#He spent the entire time trying to mirror things he saw Cell doing

[royalarchivist]

Pac: Take care of Ramon, take care of Richas, ok? See you on the other side, big boy.

Fit: [Laughs] Take it easy, big boy. Take it easy, big boy. Actually, nononono– You can't just say "big boy" and then just expect me to not drag you outta here. [Fit tries to lasso Pac] You're coming with me.

Pac: No, I need to leave!

Fit: You're coming with me. You are not dying today! You are not dying today!

Pac: I need to leave, Fit! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

Ironmouse: Are you guys like, having sexy time?

Fit: There's homosexual activity going on Mouse, don't worry about us, ok?

Ironmouse: You guys, we don't have time to be gay right now.

[ Full Transcript ↓ ]

-

Pac: I'm just here to say goodbye to you, Fit.

Fit: Goodbye? We're not– we're gonna be fine, we're going to get out of here, don't worry.

Aypierre: Yeah, don't worry!

Pac: I know, but like– I will sleep until the end, you know? I will pass through this moment sleeping, man. I won't be able to be awake for the moment.

Fit: [Laughs] You know, it's– I mean, if that's how you wanna go, but– I mean, that- I mean, isn't that bed kind of like.... I don't know, it's–

Pac: No no, I will be staying on the sofa, you know, I will be staying on the sofa.

Fit: Oh the sofa. Ok, that's a nice sofa! Yeah, that is a pretty nice sofa.

Pac: Yeah, it's a nice sofa right? No, yeah– I'm going to stay on the sofa, you know? So, since I will be going Fit... [Pac starts tossing Fit all his items]

Aypierre: [Not paying attention to their conversation] Is that bigger cell? I don't think it's a bigger- biggest one.

Fit: Oh... Thank you Pac, thank you.

Pac: Everything you need to survive, ok?

Fit: Wow.

Aypierre: Wow.

Pac: And if you need this one also, maybe, who knows? [Throws him more items]

Fit: Ohhh, well hey– just take this to remember me by, ok? [Tosses him a photo of himself – the same one Aypierre was carrying all day yesterday]

Pac: [Laughs] Ok, I will sleep holding the picture you know, like this. You know, I will dream about you, Fit. And I hope this is gonna be good dreams. I see you in the other side. Good luck, my friend.

Fit: The other side... Yeah, you know, yeah, we– we– you know? It's been an honor, Pac. It's been an honor, you know?

Pac: Yeah, for me too, you know? Take care of Ramon, take care of Richas, ok?

Fit: Ok.

Pac: See you on the other side, big boy.

Fit: I will sing your praise– Oh yeah, hey– [Laughs] Take it easy, big boy. Take it easy, big boy. Actually, nononono– You can't just say "big boy" and then just expect me to not drag you outta here. You're coming with me.

Pac: No, I need to leave!

Fit: You're coming with me. You are not dying today! You are not dying today!

Pac: I need to leave, Fit! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

Fit: Sorry, there's–

Pac: I'm sorry!

Ironmouse: Are you guys like, having sexy time?

Fit: There's homosexual activity going on Mouse, don't worry about us, ok?

Ironmouse: You guys, you guys– we don't have time to be gay right now, come on. There's no time.

Pac: No, there's no time! Oh, goodbye Fit...

Fit: Ok, c'mon, no no no, come on, we got this we got this!

Pac: Goodbye Fit, I'm sorry!

Fit: [Laughs] Oh no...

#Pactw #FitMC #Hideduo #FitPac #QSMP #QSMP Prison #January 22 2024 #So canonically how do you guys view this moment? #Did Pac just canonically conk out from stress? #Did he take sleeping pills on purpose to sleep through whatever awful thing was inevitably going to happen? #Curious to hear what other people think #I like to imagine the stress finally got to him #He spent the entire time trying to mirror things he saw Cell doing #and finally cried about it to Bagi #I can't blame him if he wants to sleep through the rest of it. Man's living in a place that's actively making him relive past trauma #Fit says he's carrying Pac in his backpack but I like to imagine that he just gave Pac a piggy back ride the entire way home :D #I imagined that for Purgatory too #it's cute #idk the whole idea of very traumatized characters being so comfortable around certain people #Idk the idea Pac feeling so safe around Fit #(despite being in a place that is actively stressing him out) #that he feels alright falling asleep and trusting him / Mike to protect him is sweet to me #Idk man I'm a big fan of the ''literal sleeping together'' trope #I love when characters take naps together it's so cute #esp when it's two traumatized characters with a lot of baggage / trust issues #It's nice #anyways I got way off topic with these tags LMAO sorry #I was gonna edit this down but I like the entire conversation so I'm leaving it as is #The YouTube editor living in my brain: Not great for viewer retension #Me: Shhhhhhhh I'm an Archivist. I can do whatever I want.

[lost-walmartbag]

Kenny x reader pt 3

Warning: Swearing

Background: Its the night after the party and it's clear Kenny thought more of last night

Status: Ongoing

Previous part

Next part

'Mistake'

The day after Clyde's party was dull. There was nowhere to really go but down when you had as much excitement as you did last night. As you walk into school with a raging hangover you look around seeing almost everyone the same way. People had sunglasses on and were clearly fighting a bad headache.

You walk over to your locker and open it up staring at yourself in the small mirror inside. You looked ok but it was clear you didn't get much sleep last night. It was hard to sleep last night. Thinking about Kenny sitting in a jail cell all night while you got to go home didn't feel right. That and the fact you were about to fuck your cheating ex in Clyde's bed.

"Hey babe~," Kenny said leaning against the locker next to yours. You closed your locker and turned to him.

For a second you forgot you were mad at him. You were just so happy to see he was ok. You pull him into a tight hug which he gladly takes as an opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist.

"Oh my god, you're here are you ok? What happened last night?" You asked pulling back and examining him to make sure he was ok.

"I missed you too,'ma." He said with a chuckle and keeping his arms firmly planted on your waist. "Spent the night in a cell, but they let me go this morning."

"And you're ok? Nothing happened?" You asked putting your hand on his cheek.

"I'm ok. Are you ok?" He asked looking down at you with a slight smirk. That smirk suddenly made you realize what position you were in.

You quickly try to pull away but Kenny' firm grip on your waist made it difficult. "Hey where you going 'ma?" He asked with a chuckle slowly letting go of his grip allowing you to pull free.

"Look I appreciate what you did. Really I do but.." You stared and looked away avoiding his eye contact.

"But you still think I cheated on you." Kenny finished for you. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Kenny I know what I saw." You say looking up at him. "You haven't explained a thing to me."

"There's nothing to explain it was just some random girl who's trying to hook up." He said gently grabbing your wrist.

"Its not just that Kenny...you.." You started and your breath hitched. "You hurt me...you didn't let go after I told you to stop."

"Y/N I..." Kenny said letting go of your wrist and moving closer to you.

"What happened last night was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened." You said with a sigh.

"Would you have done that with that guy if I didnt take you?" Kenny asked quietly.

"I..I don't know." You said shamefully looking away.

Those words stung. You hadn't felt ready to have sex with Kenny for your entire relationship. Those text really fucked everything up. The thought of you only letting him sleep with you because of how drunk you were made him sick. But the thought of you sleeping with someone else made him angry.

He didn't have a right to be upset but he was. He couldn't help being upset. He would have slept with you that night and that what hurts. He was going to ruin your first time together and you both would have enjoyed it.

"Y/N I never meant to hurt you. I'm so sorry. Just please let me-", He started reaching out for you again.

You flinch and take a step back. "No Kenny. I can't. I don't know if you would actually hurt me or not."

"Y/N I would never-" He said but you stopped him.

"I have to go Kenny." You say turning away from him and walking away.

Kenny watched you walk away from him. Fuck how does he fix this? Were you actually scared of him? He could feel himself getting angry at himself. You flinched, he made you flinch.

"I need a fucking drink," Kenny muttered and just walked out of the school.

A/N: Hey guys sorry I've been gone for a bit I've just been very tired. Like I have been sleepy all the time. So mb about the chapter being short. Anyway thanks for reading love you all 🩷🩷

#south park x reader #south park #fanfic #south park x you #x reader #kenny mccormick #kenny mcormick x reader #south park kenny

[delimeful]

you cant go back (3)

warnings: panic, miscommunication, trafficking, non-consensual drug use, suicidal thoughts, food, mentions of torture, cliffhanger, these tags make it sound worse than it is tbh  

-

When Virgil first opened his eyes, jerked out of sleep by sharp instinctual alarm, he’d thought for a moment that he was still dreaming.

It was the same face, after all, even with how frighteningly close it was, even with a vastly different expression painted across it. He’d been confused, almost relieved-- had they gotten away after all?-- and then he’d realized just what the Deathworlder had in their arms.

He’d lunged and come up short, forced to watch as the Human kept their arms locked around Patch even as the creature made unhappy little noises he’d never heard from it before. 

It was so small compared to the Human, easily tucked under an arm and managed regardless of protests. Did they have no respect for the deadly grace of the other creatures on this planet?

They’d circled him from a distance, ignoring his warning twitches and outright hisses as thoroughly as they ignored Patch, and all he could do was watch, locked in place, hoping that Human prey drive wasn’t as high as all the rumors said.

And then the Human had left, taking Patch with them, and Virgil had been left to watch their fading heat signature and pray to Seryl that whatever the Human did would be quick. For both of them.

It wasn’t that easy, of course. The Human wanted something from him, badly.

He thought he had a fair idea of what-- or rather, who-- it was.

After all, he’d seen a near-perfect mirror of them, sitting bound and muzzled in their transfer ship’s holding cell where a Human absolutely shouldn’t be. Leond and her Second had been unnaturally gleeful for rotations before Virgil finally found out about the ‘successful pickup’, namely through stumbling across it by doing the routine security and safety checks that he didn’t trust the rest of these idiots to do themselves.

They’d cut him off before he could get to a comm to tell Janus, cornered him in the tight cell block hall, and offered him a deal: his silence for a cut of the immense earnings they would make from renting out a Human to any and all fighting rings.

He remembered the way the Human’s gaze had flickered between him and the others curiously as he argued, the way they’d struggled to bare their teeth derisively at Leond, even through the bars of their muzzle and the haze of whatever they’d been drugged with. It was one of the last things he’d seen before he’d ‘made a fuss’ big enough that his own crew had tranq’d him and ditched him on-planet to die.

“You’re right,” Leond had said, face smooth in the way that meant smug satisfaction for her species. “We haven’t fulfilled our half of the exchange, have we? We took an alien from that planet, so it’s only fair that we leave one behind.”

His limbs had been defensively raised since the beginning of the argument, but Virgil had fought side by side with these people before. They knew how to guard his blind spots, which meant that they knew his blind spots.

The Human had tried to speak through the muzzle, just before he’d heard the discharge sound of a tranq gun too close to dodge. He thought it might have been an attempted warning.

It hadn’t changed anything. He’d been the only one on that ship who’d opposed the Human’s abduction, and as a reward, he was going to be slowly interrogated to death by one of their clutchmates. The level of cruel irony was like something from one of Jan’s stupid operas.

Virgil felt another shudder of exhaustion. Stars, he hoped Janus would get out of there once he realized what they’d brought back. His best friend knew better than to fuck with Humans, and the crew clearly wasn’t going to listen to any interplanetary ethics lectures, so the best thing he could do was skip town. Better to rebuild than fall with the nest.

He hadn’t slept after the Human had left, flipping to his heat sensor vision and watching all night for their return, unable to relax after one of the most unpleasant awakenings of his life. And if it meant he didn’t dream about what could have happened to Patches, all the better.

The next day had come, and the Human returned, wielding that dull stick and asking more angry questions that Virgil couldn’t understand, let alone respond to.

The thing was, given enough time and exposure, he actually would be able to understand the specifics of what was wanted from him.

Like most long-term interstellar travelers, he had a Lator implant, and the more the Human talked at him, the more linguistic patterns and trends would be picked up and catalogued, making it much easier for him to put the pieces together.

Unfortunately, time wasn’t something he had an excess of.

Janus would have figured out at least the basics by now; in addition to being better with words, he’d gotten a more recent, effective upgrade to the implant’s software. Virgil had turned the offer down for himself, knowing that they needed to save money where they could, and figuring that he didn’t really need it. His job was to defend Janus. His First could handle the talking part of their missions on his own with ease, the chatterbox that he was.

It had seemed obvious at the time. A lot of good that logic was doing him now.

The Human said something at him, flashing his bone-white teeth as he spoke. Humans didn’t have guard plates over their mouths at all, and so every time this one turned to him, he felt as though they were either acting sickeningly overfamiliar or that they might lunge forward and try to bite him at any moment. He’d carefully kept his own plates locked, not willing to expose any teeth and have it mistaken for a challenge.

The Human was waiting expectantly. Virgil took a deep breath and replied, the same as he had every time he could, though he doubted Humans had access to translator implants.

“I am not here to harm anyone. I was abandoned here against my will. I can’t understand what you’re saying,” he recited in Guard-tongue, keeping the sentences brief and repetitive for easy translation pattern recognition.

The Human wasn’t extending him the same courtesy, his own sentences long-winded and full of unfamiliar concepts that kept tripping up the Lator programming. References, probably.

There was one Human word that he’d figured out fairly early on: Brother.

Clutchmate, family, the lookalike that was probably long gone by now.

He was almost glad that he couldn’t speak coherently. As it was, he didn’t have to be the one to break the news.

Almost, because the Human was stubbornly finding new and creative ways to freak him the hell out with each visit.

First, they’d figured out fairly quickly that he was slowly starving.

Virgil had flooded his plates right to pitch on their first meeting, and hadn’t been calm enough to stop the defensive reaction since, which had quickly drained what little hydration stores he’d had left. Between the drying out of his plates and the fact that he’d gotten too worked up and blacked out for a moment during an interrogation, his fading health wasn’t exactly subtle.

He’d panicked, because any enemy knowing his weakness was generally pretty fucking bad, let alone an enemy with personal motive and ability to twist that weakness like a knife in the spine.

The Human had verbally freaked out (a regular occurrence) and vanished for a while, before returning to the barn with an entire array of items (not a regular occurrence). They’d set the items out on flat fiber ‘plates’ and then slid them into range with that stupid stick.

Virgil had stabbed a few of them on principle before realizing that this was food, aided by the Human rolling his eyes pointedly-- a derisive gesture, he’d gathered-- and eating something from a plate of their own.

At that point, Virgil had been willing to risk poison. The way he saw it, he either died, or he ate something, and either way it meant stopping the slow, aching pain eating away at the pit of his stomach.

He’d even been willing to tolerate the Human staring at him, since apparently they didn’t have the manners to not watch a stranger eat. Or that wasn’t a thing on this planet. It didn’t really matter.

After a significant amount of time spent using his auxiliary limbs to delicately maneuver Human produce and meats into inspection range, he settled for what smelled the least concerning, avoiding any that smelled or looked too bright to be safe.

(The scrunched-up look the Human had given him after he’d crunched an egg in his throat had been hard to interpret, though.)

Anything he could safely ingest, he’d eaten. After the Human left, he’d even attempted the indignity of trying to lift the bowl of water in range with wobbly limbs, though he’d almost immediately spilled the majority of it all over himself. It didn’t matter, he could pull any and all hydration from what he’d eaten, though he didn’t dare get used to it.

This wasn’t his first time above the nest, and he hadn’t fooled himself into believing that this shocking show of generosity would last. The Human had only done it to make sure that their hostage wouldn’t keel over.

Starvation and dehydration were more-than-effective methods of hands-off torture, after all, and the Human really only needed to give him enough to keep him alive.

The impending mistreatment shouldn’t have shaken him as much as it did. He had the advantage of the Human’s ignorance on how much Chelcerae ate, and his own resilience, developed from years of scraping by on the barest of rations. He was lucky, really, to be one of the species with a water-storing organ.

Still, he spent the night wondering if it was worth it to keep fighting. There was no escape, so wouldn’t it be better to go out on his own terms, before anything truly horrendous could happen to him?

Probably. The real question was: would he have the fortitude to turn down food all the way to a slow and painful death-via-starvation?

He wasn’t sure, and he continued to be resentful of the fact that he even had to make such a choice all the way up until the next day, when the Human walked in with a plate covered in everything he’d eaten yesterday and slid it over to him, simple as anything.

“What?” the Human snapped after a moment of Virgil watching them for any indication of what to do, and he’d hurriedly flickered his heat sensor eyes in hopes of placating any offense. The Human had grumbled indistinctly, but didn’t attempt to remove the plate or even threaten to do so.

The next day was the same. Though the Human continued to try and interrogate and occasionally intimidate him, the food and drink was provided without stipulation or hesitation. It was… strange.

Virgil refused to read into it. Perhaps Humans just had meals so frequently that skipping a single day would be as barbaric as weeks of starvation for Chelcerae. Maybe once the Human had enough of his noncompliance, they were going to feast on his flesh and didn’t want a stringy meal. It was impossible to know.

The generous feeding schedule was nothing, though, compared to some of the other questionable tendencies the Human had.

They traversed the grounds in and around the barn with little wariness, apparently quite confident in their ability to defend themself on the Deathworld they’d grown up on. They brushed insects and plant matter alike off their person with little care for poisons or bites.

Their body language seemed to consist of every threat display in the wayfarer guidebook, and worse, only a quarter of these threat displays seemed intentional. Virgil was constantly tense, attempting to figure out which were intended to cow him, and how to keep his own body language from worsening the damage. Any signal of terrified compliance, even the obvious tremor of his auxiliary limbs, only seemed to prompt wariness and confusion from the Human.

They’d found his helmet and immediately put it on, which had made his fuzz prickle with hope for a moment, before remembering that the reserve battery of the headset was well and truly dead. No emergency translators for the Human, and no upturns in luck for Virgil.

Maybe it was better. Even if the Human could talk to him, he would seem just as guilty for their brother’s disappearance in their eyes. It wasn’t even an accusation he could reasonably defend against; if things had gone differently, if he’d made smarter choices, maybe he could have gotten the captured Human free.

Janus would have managed it. He’d always been a quicker mind than Virgil.

It’d been three days since the Human had found him, and Virgil had barely managed to parse a handful of imperatives and nouns from someone who was basically just yelling the same things at him over and over.

“You can’t ---- the ---- ---------, you ----- --------! I ---- what I ---- and --- ----- to it!” the Human yelled, essentially proving his point. Virgil resisted the urge to let his chin drop down to his collar in exhausted resignation.

It was difficult to focus past the old pains from the fight with Leond, and the new pains from being strapped upright for days on end. Even if he could bring himself to pay closer attention, it wouldn’t make it easier to parse words he had no context for. Lator technology worked best when both parties were exchanging words, or at the very least, when there was more than one native speaker prattling on at you!

The Human inhaled to continue and then froze, prompting Virgil to slink his shoulders up slightly, something that had worked to show his non-aggression once or twice before. The Human wasn’t focused on him, though, whirling around to face the barn doors with their body rigid.

Because he’d never been good at uncertainty, Virgil flicked his heat-sensor eyes open just as another Human-sized mass reached the doors, moving in a predator’s stalk.

Well, he thought as the door creaked open, I’m screwed.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #alien au #humans are space orcs #ts virgil #ts roman #ycgb #you cant go back #my writing #writing #space au #sorry for the late posting my nap ran long #food tw

[softtransbf]

Fresh Blood, Old Scars Part 1

You'd disappeared 15 years ago without a trace- what's Yancy supposed to do when you walk into Happy Trails Penitentiary and don't recognize him, because he's transitioned? canon compliant trans!yancy/reader

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of violence, canonical and parental. deadnaming and misgendering before either of you came out (none by anyone who knows the correct name/pronouns)

Word Count: 2,690

“Hey Yancy, I heard there’s fresh blood comin’ in today for some sorta museum heist.”

“Oh? Know anything else about these guys, so we can give ‘em a proper welcome, Bambam?”

“I know some. The first guy, Mark Iplier, claimed to have been in charge of the whole thing, but from what my sources said, it’s the partner that ran the show- just real quiet-like. I’ve been told that he don’t say a word.”

“Got a name for this, uh, silent partner?” He chuckled at his joke.

“Y/N L/N.” Yancy’s stomach dropped the way it always did when he heard that last name, your last name. Get your shit together. Wrong first name, and Bambam said he and his. Bambam don’t use pronouns other than they/them unless they’re sure. It’s just some guy with the same last name.

“Yance, you okay?” Tiny waved his hand in front of Yancy’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh, thinkin about how best to greet dese guys. The usual, wit Don’t Wanna Be Free ready just in case?”

“Right off the bat? You really think they’re that high of a flight risk?” Sparkles finally spoke up.

“I, uh, I don’t trust dem silent-types. They’s always schemin’, got somethin goin ahn in their heads.” And if he's anything like- yeah. Gone before you know it.

“Okay, if you say so. I’ll go let the others know.” Yancy didn’t even register who was speaking; he was too lost in memories.

- 15 years earlier-

Yancy knew it wasn’t cool to be excited for the first day of school when you’re a senior in high school, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need or even want to be cool- all he needed was to be your friend. Well, maybe not just friend. You’d been gone for almost the entire summer, and he’d spent the whole time figuring out how to both ask you out and tell you that he’s a guy.

He practically skipped across the street to your house so you can walk to school together, like you had every day since middle school. He knocked- nothing. Rang the doorbell- still nothing. He checked the back door and the spots where you had hidden spare keys over the years- nothing. All the curtains were drawn, too, so he couldn’t see inside. He kept trying as long as he possibly could before he had to sprint to make it to class just barely in time. All day, he kept an eye on the door, waiting for you- the two of you made sure to sign up for the exact same schedule before you went on your vacation. At lunch, he went to the office to see what he could find out.

“Y/DN isn’t a student here anymore- Mr L/N just told us last week.”

“What? Do you know where they went?”

“I’m sorry, hon, I don’t. All I know is that Y/DN is no longer a student here.”

He’d never ditched a class in his life, but that was the last thing on his mind as he ran home, crying. He didn’t stop crying for weeks.

-Present -

He’d never wanted to be wrong more in his life, but there you were. Looking better than he’d ever dreamed, following Mark around silently as he blabbered on about wanting to rally the other inmates to try to break out. No. I lost you once, and it cost me everything. I’m not about to lose you again. He quickly spread the word to skip pleasantries with the new guys and prepare for the song. As he was, you made eye contact with him from across the room. His heart dropped; you didn’t recognize him. You looked right through him, with the same calculating expression you gave everyone else. Of course he wasn’t gonna recognize you, dumbass. You’ve been on hormones for years and have had top surgery. Usually Yancy loved that he couldn’t see anything of the person he used to be in the mirror, but today he hated it more than anything in the world. Stick to the plan, Yance. He doesn’t recognize me, but it might be better this way. This way, I can get him to stay and get to know me as I am now, and he won’t be disappointed that I haven’t become anything like what we dreamed of so long ago.

Yancy couldn’t have planned it better, Mark practically begging Jimmy to punch him through the wall right before the show started, leaving you alone.

The number went great, as always, but then you showed him a picture of your parents. He knew that picture; you took it when the four of you went on a vacation together before you started your freshman year of high school. He also knew that he had once been in the picture, but you’d cut him out. The tape and staples that had been holding his heart together since you left fell away.

He stuck with his usual response to people citing family for wanting to leave, for the most part. No one at Happy Trails knew about you, and he’d killed his parents before they could leave him, so he’d kept his true abandonment issues to himself. Face to face with you after all these years, though, he couldn’t stop himself from adding “they’re always just gonna leave you behind” and a warning about trifling with the past. You flinched a little at both of those, and a spark of hope ignited in his chest- maybe you hadn’t forgotten about him, even if you didn’t recognize him now.

Then you still chose to leave. The rest of the rather single-sided conversation was a blur to him. Later, as he was tending to his injuries in solitary, he remembered calling you handsome and/or beautiful and your blush when he did. And, of course, you knocking him flat on his ass. He’d challenged you to a fight, because he’d always been able to beat you before. The part that truly left him confused, though, was why he offered to help you break out.

All he’d wanted for the last fifteen years was to go back to the day you left and beg you to stay. He’d told himself dozens, maybe hundreds, of times that if he ever saw you again, he’d do everything in his power to keep you with him. On his darker and angrier days, he truly meant everything. But here you are, and he offered to help you leave. This is what you get for even hoping someone might stick around. Let’s just do this. I gotta stop in with the warden first, though…

“Me? Out there? With you?” He chuckled. You had no idea that, with that simple gesture, you offered him everything he’d wanted for so long. Fuck, I don’t deserve him. I still love him, but he deserves someone better than the angry, selfish man I am. The fragments of his heart splintered even more. “I, um. I done a lotta bad things. And, uh.” He made himself brighten up. “This is home! For now, anyway. Maybe next time parole comes up, I’ll, uh” take it and go find you like I should have fifteen years ago. And I’ll spend every minute until then trying to become the kind of man you deserve. “Anyway, I gotta get back to it. You take care now, you hear? And, hey, visitation! Every third Sunday!” You looked down at the box you’d brought with you, and he ran. When he got back to his cell, he cried genuine tears for the first time since that August day when his world turned upside down.

- 2 weeks later, visitation day -

He knew hoping you’d come was a waste of time, and that he was just setting himself up for more pain. He’d learned the hard way that when you were gone, that was that. But still, there he was, looking up every time a guard walked into the room. As expected, they never called his name. The rest of the inmates gave him a wide berth as he went back to his cell for the night, and they were right to. He was itching for an excuse to fight. No one gave him one, though, so he told himself he’d find one tomorrow and got ready for bed.

When he got to his cell, it took him just one second to realize there was someone on his bed, pull them off, and shove them against the wall. It took him three more to process that it was you, and then another five to step back and let you go.

“Sorry for scaring you, Yancy. I didn’t mean to. It’s just… it’s visitation day, but I’m still wanted for the escape you helped me pull off, and I haven’t decided if I want to come back for good or not.” He stood there, frozen. You chuckled nervously. “I get it, your turn to be the quiet one. I’m sorry about that, by the way. There was a lot to process all at once, and I just kinda shut down when I get overwhelmed.”

I know. I remember that you didn’t say a single word our first day of high school, Yancy wanted to say. He wanted to say something, anything, but you being there and so close was just too much.

“Okay, so, honesty time; there’s a specific reason I came back.” You took a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that I know you, somehow. But I know I’d remember meeting you- no way I’d forget someone like you. Anyway, I'm probably way off base and ridiculous. I guess I just wanted to tell you?” You ran your hand through your hair. “God, that sounds even flimsier than it felt in my head. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It, uh. It means a lot that you came back to say that.”

“Uh, Yancy? What happened to your accent?”

“Shit. Um. C’mere.” He muttered, as he sat down on his bed and pulled you down next to him. He prayed that you couldn’t hear how his heart started racing when he noticed your knees were touching. “No one here knows that the accent isn’t how I always speak. Not even the warden. I’ve been here five years and haven’t dropped it once. Anyone learns about this, and you’re dead, understand?” He knew that the threat was empty, but you seemed to believe it.

“Yeah, yeah, I do, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I gotta ask, though- why fake it? It seems like a lot of effort. You don’t owe me an explanation, of course, but since you’re heart-on-your-sleeve about your parents, it must be one hell of a reason. I bet it’d feel good to let it off your chest. I can promise to leave and never come back if you do- a burden shared is a burden halved, and if I’m gone, you can be 100% sure no one here will know.”

He took a deep breath. “Something flipped my world on its head, and I needed to distance myself from who I was before. That’s an odd phrase, though- ‘a burden shared is a burden halved’. Where’d you pick that up?”

“Oh, um. The mom of someone I loved a long time ago used to say it a lot. It just kinda stuck, I guess.”

“Loved, huh? You break their heart, or did they break yours?” Yancy was surprised he got the words out without his voice shaking or cracking. You were silent for a long time, and Yancy was sure he’d pushed too hard and you would completely shut down or, worse, leave altogether.

“Sorry, I haven’t talked about this… ever." Your voice shook. "I’ve never talked to anyone about this. I don’t know if I was loved back, but if so, I was the heartbreaker. I didn’t mean to be- I couldn’t control having to leave, and I didn’t know I wasn’t coming back until it was too late. I couldn’t say goodbye. I’ve hoped every day for the last fifteen years that my feelings were unrequited, though. I’m happy to have the pain of an unrequited first love if it means she wasn’t heartbroken.” The incorrect pronoun stung a bit, but you didn’t know, and you’d loved him back all those years ago. He was invincible.

“Have you tried reaching out? Even if your feelings were one-sided, I think you owe it to both of you to say them, at least once.” He reached out and took your hands without thinking. You didn't stop him, and he felt like he could fly.

“I tried, actually. About eight years ago, I'd, uh, escaped and was finally an actual person again after everything that was done to and taken from me, so I started looking for her. But it’s like she vanished off the face of the earth five years to the day after we were separated. It’s actually how I met Mark- I got into some deep and shady shit looking. I only gave up last year. Nothing turned up in seven years of searching, so I have to figure that she did something incredibly stupid a decade ago and got herself killed.”

“I didn’t die. Just the name did.” Yancy breathed. A half second later, he realized he’d said it out loud, and his heart stopped. You took your hands out of his and scooted away.

“Yancy. Are you trying to tell me that you’re- that we- oh my god. It is you. I knew I knew you. Everything else is different, but I should have recognized your eyes. I guess some part of me did. But you- I- I thought you were dead.”

“As you can see, I’m not dead, Brain. And for the record, your feelings were definitely not one-sided.” He reached out and cupped your cheek with one hand.

“Shit, Pinky, it really is you.”

Yancy had dreamed about how seeing you again would go in a million different ways. Not a single one of those included you practically jumping into his lap and kissing him with a lifetime's worth of love and want.

He let out an undignified whine when you broke the kiss. “Wait, wait. You knew from the second I walked in here who I was, didn’t you? You tried so hard to stop me from leaving… but then you helped me do just that. You chose to stay here when I asked you to come with me. Then I came back, and you got me to say all those things… And we’re both trans and wound up here? This is all just. So much. I can’t- I can’t do this.” You got off his lap and scooted to the far end of the bed.

“What are you saying, Y/N? That you’re leaving? Again?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

You stood up and faced him. “You do not get to play that card. You don’t know how much I went through trying to find a way to tell you I was sorry, that I didn’t know that the trip was a permanent one until we were on the other side of the country. Dad said that I'd never see mom again, and he’d kill me if I tried to get in touch with you or anyone else from back home. He broke my arm to prove he meant it. I can’t stay here to unpack all of this. I have to go. But you can come with me. I mean it even more now than I did last time. I’m not leaving you, I’m leaving here.”

You walked to the cell door and looked back at him with a sigh. “But I know you, and you have a family here. I’ll get you my address- it’s your turn to come to me, when you’re ready. I’ve waited 15 years to be with you again, what’s a little bit longer?” Without giving him a chance to respond, you kissed him again and were gone.

#yancy x yn #yancy x reader #yancy x male reader #yancy x trans male reader #yancy ahwm #ahwm fanfiction #otp: don't want to be free #self ship fanfic #self shipping fanfiction #self shipping fic

[anotheranimestan]

Heyooo I legit just found u bc of the bakugo series, and then I went on a spree reading your account- ugh I’m in love!!! Do you think you could tag me when part 3 comes out?

Ahhh! Thank you so much! ❤️ You guys have no idea how much a few words of encouragement means to writers 😭.

No need to tag tho because here it is!!!!! 😃

Sorry it took so long. I wanted to write it as best as I could! I don’t want disappoint anyone who’s been enjoying so far. ☺️

~~

All Bark No Bite (pt. 3)

(Final part)

Bakugo angst + ~sexual tensionnn~

Please, children avert your eyes. Things get a LITTLE inappropriate here 😳

Read part 1 and part 2

wc: 2.4k

He’s an asshole...but he’s a HOT asshole 🤤

You’d never seen his room before. It was much different than you’d imagined. You’d expected burn marks all over the walls or blown up debris of things scattered about. Maybe a bunch of mirrors so he could look at his self-confident, conceited ass all night. But actually it was kinda of nice. Pretty neat. He had some posters hung up and some books laying around. Black sheets and blankets. And it smelled oddly sweet in here, sort of pleasant believe it or not.

You’re so used to him yelling and exploding so it was weird seeing him so relaxed, in his natural habitat. Doing normal things. Like eating a snack, tapping his pencil in concentration, fidgeting with his hair. He even spun around in his rolling chair a few times mindlessly. He was acting sort of...cute? It was unnerving being attracted to him like this.

But as soon as he noticed you watching him it was all over. You were making him self conscious. He didn’t even realize he’d let his guard down like that.

“That makes absolutely no sense, dumbass.” His voice was bored and over it.

