked looking down at her with a small frown in his lips.

"Of course I am, I'm not just going to leave you after a scene."

"Just shut up and kiss me"

"I know you wouldn't!" Swiss gasped, worried about upsetting the small ghoulette. "It's just.." he paused not sure of what to say.

"I'm sorry women are necessary

To the survival of humanity"

"You've been left without aftercare?" Aurora asked putting the pieces together herself.

Swiss nodded with a sad look on his face, "It was a long time ago, Don't worry."

"Na na, na na na na na na"

Aurora stepped towards him to help pull off his t-shirt, "Let's get in the bath, have a cuddle and get you some food okay?"

"Je suis la belle dame sans mercy!"

"Sounds perfect, Roy."

#Ghost band #Ghost BC fanfic #aurora ghoulette #swiss ghoul #swiss x aurora #Mature fic #Ghost band fanfic #Vic fics #Fanfic writer

10 notes · View notes

silenttale22 · 8 months

Text

MUST HAVE BEEN THE WIND/PJM/ - Chapter 1

Summary: Someone once told her she had to learn to live in pieces as there would be nobody to glue them up. But what if a person with similar pieces to her appears? What if by complete coincidence her crying is heard in the middle of the night? What if together they can create a whole new masterpiece?

Dancer!Jimin x Student!Reader Genre: Fluff, Angst, Slice of life. hurt/comfort, Soulmate!AU, SchoolAU Note: Hi Sweetheart! Its already here, and I'm at the same time extremely stressed and excited to show you my first fic. I started writing this story a few years back, and tbh, I never thought I'd get back to it. But here I am, tried my best to improve my older drafts, so I hope you will enjoy it! Story is inspired by the songs with the same title - Must Have Been The Wind by Alec Benjamin, and honestly first time I heard it - my mind immediately chose Jimin as one of the mc so yeah.. WARNINGS WILL BE ADDED WITH EACH CHAPTER

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 1/CHAPTER 2

Rainy days were always one of your favorites. The gentle mist floating in the distance, over the peacefully swaying trees, or the different-colored neon lights reflected in the puddles always brought a kind of comfort. They filled you inside with something you couldn't define. They helped replace the constant emptiness with some new sensation. It was so often when you wanted to lay down and get soaked, feeling how the rain cleansed your soul.

And it really didn't matter if you were inside or outside; you were always drawn to see how another drop fell somewhere nearby. When outside, you felt the rain fall on a reddened face and hair, soaking them completely and making them feel heavy. The heaviness of the body, however, did not compare to the lightness that came over the soul as you heard rain bouncing off concrete sidewalks or leaves still clinging to trees.

But today you were inside, window wide open to let in fresh air and to soothe, at least for a moment, the thoughts coming over and over, ending up overthinking everything and nothing at all. Sitting on the windowsill one chilly night with legs sticking out past the window frame. Dark clouds moved slowly across the sky in contrast to the single brighter ones that could foreshadow the approaching end of the shower rains. But you grasped at this moment, the time you could inhale such fresh air in a city polluted with people.

The gentle wind, which this time harmonized with the rain, gently brushed bare feet, causing a few small goosebumps to cover skin from time to time, and a shiver to run down your spine. A thunderstorm heard from somewhere in the distance often made you shiver with fear, but you were unable to return inside the chilled apartment. The cry of nature soothed your inner confusion, but still, all you wanted was to scream, just like the distant thunder.

Gazing at the swaying trees, long ago you stopped paying attention to the semi transparent drops running down your chubby cheeks, creating their own dark path of blurry mascara. Tear after tear fell, eventually stopping on the cool skin of your thighs. And maybe those weren't tears filled with sadness, but rather cleansing ones of their own. Or maybe you just again found yourself having a hard time understanding why you were staring at the horizon alone for another night.

You observed clouds moving across the sky with the help of an ever stronger wind as it put you in a trance you could never understand. But it helped you forget. Or sometimes think even more. Because even the clouds could move on, to take a new path, unlike you, who are forever buried in the same pit. But, there was no one for you, as wind for the clouds. To help, and to give some support.

From time to time, closing your eyes and feeling as if you are floating in the air. The strange sensation as if you are watching yourself from outside the body. Sometimes having the sense that things around you aren't real. That you aren't real. And although at times it brought incredible relief because you didn't have to struggle endlessly with your thoughts, you often wondered if you were just starting to go crazy. Or maybe you were crazy for years now.

It was again when you tried to focus on the sound of the raindrops hitting the windowsill or the distant ground, trying not to wail loudly one more time, as you did a few nights ago. Constantly afraid of being heard again. And the last thing you needed was to hear the pitiful words,

"Are you okay?"

That honestly meant nothing, because people don't really care. You were fine on your own, weren't you? People quickly start being overwhelming, or at least that's what started to happen a years ago. After the biggest loss, you didn't want to have anything to do with people; you wanted to start living differently. In your own way. And that's how you ended up here, almost alone.

You were cutting off all unnecessary parts of society fast. Ended all contacts and deleted social media accounts. There was no longer the laughing girl that everyone loved. She became a ghost, walking the corridors, avoiding all small talks and commitments. Unusual student who hoped that constant study would keep him from thinking about the wrong things.

And maybe you were right about that in some way. Studying was distracting for you a little, and helped you theoretically forget for a while. But forgetting cannot heal you. First you have to face it and tell yourself that it's a past you can't change. Only after this, you can try to forget.

All these years, you've realized that life isn't so bad. Only the people around were. All those bad memories didn't come up so often without anyone around, but they still did. At least in unexpected moments that easily tore you down and overwhelmed you.

Your life in general was followed by stress, a lack of time for things other than studying, and helplessness. And there were also, among other things, the sleepless nights and shedding tears with legs dangling outside the window. When you just wished to get over all of the negativity in your head. When you wished for a normal life without constant overthinking and trying to guess why things happened this way and not in a different one.

And you sometimes prayed you could go back in time; don't be made to see how things you used to love became things you'd rather forget. The only thing you want is to get rid of the strange feelings that hurt your chest.

You keep telling yourself that you'll get through it on your own, don't you? That's how you deal with all of the problems—one after another appearing, but you still want to take care of them with your own hands. But lastly, they were only swept under the rug. You get rid of them temporarily like dust, which reappears after a while anyway, and you run out of cloth to wipe them off. And at the end, they only relapsed hitting harder.

A stronger wind blew directly into your face, shaking you out of your state of numbness and slight detachment from your thoughts, feelings and body. You sighed softly and wiped your nose with the long sleeve of your sweatshirt. Pull your legs up to your chest, spin around on the windowsill, and land with your feet on the panels of the living room. Only by a bliss moment thinking that you may fall. End this like that.

Your apartment itself wasn't big. But at least you had your own place. A small studio flat where the kitchen was linked to the lounge, and the bedroom itself was almost the size of a bathroom, more simply put - tiny. However, the living room most often also served as a bedroom, so you didn't really care about its size. As long as you could fall asleep there - it was fine. Even if sometimes sleep wasn't an often guest in your life.

You closed the window for a while, then figured you'd leave it ajar, so you did, and moved with a quick step into the kitchen. Even though you knew the path almost by heart, the darkened room made it difficult for you to move from the window sometimes. As you have never been a fan of lighting up the whole room, most often prefer to sit in the dark because of that you could often feel almost blind. Nevertheless your eyesight was very good, even perfect, as the ophthalmologist repeated each time. You still - used to trip over invisible objects on a straight path or snag various things at the height of your shoulders. And maybe you were inattentive, or just perpetually too thoughtful, but that night you didn't feel like adding another thought to the list—why?

It's not so long when a piece of thick material underfoot plays a prank on you like every damn day. So the fact that you were lying on the floor again was like nothing new. Tripping on the carpet was usual but anyway led you to tend to blame your clumsiness. Along with the curses under your breath. Calling out not only the rug but also yourself for being an idiot.

You can't even count how many times you ended up lying in the same spot, sometimes even hitting the floor with your own hands because of your rising anger at yourself. Not caring if there are anyone in the apartment floor below. So you took another deep breath, only to rise from the panels in a moment and look at your skinned knees, whose pain you usually brushed off by rolling your eyes. Eventually, you made your way to the kitchen, dodging every obstacle with great care while occasionally sighing through muscle pain that was no longer so simple to ignore.

You've often wondered - after a long while after falling down - why the neighbors who live below have never yet come to complain that there is an incredible bang coming from your place every night. Which was naturally caused by the body hitting the floor, but how could they know about it?

People tended to ignore what was going on in other people's lives until it somehow began to affect their own, and you could only guess how annoying constant knocking could be. Taking a moment to think about it, but quickly gave up and put the water in the kettle on the gas. You quickly poured two teaspoons of black coffee into a mug after wiping your face with a grimy sleeve and recalling that you drank it every night while attempting to study.

After a few minutes, or maybe longer, of watching at the grayish wall, which in places was covered with big, dark stains, you poured a cup of boiling water to scent fresh coffee and let the hot steam hit your face, which after a while became red from the heat.

You grabbed a hot cup and headed to your room to spend another night staring at the pages of a book you had to read for your upcoming lectures. You knew that your little dream of becoming a scientist would never be easy, but that is why you devoted so much time to studying. You always wanted to change medicine, even a little bit, or rather, the people who were working in this field. Seeing so many people die as a result of incompetence and reckless behavior has driven you insane since you can remember. The number of those who haven't even had time to take a deep breath of fresh air is still growing, and you want to put a stop to it.

You'd read sentence after sentence, the letters would blur in front of your eyes at certain moments, which would make you detach for a moment, rub your eyes with your fingers, take a big sip of smelling coffee, and go back to studying. You repeat these steps several times until you need to go to the toilet or run out of drink, which becomes weaker and weaker over time and doesn't stimulate your body as much.

Tonight, you were only able to last until 3:00 a.m. and finally fall asleep sitting on the floor. Nightmares, or simply unpleasant dreams, usually wake you up. Most of the time, squirming on the couch or on the floor, sometimes waking up with screams. Today was unusually peaceful.

At six o'clock in the morning, you were awakened by a loud, sensory alarm clock telling you to get up for work, which you also couldn't let go off in your day's schedule, and you knew it perfectly well. You're responsible for yourself, and no one or nothing but hard work will make you comfortable. That’s why you moved heavy cartons to one of the factories on Busan until ten o’clock, only to get home in half an hour to pick up your books and go to college.

And you used to spend your time like this until 6:00. Almost five days a week, sometimes six or seven. There were times, when people from your department began to notice that the dark circles under the eyes were getting bigger every day. Overall, everyone noticed it, but no one wanted to waste time asking if everything was okay. You didn't push them all away for nothing, right? After all, what's the use of asking about it? No one would think about asking how your day went, and even this - they didn't care. On your face wasn't any more a shadow of a smile. When you get home and close all possible locks, only a waterfall of tears will fall. When no one can see.

Another day, you were coming back to your apartment by foot because of your stupid disorganization. When you were late for the bus that runs to your neighborhood once every two hours, you had to wander halfway across the city with heavy books. For the first fifteen minutes of your brisk march, you were swearing like a trooper under your nose, reminding people around how much of a freak you were, cursing at yourself again, doubling your hopelessness and clumsiness with words.

When you finally arrived at your stairwell, you were relieved. Feet were painfully burning because of new corns, made by uncomfortable shoes. However, as you reached the door of your place, more hurtful words were flying around, echoing for all of the neighbors in the building, when the annoying light on the motion sensor would not turn on, while your hands were shaking so badly that you were unable to aim at the lock with a single key. Sweat started to cover your scalp, and another time you couldn't feel the shape of the lock under your one-free finger. You were about to toss all of the books and your bag on the floor in order to get inside.

When you entered the apartment, everything flew out of your trembling hands and onto the floor. Papers, notebooks, and even a small pencil case with cats spilled out of an unfastened linen bag, along with several thicker and thinner books that she held under her arm. You groaned pitifully and kicked one of the books in anger, which literally made you howl in a second, because the collision of the object with the toes, already freed from your shoes, was definitely stronger than you imagined.

Eventually, without caring longer about all of the things tossed around, you threw your body onto the couch, kicking the air with her legs like someone with a crazy mind but all you just wanted was to get rid of negative emotions. And as usual you ended up crying, while hugging one and only pillow lying on the couch.

But how could you know that one of your weeping was heard through the ajar window.

#bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts au #bts angst #jimin x you #park jimin #jimin fluff #jimin x reader #jimin imagine #park jimin fanfic #park jimin x reader #bts jimin #jimin hurt/comfort #school au #soulmate au #jimin x y/n

14 notes · View notes

witchcraftandburialdirt · 1 year

Note

' get in . we're going somewhere you can cool your head off . ' the radio will be turned on and there will be no words necessary between them . the radio will be turned on and on the road they will pass versions of themselves and be reminded that everything is manmade and nothing matters . the radio will be turned on and those disembodied voices will feel like the last voices on earth . the radio is on . // blegh , hands u this with me tremblin hands

═══ UNPROMPTED INTERACTIONS ═══ MODERN VERSE Song: The Night We Met - Lord Huron

'What do you mean how did I "find this number"? You're my SON, Robin! Do you have any idea how worried your mother is? Did you even think to bother giving us a phonecall?'

'No! I don't want to hear any excuses on this, do you even care? You've ignored our calls for weeks! This has really showed me how much you actually think about us, thank the lord for that information. Did you forget about Wren's graduation too-'

The melodic plucking of guitar strings seemed to wrap around Robin like a warm embrace, a familiar song that he had heard while situated in Danny's arms on their patio during a sweltering summer afternoon. He could almost hear his soft, scratchy voice singing along with the lyrics as their fingers interlocked and Danny brought the pad of his thumb over Robin's knuckles and serenaded him with a smile on his face. A smile Robin would kill to see right now- but he couldn't. Sure, Danny had only said thousands of times that if he needed him, he could always just give a phonecall. But...Robin had just fixed his collar and kissed his mouth to send him off to his office, thermos full of hot espresso, so he could go finish his story. The phonecall hadn't come until after during dinner, the voice on the other end spewing poison harsh enough to make the assistant wish he'd never touched food at all...that simmering away into nothing would be better.

He supposed that his trembling silence, highlighted by hitched breaths and sniffles, had alerted Yone that something was wrong when he had called only 30 minutes after in order to cement some chords for the next song. Robin's lie stating that his "allergies were just so bad today!" was enough to seemingly teleport the DJ to his apartment and coax him into his car. A practiced activity that they'd done too many times in life, a silent statement about how miserable life could be but... sometimes sharing misery was one of the simplest joys of life. To have someone hold you in their heart enough to swim down into the blackest pits of your soul, to sit beside you in that sadness... Perhaps this drive to nowhere was less a statement of pain and more of a statement of love. Of gentle weeping, crying over and over again "I am here. You are not alone."

