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dr3amlab · 1 year

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5. wicked games, dm.

SUMMARY — Y/N Gorgon and Draco Malfoy have a long history of mutual hatred. You see, the two of them have been pulling pranks on each other since their 1st year at Hogwarts, to the dismay of their close friends and supervisors. However, after a prank left Y/N completely out of her mind, she decides that she'll pull her cruelest prank yet on Draco by pretending to be his secret admirer.

PAIRING — Draco Malfoy x reader

GENRE — series, enemies to lovers, rival, comedy (?)

WORD COUNT — 1894 words.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — sorry for the wait, uni is killing my ass 😭 I CAN'T FIGURE OUT TUMBLR FOR MY LIFE IM SORRY GUYS

PARTS. 1 2 3 4 5 6 finale

TAGLIST — @hopefulfuturenovelauthor @charlenasaxen @johnmurphys-sass @alittlebitofinsanitea @islayedyourmom @dramatic-long-coats @slashermadness @marplest @whosyourgnomie4 @makhaia @louieblue2 @born2222die @nikki-89 @jamlessgucciswegsunshineot7

V. WHO'S LAUGHING NOW?

Quiet. Everything was oddly quiet. Nothing or no one was bothering you, and everything seemed to go your way for the past week. Peaceful and quiet. Just how you like it. You knew you should be enjoying these peaceful moments as long as they lasted, but why do you feel so unfulfilled?

It was saturday and most of the students, including Athena, were enjoying their afternoon in Hogsmeade. with company of their friends. As for you, you decided to stay in your dorm for, even if Athena begged you relentlessly, you didn’t really feel like going out as last week’s events drained you mentally. But, no panick! You were not completely alone : Boredom and the heavy feeling of emptiness were so nice that they decided to grace you with their presence.

To anyone who would set eyes on you right now, you looked like you carried the entire world’s burdens on your shoulders : you were sitting lazily on one of the couches of the common room, arm resting on the couch and your cheek resting on your hand all while looking at the floor with empty eyes.

Though, who could blame you? You were bored out of your mind : for the past weeks, sending anonymous letters to Draco Malfoy was your only source of entertainment and now that you had to stop, for your own sake, you felt like time refused to pass by.

In the best of worlds, you would still be having the time of your life by taunting Draco and you wouldn’t be having romantic feelings for anyone.

However, this was not the case. Without you even realizing, you were beaten at your own game. You fell for draco during the process of writing him letters and you fell hard.

Still, something was tormenting your mind : Why was Draco being so lowkey? It’s been a week since you had stopped giving him the letters and he didn’t do anything. You thought that it was weird ; His secret admirer bid him farewell and he didn’t even react. If this ever happened to you, you would travel the world and the seven seas to find them but Draco didn’t manifest any interest in looking for them. Zero interest. Nada.

His strangely discreet demeanor was confusing you : Was he mourning the loss of his secret admirer? Did your prank scar his heart? Or, did he somehow find out that you wrote the later? If so how did he find out ? What has he been up to? Those questions kept repeating over and over again in your mind and, honestly, you felt like you were about to go insane. You were almost about to tear your hair out of your scalp. Literally.

Something was going to happen, you felt it. And it was not a good omen. Something was about to happen and it was not going to be to your advantage. In a way, the ball was in Draco’s court. You have no control of his next move and that was making you sick. But did Draco even receive the said ball? Did he even get the ball you passed to him? Did he even know about the ba— "Snap out of it, Y/N!" you mumbled to yourself.

You’re looked away from the ground to take conscience of your current state : You were biting your nails while slightly shaking your leg. In other words, you looked like a complete maniac.

"Y/N." A hand softly touched your right shoulder and you snapped your head towards the said direction, "Are you okay? Is something bothering you?" You let out a sigh of relief when you saw Fides, your fellow Slytherin. "Oh—hey Fides!" you exclaimed, "you scared me!" you said as you put your hand on your heart to feel your racing heartbeat. Fides’ lips curled into an apologetic smile, "my bad, I didn’t mean to!" She sat next to you, "are you okay? you don’t look so good."

For a moment, your mind wandered to Draco and the worries he drowned your mind with. You slightly opened your mouth ready to tell her what was really bothering you without omitting any detail but after a second of reflexion, you gave her a closed lip smile, "no, Fides, nothing is bothering me," you said softly, "thank you for your concern." Fides smiled at you, "If you ever need to talk to someone, I'm here," she beamed. You squeezed her hand, "thank you."

"So, what's the latest news?" You asked to change the subject. Fides was always aware of every single thing that was going around in Hogwarts. She knew everyone's business from the teachers to the first years. Fides probably even knows your family's deepest darkest secrets and you'll never know how she had found out. It was pretty entertaining to hear her gossip unless she knew your secrets.

Fides' face lit up as soon as the question left your lips. It seemed as if she had been waiting impatiently for you to ask her, "okay, so you'll never guess this. I promise you'll have the time of your life with this information!" Fides got comfortable on the couch, "There has been rumors than Draco was receiving letters from a secret admirer right. I'm talking about actual love letters," she began explaining, "it has been going on for like⏤ I don't know, months and he never found out their identity," fides said, "shit, I've been trying to find out who the hell they were and I didn't even find out."

Discreetly, you let out a sigh of relief, if Fides ever finds out first that you were the 'secret admirer', you were done for. First of all, the entire universe would be aware that you wrote letters to draco. And, even though Fides was a nice girl, she had tendencies to run her mouth ; She would not hesitate twice to spread rumors about anyone, even her closest friends.

"Oh. My. Merlin! Draco has a secret admirer? please tell me it's a joke!" You pretended to be shocked, "Girl, even I was flabbergasted! like⏤ Who in their right mind would genuinely like Malfoy?" Fides laughed, "pff! yeah, right⎯ for real." You let out a forced laugh, "so what happens next?" you stopped laughing immediately and coughed.

"You're going to need to brace yourself for this part." She came closer to you, "Apparently, Draco found out who it is and is about to confront them soon," she whispered, " I heard he got the info from a first year. Somebody saw Draco extorting the information out of the poor boy," she pursed her lips, "this is exclusive news, you're the first one to know this." Your heart dropped and your mouth hung slightly open, "I know right! I had the same reaction!" she slapped your shoulder, "I wonder who it is ! do you think they'll end up together? »

Draco had found out. Draco had found out and knowing him, he probably found a way to bring the gossip to Fides’ ears for he knew damn well that she would tell you and therefore, inform you that he knew. One thing is for sure, Malfoy's revenge was going to be violent and you only have to shelter yourself from the storm that was coming.

You were probably thinking so much about him that you manifested his presence accidentally : you felt like you've summoned a demon for, suddenly, you saw his dark silhouette come through the door of the common room and his eyes immediately found yours as if the first thing he had planned to do when he would step foot into the common room was to find your eyes.

Draco didn't walk further into the room. Instead, he stood tall not so far from the door with both of his hands in the pockets of his black pants. Malfoy did not break eye contact with you as he slightly tilted his head to the right while giving you a smirk.

As you maintained eye contact with him, you felt like your entire world was burning, but you didn't seem to mind because you were only thinking about one thing : did you always notice how handsome Draco is?

Draco saw how your face decomposed at the sight of him. He saw how you didn't even care about any of the nonsense that was probably coming out of Fides' mouth and how your focus was solely on him.

Draco's smirk only grew bigger when he saw you get up off the couch and he almost laughed out loud at the sight of Fides' confused face. Malfoy stood on his ground with his head held high as he watched you lope towards him with a rather angry expression on your face.

'How cute,' he found himself thinking as he stared at your face. You were probably as angry as ever, but how did you manage to still look so cute. Did Draco always notice how cute you were? Perhaps he always did or perhaps he never did but that's something he'll sort out later for right now, he needed to be focused on taunting you.

"So, you found out." You crossed your arms. "Yeah, I did." Draco mimicked your body language, "I honestly didn't know that you would stoop this low Y/N, really. Playing with one's feelings? Even I didn't think about pranking you like that," he fake pouted, "Oh come on Draco," you scoffed, "you're talking about morals? Don't act like for the past six years, you didn't do something equally as bad," you retorted, "You're just mad that you didn't come up with this idea before me. Admit it." Draco shrugged his shoulders while displaying a stupid smirk on his face, "Maybe I am," he said nonchalantly.

"What now? Are you going to get back at me or did I win the game?" you asked, "I'm not going to get back you Y/N, don't be silly," he said as if it was the most obvious fact in the world, "I gotta admit that you won," he started, "but at what cost?" Draco bended slightly so his face would be closer to yours which startled you and made you take a step back, "what do you mean?" you asked again confusedly.

Draco smirked, "you fell in love with me Y/N," he said in a singsong "Why would I get back at you? isn't that enough torment for you?" he asked, "Me? In love with you? Plea⏤" Before you could even finish your sentence, Draco cut you off, "Y/N, I know that you smelt my scent in that potion," he laughed, "Books, expensive cologne, green apples?" he emphasized on the last words, "That's what you smelt and, oh⏤ What a coincidence! that's also what you wrote in that letter." You frowned your eyebrows, "Do you seriously believe in that stupid shit Draco? What are you, five years old?" Draco quirked an eyebrow, "Are you implying that Slughorn is a conman and amortentia is bullshit? Or, wait⎯ that magic doesn't exist?" Draco's face came even closer to yours.

"Darling, you fell in love with me. You can't deny it," he said slowly in a suave voice, "so, who's the real loser now?" he whispered to your ear. Your eyes widened, you tried to say something or anything to deny his statement but you couldn't because it was true : you are utterly and irrevocably in love with Malfoy.

Draco adjusted his posture so he could look at your face clearly. A victorious smile graced his lips as he watched you open and close your mouth to talk but words wouldn't come out your mouth. Without saying any other word, Draco left to go to his dorm and he left you freezed like a statue.

Draco should be celebrating his victory: you didn't deny any of your feelings for him, so that makes him the true winner, right? Though, Malfoy felt a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach and he felt completely confused. Why was the scent of vanilla, violet and strawberry cake lingering in his nose?

It took a long time to Malfoy, but he finally put two and two together. Vanilla, violet and strawberry cake: that was the same fragrance he smelt in the envelopes, the amortentia and on you when he came close to your neck as he whispered to your ear. Draco stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes widened as he realized what it meant, "Fuck, I'm in love with her."

It's funny isn't it? Malfoy was too engrossed on taunting you for having feelings for him that he didn't realize that he reciprocated your feelings.

So, who was the real loser?

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definitelynotshouting · 2 months

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got tagged by my beloved @sillyfairygarden for the "list 5 songs you have on repeat" ask game :]

Forever by Noah Kahan which has been playing on loop in my brain for the past four days straight while i worked on my latest fic, which pulls some of the lyrics for its title!! Admittedly this song isn't my favorite by him, im more of a Paul Revere girlie, but i utterly adore the chorus and it massages my brain each time i hear it :]

Spectator by Friday Pilots Club which has like. THE dirtiest bass line ive heard in a while and also includes one of my magical earworm chord transitions in the chorus. Like holy shit. My brain is melting in the BEST of ways and ive been looping it whenever i want to feel action-y without actually thinking

On a much lighter musical note ive been listening a lot to Arboretum by Sparkbird since it first came out like two weeks ago, which like, shout out to the anon who introduced me to him im so hooked now. Im utterly obsessed with the different tempos and times meshed together in this song so seamlessly, and the lyrics are like POETRY (this song has also made it to my scarian playlist LOL the lyrics are so top tier for them imo)

. dont look at me but this is my number one song to loop when i need to get shit done and want an insanely catchy tune to do it with anyway go listen to Vending Machine of Love by The Stupendium i promise you it is so so funny and so so worth it (and full of INSANE wordplay too) (also it IS suggestive so keep that in mind if u go to listen)

This list would not be complete by me without a City and Colour song so i offer up The Love Still Held Me Near, which is SO GORGEOUS and constantly makes me think of lighthouses and fog and crashing seas.... this is my go-to loop for his songs rn its so full of life and energy while still feeling melancholy in a gorgeously aching way im OBSESSED OKAY GO LISTEN YOU WANNA LISTEN TO THIS SOOOO BAD GO GO GO ‼️‼️‼️‼️💥💥💥💥💥

Okay i am tagginggggg.... @squish--squash @corvidaearts @cocoabats @emberglowfox @raichett :]

#shouting speaks #ask games #kinda???#dkdjsjdndnd #anyway i could have put so much more but thats what im looping atm >:] it changes p frequently #i get songs stuck in my head REALLY easily so i end up having to loop them a lot to get it out of my system DKNDKSNDND #drop me an ask if you listen to any of these songs and enjoyed them :D #txt

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a-dirty-secret · 6 months

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Johnny's Girl - Part 13

Smut, but also, fluff! I enjoyed this chapter.

tw: dub/non-con, hematolagnia, dacryphilia, blood, violence, stalking, rough sex

For the next two weeks you didn't see Johnny at all. You were instead being taken care of by Sissy, which didn't turn out to be so bad. She'd ramble on about various things while you ate your dinner or cleaned the mark Johnny had made. You just smiled and nodded along, thankful for the company, most of the time.

"You're just lovely." Sissy said, smiling at you as you ate. "I can see why Johnny likes you, sweet thing."

"Likes me? I think you've got the wrong Johnny..."

"Oh no, he likes you honey. A lot, I'd reckon, or you'd already be supper! You oughta see how red he gets when we tease him. He says it's just 'cause he's angry, but I know he's blushin'!" She said, giggling.

You stop eating and stare at her in horror. "Supper? You're kidding... Right? You don't actually... Eat people?"

"Oh, Johnny hasn't told you that yet?"

Sissy left when you started throwing up. You hadn't been thankful for her company that night.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the door opening, revealing Sissy. You sigh in disappointment, you hated to admit it, but you missed Johnny. You weren't sure why he wasn't coming to see you, but you assumed it was as punishment.

"Hey there sugar, I got some dinner for ya'." She says, handing you a bowl of stew and some water.

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry."

"It's beef." She says with a giggle. "Now eat up, Johnny won't be happy if I let you starve to death."

"Do you... Know why he hasn't come to see me? It's been awhile." You say, eating your food.

"Johnny ain't exactly one to share his feelins', honey. Don't worry, he'll come around. He needs to stop bein' so gosh darn stubborn. I keep tellin' him it'd be nice to have another woman helpin' around the house when Nancy ain't here, but he just says his momma wouldn't have it and shuts me down. I tell 'im she ain't here most the time anyways, but he don't listen." She sighs, looking at you sympathetically.

"Can you tell me about him?" You should stop while you're ahead, but he was all you could think about.

"Well ain't you just a smitten kitten! Let me think.... Ah! Speakin' of kittens, Johnny's real sweet to the stray cats that come around. One of 'em got caught in a trap and he tore Nubbins a new one, tellin' him he needs to pay more attention to where he puts 'um." She says, laughing.

"That's adorable." You say, smiling to yourself. "I bet he acts like he doesn't like them, doesn't he?"

Sissy laughs, "Uh huh, he sure does. He ain't foolin' nobody though." She sighs and grabs your now empty dishes. "Alright sugar, I'll be back to check on you later." She says, leaving you to your thoughts.

*** Johnny sat at the dining room table staring at his food, trying to keep you off of his mind. Your mother must be fucking insane, because that's the only way somebody could EVER love somebody like you! He hadn't been able to get the words out of his head. He replayed them on purpose when he got the urge to go see you, which was often.

He didn't know at what point he fooled himself into believing you could care for him, but it was past time for him to come back to reality. He had to distance himself from you so that when the time came it would be easier to kill you. He could just have somebody in the family do it, but he couldn't bear the thought of not being the last person to touch you. The last person to see life in your eyes...

Your mother must be fucking insane, because that's the only way somebody could EVER love somebody like you! He repeated the words again, willing himself to hate you. God, how he wished he could just hate you. He was so pathetic.

He's jerked out of his thoughts when he hears the phone ring. "Go get the phone, boy. I'm bettin' it's your mama wantin' to have a word with you." Drayton said, a sly grin on his face.

Johnny scowled, getting up to answer the phone. "Hello."

"My dear Johnny, it's good to hear your voice. How is everything at the house?"

Johnny caught the slight edge in his mama's voice as he responded, "Everything is fine here mama."

"Is that so? Drayton told me you've had some girl hangin' around the house for over a month?" She said, making no attempt to hide her displeasure.

"I'm just... Having a little fun. She'll be gone soon, it's nothin' serious."

"Now don't you give me any damn excuses, Johnny. Playin' with your food is one thing, but your little snack is past her expiration date. She already tried to escape once. When I get back, she better be gone. Do you understand me?"

"Yes ma'am."

*** The door opens and you watch as Johnny walks in. You couldn't help but be happy to see him, but your happiness is short lived. In the blink of an eye he's in front of you, holding his knife to your throat. "Johnny.."

"Shut the fuck up!" He yells, and you can hear the nerves in his voice.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask fervently.

"We both knew this had to happen eventually." His voice is thick with emotion that he's unable to hide. He stares at you and tries to picture you as somebody else, anybody else, cursing under his breath when his hand starts to shake.

Your eyes fill with tears as you stare into the dark eyes of the man holding your life in his hands. The man that turned your life upside down and caused you so much pain and suffering had somehow earned a spot in your heart. "Johnny I..." You pause, unsure of what to say. "I missed you".

"Don't pretend you care about me now, it's not gonna help." He says, doing everything in his power to keep his emotions under control.

"I do care about you!" You say, and he presses the knife deeper.

"Don't fucking lie to me! Somebody would have to be insane to love somebody like me, remember?" He shouts, his eyes filling with tears.

"Then I must be insane, because I love you, Johnny!" In that moment you knew it was true, you loved him, and it no longer felt wrong.

"Goddamn it!" He yells, dropping his knife to the ground and bringing his lips to yours. He kisses you slow and hard, letting the tears stream down his face, unable to hold them back any longer.

He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours. "You don't mean that. You can't." His words are shaky and he squeezes his eyes closed, embarrassed you're seeing him this way. "I'm never gonna change."

"I don't want you to change. I want to love the darkest parts of you." You say, wiping his tears and returning your lips to his. What starts off as a gentle kiss soon becomes rough and desperate. Your tongues collide as you press your bodies together as tightly as you can manage, desperate to be closer to one another.

Your hands fumble with his belt as he swiftly removes your clothes, and in no time at all he's lifting you up, positioning himself at your entrance. You remove his shirt and he slides into your wet pussy slowly, sliding a hand between your bodies and groping your chest. His other hand finds the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he slowly pumps into you.

"I'm sorry. For everything." He says, breathless from the kiss.

"Oh, Johnny. I forgive you."

His lips meet yours again and he picks up his pace, fucking you passionately. You love the way he stretches you out, reaching all the right places. Your moans mingle together as you both get closer to your climax.

"Cum inside of me, Johnny!" You yell as your pussy squeezes around his cock. He obliges, groaning as he fills you up.

He leaves gentle kisses on your lips and up your jawline, then nibbles gently on your ear. "I love you too." He whispers, burying his face in your neck, no intentions of letting you go any time soon.

#johnny sawyer #johnny slaughter #johnny tcm #johnny slaughter x you #tcsm #texas chainsaw game #johnny slaughter smut #tcm game

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narwhalandchill · 10 months

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Tag game: Current

got tagged by @begaydoalchemy !! thank u !!

- Current time: 9:45 (AM for you US peeps smh)

- Current activity: finished up prefarming blades traces to 6/8/8/8. double calyx drops events is a godsend. was listening to a video essay on the bg but the favorite song section made me go listen to stiny on repeat again bc i love inflicting emotional damage on myself so i guess thats what.

- Currently thinking about: so theres this person in the hsr leaks subreddit megathread doing daily renheng insanity ponderings since blades trailer dropped and ive been just losing my mind ever since reading them. anyway i wanted everyone here to get to see them too but didnt wanna repost em bc its just kinda ehhhh to do so. here u go!! suffer with me!!! click the links theres all 3!!! (spoilery warning tho. idr how many leaks refs there are in there exactly but expect some at least)

- Current favorite song: spotify most listened to top5 currently looking like NEON by raon, kissaki by reol, wildfire, cha cha cha (we will never forgive xx swedes watch out) and stiny from KALUSH & jerry heil.

but like let me be clear the only reason reol isnt number 1 is bc the full version of the song only came out like 2 weeks ago and the earlier released shorter anime ver of kissaki is literally 7th on the list.

- Currently reading: ...i mean mostly just renheng fanfic but uhhh. i did read where the crawdads sing from delia owens (just plucked it out from the bookshelf randomly bc i was bored) a month or so back. it was neat but no like particular strong feelings abt it. it was very well written and i liked the flow of the prose a lot. also waiting for crooked kingdom to get a finnish translation bc i got six of crows in finnish and i dont do book series as mixed language sets generally. (also the translation work itself was just like an absolute fucking banger with the imagery and metaphors used like chef kiss)

- Currently watching: no particular show (last thing was when i rewatched fmab a couple months ago) going on but like. random video essays or informative stuff on yt honestly and its mostly for bg noise.

- Current favorite character: gee i wonder. dan heng (past editions included), blade, (big gap here bc i tunnel vision on characters), bailu, luocha, jing yuan i think for specific ones from hsr for now. am looking out for jingliu and fu xuan too i need to study them. in genshin its like. yeah its mr childe ajax tartaglia all the way but i kinda just havent been feeling it for the game much so eh. tighnari, kazuha up there too n arlecchino obvi.

- Current WIPS: what kind of productive person do you take me for??? ig i like. opened word this week to type out some random passage drafts for a ficlet type thing relating to the post i made a while back abt belobogs temperatures wrt dan hengs potential terrible, horrible, no good, very bad scalie time with it but do Not expect any results from that or anything i s2g. ive finished one fic in my life and that was half poetry half madness full one sitting and be done with it type deal

im sorry i have no idea who to tag so like. anyone who wants to do it feel free, mutuals or followers!!! :]

#rambles #this was my first tag game thing ever would u believe. it was fun :]

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hugheshugs · 2 years

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treat it like a second chance | q. hughes

inspired by johnny orlando's "see you"

part two of "treat it like a high school crush"

summary: quinn gets the guys to help him gain a second chance with you. history repeats itself but the catch; you're the drunk one this time.

pairing: quinn x drunk!reader

warnings: drinking, drunk reader.

word count: 3.8k

note: took me so long to get this done !! it was requested like 40 days ago so im rlly sorry :( i hope the wait is worth it <3

taglist: @heatabovejakey @boeswhore @calemakarjuice @pandas-daisy @rainysuitcaseprunegiant @1-800-iluvhockey @owennpower @drei-mrssvechii @idfan21 @thescooby-gang @owenpowersglasses @owenpowerstapejob @auburnaudry* // join my taglist here :)

quinn awoke with a jolt.