“What are you talking about!? I’ve explained it three times!” You retorted indignantly.

“Exactly. I thought you were smarter than this...” He jabbed before turning around and flipping his notebook shut.

You’d spent twenty minutes attempting to teach him what he’d missed in class earlier today but he was insufferable. Easily the worst student on the planet. Every time you explained something he’d tell you how to teach it better. Who does that!?

“Whatever moron. I didn’t come up here to try and teach your pea brain. I—“ The words were harder to say than you’d expected. Painful actually. They really didn’t want to come out. “I just wanted to say sorry for getting you—“

He whipped a pencil and it hit you directly in the forehead.

“Ouch, what the fuck?” You hissed, rubbing the sore spot. How’d he get so much damn power behind that thing?

“Don’t apologize. It’s weird.”

“What!?” You threw the pencil back but only managed to hit his shoulder.

“Anyways...” He ignored you, completely unfazed by your assault.

“You’re easily the most—“

“Anyways...” You swore if he cut you off one more time you were going to smack the shit out of him. “Aizawa thinks you’ve lost your mind.”

The unexpected information took you aback.

“He saw you try and get yourself blown up in class yesterday... No sane person is stupid enough to pull a move like you did.”

Ah yes... he meant the time you wrapped the man’s hand around your neck, tauntingly, in front of like 20 classmates and two teachers. You’d been trying to avoid asking yourself the question of why you did that. You claimed it was the best way to shut him up....but there were other ways to do that. More reasonable ones. You wouldn’t admit you’d daydreamed of doing it before and subconsciously took the opportunity. Red embarrassment flashed through your body again. God knows what they were all thinking when they witnessed that. You desperately wished people would stop reminding you.

Suddenly the need to defend yourself bubbled up. “I—I only did that because I knew you wouldn’t do anything.”

He scoffed. But didn’t deny it. “If you’re going to try something stupid. At least do it right.” He chastised.

Your body froze as he stood up and walked over, crouching down directly in front of you.

“If I wanted to choke you. I’d do it like this.”

He wrapped his hand around your neck. Demonstrating the best way to actually cut off someone’s air flow. But he did it so gently you barely even heard his explanation. You were just flashing back to last night. Instantly your entire body lit on fire. Replaying this scene in your head was strong enough. But reenacting had you completely out of sorts. Kissing him again but this time going full out. You wanted to bite him, just to hear him make that deep moan into your mouth again. Just imagining it was making you flutter. Aching to have him pressed up against you like that, relieving some of this pressure that was building up in your body. You felt yourself unraveling. About to pounce.

But he interjected with something that stunned you once again. “The way you did it would be better for...other forms of choking.”

Dear god. Surely he knew what he was doing to you. If he kept this up any longer your heart or your lungs were definitely going to give out.

But you mustered up your last two brain cells that weren’t absolutely losing their shit over him and carried on with your normal banter.

“Yea yea, I get it. You can stop now.”

He didn’t budge. His hand still snug around your throat. You obviously didn’t mind it there but it was incapacitating your brain function.

You gently pushed it away and he didn’t resist. But where he put it next was no better.

He traced the side of your cheek and along the outline of your lips. Just staring at them, eyes lost like he was thinking deeply about something. He wasn’t giving you a moment of a break. No room to breathe.

Your nerves were through the roof, your heart was beating so loud you could hear it in your ears. Desperately you tried to change the topic. “So is this your attempt at being nice? Advice on how to murder someone?” It’s amazing how your mouth just spewed shit out even though your brain was actually dead.

“Sure.” Now he was tugging at your bottom lip. Completely unbothered by you baiting him.

“Ah. A nice Bakugo? I must be having a dream. I guess now that you’ve lost to me your whole tough guy persona has been killed.”

That snapped him out of it. But now he was looking just as intensely, directly into your eyes.

“Don’t push it.”

“Or what?” Faking composure was coming so easily much to your relief.

“Do you want to find out?” He growled.

“You’re not scary.” You said rolling your eyes as hard as possible.

Something snapped in him. He couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Within a moment he had you on your back. Your body didn’t even have time to process. Even if it did, would you have stopped him? He trapped both your wrists on either side of your head and your feet under his ankles. His arms looked glorious as he held up is body weight.

“How about now?” His voice was deep and savory.

There he went. Invading your mind again. His scent. That lust-filled look in his eyes. The way he was thoroughly enjoying being on top of you. The adrenaline was coiling through your body. He had you right where he wanted you. He could do anything he wanted to you. But that “annoying little mouth of yours” wasn’t done quite yet.

“Whatever. You always do this. But you won’t actually try anything.”

“You think I wouldn’t hurt you at all? I literally want to kill you sometimes.” He had a smug little grin on his face. But his eyes couldn’t pull themselves from your lips. After experiencing them once he could barely stop thinking about them.

“You’re telling me? I fucking hate you.” You lied.

It made his smirk form into that wicked, shit-eating grin he always wore. The one that gets deep under your skin and makes you want to punch him in the throat and yank him onto you at the same time.

“Kissing someone is a weird way to tell them you hate them.” He was really cutting into you now.

You hissed. “Hey. You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.” He raised an annoying little eyebrow.

Your brain wanted to choke him (the murder kind) but your body was screaming something completely different. The emotions swirling around in your chest was so overwhelming. Finally you burst.

You trapped one of his arms and corresponding leg and threw your weight to roll on top of him. One of your favorite moves from self-defense class that you knew would come in handy. Now you straddled him and using every ounce of your weight tried to pin his wrists down.

You expected him to fight you like the vicious little monster he is. But instead when you looked down he was just staring back at you. You were stunned at how good he looked at this angle. Did he have any bad angles?

“Finally. You made a move.” He said pretending to sound impressed. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Yea well...” You scoffed proudly. “you think you’re so fucking tough. Now looo—“

The words flew out of your mouth and you were tumbling again. This time he just grabbed your waist and tugged you with brute force. No technique needed. He easily overpowered you.

“Yea, that wasn’t going to work out. It was a cute try though, Little Bite.”

He laid directly on top of you now. Your legs spread as he rested his hips between them. His full weight pressed into you making it flutter. Your arms had somehow wrapped themselves around his neck and rested on his back.

The tension in the air made it difficult to breathe. But you were fully unconcerned with getting oxygen right now.

Nose to nose now he said “We’ll just count this as my rematch. Clearly I won.”

“You suck at flirting.”

Flirting? Where’d that come from?

“Seems like it’s working pretty good to me.”

That smug fucking face again.

“You’re such an ass.”

He bit his lip.

“Fuck...I love when you insult me like that.”

A beat passed and that was all it took. You smashed his lips onto yours. Wrapping your legs around him and squeezing. Too close wasn’t close enough.

He kissed you like he wanted you bad. Like you were his favorite meal and he was absolutely famished. It was so intense and passionate that neither of you could catch any air. Every insult, all the bickering, every jab had built up to this moment and was fueling it like gas to a forest fire.

His warmth was overtaking you. His body was so heavy, crushing you just liked you’d been daydreaming about all this time.

Your mind shut down all functions except desperately trying to use all five senses to their max capacity and commit every bit of him to memory.

He felt you pawing at the edge of his shirt and sat up. He peeled it off slowly. Letting your eyes adjust to every inch of him.

Your hands were instantly stroking every one of his muscles starting at his shoulders and trailing down his soft skin slowly...slowly to the edge of his jeans. Your index finger sat teasingly on the front button as you admired his perfectly toned body.

But before you even had time to think about what you wanted to do next he took your wrist and secured it down above your head again.

He dipped down and went straight for your neck.

Greeting it with a warm wet kiss from his tongue, his lips wrapped around your skin and sucked gently. You felt the blood pooled with pleasure rushing to the area. His other hand started exploring your body. Finally he was getting to put his hands on you the way he really wanted all along.

After you started tugging on his hair, desperately trying to avoid any scandalous hickeys he rolled you around again.

Letting you on top to straddle his hips. Giving you only a little bit of freedom though, as he locked one arm around your waist and the other started caressing your thighs slowly working his way north.

After squeezing your ass until his heart was content he clamped down both hands on your hips. You couldn’t bare it anymore. Your hips started gently grinding against him and you bit down on his neck all at once. You felt the angle of his pelvis rubbing into you creating little rumbles of pleasure.

“Fuck y/n..” he muttered under his breath.

You both were getting more and more bothered and aroused. His hands never stopped grabbing and tugging at you. His moans growing more fervent as he whispered into your ear.

He was just toying with the idea of peeling off your shirt when...

“THIS IS THE POLICE! COME OUT!”

Your soul practically rose out of your body as a loud bang almost broke the door down. Bakugo’s hand slapped over your mouth. You’d screamed without realizing it.

Kaminari’s laugh sounded through the door. “Oh my god Bakugo! You scream like a girl!”

Mina shrieked. “No, stupid! Y/n are you in there!?”

Your life was ending.

“Get the fuck out of here before I come out there and break your skulls!” Bakugo barked at them.

They didn’t say anything but you heard their quick footsteps as they ran down the hall still shrieking like banshees.

“Oh god..” you groaned as you tried to roll away from him, using his bare chest to push off.

But he wouldn’t let you go. “Where are you going?”

“Aren’t you going to go hunt them down and threaten them or something.” Typical Bakugo behavior.

“No, I’m busy.”

You had to stop your mouth from falling open.

“They’re probably going to tell everyone.” You prodded. Expecting his temper any second now. Like he was a bomb about to go off. You pulled away again in preparation, sitting fully upright now.

“I’ll deal with them tomorrow. I’m dealing with you tonight. Now get back over here before I get mad.”

You shrieked as he muscled you back into his arms. He bent you back around him as snugly as he could. Moving your chin to the side, he kissed your neck, sweeter this time. Instinctively your hands ran through his hair. Fuck the rest of them. You could get lost in this hot head all night. And you were as he started gently sucking on your soft spots again.

But he pulled away abruptly. Like he’d just realized something. “How are you gonna become a pro hero if a moron like Denki can scare you like that?”

You smacked the back of your idiot’s head lightly. “Don’t fucking ruin it.” You groaned.

“Fine.” He grinned as he went in for the kiss that started the rest your next piping hot and sticky couple of hours together.

~💥💥

TADAAA! What did you guys think?? What was your favorite part overall?

I’d love hearing your thoughts and opinions 😃 makes me a better writer

Also special shout-out to @jennammaee ! Pt. 2 of this series has been my most successful post yet, so thanks for encouraging me to write it!!

Tags: @sweetsailor000 @yumxmii @fullsundear @frosted-flakes @marloalmore @aprilbouz01 @deneuves @softestparker @davidbowiehotashell-blog @mocha-focha @piii-chan @v0dkadaddy @xxjosiexx

#bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo angst #bakugo angst #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugo #bnha bakugou #bakudeku #bakusquad #bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugo imagine #bakugo katsuki scenarios #bakugo scenarios #bakugo fanfic #bakugo mha #mha angst #mha #mha smut #mha imagines #mha fanfiction

[apiratewhopines]

This one is a gift for @teamhook because she is one of the most generous people I’ve ever met.

Thanks to @jrob64 for giving me advice on artwork and to ultraluckycatnd for reading over this chapter

Midnight

Chapter 1 — The Prince

Summary: In which our heroine meets cute

Chapter 1 of 7 on AO3

“But don’t forget folks,

That’s what you get folks

For makin’ whoopee”

-Makin’ Whoopee, Eddie Cantor

Emma Swan had been in some tight spots, but she’d never been in a run out of gas on a deserted highway with a dying cell phone battery and a stomach as empty as her bank account kind of situation before. In truth, she blamed this unfortunate situation on the same person she blamed all the misfortunes of her adulthood. Neal Cassidy.

There was a time a few short months ago she would have done anything for the man responsible for her current circumstances. Neal had been too good to be true. A real Prince Charming, down to the supposed trust fund and a smile that made her believe in happy endings.

She’d been a sucker. She heard one was born every minute, she just never thought her time would come. After all, one of the few things she learned in the foster system was how to spot bullshit from a mile away. But he looked at her with his soulful eyes and whispered promises in his smoky voice and she fell for it. More than once, actually, and all she had to show for the wasted years was a voicemail box full of collection calls and a wolf at the door.

Because Neal Cassidy didn’t just leave her. He stole her identity, maxed out her credit cards, and took out half a dozen loans in her name. Then he proceeded to use the money to wine and dine a wide assortment of women, the sheer number of which would make Casanova blush. All the while professing his undying love and spending his days eating all her food and watching television from his favorite seat on the couch.

Seriously, you could still see the faint outline of his backside on the cushion.

As countless victims of his schemes started showing up at her door looking for the man who made them feel alive while killing them one dollar at a time, she listened to tears and rants and misery with ill-disguised impatience. How had she become the counselor to the trail of broken girls he left in his wake? When was it going to be her turn to moan and groan and swear she’d never love again?

Well, she did get around to the swearing to never love again part. Some mistakes don’t bear repeating.

The final straw happened two months ago. Neal had disappeared after their final fight. His righteous indignation at being called on his crap and inability to find a plausible excuse for the stack of overdue bills and statements she found stuffed in the back of his gym bag made it difficult to share the same space. She wanted him gone even as her hands itched to touch him one more time.

Unfortunately, leaving her drowning in debt with the knowledge he cheated on her for the majority of their relationship wasn’t enough for him. He decided to do some collateral damage on his way out of town.

He did the unforgivable. He went after Granny.

His target was meant to wound her. While he lied and schemed the entire time they were together, she had been an open book for the first time in her life so he knew Granny was the sole connection she formed as a foster. Her brief stay with the woman before she aged out of the system was a time of peace and healing. Granny was responsible for helping her get on her feet and the two maintained a friendship years later.

Emma received the frantic call from Ruby explaining her grandmother had been tricked into giving Neal a blank check so he could do her grocery run. Hours later, she received a notification from her bank saying her checking account had been wiped out. At that point, the tenuous control Emma had on her emotions disappeared. She sat on the kitchen floor of the apartment she was about to lose, staring at empty walls that still echoed with his laughter in her weaker moments, and she broke into a million pieces.

So it was no wonder she vowed to have her vengeance. To do anything and everything to make him pay. Luckily, since he skipped out on a court date, catching him would also get her paid.

Tracking him had taken more time than she liked to admit. She was good; even penniless and running out of options, she recognized her worth and knew she possessed hard to find skill sets. But she had a sinking sensation that he might be better.

Now she was stranded on the side of the road with nothing except her most uncomfortable shoes to keep her company. But damn did they make her legs look good and with everything else in her life collapsing around her, somehow that seemed important.

Squaring her shoulders, she climbed out of the car and pondered her next course of action. She was unfamiliar with the state road connecting the two small towns on the Maine coast, so she had no idea what the odds were that a good samaritan would happen along. She had just enough juice in her battery and lettuce in her account to call for an Uber to take her to the seedy nightclub where Neal was last seen. Or she could walk the rest of the way in her mile-high heels knowing she never looked better, even though she would probably not be able to move the next day without a significant amount of pain.

What she would do if she found him or where she would stay if she didn’t weren’t questions she was ready to entertain.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and with a huff of frustration opened her app. Pleading with whatever powers that be to let her last long enough to see herself through to the other side of this, she leaned against her beaten down yellow Bug and waited for the black sedan to show.

Of course, her phone died immediately after she booked her ride, finally giving up the ghost even though she didn’t get a chance to see the name or license plate of her hired car. Getting more anxious by the minute, she paced along the shoulder, careful to keep on the pavement since the ground was soft from recent rain. After what seemed like forever, but had probably not been more than half an hour, the headlights of a lone car crested a nearby hill.

“About time,” she muttered. To make sure the driver knew she was not pleased with the delay or the prodding pace he maintained despite the fact the sky seemed ready to open at any moment, she moved out into the middle of the lane and placed her hand on her hips. Pride kept her from squinting even though the bright high beams made her eyes water as the car approached.

Slowing from a crawl to a stop, the driver put the car in park and jumped out. It was dark and the man was dressed all in black, but as he moved around to the front of the car, she got the impression of blue eyes and a stubble-covered jaw that could probably cut glass. Great, just what she needed. A sexy Uber driver.

“Alright there, love?”

With a British accent. He probably smelled like bacon, too.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting all night.”

Moving closer, he smiled with a hint of confusion. “Had I known you were waiting for me, I would have been along sooner. Tell me, do you always accost strange men in the dead of night on empty roads?”

“Only when I’m paying them to take me where I need to go,” she grumbled, walking toward the back door on the passenger side. She pulled it open as he protested, and glared at him over the top of the car.

“Love, I think there may be a bit of a mix-up—“

“It’s fine. I won’t give you a bad rating for being late as long as you don’t talk to me. I’ve been driving for hours to get here and I need to think.”

She heard him sigh and saw the flash of his teeth as he smiled at her again. “Very well. Would you like me to get your bags?”

“You’d have to go to a pawn shop in Boston to accomplish that,” she joked, dropping into the leather seat and noticing for the first time the expensive luxury of her rented carriage. She supposed if she was going to spend her last dime on a ride, she could have done far worse.

She resisted the urge to use the low ambient lighting of the dashboard to get a better look at her temporary chauffeur. The glimpse she got outside was more than enough to know she needed to keep her distance. It didn’t stop her from feeling the weight of his stare as he peeked over his shoulder while clicking on his seatbelt. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw his tongue flicker slowly over his bottom lip before he turned his attention back to the road.

“Nice dress. Where are we heading this fine night, Miss…?”

“You’re really terrible at this. Is it your first time being a driver for hire?”

“What gave it away, love? It’s quite an unexpected development that came about just this evening. But you know what they say, you never forget your first.”

It was everything she could do not to laugh. She had a feeling it would only encourage him and if she was heading into battle, she needed her wits about her. “The Snakehole Lounge.”

“At the risk of sounding cliche, why would a nice girl like you want to go to a place like that?”

“I’m not a nice girl,” Emma informed him without a hint of irony or bravado. “And your rating is going down with each syllable out of your mouth.”

“Tough lass,” he murmured. “But do yourself a favor. Stay away from the Snake Juice.”

Little did he know that even if she wanted to have a drink, and boy did she ever, she used the last of her meager funds to get to this backwater place and she wasn’t sure where her next meal would come from. “I’ll do my best.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence. She spent the time looking out the window at the trees flying by and trying to ignore how every time she looked away, her eyes caught his in the rearview mirror.

Honestly, it was probably a good thing they were the only people for miles around or he would have gotten them both killed.

Less than fifteen minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of a shabby nightclub. Even the multitude of neon lights flashing “Girls! Girls! Girls!” and “Half-Price Beer Buckets” did little to enliven the dingy exterior. They didn’t bother with a bouncer, probably because no one actually wanted to get in.

Before she could say anything, her driver was out of the car and rounding his way to her door. She didn’t have a chance to object as he opened it and looked at her with avid curiosity. She had to admit she was impressed he didn’t give into it and ask any questions.

“Since we’re out of the car, am I allowed to speak again?”

Perhaps she had been too hasty in her internal praise. “Thanks for the ride. I hope your next passengers are more chatty since that’s what you’re into...overall, a solid three stars.”

“Three stars? I’d be surprised, but I had a feeling you were warming up to me between the baleful stares and eye-rolling.”

Gifting him with another of the said eye rolls, she adjusted the hem of her skirt to show a little more leg and walked away. She knew if she stayed a second longer she would give in to the almost magnetic pull of him and say something foolish like, ‘What’s your name?’

—

The inside of the establishment was every bit as horrible as the outside. The low lighting obscured the grime and wear that would be glaringly obvious otherwise. She wasn’t surprised. It seemed like the kind of place Neal would gravitate to since he was a dirty little rat.

Music heavy with bass pumped out a rhythm entirely too fast for the energy of the place. The few patrons who persevered this far into the night looked anemic as tired dancers did their best to act like they wanted to be there. Pulling her ID from the scrap of a bra she wore under her dress, she flashed it at the lone employee who manned the entrance and the bar. He gave it a cursory glance and turned back to his phone.

Snapping her fingers under his nose to get his attention, she pulled out a grainy photo of her quarry from the same location and asked, “Have you seen this man recently?”

“I’ve never seen anyone. Ever.” The man grumbled, not interested in the slightest. She wondered if he would stop her if she walked behind the counter and helped herself to a drink. She was leaning toward no and tempted to try.

“Tell you what buddy, take a good look at this picture. Then look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t seen him and we’ll end the night without any trouble.”

Something in her tone must have penetrated his disillusionment and he gazed at her with more interest than he’d probably shown anything in years. She waited as he glanced at the photo for a few seconds. “No, sorry. If he’s been here, it wasn’t during any of my shifts. Is he your husband or something?”

“He’s something alright,” she muttered. Defeated, she turned around without another word. She used the last of her resources to fund a wild goose chase, but at least it got her into town. Only thing left to do was find a park or quiet bench somewhere safe to sleep for a few hours and then she would tackle whatever came next. It wouldn’t be the first time she roughed it, although she had never attempted it in formal wear before.

Pushing the door open with unnecessary force, she immediately froze. Her three star driver was waiting at the curb as if it wasn’t the middle of the night and she hadn’t given him the brush off.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yes, especially since I’m pretty sure our business is done,” she replied, walking past him and wishing the man could be a tiny bit less handsome. Now that the streetlights of the small town were there to illuminate their interactions, she couldn’t deny he was ridiculously attractive and exactly her type, complete with a black leather jacket and messy hair begging to be pulled. And, heaven help her, he was determined to extend their acquaintance apparently.

“It’s just good sense, love. I figured you’d be in need of transportation again, so why waste the gas to leave when I’d have to turn around after you called for your next ride.” He matched his stride to hers as she did her best to increase her pace.

Sighing, she stopped at the corner and looked at him. “Listen, I could tell you my phone is dead and I need to make a few more stops, that I’d pay you when you drop me off at my place at the end of the night, but it would be a lie. I’m chasing down a bounty. I need the money to pay for a ride and I need a ride to make the money. A smart man like you can see the problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

She turned away again but felt him leap into action behind her. He moved to cut off her escape and said, “Double or nothing.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Double or nothing, sweetheart. I take you to wherever you need to go tonight and when you collect your fee, you pay me double whatever the normal fare is for jaunts like these.”

“What if I don’t find him?”

“That’s where the nothing comes in, lass. A smart woman like you can see the benefit of such an arrangement.”

She studied him, hoping to find some ulterior motive in his seemingly selfless offer, but all she saw in his expression was an earnestness bordering on being painful and a thirst for adventure barely contained. Perhaps this was how he got his kicks in an isolated town. He propositioned strangers and gambled on fate. “No strings? No funny business?”

“This whole business is funny, but I’ll behave myself if you will. We’ll have much less satisfaction that way, but I’ll do my best to rally my spirits and overcome my disappointment.”

With a rueful shake of her head, she stuck out her hand and introduced herself. “I guess we’re doing this. I’m Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones, driver extraordinaire and captain of this fine vessel, at your service. Where’s our next stop?”

“I need to go to every seedy bar and filthy dive in the area so you tell me, Captain.”

—

She wasn’t sure what it said about her newfound companion that he was able to rattle off several places in a matter of seconds, but as the night stretched on and the miles racked up, she found she rather liked her tour guide. Which was probably a good thing since at this rate, she would be splitting the bounty fifty-fifty with him. Who knew the twin cities of Storybrooke and Misthaven had so many sleazy places to hang out?

“I’m afraid we’ve reached the end of the line, Swan. Are you sure he’s in the area, because every traveler worth his salt makes a point to stop by Moe’s Tavern while visiting our fair city.”

“I can see why. The thrift-store ambience is delightful and the watered down drinks are to die for,” she murmured as she rested against the side of his car. She was tired and weak from hunger and as much as she wanted to curl up in the back seat and sleep, she was scared she’d get used to the comfort he was offering and do something she might regret later.

She was trying to figure out how to cut and run without seeming ungrateful when her stomach growled loudly.

In a playful tone belaying the concern in his eyes, he asked, “Was that your stomach? Bloody hell, am I in danger? Are you going to try to eat me to satisfy the beast within?”

Feeling a blush color her face, she avoided his gaze as she said, “Sorry, I...um, I skipped dinner.” And breakfast and lunch for that matter.

Taking up a position next to her, he nudged her with his shoulder. “Tell the truth, when was the last time you ate something, lass?”

“Hmm, what day is it again?”

“As I suspected. Come on, I know just the spot.” Pushing off from the car, he gently moved her and opened the door to the backseat.

She wanted to fight, to tell him she could take care of herself. She would have too, if she had any energy at all. Meeting his eyes for the first time, she joked, “You lost a gamble, Captain. That doesn’t mean you have to feed it.”

“I consider it an act of self-preservation. I figured you for a man-eater the first moment I laid eyes on you, but I’m afraid you might prove me right in unexpected ways if we don’t get some food in you soon.”

“As long as eyes are all you plan on laying on me, I accept your gracious offer,” she replied with a narrowed stare. Before Neal, she trusted her instincts. She would have insisted they were infallible, but he had shaken her confidence. She couldn’t risk being wrong about Killian Jones of the electric eyes and perpetual helpfulness.

“No strings. No funny business, Swan. Those are the rules. Get in, your chariot and dinner awaits.”

He stood a few feet from her, urging her into the car and she wasn’t sure what drove her to say it, but before she could change her mind, the words were out. “I’d rather ride in the front this time if that’s okay with you.”

His smile could have melted metal, tempted angels to fall, and inspired devils to repent. It was probably lack of rest and food causing her stomach to do flip flops. Or at least that was what she was going to tell herself.

“Your heart’s desire, Swan. I promise that’s all I want you to have…” He closed the back door with a firm finality that echoed through the night and somehow felt momentous in the thick air of summer. When he opened the passenger door, the light seemed warmer and it bathed him in softness and shadows. He waited patiently as if he knew something had shifted between them and he didn’t want any sudden movements to break the odd spell.

Then her stomach growled again, angry at the promise of food being delayed while she gawked at the man who was determined to rescue her in every imaginable way.

“And dinner, of course.”

“Of course,” she whispered, taking care not to make contact with his body as she slid into the seat. She was glad the door was already closed when she left out a huff of air. Good thing she had sworn off love or she may be in some danger.

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[ediths]

The View From Both Sides of The Mirror

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 23.5k

Summary: Who would have thought that being stuck on a boat with your worst enemy would be a good thing?

Warning(s): Cursing, some mentions of yachtrry, Harry being a softie, Harry also being a dick, reader being down on herself

A/N: So this is my submission for @stylesharrys​ 10k follower celebration! I chose the picture above, the trope enemies to lovers, prompt “That’s not what I meant, I swear. I know I can be an asshole but I'm not that heartless.”  I’ve been working on this for quite a while and I really debated deleting the entire thing a few times, but here she is, all finished and ready to be enjoyed!!

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*

Harry Styles is a lot of things. Annoying, over the top, self obsessed, judgmental, self indulgent, careless, overly flamboyant, rude, narcissistic. He’s a lot of things, but perfect is not one of them.

The media continuously had a lot of ridiculous ideas about him, most of which were laughable. You’d often scroll through your social media and snort at the things that people would post about him. You had seen some things that were quite funny, but nothing compared to the article that your best friend, Lexi, had shown you. You full body cackled after reading the title, and who could blame you? “The Perfect Man the World Didn’t Know It Was Missing” was top tier comedy.

There were a plethora of things wrong with the title that the up and coming news station had so foolishly chosen.

The most obvious of which being the fact that he was literally 26, and he’s been in the spotlight for over ten years. The world hadn’t been missing him at all. He’s been shoved in everyone’s face for over a decade and they find a new reason to act like he’s the best thing that ever happened to the universe. They over exaggerate everything, make it seem like he was either born an hour ago or just discovered yesterday. Which was definitely not the case, as you had been told numerous times by the man himself. 

The second being that they all acted like they knew him when really they had absolutely no idea who he is. The ones that covered the stories acted like they knew him as well as his childhood best friend when really they had taken a statement, at most. They had no clue who he actually was. They couldn’t tell you his favorite number, or how he fixes his toast. They don’t know the reason why he no longer wears skinny jeans. They don’t know why he’s so open with who he is and how he presents himself. None of them know anything about any of that, and it’s more bothersome than you’d like to admit. But it’s not just the people that praise him that rub you the wrong way. No, it’s even the ones that say bad things about him, that claim that he’s Satan's spawn. It was still exasperating to hear them say things about him. They acted like they knew him well enough to hate him, to paint him as the villain in their article.

Yeah, sure, you and Harry didn’t get along, but at least you had a reason. Most of the people that didn’t like him were just upset because basically everyone wanted something to do with him, and they were all mad because he was seemingly perfect. He never lost his temper (he definitely did, just not in public), he was nice to everyone (yeah, besides you), and he would never turn down a picture with a fan if it was safe to do so and he had time (that one was true. The one part of him that you don’t absolutely hate is the love that he has for his fans. He’d be nowhere without them, and he realizes that. And, although he’s not appreciative of a lot of things, he is of them).

And the final thing about the article, the one that irked your nerves the most, was that they were yet another news group to paint the picture that he was perfect, that he was the golden boy. That he had never once done something that could be seen as wrong. Which, yet again, goes to show that they don’t really know anything about him, at least not personally.

Sure, Harry Styles came off as perfect. He had to. He’s in the public eye, spotted everywhere that he goes by at least one person. He had been coached from the ripe old age of 16 to come across in that way. In his career, there has never been any room for error. One mistake could have brought down everything that the managers of One Direction were trying to accomplish.

He was conditioned into media perfection long ago. He had been told how to speak, how to act, what to wear, what to sing. Anything that could possibly cause an upset in the fandom was immediately changed, edited to make it look better. He was shaped into the boy that the world had come to love. 

But Harry, the guy that you spent the majority of your waking hours with, due to the numerous mutual friends that you had, was annoying at best. Most of the time, though, he was a complete prick.

There was nothing about the man he was behind closed doors that was perfect. He was utterly and completely himself. Most people would think that’s a good thing, him being comfortable enough to himself to the fullest extent. But you? You absolutely hated those times. He was much easier to deal with when you were out in public, when he was too worried about keeping up appearances to do anything particularly shitty. 

The two of you had never gotten along. From the very moment that the two of you had met, there was a tension. It was like there was an immediate distaste for one another. All of your friends could tell that the two of you would never get along, but they tried to force it anyway.

That night, he had seemed completely uninterested, like he’d rather be at some party that only had A-List celebrities on the guest list than there meeting you. At first, you had been hurt. But then you came to accept it. Came to accept the fact that you just weren’t good enough for him. You weren’t like the rest of your friends. All you did was work in photography, and you weren’t even one of the well off photographers. Sure, you didn’t struggle, but you weren’t on the same level as the rest of the people that you had formed friendships with.

Your mutual friends had tried their best to ease the tension between the two of you. They had done everything in their power to force the friendship. You had to give them props, they pulled all the stops, but there was nothing that anyone could do that would make you not loathe the mere thought of him. Maybe it was the fact that he made you doubt who you were. Maybe it was the fact that he gave off the asshole vibe. Or maybe, it was just because he seemed to not like you, but from that day forward, you weren’t on good terms with him.

Things had gotten so bad with Harry that you had even tried to find a new group of friends. You were tired of feeling like you were the odd man out, feeling like you had ruined every outing because you couldn’t just suck it up and get along with him. There had come a time when you didn’t even feel like you had belonged. All of the people that you had surrounded yourself with were extremely successful. Most of them were CEOs of something. But when Harry had met them, he had introduced the singers, writers, and musicians into the group. You weren’t any of those things. Sure, a lot of people saw you as an artist, but you could barely be seen as anything compared to the others, and that haunted you until you began to believe that your occupation as a photographer wasn’t valid.

So, you searched for new friends. You tried to find people that would make you feel like you belonged, like you were their equal. You just wanted some people that you could relate to. You hadn’t felt that in way too long, and being around Harry and his super successful, extremely famous friends wasn’t helping any.

You tried for a few weeks before realizing that it was pointless. He found a way to weasel himself into that aspect of your life as well. 

Every single time you met someone new, the same thing happened. You’d talk to them for a few minutes, get to know each other a little. But each time, without fail, they’d ask “Hey, aren’t you that chick that’s friends with Harry Styles?” And each time, you’d immediately walk away, never looking back.

Nobody cared about making friends with you, they just wanted to have a way to Harry. Every cell in your body was filled with regret. You had made the decision to openly be in the same friend group as him. You hadn’t taken into consideration that once you were spotted with him repeatedly, your life would never be the same.

It left you wanting to rip your hair out. Or at least go back in time so that you never had to meet him, never had to be in public with him. It sucked that no matter how hard you tried, he wouldn’t stay out of your life. He was present even when he physically wasn’t, and it was aggravating beyond belief.