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met....

He did not notice the warm tears dripping down his face, not until their twinkle sung of starlight when illuminated by a passing street lamp. Only did they exist within the reflection staring back at him as his hair bunched on the window he leaned on. Robin lifted his gaze slowly towards the dark sky before it settled on the painted golds and purples of twilight, which shyly peeked over the horizon as dusk quickly approached. His lids were heavy, slipping lower and lower, ready to give into rest - or perhap escape? - and relax. A caress like a ghost's kiss brought his wet eyes to open wide and shift down to the finger hooked into his. To his open phone he hadn't heard buzz with a simple "2 more hours dear, I love you." text that only made his heart want to burst with affection...how he hoped to drown in it.

I am here.

When the night was full of terrors And your eyes were filled with tears When you had not touched me yet.. Oh, take me back to the night we met.

He found enough strength, perhaps drawing it from Yone, to pick up his phone and type back that he loved him too. How excited he was to see him again, he left out that he wishes he was with him, he could cry to him later, he didn't need to scare Danny while he was at work. When he finally set his device down the world had fallen into darkness and he was quick to bring the hand opposite of Yone up to his eyes to wipe away his emotions. Minutes past as the last parts of the song fell away to leave them in a moment of silence, one that almost prompted Robin to speak and stain the quiet with his voice. He kept his mouth shut, no need to speak of anything...not when he wasn't ready to yet...

Not when the radio was on.

#ic #rp #verse: modern #windchaser #ngl this #this shit shattered my heart into pieces #god this made me so emotional #sorry i cant write anything without refering or bringing up danny LOL #yone and robinn have such a sweet friendship #the radio was on...#im in pain #god god

6 notes · View notes

slyvieselkie · 1 year

Text

Love

Hi Lovelies, it's me and my second addition to the BTS series. I based this short story on possibly my favourite BTS song 'Love' by RM.

I also tried to make this gender neutral, hope it worked out!

Please enjoy ♡

Is this love?

Sometimes I know, sometimes I don’t.

At first they were unsure, twiddling their fingers while dancing on the fence between friends and something more.

Eyes would meet before immediately looking away, 'Signs of nervousness, is this love?'

"I love you~", voices teased, 'Sayng love so easily, this must not be love, right?'

However, that fence disappeared one crazy night. Insecurity, jealousy, social media and alcohol tore the walls merging the storms together.

Clothes were ripped, sweaty bodies reflected the city lights, lips tugged harshly, hands gripped possessively and voices whispered dangerous sentences.

The next morning was so contrasting it was funny. Embarrassed souls wanting to escape but not ready to let go, remnants of the night bringing back a heat and their pinkies slowly being tied together by a red string.

"I…I think I love you."

The next lyrics, um What should I write, um Too many words circle around me But none of them feel how I feel I just feel it

It was a comedic mess in the beginning.

Struck with love, every moment was an awkward blessing. Stutters, blushes, shy touches and running off to squeal to their friends. They dressed to impress at every date; bringing the whole group together to plan their actions.

"Hyung, at the end of the date you need to push her against the wall and say 'Damn, I can’t hold back anymore' and go crazy!", "Yah! This genius!", "Oppa I saranghae you~!"

The man groaned at his useless group.

The other side wasn’t much better.

"Waaaa~! Sexy!", "I-Isn’t this a little revealing?", "That’s the whole point!", "Gentlemen like him always have a crazy side! And you want to target that side!", "But wasn’t that side already targeted? I mean that’s how they got together-", "YAH!"

Mistakes were made and they suffered humiliation together, spies watched from a distance recording everything for a promising wedding.

But slowly it began to feel frustrating, their naive hearts wanted a lot more than it could handle. It was annoying how they couldn’t move closer, how they couldn’t touch each other for more than a few seconds and words were so difficult to spill.

So they broke down the second fence again, with alcohol. Was it the best method? Who knows. But it was the most effective.

Once again, they ran wild and greedy. It was even more wild this time, the memories of the first time them made them only worse. All day and all night, making up for all of the moments of wanting more. Necks were littered with bites and deep marks, scratches and bruises littered their bodies. And by the end, the fence was completely destroyed and so were they. But it was satisfying.

'Finally.'

Their hearts began to beat as one; kisses were a must, buying two coffees instead of one, they loved being in each other’s laps and words of love filled their house.

I’m just a human, human, human

You erode all my corners

And make me into love, love, love

Of course, love wasn’t easy.

Their relationship began out of insecurity and jealousy, not only that, work also distanced them. No one was willing to back down, no one was willing to talk and understand. Every word lead to an argument and every argument slowly snipped away at their red string.

Tears flooded their house, shouting tore it down and their passionate hearts burnt the rest into ashes.

Before it was a fence separating them, this time it was a canyon between the two. A dark pit that would swallow them into death if they stepped forward. Scared but tired, they had no idea what to do. Forward was not possible but backwards was unacceptable.

Their friends watched worried. It was time for them to step in.

They was dragged away from the house by one group while the other snuck in. It seems their wedding present would be used much earlier than they had expected.

Tired mentally and physically, a voice called out entering the house. At the entrance of the living room, the figure stood there stunned. Another in the centre sobbing. Around them, were their younger selves of naive joy and simple happiness. Bittersweet memories filled the skies of their wrecked land.

"L-Let’s stop-", arms reached out, "Please don’t say that. Let’s work things out together…please."

Lips connected, "I love you."

It’s a long way from I to U Fuck, JKLMNOPQRST I crossed all the letters and I reached you

Was it difficult? For sure.

But they didn’t everything to make it work, they fought against the world and they fought against themselves. Barriers were broken and their string transformed into a chain.

Their hearts grew bigger understanding each other’s annoyances and signals. There were times to talk, others were to hold and very few meant separation. Now they were drowning in love, to make up for the moments of regret.

Their house was rebuilt, much stronger than before. And it would take the world ending to bring it down again.

Some people might ask, why go through all of this trouble?

Humans live to love and they loved each other, simple.

You’re my person, my person, my person You’re my desire, my desire, my desire You’re my pride, my pride, my pride You’re my love (my love) One and only love (only love)

It’s been quite some time now.

They’ve spent many birthdays, many Christmases, many New Years and many anniversaries.

Talks of marriage have started but the both of them didn’t really care. Because everyone already knew the two belonged together, a paper or a ring was really nothing.

They’ve stood together before the world baring the terrible weight of words. But who the hell cares? Not these two. No they were flaunting even more; every skincare night, luxury evening date,and buying a bigger home.

Plush lips peppered kisses over the man’s face, "Love you, Namjoon."

A deep rumble left him as his lips touched the bare neck already covered in his marks, "Love you too, sweetheart."

You know... We were always meant to be... Destiny... I hope you feel the same with me... LOVE

They do, a lot.

Love.

Hello people~!

Let’s talk for a bit. So this is my favourite song, maybe out of all of the BTS songs. The melody, the instruments and the lyrics as well. Everything just drew me in. And I was in love.

I’ve had this idea for a little while now but I decided against it, I don’t really know why just didn’t feel like it. Anyways, I was really satisfied with this outcome and I hope you guys loved it too.

Just a little bit more. The gif I attached is of Luka Megurine's ‘Just Be Friends'. I wanted to use it because I used a really important aspect from that song. The moment where everything began to collapse, they sat down and watched their memories of joy. They saw their younger selves and left in regret. As much as I loved that ending, it also broke me apart. So I wanted to use it for a happy resolution.

If you read all of this, you're a legend!

#bts x reader #namjoon #romance #short story #reader insert #real person fiction

3 notes · View notes

writefightandflightclub · 3 months

Note

LUNAAAAA you've got me schreeching at how good ch2 of ride or die is!! Just like the first chapter, this is so special to me!!!

I really love the continued friendship with Frankie, it feels like they are sincerely friends and we can see why.

Absolutely adore the way the complicated emotions of heartbreak are explored. Wanting to deny that you've caused someone else heartbreak bc even if you are the one who ended things you never wanted to hurt the other person, that pit-in-the-stomach realisation that you've broken your own heart, on one hand hating the idea of someone you care so deeply for is unhappy but at the same time their happiness feels like a knife in your soul, the dichotomy of wanting to be with someone that you also cannot bear to face, trying to hide what you are feeling when it is the only thing you can think about... the messy tension and realism of it all has my heart in knots, in the best way!!

Tom is a jerk and deserved some smack-talk, but I really like the reflection that he wasn't necessarily the best target at that moment, that the real anger came from a different source, but in moments like that you do really just want to get the attention away from you. Again, the complexity of emotions and realism in this story makes the pining and yearning and sadness al the more delicious.

I did NOT think Frankie was gonna say Santi has a heartbreak playlist and I want to know what songs are there so bad. This might actually be my favourite detail from the chapter.

Lastly that ending???? You have me beyoooond hooked

Hi darling, and thank you so much for this wonderful ask! 🧡😊

I love that you love the friendship with Frankie. He definitely sticks around through the story and is pretty integral at times. I’m so pleased to hear that friendship feels genuine, as that felt really important for me to convey!

And oh gosh, the complex emotions! I’m so happy all those nuances came across and added to the realism!!! 🥹🧡🙏 They are both feeling SO much, and I really hoped the emotional arc would come across as plausible and true to the characters and who they are and what they want in all of their messy humanness (we’ll see if I pull that off as the story pans out, lol!)!

Ah and thank you for picking up on that Tom moment! Even though they feature to varying degrees, I really did put a lot of thought into how to deal with each of the side characters, especially according to what they are all dealing with pre-canon (which is a LOT), and what their dynamic with reader might be. I wanted reader and Tom to butt heads a little, but I also wanted to humanise him and have her acknowledge when that’s a little problematic too. It would be too easy to make him The Bad Guy when I don’t feel that’s what he is in this story. Plus, they are friends. (As well, this is all set pre-canon so we don’t have as many reasons to be pissed with him yet! 🤣)

And OOOOHH the playlist!!! Well, you are in luck, because I do plan to share a bonus playlist sometime after the story’s conclusion 👀 So happy you enjoyed that detail!

And the ending. I really left you hanging there, huh?! 😅 I think/hope you’ll enjoy the next instalment.

Thank you so much for blessing me with your commentary, it honestly makes me SO happy! 🧡😊🙏

#ride or die series #ride or die spoilers

0 notes

chasing-that-feeling · 9 months

Text

0×1=lovesong means so much to me and i don't know the purpose of this post but i need someplace to rant about it

the way i'll talk about this song is taking into account the music video/s since i think they really show what isn't said in the song and i love how the music videos show a different perspective on the song's meaning.

this song means so much to me because it really encaptures a feeling that i feel so deeply and makes it seem so beautiful in the song.

one thing i love so much about this song is that it spins the meaning of what a "love song" should be. you could interpret the song a million different ways. it can be about romantic relationships, it can be about platonic relationships. but at its core, its about wanting to be loved, wanting to have people who love you, who are the reason you hold on even if the world can be cold and dark, begging say you love me.

next, in the official music video, the korean one, it starts off with yeonjun on a couch alone while two people, i'm assuming his parents are fighting in the background. and in another scene we see yeonjun staring at fishes with the glow of an aquarium reflected off him symbolizong that he feels trapped like a fish in a fishbowl who is meant to be out in the sea. and we see the five of them getting ready to burn their jackets because the world is a cold place. the world can be an endless darkness or a bottomless pit. the world can be suffocating and depressing and i think we all know what that feels like.

then we see yeonjun take the car and escape with the other four. they're escaping from the world even if you can't do that permanently. we see them in this giant pool having fun. i think that symbolizes how when you're with people you love, when you find those people you love, the fishbowl that was your world can look like a summer pool instead. like they can make this world bearable, fun even.

and that really is the meaning of the song. how a person or some people can mend the hole in your soul, can thaw the frigid air, be your warmth in this world full of zero (as the bridge of the song says). desperately saying i need you.

but in the music video, towards the end, we see yeonjun wake up outside and no one else is there. soobin, beomgyu, taehyun, and hueningkai weren't there when seconds ago they were dancing around together and even burned the car. and this is when the yearning in the song fits in. it was all a dream, all in his head. the song was basically saying say you love me, say that this is real, or that one day its going to be real, because that's the only thing that keeps me from letting go. and this makes even more sense when we look at the japanese mv.

for me, the most prominent thing in that mv were the falling stars. we see these stars falling and the boys trying to run after them but never reaching them. and then we see them falling from the sky meaning that they are the falling stars. my personal interpretation of this is that they know that they aren't alone in the loneliness and the yearning that they're feeling. they know other people out there feel the same thing, but no matter how much they try to reach for the stars and race for the stars, they couldn't reach them. then we see them fall to the ground screaming in agony. its kind of like being in your bedroom alone and looking at the stars knowing someone out there is doing the same thing and both of your longing for love and for companionship would be solved if only you knew each other, if only you met each other, but you can't just do that and it's agonizing. you're still alone, but you're still holding onto the idea that someday it won't be this way. you can keep dealing with this world because someday you'll find that love that makes this life worth living. and its such a complex feeling and a beautiful execution and i will forever be grateful that this song and these mvs exist

1 note · View note

dreamlessinparis · 3 years

Text

Come Back to Me

mob!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn’t expect you have such an impact on his life and it scares him.

Word Count: 2848

Warnings: Angst, implied smut(nothing too graphic), mention of blood, fluff

A/N I wrote this for @sweetlyscared ‘s 1k followers challenge. 💕Congrats on that and I hope you have many more to come! My bleeding heart couldn’t stay away from this challenge. Writing angst might not be my strong suit but I tried. The prompts I used are bolded

Bucky Barnes destroyed everything he touched except you. You were his beautiful flower, so beautiful you made everything in his life better. You were his lifeline, his reason to breathe, the reason his damaged heart still beat and still he let you go. Let you slip through his fingers like sand. Made you leave before he tarnished your soul, the way his was. Bucky Barnes was not a good man, he killed without question and was blindly ruthless, the only good thing he did was set you free, even if it meant leaving a void where his heart was.

Bucky paces through his cold empty office, remembering the warmth you brought to his life. The room progressively darkens along with his mood, as if the weather can sense his unhappiness and the storm clouds break open in a sudden burst. Bucky laughs humorlessly to the fact that the universe was reflecting the shit show that was his life. His glance shifts to the window, where the rain is falling down on the remains of the once beautiful garden, now feral and unkempt in the year without your presence. His mind wanders back to you, his happy place, as the storm rages outside.