"call me in the morning.. when you're sober."

"i will."

he remembers. he doesnt know how, but he does, the memory of him confessing his love for you and falling asleep in your lap replaying in his dreams like a broken record.

foolishly, he thinks the best thing for him to do is to not call you. why? in his mind, there are dozens of reasons.

first, he's absolutely terrified by how insanely in love with you he is. he's never felt this way before and the thought of giving his all to someone is frightening.

second, he knows you're worth more. you need someone better than him, someone who'll be there for you through everything. with his busy schedule, he isn't even sure he'll have enough time to love you the way you deserve.

third, going back to the last point, his job is hectic. he spends lots of time at the arena then flies out for days on end, it isn't a surprise that he doesn't want to leave you by yourself. he doesn't want to put you through the pain of a semi-long distance relationship because he knows how bad it'll feel for the both of you.

two weeks later, quinn begins regretting his decision. if you were distancing yourself from him before, he definitely doesn't know what to call this. he hasn't even seen you, not once in the past 14 days. he knows what he did was wrong, he knows he hurt you, but the sacrifice of putting you through this temporary pain presents a far better reward than if he were to call you and confess.

for you, these two weeks have been rough. you spent most days in your apartment, crying into your pillow about all the doubts that flooded your mind before the incident. they were all correct and quinn still doesn't love you. he doesn't remember anything he said (at least, that's what you think) and as much as it pains you to avoid him every day, you know it would feel worse if you were to see him for even a second. you'd probably break down in front of him.

currently, you aren't doing any better, laying on the sofa in your living room, tissues all over the floor as you mindlessly stare at the tv screen. a knock on your door breaks you out of your thoughts and you groan.

walking over slowly, you open the door. hair uncombed, in your pyjamas, face puffy, nose red, thankfully you brushed your teeth. brock, conor and petey, who were all on the other side of the door, grimace at the sight.

"what happened to you, girl?" brock asks before you step aside to let them in.

"nothing. this is what i look like when i'm not working," you shrug, closing the door and walking back to the living room.

the men stand around, noses scrunching as they take a look at your dirty place. conor, for some reason, picks up a tissue with the tip of his fingers and examines it, gagging after a couple seconds and throwing it to the other side of the room.

"why the hell is your snot green?"

you look at him offended as you plop down onto the couch again. "it is not! that was just an old tissue."

elias looks at you in shock. "why do you have old tissues laying around?"

"because i don't have the energy to pick them up."

they all look at each other before tiptoeing over the tissues on your floor and standing in front of you. you prop up your pillow against the arm of the couch and rest your head on it so you can see them properly. it seems like they're up to something but you pretend not to care and cover your body with a blanket.

once you've settled, brock begins to speak. "so, how are you?"

you simply blink at him with a straight face.

"not well, i see. listen, we were thinking about.. you know, going out together. just the four of us because we haven't seen each other for a while. what do you say?"

conor looks a bit irked by brock's words but you pay it no mind.

"i don't know how much i wanna go out right now.. why don't we just hang out here?"

their eyebrows raise instantly, all three of theirs, in disbelief that you would even suggest something like that.

"first of all, your place is a mess," elias speaks up.

"second," conor says before he can say anything else, giving him a stern look. "we just wanna go out with you. we miss hanging out with our best friend, what do you say?"

you sigh dramatically and roll your eyes. "okay, okay! only 'cause you asked nicely."

"great. be ready at 7:30 sharp and dress pretty, we're going to a bar. see you later!" brock exclaims quickly and they all run out without another word.

"wha—"

soon enough, the time comes. you picked up nicely, looking and feeling your best as you prepare for whatever crazy night the boys have planned. you don't suspect anything, which is exactly what they want.

brock picks you up from your place, whistling at you supportively. "you look hot."

"thanks," you roll your eyes playfully as you both walk to his car.

when you get to the bar, he leads you over to a table where conor and elias are already sitting. they grin when they see you, standing up to give you a hug.

"you look really nice when you're not a sloppy mess," elias comments as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

you pull away from him immediately. "you don't deserve a hug from me."

"oh come on, it was a compliment," he insists, bringing you back into his hold.

"okay stop hogging her, i wanna give her a squeeze too!" conor tugs you away from elias.

"i love feeling loved," you say jokingly as you find yourself melting into conor's warm hug.

what you don't know is that quinn, jt and nils are sitting at a table out of your view, practically spying on you guys until the opportunity comes to reveal themselves to you. and by reveal, that means pretending they just walked into the bar and having a 'funny seeing you here' moment.

it was the plan. at first, conor didn't want to go along with it. after seeing the way quinn started slacking off at practice, he realized it was quite literally the only solution to get quinns game up. he didn't even understand why this was happening because quinn willingly put himself in this situation, but here they are.

quinns mind fell to ease after seeing you for the first time in what felt like centuries. he misses you, he really does. how else would anyone feel when the girl they've liked for a year starts avoiding them because they messed up?

"why did she start avoiding you again?"

his eyes snap towards jt. "because i was stupid and the one time i was trying to verbally convince myself i didn't like her, she heard me. and then at scarletts party she told me to call her when i sober up and i didn't."

"okay, that's on you. why are we here?"

"i'm paying for your drinks. all our drinks."

"you must be getting paid well," nils points out, resulting in a glare from quinn.

"what? drinks are expensive."

the night goes on and you have a blast with the boys. they try to make sure you don't get drunk, obviously feeling bad about the idea of you being intoxicated in front of your crush, but when quinn finally thinks the times is right and he, jt and nils walk over to your table, you can't help but want to get absolutely hammered.

"oh my god, no way!" jt exclaims, putting on an act as he pretends to see you while he walks over.

your heart plumments down to your ass when you see quinn trailing behind him.

"you guys really came to party without us? how rude," he jokes and brock scoffs.

"you guys did the same, old man," he says and jt lets out a scoff of his own.

you didn't realize it before, but the booth you're sitting at is abnormally large for only 4 people. you only realize it when quinn and nils decide to take a seat beside you. you quickly scoot out before they get the chance to.

"i'm gonna go get some drinks. for myself. just myself," you say quickly before practically bolting to the bar.

it doesn't take long for you to get drunk. you take shot after shot, trying to forget about quinn, but even intoxicated you can't stop thinking about him.

the boys wandered off, leaving quinn at the table by himself. they wanted to give you both some space, that is, whenever you decide to go back. he watches you from behind, making sure no one gets too close or makes you uncomfortable. smiling when you finally stand up and begin walking over, he fumbles with his phone to look busy.

you take the seat across from him and plop your arm straight onto the table, slumping your head down to rest on it. quinn eyes you confusedly before you look up and give him a drunken smile that reaches your eyes.

"hi hugs."

quinn has never seen you drunk before. you'd always said you were never one to like drinking, which is why he feels terrible because he knows he's the cause of your state. he sets his phone down and crosses his arms, giving you his full attention.

"hi, y/n."

"you look.. you look really grape today."

"grape?" he furrows his eyebrows.

"that— that means great," you hiccup. "you look great."

you sit up straight, analyzing him to his core. your lips part in awe as you take in just how good he actually looks. at first you'd just said it because he always looks good but damn, he looks hot.

a strand of his fluffy hair falls upon his forehead and you feel weak at the sight. his plump, pink lips look even more desirable to you now than ever and his skin glows effortlessly in the light. his tight fitted t-shirt leaves little room for imagination, you wanting nothing more than to run your hand over the vein trailing down his arm.

he wants to smirk but him being the awkward person he is, he begins squirming under your gaze, wanting you to come out of whatever trance you fell in. he waves a hand in front of your face and you blink slowly, coming back to reality.

"oh. hi quinn," you say again, giving him another one of those smiles. his heart flutters at the look on your face.

"hi, my love."

your jaw drops at his words and your eyes bulge. "your love? 'm not your love. you don't love me.. you don't love me."

his heart drops when you shake your head and tears well up in your eyes. if you'd known you'd be this easy to break while drunk — as if you had been hard to break while sober, — you wouldn't have drank in the first place.

"you were supposed to call. you didn't— you didn't call and you said you would but you lied," you remind him, tears streaming down your face as you take quick and sharps breaths through your mouth.

"and you told me.. told me you liked me but i heard you telling nils you— you didn't. you're so mean, you jus' like playing, fuck.. you just like playing with— with my feelings."

you wipe your wet cheeks with the back of your hands, not even thinking for a second about smudging your makeup. frustrated, you grab a little packet of pepper that was on your table, ripping it open and throwing it at him. quinn closes his eyes and scrunches his face as the black flakes hit his skin and fall onto his shirt.

you cross your arms and huff, turning your head to the side because you don't want to look at him.

he wipes the pepper off his face and brushes his shirt clean. "i deserved that."

you quickly pick up the salt and do the same thing. he reacts the same way but gags when he tastes it on his lip, making you laugh.

"you deserved that too," you slur, watching as he glares at you and grabs his cup of water to wash away the salty feeling.

you smile at him, completely forgetting about what you just did. you tilt your head and scrunch your nose, causing quinns heart to practically fall into your lap and at your mercy. his heart pounds in his chest as he realizes just how much he's fallen for you, not knowing you're doing the exact same thing.

you feel the blood rushing in your body, beginning to feel a bit hot as you take note of the fact that you're sitting alone with your crush. you kick his leg under the table, distracting both of you from your thoughts.

"ouch! what was that for?"

you lean forward and over the table. "that was just for fun. 'cause you're a meanie."

he feels your warm breath fanning his face and kicks you lightly, making you sink into your seat and frown with your head down.

"wha' was that forrrr?"

"that was just for fun. and 'cause your breath smells like alcohol."

you lift your head up quickly, making you wince and clutch your head at the sudden movement.

"that prolly.. prolly smelt bad."

he shrugs a shoulder. "for you, i don't mind."

after processing his words, you slowly let your upper body fall onto the seat beside you. quinn leans up and over the table to catch the sight, watching as your hair is sprawled over the seat and on your face.

"you good?"

"that's how you made me feel. i melted," you inform him as you sit upright again.

quinn smiles at you, watching as your body sways a bit. your mind feels fuzzy but you absolutely love the feeling and you're having a blast with quinn.

you turn your gaze to the window beside you, watching intently at the people strolling by. someone from outside makes eye contact with you and you light up, waving your hand quickly to say hi. they don't wave or smile back but you simply giggle quietly, bringing your hands up to your face and smushing your cheeks together.

"hugs, i love you."

your words shouldn't shock him as much as they do because this was already a widely known fact. even so, his heart plummets to his stomach and his eyes widen for a split second. he gulps, taking a moment before responding.

"i love you," he says quietly, reaching over to grab your hand.

he rubs his thumb over your smooth skin and you find yourself at a loss for words. too many thoughts are in your mind and you can't pick apart a single thing to say. you start feeling sleepy and everything slows down, eyes feeling heavy as you come up with a string of thought.

"i don't believe you," you say after a moment. "but.. i'll pretend— pretend i do. for now i'll pretend i do."

"maybe you'll believe me when you're sober," he says to himself, thinking you wouldn't hear. as if he hadn't already confessed his love to you while you were sober and you didn't believe him.

"i hope i do," you take your hand out of his grasp and rub your eyes aggressively. you feel your mood change now, wanting nothing more than to go back to your place and plop into bed.

"you tired?"

"mhm," you nod. a small yawn escapes your lips and you cover your mouth, quinn finding your actions nothing short of adorable.

"c'mon, let's get you out of here," he gets out of his seat and walks over to your side, holding your arms softly while tugging you to the end of the booth.

you look up at him with glossy eyes. "we going home?"

for some reason, his heart strains against his chest at your question. he was planning on taking you back to his apartment because he didn't want to leave you alone at yours, not to mention his was closer and you look like you're going to pass out. you look at him with curious eyes, waiting for an answer.

"yeah, we're going home."

you smile and stand up wobbly, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your head to his chest. he looks around to find one of the guys, wanting to let them know you guys are leaving. he makes eye contact with all of them as they sit at the table from before, laughing as they hold their phones out. quinn rolls his eyes and reaches over as best as he can with you clinging onto him to grab your things (which you'd smartly forgotten you brought). he holds you with both his arms, sending them a middle finger on the way out.

you both make it outside, walking to his car as quickly as you can. he opens the passenger side door for you and you fall into it, quinn getting scared for a moment before realizing nothing happened.

"are you cold?"

"look at my arms," you say to him, moving over to sit on the side while dangling your legs out of the car, holding both your goosebump filled arms in front of him.

without a word, he opens the back door and grabs a hoodie. he comes back and taps your arm but you don't get the hint.

"lift your arms up."

you give him a look. "if i lift up my arms i'll hit your roof, mister."

quinn lets out a small noise at your sass but recognizes how dumb he was to not realize how low the roof of his car is.

"don't 'mister' me," he says before pulling the hoodie over you without a warning.

dramatically, you gasp for air and find the head hole, gaping like a fish out of water as quinn looks at you with an unamused expression.

"you almost killed me!"

"trust me, i wouldn't kill you if it meant saving the world," he tells you as he puts your arms into the arm holes.

"how romantic," you point out sleepily as he stands in front of you, carefully moving your hair out of your face.

"what does this hoodie say?"

"i thought you were tired?" quinn lets out an exhausted breath. he's sure you have way more energy than he did while drunk.

"what's it sayyyy?" you whine, kicking your feet at him.

he holds your legs in place. "it says devils."

"are you tryna make me go to hell? i'on wanna go to hell."

"no, it's a hockey team."

"but you're on the canucks," you push out your lips as you begin feeling confused.

"my brother's on that team, remember?"

"oh yes!" you pipe up. "jackjack."

he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as he bends down and presses a light kiss to your forehead. "c'mon, let's get you home."

without a fuss, you sit properly and he buckles you in. he quickly walks over to his side and starts the car, making you hum at the sound.

he turns on the radio lowly while he drives and you reach over to turn the volume knob up, almost making him swerve from the loudness. he quickly turns it back to a quiet volume and clenches his jaw.

"what the fuck was that?" he almost sounds mad at you and you sink in your seat, not making eye contact.

"wasn't loud enough," you tell him, head slumping downwards as you start feeling bad.

he sighs, running a hand through his hair as his heartbeat slows back down to a steady rate. that scared him, really, and he didn't want to be the cause of you getting hurt. he wasn't mad, just concerned for your safety.

"i'm sorry.. sorry, i'm sorry."

"hey, no, it's okay. just don't do it again, you're fine," he runs his tongue over his lips and peaks over at you, watching as you rest your head on the window and stare at him.

"what? i'm not mad, i promise," he reassures, thinking that's why you're looking.

"i know you're not.. i just really like you, god, and you're so pretty."

how did she change the topic so fast? quinn thinks to himself. drunk people.

he almost blushes at your words. no ones ever called him pretty before, and he didn't know how much he'd like it until he heard you say it. his face turns a bit pink but luckily you don't catch it in the darkness.

you let out a quiet yawn and he looks down at the time, wondering how it got so late.

"go to sleep."

"no."

"why not?"

"i wanna spend time with you."

quinn stops at the red light and looks at you. you aren't able to comprehend the admiration in his eyes so you just stare at him with a blank face.

"why are you looking at me like that?" you rub your eyes again, making him snap out of his thoughts.

"um," he shakes his head aggressively as the light turns green. "nothing, no reason."

you shrug softly and flutter your eyes as they begin closing. you see one of quinn's hands resting on the gearshift and ache to grab it but don't, not wanting to upset him again. he catches you from the corner of his eye and rests his hand on your thigh.

"it's alright. you can close your eyes," he tells you, lulling you to sleep.

"you'll be here when i wake up?" you ask, holding his hand with both of yours and playing with his fingers.

"i'll be here forever, i promise."

you're able to understand the seriousness in his voice and you're almost taken aback. it makes you happy though, and you give him a tired smile before bringing his hands to your lips and pressing a sloppy kiss to his knuckles.

you get comfortable, keeping his hand in yours as you begin nodding off.

"i know we aren't together yet," you mumble, almost asleep. "and i know i said it already.. i did say it already, but i love you."

he rubs your hand with his thumb, his mind flashing back to that moment at the bar when you first confessed.

"and i love you."

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #nhl imagine #quinn hughes imagines #hughes imagine #quinn #hughes #canucks imagine #hockey boy imagine #hockey imagine #hockey boy

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hrina · 4 years

Text

Something Strange

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: R WORD COUNT: 6.3k+ REQUESTED: no

uhhhh hi. so. this is my (first ever) halloween fic, ft. infuriatingly cocky ghostbuster!harry. i really hope you guys enjoy it, and just like every other writer on this godforsaken site, i’d love to hear any feedback that you might have. ok im done now lol go forth and read :)

warnings: cursing, brief nsfw content, a nasty habit of jumping to conclusions, and harry being an asshole with a secret heart of gold.

~*~

October 2nd, 2021

Your attention is first caught by the massive, obnoxiously-coloured truck parked in Mindy and Gerald’s driveway. The entire vehicle is a shade of navy blue, though its sophistication is ruined by the neon green bubble lettering streaked across its doors.

Spooked? Call Styles’ Scares!

Beneath that, there’s a promise painted in bright pink:

Lasting results or your money back!

“What the hell?” you mutter.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and exit your car, momentarily forgetting about the groceries sitting in the trunk. Mindy and Gerald are standing on their porch, absorbed in a light-hearted conversation. When they catch sight of you trekking across the lawn, they smile brightly and offer up a pair of welcoming waves.

“Hi, there!” you call, shoving your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “What’s all this?”

“Good afternoon, dear!” Mindy replies. She quickly descends the front steps, meeting you halfway and enveloping you in a tight hug. “How are you? It’s been a while since we last spoke.”

“You can drop in whenever you want,” you say, chuckling. “It’s not like I live very far away.”

“How have you been?” Gerald follows his wife, steadily making his way off the porch. “How’s school?”

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Things are picking up, now, but I’m trying my best to stay on top of them.”

You toss your thumb over your shoulder, gesturing to the bright pickup truck parked in their driveway. (It really is ugly, you think. Probably one of the ugliest vehicles that you’ve ever had the displeasure of perceiving.)

“What’s going on?”

“Oh!” Mindy lifts her hands to her mouth, gazing at you with wide, serious eyes. “Our house is haunted.”

You balk. “Pardon me?”

“I know, I know,” she sighs, shaking her head. “It sounds silly. I didn’t believe it at first either, but—something keeps knocking our picture frames off the wall. And the lights! They start flickering at random intervals throughout the day.”

“Are you sure it’s not just rats?” you joke.

Gerald, who has now joined you on the lawn, holds up his hand solemnly. “We tried using traps, but they haven’t been touched at all.”

“Exactly.” Mindy nods, turning back to you. “We’re already worried about Joseph’s wedding next week, so one of the ladies at the community centre recommended Harry. That same day, Gerald gave him a call, and that was the end of it.”

“Who’s Harry?” you ask, brows knitting together in confusion.

“Er—” A deep voice sounds from behind you. “I am.”

When you turn around, you come face-to-face with one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. He’s got mossy green eyes, dark pink lips, and brown hair that curls around his temples and behind his ears. Smooth skin stretches out over high, chiseled cheekbones and a sharp jaw. He’s wearing a pair of light-wash jeans and matching white sneakers. A black hoodie covers his broad chest; upon taking a closer look, you note that the two front strings have been tied into a picturesque little bow.

Mindy wastes no time, introducing the two of you immediately. When Harry holds out his hand for you to shake, you don’t hesitate.

“Did you want my card?” he asks, peering at you curiously.

You study his expression. Beneath his seemingly sincere exterior, arrogance runs wild and unchecked. You know this man. You’ve met him a hundred different times under a hundred different circumstances, and you’ve learned to recognize a lost cause when you’re staring it square in the face.

“Not at all.” You shoot him a fake smile. “I’m just the neighbour.”

“Right.” His lips twitch. He steps back, rolling his shoulders and lifting his chin in the direction of the house. “Well, I should probably get to work. It was nice meeting you, babe.”

Your nose wrinkles as the pet name sinks in.

When you turn back around to resume your conversation with Mindy and Gerald, they’re gone. Your eyes bounce to the right, where you find them guiding Harry up the porch steps. Mindy has one hand on his bicep whilst gesturing animatedly with the other. Gerald opens the front door and holds out his arm, welcoming Harry inside.

You scoff, shaking your head in disdain.

“Ghosts aren’t real,” you mumble as you make your way back across the lawn. The trunk of your car squeaks when you pull it open, and plastic bags rustle as you gather your groceries into your arms.

Ghosts aren’t real. And Harry is obviously a scammer, based on…well, based on everything. The tacky design on his truck. The unprofessional wardrobe. The self-assuredness emanating from every cell in his body. Babe.

But Mindy and Gerald truly believe that their home is haunted. Trying to change their minds without a shred of physical proof is pointless. You blow out a soft sigh, accepting the grim reality of your situation.

Your neighbours are gullible, trusting people. And for the next few days—whether you like it or not—Harry is here to stay.

October 5th, 2021

You’re approximately two seconds away from chucking your textbook against the far wall.

You’ve been trying to finish this chapter for the past hour. And though you pride yourself on being tolerant when it comes to petty annoyances, your patience is wearing thin. A quick glance out of your bedroom window reveals Harry’s hideous pickup truck parked—yet again—in Mindy and Gerald’s driveway.

You roll your eyes. Of course.

The piercing, raucous whirring starts up again; you release a frustrated yell, slamming your book shut and leaping off your bed. You’re muttering obscenities under your breath as you stalk down the hall, stopping briefly to slide on a pair of fuzzy slippers. When you yank your front door open, the chilly autumn air settles into your bones.

The clamour grows louder as you stomp across your shared lawn. When you knock on Mindy and Gerald’s door, the commotion is nearly unbearable. A few seconds go by, during which your presence remains unacknowledged; you rap once again on the wood, hoping that the sound will be conspicuous enough amidst all of the background noise.

Sure enough, everything goes quiet. Your shoulders slump with relief just as the door opens. Mindy greets you with a friendly smile.

“Hi, dear,” she says kindly. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi.” You force yourself to mirror her affable expression, hoping that she can’t see the pained exhaustion brewing in your eyes. “Could I just—could I speak with Harry, please? It won’t take long.”

“Of course.” She nods before peering at you anxiously. “Don’t tell me that you’ve got ghosts, too.”

“No.” You shake your head. Ghosts aren’t real, you want to say, but you hold your tongue. “No, I just—I just need to have a quick word with him, that’s all.”

“Alright. I’ll go fetch him.” She turns around and totters away.

You hear her call his name, followed by the telltale sound of shuffling. After a few long moments, he’s there, leaning against the doorway with a bemused look on his face.

“Evening, babe,” he says coolly. “What’s up?”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, folding your arms over your chest.