It was safe to say that you hate Harry Styles.

It was also safe to say that Harry Styles hates you.

You were so uptight, always sticking up your nose at everything that he did. You had done it since the moment that you had met him and it seemed as if you had never stopped.

You had given him a look that could only be described as one filled with disdain the moment that you met him, and from that moment on he had tried his best to distance himself from you. With the both of you running in the same circle, though, that was pretty hard.

So, he had just tried his best to ignore you. That didn’t work very well either, seeing as you always had a reaction to everything that he did. And none of those reactions were ever positive.

You acted like there was something wrong with him spending the money that he earned. It got on his nerves more than just about anything. What was he supposed to do with it? Was he just supposed to let it sit in his bank account for the rest of his life? He donates a large chunk of everything that he earns every year, it wasn’t like he was just blowing his money on meaningless things. He had his priorities straight.

He had come to despise nights out, knowing that you would be there. You always had something to say. Or not say, rather. You’d never tell him that it was exactly that made you so upset with him. Every time you would send him a look, he’d ask why, but you’d simply turn on your heel or slip out of the booth, heading to the dance floor to be as far away from him as possible.

He was a simple man, really. He just wanted to go out with his friends, buy something strong off the top shelf, and drink until he was in the cuddly mood that his mind automatically switched into when there was enough alcohol running through his veins.

But with you there? Oh, he couldn’t do that. God forbid he buys something expensive like that. God forbid that he spend his money on what he wanted to. Every time he’d order his drink, you’d curl your nose up, as if you were completely disgusted by his choice. And every time that he would get overly touchy and want to cuddle someone, he would automatically seek you out. He didn’t know why, and he despised his brain for thinking of no one else but you. 

He knew that the fact that he never chose someone else to agitate probably made you hate him even more than you already did, and he went home every weekend feeling awful about it. He never meant to annoy you. Sure, he hated you, couldn’t stand the way you acted like you were better than him, like you were higher up than him even though he saw the two  of you as equals, but he never meant to purposefully get on your nerves. He never went out of his way to cause you to hate him even more. 

However, that didn’t stop you from thinking that he did. Didn’t stop you from thinking that he’d do anything in his power to pester you. It didn’t stop you from hating him more and more every day.

*

When your friends had called you and told you that they wanted to go on vacation, you were excited. You could use a break, a bit of time to forget about all the stress and just relax on a boat with your friends. Plus, you had never been to Brighton, so there was no way you were going to say no to that experience.

However, the initial glory of the idea wore off the moment that you realize Harry’s the only one with any kind of boat. Which means in order to have the relaxing getaway that you want, you'll have to deal with him for at least a few hours every day, if not every moment that the sun is up. If you’re completely honest, you don’t even understand how he’s going to get the yacht to Brighton when it’s kept in the States. You didn’t question it, though, because that’s the reason that Lexi gave you. Which means that has to be the reason that he has to go.

To top it off, it won’t even be like it normally is. If he gets you worked up enough, you can’t even just walk away and leave, you’ll be stuck on his boat in the middle of a body of water, with no way to swim to land without risking something bad happening.

You had already paid the deposit for the house, but you were fully willing to let someone else take your place on the trip. Were fully willing to give up the vacation because there’s no way in the world that you could spend an entire week with Harry without something terrible happening. Plus, there was only room for four people and there were many more than just that in your friend group. They could easily find a replacement.

When you had called back to tell Lexi and Sam that you weren’t going to be attending, they all but guilt tripped you into coming along, saying that they had invited you for a reason and that they would be really bummed out if you decided to stay behind and give someone your spot.They also gave you the look, the one they always hit you with when you back out of something just because of Harry. 

You felt bad, always ruining plans because you were in a constant argument with him, so you tried to put your pride to the side for a moment and at least listen to what they had to say.

Against your better judgement, you agree to go, but only because you would have your own room with a private bathroom attached, and your friends confirmed that they wouldn't say anything about you hiding away from Harry if he got to be too much. They also assured you that you and Harry would be separated for the majority of the trip. 

They knew that the both of you need a vacation, but neither of you can stand the other, so they promised that you would have an adequate amount of alone time to have the relaxation that vacations are supposed to bring.

After doing your shoot that night, you go home and pack the suitcases you'll need for the week that the four of you plan on staying there. You don’t pack much, just a single suitcase and a carry on. You check to make sure that you have your passport and that it’s valid, and that you have all the items from around the house that you’ll need.

Once everything is settled and put together, you flop down on your bed, switching on a random Netflix show that you’d been obsessed with lately and allowing yourself to drift off to sleep..

*

You’ll never know how your friends had let them talk you into letting them plan the entire trip. The only thing that you were told was how much your portion of the bills were and when they were due. It has annoyed you to no end, seeing that you are the type of person that likes to know every detail of what’s  going on. You had been on more than enough trips that had absolutely everything that could go wrong do exactly that, leading to ruined trip after ruined trip, that you’d rather know all the plans, maybe even make a list or two so that there are no missteps or slip ups when it comes to the actual vacation.

You texted Lexi a few hours before you had to leave to board the flight to ask if you could scan over the plans and the details of the trip, not to change anything, just to double check. Of course, she said no immediately, not understanding that you just wanted to look over it and make sure that everything was in order to calm your nerves. You didn’t want to explain this to her, though, knowing that she would begin to feel guilty for not letting you see it immediately, and that’s not what you wanted to happen.

If you had talked to her and she had actually allowed you to check literally anything for the trip, though, the first thing you would have ensured was that you wouldn’t be stuck on a plane right next to Harry for hours. You’ll never understand how she could put you in this situation, making you sit next to the most loathsome person in this world, who she knows that you can’t even be in the same room as for more than a few hours.

By the time the situation registers in your mind, however, he’s already loaded his carry on and sat down in the seat. Which means that it's definitely too late to do anything about it. Yeah, you’d rather not sit next to him for hours on end, but you’re definitely not going to cause a scene on an airplane full of people. Especially not when half of them already have their phones out, trying to discreetly take pictures of Harry.

Besides, the flight attendant is already coming around checking belts and the pilot is introducing himself and spouting out information that seemingly no one is paying attention to. This flight will be over in no time. At least that’s what you tell yourself to get through the next ten hours.

You groan, rolling your eyes at the irony of the situation. Of course something like this would happen. You had only agreed to a vacation because you needed relaxation. You needed a break from all the stress. But here you were, stuck right next to one of the biggest stress inducers in your life. Yeah, Lexi had promised you that you’d have plenty of time away from Harry at the rental house, but you were definitely making up for all the time that would be lost right now.

If you didn’t know better, you would think that Lexi and Sam were plotting against you. But that’s crazy, right? They wouldn’t do something like this on purpose, would they?

You lightly shake your head, pushing the thought from your mind. They wouldn’t do that.

You pull out your phone, queuing up the playlists you had downloaded prior to boarding. You knew that you’d want to shut yourself off from the world for the duration of the trip there, so you prepared accordingly.

You take one final glance around the cabin, seeing that everyone else has begun settling in and nobody else is announcing something important. You slip your headphones in your ears, ready to relax as much as possible throughout the flight. You know that the only way to completely avoid being pestered by Harry is to completely block him out.

The first song that comes on makes you want to laugh. You obviously don’t do such a thing, knowing that the outburst would cause every single person on the plane to look at you like you’re crazy. 

You couldn’t catch a break today. Of course one of his songs would be playing in your ears while your face was less than a foot from his. Of course it would actually be one of your favorites. You had never once in your life pressed the skip button on this song, but knowing that he’s as close to you as he is, you’re hesitant to even listen to the opening chords of the song.

“Carolina” blared through your headphones for a split second before you made up your mind and hit skip. You couldn’t risk being caught by him. There’s no way you would survive this if he found out that you listened to his music, especially since you have it saved to your playlist. There’s no way that you’d be able to play that off as you simply listening to it so that you could make fun of him for it later (which you wouldn’t do in general, you know how important his music is for him, and you’d never dampen the light that appears in his eyes when he talks about it. You’re not that cruel.).

It was quite frustrating, really. His music is fantastic, a perfect blend of the basic attributes that hook audiences that hear songs on the radio and a uniqueness that you can’t find anywhere else. His music was absolutely amazing, but the man that sang it… he was a different story.

You didn’t like to judge his tracks based on how fond of him you were when you first heard them. If you did that, you’d never listen to them in general. 

You’d never admit it to him, but every song of his, even the covers, was scattered throughout your playlists. And every once in a while, when nobody was around, you would listen to them and genuinely enjoy them. Sometimes you’d even dance along, and that’s a secret that you’ll take to the grave.

You wanted to drift off to sleep, but didn’t want to risk him hearing if one of his songs came on. Lord knows that he doesn’t need the ego boost. So, you turned the volume down until you were confident that nobody else could hear it. You lean your head back against the rest and let your eyes slip shut, finding sleep in seconds.

*

What seems like moments later, you’re being awoken by someone. You think that maybe it’s Lexi at first, but then you feel them, the rings that he never seems to take off. You jerk your body away from him, not wanting his hands to be on you. 

“Hey, it’s time to wake up. We’ve landed.” You open your eyes and glare at him, taking your headphones out. You can tell that he’s holding in a laugh and it makes you want to punch him right in the jaw. You choose not to do such a thing, however, because you’d rather not cause a scene on an airplane. So, you settle for flipping him off.

He chuckles before mimicking your action. You roll your eyes, standing up from the seat and grabbing your carry on. Harry steps back, letting you walk ahead of him. You think nothing of it until he pushes at the back of your knee, almost making you fall to the ground. What is he? A middle schooler? 

You can already tell that this is going to be a long trip, regardless of what Lexi and Sam had assured you. So far, what they had said had turned out to mean absolutely nothing to you. Not for the first time since you woke up this morning, you find yourself wishing that you hadn’t given in. That you had just said no and not let them talk you into it.

You walk with a bit more speed after you step off of the airplane, trying to get as far away from him as possible. You don’t want to have to add falling over in the middle of the airport to the list of reasons why you despise flying. You had only agreed to get on the plane this time because it was absolutely necessary in getting to Brighton.

You meet up with Sam and Lexi by the luggage pick up and all of you wait for your bags. You put all your effort into ignoring Harry, only looking in his direction or humming an approval when the conversation called for it.

“Alright, well. We need to get to the car rental service and then I have to go rent the yacht.” Harry says, making you snap your head up, looking straight at him. After a second, you turn to Lexi and Sam, looking between the two.

“Oh, no, no, no. Tell me you’re fucking joking.” You spit. “Harry just had to come, huh? And you wouldn’t let me back out? Harry’s the only one with a yacht? Yeah, he’s the only one with a yacht but he’s fucking renting one.” You can’t believe this. “Look, if I had known that me being stuck in a foreign country with him wasn’t completely necessary, I would have given someone else this vacation in a heartbeat.”

“Y/N come on…” Sam starts, but you cut him off.

“What, Sam? Want me to hold my tongue yet again so I don’t hurt Harry’s feelings?” You scoff. Why did they care about his feelings when he had never once taken yours into consideration? “Well, you know what? Fuck Harry’s feelings. He’s rude to me for absolutely no goddamn reason and I’m tired of it. I wanted to come on this god forsaken trip so that I could relax. Both of you,” you point back and forth between Sam and Lexi, “promised me that I would get to relax, that I would only be around Harry on the boat. But it seems like your word is bullshit, doesn’t it?”

Your luggage rolls around and you yank it off the conveyor. “Let’s go get the stupid ass cars. And Harry?” You turn to him, pointing your finger at him and tapping his chest. You ignore the way that the contact sends shivers up and down your spine. “Don’t you dare fucking say a word to me on the way there. Don’t touch me, for any reason. You know what? Just don’t even look at me. That should make everything a little more bearable, got that?” 

He nods, and with that, you walk towards the exit of the airport, knowing that there was no way you could continue that argument without bursting into tears. You weren’t upset in that way, you just had the habit to start crying when you were pissed off at someone to this point. They had really lied to your face. You know Lexi though, she’ll use the fact that she ‘technically didn’t lie because Harry is the only one with a yacht.’ 

You wait outside, knowing that they have the address to the car rental place, and there’s no way that you want to get lost here. You don’t look at any of them once they come out the doors, and they don’t make any effort to talk to you. 

The entire walk to the shop, you stay a few feet behind them, not wanting to be too close to any of them. It’s not even so much so that you were mad anymore, that had subsided. You were hurt. The fact that they lied to you? That was something that all of you had promised to never do to one another, even you and Harry. And what hurt even worse was the fact that the people that did lie to you weren’t who you expected to ever lie to you. If anyone was going to do something like that, you expected that it would have been Harry that did it, not them. It probably wouldn’t have hurt as much if it had been Harry, but only because you had mentally prepared yourself for him to betray you, had kept your walls up against him since the moment that he showed you who he was around you.

The walk to the rental store was a short one, leaving you barely any time alone with your thoughts, which you were completely fine with. You didn’t really want to be in your head right now.

Lexi walks in, leaving the three of you outside. She comes out a moment later with two sets of keys. “Alright, who’s riding with who?”

“I’ll ride with Sam, give Y/N some time away from me.” If he hadn’t said it with the hint of sarcasm that he did, his words could have been mistaken for sweetness. But you know how he is. He makes everyone else think that he’s such a sweetheart when really he’s a prick.

*

The house is nice. Really nice, actually. The moment you walk in, you’re met with the high ceilings of the entryway. You must admit that Lexi and Sam did a great job on picking the house that you’d be staying in for the week. You walk through the entryway and see a kitchen off to the side, it’s really modern, looks like it was just redone. There’s a sitting room directly adjacent to where you’re standing. And you can see multiple doors and a hallway that leads to other rooms, which you assume are bedrooms and the half bath that would be used for guests.

You immediately go to pick a room, knowing that nobody else really plans on being in their rooms at all, so it’s not like they’ll mind. You venture down the hallway and see a few art pieces. You smile to yourself. The house is really cute. You wouldn’t mind living somewhere like this when you find someone and settle down.

You look through all the rooms before choosing the one at the very end of the hallway. There’s a large four poster bed sitting in the middle of the room. There’s a bookshelf to the right of the bed and a nightstand with a cute little lamp on it to the left. Upon walking further into the room and scanning the entirety of it, you see that there’s a dresser against the wall opposite the bed. There’s a tv sat upon the dresser. To the right of that, there’s a door that leads to the bathroom.

Even if Harry does get on your nerves during this trip, you can always come in here and escape from it all. You smile at the thought. That was truly the first thing that had been seen as a positive since you had left your house that morning. 

Since it was already pretty late, you decided to hop in the shower. Grabbing your clothes for the night and walking into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you begin peeling off your clothes. Just doing that puts you in a better mood, you had been wearing those clothes for far too long. They probably didn’t smell the best, having sat on your body for an entire plane ride.

You fiddle with the temperature settings on the shower for a moment before stepping in. The moment that the hot water hits your skin, you let out a sigh of relief. You can feel the muscles that had tensed up throughout the day start to relax.

After spending what feels like an adequate amount of time in the shower, you towel off and get dressed, making your way to the bed. You crawl under the plush comforter and immediately feel the exhaustion rack your body. You turn off the lamp and roll onto your stomach, letting sleep pull you into the blissful state where nothing bothers you

*

Lexi busted into your room early the next morning, shaking you awake until you turned to face her.

“Do you need Sam and me to get you anything from the store?” She chirped, far too giddy for any normal person to be this early in the morning.

That makes sense, though, because Lexi is far from normal. She has this electric personality, usually bringing out the absolute best in everybody.

She has been your best friend since high school. She took you under her wing during your sophomore year, her junior year.

Since then, you have been through a lot together. Crushes, relationships, heartbreaks, you and her yelling at the guy or girl that broke the other’s heart. You helped each other pick up the pieces when nobody else was there to help do so.

You had been through dozens of friendships since sophomore year, but the only one that has been a constant is her.

Sure, the both of you had changed. But you had changed together and supported one another through every decision.

You had seen her cycle through different haircuts - she had chopped off her brown curls during her senior year and instantly hated them, choosing to let them grow back out to their rightful place, right below her shoulders - and hair colors - when she cut her hair, she also dyed it a bright red, which you’re still convinced is the real reason she hated the length of it as well. You had also experienced her ever changing sense of style, which was actually a plus for you most times, because when she changed her taste and cleaned out her closet, she’d give you all of the clothes that no longer satisfied her, leaving you with a new wardrobe at least once a year.

And she had been there for you too, sticking with you through your ‘whore phase.’ Which really just consisted of you dating the ‘hottest guy in school’ - he wasn’t really that hot - and then rumors spread the next year that you were messing around with the ‘hottest girl in school’ - that one was the one that got you the label, all the guys being mad that they couldn’t get with her, seeing as she was strictly into girls. 

Lexi had also dealt with your late night calls, riddled with anxiety, not knowing what it is that you could possibly do with your future. She had calmed you down multiple times, talking through options with you. She was the reason that you came to realize that you wanted to be in the fashion industry in some way. 

She had already known what she wanted to do, had been aware of her dreams since before she even made it into high school. She used to tell you all the time, “Y/N, one of these days, I’m going to own a Fortune 500 company.” And that’s exactly what she had done. 

Which is the only reason that you got to be friends with all the people that you do. She’s also the one who introduced you to Harry, starting the rivalry between the two of you.

“No, I’m fine.” You groaned, rolling back over.

“Alright, sleepy head.” She chuckled, walking back out of your room and latching the door.

Once she’s gone, you reach over and grab your phone, checking the time. Seven A.M. You groan. Was she crazy? 

You’re definitely not pleased that you’re up this early. However, you decided to go ahead and stay up. Your alarm would be going off in two hours, and you know that you’ll be grumpy if you go back to sleep just to wake up then.

You pull yourself out of bed, trudging to the bathroom. You run through all the steps of your morning routine and emerge from the bathroom, ready to take on the day.

Your way of taking on the day is going to be picking a book from the bookshelf and laying in bed until around ten, when you’re scheduled to go out to the water for the day.

*

It’s almost ten when you get the text from Sam.

We’re running late, you and H go ahead and get on the water, we’ll rent jet skis to get out there. X

You roll your eyes, of course they’d be late. And of course they’d leave you to fend for yourself with Harry.

You quickly get dressed in your dark blue bikini, the one that accentuates all your curves perfectly. You then throw an oversized band tee over your head, making sure that you’re covered enough before walking out and making sure that Harry's ready and has everything that he’ll need for the day. You’re really not in the mood to have him forget something and have to come all the way back to the house.

When you reach the living room, he’s already by the door, dressed in a pair of yellow swimming trunks and a cream colored tee. He has the yacht keys in hand, along with his phone. He already has the cooler and the bag Lexi had packed with supplies for the day (sunscreen, portable chargers, etc.). 

You just stand there for a moment, looking him over, trying to ignore the feeling that you got in your stomach. You couldn’t place exactly what it was, but it had to be one of disgust, right? You couldn’t stand being around him, he was unnecessarily rude to you and you can’t tolerate him. That feeling couldn’t be anything good, it had to be disgust, or maybe it was resentment. Either way, it stopped you in your tracks.

“You coming or what, loser? It’s enough that it’s just us, do I need to hold your hand too?” He smirks.

You push down the rising feeling in your chest, and push past him, walking over to the passenger side of the suv that he had rented for the week. 

He takes his sweet time strolling over, popping the trunk and placing the bag and cooler in before slamming it shut again. He unlocks the doors and you slide in, buckling your seat. You refuse to look at him, knowing that if you make eye contact with him, he’ll be more inclined to say something dickish to you.

The ride to the water is mostly quiet, the only sound in the car being the music from the radio. Some top 40s song that you haven't heard yet was filling the air, causing the silence between you and Harry to be slightly less awkward. 

“What’re you gonna do when we get there?” He asks. You’re taken aback for a moment. Why was he even talking to you, let alone asking what your plans were for the day? Why was he being weird? “Because, honestly, you should probably tan, you look like a ghost.” There it is, the snide remark that was missing.

You scoff. “Harry, maybe don’t check me out every two seconds and you won’t notice.” You joke, knowing that he’s the last person on the planet that would ever check you out.

You expect him to hurl an insult back at you, tell you that he’d never check out someone as ugly as you, or tell you that he was only scanning to see what he could make fun of, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t say a word, and when you turn to him, you see that the tips of his ears are red and there’s a blush creeping up his neck. Was it really that embarrassing to be accused of checking you out? 

You don’t push him, thankful for the returning silence. It only takes a few more moments to get to the docks anyway, so it’s not like the silence is stretched out for too long.

You grab the cooler and the bag this time, knowing that he’ll have to drive the yacht, and you don’t feel like hearing about how lazy you are because you didn’t do enough.

The walk to the boat is silent and filled with tension. It’s like both of you want to say something, are dying to talk to the other, but you won’t. You don’t want to talk to him, you just want to talk to someone. It’s not the same. 

Once Harry gets everything ready, you climb onto the boat, setting everything down and pulling out the sunglasses that you had decided to bring at the last moment.

“So, where do you think we should go?” You ask, knowing that he’s been here before. He’ll know how far out you can go while still being able to anchor the yacht.

“Out on the water, duh.” His words are laced with sarcasm and it makes you want to throw him overboard. Too bad he’s the only person on this vacation that’s ever had enough down time to actually learn how to handle one of these things.

“You know what the fuck I meant, stop being an idiot.” You spit, hating how easily he got a rise out of you.

He chuckles before waving you off with a, “I know what I’m doing, darling, don’t worry about it.” 

He seems to catch what he says as soon as it slips out of his mouth, his eyes widening and the blush coming back to his features. You choose to ignore it. You’d rather just go up to the deck and tan.

For a split second, you debate on whether or not you should lay out, knowing that he would think you were doing it because of the comment that he made. But then you realize that you don’t actually give a fuck about what he has to say or what he thinks with his final two brain cells. 

So, you head up to the upper deck, stripping yourself of your shirt and laying out a towel for you to rest on.

You stay in that position, only moving to flip over so that each side gets an even amount of sun, until you hear jet skis approaching.

You push yourself up, wandering down to where Harry has set up his towel. Apparently he decided to sunbathe as well. It’s not like he needed it though, he has a tan that any woman would absolutely die for. 

You quickly give him a once over, halting when you realize that he’s put a stupid hat on his head. And not even just that, he has it on backwards. What was he trying to do, absolutely kill you? 

Here’s the thing, you hate Harry, sure. But you aren’t blind. You can see how attractive he is, how his tattoos run over his tanned skin, making you want to trace each detail with the tip of your finger, or more honestly, your tongue. His muscles always accentuate everything that he wears, regardless of whether it’s one of the custom Gucci suits or a random Nike tank that he threw on to go on a run. His face is damn near perfect, so much so that it makes you want to throw up. His cheekbones are high, jawline sharp. He was blessed with the dimples, which are only made even better by his eye crinkles. And God, his hands. His hands that are constantly adorned with rings, all of which could probably pay your rent for at least a year.

It’s really not fair. In all honesty, him being as completely flawless his physical attributes seem to be is absolutely not fair. You used to scoff at the fact that people were blessed with good looks. It was all genes, right? Wrong. Sure, Anne’s gorgeous and you’re sure that Desmond had to have had something going for him when Anne met him, but Harry? He came out to be a whole lot more attractive than anyone you had ever seen. And just to add on to everything, he was the person that you hated the most in the world.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by Lexi pulling up to the side of the boat and climbing in. She doesn’t even look at you, just walks farther into the yacht. You don’t think to question her, she’s probably annoyed by something that Sam said. But then you notice that Sam isn’t getting off his jet ski, does he plan on just not taking his shirt off the entire time?

Lexi comes bounding back to where you and Harry are standing, but she again doesn’t stop. She just keeps walking, clambering back onto her abandoned vehicle. You’re confused for a second, what’s going on? But then you see them, the keys dangling in her fist. You’d know those keys anywhere. They were put on Harry’s keychain the moment that he had picked them up. She has the yacht keys.

Before you can say anything about it, she’s driving off, yelling, “Have fun!” into the wind.

“They did not just-” You start, only to be cut off by Harry. Usually, you’d be annoyed by him, but this time, you have another source of irritation.

“Yeah, they just pulled an Outer Banks on us.” He sighs, walking back to where he had originally been laying. 

“Are you not mad?” You try to stop your eyes from tracing the expanse of his back, but it seems to be impossible.  The way that his muscles are flexing under the expanse of skin drawing you in.

“No, are you?” He sounds like he couldn’t care less, which is odd. Shouldn’t he be upset that he’s forced to spend an entire day alone with the person that he hates?

“Um, yeah.” You groan. Of course you’re mad, you don’t want to be here. How can he seem so calm?

“Why are you so fucking uptight all the time?” He blurts, catching you off guard. The words hit you like a train, knocking all the air out of your lungs. So this is why he hated you. You just thought that you gave him the wrong vibes or something, he seemed like the kind of person to judge based on that type of thing.

“What do you mean?” He looks over at you and rolls his eyes.

“I mean, why are you so uptight all the time?” For some reason, your chest tightens up and you feel like you’re going to cry. You’d known that he couldn’t stand you, that he’d rather not be around you, but hearing the real reason? Hearing what he really hates about you? That fucking hurts.

“Is that why you hate me?” At most, you had thought that maybe he just looked down on you, thought that you weren’t good enough to be part of the friend group because you didn’t own a fortune 500 company, or sell houses for the richest people in America, or sing to thousands upon thousands of adoring fans. But apparently not. Apparently he had an actual, legitimate reason, and for some reason, that stings.

“I don’t hate you.” You scoff and roll your eyes at him. Did he really think you’d believe that? “I just think that you’re uptight and you get on my last nerve.” 

“You hate me, Harry. Don’t try to lie about it.” He can say what he wants, but people that don’t hate you don’t act the way that he does.

“I don’t hate you, I just strongly dislike you.” This makes you snicker. He’s such an idiot sometimes.

“That’s literally just you saying that you hate me with a different word choice.” He looks over at you, and you see the little tufts of curls sticking out from the side of his hat. The sight makes your chest ache, why does he have to be so fucking cute? Why couldn’t you be blessed with an ugly enemy?

“Whatever.” He sighs, brushing the conversation to the side.

You want to continue, but you’re almost scared to. You could just walk back up to the upper deck and continue tanning, or you could even go for a swim, but instead, you stay right where you are. You subconsciously start to play with a loose string on the shirt that you had slipped back on before coming down to Harry.

“I’m not uptight, by the way.” You say after a few moments of silence. 

He scoffs, “Yes you are.”

“How so?” You’d love to hear him explain this one, even though it’ll probably either hurt you even more or infuriate you. But you’d like to know why he thinks you’re so uptight,

“You think you’re better than everyone, especially your friends. You have the money to do what you want but you turn your nose up at the finer things in life and give all of us dirty looks when we drink from the top shelf or buy something super expensive.” You’re speechless for a moment, but he doesn’t seem to be done, so it doesn’t really matter. “You act like there’s something better about you getting cheap tequila and wearing the same clothes over and over again. Well, think about it this way, yeah, I buy from the top shelf and I wear a lot of new clothes, but most of those clothes, I get sent. Most of them I don’t even pay for. Which honestly, you’ll probably find to be worse. But yeah, you’re uptight.”

After a moment, the words ignite a fire in you. “First of all, that shows how little you know about me, Styles. I don’t have the money to do what I want. I have money, sure. But not that much. I have enough money from my job to pay for rent, bills, food, and then have a little bit to splurge on myself.” You really don’t want to have this conversation with him, you don’t like to talk about your financial situation with anyone, let alone him. “But nowhere near enough to spend excessive amounts on alcohol or drop almost a grand on a striped t-shirt with a pig on it that’s literally the size of my fingernail. Not all of us can be big shot CEO’s or superstars.”

He looks shocked by your words, which just further added to your point. He didn’t know you, not at all. He pretended to know you, made assumptions about you, all of which seemed to make him hate you more and more.

“Well you still give us dirty looks.” You almost snort at his feeble attempt to save his argument.

“I literally don’t but okay. I don’t really care what you think about me. Hate me if you want to. You’ll be annoying either way.” You turn on your heel to get as far away from his as possible, but he stops you with his words.

“I’m not annoying.” This time, you actually do let out a chuckle. Him thinking that he’s not an annoying little prick is honestly better comedy than the specials they try to run on TV.

“The fuck you aren’t, Harry. All you do is make snide comments.” Who did he think he was? A saint?

“I do not. Don’t start your shit, Y/N.” He glares at you, but his looks don’t have the effect that he wishes this time, they just add fuel to the fire still burning bright inside of you.

“Don’t start my shit?” You snicker. He has to be fucking kidding. “You tell me how trashy I look in outfits that I think I look great in. You tell me my makeup looks like shit and that if I was trying to impress someone, I failed, even though all I do is put it on for myself. You tell me to stop trying so hard to get attention when I’m literally trying to blend in as much as possible.” You’re trying to hold the emotion back, to not cry in front of him, because you’ve already spent enough time crying over the things that he’s said. “You call me a slut when I have a one night stand like you don’t literally bring a different girl hom every fucking night. So I don’t wanna hear it, Harry.”

If looks could kill, the one that he’s giving you at the moment would have you six feet under. “You don’t fucking know me. I don’t bring a new girl home every night, you make me sound like a fuckboy.” 

You roll your eyes. “I could make you sound a lot worse. And maybe there’s not one every night, but there’s at least one a week, and I have a one night stand what, maybe once every couple months? If even that?” You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, maybe I don’t know you, but that’s not my fault. I didn’t make the choice to not know you. You pushed me away the second you met me, even though I did nothing to you. You didn’t let me know you. But you don’t know me either.” The tears are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill onto your cheeks. You look up towards the sky, trying to make them subside. Once you feel confident enough in the fact that they won’t drop, you look back at him. “You’re not just annoying, you’re a dick. The shit you say? God, if you knew how much that shit can hurt someone.”

“Don’t come at me and say that any of that hurts you. You fire right back and then go on with your day.” The smirk that he has plastered on his face makes you want to knock him into a new dimension, but you compose yourself. He isn’t worth it.

“Yeah, of course I just let it roll off my shoulders while I’m around you. Have you ever thought about why that is? About why I seem to not care?” Your voice has slowly but surely become louder. “It’s because I’m not going to cry my eyes out and let myself wonder if maybe you’re right, that maybe I do look like shit and should cover up as much of my body as possible, right in front of you!” By the end, you’re screaming, and you don’t even care. 

You take a deep breath and continue, “I can’t give you the fucking satisfaction. Because Lord knows that you’ll just hold that over my head too.”

That seems to have some sort of effect on him. His face falls almost immediately, that god awful smirk disappearing. His eyes seem to get softer, and a part of you wants to walk over and hug him. But you don’t. Of course you don’t. He’s the guy you hate the most.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” He mumbles as you’re getting ready to head back to the upper deck.

“I’m sorry.” He tries, but you’re not going to let him off the hook that easy.

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it, Harry. It’s not like you're even sorry anyway. You don’t care about me, so don’t start acting like you do now.” With that, you turn on your heel and make your way back up to continue tanning.

Once you get back to your towel, you let the few stray tears fall. You hate that he has the power to make you cry, but you can’t help it. He just gets to you, regardless of how hard you try to guard yourself from him.

He comes up after a few minutes and you look over at him, waiting for an explanation.

“I’m going for a swim. If you need anything, I’ll be in the water.” He states, and you turn back around.

“Have fun.” You spit, the words laced with sarcasm. 

He doesn’t reply. You hear his footsteps receding and then a splash signaling that he’s jumped off of the boat.

For some reason, you have a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. At first, you ignore it, but then you stop hearing the sloshing of the water. You can’t help but let yourself get a little panicked. You may not be the biggest fan of the guy, but you can’t just let him drown.

You stand up from your spot on the towel and walk over to the side of the boat that you heard the initial splash come from.

You make your way back down to where you and Harry had fought. You grimace at the thought. Had that really been one of the last things he ever heard? No, you can’t think like that. 

You look to your right and notice that all four life jackets are still hooked on the railing. Of course he didn’t take a life jacket. Anything could have happened to him and now you wouldn’t even be able to float. He could be sinking to the bottom, never to be found again.

Yeah, he can swim. He’s actually a really good swimmer, but he could have hit his head on the boat when he jumped in. Or he could have dove down under the water and ended up getting caught on something. 

You rush over to slip one of the life jackets and grab an extra. The last thing that you needed was to find him and not be able to drag him back to the boat because he’s too heavy.

You jump in, the life jacket keeping you afloat. With there being no need to concentrate on not drowning, you focus all your efforts on finding Harry. You can’t see him anywhere in the general vicinity, so you start looking under the water as long as you’re able to.

You’re trying your hardest, but you can’t find him. 