You never should have been in his life, but fate had a cruel humor and so did Bucky's best friend Steve when he hired you to be Bucky's assistant. A girl like you, sweet as the smell of honeysuckle in the spring, being the assistant of a mob boss, it was a disaster waiting to happen. But you didn't see it that way. From that first day you walked into his office, your long hair pulled back, wearing a white sundress with little flowers on it, he could have sworn you were an angel. You had a smile that lit up the whole room and your eyes didn’t look at him like he was a monster. Obviously you knew who he was but chose to make your own decisions about him.

Everybody on his crew loved you, the guards, the servants, Steve and especially Bucky. It was hard not to. Bucky begins to think back to the times he caught you dancing in the hall of paintings, headphones in your ears. The one time you noticed his presence, you immediately began to sputter out apologies until you saw the wide smile on his beautiful face. You had never seen him smile before and it made your heart swell. So you did the unthinkable, grabbing his hand and putting a headphone in his ear. To your disbelief, he pulled you close and the two of you slow-danced to a song that clearly wasn't meant to be a slow dance but neither of you cared. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you swayed in his arms.

After that incident, Bucky kept his distance, you made him vulnerable and in his world vulnerable meant weak. He could tell it hurt your feelings, no matter how well you tried to hide it. You kept up a professional front but your eyes gave you away. To Bucky you were an open book.

Despite his wariness to let you in, he never stopped watching you. Whether you were in the garden, tending to the flowers in your free time, or laughing with Steve about something, Bucky always had an eye on you. Without his permission you wormed your way into his heart and made a home.

It was during one of Tony’s gala’s where Bucky learned what true jealousy was. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he saw you walk in that red dress, seductively clinging to your curves, hair gathered at the nape of your neck. He didn’t know where to look, the slender curve of your neck or the peek of your leg from your, in his opinion, too high slit or anywhere in between. His eyes settled on your beautiful face, watching as you approached him.

“You look stunning, y/n,” Bucky leaned in to whisper in your ear, a scarlet blush rising up your neck at his words. You awkwardly thanked him, looking away quickly. His husky chuckle made the hairs on your neck rise and that was when you knew you were falling for him. You had been for a long time but now you were sure. He was a man of terrible deeds, but there was good in him. Under his tough exterior, you had chipped away enough to see a peek of his heart of gold. The heart he thought was blackened by everything he’d done.

Suddenly Thor approached the two of you and before Bucky could utter another word, you were whisked away to the dance floor. He watched in disbelief and pure rage as his girl was being waltzed around by the golden haired oaf. A hand on his shoulder was enough to throw him over the edge, and he turned to attack whoever touched him, only to realize it was Steve. Steve arched an eyebrow at him and Bucky relaxed, reigning in his anger as much as he could, not knowing what came over him. But Steve knew, he had known since day one.

From that night forward, the two of you ignored the elephant in the room, tiptoeing around each other’s feelings. Sometimes when you were standing in the garden, looking out, you felt him come up behind you, the heat of his body radiating against your back. You could feel his nose skim your hair, inhaling your scent, eye fluttering shut in hopes he would touch you. But he never did and he always disappeared before you could react. You yearned for him in ways you had never yearned before.

It was a night in August that changed everything. Bucky was in his office, reading over a file that Steve had brought to him, when he heard the thunder clap. He looked up to see the skies open up, rain beginning to fall in thick wet drops. Just as he was about to return to his work, he saw you run out into the garden. The rain quickened by the second all around you as you twirled in a circle, head back, a huge smile on your face. Bucky couldn’t control himself as he left his office, heading to the back door. Nothing else mattered to him, except the gorgeous girl dancing in the rain like a woodland fairy.

For a moment he forgot who he was, where he was and how his next action would play out. His hands wound around your waist, startling you, your hair clinging to your skin as you met his gaze. Without any care in the world Bucky pressed his lips to yours, hands coming up to hold your face, holding you delicately like you would break in his hands. He wanted to mold himself around you, and never let you go. Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, feverishly matching his kiss with the same passion. One of his hands slid to the back of your head as the other one found its way to rest on your lower back, pressing you into him. He pulled away, grabbing your hand and tugging you into the gazebo, the heated look in his eyes made you shiver in anticipation.

The rest was a blur, a mix of messy kisses and roaming hands, as you explored one another. Soaked pieces of clothing were scattered about haphazardly, neither of your hands wanting to leave the other's skin for too long. The rain pattered on the roof of the gazebo, drowning out your moans as you rode Bucky, head thrown back in a different kind of pleasure. He gave over control, just like he gave over his heart, hands digging into your hips almost painfully. Your hands dug into the strong muscles of his chest and a broken groan had you melting further into him. A cacophony of emotions swirled in the air around you as you both reached your climax and you knew this was a point of no return.

Bucky’s hand hit the glass window in front of him, remembering that fateful night. The night that changed his life. Right before he shattered everything. He still remembered the look on your face, still remembered the feeling of his heart shattering, still felt the regret of what he had done as soon as he did it. The rain pouring outside was increasing as he laid his head to the glass, letting the tears finally fall. He had watched you sleep that night, your gorgeous face peacefully as you probably dreamt of butterflies and flowers, and he knew he couldn’t keep you. He was glad he got to have you just once but tomorrow you would be gone and he would make sure of it. When Bucky left the bed that next morning, he left his heart beside you.

Little did he know, you were also sitting in front of a window watching the rain, in your little apartment across town. The cup of tea doing little to warm you up as the memories you usually kept at bay were crashing over you.

You had woken up alone in Bucky’s bed, the soreness between your legs brought a smile to your lips as you remembered the night before. Bucky’s sweet words and lingering touches felt like brands on your skin and every flash of the night before caused your heart to soar. You quickly dressed and made your way downstairs, finding an empty house. A note on the door of Bucky’s office told you that he was out dealing with some business and would be back later. Your heart clenched at the impersonal tone of the note and you shook your head to clear your doubts. But the ice that had crept in, was chilling you to the bone.

You went about your day doing your usual work, but the feeling of dread never left the pit of your stomach. The feeling worsened when you heard the front door open and close, Steve and Bucky’s voices sounding from the foyer. Your feet carried you into the hallway before you realized what you were doing and suddenly he was in front of you, his suit jacket laying on the floor, white button up covered in blood. For the first time you saw the man everyone was afraid of, the terrifying mob boss, his eyes dead as they looked up to meet yours. No they didn’t meet yours, instead they looked right through you. He nodded to Steve, who was looking at you with worried eyes but you couldn’t take your eyes off Bucky, who just brushed past you without a second glance.

Like a magnet, you followed behind him as he went up to his office. Shutting the door behind yourself, you faced him, finding him sitting on the edge of his desk watching you. His expression was cold and vacant, no remnants of the man you knew.

“Bucky?” You asked in a soft voice, slowly approaching him. His eyes watched you cautiously, as you put a hand on his forearm. “Are you alright?”

“Take your hand off me, y/n,” He growled, voice dripping with venom. Your eyes flashed up to his face, your expression shocked. “I’ve let you become too comfortable,” He continued, stepping away from his desk, causing you to take a step back. “And that won’t do.”

He continued to stalk towards you until your back hit the wall and he loomed over you. A tremor wracked down your spine and for once you were scared of him. His ring covered hand came up to grab your throat, pushing you flush against the wall and leaned into you until his nose was touching yours. Your hands wrapped around his wrist, trying with no luck to yank it off.

“What’s wrong little birdie? Cat got your tongue,” Bucky smirked, transforming into a complete stranger in front of your eyes. His hand tightened and tears welled in your eyes.

“Bucky, please,” You pleaded, desperate for the man you knew was in there somewhere. “Don’t do this!”

“Do what? I got what I wanted, there's no need for me to act anymore.”

“Act? Bucky you don’t mean that,” You protested, nails digging into his wrist.

“Oh but I do sweetheart. Did you really think I felt more for you?”

“You did, you do!” You cried, tears now streaming down your face, “Last night was real Bucky, you can’t deny that!”

Bucky shook his head, freeing you from his grasp as he began to laugh uncontrollably.

“Last night,” He choked out between laughs, “last night was nothing, I fucked you and you let me.” You wanted to smack the laughter right out of him, but you were frozen in place by the harshness of his words. His mocking laughter got louder with each passing moment, and you just couldn’t stay any longer. You ran out of that house as fast as your legs would allow, never looking behind you, as you got in your car and drove away.

If only you had stayed just a little while longer, you would have seen Bucky’s laughter give way to body wrenching sobs as the man you loved fell to pieces.

Your hand absently rubs at the ache in your chest, your heart still broken. Some days you wondered if it was all a dream, whether you imagined how Bucky felt about you. Your heart told you it was real but his words never left your thoughts, haunting you always. Tears streamed down your face, wishing you could go back and live it all over again, even though you knew how it would end. It didn’t matter as long as you were around him just for a little while.

A sharp knock pulls you out of your head and you glance curiously at the door, wondering who was here in this weather. You detangle yourself from your blanket and walk over to the door, looking into the peephole. Your breath catches in your throat and you rush to open the door, revealing thoroughly soaked Bucky Barnes. His broken expression causes the ache in your chest to worsen but you keep your face blank, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how close you were to breaking down.

He runs a hand through his wet hair as he looks you over, making note of your tear stained cheeks and guarded expression. Taking a deep breath, he takes your warm hand into his cold one and finally speaks.

“I have loved you since the day I met you”

“Bucky-, “ You begin to interrupt, but his other hand covers your mouth.

“Please let me finish and then you can tell me to go to hell if you want to,” Bucky begs, and you nod, unable to say no to him. “I have loved you since the day I met you and I knew if I let myself love you, I would ruin you. So for months I pushed you away, but you still found your way back. Somewhere along the line I stopped fighting it and let myself fall.” He stops for a moment, collecting himself before continuing.

“I fell head first down the rabbit hole and I let myself drown in you. But that next morning, seeing you in my bed, I knew I couldn’t keep you because you were too good for the world I live in. So I lied and I broke your heart and I am so so sorry for everything,” His voice breaking on the last word as he drops his hand from your mouth. You look at him stunned, words escaping you. He waits as you gather yourself, bracing himself for whatever you were about to say.

“Why are you here Bucky? Obviously nothing has changed, I’m still me and you’re still you,” You ask quietly, not having the strength to speak any louder. You didn’t understand why he felt the need to come here and tell you all this if he still couldn’t fit you into his life. Did he just enjoy breaking your heart repeatedly?

His hand reaches up to cup your cheek and you lean into it, enjoying the feeling. This wasn’t the response he was expecting from you, but he was going to fight with everything he had left.

“I’m a selfish man, y/n and I don’t want to stay away from you anymore. I love you with every fiber of my being and I’m here to ask you to take me back, ragged edges and all. Nothing is the same without you and I can’t live another day in this colorless world. Please come back to me and set my world alight again.” Bucky’s blue grey eyes met yours, pleading with you to say yes.

Words don’t seem like enough so instead your hands reach up, grabbing him by the lapels and kiss him hard. His hands find your waist, holding on for dear life and you know he’s never going to let go again.

#sweetlysad1kchallenge #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader

496 notes · View notes

emilyoftheshadows · 3 years

Text

Deja Vu

Hi! so this is a one-shot based off of olivia rodrigo's new song deja vu. It took a little longer than I thought to write, but here it is in all its questionable glory. Of course it is rowaelin because what else endgame couple would I write lol. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy!

wordcount// 1838

*****

Aelin felt sick to her stomach as she stared at her phone. The bright screen illuminated the disarray she had created around her. The bed covers were thrown recklessly around Aelin’s mattress, a package of half eaten oreos shoved between the twisted sheets. Bottles of alcohol were towered on the floor and nightstand, creating a maze that she had to maneuver around every time she left the softness of her bed. Tears stained Aelin 's cheeks, the sadness inside of her spilling out everytime she even thought of him. How his touch felt on her skin or how his lips used to kiss her forehead in comfort.

But all of that was over for her. Because he didn’t need her. Her love and her own problems only held him back, and Aelin knew it. She was a stain in Rowan’s perfect new life, and she would die before she let herself be the reason for any sadness he experienced.

So here she was, 6 months and 9 days after she had broken up with him. His face had been scrunched up in confusion, his emerald eyes glistening with tears as she had said her goodbyes. Aelin knew the breakup had hit him hard, but she consoled herself with the thought that once he got over their relationship, he would be free to live his dreams. Aelin would no longer be the unnecessary tether holding him back from his full potential.

Rowan had moved soon after the couple had ended university, taking a high end job at Maeve’s Publishing Co. in Doranelle. He had met his people, The Cadre as they were known to the locals. Working with his new team, Rowan had formed an unbreakable bond with the men he spent so much of his time with. As much as Rowan had found his new home in Doranelle, the opposite could be said for Aelin.

She had opted to stay in Rifthold, accepting her own high end job at Hamel Hotels working as their Brand Manager. At first, the glitz of the hotels and fast paced life had been exhilarating. That was until she had learned her boss was a demanding misogynist and occupied her time with insane projects and endless demands.

Her sour demeanor matched Rowan's exuberance head for head, and every visit she could see the concern etched in that beautiful face deepen with time. But when she went to visit Rowan in Doranelle, all Aelin saw was a makeshift family that he would have forever. The Cadre was working their way up in the publishing world, becoming an unstoppable force and you could practically feel the excitement buzzing throughout Rowan.

It was then when he was surrounded by his men eager for their future, that Aelin knew that she was a distraction. A miserable self loathing girlfriend who was holding him back from immersing himself into this new opportunity. So she took herself out of the picture, doing whatever was necessary to make sure he moved on from her.

She stopped answering his texts, let his endless calls go to voicemail, and unfollowed him on every social media site she had. After the third month, he finally stopped calling her everyday. The month after that, he stopped texting her. Although Aelin wanted this, she couldn’t help but be sad when she stopped getting his streams of i miss yous and hearts.

Aelin had gotten herself a dog after the breakup, focusing all her misguided love and intentions into the white beast that ate all her shoes and furniture. Using his pictures, she made an account for him and used this new anonymous account to stalk Rowan and his Cadre, plus the girl that used to occasionally join the men on their outings. Lyria was Maeve’s assistant and had been through just as much hell as they did, dealing with their bosses' incessant needs. Because of this, the crew often invited her out to the bars as a way to unwind from long days of work, sharing funny mishaps and complaining about Maeve together.

She told herself it was just to check up on him, to make sure he was okay, but she knew deep down that she could never fully separate herself from Rowan. This account was her only link to him, and as shady as it was, Aelin would be damned before she ever gave up the chance to get a glimpse into his life.