Harry’s eyebrows shoot upward. He hadn’t expected you to greet him with such animosity, you suppose. His outfit is nearly identical to that of the other day, save for the red bandana perched atop his head. He buries his fingers into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging nonchalantly and pinning you with a blasé, unimpressed gaze.

“Noted,” he says. The corners of his lips curl up into a crooked smirk as he repeats, “What’s up?”

“You need to keep it down,” you say flatly. “I don’t know what kind of fake ‘exorcism’ bullshit you’re trying to pull off, but the noise is driving me insane. I need to study.”

“‘Fake’?” Harry parrots. “You don’t believe in spirits?”

“No,” you deadpan. “I don’t.” You narrow your eyes, studying the subtle movements of his face. “And if I had to take a wild guess, neither do you.”

“Really,” he says, chuckling softly. It isn’t a question.

“Really.”

Harry watches you, tickled by your obvious exasperation. “I get the feeling that you don’t like me very much.”

“Look at that,” you say, rolling your eyes. “He does have a brain.”

“You’re so judgmental.” He laughs, shaking his head. “How can you dislike me when you barely even know me?”

“I know enough,” you reply, scowling. “I know that you’re a fraud who takes advantage of people and their fears. And for what? Just so that you can take home a paycheque at the end of the day?”

“Ouch.” Harry feigns injury, placing a large hand over his heart. “That hurts, babe.”

There it is again. Babe.

“You know what?” Your nostrils flare. “Forget this—it’s like trying to explain rocket science to a toddler.”

He grins. “Yeah, I suppose. I’m much cuter, though, don’t you think?”

You scoff, pedalling backward. “In your dreams.”

His delight only seems to grow when your retort sinks in. You whip around, descending the porch steps and storming back toward your house. When you chance a glance over your shoulder, Harry is still standing in the doorway, a shit-eating smile stretched wide across his cheeks.

“Just keep it down, okay?” you call irritably.

He raises two fingers to his temple in a mock-salute, and you march away without another word.

October 8th, 2021

“You’re sure?”

You laugh. “Yes, Mindy, I’m sure. I promise.”

“Alright,” she assents, blowing out a quiet sigh through the phone. “I went grocery shopping today, so our cupboards are fully stocked—help yourself to anything you’d like. Also, when you flush the downstairs toilet, the water may look like it’s rising, but it goes down after a second or two.”

“Noted.” You snicker. “Anything else?”

“That’s it,” she says. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem,” you reply. “Tell Joseph and Amy that I said congratulations, yeah?”

“We will! See you later, dear.”

“See you later.”

October 9th, 2021

When Mindy and Gerald get back tomorrow afternoon, you’re going to wring their necks.

Agreeing to housesit whilst they celebrated their son’s wedding a few cities away? Sure. Fine. You had a long night full of nothing planned—sitting in front of the television, munching on some snacks, relaxing for the evening and trying to forget about all of the schoolwork waiting for you at home. You were in the middle of watching a Golden Girls rerun when, suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

“Coming!” You stood, setting your bowl of popcorn aside. The knocking continued as you made your way to the front entrance, wiping your buttery fingers against the dark leggings covering your thighs.

“I’m coming,” you said exasperatedly. You opened the door, ready to shoo away whoever it was—a salesperson, probably.

Instead, you came face-to-face with Harry.

And now, you’re here—slumped on the couch, angrily shovelling popcorn into your mouth. You keep your gaze trained on the television, trying your hardest to avoid the man who is setting up his “equipment” in the middle of the room.

“Can’t you do this in the kitchen?” you deadpan.

He flicks a switch on his machine—it looks an awful lot like a standard centrifuge. What a fraud.

“Spirit energy’s strongest in here,” he grunts. His knees scuff against the carpeted floor.

A derisive laugh falls from your lips. “Mindy and Gerald aren’t here—you can drop the act.”

Harry glances up at you, his pretty green irises glimmering. “What act?”

You roll your eyes and look away, fixing your attention back on the grainy screen.

Neither of you say anything for the next few minutes; tension builds, saturating the air and making it hard for you to breathe. Eventually, Harry breaks through the awkward silence. You want to scream.

“Er—” he starts, expectant. “Do you mind stepping out for a second? I need the room.”

Your nostrils flare. “Excuse me?”

“I need the—”

“I heard you,” you say, sitting up straight. “You don’t need anything. What the hell are you playing at?”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean, babe.” His tone is genuine, but you can sense the mirth simmering just beneath the surface. His lips twitch, and your frustration boils like water over a stove.

“Stop calling me that,” you snap, folding your arms across your chest. “And stop playing dumb. Other people might put up with your pseudo-spooky bullshit, but I won’t. Ghosts aren’t real!”

The lights go out.

You gasp, straining your eyes in an attempt to regain your bearings. Slowly, blurry shapes and shadows materialise in front of you. You fumble around for your phone, picking it up and tapping the screen. A moment later, the device’s flash lights up the room. You shine it from side to side, eventually settling on Harry, who is looking up at the ceiling in complete and utter bewilderment.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “Now you’ve done it.”

“Done what?” you squawk, glaring at him. “The power went out. Big deal.”

The lights flicker fleetingly, and then the room is dark again. Your eyes drift over to Harry; he’s smirking.

“This isn’t a ghost,” you say stubbornly, waving your phone around. The bright light bounces across the walls before you steady yourself, positioning the beam back on him. He stands, sinking his hands into the deep pockets of his sweatpants.

“And how would you know?” he teases, cocking one eyebrow challengingly.

“Because,” you scoff. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

Something crashes to the floor. You yelp in surprise, your head snapping to the right. When you shine your light in the direction of the noise, you find a shattered picture frame lying on the ground.

“What the fuck?” Harry murmurs, advancing toward the mess.

“Careful!” you say, holding up your hand. He stops in his tracks, peering over at you in confusion. “There’s glass, idiot,” you explain, climbing to your feet. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

He shoots you a crooked smile. “You do care.”

“I don’t.” Your response is curt. “I just don’t feel like driving you to the hospital so that they can remove fragments from your foot.”

Harry chuckles.

You sigh, squinting at the fallen frame. “We can clean it up when the lights come back on,” you say, mostly to yourself. “I don’t want to risk anything.”

He nods and yawns, stretching his arms out above his head. “Suit yourself, babe.”

“The next time you call me that, I’m going to—”

“What?” he asks, padding over to the sofa. You watch him approach with a deep scowl on your face. He collapses onto the couch, slouching and spreading his legs obnoxiously wide. “You gonna beat me up or something?”

You shake your head in disbelief, stepping away from him. “You’re a piece of shit.”

“So you say,” he replies, unbothered.

“You’re so—”

You break off, producing an angry noise in the back of your throat. Harry winks at you; in response, you whip around and storm away, carving out a path from the living room to the kitchen.

You shine the light from your phone across the cupboards, making a beeline for the fridge. When you pull it open, the cold compartment is dark. Squinting, you reach for one of the many water bottles stacked on the top shelf.

Stupid Harry, with his stupid smile and his stupid eyes and his stupid attitude and his stupid bogus business. You can’t believe that Mindy and Gerald were naïve enough to fall for his bullshit. You need to have a long talk with them when they get back, you think—to ensure that they never swallow a pill this big ever again.

“Thirsty?”

You nearly jump out of your skin, pointing your phone toward the kitchen’s exit. Harry is standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest. You bring one hand up to your sternum, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss, shaking your head. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He snickers lowly. You turn your attention back to the fridge, grabbing a water bottle and uncapping it quickly. Through the darkness, Harry watches you gulp down the cool liquid; you pretend not to notice.

“Can I help you?” you finally ask, wiping your mouth with the heel of your palm.

“No.” He shrugs. “Just…looking, I guess.”

“That’s creepy,” you reply flatly. He laughs.

“May I steal a bottle?” he says, padding across the tiles. “I’m parched.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “I—sure. Whatever.”

And though you try, you can’t seem to tear your gaze away from him. He hums as he opens up the fridge, leaning forward to get a better look inside. You play with the hem of your sweater, standing behind him awkwardly. When he peers over his shoulder, you quickly look away, feigning interest in the marble countertop next to the sink.

“Er—” he starts. He fixes you with an inquisitive look, glancing down at the device in your hand. “Would you mind? I can’t see anything.”

“Don’t you have your own?” you ask.

“Yeah, but you’re already holding yours. Come on.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

You draw nearer, lifting your phone and shining its flash into the fridge. Harry hums, plucking a water bottle off the top shelf with a satisfied smile. When he turns to face you, a puff of air catches in your throat; he’s awfully close, his torso brushing almost imperceptibly against yours.

You stare up at him, stunned. There’s a small mole beneath the left corner of his mouth. Part of you—an insignificant, microscopic part—fights the urge to reach out and run your thumb over the mark.

“I’m sorry for calling you a piece of shit,” you blurt.

He inhales deeply, chest expanding and fitting a bit more firmly against your own.

The contact snaps you out of your trance. You retreat, backing up against the counter to maintain your balance. Harry clears his throat and glances away.

“Thanks,” he says, his voice hoarse.

Unable to find the right words, you simply nod.

The two of you stand there for a long moment, sinking into a pool of uncomfortable silence. Just when you think that you’re going to choke on the invisible tension, a faint buzz resonates through the air. Less than a second later, the power returns, illuminating the kitchen in a wash of warm, brilliant light.

“Thank God,” you mutter. You shut the flash on your phone, sliding the device beneath the waistband of your leggings.

Harry blinks rapidly, disoriented. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

He waves your question away. “No, it’s—it’s nothing.”

And you don’t really feel like pressing the subject, so you let it go. A tired sigh falls from your mouth as you scan your surroundings.

“Help me find a broom,” you tell him. “We need to sweep up the glass in the other room.”

His lips twitch. “What’s the magic word?”

There he is. The same insufferable man who has been pushing your buttons all week. You scowl, shooting him a displeased glare.

“Forget it.” You drag your fingers down the left side of your face. “I’ll do it myself.”

~*~

“You sure you don’t want my help?” Harry calls, kicking his feet up onto the sofa.

You grunt, crouching next to the shattered glass on the floor. “Positive.”

The broom and dustpan that you’ve acquired from the laundry room are old and frail, but you suppose that they’ll get the job done. You set the dustpan down on the ground, wrapping your fingers around the broom’s handle and trying to maneuver it in an efficient way. It’s no easy feat, but eventually, you manage to create a small, compact pile of shards. Gingerly, you reach for the picture frame, plucking it up from the ground and setting it off to the side. Next, you take your time sweeping all of the fragments into the dustpan, inspecting the floor for any lingering bits.

“Struggling over there?” Harry asks.

You grit your teeth.

“No,” you counter in a matter-of-fact tone. “I think I got it all, actually. No thanks to you.”

You throw the last part over your shoulder, coupling it with an accusatory frown. Harry holds up his hands in surrender, suppressing his amusement.

“Shouldn’t you be exorcising spirits?” you ask. Sarcasm drips from your words.

He chuckles. The couch squeaks as he shuffles around; a moment later, the sound of approaching footsteps reaches your ears. You stiffen when he stops next to your squatted form.

“To be quite honest,” he begins, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “I’m having a much better time watching you.”

“Creepy,” you say. “Again.”

He laughs, lowering himself to his knees. In the periphery of your vision, you watch him pick up the abandoned picture frame, turning it around and studying the photograph inside. His cheeks lift with the slope of a familiar smile, but somehow, this one is different from the others that you’ve witnessed.

It’s real. Sincere.

“Nice, don’t you think?” Harry asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

He extends his arm, revealing the photograph. Mindy and Gerald’s beaming faces stare up at you, a balance of bright grins and crinkled eyes. Subconsciously, your lips curl upward, and you take the frame from Harry’s hands.

“Yeah,” you murmur, running your fingertips over the photo. “They look happy.”

“How long have you known them?” he asks. There’s no malice behind the question.

“Since I moved in,” you say absentmindedly, admiring the ornate frame around the picture. “A few years, now.”

He hums in response. “They talk about you a lot.”

“All good things, I hope.” You cast a wry look in his direction.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah. They look out for you, it seems.”

“I try to look out for them, too.” You sit back on your haunches, groaning quietly. “Which is why I was surprised that they didn’t come to me when they first thought their house was ‘haunted’.”

Your intonation changes on the last word; you still don’t believe that your neighbours are being plagued by spirits, despite the plethora of peculiarity that you’ve witnessed tonight.

“Maybe they didn’t want to worry you,” Harry suggests.

You roll your eyes. Even now, he refuses to drop the act.

“Sure,” you say. “So, hiring a spirit exterminator—or whatever you pretend to be—was a better move?” You snort softly, climbing to your feet. “How much are they paying you, anyway?”

He purses his lips. “They’re not.”

You freeze.

A beat of silence drags out, during which you swallow your shock. You clear your throat and lift your chin, staring down at Harry banally.

“You’re lying.”

“Nope.”

“You are!” you insist. A short, incredulous laugh tumbles off your tongue. “You are one hundred percent fucking with me.”

“I’m afraid not,” he says.

“Your truck, though...” you say. “‘Lasting results, or your money back’?”

“I’ve got to make it look legitimate, don’t I?” He smirks. “But it’s cute that you remembered.”

Your eyes lock with his, and suddenly, it’s almost impossible to breathe. His gaze is deep, open, and honest. Your lips part, but no sound comes out. Instinctively, your legs carry you a few paces back, veering toward the sofa. You plop down onto the plush cushions, clutching the picture frame tightly between your fingers.

“Then, why—?” you break off, shaking your head. “Why would you—?”

“Peace of mind,” Harry shrugs, still rooted to his spot on the floor. “Ever heard of the placebo effect?”

“You admit it, then,” you say, sitting up straight. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

He nods, blinking languidly. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“So,” you start, trying to make sense of the situation, “you let them believe that you’re actually cleansing the house—for free, too—just to—?” You glance around the room, searching for the right words. “—just to put them at ease?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s…”

Sweet. Thoughtful.

“…ridiculous.”

Harry chuckles. “Thanks.”

“I—” You hesitate, depositing the photograph next to you on the couch. “This whole time, I thought you were just…”

“A con?”

You bring your fingers up to your mouth, nodding silently and studying him with big, rounded eyes.

He shrugs.

“I mean, I never really got the chance to explain myself. You’d already made up your mind about me, hadn’t you? So, I thought I’d just let you stick with your assumptions—it didn’t bother me much.”

“I’m a horrible person,” you say, mostly to yourself.

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “No, you’re not. You’re just a bit judgmental, that’s all.”

“You’re right.” You nod again, bowing your head in shame. “I am. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, babe, really.”

You stand abruptly, abandoning your spot on the sofa.

“I should finish up,” you state, embarrassed beyond belief. Harry watches you closely as you approach. You crouch down next to him, reaching for the dustpan with shaky hands. A few small shards of glass are littered at the brink of the collector; you nudge them away from the edge, trying to be as careful as possible.

“Ow!” you suddenly hiss, retracting your arm quickly. You twist your wrist, fixing your attention on a thin cut engraved into the pad of your index finger.

“What happened?” Harry asks, leaning forward.

You shake your head, waving away his worries. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just got nicked, that’s all.”

“Let me see,” he requests, holding out his own hand.

You pause, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and stealing a quick glance at his face. His expression is concerned, but neutral. Your hesitation is silly, you think—he may be a bit of a jackass, but he’s not going to hurt you. You’ve already condemned him once before, and you were wrong.

You don’t want to make that mistake again.

After a brief moment, you give in, sliding your knuckles into his open palm.

“It’s alright, really,” you say, speaking around the lump in your throat. “The piece was tiny—it hardly broke the surface.”

Harry inspects the laceration closely, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

It’s not that serious, you want to tell him, but you refrain from letting the words escape. Part of you is enjoying the way your hands fit together so perfectly. You don’t want it to end—not yet.

“You’re bleeding a bit, babe,” he announces faintly, brows cinched in concentration.

“I am?” You try to tug your arm back, but he keeps a firm grip on your wrist. A low, confused noise echoes in the back of your throat; Harry peers up at you, his features unreadable.

“It’s just a spot,” he murmurs. “Let me.”

And before you can say or do anything else, he’s taking your finger past his lips and giving an easy, gentle suck.

You squeak.

The sound snaps Harry out of his trance; he releases your hand and recoils hastily. You exhale, driving out the stale air gathered in your lungs. When you peek up at him from beneath your lashes, he’s already watching you, shoulders taut with anxiety.

“Sorry,” he stammers. His nostrils flare. “That was weird—sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say, shaking your head. “Er…thanks.”

“No worries.” He swallows.

“Alright.”

Awkwardly, you wipe your clammy palms against your thighs. Harry seems to be looking at everything except for you; his gaze flits to the ceiling, then to the couch, then to the floor. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and push yourself up off the ground. The room is painfully quiet as you slowly slink back toward to the sofa.

“I should probably put this somewhere safe,” you mumble, picking up the forgotten picture frame.

Warm air floats over the nape of your neck. You gasp and spin around, nearly toppling over in your haste. Harry’s hands find your shoulders, steadying you and crowding you closer to his chest. You glance up at him; your shallow breaths mingle together in the narrow space, noses only inches apart.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice no higher than a gruff whisper. “Tell me. Please.”

In response, you fumble for one of his hands, grappling at his wrist; he loosens his hold on your arms, confused but willing. He’s motionless as you lift his knuckles up to your mouth. You glance down, tilting your head to the side and studying them carefully. Harry says nothing when you press a soft, feathery kiss to the pad of his index finger.

But then you’re dipping the tip of the digit between your lips, and suddenly, he’s undone.

“Fucking—”

He grabs your face in his palms and seals his mouth to yours.

The two of you stagger backward, tumbling onto the couch. Mindy and Gerald’s picture frame slips from your grasp, landing on a neighbouring cushion with a faint thud. Reflexively, your legs part; Harry takes his rightful place between them, slanting his body accordingly. When he applies the faintest hint of pressure, you moan.

“Fuck.” He draws back, his warm breath wafting over your chin. “Don’t.”

“‘Don’t’ what?” you ask, puzzled.

He shakes his head. “Don’t make those noises. It’s—you’re—I’m—”

He curses quietly and reaches for one of your hands. You allow him to guide your palm lower, inhaling sharply when you feel the slight bulge protruding from his trousers. Instinctively, your fingers close over the subtle ridge of his cock. His shoulders stiffen, and his eyes squeeze shut.

“You’re hard,” you murmur, as though it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Not fully.” He swallows. “But I’m getting there.”

“Because of me?” you ask, peering up at him innocently.

“Yeah.” Harry expels a wobbly, disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, babe—because of you.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as the familiar moniker falls from his mouth. He notices your unusual reaction, mouth curling into teasing smirk.

“What?” he says, lifting one eyebrow. “No nagging, this time? I thought you hated that nickname.”

You grip the collar of his sweater and give a gentle tug, guiding him down for another kiss. When the two of you finally break apart, you shrug. “It’s growing on me.”

He smiles.

“Do you—?” you pause, pursing your lips. The question sounds silly—presumptuous, even. Rather than finishing your sentence, you lift your chin, gazing up evenly into Harry’s green eyes and declaring, “I think I want to sleep with you.”

His cheeks dimple with a wide grin. “Is that so?”

You nod.

“Right, then.” He kisses your nose and pulls away. “There’s a condom in my wallet, but…I may or may not have left it in my truck.”

You groan, allowing your head to fall back against the sofa with a heavy thump. Harry chuckles at your theatrics. After a brief moment of contemplation, you compose yourself and sit up quickly.

“That works, actually,” you say, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Grab your wallet, and then we can go to my place. I don’t think my neighbours would be very happy if we fucked on their couch.”

He laughs, climbing eagerly to his feet and shooting you a smug wink. “You got it, babe.”

October 10th, 2021

It’s nearly half past noon when you step out onto the porch the next day. You yawn, squinting up at the sun shining brightly in the sky. There are no clouds in sight; the slight chill of the autumn air tickles your exposed arms. You tug on the waistband of your sweatpants, keeping the material seated firmly on your hips.

“Good morning, dear!”

You jump, head snapping in the direction of a familiar voice. Mindy and Gerald are sitting on their veranda, nursing twin cups of coffee and looking awfully cozy. Gerald smiles at you, folding up his newspaper and setting it on his lap.

“Good morning!” You wave before re-evaluating your words. “Well, it’s technically past twelve, so good afternoon.”

Mindy laughs.

“How was the wedding?” you ask, approaching the side of your deck. You lean against the thin metal railing, combing your fingers through your messy hair. “I wasn’t expecting you to be back this soon.”

“We woke up early,” Mindy explains. “And the wedding was fabulous. Amy wore the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” You grin. “Do you have any pictures?”

“Of course! Just let me run inside and grab my phone—”

“Mornin’,” a gruff voice says from behind you.

You gasp and spin around, bringing a hand to your chest. The sight laid out before you has your heart speeding up, galloping wildly and battering against the confines of your ribs.

Harry’s wearing that same hoodie from last night. Your gaze trails lower—he’s also sporting a pair of grey boxers and white socks. There’s a mug nestled in each of his large hands, his spindly fingers wrapped around the handles comfortably. Your eyes lock with his sleepy ones, and your breathing hitches in your throat.

“Morning,” you whisper, unable to muster up anything louder.

“I—” Harry clears his throat, stepping closer and extending his left arm. “I, er, took the liberty of making us some tea. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, it’s—” You swallow as you accept one of the mugs, suppressing a giddy smile. “It’s completely fine. Thank you.”

“Of course.” He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Sleep well?”

“Mhm.” You nod shyly.

He chuckles. “Good.”

His gaze wanders over your shoulder, and it’s then that he notices Mindy and Gerald sat on the neighbouring porch. Without even batting an eye, he lifts his hand in a friendly wave. “Morning, you two. How was the wedding?”

You turn back toward the couple, a sheepish look on your face. Mindy is beaming, and Gerald is trying to hold back a laugh. Heat creeps up your neck; you wish that the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“It was wonderful!” Mindy trills. Her enthusiasm has skyrocketed. You pinch the bridge of your nose, utterly mortified.

“Yes.” Gerald finally pipes up, smirking knowingly. “It was great. What about you, though? How was your night?”

“Fine,” you blurt before Harry can respond. “It was fine.”

The duo share a look, and then Mindy giggles girlishly. You bring your mug up to your mouth, taking a long sip and groaning into the cup. Harry’s arm snakes around your waist, making you jump. You steal a glance at him out of the corner of your eye; he’s fighting a smile.

“Well—” Gerald clears his throat, plucking his folded newspaper from his lap and rising to his feet. “I think I’ll be going, now. Need to catch up on those few extra hours of sleep.”

“Me too,” Mindy says, nodding fervently. She directs her next words at you. “If you pop by later, I’ll show you those photos, okay?”

“Okay,” you croak.

She shoots you one last grin before disappearing inside.

“God,” you say immediately, hanging your head. “That was torture.”

