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twooneztaylorthecat · 2 years

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Happily Ever After - Adam Stanheight X Reader

It was your favorite month. The temperature was perfect, and the trees were beautiful. The sky was exactly the way you wanted, as you marched down the sidewalk. Your favorite shoes skidded across the pavement gently, barely making a sound. You stumbled along, a cool wind blowing at your clothes.

You had left your apartment not long ago to find Adam Stanheight, your boyfriend. He lived across the block from you. Your apartment was in much better shape than his, but considering his current circumstances, the reasons were valid.

Tripping a little bit over your own feet, you came to Adam’s apartment. He had given you a spare key a while back, so you could easily get inside. The only things that disconcerted you were the other people already in the building. They gave you nasty, judgmental, looks. It seemed they didn’t like you being there. This was nothing new, Adam’s neighbors had made it evidently clear that you did not belong here. They hardly let you pass by them without making sharp remarks. Adam was the reason they stopped. Self-consciously, you walked by and up the stairs, to Adam’s room. It was silent all the way there.

When you creaked the door open you were unsatisfied to find the lights turned off, the windows shuttered and Adam’s coat missing from the coat hanger, as well as his shoes missing from their place by the door. You clicked the door closed behind you, and ventured inside hesitantly. “Adam?” Your voice echoed lonely around the entire room. You flicked on the lights.

They buzzed dully, but you didn’t mind. Adam’s camera wasn’t on the coffee table. His ashtray hadn’t been emptied yet today. The smoke scent was strong, but you tried not to think about it.

You checked, halfheartedly, in the bedroom and the bathroom, and - of course - Adam’s dark room. Apparently, he wasn’t home. Where was he?

You had been with Adam for at least three years. You both thought it was best to take things slow for a while, whilst he recovered mentally from Jigsaw’s game. You were proud of him. He had come a long way from where he was before, though sometimes he would still have panic attacks, as was understandable.

Lately though, the two of you had been thinking about moving in together. It was Adam’s idea actually, and you had been surprised when he brought it up. Of course you could understand that his apartment might not be the healthiest place for Adam to be, but it was the only place that had a dark room available. It seemed Adam was ready to leave the trauma of the past behind completely now and start new. You would love to support him through that.

He had asked you to come over today, to maybe help with packing but maybe not; he hadn’t been precise about that. You wandered around for a couple minutes longer, and then figured you had no reason being here, and left.

Standing on the staircase in the wind, you tried to call your boyfriend, but he didn’t pick up his phone. This alarmed you because usually he was quick to answer his calls, especially if it was you calling. You called your best friend. Maybe they would know?

“Hello?”

Yes! You got an answer!

“Hi.”

“Y/N! Oh, W-What do you need?”

You noticed how your friend had stammered.

What the hell?

“Uh…” You said thoughtfully. “I was looking for Adam. Have you seen him?”

“No.” The response was too instantaneous for your liking.

“You haven’t seen him? Do you know where he is?”

Silence on the other end, then, “No.”

“ ‘No’?” You repeated skeptically.

“No,” your bff confirmed.

You frowned. “Well, will you call him for me? He won’t pick up. I tried calling him just now, but I also tried at my apartment.”

“Why don’t you wait? He’ll be back before long. Or are you paranoid that he’s seeing someone else?” There was a suspicious silence and then your friend burst out laughing. “Relax, I’m joking.”

“I am relaxed,” you said matter-of-factly. “You don’t have to tell me that he wouldn’t cheat on me. I know that, you idiot.”

“Awe. Did you hear that? Yeah? I know.”

Your friend was having a conversation with someone else, but you couldn’t hear who it was. You couldn’t hear them at all. “Who are you with?”

“One of the other friends. Now we will have juicy gossip for the group.”

“Right,” you sighed irritably. “Where is Adam? I thought we were going to pack some things so he could move in with me?”

“I don’t know,” your best friend sounded genuine. “Listen, Y/N, I don't know where he went, and I would love to help you but I’m busy right now. I’m sorry. Maybe just wait for him to get back. He’ll answer you when he returns to the apartment.”

“Okay, well, should I start packing up his things, or not?”

“It’s up to you.”

“I’m at his apartment right now.”

“Sure. I mean, he would probably appreciate the help.”

“Really, you’re sure you don’t know where he is?”

Your best friend only said, “I’m sorry, Y/N.” And hung up.

You scowled at the floor in annoyance. That had been uneventful… There was definitely something up with them though. That was some seriously strange behavior.

You gathered up your things once again, and went back inside. This time the hall was empty, no passersby to see you. You were mildly grateful for that.

You started in the living room, examining certain things and contemplating what to do with them. For now, you were just gonna leave everything in its place because you didn’t know how Adam wanted to situate his any of if for moving. You would just consider solutions and strategies and then consult your boyfriend when he got home. Whenever that would be.

Sitting on the couch to get comfortable while you waited, you pushed open the windows. While you tolerated the smoke smell for Adam, this was obnoxious. Why were the windows closed when the scent was so strong? You pushed a window open just as your phone lit up with a message.

You lunged for it, hoping it was Adam. You were disappointed to find that it was just a scam text asking you to click the link to some sketchy porn site. You made a face in disgust. That kind of thing did not hold your interest… Unless of course you were performing with Adam...

You tossed the phone next to you onto the couch, and went back to opening up windows, though your thoughts were now preoccupied about what kind of THINGS you might get up to with Adam, since you were on the subject already…

Unfortunately, you thought reluctantly. Adam isn’t here for me to ‘perform’ anything with.

You spent about fifteen minutes sitting on the couch, trying to figure out packing arrangements. There were already some things put in boxes and sealed away, but mostly everything was piled everywhere. You did notice though, Adam’s camera resting carefully and securely on the breakfast table. It was evident that Adam took more care of his very expensive camera than the rest of his belongings. This did not surprise you.

Absently, you picked it up in your delicate hands, and turned it over a few times. Adam would be panicking if he was here; he got way too anxious if the camera wasn’t in his own hands. But… he was not here… Which - you should have admitted to yourself first, but were too preoccupied with your discovery - this fact did not give you permission to go snooping through his privacy.

Hesitantly, you turned it on. It came on immediately, which only made you realize even more how good this camera was. This was like, top-notch perfect. No wonder it had been so expensive. No wonder Adam took such good care of it. No wonder he preserved it like it was the last one in existence. This was a damn good camera.

It felt cool on your fingers, and the buttons worked perfectly. None of them were sticky, or oversensitive. Just one gentle tap was enough to get the desired reaction.

And not to mention the photos inside. Adam had a talent for photography, that much was already apparent, but these were like… nothing you’d ever seen. They were clear, and straight on. Sometimes they were from angles so that the sun crossed right over the lens.

There were pictures of people, mostly you and sometimes Adam, but there were mostly pictures of the scenery. This must not have been his work camera, though even that one was just as expensive as this one.

Your breath had been taken from you, as you set his camera back on the table. The photos he’d taken of you were… amazing… Well, all his photos were amazing, but you hadn’t thought that you could be highlighted in such an incredible way. You hadn't even looked through all of them because you did feel guilty about prying. Adam would show you when he was ready to show you, and that’s what you were looking forward to.

You went back to the couch and peered out the window. There was traffic on this tiny road? Bizarre. Usually this street was empty. Police lights flashed passed and then the traffic cleared.

Frowning, you considered a fact about today. Today so far had been really, really, strange… You hadn’t found your boyfriend, even after a long time of searching, your bff seemed to be hiding something, and the events of the day were just weird; like for example a police car driving down the quietest street in your town.

For the first time you felt a little off, like you had teleported through another dimension and no one even knew who you were. It was an alarming feeling. You didn’t like it.

You stretched your legs out on the coffee table, wondering if Adam would mind if you turned on the TV. It seemed a little inappropriate to just… be at his house while he wasn’t there, but you were really freaked out, and… watching something to get your mind off it seemed like the best course of action. Or maybe you should just go home? That was a smart idea, right now you were essentially trespassing!

But… Adam would be home any second now, you were sure of it. Just a little longer… Just a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt anyone, and besides Adam wasn’t going to report his girlfriend for trespassing. He would understand.

Where is he? I haven’t seen him all day. I worry about him sometimes, does he know that?

After a moment’s hesitation, you took the TV remote into your hand. It was then that the door was pushed open wide, casting light into the dark room, and revealing a very tense Adam Faulkner Stanheight.

The remote slipped from your fingers dejectedly, hitting the floor with a quiet thud as you were no longer interested in it anymore. Running for your boyfriend, you called his name a couple times, apologizing for the unintended hangout at his place.

Adam smiled at you warmly, as he wrapped his arms around your waist and bent his head down to kiss you. You leaned into it willingly, moaning in surprise.

Adam pulled his head away again, and examined you. There was a gleam of adoration in his eyes. He shivered, and, without even looking away from you, said, “You opened the windows?”

You were flabbergasted. This man didn’t have to look to know you had opened them; he was so… amazing… “Yeah,” you whispered.

Adam raised a hand to your cheek, and held it for a moment, then brushed a strand of hair out of your face. His hand was warm and gentle. You pushed your head into his grasp. It was silent between you for a long time. Neither of you broke eye contact, or pulled away. This moment was perfect; exactly what you both needed.

“Adam?” You asked eventually.

Adam’s gaze flickered down your face for a moment, then back to your eyes. “Hmm?” He seemed so at peace, you didn’t want to bother him with the question.

“Where have you been?”

“ ‘Where have I been’?” Adam wondered aloud. “Well, let’s see…” He trailed off as your best friend walked into the room.

“I’mma watch the action’ah,” they popped their lips at the end.

You spun around to face them. “What are you doing? I thought you were with friends?”

“Adam’s my friend, isn’t he?”

You stared back at your bff, feeling slightly indignant, and jealous. “What the hell!?”

Your friend only nodded to Adam, a smile on their face. “Don’t jump to conclusions, baby.” There was sarcasm in their voice on the last word.

Flustered, you turned back around in a rush, not able to look at your friend anymore. You were sure it wasn’t what you thought it was, but why had they gone off to do something without you? Something wasn’t right about that.

You nearly fainted at what was in front of you.

On one knee, with his hands outstretched, was your boyfriend, looking rather smug with himself. A ring was placed in the middle of a tiny, black, box. “Will you marry me, F/N L/N?” He asked very bluntly.

Your heart seemed to stop beating. Your mind seemed to shut off. You were just… so stunned you were unemotional. All you could do was stare at Adam. “I-I-I-” You stopped talking at once.

The two others in the room were watching you intently, stiffly, apprehensively.

“I,” you found your voice finally. “Don't know what to say!”

Adam looked at you dumbly. “ ‘Yes’? ‘Yes’ would be preferable, please!”

And you realized that, in your current state of bliss, you had indeed forgotten to enlighten your boyfriend on your answer, which to yourself had been obvious - of course! You would spend everything to marry Adam! That’s what love was, right?

“Yes!” You exclaimed guiltily. “I’m so sorry, I was so shocked, you know? ‘Cause I wasn’t even thinking about the question, I was just thinking about the state of affairs, I can’t believe that this is happening right now, you know, I didn’t mean to leave you -” You said in a single breath. You were so busy you didn’t even notice when Adam stood up. In one fell swoop, Adam’s lips were back on yours, silencing you abruptly. You melted into his embrace, bringing your arms up around his neck, pushing into him, giving him all of yourself.

Your heart fluttered, your cheeks were hot, and your lips were tingling. Inside you felt a thousand things at once, but all of them were stemmed by one thing - joy. Adam pulled you closer to him, if that was even possible; you both were already practically standing on top of each other's feet. A couple of gasps and sighs were released but it was nothing that forced you to stop the make-out session. In fact, it only encouraged it more.

Somewhere behind you both, your friend arranged themself on the couch, tucking their feet under their butt, and staring, eyes wide, at the scene in front of them. If there was popcorn, they’d definitely be eating right now.

Adam let his hands trail your body, and you allowed him to feel you. He stopped kissing you to whisper in your ear, “I love you. I’m sorry I ditched you earlier, but… I do love you.”

“(bff’s name) was with you, buying the ring?”

Adam nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t want to get it wrong.”

“You wouldn’t have,” you whispered back, burying your face into his shoulder. “All that would matter was that you got me something beautiful. All gems are gorgeous, I think. Especially if they’re on a ring.”

Adam hadn’t gotten you something large, but you appreciated that, you had room to move your fingers. But it was still a very pretty color. Your favorite gemstone was in the middle, and the ring part was embedded with your birthstone. You couldn’t believe how pretty it looked altogether. “Adam,” you murmured desperately. Adam brushed his fingers through your hair. “I wouldn’t have made it this far without you, Y/N.”

“Don’t say that.”

“No,” Adam insisted. “You convinced me to keep up the photography. You convinced me to get therapy. You convinced me to… try to stop smoking…”

You laughed. “Yeah. The last one has yet to work. I don’t think I did very much convincing.”

“You convinced me to propose,” Adam admitted attentively.

You pulled back, smiling in amusement. “How so?”

“Well, last night, after -” he seemed to remember that there were more than TWO people in the room with you and started again. “What you said last night got me thinking about how much I love you.”

“Adam.” You shook your head dishearteningly. You hadn’t meant to pressure him. “I said ‘we have a unique relationship, I wonder where it will take us,’ not ‘I want you to propose to me tomorrow.’

“I do want this, though,” Adam continued hastily. “I was just nervous before. But what you said last night convinced me that I was ready to take things to a different level with you.”

“Well I’m glad you asked, because I want this, too. And the answer would have always been ‘yes’. And I’m glad that you want this. That’s what’s important.”

“It’s also important what you want,” Adam chimed in.

But I’M not the one with the trauma, you thought to yourself. You wouldn’t bring THAT up right now, but that was the reason why your relationship was moving slowly. You chuckled under your breath. Adam was way too wholesome for you.

“What?” Adam asked. “What did I say?”

You grit your teeth. “Nothing,” you told him firmly. “I’m just happy that you're happy.”

Adam smiled at you, then looked up at the third wheeler on the couch, who was leaning over their legs in utter astonishment. “Was that good?” He questioned.

“That was wonderful,” your friend exclaimed.

“Adam needed a pep talk? Really?”

“No, Adam needed confidence,” your bff retorted, then stretched and stood up lazily. “I think I’ll be leaving now. I don’t think I’m of any service here anymore.”

The couple didn’t object to the previously stated statement, in fact they were in full agreement. You watched your friend exit the apartment, and then close the door behind them. “So did you get any packing done?” Adam wondered hopefully. “You said you were going to.”

“I did some planning. But I wanted to confirm it with you first,” you confessed.

“Oh.” Adam shrugged. “I have no idea how to start! Anything works!”

“Nice!” You said, all your ideas coming to the front of your mind. “Let’s do it tomorrow, yeah? I’m tired. You know I was up late LAST NIGHT.”

Adam scoffed. “Baby, how could I forget LAST NIGHT?”

You walked into the bedroom, with Adam following closely - too closely. You got the sense that tonight and last night were going to be pretty similar. There was one key difference though. Could you guess it?

Of course.

You weren’t going to sleep next to your boyfriend anymore, you were going to sleep next to your fiance.

Now what did you think about that?

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noona-clock · 3 years

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What’s Your Sign?: Capricorn

Genre: Dance Studio!AU

Pairing: Jaebum x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Words: 5,693

Author’s Note: Since I’m so fascinated by astrology, I decided to do a Zodiac series! I will be writing a one-shot fic for each sign featuring different members from different groups (and even an actor!). Each story will be posted on the 5th of the month during that sign’s season. Please reblog, comment, or send in an ask with your feedback! Thank you for your support 💜

It was clear he didn’t want to be here.

And by ‘he’ you meant the dark-haired guy in your dance lesson whose facial expression betrayed that he would rather be anywhere else and doing anything else right now.

But you were a dance instructor. You’d been teaching for almost five years by now, so you had seen your fair share of begrudging students.

(Though, if you were being completely honest with yourself, none of the begrudging students you’d had so far had been quite this handsome... but that is absolutely besides the point.)

As you introduced yourself to your new class and began to go over the basics, you mentally prepared yourself to spend a little extra time with him -- the handsome, begrudging student. You’d discovered that some one-on-one time with the dancers who didn’t actually want to be dancers went a long way in helping them get more comfortable and enjoy themselves.

Usually, people who had no desire to take your class were being forced by a third party -- for some reason or another -- and it was pretty clear why they had no desire to take your class: their dancing skills left a lot to be desired.

But, only a few minutes into your instructions, you were more than surprised and shocked to see that this guy actually had some natural talent.

A lot of it.

But he also didn’t have a partner, so that one-on-one time you’d prepared for was incredibly easy to manage.

After you’d told everyone to pair off and start practicing the basic waltz square you’d just shown them, you weaved your way through the parquet floor to him with a somewhat cautious smile on your face.

If he wasn’t thrilled to be in your class in the first place, it was safe to assume he wouldn’t be thrilled for you to be his partner, but... there wasn’t much you could do about it now!

“Hi,” you greeted softly when you approached. “I noticed there wasn’t a partner for you, so I’m happy to --”

“Sure,” he muttered.

Of course, his terse interruption made you pause, but you recovered quickly and simply smiled at him. You then stepped closer to him, resting one hand on his shoulder and extending your other arm out to the side so the two of you could get into a waltzing stance.

As soon as he’d slid one hand around your waist and took the other one, grasping your fingers firmly, you waited for him to lead into the four-step box formation.

...And you almost yelped with surprise when he did.

His hold on your waist and fingers quickly became even more firm, and he pushed you subtly but confidently backward, dancing with you smoothly.

You’re not sure why this surprised you so much.

But it did.

And that made you a little uneasy.

“So,” you breathed, clearing your throat quietly. “What’s your name?”

His gaze had been inconspicuously aimed at the floor, most likely watching his feet, but it shifted to look at you when you asked your question.

“Jaebum,” he answered without hesitation, though his voice was still very brusque.

“Nice to meet you,” you replied with a slight dip of your chin. “I’m Y/N.”

“Yes, I know,” he murmured. “You introduced yourself about five minutes ago.”

You raised your eyebrows, unsure if you were bewildered or offended by his incredibly impolite response.

Probably a bit of both.

“...Right,” you said. But you had to maintain your composure and civility, so you added, “What brings you here?”

Rather than answering quickly and succinctly like he had previously, Jaebum simply furrowed his brow at you.

“You just seem less than enthusiastic, so I was curious as to why you’re here in the first place,” you explained, figuring you could at least be honest to counteract his almost-rudeness.

His forehead smoothed out, and he tilted his head to signal that you did have a point.

“One of my best friends is getting married in a few months, and he wants the wedding party to do this... dance routine.”

“And you’re not too excited about it?”

Jaebum shook his head.

“Well, if it helps, you’re a really good dancer.”

Again, Jaebum furrowed his brow at you, shooting you a confused, sidelong glance. “I am?”

He sounded genuinely perplexed which made you genuinely perplexed. He really didn’t know? Had he never taken one single dance class before?

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “You’re a natural.”

And naturally gorgeous, you thought.

Oh my god, why did you think that?

Besides the fact that it was true, of course.

To distract yourself from that thought, you added, “You haven’t taken any sort of class before?”

“No, never.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you replied with the tiniest smirk you could muster. “You’ve barely even looked at your feet this whole time, and you haven’t tripped me once.”

Of course, Jaebum instinctively looked down at his feet and almost immediately stumbled.

“See? Once you looked down and thought too much about it, you messed up. You’ve got instinct.”

An expression of clear discomfort flashed across his face, and rather than insisting that you knew what you were talking about, you simply kept silent. You were only planning on continuing this exercise for another minute or so, and you would rather not make him any more uncomfortable than he already clearly was.

But when that minute was up... you realized... that you didn’t want to stop dancing with him.

Oh, boy.

A student who had made you feel uneasy twice in the first half-hour of class.

That was quite unprecedented.

And... very disturbing.

When the two of you got to a good stopping point, you murmured under your breath that it was time to move on.

Jaebum responded immediately, pausing his movements and loosening his hold on your hand and waist to allow you to step away.

“All right, great job,” you said, turning away to face the rest of the class and doing your best to avoid any sort of eye contact with Jaebum. “I know it may seem repetitive, but this is the foundation of a waltz. You need to be really familiar with these steps, know how to do them in your sleep, before you can move on.”

You had everyone go through the steps on their own while you played different music tracks, helping them find the four-count beat in each song and showing they could waltz to really any style of music.

All in all, it was a pretty typical class.

Except for Jaebum.

You had tried to get him -- and the way he’d briefly made you feel -- out of your mind, and while you had been mostly successful when you hadn’t been looking at him... you had been the opposite of successful when you had.

And once the hour was up, you found yourself doing something you truly hadn’t ever expected to do. The thought had never crossed your mind, yet you couldn’t stop your body from walking toward Jaebum, an anxious grin plastered on your lips.

“I was just --” you began, though you were quickly interrupted by a departing student who thanked you for a great class. “Oh, sure, you’re welcome.”

You pressed your lips together then, your gaze following the student and waiting for her to vanish through the studio door.

When she did, you looked back to Jaebum and saw that he was already looking at you, his gaze expectant. You jumped a little -- though, you weren’t quite sure why you were surprised that he was looking at you. You had been just about to say something to him.

After letting out a breathless chuckle, you inhaled sharply and continued on from earlier. “I was just wondering -- you said your friend is wanting to do some sort of routine? For his wedding?”

Jaebum nodded. “During the reception. The bridal party is all going to do a... ballroom dance... thing.”

“Do you know if the choreography is finished?”

“I believe so,” he answered, slightly lowering his brows.

You gulped.

“I -- I mean, I would be happy to help you learn it if you want to -- have the time. You could stay after class or come in whenever you’re free. I can shift things around if I need to, this job is pretty flexib --”

“Okay.”

And you were surprised yet again.

He had actually said yes? Even though you definitely sounded a bit like a bumbling idiot right now?

“Oh, good!” you said with a relieved sigh, your lips spreading into a grin.

“I can’t stay much longer today, but if you have time tomorrow?”

For some reason your instinct was to reply immediately -- in the positive, of course -- but you forced yourself to actually pull up your schedule in your head to look and make sure.

“I’m very free in the afternoon,” you told him after a few moments. “From after lunch until about four.”

Jaebum nodded tersely and said, “I can be here at two” before murmuring his thanks and heading toward the exit.