But as she focused on her phone, all previous thoughts for Rowan’s wellbeing flew out of her head. Because on Fleetfoot’s instagram feed, Lyria had posted a picture. The scene was innocent enough to any other person looking at it. She sat outside, the sun filtering in through the trees in the background of the photo. On the small table in front of her sat one cup of strawberry ice cream, a spoon poking out of the top of the scoop creating the picture perfect image. Her delicate hand with its perfectly manicured fingers grasped a tan hand almost twice the size of hers, emphasizing her petite features.

But that hand is what stopped Aelin in her tracks. Because as she looked at the post again, that hand led her to the face she adored most in the world. All too fast, she was consumed by his emerald green eyes, a hint of mischief shining in their center. His silver hair reflected the light around him, giving Rowan an ethereal glow as he posed for the camera. Other than slight dark circles under his eyes, he looked perfectly content. A soft smile graced his features and his clothes showed no clear stains or rumpled appearance.

Rowan was okay. He was absolutely fine. And Aelin was not.

Because whether he realized it or not, Rowan had recreated their own first date. As awkward college freshmen, the couple had gone to a family owned ice cream shop run by a friendly old man Emrys. They would return to that ice cream shop at least once a week after that first date, getting to know the owner and his partner Malaki. They had gotten strawberry ice cream, and Rowan had only asked for one spoon, insisting that he could just feed her himself whenever she wanted a bite. The buzzard didn’t even like sweets as much as she did, only wanting to make her suffer. They had sat on a bench outside the restaurant, laughing at how silly they both were and enjoying their newfound relationship. That memory used to always bring a smile to Aelin’s face, causing nostalgia for a simpler time in their lives. Looking at this recreation on her phone though, all Aelin wanted to do was scream in his face for how careless he was with their past.

That moment should belong to them, and them only. Her vision became blurred with tears, the image of his face distorting in front of her. All she could feel was a pit opening up inside her, clawing its way through her body until all she felt was numb. Her tears stopped running down her face, her hands stopped shaking, and she could finally breathe again. But Aelin no longer felt heartbroken for the bird boy who had made her dreams come true. No, all she felt was curiosity. A curiosity for whether or not he got deja vu when he was with her.

---

Rowan sat on his couch, staring at the photo in front of him. He had gotten back from his date with Lyria a couple of hours ago, guilt crashing over him every time he looked at her. Because Lyria wasn’t the woman that made his heart soar or his bones ache when he wasn’t near her. No, that feeling only belonged to his fireheart. The woman who could apparently no longer stand his presence in her life.

Aelin had broken up with him abruptly, pushing him away when he knew she needed him the most. Rowan wasn’t blind, he could see how unhappy she was in Rifthold. Arobynn Hamel was a pervert at best and Aelin deserved to have something or someone good in her life. And he thought he could be that someone, he really did. Rowan had already put in his two week notice to Maeve with hope in his heart and a ring in his pocket. He would do anything to make Aelin happy, and nothing would ruin them, not even the job of his dreams.

But apparently, they weren’t on the same page. Because when he had gone to visit her in Rifthold, ready to offer his life to her, she had crushed his spirits in less than 5 minutes. He had flown back home, but Rowan never figured out why she felt the urge to end their relationship. The lack of closure and the loss of the other half of his soul led him to ruins. For months he texted and called everyday, hoping that she would open up to him about her pain. But Aelin never answered. And she never texted. Next thing Rowan knew, he had stopped trying all together.

The Cadre did all they could to comfort him, but none of them were even close to understanding the aching pain he felt in his heart everyday. Lyria was the only one who could stand his somber demeanor, choosing to spend her breaks near his desk and chit chatting about office gossip during the slow days. At first, the distraction had been nice. But somewhere along the line, Lyria had become more serious about Rowan than he cared to admit.

Now here he was, with an almost-kind-of-talking-maybe-dating situationship that he didn’t understand even started. He mistook her friendliness for just that--friendship. But he also hadn’t stopped her. Deep down, Rowan knew that he was using Lyria, but he couldn’t help but keep the facade going on. Because if he was left alone again, Rowan didn’t think he would ever leave his apartment.

The nights were the worst, where he was alone with his endless thoughts, his regrets, his tears. The past 6 months had been rough, and if this was how he had to pick himself up again then so be it. Aelin sure as hell didn’t want him anymore and Rowan had to come to terms with it whether he liked it or not.

But still, sitting with his phone propped up in his hand, staring at his own face and the scoop of light pink ice cream in front of him, Rowan’s mind wandered to a simpler time. A time where they would be on a bench outside their infamous ice cream spot instead of the random ice cream parlor downtown. A time where Rowan’s eyes would be shining brighter staring into the deepest blue he had ever seen. A time where his fireheart would be taking that picture instead of the woman he strung along like a puppy dog.

Imagining his own heaven in his head combined with the bitter reality around him, Rowan felt a momentary sense of deja vu.

*****

Tag list

@rowaelinismyotp

@morganofthewildfire

@throneofmak

@whimsicallyreading

@live-the-fangirl-life

#rowaelin #deja vu

98 notes · View notes

theonewiththefanfics · 4 years

Text

Would You Be My Little Quarantine (one-shot)

Synopsis: As the mandatory quarantine hits, the Reader is stuck in a cabin in Utah with the boys from 5 Seconds of Summer. Turns out another person is stuck in a hotel nearby. Hijinx ensue as does romance.

Pairing: Harry Styles x f!Reader

Genre: fluff pretty much just pure, teeth-rotting fluff.

Warnings: it’s my first time writing for Harry as I was never really part of the fandom, but damn does Watermelon Sugar do things to a person, so please be kind. This is defo not my best work, but I’m slowly getting back into the groove of things, so bare with me :D

Word count: 6061

TikTok had become Y/N’s new obsession. She’d stayed away from it as long as she could, being a true Vine generation child, she felt loyalty to the deceased app. But one night, after a long recording session, she caved. And then stayed giggling on it until the early morning when the birds started to chirp… or until Calum had taken her phone and threatened to throw it in the jacuzzi if she didn’t go to bed.

The girl and the four guys from 5 Seconds of Summer had been renting a cabin in the middle of the Utah woods to help them escape the distractions of the city as they recorded their respective albums, and given how they were good friends, they decided to collaborate on a few songs, and it made sense to just chill together as well.

Which had started off Y/N’s own TikTok series, having ‘borrowed’ the idea from the Irishman living with two girls.

“Alright, gentlemen.” She slid inside her bathroom pulling the focus of her camera on the reflection in the mirror. “I live with four guys, and I have some things to say. Why do you always, and I mean ALWAYS, leave your socks around the house? The dirty ones. You know you could just throw them in the wash… there’s an idea.”

“We do!” Calum yelled

Y/N turned her face to the door and hollered, “Only after I’ve asked you to!”

“Do not!” he countered.

“Do too!” she exited the bathroom and into the hallway only to be met with the man standing there with his hands on his hips. “Then how.” Y/N pointed the camera towards the living area you could see from where the hallways overlooked the room. “Do you explain that?” And when she zoomed in, there, in a small pile laid two brown socks, all crumpled up and almost pushed underneath one of the three couches, as if someone was trying to hide them from sight.

Calum stammered for a bit. “Those are NOT mine.”

Y/N flipped the camera and looked at it like they do in the Office. “Help me,” she mouthed and finished the TikTok, pointing with her hand at him. “Ya disgustin’!”

Just as maturely as she had reacted, so did Calum by crossing his arms and sticking his tongue out, but their little bickering about whose socks they were and whose job was it to put them in the dirty wash (they were Ashton’s, and it was his job), Luke poked Y/N’s side as he came out from his room.

“I know might seem weird, but is there any chance another person could join our quarantine group?”

Y/N’s eyebrows rose. Sure, the house was giant, mostly because whatever production she was a part of on Broadway, after a successful season, she invited all of them there to get away from the bustle of New York and just chill. It was in the middle of the forest, encased by gorgeous mountains and at the side of a lake where they’d go jet skiing and cliff diving.

“I thought people can’t visit one another?”

“They can’t,” Luke confirmed. “That’s the point. The unfortunate soul just got stuck at a hotel not too far from here, and all the flights are cancelled. Two weeks of quarantine without symptoms have been concluded, but, knowing how impossible it’d be to get to London, when you know, as I said, there are no flights, I offered a place to stay.”

“So,” Y/N dramatically rolled her head. “You already offered to stay before asking me?”

“Well, I knew you’d say ‘yes’ because you’re a kind, generous, amazing, smart, talented, compassionate person and wouldn’t leave someone on the streets when you know you could help.”

“Mhm, keep talking.” Y/N squinted her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

“Incredible, best musician I’ve ever met, how you haven’t won all of Tony’s I’ve got no idea. Your acting skills are impeccable and the movie industry is missing out on a once in a lifetime kind of a talent by not castin-“

“Alright stop.” Y/N busted out laughing. “As long as you promise I won’t wake up with an axe in my head, ‘s fine.”

“Promise.”

“Good. Also, could you please get me three bottles of that wine I like?” Y/N hollered before skipping downstairs and to the kitchen where Ashton was brewing the tenth cup of coffee. “I have a deadline in two weeks and have literally no idea where to go with the story.” She referred to the second book of her series she was writing, and now with the lockdown going on, her literary agent was breathing down her neck, and it didn’t help she hadn’t written anything in like a month and didn’t remember half of the already exiting story.

Luke lifted a brow and hissed through his teeth. “That bad?”

“You have no idea,” she sighed and left for the living-room where she could harass the boys for their fries and procrastinate some more.

***

The few hours, while Luke was away, were quite uneventful. All of them sat around on the couch pit, wrote some music, lil bit of lyrics and Y/N almost cried seeing as her characters had decided to live their own life and not obey to her story.

“Why do you have to be such an idiot,” she mumbled under her breath and furrowed her brows as she wrote herself into a new plot hole.

Right as Y/N was about to delete the whole chapter, the door slammed open and she heard grunting. “We’re here!” Luke hollered, and the thought of wine made her giddy, making her leap over the edge of the couch, and rush to the front door only to stop dead in her tracks.

Y/N’s mouth hung open, not because of who the person joining their quarantine group was, but because of what the person was. “A fifth GUY?! You didn’t tell me it’d be a guy!”

“I didn’t think it’d matter!” Luke yelled back.

“There’s already four of you!” She pointed back to the living room hearing loads of ‘hey!’ being shouted back.

“Would you leave him on the streets if you’d known he was a dude?”

“No, of course not!”

“Why are we yelling?”

“I don’t know!”

“I mean, I can leave.” Harry Styles said pointing at the door, not really knowing what to do. He certainly hadn’t expected that sort of greeting. “But I do come bearing gifts.” He lifted a black bag where a clinking of glass could be heard.

“No,” she sighed. “It’s fine... I just… I just miss the company of vaginas.”

He raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Vaginas?”

“People I can rant to. Honestly, it doesn’t even matter if you have a vagina, as long as we can have a good rant. Especially about the gross things like having all of your dirty socks thrown around the house.” She threw Luke a look that screamed ‘I know you pushed all of them under your bed, and it’s stinking up the whole place.’

Harry shook his head. “Ya not gonna find me leaving my clothes like that. Besides, ‘s disgusting.”

“No,” Luke whined, “come on, man! You’re supposed to be on our side!”

“It’s two against four,” Harry snickered, throwing his hand around Y/N’s shoulder, who gave Luke a smug grin, and it made her mimic the same expression.

“It’s evening out. Maybe you should actually invite some other people to quarantine with us. Say, Harry, is maybe Niall in need of a place to stay?”

Luke rolled his eyes, and shook his head, going into the kitchen and placing the food bags he’d been holding. “I hate you so much.”

Y/N’s smile just widened.

***

“Yes, I’m still stealing your series Irishman.” Y/N zoomed in on her face. “Because now…” she looked up at the ceiling in a manner ‘someone please save me’, “I’m living with FIVE dudes. Yes, FIVE. We have an addition. And if someone doesn’t come and kill me, I will kill them.”

“We’re not that bad!” Michael hollered form out of frame, to which Y/N yelled back, “Yes the fuck you are! Boys are gross. You do realize you’re allowed to have more than one towel. Like you DON’T have to wipe your face with a towel that’s soaked up your ball juice.”

“It’s economy.”

“It’s disgusting! Also.” Y/N turned the camera to Harry who was climbing up the stairs with a cup of coffee in hand. “Say ‘Hi’ to gremlin number five. He’s stolen all of my nail polish.”

He gave a cute wave with an adorable smile, muttering an unintelligible ‘Hello’ as his mouth was stuffed with a piece of bread and a very muffled ‘You don’t even use them.’

“Yes, but that’s not the point. Anyway,” Y/N pointed the camera at herself. “Tune in for an update whenever, as long as I haven’t strangled anyone, and pray to the heavens you don’t see my face in the papers cause the next time you do, it’ll be my mugshot for a quintuple homicide.”

“Is that a threat Y/L/N?” Harry smirked, as Y/N walked past him and took away his cup of coffee.

“No, it’s a promise.” She threw him a wink, leaving the Brit with his mouth open at the woman’s audacity, as she stopped the recording of the TikTok.

“That was my coffee!”

“Not anymore!”

He shook his head, turning back around and going to the kitchen, seeing Y/N perched on one of the stools, neck stretching over to where Ashton was watching a video on his phone, the black liquid in his cup now a creamy beige. Harry smiled. Maybe quarantine wasn’t going to be so bad.

***

Y/N’s head popped from the side of the door, bringing all of their attention to her. “You guys need to record anything right now?”

Luke shook his head, signifying the band was alright before turning to Harry who mimicked him, the tapping of his pen stopping. “Why?”

“Just got a call from Laurence, he said something’s wrong with the ‘Candy Store’ audio from yesterday. Need to rerecord it and send it over. Something about a faulty export or whatever.”

“ ‘S all yours.” Ashton motioned to the recording booth. “Oh, but can I be Heather Duke?”

“And can I be Heather McNamara then?” Luke piped in.

Y/N chuckled. “Not to burst your bubbles, but you do know you won’t be in the final version?”

“No, but we could be in THIS version. It’d be for our private files. And it’d help you.”

“That sounds so wrong.” She grimaced. “How would that help me?” Y/N plopped next to Harry on the floor. “You’re the biggest distractions I’ve ever met.”

Luke scoffed. “How dare you! We offer you our services of being backup singers, and you… you’re such a meanie. You’re such a Heather Chandler!”

“It’s 2020! If Leslie Odom Jr. can play Aaron Burr, then I can play one of the Heathers! Don’t be sexist, Y/N!”