Next to you, Harry laughs. You aim a weak swat at his chest. He snickers, catching your palm and ducking down to drop a gentle kiss against your knuckles. You exhale shakily, twisting your body around so that you can face him.

“Your hair’s a mess,” you murmur, running your free hand through his dishevelled curls.

He cocks one eyebrow. “And whose fault is that?”

You scoff. “Shut up.”

He chuckles quietly and steps closer to you, holding out his mug. You smile in assent, mirroring his movements and clinking your cups together.

“So,” Harry starts, sipping his tea casually, “you gonna let me take you out on a proper date, sometime?”

“That depends,” you say, trying to ignore the flurry of butterflies flapping around in your stomach. “I’ll go—but only if we take my car. I refuse to drive around town in your tacky truck.”

“It’s not that bad!” he protests.

“It’s awful,” you tell him, shaking your head. “It looks it was decorated by a preschooler during arts and crafts.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes playfully, giving in. “Any other requests?”

You pause, lost in thought.

“One more, actually,” you say, fixing him with a challenging stare. “You need to come clean to Mindy and Gerald.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Alright.”

“Really?” You balk, taken aback by his compliance. “That’s it? But I—I had a whole speech prepared.”

Harry laughs softly, cradling your face with his free hand and kissing you slowly. Your fingers tighten around your mug. When the two of you break apart for air, he shrugs.

“I started considering it after everything that happened last night. Keep your speech, though.” His lips twitch. “You’ll be needing to scold me again in no time, I’m sure.”

Your shoulders shake with a silent giggle. “You’re probably right.”

“Also—” Harry clears his throat, soothing the ache with another sip of tea. “You may want to suggest that they hire an exterminator.”

“An exterminator?” you repeat, blinking in surprise. “But…they don’t have rats. Gerald said that the traps hadn’t been touched.”

“Not rats,” he hums. “Squirrels, I believe. Living in the walls.”

“And how did you reach that conclusion?”

“I’ve been doing this for a while, babe—I’ve seen my fair share of pests. Plus,” he clucks his tongue, “they like to chew on wires.”

“Really?” You sigh distantly, pinching your bottom lip. “God, that sucks.”

“It does.” He nods, wrapping his fingers around your forearm. “But you can tell them later.”

“Later?” you say, brows knitting together. “Why not right now?”

“Because,” Harry grunts. You squeal when he crowds you up against your front door. He cups your jaw and tilts your chin up with his thumb, handsome face splitting into an easy, salacious grin.

“Right now, I’m taking you back to bed.”

~*~

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed this piece, please consider donating to my ko-fi! and as always, don’t forget to share your thoughts. thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #spookrry #harry writing #ok here it is 🙃 i lowkey feel like its gonna flop but w/e

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nott-emotionally-stable · 3 years

Text

ive been thinking a lot about c2 ending since matt announced it's happening soon, and i just wanna have a place to put my thoughts. ( i might repeat things that other people have said)

this did not come out of nowhere. i actually have a feeling they decided a while ago that this would be the last arc; the way that they all said goodbye to their families even when on a time crunch, the way that veth and caduceus both said this was the end of the road for them, the way that fjorester and beauyasha both started to become officially romantic around the same time. and this isn't to say that this wasn't organic, just that realization that the end is coming probably gave the cast both the freedom and urgency to do whatever felt right to give their character a meaningful close.

i also think that this being the end feels right. even though there's still ikythong to deal with and they never met vandran, and some other loose ends still aren't tied up, it feels right that this is the end. they all feel complete, almost. all of their characters have grown so much, and have completed pretty much every big thing that's been on our minds since the beginning of the campaign. even travelercon, which was perpetually "a few months away" was seen through. if they were to go too much longer, they would still have things to do, but it would almost feel dragged out to me- like the actors were looking for any reason to keep going.

and thematically, it fits perfectly. they ended on nine eyes, on fighting a deformed version of an old friend who died for them, on a storyline that they're all connected to and one that truly feels like it started very early on in the campaign. this showdown feels fated. for some insane fucking reason, it all seems to somehow fit together perfectly- and if that isn't the story of the mighty nein, i don't know what is.

im super sad about not being able to see these characters every week. individually, they are my favorite characters ever, and their dynamics and relationships are my version of therapy. idk what im gonna do without jesters accent and her message spells and pranks and distaste for actually healing. without fjords absolute dumbass self trying so hard to put good into the world and charming everyone. without caleb doing everything he can to help his friends and his unexpected moments of silliness that knock me out. without veths absolute chaos (imo unmatched by even jester or scanlan) and her believing so much in her friends. without yashas amazing awkwardness and the driest sense of humor imaginable. without caduceus's incredible advice and comforting energy and devasting insults. without beaus endearing stubborness and her insane theories that turn out to be right and her pop pops and her stunning strikes that frustrate matt so much.

im gonna miss the brjeaus, the chaos crew, the sibling energy between nott and fjord, widowveths unbreakable bond, the caleb and beau loving bickering, beau and jester, the romantic relationships, cad and fjord, cad and yasha, every one of them. im gonna miss matt's reactions to each of them. im gonna miss essek. im gonna miss artagan. im gonna miss sprinkle, for fucks sake.

the mighty nein have been there for me through a lot. the past two years have been kinda rough for me, but they were a constant in my life. and i love vox machina to bits, but i've never connected with them the same way. and i hate change, im terrified of it.

but this seems like the right course of action. again, i dont know how to explain it, but it feels right. i can't wait to see what the cast has in store for us next. who knows what the fuck is gonna happen with campaign 3, all i know is that im pumped (once i stop crying).

#long post #critical role #campaign 2 #my post

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thompsborn · 3 years

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Can i please get “I know hurts, but you have to stay awake, okay?” With hurt Peter and a really worried Harley 💙💙

(read on ao3)

He knows it’s part of the job.

It’s what happens, when someone’s a crime fighting superhero, or an Avenger, or an Avenger in Training, or whatever it is that people want to call it. He knows that the danger comes with it. He’s known for a long time, would be naive to ever try and believe otherwise.

But he’s never been this close to it before.

“Oh god,” Harley says—his voice is shaking almost as badly as his hands are, where he’s got them hovering uselessly. “Oh my god.”

The fight had been close to the tower, is the thing—as in, only a block or two away. When the alarm had gone off in the lab, none of them had been prepared for it, but then Friday had said something including the words, “Green Goblin,” and, “Bombs,” and, “Fire,” and that was all that had mattered, Tony and Peter both suiting up right as Friday tacked on the fact that it seemed to be a team up, that Gobby had apparently brought along some friends.

Harley sometimes thinks about it. Joining them, in a suit that he made a long time ago, that he works on and upgrades as if he’s got plans for what it’ll be for. He thinks about stepping into it and flying off to help them out, but he isn’t ready for it yet. For now, he still works long distance to help out—stays on the comms, gets in contact with first responders, helps use Friday’s scanners and any other tech in the lab to help him get an eye on what’s going on, just to let the team know more, to help out however he can from where he is.

Today, he almost used the suit.

And he would have—if Peter hadn’t been thrown through the window instead.

“We’ve got this,” Tony tells him, sounding out of breath and angry, worry tinging the ends of his words, as he knocks Green Goblin out of the way in order to prevent him from following Peter into the lab through the window. Harley wonders if they really have it at all, but can’t bring himself to ask. “Is Peter alright?”

“I don’t know,” Harley answers honestly, a waver to his tone. The reason he was about to use his own stupid suit is because Gobby’s been targeting Peter the whole fight, like he’s got a personal bone to pick, a grudge to settle. And Peter—the strongest, most capable person Harley has ever met—had stated that he wasn’t going to hurt Gobby, that he wasn’t going to fight back. That he was going to take it.

Well, he took it. He took a lot.

Gingerly, Harley reaches up, peeling Peter’s mask up, up, up, until it’s off completely. He winces at the blood crusted under his crooked nose and dripping from his busted lip, but sighs in relief when bleary brown eyes blink at him. “Hey,” he murmurs. “How’re you feelin’?”

Peter inhales sharply, and lets the air out with a low whine of pain. Harley can’t blame him in the slightest—there’s more rips and tears in his suit now than there are in the shredded remains of his homemade one that he still has, the one that had the Vulture’s metal talons rip through the cloth just to dig into his skin. It would be impressive if it didn’t mean each and every mark on the suit signifies pain underneath.

“Well,” Harley says, a waver to his words but a forced smile on his face. “You look great.”

It makes the airiest of laughs push past Peter’s lips, and he offers Harley a dazed, lopsided little grin. There’s blood on his teeth. “Thanks,” he rasps, wincing slightly. Before Harley can do much more than convulsively swallow back the bile that rises in his throat (his heart coming up with it), Peter suddenly sobers up, and he looks dead serious—not in pain, not dazed, but firm. He reaches forward and grips onto Harley’s shirt, leaves bloody streaks where the glove of his suit has been burned away and the skin beneath has been burned with it, and he says, “Harley, they—they can’t hurt him.”

“Who?” Harley asks, confused.

“Green Goblin,” Peter breathes, shifting his eyes until he’s looking out the window he was thrown through, features strained. “It’s not… I’ve been hiding a lot, about—about that, ‘cause he asked me to and he’s my best friend and—”

Harley furrows his brow. “Wait, wait—what? Back up, Pete. Hiding what? Who asked?”

Peter looks back at Harley, and mixed with the blood and the bruises is a meek sort of guilt. “Harry,” he says. “The Goblin, it—it’s his dad, Harls. It’s Norman. Or, it was, and we—he didn’t want his dad to die like this, but he wanted justice, so we were gathering evidence, everything we could, so we could turn it in and get him arrested, and I wanted—I—I wanted to tell you guys but you know how complicated Harry’s feelings about his dad are and I couldn’t break his trust once he asked me not to and we were so c-close to being able to t-turn him in but then he fuh-found out and—and—”

Harley carefully cups Peter’s face in his hands, being sure to avoid any scrapes and bruises encompassing the skin there. “Breathe, baby,” he murmurs. “You’re still hurt. Don’t push yourself just to tell me this. Take a breath.”

But Peter just shakes his head, sounding urgent as he continues with, “No, you d-don’t—he found out! He—He’s got c-contacts, I don’t know who with, but there’s—there’s a way to control people, and it sounds insane and I know it does but—but—but last week the Goblin showed up, right? And I confronted him but it wasn’t Norman, it was Harry, and he was fighting me and while he was fighting me he said he didn’t want to do it, and—and I don’t know how Norman’s doing it but he’s got Harry under his contol and—and it’s him, Harley! Out there, right now, in that suit that everyone is fighting against—that’s our friend in there, and we… we gotta help him, we have to… we…”

“Peter?” Harley lightly taps his cheek when he sees Peter’s lashes start to flutter, the tension in his body bleeding out, just a bit, leaving him a little bit more limp where he lays on the ground. “Peter,” Harley says again, trying not to let his fear tint his voice too much. “Hey—”

“Tell them,” Peter murmurs, grip on Harley’s shirt starting to go a little weak. “T-Tell ‘em that ‘s ‘arry. Can’t hurt ‘im. You gotta tell ‘em.”

Harley sucks in a shaky breath and tries to compose himself a bit. Knowing Peter as well as he does, it’s not worth insisting reevaluating priorities right now—his stubborn ass boyfriend will deny help until either getting what he’s asked for or falling unconscious, whichever comes first, and with the injuries he has (the ones that Harley can see; who even knows what’s hidden beneath the suit, what bones have been broken and muscles have been torn?) falling unconscious isn’t an option until someone in the Medbay says it’s safe. Because of this, Harley just nods once, reluctantly leaning back a bit in order to address the comms, knowing Friday automatically disconnects and reconnects when it’s clearly necessary. “Guys,” he says into the wave of sound that greets him, overlapping voices and background fighting noise clashing together.

Instantly, the voices go hush. “Harley?” Tony sounds worried already, likely expecting an update on Peter and fearing the worst.

“Goblin,” Harley tells him. “Green Goblin. Peter said—he said it was Norman, and him and Harry were working together to get evidence and get him arrested, but Norman found out. He says that Norman’s got him under some kind of control now, somehow. Like, he’s literally controlling him. Like mind control, I think. The point is, it’s Harry in the suit.”

Sam speaks up, sounding equal parts skeptical and resigned. “Did you say mind control?”

Before Harley can snap at him, Natasha speaks up, telling them all, “Trust me, it’s out there. Unless someone else found a way to do it, I’m assuming this is something left behind from the Red Room—maybe someone found out how she did it, or… I don’t know. I’ll find out how Norman got his hands on it later, but the good news is, as long as it’s the same stuff, I can get my hands on some antidote. He’ll be okay.”

“Fucking antidote?” Sam repeats. “Nat, what the fuck? When did you learn about mind control? What does that have to do with the Red Room? Why do none of us know this?”

Sounding beyond amused, Nat casually says, “Have I mentioned that I have a sister?”

“Oh my god,” Tony murmurs. “Okay, shut up, we can talk about—all of that after this is over. For now—message received, Harley. We’ll try to just knock him down or something so that we can bring him into the tower and have Nat do whatever it is she just said she can do. For now, you worry about Peter. Is he okay?”

Harley looks at Peter, his breath hitching. “Maybe,” he answers. “He refused to let me help him until after I told you guys to not hurt Harry. I’ll keep you updated, though.”

“Sounds like him,” Tony chuckles. “Focus on him and you, don’t worry about updates. Friday can keep me in the loop. You’ve got this, kid.”

The comms disconnect then—Tony’s doing, no doubt, in the hopes of helping Harley from getting distracted by the battle. Harley gets why, but the sudden silence that overcomes the room is startling. For a moment, he freezes.

“Thank you,” Peter breathes, shattering the quiet—and then he promplty blacks out.

“Shit!” Harley leans forward, eyes going wide as his hands, once again, hover uselessly in the air, unsure of what to do. He has to swallow back the lump forming in his throat, and finally settles on checking Peter’s pulse—irregular, and a bit weak, but still there—and trying to wake him up as he asks, “Friday, where’s Doctor Cho? Or—Or Bruce, or fucking Stephen, or—where the hell is an actual doctor?!”

He taps at Peter’s cheek, cautiously shakes his shoulder, not wanting to agitate his wounds or cause any pain, but needing him to wake up. There’s movement behind Peter’s eyelids, but they don’t open, not quite yet. “Doctor Cho is currently at the compound, as well as Mister Banner. They are getting ready to leave for the tower to assist in post battle injuries, but will not arrive for a minimum of thirty six minutes. Contacting Doctor Strange now.”

Okay. That’s something. Harley tries to let himself relax, but it just won’t work—not when Peter is splayed out on the floor in front of him, bleeding and broken and not waking up—

“C’mon, baby,” Harley murmurs, ignoring the waver in his words. “Come on. Wake up.”

It looks pointless—hopeless, almost—but, after a moment, Peter sucks in a sharp breath and his eyes flutter, just a bit. His eyes are glazed over and unfocused, barely even parted at all, but he’s awake and murmuring unintelligible nonsensical sounds that don’t seem to equate into actual words.

Harley breaks out into a grin—one that doesn’t last too long, but the relief is flooding. He moves over his hands until he’s cupping Peter’s face gingerly in his palms. “Hey,” he says, breathes it, really, so much air to his voice that it’s a miracle he’s making any sound at all. “Hey, Pete, look—look at me, honey. Can you look at me? I’m gonna get some help, but until they get here, I need you to try and look at me, okay?”

“Mm.” Peter’s head rolls towards the sound of Harley’s voice, blinks more like little flutters of his lashes as he furrows his brows, mouth twisted up in a pained grimace. “Wh…?”

Progress. Good. “Hi, baby,” Harley whispers, thumbs brushing over the apples of Peter’s cheeks. “You in there? Can you hear me?”

There’s a moment where he gets no response, but, eventually, Peter lifts his chin in a barely noticable nod, and then lowers it to turn his cheek into Harley’s palms. “H’rley?”

“I’m right here, honey. I’ve got you.” Tears burn the backs of Harley’s eyes, well up and threaten to roll down his cheeks. He blinks them away in order to keep his vision clear. “Friday?”

Instantly, Friday responds, telling him, “Still attempting contact with Doctor Strange. I have managed to reach Wong, who has assured me he is getting my message through. Until then, I recommend keeping Mr. Parker awake and trying to slow the bleeding from his abdomen.”

Harley’s gaze flickers down, and he bites back a curse as he notices that Friday’s got a point. While Peter’s enhancements, specifically his healing, makes it possible for him to survive a much larger blood loss than the average person, that doesn’t mean it’s any less worrying to see that there’s a slight puddle beginning to form beneath him. Especially under his midsection, where a large gash across his abdomen is sluggishly yet steadily dripping .

It’s going to suck, putting pressure on a behemoth of an injury like that—Harley has to even out his breathing from just the thought of how much pain it’ll add to the agony Peter is already in—but he has to do it. If he doesn’t, he risks Peter not lasting long enough for Stephen to get here, and Stephen is their only hope.

“Okay,” he mumbles, looking back up at Peter’s pale features, trying for a shaky smile. “Alright, baby, we—we’re gonna have to pull through this next part together, okay? It’s gonna suck, but I’m gonna be right here the whole time.”

Peter looks confused, trying to process Harley’s words and struggling to blink his eyes into focus. “‘Kay,” he slurs out blearily.

Harley reluctantly pulls back his hands, being quick to yank his sweatshirt over his head, balling it up in his grasp and then reaching over with one hand to cup Peter’s face again, the other poised and prepared. “Ready, Pete?”

“Mhm.” It’s clear Peter still isn’t quite sure about what Harley is saying, but he’s agreeing anyway, and—shit, Harley loves him.

Swallowing roughly, Harley nods, just once, and steels his nerves, and presses the hoodie down.

As soon as there’s pressure against the wound, Peter gasps—a horrible, horrible sound, strangled with an agonizing cry, his eyes snapping fully open with clarity shining in them, no longer fogged over and dazed. His back rises off the floor, body instinctively trying to curl in on itself, hands scrabbling to weakly push Harley and the sweatshirt away.

“Hey, hey, hey!” There’s an urgency to Harley’s tone that makes his words come out in a strained sort of rasp. “Peter, honey, you—you gotta calm down, okay? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but I gotta slow the bleeding. It’s okay.”

His words seem to help, or the sudden pain spurred on a rush of adrenaline that’s fading as quickly as it came , or perhaps some combination of the two—Harley isn’t sure what it is, exactly, but Peter collapses back onto the floor with a whimper in the back of his throat. “Harley,” he murmurs—barely coherent, words slurring together. “Harley… ‘m tired.”

His eyelids are fluttering. Harley panics. “No,” he says. “No, no, baby, you—you gotta keep those eyes open for me, alright? I’m so sorry, honey, and I—I know it hurts, but you have to stay awake, okay? Stephen will be here soon, and he’ll fix you up, but you gotta—you—”

Peter’s eyes fall shut. Harley sobs.

“I still need to—t-to tell you that I love you!” Peter’s chest stutters with every every rise, with every fall. “We gotta—we have to finish college, Pete, and—and get an apartment together, and grow up all the way, okay? And one of us still has to propose one day, and—and—and we still need to h-have a wedding, where we make fun of Tony for crying so much, but—but it’s out of love, so it’s okay, and—we could have kids, too, Pete! You have to—you have to make it, ‘cause there’s so much left for us, for—for you, and I can’t—baby, please open your eyes, please—”

A second sob bubbles up from the center of his chest when the only response he gets is another stuttered breath. He tries to remind himself that at least that means Peter is still breathing, just in time for Friday to speak up, softspoken as she says, “My message has officially reached Doctor Strange. ETA should be any second now. Boss has been informed.”

Only a moment later, there’s an orange glow from behind him, but Harley doesn’t look, too busy keeping the pressure steady and firm against Peter’s abdomen with one hand, the other now pressed to Peter’s pulse on his neck to assure himself that his heart is beating—his own breaths uneven and choked off as he cries.

A hand lands on his shoulder. “You did good, Harley,” Stephen tells him gently. “Let me take it from here, alright?”

He doesn’t want to let Peter go, but he knows he has to, if he wants to make sure Peter makes it out of this alive. Body trembling, he pulls his hands away, doesn’t stand up (he isn’t sure if he could, with his legs feeling so weak) but manages to scramble back a few feet to give Stephen enough room. “Is he—is he—?”

“I’ll do everything I can,” Stephen assures him, already creating another portal with one hand, using the other to lift Peter off the ground, his Cloak moving over quickly to aid in levitating him. “And I’m good at what I do.”

He leaves with that, disappearing through the portal with Peter—and Harley remains where he is, sitting on the concrete floor of the lab, hands covered in his boyfriend’s blood, sobbing.

Outside, the fight goes on.

In here, the world stops turning.

—

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, or how much time has passed. He doesn’t know if the fight is over, if they got Harry, is anyone else got hurt. He doesn’t know anything, not for what feels like hours. He just sits, head bowed, face buried in his arms, uncontrollably shaking.

Inside his mind is a jumbled up mess. Part of him can’t stop picturing it—Peter, battered and bleeding out right in front of him. Part of him keeps picturing the future he had been blubbering about, forms images in his head on the two of them at their ESU graduation together, getting the keys for the apartment that they refuse to let Tony help them pay for, maybe bringing in a pet or two, probably alleyway strays that Peter finds on patrol. A ring, not horrendously expensive but still undoubtedly perfect and special, and a wedding, small and wonderful.

Kids. God, he could have kids one day, and Peter could be the guy he has them with.

If Peter makes it out alive.

A shuddering breath wracks his frame, body trembling at the idea of Peter doing anything but. He’s so caught up in all of this, in these two conflicting trains of thought, that he doesn’t hear the door to the lab open, or the footsteps that cautiously approach. It isn’t until a gentle hand settles on his knee that he even realizes he’s no longer alone, and even then, he doesn’t lift his head until he hears a shaky, “Harley?”

It isn’t Tony, or Rhodey, or Sam, or Stephen—it isn’t anyone that Harley would have expected to be the one to come in here right now—but, when Harley looks up, bleary and bloodshot eyes widening a bit, he isn’t all that surprised.

Harry is kneeling in front of his, looking a little bit worse for wear. There’s an abundance of scrapes and bruises scattered about his face, the knuckles on the hand resting on Harley’s knee busted open and an angry looking red. He’s got on the light grey sweatpants and the white cotton shirt that are stocked up in the Med Bay, but the clothes are all rumpled and askew. He looks tired, and heavy, and sad. But, when he sees Harley looking at him, he tries for a smile. “Hey. How you feeling, man?”

“Like shit,” Harley rasps, bring up a hand to scrub at the sticky dried tear tracks on his cheeks, only to freeze just before his hand can come in contact with his face, remembering the smears of dried blood coating his skin. His eyes water at the reminder, but he blinks it away, dropping his hand and clearing his throat. He eyes Harry, frowning. “What about you? Pete… he, uh—he said Norman was controlling you…?”