You start to panic. Suddenly you find it hard to breathe and the tears are streaming down your face. You immediately blame yourself. You should have just stopped earlier, should’ve realized that there’s a better time to argue with him. Maybe if you had just been a little nicer, the two of you could have gotten along for the day. Why didn’t you just stop? Why didn’t you at least accept his apology?

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a strong pair of arms wrapping around you. You scream, not knowing who it could possibly be. You twist in their arm, realizing that it was only Harry.

You push away from him. “What the fuck, Harry? I thought you died!”

“Really? And you came out here to look for me?” He asks, and for a moment, you think he might be grateful, but you can already see the smirk forming on his lips. You choose to ignore it for the moment, though.

“Yeah, I couldn’t hear you swimming around anymore and I thought maybe you had hit your head on something or gotten pulled under or something like that. Where were you?” You’re trying to wipe the tears off of your face, but your hands are just as soaked as your face, so it does absolutely no use.

“The other side of the boat, why didn’t you just check over there?” His smirk is present in full force now.

“I don’t know, slipped my mind, I guess.” You mumble, knowing that this could have all been avoided if you had just looked on the other side of the boat.

“Seems pretty fucking stupid of you.” He chuckles.

You push even further away from him, throwing the life jacket you had brought for him in his face. “You’re such a fucking dick! Sorry that I cared too fucking much about your life to check the entire perimeter of the boat before trying to save you!”

You can’t believe him. You didn’t think of one thing, in the heat of the moment, and now you’re stupid? Wow. Okay, next time you’ll just let him drown.

You start to swim back towards the boat. He’s following you, but you don’t care enough to acknowledge it.

“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant, I swear. I know I can be an asshole but I'm not that heartless.” You don’t even turn back to him.

“Problem is, Styles, you really are that heartless.” You spit, climbing back onto the boat, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

He clambers up after you, trying to get your attention. You actively ignore him, though.

He grabs your wrist, wrapping his fingers around the joint. You spin on your heel.

“Let me go, Harry.” you demand.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” His eyes are pleading with you, but you genuinely can’t care any less. 

“Seems pretty fucking stupid of you.” You throw his words back at him.

His face immediately falls, not liking how the words hurt him. He deserves it though. All you were trying to do was help him and he was an absolute prick. 

You storm back up to your towel, laying down and trying to dry yourself off. 

Not too long after you head back up, he brings you a sandwich that he made with the supplies he had packed in the cooler.

“Thought you might be hungry.” He mumbles when he sits the plate down. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, just turns back and heads to where he came from.

You wait until he’s gone to eat, only doing so because it’s already made and you wouldn’t want the food to go to waste.

*

What seems like eons later, but was definitely only hours, Lexi and Sam get dropped off at the boat by a random couple you’ve never seen before.

You rush down to where they are.

“Did you guys get any closer?” Sam asks. 

You just roll your eyes and stick your hand out. “If you don’t hand the keys back this fucking instant, I will not hesitate to jump off this boat and swim back to the docks.”

Lexi looks at you with wide eyes and hands over the keys. The moment that you have them in your hands, you stomp over to Harry and chuck them at him.

“Drive this stupid ass boat back to the docks, and don’t you dare fuck around or you’ll get thrown overboard and I won’t bother to come looking for you.” He doesn’t argue with you, just picks up the keys and makes his way to the wheel.

“What happened?” Lexi questions, but you just brush her off.

“Ask him, he’ll tell you with a fucking smirk on his face.” You walk over to the bench and sit down, not wanting to talk to anyone else throughout the trip back.

*

It only registers with you that you’ll have to ride back to the house with Harry after you get to the docks.

“I’m walking home.” You announce, knowing that it’ll only take fifteen minutes tops to get back to the rental.

“What are you talking about?” Harry and Sam ask at the same time.

You ignore Harry, turning back to Sam. “I’m walking back to the house. It shouldn’t take me long, and there’s no way in hell I’m riding with him.”

With that, you turn and start walking. The road is secluded, lined by trees.

After a few minutes, they drive up to you. Harry rolls down his window. “Y/N, come on, I’ll walk if it’s that big of a deal.”

You raise your hand, flipping him off. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your Gucci shoes.”

He sighs, rolling the window back up and continuing to drive. He knows better than to argue with you right now. There’s no way that he’ll win.

You slow your stride, wanting to prolong the walk as long as possible. You only speed back up when the clouds start to turn into a viscous shade of gray.

The one thing that could bother you more than Harry is thunderstorms. And you can tell by the state of the sky that a bad one’s coming.

*

You sneak back into the house, pushing the door open as quietly as possible. Thankfully, there’s nobody in the living room. Everyone seems to have retired to their rooms. 

As you’re creeping down the hallway, you hear Harry talking to Lexi. Her door is slightly ajar and you can’t help but stop and listen.

“No, no. Lexi, I know. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have called her stupid. All she was trying to do was help me. God, I’m such a fucking idiot.” You can hear his voice waiver and you think for a moment that he might be crying. You quickly push the thought from your mind. Why would Harry be crying over you?

“Yeah, you did fuck up. Harry, this isn’t how you treat people that you care about.” Every trace of air leaves your lungs at that. Since when does Harry care about you? You want to blame it on him lying, but why would he? It’s just Lexi. And they have no way of knowing that you’re here. He must be telling the truth. 

“I know, I know. We were arguing before then, She told me about how shitty I make her feel and it absolutely tore my heart into pieces. I don’t mean to make her feel that way.” You can’t deny that he’s crying, hearing the sob come less than a millisecond after he finishes.

“I know that, H. But she doesn’t, She thinks you get a kick out of hurting her. She really thinks you hate her.” You can visualize what she’s doing, knowing how she comforts like the back of your hand. She’s running her hand over Harry’s back, trying to soothe him. And if that doesn’t work, she’ll push his hair back and wipe the tears from his face, tell him that it’ll all be okay.

“I’m aware. But I don’t, I hate hurting her. That’s what I hate, not her.” If he doesn't hate you, then why does he act the way that he does?

“Then go show her.” You smile, Lexi knows you so well. She knows that you judge people off their actions. And that you don’t believe a word anyone says until they show you that their words actually mean something.

“Alright. I will when she gets home.” The determination in his voice makes your heart swell. 

You hear him get off of his bed and you scurry to your room, not wanting to face him, and really not wanting to get caught eavesdropping. You slip inside and close your door just in the nick of time. Half a second after you’re out of sight, you hear his feet padding along the hallway to his room.

You sigh, a million thoughts running through your head. 

Could he really care about you?

If he does, why is he so rude to you all the time?

How does he expect to make this up to you?

You decided to take a shower. Not only to get clean, but also to clear your head. The second the water hits your skin, you know that there’s no way this shower is going to be as quick as you had planned. For a long time, you just stand under the stream of water, letting your mind run rampant with the thoughts of Harry. 

Is it a good thing that he could care about you? Sure, you see how he is with everyone else, and you’ve always craved to have that with him. And hating him is absolutely exhausting, most of the time you’d rather just fall into the easy conversation that he’s able to have with the rest of his friends. 

But would it be that easy? Probably not. Nothing was ever that easy when it came to him.

Are you willing to work for it? If Harry takes the initiative and tries to show you that he does care, then yes.

Once you come to that conclusion, you realize just how long that you’ve been in the shower. Your body is starting to prune, and the water has gotten significantly cooler.

You step out and throw on the shirt that you slept in the night before, but not slipping on the shorts.

You open the bathroom door and trudge over to the bed, flopping down and switching the lamp off. 

Usually, you could never fall asleep comfortably during storms, but after the day that you’ve had, your eyes are shut and sleep is overtaking you in mere moments.

*

Far too soon, you’re being shaken awake. 

The first thing you notice is that it’s dark outside. Who in their right minds is waking you up before sunrise, you don’t know.

The second thing you notice is the chill of someone’s cold rings on your skin. The contact makes a shiver run down your spine. 

You immediately roll over and face him. The sight of him is not great. He’s soaked from head to toe, water dripping on the floor. You almost have the nerve to scold him for not drying off, but then you realize that he has no reason to be wet. What did he do? What happened to him?

“When did you get home?” He asks, voice sticking in his throat.

“Earlier. Why are you wet?” Your voice is hoarse from sleep and you pray that you don’t sound revolting.

“Went out in the storm.” He shrugs. “None of us heard you come home. I guess when I checked in here earlier you were in the shower or something.”

“Why did you guys go looking? You could’ve just called or texted.” You say, then realize that you may have seemed ungrateful. “Not that I’m complaining, thanks for worrying about me.”

“Well, you see, Sam and Lexi thought you’d be fine. You know the way home, after all. They just thought you had stopped somewhere to cool off and wait out the storm. I went looking though, I was really worried. And I didn’t text or call because I, um, don’t exactly have your phone number.” He lets out a dry chuckle, running his hands through his hair.

Your heart swells. Harry went looking for you. He walked right out into a thunderstorm because he was worried that you were stuck out there by yourself.

“Hey, um, so I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything, but I heard a snippet of your conversation with Lexi earlier while I was walking to my room.” You gulp, hoping he doesn’t think you’re creepy or anything. “Did you really mean what you said?”

“Which part did you hear?” His question is laced with anxiety and he looks like he’s seconds away from passing out.

“Um, from the part where you said you fucked up and didn’t really hate me.” You mumble.

“Yeah, I meant every word. I also meant it when I said I was gonna show you that I care about you.” He looks up, meeting your eyes. You can’t help the feeling you get in your chest. This man just went out into the pouring rain, lightning falling all around him, just to look for you.

“I think you already did, H.” Regardless of how he treated you in the past. Hell, how he treated you in the past twenty four hours, you can’t help but see tha the really does care about you. Lexi and Sam, the two people in the house who were supposed to not hate you in the slightest didn’t even go looking, but the one person who was supposed to not give a fuck about whether you’re breathing or not did.

“Did you- you just called me H?” He stumbles, and a smile comes to your face.

“Yeah? So?” He said it like it was a good thing, but you could never be too sure with him.

“So, you’ve never done that before.” His expression is unreadable. Usually you can tell exactly what he’s thinking, but right now you’re coming up blank.

“Do you not want me to? I can stop saying it.” You wouldn’t ever want to do something that he’s uncomfortable with, you just thought that’s what everyone called him.

“No!” he blurts. “No, please don’t stop. I like the way it sounds coming from you.”

“Alright.” you grin “H.”

The smile that breaks out over his face is the biggest that you’ve ever seen. “Wait, what did you mean I already did?” He wonders. 

 “You just risked getting sick to go out in the pouring rain to try to find me.” Which reminds you, if he doesn’t get in a warm shower and some dry clothes soon, he’s going to catch something.

“It’s the least I could do.” His cheeks are turning a light shade of pink, and you really hope that it’s a blush and not him being cold.

“Yeah, but that shows me that you care, H.” You say, getting up from the bed and checking to see if you had brought the extra sweatpants and sweatshirt. Unfortunately, you hadn’t. 

“I’m sorry, by the way. Like really sorry. I hate myself for what I said. I’m so stupid. You were just trying to save me and I was a dick.” You appreciate the sentiment, you really do, but right now, that’s not your concern.

“It’s fine.” You mumble, because, really, it is.

“No, it’s not.” He doesn’t want to believe it, but it really is. You wouldn’t be letting him drip excessive amounts of water on the floor if you were still mad at him. 

“Yes, H, it is. Now come on, let me go get you some clean clothes. Go get in the shower, there are towels in the bathroom.” You’ve come to the realization that you’d have to retrieve his clothes, seeing as you hadn’t exactly planned for something like this.

“Y/n, it’s fine. I can just go take a shower in my room.” He tries, but you immediately refuse.

“No. You can take one in here so I know that you take one and don’t just change into dry clothes.” The look he gives you lets you know that was exactly what he was planning to do.

“I’m not gonna win this, am I?” You chuckle, pleased that he knows well enough to not argue with you any further on this.

“Not a chance, now get your ass in there.” You put your hands on his shoulders and nudge him towards the bathroom. You try your hardest to not think about the way his muscles ripple underneath your digits.

“Alright, alright. I’m going.” He concedes, trodding into the bathroom.

You wait until you hear the water running before you exit the room to find his clothes. You make the journey to his room, grabbing boxers and a pair of sweatpants from his bag. You don’t bother trying to find a shirt, knowing from the countless times that he’s stripped out of one to take a nap at a friends house that he never wears them to bed.

You make your way back to your room, sitting the clothes down on the small table sat outside the bathroom door.

His vast collection of rings is placed on the table as well. He must have taken them off and sat them there after you left. 

Without thinking, your hand reaches out and picks up the rose ring that adorns his hand more often than not. It’s gorgeous, and you can’t stop your fingertips from running across the designs. The band is etched with leaves and vines, and upon further inspection, you feel that there’s a little caterpillar seemingly hidden on the inner part of the ring.

It’s heavy in your hand and you can't help but wonder just how much metal was used to make this ring. It’s obvious that it was hand etched, so your mind tries to picture how big the piece was before the carving started.

After a few moments, you place it back on the table, picking up his Cartier ring. You wonder for a moment how something so simple could cost the ridiculous price that it did. Sure, it’s absolutely gorgeous, but the price tag that you know it carries is enough to make the appeal fade. You don’t have the luxury of dropping thousands on a ring.

He opens the door and you immediately drop the ring, cheeks burning from being caught. You know how much he adores his rings, and you’re scared for a split second that you’ve overstepped, crossed a boundary that he wouldn’t be comfortable with.

All your worries are washed away, though, when he says, “Wear it.” He reaches over for his clothes, a towel wrapped around his waist.

You gawk at him. Was he serious? “H, I can’t do that.” You go to scramble away, before your eyes get caught on the way that the water droplets from the shower cling to him, the sheen making his tattoos even more vivid. God, what you would do to trace every line and seemingly miniscule detail.

He gives you a soft smile, and your heart speeds up to a rate that has to be unhealthy, especially since you’re sitting still, your back rimrod straight. “Yes you can. Go ahead, put it on.” He urges.

You sigh, picking up the Cartier ring that you had been admiring moments prior and slip it on your ring finger, that being the one you wear all rings on. You glance up at him through your lashes and you can see the way that his eyes seem to have lit up. You try to ignore the way your stomach flutters, the butterflies going absolutely wild.

He chuckles, looking down at your finger, where the ring sits, looking about five sizes too small. You join along, letting a lighthearted laugh slip through your lips. It truly was ginormous on you, but you expected no less. He does have large hands, after all.

“I’ve got a chain around here somewhere, keep the ring.” He says nonchalantly, like he’s not gifting you a fucking Cartier ring.

“Harry, no, it’s too expensive.” You can’t possibly accept this ring, so you really hope that he doesn’t fight you on it. You’re pretty sure you’d say yes to just about anything if he keeps looking at you like he’s just seen the most precious thing in the world.

“If you don’t keep it and wear it, I’ll never wear it again, so it might as well be worn by you.” He argues, giving you the stern look that you know well. It’s always the one that says not to argue back, that he’ll just continue pestering you if you do.

Knowing that the argument would go on for hours on end if you didn’t, you reluctantly agree.

He gives a triumphant smile before returning to the bathroom, clothes in hand.

A moment later, he comes back out into your room and your ability to breathe is gone. You swear he’s the most perfect person you’ve ever seen. Sure, you’ve seen how pretty he is before, but you’ve never let yourself truly see how perfect he is. Maybe you prematurely judged that article. Maybe they had a point. 

The muscles in his upper body ripple under his tan skin, making your mouth damn near water. You avert your eyes from his shoulders to his chest, admiring the butterfly inked onto his abdomen. You had always adored that tattoo, at times you even wished that you had thought of the idea before he had. You see the way that the ferns underneath trace his lower stomach, the endings leading a trail right to the band of his sweatpants. 

God, why would you get him gray sweatpants? At this view, your mouth actually does water, wondering how good he would look with even less on.

Him shuffling over to pick up his rings is what breaks you out of your trance, your cheeks heating up from the thoughts that had been running through your mind.

He places each of the rings carefully back on his hands, sans the Cartier ring. He left that one on the table, looking up at you with a smirk.

He begins to make his way out the door, but you stop him.

“H,” you give him your best puppy eyes when he stops and looks over his shoulder at you, “Will you stay with me? I’m scared of thunderstorms.”

“Are you really?” He doesn’t say it in a mocking way, it’s more in a perplexed way. You’re not confused by this in the slightest, as far as he used to be concerned, you’re not scared of anything.

“Yeah,” you admit, “but I also want to get to know you. Feel like we’ve missed a lot while hating each other.”

He sighs, “Never hated you.”

You smile, “I know, I know, but I thought you did. Made me not able to get to know you very well.”

“Alright.” He agrees. “Let me go put my rings up and get that chain for you and then I’ll stay.”

You wait patiently as he does just that, wondering why you had never just taken the time to talk to him before. Would it really have been that simple? 

“Here you are.” He speaks when he reenters the room, walking over to the stand and placing the ring on the chain. Once he’s done, he gently sets it back down, ensuring that the chain doesn’t get tangled, and then trudges over to you.

He sits on the edge of the bed, probably just intending to stay until you fall asleep, and at first you’re fine with that. But then you start to get progressively more tired, and your clinginess starts kicking in, that fact that you’re touch starved not helping.

“H.” you groan, making his ears perk up and his eyes snap to yours.

“Hmm?” he wonders.

You make grabby hands at him. “Come cuddle with me.”

A smile breaks out on his face and your stomach does the flippy thing that makes your heart race.

He slowly crawls towards you, as if he’s giving you enough time to take back your words, to give him any sign that you regret ever asking him to come up to you. Once he’s right beside you and you’ve made no move to stop him, he slips under the covers and pulls you close.

You immediately sigh in content and place your head on his chest, the sleepiness taking over more and more as you listen to his heartbeat against your ear.

RIght before you completely drift off, you mumble, “You’re not as bad as I thought you were.” You hope he hears you, but you don’t have the time to check, sleep overtaking your body and pulling you under.

*

When you wake up the next morning, you let your eyes stay shut, not wanting to be greeted with the sunlight just yet.

You shift slightly and realize that you’re still laying with Harry. You can feel his solid chest under your head, your legs are tangled with his. 

After a moment, you can feel him looking at you, “It’s rude to stare, H.” You joke, expecting him to laugh.

He doesn’t, though, instead he just whispers, “Can’t help it. You’re beautiful.” 

You immediately blush, burning under the compliment. You’re still not used to being this close to Harry in general, but receiving compliments from him is even weirder.

“Can I tell you something?” You look up at him, waiting for him to accept your question.

“Yeah, anything.” He holds eye contact with you, your faces mere inches apart. You could very easily push yourself up and attach your lips to his, but you refrain, not wanting to push too far. You had just started really talking to each other last night.

“I never hated you either.” You say, the words barely audible. You’re ashamed of it, of the fact that you pretended to hate him, probably making everything worse than it had to be.

“Really?” He looks hopeful, like he’s praying that you’re not joking with him. 

“Really. I just thought that you hated me. Figured that we should at least balance each other out.” You let out a humorless laugh, trying to make light of the situation, but you still can’t shake the guilt. You probably could have been lying in bed with him a long time ago had you just made it clear that you didn’t hate him.

“So all this time, neither one of us hated the other, but we both thought we did?” He has a smirk etched on his face, and a very large part of you wants to close the space between the two of you. You can’t handle the smirk right now, not when his chestnut curls are framing his face the way that they are. Not when his bare chest is still pressed against you, warming you up in the most delightful way.

“Basically.” You can’t help but giggle. The situation really is quite ridiculous.

You move to get up and he pouts, holding onto you and trying to get you to stay in his arms, he’s enjoying the warmth that you’re radiating. 

“Where are you going?” He whines, making your throat constrict. He sounds so pretty when he whines.

“I’ve gotta pee, I’ll be right back.” You promise, knowing that the words will soothe him.

“Don’t go…” He tries giving you puppy dog eyes, but they won’t work this time, not when you can feel the urge to use the bathroom growing.

“I have to pee, but I promise I’ll come back to exactly where I was when I’m done.” You reach over to him and push a stray curl behind his ears, reveling in how soft that his hair is.

“Good, I wanna keep cuddling.” He mumbles, and you can’t help but feel the butterflies return yet again. You can’t believe that Harry was just begging you to stay curled up in bed with him.

It all seems a little off, having him in your bed, cuddling with you. Less than twenty four hours prior, you were screaming at each other on a boat about how much you can’t stand each other, and now neither of you do? You come to find out that the both of you were faking it this entire time? The entire situation is a little confusing, but you’re a lot happier with it than you were with being at each other's throats all the time.

Now that the two of you are being more honest with each other, you figure it’s probably time to start being more honest with yourself. And that starts with admitting the feelings that you’ve been suppressing for him. 

You had seen how attractive he was the moment that you had even laid eyes on one of the numerous articles about him. You aren’t shallow though, that’s not what made you have the feelings that you had developed for him. You could also see just how nice he was to everyone else, how he lit up every room that he walked into. How everyone was always put into a better mood just by his presence. You began to fall for that version of himself, the one that he was with everyone else. You had caught feelings before he even said a word to you. There were times when you had been at the same party or event, and you’d be able to feel the effect he had on everyone else. And at first, that was intimidating, but then you felt a pull to him. Like the two of you were magnets and were destined to be together.

But then you actually talked to him, and everything went south.

Now, though, you’ve realized that he’s only like he is with you because he thought that you hated him. Which is absurd to you, but you were quite distant that night. You had been overwhelmed, thinking that you were inferior to him in every way that night. Maybe that’s why he thought that you hated him, because you didn’t show that much interest, because you seemed like you didn’t want to get to know him.

You don’t really know how to process that information. This entire thing had initially been your fault, had you just gotten over yourself and realized that you’re good enough to talk to him, all of this could have been avoided.

As you wash your hands and get ready to exit the bathroom, you can’t help but wonder what everything’s going to be like. How are you going to act around each other? Is it gonna change? Are you still going to bicker or are you going to act like everything’s perfectly fine? 

You scoff at yourself, of course you’re still going to bicker, that’s who you are. Plus, nobody’s perfect, all friends argue about something at points.

When you come out of the bathroom he’s sitting on the end of the bed. You raise your eyebrows in question. “Thought we were gonna keep cuddling?” 

He quickly rises when he sees you. “Had a slightly better idea.” He holds out his hand and waits for you to take it.

“I’m more of a touchy kind of person.” He starts after you take his hand. “I show that I care about people by physical touches.” He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist. “If we’re gonna tell them that we don’t hate each other, we’ve got to at least make it believable.”

“Stop making it sound like we’re pretending.” You laugh. “You just cuddled with me throughout the night. There’s no way in hell we hate each other. But yeah, I’m that way too, so I don't mind the touches.” You assure, pulling back and reconnecting your hands.

He gives you a reassuring look as you walk out of your room and into the sitting room. Sam and Lexi stop the conversation they were having immediately and look over at the two of you. Their jaws are on the floor within moments, obviously not believing what they're seeing. 

“Why are you holding hands?” Sam blurts, breaking the silence that had blanketed the room.

“H, you only do that with girls you’re dating or girls that you’re friends with. What’s happening?” Lexi adds, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes.

“Wanna explain?” Harry asks, squeezing your hand.

“Sure.” You say.

You begin to explain it to them, making sure to get all the details. Harry’s mostly quiet beside you, only inputting anything when you forget something.

For a moment after you finish, the silence is back. Lexi and Sam look at you like you’re absolutely insane. After a minute of letting their brains process the information, they finally let smiles break out on their faces, jumping up from the couch to hug the both of you, excited that you guys can finally get along.

*

After a little while of the four of you sitting around and talking, it’s decided that everyone should go out on the yacht. This time, though, nobody will be stealing any keys.

Once you get out to the desired spot on the water and anchor the boat, you turn to Harry. “Hey, H?” 

“Yeah, love?” He used the term like it’s no big deal, but it makes your stomach churn in the best way possible.

“Wanna go swimming? Promise not to think you’ve drowned again.” You chuckle.

Harry doesn’t seem as amused though, still feeling guilty about how he treated you. “Sure, promise not to be a dick again.”

You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your head into his chest. “I told you it was alright, H. Stop beating yourself up over it.”

He sighs, nodding his head. You grab his hand, pulling him along the deck to the edge of the boat.

“Wanna jump together?” You look over at him and see the smile break out across his face, the dimples and eye crinkles out in full force.

“Yeah, love, let’s do it.” Before you can think too much about the second use of the word, he’s counting down from three and then you’re jumping, body submerging into the crystal water.

If you had been paying more attention to anyone besides Harry, you would have seen the way that Lexi and Sam were caught up in watching you, wondering how in the world the two of you had done a full one eighty in less that twenty four hours. Sure, they wanted the two of you to get along, but they never expected you to get this close as fast as you did.

After a while of swimming around with Harry, you decide to get out and try to tan, seeing as not everyone can be actors that get paid to go swimming and get tans.

As you do so, you can feel Harry’s eyes on your body, but you choose not to acknowledge it. For a moment, you want to invite him to come tan with you, but you don’t want to make your feelings too obvious to him.

*

When it starts to get dark, Lexi proposes that everyone head back to the deck. You agree, ready to go home and get out of your bikini. 

Harry tries to get you to drive the yacht, even trying to teach you, but to no avail, you have absolutely no skill when it comes to driving boats.

Once you get to the docks and clamber off the yacht, the group splits up, Lexi and Sam going towards their car while you and Harry head towards his.

“Are you hungry, darling?” He ponders once you’re settled in the car.

“I mean a little bit, why?” You reach over to turn on the radio, letting the soft sounds of music play through the car.

“I saw this cute little diner when I was looking for you last night.” He says, handing you his phone. “Plug up the aux cord and play something from Spotify.”

You scroll through his spotify, seeing that his work out playlist is just One Direction songs. You almost snort, but don’t want to give away the song you’re going to choose.

After another moment of scrolling, you turn the volume on the speakers all the way up, clicking on “What Makes You Beautiful” and letting the opening chords play through the car.

He smirks, looking over at you. “I hope you know that you’re expected to scream this with me.”

Your features mirror his, “Oh, trust me, I planned on it.”

*

When you reach the diner, you see just how cute it really is. But then you realize that the two of you had been in the car for almost twenty minutes, which arguably isn’t a long time, but to walk this far it would have taken forever.

“H, you walked this far looking for me?” You ask, although you already know the answer.

“Yeah. Well, technically, I walked further.” He blushes at his words and your heart melts in your chest. You can’t help but feel a little guilty, though. It had been storming, full on thunder and lightning every few seconds. He could have gotten hurt, yet he put his safety to the side because he thought that you hadn’t come home yet. If only you had put aside your pettiness and just let everyone know that you had arrived home safely, he wouldn’t have had to walk out in the storm at all.

You walk into the diner, shaking the thoughts from your head. Harry leads you to a booth near the back, one that’s placed right next to a window with a wonderful view.

Moments after you’re settled into your seat, a waiter comes up to you and takes your order. You notice that he’s paying special attention to you, and it makes you slightly uncomfortable, so you turn to Harry after reciting your order. “What do you want, baby?”

He gives you a questioning look but ultimately goes along with it, not even missing a beat. He gives his order to the waiter and waits until he walks away to turn back to you. “What was that about?”

“He was staring at me, looking me up and down, it made me really uncomfortable.” You say, looking down at your hands. “Thought if he believed we were together that he’d stop, which he didn’t.” You scoff at the audacity of the waiter. “Sorry if I ended up just making you uncomfortable too.”

He reaches over the table, taking your hands in his. “Hey, it’s alright. I wasn’t uncomfortable, just took me by surprise, is all.” He gives your hands a gentle squeeze. “If he comes back over and makes eyes at you, I’ll put him in his place, okay?”

You chuckle, nodding at him. Hopefully, the waiter would get caught up with other customers or would learn some manners so that he didn’t say anything, but either way, you knew you’d be okay.

“So, anyways, how can you be so bad at driving the yacht? It’s just a boat.” Harry asks, obviously trying to hold in a laugh.

“It’s really not that hard to be bad at it.” You defend. “I know plenty of people that can’t drive a boat.”

“Have they ever tried?” His eyebrows raise.

“No.” You mumble, flicking your eyes from his gaze.

“Well that explains that.” He pauses until you meet his gaze again. “No, but seriously, it’s way easier to drive than a car.”

You clear your throat. “I’m not that good at that either, H.” 

“Really?” He looks embarrassed, sorry to have pushed you, like he was worried that he had gone too far. 

You really didn’t mind, though, it’s not something you’re ashamed of, you just don’t really like driving. “Really. Ever noticed how I don’t drive anywhere?”

His eyes widen in realization. “Yeah, actually. If nobody else is available, I used to drive you places.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s because I suck at driving.” You say, looking down at your hands, which you realize are still being held by his. “I just feel more comfortable with other people driving me around.”

You feel him squeeze your hands again, the rings biting into your skin slightly. “I thought maybe you just didn’t have a car.”

Your head snaps up, eyes meeting his. You flash him a dirty look and go to pull your hands from his. Before you can, though, he squeezes tighter, making you stop for a moment.

“Not like that! It’s just that everything you do is in close proximity to your house.” Your hateful look subsides. You had seemed to forget for a moment that you weren’t enemies anymore. You were… friends? “There’s not really a need for you to have a car unless you were to drive somewhere far away, but usually that’s only for work and you fly.” He continues.

“Well, yeah, that’s true. But I do have a car, I just prefer not to drive it myself.” He nods his head, seeming to understand enough to let it slide.

You fall into a comfortable silence, his hands still clutching yours. You let your eyes scan over his face before wandering back to his seafoam green eyes. God, his eyes are beautiful. Everything about him is beautiful, honestly.

You’re broken out of your examination of him by the waiter coming back with your food and beverage choices. He sits Harry’s down first, and then places yours down. He doesn’t look at Harry again, just looking at you as he asks if there’s anything else that’s needed. You see his eyes trail downwards, and you give Harry’s hand a squeeze, causing him to clear his throat at the manager.

“Excuse me, sir?” This catches the waiter’s attention, making him turn back to Harry. “Could you maybe not eye fuck my girlfriend right in front of me?”

The waiter balks at him, and then tries to deny it. “I- I wasn’t!”

“Let’s not lie about it, you definitely were.” His voice is raspy and it makes your heart rate pick up. “And you were making her uncomfortable, so how about you explain to one of your coworkers why you need to switch them tables, yeah?”

The waiter just nods, walking away without so much as a glance back.

“Thank you, H.” He doesn’t reply, just squeezes your hands to let you know you’re alright. He lets go to eat, but you can see the way that his jaw is clenched.

“Hey, what’s up, you’re tense.” You try to meet his eyes, but he won’t look at you.

“I just don’t like the way he was looking at you.” He mumbles. 

You make the split second decision to walk over to his side of the booth and slide in next to him. He immediately makes room for you, lifting up his arm so you can crawl into his side.

“I’m alright, you know. I just don’t like being looked at like an object.” You whisper into his side.

“I know, love. I know you’re alright, you’re strong.” He squeezes you closer to him and you feel a smile come to your face. “And I don’t like it either. I’ll punch him next time he looks at you like that.”

You reach up and run your hand through his hair, smiling at him. He leans into your touch, and that’s when you realize just how close you are. He’s got you pulled into his side, one of your thighs is slung over his, and your faces are what seems to be only a few millimeters apart.

Every part of you wants to close the difference, to press your lips to his. Every fiber of your being wants to know what his lips feel like, wants to know how they taste. You don’t lean in, though, not wanting to ruin what the two of you have going on.

You look back down, pulling your food over to you and finishing your meal.

After the check is paid, he drives you home, the only sounds in the car being the radio and the tap of his fingers against the steering wheel. 

*

The next day flows by smoothly, everyone just chilling on the yacht and going for a swim.

When you get back to the house that night, though, Sam and Lexi come to your room to tell you that they’ll be leaving early, babbling on about some really good sale on jeans or something. They ask if you want to go with them but you politely decline, having absolutely no interest in jeans that, even when on sale, probably cost thousands of dollars.

They bid you a goodnight and let you know that they’ll be leaving early in the morning, most likely before you get up.

You wish them a safe trip and then roll over in bed, thinking about what this would mean. It would just be you and Harry for a few days. Would you spend a bunch of time together? Would you even talk that much? 

You don’t know how to spend that much alone time with Harry, mostly because you’ve only been close enough to spend any amount of time with him for a few days.

You’re anxious, probably more than you have been in a while. You can feel your hands sweating and your breath getting caught in your throat.

Suddenly, a knock comes at your door and you immediately yell, “Come in!”

You expect it to be Lexi or Sam, but it’s Harry.