“I never said a dude can’t play a Heather, don’t put words in my mouth. I just said last time we tried to record anything together we ended up playing SIMS for like seven hours, but… come on you two divas, get your asses inside then. But I swear if Laurence or Kevin call because one of you whispered something dirty in the background of MY parts, I will strangle you in your sleep.”

“How little trust do you have in us?”

“Very,” Y/N deadpanned, showing the two men inside, leaving Calum, Harry and Michael to man the production table. “If you mess with anything, your asses will be grass.” She pointed at the three and all of them put their hands up in surrender. “ ‘S bad enough you ruined my single.”

“It’s called giving it flavour,” Calum said through the microphone.

Y/N just responded by sticking her tongue out.

Michael lifted his fingers, counting down from five to one, giving her the cue to start.

“Are we gonna have a problem?” Y/N cocked her head to the side, already immersed in the character of Heather Chandler. “You’ve got a bone to pick? You’ve come so far, why now are you pulling on my dick?”

Harry swallowed hard.

“I’d normally slap your face off, and everyone here could watch,” she slightly motioned with her head to the audience behind the screen, a mockingly sweet smile on her lips. “But I’m feeling nice, here’s some advice, listen up biatch.”

When her hips started moving from side to side to the rhythm of the song, Harry swore he’d never found someone being mean (even though it was mock mean) so hot.

“I like,” Y/N raised her voice before dropping it. “Looking hot, buying stuff they cannot.”

There was no sight of the sweet and bubbly girl Harry had met. This was Queen-B of Westerberg High in flesh. He was transfixed.

“I like drinking hard, maxing dad’s credit card.”

She didn’t need anyone’s credit card to pay for her things, given how she was one of the top paid Broadway singers of their generation, and something in Harry skipped a beat at how confident she looked.

“I like skipping gym, scaring her, screwing him,” Y/N rolled the ‘r’ deeply in her throat, and he had to collect himself before his thoughts went to an unsavoury place.

“I like, killer clothes, kicking nerds in the nose!” With a smile, Y/N pointed at Luke who only rolled his eyes. “If you lack the balls, you can go play dolls, let yer mammy fix you a snack,” she emphasised the ‘K’ after having mockingly sung the bit before. “Or you could come smoke, pound some rum and coke, in ma Porche with the quarterback.”

As weird as it was to have the two boys be her fellow Heathers, Y/N hated to admit it did help her. It reminded her more of what it was like to be on stage before the pandemic had started and the production had to be shut down. And she missed them. All her fellow actors just as much as she missed the rush of getting on stage and losing herself in the role and atmosphere.

“You can join the team –“

“Or you can bitch and moan,” Y/N’s ‘Heathers’ sang in a nasally voice

“You can live the dream.”

“Or you can die alone.”

Harry snuck inside the recording booth, picking up a pair of headphones by the drum set.

“You can fly with eagles,”

“Or if you’d prefer,”

“Keep on testing me,”

“And end up like her!”

And that’s when Harry joined in, reciting the lines of both Veronica and Martha, and when he saw Y/N keeping a palm over her mouth as she tried to keep a mean face while inevitably hiding a smile. The whole of the song, despite how Ashton, Luke and Harry had tried to make Y/N break character (she came close a couple of times), the woman stayed on the line, not missing a beat, and especially enjoying the moment where she looked at Luke, who was about to hit the high note and screaming ‘shut up, Heather!’

Harry couldn’t help the smile splitting apart his face. When Luke had first picked up his call, having known he and the gang were somewhere in the Utah region, he had thought he’d be living with just the guys, and when he found out it was actually Y/N Y/L/N renting the cabin, the girl he’d admired for so long for how brave and utterly unapologetic she was of being herself, Harry had just thought he’d gain a new friend, not have romantic feelings spring up.

And all of it had happened in the span of two days, not even that much. He’d arrived the evening before, had met the woman, and now it was three PM on day two and was already in love.

It was an exhilarating and terrifying feeling all at once. Some studies said it takes men eight seconds to fall in love, which Harry now could pretty much confirm, while it takes women generally fifteen days to fall in love. And he could only hope Y/N might have some feelings for him as well, otherwise, he’d have to scold his heart for falling quickly once again.

***

It was the middle of the night, wind slamming against the windows when Harry got awoken by people talking behind his door. At first, he was ready to fight, thinking immediately that intruders had come into the house, but when he heard a ‘fuck off Michael’ and a ‘you fuck off, you’re gonna ruin this’, he understood everything was fine. And he was just about to lay back down on the soft pillows, but as the saying went – curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, so he threw off the covers and lightly went to the door, where a bleary Harry appeared on the stairs making Y/N and Michael whip their heads towards him and freeze on the spot.

“What are you two do-“ but he didn’t get to finish the question as the two co-conspirators shushed him.

“You’re either in,” Y/N whispered harshly, “or out. Choose Styles.”

A beat. “What kind of trouble’re we getting’ into?”

The smile which spread on her face was nothing short of wicked. “Revenge,” Y/N hissed.

“Be quieter than a mouse,” she whispered to him, and now the trio moved downstairs.

“Who are we getting revenge on?” Harry spoke as quietly as he could, as they rounded the corner and exited the cabin through the back door. It was colder than he thought, seeing how the wind wasn’t warm at all, and he was grateful he’d fallen asleep in his favourite rainbow cardigan. How Y/N and Michael didn’t even shiver in their barely-there pyjamas he didn’t understand.

“See, Luke here thought it was a good idea to not heed my warning about not messing with my recording.”

Harry’s eyebrows scrunched up. “He didn’t.” He knew Luke hadn’t, he was there the whole time and listened back to what they’d sung with everyone together.

“No, but he did rename a different file with the same name I had for the 'Heathers'' recording, on MY computer, mind you. And well, let’s just say, it was not what anyone wanted to hear.”

Harry had to swallow, as his mind went to unsavoury places, and as Y/N shimmied open the lock of the window to the studio bathroom part of the house, she looked over her shoulder to see his expression. It would seem, despite him being in ‘Dunkirk’ and having been confirmed to play Eric in the live-action ‘The Little Mermaid’ he wasn’t as good of an actor as he thought.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” she snickered and pulled herself inside the house through the window, Michael handing her a black duffle bag Harry hadn’t first noticed. “It was a conversation I had with my friends while we were all drunk. Some tea, some very personal tea was spilt, and so.” She unzipped the bag slowly and took out a whipped cream can. “I’m going to spill something else.”

Canned cheese was one of the most disgusting things ever created by a human in Y/N’s opinion. So, squeezing nine cans worth of the stuff inside all of Luke’s socks, jean pockets and everywhere else possible was good enough revenge for her.

“Why are we in the studio though?” Harry asked as the trio crept towards the bathroom door and peeked through the open sliver. It was pitch black.

“Because Luke teds to forget his favourite things here,” Michael explained and motioned for them to follow as he checked that the hallway was clear. It was go-time.

Together they all snuck back inside the recording studio, and much like Michael had said – Luke’s favourite jean jacket, a woollen jumper, three pairs of boots and shoes were all scattered around the place. He hadn’t even noticed it while they’d hung out there, but now Harry understood what Y/N was talking about while whining about the boys being messy.

She uncapped the can and squeezed, the artificial smell of cheese wafting through the air, making her almost gag. “That’s for being a bad friend,” she muttered while filling up one shoe. “That’s for making bad jokes.” She filled up another. “And that’s for saying ‘Dancing in the Moonlight’ is an overrated song.’

It was hard for Harry to contain the giggles, as he uncapped his own can and started filling up wherever Y/N pointed to. Did he feel bad? Sure. But was it fun to feel like a teenager in a university dorm during a prank war? Abso-fucking-lutely. And it didn’t help that he was desperately falling in love with Y/N with every second they spent together. Like she could’ve asked him to hide Luke’s corpse, and he’d say he’d take the blame for the murder if it came to it.

“Why did we have to sneak around the place like that?” he suddenly asked, brows furrowing in concentration as he squeezed the smelly contents inside the inside pocket of the jacket. “Why couldn’t we have just walked through the house?”

“Because Luke always and I mean always comes to the studio at 3 AM,” Y/N stated.

Harry looked at the clock. It was 2:45 AM already.

“But before that, he goes into the kitchen, makes himself a double espresso, a sandwich and eats it before going into the storage where we keep all of the instruments, which is where he is in right now. Had we snuck through the normal way, he would’ve seen us and stopped this. And that just wouldn’t fly.”

However, it was like Luke had a sixth sense as right at that moment the light flipped on, and like deer in headlights, the trio’s heads shot up and eyes widened.

“What the fuck!” he whispered hand extended in the direction of the already six empty cans on the floor.

Y/N snapped out of the adrenaline induced frozen state and shrugged. “I told you not to mess with the recording.” She put her finger back on the squeezable part. “And you. Didn’t. Listen.”

The cheese squirted out with a splutter, and all of them stood still as the final bits dropped into Luke’s black boot. “And that’s payback.”

With a sway in her hips, Y/N exited the room, leaving the three men to gawk after her.

God was she a hurricane, Harry thought to himself. And he’d never been as happy to be caught right in the eye of it all.

***

The next few days all of them spent lounging around the house, recording a few songs, most of them by Harry seeing as a huge wave of inspiration had hit him, making him write more than one love song. He even asked Y/N somewhat shyly if she could do some of the backing vocals, and he swore the song went from a 3 to a 100 the second he heard her voice weave his lyrics into a symphony.

By that point, they’d been quarantining for a week and a half together, and a heatwave was coming up. The cabin had both an inside and outside pool which they’d all had to learn how to maintain, seeing as no one could come and do it for them, and a jacuzzi tub on the terrace. As much as the boys tried to prove they knew how to keep the places clean, ultimately it was Y/N who saved all of them from chlorine poisoning and algae overgrowth.

So, it was right when she pulled out the pH indicator and said it was good for use when with a scream, Luke rushed forward Y/N, rugby tackling her by the waist and plunged both of them down to the water below.

“You asshole!” She splashed at him, laughing and choking out a bit of water as they resurfaced. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“That’s payback for the cheese.”

She went silent for a second, but then shrugged. “Can’t say I didn’t deserve it. But you did deserve the cheese.”

“So,” Luke extended his hand for a shake. “Do we call this even?”

Harry exited the cabin right as both of them completely soaked to the bone jumped out onto the wood floor. He stopped mid-walk if only to control where his eyes went seeing as Y/N’s white shirt clung to her body and well… didn’t leave much for the imagination anymore.

“Do I wanna know what happened here?” He raised a brow.

“Retribution.”

“Though I do gotta say, you have a funny way of getting revenge.” Y/N smirked at Luke, making him squint down at the girl.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she drawled out, a mischievous smile on her lips, “that when I filled your clothes with the cheese, my stuff didn’t get stinky. And yet, from your end… I’m not the only one wet.”

A beat passed.

“God fucking damn it.”

“Hey!” She pointed a finger at him. “We called a truce!”

Luke waved her off. “Yeah yeah, whatever,” but Y/N grabbed Luke’s hand right before he went inside and squeezed it.

“We good?”

He sighed and smiled. “We good, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, gave Harry a quick ‘see ya later’ as well and disappeared through the glass doors.

Harry didn’t know what’d happened to him. He’d always been a helpless romantic, falling in love, and maybe a bit too hard at that, but this time, even without Y/N knowing about his feelings, his heart felt safe.

Sure, the side of her he’d seen was a complete headcase, and she had more energy than a bull with a red flag in front of it, but the utter love exuding from the woman, even while she complained about her four, well five counting him, housemates was palpable in the air. The way she hugged and made sure everyone had whatever they needed, the way she let them know if anyone needed to have a chat, she’d be there to listen, and the small little things of how she always knew what preferences they’d have for their pancakes or breakfast in general, made his heart melt.

“Luke’s a lucky guy.” Harry swallowed before saying that. As much as seeing Y/N be affectionate with everyone, him included, made him feel all fuzzy, a little jealousy monster did bubble up in his stomach when he saw her snuggled next to the lead vocalist of the band. He didn’t have any right to, but no matter how much he tried to repress the green beast, it still lurked somewhere deep in his heart.

“Hm?” Y/N lifted her head where she’d been looking at the water as she squeezed it out of her shirt and up at Harry.

He motioned with his chin to where Luke had disappeared. “He’s a lucky guy to have someone like you.”

“Oh, we’re not together if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I –“ he stammered. “I didn’t mean to offend y-“

But Y/N waved him off. “You’re not the first nor probably the last person to say that. I get it. They asked me one time to surprise their fans at a concert in Connecticut, I think, and when their photographer sent over the pictures, I kinda saw what everyone kept saying, but I’ve never looked at any of them as more than a friend. Best friends, brothers maybe, but nothing more.”

“How’d ya get so close?” Harry enquired, his chest feeling a bit lighter.

Y/N huffed and plopped down to the ground, patting the place beside her which Harry took. “When I first went solo, right after being on ‘Beetlejuice’ I was fucking terrified. Didn’t really know anyone in the music industry like that. Being on Broadway’s different.” She shrugged. “And the award shows are different as well. Like with ‘Tony’s’ or ‘Oliver’ awards it’s you know – musical and theatre geeks. My people. But the first time I went to VMAs I almost shat myself.” She chuckled, and Harry did the same. “Didn’t know anyone at all, was petrified to even find my seat because someone told me I’d have to sit between Lady Gaga and Rihanna, and my heart was not ready for that. Ashton saw me at the edge of the carpet, creeping around the entrance and kinda…” Y/N bit her lip looking for the right words. “I dunno. They kinda took me under their wing, in a sense – if you need a friend in the industry, we’re here, that sort of thing. And ever since then, we’ve been best friends. Luke and I just got the closest because we got stuck in an elevator once for like eight hours once, and well, boredom and thinking you’re gonna die in a four by four-foot box brings people closer.”

Harry almost choked. “Eight hours?”

“Yep.” Y/N popped the ‘p’ and gave him a sarcastic smile. “It was like soooo much fun,” she said sarcastically. “I totally didn’t think the elevator was about to drop from where we were up on like the sixtieth floor, and both of us were gonna get our bones smashed to pieces, and I only had two protein bars, and you know how I get without food,” she stated. He nodded.

“Cranky.”

“Exactly. But.” Y/N chuckled. “We didn’t die. Which’s great, not complaining, and I gained one of my all-time best friends.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t die.” Harry gave her a warm smile and nudged her foot with his. “Wouldn’t have gotten the chance to meet you otherwise.”

She nudged his foot back. “ ‘M glad I didn’t die either. And I gotta say – you’ve made this whole quarantine bearable. Sometimes it’s like fighting with four toddlers, and that’s always a futile battle. Happy to have another wrangler with me. Also an accessory to my crimes.”