You stood there, in the same exact spot, for about five minutes after he left, mainly because you were dumbstruck. You had no idea why you’d done that, and you had no idea why you were so relieved (and excited) that he had accepted your offer.

You had literally never offered private lessons -- private free lessons! -- to a student before. Many students had requested them, absolutely, but you had never offered.

The only reason you could think of as to why you’d done this was because Jaebum was so... intriguing. He fit the stereotype almost exactly for the “Perfect Man.” Tall, dark, and handsome. Strong and silent.

...And did you mention handsome?

Very handsome.

But that was actually more of a reason not to give him private lessons. You wanted to spend more time with him, of course. But you shouldn’t.

You really, really, really shouldn’t.

Rather than wait in jittery anticipation for Jaebum to show up, you spent the first part of your day keeping as busy as you could.

You had two classes basically back-to-back in the morning, which definitely helped keep your mind off the perfectly handsome man arriving at the studio in the early afternoon. And once those classes finished, you took a lunch break and headed to a nearby deli for one of your favorite sandwiches.

Between lunch and Jaebum’s arrival time, you decided to clean the entire studio from top to bottom because that was just what you did when you were stressed or nervous: you cleaned.

A small cleaning crew visited the studio once a week to keep the floors and mirrors gleaming, of course, but it had been a little while since you’d wiped down your office and deep cleaned the reception area.

You dusted and vacuumed and scrubbed and decluttered and even rearranged some furniture just to change things up -- for almost two hours.

And it wasn’t until a quarter to two that you realized you’d made a rather large mistake.

Cleaning and rearranging furniture for two hours was hard work, and now -- fifteen minutes before Jaebum was set to arrive -- you found yourself exhausted and sweaty.

I mean, you were exhausted and sweaty a lot. Obviously. You were a dance teacher.

But the exhausted and sweaty parts of your day were always at the end of class, after you’d done all the work, not at the beginning.

...And your classes typically did not involve an incredibly good-looking man whom you were nervous about spending time with.

After putting away the cleaning supplies in the closet, you quickly ran into the bathroom to splash some water on your face. You then headed into your office and dug around in your bag for the emergency vial of perfume you kept in there -- just in case.

Thank goodness you did because it really came in handy in this moment.

Just as you stepped out of your office and back into the studio, closing the door behind you, you heard the clack of footsteps on the dance floor.

“Hello?” a soft but deep voice called out.

You jumped a little, your gaze snapping over to the studio entrance and landing on Jaebum.

A quick glance to the clock above the mirrors showed you that he was almost ten minutes early -- and that only heightened your intrigue.

You loved a man who was early.

“Hi!” you blurted out suddenly, realizing you hadn’t yet answered him. “Hi, come on in. Welcome.”

Jaebum reached into his pocket as he walked over to you, retrieving his phone and tapping on the screen with a wrinkled forehead. “My friend sent me the video of the choreography,” he muttered, his eyes flashing up at you briefly over his phone screen.

“Oh, perfect,” you grinned. You came to a stop in front of him, resting your hands on your hips as you waited for him to find the video and show you.

“Here,” he mumbled before doing just that -- turning his phone around and showing you the video.

You leaned in, and only then did you realize this was a bad idea.

Obviously, watching something on a person’s phone meant you had to be standing rather close to that person, leaning in until your heads were almost touching.

And that’s exactly what was happening right now.

You were standing rather close to Jaebum, your heads almost touching.

And, boy, did he smell amazing.

It took almost every ounce of willpower in you to concentrate on the video and not on how amazing he smelled.

When the video finished, you took a step back, hoping you hadn’t backed away from him too obviously. If you were going to be learning this choreography together, you certainly didn’t want him to think you couldn’t stand being close to him. Because that wasn’t even true!

It was just... difficult. In a good way. Kind of.

“That seems fairly straightforward,” you said, pushing all these thoughts out of your mind as best as you could.

“Yeah?” Jaebum asked, turning to look at you, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“Absolutely. You want to give it a shot?”

He nodded and took off his jacket, hanging it up on the rack by the door before joining you in the middle of the dancefloor. He set up his phone against the mirror, and you began guiding him through the choreography, step-by-step.

Only a few minutes in, and Jaebum stopped you. “How... how do you know the routine already? We watched it once, and you’re not even referring back to the video.”

A frown curved your lips, and you lifted your shoulders into a shrug. “I... don’t know? I just remember it.”

“Seriously?” he asked with a soft chuckle of disbelief. “How?”

“I don’t know,” you repeated. “I’ve always been this way, with dance especially. I can just picture it in my mind.”

“So, you have a photographic memory.”

...How had you never realized that before?

“I guess so?” you chuckled. “I just never thought it was different than what anyone else could do.”

A half-smile tugged at Jaebum’s lips as he got back into the dancing position, and he murmured, “No. I absolutely cannot do that.”

“Well, then, it’s a good thing I’m the dance teacher,” you retorted, trying to suppress a smirk.

He laughed softly, and you ignored the fluttering in your heart.

You spent the next hour and a half going through the first part of the routine, and even though Jaebum claimed he wasn’t able to learn choreography like you did, he still caught on quickly.

“No, you’re honestly doing a great job,” you assured him after deciding to stop for the day. “I told you, you’re a natural dancer. You have instinct!”

Jaebum simply shook his head, but you saw the smile he was trying to hold back.

As he went back toward the door to retrieve his jacket, he glanced over his shoulder at you and said, “Are you free to keep going? Go over the rest of the routine?”

“Absolutely! I wouldn’t leave you hanging like that for a wedding.”

“What if it was a birthday party?”

“Yes, maybe.”

You heard Jaebum’s deep, low chuckle, and even though you’d just spent over an hour touching him and dancing with him and being extremely close to him, the sound of his laugh still sent a shiver down your spine.

What was this guy doing to you?

“What does your schedule look like?” he asked as he slipped his jacket back on.

“Oh, here -- let me write it down for you,” you said, taking a step toward your office.

“Or --” Jaebum blurted out.

You paused, raising your eyebrows and shifting your gaze to him.

“Or you could... just text it to me.” He still had his phone handy from playing the dance video on repeat during the lesson, and he held it up as to emphasize his suggestion.

“Oh!” you chirped. “Well -- I mean, yeah, sure. That -- that works.”

Jaebum opened his mouth to say something, but then he stopped himself. He narrowed his eyes slightly at you and said, “If I just tell it to you, will you remember it without having to write it down?”

Your eyes widened with minor panic. “...Yes?” you replied uncertainly even though you were absolutely certain you could do that.

He let out a soft, breathy chuckle and shook his head.

After he told you his phone number, he murmured his thanks for the lesson and then headed through the door without another word.

You waited approximately ten seconds before scrambling to your office, fishing your phone out of your bag, and quickly entering the number into your contacts.

You wouldn’t have forgotten it, but... still. You didn’t want to take any chances. It wasn’t every day that an incredibly attractive and fascinating guy gave you his phone number.

Not that you would use it for anything other than sending him your schedule.

But. Yeah.

Jaebum was absolutely incredibly attractive and fascinating.

Either Jaebum was not a busy man or he...

Well, you weren’t actually sure what the other most viable option was.

Because the only things you could think were that he just really wanted to learn this dance routine for the wedding reception... or he just really wanted to spend time with you.

And that was definitely just wishful thinking.

Either way, Jaebum was -- apparently -- able to fit in a private lesson whenever your schedule allowed.

Did he not work? Or was he taking a lot of time off for this? Or maybe his job allowed him to be flexible like yours did.

There were so many questions you wanted to ask him and so little courage you had to actually ask them.

When he came back two days after your first private lesson, you began the lesson with those questions still occupying your thoughts but ended it with another question on your mind entirely.

And, for some reason (seemingly everything about Jaebum was a mystery, I guess, including your reactions to him), you found the question tumbling from your lips as he was putting his jacket back on to leave.

You had just spent another hour and a half teaching him the second half of the choreography; another hour and a half touching and dancing with him. Maybe that had bolstered your courage enough?

“Why do you not want to do this?” you asked, tilting your head curiously. “The dance at the wedding.”

Jaebum paused for a moment before turning to face you. “I just... What -- what do you mean?”

You felt your cheeks warms, but you continued on. “You were just so... not happy to be in that first class, and... I don’t know. Whenever I bring it up, you get this look on your face.”

His eyebrows flew halfway up his forehead. “I do?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled.

He stood there just for a second before letting out a sigh and taking a few steps toward you. “To be honest, I’m not thrilled about having to dance in front of a room full of people I don’t really know.”

While you couldn’t exactly relate to the sentiment, you still understood what it was like to be scared to do something. Or, at the very least, be uncomfortable about it.

“You’re going to do a great job,” you assured him, your heart starting to skip a beat here and there as he got closer to you.

Seriously? You had just been dancing with him. Touching him.

“I’m not saying I don’t trust you,” he said, shaking his head. “But... I’m just not... confident about it. And I don’t like that.”

Jaebum was such the epitome of the Strong and Silent type -- so far, at least -- that you couldn’t even imagine him not being fully confident in himself. And the way he danced definitely wasn’t something to be insecure about it!

“I don’t know,” he added with a roll of his eyes. “I just don’t see the point in doing a choreographed dance at a wedding.”

Okay, now that made you laugh.

“Because it’s fun,” you chuckled. “Receptions are basically just a big party, and most parties involve dancing, right?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged. “But they don’t have to. And you can dance without doing some full-fledged routine.”

“This is true,” you agreed, though it was mainly just to appease him.

“In my opinion, weddings should be about the marriage. The relationship. The vows you make. Not cutting a cake or a DJ playing viral songs no one really wants to hear.”

...Well. You couldn’t argue with him there.

“So, when it’s your turn to get married, you don’t even need to have a reception.”

And your heart was acting funny again. Thinking about Jaebum getting married both made you hopeful that it would be your wedding, as well, and upset that -- realistically -- it would not be. You were just his dance teacher, and he was only taking lessons until the wedding. It was highly unlikely he would come back to continue his education, and even though you had his phone number now... why would you ever have a reason to use it?

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I absolutely plan on eloping. Or only inviting my family and having just a small ceremony.”

“Ah, good. Now I know not to be offended when I don’t receive an invitation.”

Um... okay? Why? Had you just said that?

Thankfully, Jaebum simply smiled that tiny half-smile of his and let out a soft chuckle.

Was it weird that after spending time with Jaebum only three times you already knew his signature smile?

Despite the fact you had taught Jaebum the entire dance backwards and forwards and there was literally nothing else you could do to help him, he continued to request private lessons. He continued to show up whenever you had a free hour or two, no matter the time or day.

And while this behavior would usually suggest some sort of romantic feelings on his part, he also continued to be Strong and Silent.

He talked to you during your lessons, of course, but he was never talkative. He was always polite, but he wasn’t super... friendly.

So, in conclusion, you were still as mystified and confused by Jaebum as ever.

He didn’t like dancing but he was amazing at it.

He didn’t need you to teach him anymore but he still showed up at your studio.

You just wished you could peek into that brain of his -- just for a minute! -- to see what he was thinking.

And, because you were his teacher, you never felt comfortable asking why. Why was he still asking for lessons when he didn’t need them? Why was he always so guarded around you? Why did he never ask about your personal life?

I swear, if Jaebum ever asked if you had a boyfriend, your heart would absolutely combust.

Maybe one day you would ask him all those questions, but by then, he wouldn’t be coming to your classes any longer, and what would be the point?

Apparently, you were thinking too much about all of this because, all of a sudden, Jaebum’s voice broke through the haze in your mind.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice forceful enough to make it obvious it wasn’t the first time he’d said it.

“Sorry,” you replied hastily with a shake of your head. “Zoned out.”

“Did you hear what I said?” he asked as he stood by the coat rack, getting ready to put his jacket back on before he left with hardly a word.

That had become his routine after every class, and you had come to expect nothing different.

“Hmm? Oh -- no, sorry. What did you say?”

“I said the wedding is this weekend, so I won’t need to come back any more.”

...Oh.

That was not what you wanted to hear.

“Oh,” you replied, doing your best to sound... well, not upset about it. “Well, I know you’re going to do an amazing job --”

“I’m more nervous than I thought I would be,” he interrupted.

You froze, your mouth slightly hanging open and your unspoken words hanging from your lips.

But then you quickly pulled yourself together and said, “You are?”

He nodded tersely.

But he didn’t elaborate.

So, you bit. “...Why?”

“Because I know how to dance it with you, and what if it’s different with someone else as my partner?”

“I mean, yeah, it’ll be different,” you confirmed. “But you know the steps through and through. Even if the bridesmaid is a terrible dancer, you’ll be able to carry her through it, I promise.”

Jaebum let out a sigh and his head tilted forward, his chin practically touching his chest.

“You’ll be fi --”

“What I really wanted to say is that I wish it could be you and not someone else,” he said, interrupting you again in a quiet but strong voice.

...You stared at him.

And blinked.

“...Excuse me?”

Without hesitating, Jaebum strode over to you, only stopping when he was as close to you as he was while you’d danced.

You tilted your head to look up into his eyes, though yours were still too wide with shock to say anything.

“I... I feel more comfortable dancing with you than doing... anything else. And the reason I kept asking to come back even after you taught me the whole dance is because... I just wanted to be with you.”

Okay, you were fairly certain you were no longer breathing.

You certainly couldn’t speak at the moment, so it was very possible that your heart and lungs had just stopped working.

“You are... incredible,” he continued. “Confident and talented and kind and beautiful.”

You repeated the word ‘beautiful’, though you couldn’t even hear your own voice so you must have simply mouthed it.

...Was he really saying all this to you?

To you?

And since it was obvious you weren’t going to actually say anything yet, Jaebum continued.

“You’re why I haven’t stopped coming back. I only joined your class because my friend practically forced me; he’s one of my closest friends, and I would do anything for him, but I truly could not care less about this dumb wedding dance. I would have happily fumbled my way through it if you hadn’t been so... wonderful.”

Okay, at this point, you kind of felt like you were more shocked to hear this many words coming out of his mouth at once. You’d been teaching Jaebum for almost three months, and you were fairly certain he hadn’t said more than two sentences back-to-back.

And you, who normally had no trouble speaking, could only reply with a whispered, “...Really?”

Jaebum simply nodded, and you felt more at ease. A simple nod was much more in character.

But you had no idea what else to say because there was too much you wanted to say.

Apparently, your racing thoughts showed through on your face because Jaebum stopped waiting for you to say something. “I... don’t really want to invite you to be my date to the wedding since... I’m a groomsman and all. You would have to sit by yourself, and I don’t want to make you do that.”

Ah, so, he was thoughtful, too.

“So... maybe you’d like to meet up after the wedding? I mean, like, go out. Not meet up. Go out. On a... date.”

“Yes,” you replied, finally able to force some actual words out of your mouth. “Yes, I would love to. Please.”

And then, Jaebum’s lips curved into a smile.

A real smile.

A full-on, teeth-showing smile -- not the half-smile you’d gotten used to.

Your heart stopped.

I mean, it felt like it stopped.

And you were immensely glad he hadn’t smiled like this before because oh my god. You wouldn’t have been able to go on teaching him. You would’ve fainted.

Even now, you had to reach out and grab a hold of his arms to steady yourself.

But Jaebum must have thought you were going in for the hug, so took another step closer to you and slid his arms around your waist, pressing his fingers into the small of your back and enveloping you in his embrace.

It took you approximately .0001 seconds to melt into him, feeling the strong wall of his chest and the secure cage of his arms around you.

You’d danced with him countless times by now. His hands had held your waist for hours, and yet... You had never experienced this sensation before.

And you knew right then and there that you never wanted to live another day without experiencing it again.

OTHER SIGNS: ARIES, TAURUS, GEMINI, CANCER, LEO, VIRGO, LIBRA, SCORPIO, SAGITTARIUS, AQUARIUS, PISCES

#kwritersworldnet #jaebum scenarios #jaebum imagines #jaebum au #jaebum fluff #jaebum fanfic #jaebum #jaebeom #got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 au #got7 fluff #got7 fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic

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interrogatethecat · 3 years

Text

this road is long but I’ll travel it with you word count: 1.1k I’m a little late, but happy six months to The Scene. I’m still processing. holy shit. it’s actually cannon. anyway, the rest is with the tag list under the cut or on ao3.

The thing about recovery is that it’s hard. It’s long. It’s not automatic. It’s messy. Large, dark shadows send Dean reaching for an angel blade or pushing Cas behind him. Sometimes, when Cas smiles wide and gummy, he forgets how to breathe and he’s thrown back to when it happened. When he’s choking on words said almost too late, Cas grabs his hand and tells him, “I’m right here, Dean. I’m not going anywhere.” And Cas doesn’t. He stays, and thank god he stays. Dean doesn’t think he could see him leave again. He knows Cas doesn’t want to leave again. Cas has told him that, again and again. He’s told Dean that sometimes the shadows scare him, too. Sometimes Cas wakes up in the middle of the night and Dean holds him while Cas remembers that it was just a nightmare. He made the deal of his own volition, but the thought of leaving again haunts him. It haunts both of them. But the thing is, they have each other. They’re so close to everything Dean— everything they have ever wanted. They’re together, they’re happy. Dean just wishes that they could recover, instead of waiting with bated breath for the other shoe to drop. Because good things do happen, and Dean knows that now. They do, they do, they do. He knows it, but just can’t believe it. Maybe that’s why when he wakes up to an empty bed, his first thought is panic. The tan blankets of the bed have been thrown over him and he’s sunken into the memory foam. It’s pure bliss, at least until he extends a hand to wrap around Cas and is met with emptiness. His side of the bed is empty. Cas was right here when they fell asleep, his arm had been thrown across Dean’s waist and his head buried in the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean had had an arm around him, too, and been able to feel his steady breaths as his chest rose and fell levelly. There’s a strong sense of dread rising in Dean. He can’t breathe, he can barely think, because Cas was here and now he’s not. He remembers last night. It had been nice. More than nice. Just the two of them, no monsters— physical or otherwise. They curled up on the couch and watched one of Cas’ weird bee documentaries. Half asleep, they lugged themselves back to their room and crawled into bed. When the lights were out, Dean had pulled Cas closer. “Love you,” he whispered. He could feel Cas’ smile against his chest. “I love you, too.” Soon enough they had drifted off and now Cas is gone and Dean has to find him. Dean stumbles urgently out of bed and towards the open door. Heart thudding painfully, he hurries down the hallway. There’s the muffled click of a mug being put down in the kitchen. Barely thinking, Dean bursts into there, and— Cas’ hands are wrapped around a steaming mug embellished with gold bees. His hair sticks up six ways to Sunday, and his eyes are tired and the shade of blue they get when he’s thinking. They flick up to meet Dean’s, concern bleeding into them. There’s no lurking shadow. No inky tendrils of nothing reaching out to drag him away. It’s just Cas. Just sleepy, coffee-addicted, bed-headed Cas.

Dean nearly sags in relief when he sees that Cas is fine. He’s fine.

“Dean?” Cas says

“I’m fine,” Dean says, even though he’s anything but.

“No, you’re not,” Cas says knowingly. He sees through Dean easily. “What was it?”

“Just… woke up, and—“ Dean doesn’t finish the sentence. The and you were gone echoes loudly in the quiet.

Cas stands, leaving his mug on the table, and moves forward to wrap his arms around Dean, tucking his face into Dean’s chest.

Dean practically melts at the contact.

“I’m sorry,” Cas says, words muffled.

“It’s not your fault,” Dean tells him, and it’s not. None of this is Cas’ fault. Dean’s just… broken. Slow-mending.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Cas says. “Today— today is six months.”

“Six months?” Dean repeats blankly. Then it hits him. “Oh.”

“Six months ago I left,” Cas says, and Dean realizes that he’s clinging to Dean as much as Dean is clinging to him. “I left, and I don’t regret saving you, I could never regret that, but—“

Dean holds him closer. “You didn’t leave, Cas.”

“I did,” Cas says.

“Well, you came back,” Dean says firmly. That’s the important part. That’s the part he cares about.

Cas opens his mouth to say something but Dean cuts him off.

“And you know what else this is six months since?” Even though he’s fucking traumatized by it, the memory still brings a faint smile to his face. “You told me you loved me. If you hadn’t done that, we wouldn’t be here, right?”

Cas nods.

“Yeah, you ended up in the Empty for awhile—“ Dean’s voice wavers just a little, but he recovers and continues lightly,“but it’s also kinda our six month anniversary. So… happy six month anniversary, babe.”

That wins him a soft laugh from Cas. “I don’t think this is our anniversary, considering we didn’t actually get together until after you rescued me. Or it would be when we met for the first time, which was much longer than six months ago.”

“Okay, smartass. Just was trying to be a little romantic,” Dean grumbles good-naturedly.

“I appreciate it,” Cas says, overwhelmingly sincere.

They just stand there for a while, arms still around each other. Dean focuses on the pressure of Cas’ hands on his back, the tickle of his hair on the side of Dean’s face. Cas is here. This is real and Cas is here and he’s alive.

Dean pulls back a little to cup Cas’ cheek. Their eyes meet. “You okay?” Dean asks gently.

“No,” Cas says, “but I’m getting there.”

Dean nods and leans forward to press a kiss to his temple.

He gets it. They’re not okay. They haven’t been for a long time. They’re battered and bruised and broken. They fight shadows and wait for something to drag them apart. They’re damaged, in almost every way possible.

But they’re still standing. Piece by piece they’re putting themselves and each other back together. Slowly, slowly, but together. Salvaging what they can and reinventing what they can’t. Recovery is long and hard and painful, but they’re doing it.

“What do you think about breakfast? Pancakes?” Dean suggests.

Cas gives him one of his small smiles. “Whatever you want.”

“Then we’ll do pancakes,” Dean decides, “and bacon. Lots of bacon.”

Cas’ smile widens and he brushes a kiss against Dean’s lips. “I love you,” he says. This time, this I love you, it’s better than six months ago.

“I love you, too,” Dean says.

And yeah. Maybe they’re messed up, but they’ll figure it out, how they always do.

Together.

tag list: @ezikira @top13zepptraxx @destiel-is-canon-i-guess @fellshish @floral-cas @gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat @https-castiel @holmesemrys @lovingherwasgay @linaraiscorner @castielsbeeslippers

#happy six month anniversary to the gay angel and bi disaster #let’s go hellers #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #spn #deancas #casdean #my writing #destiel is canon #my fic

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pinkliquorstyles · 4 years

Text

drunk voicemails and confessions.