“Hey, don't you mind if I hang with you?” He asks, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m kinda bored, plus the other night I saw that mini puzzle you brought so I was thinking maybe we could do that?”

You smile at his observational skills. “Yeah, it’s no problem. Come on, I’ll get the puzzle.”

You walk over to the carry on that you had packed and grabbed the puzzle. It’s only a hundred pieces, but each one is so small and oddly shaped that you had never been able to get the placement right. You had figured you’d try to do so on this trip, but you hadn’t seemed to have the time.

You trudge back over to the bed, sitting down a piece of cardboard that you had found in a storage closet when exploring the closet a few days prior, and spread out the pieces.

You immediately get to work, him doing the same. Every time he would reach to grab a piece, his rings clack together, and you can’t help but gaze at them. You love the way that the rings look on him.

He looks over at you, catching you staring at his hands. He chuckles, before hopping off the bed, seeming to remember something.

“I’ll be right back.” He promises, not waiting for your response before coming back with one hand behind his back.

“Hold out your hand.” He demands, and you do so, holding out your right hand. “No, no, palm side down.” You flip your hand over and then he slides a ring onto your right hand. 

After it’s placed on your hand, you look down, realizing that it’s a replica of his rose ring, but this one actually fits you, which means that he would have to have bought it specifically for you.

You can feel your chest tightening and your eyes begin to get a little blurry. His gesture is so cute and all you want to do is wrap him up in your arms.

“H, when did you even get this?” You say, gesturing to the ring.

“The other day after everyone went to bed, I drove to London and got it.” He says, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “I saw you looking at it the other day, figured I’d get one that would fit you so that we could match.”

“Thank you, H. That’s so sweet of you.” You wrap your arms around him, and without thinking, you crawl into his lap, straddling him. “How do you even think of things like this?”

He doesn’t say anything about the way that you're sitting, just wraps his arms around your back and pulls you impossibly closer.

“When I’m not pretending to hate people, I’m actually pretty smart.” he chuckles, and you can feel the vibration of the action throughout your body.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Styles.” You mumble into his neck. “You’re still an idiot.”

“Hey!” He whines, pushing you off of him only to tackle you into the mattress, tucking his head into the crook of your neck.

Subconsciously, you raise your hand up, digging into his hair and beginning to play with it. Neither of you say anything, just enjoying each other’s presence. After a while, you start to feel Harry getting heavier and heavier, his breathing getting more even. 

You try to stay in that position, loving the feeling of him wrapped up on you, but he’s a lot bigger than you and all the muscle he’s put on makes him a lot heavier than you can handle, the weight being too much on your chest and making you feel like you can’t breathe.

You roll him off of you, trying to be as gentle as possible so that you don’t wake him up, but you fail epicly. The second that you’ve got him completely off of you, he grabs your waist, pulling you over to lay on him like he was on you moments prior. Your legs are tucked between his, your face pressed into his neck. His warmth is radiating into your skin and his scent is swirling around you.

“Night, love.” He mumbles, angling his face down to kiss the top of your head.

“Night, H.” You murmur back, pulling the blanket over the two of you.

You focus on the way that his chest feels rising and falling underneath yours. You can feel his heartbeat, the way that it seems to be slightly faster than usual. You don’t think too much of it, though, he’s probably just hot.

Slowly, your thoughts begin to slow down, the prospect of a good night’s sleep pulling you further and further under until you’re dreaming about Harry.

*

When you wake up the next morning, you’re sweating. At first, you don’t think much of it, you were sandwiched between Harry and a wool blanket, after all. But then you realize that there’s something off with the way that Harry feels.

He’s radiating more heat than he normally does, which is already more than most people do.

You’re worried that he could be sick, so you scurry to the bathroom to find the thermometer that you saw when you first started staying in the house.

You make quick work of cleaning it off with an alcohol wipe, not wanting to risk him getting anything worse than he possibly already could have.

You shake him awake, ignoring his groans of protest, and make him put the thermometer under his tongue. You press the button and wait for it to beep, signifying that it’s done. 

You feel like you’re going to be sick when you look at the digital number that’s being presented to you. 102 degrees. That’s not ideal. 

“Hospital, H. Now.” You demand, not giving any room to argue on this. There’s no way that you’re going to let him lay in bed with a fever when you don’t even know what’s causing it. Maybe some people would, but you refuse. There are countless reasons why he could have this high of a fever, and each of them had different recommended treatments. You weren’t going to risk it and treat him for the wrong thing, only to make something worse.

He grumbles a “no” and you shake your head. Of course he would fight you on this.

“I’m not risking your life, H. Get the fuck up.” You wait for a moment, watching him shake his head no again. Once you know he won’t get up, you wrap your forearms underneath his arms and lift, dragging his lanky figure out of bed. 

Once he’s completely off the bed and standing next to you, you lift his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders so that you can support his weight. You grunt from the added stress on your shoulders.

You begin to make your way out to the car, making sure to stop on the way out the door to grab the keys from the hook and a water bottle from the fridge for him.

You unlock his car and all but shove him into the passenger seat, leaning across him and buckling his seatbelt for him.

Once that’s completed, you rush around the car and slip into the driver’s side, buckling your own seatbelt before inserting the key in the ignition and turning the car on.

“You hate driving, you can’t get me there.” He tries to argue, and you just laugh.

“You couldn’t drive even if you wanted to. Plus, I can get you there. I’ll be fine.” There’s no way that you were going to chicken out of this. Sure, you hated driving, but you hated the idea of something happening to him even more.

“No, y/n, it’s fine, if you don’t like driving you shouldn’t have to drive me.” The fact that he’s thinking of you right now, of all times, makes your heart rate quicken. How was he always so sweet? “I’ll be alright. I’ll just sweat it out.”

“No, Harry, you will not just sweat it out.” You say, rubbing a hand over your face. “You could die if it gets too much worse. There could be something seriously wrong. And you’re probably like this because you went out in the rain looking for me.” Sure, it’s been a few days, but that doesn’t mean that it wasn’t from that. The symptoms could have just not been showing up until now. “And trust me when I say that I am most definitely not letting you die.” You give him a look when he starts to protest again.

The drive to the hospital is shaky. There’s a few times where you think you’re going to freak out, but each time, Harry reaches his hand over and squeezes your knee in reassurance and you instantly feel your breathing even out again. 

Thankfully, you make it there safely. Throughout the trip he had drank the entire water bottle and he seemed to be more alert than he was when you woke him up. You still come over to his side of the car and help him hobble into the hospital, though, not wanting him to accidentally fall and break anything.

You sit him down in one of the chairs and walk to the counter to check him in. You come back with the paperwork that the lady handed you, and you’re surprised to know that you know the majority of the answers. You only have to pester him when you get to the section about his family’s medical history and when you need him to sign the paperwork.

You quickly go back to the counter to give her the pages back. She smiles and assures you that she’ll get everything entered and that the doctor will be right with him.

The doctor comes out and calls his name. He takes one glance in her direction and then grabs your hand. “Y/N, can you come back with me?” He gives you the best puppy dog eyes that he can manage.

You chuckle, agreeing immediately. How could you ever say no to that face?

Once you get to the room that the doctor led you too, she begins to ask a few questions. After answering them, she takes Harry’s temperature, the thermometer that she uses reading the same as the one at the house did. She decided to do a few tests, some of which nearly make Harry throw up, and then comes back with the results a little while later.

“It seems like he has the flu. Nothing too serious as of right now, though. I’ll give you a prescription to get filled for him since it doesn’t seem like he’ll be doing much for himself until his fever goes down, at least.

You smile, thanking her for letting you know, and gather Harry and the prescription paper. On the way back to the house, you drop off the prescription and wait for it to be filled. 

“Can I go in and get some candy?” He asks as you get out of the car to go pick up the medicine.

“No, H,” You see him pout at you, so you quickly continue, “but I can go in and get it for you.”

The smile that he gives you makes your world slow. All you want to do for the remainder of time is just make him smile and bask in the light that it gives off. But you can’t focus on that right now, you have to go in and get his candy and his medicine and then get him back home.

He tells you what he wants, whining about how it’s his absolute favorite candy. You go buy it for him, deciding to get a few of them so that he’ll have some for later, hopefully for when after he feels better. You also get him another water bottle, knowing that he’ll have to take his medicine once you get back to the car.

You quickly go to the counter, giving them his information and then walking back out to the car. 

After paying for everything, you rush back to the car and give him his medicine. After he’s taken it, he begins to munch on his candy as you drive the both of you back to the rental.

Once you reach the rental, the ride back goes much smoother than the one there, you take him back to your room and lay him on the bed.

“I can’t sleep in here.” You frown, wondering why he’s had the sudden change of heart. “You’ll get the flu too.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I’ve slept in the same bed as you already.” You sit on the bed next to him, reaching up and combing your hair through the sweaty tendrils. “I literally woke up on top of you, if I’m going to get it, I’ll get it whether you sleep in here tonight or not.”

He grumbles, but ultimately doesn’t put up that big of a fight, knowing that if he doesn, he’ll lose. 

“Do you wanna take a shower?” You mumble, still letting your digits card through his hair.

“Are you trying to tell me I stink?” He tries to laugh but it comes out more as a cough and you can’t help but want to wrap him up in your arms and take any and all of the pain that he could be feeling away.

“No, you actually smell really good for being sick, but you have a lot of dried sweat on you from your fever.” You smile down at him, seeing him give you a lazy, lopsided grin in return.

“Can I take a bath?” He asks, eyes lighting up at the prospect of being able to sit down but still get the sweat off of him.

“Yeah, that’ll work, bubs.” You don’t even think about the pet name until it slips out of your mouth. You want to take it back, scared that he’ll hate it.

All your worries, along with any trace of regret, washes away when you see his smile grow, the dimples popping deep into his cheeks.

“If I put bubbles in the water so that you can’t see anything, will you wash my hair?” He questions, and there’s no way that you’re going to say no to him. And you realize that it’s not just because he’s sick. It’s because it’s just so easy to give into him, to want to give him everything that he asks for, just about no matter what it is.

You’re not going to let him know just how easily that you want to agree with him, though, so you drag it out just a little longer. :You’re really milking this for all it’s worth aren’t you?”

“I mean, I guess. I don’t know.” He sighs, looking like he’s trying to find the right words. You stay quiet, waiting for him to find the ones that he’s searching for. “I just really like it when you play with my hair, and I’m assuming that it’ll feel even better if you were to wash my hair.” His cheeks flush crimson. “Just really like having your hands in my hair, I guess.”

You feel like you’re going to explode with the overflow of emotions that you’re currently experiencing, so you decide not to drag it out any more than you already have, knowing that you’ll regret it if you do. “Fine, yeah, H. I’ll wash your hair for you.”

The way that his eyes light up makes it all the more worth it. You’d do anything to see him have that look on his face more often. You used to see a lot more of that, before things started happening that scared him. You found yourself wishing, more often than not, that he had never had someone find his address, and that he had never had people hold him at knife point. He had been slightly less open after that, kind of like he didn’t trust that many people anymore. And, even though you hadn’t admitted it since you were pretending to hate everything about him, you had missed the way that his eyes would sparkle at the simplest things, and how he would be the first to jump at the idea of a night out.

“Thank you!” He lunges up from his spot on the bed to hug you, wrapping you in his arms and not letting go for a moment.

After letting him keep you in his embrace for what you deem is long enough, you push him towards the bathroom.

“Go get the bath ready, I’ll go get you some clothes.” You nudge him, but then realize something. Before you walk out, you take his hands in yours, sliding his rings off this nimble fingers one by one until they’re all in your palms. “I’ll take these to your room and put them up, alright?”

“Yeah, do you still have yours?” You nod, pointing to the rose ring on the dresser, sitting right next to his Cartier ring on the chain. He smiles, then waddles into the bathroom.

You make your way to his room and rifle through his suitcase, trying to find something that isn’t another pair of sweatpants or swimming trunks. You want him to be comfortable but not too hot, and you don’t know if he’d be comfortable in just boxers. 

You end up finding a pair of shorts at the very bottom. You grab those and some boxers, along with a hoodie of his for yourself, before heading back to your room.

You don’t hear the water running when you enter/ “Are you ready, H?” 

“Yeah, you’re good!” You slip on the hoodie before entering the bathroom. You place his clothes on the counter, out of the way from everything, and come sit on the floor next to the tub. 

The water and the bubbles come up to the bottom of his butterfly tattoo. You trace it with your eyes, and before you can even think about what in the world you’re doing, your hand is reaching out to trace it. You stop yourself halfway there and look up at him, your cheeks aflame.

“Go ahead.” He urges. “You can touch.”

You let your hand travel the distance to his abdomen. You begin to trace the lines of the butterfly. The wings, the patterns, the antenna. You can feel the muscles in his stomach clench as you venture towards the bottom of the wings, so you travel back upwards with your hand. 

After you finish tracing what seems to be every line in the tattoo, you look up at him, slowly moving your hand north, but stopping slightly above the butterfly. Once he gives his nod of approval, you move up to the swallows, loving how they look on him. 

Before you’re even done with those, he nods again, urging you to continue. So, you do just that, tracing the lettering on his body and moving down his arm to run over the ship, the rose, the hands. You trace everything that you can, ending at the little cross tattooed on his hand. 

“You missed a few.” He rasps, and you quirk your brow in confusion. The only ones that you know of that could have been missed are the ones submerged under the water. 

He doesn’t say anything, just lifts up his arm to show you the tattoos. You immediately reach back out, tracing over the bird cage and the masks, along with the lettering there. You can feel his body shiver at your touch, and you can’t help but mimic the action. The feeling of his skin under your own is electrifying.

“They’re all so beautiful, H.” You whisper, not completely trusting your voice yet.

“Thank you.” His voice isn’t much higher than yours.

You shake your head, trying to rid your head of the thoughts of him. You clear your throat and reach for the shampoo bottle. You pour a generous amount into your hand and begin to lather it into his hair, massaging his scalp with your fingers as you do so.

He lets out a sound that’s a mix between a pleased sigh and a moan and you almost choke on the air that you’re filling your lungs with.

“Feels so good.” He mumbles, letting his eyes slip shut. You can’t help but smile at him, the way that he looks so peaceful, so relaxed and utterly himself that all you can do is grin at him.

“Does it?” You inquire, knowing for a fact that it does, just wanting to keep the conversation going for a little longer. There’s something about the raspiness in his voice that makes you never want to stop hearing it.

“Yeah, feels better than just about anything else I’ve ever experienced.” This time, he lets out a groan that’s so close to a growl that you have to take a moment to breathe.

“I’m glad.” You all but squeak.

After you rinse his hair out and begin to apply the conditioner to his hair, he looks up at you. “Hey, mind if I tell you something?”

“Yeah, go ahead, bubs. You can tell me anything.”

He seems to mull it over in his head for a moment and then speaks up again. “Promise not to get weird or anything?”

You’re beginning to get slightly worried. Part of you is scared that he’s going to tell you that he killed someone and now he needs help hiding the body or something extreme like that. Although, if he asked, you definitely would help him, that’s just the kind of friend that you are. “Yeah, I promise.”

He looks up at you through his lashes, making sure that he’s holding eye contact with you. “I kinda, um, like you.”

You smile, he’s so dramatic for no reason. “I kinda like you, too. You’re not as awful as I thought you were.”

“Thank you, but that’s not really what I meant by that.” He has a slight grimace on his face, like he’s scared that what comes out of his mouth next will hurt him in some way.

“What did you mean then?” He still seems hesitant, scared even. “You can tell me, bubs. I don’t bite.”

He takes a deep breath, settling himself. “I meant, I have feelings. For you.” You feel like your heart stops. All the breath is sucked from your lungs. Harry Styles? Likes you? “I don’t know for sure when they turned from ‘oh, she’s pretty and seems sweet’ to ‘I Wish that she didn’t hate me so maybe I’d have a chance’, but they did.” You feel him reach out and take your hand in yours, and all the emotions running through your body threaten to spill out. “And, trust me, I know that I treated you like shit and I don’t deserve you or your love but I just had to tell you.”

“Are you telling me that Harry Styles has a crush on me?” You ask, slightly chuckling.

“If that’s what you wanna call it, yeah.” He says, cheeks getting more and more red by the second.

You shake your head, not wanting to get too excited. He had a fever. Fevers can cause confusion and can make people think things that they don’t mean. “You don’t mean that. You have a fever, you'll feel different when you wake up in the morning.”

His face falls, and you immediately want to take back what you said. “I promise you that I won’t.”

“How do you know that?” You don’t think you could just forget the words that he’s saying to you.

“Because I didn’t just start feeling this way.” Relief surges through your body, and you can feel the tears start to prick at your eyes.

“Really?” You really won’t be able to handle it if this is all a side effect of the fever.

“Really.” He assures, brushing his thumb in soothing circles on your hand.

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to understand why you acted like you did and I think that you deserve me. I’m the one that doesn’t deserve you.” You had never thought that Harry would like you as any more than a friend, even before you actually met. All your friends had told you that you guys would be great together, you just had to meet him. You always had your doubts, though.

He scoffs, “Yeah, alright, we can pretend that’s true. You’re literally perfect.”

Your heart expands at his words, how does he always seem to know exactly what to say? “So are you, H. I’ve seen it for a long time, just didn’t wanna be the girl that loved you even though you hated me.”

HIs eyes widen and a smile covers his face. “You love me?”

“I’m getting there.” You admit.

“Come here.” He gestures for you to get closer.

You scramble towards him, getting as close as possible without physically climbing into the tub.

He leans in, closing the gap between the two of you, letting his lips ghost over yours for a moment before you pull back.

“Let’s rinse out your hair and then finish up and I’ll kiss you for real, alright?” There’s no way that you’ll be able to kiss him the way that you want to while he’s still sitting in the bathtub.

He nods and lets you continue. You rinse the conditioner out of his hair, then get up to leave the bathroom so that he can get dressed. Before you can walk away though, he grabs your hand and pulls you back. He makes a kissy face and you lean down to peck his lips, knowing that he’ll just pout until you give in.

Moments after you exit the bathroom, he walks out looking completely perfect. You can see the tiger tattoo on his thigh, and you make the mental note to kiss over it later.

“Kissy?” He asks, coming towards you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You sling your arms around his neck, slotting your hands into your hair. You nod, leaning in to kiss him, for real this time.

He wastes no time in kissing you back, this one holding a lot more passion than you ever thought a kiss could hold.

Your lips are molding with his, fitting together like they’re the missing piece that you needed to complete your puzzle.

His tongue slides over your bottom lip, asking permission, which you gladly give, opening your mouth and letting his tongue explore.

You pull away after a moment to catch your breath. Looking up at him, you see everything that you had been missing. “Promise me this doesn’t change when we go back to our real lives.”

He brings his hand up, cupping your cheek. You lean into your touch. “I promise you that, as long as you’ll have me,” he kisses your forehead,  “I’ll always be right here to tell you that you’re beautiful,” your temples, “that you’re all I can think about.” your cheeks. “And, as long as you’ll let me, I’ll kiss you over and over again.” He finally lets his lips glide over yours again.

After he pulls away, you breathe, “Good, because I don;t think I’d be able to go back to normal after that.”

“Neither could I.” He assures you. “Come on, love, let’s go lay down.”

With that, you crawl into bed next to Harry, cuddling into his side. After a moment, he decides you're not close enough, pulling you in until your head is on his chest and your leg is thrown over his thighs. 

You smile in content as he kisses your forehead. Who would have thought that you’d be in this place, with him? Never in a million years could you have dreamed this up for yourself. And honestly, if someone had told you a mere weeks ago that you would be kissing Harry and falling asleep next to him, you would have laughed in their face, probably even asked them if they had gone mental.

But now, here you were, laying cuddled up with the man that makes your entire world seem to light up, and you couldn’t be happier. It had been a rocky road getting here, but you would go through that day on the yacht a million times as long as you ended up back here, held tightly in his arms.

Listening to the beat of his heart, to the way that his breaths are evening out die to the comfort that having you near him brings, you drift off to sleep

*

You’re being shaken awake much too earlier, and you turn to gripe at whoever chose to wake you up. But then you realize that it’s Harry, and your face immediately softens.

“Hey, you.” He says, pecking your nose.

“Hey, why are we up so early?” You grumble.

He chuckles. “We’ve got a plane to catch.” You audibly groan, probably a lot more dramatic than it has to be. “Come on, it’s time to get out stuff together. Gotta go back to the real world.”

You sigh, not wanting to go, but you know that you have to, so you stumble out of bed and get all your stuff together. 

You scramble to ensure that everything’s ready, even making sure that you clasp your new necklace on your neck and slide the new ring on your finger.

Once you zip up your bag and stand up, wracking your brain to make sure that everything is in order, Harry comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. You immediately lean into his embrace.

“You look really fucking cute in my clothes.” He mumbles, pressing his face into your hair.

“Why thank you, never got your tour hoodie, thought I’d see how it looked.” You smirk, knowing that you had, in fact, received a tour hoodie, you just hadn’t worn it yet.

He says nothing about that, though, just groaning, “It looks fantastic.” before pushing away from your body.

“Are you ready?” He asks, looking over all the packed bags, and then over to you. HIs eyes stop at the ring around your neck, heart swelling in pride that you’re wearing his ring.

“Yeah, don’t wanna go, but I know I have to. I’ve gotta go back to work.” You groan.

“I meant what I said last night, you know?” He blurts, and you can’t help but feel relieved. He had been acting like he meant it, but the verbal confirmation made you feel even better.

“Which part?” You say, playing coy.

“All of it.” He promises. “Every single word.”

You hum in content, walking back into his arms and pressing into his chest. “I mean what I said too.”

You pull away after a moment, walking to pack your stuff into the car.

After dropping off the rental car and going through the motions of getting ready and boarding the plane, you finally sit down, right next to Harry. This time, though, you aren’t dreading the plane ride.

*

After the plane lands, Harry throws you his keys, telling you that Sam and Lexi were supposed to have dropped the car off with his extra set an hour prior. He assures you that he’ll get your luggage.

“I can tell you’re tired, sweets, go on to the car, okay?” You nod in agreement before heading out to the parking lot to find his car.

On the ride back to your apartment, you doze off in the passenger seat, his hand on your knee and fingers tracing random patterns lulling you to sleep.

He wakes you up by kissing all over your face, and you must admit that it’s probably the best way for someone to wake you up. Well, not just anyone, just him.

He gets your bags from the trunk, walking you to the door. As you’re about to go inside, he kisses your cheek, letting his mouth linger there for a moment. “Can I come over later? Gotta put up my stuff and check the mail, but I wanna see you again.”

You smile. You’d like to see him again, too. “Yeah, sure. Just come over whenever.” 

He leans down and gives you a quick peck on the corner of your mouth before heading home.

In the time that you’re alone, you put everything away that you ended up not wearing and throw the dirty clothes in the wash.

As you’re fixing yourself dinner (which is arguably enough for two, but that’s just a coincidence...maybe), you hear a knock on your door. 

You rush over, checking through the hole to make sure that it’s Harry. When you open the door, he immediately sweeps you up into a hug. “God, I missed you.”

“You were gone for less that three hours, H.” You breathe.

“I know, but I still missed you.” He pulls back from you slightly, still keeping his arms wrapped around your waist. “Am I not allowed to miss my girl?”

Your heart skips a beat. “Your girl?”

“Um, fuck, I- you don’t have to- don’t feel pressured.” You cut him off by placing your lips on his.

“Calm down, H.” You urge.

“It’s just, I don’t know, do you want to be my girlfriend?” He asks, eyes looking down between the two of you at his shoes. 

“God, yes.” You clear your throat, realizing how desperate you probably sounded. “I mean, yeah. But I’m not gonna be able to be like all your other girlfriends were.”

“What do you mean by that?” He wonders.

“I can’t just drop everything and come with you while you’re on tour.” You give him an apologetic look. You know how much he loves having his girl with him while he’s performing. “I can’t go on excessive vacations with you, and by excessive I mean for months at a time. I don’t get paid to stand around and look pretty like the rest of them did.”

“I don’t want you to be like the rest of them were. I want you to be you.” He says, stroking your cheek with his hand. “Plus, I mean, you could technically come on tour with me as part of my crew if you wanted.” He suggests. “Be one of the photographers, or help me get everything ready. That could be your new job if you were interested.”

“Harry, I couldn’t ask you to do that.” You argue. “That’s just another person that’ll have to be paid. I didn’t do anything to get those positions anyway.” You know that all of the people on his crew were exceptionally talented, and that just wasn’t you.

“You let me see how wonderful you are at photography, that’s what you did.” You’re surprised that he remembers that. You had only shown him your work once. And it was the only time when the two of you were enemies that he didn’t have anything rude to say.

“H…” You’re still not sure about the idea. Of course, it would be fun, but you really have no business being there.

“Please? I don’t think I can go months on end without seeing you.” He whines. “I could barely go three hours.”

“Fine.” You give in. “But only if I get to stand in the audience and watch the show at least a couple times.” You had always wanted to see one of his shows from the audience, to see how well he interacted with everyone.

“Deal.” He says without hesitation.

“Alright, fine. I’ll go.” You concede. He does a mini celebration, shimmying his body slightly.

“You wanna go tell our friends after dinner, baby?” You suggest.

“Baby? I like it.” He says, blushing because of the pet name.

“I mean, you are my boyfriend now.” You reason, but also just liking the way that it sounds coming out of your mouth.

“That’s true, love. And yeah, let’s go tell our friends after dinner.” He leads you to the kitchen, fixing the both of you a plate and sitting down with you to eat.

*

After you clean up from dinner, you head out to the bar that your friends told you to meet them at.

You walk into the bar hand in hand with Harry. He sits in the booth first, dragging you in after him. 

“Do you wanna tell them?” You lean in and whisper into Harry’s ear.

He just nods, turning to Lexi and Sam. “Um, guys, we’re kinda, um, dating.” 

“Okay.” Sam says. Lexi nods, looking completely unfazed.

“What?” How are they being so calm about this?

“We figured it would happen. The chemistry between the two of you is impeccable. You had more passion towards each other when being dickheads than either of you have for anything else. It was just a matter of time.” Lexi explains, as if it’s completely obvious.

How they knew it was going to happen, you have no clue. You couldn’t even see yourself ending up with him. But maybe it was because you didn’t have the outside perspective. 

*

A few months later, you’re on a tour bus to the first venue, and you can already feel the adrenaline running through your veins. 

The very first show, you watch from the audience, taking in the scene. Seeing how his fans react, how he works the audience.It was good to study the subject before photographing them. 

Also, though, getting to watch your man live his dream is pretty exhilarating. And getting to go along for the ride with him is even better.

*

Thank you for reading!! You can come discuss with me here!!

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[phasmwrites]

six feet apart || todoroki shouto

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female!Reader Warnings: Smut (18+), Mutual Masturbation Word Count: 2356 A/N: This is a part of the bnharem kink experimentation collab that can be found here! Please be sure to check out everyone else’s amazing work! I’ve listed the kink I chose in the warnings, please let me know what you think! ❤️ also tagging @brattyquirks​ cause she asked to be tagged ily

It had been ten days since Japan had ordered the entire country into mandatory quarantine, only providing essential employees authorization to leave their homes for work. You were one of those the government deemed essential, being a registered nurse in one of Tokyo’s largest hospitals. Ten days since the pandemic began to sweep the nation and you were put to work for almost all of it. You could manage taking naps in the staff’s office, cold showers, and swapping your diet to hospital food, but you were beginning to miss the company of your longtime partner, Todoroki Shouto.  

He had been advised under strict ruling by the Hero Commission to follow quarantine protocols unless absolutely needed, which in turn meant he was spending a majority of his time in your shared apartment by his lonesome. When the opportunity struck, you would facetime him and shoot him brief text messages, but it was always few and far between. 

Just as you longed for Shouto, he was just as antsy for you to return home. With nothing but time on his hands the pro-hero found himself bored out of his goddamn mind. Television was uninteresting, video games grew repetitive, and overall he was tired of being by his lonesome. Shouto understood wholeheartedly that you were most needed at the hospital, but the selfish side of him wanted to storm over to your job and snatch you up over his shoulder to bring you home. 

Retreating to your shared bedroom, he threw himself onto the large bed and reached for his phone in hopes of a message from you lighting up both the screen and his sour mood. When no notifications appeared, he decided to take it into his own hands and ask you if you would be coming home today. 

Just as he went to click on the messaging icon, his thumb slipped and selected the next app over. His photo gallery illuminated on the screen, a collection of folders he made throughout the years appearing to him. There was one folder in particular that he hadn’t peeked at in some time, which was labeled with your name. 

Against his better judgement, he tapped on the folder and watched as it expanded with a multitude of photographs of you throughout the years. Many were innocent, from photos he had taken of you candidly while on dates to silly videos of you around the apartment, they all held special memories in Shouto’s heart. 

What caught his attention next was a photo he had taken of you only a few months ago, your mouth stuffed with his cock. Drool has begun to accumulate as it spilled past your bottom lip, wide eyes peering up at both him and the lens. His breath caught in his throat as he recalled the memory, his sweatpants growing tighter in direct response. 

The next piece of media that he opened was a video this time, your hands and knees pressed firmly into the mattress as he pounded into you from behind. Shouto had aimed his cell phone in this video at the mirror adjacent from your bed, reflecting the debauchery for his phone to capture. 

“Dammit…” He cursed to himself as your soft pants projected out of the speaker, his cool hand slipping underneath his sweatpants. Palming his growing erection, Shouto continued to swipe through his collection with his other hand as his breathing grew heavier by the minute. 

Eventually, his phone slid from his grasp as it bounced against the mattress, his cock hastily yanked out of his sweats. It was only going to be quick, he told himself, just a way to pass the time. 

On the other hand, after ten days of working yourself to exhaustion, your supervisors instructed you to take a few days off to recuperate. The first thing you did before finishing your shift was text your boyfriend with renowned enthusiasm, using an obnoxious amount of emojis to express how escastic you were to have some time off. You weren’t surprised to receive nothing in response, hoping it would put a smile on Shouto’s lips when you saw him again.

It was also unsurprising to find the apartment rather quiet when you finally made it home, slowly pushing the door open as you stepped into the familiar space. You were just about to call out his name when a loud, elongated moan echoed down the hallway from your bedroom. 

Your legs moved faster than your brain, curiosity plaguing your body as you made your way down the hallway. With the pads of your fingers pressed to the bedroom door, you gently pushed it open only to find Shouto with his fingers curled around his cock. 

His eyes were squeezed shut in concentration, two-toned bangs sticking to the perspiration forming on his forehead. The temperature in the room rose as you watched him slowly stroke himself, your legs rubbing against one another as the heat began to pool in your panties.

“Shouto.” You whispered, a sly smirk forming on your lips as his mismatched eyes flew open to the sight of you across the room. He stopped his ministrations, attempting to meet your gaze with a stoic expression but the flush across his cheeks wasn’t doing him any favors. 

There was a stagnant pause before he finally spoke up, “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“I sent you a text, babe.” You gestured to his phone that was face down only a few inches away from him, “Besides, what a nice surprise to come home to, hm?” 

Shouto pouted childishly, watching you as you slipped out of your scrubs and reached for your silk black robe. His eyes drank in the sight of you in just a bra and panties before you wrapped yourself up, his hand squeezing the base of his cock.

“Have you missed me, Shouto?” Your voice dripped with amusement as he waited with bated breath for you to join him on the bed and do something, anything to get him off.

Instead, you began to make your way over to the leather chair that was positioned in the corner, angled towards the queen-sized bed. 

“Y/N…” He warned, his eyes narrowed in your direction, “Join me on the bed.” 

You shook your head as you seated yourself on the cool cushion, the heels of your feet pressed into each side, “We’re supposed to be practicing social distancing, love. Haven’t you seen it on the news?”

“I don’t care, come over here now.” 

“I think they said six feet apart from each other?” Shouto easily could have stood up and slung you over his shoulder like he desired all those days you spent at work, but a part of him was entranced with curiosity to see what your intentions were. Specifically, his eyes trained themselves on the damp spot on your bright panties.

Your fingers came into his view as you toyed with the lacey material, slowly moving them to one side but snapping it back into place before he could truly see anything. His fist tightened around his shaft, waiting to see what your next move would be.

“Let’s try something...different tonight, Shouto…” Your hands reached up to undo the tie of your robe, removing the material just as quickly as you had put it on, “Stroke yourself for me.”

His eyes met yours again, one of his eyebrows raised as if to challenge your dominance, “Why should I?”

With a glimmer of mischief in your eyes, you answered by dipping your hand back down until your fingers slipped underneath your panties, refusing to give him a glimpse of your soaking wet folds. Your other hand reached up and pushed itself past your bra, squeezing the soft skin of your breast.