Huffing out something that’s a bit too hollow and bitter to really be a laugh, Harry nods, looking away with a smile that’s so twisted it looks more like a grimace. “Yeah,” he says. “I still don’t really know what it was, or how he did it, but—yeah. Natasha got me free of it, though, and she said, uh—she has a sister, I guess, who went through the whole… mind control, or whatever the hell that was, so she’s gonna get ahold of her and have her—I don’t know, visit, or something? I think Nat just wants me to talk to someone who knows what it feels like. But…”

He trails off, and Harley—Harley sees, suddenly, how stricken and haunted Harry truly looks.

“But I don’t want to talk about it,” he decidedly says a moment later, eyes downcast. “Not yet. Or ever, really. I mean, how do you even try to talk about the fact that your own father just used some kind of mind control to force you into trying to kill your own best friend, right?”

The way that Harley’s stomach twists and turns on itself makes him swallow back bile. “Is he…”

Harry glances back up at Harley, one side of his lips twitching up. “He’ll make it.” The barely there smile fades into a grimace, and he looks back down. “No thanks to me, of course.”

“I…” Harley isn’t sure what he wants to start with—the relief of knowing that Peter is going to pull through, the irrational anger within him that makes him want to blame Harry for it, the logical majority of him knowing that Harry isn’t the one to blame, that Harry has been traumatized by what just happened and is as much a victim as Peter, if not more so. He settles on murmuring, “It’s not your fault.”

“My hands,” Harry counters. “I did it to him.”

Harley shakes his head, reaches out—pauses, when he sees the dried blood flaking off of his skin, but then—settles his hand on Harry’s shoulder anyway. “Your dad did it,” he corrects. “He used you like a puppet, and that isn’t on you. Peter won’t blame you. I don’t, either.”

“You should,” Harry says bitterly. “I mean, Pete wanted us to tell you guys about it all—about my dad being Green Goblin, when we found out, but I—I was so stupid to think we could do it by ourselves, and so selfish, asking him to keep it between us, all because me and my fucking daddy issues decided it was better that way. Look at where it got us. Where it got him.”

“If you had any sort of idea,” Harley starts, “that anything like this could have happened, would you have made the same choices you made?”

Harry looks offended. “Of course not!”

Harley shrugs. “Then I don’t think you’re the bad guy here. Now, before either of us sinks deeper into our own little depressive spirals here, I think—I think I wanna go see him.”

But that’s not it, is it?

“Need to,” he corrects. “I need to see him.”

Though he still looks conflicted, Harry offers him a nod and gets to his feet, hand outstretched to help Harley stand. “Let’s go.”

—

There’s a lot of bandages, and bruises, and waxy pale skin. Harley falters in the door, taking the sight of it all in, and then steps forward, again, and again, until he’s falling into the chair situation by the head of the bed heavily.

“I, uh…” Harry trails off, still standing in the doorway. It’s hard for Harley to rip his eyes away and look over, but he does when he registers the waver in Harry’s voice, and finds that the guy is staring intently down at the floor with a furrow to his brows. “I can’t—I can’t be in here. I know you’re right, logically, that it isn’t really my fault, but I was—I remember causing… all of this, okay? Even if I wasn’t in control, I still remember, and I don’t think I can—y’know?”

Be in this room, Harley knows is what Harry’s trying to say. He can’t be here and see Peter like this, when he can so vividly remember his hands causing these wounds, control or no control. Harley swallows roughly and nods, just once. “Where are you gonna go, then? Because I don’t think being alone is good for you right now. Like… I don’t know. Call Flash, at least. He’ll rush over to keep you company and make sure you’re okay. I think you might need that.”

Harry’s eyes flicker up, barely glancing over Peter with a flinch before settling his gaze on Harley. “I will,” he assures. “I’ll call him.”

“I’m gonna ask Friday in twenty minutes if you have yet,” Harley warns. “And if you haven’t, I’m gettin’ ahold of him myself. Understood?”

A half hearted partially there smile punctuated by an eye roll. “Yeah, I got it, you mother hen.”

“Good,” Harley says, nodding.

Moments later, Harry is gone.

Harley turns, slowly but surely, to face Peter once again. It causes a pang in his chest, seeing his boyfriend so beaten down, attached to various machines and IV’s, all there to keep him stabilized, but he finds comfort in the rhythmic beeping that signifies every beat of Peter’s heart, reaches out to hold one of his hands in both of his own, careful and gentle and loving.

Because he loves him. Because Peter is everything, and Harley is in love with him.

“When you wake up, I’m gonna tell you,” Harley whispers, thumb lightly stroking over Peter’s bruised knuckles. “And I’m gonna tell you that I’m in this for the long haul, okay? And if you don’t feel the same, or just aren’t ready to say it back, then that’s okay, ‘cause I just wanna make sure you never get hurt like this without knowin’ how much you mean to me. Sound like a plan?”

Peter’s eyes move beneath his eyelids, his chest rising and falling, fingers flexing, just barely, against Harley’s palms.

Harley beams, eyes watering. “Yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “Definitely a plan.”

#my writing #parkner

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kimnjss · 4 years

Text

groupie love | jhs

⤑ series: groupie love

⤑ genre: angst, rapper!hoseok x youtuber!reader, idol au.

⤑ rating: pg13.

⤑ word count: 3.1K

⤑ warnings: unresolved problems with a very simple solution.

⤑ A/N: first, hi :( you guuys, there’s only one more update left until the end of this! (this was a mini series, idk if i said that) but oomg, i can’t believe it! im also a tad bit female sick (monthly) so my brain has been all over the place, so real sorry if this chapter follows that example :/ - either way, let me know what you think!! x

A full week had passed since you last spoke to Hoseok. To be completely honest, you had stopped being upset with him... all it really took was for Jimin to make you realize that you were being a tad bit irrational and should've given him a chance to speak. You couldn't see that at the moment, too wrapped in the thought of him leaving for six months right when things were starting to get good between the two of you.

A relationship barely started and now you were going to put it to the long-distance test? A test that many couples... who have been together longer than the two of you have, did not survive. No matter how much fun he thought it would be, going along with him wasn't an option either.

Joining him on tour meant abandoning your responsibilities here to trail behind some guy so he could achieve his dream. The fact that he even asked you to do something like that put a sour taste in your mouth... until you were quickly realizing that wasn't his intention at all.

In realizing that you were quickly seeing that you didn't know him as much as you thought you did. Relationship still so new, there were many things that were left in the dark when it came to each other's personalities and thought processes. So whisking off behind him on a tour... for six months... when you barely knew him?? definitely off the table.

Long-distance would have been your best bet because there was no way you were going to throw away the whole relationship. Hoseok was different from the other guys that approached you. He saw you in ways you had never imagined and made you feel comfortable being yourself... no way were you going to just give that up. You two haven't even got to the good part yet.

So, yeah you weren't mad at him anymore... stopped being mad at him literally a few hours after hanging up the call. Why then did a whole week pass since the two of you had last spoken? You had expected him to call you back after you cut the call short, he didn't. And at the moment you didn't want him to.

But when the anger was disappearing, you were kinda hoping he'd fall into the chase. Give you a call and try to calm you – not as you needed it. Good thing too, because it never came. Chopping it up to him being busy, you went to bed... hoping to wake up to a missed something from him. And when morning came, the only thing lighting up your screen were emails from past subscriptions you always ignored.

The entire day passed without contact and you hoped that maybe in this hour he would message you, call you... check-in to see if you were alright!? Nothing, absolutely nothing and you felt like you were going insane checking your phone every fifteen minutes.

Why not just contact him, right? That would be so much easier and save a bit of your sanity, but that's not how it was supposed to work. You were the one that was upset, therefore, he had to contact you and apologize that way you could tell him that it was okay and everything could go back to normal. That was how it should work, right? Right!?

Wrong.

To pile on to your many mistakes in the past seven days, you kept your dry phone stress from Jimin. Not intentionally, entirely... he was busy too (mostly with Yoongi) and it didn't really slide into conversation well. If you had told him sooner, he would've been able to explain to you why your theory was crazy and you should probably just call the man instead of waiting around for him to make the first move.

It wasn't until you two were hanging out and he was able to notice your frantic glance each time your phone lit up. “He probably thinks you need space,” Jimin told you, the idea never dawning on you... was Hoseok waiting for you to call him? Checking his phone every fifteen minutes as you had been? Because he thought it was you that was supposed to make the call?

So you called him, that night after Jimin was leaving. Hummed along to the dial tone as you waited to hear his soft voice on the other line. “Why are you calling?” It wasn't him, your heart sinking into the pits of your stomach at the sound of the woman's voice on the other line.

Maybe, he wasn't waiting for your call... maybe he had followed your anger charged advice to find a different groupie to take on tour with him. Maybe you didn't mean anything to him at all.

“Hello?” The woman repeated, growing impatient with your silence. Half a mind to hang up the phone and never talk to him again, but you needed answers. Needed to know who this lady was but refused to hear it from anyone but him.

“I need to talk to Hoseok,” You replied plainly.

“Obviously, this is his phone. What do you need?” Wow, this woman was rude. Did Hobi know that she was so sour? Surely, he couldn't be interested in someone with such a d-list personality, it didn't match his happy.

“Excuse me, but I-,” Your words were being cut off by the words overlapping yours, a breathless Joon speaking into the phone. “Yn!?” Namjoon was there too!? What? And breathless? Were they... all three of them!? “Where's Hoseok?” Ignoring the surprise in his tone when he first answered the tone. Your patience was wearing thin.

“Studio, he left his phone in the practice room. I'm walking there right now.” He let out a huff of breath and you heard some shuffling on the other end. “So... where you been? Haven't heard from you for a while,”

Maybe he was waiting for you to contact him first. If he hadn't been, surely his best friend wouldn't be asking you where you've been... right? “Yeah...” You reply lamely not knowing what else to say. Not really feeling like you owe Joon much of an explanation, especially if your boyfriend hadn't even received on yet.

There's more shuffling, a murmured conversation being had away from the phone so you can barely make out what they're saying – but you don't doubt that they're talking about you. A minute passes before the phone is being handed off and you're finally hearing Hoseok's voice.

“Hey,” He did not sound happy to hear from you. “You good?”

A little caught off guard you spare a moment to think over what he's asking you. Were you good? Had you been 'good' at all this week? Was it possible that you were so not good without hearing from him that just the sound of his voice instantly had-

“If you're good then...” He's trailing off, obviously impatient with your silence. Wouldn't be the first one today. It was like you couldn't find the right words, only now realizing that this was all your fault and you had no idea how to fix it.

“No, wait,” Your words are rushed with the fear that he's going to hang up the phone any second. “I...I should've called you. Like before now. But, I want to talk? Is it alright if we meet up to talk?” Maybe if you were able to see him in person, it would be easier to explain yourself... you always felt at ease when you were with him.

“I'm a bit busy right now but-,”

“Oh, right! Yeah, you probably have a whole bunch of things to do... I guess, then-” A laugh was slipping through his lips, a sound you had no idea you missed so much until this moment.

“-But, we can meet up tonight. I'll be done around here at like nine.” So sure he had decided that he didn't want to talk and was using being busy as an excuse... you really had to stop interrupting people. Something to work on. Your heart was fluttering though, at the thought of seeing him again. Being able to touch him, kiss him, talk to him, and see that bright smile on his face.

If you were able to make him smile... you had a lot of things to work through, but you were hopeful. “Okay, yeah. Tonight works, that's good.”

“Great, I gotta go... working, you know? But I'll stop by tonight.” You're agreeing, saying goodbye quickly before ending the call.

Not as horrible as you thought, you were going to get to see him and everything was going to work out. With a quick glance at the time, you were just now realizing that nine was only a few hours away. The need to speed clean your house, getting rid of the evidence of a week worth of moping as quickly as you can.

You tried to think of all you wanted to say as you cleaned, no idea where to even start... all you knew was you missed him and couldn't wait to see him again.

You tried to act natural, not put as much weight on seeing Hoseok again as you normally would. Wanted to act like you weren't nervous for his reaction, scared to tell him that you were sorry and the reason why... how childish he might think you after explaining you had ghosted him because you had been waiting for him to contact you first.

Even despite you wanting to keep your cool, that didn't stop you for getting ready for his arrival as if you were about to be whisked away on some magic date night. After a quick cleaning of your house, you spent the rest of the time waiting for him making sure that you looked good for him.

You had done your makeup the way you knew he liked, wore something that you were positive would grasp his attention. Your hair was even done to his liking, noting how he preferred when you wore it down more than anything. All of this, done in hopes that he'd be so mesmerized by you that he'd forget how stupid you've been acting for the past seven days. One could only hope.

It wasn't until there was a sharp knock at your front door that you were putting the finishing touches on your look. Might've even stayed in the mirror longer if it wasn't for him showing up at exactly 9:18.

With a deep breath, you're making your way to the front door. Hoseok stands on the other side, hands shoved in his pockets and teeth nibbling at his lower lip. Just seeing him and all you want to do is wrap your arms around him and pull him close, not realizing how much you had missed him until this moment.

His eyes are on you the moment you're pulling the door open, a small smile spreading on his lips. “Hi,” His voice is soft and you return his greeting before moving to let him in. He turns to watch you push the door closed and you feel the awkwardness begins to settle in your chest.

Were you supposed to talk first? Get out an apology before the time rattled on. How were you even supposed to start this? You knew exactly what you wanted to apologize for, wasting the little time the two of you had left with your petty thoughts. How were you to come out and say it, though? It was like the words were stuck in your throat.

“Look, so... before you say anything,” His voice was breaking you from your thoughts, eyes lifting to look in his direction. He looked nervous like the roles had been reversed. “I wanted to apologize to you... I wasn't thinking when I asked you to come along with me, you know? I just thought it would be fun, but obviously, I offended you with the offer... so I'm sorry,”

He was apologizing? He felt bad? There was nothing that he needed to apologize for and there he was because you had been too busy with your inner monologue to get on with your apology. Now you had this boy standing in front of you looking sheepish for no reason at all.

You had to fix this.

“No, you don't have to apologize, honestly. It bugged me at the moment, but only because I didn't properly think it over. I know why you asked... and I should've thought more about it instead of blowing up on you like that,” You took careful steps in his direction, taking your time with closing the space between the two of you.

There was confusion riddled in his features as if he couldn't understand why you were the one that needed to say sorry. He had been so focused on how he had made you felt, he didn't even take the time to think that you might've been in the wrong. The blame game wasn't something he liked to play.

“I'm also sorry for the way I ghosted you... I was ready to talk to you the day we got off of the phone but I had been waiting for you to contact me first... I know it's stupid, but I just felt like you should've? Since I was the one mad at you... I wanted you to check,” It sounded even more stupid when you were saying it out loud.

Embarrassed tinted your cheeks pink, but Hoseok didn't seem to notice. Even if he had, he was ignoring it. “You wanted me to call you?” You nodded, avoiding his gaze. No doubt he was pinning you with the same furrowed brow look Jimin had given you when you first told him.

You're caught off by the laugh that leaves his lips. Gaze lifting to find him shaking his head, shoulders shaking as he lets out laughs. Now it's your turn to look confused, face contorted as you stare at him. “What's funny?” You're asking as he takes deep breaths to calm his laughter.

“I just... I had been waiting for you to call me. Wanted to give you space or whatever and figured you'd call when you weren't mad anymore... you weren't even mad to begin with, though? That's hilarious to me.” You didn't get it, but he was smiling that pretty smile of his so you had no choice but to agree. His laughter is slowly dying down and he's looking at you, reaching out to grasp your hand. “Come here,”

Hoseok easily pulls you into his chest, arms wrapping around you in a warm hug. He tried to ignore it, but in the week that he couldn't see you – he had realized how much you started to mean to him. Simple things like holding you close, he was yearning for and not much could make up for it.

“This fight was stupid,” He's declaring, leaning back so he could get a good look at your face. His hand lifts to push the hair from your forehead, pressing his lips against it afterward. “I'm leaving soon... we shouldn't waste time like this,”

Arms lifting to wrap around his waist, you're nodding your head, cheek resting against his chest. “God, I missed you so much...” He's trailing off, fingers toying with the ends of your hair.

You had missed him too, and you tell him. Not being able to mask the sadness in your voice. A whole week passed without seeing each other and you were like this. Would you be able to survive six whole months without him? It hadn't even been long, but he had become such a big part of your life.

“I think I'm gonna miss you too much when you leave...” He's pulling back at the sound of your words, nodding his head as his hand cradle your face. Hoseok stands there looking at you for a while, taking in your sad eyes and tiny pout. The look squeezing his heart but only making him that much more determined to make things work for you.

“Be my girlfriend,” The words tumble from his lips so smoothly, you're not even sure you hear him right. He's continuing before you have a chance to answer. “I like you a lot, Yn. And I know the next six months are going to be hard... but I think they might be a little easier if I know I have my girlfriend waiting up for me, don't you think?” He's smiling big and you're sure yours matches his.

Girlfriend. Not fuck buddy. Sidepiece. Groupie. Hoseok's girlfriend. Which came with so much more. Pushed all your insecurities away, solidified things. Just a label, but it came with such security, something that you had no idea you needed so much until you were entering this situation-ship with this man.

“I'd love to be your girlfriend,” You were grinning hard now, it is covered by his soft lips. His large hands slipping into your hand, tangling in the loose strands as he held your lips to his. Kissing you softly and slowly, as if you two had all the time in the world to enjoy each other.

You really wished you did.

He's pulling away all too quickly, but not before leaning down once more to press a gentle peck to your lips. “Things are going to be really hectic these past few days... but we'll make it work.” He sounded hopeful, you were too. “And I cleared my schedule for tomorrow... might set us back, but I wanted to spend the night with you.”

Despite having zero knowledge of how this conversation would go, Hoseok held a lot of faith in you... in your blossoming relationship. Felt like things would work out for you if the two of you made sure to work together on things. It would be a bit of a learning process for you, he could tell but he was willing to work at it with you.

“I'd really like that,” You say, leaning up on your toes to press your lips back onto his. Ready to make the most of tonight, no matter what you did. Just wanted to be with him and make up for lost time.

Stock up on all the smiles, the hugs, the kisses that you could because in a few weeks. Your six-month challenge would be starting, you needed to memorize what his lips felt like while you still could. Ready to cherish every moment until he was getting on that plane.

– he’s ½ of the famous rap duo, the 94′s. when stumbling upon a pretty youtuber, he’s quick to decide he wants to have her. but one night with her just doesn’t seem like enough.

⬿ masterlist ⤳

taglist: @randomkoalablog @smoljams @dee-ehn @angjeon @moarmynation @diminieshoe @butterflylion @withlovestudyblr @uxwi @hazefilter @honeyoongles @flantasticpr @ratking101 @jinhitwhore @thisistrashperson @hehehehahahohohuhu @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hellotherehoneybee @bangtansonyeondayyyum @okaysoplshelpme @rather-not-sayy @betysotelo18 @bluefaeriefury @tae165 @kookiesjoonies @bangtansbun @koostime @justastupidnick @ashleyjoyx @kooinluv @alpaca1612 @sw33tnight @taefect94 @houseofarmanto @flantasticpr @amoreguk @kim-ji-hyeons-world @mochibabycakes @beeeb05 @tommasauras @diorhobii @kimsouthjoon @korkanswers @samros95 @soulstaes @masterpiecejoonie @melonmochi @aizuwusho @marifujioka @elliemeetsevil @thesunisup-theskyisblue @thecityrain @alterlovess @leovaldezisfire @pastelpinksunflower @xctvme @itsrapmonstanotdancemonsta

A/N: timestamps are important throughout the fic!! if you want to be added to the taglist, send me an ask! also if you asked to be on the taglist and aren’t on there, it’s because tumblr sometimes doesn’t let me tag ppl for some reason.

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vaguely-concerned · 3 years

Text

The Mandalorian Chapter 15 reactions; *nobby nobbs voice* ‘s all gone a bit percychological, sir

- so from both chapter 6 and now this: rick famuyiwa is incredible at portraying prolonged discomfort and tension (and also at getting din’s endless love for that baby across through the stress of being separated from him. this is the very first episode with no baby in it at all, isn’t it? wow that’s a heartbreaking milestone to reach im crying)

I liked this episode SO MUCH but I had to pause it pretty often and take a breather because it all made me so viscerally uncomfortable on din’s behalf -- not just the armour and having to take the helmet off and be seen for the (almost, ilu IG-11) first time in decades, people keep touching him in this episode when he clearly doesn’t want them to but can’t stop it and it makes me want to claw my own skin off in sympathy, it’s so awful. that’s really neat film making to manage to keep that tension steady almost all the way through!!!

honestly this episode felt a little bit like psychological horror, with the cheering storm troopers and din in the wrong armour and clearly not digging it and there’s the palpable absence of baby and that ever present dread of being Perceived when you’re not ready for it; everything’s turned upside down from how it should be. and it’s playing with that discomfort both in the main character and in us, the audience, in having the familiar be made unfamiliar and also introducing these questions that shake up everything (that feeling you get of ‘but... if it’s not the helmet, and not the armour, but there’s his face, but we’ve only seen that face once before so it’s still basically new to us, is this... is this still him. is this still Dad’ (oooh I wonder if we’re... sort of getting some of the ??? the baby would be feeling about it too?) we’ve all imprinted on that t-shaped visor like little baby birds, and this was a very clever episode to break us out of that and start to really get used to the thought of him having several faces that are real simultaneously, in a way, and not just a voice. it’s all very smart and interesting and I’m sure I’ll have a lot of incoherent thoughts about this in the weeks to come lol)

- the actual reason din can’t take off the helmet is that if people were able to see his wide confused puppy eyes they would no longer find it in themselves to send him on long arduous side missions and would help him immediately just so he’d feel better, and that would rob us of like 80% of the content for this show

mayfeld in this episode: clearly a casualty of this. he literally sees one glimpse of the vulnerability there and then within five seconds goes on to materialize a few redeeming character traits after being a complete jackass for an episode and a half. (I mean. he was 100% still an imperial so I’m a bit ‘hm.’ about how easily especially cara let him off the hook, but with the way it was set up I guess it would have been quite shitty of them to just throw him back in prison so I mean I GUESS. I would be endlessly grateful someone got my awkward bff out of there alive and well too I suppose)

- I actually think din’s sense/integrity of self has gotten so much stronger and more resilient (though probably still quite fragile pls handle with care precious cargo within); if this had happened in the first season I think it might honestly just have killed him (and if it weren’t for IG-11 it probably would have lol)

- can you beLIEVE din is so bad at lying that they literally should plan for contingencies over it fjkasdlhfskajdhfsdj

- very grateful for the scene with the spear throw that’s basically there to reassure us ‘uh-huh, he absolutely knows how to use it, don’t worry about that part at least’

I want to make a whole post about that fight scene, though, it’s just so GOOD! there’s so much storytelling and characterization in it! even out of the armour din has some real hand to hand MOVES!! he clearly came out of that aching all over, he can barely get back in his seat!!!