He inched his hand towards hers, and when Y/N didn’t pull away instead liked her pinkie with his, a warm feeling rushed through him.

“Happy to be of help.”

***

It was two nights later or full two weeks since the six of them had been together when things took a turn.

Y/N’d always been a light sleeper, especially when her life was mainly placed in New York, but now, living in the middle of nowhere, she’d been able to catch up on some sleep. That was when the sound of her door being opened made Y/N shot up in her bed, sheets clutched at her chest in a panic. “What? What’s wrong? What did Calum set on fire?”

“Nothing.” Harry’s eyebrows scrunched up, but he decided not to ask. There was the morning for that. “This might seem weird, but could I uh could I possibly sleep in your room?”

She blinked a couple of times, because her brain was still processing his words and if they were even English, but once they registered, Y/N nodded, pulling back her blanket and scooting over. “C’mere.”

“Again, I’m sorr-“

Y/N shushed him, as Harry climbed in the bed, placing the duvet underneath his arm and twisting to see her, as she mumbled, “less talk, more sleep.”

He hummed in agreement. His eyes were heavy, in fact, they’d become heavy the instant his head had hit Y/N’s pillow, but it was like his heart, the same poor heart that’d had to deal with the newfound emotions for the whole time he’d been there, the same poor heart that didn’t know better and always gave itself away to the person it deemed to be worthy, no matter if in the end it ended up broken, took over the control of his eyes and mouth, and while slamming against Harry’s ribcage, he whispered his confession.

“I really like you… As more than a friend.”

A second passed. He felt Y/N stir as she turned towards him, brow furrowed. “Sorry?”

“I said…” He let out a shaky exhale. “I like you. I fell for you pretty much the second I entered the house and you threatened to throw me out because I was a guy. And then I fell for you when I saw you let loose in the studio. And then once more when I witnessed what your wrath entails.”

Y/N chuckled. “Cheese.”

“Yeah…” He let out a little laugh. “Cheese.”

A gentle palm went to brush away the hair stuck to Y/N’s face and he swore he could just melt as she leaned into his touch. “And then I fell for you when you said yes to singing my song… when you sang the lyrics, I dedicated to you… and every second I fall for you even more… I just… I thought you should know…”

“Well, I can only hope that you’ll take this as a compliment then, when I say I kinda like you too, Styles,” she mumbled snuggling deeper into her pillow. “Though I didn’t think I was your type.”

“What’s my type then?” he mumbled back, letting his arms wrap around Y/N’s waist when she shuffled closer. Not only was he now fully in heaven because he was covered by the softest duvet in the world, head resting against a literal cloud, but also because his nostrils were invaded by the gentlest of smells, and the body against his was the warmest of comforts.

“Well, not girls like me.”

“You mean talented, beyond funny and absolutely breath-taking?”

“Introverted, house hermits who don’t wash their hair unless they have to go somewhere with a perchance of self-destructive behaviour. Unintentional that is.”

Harry’s eyebrows lifted. “Would’ve never taken you for an introvert.”

“Mmmh,” Y/N sighed, feeling his fingers skim her skin. “That’s because I’ve known those guys for years, and they’re like my brothers. Couldn’t be uncomfortable even if I tried with them. We’ve seen too much of each other. But I’m definitely an introvert. Almost had a panic attack the first time I had to make my own doctor’s appointment.”

“You didn’t seem shy with me.”

“That’s because for some weird reason I… I didn’t feel awkward around you. And I mean, you did bring wine.”

She could feel Harry’s chest rumble as he laughed. “Well, I hope it helped with inspiration.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she huffed, but opened her bleary eyes and were met by Harry’s green already staring back. She couldn’t contain the giggle, and it only grew in power as he chuckled himself, making her bury her head in his chest.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head. “Just never thought I’d date someone from 1D.”

“Are we below you or something?” There was no trace of malice and hurt in his voice. He knew Y/N wasn’t like that.

“No, ‘s just my boy band phase was ‘Good Charlotte’, ‘Panic at the D!sco,’ ‘My Chem’ and the sort.”

“So, you weren’t fainting while listening to ‘You Don’t Know You’re Beautiful’?” Harry mumbled in Y/N’s hair, sleep slowly overtaking him.

She shook her head. “Sorry, no. Panties definitely weren’t dropping then.”

“Are they now?”

“According to ‘Watermelon Sugar’ you’re the one pulling all of ‘em off.”

“Damn. Guess it’ll have to be my new challenge.”

Y/N’s eyebrows scrunched up as she looked at him before promptly falling asleep. “Making my panties drop?”

“Yep. But this time because of me, not Gerard Way.”

“Bold of you to assume it was just Gerard Way. I’m a slut for all of those wizard dads.”

By the time she slurred out the last sentence both of them had drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

***

“They were right!” Harry shouted jumping up in the bed, startling Y/N awake once more as if something was breaking down on their heads with how urgently he jolted. “It does take women two weeks to fall in love and men 8 seconds.”

A pillow met his face. “Fall back asleep.”

He leaned over her still horizontal form, a smug smile on his face. “Are you gonna make a TikTok about it?”

“Probably ‘bout how I murdered the boyfriend I was with for three hours if he doesn’t let me sleep.”

He didn’t argue. With a smile on his face, Harry drifted off once more. Who knew that getting stuck in a hotel somewhere in Utah would lead him to the love of his life?

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: So... I know I’ve been gone for quite a while, but that’s because I have a job now (I’m trying to get a different one that actually would involve my degree, because this one is absolutely killing me), so please be understanding with the spare posting. I still love writing fics, and as evident, I’m kina branching out into other fandoms :D

There’s a lot of things going on in my life, so if you wanna follow me you can do that on Instagram @dinnusa or @read_with_dee or on my blog dinnusa.wordpress.com :) I also have a TikTok @dinmasters

P.S. feedback is always appreciated :)

P.S.S. If you wanna be tagged please drop a message :) or if you want to be removed/ changed to a different tag list please also message me :)

388 notes · View notes

hey-there-juliet · 3 years

Text

Random Drabble Day (2/23)

Summary: First off, let me just say that this is more like a one-shot than a drabble because I'm a wordy bitch and I cannot control myself 😅

That said, I always had a hard time imagining Julie writing some of the Perfect Harmony's lyrics about herself, so I thought why not make this just another song that Luke and Julie wrote together? This is set somewhere between Finally Free and Edge of Great, in that week when Ray was stress-eating. This is supposed to fit back into the show at the end, so it might seem like a cliffhanger, but it's not.

Quick shout out to @jamestkirkish for betaing this for me! I love you and you are amazing! Any remaining mistakes are my own. And to the fabulous Sloan, for helping me out with Luke's handwriting! Enjoy 🧡

Fandom: Julie and the Phantoms

Relationship: Juke 💜

in the great scheme of life and ghosts

No matter how many times Luke insisted that she had been snooping through his things, Julie knew for a fact that she had done no such thing. In reality, she had simply been cleaning the studio when she came across it.

For three ghosts who didn't eat and could barely even touch anything most of the time, the boys sure knew how to make a mess. Every morning Julie would walk into the studio to find the chairs or coffee table rearranged, at least one of the rugs was always askew, and the clothes... the clothes were everywhere, and the worst part was: they reeked.

And so every morning before leaving for school Julie would shoot them a stern look and tell them to pick up after themselves. Which they did - when she got back home, things were mostly in their rightful place. Still, every weekend Julie would make sure to take a moment away from homework and rehearsal to tidy the place up to perfection, just like her mom liked it. She'd dust off the furniture, water the plants, sweep the floor, and even vacuum the whole place. One Saturday when she was home alone (her dad photographing a wedding, and Carlos at a friend's house), she even went through the trouble of washing all of the guys' old clothes.

Somehow, and she didn't even want to think about how that worked, the clothes didn't stink when they were actually wearing them, but at any other moment when they made no contact with their skin? Yeah... not good. So she washed them all (three times, using every trick and product she had). She washed them a fourth time for good measure and, by the time she was finished, any traces of twenty-five year old mold was gone, and so was the smell.

So no, she was not snooping - no matter what Luke said - when she came across the crumpled paper ball between the couch and the low cabinet, just behind a big vase her mom had gotten from tía Victoria.

Julie sighed, making a mental note to tell Luke to put his discarded ideas in the bin (again) if he didn't want them anymore, when one scribbled and wrinkled word caught her attention: Perfect Ha-

She bit her lip, staring down at the teasing word. Perfect what? Was it lyrics? Maybe half formed ideas? Doodles? Julie knew Luke liked to doodle in the margins of his notebook whenever he got stuck trying to come up with the next best piece of lyric or melody. She also knew she should probably just leave it alone, put it with his stuff to ask him later if he wanted to keep it, or put it in the garbage. Except the more she glanced down at that damn word, the stronger she felt it pull her towards uncovering whatever else the crumpled paper ball was hiding.

In the end, the pull was too strong. She'd just take a quick look, make sure it wasn't anything important before she threw it away. And, she reasoned with herself, trying to squish the guilt that was making itself known in the pit of her stomach: Luke had gotten rid of it, so he clearly didn't care much for whatever was in there.

Not able to resist any longer, Julie carefully unfolded the paper, slowly making her way towards the piano and using its surface as a table to help smooth the page over.

Luke's (horrendous) handwriting covered it with the bare bones of a song, random lines were scribbled in the margins with a couple of doodles for company, and even a little note from their bassist - ‘Reggie was here ;)’.

It took her a minute before the chicken scratches became words, and then Julie's breath left her in a rush, as the guilty feeling in her stomach turned into butterflies and flew away with her imagination.

It was a song, parts of one, anyway, and - more importantly - it was a love song.

Unprompted, her own words came back to her, "Wow, Luke! I didn't know you were such a romantic." Quickly followed by Alex's short reply, "He's not."

She knew now who Unsaid Emily was really about, but these new words were clearly about a different kind of love. The romantic kind, and Julie couldn't help letting herself believe - just for a moment - that the song might be about her.

Before she could let herself be carried away in a daydream, there was a - now familiar - shift in the air, a sound almost like static, the only thing letting her know of a ghost's appearance. Without a thought, she crumpled the page again and shoved the paper ball in her pocket for later inspection.

"Hey, Julie!" Reggie's cheerful greeting sounded across the studio from where he had poofed in, and soon - with his "help," bless him - Julie was finished with her weekend clean up.

As if summoned by the end of her chores, Luke poofed in, ready to rehearse. Alex soon followed; and by the time Julie retired for the night, the song had been almost forgotten where it hid inside her pocket.

Almost.

***

After getting ready for the night, Julie settled on her bed with the wrinkled page and her dreambox. She read over the words again and again, imagining they were about her.

Step into my world,

Bittersweet love story about a girl

Shook me to the core

Voice like an angel,

I've never heard before,

You and me together, it's more than chemistry

Love me as I am

I hold your music

Here inside my hands

You are my brightest burning star

We create Perfect Harmony.

And unless Luke had been singing with another girl, there didn't seem to be many options on who it could be about, right?

From the beginning, Julie had felt something connecting her to him; to all of them, in different ways. But Luke had been the one to give her a little piece of his soul right after meeting her when he let her use Bright to earn back her spot in the music program. Seeing his passion reflecting back on her, the way he treated music like she used to, made her miss it more than anything for the first time in almost a year. It made her miss the way it felt to use music to connect with her mom.

After they spent a whole weekend finishing each other's songs and working on new ones, getting to know each other's inner workings - the part of them that bled out feelings into paper to create beautiful melodies, Julie knew she was a goner. Finding out he'd been the one to write the words that shaped her taste in rock certainly didn't help. Like he'd been helping her find her way to music long before they even met.

Her crush on him had been inevitable from the start, and while falling for him was probably one of the worst things she could’ve done, it was too late to stop it. She'd been free falling for a while, and hopefully she'd land in his arms soon enough. Reading over his words again gave Julie a warm fluttering in her stomach that made her think he was more than ready to catch her once she reached the ground.

Carefully folding the piece of paper, she put it inside her dreambox, then placed the box back on the shelf.

***

The following week went by without any hiccups. Every once in a while, Julie would remember Luke's song and a familiar warmth would fill her up, leaving a soft smile on her lips and glazed eyes staring off at nothing. Just as often, Flynn would have to shake her out of her daydreams.

She didn't think much would come of it until her dad decided to throw the band a party so he could film them and post their video on YouTube. Which was fine. Amazing, even. It was most certainly great! Until Luke came to the school, staring at her with his stupid, beautiful, awed eyes, and with his soft, perfect smile, saying things that made her combust and melt, all at the same time.

"I think you make me a better writer."

"I think we make each other better."

Calling Nick 'Luke' was bad enough, but slipping into a complete musical sequence as she danced with him? "Goner" didn't even begin to describe her.

Like the other times they'd written together, the lyrics flowed through her, finishing the song he'd started with the same ease as one would take a breath.

Julie knew that whatever was going on between her and Luke couldn't happen or, if it did, it couldn't last. In fact, in the great scheme of life and ghosts, she didn't know much, but what she did know was that - be it in life or in death - love was constant.

He didn't need to have a heartbeat or to be able to touch her for her to love him. He was just as real to her as the next person, and whether it would hurt in the long run or not, it didn't matter.

She knew Flynn was only looking out for her, but that ship had sailed, and Julie was already so lost in his ocean eyes that avoiding eye contact wasn't going to bring it back. She would entertain her though, even knowing it wouldn't work. Just like the tide, eventually he'd pull her right back in.

She could love him just as he was, for however long they had together, and especially after that.