In all honesty, you were just as touch starved for his attention after spending so long away from him. Except, that didn’t stop you from dipping two fingers inside of your heat and watching the way his expression suddenly reflected yours. Eyebrows furrowed, lips parted with your tongue just barely peeking out over your bottom lip. 

You bucked your hips gently, falling into a smooth rhythm as you fucked yourself on your fingers. Shouto’s resolve was wavering, the sight of you touching yourself but being unable to actually see anything driving him insane. 

“I’ll take off my panties only if you start stroking yourself.” It was blatantly obvious to you what he desired, his eyes burning holes into the flimsy material. If only his eyes actually held the power to burn through your soiled panties...

With a heavy sigh of submission, Shouto began to move his hand up and down his length once more as you watched with utter glee. He kept an even pace, making sure to watch you as you stood up and removed the rest of your clothing before him. 

Your hands returned to their previous positions the moment you sat back down, toying with your pebbled nipples and stuffing three fingers inside of your wet cunt. Shouto made sure not to miss anything, adoring the soft moans that began to spill out of your mouth as you pleasured yourself.   

He was surprised though to hear you begin talking despite your debauched state, “Do you like watching me, babe?”

“Yes.” Quickening his pace, he noticed your juices began to dribble out of you and puddle onto the cushion, craving nothing more than to bury his face between your parted legs and get a taste for himself. There was something about watching instead of touching you himself that had him squeezing his shaft harder, though, “Fuck yes.”

Your half-lidded eyes made sure to meet his once more as you slowed down your ministrations, gathering a small pool of your own cum on your fingers before shoving them onto your tongue. With lips now closed around your digits, you hummed in satisfaction at the taste of yourself and the look of desperation on Shouto’s complexion. 

“Use your precum as lubricant, baby.” You instructed him after returning your fingers back to your heat, “You’ll be able to move your hand faster.”

He did as he was told, not having realized just how much oozed past the head of his cock. Shouto whined at how slick the sensation was, imagining his fist was your tight pussy clamping down on him instead. 

“That’s it, are you pretending I’m the one fucking you instead of your hand?” Your dirty talk was exactly what he needed, groaning at the mental image his mind was creating for him. 

The noises your pussy was making as you fingered yourself was only enhancing his imagination, “Please…Y/N…”

“Tell me Shouto, tell me what made you decide to touch yourself.” You wanted to know, the curiosity eating away at you since you first stepped into the bedroom.

“I was looking through pictures of you…” He admitted, bringing his unoccupied hand down to tug at his sensitive balls, “The one of you sucking me off, the video of me fucking you… shit I missed you.”

If you weren’t three fingers deep inside of yourself, you would have awed at the sentiment, “I missed you, too. I couldn’t stop thinking about how good it would feel to bounce on your cock; you always fill me up so good.”

“You’re such a tease.” He snapped, his hand stuttering as he grew infinitely closer to reaching his orgasm with the mental image engraved in his mind of you riding him.

You watched as his quirk began to act up, frost meeting the hot skin of his erection and melting away just as fast as it appeared due to his burning body temperature. Shouto found himself enjoying the sensation, letting out a low groan in pleasure.

No longer stimulating your breasts, you began to rub tight circles against your clit as your end was fast approaching with every succession. Shouto was practically panting from the bed, wishing he was the one between your shaking legs fucking you against the old chair. 

Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to focus on bringing yourself over the edge, giving Shouto the perfect idea. Slowly throwing his legs over the edge of the mattress, he quietly began to walk over to the leather chair as you cried out his name. 

“Look at me.” He grunted once he was directly across from you, continuously stroking himself as he got a closer look at your trembling form. Your eyes snapped open and met his, his gaze intense as he hovered over you, “Are you close, princess?”

Your mind was spiraling with how quickly he turned things around on you, “Yes.”

“Good, you know if you would have listened to me earlier that could have been my tongue on your pussy instead of your fingers...what a shame.” Tears began to prick the corners of your eyes, a sign your impending orgasm was going to be powerful after so many days of pent up stress. 

Shouto found himself enjoying this, smirking to himself at how much his words alone had an effect on your body, “Come on, love, I want to see you cum to the thought of me.” 

Finally, with a choked out cry you came hard, remnants of your orgasm flowing out of your tight hole and spilling all over the cushion as you shouted his name like a mantra.

“Such a good girl.” He whispered, the sight alone triggering Shouto’s own orgasm. White ropes of cum landing on various parts of your sweaty figure as he let out a guttural moan at the feeling of finally getting off. 

The only sounds in the bedroom that could be heard was both of your heavy breathing, desperately trying to calm down after such intense orgasms. When you glanced up at Shouto’s cocky demeanor though, you knew the evening was far from over.

“You know, this isn't six feet apart from one another.” You teased, using your foot to push against his thigh. 

Shouto grabbed your ankle around his fingers in defense, tugging you nearly off of the chair, “I really don’t care, now let’s add more photos to my collection.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shouto x reader #shoto x reader #phasm.writings #bnha x reader #mha x reader

[superbadassnatural]

The One With The Morning After

Summary: Y/N has to deal with the aftermath of a night filled with booze, sex, and questionable choices. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 3,143 Warnings: mostly fluff, tiny bit of angst, a bit of smut, hangover A/N: this was written for @smol-and-grumpy​’s awesome challenge “SuperFriends Tittle Challenge”. The prompt is the title of this story of course. Hope you all enjoy it!

(x)

Few rays of sunshine struggled to get past the blinds and illuminate the room. As the warm light ghosted over your face, your eyes fluttered open. You blinked a few times before taking in your surroundings. A thin white sheet covered your body. You lifted it only to notice you were naked. You felt disgusting as if you had sweated the whole night.

Turning on your back, you noticed the guy you spent the night with was still there. He was on his side, his back to you. The sheet only covered his lower half. Fresh scratches covered his back. You didn’t have to put your tired mind through much thinking to know you were the one who caused them. As much as you wanted to see his face to at least have an idea if you had picked it right, you didn’t want to wake him and deal with the whole morning after thing. One night stands are good. You have fun and most of the time you get off. The problem was the morning after itself. Unlike most people, you thank god when you wake up and the guy has already left or when you wake up first and leave without explanation. The whole ‘it was good, I had fun’ was annoying. Every time you had to put an extra effort to not roll your eyes.

It was frustrating, to say the least when you didn’t even remember the guy’s appearance. You could only hope a glimpse of his face would come back to you. You took one last glance at him before getting up. You nearly choked when your eyes landed on the small scar on the side of his hip. There was no way in hell you wouldn’t recognize that scar. You were the one who stitched him up back then. Clothes formed a trail on the floor, you scooped them up and dressed as fast and as quiet as you could. Your heart was almost leaping out of your chest by the time you walked out of the room.

Outside of the motel, you allowed your breath to even and your heart to calm down in your chest. His car was parked only a few feet away. You ignored the shining impala and made your way back to the bunker. It wasn’t the first time you came to this particular motel so you knew the way.

It was early. Dean never wakes up before noon after a night at a bar. You had enough time to get home, shower, and take a nap before he came back. You could only hope he’d remember as much as you did. Nothing. The thought of ruining your friendship with Dean had your palms sweating. It was undeniable that you felt something for him. Those feelings were buried way too deep and throughout the years you learned how to live with them. He didn’t make it any easier on you though. Dean was constantly flirting with you. In the beginning, it was tough to be around him. Dean’s a flirt. Every now and then he’d give you his signature smirk and wink followed by a flirty comment. Although it caused a weak in your knees, you figured it was best to keep your feelings to yourself rather than risk losing him.

Arriving at the bunker, you made your way to the war room, hoping to find one of your best friends. There was no sign of Sam. You figured he’d either be on his morning run or making breakfast. It wasn’t even eight yet, so he must be home.

“Hey you,” you smiled, leaning on the fridge.

“Hey,” he greeted as he finished making his sandwich. “I didn’t expect you to be back already.”

“Yeah, I know. Just missed my bed I guess.”

“Dean’s not home yet. Did you hear from him?”

“Nope,” you were grateful he had his back to you and wouldn’t catch you lying.

“Do you want me to make you something?” He turned to you, hazel eyes widening as they roamed over your entire body. “You okay? You've been crying?”

“What? No, of course not. Why?”

“Your mascara or eyeliner, I don’t know, is a little smudged.”

“Oh,” your fingertips touched the skin under your eyes softly. You left in such a hurry that you didn’t even look in the mirror. “Guess that’s what happens when you sleep with makeup on,” you shrugged. “Alright, I’m gonna take a shower then take a nap. Trust me, I need it.”

“Okay, you do you.”

You headed straight to the shower. The need to wash off the guilt and fear of ruining your thirteen-year friendship grew stronger by the second. You could only hope those feelings would be dispelled down the drain along with the stink of alcohol and sex. The water felt good on your tired body. You didn’t take long in there though. Every cell in your body claimed to be in bed again. You needed at least two more hours of sleep to survive the rest of the day. That and being away from Dean for twenty-four hours both physically and psychologically. Mission impossible.

Your eyes fell closed the second your body hit the soft mattress. Memory foam hugged your limbs, lulling you to sleep.

The headboard banged against the wall. Your mind was in a haze of alcohol and pleasure. Dean’s groans sounded distant. His hands were all over your body. His thrusts were erratic as he searched for the final push. You arched against him, breasts pressed to his firm chest. He whispered soft praises against your skin as a wave of pleasure consumed you.

Your eyes shot open as you sat in bed abruptly. Beads of sweat covered your forehead. Pulling the covers off, you got up, making a beeline to the bathroom. You washed your face in an attempt to get rid of the images of last night. It was in vain. The mirror only reflected how screwed you were. As if the images and the sounds running wild in your mind weren’t enough, your cleavage was covered in hickeys. You closed your eyes and suddenly you were back in that cheap motel room.

Dean’s lips kissed and sucked every patch of skin they could. Your hand shot to his head, fingers tugging at his hair. He groaned against the curve of your neck. His lips descended to your collarbone. Dean marked your skin as his hand squeezed your breast softly. He drunkenly mumbled “mine” against you.

Shaking the memory away, you turned off the tap and headed to your room. It was early which meant you had high chances of not seeing Dean. You just needed to eat and take a pill for the pounding headache. Then you could come back and hide in your room for the rest of the day. Pulling on a hoodie, you made your way to the kitchen.

“You’re awake,” Sam greeted. “Thought you were gonna sleep for the rest of the morning.”

“Yeah, me too,” you sighed, turning on the coffee maker before grabbing some bacon in the fridge for you to cook. “I wanted to, but I had a bad dream.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” you shrugged.

“I found us a case,” he announced as you sat in front of him with a plate and a mug in your hands. “Omaha, Nebraska. I think it’s a spirit. A quick salt and burn will do it.”

“Good. When do we leave?” you asked, munching the crispy bacon.

“Tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

“And, uh, do you mind if it’s just you and Dean on this one? Eileen and I have a date tomorrow and uh-“

“Yeah, s-sure. I don’t mind going alone with Dean. I mean… Why would I mind? It’s not like we haven’t been on hunts just the two of us.”

“Y/N? Is everything okay?”

“Sure,” you tried to keep your voice as normal as you could, but failed miserably. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You’re the one acting weird.”

“Okay,” you sighed. “I need to tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone. Last night I didn’t come home because I was with Dean. After you left the bar, we had a few more drinks. A lot more. And we slept together.”

“Finally,” he breathed out and you gasped at his reaction. “I just don’t understand why you guys went to a motel instead of coming home.”

“The motel was closer and we were kinda in a hurry.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said as you finished your breakfast.

“Why didn’t he come home with you?”

“I panicked when I saw him sleeping next to me. I practically ran out of the room. I think he won’t remember a thing. At least I hope he doesn’t.”

“Why? You’ve known each other for thirteen years. You have feelings for each other for at least ten. I’m surprised it took this long for something to happen.”

“You don’t understand, Sam,” you shook your head. “I can’t ruin my friendship with him. I can’t risk that.”

“Of course you can. You’re just afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Dean asked as he walked into the room. You nearly gasped. He shouldn’t be back already.

Dean was sporting a hickey on the right side of his neck. You felt your cheeks heat up at the sight of it.

“I’m afraid of spiders and I can’t kill them,” you said fast before Sam could say anything.

Dean only hummed, opening the fridge and grabbing a pot with overdue food. He put some in his mouth but spat most of it, grimacing. A chuckle left your lips at the scene.

“What you got?” he mumbled, turning on the coffee machine.

“Salt and burn. Omaha, Nebraska. Should be easy for you and Y/N.”

“You not tagging along?”

“Nah, got a date with Eileen,” Sam smiled.

“You’re finally getting some,” the older Winchester teased. “Y/N and I can cover it. We are a great team, right sweetheart?”

He gave you a wink. You wondered if he remembered anything of your activities the previous night.

“Right,” you clicked your tongue.

Dean grabbed his coffee and sat beside you. He stank of alcohol and sex. He should’ve gone straight to the shower but he didn’t. He was still in the same clothes as last night for crying out loud.

“Dude, you smell terrible,” Sam grimaced.

“That, Sammy, is the smell of a man who had a crazy night of hot sex. You should try it sometime.”

Fuck, he remembers, you cursed.

“You’re disgusting.”

“No, I’m not. It’s a shame I had what was probably the best night of my life and I don’t remember shit. Not even her face. She left without a note. She could at least have left her phone number somewhere. But she did leave this bad boy here,” he pointed to the purple mark in his neck.

You could only hope neither of them would notice your flaming cheeks. He was so close. You were afraid he’d take one look at your face and all the memories would come back to him. You were afraid he’d still be able to smell his scent ingrained in your skin.

“I do remember some things though. Hmmm, some really good things,” Dean nearly moaned as he closed his eyes and bit his lower lip. Sam quickly glanced at you, hazel eyes wide before staring back at his brother. “Whoever she was she surely knew what she was doing to me. Her body was trapped under mine as if she belonged there. Her hands all over my body, exploring it. Oh, and her skin felt so good under my touch. That I remember damn well.”

You fought hard to repress a moan. The words rolled out his tongue in a sensual song. Your thighs clenched unwittingly. Though you were as much aroused as you were embarrassed. He was saying all that in front of his brother after all. Sam didn’t want to know anything about Dean’s activities, but the look in his eyes told you he was having fun seeing you suffer.

“And she smelled good too. So fucking good. I swear that if I close my eyes, I can feel her touch. I can even hear her soft moans. What wouldn’t I give just to know her name.”

“Maybe you should try asking the bartender if he remembers her face or even her name,” Sam suggested and you kicked his foot under the table. “I’m sure he might remember something.”

“She felt absolutely perfect,” Dean completely ignored his brother. “The way her fingers tugged at my hair, making it hurt just a little. Then her legs wrapped around me and… fuck,” he growled. “That was mind-blowing. She clenched around me so tight-”

“Dude, too much information. You should keep that to yourself,” Sam interrupted his brother while you prayed neither of them had listened to the small groan that left your lips.

“All I’m saying is she was too fucking hot. I wished she could’ve had the decency of leaving me her number,” he sighed. “If you guys think this hickey is the only thing she left for me, you’re wrong. She might not have left a note, but she did leave some real sexy marks all over me. Hmm, I love it when they mark me up. So damn hot.”

“Dude-“

“And if I concentrate hard enough I can still taste her in my tongue,” Dean smirked.

“That’s enough, man. I’m gonna have nightmares for the rest of my life.”

Dean chuckled at his brother’s reaction and took one last gulp of his now lukewarm coffee.

“Excuse me, but I, uh, I’m gonna take a nap. I’m tired,” you hurriedly stood from your seat. “I’ll catch with you guys later.”

As you disappeared in the hall, Dean’s grin got even wider as he shook his head. Sam scoffed, realization dawned on him.

“You remember, don’t you?” Sam asked his brother, a smile on his lips.

“Every single detail,” Dean nodded with a smirk.

“Dude, you aren’t worth a penny.”

“What can I say? I love seeing her squirm.”

“You should go after her.”

“I am,” Dean said. “I’m just gonna give her some time to pull herself together.”

Sam nodded. Silence fell between the brothers. Each of them lost in their own world. Dean tried to come up with a way to approach you without making it weird. Sam tried to erase the images his brother put in his mind. The younger Winchester was sure he threw up in his mouth a little. Dean had given him a share of traumas concerning sex when they were teenagers and now this?

Dean got up from his seat and before he headed to your bedroom, he placed his mug on the dishwasher. He was about to leave the kitchen but stopped and glanced at his brother.

“You were the only one who didn’t score last night, Samuel,” he teased and Sam rolled his eyes.

Three soft knocks on the door startled you, dragging you out of your trance. Mumbling a “c’mon in”, you straightened yourself at the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” Dean smiled, peeking his head through the door.

“Hi,” you smiled, a thumping beat of your heart in your chest.

Dean made his way to your bed and sat just a few inches from you. His thigh brushing against yours.

“How’re you feeling?” He glanced at you but your eyes were fixated on the closed door.

“Really tired. You?”

“Exhausted. Don’t know if I should take a shower or a nap.”

“I think you need both,” you smiled as a chuckle reverberated in his throat.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he clicked his tongue, green eyes falling in his hands as he rubbed them together. “You know, I must confess that you did rock my world last night.”

“You remember?” You stared at him wide eyed only to meet a crooked grin on his lips. “Of course you do,” groaning, you buried your face in your hands.

“How could I ever forget?”

“We had a lot of drinks. A whole lot.”

“Yeah, guess I just needed to get my ass drunk to finally go after something I wanted.”

“Don’t do this, Dean,” you pleaded, staring into his forest green eyes.

“I thought last night meant something, you know? I thought it would change things between us for the best. I couldn’t believe I was the only one feeling something. Not with the way we look at each other and the constant flirting and the way we hold each other. Now imagine my disappointment when I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Dean, I-“

“I thought you were gonna be there. I thought we were gonna talk and figure things out between us, but you didn’t even give me a chance. It felt as if you regretted it, as if what happened between us was a mistake,” his voice was low, barely upon a whisper.

“No, Dean, I don’t regret it,” you shook your head. “It wasn’t a mistake but we shouldn’t have done it.”

“Why? Why shouldn't we have done it? Give me one good reason why.”

“Because we are friends and I don’t want to ruin that.”

“We were never friends, Y/N. I feel something for you from day one. And I know you feel something for me too. Now you either-“

You captured his plump lips in yours. His eyes widened and it took him a second before kissing you back. His hand cupped your face, thumb caressing your cheek. The gentle press of his lips almost made your heart leap out of your chest. He pulled away a little too soon for your liking. Dean placed a small peck to your lips before resting his forehead against yours.

“Now I either what?” You giggled, opening your eyes and finding his still closed.

“I don’t know,” Dean chuckled. “Guess this changes things, right?”

“Mmhmm,” your hands were on each side of his neck as you pecked his lips.

“Good.”

“I hate to tell you but you need a shower.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said sheepishly, his hands were on your waist as he moved you to straddle his lips. “But I think you should come with me. You know, that whole save water, shower together thing.”

“Hmmm, I’ve kinda already showered.”

“Do it again. I promise you won’t regret it,” he smirked.

“I thought you said you hated shower sex. You said it was too complicated.”

“I don’t hate it. It is complicated though, but I’m sure we can work things out,” he grinned, standing up with you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “‘Sides, you ought to see all the damage you caused last night.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Winchester.”

I’d love to know what you think of this one!! Consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog or ask!

Note that if your name is crossed, tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you :(

Forevers: @hobby27​ @thewinchesterandreidwhore

Dean Sweethearts: @maya-craziness​ @akshi8278​ @herfalsegod​ @witch-of-letters​ @weepingwillowphoenix​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​

#superfriendstitlechallenge #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #deanreader #dean winchester imagine

[sailtoafarawayland]

You’ve Always Been Home

(An Omegaverse Highschool AU)

Summary: Her entire life spent in the system, Emma has never had much support, so when things change in a way she never expected, she finds herself depending on a complete stranger to help her through it. Killian Jones hasn’t had it easy, and while most guys his age are enjoying their carefree years, he has a path he’s desperate to stay on. How will things change when he collides with someone he never saw coming?

Rating: M (see tags on AO3)

AO3 - FF

A/N:  This chapter and future chapters may contain or allude to unwanted, inappropriate behavior exhibited by an adult toward a minor. Please take this into consideration if this a trigger before reading.

Chapter 4

It wasn't until Tuesday just as he was leaving for his shift at Nemo's that Killian saw Emma again, her blonde curls and lowered head catching his eye immediately as he passed through the lobby of the building on his way out. She'd just left the library, a book clutched against her chest and her mind seemingly elsewhere. He called out her name, smiling when she stopped and spun around, her wide grin catching him by surprise and making something in his chest stir.

“Hey,” she said, tilting her head and looking up at him as he mirrored her actions, his own smile widening. “It's been a while. How's everything?”

“It feels like it, doesn't it? I'm well, but I do have something I wanted to give you, and I won't be in the rest of the week, so...”

“Is everything okay?” She stepped forward a half step, brows scrunching together at his words.

“Aye, it's just my turn for a week off, love,” he winked, unable to stop his tongue from wetting his lips at the slight blush that tinged her cheeks when she realized what he meant. He swung his backpack around his shoulder and unzipped it. “I'll be doing my last shift at the pizza place tonight, and then I'll be hunkering down at my place until its through.”

“Will you be alright?” she asked, not really sure what exactly she was asking, but knowing what he would be going through, to some extent – or maybe not.

Maybe things would be entirely different for him. Maybe he wouldn't be alone, frustrated. The thought sent a sharp stab of something she couldn't really define through her stomach.

“It's nothing I haven't managed before, Swan – and it gets easier dealing with these things as you go on, you'll see.”

“You're the expert,” she joked, blush deepening when her eyes were drawn down to what he was holding between them. “Oh! Oh, thanks, I – ”

“I wasn't sure if the health office would be doing their due diligence, seeing as your...guardian...supposedly already has an awareness – but I didn't want you to miss out on some things you should know, so I grabbed these.”

She worried the edge of the pamphlets in her hand, brow furrowing again as she looked back up at him, his own cheeks tinged with a rosy color that matched the tips of his ears.

“I can't believe you thought of that...well, I guess after last week, it shouldn't really surprise me. Look, if there's anything you need while you're, you know...” She reached into a pocket and pulled out a pen, grabbing his wrist and pushing up the sleeve of his leather jacket, her teeth catching her bottom lip as she scribbled her number on his arm. “I do have a cell phone – try texting next time instead of coming to the group home.”

“Ah, so you were there.”

“Yeah, I saw you from my window as you were leaving, but Neal wouldn't have let you in to see me, so I figured I'd just catch you at school...”

“Emma, am I right in thinking he's the one that makes you uncomfortable?”

“Yeah. He's harmless, I just...this is all so new to me and last week I just wanted to be somewhere I felt safe,” she shrugged, suddenly embarrassed that the only place her body had craved was the apartment of a guy she'd just met – that her life was so messed up she didn't even have a real home, or real people that cared about her.

“Hey, don't do that,” Killian whispered, resting his arm gently on her shoulder and making her meet his eyes once more.

“Do what?”

“Act like what you feel doesn't matter – it does, and as I said before, Swan, my door is always open for you. Do you mind if I ask...did he say anything, or do anything when you didn't return that night?”

“No, I don't even think he knew I'd left. House parents aren't allowed on the second floor with the teenagers' bedrooms. As soon as I realized he was going to be there for a double shift, I locked myself in my room and climbed out the window an hour or two later,” she explained, startling as the bell rang behind them, Killian's hand falling from her shoulder and back to his side. “Even if he'd caught me though, he probably would have just warned me about the rules. He's always going on about rules and repercussions – everything has a price.”

She rolled her eyes, hearing the way Neal always said them in the back of her head.

A cold fist of dread curled in Killian's stomach at her words and cavalier dismissal of the behavior one of the few adults in her life was displaying. He hadn't exactly had the best father, and maybe because of that, he knew a threat when he heard one. He wondered if Swan didn't sense the same danger lurking beneath the man as he did, but he didn't want to frighten her, not now – not when he couldn't be there to pick up the pieces.

“Sounds like you should get to class, Swan,” he sighed, wishing he didn't have to leave, or that he'd managed to find time to see her the day before. “I won't see you this week, so just take care of yourself, alright?”

“Aye aye,” she teased, wondering where he'd picked up the phrase, if it was a brit thing, or just a Killian thing, “and if you need anything – a run to the store, or whatever, just let me know. You did so much for me and...you're not alone, Killian. Friends, yeah?”

“Of course,” he smiled, but it was tense and his gut twisted knowing just how he was going to be thinking of her during the next week – and it certainly wasn't as friends. “I'll see you soon though.”

“Text me,” she reminded him, heading down the hall.

He nodded, friends would have to be enough.

//

Emma's backpack slumped to the bed, the edge of the pamphlets Killian had given her peeking from the top. She'd take a look at them later once Tamara got in for the evening and she knew she would have the rest of the night unbothered. Tamara preferred to spend most of her time on the phone with her boyfriend, only paying attention to Emma and the other older kids if there was some sort of emergency. Neal on the other hand, he was always lingering around a corner. He didn't seem to care much for the younger kids, or bother with them at all other than taking care of meals, but it seemed no matter where Emma was, he always had a reason to be nearby.

It was unsettling, but honestly, she'd been in group homes that were worse. This one wasn't so bad outside of Neal, and she'd already been here for a while. If she could just toe the line and not upset anyone, Storybrooke didn't seem like the worst town to age out in.

Her thoughts drifted back toward her conversation with Killian earlier, and thoughts of him inevitably drew her eyes over to the small dresser that was hers. She chewed on her lower lip as she thought about the knotting toy that was tucked away beneath a pile of shirts. The memory of how it had felt made her cheeks burn. She'd never felt more aware of her body than when she'd finally slipped all of it inside of her – something about her heat had pushed her beyond any sort of embarrassment or uncertainty, leaving her to just focus on how right it felt. It had been freeing, and after that her heat had gotten a lot easier.

Killian had been more considerate in the short time he'd known her than anyone else she'd met, and she felt a little bad. She'd have to find out how much the toy had cost and pay him back.

Getting a job would have helped, but for some reason, it was against the group home policy – something about focusing on schoolwork and not allowing minors out unsupervised in close situations with other adults, so she had only a small allowance she was allowed to receive, and no idea how much she even owed Killian.

Probably more than she had.

“Hey, Ems, how was school?”

Emma nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Neal's voice so close behind her, the hair on her neck standing on end and an unpleasant shiver rippling along her body that made her want to step quickly away. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she turned and smiled tightly. She didn't want to give him any reason to be upset with her, to risk getting kicked out of the home – not now that she was just starting to feel something for this place, or at least like maybe she wasn't so alone here.

“Fine,” she shrugged, uncomfortable with the way he hovered in her doorway, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans, fixing her with a strange look. “Was there anything you needed?”

“Actually, yeah, there is,” he admitted, yanking a hand free and stroking the patch of hair on his chin, “there was a guy that stopped by the house the other day. You know you're not supposed to invite people over, Emma – me and Tamara, we're responsible for all you guys here, and we can't just have strangers coming around. There's small kids here, you know.”

“I didn't invite anyone over,” she hesitated, knowing exactly who he was talking about. She'd been waiting for it to come up. Honestly, she was surprised it had taken so much time. “Who was it?”

“Didn't leave his name – tall guy, dark hair, wore a lot of black? He didn't look like the type of guy you should be hanging out with, Ems.”

“Honestly, Neal, I don't know anyone who – oh! That must have been Dana's brother. She's been out sick and mentioned her brother would stop by to pick up the extra notes I took for her last week.”

Neal nodded slowly, his frown lessening and gaze softening, though the few steps he took into her room did nothing to ease Emma's discomfort. His hands found there way back into his pockets as he leaned to the side, peering around her space.

“Do you have them then?”

“Have them...the notes? I do, yeah. Is he here for them now?”

“No, no one's here,” Neal smiled, “but I'd be happy to put them downstairs in case he stops by again.”

“Yeah, that's great, thanks,” Emma muttered, happy to put a little more distance between them as he sauntered further into her room, his eyes sweeping over everything.

She lifted her bag from the bed, relieved when the pamphlets slid back inside where they were safely hidden. Her fingers closed around a packet of notes she'd copied earlier in the week – not that Dana needed them, or had even spoken more than once to Emma, but she knew how Neal was, and that sooner or later he would come asking about Killian. The last thing she wanted was for him to be suspicious.

“Here.”  

She passed the small, paper-clipped stack to him with as much of a smile as she could muster.

“Next time let me know, Emma, if someone's going to be around. I need you to be honest with me, okay – so I can look out for you. That's my job.”

Any response she might have had caught in her throat and she could only nod, her stomach turning violently. She didn't want him looking out for her. She didn't even want him thinking about her. As much as she wanted to run, there was nowhere to go and she found herself standing very still as she waited.

He lingered for another second, still half in her doorway, not seeming to want to really leave. Her heart thumped in her chest – he wasn't even supposed to be up here, let alone in her room. It was way against the rules he always went on about.

Needing him gone, she turned and busied herself with taking her shows off, her fingers moving tremulously along her laces as she waited to hear his footsteps recede down the hall.

He'd always been odd, Neal, invested in a way that made her feel uncomfortable in her own skin, but she couldn't pretend she didn't know it was suddenly worse. Ever since that night he worked a double and she'd come back from Killian's with every inch of her skin permeated by her heat cycle. Since then he'd escalated, finding more reasons to check on her, and now even coming into her room when he wasn't supposed to.

She couldn't say her room had ever felt like home, but after that night, it had started to feel like a trap – and even now, her heat safely passed, her mind couldn't help but wander to the warm safety of Killian's home on the other side of town.

Tagging:  @justanother-unluckysoul​ @kmomof4​  @the-darkdragonfly​  @teamhook​  @zaharadessert​ @xarandomdreamx   @jrob64​  @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @tiganasummertree  @pirateprincessofpizza​  @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever  @alifeofdreams  @superchocovian​   @donteattheappleshook​ @hollyethecurious​   @caught-in-the-filter   @snowbellewells​  @itsfabianadocarmo  @stahlop​  @karlyfr13s​ @elizabeethan​  @rkrbirdgirl  @batana54​  

#captain swan #CS fic #cs fanfic #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #sailtoafarawayland #emma and hook #omegaverse #alpha/omega #You've always been home #high school au

[mahizli]

Bonds (Dooku & Obi-Wan Kenobi, 22 BBY)

Art by Mokorney and Part 22 of ‘Sparks of Hope’

***

Dooku held nothing but contempt for the Skywalker boy – no finesse, no subtlety, and no mastering of emotions, without much room for improvement. The Force knew he had tried to curb similar faults in Qui-Gon, very long ago, but his former Padawan had found his balance into meditation, oddly enough, and Dooku had only needed a few seconds to assess that Skywalker was completely unable to achieve it, and never would be.

Dooku was no fool. He could sense how powerful the boy was, what an asset he would play once he would have fallen completely – he was also very much aware of the interest his Master had in him. An interest that Dooku needed to be watchful of – because he knew how easily a Sith Apprentice could be replaced.

Dooku was no fool – and that was why he was keeping Ventress just close enough to control her, and just far enough for her not to attract Sidious’ attention unnecessarily. Ventress was fierce, skilled and loyal to a fault – and since he could not have Kenobi yet, she was a tolerable substitute.

It did not mean Kenobi was entirely lost to him, though – and Dooku watched him wake with carefully hidden interest, sitting up and rubbing his brow silently, helping Skywalker to recover.

“How you could choose to walk out there and get yourselves caught despite my warning is truly beyond me”, Dooku quipped, taking delight in watching Kenobi’s eyes widen slightly.

His former Grandpadawan’s eyes wandered to the electric bound wrought around his waist, attaching him both to Dooku and Skywalker. And the Count was surprised to feel resolve and relief seep through his incredibly strong shields. Kenobi was quick to place himself in front of Skywalker, holding him back and shielding him with his body, as soon as Dooku began to provoke the boy – it was frankly too easy. One just had to mention his arm, and watch Skywalker go feral.

“You will pay”, Skywalker hissed. “For all the Jedi you murdered on Geonosis.”

“That, my dear fool of a Jedi, is entirely your Master’s doing. Remind me again whose rescue it was that needed two-hundred and twelve Jedi?”

“Don’t you dare…”

“Anakin.”

Kenobi’s voice was calm. Measured, and so very soft. His body language still spelt protectiveness, one hand lightly placed on Skywalker’s left forearm. His face looked pale, in the dim light of the cell – but there was nothing but steadiness in the Force around him, and the command on his shields was frankly impressive.

“The Republic is going to send envoys with the spice. We need to get out of here before. And since we appear to be bound together, for the time being, I suggest we refrain from murdering each other.”