Warnings: Smut and a whole lotta angst.

A/n: Buckle up, it’s a big one.

---------

You have one new voice message at: 3:37am. From: Unknown caller.

Harry’s cheerful yet slurred voice rang through the phone, “Y/n! It’s me! Harry. I just called to tell you I missed you at the listening party today.” He hiccuped lightly before continuing, “I think you were with that guy...” his voice faltered for a moment “What was his name? John? Don? Oh, no, it’s Dom, isn’t it? Mitch s’telling me, it’s Dominic.”

“I hope you had a fun night, although I wish we could’ve talked... ‘miss hearing your voice.” He paused, seeming to ponder over his thoughts.

Harry quickly pepped up. “Oh well, s’ok maybe next time then. I should probably go, m’not sure how much time I got left on this thing. Anyways, I love you princess-“ The message abruptly cut itself off.

“To delete; press 3. To save the message-“

“Message deleted.”

Eight months.

That’s how long it had been since Y/n last heard from Harry. But tonight that record was broken with something as small as just a drunk voicemail.

Harry couldn’t help himself, as soon as he saw Y/n’s familiar figure at his own listening party, he fell back into the infatuation that he spent months attempting to escape from.

He may have had his heart broken, but everyone deserves a second chance... right?

-------

It had been a few days since the voicemail.

Y/n attempted to avoid it. Erase it from her phone. Read his apology text over and over until it got through her head that he didn’t actually mean it.

Whatever she could do to forget, she tried it.

Yet it still was in the back of her mind, it was like an annoying itch that she couldn’t scratch.

His voice reverberated in her head, especially those three little words. The three little words she never thought she’d hear, “I love you.” Even now, as she stared at the apartment ceiling with her boyfriend that lay quietly next to her.

Despite the sound of the small breaths that escaped Dominic’s lips as he remained in a deep sleep, Y/n could only hear Harry’s slurred voice replaying over and over.

She felt restless, tossing and turning most of the night. With an annoyed sigh sat up slightly, her back pressed to the headboard as her head lazily rolled against it. She rubbed the back of her neck before allowing her fingers to slowly graze her skin. She didn’t intend for it to be sensual at first, but she couldn’t deny how pleasurable her soft touch felt against her chest.

And besides, perhaps it could help her fall asleep.

Y/n slowly moved down towards the band of her panties, torturously teasing herself before finally letting her fingers dip under the lace material. But she couldn’t help notice her mind float somewhere else, or perhaps, with somebody else as she tauntingly grazed her heat.

It was him, of course it was him. It was his hands taunting her body. It was his lips roughly tugging at her own and it was his name that teased the tip of her tongue, threatening to escape.

She felt her pulse quicken, dirty fantasies filling her mind as her fingers sped up, dancing in circles around her sweet spot. She covered her mouth with her other hand as she dared not to make a sound and risk waking Dominic up. It didn’t take long before her back began to arch and her head pressed back against the pillow, pleasure quickly sweeping over her body.

“Y/n?” The small murmur was enough to break her from her trance-like state, almost as if a piece of glass shattered right in front of her. With a shallow breath, she sunk down into the sheets, facing the man that slept next to her. “I’m right here baby.” She assured.

The word hesitantly rolled off her tongue. It seemed like everything she said reminded her of Harry. It was overwhelming. She thought Harry was gone for good, that she was finally over him and that he would merely be a distant memory.

And if it wasn’t for that voicemail, maybe he would’ve been just that. A distant memory.

Y/n observed Dominic as he slept. Their relationship; if you can even call it that, was nothing like her last. Although Harry preferred to keep his vulnerability locked away, Y/n always knew he was a romantic at heart. It was one reason she felt so smitten around him, Harry would always make her feel special, like she was the only girl in the world.

Once Y/n could tell Dominic finally fell back into a deep sleep. She softly climbed out of the bed, careful to not rustle the blankets too much to avoid waking him up again.

Although she had her own apartment, she preferred to stay with Dominic. Well, he preferred for her to stay with him. She didn’t understand why, but he seemed to be attached to Y/n’s hip, never wanting to leave her side.

Not that she minded, she enjoyed the company... enjoyed the distraction.

They both decided that Y/n would be better off just moving her belongings to his apartment, saving her the trip of constantly bringing a bag of her stuff every time she stayed the night.

She tiptoed over to the stack of drawers in the corner of the room, quietly rummaging through them to hopefully stumble upon some lavender scent that she used to help her sleep. But instead, she found something else, something a little more meaningful.

At first, she scoffed at the sight of it, thinking the universe was playing one big joke on her. But her gaze soon changed to one of admiration towards the object.

--------

“Definitely not a happily ever after in that one but still, a beautiful piece of writing.” The unfamiliar figure spoke, his tone playful as he made himself at home by taking the free seat across from Y/n.

Y/n’s expression ignited with curiosity as she looked up. The golden glow from the yellow-tinted lights hanging from the ceiling provided a dim cast on the man in front of her, highlighting his features and the low shine of the messy brown curls falling onto his face.

A small smile teased at Y/n’s lips. “Maybe so, but then again I haven’t quite finished it so I can’t really comment on the ending just yet.” She said, folding the edge of the page before closing the book, placing it onto the rustic bar’s table.

“Seen the movie?” He asked with a surprised expression.

She mouthed a small no, a ghost of a smile playing at her lips at the mysterious man’s reaction “But seeing as you seem to believe it doesn’t have a good ending, I may have to keep it aside for a later date.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “What? You can’t read sad books?”

Y/n pondered his words for a small moment. “Well, I just prefer novels or films with a more... happier ending to them.”

He lightly shook his head with an amused smile as he took a small swig of the drink in front of him, the rings wrapped around his fingers shining brighter than before as they reflected under the lighting, before placing the glass down with a small thud.

“Don’t you think that’s unrealistic though? Isn’t life meant to have its trials and tribulations.”

Y/n shrugged lightly, “Yes, life is supposed to have its difficulties but this-“ Picking up the book, She lightly waved it around in her hands before passing it to the still no-named figure.

“This is a story, a simple means to escape those supposed ‘trials and tribulations’ as you so call them.” She mocked in a failed attempt to match his accent.

“Don’t you find that boring though, the same story over and over again, no surprises, no suspense?”

She sighed, “In a perfect world there would be no suspense, not a single problem or worried thought.”

“In a perfect world yes, but that, we aren’t love.” He states with conviction.

Y/n scoffed, shaking her head playfully. “You sure are the life of the party aren’t you.” She admired quietly and watched as he flipped mindlessly through the pages of her book, her gaze falling on the loose curl that fell from his disheveled hair as she fought the feeling to push it back into place.

He quickly closed the book, causing Y/n to break from her sudden daze “I’m just realistic. And these little happily ever afters you desire are far from it.”

She coughed lightly, regaining her composure. “Well, I definitely wouldn’t want to be with someone like you.” Y/n’s quick response caused his eyebrows to raise in surprise, almost as if he was hurt by the passing comment.

“You know, glass half empty and all.” She added just as fast, attempting to recover from her less than favorable quip.

Luckily for Y/n, he took it as a challenge.

“Well personally, I like to think I’m quite the romantic myself. In fact, I’m probably far better than the saps you read about.” He remarked.

“I’m sure you are.” A small chuckle escaped her lips at the sound of his frivolous tone.

“I am so, and I’ll even prove it to you.” He grinned, already confident.

Her eyes glimmered with excitement as she took ahold of her own drink that had been sitting at the edge of the booth “As intriguing as that is, I don’t even know your name.”

His lip quirked up into a small smirk, his gaze falling onto the plastic rose placed in the middle of their table, it was practically falling out of the tiny box it reside in, and whilst it was used for the decor of the bar, he decided to use it to his advantage.

“Harry.” He said simply, before offering the flimsy flower to Y/n.

“Y/n.” She responded with a laugh, accepting the rose. “Well go on then, give it your best shot.”

--------

A ghost of a smile teased her lips as her fingers traced the detailing of the hard-covered book. She told herself she would throw this away ages ago, along with other small objects that reminded her of Harry, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It meant too much to her.

She took the book in her hands, flipping through the slightly damaged pages as she reminisced.

But her reminiscing was soon cut short as she felt a pair of heavy hands grip her waist from behind, her body erupting in goosebumps while a low voice spoke close to her ear. “What are you doing up this late?”

Her body quickly froze at the sudden weight pressed up against her. As realization struck, the quick rush of shock left her system. She placed on top of the set of drawers “I couldn’t sleep, sorry if I woke you.” She spoke, her voice was seemingly fragile.

“Late night reading hm? What is it this time, those little romance books you love to read?” He hummed teasingly. “Or maybe it’s a little dirtier than the average love story, I always knew you were a little minx.”

“You caught me.” She said breathlessly. Her eyes fluttered closed as he peppered wet kisses across her exposed shoulder, all the way up to her neck while softly tugging at the tortured skin as soft little moans escaped her.

He let out a taunting chuckle. “You should’ve told me how badly you needed to get off, you know I’m always happy to help.” He turned her around, gently pinning her against the wall whilst allowing his other hand to teasingly graze against her body.

She didn’t notice it at first; she was doing it again. Thinking of him, thinking of Harry when she should be fantasizing about the man right in front of her.

And with each demanding kiss that reached her lips, a wave of pleasure coursed through her. But with that, another wave of guilt, as if they both came hand in hand with one another.

It was a whirlwind of lust and shame. How could she let Harry get to her head like this? And more importantly why is she feeling this way in the first place? Y/n was confident that she was over him, especially after she found Dominic, he was the reason she was able to move on.

He made her realize Harry’s true intentions; she was only a doll to Harry. Someone to use for their own needs only to throw them away when they’re done.

So then why is she so unsure about it all now?

“St-stop.” She mumbled against his lips. Her hands gently pressed against his chest, a light push disconnecting the two.

“Please.” Y/n’s voice faltered as she silently wept. She attempted to keep her emotions at bay the past few days, but it appeared it all finally caught up with her. Even Dominic could sense it. After receiving Harry’s voicemail she seemed exhausted, not physically of course, but mentally.

His eyes scanned her features with confusion. “Y/n what’s wrong?” He asked with shallow breaths. She didn’t have to tell him, he already knew. The minute he saw the two of them reunited, Y/n hadn’t been the same.

He sighed disappointingly “This is about him...Isn’t it?” He accused as he began to feel his frustration build, and the deafening silence from Y/n only confirmed his suspicions.

His hands tightened around her waist. “Y/n do you not remember what he did to you?” He scoffed, his voice laced with pure amazement at her foolishness. “I mean- didn’t I already tell you how bad of a person he is?” His harsh words were like a slap across the face to Y/n, not understanding how far he was willing to go to keep her as his own little toy.

He took a deep breath, attempting to compose himself. “He only wanted you for sex Y/n. He doesn’t love you, he never will and I can bet money that he did the same thing to a hundred other girls.” He said calmly, almost as if he thought his words were comforting.

Y/n shook her head gently, her eyes welling up as she tried to not let him get to her head. Harry was a good man, and she knew that. He just made one bad choice, one that almost shattered her heart.

But everyone deserves a second chance... right?

“And what exactly do you want from me, Dominic?” Y/n uttered pathetically as she attempted to muster any confidence she had left in her. She scoffed with spite that covered her sad features. “I mean let’s be real here, I don’t even think we’ve actually been on a real date.”

It was true; they hadn’t. He would always say it was because he was unconventional when it came to dating and love. But even Y/n knew it was just a cover, Dominic never wanted anything serious with Y/n... Or any girl, for that matter.

His frustration evidently returned to his features “What? Do you want us to have candlelit dinners and have me shower you with flowers every night?” He argued.

“Well it’s certainly better than whatever this-” She gestures between the both of them “Is.”

That was the last straw for him, he knew he was losing her and yet instead of attempting to calm her down and get her on his side once again; he preferred to attack her where it hurt most.

“Look. I don’t know what sort of fairytale you were living in when you were with Harry, but you’re in the real world now, I’m doing the best I can.”

“And you’re not exactly making it easy for me.”

“Well, if that’s how you feel, allow me to make it easy for you.” It was only then when the tears that remained still in her glassy eyes escaped, falling down onto her cheek as she gently pushed him out of the hold he had on her, remembering to take the book she had left on the shelf behind her.

He watched her curiously as she began packing her belongings that were scattered around his apartment bedroom.

This wasn’t what Dominic wanted, he just needed her to realize that he was better than Harry. But it wasn’t because he loved her, no it was far from that. It was simply because Y/n was a possession; she was his and only his.

Y/n packed the last of her clothing in a duffle bag before moving towards the kitchen. “Wait- Y/n.” He hastily trailed behind her. “Please, don’t go, I’m sorry.”

His voice seemed faint to Y/n’s ears, almost as if her whole body was working to shut him out. “Look didn’t mean it, I just- I’m so frustrated.” He remarked, seemingly with remorse laced in his tone.

“Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore him.” She chanted to herself in her head.

He eventually caught up to her. His hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her back from the door. “Just please... don’t leave me alone.”

Her gaze found his, and although it sounded like he felt guilty, his eyes told a different story. There wasn’t an ounce of love or the least bit of regret that she could find.

It was just desperation.

She wriggled her arm out of his tight hold. “I’m sorry, I just... I need some air. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She quickly averted his gaze before making her way out the door, shutting it behind her with an exhausted huff.

--------

Soft water droplets hit against the car window as Y/n drove away from Dominic’s apartment. Her clouded gaze focused on the road in front of her as her hands tightly gripped the steering wheel.

She wasn’t sure where she was going. A part of her itched to leave, leave this town behind and start somewhere new.

Y/n couldn’t help the ghost of a smile that played at her lips. She knew it was unrealistic... and mostly dramatic, but it wasn’t exactly impossible. What was there to stop her?

As she reached a red light, the flimsy ring that wrapped around her finger caught her eye as it glowed underneath the reflection of the bright lights that cast through her car. She sighed, deciding to turn on the radio to comfort her rather than basking in the deafening silence.

Her ears quickly pricked up at the familiar voice that played through the radio as a wave of goosebumps filtered across her skin.

She read the small display on her radio, Now playing: Cherry by Harry Styles.

Y/n stared at her car radio for a few moments, purely dumbfounded as she let the song resound through her car. “Hilarious.” She remarked at the universe with spite.

She didn’t attempt to turn it off. It was as if something was keeping her from doing so. Maybe it was her own mind, hoping that the song would confirm how destructive of a person Harry truly was, and in doing so removing any remnant feelings that remained in her heart for him.

Or perhaps it was the opposite.

Perhaps she secretly wished for Harry to give her a glimmer of hope, a hidden message that he still yearned for her as she does for him.

And with that, she let the song ring out into the car, letting the harmonious sounds envelop her all the way until the very end.

It was only then, when she found exactly what she was looking for.

Hope.

--------

This was a bad idea.

An incredibly bad idea.

Y/n knew that.

She still had the chance to turn around, so why didn’t she?

Here Y/n was pacing up and down the front of Harry’s apartment contemplating what seemed to be the unthinkable in her eyes.

“He could be out of town, oh god please be out of town and save me the embarrassment.” She muttered to herself, her frustration and levels of doubt only building with every second that passed.

She stopped in her tracks, her hand landing on the cold door handle. “I can do this.” She chanted, taking a deep breath before feeling her fingers fall from the object. “I can’t do this.” She groaned.

She wanted so much to turn around and never look back, maybe even forget that she ever even attempted to do this in the first place. But she couldn’t ignore how she felt, how her body was reacting at the possibility that she could see Harry again.

Her fingertips itched for her to knock on the door. Her eyes squeezed shut as she fought the tears that threatened to cloud her vision. With that, she gave in to the overwhelming feeling. She reached up, knocking on the door with a soft thump as her heart wildly drummed against her chest. “it’s now or never Harry.”

A few moments passed, her mind already raced with worried thoughts and regret. “Turn around Y/n. Go home, this was a bad idea.” Just as she was about to turn back around, she heard it. The faintest click. Her heart dropped.

The door had been unlocked.

It was as if time stopped. The rest of the world quickly fading around her as she caught a glimpse of him.

She admired his disheveled state, no matter how much she still resented him, she couldn’t deny the attraction she had towards him. His soft features making her believe that he is still the same man he was when they were ‘together’. But it’s those features that allowed him to get whatever he wanted in life, Y/n figured that out the hard way.

Harry’s confused gaze fell on Y/n’s familiar figure. His eyes transfixed on hers, unable to speak as an overwhelming wave of memories flood his mind.

“Y/n?” Harry was speechless at the sight of her. He couldn’t believe that she was standing right in front of her. So much so, a part of him believed he might be hallucinating. “What-“

Y/n quickly cut him off, urgency clear in her voice “Did you mean it?” She questioned anxiously.

Harry scanned her features with disbelief. “What are you talking about?” He asked uncertainly, almost hurt by her accusing tone.

“The voicemail Harry.”

He groaned, hiding his embarrassment by averting his eyes. “You know how sorry I am for that, I was drunk if it wasn’t obvious already.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “So you didn’t mean any of it? At all?”

“I don’t understand-“

Y/n felt like she was hitting her head against a brick wall, not only was she stumbling over her words, unable to convey what she wanted Harry to tell her, but she knew he wasn't someone who showed their true feelings when asked, it had to come naturally. “Just tell me the truth, please, I need to hear it.”

“What do you want me to say Y/n.” His voice was low but remained soft. Although he still wasn’t sure of her intentions, he found himself more curious than anything.

No matter how much Harry denied it, a part of him knew that there were and still are feelings that are locked away for her. He just never dared to face it.

It was a constant conflict in his life. When he loved, he loved deeply. He was a romantic and Y/n knew that very well. But there was always constant doubt in his mind that Y/n didn’t understand. He feared losing the thing that he would spend so long trying to fall in love with and adore.

So instead, he tried to avoid it completely

But Y/n was the opposite, a hopeless romantic they call it, she was never afraid to share her feelings. But the trait was destructive, she wore her heart on her sleeve which caused her to be impulsive, and this was definitely one of those times.

“...Please Harry.”

He shook his head in an attempt to gather and process his erratic thoughts. “I just don’t get it love, I thought you moved on already.”

“This isn’t about him okay just please, tell me I’m not crazy, tell me you still care.” She pleaded with desperation that gleamed in her eyes.

He refused to let his guard down, refused to allow himself to fall back into another trap that ended in him with a broken heart... again. “And then what? M’not trying to be a prick, but you have a partner already.”

She pitifully rolled her eyes. “Oh please Harry, you and I both know he isn’t the type to settle, he was eyeing off at least three other girls at that listening party of yours.”

Harry felt his jaw clench at her words. His first instinct was to scold Y/n at her choice of partner. But he couldn’t. Both of them weren’t anything more than acquaintances at this point. “So then why bother if you already knew it was a waste of time.”

He knew that he couldn’t stop Y/n from getting with other people, but he also couldn’t resist the touch jealousy that ran through his body at the thought of Y/n being with another man, especially one that seemingly doesn’t even cherish her the way he had.

Y/n’s gaze averted Harry’s as she pondered his question for a small moment “I guess... I needed a distraction.” Her hurt eyes met with his, “From you.”

She let out a small scoff. It was as if she was opening Pandora’s box. All these unsaid thoughts and ignored feelings were hitting both of them all at once. “I mean for god sakes Harry, can you blame me? You hurt me.”

“But you were the one that left me Y/n.” He snapped, his voice raised slightly but he wasn’t angry. Harry had the ability to keep his composure no matter how stressful situations managed to become.

Her eyes instantly perked up at the accusation. “What?” After a small moment, she realized what Harry was talking about.

The night where everything ended.

Her expression quickly changed into one of resentment “I only left because you were an asshole, I mean I actually told you that I-” She caught herself mid-sentence, not allowing the rest of her words to fall from her lips.

But although the words weren’t said, Harry still managed to connect the dots.

“And then all of a sudden, you’re able to say it back. Through a drunk voicemail of all things.” She shook her head, her eyes averting from his, unable to meet his gaze anymore.

Her heart beat ten times faster than before as she thought about how crazy she must be to even begin to think what she was doing was even remotely a good idea. She should’ve just left it alone and not involved herself with the trouble that came with Harry, but she couldn’t help it, it was like a magnetic pull that kept bringing her back to him.

She inhaled a nervous breath. “I don’t know what it is about you Harry, no amount of distractions have been able to keep my mind from thinking about you. It’s like you still have this hold on me that I can’t explain.”

“Tell me what you want from me Y/n.” Harry didn’t want to fight with her, neither did he want to see her upset.

He was trying. Trying to reach out to Y/n in a way that felt safe enough for him. He knew what she wanted, he secretly wanted it to, he always has. He just didn’t exactly know how to express it.

“I already did.” She murmured quietly.

“No, you told me how you felt. Now tell me what you want.” He coaxed calmly.

Y/n took a small and hesitant breath to control her racing heart. “I just want you, Harry, that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

She hated feeling as pathetic as she did. She felt like she was begging for his affection. Whilst Harry was in his own head, worrying if he even deserved Y/n’s affection in the first place or whether she deserved someone better. Someone that could shower her with the same amount of love Y/n would for him.

He sighed thoughtfully, admiring the pitiful girl in front of her for a few moments before moving over to the side of the doorway. “You should probably get inside y’know, wouldn’t want you to get a cold or something.”

He held the door open for her before nodding his head, gesturing for her to move into the apartment. A sad smile played at her lips as she heard the familiar and comforting sound of Harry’s usual amused tone. “Silly girl.” He mumbled quietly as she walked through the door, but just loud enough for Y/n to hear it.

Although tonight hadn’t been exactly the way that Y/n had pictured it, it was something. It was a small step in the right direction and she was grateful for it.

They spent the rest of the night just talking, catching up on everything they’ve missed for the last eight months without each other. Harry went on an endless rant about his many adventures in Japan whilst Y/n skimmed on the finer details of her ‘relationship’ with Dominic and chose to dive into the topic of her career instead.

“Enough about all that boring stuff though, can we talk about Fine Line please?” She teased.

Harry groaned, throwing his head back with embarrassment, as he pushed himself further into the couch in an attempt to hide from Y/n’s taunts. “I’d rather we didn’t.”

She chuckled with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Fine, fine, another day then. But I am going to need an explanation for Cherry.”

“Of course you do.” Harry mused, lightly shaking his head with a boyish smile. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, purely dumbfounded by the events that unfolded tonight. He turned his head, looking back at her. “Hey Y/n?” He questioned.