End notes: I hope you guys enjoyed it! And, if you'll notice, at the beginning it kind of gives off the impression that Luke eventually finds out about the song and Julie tells him how she found it. Which may or may not lead you to believe that they're in a relationship. I guess it all depends on interpretation though ;)

Oh, also! Shout out to the chaos squad folks that guessed right! You guys are no fun :( /j lmao

#RDD #23 by 23 challenge #fanfic #mine #jatp #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #juke #jukebox #julie x luke #fic recs

51 notes · View notes

crowncorvidae · 3 years

Text

Lmao ok so this’ll probably be a long post but here’s all the songs I think everyone from each of the nine house would listen to from my Spotify library

((also feel free to judge my music taste))

Ninth house

Harrow- Okok so i have a lot to say about what music I think harrow listens to I think she’d like weird older gothic music cuz it’s kinda spooky kinda churchy kinda intense but so so good

Wytches - Inkubus Sukkubus

Gideon- you can’t tell me Nav wouldn’t fucking love like classic rock ,I’m genuinely sad she’ll never listen to things like Joan Jett, Heart, Pat Benatar. So I’ll give her 2

Bad reputation- Joan Jett & the Blackhearts

Heartbreaker - Pat Benatar

Eight house

Silas - I genuinely think mayo uncles music taste is similar to harrows but in a different way

Stigmata Martyr - Bauhaus

Colum - lmao ok I honestly don’t think he likes music, like I can’t find a song on my Spotify I think he’d sit down and enjoy, he probably just second hand listens to Silas music and doesn’t enjoy it

Seventh house ((htn tho cuz I say so))

Dulcie- Miss “horny for revenge” LIVES for Florence + the machine, just enough kick ass + a lil romancey vibe but in a dope witchy way

Cosmic love - Florence + the machine

Protesilaus-I personally like to think he listens to like “tough” dad music

Fortune son- Creedence clearwater Revival

Sixth house

Palamedes - he’s chill he probably likes like chill but rad tunes but his Taste isn’t exactly “mainstream” liking smaller name bands or lesser popular songs from big name artists genuinely , he likes things like passion pit, the pixies and Portugal.the man

Basic space- The XX

Camilla- she likes bad bitch music and most of pals music also

Didn’t come to play- Dope saint Jude

Fifth house

Abigail- I think she likes Stevie nicks like I can just feel it in my bones, she likes the chill but sometimes odd vibes

Sisters of the moon- fleetwood mac

Magnus- ok y’all knew this was coming he like full on “dad” music but more on the like low key silly dad kinda way but it’s good music so no one can complain

Brown eyed girl- van Morrison

Fourth house

Isaac- the kiddos like the “new wave punk “ ish kinda edgy music but it’s so cool

The Phoenix - fall out boy

Jeannemary- she likes cool kinda punk music kinda just catchy and good jams hah no further questions ((she can have 2 as a treat))

Molotov girls- The Zolas

Cry baby - destroy boys

Third house

Coronabeth- she listens to baddie music only

Mans world- Marina

Ianthe- she also listens to baddie music but enjoys weird bands a little bit more, like Harley Poe, the mountain goats and will wood

Magpie- the mountain goats

Naberius- ok hot take I think it unironically likes stupid pop trash music, it started as a joke cuz the twins would play it around him but he started to actual like it, makes him feel like a bad bitch lmao I think he’d vibe w YUNGBLUD also

What are you waiting for- Gwen stefani

Anarchist- YUNGBLUD

Second house

Judith - she tough but I think she likes a little bit more chill tunes, music you can listen to and still think and enjoy

Be nice to me- the frontbottoms

Lone Ranger - Rachel platten

Marta- she even tougher but shes got good music taste, little more fast paced not aggressive music but more so then judiths

Survive- the moog

First house

((but I have less reasoning for them))

Mercymorn- her music is?? Interesting, it’s good and sounds good but there is something kinda strange about it but not super sure why?? I mean listen to the song it’s self explanatory

Scary world- night club

Augustine- he gives off a certain bastard energy that can only be described as cage the elephant, no I will not elaborate

Mess around- cage the elephant

John- similar to Augustine, he gives specific bastard energy BUT a different kind, his music reflects this

Teeth- 8 graves

Bonus

okokok more about harrowhark for a sec , we all joke she’d be into emo music like MCR BUT I think she’s actually more AFI circa 2003 in terms of “emo” music

Silver and cold-AFI

Ortus - I have no proof and no reason but I think he’d like most Mumford & sons songs

The cave- Mumford & sons

Nova- ok so I don’t think nova would listen to music at all BUT if she had to it would be like hardcore metal or the weirdest aggressive church gothic music possible

Dead souls - sopor aeternus & the ensemble of shadows

Livestream - veil of maya

Wake- Okokok not music I think she’d listen to BUT I have a song that’s vaguely her vibe and idk where else to put it so enjoy!

massacre -kim pertras

27 notes · View notes

jjyusmile · 3 years

Text

to feel free [social media au] - four

your converse shuffled lazily against the tile of your apartment hall, wrist clasped in juyeon’s palm as he dragged you toward your front door. drowsy, your eyes fluttered open and closed as your head lulled from side to side.

a low chuckle came from juyeon’s direction as you stopped in front of your apartment door. strands of hair had fallen over your eyes, softly blowing up toward your forehead wasnt enough to fend them off. delicate fingers grazed against your forehead to tuck your hair behind your ears; he didn’t miss the way his heart clenched as the sight of your eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

“I guess this is what I get for dragging you around the city all day,” he murmured, his fingers punching in your passcode into the keypad - 980115. you thought it would be funny to make it his birthday... something you’d never forget. a shy smile fell on his lips each time... someone you’d never forget.

once the door was open, you barged passed him dramatically to fall onto the sofa. your arms flailed above your head with an exasperated sigh; sinking lower into the plushness, you were interrupted by juyeon lifting your feet up so he could sit beneath you. your feet dropped into his lap and his thumb rubbed your ankle absentmindedly after taking off your shoes.

“what do you wanna do?” you hummed in response, sleep threatening to take you away from quality best friend time.

he shook your feet, playfully. he received a groan in response. “how about... we order... noodles?”

a bellow escape his chest as you shot up immediately at the sound of your best friend offering to get noodles delivered. his hand clutches his stomach as his head fell against the back of the sofa. it was certainly a sight for sore eyes.

“okay... how about you order and i’ll go take my make up off?” you grinned cheekily, a wave shot his way without giving him time to argue.

inspecting through the mirror, you rubbed the cleanser in small circles onto your face, humming along to the tune juyeon was playing from the living room. his favourite song that could only ever be sung loudly and obnoxiously.

and i just wanna be your favourite booooooy! I wanna be the one that makes your day, the one you think about as you lie awake~

his voice like velvet as his echoed through the apartment. even when he was joking around, his voice melted your fingertips as you continued to clean your face. his voice was getting closer-

let me tell you how it feels to be fucking great.. i feel greaaaaattt

his eyes crinkled in a smile as popped around the corner of the bathroom door. you only saw his reflection, but his carefree aura radiated as he leaned against the doorframe.

You better trust me when I tell you

There ain't no one else more beautiful in this damn world

he raised his eyebrow at you as you sang along~ you’re gonna wanna be my best friend, baby.

“you’ve never called me baby before,” he questioned, eyes glistening in the playful mood he was in. your face covered in fluffy suds still made his heart race in his chest.

“who said I was talking to you?” you quipped in response. a giggle escaping as his fingers came to tickle your sides. “juyeon! ahh- my eyes, there’s soap in my eyes!!”

he laughed dramatically, taking the damp cloth out of your hands to your face as he wiped your eyes. his hand cradled the back of your neck to keep you still, your pout never shifting.

a soft boop to your nose told you he was done. “i’m still your best friend, though.”

“i guess so,” you sighed, dramatically. leaning down, you pulled a face mask out of your cabinet drawer.

“ooh! i want one- give me one!!” beaming, he was like an puppy, like a golden retriever or samoyed... whichever one bounced the most when excited.

he was already taking the sheet mask out of the pack by the time you had found another. he took it out of your hands and placed it on the side. “face me.”

your eyebrow twitched into a questioning expression but you did as he said. a cooling sensation met your skin as his fingers delicately smoothed out the edges. the rose essence calmed your mood immediately while he traced your features with his fingertips, lightly brushing out the bubbles on the edges. an abrupt absence caused you to take a peak at him, to find him waiting expectantly with the pack already open.

he was at least 6 inches taller than you, your forehead just tall enough to reach his nose. with his eyes drifted closed, the mask went on smoothly; there was barely any need to brush out the edges. but you couldn’t help it. his honey skin was too inviting, even if your mind was screaming at you that you’re being weird. he didn’t seem to mind. his eyebrows relaxed under your touch as your finger brushed against his upper lip, lightly tracing his prominent cupid’s bow; you fought back the strange urge to blow on it as a pout formed against his lips. don’t be weird, it’s juyeon...

like he sensed your inner conflict, his eyes fluttered open and poured into your own. it felt like minutes had passed before you had the confidence to look away, afraid of admitting that the tiniest ball of mush had formed in the pit of your stomach. it couldn’t be that.

you reached into his back pocket to retrieve his phone, which now barely whispered a song you recognised by frank ocean. your finger print automatically unlocked it and you searched for the camera.

“smile!” your reflection posing in the mirror, a soft but genuine smile greeting your lips; juyeon turned his body slightly and shifted to move a bit closer to you. his fringe fell on top of the mask as he leaned over your shoulder to get closer to the camera. you on the other hand... it was like blood rushing to your head, you could barely hear anything except his breath that blew gently against your jawline. does he know he‘s doing that?

your finger hit the capture button a few times, juyeon’s head tilting closer to yours each time you took each picture. his nose rested by your jawline as a candid smile formed against his lips, it was unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

lowering the phone, your head turned slowly to get a closer look. you weren’t expecting juyeon to already be gazing down at you; so when he eyes immediately poured into yours, it was like your breath was stolen for a millisecond. it happened so quickly that you questioned its sincerity. luckily for you, the doorbell rang for the food delivery.

his eyes crinkling again, he lingered for a moment, just watching your expression shift from joy to an intense look of questioning before he pecked the small tip of your nose that peaked from under the mask and ran toward the door.

what was that?

________________

text?! helloooooo there~ something a little different but my favourite thing to do :’)

pairing: best friend!juyeon x reader

summary: what happens when your idea of soulmates is corrupted and the fear of losing your soul places walls around your heart?

warning: none

updates: every thursday and sunday at 6pm GMT (or sooner if I feel like it)

taglist: @yeolsbubbles @localjisung @cgv-kayy ✨

ch 4 | next

main post

#deobiwritersnet #tbznetwork #kpopscape #to feel free #to feel free au #the boyz #tbz #tbz fluff #the boyz fluff #the boyz au #the boyz scenario #tbz juyeon fluff #juyeon au #tbz juyeon #the boyz juyeon

84 notes · View notes

hesther-mcg · 3 years

Text

chained

➥ pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

➥ summary: the one where two people are chained to one another, hopelessly in love but every bit of wrong for one another

➥ rating: angst, song fic, biker!bucky au

➥ warnings: explicit language, mentions of toxic relationship

➥ a/n: happy valentines day! in the name of irony i’m going to post this today, bc i can. this has been rattling around in my noggin for a bit now and i actually rlly like this. i hope u do too. i highly recommend listening to the song while reading, its also available on spotify.

chained :: elle king ft. cameron neal chained marvel m. list

We can run away, but we can’t hide for long

And all that lingers harms us

She’d tried it—moving houses, running away from the problems she was used to, changing things. She’d already tried it, and it had worked beautifully at first. The high of being in a new place, a place all to themselves, it was wonderful. And it had brought out the man she had started to believe was gone, the man she’d loved for so many suns and so many moons; years of her life having been spent growing alongside him, and she felt nothing short of complete satisfaction.

“Thanks for running away with me,” she’d whispered to him in the late hours of the night, head rested on his bare chest and his calloused hand running up and down over the delicate skin of her back.

“I’ll go wherever you want me to, babe,” was his promise, spoken softly into the dark with a tenderness reserved for her heart and ears only.

But all good things came to an end, and her life had brought truth to that statement. Things settled, routines came back and everything that lingered became visible. The issues that remained, the unspoken anger and unresolved conflicts rearing their ugly heads once again. She’d tried to pack up her life and her love and run away, but she was learning that she couldn’t hide for long.

I can lie to you, but the truth comes alive

Every time I die saying goodbye

Everything was a slow progression, the honeymoon phase wearing off slowly but surely; the conflicts creeping in where they weren’t welcomed. Again, everything was fine at first, they seemed to move as a team and it filled her heart with a warmth almost indescribable—they were so much of the same mind, in her eyes.

But then things drifted off course, the scales tipped in every which way except balanced—right where she wanted, and irritation grew to be the default when she saw his hands reach for the motorcycle keys. Betrayal became the default when she looked away from him and nodded her head, giving a flat and unconvincing ‘I’m okay,’ or ‘have fun.’ Hurt became the default when she bit her tongue until her mouth filled with the taste of crimson copper and her sobs shook her entire body, the sound of a roaring motorcycle engine filling the house.

She could lie, but he always knew. They had their problems, they battled through their conflicts, but they were still positive and negative forces magnetically pulling the other closer, two links in a chain stuck together for eternity.

Cause I don’t want to change

but I can’t stay this way

Love was a lot of things; sometimes she thought of it as something warm and familiar and safe, and other times she was convinced it was the chain that kept her around. She loved him, god damnit did she love James Barnes, but she knew that she was nearing her limit. Her heart could only take so much before she’d lose herself completely, and then she was done for beyond that point. Forever damaged; irreparable.

When Y/N thought about a life where she was on her own, miles upon miles away from the man she only wanted love and comfort from, her chest felt similar to how she imagined a sinkhole made the earth feel. The memories they shared, the laughs and the cries and the endless fun, it would forever haunt her if she were to leave—but one could argue that they already haunted her, already plagued her thoughts and dreams and every second she was breathing.

“What do you want?!” He’d screamed when she’d brought up her concerns, arms raised in the air and brows furrowed.

“Things can’t stay this way, James,” she’d stressed, fingers knotting her hair as they frantically ran through the strands.

And I don’t even mind staying chained, and thinking of you

Thinking of you

“What if I don’t wanna change?”

The breath had caught in her throat at his words, heart sinking to the pits of her stomach as her teary eyes bore into his, his figure blurry but radiating frustration.

“Then I’ll leave,” she threatened, the words burning her mouth as she spoke them. “I love you but I won’t let that stop me.”

But she always did—when he crawled into bed with slow movements and gentle hands, words soft, sweet, and oh so guilty. Apologies and false promises, admissions of love and sweet nothings, it mended her heart for the time being and she remained in the same place.

Is it up to me?

It’s always been up to you to find the peace we needed to

Strength had been dwindling, strength to fight for a relationship immersed in chaos. When things blew up, when the road grew rocky and dangerous and sometimes even lethal, it’d always been her to struggle putting the pieces back together. His words of affirmation and endless charm was the glue that only temporarily mended the cracks, but it was her will and her strive that got them there in the end.

Strength was dwindling, and she was starting to give up. “It’s always been up to me, James,” she’d told him, voice quiet, scratchy, and broken. “It’s always been me, but it’s on you now.”

He hadn’t responded, lips slightly parted as he took in the way that she didn’t even bother looking at him. He knew he’d been digging a grave, and he was starting to see that eventually he’d have to lie in it if he didn’t straighten up. The problems in their lives, in both him and her, they were deeply rooted and while she’d been trying to hack away at them, he’d only been watering them.

Is it said and done, is it carved in the stone?

How many days is it gonna take ‘til we get back home?