- so what I’m mainly taking away from this is that din absolutely cuts his own hair and you know what? he does a good job considering the conditions he has to work under, I love him

I still find it so goddamn darling that he meticulously maintains that little mustache/stubble combo under there even when there’s every reason to believe no one will ever see it

I suppose we can also gather that he did not ask cobb about whatever insane feat of magic he’s come up with to avoid helmet hair, but I don’t care looking a bit frazzled and tousled is exactly right for him (he’s so put together when he’s in the armour and a MESS when he’s out of it and I l o v e it)

- boba fett is honestly so fucking hot in this I don’t know what to do with myself haha. he’s so CALM and CALCULATED and COLLECTED in his newly painted armour and he’s GOT THIS and he made that ‘I’ve got one of those faces. one of jango’s many, many, many faces’ joke and he’s so thicc now, he looks like he could easily lift me over his head with one hand and he’s just quietly steady and undramatically supportive and sdalfhsdjhfsa

- ...din does know who the clone troopers were, right. I mean of course he does. he has to. but does he though. I’m sure he does and just wasn’t thinking.

- no matter how stressful it was I’m still really grateful that in the end taking the helmet off was something din got to do himself -- it’s under some duress, but it’s still his choice and for the sake of the baby, and almost in two more manageable steps between putting on the storm trooper gear for a different helmet before taking it off altogether. it’s not something done to him by gideon, for example, that would be. so much yuckier and worse. he still has that control and agency intact, even if it’s been tested really hard, and now gideon doing that doesn’t hold the exact same nightmarish power anymore because there’s already a little space opened in din’s mind for different things it can mean, if you see what I mean. I’m not sure I see what I mean actually I just have a lot of feelings haha. so I guess thank you mayfeld for being decent about it and helping him towards that realization that he can still be himself outside these really really inflexible structures he’s set up around himself for like. stability and keeping himself upright for a really long time, and that even someone halfway decent won’t disrespect the boundaries he still has about it at any given moment. man there’s a lot in this episode isn’t there

- the sigh din gave when he saw even more pirates coming and knew he had to get back up... never has a single moment in cinema better captured how I feel about being alive. most relatable man in the world din djarin

- it was really cruel of them to make me listen to din’s dead bleak voice say ‘the child is gone’ again, it wrecks my heart every goddamn time

- again... I wish carano wasn’t Like That in real life because the cara & fennec scenes should have been everything I could ever dream. ah well fennec was still wonderful and if I just allow myself to think in-universe for a few seconds it was really touching that din would entrust cara with his entire armour, that’s some prime BrOTP energy right there

I love that we got two female characters who were just allies and working together, no competition or nothin’. listen the bar is low but it’s nice to see something actually leap gracefully over it as well lol

- this was one of those with some pretty big open plot holes (why, exactly, would a scan of a completely unknown face be helpful to get into this classified system lol), but a) I don’t care, the emotional storyline was so sound it doesn’t really matter and b) eh handwave handwave let’s say mayfeld programmed that little stick with the good shit and overrode the code saying there needed to be an identity match within the system, it’s all fine

- I know I joke a lot about this but din really is one of the most relatable characters I’ve ever had. just watching him struggle with eye contact and going pretty much nonverbal under enough stress is like. wow a bit close to home there could we, perhaps, nOT?? (honestly though these are trauma/anxiety things I really don’t see portrayed a lot, especially in protagonists, it’s so odd but healing to see it in a character I love and who’s EXTREMELY competent in many other settings)

- din repeating gideon’s speech back to him word for word (except for the crucial detail that he calls grogu ‘him’ instead of ‘it’ 😭😭😭) and saying nothing else is truly Everything. I’ve said some stuff about din’s deliberate and thoughtful relationship to language in the past and this is such an amazing example of it; he’s remembered that pitch perfect all this time, he’s kept it around in his head and mulled it over and then redeployed it to change the meaning of it completely from dehumanization to love. can you. can you even imagine. and it’s yet another example of his hilarious wonderful petty streak and I can never get enough of it fasjhdfkjalhs

- din always noticing the children first and foremost Y_______Y (the kids running by is the only thing you see him sort of acknowledge when he’s walking into the covert in season 1 too)

- please... please I just need him to be able to hold that baby against his chest all safe and sound and okay again I can’t it’s........ hh

NO SEASON END CLIFF HANGER ON THIS I AM B E G G I N G YOU

- I would be having some thoughts about how much space there actually is on slave 1 and what that might mean (do not kill boba again please don’t kill him again), but honestly there’s only ‘GET BABY’ hours in here now, I can’t speculate about anything

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian meta #this is an episode in the 'wow that was awesome but I need to go lie down in a quiet room for a while afterwards' tradition lol

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whosaskingwrites · 3 years

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The Sound Of Love (Tsukishima x Reader)

A/N: Um I don't like this one as much as the others but I did my best. It honestly took forever cause I didn't want to write it and I had no idea what song to use but I eventually decided so here we are.

WARNINGS: angst

Date: Saturday November 7th, 2020

Details: 5.3 pages 2,000 words

Theme: Musicalia- The victim will hear a song constantly playing in their head until it drives them insane. The person of affection will only hear the music when they are around the victim.

Angst Masterlist

Clair De Lune

A simple, beautiful piano melody that had been repeating in my head for weeks. There was never a reprieve from the beautifully haunting melody. My mind followed the sound like a moth to a flame and deteriorated the closer it got to the music.

No amount of holding my hands over my ears stopped it. It had become a part of me like the backround music in a video game or movie. However this wasn't a video game or a movie this was real. Every day was the same never a rest I couldn't even sleep some nights.

This was my last week at Karasuno before I was put in the hospital. My mind was too far gone to stay out I couldn't really hear anything anymore to distracted by the music and of course I hummed it on occasion. Everyone in my classes knew I had it...Musicalia but they didn't know who caused it.

Monday

I walked to class with a sigh Yamaguchi was following and as we walked I heard a gentle piano melody that got louder. I spotted a familiar H/c haired girl fast walking past me like she'd done since I pushed her away. Yamaguchi followed my eyesight and the music faded the further away she got "you should apologize you know. This week is her last at Karasuno," I blinked 'her last week?' I thought "Shut up Yamaguchi," I said keeping my emotions off my face "Sorry Tsukki," I continued watching the S/c skinned female rush off down the hall.

Tuesday

I was walking up to the roof ready to reject another girl. Why they felt the need to confess to me of all people id never understand. As I rounded the corner someone ran into me and with a short shriek they fell. I was about to say something when I noticed who it was...Y/n she looked paler than I remembered and eye bags were prevalent on her face. I heard the piano again it was louder than ever.

"Do you need to listen to music that loud?" I asked though it was harsher than intended. Her eyes widened and I held back a frown as I saw she was afraid. "S-sorry," she stood up quickly and ran off down the hall the music fading the further she got and I watched 'why was she afraid of me?' My eyes caught something on the floor which I turned to. Picking it up I realized it was a simple gold bracelet with a dinosaur charm on it.

"This is...," It was the bracelet id given her three years ago on her birthday. It was still in perfect condition looking like it did on the day I'd given it to her and it caused a small smile to pull at my lips as I pocketed the familiar bracelet.

Wednesday

Everytime I spotted the e/c eyed female in the hallway and approached her she would turn and run the music following her. Nobody ever seemed bothered by the piano it was almost like they didn't hear it and Y/n was never wearing headphones when it was playing. "Does she ever stop listening to that song?" I mumbled to myself as she ran away yet again.

"What song?" Yamaguchi asked next to me I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at him. "What do you mean what song? That damn piano music she's always listening to it's annoying," I said and Yamaguchi’s eyes widened "Tsukki...She's not listening to any music...," He stated.

I blinked as I processed what that meant "No ive heard it-," Yamaguchi cut me off before I could continue he had a sad look in his eyes and as he spoke I realized why. "She's got Musicalia Tsukki...," He whispered as he looked at me. "She...She what?" I asked. "She's got Musicalia and if you can hear it that means...," my own eyes widened as I realized what he was implying. "Oh...,"

Thursday

Cornering someone who was avoiding you was much more difficult than you'd think. Everytime I ended up even in the same room as her she ran before I could even get near her. "Yamaguchi," I stated causing him to jump. "Yeah?" He nervously asked. "Can you convince Y/n to meet you on the roof?" I asked. He didn't ask any questions he just nodded mumbling a quiet yeah as the teacher walked in the room.

I stood on the roof looking out towards the gym. I heard footsteps come around the corner and stop before they slowly started backing away. "Can you stop running? I need to talk to you," I said. The footsteps stopped and I turned around. Y/n stood a few feet away nervously shuffling on her feet.

"When were you gonna tell me?" I asked and she sighed "Preferably never," She answered and I furrowed my eyebrows. "Never? This could kill you!" I took a step toward her while she took one back "So what?" She spit bitterly rasing her head up to glare. "So what? So everything!" I shouted.

"So everything? You dont even fucking like me! You made that pretty clear last year!" She yelled back. She was referencing an argument that I barely remembered and that she hadn't forgotten. "Do you even know what its like to have your heart crushed in seconds!?" She screamed. "You still should have told me you have Musicalia!" I glared back.

She just gave me a bitter smile "I suppose my dear this was how it was meant to be," she stretched her arms out as she spoke and tears dripped down her face at a slow pace. "You dying isn't how it's supposed to be!" She only shook her head in response. I stuck my hand in my pocket and pulled out the bracelet. "Here...just take this back," I said holding it out. She walked forward and I heard that gentle and haunting music get louder.

She stopped closing my hand around the bracelet and leaning up to press a kiss against my cheek. "Keep it I won't have a use for it much longer," she mumbled before turning and walking off. "Y/n!" She stopped but didn't turn around and I continued speaking. "I love you," she sighed and turned her head. The sunset cast her in an ethereal glow and sparkled off the remaining tears on her face.

She gave a sad, watery smile in response. "No you don't Tsukki. If you did...You would have come back to me a lot sooner," she turned and left I knew she was right but god it hurt to hear her say that. My hand was still tightly closed around the bracelet the metal uncomfortably warm against my skin as she walked away from me.

Friday

She avoided me even more. I never saw her but I heard the music following around on occasion. After yesterday I had looked for the melody finally hearing it long enough to search for it. The results had told me the song was Clair De Lune I should have known. It was Y/n's favorite song though I doubted she liked it now.

I had tried to find her when I heard the music but even if I followed it I never found her. I was walking toward my locker keeping an ear out for that melody. As I opened the locker a f/c envelope fell out as I picked it up I noticed it was sealed with a gold wax stamp. Flipping it over my name was written on the front in flowing cursive. I put it away in my bag before heading to practice.

I flipped the envelope around in my hand staring at it before sighing. I pulled open the envelope and slipped the contents out. The first was a photo of me, Y/n, and Yamaguchi we were standing in the park in the photo. Y/n and Yamaguchi had their arms over eachothers shoulders while I stood in the background glaring towards the camera.

The other thing was a letter that I was hesitant to flip open. I knew the letter was from Y/n but I for the first time felt afraid on what she had to say. Sighing I opened the letter ready to read it.

Dear Kei,

It's been awhile hasn't it? Though That's what happens after fights. You give each other time to calm down and then you come back. Only this time...There is no coming back. You already know I have Musicalia and I'm sure you know I love you. It's weird to write that to someone you know doesn't love you.

Don't lie either. You don't love me the way I love you. You may think you do but if you had we would have been friends again by now. But you were perfectly content with not having me in your life so I know you'll be fine when I'm actually gone.

That's the issue isn't it? I'll be gone soon really, truly...gone. I'm not afraid knowing my death is approaching im...content and at peace with it. My death won't be glorious. I'm not going out with a bang. Or any final inspirational words. I'll go quietly in my sleep hopefully. Sleep however is hard when there's music constantly playing on loop in your head.

When I'm gone Kei...Will you visit me? Tell me about your day or the volleyball team! Yamaguchi told me about the team you should go easier on them. You should also learn from them you know? Anyways if you ever can't make it to me...Play Clair De Lune and I'll go to you! I'll listen to you talk at your place instead of you coming to mine!

I'm sure you know by now that this is my goodbye letter. Don't act so suprised of course I want to say goodbye to you. You're important to me you should know that. I've written this for awhile but I wanted it to be a good final goodbye since its immortalized forever in a letter. If you share this with anyone I'll kill you by the way. Even in death I still have a reputation. Anyway...

Goodbye Kei

I love you

—Y/n L/n

A month had passed since she said goodbye I moved forward even though it hurt to not see her around school. It almost felt like she moved but that imagine was ruined whenever I visited her grave. "Hey Tsukki I didn't know you liked dinosaurs!" I sighed in irritation my eyes flicking towards Kuroo who was pointing at my wrist.

"Wow that's cool!" Bokuto joined in and my eyes drifted to the golden bracelet around my wrist. "It's not mine," I stated drinking my water. "Whos is it?" Akaashi asked and I sighed again. "My friend Y/n’s...She's gone now and I'd rather not talk about it," I said standing up and heading back to the net. None of them said anything more about it and I was grateful for that.

Later that night I closed my eyes and played the song that I had grown very familiar with. It was quiet except for the soft melody playing through my headphones. While my eyes were closed I felt the familiar pressure on my body like someone was laying on my chest. If I listened through my headphones close enough I could almost hear her soft voice humming the song.

I knew in my brain it was impossible but for now I let my heart believe that it was her. I talked quietly about anything and everything that came to mind. The team was sleeping so I knew I could talk freely most of them slept like they were in a coma. I sighed as I reached the end of my story before I spoke once more.

"I miss you Y/n,"

————————————————————————

TAGLIST: @wonhomarshmallow

#haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#whosaskingangst #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima angst

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

The Goode Case, 14/14 (Multi) - Juno

Chapter Summary: Jaida, Brita and Jackie try to plan for the three of them to go bowling. Of course, that might not work out quite as planned!

(A/N: So ….. this is the end of TGC! It’s the epilogue, and I wanted to give them all an ending, so here it is. I’ve been so blown away by the support I’ve received for this fic, even though it’s completely insane and no one asked for it! Thank you to everyone who has left me a like, kudos, comment, or just read it and enjoyed it. It really does mean the world! xo Juno)

Tuesday 14thNovember

7.09PM

Brita:Do u want to go bowling this Friday? Xx

Jackie:The three of us??

Jaida:I don’t think three is quite enough sis. Not for a good game. We’ll be done in half an hour!

Brita:LOL if that’s a hint then yes u can ask Jan xx

Jaida smiled to herself. If she hadn’t been thinking it before, she definitely was now. She was having a great time getting to know who Jan was, and what made her tick, these past ten days or so. Hearing Jan’s unbelievable singing voice at full pelt in Jan’s little Fiat 500. Playing around doing lay-ups at the basketball court and normally losing to Jan, even thought she was the shorter of the two. Getting their legs tangled in the sheets at the end of the day …

Oh yes. Jaida had enjoyed every minute.

Jackie:Ok, I don’t need to read minds to see how this will go……..

Jaida: lmao really? X

Brita:Enlighten us Jacqueline xx

Jackie:Obvs we three want to go

Jackie:Jai invites Jan

Jackie:Brita wants to invite a gf if Jai is inviting one

Jackie:So now Aiden is coming

Jackie:Aiden always brings Crystal

Jackie:Crystal always brings Gigi

Brita:Aiden isn’t my gf

Jaida:and Im Oprah

Jackie:LOL!

Brita:shush Jai xx

Brita:we just had a couple dates so far thats all xx

Jackie:Ok so I actually laughed

Jackie:Heidi & Nicky heard me

Jackie:So they invited themselves

Jaida:oh that’s cool no problem x

Jackie seemed to see more of Heidi than Jaida did right now. Jaida might have felt strange before, the thought of her friend and her colleague mingling, no careful divide in her mind; but that was fading fast. Nicky had started teaching Heidi some useful French, rather than just more swearing, and now they were organising for Nicky to come into Heidi’s kindergarten class with some basic French for the kids.

As for Brita … well, if there was one thing Jaida had learned about her through the Goode case, it was that she often had a slightly devious ulterior motive in these innocent suggestions. And although Jaida still didn’t feel as if she knew Aiden very well yet, she’d noticed that Brita had never spent more time daydreaming in the office; prompting a few pens being thrown at her by Jackie all last week.

Brita:How many is that? I suck at math lmao

Jackie:is that nine?

Jackie:one more to make it even??

Jaida: Dahlia, I said I would organise something with her

Brita: sis u cant invite Dahl without Rock xx

Jackie:Ok look

Jackie:We can’t have eleven

Jackie:That’s an even weirder number than 3!!

Jackie:Maybe we should stick to us 3

Jackie:No friends

Jackie:no gfs

Jackie:No psychics

Brita:no psychics? So we not going either?? LOL

“Hey, Jaida.” Widow came out of her room, waving to Jaida on the couch, as she walked past to the kitchen. Jaida gave her a smile and a wave back.

Widow was still walking a little slower than usual, but finally getting back into a routine. She’d flown back from KC on Sunday night, but even the week before that, she’d seemingly made some progress. She had even started coming to talk to Jaida, feeling a bit more comfortable sharing things with her.

Jaida was struck with inspiration.

Brita:also Jackie why cant u just type a message in one line Xx

Jaida:I got it, my housemate Widow to make it 12 x

Jackie: Who?

Brita:yeah u may not have met her yet

Brita:Jai I thought u said she doesn’t like big crowds xx

Jaida: something tells me things may change x

Friday 17thNovember

7.25PM

“Child, I still don’t get why it’s called football.” Jaida teased Jan, as they sat waiting for their turns to come back round. Heidi was lining up her shot in the distance, but neither Jaida nor Jan knew the scores at this moment. “They don’t even use their feet! They use their hands! And it’s not a ball! It’s an egg! Hand-egg!”

“Jai, if you insult my precious Patriots one more time, I’ll –“

“Jan! Focus!” Heidi was calling her. “Your shot, boo!”

“Be right back after I hit a strike!” Jan reached over to kiss Jaida gently on the lips.

“Oh, so you’re not coming back?” Jaida tutted, unable to stop the grin spreading across her face. Jan playfully slapped her arm and grinned back at her.

The aisles were only good for six people each, so they’d booked two beside each other, and it looked like couples’ night in the opposite lane. Brita’s impressive round of strikes and spares was almost matched by a few strikes from Crystal, all of which she claimed were flukes. She hadn’t stopped laughing all evening, clinging to Gigi, who smiled coolly and pushed her hair out of her eyes whenever Crystal did so. Gigi herself was making a respectable score behind the two of them, claiming to just have a magic touch.

Dahlia, however, kept sinking almost every ball into the drain and sulking as she did so, going into the sixth round with only seven points on the board. Aiden, whose twelve points were almost as bad, ended up insisting on the fences being raised after her third straight round of hitting nothing, prompting Rock to hit trick shots for the rest of the evening, bouncing her bowling balls between the fences and making her turns take twice as long.

It was Widow who came to sit in Jan’s empty seat, the mischievous glint in her eyes slowly returning as the days went on. Jaida returned her smile, and Widow reached and rubbed Jaida’s forearm.

“Thanks for inviting me, sis,” she muttered. “It’s – it’s a good night.”

When Jaida had asked, Widow had hesitated in coming out as part of a large group. Following Tori’s funeral the previous weekend, Widow had insisted on a quiet time all week. But the crowd brought her straight in, particularly Heidi and Brita, who she had already met. She even seemed to click with Jackie almost immediately, both of them shrieking with glee at discovering a mutual love of Overwatch and swapping Xbox names to link up later.

But Jackie and Widow were already competing. On the scoreboard in their lane, Widow was leading the team, but only by two points, with Jackie right behind her, almost matching every single strike. Jaida was enjoying seeing them show competitive sides that they rarely did, both of them playing up the competition by pointing menacingly at each other after each turn. Jaida, Jan, Heidi and Nicky were all lagging behind them, all in a cluster, but none of them minded; they were far too amused by Jackie and Widow to care.

Jaida looked at all their names altogether on the scoreboard, and the other names on the other lane. It still felt a little weird, but Jaida was actively trying to focus on it, and tell herself that it was all good. The separation she’d held onto for so long had crumbled, and here they all were – friends, colleagues, housemates, girlfriends – all in the same space.

And bringing her friends together, into one space in her life, made Jaida feel a lot more complete.

She grinned at Widow and turned to watch Jan, who was picking up every spare bowling ball and testing their weights, before commenting on the balls all being too big and settling on the lowest weight. Jackie, next to her, was giggling at her comment.

“You like them, now that you met them?”

“I hate to admit it, but yeah,” Widow chuckled. “They’re all really, uhm –“

“Exuberant? Energetic?”

“Loud,” Widow chuckled again. “I’m getting a headache. But – they’re all so nice as well.”

They were interrupted by a whoop of joy and a leap in the air; Jan had somehow managed a strike with her tiny ball and was twirling on the spot, her blonde hair spinning a whirlwind round her face and shoulders.

“Your girlfriend – Jan – is she your colleague as well?” Widow motioned to Jan.

“No, I met her through Brita.”

“And the three students? Sorry, I can’t remember their names.”

“I can’t discuss the case, but I met them through work.”

“And the girl with blue hair?”

“That’s Dahlia’s girlfriend, Rock.”

“Rock?” Widow repeated. “As in, rock solid? Rock ‘n’ roll?”

“Yeah,”

Widow’s eyes moved between them all on the opposite lane. Gigi was lazily twirling a finger through one of Crystal’s curls, while Crystal gazed enraptured at the scoreboard, for once still and silent; Gigi seeming to be the only person able to quieten her. Aiden, whose turn it was, held a bowling ball to her torso and was trying to keep a straight face as Brita, stood next to her, held another ball and was somewhat innocently demonstrating which fingers were best to use for the holes.

In their own lane, Jan and Jackie were calling to Nicky, whose turn it was; but Nicky was curled under Heidi’s arm in the booth next to them, her long legs swung over Heidi’s lap, holding her phone and scrolling down while they both stopped for a few seconds, chuckling at whatever was on the webpage they were going through.

Jaida smiled at Widow’s bemused expression. “You’ll get used to them.”