She simply hummed, waiting for him to continue.

“I don’t suppose you want to stay the night? I mean S’pretty late, wouldn’t feel good about you driving at this time anyways.”

Y/n gasped sarcastically. “Are you implying that I’m a bad driver?”

“Course not, just want you to be safe s’all.” He murmured.

Y/n smiled softly at his concern. “Only if I’m not intruding.” She answered, her fingers twirling a loose curl that had fallen in front of Harry’s tired face.

It felt peaceful, comforting, as the both of them sat there silently simply just appreciating each other’s company for a few, small moments. They needed those moments; it was a way for both of them to let their guard down and allow themselves to trust one another again.

Harry was the first to break the pleasant silence. “I assume you brought a bag with you? Not that it matters, if you need, you can dig through my clothes m’sure you’ll find something you could use.”

Y/n nodded. “Yeah, it’s just in the car I can go grab it.”

Harry quickly piped up before Y/n was able to move even an inch from her seat. “Not to worry princess, you get comfortable I’ll go instead.” He lightly tapped her thigh before pushing himself off the couch.

“Harry wait-“ She called out. Her hand managed to interlock with his fast enough before he could walk away. He looked back, watching curiously as Y/n also stood up from the couch.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, his features instantly filled with concern. His hand fell from hers but instead, was protectively wrapped around her waist. The rings around his fingers slightly dug into her skin, the cold metal seeped through the thin material of her shirt causing a wave of goosebumps to wash over her. He gently used his other hand to grasp her chin between his fingers, lifting her head just enough for her gaze to meet his. “Y/n?” He began to worry at the sight of her glassy eyes.

“Don’t go just yet.” Y/n pleaded quietly. Her hands nervously toying with the hem of his shirt. “Please.” Her arms gently wrapped around the back of his neck as she pulled him closer towards her. Her lips brushed against his, “Can I... can I kiss you?”

No matter how much she wanted to give into the urge to kiss him right then and there, Y/n held consent at such a high regard, as did Harry. He always wanted Y/n to feel comfortable and most importantly, safe. He playfully tilted his head with a teasing grin “Of course y’can princess.”

The feeling of hesitation no longer reside in either of them and with one swift movement, Harry’s lips firmly pressed against hers. It only took a small moment before the both of them began to move in perfect sync. Although It was only a kiss, it seemed to make every thought that worried Y/n’s head dissipate as Harry reassuringly ran his fingers up and down her back. The kiss itself was slow, soft but comforting in ways that words would never be.

Y/n noticed a new sense of lust overpower her senses. She continued, kissing him more hungrily as time passed, and even Harry noticed her newfound pushiness as she roughly deepened the kiss which caused a gruff and low groan to escape from the back of his throat.

She breathlessly pulled away from him, bringing him back towards the couch and disconnecting the kiss as she gently pushed him down on the seat. She couldn’t help herself as she flung her leg over his lap to straddle him. He raised a taunting brow “Quite a needy little thing aren’t you?” He quipped, watching as her arms wrapped around his shoulder, resting on the back of his neck.

Her fingers interlaced with a short strand of his hair, twirling it around as she attempted to taunt him. Her innocent eyes failed to leave his as his concentration remained fixated on her plump lips. “Only for you, baby.” She leaned in, reconnecting their kiss. It was filled with more urgency than the last. The familiar taste of peppermint lingering as he moved his lips roughly against hers.

The rough feeling of denim grazed her legs as she grinded her hips into his. Her hands remained entangled in his hair while she tugged on the loose strands, earning a low yet encouraging groan to escape from Harry.

She felt his hands travel across her collarbone, tracing the material of her blouse before toying with the buttons that kept her precious body hidden away from him. Y/n felt the material fall from her shoulders, leaving her exposed and vulnerable to Harry. She pulled away from him as the cold air hit her chest. “We can’t do this here.” She murmured almost breathlessly, biting her lip to suppress the moan that threatened to fall as he planted gentle kisses along her neck, softly nipping at the delicate skin.

“As you wish princess.” He said tauntingly. Y/n could practically feel his smile against her body as his arms roughly gripped her lower back, pulling her up from the seat whilst her legs remained wrapped around his waist.

Y/n was in a fit of giggles as he carried her to his bedroom, mainly because he still managed to pepper kisses across her chest. “I swear to god Styles, if you drop me-“ He shushed her, continuing his torturous yet pleasurable assault on her body before gently placing her down on the bed. “That wasn’t so bad now was it?” He tutted playfully as he made his way to the other side of the bed, his body pressing against hers. “And all that complaining for nothing.”

Y/n hummed thoughtfully. “Are you going to punish me now, baby?” She asked with a sweet smile, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck as she pulled him closer towards her, their faces only inches apart from each other.

“Are y’sure you want to do this? He murmured lowly which earned an excited nod from Y/n.

“Gonna have t’use your words princess. Wanna hear you say it.” He hovered over her body, pressing featherlight kisses down her chest, all the way to her stomach while he teased traced the band of her jeans.

His dominating tone definitely had its way with Y/n. It was difficult not to resist him as the words sat on the tip of her tongue, waiting to escape. “...Please Harry, I want you.”

Harry let out a low chuckle at her pleading. “If I’d have known you were this desperate for me, I would’ve drunk called you a long time ago.”

--------

They both were messily wrapped up in a mountain of clean sheets. Harry leaned against the cotton headboard whilst Y/n remained on his lap. His hands delicately toyed with hers, his gaze thoughtfully looked over the ring that reside on her index finger. “You kept this?” He gestured towards the small object.

But it wasn’t just any old ring, it had the detailing of a rose whilst the rest of the band was covered in small diamonds. The small and dainty rose happened to be the same shade of red as the one Harry had offered Y/n on the day they met.

She hummed approvingly before her eyes lit up in excitement. A teasing smile played at her lips, “I also kept...” She gleefully jumped off the bed, grabbing something from her bag.

“This.” Harry curiously eyed the possession in her hands as she jumped back onto the bed, flinging her legs over Harry’s body, straddling him before she revealed the object. Harry’s features instantly ignited at the realization of what it was.

It was their book.

Harry immediately flicked through the fragile pages, skimming over the words with reminiscence evident in his eyes. But there was something different he noticed about it. Tiny little annotations were done with red ink across certain sentences and significant quotes were highlighted in different colours.

“I was going to give it to you before we...” Her voice trailed off, causing Harry’s chest to ache with guilt. “It was supposed to be as if you were reading it along with me, see?” She explained sheepishly.

Her heart rate quickened as doubts floated through her mind. “I know it’s silly.”

He flicked through all the way to the end of the book, noticing the red ink fly through each of the pages. “You wrote all this for me?” He asked with complete amazement in his tone.

“Maybe... but I understand if it’s too much you don’t have to read it-“ Y/n’s words were interrupted by a small and chaste kiss. “I love it, thank you princess.” He murmured softly. A faint blush ran across Y/n’s face. She could practically feel the low vibration of his voice as his lips hovered below hers.

Harry playfully shook his head, pulling away from her and instead returned to the book with a teasing smile. “Do you mind if I keep it for a bit?” He asked, noticing the nerves that fluttered through Y/n. She mumbled a small ‘I don’t mind’ before Harry closed the book and placed it on the bedside table.

“So, that means you did end up reading the whole story.” He quipped. She laughed lightly, falling back onto her side of the bed. The sound of her laughs were music to Harry’s ears, almost as if it were angelic. It was something he missed most about her.

“Every last page.” Y/n said approvingly. She reached towards the switch, turning off the lights as they sorted themselves for bed.

Y/n was the small spoon, of course.

The deafening silence filled the room. You could almost hear their racing heartbeats as they comfortingly lay in each other’s arms. “Hey Y/n.” He murmured, his voice evidently laced with exhaustion.

She didn’t bother opening her eyes, “Yes baby?” She asked curiously. A boyish smile teased his lips. Another thing he missed whilst Y/n wasn’t around. The pet names.

He couldn’t describe the emotions he was feeling. It was as if he never felt this way before about anyone or anything and frankly; it scared him. It was the same way he felt before Y/n had left him those many months ago.

But this time he swore he would not let his fears get to him. He knew this was right where he needed to be.

People always talk as of waiting until the right or perfect moment to express their affection, but Harry came to realize that the right moment doesn’t exist.

It was now or never.

He planted a small kiss on the back of her head. A hesitant sigh escaped from him as he attempted to push away his unease, giving into his vulnerability.

“...I love you.”

#harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles fic

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lit-in-thy-heart · 3 years

Note

Merwainecelot + leaping hug? It sounds a little dangerous now I'm typing it but it is them 🤣

@donttouchtheneednoggle i received this and spared a second to scream before the chaos entered my mind, it is absolutely a little dangerous but that makes it completely plausible, thank you for the prompt! 💖

this is set between s3 and s4 and there is a slight magic reveal?

do i need to say it's under the cut by now? probably not but it is under the cut because i had far too much fun with this...hope you enjoy it! (i promise you there is fluff)

i am working my way through the others but if anyone wants to send a prompt across, i will welcome it!

Squinting against the menacing sun, Lancelot finally dropped Gwaine’s fingers with a deep breath. Of course it made sense to split up and cover more ground, but he couldn’t quite shake the fear of losing a second partner within a period of several days. He knew it was just his fatigue thinking and he forced himself to glance over at Gwaine once more before diverging in his path.

Merlin had been missing for two days and neither Lancelot nor Gwaine had caught a second of sleep since. The other knights had attempted to coax them into a slumber but, each time their eyes closed, the aching absence of Merlin’s body burst all thoughts of peace. They’d both spent hours going over Merlin’s movements, trying to pinpoint precisely where they had lost sight of him. Lancelot ran his fingers through his hair. If they didn’t find Merlin, then it wouldn’t just be him, Gwaine, and their inner circle that would be crushed. It could potentially be the entirety of Camelot. Arthur had inherited a weak strain of Uther’s paranoid streak and, if Merlin didn’t appear – or, worse, he appeared but not in a live state, which didn’t bear thinking about – then the peace treaty certainly would not appear.

Lancelot dropped to the ground, fingers fumbling along a nearby branch. Catching one fingertip on a thorn, he cursed quietly and inspected the damage, mind distracted for one moment of relief. Watching as blood bubbled to the surface, Lancelot pressed his mouth to the small puncture mark. There had been one afternoon, several months ago, where he had done nothing except lounge outside with Gwaine and Merlin, sketching as Gwaine had struggled to sew a new neckerchief for Merlin (Merlin had given them both one as a favour in a melee and Gwaine’s had been hacked to pieces, along with part of his arm) and Merlin had been depriving a branch of hawthorn of its thorns. Lancelot lingered by the tree for several moments more before straightening and running his hands through his hair again.

The forest had been searched countless times by the knights in daylight hours, and by him and Gwaine in the snatches of starlight when Merlin should have been tucked between them, but that didn’t mean that they were going to stop haunting it. If anything, it made Lancelot more determined that Merlin had hidden himself away in some concealed cove until it was safe to venture out. Because as powerful as Merlin was, there was no way that he could simply disappear off the face of the earth. Not without leaving some clue for Lancelot and Gwaine.

At a rustling, Lancelot withdrew his sword and assumed a defensive stance, lowering his weapon as his eyes latched onto a flash of dusty blue, the corners of his mouth hopefully curving. Gwaine stumbled into view. Through the filter of the trees, the sunlight caught his hair and twisted it into threads more valuable than any precious metal. He swiftly moved to Lancelot’s side, hands skimming his shoulders.

‘You haven’t found him yet?’

Lancelot shook his head, one hand moving to push back Gwaine’s hair whilst the other fell to the neckerchief tied around his wrist. He had a matching one, in red, covering the veins that Merlin had traced many times over during stolen seconds when their mouths had met in the shadows. He’d left his mark on both of them, and had then had the audacity to pull away his touch and allow the cold air to come rushing in. As Lancelot buried his fingers in Gwaine’s hair, moulding his palm to the soft curve of the other knight’s scalp, Gwaine pushed his head further into Lancelot’s hand, closing his eyes.

‘It had to be during dinner that he went missing,’ Lancelot said. They were the same words that he’d said time and time again, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do but cover the same ground in the hopes that they’d dropped something along the way. ‘We were all distracted, then, and anyone could have taken him without us noticing.’

Lancelot could feel Gwaine’s head moving against his palm in agreement. ‘Particularly if he had nipped off to restock on wine.’ Biting his lip, Gwaine opened his eyes. ‘You don’t think that he’s still in the castle and just got lost on the way?’

‘No. We’ve searched every nook and cranny of that place. And you can’t get lost for two days.’

With a sigh, Gwaine dropped his forehead so it rested beside Lancelot’s. ‘If you head east, I’ll head north,’ he heavily said.

Pressing a kiss to his mouth to remind himself that Gwaine wasn’t an apparition, Lancelot nodded. ‘If you find him, you know what to do.’

Gwaine dropped a kiss on Lancelot’s temple and departed with his mouth set in a thin line, fingers curled around the pommel of his sword. He would be quite happy to never set eyes on a forest again, although that would mean that he would probably never be able to step outside Camelot’s inner courtyard. The grip on his sword tightened as he kicked through undergrowth, other hand firmly keeping the hair off his forehead. On the afternoon of his disappearance, Merlin had taken the string Gwaine always used to tie back his hair, as well as all of the shirt strings the three of them owned, with the justification that he couldn’t play with Gwaine’s hair if it was constantly tied back. Gwaine hadn’t had the chance to say that he only tied it back around Lancelot and Merlin so he didn’t miss any of the subtle smiles that fell across their faces like the dappled shadows of trees in the breeze.

He supposed he could tie it back with Merlin’s neckerchief, but he wanted a piece of Merlin to remain close to his skin. Elyan had been the one to suggest winding the garment around his wrist, when Gwaine had crashed into his and Percival’s chambers after realising Merlin was missing. As Percival had left to frantically seek out Lancelot, who had already been tearing through the castle in panic, Elyan had taken Gwaine softly in his arms and gradually slowed his shallow breaths with careful words and a firm grip. And then, after Gwaine’s heart had stopped gunning at a hundred miles an hour, Elyan had chastised him for the guilt at not taking action like Lancelot had done. Lancelot, it transpired, had not taken as much action as Gwaine had thought, concealing himself in a cupboard where Percival had found him struggling for breath. Merlin had been the most important constant that they both had, and they’d lost him. And when Percival had tentatively guided Lancelot back to Elyan and Gwaine, the two of them had collapsed into one another with tight grips, as if afraid that the other would also melt into the air. It had taken them several hours to recover, by which point Leon had already headed a patrol and searched the surrounding area. They’d found nothing but a bloodstained rag caught on the branch of a blackthorn, and one graze of Gwaine’s and Lancelot’s fingertips had confirmed that it was from Merlin’s clothes. Gwaine still had that tied around his arm, which he had been told was not necessarily wise, but there were no open wounds on his skin.

Kicking a shrub aside, Gwaine set his jaw and scanned for any scrap of Merlin that he could find. Then, hearing Lancelot scream his name, he dropped the hand holding back his hair and sprinted in the direction of Lancelot’s desperate voice.

Lancelot had actually been making progress. A delicate river dropped through the forest and, thinking perhaps that there might be several hiding places that they had previously overlooked, he had headed towards the bubbling murmurs that came from the gentle current.

In the glancing gaze of the sun, the surface of the river skittered across the tree trunks with fractured grins and Lancelot had stopped for a moment to readjust his eyes. Consequently, it had taken him a while to spot the figure emerging from the river, and even longer to recognise the features.

Merlin had stepped into the sunlight, dripping with water, and for one awful moment Lancelot had been convinced that Merlin had drowned and this was his spirit returning to condemn Lancelot and Gwaine for not rescuing him. But then Merlin had spoken his name in the only way that life itself could, holding out his hands, and Lancelot had disregarded all fears and leapt straight into his arms.

Between calling Gwaine’s name at the top of his lungs, Lancelot’s hands frantically roamed Merlin’s face, searching for any traces of injury. There were bruises around his throat and dried blood at the top of his head, but nothing seemed too serious. And Merlin hadn’t dropped Lancelot yet, despite the knight’s legs being wrapped around his waist, which was a promising sign.

Satisfied that Merlin wasn’t going to keel over, the elation on Lancelot’s face slid away to reveal a stern expression. ‘You could have told us that you were leaving.’

‘Funnily enough, I didn’t have “getting kidnapped” on my to-do list,’ Merlin replied, the fatigue in his eyes shining through as he spoke the fateful word ‘kidnapped’.

‘I meant leaving dinner, but it doesn’t matter now,’ whispered Lancelot, pressing a kiss between Merlin’s eyebrows.

‘Merlin!’

The force with which Gwaine collided with them both, paired with the momentum created as he jumped from the ground, toppled all three of them over and Merlin let out a yelp as he made contact with the damp forest floor, only inches from the perilous edge of the riverbed. Gradually, Lancelot and Gwaine slid from him and established themselves either side of him, drinking in his appearance. Then Gwaine decided to clamber on top of Merlin again and began rigorously running his fingers over Merlin’s body, just as Lancelot had done. Only, this time, his hands found a thin cut on Merlin’s upper arm, where a chunk of his sleeve was missing.

‘What happened?’

Following Gwaine’s gaze, Merlin frowned and prodded the swollen skin around the cut. ‘I’m not sure. Must have caught myself on something when I was being dragged away. Honestly, I don’t understand how word has got out so quickly that Arthur actually values me. He sure as hell doesn’t act like he does when he’s around me.’

Leaving Lancelot to explain the delicate concept of Arthur actually caring about Merlin, Gwaine hastily began to strip off, tossing his armour aside and pulling off his shirt to untie the scrap of Merlin’s clothing that had been retrieved by Leon. Once it was flat in his palm, Gwaine placed it in the gap and slid his gaze over to Lancelot when the material slotted perfectly over Merlin’s cut.

‘Blackthorn.’

At that single word, Lancelot’s eyes snapped up. ‘Fuck.’ Motioning for Gwaine to remove himself from Merlin, Lancelot climbed on top of him instead, hands fluttering around the injury. ‘Did they give you any treatment for this?’

With a frown, Merlin looked between the two knights. ‘No. I didn’t even realise I’d been cut until Gwaine noticed it. I had escape plans on my mind, and then had to try and remember where the castle was. I really wish they had provided us with maps.’

Gwaine, putting his shirt back on – much to Merlin’s dismay – glanced at Lancelot again. ‘Are you going to be able to draw it out, or do I need to find garlic?’

Placing his hands over Merlin’s arm, Lancelot’s brow furrowed. ‘I should be able to draw it out, but it’s going to take a lot.’

‘You can use me, if you need to,’ Gwaine softly said. He drew one of Lancelot’s hands towards him, settling it beneath his shirt and over his heart, his own hand covering the gentle fingers. ‘You can take everything you need.’

‘Um…What are you doing?’ asked Merlin.

‘The long and short of it is, Merlin, that you have been scratched by a blackthorn and if Lancelot doesn’t deal with it then bad things are going to happen very quickly. Lancelot has also not slept for two days so pulling out the infection is going to take a lot of out him if he does it alone. So he can draw his strength from me. Oh, and I know you have magic. And that you’ve been trying to teach Lancelot how to heal.’ Then with a grin, Gwaine added as an afterthought: ‘Lancelot has been teaching me some stuff, and let’s just say that your and his being aren’t the only things I can set on fire.’

‘That’s—That’s a lot of information to receive in several seconds. And why didn’t you tell me that you knew about my magic?’

‘Because I was waiting for you to trust me enough to tell me yourself,’ Gwaine said, though there was no bitterness in his tone. He knew how prejudiced he had been towards magic, and he couldn’t blame Merlin for being terrified about the reaction if he ever came out with it. There were many things in Gwaine’s past that he hadn’t yet disclosed to either of them for fear of being abandoned. ‘Lance, are you ready?’

‘I’m ready,’ Lancelot quietly responded, closing his eyes and focusing on feeling for the teeth of infection that had sunk into Merlin’s skin.

‘It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you, Gwaine. It was—It was just that I’d already endangered Lancelot by telling him. I couldn’t bear to have two people I love executed. I was trying to protect you.’

Gwaine ran his thumb across Merlin’s forehead. ‘I know, Merlin. I know.’

They lapsed into silence and Merlin closed his eyes, letting himself drift like a feather in the wind between the boundaries of Lancelot’s and Gwaine’s touch. There was a growing warmth in his arm that was reaching uncomfortable temperatures, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing that it meant Lancelot’s trick was working. He’d regretted making the offer of teaching him magic as soon as the words had tumbled loose from his lips, but as much as he’d hated keeping yet another thing from Gwaine, he hadn’t felt able to go back on his word. In the end, though, it had worked out for the best. Lancelot, despite having Merlin as a teacher, had excelled in healing spells – quite how he managed it, Merlin was none the wiser – and as he reflected, the warlock really should have noticed the training injuries on Gwaine’s body that had faded suspiciously quickly overnight. And Gwaine having an accolade for fire spells bore an element of poetic satisfaction as well; just as Lancelot had healed Merlin so long ago with his acceptance, Gwaine was always able to set him beautifully ablaze with love, and Gwaine himself was overflowing with it. Merlin wasn’t entirely certain of what effect he had on them, but they had said over and over that he meant everything to them, so there was definitely something that kept them tethered to him.

Gasping, Lancelot pulled away and promptly fell against Gwaine, his eyes closed. Gwaine himself looked drained, and Merlin wasn’t feeling much better – despite his importance as part of a ransom, his kidnappers hadn’t really put much thought into keeping him healthy over the past couple of days, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up with them both for a week. He sat up and twisted around so he was leaning against them both, relishing the arms that found their way around his body, and he savoured the memory of Lancelot’s weight around his waist when he had clambered out of the river. Placing a hand on their legs, Merlin sent a warm shiver up them both with as much of the energy that he had remaining. It wasn’t exactly healing, but it was a shot of assurance and gratitude, and when he raised his eyes Lancelot and Gwaine were regarding him with identical smiles that illuminated every shadow that fell across their faces.

Then, gradually, Lancelot drew him closer to them, sparks from Gwaine skipping across their interwoven limbs as Merlin was loosely caged by the two people whose fleeting gaze could extinguish the stars, their hearts forming a distinct and harmonious rhythm that was like shy rain on glass.