“You want us to team up with him?!!”

The indignation in Skywalker’s voice was grating – and Kenobi sighed.

“Currently, having you running in different directions is no option for me.”

He gestured towards his waist, a small smile playing around his lips, and Skywalker huffed.

“Good point, Master.”

They spent the next hours trying to escape from Hondo Ohnaka’s cells, only to found themselves back there. Dooku just shrugged, mentally, not overly worried and secretly impressed when Kenobi pulled that mind-trick on the stupid Weequay sentinel.

“You don’t want to stand guard. You want to deactivate the cell bars and… go out drinking.”

They watched the guard turn to a mindless puppet and set them free, and Kenobi muttered:

“Almost too easy.”

They had been prisoners together long enough for Dooku to recognise the small frown between Kenobi’s eyebrows as a sign of worry. He was not projecting anything into the Force, his signature surprisingly mild and gentle, but Dooku had already learned that his former Grandpadawan’s mind never stopped running.

They left the cell for the second time, running towards the exit, and suddenly Kenobi was pushing him behind a crate, palm splayed on his shoulder, body shielding him in an unconscious, protective move mirroring his earlier one.

“Hurry along, Dooku.”

His sharp, focused grey eyes darted around, and Dooku realised just how strong and dangerous his Grandpadawan could be, even without a lightsaber. Obi-Wan’s sleeve was brushing his, and he had adopted a defensive Soresu stance, but his hand was trailing behind, feeling for Skywalker in the Force, attuned to his reactions – and this was Qui-Gon’s training.

Qui-Gon had perfected the dual Master-and-Padawan technique along with Feemor, and brought it to completion with Obi-Wan, who had mastered the skill himself along with his own Padawan.

Dooku could have invaded their bond through the Force – but such was a crude, dirty thing reserved for the ones like Maul, whom Dooku abhorred and despised. Instead, he focused on the quiet signs: Obi-Wan’s small tilt of the head, the way his shoulders relaxed once Skywalker shifted his own position, and the quiet smile in his eyes when they started to run in sync.

Their bond was not closed, clearly, and this was so very interesting – but it also tugged at something Dooku had though to be long purged from his very system.  

Something reminding him of a vibrant green blade, of Qui-Gon’s quiet, casual shrug whenever Dooku ordered him around – but his Padawan had been dutiful and strong, truly skilled in the Force and so very warm. Until Feemor had died. Until Dooku lost Qui-Gon’s friendship and goodwill for good – because his Padawan had always been too headstrong, and too tender-hearted.

“Jump!”

They were still bound by the waist – Obi-Wan linking them together, and Dooku heard his gasp when Anakin grabbed the fence, leaving them both hanging below him.

“You’re too heavy. I can’t do it.”

They were slipping, and suddenly the link between him and Obi-Wan snapped – and then Dooku felt warm, strong hands grab his.

“Are you crazy, Master?! Just drop him!”

But Obi-Wan’s hands just tightened around his, eyes narrowing in steely resolve even as the bound tugged at his waist, drawing another pained exhale from him.

Never.

The small word echoed in the Force with quiet determination, and Dooku almost winced in pain, because the dedication within sprang from something so old, so long forgotten it burned, around his chest and in his very mind.

Ohnaka’s men somehow managed to knock Skywalker out and drag them both up in one fluid motion, and they soon found themselves back in their cells, finally separated but still unable to flee.

Dooku’s wrists hurt and he was somewhat short of breath, and so was Obi-Wan, who was bent above Skywalker’s unconscious body and had yet to straighten fully, arm wrapped around his waist.

“You should have dropped me”, Dooku stated, but Obi-Wan just huffed, with a small, annoyed shake of the head.

He fumbled through his utility belt, and managed to unfold a small Bacta patch, placing it against the welt on Skywalker’s brow, then he splayed his fingers, pressing them gently against his head.

Skywalker let out a soft moan, then his limbs seemed to relax and Dooku watched Obi-Wan’s face soften, his features still focused but appeased as he guided the boy into a healing trance.

“Rash, and unbalanced.”

This got Obi-Wan’s attention, and Dooku soon faced those calm, grey eyes, watching his Grandpadawan straighten, Anakin’s head still cradled in his lap.

“He might be skilled with machines. Wires. Even lightsabers”, Dooku dropped. “But he has not mastered anything in the Force, and he will disappoint you, if he hasn’t already.”

“Anakin will never disappoint me.”

“Don’t be so sure…”

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed, but then his Grandpadawan shook his head.

“I know what you are trying to do. And it will not work. You want to sow distrust and hatred between us. You want to belittle Anakin in my mind, and in my heart. But you cannot. Because those faults you point out are known to me, and known to him. Because I did not seek to raise a perfect machine, or a droid, when I took Anakin as a Padawan.”

“Did you? Take him as a Padawan? Or was it something more complicated? A promise to the one who had raised, and forsaken you?”

“Qui-Gon did not forsake me.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was very quiet. He was not a small man, but he was definitely smaller than them both. Thin. A small reed, Yoda had always called him. And Dooku knew just how very fragile he was, how insignificant the Dark side of the Force made him – their duel was only months old, and he had brought him down within seconds.

Yet, just now, there was a conviction and a power radiating through him that seemed to dwarf them all. Obi-Wan raised bright grey eyes towards him, and Dooku realised, then, that the boy had worked hard towards balance – and that his efforts had not been vain.

“Qui-Gon believed in him. And, when it came to choose between Anakin and myself, he chose him because he saw, and realised, that Anakin needed him more than I did.”

“You do not resent him? For calling you only stubborn, and capable, in front of the whole Jedi Council, when you gave him twelve years of your life?”

It still irked something in Dooku. It had made him want to shake Qui-Gon until his teeth rattled – but Qui-Gon had died before Dooku had even known the full extent of the mess he had made with Obi-Wan, and then… Then Dooku had realised that the Jedi Order was nothing like it should anymore – nothing like it could.  

“And what kind of a Padawan would that make me?”

Obi-Wan’s voice was just a whisper, and his face had turned very pale, but the resolve had not left his eyes. On the contrary, something warm and light had begun to seep through his shields, permeating the Force around him, and it was searing open that small, long forgotten spot deep into Dooku’s chest.

“What of the years Qui-Gon devoted to me? What of Qui-Gon choosing me? Of helping me understand the Force, and myself, and the world around us, every single day of my apprenticeship? What of the love and care he provided, for my mind, body and soul, giving me all he had and even more? What of the devotion he inspired in me – strong enough to help me come back to him when I almost fell? How could I resent him for caring for a boy who deserves the world, and who was unwanted by most, yet who holds such promises?”

His Grandpadawan was facing him, features pinched yet glowing so brightly in the Force – and there was no contempt in Obi-Wan’s words, just genuine truth and belief. And it was painful.

“Qui-Gon taught me to be gentle with the faults we can find in others, because he was not perfect and never sought to be. He simply sought to improve himself. And this is something Anakin does as well – which is why he will never disappoint me.”

“Such meekness…”

“Call it whatever you want. I do not care.”

“Have you no pride at all?”

The question was genuine – almost taking Dooku by surprise. Obi-Wan however just raised his eyebrows, hands finding Anakin’s shoulders.

“And who am I, to place myself above so many others? We are a whole, Dooku. And just because I have no interest to dominate or best others does not mean I do not seek to improve my skills, and my way of understanding the Force.”

“How can that be enough?”

Dooku was laughing now, but it sounded cold and foreign to him.

“Because it is.”

There was sadness, and compassion in Obi-Wan’s eyes – and Dooku realised then, that this conversation had to end. That he would not gain the boy to his side that day – that he would have to wait for the war to extinguish the light into Obi-Wan’s eyes, for the battles and losses to harden his heart, for the despair to invade more of his mind, until he would be ready to hear some of the truths Dooku had come to embrace.

“I wish you would see it. I wish it would not be you we had to fight, day after day and night after night. But if I must, I will – because it is worth it.”

“What is…?”

Skywalker’s quiet mumble brought them both back to the small, grey cell they were still stuck in, and Obi-Wan’s eyes instantly searched for his face.

“What’s worth it, Master? Why are we back here with him?”

“Because your Master would not take your advice to drop me”, Dooku quipped.

“’Course not.”

The childish surety in Skywalker’s voice was surprising, and the boy lifted a hand, gently patting Obi-Wan on the arm.

“I’m the evil one here.”

“Hush now, Anakin.”

Obi-Wan’s hand had not left his brow, and his eyes met Dooku’s again. Steely, with a hint of sadness and unshakable resolve. His Grandpadawan wrapped an arm around Skywalker’s chest, and gave a curt nod.

And despite of himself, Dooku nodded back – because Obi-Wan was definitely worth a conversation. His Grandpadawan also had the means to defend himself, and to get himself – and Skywalker – out of this mess. And so, when Ohnaka’s men went to fetch them, leaving him alone in his cell, Dooku wasted no time preparing his own escape.

When the power died down, he killed the guards and the men facing him without any remorse. And he did not look over his shoulder, not once – determined to leave Florrum as soon as possible, and return with enough forces to burn it to the ground.

Just like he would burn the small part of himself Obi-Wan had brought back to life, because it was not part of Dooku’s plans and schemes.

Some bounds were better severed, and Dooku was honing his blades.

But not just yet.

#The Clone Wars #star wars #starwars fanfiction #Obi-Wan Kenobi #dooku #Anakin Skywalker #lineage feels #foreshadowing #i love them all

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (11)

     jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: some angst and irrational jealousy

words: 5.2k

   chapter eleven

Your presentation with Namjoon the next day was a success – which was almost a given, considering how much work the two of you had put into it – and, to celebrate that it finally ended, you went out for some coffee in the afternoon. The campus café was packed at a time like this but both of you were still buzzing from the adrenaline of having to present in front of the whole class, so you barely noticed anyone else.

“I’m so glad we presented last,” you said and then sighed in content after you tasted your caramel beverage. “That left no time for anyone to ask any questions since everyone just wanted to go home faster.”

Namjoon chuckled. “I know. That’s the only benefit of having to spend the entire class stressed and anxious.”

You groaned at the realization of how many nerve cells you’d lost today. “Thank God that’s over now.”

“Yeah, it’s—” he started to say and was suddenly cut off by a sharp flashing sound from somewhere behind you, accompanied by a bright flicker of light that illuminated—and blinded—the boy in front of you for just a second.

You blinked in shock – both from the flash and from the realization that someone had just taken a picture of you two – and turned around, your eyes widening in surprise.

Behind you, a group of flustered freshmen huddled close to each other as they sprinted out of the café, their phones in hands. They looked back at you as they went, quickly turning away as soon as they caught your eye.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, turning back around.

“Some wannabe paparazzi, I’m assuming,” Namjoon said, rubbing his eyes with the pillows of his index fingers, “with some audacity. They didn’t even bother to check if the flash was on.”

“This whole week has been very weird,” you said, glancing over your shoulder again, so you could watch the group through the window – they had piled together in the front-yard of the café and were, most likely, adding unflattering filters to the picture they just took – and then you returned your attention to your friend, all while shaking your head, “but that still has to be the weirdest thing that happened to me. Why would they do something like that?”

“Hard to find a sensible reason,” Namjoon said, his voice empathetic, “but if I had to guess, then I’d say they’re trying to stir something up with that picture.”

“How?” you asked and then realized. “Oh, because I’m here with you?”

“Yeah.”

You rolled your eyes, finding it hard to believe that you were in your final years of university, and the people around you – albeit younger than you – still behaved like they were characters in a high school drama.

“Jesus,” you mumbled dejectedly and took your paper cup of coffee into your shaky hands, sipping it slowly in hopes that the hot liquid would calm you down. You set the cup back down again after a minute, however, because it had no effect on your nerves at all. “Are there no clubs they’d like to join? Nothing else they would want to spend their time doing? I mean, how bored are they?”

Namjoon cleared his throat, feeling awkward for not having suitable answers to any of your questions and for putting you in this position in the first place. “I, uh—yeah. Very bored, probably. I’m sorry.”

You gave him a perplexed glance – his apology had confused you – and noticed how uncomfortable he looked as he avoided your eyes and drew indiscernible patterns on the table with his finger.

“Why are you apologizing?” you tried asking softly. “This isn’t your fault.”

He knew that, of course, but that didn’t alleviate his discomfort. “No, I just feel like I’m partially responsible for that picture because I suggested we get coffee here.”

“You could have never guessed that people would be weird enough to do this,” you countered, feeling even worse now that this incident has made him wish he hadn’t come here with you. “If anything, it’s me who should be apologizing for dragging you into this. I’m honestly struggling to understand why they care so much but I shouldn’t have—”

Namjoon protested, “no, don’t feel guilty about this.”

You stopped to really consider his words.

The two of you were sitting here, apologizing to each other, when, the truth was, neither of you was responsible for the sheer shallowness of the people around you. You had no influence when they were placing their priorities and you couldn’t be blamed for what happened just because these people valued a good campus scandal more than an A in Calculus.

“Yeah. You’re right. I didn’t do anything wrong,” you declared, “and neither did you. Do you want to take a walk instead of sitting here?” you asked then, relieved that you chose to get your coffees to-go instead of drinking them from those pretty but very fragile-looking porcelain cups that several girls were snapping pictures of a few tables away.

An impressed smile appeared on his face after your suggestion; you knew your self-worth. And Namjoon – in the least condescending way possible – admired that greatly.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he said with a nod at the window of the café. “The weather’s nice.”

Thankfully, the incident at the café did not repeat itself when the two of you strolled around campus, talking and drinking your coffees in peace. You ended up getting into a conversation so deep – Namjoon was telling you about how his roommate, Seokjin, had purchased an unidentified plant from the flower shop off-campus and was convinced he was now growing marijuana in his room – you didn’t even notice when you finished your drink and it was time for you to say goodbye and head back home.

It was very nice to talk to someone – other than Inna – who shared your point-of-view on most things, but still remained calm and respectful when the conversation turned to something you didn’t exactly agree on. You weren’t used to that. Even Inna, who was normally understanding and open-minded, had a strong opinion on certain things and, sometimes, she got defensive if you disagreed.

Jungkook was a whole different specimen: if someone said something he didn’t like, he was going to defend his stance with impressive – and, frankly, intimidating – fury. Being near him could always make your blood boil, your pupils dilate, and your heart start skipping beats.

Talking to him could sometimes make you wish you could jump off a building – just so you wouldn’t have to look at his shit-eating grin anymore – but it also reminded you that you were alive. It was like bungee-jumping. Like swimming with the sharks.

Apparently, you were an adrenaline junkie, and – as you reluctantly admitted to yourself – he was the adrenaline fix you needed.

When you got back to your building – still thinking about Jungkook even after you’d spent half a day with Namjoon – and entered the elevator, you had your mind set on watching a distracting movie so you could push Jungkook out of your thoughts. You haven’t seen him these past few days and, clearly, it was starting to get to you.

And that was precisely when you nearly fell right back into the elevator cabin after you stepped out and saw the sight in front of you – you thought your abstinence from Jungkook had caused you to hallucinate.

“Oh, you’re finally here.”

Jungkook stood up from the spot next to your door when he saw you emerge down the hall.

You hadn’t expected the boy that haunted your mind to manifest himself right in front of you, so you couldn’t form a single coherent sentence. But you still tried, “w-what are—w-why—”

“I called,” he said as a way of explaining. “You didn’t answer.”

You remembered hearing this when he showed up at your dorm the first time, prompting a very awkward three-way exchange between him, Namjoon, and you. Granted, now that the awkward component was out, this gesture could have made your heart flutter but, really, it felt more like a—pleasant—stab into your chest.  

“I, uh, I left my phone in the dorm,” you said, your hands seeming useless when you had no device to hold. “You have to stop coming here whenever I don’t answer my phone, though.”

A confident grin appeared on his lips but his eyes – the true mirror into his heart – were begging.

“Why?” he asked only half teasingly as his gaze seemed to pulsate with need to hear you say that you wanted him here. “Am I not welcome?”

You remembered – and instantly discarded – your plan to watch a distracting movie, and shook your head.

“No,” you said. You wanted him here. It was any thought or activity, distracting you from him, that wasn’t welcome. “I just feel bad for making you wait.”

Pleased with the answer – and not even trying to conceal it as the warmth on the edges of his pupils spread like honey throughout both of his eyes – Jungkook pushed his hands into his pockets.

“It’s fine,” he said and then added, almost carelessly, “I thought something could have happened to you. You’re not one to forget your phone. So, I came to check.”

“Yeah, I was in a hurry this morning—”

“But then I heard it ring inside when I tried calling you from here, so I figured what happened.”

You blinked at his interruption. “Wait, so you knew I left my phone? Why did you wait then?”

“Well, I still needed to talk to you.”

The unapologetic tone of his voice made you inhale sharply and take an unconscious step back as a protective means so you wouldn’t throw your arms around him like your heart wanted you to. You lowered your eyes.

“Okay, but you could have—I-I mean,” you didn’t know why you were still talking. It was obvious that he didn’t mind waiting. And yet that was somehow so impossible to believe. “What if I would have been gone longer?”

“Then I would have waited longer,” he shrugged like it was obvious, his eyes analyzing your confused features. “Why are you so bothered that I’m here?”

“I’m not bothered, I’m just—” truly, relentlessly falling more and more in love with you. “I was just surprised. Sorry I made you wait. What did you want to talk about?”

You gave him a weak smile as you tried to use the business tone you reserved for almost everyone but your voice still came out sounding meek and uncertain.

Jungkook just chuckled – not at you but, rather, at the the obviously nervous state you were in right now. While he always—secretly— appreciated your witty banter and sarcasm, he couldn’t help but feel proud to have this disarming effect on you.

“Straight to the point, huh?” he ribbed. “I thought that, after I’d waited for you for thirty minutes, the least you would do is invite me inside.”

“You waited for thirty minutes?”

“More or less.”

“Shit,” you were done for and you hated that it took this little – just some dedication to wait until you returned – to win your complete devotion. “I’m sorry.”

You walked past him – trying almost desperately not to breathe but still getting a whiff of his cologne and clenching your jaw as you refused to let the intoxicating smell affect you – to unlock the door.

“It’s fine,” Jungkook said, watching you and marveling at how completely unaware you were about the effects that the smell of your hair – as it lightly brushed against his chest when you walked past – had on him. “I don’t mind.”

You turned the key in the lock, the warmth from inside of the room hitting your already warm face as soon as the door opened.

You moved to a side and looked at him.

“So, uh—come inside, then.”

He did. And the room felt suffocating with him in it – but not in a painful way. It was just unusual: like you’d been transported into a different realm where breathing was no longer necessary to keep you alive and yet your body – so used to the way things were before – was still fighting it.

It was a useless battle.

You couldn’t breathe around him anyway.

“So, I received a picture today,” Jungkook said as he followed after you and took his shoes off by the door.

“Received a picture?” you frowned at his wording, lifting your eyes from your shoes to his face. “I hope you don’t mean in the mail.”

“No—” he paused to laugh. “I mean someone sent it to me. Well, to this groupchat I’m in but they tagged me.”

You placed your shoes in their rightful position by the door but chose not to return your eyes to his because you had a feeling where this was going.

“Right,” you said, not encouraging him to go on but knowing that he would anyway.

“It was you and Namjoon,” he said.

You nodded – which surprised him. “So, the picture reached you.”

For a moment, Jungkook tried to look for hidden hints in your voice – hints that would indicate where your knowledge about this had come from and, more importantly, why you looked so defensive all of a sudden, crossing your arms over your chest as you eyed him from the other end of the hall – but then he settled on just asking.

“You know about it?”

“Do you know who took it?” you countered, surprising him further.

“Uh—no, I just know who sent it,” he said. “Why? What are you going to—”

“I’m going to complain,” you decided.

Even though you’d suspected that the picture was going to be sent out and not kept as a private artifact, hearing just how quickly it reached Jungkook – and that it was, apparently, directed at him but not sent privately to him – pissed you off.

It was like showing the picture to Jungkook was only one part of this masterplan and this part was a small one. Because another part – the big, important one – was making fun of him in front of every person that was in the groupchat he’d mentioned.

“You don’t take pictures of people in public without their consent, not even celebrities,” you began, “and with a flash on, no less! Like they weren’t even trying to be secretive about the whole thing.”

“R-right. That was disrespectful,” Jungkook agreed, puzzled to notice that the same frustration he’d felt when he saw the picture, was now mirrored on your features. “But I mean… we’re supposed to be dating, remember? That’s why they took the picture.”

You entered the bedroom and he hesitantly trailed behind you.

“That’s not an excuse,” you said.

“Of course, it’s not,” he agreed. “But I kind of get it. I mean… well, how do you think it makes me look when you’re—”

You stopped in the middle of the room and turned around, finding it difficult to fathom how he was capable of defending these people, when they were so dead-set on humiliating him by showing everyone a picture of you with “some other guy”.

“Jungkook,” you said sternly. “That’s exactly why they took the picture. To make you look bad.”

“And they succeeded!”

You frowned. “Doesn’t that piss you off?”

“No—I mean, yeah, obviously, it does. I came here because I was pissed off,” he spoke, his eyes jumping from the window behind you to the posters hanging on Inna’s side of the room. “But I had some time to think about this while I waited for you. I’m actually more pissed off about you being with someone else than I am about getting embarrassed in front of others.”

You thought you misunderstood him. “What?”

The last time Jungkook panicked this much was when he’d been caught red-handed stealing his father’s Jack Daniels from the pantry in eighth grade.

“I… I meant—I’m pissed off about you hanging out with someone else,” he said, rolling his eyes for more effect as he tried to make it seem as though he’d just phrased himself wrong before.

Both of his hands were behind his neck as he stretched – a nervous habit – and you watched him battle his inner discomfort for a minute as you debated which part to focus on. Maybe he really didn’t mean to say what he said.

“Jungkook,” you finally said. “With all due respect, I’m not going to stop hanging out with my friends just because your two-faced friends want to mock you.”

He groaned – growing genuinely irritated now – and turned his back to you. “It’s not that they’re mocking me—”

“Don’t defend them!” you protested.

“I’m not!” his voice had risen to match yours. Slowly, he turned around and dropped his hands to his sides with an exasperated sigh. “I’m just saying, it’s not about them trying to mock me.”

You didn’t believe him. “So you’re saying you would have still been pissed about this if they sent the picture to you personally instead of showing it to everyone?”

“I would have been pissed about this even if there was no picture,” Jungkook replied.

“What are you saying?”

He sighed again. He thought it was fairly obvious what he was saying.

“We’re fake-dating, right?” he asked and it felt like he was deflecting. “So that means people are going to do this. They’re going to talk, even take pictures—”

“I know that,” you said. “We already talked about that.”

“Yes, but… I know that this makes you uncomfortable. And I hate that, really, I do. I’m grateful that you’re helping me in spite of it.”

Waiting for him to get the the point, you tapped your foot impatiently. “Okay.”

“I…” his eyes fell to the ground. The creaking floorboards under your feet distracted him. “What I’m trying to say is that, other people are going to be talking about what’s going on. And these types of things,” he meant the picture as he waved his phone around, “are just going to make them even more curious.”

“You’re suggesting that, by hanging out with my friends, I’m giving them something more to talk about?” you tried. “Even if they don’t take pictures.”

“N-not with your—well, they don’t know he’s your friend.”

“Actually, they don’t know you’re not just my friend, too.”

Jungkook winced – but it was a momentary reaction and, afterwards, you weren’t sure if he really did wince, or if it was just a stray ray of sun that passed through the curtains on your window and blinded him – and then cleared his throat.

“Well, exactly,” he said. “They don’t know shit. They assumed we’re dating and we decided to go with it. And now they see you with Namjoon and, remember, they don’t have confirmation that we’re dating, so, naturally, they start to speculate even harder.”

You had to give it to him, he may have had a point. Maybe people weren’t actually trying to mock Jungkook. Maybe they weren’t laughing about how his “girlfriend” was “cheating” on him with someone else.

Maybe people were genuinely curious whether he was dating you or not and, perhaps, they hoped that by pushing him into the corner with this piece of evidence – that was obtained through questionable means but this wasn’t a courtroom, so everyone fought dirty – Jungkook would finally give them some answers that they craved.

“I’m—” you sat down, too overwhelmed to finish a full sentence. “This is so childish, my head is starting to hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook said and then took the liberty of sitting down next to you.

“No, it’s—I get what you’re saying,” you told him, turning your head so your eyes would meet and catching the sharp sound of him inhaling as he realized how close your faces were. You flushed and turned away. “I-I was just—I don’t know, I guess I got sensitive because of the way they handled this. I mean, when they took the picture, I knew they were going to show it to you, that much was obvious. But I thought it was going to be one of those “hey, just a warning, but I saw your girlfriend out with some guy today” type of texts, you know? One-on-one.”

He fisted the sheets of your bed when you referred to yourself as his girlfriend. Sitting here next to you – so close he could now make out the specific notes of your scent; he loved the smell of menthol in your hair – was going to kill him.

“Yeah,” he said as he exhaled. “With us, it’s never one-on-one. When they’re not sure about something, they argue about it in front of everyone.”

That sounded terrible. It even reminded you of a prison – with no private space and everyone constantly sticking their nose in each other’s business.

“Why do you hang out with these people?” you asked. “They’re always looking for ways to humiliate you.”

You thought Jungkook was going to defend them again and insist that they were like this with everyone, not just him – and you would have had no choice but to take his word for it, since you didn’t belong to the inside crowd – but, much to your surprise, he just shrugged his shoulders and looked down.

“They’re—yeah, I can’t explain that,” he said, suddenly sad. “They clung themselves to us – to t-the other members and me, I mean – and we didn’t bother to shake them off.”

Of course, they didn’t. Parental Advisory – and Jungkook in particular – loved being the center of everyone’s attention. And it made sense. Who wouldn’t love being loved?

You swayed your head thoughtfully but did not say anything else for a while. When you finally felt his shoulders relax and poke yours, you finally spoke again.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” you said.

He didn’t blame you for it – which was unexpected but perhaps you’d misjudged just how self-aware about the situation with his friends he was – as he smiled softly. “That’s okay. I shouldn’t have come in here, demanding you stop spending time with your, uh, friend.”

He hated describing Namjoon in this way and he couldn’t hide it – not that he tried.

“I understand where you’re coming from,” you told him.

“Thanks.”

You nodded in response, the argument finally settling down. Only, you still needed to make a decision how to proceed – choosing to “just go with it” hasn’t exactly gone very well.

“So, what are we going to do about this?” you asked, careful so as not to make your voice sound too strict.

“You said you were going to complain,” Jungkook reminded you.

“I did,” you nodded, already seeing yourself knocking on the door of the dean’s office in your mind. “But it’s pointless, isn’t it? It won’t change anything.”

There were only so many things the dean could do, and controlling a population of nearly twenty-thousand students on campus wasn’t one of them.

“No, probably not,” Jungkook confirmed.

“So, what, then?”

He looked at you. “I have a plan. But you may not like it.”

You swallowed, aware that there wasn’t anything that you wouldn’t have done for him.

It was scary when you realized just how much control over you he still had, all of these years later. You briefly wondered if he’d ever cease to affect you this much.

“What is it?” you spoke.

“Come with me to our party this Friday,” he asked. “It’ll be a great way for us to express our anger about this in a more socially acceptable way. We’d sublimate, so to speak.”

You looked away. He had the power to convince you to do anything – you did not doubt that – but, God, you really didn’t want him to convince you do to this.

“Jungkook—”

“We wouldn’t have to stay long. Just—”

“Just so they’d see us together?” you cut him off and the sharpness in your voice wounded him because that wasn’t the only reason. “Just so we could respond to their incessant nosiness in this passive-aggressive way?”

“Well, yes,” he admitted. “But also because I want to hang out with you there.”

You thought that was just an excuse – a way to soften the blow after he confessed that he only wanted you to come to strengthen the image of your false relationship – so you didn’t catch the vulnerability in his voice.

“If that’s the case, then we could hang out—” you tried to say but Jungkook beat you to the end of your sentence.

“Here, I know,” he finished for you. “Or anywhere else that’s private. But I’m asking you to hang out with me there.”

You stayed quiet.

You weren’t saying no but Jungkook could see that you didn’t want to do this. He realized, in that moment, that he could convince you to come if he put his mind to it, but that would mean that you’d be doing something you didn’t want, all for his sake.

He couldn’t do that. He didn’t want that.

Standing up from the bed, he said, “I’m going to go.”

You followed him with your eyes, the sudden announcement taking you off-guard. “What?”

“Yeah,” he said, not turning around but stopping in the middle of your room nevertheless, “or I might start throwing things.”

“W-why—?”

“Because I want to spend time with you and you’re rejecting me,” he explained in haste, his words sticking together and making it nearly impossible for you to understand him. Not to mention, your heart was now beating so loudly, you were partially deaf to all other sounds. “I guess, you could say it’s bruising my ego. I have to—”

“No, Jungkook, come on,” you stood up, too, not really willing yourself to. Your body seemed to follow his automatically. “You know I want to spend time with you, too.”

He didn’t know, actually. But hearing this was enough to get him to stop and reconsider – clearly, he didn’t really want to leave.

“But do we have to go to that party?” you asked after he didn’t say anything.

He counted the dents on the wall next to your bed before finally saying, “what have we got to lose? People are talking anyway, so why would we stay home?”

A sad smile appeared on your face – you didn’t like reminding him of this; it felt like you were reminding him of your own name – as you replied, “you might find it surprising, but staying home isn’t actually painful for me. I enjoy that.”

“No, I… I know that,” Jungkook said, bringing a hand through his hair. He regretted standing up now. He worded himself better when he was sitting. “But… Okay. W-we could go to the party, hang out there for a little bit, and then we’ll head back and hang out at your place. What do you think?”

That was supposed to be a compromise but it felt too much like he was trying to do you a favor, but not really succeeding at it. Because the core reason why he wanted you two to spend more time together was still laced with his need to prove a point -- and the point was that you and him were more together than you and Namjoon.

“Where’s the catch?” you asked, not seeing how the return back to your place could have benefited your fake relationship.

“There’s no catch,” he said. “I genuinely wish to be—wish to spend time with you.”

That was a good response – he could tell he’d chosen his words right by the way some of the pressure seemed to leave your shoulders when you exhaled.

“And,” you said, “how much of that wish is influenced by your need to prove to everyone that I’m not cheating on you?”

Jungkook smiled.

“Only a little,” he said.

“Well,” you grimaced – and his smile widened at your obvious dramatics – and then turned around to look out the window, “at least you’re honest.”

“I promised I wouldn’t lie to you,” he said.

You watched the students pass by your building outside while you considered your options. There weren’t many. You could either give in and agree to go with him now or you could spend another ten minutes listening to him try to convince you to come, only to agree then.

It didn’t seem fair to make him beg you to come – you didn’t think your company was worth that much and, in any case, you did want to spend time with him, even if you had no conditions of your own and would have gladly remained unseen by anyone else – so, choosing to give in now rather than later, you turned to face him again.

“Okay, fine. I’ll go to that party with you,” you said and your words lit his eyes up. “But you won’t let this get to you anymore, okay? Because our plan was to let people think whatever they wanted to think. You said so yourself -- they’re going to talk no matter what we do. So, promise me I won’t find you by my door, all frustrated and determined to wait for thirty minutes until I come back so we can argue about this again. Okay?”

He was already burning with anticipation for Friday night – and most definitely imagining all sorts of scenarios of how the two of you were going to arrive to the party together – but he sobered up enough to react to your request.

“I can’t promise that,” he said.

“Jungkook—”

“No, I can’t promise that I won’t care,” he added, not letting you cut in, “but I promise I won’t do anything about it or… ambush you like this again. Or argue with you about this.”

That was good enough – better, actually, as your stomach contracted in tandem with your chest; it was like your entire body was vibrating now – and you decided that the worst was already in the past, so you sat back down on your bed.

You hadn’t gotten him to promise you he wasn’t going to care about the people you spent your time with -- because, what he should have cared about, was the way his own friends treated him -- but partially getting through to him was still more than you expected from talking to someone as stubborn as Jungkook.

“You didn’t ambush me,” you said softly. “It was nice of you to come and, uh, talk to me in person. Nice but unnecessary since there was nothing to talk about. But still, thank you.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook – who loved being appreciated, even as dismissively as this – suddenly turned bashful and tried to do some damage control by finding a yet another excuse for showing up here and waiting for you. He felt like he’d revealed all the most vulnerable parts of himself to you today, and he didn’t know how to walk away from that now, “I just wanted to figure out what we were going to do.”

You scoffed but not cruelly. “I don’t think we figured anything out. We’re still going wherever the circumstances take us.”