——

THE END

17 notes · View notes

theskyexists · 4 years

Text

ive bought harrow the ninth and am now attempting to reread act 1 so that i may understand it better

ianthe clearly proposes that Harrow not get herself killed trying to bring Gideon back - reading it over again. instead to take the future and somehow?? be really powerful together and forget about their cavaliers. but harrow says no

im once again struck with how offhand this book introduces the concept that the empire goes out to deliberately kill planets over a couple of generations

now im not sure....there also seems to be an implication that there’s no aliens - because they say only humanity has a soul - but client planets were said to rebel - i guess the human colonisers rebel against central solar system command sometimes? but then what enemy does the Cohort fight? possibly it’s just bigotry that they think aliens dont have a soul

but like - they find LIVING PLANETS and then - kill them slowly. to the extent that they need to move the entire population. WHAT? why do they do that??? just so they can do some bone tricks???!

what the fuk

so how did the planets get murdered again? and which solar system planets could really have been said to have had enough life to have a soul?? cos like, only one of them is really known for that

why did God give Harrow the choice to go back home TWICE if he was never going to let her?

once again, why mess with the Hand candidates if God was always gonna come for Cytherea? just to mess with him more?

yeah - harrow keeps hearing and saying ortus ninegad but the rest of the world remembers gideon.

Harrow truly is totally mentally shattered AND time is totally fucked up

but sometimes in the fake-ish timeline Harrow remembers but doesn’t remember Gideon - like how she notes that there were two womb-bearing members of the Ninth who were the right age...but only elaborates on herself

for some reason - Harrowhark remembers Ianthe’s arm ripped from her by Cytherea - but now it’s whole. for some reason

that letter is still so what the fuck

‘like you did the last time’ - hm harrowhark sewed Ianthe’s lips shut? how did she come by the power?

is ianthe - calling Harrowhark God?

throughout the first act, they keep referring to time, having too much time, or not mastering time, or not having enough time, ‘this time’ etc.

the eggs you gave me all died - that’s DIRECTED at Harrow, is my theory

ok but the planet revenants come after Lyctors and also God (- God became God when? at the Resurrection) before the Lyctors happened - God was still at Canaan House - despite the Revenants already coming right...

is Teacher criticising god and lyctors for leaving Canaan House lol?

ok so yeah Canaan House WAS part of a ‘last sacrifice’

ok so - Harrowhark is a little resurrection miracle. This implies that God killed a lot to resurrect the Houses.

wow God is being a very dad to Harrow

Blood of Eden - BOE - they turned their back on the solar system. now they hate necromancy. in other words - when the solar system died, God resurrected it - but before that point some humans had fled - lived. and they can see what absolute fuckin horror necromancy is ACTUALLY

so what im getting is...maybe...god resurrected humanity by killing the planets...?

i just realised that Ianthe has taken Gideon’s place as the smartass in the room - the counterweight to Harrow’s portentousness

what the fuck do augustine’s comments to Mercy mean???? why is she unloveable? why would he say that God doesn’t need her? and why is it obscene that Augstine calls God John? What is the dangerous game she’s playing? What was the foul implication??

‘Then that is your downfall’ OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Harrow BURN!!!

what i don’t get is - the Cohort is an army - when they land they die because they’re being killed by an enemy at the front - NOT in pure sacrifice for thanergy. so why does only the death of humans and planets produce thanergy. why is the death of the enemy not good enough? they don’t have fuckin souls?? they MUST be complex life. and doesn’t a planet produce a constant stream of thanergy? but i guess it’s not dying enough - generally its life maintains itself in ecosystems.....unless a fuckin lyctor ‘makes the juice flow’ i guess!

sometime in the next book there IS gonna be a ‘are we the baddies’ meme. muir loves memes and she stuck skulls on absolutely EVERYTHIGN. Like WHY THE FUCK would you colonise planets if you gotta kill them for it? LOL????

huh? augustine just said that they can’t use necromancy when in the river - but mercy mocked harrow for having hypothermia ? implying her fundamental failure was not being able to necro while in the river? Harrow’s inability was what was wrong partly right?? oh no ok it’s how Harrow tried to compensate for her body going lights out while in the river. alright. that was written confusingly

how and why is this a completely different story???

The Sleeper.......is Harrowhark? the suit is too close to what she was wearing killing the asteroid. and the sleeper is lying on ‘something’. oh they just straight up say it lololol

ortus got into trouble 19 years ago...hhmmmmm wasn’t Gideon 19??? huh? which is why Mercy started at Harrow’s peculiar YELLOW eyes that Harrow can’t see herself i think

‘i do things face to face’ ortus says after stabbing harrow. HUH? why go for a stab if decapitating would have done the job? just to give her a small chance to fight back? (face to face?)

why not tell God that ‘his’ attack dog is trying to kill you?

why does Ortus the First want me dead? ‘who?’ ---uh. has she forgotten him completely (time shit) or is she saying the wrong name? mercy wouldnt reply like that then right?

she told him and he’s like - oh well guess you gotta just get through repeated almost-successful attacks on your life. ???? THANKS GOD!!!

‘you, with your unfortunate memory for poetry’ HA! i love how we are reminded that she knew all the fuckin damn books nearly by heart which is insane!

Teacher suggests his dying at least three times a day?? hahaha what?.........................is this purely a meme reference. is that meme the mental image im supposed to have of Teacher??????????? is this trying to say that this meme was preserved in the amalgamation of human life that is Teacher?? oh my god....

no.....palamedus and camilla....did old Harrow really kill them.....

seems like all the murders were consensual maybe?

it’s probably too straightforward that Harrow created and alternate timeline and made for a Harrow Lyctor without Gideon dying and kicked her to the original? maybe she took Ianthe and Coronabeth with her bc she needed Ianthe’s help

is this Cytherea or Dulcinea? Pro seems real this time. why does Dulcie call Pal and Cam strands and cords?

did muir put in a fuckin secondary school S - muir’s just like - im gonna put in all the memes as a nod to ancient human culture

still no idea what the messages are that Harrow is getting

This Harrow is so goddamn sick. I mean she was sick before, but at least she had Gideon. Really do feel that that helped her. now she didn’t have that -- AND she’s getting slapped with trauma another five times

if ortus can undo the thanergy of her own bone then why not simply crumble HARROW into dust? cos there’s a core of thanergy fusion in her that he can’t undo?

FLKJDFKLJSDLFSD fucking IANTHE ‘Wow! Not how I imagined this happening, at all.’ FUCKIN HELL

Harrow with her fucking fucked up dramatic inner monologues about weakness and Ianthe comes in with this shit. she really is doing Gideon proud here.

Did love Harrow’s musings about how only a truly idiotically obedient Cavalier would be the only one to keep to a vow of silence. HAH! nice one muir

‘have you taken the time to rest lately?’ asks God, YOUR FUCKING SAINT IS TRYING TO KILL HER IN THE FUCKING BATH YOU IDIOT AHAHAHAHA

JEZUS FUCKING CHRIST - try and be normal Harrow! try and make some soup and read a book! Harrow: *does and then hyperventilates hidden under her bed after 86 hours of zero sleep*

she was trying to remember what cutlery did. why is this so goddamn funny hahahaa. this book has ONLY been Harrow being in extreme states of misery ALL THE TIME both mentally and physically to the point of death

GOD IS HAPPY THAT SHE MADE SOUP AND DOESNT EVEN FUCKIN NOTICE SHE’S NOT SLEPT FOR A WEEK SOMEHOW THIS IS THE MOST HILARIOUS SHIT

thats what you fucking GET you piece of shit god! you push a prodigy teen to the brink and she fuckin explodes your lyctor and feeds you her fuckin marrow. maybe you shouldn’t have ignored her goddamn fucking understandable distress

SHE FUCKIN HITS HIM WITH THE FUCKIN TRUTH what an IDIOT of a God. he truly doesn’t understand mortality anymore huh

I LOVE HOW MERCYMORN CONTINUES TO MAKE HARROW YOUNGER IN HER HEAD AHAHAHAHAHAHA she’s only nine years old!!!hahahaha

naturally God focuses on how - wait- actually harrow is truly an INSANE necromancer - INSANE

still no idea what the fuck is going on in the not-past

aww. ianthe’s scent soothes harrow now. begrudgingly of course.

i thought this was gonna be lovely angsty harrow/gideon but naturally that did not happen

harrow is comfortable! first time in the whole book! one moment of comfort!!!

‘love my twin, also murder’ tridentarius pffjlfjdljf

‘how i crave your honeyed words’ hah

wow this scene sure is weirdly sexual with these similes lol ‘as though she had shyly undressed for you’ ok there Harrow you about to chop her arm off calm it probably sex repulsed thirsty teen

i do love how....there is this theme again that’s everybody underestimating the main character - who is actually a prodigy. Gideon had that with the sword and Harrow also has it with being a Lyctor now

it’s so telling that these Saints would rather be shits to these babies than help Ianthe grow a new fuckin arm

i dont see why Ianthe can’t work off this bone construct which is her own stuff and put some flesh on it since SHES A FLESH NECRO?

Ianthe that’s super gay

wow muir really never delivers on full gay does she??? i dont mind but i think it’s so striking hahaa

how are Harrow and Ianthe still hung up on the Saint of Duty? i mean, if they dont have him against the RB they’re dead anyway

why is the First going through rain and ice?

Harrow haunted? naawwww

i cant help but like mercymorn though - she cares. it’s soured ages ago but she cares.

awww Harrow needs Ianthe to sleep

Ianthe constantly poking Harrow for her prudishness is so goddamn funny.

‘It’s the type of energy i wish to take into my future’ AHAHAHAHAHAAH IANTHE MY GOD

‘i always forget you were an honest to go nun ... and six years old to boot if you listen to mercymorn’ HAHAHAHAHAHA

‘you look good enough that im proud of my handiwork but not so good that i’ll be consumed with lust and ravish you over the nut bowl’ fpdfjsdfkjsd this is what harrow means with crude japery and yet....

mercymorn has started to call harrow three years old. i will NEVER tire of this gag

all of the blood of eden stuff happened in the past 25 years??? god was on the erebos, but he also remembers ortus kicking the commander out of an airlock? that was in the last 25 years??

Ianthe‘s carressing the nape of Harrow’s neck. hmmhm

its honestly super weird if you think about it for more than 10 seconds that theyre talking about their cavaliers whom they murdered (im still not sure if all consensually) ten thousand years ago (!) and how hot they were that just seems.....fucked up

Harrow is like WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! basically all the time but especially now. yep well that was to be expected i guess lololol

Harrow being painfully frozenly fascinated by (god having) sex and deeply repulsed is very Harrow

oh nooooo well that was a perfect kiss between them really

the funny thing about Harrow is that though she is so completely fucked up - just like Gideon - she is fundamentally a helper.

why wouldn’t Harrow have thought of blood wards! she knew he could only bleed thanergy! it;s the first thing i thought - just use not bone wards then!

ortus thinks anastasia is in Harrow - which makes me think - why does he think that’s possible?

mercymorn now calls Harrow a two-year-old. i am waiting for embryonic genius

so did they use the river to get to the planets theyre killing?

Harrow feels the peace and pleasure of a stroll through nature that she has come to kill

oh my god - Harrow somehow saved Cam and Pal is still attached to the mortal plane!!

Harrow helps Cam risking herself entirely just like that. yknow as she does

i wonder if Pal has realised that Harrow is not who he remembers

i think he realised once he realised haz mat suit was Harrow also...

ianthe xo’d harrow.....lol

im sad that original harrow is definitely dead.... :( loved her. guess gideon’s not coming back either. not sure how the second adept survived. she didn’t survive in the original timeline either. but she was ‘killed’ in the other - just like coronabeth..so that means soemthing

this whole ‘flashback’ stuff to Canaan House is Harrow being in the River the whole time. the cold temperatures, the blood, the creatures theyre fishing from the sea that apparently abominations

after all, we’ve just learned about river bubbles and a haz!harrow that can change their parameters.

all the people ‘dead’ she’d not spoken to much or at all beforehand. like they’re NOT real, in the River. the only one not like that is Dyas...

the fact that the narrative keeps calling Dulcie, Dulcie means she’s really Dulcie.

there’s giant organs falling from the ceiling. this is definitely the river

they talk about time AGAIN

the Body is the devil who let herself be used to complete the work of Teacher and the Lyctors in his mythology....hmm. and when they realised the price (AFTER? the work was done?) they wanted her dead but he buried her....SHE allowed them to become Lyctors?? I still don’t understand why the heck that was necessary

the king is dead, long live the king. hmmmm

Harrow comes onto a hallucination of the devil who was her first crush with the voice of her parental figures and the eyes of a love interest she can no longer remember - which is actually not precisely a hallucination probably - and gets summarily rejected lol OUCH (the Body didn’t mean it that way ofc)

Harrow is so repressed on every single front but definitely sexually

I love Mercy

so there is death beyond death. does everybody go into the river and become a mad horrid ghost? like - is that everybody’s fate? how awful

ok so God DID resurrect the planets also. ? but like. then why are there resurrection beasts?

what does resurrection mean? and who killed the planets in the first place?

BECOMING NONE HOUSE, LEFT GRIEF

oh.....my god.

ARE YOU AND IANTHE BEING SAFE!!?!?!?! HHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA

HIS BODYGUARD IS THE DEVIL??

so the destruction of Earth somehow made God? as though it was something that simply followed from it

A.L. was destroyed in the first assault? Of an RB

so the RB’s were happily running off in the other direction until they decided to fuck around and kill their mates to become immortal and powerful - then the RB’s turned around and came towards them - which meant leaving the planets God had resurrected forever.

what the fuck god??? hahahahaa

God always seems so likeable goddamn.

Harrow is such a dramatic bitch. Affection??? JUST KILL ME!!! KILL ME!! LET ME SMASH THE GLASS SO I CAN KNEEL IN IT AND BLEED ALL OVER THE FLOOR!!!!

Harrow goes into her fun kid's game of not dying to traps.

But she instantly calls him father. OH MY GOD

HE DOESNT BELIEVE HER!!!

'then that will be your downfall' - is what Harrow said to Augustine AND IT WILL BECOME TRUE FOR THEM ALL

to be dismissed like that where it hurts most - to have God Dad dismiss her only slip of comfort her only pillar of truth in this crazy old world

'nobody had watched you leave'

SOMEBODY HAD - I love all the deliberate references to Gideon

Temporal lobe!!!! Again the temporal lobe!!!

So why was it again that Harrow refused to be locked in with the Emperor?

So isn't God gonna check out Harrow's temporal lobe? He's just gonna let that mystery go to its death?

WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKK

Muir what the fuck??!!!!!!!!

Oh it was.....a hallucination?

Always love how this dips into genuine horror sometimes

What's weird is that Lyctors seem made for the task of going into the river and killing Resurrection Beasts - instead of the other way around.

So say - that the sword somehow holds Gideon's soul (we've just learned that that's possible from Pal and also Ortus trying to get Pent to summon his grandma by his sword) - does it not make sense that Harrow 'for some reason' stabbing Cytherea's corpse with it transferred it to her? Or maybe it's SOMEHOW Anastasia if Ortus was macking on her. But Ortus thought HARROW had/was Anastasia.

IANTHE WANTS TO MARRY HARROW - HAHAHAHAAHAHAHA

Every fucking chapter doesn't make things any clearer. This is worse than Gideon the ninth

Hello???? Am I reading a canon alternate universe roleswap au??? What the FUCK is going on. This is like - if they hadn't gassed the 200 and her parents instead adopted Gideon for her clear necromantic gifts which nobody noticed somehow the other time round

I do love how Aiglamene was the sole source of slight comfort in Gideon's life. And Crux was Harrow's - apparently in any sequence of events.

Harrow is tumbling through timelines. But how can you do that just by messing with the lobe?

WHAT!! WHAT!!!

Is this...is this what I think it is??? Is thi

The fanfic roots are STRONG in this one. In fact I believe I've READ this fanfiction

Harrow's temporal fever dream (in the river?) HAD HER (Decidedly Not) VYING FOR 'HER DIVINE HIGHNESS' hand, which is either the Body or Gideon or both lololol. Seeing as the previous had Gideon as the main unnamed titled character - I bet it's Gideon ahahaaga

A fucking. COFFEESHOP AU. OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDD

We've had roleswap, 'ball' au, and coffee shop au populated by the ghosts of the dead LOLOL,

I knew it!! I knew that they were ghosts and that they were in the river!!

Ok so but when did Harrow shoddily create the bubble? When she adjusted her memories at the start? When is this. Ah Harrow has the same thought hahaa

So the stage is a - she was building her memories while sleeping?

Why is that she cannot access her lyctorhood like this...

I just realised that Harrow's mind made the party food taste like SALT based on Ianthe's cooking!!!! Hahahaha

THE NARRATOR IS GIDEON. But it doesn't sound like Gideon though

There's more to the work than simply preserving Gideon's soul though. There are next steps that Harrow prepared for that Harrow doesn't know about yet

Who was the sleeper and why was it in Harrows riverscape of memories that she ACCIDENTALLY??? made

Ok she sounds like Gideon NOW

Gideon no it's not because she didn't want you! It's because she wanted you to live!!!!!

And she succeeded....your soul is INTACT in her body!!!! You're protecting her with full consciousness!! How the fuck. And why didn't that happen before when she went to the bubble?

Are the ghosts of the contestants happy that they got pulled out of the River briefly? Or were they so briefly in there they couldn't remember?

She returned them to the RIVER???? is that really such a kind fate????

Something has gone wrong in the River - yeah because why r all these ghosts going insane and stoppering it up like slib

Do love how Muir has found a way to give these characters more screentime

I actually said 'oof' when Harrow screamed at Ortus - oof that really is embarrassing. GodDAMN Ortus you stepping up with the emotional support!

I've EVEN read the damn fanfic in which they switched bodies. My god.

A. L. apparently is thought to wander about still. I think she's the body....I do believe she's the body. That's why the Lyctors are scared of her

She thought - what. Mercy is talking about blood of Eden's commander. What is going onnnnn still!!!! Mercy is the traitor I guess. But how is blood of Eden connected to the ninth house and the body?

Why is Mercy awake on the mithraeum and not in the River anyways?

Gideon.... And the commander were in cahoots? So did A. L. and Anastasia an the body and the commander all have the same eyes?????

What the fuck is going on indeed.

Cytherea seems to have had a plan B for getting revenge on the Emperor. Or something had a plan B with her corpse as the main weapon.

If guns are so effective against people why aren't they still used.

The messages are from the commander. I.e. Gideon's mother. I.e. Anastasia? We never explicitly did learn how she met her end no? Gideon was convinced that Anastasia had taken the baby. It just seems incongruous how the Emperor spent like 80 years on the Erebos and the Lyctors were faffing about - meanwhile there was this drama going on in the last half century?

I love Abigail Pent. Love that I got to see more of her.

I'd honestly forgot that Judith was alive by the end of all of that shit

The sleeper is -the sleeper is Gideon's mother. Also. She's haunted by her mother. SOMEHOW. what the fuck? They couldn't drag her spirit back from the river they said!

'you wizards never learn' there's a whole modern regular sci fi world and culture out there! Or maybe it's just a. L.

Is it? Or is it Anastasia? Or is it the commander? Or are they the same thing?

The sleeper wants Harrow's body. Somehow invaded it - probably from the river? - which means its Anastasia or the commander. Which means that whatevers possessing Cytherea is someone else.

In retrospect - Harrow's coldness to Ianthe talking about - to what her - seemed nonsense at the time - in the very first part - doesn't quite fit.

Oh my fucking GOD Gideon is fighting Ianthe for messing around with her fucking girlfriend - who is HARROW, who actually, Ianthe wants to marry.

They just went from ramping up to a serious fight to Gideon dropping Corona's name and suddenly they're like - ah we got more important priorities actually.

Augustine's first thought at thinking a.l./the body (?) is in Harrow is John - and the Second is Joy!(mercy?)

'How I was gonna have to take showers with all your clothes on.' fuckin Gideon hahahaha

Wonder if Ianthe truly believes what she's saying - that Harrow was trying to rid hersel of Gideon. It's preposterous. It's just hurtful talk.

GIDEON REALLY THOUGHT THAT LOOK TO MEAN THAT HARROW DIDNT LOVE HER??? THIS IS A CONSTANT BARRAGE OF ALL THE ANGSTY DRAMATIC SHIT IVE BEEN YEARNING FOR

Oh my fucking god Gideon calling Ianthe out for being in love with Harrow in the most iconic way ufsojdjdodnd 'she wants the D - the D stands for dead'

Crazy brain-mutilated Harrow sure made it seem that way I can tell ya that!!

Hahahahahaha Ianthe remembering Harrows prudish Ortus/Cytherea shit. Amazing

Aw Gideon really went and fell right into the cavalier/bone mistress shit huh. And trying to shield Harrow - well as noted before - very necessary because harrow has been having a godawful miserable time - mostly because of herself.

Gideon appreciating Ianthe's pun xD

Love how neither of them position themselves as the love of Harrows life but instead as inexorably attached to her by the sheer role they play in her life - they don't dare aspire to what they think they can't get.

Muir realises this is gonna end up as a Gideon/Harrow(/theBody)/Ianthe ship right?

Oh WOW THIS IS AMAZING. nonius the legendary nonius!!! Come to protect Harrow!!!

For some reason the Sleeper can manipulate the rules of this River bubble and doesn't seem surprised about it

If all her cavaliers were this excited for death, she was definitely the problem.lololol. somehow Harrow, you inspired undying loyalty in even a person that you treated abominably

Yeah Harrow you slowpoke. If the Sleeper can adjust the rules - so can you

If the sleeper was not Harrow's invention - but planted itself - then they're very lucky it got to the ghosts that weren't actually there - first.

So it was the commander....a portrait in a shuttle of blood of eden - can only be the commander. And redhaired? There are too many red haired people in this book!!

It's nice how all these ghosts got to have lasting impact from beyond the grave

NONIUS KNEW ORTUS/GIDEON?

Ok so ....there's the bed of the River with stoma. But there might also be the other side.

Did Harrow really not account for steps beyond her plan to mutilate her brain?

Is this book really gonna go: fuck you Gideon will die anyway ?????

But.wait. the sleeper had a two-hander. Where did that go???

I don't get it. If they go into the river - won't they also go insane?

SO NYAH!!!!!???

Ok but - what? The Commander ALSO -somehow - took over Cytherea's body?

'did the ten billion give you that too' I KNEW CANAAN HOUSE HELD EVEN GRUESOMER EXPERIMENTS AND SACRIFICES THAN LYCTORHOOD. God is made of ten billion souls. I think they killed humanity on earth to spare it 'slow inexorable apocalypse' and used the power to make the Empire from the resurrected. There was an extremely vague implication by Teacher to the amount of souls violated in Canaan house in the first book.

So God knows the commander went for the ninth house? Firstly, how. I don't understand how Anastasia fits in here!!! It would explain though how the commander

So the commander found the ninth house - and she died right? They tried to call her spirit but couldn't. But she became a revenant?

Ah. God THREW the bomb.

A fuckin wake me up inside joke jskdjskdnd

So Mercy and Augustine ( not Gideon ?) had all turned against God? And they were working with the commander to -... Make a baby????? And then evacuate the houses???? (For when God dies - there being a risk that Dominicus would go out I guess)

Make a baby/body to lever the one who lies in the tomb into....?