#i also realise that the hugs are not really the centrepiece of these prompts...i'm sorry #and this is more whump than fluff #but you know #they love and care for each other so that's sort of fluff...right?#and i apologise because these just keep getting longer and longer and i can't seem to help it #thanks again for the prompt!#donttouchtheneednoggle #merlin #gwaine #lancelot #merwaincelot #merwainecelot #bbc merlin #hug prompts #lit writes #merlin fanfic

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mcmoth · 3 years

Text

Reconciled

Tommy was there… sitting…

Suddenly Tubbo realized he may not be ready for this after all.

That feeling only doubled when Tommy turned, and their eyes met. There was an unnerving lack of recognisable emotion in his best friend's eyes. Eyes, that held heavy bags under them. His hair was long and unkempt. His skin bore more scars, His clothes dirty and tattered. He… He looked miserable.

He… He had to talk to him. He won't run away. It was Christmas. He couldn't leave Tommy alone, not today of all days. Not when he looked like this. God, what had happened to him?

***

It was Christmas Eve. And Tubbo was going to see his best friend and apologise.

Read it on ao3

CW: near death expierence, vague mentions to hallucinations, implied manipulation/abuse/neglect (shown in results, not in action)

Sooo, yeah, here's the Tommy and Tubbo reconciliation fic before the streams probably bring us more angst, cause I personally need it :"> (also, a little note, I started this before Tommy rebuilt the bridge, so sorry for that little inaccuracy ;^^ Anyways, onto the fic)

*** *** ***

Tubbo was going to see Tommy.

He considered bringing others with him. After all, it was Christmas Eve. It was the holiday of family, of togetherness. But… he felt like. He needed to… sort things out first.

So, he was going to see Tommy. And he was going to apologise.

With an anxious gait and 2 retrieved disks in his inventory, he pocketed his compass for the moment as he stepped into the purple light of a nether portal. When his senses returned, air thick and hot and eyes blinded momentarily, it took him a bit longer than usual to take in his surroundings.

Oh.

The bridge was gone.

Well, it wasn't gone gone. He could still see it start again a distance away. But… It was taken down. And in it's place was installed a precarious log. It didn't seem stable. It looked dangerous. It kind of made Tubbo a bit nauseous, when he watched the lava bubble just below it. But…

It was no matter. If that was what he had to cross to get to Tommy, he'd take it.

And so, he slowly made his way across, hyper aware of the compass in his pocket, heating up from the nether air. He didn't want to fall and lose it. It's already scratched up. If it made it's way into lava, he would not be able to recover it.

Thankfully tho, before he could realise it, he found his feet stumbling onto solid obsidian again, and he let out a long, relieved sigh.

So that was done. Now he just had to walk his way to the other nether portal, simple as that.

He continued on, eager and nervous, towards his destination. Towards To-

Wait.

Uh….

Tommy was there… sitting…

Suddenly Tubbo realized he may not be ready for this after all.

He… He had to talk to him. He won't run away. It was Christmas. He couldn't leave Tommy alone, not today of all days. Not when he looked like this. God, what had happened to him?

After managing to wrangle air back into his lungs, Tubbo spoke. “H-hey, Tommy.”

His voice was met with numbly shocked eyes and nothing more. Tommy continued to stare. It was… It was unnerving. And only after a minute or so, a response came. A short and quiet, almost unheard “what the shit.”

Tubbo grimaced, trying to not get overwhelmed with nerves. “S-sorry, I know. We… we really haven't spoken in a while, huh...? So I just. Thought. Since it's Christmas and all…”

He watched Tommy, who continued to stare at him. Silently bewildered.

“I would. Finally come to visit you…?” He reached a hand into his pocket, fidgeting with the compass. His voice wobbled. “Sorry that it took so long…”

Still, no real answer came. Tommy just muttered something, now even quieter, and. Then went back to… staring at the lava.

Uh.

If he was to be honest. Tubbo was kind of hurt. He came here to reconcile, and now, Tommy was just… ignoring him? What the hell?

“Tommy?”

When no response came still, he took a step forward, and then another. More until he was sitting next to him. The other boy was tense, refusing to look his way.

“Tommy, c'mon… look at me…”

He placed a hand on his shoulder, but apparently, that was a bad thing to do, as immideately, Tommy was jumping to his feet, startled, and his eyes were wild, and his arms flung around as he tripped on his own feet, and then he was falling-

“Tommy-!”

Quickly, he reached out, both hands grasping at his tattered shirt. Miraculously, thankfully, their center of gravity swayed away from the ledge, and they instead crumpled on the bridge, a mess of limbs and panicked thoughts.

When his head stopped spinning, and his thoughts came back from the pit of dread, of death, of knowing that could be the end, for both of them, he looked and he saw. Tommy stare back at him, from above, propped up on an arm. Shocked and… scared. Confused.

Unbelieving.

An intake of breath. Shaky and shy.

“T-Tubbo…?”

His voice was… so quiet and sad. It kind of hurt to hear.

“Yeah… yeah, I'm here, Tommy.”

Tommy continued to stare at him, looking him over, inspecting his gaze, slipping in and out of his own mind. He raised a shaky hand, carefully, slowly, putting it to Tubbo's cheek. He seemed almost startled when it connected. His fingers were cold despire the warm nether air. Then, a few quiet words escaped.

“You're… you're real.”

Tubbo had no idea what he meant. That scared him.

“…Yeah? Why wouldn't I be real?”

A string seemed to snap in Tommy, a single point of tension, unravelling. “You're real. You… you came to see me.”

Tubbo didn't like how his voice wobbled. Didn't like the disbelief in his voice, how meek he sounded, looked. Tommyinnit was not meek. He was the furthest thing from meek. How had he changed so much in so little time? Was… was it really that long? Was… he should have visited a long time ago, shouldn't he have?

Wrecked with guilt, he clumsily propped himself up, sitting up, and before he could comprehend the flinch Tommy gave at he proximity, he took him in his arms.

Held him tight, close. Willing the shaking away, the fear. God, he hated seeing Tommy scared.

“I'm here, Tommy. I'm here…”

It took a long while until Tommy relaxed in his grip and finally set his head on his shoulder, arms wrapping around loosely as his hands tangled in the other’s shirt. Another bad sign. Tommy was usually so clingy with his hugs. Secure.

Exhaling, Tubbo raised one hand to run through Tommy's unkempt hair. It was oily and long. Why wasn't he taking care of himself…?

“Tommy…?”

Abruptly, he realised Tommy's breathing has been getting slower. Blinking, he tapped the boy's head a few times.

“Tommy? C'mon don't fall asleep on me now, big man…”

When no response came, he hesitantly detangled from the hug and put a little bit of distance to see the other's face. Tommy’s eyes were dull and heavy, and it seemed like he was blinking in and out of consciousness, even as he desperately tried to focus on Tubbo in return. It seemed to be a losing battle.

Sighing, he carefully stood, taking Tommy with him, wrapping one of his arms around his own shoulders. Concerningly, he was lighter than he remembered him being. “C’mon, Toms, let's get back to your bed. You don't wanna fall asleep here.”

Tommy just let out a small noise that Tubbo couldn't tell whether it was affirmative or negative, and then they were on their way.

The cold winter air immideately hit them when they left the heat of the nether, and Tommy instantly began trembling. Well… now Tubbo realized one reason Tommy might’ve been hanging around there instead of here.

Shifting so that he could hold Tommy closer, Tubbo took one look at the small, open tent and turned away, instead making steps towards the log walls. When they entered the house there, it was a bit warmer, but not warm enough by any margin, and Tubbo felt his dread grow bigger. Thankfully, tho, when he turned to the bed, there seemed to be at least 2 warm blankets, with a lighter one on top of those, so he quickly made his way there, unfurled them and sat Tommy down.

Before long, they were both in the bed, under heavy blankets, Tubbo holding Tommy close to help combat the cold. The other's hold felt more like himself, arms wrapped tightly around Tubbo, head buried in his hair. Slowly relaxing and falling to a restful sleep.

Tubbo wanted to talk to him. He had so many things he wanted to ask him, about this place, why his clothes were so tattered, why he was so light, why he was so tired, why he was uncertain that Tubbo was real, what he's been doing here, how he's been spending his time. If he'd ever missed him. If he'd ever forgive him. If there was any information on when he could return.

But… for now. Tommy was exhausted. And the best thing to offer to fix that was rest. So, they'd sleep, and the rest would come in the morning. They could figure it out.

***

Tubbo awoke feeling more rested than he had in… months.

It was crazy. But, He guessed it made sense. His days lately had been very saddled with responsibility. And while it was fulfilling, working towards a goal, building up L'manburg again, it was also… tiring. And, frankly, isolating.

He turned his head to look at Tommy's face. His dumb, embarrasing, sleepy face. He still looked worse for wear, but now, at least, he looked peaceful. That's something he could appreciate.

Seeing as how he could see the last of morning sunlight flitting into the room, he guessed it was a good time to disturb, that, tho.

Shaking the other boy lightly, he had expected him to wake quickly, as Tommy was a light sleeper usually. But, instead, to his surprise, the other took a while to mumble in protest, lazily turning in bed, before he finally opened his eyes.

Chuckling, Tubbo greeted the faded blue lightly. “Good morning!”

Tommy was still slow to respond, tho, blinking copiously as he stared at him and the rest of the room. Then, almost numbly, he uttered, “I'm not dreaming still, am I?”

Tubbo laughed, incredulous. “What??”

Something seemed to click in Tommy's brain then, tho, as his tired eyes suddenly widened and he shot up in bed, tense and overwhelmed, looking at Tubbo with an intensity he doesn't think he's ever seen Tommy display. Not towards him.

Taken aback and out of the peaceful mood, Tubbo shrank into himself, staring him back despite the sudden anxiety.

“Y-you…”

“Me.” Tubbo gulped.

“You…” Tommy's eyes looked sad, more than anything. “You came to see me.” Until they no longer did. “Y-you finally came to see me. Why didn't you visit me before?! Where were you?!”

Tubbo involuntarily trembled, trying to get past the lump in his throat. “I- I was- I thought you-"

“You had all this time to see me, weeks, and you never did! Why did you visit me now? Why now, huh? Is it out of-"

“I-it's- I'm sorry, It's Christmas, so I thought-"

“Ohhh, so it is out of pity, you don't actually care, none of you do, I knew it, you just think ‘ohh, I'm gonna go see the stupid exiled man now, do a good deed,’”

“No-“

“Well yeah, I see right through your shit, you don't care, Dream was right, you don't care about me, none of you do, you all ha-"“

“I THOUGHT YOU HATED ME, TOMMY!”

Everything turned still.

Tubbo didn't mean to shout. Didn't mean to raise his voice, display this vulnerability so loudly. But, when feeling under attack, what's left to do but defend yourself?

Trying to get his heart rate back to normal, he focused warily on Tommy. Tommy, who was slightly trembling, and had a very conflicted, almost confused look on his face.

“I- …”

A breath.

“I don- No, but you hate me.”

It took a bit for Tubbo to process those words.

Brows furrowing, he wracked his brain for clues, trying to figure out Tommy's thought process and how to continue onwards. “N-no? I. Where… where did you get that idea from?”

Tommy seemed very, very lost. His eyes darted from staring, to looking away, fingers tangling in the blanket. His movements were all jerky, his breaths irregular.

“…Tommy…?”

“Y-you. Don't…?”

Holy shit. Tubbo's heart was gonna break. What was happening? When had Tommy learned to speak so quiet, when had he started to think Tubbo could ever hate him?

“No…! Tommy, I… I don't hate you at all, where did you get that from?” He tried to make his voice as soft and as convincing as possible, restraining from reaching towards him, in fear of being overbearing. None of that care seemed to be enough, tho, as Tommy's brows still furrowed, a bitter turn appearing on his lips.

“Oh… I dunno, maybe from how you exiled me? And never came to see me afterwards?”

Tommy’s voice was starting to really crack, and something in Tubbo did as well. “I’m sorry-"

“Not even to show up for that beach party? And- and you. You burned the compass. Wilbur gave it to you. I know…” He lifted his eyes, gazing right back at the other. They were so wide and vulnerable. “I know all about that Tubbo."

Tubbo furrowed his brows, feeling questions bubble up. “Uh… well, I- I’m very sorry about the party, I. I didn't get an invitation, but…” he slid a hand in his pocket. “You mean this compass…?”

He pulled it out, presenting it to Tommy, delicately wiping off a stray bit of dust as he did so.

Tommy’s breath seemed to catch in his throat as he stared at the item, shock clear as day. Carefully, ever so fearfully, he reached out, and when Tubbo gave a nod at his silent plea for permission, he ran his fingers across the ‘Your Tommy' engraving and opened the lid. Once more, he looked up for permission, then took the compass out of Tubbo's hands and stared at the dart move, spinning around, likely checking if it truly pointed to him.

Tubbo felt like he should feel off with the compass being taken away from him, even if briefly. He always had it on him. And the few times he's dropped it, even if it hadn't been damaged during, he’d felt terrible. Like something was missing.

But… the compass was to point at Tommy. And Tommy was here, right in front of him. He didn’t need any more comfort than that.

His thoughts, however, got interrupted, when Tommy let out a sound. It took him a second, but Tubbo did recognise it. Something that he hadn't heard from Tommy in so long. Something that he hadn't realized how much he’d missed.

A laugh.

He watched as Tommy smiled at the compass, his braced teeth showing off slightly. With another chuckle, he turned it towards Tubbo, eyes lighter, even if slightly embarrassed. “What the fuck… did you really choose that picture to put there?”

Tubbo peeked at the ‘jump in the Cadillac’ photo, a laugh of his own bubbling out. “Yeah… That was the first one I could find. It's silly, but… well, you are silly, so.”

Tommy continued to stare at the item, something wistful and tearful in his expression. He let out a small huff. “Thanks…”

Tubbo couldn't tell whether that was meant as sarcastic or not, so he opted not to reply, and simply accepted the compass back when it was offered. Then, they sat.

It was a long drag of silence, of sitting in crumpled blankets, of looking at the dust dance in the morning sun, of shaking ever so slightly from the chill that’s starting to catch up, until either of them dared to interrupt it.

“So…” Tommy hesitantly started out. “You. You said that… you didn't get an invite…?”

Tubbo watched him, apprehension swimming like an eel in his gut. “Yeah…? Was I supposed to get one?”

“…” Tommy inspected the blanket, tearing bits of string apart and wrapping them around his finger until it turned purple. “…Yeah.”

The eel grew bigger. “And… but. I didn't.”

Tommy continued strangling his blood vessels, slipping into his own head.

The eel wanted out. “How…” he gulped past the weight in his throat. “How about others…?”

A string snapped in half, leaving a finger to recover. Tommy took long to answer.

“…there were no others.”

A new string.

“Noone showed up.”

Tommy hunched inwards. Started winding the string again.

“Noone but Dream…”

The eel was big, and it bit, and it threatened to climb out as Tubbo struggled to find a voice. “I. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry, Tommy…”

Tommy narrowed his eyes, exhaustion setting back in. “Don't pity me.”

“I’m not.” Guilt was so much stronger than pity. “I’m sorry. I'm sorry for exiling you. I'm sorry for not visiting you. I'm sorry for not sending you any messages, checking up on you, anything at all. I'm sorry for leaving you here, all alone.” He took in a shaky breath, eyes beggining to water dangerously. “I'm sorry for saying the discs don't matter. I'm sorry for- for calling you a liability… You're not. You're not. You're the furthest thing from a liability, Tommy.”

Tommy refused to raise his eyes, hiding his face behind a long mop of hair and raised shoulders.

“You're my best friend. I never should have done that to you… I'm so sorry, Tommy...”

Tommy was still for a while. Then, he shook his head. “No, Tubbo… You had to do what was best for L'manburg. I understand.”

Tubbo sighed, exasperated. “It didn't even do any good for L'manburg, tho…” he muttered.

A pause. Tommy blinked, raising his head slightly, finally. Quietly, he uttered “What?”

“It…” Tubbo averted his gaze, something like shame and sadness in his eyes. “It's not going good, Tommy. I mean… the buildings are all… nice, but. It's just land. And L'manburg isn't just land, Tommy.” He glanced at Tommy for a moment, looking defeated. “It's the people. And… and lately, everyone's been just… disbanding. Seperating... I can't keep it together.”

Tommy… didn't know how to process that. L'manburg… seperating? Dissipating? Such a concept had never occurred to him as a concern before… There had. They had always fought for L'manburg. Right? And didn't Dream….

“But… Dream said it was going great without me, tho…”

Tubbo was suddenly zeroed in on him, and… and in his eyes was anger. Startled, Tommy quickly scooted back, curling up more, not letting himself take his eyes away as his breath catched.

“Well, Dream is a bitch.”

Tommy was… Tommy was burning. His feelings were torn, fleeting from anger at Dream apparently lying, to his mind shouting that Dream was his friend and he wouldn't do that, between wanting to believe it and not believe it in equal amounts, of not being able to believe, his instincts still running high at the intensity of Tubbo's stare, wishing the blankets could wrap around his head and suffocate it all out.

“B-but…”

However, Tubbo came back to his senses as he realized Tommy's distress, and quickly the anger evaporated, in it's place fleeing worry. He took a breath to collect himself before continuing on, voice softer this time. “Tommy, Dream is full of shit. I should have realized that earlier.” He glanced to the side. “Well, I mean, I'd known that, to an extent, already, but…” he sighed. “I… You were right. I… still can't tell you whether exiling you was necessary at the time or not,” Tommy felt a resignated ache. “But. What I do know is that I acted impulsively and like an asshole. And… big part of that, I think, is that… Dream drove us to that point.” Tubbo looked up at Tommy, leaning his head to try to meet his eyes. Hesitantly, Tommy obliged, gazing back warily.

Tommy has looked miserable ever since he saw him again. Still, Tubbo didn't think he could get used to it if he tried. It still hurt to see him so beaten down. And… based on what he's heard from him, he guessed he knew who was to blame, besides himself. “Tommy, Dream has always had a vendetta against you. You know not to take anything he says to heart.”

Tommy straightened, a retort on his lips, but, it never came. Instead, something very conflicted flashed across his face.

“I…”

I know, he wanted to say. But, that wouldn't be entirely true, would it? He didn’t know. He didn't know why Dream had seemed to care for him so much, and, with these recent revelations, he didn't know how much Dream had lied to him about. He didn't know anything. He used to be so sure about his allegiances, about how Dream, despite the occasional out of character support, was his enemy first and foremost, but… This exile had forced him to confront a lot of things about himself, and others. And now it was all getting questioned again.

It was all… so confusing. Maddening. To the point of a headache, splitting his brain, as his body shakes, cold and worn down. From the frost on the windowsill, from the countless nights spent restless and alone, from the tears in his clothes and soul, made from damages he could not yet comprehend, much less accept.

Before he could take the blanket, tho, use it as a defense, it was taken by a different pair of hands and snugly wrapped around him, warm and secure. Taken aback, he stared at Tubbo, who viewed him with kind eyes, a pleading raise to his brows. Patient and gentle, looking at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“Remember, you can't trust Dream. Don't listen to him. It's you and me, right? Tommy and Tubbo against Dream, against the world. We can't let him convince us otherwise. Just you, and me, big man.” Tubbo smiled. “Always.”

Tommy blinked. Then blinked some more. And continued blinking, a familiar itch welling up in his eyes, only this time, his chest felt full with something else.

This time, when he allowed the tears to fall, free and unhidden, his forehead falling against a familiar shoulder, familiar small hands resting against his back and running through his hair, a familiar, comforting hum of his best friend echoing in his mind, his heart swelling up, he felt okay. He felt loved.

He felt at home.

“Thank you.”

Everything was far from over. Tubbo still had many, many questions. Tommy still had a difficult recovery to await. They still had a major obstacle to overcome and a long, winding road ahead of them. But, for now, just sitting in each other's embrace, warm and breathing and reconciled, was all that they needed.

They will be okay.

#dream smp #tommyinnit #tubbo #fic #fanfiction #protective tubbo #hurt/comfort #angst #exile arc #my writing #mcyt #my own post

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ahsokasanity · 3 years

Text

Chapter Thirteen

A Court of Shadow and Ribbons Chapter Link

Oh, you’re gonna wanna read this one!

The house arranged a beautiful table setting and centre piece. The room was bathed in the orange and bright pinks of the evening sun. Azriel was already there. Dressed casually in black pants and a teal shirt with the cuffs rolled up nearly to his elbows. Cassian and Nesta wandered in, drink in each hand. Cassian passed his spare to Aziel, who took it gratefully and swallowed a large gulp. He looked up at them quickly

“sparkling water?”

Nesta answered for them “I’m not, you know drinking anymore so the house offers what’s best for every situation. Cassian agreed, a totally sober night for him and you will be best – especially with the work you have to do tomorrow”

Azriel nodded “I see, and I agree alcohol is not necessary, maybe I was looking to take the edge off, but I don’t need it”

Cassian laughed “You might, but we’ll back you up buddy”

Gwyn arrived taking the last step slowly and looking around furtively. She was talking to herself quietly “Are you Idisi? Is this scarier that fighting for your life on Ramiel? Can you chill out and have a quiet dinner with your friends and with Azriel? She sucked in a breath “Oh Mother, would you look at him”

Nesta stepped forward and took Gwyn’s hand, having left her drink on the table.

“You are so welcome Gwyn, I can’t believe we haven’t done this before” they hugged and walked to sit at the dining table.

“Please sit down Gwyn. Cass, Azriel we can eat whenever we are ready”

She turned to Gwyn “You know since the house was gifted to Cassian and I, we don’t venture to the kitchens. Every now and then I send a basket of treats or some blooming flowers of Elain’s to say thank you, but Windy does it all. It is an interesting way to live never knowing or bothering to think about what we should eat” she smiled and Cassian stopped talking to Azriel for a moment to appreciate that spirit. A year ago he could not have fantasised about this kind of hope and happiness for her.

Aziel noticed too but his eye was caught more by the slight giggle that Gwyn made, her curls bouncing either side of her face and the way her eyes sparkled with merriment.

“Windy” as Nesta had begun to refer to the house of Wind did not disappoint with dinner. Although you might think it was a Den Mother the way each person was served different amounts depending on their body’s requirements and tastes. It was all food on a theme, but no two plates were the same.

Gwyn was enjoying the food and the easy conversation ranging from training, to the mating ceremony, to singing and pranks that Azriel and Cassian had played on each other and Rhys growing up.