“Yeah, I guess, we are,” he agreed and then added the one epic excuse that would always extinguish the burning feelings in your chest, “but, at the end of the day, the only thing that really matters is that my parents believe we’re together.”

You were fine when you heard that his reasons for wanting to hang out with you involved proving a point to your peers. 

But hearing that the “only thing that really mattered” wasn’t actually enjoying each other’s company but, rather, convincing his parents that you were dating, hurt surprisingly much. You knew it shouldn’t have because it was true, that was what mattered, but you still found it hard to breathe for a few seconds after he said that.

“Right,” you muttered, your throat dry as you pretended not to be surprised by how quickly you went from “I want to spend time with you” to “I’m only doing this so my parents don’t disown me”.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, watching you avoid his eyes and fearing that he may have taken his personal damage control too far. “Okay. So, it’s settled then. I’ll pick you up at eight?”

“Yeah,” you said, your chest – so full a minute ago – hollow now, “eight is fine.”

keep reading | masterlist

#bts #bts reactions #bts college au #bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #fanfiction #jungkook college au #college au #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts au

[threeminutesoflife]

Hindsight is 20/20

Hindsight is 20/20

Pairings: Dark!Steve x Dark!Reader Warrnings: death of minor character, stalking, masturbation, oral sex- male receiving Word Count: 3k a/n: Congratulations on the 15k milestone, @sherrybaby14 sweet Scream Queen!❣️ Thank you for hosting #promptchallenge, Lady! 🧡🔪

Challenge prompt/Summary: #27/Steve- “Stalker!Steve finally gives up and the reader misses him so she starts stalking him and he likes it!”

It was all obnoxiously poetic- the way her hair fanned out and struck the air, the whiplash of movement, and the extension of her flailing arms. 

Her body performed a morbid ballet when you pushed her onto the subway tracks.

Her screams, their gasps, the failed brakes; between the brutality of gravity and the law of physics, the bitch even died pretty.

The overcrowded platform consumed your senses. The raunchy, celebratory cheers bounced off the tunnel walls and rang in your head as fans piled inhumanly close, trying to return home.

Beer breath and belches lingered overhead, sweat and humidity draped the subway tiles. Shoulders knocked into shoulders, and the little shoves and multiple bumps made your teeth grind.

Despite the acidic shuffle, your eyes stayed on her. She stood past the edge of the platform’s caution line, blissfully unaware. Cell phone in hand and fashionable jeans over her ass, she kept giggling at the phone’s screen. Fuck, she was annoying.

As you snaked closer, you saw her thumb jet across the device. Was she texting him? Were his replies the ones making her smile like that? 

Your next thoughts made you pause behind a column with a frown. Does he send her gifts like the ones he sent you? Did she receive that gift?

That gift you still hold when falling asleep most nights- the teddy bear with the secret recording in his chest. 

Does her teddy bear “growl” like yours?

You were sure Hallmark never intended for their sentimental creation to be used so obscenely, capturing the sounds of an overly-infatuated man pleasuring himself on the stuffed toy's recorder. People love in different ways, but you were sure his type of keepsake moment wasn’t marketable as a card in their stores.

At first, you were repulsed at the discovery. Your ear pressed against the chest of the bear, soft synthetic tickling your chin. Your brows furrowed slightly as you attempted to decode the rustling sounds. Juggling the bear until you finally located the volume button.

His deep, broken moans erupted from the toy’s chest, clarifying what the contents of the previously recorded message were. You never heard Steve like this. The revelation made your thigh muscles flex. Disgust and arousal hit you in one confusing punch. Annoyance and embarrassment slapped you next. 

You dated Steve, twice; once for a late breakfast because he was leaving that afternoon for a mission, and the other was for lunch because he just returned. Both meals were eaten behind baseball hats and glasses so people wouldn't recognize him. Missions and responsibilities made it difficult to see him, and it didn’t help that both dates were cut short due to emergencies on his end. When he called after several weeks of radio silence, inviting you for brunch- you declined. You told him that you needed someone who could be present, someone who could really see you. You wished him well but said he wasn’t the one for you.

Over the clinking of his belt buckle and material shuffling rapidly on the recorder, Steve wished you farewell, “I wish you could see me as I’ve always seen you, sunshine. Goodbye.” 

Throwing the obscene teddy bear back into the box, you kicked the package across the room.

After months of hangup calls from private numbers, flowers sent with no names attached, and an eerie feeling of a baseball-capped figure following you on the other side of the street- Steve finally let you go.

So why did your panties ache at the weight of that word- goodbye? Why was there an odd feeling of uncertainty growing in the pit of your stomach?

You were supposed to feel relief, but you didn't.  

The weight of his absence slowly grew. You didn’t want him before, he didn’t have time for you. So why should you want him now? 

So what if you didn’t have an acquaintance's admiration anymore? So what if your phone’s notification fell into a coma? 

So what…

You didn’t want him, you convinced yourself that- but a small part of you liked knowing he was looking. Unsure how or when it happened, you began to actually miss him.

One night you pulled the obscene bear out of storage. The box should have been thrown out when first receiving it, but you somehow never found the time. 

The bear still looked sharp and dapper, a little red bowtie garnishing the salacious audio recording.

The toy’s simple recorder didn’t have fast forward or rewind. So in your pining for Steve’s attention, you listened to his long audio of grunting and groaning- repeatedly. 

You wanted to hear every noise he made. You needed the timber in his voice. The high and lows of his moans, his breath catching in his chest. The sounds he made when pleasuring himself to the thought of you...

You tried masking the reasons for your actions to yourself. You just needed to hear him say, “goodbye.” Hearing him say that one simple word would make it more official. Of course, hearing him say it and you accepting it were entirely different things.

As you repeatedly hit the play button and rested on the bed with the grunting toy beside you, you knew this was a mistake. Because he sounded good, damn good. 

And that night started one of many. You’d mewl in sync with Steve's muffled groans coming from the stuffed bear's speakers, slipping one hand down your panties and covering your breast with the other. You unintentionally programmed yourself to cum as he did on the recording. Which meant, you needed to hear him cum on that audio for you to also find release.

___

The ringing in your head grew louder as you watched his new interest, your replacement, stand by the edge of the platform. 

Her carefree, glossy smile seared itself in your mind as you replayed the image of Steve wrapping his arms around her on the sidewalk. He wished her good night with a soft kiss before letting her descend the subway’s stairs. 

The longer you watched her, the easier it was for your jealousy to distort the fans’ cheers and drunken singing for the championship win into a slow chant of- “Push. Push. Push.” 

Before your mind knew what your body had planned, your legs moved and arms shoved.

She was dead and you didn't mean to do it, at least- not out in the open. But everything in you just snapped. 

You allowed the chaos of the crowd to swallow you and drown you in their sea of scared bystanders. Some pulled out phones, while others ran for high ground.

The passing subway train tried braking sooner; gears sparking and metal grinding. It was now half-hidden in the tunnel and half-exposed alongside the platform. The people on board shouted in horror after understanding why the platform crowd’s screamed for the non-stop subway train to stop. 

Pushing your glasses further up your nose, you frantically scanned for the easiest escape. Pulling the bill of your cap down further over your face, you ran.  

An emergency warning blared through the tunnel. Over the sirens, a voice encouraged everyone to stay calm. However, it only did the opposite- stoking people’s fears and peeking people’s curiosities. 

Wearing a disguise similar to yours, Steve stalked your movements behind the thick-rimmed glasses. Off to the side and engulfed in shadows, he watched you under the rounded bill of his baseball cap. When his prior date’s screams broke out, he pulled his glasses down in shock but quickly recovered and slid them back into place. 

He was taken back that you ended the girl so suddenly; surprised and oddly proud. Usually, he was the one who took the action and blocked your would-be suitors. But you doing this for him was a dream come true. His dick twitched at your declaration of love. You finally proved how much he meant to you. 

Steve had pretended to leave you alone too long for his liking. But he was never far and you certainly weren't ever forgotten. Tonight, you finally showed him that his waiting was worth it- and that he wasn’t forgotten either. 

After politely thanking and kissing the bland girl goodbye, he expected you to trail him back to his residence and wait until he entered his brownstone like you’ve done after his other dates.

It’s been your pattern for the last two months, but to his annoyance, you never approached him further and he was growing restless. He thought dating other women would smoke you out. But you stayed burrowed. However this time, he took the same girl out more than once. She got the third date you never did. 

He wished he thought of recycling a date sooner, maybe you would have reacted quicker and not so much time would have been spent apart.

But you returned to him and that’s what mattered. 

After adjusting his hardness, he checked the tracker on your phone and noted the direction you were headed. With muscle memory, he twisted through the crowd and made his way towards your apartment. You needed him.

Your breathing was labored as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, excessively stomping out your anger on each step as you replayed Steve kissing her.

She deserved what you did to her. Three dates were too many, you should have ended her after two. 

Kicking off your shoes and throwing your hat aside in the apartment, you sneered at the thought of them together. You aggressively stripped your way down the hallway to the bathroom. Your shucked clothes knocked against the hanging picture frames.

After throwing your bra at your reflection in the mirror, you twisted the shower knobs into submission. The pipes groaned and the water slowly heated as you braced your arms on the counter. Leaning towards the mirror, you took a hard look at yourself. 

After surveying the way the prop glasses perched themselves on the bridge of your nose, your eyes tracked over the curve of your chin and moved down to the elastic band of your panties -

THUMP  

Your eyes snapped back up to your reflection as you frowned at the noise. Shaking your head at your imagination, you pushed yourself off the counter and reached for the candles. With the extra stress tonight brought, scented candles would be soothing- 

THUMP

Was it your imagination? You turned the shower off and slowly opened the bathroom door. Your ears strained to catch the noise, but no sounds greeted you. Exhaling a huff, you were about to close the bathroom door when you heard a low rustling coming from your bedroom.

Wrapping a towel around your panty-covered body, your bare feet padded softly down the hallway to the incoherent sounds. Toeing open the door, your towel partially slipped when you saw Steve sitting on the edge of your bed. Hat and glasses on, he held the teddy bear that was currently playing your favorite lewd recording.   

Steve jostled the bear back and forth between his hands. Tossing it up in the air, he caught it midfall, “There’s my sunshine! Been taking care of our bear, I see.”

Almost naked and fully shocked, you stared at Steve from the doorway, “What are you doing here?”

His eyes didn’t match the smirk on his face, “Now, sunshine, drop the act. I know what you did for us. I saw it.”

The bear moaned in his hands as you stared at him dumbfounded for getting caught. Trying for time, you asked, “Us being- you and the bear?”

“No, sunshine. You and me,” Steve gave a dry chuckle before tossing the stuffed animal over his shoulder. “It’s kind of odd being in your room and on your bed. Well, at least with you knowing I’m here this time, I mean.”

The towel dipped slightly from your grasp at his admission. 

Steve caught your reaction with a grin, but his expression grew serious when he said, “All I ever wanted was for you to see me like I see you, sunshine.”

You felt his gaze roam over your exposed skin, trying to gauge your reaction to his ambushed presence. A part of you was glad to see him, but you thought you’d have more time to practice your confession about your feelings.

But maybe this was the push you needed, the tug in the right direction to be fully honest with yourself.

Looking at Steve, the screams of the woman you killed and the crowd’s outcries of fear failed to replay in your head. There was no play track of guilt. 

The spot within you that should have been filled with remorse was replaced by the calming scent of his cologne and the enjoyment of hearing the recording of him pleasuring himself from the disregarded bear. Steve was in your room- and that realization caused a sweet wetness to gather between your thighs. 

Steve toed out of his shoes and stood in front of your bed. Tossing his shirt aside, he stated, “I saw you missed me.” 

You slowly dragged your eyes away from his tented pants, “Maybe I only missed the attention?”

Steve snorted at your words and walked closer, “No, sunshine. You missed us. And you gifted me such a sweet gesture- just like how I gifted you that bear. Granted yours was a bit more… homicidal, but it was sweet nonetheless.” 

Your insides warmed at his touch. You rested your face in his palms as he cupped and rubbed his thumbs along your cheeks.

Steve gently touched his forehead against yours, pressing your glasses together. His bare chest grazed your towel, “You missed me, sunshine. Admit it.”

Looking over the rim of your glasses, his thumbs swept over your cheeks one more time before you reached for him and admitted what he wanted to hear with a kiss. 

You missed his attention, you missed him.

The old recorded sounds of him cumming filled the room. You bit his bottom lip in the kiss, earning a growl from him. 

You needed this, you needed him.

“You’re perfect for me. All this fire blazing under your skin, sunshine,” Steve moaned and praised you before deepening the kiss.

Without breaking his lips from yours, he took your elbow and pulled you towards the bed. Your fingers threaded through his hair as you stumbled over the forgotten towel.

“I can’t believe we’re here. I wanted this for so long,” Steve whispered into the curve of your neck and his hands roaming over your body. “I want to taste you. Feel your tight pussy wrapped around me. Fuck! I can’t decide how to take you first.”

“..No,” shaking your head at his words. 

“What?”

“No. You don’t get to decide what we do first. I killed for us, I decide.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed with impatience, “...You made me wait.”

“So did you,” you countered, unzipping his pants and sliding your hands in his boxers. “But- I get to decide.”

Steve’s hips snapped forward when you wrapped your fingers around his cock. You eyed the stuffed bear in the corner and smiled wolfishly at Steve, “Be just as vocal for me, handsome.”

He struggled to talk as you ran your hand up and down his shaft with his pre-cum, “Keep... keep the glasses... on.”

Your hand stilled around him and your eyebrow arched. Steve looked hungry and confused until it registered that he tried ordering you. 

“...P-please,” Steve whimpered a request at your motionless hold. “Please, keep the glasses on.”

With a sharp nod, your grip tightened again and you worked another groan out of him. You quickly pulled his pants down and pushed him to bed’s edge. Running your hands over his muscled thighs, you moved his legs apart and settled yourself before him. 

Steve watched as you worked your way up his inner thighs, making him hiss in pleasure from every teasing squeeze and nibble.

“I’ll keep my glasses on but then you keep yours on, too,” you winked before pumping him towards your mouth and swirling your tongue around his red tip.

Steve inhaled with a stutter, lost in the way your wet lips felt wrapped around the head of his cock. He moaned in agreement when you took him further into your warm mouth. 

His labored breaths made your thighs rub together. All those familiar sounds you craved when masturbating to his recording were sharper and deeper now that he loomed over you. 

Steve was captivated by you- and you felt powerful. Each long lick made his body shake. Each stroke and twist caused his hips to jolt off the bed. Cupping his tightening balls, you bobbed your head further down this length. Bracing yourself against his thighs, you looked up at him with wide eyes and hollowed cheeks.

Another growl left his chest as his eyes caught yours. Tilting his head back, he exhaled darkly. Eyes closed behind the thick frames, he cursed in pleasure. 

“F- Fuck,” Steve stammered as you hummed against him.

Your glasses pressed against your face as you buried yourself closer into his pelvis. Your cheeks brushed the inside of his thighs as you took him fully to the hilt. His saltiness on your tongue and his masculine scent clouded your senses, making your panties wetter. 

Steve desperately tried to hold it together but having you before him, strong and glorious, left him unable to hold back much longer. 

“Let me cum, please,” he begged.

You pulled him out with a pop. His dick bounced against his thick thighs and smeared wetness along his stomach. The sudden coolness caused goosebumps to fan across his skin. 

“Please, sunshine.”

Rocking back on your heels, you watched him; goosebumps spreading, chest heaving, hips jolting, cock throbbing. You did this. You brought this incredible man into a pleading state of ecstasy and blind frenzy.  

As your fingertips playfully ran along his length, you rose higher on your knees. You pulled him into a kiss with one hand and stroked his cock faster in your other, mixing the pressure with a tight fist and loose palm.

The taste of him was on your lips as you whispered encouragements, “Let go, handsome. I’ve got you.”

Steve shattered at your words, his fists painfully pressed into the mattress as his ass lifted off the bed from the pleasure. He spilled himself over your grip, tumbling past your knuckles as you milked him.

“Such a good boy,” you praised proudly.

Loosening your hold, you raised your stained hand to his glasses and smeared himself over his lenses, “It took me a while, Steve- but I see you now.”

#dark!steve x dark!reader #dark!reader #dark!steve x reader #prompt challenge #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x dark!reader #dark!marvel #dark!fic #dark!fanfiction

[lux-i-fer]

I would choose to be with you (as if the choice were mine to make)

Ao3 link

Synopsis: SPOILERS FOR S5B: Instead of going to Heaven after opening his door in Hell, Dan ends up somewhere he could have never imagined. Or: 5 times Dan tries to appear as a ghost to his friends and family and one time he manages to do a little more.

Rating: G

Notes: Hey guys!! I know I haven't written anything for god knows how long and this probably wasn't what you wanted me to work on, but I guess that's how it goes. Don't worry, I haven't abandoned my zombie John fic, it's just on hold while I find my creative motivation, sorry ;) This fic was inspired by So It Goes (the Marianas Trench version). I should have the other chapters up fairly quickly (like within the week). I'm not having year-long update gaps on a 5+1 fic. This is not betaed because apparently I cannot bring myself to care :)) I'm sorry if this sucks lol

Dan stared at his reflection in Chloe’s bathroom mirror. He had only been in her apartment bathroom once or twice when he’d been alive, and it almost felt like an intrusion to stand here now, watching her do her makeup at the vanity. Next to his haggard self, Chloe looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful. But perhaps it was the life thrumming through her veins that made her skin look especially vibrant and her eyes warm with an inner fire that Dan had learned after his death only the mortal living seemed to possess.

Dan’s eyes had always been dark, even when he was alive. Sometimes his tía used to tell him that God must have sculpted them from the very earth that birthed Adam and welcomed a felled Abel. It was meant to be a complement, but more than once Dan had found himself begging for penance for his flat, discarded ashtray-bottoms for eyes.

Back then, Dan was sure there was a little bit of devil in those eyes. Now, staring at the husk of a body barely clinging to the blunt corners of his soul, Dan knew better. There wasn’t anything behind the two holes bored into his skull. Just as there was nothing behind the equally lifeless face they belonged to.

Dan watched as Chloe drew her hair up into a ponytail. If he took a step to his right, her elbow would brush his shoulder on its way into taming her golden locks. But he stood rooted to the spot, lingering just out of her reach. His visits to Earth always ended like this--with his family moving on with their lives and Dan being forced to play the impassive observer.

It wasn’t like Dan had much of a choice. He still wasn’t quite sure how to control where and when he appeared on Earth. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure if this even was Earth at all. For all he knew Dan was still in Hell. It sure felt like Hell at times. Even if he had gone through the door, his door, the one that kept Charlotte sputtering and coughing all over his jacket and repeatedly cursing his name, Dan felt like he’d never left. If he had truly escaped, he could reach out and zip up the back of Chloe’s dress instead of having to watch her struggle alone with the zipper stuck stubbornly between her shoulder blades.

Dan’s lips curled into something resembling disgust. He felt like such a pervert, staring at his ex-wife getting dressed in the bathroom with her none the wiser. Dan was familiar with this feeling. Since his death, emotions were hard to come by and even harder to identify. Hell’s atrocities, and perhaps life’s as well, had left him hollowed out and numb. Nothing more than a limp corpse, cursed to be reanimated and tugged around through the ether like a piece of garbage caught in the undertow of some vast ocean.

In spite of his disgust, Dan always found himself unable to tear his gaze away from whomever he appeared for. This time was no different.

Chloe finally wrangled the zipper up to the base of her neck where it belonged. With a satisfied huff, she moved on to shuffle through a vanity drawer, pulling out a tube of mascara. Her figure obscured Dan’s in the mirror as she leaned over the sink to brush it onto her lashes, leaving Dan no choice but to watch her careful ministrations.

Yet again, Dan was struck by her beauty. Every flick of her wrist, every deft swipe of her fingers across her skin, smoothing smile lines and stray hairs alike, looked effortless. Even in his final moments, Dan hadn’t felt as light as Chloe looked at that moment.

It was times like these when Dan wished he had fought harder for his life, instead of letting the weight of his grief suffocate and damn him to eternal unrest. He wondered if he had fought, if he had managed to cling to his miserable mortality, would he have gotten this? Would he have moved on from Chloe and from Charlotte? It was obvious that Chloe was getting dressed up for a date or a night out; could Dan have had that? Could he have been happy like Chloe was now, with a new ring on her finger and a smile stashed away for the man who undoubtedly put it there? He supposed he’d never know.

Dan had given up on dreaming of such things long ago in the depths of Hell. The problem with wanting was that sometimes you actually got what you wished for. But as with everything else in Hell, desires had a way of morphing into nightmares. Dan was tired of nightmares. He’d always had them, even when he was still living. Turning to the church like his tía had suggested had never helped. Instead, as a boy Dan had found solace in reading. He had liked the modern classics--McCarthy, Capote, Hemingway--but his favorite had always been Vonnegut.

In Hell, the words of Vonnegut had helped him numb the pain of his eternal torture. He had repeated those coveted words from Slaughterhouse Five so many times that the words might as well be seared onto his tongue.

So it goes.

That was what he told himself. The first time Charlotte appeared in his Hell loop. So it goes. The first time he watched Malcolm kidnap Trixie. So it goes. The first time he found Chloe choking on her own blood under Palmetto Street. So it goes. Every dizzying cycle of guilt and abuse, he forced his response to remain the same. So it goes.

Dan had told himself those words until they became a part of him. Until he could detach himself from his guilt long enough to yank open the door, away from that hell and straight into a new one. If Dan had only known what lurked on the other side of that door, perhaps he would have never opened it. Better the devil he knew, right? At least he could anticipate what was coming in his cell in Hell. Here, adrift through space and time, Dan never knew what to expect. Sometimes that was the worst kind of torture.

In the mirror, Chloe’s reflection put the finishing touches on her makeup. Dan tried to move out of her way as she stepped away from the vanity to examine her work, but he found himself rooted to the spot. Instead of hitting his chest and severing his connection to this plane, Chloe simply slipped right through it. Still, Dan braced for the disappearing act that was sure to follow as it did with every other person who managed to touch him, yet it never came.

Her eyes instantly snapped to his in the mirror. The hope that he saw within their depths was sickening. Even so, every fiber of his being stilled. The room had suddenly become cold as Dan let himself indulge in her foolish hopes. How Chloe knew to look in that specific direction, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to waste time trying to figure it out. Dan tried to force his tongue from where it was cemented to the roof of his mouth. What he would he say, he did not know, but he knew it was important to say something. Anything.

But words did not come. Instead, Chloe’s form began to fuzz over as he had anticipated before, and Dan felt himself being dragged back into the cold ether. For the first time, Dan struggled against the ghastly fingers of shadow. He wanted to stay. Chloe had felt him, she had seen him. He needed to tell her--what? That he missed her? That he had tried to hold on, had tried to cling to life, even if death seemed intent on feasting on his soul? The questions swirled around his head, knocking into long-dead synapses and the spent pieces of himself he had cast aside in the face of his demise. For the first time since his death, Dan felt more than just a hollowed out shell of himself.

Before he could find the power to utter those words, the vision of Chloe and the vanity faded entirely, leaving him staring at the vast black nothing.

#lucifer spoilers #s5b #lucifer morningstar #lucifer on netflix #my fics #fanfic #dan espinoza

[hellsenthero]

Indistinct | Chapter 6 - The End

Written by: hellsenthero

Bucky X FemReader

As a shapeshifter you’ve done some heavy spy work, jobs that no one else is capable of. It’s what you’re used to but it’s no longer where you’re needed for. Now after years of working solo SHIELD has assigned you as part of the Avengers and it’s there that you’ll face your most difficult times. But maybe with the help of a certain dark haired, blue eyed super soldier that you have a history with, things won’t be so bad...right?

Warnings/Themes: Language, angst, fluff, (1.8K Words.)

Indistinct Masterlist (Series is complete.)

Main Masterlist

----------

It had been days, weeks, unground in the Hydra compound. Each painful second of it Y/N spent thinking of Bucky. It was funny, really, how even though she looked identical to him, saw his face each time she looked in a mirror, she still felt his loss. She missed his warmth, his touch, the sound of his voice. Her own voice though identical to Bucky’s never sounded right to her ears. Y/N was dragged from her thoughts suddenly by the loud banging of her cell. Guards stood before her, hands on their weapons, ready to drag her to her next session. 

“Get up. Don’t make us wait, Soldat.” With a nod of her head Y/N stood and followed the guards. 

---

Miles and miles away Bucky struggled perhaps even more than the shapeshifter. He had no pictures of her, nothing to remember her face by other than his own memories. The day he was dragged back to the compound by his team he started sleeping in her bed. 

Bucky didn’t bother explaining what Y/N spoke about on the jet to the team, the clear history he and the shapeshifter had together. They could figure it out themselves. He only bothered to confirm the children’s safety before locking himself away from the others. 

Night and day everyone worked to get the woman back from Hydra. And though they had nothing more than a loose, half crazy plan, one thing was clear--Bucky couldn’t go back for Y/N. If they saw two identical soldiers they’d either take or kill them both. It was a risk Bucky couldn’t take. 

But he knew if it happened, if he went and they were caught, what he’d rather get. But death was a luxury he hadn’t earned yet. 

“Buck,” Bucky looked up from where he’d been staring at a shirt of Y/N’s in his hand. Steve stood in the shifters bedroom doorway, his lips turned down. “Come eat with us.” 

“No thanks,” Bucky answered dryly, “I have some killing to plan.”

“You’re not coming on the mission.” Bucky clenched his fists, the plates in his metal arm whirling. 

“Then bring the bastards that took her back here and I’ll kill them.” Steve shook his head at Bucky. 

“Come on, have some dinner and we’ll talk more about the plan.” With a grunt, Bucky stood from Y/N’s bed and followed his friend down to the kitchen. 

“Tin man’s finally left his girls room!” Tony announced as Bucky walked into the kitchen. Steve looked over, giving him a warning look. 

“Tony,” Tony shrugged his shoulders and waved his hand, not caring about the Captain’s warning. “Here Buck,” Steve said as he pointed to an empty seat. 

“I made soup,” Vision announced, placing a bowl of streaming orange liquid before Bucky, “I believe it’s what people call, comfort food.” Bucky didn’t care enough about the food before him to comment on it, instead choosing to say, 

“Do you have a plan yet?” A round of awkward looks went around the room and Bucky knew he wouldn’t like their answer. 

“We’re working on it,” Tony said from where he sat across from Bucky, “there’s a lot of moving parts to consider here.” Bucky threw his hands up in the air. 

“For fuck sakes! She could be dead by now!” It was a horrible, terrible thought, but it was one that wouldn’t leave Bucky alone. 

“Barnes,” Sam began. Bucky cut him off with a shake of his head. 

“We have to get her back,” his voice broke as he spoke. Bucky chose to stare at his soup rather than his comrades’ faces when he said, “it’s been too long without her. I need her back. I need her to be safe.”

“We know, Bucky. We’re trying everything we can.” Steve soothed. 

“Are you?” Bucky pushed. Looking up into his friend’s gaze he willed away the tears that threatened to spill over. “She took my place, Steve. The torture she’s going through, the pain, the fear...it’s meant for me. It should be me. She’s been gone for a month and I can’t fucking take it!” Pushing his seat back with a scratch Bucky stood from the table, his untouched dinner completely forgotten about. “Don’t fucking talk to me until you have a plan.” 

---

Y/N screamed as electricity coursed through her veins. Pain taking over her body, but still she counted herself lucky. If it weren’t for the trigger words having no effect on her she surely would have lost her mind by now. 

“That’s enough.” A man commanded from Y/N’s side. The electricity coursing through Y/N was cut off, her body slumping deep into her chair as her nerves continued to send shots of pain through her body. Like a well rehearsed dance the man spoke Bucky’s ten trigger words and Y/N allowed the change to wash over her. 

It was like an actor putting on his costume, a transformation of her body. Her eyes became cold, emotionless, her limbs stiffened, ready to fight. But her mind remained entirely her own, a secret she guarded from the Hydra scientists that stood around her. 

“Доброе утро, Soldat.” Good morning, soldier. The man standing before her said. 

“Готов подчиниться.” Ready to comply. 

---

Three days later, after many crazy suggestions from Bucky, the team finally had a plan. And still, Bucky knew he couldn’t go in the field. 

“I’m at least going in the jet.” Bucky argued with Steve over breakfast that morning. Steve opened his mouth to no doubt argue with Bucky but the soldier cut him off. “That wasn’t a question, Steve. I’m going.”

“Fine,” Steve acceded, “but you don’t leave the jet.” Bucky nodded his head. 

“You got it.”

Nobody spoke in the quinjet as tension ran high. The team had already failed Y/N once, they couldn’t afford to fail her again. Bucky clenched and unclenched his fists over and over, lost in his thoughts while everyone else went over the plan in their heads. 

“Alright, we’re two minutes out everyone,” Steve spoke up as he walked back from the front of the jet, “you all know your jobs?” A murmur of yes’s went through the group. “Right, then get ready.”

---

Hydra had Y/N still strapped to her seat when the compound alarm went off. Lights flashed as the rhythmic ringing filled the air. Quick hands undid the straps that held the shifter down, letting her free. 

“You know what to do, Soldat.” The leader told her. 

Oh, she certainly did. 

Before the guards could stop her Y/N grabbed the leader and snapped his neck with a twist of her hands. The guards raised their guns to shoot her but she was gone from the room before the first shot sounded in the air. Outside in the hall where all was clear Y/N shifted into the form of a Hydra guard she’d seen earlier that day. 

The guards that had been in the room behind her raced out, all running right past her, not paying their fellow comrade a single look as they searched the compound for the Winter Soldier. Setting off down another hallway, Y/N searched for the way out, praying she’d see the Quinjet outside, waiting for her. 

A gasp tore out of her as she turned a corner and was face to face with Natasha who pointed a gun right in her face. 

“Don’t shoot! It’s me!” Natasha’s eyes narrowed as she kept the gun raised. 

“Shift into me then,” she ordered. As quick as Natasha had said it Y/N shifted into an identical copy of the red headed assassin. Natasha lowered her gun as she was left staring at herself. 

“Good to see you alive, Y/N.” She said with a smile before handing the shifter a gun of her own. Y/N took the weapon before they set off back down the hall, towards the exit. “I’ve got her, everyone head back to the jet.” Natasha said through her comms. 

“How is he?’ Y/N asked as they turned down another hall. Natasha shot down a stray guard before answering her teammate. 

“A stressed out mess to be honest,” Natasha said. Up ahead Y/N could see the metal front doors that she’d been dragged through a month ago, “but he’ll be better now that you’re back.”

“Is he here?” Y/N asked. Natasha nodded her head. 

“He’s waiting on the jet.” Y/N shot down a nearby Hydra guard before responding to the woman. 

“He’s not going to just sit and wait.” 

“No,” Natasha admitted, “probably not.”

Sure enough when Y/N and Natasha stepped outside the first sight they were greeted with was that of Bucky shooting down guards at the base of the jet. Steve stepped up beside him, knocking out the last guard with his shield before pulling him back on the jet with a rough grasp. Y/N raced towards the jet, Natasha right behind her. As they stepped on Steve called out for Tony to get them up in the air and the jet door closed. 

“Y/N,” Bucky breathed from where he stood at Steve’s side, his gaze flicking between the real Natasha and her, unable to tell which one was the woman he loved. Y/N quickly shifted back to her natural form, a smile on her face as she stepped towards Bucky. 

“Hiya Buck.” In less than a second Bucky had Y/N wrapped tightly in his arms, his face buried in the crook of her neck. 

“Y/N,” he breathed again, as though having her here with him was merely a dream. Y/N wrapped her arms around the shaking soldier, holding onto him just as tightly as he did her. 

“I’m back Bucky, I’m back and I’m not going anywhere.” Bucky pulled away for a second before crushing his lips to hers. Their kiss filled with all their unspoken feelings. “Don’t worry Bucky,” Y/N said once she pulled away from the kiss, desperate to get some air into her lungs, “I’m never leaving again.” 

Two Months Later

With a groan Y/N rolled over in bed, her hand searching the sheets for her lover. Her hand met metal just as a warm, raspy voice answered her silent call. 

“Morning, Y/N.” The shifter peaked an eye open, her gaze meeting that of her boyfriends. 

“Morning Bucky, sleep well?” She asked. A gentle hum sounded through the air as Bucky’s arm wrapped around Y/N’s waist and pulled her tight to his chest, tucking her carefully to him. His other hand coming up to play with her white hair. 

“I did.” Peppering soft kisses against the woman’s collarbone he asked, “did you?” Y/N nodded her head. 

“Yeah, now let’s sleep some more.” Y/N answered. Bucky let out a chuckle at her words. 

“You got it doll, I love you.”

“I love you too Buck.” 

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