Most days, he did nothing but convince her that their fate was sealed—that their ultimate demise on the horizon and refused to move for anything. She’d tried and tried to tell herself that that wasn’t the truth, exalted all resources willing into existence the fact that they were meant to be—stuck together for the trials and tribulations that life undoubtedly bring them.

Things could change, and perhaps they would; nothing was said and done for them because only Y/N could write her story and only she could choose her ending.

But the harder she held on, the longer the path seemed to be. If what they had was a journey through struggle and strife, then the journey seemed years and years long—an endless battle to just make it through the days to even see the end of the road, and it more often than not left her wondering how long it would take before they would make it back home. How long would it be before they returned to where they started—sickeningly sweet, head over heels in love and willing to do anything under the sun for one another.

Cause I don’t want to change

But I can’t stay this way

If this was what growth was, then she wished someone had told her of how painful it was. It felt like scratchy throats from screaming matches, aching chests from nights spent clawing away at the burning skin, and so many more things that weren’t even worth listing. The point of it was that she was finally reaching the point where the door was opening, creaking slowly and revealing the outside world where she could escape.

Y/N didn’t want to escape, but she was starting to see that maybe it was what she needed to do. At one point she had loved her life because he had made the sun shine brighter every day and the stars twinkle a little more each night, and while she longed for that version of James he was not anywhere in sight—and hadn’t been for a long time.

She knew she couldn’t stay this way, she knew it and felt like a complete idiot every time she saw her own reflection, but, much like the aforementioned growth, this change was just as painful. And pain was something she’d felt enough of.

And I don’t even mind staying chained, and thinking of you

Thinking of you

The doors had all been slammed, every single one had the unfortunate fate of being in the path of an angry James, and a few of them hadn’t survived and refused to close completely.

“Why do you want to leave so bad, huh? If you don’t wanna be here then just fucking leave!” The emotional torment was clear as day in his voice as he screamed to the top of his lungs, and it tore her heart to shreds.

“You know damn well why!” She’d shouted back, face beet red as her chest violently heaved. “I don’t fucking deserve this, Buck, and I’m sick and tired of it!” Her nerves buzzed under the surface of her skin and she could feel her pulse in her face, and the man before her only stared back with dark eyes.

“You won’t change,” she’d sobbed. “You won’t and you know it, and if you loved me you would.”

“Y/N—” he’d started, taking a step forward but she’d held her hands out, pushing herself against the wall to get further away.

“No.” Her words were shaky yet void of fear; actually, James could hear the grit that she’d developed after dealing with his shit for so long and he felt his chest cave in slightly. “You stay there and you listen to me.”

Will you wake me up? Will you shake me up?

Cause I’m losing my way in the game

The cracks and creases on her heart deepened greatly, and when they did so she felt every bit of it. The way his eyes bore into hers, as if he was searching her soul like he’d done so many times before, made her look away—for this time she couldn’t trust him to search with good intentions.

“I’ve tried for a long time to make this work, and you can’t tell me you don’t see it. You’re not stupid, James; don’t pretend to be.” She’d shook her head with her last statement, hair going every which way and tears almost filled his eyes because she was right. “But it wont work if something doesn’t give and I’ve given enough!”

He nodded lamely, because that’s all he could think to do. He knew she didn’t want his words, they didn’t matter right now.

“Are you even serious about this? About us? You know this isn’t a joke, this is MY life! It goes way beyond just you and your issues and your anger,” her arms waved around in the air. “James, I’m losing myself in this and you’re supposed to save me!”

The tears did fill his eyes then, stinging the blue orbs and causing him to blink rapidly. He felt like shit, and every bone in his body ached with guilt.

Even at our best, my love

Neither one of us was ever really good enough

The realization that some things truly weren’t meant to be, that some people really weren’t meant to be together, was a tough pill to swallow. Y/N felt herself choke on it multiple times throughout the years, but it was finally down and done with. She couldn’t say if they were never meant to meet, or just never meant to stay together, but either way she knew that they were a recipe for disaster.

Her chemicals and his mixed together didn’t make the love that lasted a lifetime, the kind that made it through the dark and the light of the rocky road through life. They made poison, a stunning and paralyzing formula of toxic traits and deep rooted issues. They weren’t a match; even at their best they were never compatible—just too blind and in love to see it.

“I don’t know why I can’t change, and I will always stay this way,” she sang softly, her heartbreak shining through under the bright lights of the stage in a bar miles and miles away from the man she loved. The band behind her kept up well, putting the raw emotion behind every beat and note that this song required, and for that she was grateful. It was a slight break in the constant dull that she felt, a break that she was beginning to believe she wouldn’t see in her lifetime.

“And I don’t even mind staying chained,” the drawl in her voice was nothing short of old soul and broken dreams, and it wouldn’t have fit in anywhere other than the rundown bar filled with folks of a similar kind. She’d worn heartache daily long before she walked away from that house, but now it never seemed to wipe off. It was never ending, and so was the thought of him. She truly was chained to him, and sometimes in the middle of tear filled nights she told herself that he was still chained to her as well. “And thinking of you.”

Thinking of you, thinking of you, thinking of you.

➥ send as ask to be added to the bucky tag list!

39 notes · View notes

dreadfutures · 3 years

Photo

And @crackinglamb who also tagged me!

I’ve had a really awful week but I’ve been slowly chipping away at this very important conversation between Ixchel and Solas. And I’d actually appreciate thoughts on this. I’ll just listen to whatever anyone has to say. This is long though so I’m going to put it under the cut.

Question: Specifically, I'm trying to navigate this complicated cause/effect and question of autonomy and individuality in their relationship, which happens to hold the weight of the apocalypse over both their heads in different ways. It is important that they both can operate as they wish, without fearing they will misstep and drive the other away

Ixchel definitely is one of the reasons Solas ultimately confronts some of his stubbornness/willful blindness, as his friend and someone he respects--it’s the way she lives her life and the way she hopes and fights and the world she believes in that ultimately makes him see more paths available than his din’an’shiral. It's not that she loves him or he loves her.

And he's aware that because of so many complications and questions about her resurrection, that she constantly feels like it might indeed be her love--and lovability--that’s holding back the apocalypse. And their relationship will never be equal and truly healthy until she stops carrying that burden. Somehow she needs to learn to trust that he has made his decision and will continue to make decisions based off of himself, and not her.

But also at the same time, he loves her, and she loves him, and they do help each other with like, reinforcing each other's hope, and reminding each other what they're fighting for, that the fight is worth it, and when the other one is tired, being able to prop them up and help them keep going as equals. There are the shadows of her own anxieties and depression that aren't entirely based in reality, but there are also these fears that are so deeply founded in reality. idk.

The Excerpt:

Ixchel and Solas finished bathing and washed their clothes—smiling like the foolish da'lenala neither of them had ever had the luxury to be. She was full of wine and laughter, and she knew that there would only be more waiting back in the Hold.

But as they dried off in the warm evening sun and she thought about the celebration of Hakkon's rebirth, her mind strayed to the name the Spirits of the Basin had given her, and what she had done to earn it. The shock and gratitude she had felt upon hearing herself called 'God-Song' had faded some, and now the chill of anxiety returned to the pit of her stomach. She shivered despite the golden light that surrounded them, and she felt Solas's attention shift from the sky down to her again. He did not speak, but she felt the question in his eyes on her bare back. "Vhenan," she began in a low voice, "should I… The Spirits called to Mythal through me. Was it her power that they summoned with that song? Or my own? Or theirs?" His grip around her waist tightened. "Do not be afraid," he said, but of course that solidified the cold tendrils of anxiety into hard, heavy dread in her gut. "The Spirits here are older than many," Solas said haltingly, "but they are still young. They remember only echoes of…'elf songs,' they call them. The echoes by themselves have power, even if the subjects of the songs cannot hear. That is the power of a prayer, spoken where the Veil is thin." He took a deep breath, and after a moment of consideration he sat up beside her. He rested one arm across his knees and began to trace idle patterns across her cursed forearm with the other. "I do not think she heard you." She stared across at his tense jaw, though his eyes remained on the horizon. "We summoned Flemeth at Mythal's altar in the Arbor Wilds, with a song," she whispered. He tilted his head slightly. "Did you not have the Well of Sorrows in your company?" "Ah." She gave a shuddering laugh as something, not quite relief, swept through her. "That's true." Solas responded with a shallow nod, but then, for a moment, his chest seemed filled with words. She waited, but he did not speak them before sighing again. "What is it?" she asked, and bit her lip. Solas slipped his arm around her waist to shift her closer, and then he sought out the Anchor. He spread her palm open, and with deliberate slowness, he dipped the pads of his fingers into the shining tear of magic her skin. It was as though he might slip through her hand and into the Fade that way. A vicious shudder wracked her frame; the penetration itself felt strange and dull, like a cramp, and yet the magic in her hand came to life with a hot flare. She could see the spirals of his orb across her skin, as she often could if she examined her palm closely, but now she could see the green tendrils of green rift magic as they wound their way up her wrist and her forearm. To her horror, it was clear that the Anchor had embedded itself almost halfway up to her elbow. She could feel Solas draw upon it with his concentration, and yet the reaching veins of the Anchor did not retreat. The damage had been done. Her fingers had curled around his instinctively, until the bones in his hand seemed to creak in protest. "I will not let them have you," he said. The finality with which he spoke made her feel as though he were not quite answering her question. Some other conversation had played out in his mind, and he had come to this answer. She did not know exactly whether he spoke of Flemeth and Mythal, or even perhaps the all-consuming power of the Anchor. She stared down at their joined hands, eyes burning, which was likely a sign that she was too exhausted to handle these conversations. When she heard and saw the resolve in him, she should have been able to stifle the part of her that remembered how he spoke to her of the din'an'shiral he must walk alone. She should not have immediately been afraid that the calculation he had done in his head was about his loyalties. It should have been a settled matter, and yet, still, it was not. Ixchel took a deep breath and tried to swallow that part of her. "I am more concerned about what she might do with you, Solas," she said truthfully. "How did I end up with Old God's spent soul within me? How did he come to possess it, when Mythal had taken it? Was he moving to the beat of her drum—knowingly, or not?" She saw the slightest twitch of his ear and knew that she had touched on a raw topic there, too. But this was a better topic, and one that was just as important for her to know the answer to. "If I have enticed you from the path that she wanted you on… Should I not be afraid, to stand against Mythal?" He turned his head abruptly, and she met his piercing gray eyes dead-on. After a moment's consideration, he reached around her to stroke her cheek gently with the backs of his knuckles. And she knew immediately that he had heard, beneath this line of questioning, the doubt that still ate at her. There was no challenge in his gaze, but the look with which he pinned her was not soft, either. "My loyalty is to our People above all else," he said, to make her heart seize in her chest. He continued in a measured voice that was heavy with blood and wine. "In Wycome. In Halamshiral. In Serault, and Minrathous, in Skyhold, and across the Veil… If Mythal indeed remains, she would not keep me from such a duty. For all the fearsome tales of the Witch of the Wilds, I cannot believe the All-Mother, if she truly remains, would undercut that work." She gripped his hand ever tighter. "And you… You are not afraid of Mythal," he said, a bitter note coloring his words. "You are afraid of walking your path alone. You are afraid that you cannot hold the Dread Wolf at bay with the strength of your love. And you cannot. You have not." His breath was hot across her face as he drew closer—not to kiss her, of course not, but rather as though he might impress upon her the full weight of his words with the strength in his silver eyes. "You are the Champion of the People. You have sworn, and I have believed." He squeezed her hand back, to emphasize his point. "For as long as you hold true to your purpose, you are my Champion, 'ma'lath, 'ma'av'in. But as you insisted, you chose yourself first. You gave yourself a name, decided its meaning." He brushed her hair behind her ear and then settled his hand firmly at the back of her neck, fingers tangled in her hair to hold her, ground her. He gave her the smallest shake. "Let me do the same." Ixchel swallowed. "Hope is a choice," she murmured. "Yes," he replied, "it is. So is trust." He kissed her gently then, and she tried to lose herself to it. The hand at the back of her neck slipped back to her ribs, to pull her close against his chest. She could feel his heart beat steadily beneath their skin, a steady, certain rhythm. She sighed into his mouth, and he hummed in response. "Ir abelas," she whispered as she broke away. They rested their foreheads together, eyes closed. "Do not be," he said, more gently than before. He raised their joined hands between them and traced the scar that ran down her chest, over her heart. "For all your stalwart strength, Ixchel, for all that you have reforged yourself from ruin, you cannot be blamed for fearing the one who shattered you. Especially when you have given him the very tools with which to shatter you again." Ixchel lost her breath as his words impacted her physically, and she opened her eyes to see that he had, too. For a moment, they were no longer silver—but rather they burned with the blue light of a god's power. That terrible gaze was focused on something deep within her chest…something that responded, and reflected his power back at him in painful resonance. "If there is one burden you can put down," he said, voice falling to a lilting whisper, "it is that you still carry the responsibility of the death of a world in your heart. Please… You must know it was not your failure." The magic in his eyes faded, and his lashes flicked up as he caught her staring at him. There were creases of grief at the corners of his eyes. "My mistakes will always be my own." The grief in his face might have seemed incongruent with the hard and heavy weight of his words, but she could feel how they hurt him as much as they hurt her. "I have told you that you have changed everything, but it was not your love for me, nor even my love for you, that has changed my course. It is the harm I have done to the world, the harm I know I might yet do, that stays my hand. Ane mala vasreëm." Perhaps it was the tears he saw well up in her eyes, or maybe it was simply his anxious mind trying to cut off any possible way he could hurt her more than he had already, but his own face was suddenly torn with pain and apology. "In saying this, I might seem to take away from your perceived victory—" "No," she said suddenly. "Solas, I do not need to believe it a war between us." She freed her hands from his so she could brush briefly at her eyes. "Thank you. I have only ever cared for your path as a friend... I love you, but--" she could not stem the flow of her tears, and she laughed at herself. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. He obliged and held her tightly; warm, smooth skin pressed against her rough constellation of scars, and she was enveloped in his smell, his warmth, his magic. She knew that she was safe in his embrace. And she knew that he was right. Perhaps she could have thwarted the Dread Wolf's plans, had she not killed herself. But he had chosen his path, chosen to excise his heart and give it to her, and she had been right to think that to carry it—to redeem it, to return it—was a futile task. Solas had never betrayed her. He had never promised anything. Cole was right: Solas was only ever his own. It was Solas who had watched her walk her path. Solas had chosen to follow, open-eyed. And ultimately, it would be Solas who chose to stay. Life is a story written by two hands, after all.

#wip wednesday #btv wip wednesday #btv #solavellan #concrit welcome

22 notes · View notes