Dessert was served and when Gwyneth’s plate arrived bearing a colourful meringue pegasus, she burst out laughing. The house had remembered her request from the girls night months ago.

She really did not relish eating the work of art, but the dinner had been served in order and amounts to leave her room for this treat. Azriel had heard the story from Cassian about what the house had provided the three recovering females and was so pleased to see Gwyn relaxed and joyful. When she offered him some of her meringue, he took the tail.

“This is only so that we can tell people you did not eat an entire pegasus by yourself” and popped it into his mouth. Gwyn watched every move, caught by the idea of that melt in your mouth delicacy on his tongue, dissolving and fizzing and finally being swallowed. She consciously dropped her eyes to her plate, but hoped that he would not scent her want. A feeling that she just couldn’t stop, rising within her.

Suddenly she wished that she had not eaten all that the house had offered. Her stomach knotted and her heart beat was going to drown out the conversation. In fact, she noticed Cassian and Azriel had stopped speaking and Nesta was looking at her worriedly.

“Gwyn, what’s wrong? you’ve gone pale all of a sudden”

She abruptly stood, pushing the chair back and stumbled toward the dark doors leading to the roof.

“I just need some air.” She scrambled outside. The others too shocked to follow

It was dark outside, but she knew every corner and seat and railing here. She moved to a bench overlooking the city and it’s twinkling lights, with one wall of the house behind her. Gwyn sat and breathed. She counted to ten for each inhale and each exhale until the nausea stopped, then began the proper Valkyrie exercises to centre her mind. On purpose she did not try to find a reason for her panic. It was all too obvious.

Moments or hours later Nesta came out to her, carrying one of the house’s magical light sources so that she could find Gwyn. Although, she knew the layout better that anyone, Gwyn realised she was announcing her presence.

“I’m so sorry Nessie, I don’t know what happened” (even though she did and it scared her to death). Nesta sat beside her with one arm over her shoulders.

“Don’t mention it, you know around here, we’re all about do as you feel” She winked. Gwyn knowing full well about Nesta’s behaviour when she arrived up here, and about how many different rooms she and Cassian had enjoyed each other in. She just smiled and said

“Thank you. Really, I appreciate that, but I’m not sure what to do now. Do I sit here breathing or do I come back and face my trainers feeling embarrassed and silly?” She shrugged and Nesta could see the internal struggle for the female who always put on a brave face to cover the unforgettable trauma of death and rape that dogged her still.

“How about a compromise?” Nesta dipped her chin, “Azriel and Cassian and I could come out here to sit with you in the dark, then you don’t have to feel like you look silly because they won’t be able to see you!”

Gwyn huffed a laugh, then it broke to the surface and it came out properly. Nesta joined her and they pushed on each other’s shoulders making the other start up again.

It didn’t take long before Cassian and Azriel made their way out to see what was going on out there. They were talking loudly and teasing each other about who was the best trainer, Nesta blessed them for their attempt at subtlety.

“What’s your opinion Gwyn, who is the best trainer? Your General, OR the guy who helps out sometimes?” Cassian had arrived and dragged over a sunbed made for wings to lay on.

Gwyn looked at Azriel who stayed standing on the other side of Nesta. His silk shirt caught the moonlight and she could see the colour ripple as he breathed

“Well, General" She started and the others laughed

“You definitely make me work harder, Azriel seems to like stretching and cooling down best” Cassian made to accept his win.

“But….” Gwyn continued “The person who helps out sometimes, has, I think, been the reason behind my technique improvement” She smiled at Azriel then and he looked modestly at the ground.

“So, I’m not going to choose!” Gwyn declared. Cassian and Nesta clapped and congratulated her, and Azriel laughed and the joy in that laugh had Gwyn tensing up inside. In a good way. The stomach churning did not happen, but a bubbly, happy humming started in her chest.

Cassian held out his hand to Nesta, beckoning her and she went and lay next to him with her head on his chest and their hands linked across Cass’s belly.

Azriel glanced at the bench vacated by Nesta “May I?” he asked Gwyn softly.

“Of course” She said shyly. What else could she say. She edged a little further from him so that she would not accidentally touch his wings. His shadows stayed as a second skin around him, but where his hand rested on the bench closest to her, they seeped out a little. Gwyn did it without thinking, she ran a finger through the darkness of the inky feelers. She pulled away as they touched her coolly, but stretched her hand out again when it didn’t hurt.

“Can you feel that?” she said quietly

Cassian and Nesta were silent, she knew they could hear her, and Azriel’s reply, but surely someone had asked the shadowsinger about his shadows before.

“Yes, but it’s a feeling not a sense”

Cassian called out “REALLY?” and Nesta put her hand over his mouth laughing. Azriel shook his head “Yes, really. I don’t feel hot or cold or sharp or blunt with my shadows. Right now I just feel happiness, and maybe uncertainty?”

Gwyn slid her hand away. He was reading far too much of her mood right now.

“That’s really amazing” she looked properly at him and fell headlong into his dark blue eyes. He blinked and she was able to look away

“It is pretty good. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have the power, but it’s saved me, well, us, so many times I’m grateful despite the “feelings’ all the time”

Nesta “oohhhhed” from her chair like suddenly Azriel made more sense. Cassian nudged her and she squirmed “What?”

“Well, I was just thinking how tired I am and that I have to get up early tomorrow for Rhys’ little errand, and you know, maybe it’s” he spoke lower “bedtime”.

Nesta got the hint and went a little pink cheeked, although it was too dark to see.

“Good point Cassian, what a responsible mate you are. Definitely bedtime when we’ve got to get going early” she yawned deliberately. Cassian merely stood and took her hand bowing to Azriel and Gwyn

“Brother, Gwyn, thanks for tonight. Let’s do it again soon”

Nesta nodded and giggled at Cassian’s attempt at politeness and sudden need to be alone with her. She had the same idea.

“Thank you Nesta, Cassian” Gwyn nodded but didn’t attempt to rise, instead she looked at Azriel. He stared back but farewelled his friends absentmindedly

“Yeah, bye”

#Angsty stuff #acosf #acotar #sjm #Gwynriel #Nessian #House of Wind #Shadows #Double date #triggers

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skiller0dani · 4 years

Text

Lovebirds | Five Hargreeves

M A S T E R L I S T TUA Masterlist

fluff requested requests info

In case you missed this post, I wanted to say I will write for Five. But it’ll be Imagines, blurbs, but N O T smut. Aiden Gallagher is underaged, and I most definitely am an adult and have no interest in writing about him in sexual situations. So request things. I’ll write fluff, angst, long pieces (10,000 words plus even), short pieces, idc! As long as it’s not sexual I will write it for Five.

For most of my Five writings I am aging him up to 16, unless I say otherwise.

You didn’t hate him, even if it really seemed like you did.

You actually preferred Five believed you hate him because in reality you had an enormous, ridiculously intense crush on him. While you may be 16, you didn’t behave like a 16 year old girl. You weren’t reading GQ magazines to look at ‘cute guys’, you weren’t painting your damn nails and preparing for prom. Instead you were sat in the Hargreeves mansion with the resident Seance, watching as he drank himself to unconsciousness. You were an orphan, or so that’s what you told everybody. Truth be told both of your parents were drug addicts and drunks, you haven’t lived with them for nearly a year. Clearly they haven’t noticed as the police have yet to be called. You were on the streets for a while before someone stumbled upon you, literally. Klaus literally tripped over you. He decided to take you in, and so far the Hargreeves siblings had been quite welcoming. Well all except for one.

You and Five seemed to butt heads since the first day you moved here. He greeted you with nothing more than a curt nod as he brushed past you and up the stairs. Five had been nothing but distant, cold, and borderline cruel from the very second you arrived. You tried not to let it bother you, but it did. Vanya told you that this is just how he is, and despite his cruel behavior and decided hatred of you, you couldn’t stop your heart from racing when he came in the room. You couldn’t stop your palms from sweating when he looked in your direction, even if it was nothing more than a brief glance. When your eyes connected with his it felt like fireworks were erupting in your chest, and you almost always flushed under his gaze. You usually covered it with a scowl before he could notice the blush on your cheeks.

Five was always so damned indifferent about everything, and he always evaded questions regarding his emotions. He almost pretended he didn’t have feelings, the only thing he outright admitted when it came to his emotions, was that he loves his siblings. In truth, you think a therapist would have a field day with him. You leaned back against the couch opposite of Klaus, with a lazy smile on his face. The sun had set hours ago, “what’s with you and Five? Jesus most days I’m worried you’re going to kill each other one of these days,” Klaus grumbles, shuffling around on the couch causing the alcohol to spill a little. You giggle as he groans, wiping his wet hand on the back of the couch. “We just don’t get along.” You shrug, you honestly have no idea what his problem is. You always tend to get hostile when your heart is involved almost like a defense mechanism.

“We don’t get along because you’re a reckless know-it-all with a big mouth and absurd opinions.” Five chimes in from the doorway. You grit your teeth at his smug smile. “You know, I always thought being an entitled narcissist was a choice, but when it comes to you I think it’s the default option.” You snap back, with a victorious grin spreading over your face. Five’s smile drops and a look of utter annoyance takes it’s place. His hands are slid into his pockets as he stands over your sat position on the couch, “Y/N you’re projecting your daddy issues on me again.” He says, feigning a look of pity. You slam your hand on the arm of the couch as you stand, and Klaus curls into the couch, bottle in his hands as he watches with his eyebrows raised. “Saying I have daddy issues is assuming I give a shit about him. Which I don’t.” You hiss, feeling anger beginning to boil under your skin.

“Actually, I think you need to have a dad to have daddy issues with. You’ve been gone for what? 10 months? And no word from either of your parents? Doesn’t sound like they care.” Five says with one of his indifferent shrugs. Feeling emotion rush up on you, you raise your hand and firmly slap Five across the cheek. Tears spill over your cheeks as he stands in shock, “I already know that nobody on this planet loves me. Thanks for the reminder.” You snap through tears before you quickly exit the library. Klaus pinches the bridge of his nose as he looks at Five, “you’re a jerk.” Is all he says before taking another drink from the bottle in his hands. Five turns out of the library, his cheek stinging and his heart becoming swallowed by guilt.

If he were to be honest with you and himself he would tell you that he doesn’t hate you. Quite the contrary actually, as he’d been harboring a massive crush on you from the moment Klaus carried your sleeping body into the Academy. You looked so beautiful and delicate asleep, you looked like an angel. Klaus had brought you into his bedroom and Five watched as you snuggled into the mattress, he could barely take his eyes off you. It was in that moment that Five decided he needed to put as much distance between you two that he could. Caring about someone is dangerous because of the life he lives. The commission has tried to kill him on multiple occasions and The Handler would absolutely have a field day if she learned of someone Five was in love with. Five never let himself fall in love, so when your eyes fluttered open and landed on him, he turned tail and ran. His heart had seized in his chest the second your eyes connected with his. From then on he decided it was safest to get you to hate him, so you would want to stay away from him, no matter how badly it hurt him to do so.

Five knew where you would be, so he made his way down to the kitchen, finding you sitting at the table talking to Grace. Her hand was rubbing your back and Five swore he felt his heart splintering into pieces as he listened to you cry softly. Hearing a knock you lifted your head from the table, quickly wiping your tears when you see Five standing in the doorway. “Mom could you give us a second?” Five asks, and Grace smiles and stands from the table, brushing a stray hair out of his face as she passes by him. You sit at the table, your eyes red and swollen as you keep your gaze firmly away from him. The silence stretches on forever, and eventually Five clears his throat, “listen Y/N-” He starts but cuts himself off as your watery eyes look up into his.

Five takes another step towards you, “I’m sorry.” He says finally and your eyebrows raise in surprise. Five never never apologizes, at least not to you. He apologizes to his siblings all the time. “People love you Y/N, I know Klaus certainly does.” He states matter-of-factly. His hands push into his pockets and it’s now that you see the tint of pink dusted over his cheeks. Is Five blushing? You don’t know what to say, so you stay quiet as Five shifts from foot to foot. “We have terrible coffee here, do you want to go get a cup from Griddy’s?” He asks, startling the hell out of you. Did Five just ask you to go somewhere with him? Just you two? You shrug as you wipe away the last stray tear, “sure.” Five smiles softly and even holds the door open for you as you both step out onto the dark sidewalk.

There is silence at first, but it’s not awkward, or filled with anger and tension. It’s a comfortable silence. Your arm accidentally brushes against his as you two head to the park to cut through it to Griddy’s. “Five can I ask you something?” You ask, coming to a halt in the park. Five turns and looks at you, waiting for you to continue. You swallow a thick lump in your throat, trying to steel your nerves for this question as you lock eyes with him. “Why don’t you like me? Since the first day I got here you’ve been distant and mean. What did I do wrong?” You ask, and you don’t mean for the tears to begin to well in your eyes but they do. Five shakes his head as he takes a few steps towards you, so that he’s now standing directly in front of you. “I don’t hate you Y/N.” You shake your head, you need more of an explanation than that. Your watery eyes are wide and confused as you stare up at him.

“I’m so mean because I’ve fallen in love with you Y/N. Me being who I am, there’s a huge target on my back and really dangerous people try to kill me on a daily basis. I can’t care about anybody the way I care about you, it’ll put you in danger. Just being here with me right now is putting you in danger. I was so mean to get you to stay away from me, I was trying to protect you from-” You wrap your arms around him and press your lips against his, effectively shutting him up. Five stumbles back as you practically throw yourself into his arms, but he quickly recovers and wraps his arms around your waist to keep you from falling. Your lips move against his for a few moments before you pull away for air, a smile on your face and a startled look on his face. “You don’t have to protect me, I know what I want and how I feel. I love you Five.” You say, breathless. Five smiles before pressing his forehead against yours and then suddenly you hear clapping from nearby.

You pull away from him to see Klaus and the rest of Five’s siblings clapping from behind a tree. A dark blush covers Five’s face as he reaches up to flip them off, “did you seriously follow us?” He asks, one of his arms still wrapped around your waist. Allison places a hand over her heart, “you two are so cute!” She coos and you turn to hide your face in Five’s neck from embarrassment. “Well to our defense, we wanted to make sure you didn’t kill each other.” He shrugs and you see Five grit his teeth in frustration. You lean up to whisper in Five’s ear, “if they want to watch, let’s give them something to look at.” A smile stretches across Five’s face before he presses his lips against yours once more.

#tua netflix #tua season 1 #tua imagine #five hargreeves #five hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #five hargreeves fluff #tua fluff

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cali-holland · 4 years

Text

Golden Bullets, Epilogue

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond!AU

Harrison Osterfield, Agent 007, was once the best MI6 agent around with the astounding reputation as a womanizer. Between illegal gold smuggling and black market trading of weapons, he finds himself deeper in his latest mission than intended, weaving himself into a web of the criminal organization, S.P.E.C.T.R.E.. At the center of it all is the one woman who’s never fallen for his charms- you, Agent 006, the best MI6 agent, the new assistant director of the program, and his new partner.

Word Count: 1200

Gif is not mine ~ is it from the greatest showman though??

Golden Bullets Masterlist

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, blood, sexual themes

~~~

The chime of the elevator arriving to its floor rang out through Harrison’s ears, and he slowly stepped out into the hall. Leaning on his newly acquired black cane, he walked down the familiar hallway to Q’s lab.

“You look like shit.” Tom commented as soon as Harrison stepped into the room.

“Nice to see you too.” He replied. “Anything new for me?”

Tom let out a small sigh, shaking his head. “You’re not in the field anymore, remember? M would have my head if I give you a new gadget.” There was a pause between the two of them as Harrison didn’t know what to say, just looking down at the table of blueprints and computers. “I know why you’re here.”

“And any updates?” Harrison asked.

“You know as much as I do.” He said, “M has been quiet about it, even Moneypenny doesn’t know.”

“I just would’ve thought we’d know something by now.” He mumbled.

“We? Or you?”

Tom’s words made Harrison go silent again, and he turned around to leave the room. He stumbled a bit, still getting used to his cane. Tom called out to him just as he reached the elevator, “Cuba. Last I heard.”

Harrison stepped back into the elevator, leaning against the cool metal as the doors shut once again. He sighed, closing his eyes in hopes of finding some peace. His free hand ghosted over the stitches on his hip from the bullet wound.

If someone would’ve asked him two months ago where he thought he’d be in his life, he wouldn’t have said here. No, he would’ve never even guessed that he’d be anywhere near this physical and mental state. He didn’t feel like an agent anymore, he didn’t feel like a famed womanizer; he just felt lonely.

It had been one and a half months since his last mission ended, since he got shot when trying to protect you from Oddjob’s bullets, since he was rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery, since he saw you. You had stayed by his side until he went into surgery, but once he came to, all patched up and okay again, you were gone, vanished without a trace.

The original rumor going around MI6 was that you went awol, mia, rogue. Those rumors still lingered, but then it got out that you had been corresponding with M, on a special top-secret mission. Moneypenny, M’s most trusted assistant, and Tom, M’s most trusted genius, didn’t even know. Harrison hadn’t even heard from you, not truly. All he had was a “wish you were here” postcard from Venice and that didn’t even have a message on it except for a small 006 written in the corner.

For the past few weeks, his life had been full of readjustments. The MI6 physician had barred him from any field work, placing him on temporary leave. He was supposed to keep exercise to a minimum, which was why the only time he got out was when he journeyed to Q to ask him the same question once a week.

When Harrison got back to his apartment, it felt colder than usual as if the window was open, and he never left the window open. He clutched his cane tighter, finger hovering over the trigger button that would turn the simple object into a knife, one Q had designed for him for protective measures. Slowly, his eyes scanned his dark living room before flicking on the light.

Nothing seemed out of place.

Nothing except for the new “greetings from Havana” postcard sitting on his coffee table.

Smiling to himself, he eased up as he saw the recognizable “006” in the corner. He toyed with the postcard in his hand, making his way over to the open window across the room. The moment he shut and locked it, he heard a creak in the floorboards down the hall in his bedroom.

He set the postcard back down on the coffee table on his way through the living room and down the hall. He stepped into his bedroom, turning on the light in the process. Just as he was about to go check further in his apartment, he noticed a new object in his room. In the armchair in the corner of the room sat a familiar hat- the hat of Oddjob, and peaking out from under the hat was a golden gun.

“What’s a girl gotta do to get a martini around here?” He heard a voice from behind him. “Shaken. Not stirred.”

Smirking, Harrison turned around. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”

He barely got the words out before your lips were on his for a passionately tender kiss. Harrison dropped the cane to wrap both of his arms around your waist. Your lips pulled away from his, “I told you I’d kill Oddjob. Sorry it took so long.”

“Anytime away from you is too long, angel.”

“I’m glad to see you haven’t changed.” You smiled, but the playfulness dropped when your hand brushed over the wound. Your fingers felt the scarred skin, still recovering from the bullet, as his own fingers traced over your old bullet wound. You whispered quietly to him, “So now you know what it feels like to get shot.”

“It’s a feeling I never want to experience again.” His hand trailed up from your hip to cup the side of your face.

“Me neither. I know that you can handle yourself, but you really scared me that night.”

“That’s the job, love. I’m fine now.” He reassured you with a smile. You raised your eyebrows at him, pressing harder on the wound and he winced, grabbing your hand to take it away from his skin.

“Fine, huh?” You teased, bending down to grab the cane off the floor.

“Fine.” Harrison replied. As he went to take it from your hands, he noticed the cut through your jeans and the gash on your leg, running down the side of your shin. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing.” You insisted as if it was a simple scratch. With his cane, Harrison made his way over to his bathroom, getting out the first aid kit. You sat down on the bed, already knowing what he’d ask. He sat on the edge with you, pulling your leg over his lap.

“Did Oddjob do this to you?” He asked, moving away the torn material of your jeans to apply disinfectant to your wound. When he finally got a good look at it, he realized it wasn’t very deep and the blood hadn’t fully dried yet. “I thought you were in Havana. How is this wound so fresh?”

“Let’s just say I won’t be climbing through the window anymore.” You watched with a smile on your face as confusion crossed Harrison’s face before he was struck with realization and that signature smirk played on his lips.

“My window did this to you? Wow, 006, you’re really slipping up.” He teased, wrapping your leg with a bandage.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes at him, unable to hold back your smile. “I will beat you with your cane if you tell anyone at MI6 about this.”

“Oh, will you now?” Harrison asked, pressing down onto your cut and you grimaced, just as he had earlier.You shoved his hand off you and scooted closer to him, your faces just mere inches apart.

“You’re the worst, Osterfield.” You laughed, your eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips as you leaned in closer to him.

Just before your lips met his, he mumbled, “Yeah, you’re pretty insufferable yourself, Y/L/N.”

“Dickhead.” You playfully slapped his chest. Harrison just chuckled before his hand came to the back of your head, leading your lips to his. He deepened the kiss, and you shifted fully into his lap, mindful of both of your wounds.

“You’re the best partner I could’ve asked for.” He said softly, his lips barely leaving yours as he spoke.

“I know.” You smiled before continuing to kiss him. Both of you were more than content to be back in each other’s arms.