Love how the book foreshadowed Mercy and Augustine manipulating and lying to God - and turns out they did that on much bigger scale

They....meant to kill the baby to break the blood ward?

'The woman who I was pretty sure was my mother, wearing the body of the woman I'd had a crush on, who in turn had been wearing the identity of a woman she'd murdered -' KSNFKDJDKFJJFC

So why did they want this consistently characterised as kindly and humane god dead?

GIDEON THOUGHT IT WAS HIS!!!! But he called Wake Anastasia then????

They really are the same???

Oh my god I know what they're gonna say. Gideon is the daughter of God. WHICH HARROWS FUCKIN ROYALTY AU FEVER RIVER DREAM FUCKING FORESHADOWED HAAHAHAHAHHAA

Isn't it fucking ironic that God told Harrow that - HE WANTED HER TO BE HIS??? WHILE GIDEON HIS ACTUAL DAUGHTER WAS SPINNING INSIDE HER CHEST LIKE A LITTLE NUCLEAR FUSION REACTOR

They've been trying to kill him for more than 500 years???? Did mercymorn actually genuinely learn the extremely fine knowledge of the body for THIS purpose? How many thousands of years ago did they decide to kill god?

A fucking DAD JOKE

GIDEON REMEMBERING HOW SHE USED TO TELL HARROW HOW HER OTHER PARENT MIGHT BE THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN THE WORLD SO STOP PICKING ON HER

I am fucking DELIGHTED I AM SO GODDAMN OVERJOYED

It segues into a reminder of how shit their childhoods were and how their suffering had them lash out at each other endlessly and how it made Harrow suicidal and shit though - which is great

ALECTO'S EYES. THE A. FOR A. L.

A. L. The cavalier of God....but she walked. She had a body.

Ohhhhh. That's why they betrayed him. That age-old hurt. Ten thousand years old but still the bane of their existence, the seed of their madnesses. The loss of their cavaliers. Oh how did they manage to keep that from him?

I honestly thought - is Mercy saying she knows he killed humanity? But that's not what she couldn't have forgiven?

But why did he hide it? Why did he hide the perfect way? ('it would be easier' why???)

Ah. Yes. The expansion, why would the Emperor do that?

Uhhhhh. Couldn't Mercy have done that all along??????????????????????? Couldn't Mercy have killed God all along? That was both a trick and utterly sincere.

Augustine and Mercy were trying to do the right thing..... Mercy.... :'( Augustine was right. God is much less sentimental than he seems.

'im not even mad that you failed to either fix or put down Harrow' hm guess the constant kill quest HAD come from God after all. What a goddamn bitch of a man

What was the original plan? Unleash a. L. ? And then what? How would that help with the whole Dominicus going out problem?

Had God ever really thought to make up for all the bullshit he put his Lyctors through. He seems so affable and human but he's caused so much suffering. He's as good at manipulation at them - better!

The resurrection beast can't kill him, but he let his Lyctors die to them one by one anyway. So why??

Why are they punching each other in the River? They can use theorems right? God could blast Augustine to pieces same he did mercy?

Yes! It's true! Pyrrha and Gideon both exist in the same body - foreshadowed by his cavaliers build. There was something so fishy about it.

I love how Gideon has exactly the same response as me: what the fuck. Pyrrha??? Gideon??? What the fuck??? Why did they BOTH have an affair with their enemy??? So ok. Pyrrha stayed underground from Everybody for the thousand years. SOMEHOW their compartmentalisation let her pop up in his body regularly and not just when Gideon remembered her - because the hadn't fucked up his brain. But then how did THEY do that.

This absolutely galactic balsiness

The stoma thinks John is a resurrection beast. Might it be.....because he's..... A revenant. A 10 billion souled kinda- revenant ? A bit like.....Harrow is? Which is why he felt kin to her? Which is why he compared her creation to Resurrection?????I've really gotta reread those messages from commander wake.

A fucking jail for mother meme. Jail for one thousand years. Gideon how do you know this one????

I KNEW Ianthe would do that. Knew it. She doesn't want the system to die. Coronabeth is still out there. Well guess what - she's on the opposite side babe. Ok I realised that Gideon's mum apparently stuck to Gideon and then the sword? But also did Harrow manage to break the blood ward because of of her proximity to Gideon? Did Harrow uhhhh get put into a pocket in the river? But the emperor wasn't murdered!!! Fuckin chapters kept lying. They're on a hold planet. Finally - we meet the people. Alecto and Camilla and Corona? And Judith.? Did Alecto somehow do a time twisty around to come save Gideon at that moment in the river? Once again nothing much more is clear.

#my stuff #harrow the ninth #gtn #ninth

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1wishyouwould · 3 years

Text

Emptiness. That’s all there was. A shadow lay across Sam’s world, only briefly lit by fire. Then smoke descended again. He didn’t know how long it had been since his brother had died yet he knew, some how it had be 6 weeks 5 hours and 43 minutes since the world come undone around him. The silence wasn’t the worst part, the wrong noises were. The humming of off key metallic riffs and whispered curses still lingered in the empty bunker.

Walking the halls turned out to be the newest way to pass the time, a new game if that was what it could be called. Walk as far as possible, to fall on the floor, unable to bare the weight of a world, without his brother in it.

It took him weeks to be able to go in to his room again, but the smell of old beer was almost as bad as the blood he could never quite wash off his hands. So walk in he did heart in his stomach, and a miracle at his side. He walked. Because he had too. So when he found a box under his brothers bed, Sammy written across it in the block letters of a child. He was taken aback. The lock on the front was old yet it had been recently unlocked by the lack of dust surrounding the key hole.

Searching around the room led to nothing but old pornos, and half stale pizza slices. Until he looked up from grasping underneath the bed, at a confused looking mutt, with an oddly shaped tag dangling from its collar.

Sitting up, and festering for the dog to come closer, he carefully pulled the collar over miracles head. Attached was a generic dog tag, and a single key. “Always loved your mysteries” a choked sob came out of his mouth, muffled slightly by a hurriedly rubbing at his eyes.

Leaning against the end of the bed, he inspected the lock and key. A perfect match. Fitting the key in he turned, pausing only to shift in to a more comfortable position. The inside was filled with papers, nicknacks and assorted bullet casings. One letter sat on top of the rest, that seemed to be the most resent. It was signed to him in deans haphazard script and sealed with red wax. Opening the seal reveled a letter dated a few days before his brothers death. A last gift perhaps. - - - Hey Sammy you and I both know I’m shit at saying my words out loud, and heaven forbid I actually admit to like or care about something. But the thing is Sammy I do care about three things in this world. You, my baby, and Cas. But it will always be you first, thats why I made this box Sammy, its for you my last gift to you. If i’m dead. And we both know id never let you read this if I was alive, I want you to know a few things.

First: Im waiting for you Sammy no matter where I am, I’m waiting for you. Cause your my stupid ass little brother and I’ll always need you. I cant be happy anywhere with out you in it.

Second: Take care of yourself, I know you. You learned one of my worst character flaws “everything is my fault” Its not Sammy I don’t care how I went it would never be your fault. Find Eileen stop hunting for a bit and just live. Just live Sammy. Be a human and get stuck in grocery lines for insane amounts of time or drive your kid to school. Just don’t name him John and your all good.

Third: cut your hair you look like a damn Sasquatch.

I don't know if I will have the time to write any more letters. And I’ve rewritten this letter so many times. So since this is the last one I wrote before my death then here’s what’s just happened. Cas is gone. The empty came for him. Bobby, Charlie and even the damn miracle dog, their all gone. As I sit here writing to you Lucifer and Michel are having th staring contest to end all staring contests. Because I might be too busy trying to save the world again, from God.

So, if this does end up being the last letter, I just want you to know that I was in a bad place before I started hunting with you. And you helped me. You helped me Sammy, we’ve lost so much since I walked in your door all those years ago. Even if you didn't know what I was talking about. You in your weird striped pant thingy, and a girlfriend. Being with you made me not feel alone.

Because I know there are people who will say our lives didn’t happen, tell those sons of bitches how awesome I was. And there are people who will forget what it’s like to be normal when they get dragged along on the journey of being a hunter. I know our lives will be stories someday. And our pictures will become old photographs.

And you’ll be somebody's dad, because I can’t imagine a time where I die without saving you. But right now, these moments are not stories. These are our lives, our crazy demon, angel, monster filled lives. This is happening. We’re here. And as I look at this world so beautiful. And so broken. But it was Home. It was our Home. You, me, jack and that wonderful angel, following each other from heaven to hell, and everywhere and everything in-between.

And in this moment, standing against God himself, with little to no chance to survive but sheer dumb Winchester logic and luck. I would swear on my own soul.

We are infinite.

So get up off your ass, we’ll see each other again. Death hasn’t ever been able to keep us apart, even if there’s a new reaper I doubt that will change. But don’t worry I’ve got my hand full waiting for you. And I for one cant wait to see Kevin, and Charlie’s faces.

And besides I’ve got an Angel to run after.

Love your brother, Dean

- - -

After The tears slowed down long enough to read the letter once, he read it again. And again. Until the words could be read when he closed his eyes. Picking himself up, and off the floor, he walked towards the door, pulling on one of deans larger jackets on. Making his way slowly through the bunker, the dog at his heels, a silent companion.

Packing himself in to the drivers seat of the impala. He drove. Past hills and mountains, through valleys and towns. The same old mixtapes playing on repeat. And so the stories rose up. The tale of a man, searching for a woman. Who would stop at nothing to find her.

Hunters gathered around fires, in kitchens, and anywhere more than three could sit long enough to hear the tale of the Winchester brothers. The boys not even death could separate. The avenging angel, who would always come when called. And if you were lucky enough to find someone who knew them you could count yourself lucky, as not many that did lived to tell their tale.

It took time. Several thousand contacts. And mile after mile of the same road. But find her, he did. In an old run down dinner outside Chesapeake she waited. Together, tears shed for the ones lost along the way, old pains were dulled and almost forgotten. Except green eyes. Those would forever remain. Burned like a hand print in Sam's mind.

They settled down, and for once Sam got to be on the other end of the job. Instead of protecting people with guns and swords. He protected people with warm hugs and tender words. This life came almost easily to him. The routine distracting him from the ghost of almost forgotten smiles.

When his time came there was no fuss. Just a hand holding his. Dean. His sun, his son. The light that had been extinguished by the passing of his brother had come roaring back with a passion with the birth of his son.

His son.

Those simple words brought him so much joy. But sam knew. He could feel it. The end was here, and he wondered what might have happened if he had given up on that empty bedroom floor.

“You can go Dad its ok”

- - -

“Bitch”

“Dean”

#spn spoilers #spn 15x20 #fix it fic #destiel #if you squint #dean and sam #sam pov #dean d*es #im still not over it #its not even been a day yet #i am clown #inspired by the perks of being a wallflower

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goldenmessenger · 4 years

Text

TS Actor AU: Reach Out Your Hand Pt 1

Summary: Before recovery can come, you have to admit you have a problem first. In 2019, Roman’s been clean for about 6 years. In 2011, however? Clean is a long way away. He’s alone. Isolated. No-one to turn to. Except he might have one person. But Roman’s ignored him for the last 4 years. But then the voicemail comes.

Read on Ao3 here.

A/N: Hey everyone! So, I’m currently working on a multi-chapter fic set after the last two fics. But that’s probably going to take me a while. So in the meantime, have this fic that’s set 8 years before the others. This is some backstory on Roman, Remus, and Dillon, and how Roman got on the first steps to recovery. Also, I meant for this to be a one-shot, but it’s going to be a two-parter. It’s too long to post all at once. I apologize in advance for this, it’s really intense and a lot of whump and angst. I promise part 2 will make up for everything, and that’ll be up tomorrow.

As usual, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! And once again, I apologize.

Content Warnings: Drunken texts, drug abuse, drug overdose, mild violence (vague mention), self-deprecating thoughts and language, whump, angst

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

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Sent at 11:24pm

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

happhy B-day roe

its me Rekus

Remus

i gootta new phonee

im sorry

iwas the worts

woest

worsr

Cant typw

To drukn

Miss u tho

First b-day wit out u

Do u mis me to?

See u on th news

Got that moie

Movie deal u wanted

Hop ur doin wel

That ur happy

M not

Mis u

Love u

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

Friday, March 20, 2009

Sent at 2:00 pm

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

Hey Ro, happy birthday,

it’s me again.

I wanna apologize for the mess that I sent last year. Thought you’d like to know I’m in a much better place now.

I’m in college in San Francisco, probably gonna live there after.

Gotta boyfriend, just like you always said you would if we didn’t have to deal with everyone’s expectations.

Went to therapy, boyfriend’s idea

Though he was just a best friend then

It’s been really helpful.

I was so awful to you.

I honestly wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again

You don’t have to forgive me, I just want a chance to talk

If you want to meet up

Just let me know

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

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Sent at 10:00 am

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

Hey Ro

Happy birthday again.

At this point, I know you probably won’t reply

This probably isn’t even your number anymore.

I don’t know why I keep texting you though

Closure, perhaps?

An inability to let go?

Whatever it is, it’s kinda sad

I can’t stop though

If by any chance you are reading this, please respond

I don’t care if it’s to say you hate me, or never want to talk to me again, please

I need you

I need my brother

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

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Sent at 10:00 am

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

Happy birthday Ro!

This will probably be the last time I text you.

My boyfriend, Dillon, pointed out that if you were going to reply, you would’ve already

I need to move on

I need to heal

I still love you though

You’ll always be my brother

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

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Sent at 11:00 am

Text from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

Ro, what the hell?

I know I said that I wouldn’t text again

But I just saw the news

You punched someone?

What on earth

I’d honestly be kinda proud of you if I wasn’t worried

Are you doing ok?

That’s not like you.

I was always the violent one.

I know what I said before, but if you need anyone to talk to, I’m here.

I won’t be waiting for you anymore, but I’ll still be here for you, if you need me.

All you need to do is reach out.

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

Sunday, August 15, 2011

Missed Call at 1:00 am

Voicemail from (xxx) xxx-xxxx:

“Ro—Roman! Please, please tell me you’re there, that you’re alright—

I just heard, apparently you’ve been missing for two weeks? Two whole weeks, and I didn’t know—

Please call me back, or text if that works better! Please, no one knows where you are, if you’re ok, nothing!

I — I can’t lose you Roman.

I mean, maybe I did already, maybe I did a long time ago—

But that was different. At least you were alive. You were happy. At least, I thought you were happy. I’m not so sure about that anymore.

But if by some miracle, some crazy insane miracle you still have this number, if you’re ok, please please let me know.

I love you so much Ro.

I don’t think I ever said it enough, but I do. So, so much.

I hope wherever you are, you’re ok.”

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

The dark hotel room was illuminated only by the screen of his phone. He stared at it with glassy eyes, unseeing, as the message finished playing. Roman was leaning against the bed, sitting on the floor. His phone was gleaming on the ground next to him.

Roman had read Remus’s texts as they came, of course, but he hadn’t thought they were sincere. That they were real. Nothing else in his life was, not even his own parents. So why should his own twin be an exception? But he didn’t delete the texts or block the number. He let the messages keep coming. And he didn’t know why.

Maybe because part of him had wanted to hope. Why else would he be where he was now? Why else would he have used the most of the little money he had left to get himself here? Here in a dingy little motel on the edge of San Francisco. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going, not that anyone cared. Maybe Remy might’ve. Remy, who Roman realized now might’ve been his only real friend. At least, he could’ve been, if Roman hadn’t pushed him away when Remy had attempted to convince Roman he had a problem. Pushed him away just like Roman had done to everything else good in his life.

That’s why he hadn’t contacted Remus yet. Why he’d sat here in this room with it’s flea-ridden bed and peeling wallpaper for almost two weeks now, only leaving to buy food from the nearby convenience store. Remus’s texts had seemed like he was doing well. Roman had looked at his Facebook too. Remus was in college, was living with his boyfriend, a job working as a tech at a local theater. He seemed happy. Roman couldn’t bring himself to ruin that like he ruined everything else.

But that voicemail—he hadn’t ever heard Remus sound so frightened before. So worried. And about Roman, of all people. Why? Why on earth? Sure, they’d been close as kids, but they hadn’t even been in the same room for years. And Roman had ignored all of Remus’s attempts to make contact since. He couldn’t understand it. It made his head hurt. He was feeling bitterly jittery, and not very glittery.

That was a weird sentence. When did his thoughts stop making sense? He needed his pills, needed them. He couldn’t deal with all of these thoughts and emotions. He needed them to go away. He needed them to stop. He fumbled on all fours for the bottle, and finally found it, open and empty. That wasn’t right, it’d been full only...only...he couldn’t remember. A wave of dizziness hit him, and he pitched forward, face planting into the ground.

Something wasn’t right. Why was his brain so fuzzy. Everything hurt so much, he couldn’t think. He needed help. He needed Remus. He somehow managed to find his phone, and hit the contact simply labeled “R.”

The phone rang. And rang. Finally, it was picked up. And a familiar voice spoke.

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

Remus ran his hand through his sleeping boyfriend’s hair. It was a calming motion that somewhat helped to calm his racing mind. But not by much. Dillon had attempted to convince Remus to rest, but Remus couldn’t sleep. Not when Roman was missing. He’d gotten the news around midnight, from a former friend of Roman’s, Remy.

Remy had been the one to tell Remus that Roman had been struggling with a drug addiction, though Remy didn’t know how long. He’d tried to get Roman some help as soon as he found out, but the other man had rejected it and broke off their friendship. Remy had gone to Roman’s apartment that morning to attempt to repair their relationship, with the hope that he could eventually convince Roman to get some help. But he was nowhere to be found. The door was unlocked, and there was two weeks worth of mail on the floor. He’d found Remus’s number on accident, on a post-it on Roman’s fridge, labeled “Bro.” That’s when he’d called Remus and, upon finding out he was Roman’s brother, told him everything.

Remus didn’t quite understand why Roman had his number saved like that, but the more pressing concern was finding Roman. Remus attempted to call Roman several times, each one going straight to voicemail.

He didn’t blame Dillon for falling asleep though. Remus would if he could. He couldn’t though. The hand that wasn’t running through Dillon’s hair had a death grip on his phone. He couldn’t stop staring at it, praying to anyone who would listen that it would ring.

He didn’t know what he expected though. Roman had never responded to him in the past, so why would now be any diff—

“I’m a Barbie Girl, in a Barbie wooorld

Life in plastic, it’s fantastic...”

Remus startled as his phone’s ringtone filled the room. Next to him, Dillon shifted and blinked tiredly at him.

“Why on earth do you still have that obnoxious song as your ringtone?” Dillon questioned, a little grumpy at being woken so unceremoniously.

“You can brush my hair, undress me everywheere

Imagination, life is your creation...”

Remus could barely hear him. He could barely hear his own ringtone. All he could do was stare at the name that lit up the screen.

Lil bRO(man)

“Come on, Barbie, let's go party!”

Dillon looked up at Remus, the sleep slowly fading from his gaze as his brain slowly began to catch up.

“Re, what’s wrong?”

“I’m a Barbie Girl, in a Barbie wooorld

Life in plastic, it’s fantastic...”

The chorus of the song began to repeat, and Remus knew he was running out of time. This was something he’d wanted for years, and now, it was happening right in front of him. But he was frozen. For some reason, he couldn’t answer the phone.

“You can brush my hair, undress me everywheere…”

When Remus didn’t respond, Dillon sat up, and saw the phone lying limp in his boyfriend’s grasp.

“Imagination, life is you—”

Quick as a lightning bolt, Dillon grabbed the phone and hit ANSWER before it could go to voicemail. Almost as quick, he hit the speaker button.

There was a long moment of silence. Too long. Finally, Remus’s voice returned.

“Ro, is that you?” He asked, hopefully. “Are you ok, are you hurt, where—”

“Re. I— I didn’t acshully think you’d anshwer.”

Roman’s familiar voice leaked through the speakers like water through a broken dam. Despite Remus’s relief, however, he immediately recognized something was wrong. One look at Dillon’s face told Remus that he’d heard it too. The way Roman’s words slurred themselves together. Remus took a deep breath. He knew how to handle this. He just needed to stay calm.

“Of course I would.” Remus said sincerely. “Ro, why don’t you tell me where you are? Maybe I can come to you and we can have this conversation in person?”

However, Roman didn’t seem to hear Remus’s question.

“I meshed up Re, meshed up big time, I ran ‘way from evything ‘cause I shcrewed up, an’ now I’m losht an’ allone an’ I jus’ wanted to hear your voishe one lasht time…”

Remus felt his heart seize in panic at those words. He grabbed the phone out of Dillon’s hands as the man looked on worriedly. Remus clutched that phone like it was his lifeline. No, Roman’s lifeline.

“Roman, wait, what do you mean, one last time? Where are you, what’s going on?”

“Ate too many of th’ pret-ty white circles, and now I can’ shtand up right and m’ brain won’ work.”

Roman’s voice grew thick, and it began to sound like he was crying.

“M sorry Re, ‘m an awful brother. I can’ do anything righ’ an’ I was too much of a cow-ward to tell you I was here.”

Remus’s eyes widened in shock as his brain processed the information. White circles, didn’t a lot of pills take that form? Including addictive ones. And Roman was here? San Francisco?

He looked over to Dillon to find that his boyfriend had his own phone out, and was callling someone. Dillon caught his gaze, and mouthed 911. Keep him talking. Remus took a deep breath. He needed to keep it together. For Roman’s sake.

“Roman, you’re going to be fine, just tell me where you are, and I’ll be right there. You said that you’re here? Where is here?”

“Th’ golden ci-ty, home of Saint Franny. Wan-ed to talk to you, couldn’ get up th’ nerve. ‘M in this shtupid lil hot-tel, it schucks. Bayshide Mot-tel, I think. Rom 320. Picked it cause it wash our birth-dayte.”

Remus quickly glanced over to Dillon urgently, and his boyfriend began relaying Roman’s location to the paramedics.

“Ro, we’ll be right there, just hold on, ok? We’re on our way.”

No response.

“Roman, Roman!”

Silence echoed from the other end of the line.

“No, nononononono no! Roman, please!”

In a dark dingy motel room several miles away, the only sound was a brother’s anguished cries, and the only light was that of a cracked phone screen next to a limp hand.

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

AN: Again, I’m really sorry about this cliffhanger, and I will fix it tomorrow.

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

TAGLIST:

@ironwoman359

@galacticguppy

@trashpanda-remus

@atticusfinchthelegend

@ravenclawunicorn1

@voidvirgil

@dogwithpants

@dreaming-about-kittens

#ts actor au #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #my writing #my au #remus sanders #deceit sanders #roman sanders #remy sanders #sympathetic deceit sanders #sympathetic remus sanders

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