~~~

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read this series and supported me throughout it! I’m sad it has come to its end, but I hope you’ve all enjoyed it as much as I have! Lots of love, Sammy!

~~~

General Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-holland @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @holandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @gorillaglue23

Harrison Tag List: @Calhtlland @tomkindholland @where-art-thau-romeo

Series Tag List: @quinjetboi @baby-haz @kickingn-ames @rougese7en @hollandsosterfield @nj01 @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @spencerreidxoxo @duskholland

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield series

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eurynome827 · 4 years

Text

Parent Teacher Conference

Read Part One: Back To School Night

(for @the-ss-horniest-book-club Back To School Week - today is Bucky's day, and it's been a year since I wrote that little drabble and asked if it should be A Thing™️)

The next few months passed as new routines became the everyday. Your daughter continued to excel in her studies, and you dutifully signed the tests, all with high grades and glowing remarks. You managed to hide the smirk on your face whenever the bold and strong handwriting of one James Barnes, 8th Grade History Teacher, was displayed for your approval.

You signed next to his praises.

'Great job!'

'Excellent!'

You imagined him reading over her work, smiling as he marked it, and tried not to sigh.

This wouldn't do. You were a fully functioning adult woman - with a crush on your daughter's teacher - and you were still mooning over him after seeing him once two months ago and without sharing a single word with him.

All that was about to change.

'Your parent teacher conference is scheduled for...'

Panic.

No. This was ridiculous. You'd be fine. Still, you dressed far too nicely, touched up your make-up, kept your heels on even after a long day of work.

Yes. Ridiculous.

You sat on the chair outside his classroom, heels tap-tap-tapping a nervous rhythm on the floor. When the door opened you jumped, and tried to recover before he looked over, saying his farewells to the parent before you. Smiling confidently (you hoped), you rose from the chair and shook his outstretched hand.

"It's nice to meet you," he ushered you in to the classroom, closing the door and indicating the chair in front of his desk. "I don't think we actually met at Meet The Teacher night."

"We didn't," you replied, sitting down. "That event was not as advertised, in our case."

He laughed, even though you thought it was a pretty lousy joke.

Mr. Barnes sat opposite you, and adjusted his glasses after opening the folder with your daughter's classwork. His hands looked strong, his shirt stretched over his arms and chest - what did this guy do in his spare time? His eyes were an even brighter blue than you remembered, especially now that you were so much closer to him than you had been before. You could just catch a whiff of his cologne, and as he flipped through the papers you stared at the stubble covering his jawline before you snapped out of your trance.

This whole reverie took less than a minute, and you felt drunk. How in the world did thirteen year olds consumed by hormones concentrate around this man??

"Your daughter is certainly a great student. She's projected to have a 100 average in my class for this quarter, and she is, as we like to say, 'a pleasure to have in class'," he smiled over the paper at you and you felt your skin heat up, both from your physical reaction to him and your pride in your offspring.

"Thank you, Mr. Barnes. I'm very lucky with her."

"Do you have any questions for me?" He sat back from the desk a bit, his attention firmly focused on you.

Can I have your number? "No...no. I'm good."

You were a stammering mess. If he noticed, he didn't draw attention to it. "Well, I'm sorry to make this so short, but besides spending more time complimenting your daughter, and you on the wonderful job you've done raising her, we're done for tonight." You were entranced for a second watching him drum him fingers on the folder, and then your eyes flew back up to meet his as he questioned, "So when will I see you?"

"Ex-excuse me?"

He swept right past your clumsy reply. "When will I see you as a parent volunteer? We've had a couple of events already. I'm pretty sure I haven't seen you since Meet The Teacher night."

"Well," you stumbled over your words a little again, "it's a little difficult to make time when you're a single working mother." You thought you saw something drift through his expression at your words, just a fraction of a second, and you continued, "but I'd love to help out. I would need a lot of notice to arrange my schedule."

"I'll make sure you get notice. I'd like to see you around more."

Your breath stuttered in your throat and you blinked your eyes a couple of times. Was that a sly little smile dancing on his lips, for a moment? Before you could dwell on it he was standing, and you were too. He was shaking your hand, putting his other hand over yours before letting go, and you were saying goodbye and feeling like you were walking underwater down the hallways and out the door of the school to your car. You put your bag on the passenger seat, buckled your seatbelt, gripped the steering wheel and stared out the windshield, a silly grin beginning to spread across your face.

Did Mr. Barnes just flirt with you?

#james barnes the eighth grade history teacher #hbc back to school week

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alpineglowx · 3 years

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I'll Do The Same {Din Djarin x OC} Chapter Nine: Armor

pairing: din djarin x female oc

warnings: none

* * * *

Thell was restless.

The ride to Pasaana would be long, so she had stuck to camping out in the cockpit with the Mandalorian while Grogu was sleeping down below. The time was silent, and the lull of the Razor Crest threatened to put her to sleep. But her mind was racing, as fast as the streaks of stars that flew by the ship. In all but a day, she had found out who her father had been, his name, and where the remaining pieces of his armor could be.

Her mother had rarely spoken of him, and when she had, it was with contempt. Bo had talked of her father with such high esteem, so what had occurred that had caused such a divide between her parents? Unless Bolie, her father’s friend, knew anything, she doubted she would ever come to know the answer.

But with the discovery only came more questions. Why hadn’t he ever come and tried to visit her? Did he never hear the news of her mother’s death? Had he even known where she was?

But she couldn’t help but admire him, Theldar Avan, for his bravery and sacrifice. He had agreed to fight with his Clan and join the others in a fight that desperately needed them. He had been friends with Bo and sacrificed himself saving friends. He had died when she was in her early twenties, in a world that still needed warriors fighting for the light. The Empire, the Emperor had all been crushed five years previous, and her father had never lived to see it. Regardless, as she held the necklace that represented her father’s Clan, her Clan, she couldn’t help but feel love expound for him.

Her fingers were just skimming over the metal when Mando’s voice caught her attention.

“You okay?”

Head raised, Thell realized the Mandalorian had turned, looking at her directly from his seat. Her throat felt dry.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Is something wrong?”

“You’re quieter than usual.”

“Oh,” Thell murmured. “... Really?”

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet down. “You haven’t said a word in hours.”

Thell blinked and replied, “I’m just thinking, I guess. How much longer until we get to Pasaana?”

“Two hours,” he answered. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Thell opened her mouth to respond, knowing what she had been thinking of, but finding it difficult to put directly into words.

“I’m... I’m just shaken by what Bo told me,” Thell began, rolling the necklace between her fingers. “I’ve lived most of my life knowing nothing about my father, and all of a sudden, there's just someone out there that knew him, that fought with him.”

“Do you believe her?”

Thell nodded. “I do. I just... It’s crazy how two months ago I knew nothing about him. And then I met you and the kid and so much has changed since before. I thought I would just hitch a ride for a while, make myself some money so I could go live on Naboo or somewhere nice. I didn’t realize I was on a roadtrip to find myself and uncover the mysteries of my family.”

The Mandalorian was quiet, gazing back at her with the mask gleaming in starlight, and the only sounds were the small beeps coming from the control panel. Thell shrank back, putting her necklace down.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “That was probably more than you asked for.”

“I don’t mind. Doesn’t seem like there’s much else to do.”

As he leaned back in his own seat, Thell wanted to talk to him more, ask what he had meant when he said he couldn’t save his parents. But knowing how quiet and private he generally was, and wanting to respect his boundaries, she slouched back in her seat and closed her eyes.

. . . .

“They say he’s not far from here, in a shack off the cliffs.”

“Really?”

Mando put the Razor Crest back in the air, and Thell watched the small village below them fade away. Pasaana was definitely her least favorite planet they had come to so far. With only sand and cliffs for miles and miles, the landscape was less than appealing. As they flew to Bolie’s place, she could only pinpoint small villages and farms beyond the clouds the Razor Crest skimmed.

It wasn’t long before the Razor Crest landed again, shaking under her feet. Thell went to unbuckle before the Mandalorian was standing over her, putting his hand out.

“Wait on the ship with the kid. I’m going to scope it out before we both get down there.”

Thell was anxious to get outside and meet Bolie, but after standing on the side ramp and looking at his ramshackle house, she decided against it.

Grogu was at her feet, watching the Mandalorian step down with his rifle in hand.

“Mando!” Thell called before he had gone too far.

He turned, the sun reflecting off the Beskar in a way that made Thell’s heart jump. Again, she wondered who was hiding under that mask.

“... Be careful.”

If she had seen his face, maybe he would have smiled. “Always am.”

From their distance at the ship, she watched him scour the area, stopping completely at the door and knocking. From here, Thell could see it crack, see an older man open up the door suddenly to the Mandalorian. He seemed surprised at first; Thell could see his arms waving at his side, and to her surprise, ushering Mando inside. The last glimpse she got of him was the flash of his jetpack against the sun.

Thell waited, cross legged at the helm of the side ramp, Grogu sitting in her lap. Pasaana was quiet around them, a slight breeze whistling past her ears, but Thell couldn’t shake her uneasy feeling. It had started as soon as they had landed on the planet, the vastness of the desert and its unassuming safety. Grogu seemed to sense it too, even more so when Mando disappeared inside the house. He was whining in her lap, cocking his head to look up at her.

“What?” Thell asked, tilting her head to look back at him. His dark eyes flickered over her face, but she could tell he was nervous.

“I know. I’m nervous, too,” she said, rubbing his head. “There’s something off about this place... but I’m sure he’ll be fine. Your dad knows how to protect himself. He’ll be okay, you’ll see.”

And suddenly it wasn’t fine, because the house in front of her eyes bursted into flames, splinters flying into the sky as the house completely exploded. The shock wave hit them immediately, throwing Thell onto her back and Grogu halfway across the cargo hold. Pain laced up her spine and skull as she collided with a supply crate, but quickly recovered, too worried to care about her injuries.

“Grogu!” She called in a panic. The fear was starting to invade, and her mind went to the worst of places.

Mando, her friend, had been in that house. She had seen him walk inside in broad daylight. Her only security, the only person that seemed to mildly care about her besides the kid. And she had never talked to him like she wanted to.

Another blast resounded over her shoulder, and Thell pushed herself to her feet, stumbling for a hold against the wall. The house had been blown to bits, charred walls standing lopsided and flames dusting the sand. She couldn’t see the Mandalorian as she scanned the surroundings, not even past the sand dunes and cliffs that surrounded them.

Grogu cried somewhere near her, and Thell panicked, running to his side when she saw him curled against the hull.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” she whispered, holding him tight as she dashed to the sleeping chambers, making sure he wasn’t hurt before closing him inside despite his cries. If she could keep someone safe, it would be the kid. She pushed back tears as she grabbed her blaster from her bag of supplies, limping to the lip of the drop ramp.

From here, she could see the cause of the destruction: bandits. Humanoid looking creatures with tentacles on their faces and clothes that drape down to their feet. There was a single sand skimmer circling the perimeter of the house, with half a dozen of the creatures emptying from the cruiser to the ground. Even from the ship, Thell could hear them yelling in a foreign language, bartering amongst themselves as they began to scan the wreckage.

Thell’s hand hovered over the button to close the gate, but it stilled. From the back of the wreckage, his Beskar armor shining in the sunlight like it always did, the Mandalorian circled around a burning wall. Thell felt her legs wobbling, begging to give out on her. She hadn't realized just how much she had come to care for him, how terrified she had become when she thought he was dead. He wasn’t just her safe harbor, the one that was protecting her from a life on the streets or servitude. Over the past two months, spending everyday with him and the kid, he had become her friend. Maybe he didn’t see it that way, and maybe he never would. But regardless, she saw him that way, and cared about him, maybe more than she wanted to admit. If she liked him like Cara Dune said she did, she couldn’t believe someone like him, with his priorities and life so far ahead of her’s, to ever stop and wonder if maybe he liked her, too.

The looters were in a frenzy, roaring and pointing their weapons straight at the Mandalorian. But he was quick, his blaster appearing at his side and unloading a round in their direction. Thell could only watch in awe as they fell one by one, screaming at the death of their colleagues. The sand skimmer, piloted by two of the looters, swerved the other direction, pointing their guns directly at the Mandalorian. With a simple thrust of the jetpack, it launched him upwards, creating a billow of dust and sand in its wake. The bandits were slow, merely firing upon the wreckage and missing the Mandalorian as he landed on the skimmer itself.

One bandit turned around, only able to catch a glimpse of his armor before the Mandalorian had shot him through, leaving a smoking hole in the sternum of the bandit. He collapsed at his feet before Mando had swiveled around him, uppercutting the second bandit and using the leverage to flip him onto his back. As soon as he had collapsed, the Mandalorian wasted no time in shooting him, too.

With the two looters on the skimmer dead, Mando turned his attention to the remaining one on the ground, who only pleaded for mercy and sank to his knees right before he tore a hole through his head.

Thell had never really seen the Mandalorian in action, not truly, and it shook her to her core. Her fingers were clutching the side of the cargo hold so tight her knuckles had turned white.

Mando was quiet, glancing around the debris and bodies for any outliers. It was only after a long moment of silence and waiting that he started back towards her. She had just started to step down, nearly running to him, when she spotted movement in the corner of her eye.

Two looters had been hiding behind a sand dune, and had just thrown themselves over it to attack the Mandalorian. One fired two shots at him, nicking his shoulders and catching him off guard. Mando stumbled, catching himself on his hands and knees as his blaster flew from his hands.

Thell couldn’t think; she didn’t have time to. Because Mando was distracted, momentarily stunned by the shots, and the attackers were gaining ground fast.

Taking the blaster from her side, the one he had trained her with, Thell raised it at even length with her shoulder, pointing directly at the looters. Mando must have noticed then, because his attention was on her before Thell had already fired, hitting the first looter directly in the chest. He made a low groaning sound before pausing and stumbling back, falling in a heap of dust and sand that billowed around him like a cloud.

The second was still charging towards the Mandalorian, who had flipped over on his back and was trying to get something on his vambrace to work. But Thell stepped down the ramp, ignoring the pain in her back, the one that felt like she had torn muscles. And she fired again, just scraping the looter’s leg, before firing a second time and hitting home. He landed heavily just feet from the Mandalorian, blood starting to look from the skim on his leg, staining the sand a dark purplish color.

When Thell finally lowered the blaster, she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. But she diverted her attention back to the Mandalorian, who had finally stumbled to his feet.

She could just spot him a few yards from the drop ramp, limping and leaning heavily to one side.

“Oh, Kriff,” Thell cursed, overwhelmed with seeing him alive. “Kriff!”

If her back hadn’t hurt so bad, she would have sprinted to go and see him. But instead she rose shakily, pressing her hand against her leg to help herself and leaving her blaster in the dust off the side of the ramp. Thell limped down, her whole body on fire, trembling with the relief that he was actually okay. Seeing him in the flesh, even stumbling in the dust and the mask still covering his face, made her heart leap.

“Mando!” Thell shouted, stumbling over to him once she had descended the ramp, with one hand on her leg before colliding with him full on. The Mandalorian grunted, surprised by both the impact and the fact that Thell was hugging him. She needed to see him, touch him, after seeing the house explode and being shot at by looters.

He was like a statue against her, breathing heavily but arms raised awkwardly, like he had never hugged anyone in his life. Thell could feel herself crying, but buried her sobs into the soft material around his neck and shoulders. That part wasn’t covered by Beskar, and Thell swore she could hear the pounding of his heart under the armor.

When he finally moved, it wasn’t to pull away like Thell thought he would. She felt him sag against her, the exhaustion from fighting finally showing itself. His adrenaline had worn out for the time being, and she could feel him falling against her. She could even feel the lip of the Beskar helmet dig into her shoulder, like he was holding on for dear life. Thell was surprised by his actions, his hesitancy to even respond turning into full-on dependence at her stance.

As if on cue, he stumbled forward, his knee knocking into her’s. Thell pushed back, placing one hand against his shoulder pauldron to stabilize him. He tried to say something, murmuring an apology in her ear.

“It’s okay,” Thell said softly, hearing her own voice break. “I’ve got you.”

Her adrenaline seemed to be fading too, and the pain in her back had returned at full strength, amplified by the way she was standing to support Mando.

“Come on,” she urged, starting to pull away. “Let’s get back to the ship.”

With one arm sling under his, she limped back to the Razor Crest with the Mandalorian, stumbling around the cargo hold as she closed the drop ramp and retrieved Grogu from the sleeping chamber. At first glance at his father figure, he made a low, whining sound, and reached out to grab him. Grogu followed them up into the cockpit, standing particularly close to the Mandalorian before Thell strapped him in his own seat, despite his worried cries.

Even if the looters were dead, Thell wasn’t taking any chances staying here any longer, despite if she never saw her father’s armor. She had seen the Mandalorian take off before, seen the hundreds of times he had turned certain switches or dialed certain buttons. So she dropped him against her usual seat, taking her own place in the pilot’s chair.

“What are you doing?” He breathed behind her, his voice raspy and dry under the helmet.

Without turning, and letting her fingers brush over the controls, she said, “you’re in no condition to fly. I’ve seen you do it a hundred times over, I know what I’m doing.”

Thell heard him shift behind her, like he was going to stand, so she turned in the chair to glare back at him.

“Mando. I’ve got this.”

He didn’t respond, sitting back softly, and Thell kept working until the Razor Crest was purring with life.

“Dank Farrik!” She whispered under her breath, smiling from ear to ear and throwing a glance at the Mandalorian. “See? I’m not so useless.”

He didn’t respond, but what worried Thell was the way he was drooping in his seat. She quickly got the ship into the air, flying past clouds until she finally reached the stars, punching it into hyperspace.

She swiveled in the seat, setting her hand on his shoulder.

“Are you hurt?”

He readjusted in the seat, pushing himself up. “I... I got caught in the blast. I should be okay.”

“I thought you died in that explosion... it didn’t look like there was anything left.”

“I saw the bandits on my radar before they even shot at the house. Got out the back door.”

Thell knitted her brows. “Nothing’s broken? Does anything hurt?”

But he shook his head lightly. “Nothing worse than I’ve had before.”

But Thell stuck out her lip. “But you’re okay? I don’t just want you pushing this off because you think I can’t handle it.”

She hadn’t meant to be so forward with him, but seeing him in this condition, after believing he was dead, she couldn’t help it. He even seemed surprised by her tenacity, drawing back against the seat.

“I’m fine. The Beskar saved me most of the trouble.”

Thell squinted at him for a moment before standing upright. “Okay. If you say so... but you let me know the minute you feel anything weird.”

She moved back to the pilot’s seat, closing her eyes and slouching against the worn material. The next few hours were spent in silence, and Thell found herself falling asleep in the pilot's seat. The pain in her back subsided, thanks to the pills Mando so graciously gave her. Grogu seemed to be asleep behind her, and Mando had fallen quiet. And in the ruckus of everything that had happened, she let sleep overwhelm her.

. . . .

“Thell.”

She woke with a start, hair flying over her eyes. She found herself pushing back up against the seat as the Mandalorian gazed down at her.

“W-What’s wrong?” She asked, slightly panicked. “Where’s Grogu? Are you okay?”

He laughed, actually laughed, and it made Thell’s heart swell. It was small, barely a chuckle, but something about it made him seem so much more human.

“No, everything’s fine. The kid’s sleeping below. I wanted to wake you to tell you to sleep down there, too. It’s more comfortable.”

Thell slowly rose from the seat, making her way down to the cargo hold where Mando followed her. Like he had said, Grogu was sleeping in his hammock, curled in a blanket. Thell gazed at him longingly, bending forward to get a closer look as the kid slept.

“I never thanked you for earlier.”

Thell turned slowly, facing the Mandalorian, whose attention was already fixed on her.

“Oh...” Thell said, still half asleep, feeling it in her legs.

“I would have died if you hadn’t shot them... thank you for saving my life.” He walked forward, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “I know it was a choice you never wanted to make.”

“Oh,” Thell breathed, swallowing hard. She could still see the bandits she had shot in her mind, the two that would have killed Mando had she not gotten there first.

“Well... I did what I had to. I would’ve done it a hundred times over. But you’re welcome, Mando.”

“Din.”

Thell’s brow cocked. “Huh?”

He paused. “Din. Din Djarin... That’s my name.”

Thell felt as if her eyes might pop from her head.

“W-What? For real?” She gasped, suddenly more awake than she had ever been.

He laughed again, quieter this time.

“Yes. You can call me by it when it’s just us, or the kid. But never when we’re with others.”

She could feel tears pricking at her eyes. Saving him had already been enough for today, and now he was giving her this precious gift of knowing his name. It didn’t help the feelings that were already starting in her heart, and the kind way he had told her.

“Well...” Thell began, lifting her hand. “It’s a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, Din Djarin.”

The name felt strange to say after knowing him for so long already, but it also felt right. Perfectly right.

He was more than just an acquaintance, or a friend. No, he was growing into something deeper, and Thell feared what it meant. She kept having to remind herself that her agreement with him was not permanent, that she would leave once they found a safe place for the kid.

But she couldn’t help the joy she was feeling, and reveled in it. She deserved that, at least.

He shook her hand, and Thell let the smile grow wide on her face.

“It suits you... thank you for telling me.”

Din dipped his head gingerly, and started to step away. “I’ll let you get to sleep.”

Thell nodded, giving him another soft smile before climbing into the bed under Grogu. She had just pulled the blanket up when the Mandalorian stepped back in front of her, nearly scaring her half to death.

She threw a hand over her chest and breathed, “Kriff, don’t scare me like that.”

“I... I have something for you,” he said softly.

She leaned back against the sleeping chamber as he reached into the satchel at his side, stepping forward and placing two battered pieces of metal in her hands. They were two vambraces, black, gold, and green in color. The colors were worn, the metal dented in several different places, but with a little care, they could become beautiful.

“They’re your dad’s,” Din said as he passed them to her, graciously accepting them with trembling hands. “I talked with Bolie a bit before... you know. It was the only thing he had left of your father’s. He talked of him as a great warrior.”

Thell watched a tear splatter on the metal, running her fingers over the worn armor. This armor had seen great battles, and war, and her father had worn it. When she got the chance, she would wear it too, just to honor him.

“I’m sorry there wasn’t more,” she heard Din say softly.

Thell wanted to look at him, marvel at his sudden change in attitude after he had nearly been killed. Instead, Thell closed her eyes, holding the vambraces to her chest.

“Mando?”

“Din.”

Thell laughed, shaking her head and wiping away a stray tear as she made eye contact with him again. “Right. Din. Thank you.”

He looked at her for a long moment through that mask, like he was going to say something, or do something else. But when he didn’t, Thell chewed on her lip and shifted awkwardly.

“I’m going to sleep now,” she whispered.

Din dipped his helmet once. “Get some rest. I’ll be up above.”

Thell could only let out a trembling breath, and hold the remains of her father’s armor close to her as she climbed into bed below Grogu. The blankets smelled like Din, like long nights and musk and steel.

And she could finally put a name to it.

Sometime in the middle of the night, when the Razor Crest was dark and she was half asleep, she could hear mumbling above her. Din was talking softly to Grogu, bent halfway into the sleeping chamber as he looked at him from the hammock.

“I’m alright, kid,” he whispered, to which Grogu murmured softly. “Shh, you don’t want to wake Thell.”

Thell smiled halfway from under the blanket, trying to contain the laughter she wanted to release.

“She’s taking good care of you, kid. And I think you like her, too.”

Grogu babbled lightly, and Thell heard Din sigh heavily.

“I don’t know where we go from here. I guess we’ll just figure it out... now get back to sleep. Goodnight, kid.”

Thell was glad she was so relaxed, because she felt a soft, gloved hand on her hairline for just a moment, brushing back a wisp of her hair. And Din’s voice was soft, like he wasn’t even wearing the helmet.

“Goodnight, kar’ta.”

#mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #din djarin x oc #angst #fluff #canon violence #action #adventure #lucasfilm #fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #romance #friends to lovers

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katehuntington · 3 years

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Title: Black Dog - part four Word count: 4475± words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part four summary: Dean closes in on the location that the coordinates lead to, and soon begins to grasp the magnitude of this case. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09 & @deanwanddamons. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

Darrington, Washington December 2nd, 2005 - Present Day

Two days later, Dean and his Impala roll down a two-lane highway through Stillaguamish Valley. Mountains rise from the earth as if they are still growing, overshadowing the villages beneath. Rays of sun pierce through the clouds, spotlights of the sky shining down on the land below.

It’s not nearly as warm as it was in Texas. In fact, Dean has the heaters on to cast out the cold. The radio started jamming some time ago, not because of the presence of a ghost or some other supernatural force, but simply because the high mountains are interfering with the radio signal. To break the silence, Dean threw in an old Metallica mixtape, one he used to listen to whenever he was on the road alone. Enter Sandman rages through the speakers as Dean taps his thumb on the steering wheel in the rhythm of the drums.

He needs his music right now. It’s the only thing that can keep him sane. The evident empty space next to him and the silence that filled the car before the screaming guitars did, had him almost turn around at least half a dozen times. The knot in his stomach hasn’t exactly loosened ever since he left Sam on the side of the road, but with his father’s orders in mind, he kept pushing north. You’re here now, Dean. Might as well solve this case.

When he crossed the Texas - Oklahoma state border, he stopped at an internet cafe and traced the location of the coordinates. It turns out that 48°13’11.00”N 121°41’4045”W isn’t an abandoned factory building in the American wastelands or a graveyard which happens to be the final resting place of a not so peaceful spirit. These coordinates are those of a pass on the south side of a mountain range, west of a small town called Darrington, located in Washington State.

When he searched for articles on anything out of the ordinary in that area, he stumbled on a bunch of missing person reports and killings in the local newspapers. The growing population of grey wolves and bears, plus the city closing in on nature, are the causes of this unusual animal behavior, according to the wildlife services. Apparently Dean’s father doubts that the animals have anything to do with it. The missing people and casualties are random. Dean couldn’t find a link between any of them, so he went on and eventually got himself on Arlington-Darrington Road, heading for the small village.

As far as Dean knows, the last attack took place nine days ago. It happened at the exact location of the coordinates, where a family was hiking. The teenage daughter and the father were killed by God knows what, only the nineteen-year-old son survived. He expects the local police will know more about his state and current whereabouts. Having a word with the poor kid is on the hunter’s to-do list, once he finds him.

Dean looks over to the right, where a high peak stands out from the other mountains surrounding him. It seems ominous and beautiful at the same time, intimidating anyone who enters the valley as it reaches for the sky. That’s the place where it went down; Whitehorse Mountain.

The hunter carries on and passes a church and a short airstrip, then he enters the town of Darrington. Not quite sure where he’s supposed to go, he follows the main road, and soon spots the police department on his right. The Impala turns to the curb and through his windshield, the driver takes a look around. The benefits of a small town; everything is close by. Across from the police department he finds a diner and a small hotel, no need to drive around to find a place to stay and to eat. First things first, though, he has to figure out what he’s up against.

Somewhat carelessly, the hunter rummages through the several false ID’s and badges in the glove compartment, choosing one that his father printed a couple of months back. As he gets out of the car and walks around it, he checks out the ID as he mouths the false name. “Glenn Frey. Brilliant, Dad,” he chuckles, instantly recognizing the name of one of the founders of the Eagles.

Confident, Dean steps inside the governmental building. The deputy, who’s reading a file by a large desk in the corner of the room, looks up from his work. “Can I help you?” “Yeah, I’m Glenn Frey from Wildlife Services,” Dean flashes his identification as he walks up to the counter. “Ah, you’re here for the attacks.” The officer stands up and walks over, after which he shakes Dean’s hand. “Deputy Steven Morson.” “Is the sheriff in?” Dean wonders, getting straight to the point. “Not at this moment, but he will be later on,” the young deputy replies.

The hunter purses his lips, letting a sound of discontent slip past his teeth. “I was hoping to gather some more information about the Cleveland family.” “Your colleague missed something?” deputy Morson assumes. Oh oh, the real rangers got here first? Quickly, Dean improvises, the slight hesitation barely noticeable. “We just don’t want to miss any details, make sure we know what we’re up against.” The deputy nods at that. “No problem. I’ll get the documents for you.”

He moves over to the file cases against the back wall, opens one of the doors with a key, and leafs through the files. As he’s working, Dean takes his time to have a look around the small police station. Pictures of officers decorate the bleak walls, together with a collection of medals and declarations. The sheriff’s office is separated from the main desk. A bit further in the back, Dean sees the door that leads to the holding cells. It looks pretty much like every small town’s department he’s been in; way too familiar. There have been several occasions that he saw places like this from behind bars.

“Here you go.” The deputy interrupts his thoughts as he hands the file to Dean. With a grateful nod, so-called Glenn Frey from Wildlife Services lays out the documents on the desk. Attentive, he scans the pages as he flips through them, but there isn’t much there. Puzzled, Dean faces the policeman. “This is it? No imaging, death reports?” “The remains haven’t been brought down the mountain yet. Three hunters went up to track them down, bring the bodies back and shoot the animals if they get the chance, but it snowed for quite a while a few days back, so I think they got delayed,” the deputy explains. Dean hums at that, but doesn’t say anything. And I think they got killed, he ponders quietly. “So all you have is an eyewitness report of ...?” Dean concludes, leaving the line open for the deputy to fill in. “David, the oldest son. Poor guy,” he sighs. “Got hurt bad?” Dean presumes. “No, not at all. He didn’t have a scratch on him. But what he saw… Well, read for yourself,” The policeman nods at the page on the counter, and gives the ranger some space.

Dean scans the eyewitness report intently, taking out the details that matter to him most. Tear wounds, bite marks, limbs shredded off, major blood loss. By the looks of it, the two victims were torn in pieces. The description of the suspected killer is rather poor, though. Apparently Deputy Morson notices the change in Dean’s facial expression, because he comments on it right away.

“The kid lost his entire family, so I can imagine it was all a blur, but he said the animal was ‘invisible’. He also claimed he heard a wolf-like howl right before the incidents happened, but nothing like any grey he has ever heard, apparently. It seems unlikely, doesn’t it? One lone wolf attacking people? I think he kind of lost it, if I may speak honestly,” he says with a little chuckle.

Dean, however, doesn’t find it funny at all and keeps a straight face. “Why don’t we both stick to our fields of expertise, shall we? Is he still in town?” The deputy clears his throat awkwardly. “He is, Sir. He refuses to go back home until his family is recovered from the mountain.”

The hunter nods, able to get behind that reasoning. Foolish, but understandable. Either way, for his investigation on this case it’s quite convenient that David is still here. The report doesn’t give him a lot to go on, and he really needs to know more before he sets foot onto the creature’s hunting grounds. He straightens his back and looks the deputy in the eye before he exits the police department. “Tell me, where can I find David?” “He has a room at the Inn, but I’ve seen him in church a lot,” the young officer says. “Thank you, I’ll see if I can find him.” Dean knocks on the wooden counter before he turns away.

When he exits the building, he halts on the doorstep, narrowing his eyes to shield them from the bright surroundings outside. Snowy mountain tops reflect the sun, a chilly wind rolling through the valley. The hunter adjusts the collar of his leather coat to protect himself from the cool breeze.

“You’re a ranger, aren’t you?” He glances aside, finding an older man on a bench by the grass. The grey-haired local glances at the badge in Dean’s hand, before he makes eye-contact. “I am,” Dean confirms, despite it being a lie. The elder nods at that, averting his gaze to the peak on their west. The deep wrinkles become more evident while he folds his boney hands around the handle of his cane. “That missing family? You won’t find them.” Frowning at that, Dean watches him, curious if he knows more. “What makes you say that?”

“Three of this town’s best hunters have gone up there, they should’ve been back by now,” the senior says with a voice raw from age. “If you’d ask me, I’d say they befell the same fate.” Dean tilts his head slightly in agreement, beholding the menacing scenery as well. The wise man seems to know that there is more going on than meets the eye at the treacherous slopes. “Have you seen anything up there?” he wonders. The old local shakes his head, his stare turning to the icy pavement. “No one has seen anything. It moves too fast. I’ve heard it, though.”

Intrigued, Dean turns his head to face the man on the bench again. There is a fear in his eyes that seems out of character for the old soul who has without a doubt seen so much in his long life. “I’ve lived here for seventy years. Have protected my cattle from quite a few predators during that time. Grizzlies, mountain lions, coyotes, wolves. But what I’ve been hearing lately is unlike any animal I’ve ever heard,” he tells.

Plenty might think the local has gone mad, but Dean has a growing respect for the senior. If he ever had any doubt that this was his kind of deal, it is taken away now. “Well, whatever is up there, I’ll take care of it,” he claims, sure to succeed. “You’re not the first one to say that, and yet no one has returned, but that boy,” The old farmer nods in the direction of the church. “If I were you, I would leave the mountain be.” “Can’t do that,” Dean shakes his head. “More people will disappear.” “So will you if you go to find that beast.”

The elder’s blue eyes surprise Dean when they meet his green ones. They are so piercing and weary, that it startles him, but he manages not to flinch. Instead, he tries to read the man of age, who has one last message for him. “There is something evil in those woods.”

The much younger hunter can’t stop himself from swallowing thickly at the intense stare that comes his way. The local is desperate to change the ranger’s opinion, pleading with him to reconsider. Dean won’t, however, although he takes the warning seriously. The hunter might not know what he will be up against once he heads up, but it’s beginning to dawn on him it’s something unlike he has ever faced before.

On the corner of Commercial Avenue and Riddle Street, Dean halts in front of a small church. The sign in front of the house of God, which is called St. John Mary Vianney Catholic, has his stomach reacting in a way he didn’t expect it to. The fact that both his parents’ names stare back at him, gives this place a whole other meaning. A strange feeling comes to him as a chill runs down his spine. It bothers him, because he’s not one of those new-agey kids who believes in destiny. Of course, this is just an odd coincidence, but somehow it feels like he was meant to be here.

Cautiously, he steps up the porch and enters the building. The church seems deserted, even the priest is nowhere to be seen. Light from outside falls through the stained glass and brings color to the house of the Holy. Candles are lit by the altar and have been burning for a while, given the way the wax has dripped down the silver candleholders. Several smaller flames flicker at the sidewall, worshipping the statue of the Virgin Mary.

As Dean enters the small church and walks through the central aisle between the rows of wooden benches, he spots a figure on the front row. Although the hunter’s footsteps echo through the old building, the guy apparently doesn’t hear him coming in. He absently stares at the statue of Jesus, nailed to a cross. And so Dean halts at the end of the aisle, trying to judge the situation and how to approach. Either the young man on the bench is ignoring him, or he’s so trapped in his thoughts that he has shut himself out from the world around him. Dean decides to say something to break through to him. “Are you David?”

Slowly, the young man glances aside, but doesn’t look Dean in the eye. His gaze is empty and beholds immense devastation. As if he has cried so much over the last couple of days, that he’s unable to express himself any longer. “Who are you?” he asks with a raspy voice. For a moment there, the hunter considers taking out his ID, but then he changes his mind. Sam is always far better in these situations, so he tries to imagine how his little brother would approach David. He decides to be upfront. “I’m Dean,” he answers.

The introduction doesn’t trigger a response, though; the only living member of the Clevelands continues to stare into the nothingness absently. Dean exhales, pondering. How the fuck is he going to get through to this kid? It’s clear as day David doesn’t want company, and right about now, he could use Sam’s people’s skills. His little brother can work miracles with a few kind words and a pleading gaze. A bit ill-at-ease, Dean looks down at his feet. “I heard about your family. I’m sorry.” The silence that follows is even more evident under these high ceilings. The acoustics should allow every sound to be amplified, yet it remains eerily quiet. “I know how you feel,” he continues carefully. David scoffs. “No, you don’t.”

His firm answer catches the hunter off guard. The young man is right, he doesn’t know how he feels, not entirely. Dean didn’t see his entire family die, but the sound of his mother’s horrifying scream still rips through his mind every now and then.

For a moment he goes back in time. He doesn’t remember much of his early childhood, just bits and pieces, stills taken from a movie. But what went down on November 2nd 1983, the one day he wishes he could erase from his memory, he can recall in detail.

He remembers how he was comfortably sitting in his mother's arms. She held him close, she always did. She carried him into Sam’s room and they wished his little brother goodnight. Dad was there too, it was the last time he remembers him truly smiling. He remembers being tucked in by both of them. ‘Angels are watching over you,’ Mom said, right before he drifted off. Then he was awoken by the chilling cry that would continue to haunt him until this day. He remembers rushing out of bed and into the hallway, where he froze to the ground. From Sam’s nursery, a rage of flames heated up the entire house. Then his father appeared from the fire, holding little Sam in his arms, handing him over.

Take your brother outside as fast as you can, don’t look back! Now, Dean! Go!

Even though the heat was unbearable, as was the toxic smoke that filled every room of the house, he ran downstairs as his father told him to and eventually found himself in the front yard, looking up at his burning home. Then Dad came out, snatched both his sons from the grass, and carried them away from the house, after which moments later the second floor exploded. As he looked over his Dad’s shoulder at the burning remains of their house, he knew: he would never see his mother again.

Dean swallows with difficulty, coming back to the present. “Believe me. I know.” A bit surprised by that statement, David looks up into Dean’s eyes, holding his gaze for a few long seconds. “You’ve lost your family too?” “My mother,” he replies. “She was murdered.”

Dean looks away for a brief moment. His Mom’s death was hard on him then, it still is now. It might have happened twenty-two years ago, yet avenging her is what motivates him to keep going. She is the reason his father is willing to go to the edge of the earth and beyond to catch the son of a bitch that killed her. That defining moment kickstarted the hunt that would turn out to be his life’s work. That night, he lost so much more than just his mom.

Dad never recovered from her death, condemning his boys to a career of hunting. They are soldiers now, fighting a war of which they can’t grasp the magnitude. A crusade against the monster that tore the family apart. Ironically and sadly, that same crusade seems to have driven the Winchesters apart even further than Mary’s killer ever did.

Look at him; he has no idea where his father is and he got into a huge fight with Sam. He is truly on his own right now, unsure if his remaining family will return. What if right now, Sam walks into a trap? What if Dad gets killed by the same thing that killed Mom?

Suddenly it strikes him. David is what Dean is afraid to become; he’s alone.

“What happened on that mountain?” Dean asks, trying to focus on the case again before his mind spirals out of control, but the only survivor cuts him off immediately. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” “I think you do, but you’ve given it up because no one believes what you are saying,” Dean replies, seeing right through it.

Perplexed, David looks aside, eying the stranger who is still standing in the aisle, in the middle of the church. “Like I said, I know how you feel,” Dean repeats, reading the question from his face. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?” The young guy shakes his head, defeated. “You wouldn’t believe me anyway.” “Try me,” Dean encourages.

With a sigh, David looks down at his feet while the hunter observes him. His dark hair is a mess and he has a stubble growing. Blood and dirt has embedded in the prints of his fingers and around his nails, the blood of his family that seems impossible to wash off.

“Dad, Ruth and I were hiking on the north side of Whitehorse Mountain. We started out early in the morning and everything went smoothly. We had about an hour of light left, when me and my sister reached the location where we planned to set up camp first. Then it started…” he tells as he folds his shaking hands together. “Ruth and I heard a cry of some sort of animal. For a moment we thought it was a grey wolf, but I’ve heard them before, this… this was different. It took Dad ages to get over the Lone Tree Pass, I thought he might have some equipment trouble or something, so I went back.”

His jaw clenches and he takes a breath, now he has come to the hard part. Tears fill his eyes, but he is able to hold them back. “I found him, against a tree. There was blood everywhere, his chest was… he was torn into pieces. He - he had bite wounds and nail scratches all over him, so deep that I - I could see the bone, his - his intestines. His arm was s - severed,” David stammers. “And your sister?” Dean asks sympathetically.

A short pause and he can see in David’s eyes that he relives the haunting memory every time he talks about it. “Same thing... I heard her scream, but by the time I got there, it - it was too late. There was barely anything left. She was only sixteen,” he reveals with a trembling voice. David rubs his face and wipes away the tears, but he stays strong. “Then I heard it, this deep growl. It felt like it was right behind me. When I turned around I didn’t see it, but I heard the call again. Then everything returned to normal,” he remembers. “What do you mean, back to normal?” Dean questions, curious about his choice of words.

The young guy looks up at him again from the bench. He hesitates, as if what he’s about to say will just confirm that he’s completely losing his mind. “The mountain came back to life. Birds started singing again, the wind blew through the trees. Right after the first cry, everything went dead. You could hear a penny drop in that forest,” David tells him. “I don’t know how to describe it. It… It was surreal.” Intently, Dean listens to him and doesn’t give any sign of disbelief what so ever. “Then what happened?” he asks, intrigued.

“I ran. I knew I needed help and the only place where I could find it was down in the valley. So I ran.” David drops his gaze again, ashamed. “I’m such a coward. I should’ve called it in with the satellite phone. I should’ve stayed by their side.” “There’s nothing you could have done for your family. You would’ve ended up dead if you had stayed,” Dean says, trying to relieve him from his guilt. Carelessly, the lone survivor shrugs. “Maybe that would have been better.”

Dean keeps quiet, because he understands where he’s coming from. If your entire family ends up dead, what is there to live for? He wouldn’t want to stay behind either.

“You - you know what the worst part is?” David stammers. “I have absolutely no idea how to explain what happened. It wasn’t an animal, I know that much. But if it wasn’t, what the hell was it? There’s just no explanation.” “There is,” the hunter states. “What? That it was bigfoot?” David scoffs sarcastically. “There’s no such thing as bigfoot… I think,” Dean answers, doubting his own words the moment he says them. “Then what killed my family?” the young Cleveland wants to know. “I’m not sure yet, but I can tell you, it ain’t no wolf. It’s not from our world,” Dean states. “I don’t care from what world it is. I want it dead,” David makes clear.

“I’ll track it and get rid of it,” the man next to him promises. Determined, the mourning teenager gets up from the bench. “Good. When are we heading out?” But Dean holds out his hand in front of him, stopping him. “Whoa, dude. I don’t think it’s wise for you to come along.” “Do you know anything about that mountain? Do you know anything about the trails? About hiking?” David questions. “I’ll manage, that’s beside the point. This is gonna get ugly, David. You don’t want to be a part of this,” Dean makes clear, trying to discourage him.

“Trust me, that mountain is one big monster by itself. If you don’t know her paths, you’ll get lost and die. I know these woods like the back of my hand. Together we’ll have a chance. I’m not gonna sit here while you go up there and get killed just like those three hunters,” he argues, his voice gaining strength. Dean huffs. Smart kid. He’s got spunk, alright. “Whatever it is, it killed my family. So don’t tell me I can’t be part of this,” the young guy insists firmly. “If you had the chance to face who killed your mother, wouldn’t you take it?”

Dean doesn’t have an answer ready for that one, he wasn’t expecting a curveball. David is right. If he had even the smallest opportunity to have a share in the fight against the monster that killed Mom, he wouldn’t even have to think about it. “Alright,” the hunter sighs. “But if anything happens to you--” David doesn’t even let him finish and walks past him towards the exit. As he does, he looks over his shoulder. “What? Like I have anything to lose?”

Dean watches him leave, the corner of his mouth pulling into a small smile. He recognizes himself in the kid; hands on, not cowering in the face of danger, willing to do everything for his family. He won’t be able to stop the only remaining Cleveland, and so he follows.

As he descends down the steps of the church, he finds David standing on the sidewalk, staring up at the sky. Before them, Whitehorse Mountain stands tall, looking down on them like a dark, looming thunderstorm. That’s what they need to overcome, that’s their challenger.

It is going to be a difficult climb, but fighting a vicious creature along the way makes things a little more complicated. Dean wishes he had Sam to back him up on this one, because he’s sure his smart brother would have an idea what they are up against. Even though he’s not fond of having a civilian to worry about on a hunt, David does know this terrain. Dean has to face reality here; he’s going to need a guide. He only hopes that he can bring the kid back down, safe and sound. Enough people have died on that mountain already.

Story fact: the church mentioned in this chapter was the actual name of a church in Darrington in 2005. Came across in during research, and just had to use it!

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part 5 here

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thethreemages · 3 years

Text

*rises from the grave to finally deliver on a certain new story arc chapter*

...Heeeey everybody lol I know this may not be something anyone expected in like, ages compared to my other recent TTM-content... but well, ever since my last chapter upload from maaany months ago... I've just continuously kept getting blocked from wanting to get back more into the main story, especially with the influx of developing lore and side casts I've been having fun with a bit more in comparison.

But well, after some more heavy thinking and reworking a bit of how I wanted to frame the next few bits of the story to go (while still keeping relatively faithful to my original concepts)... here's the official next part to keep the main story flowing with some rather "juicy" drama ahead~

((Here's the DA Link for the fic itself in case it gets too cut-off here-))

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The eerie stillness of the forest was something all too familiar to those raised around this trek of the woods… but this night in particular was getting all the more “curious” for what semblance of peace was broken left and right....

On one side, a noble prince and a gentle strength mage were connecting all the closer together as they were quietly walking through the woods.

On another, a fiery prince and a gruff healer mage were stumbling into the middle of an ominous find… enough to have stirred up some lingering “threats” following after them.

And finally, as of now… a cunning dark mage was finding herself apprehended by a group she once looked up to, respected, and trusted…

“-I will not say this again! Unhand Me. This. Instant!” Prym Fletcher hissed towards the pair of guards who were roughly escorting her back to the camp, feeling tempted to have blasted them back already with her magic… had it not been for a fierce pair of eyes ordering her to keep still.

“Save it, kid. You’ve snooped upon very classified information against official orders, you’re not leaving our sight.” Taiyin Zhou replied back with a firm tone, “You’re about lucky we haven’t already arrested you as is…”

“Ughhh, I’m telling you I did NOT snoop! I had simply stumbled across your camp by accident!” the young dark mage insisted, her voice already growing exasperated with frustration, “Why won’t you believe me?? I’m Lady Meradyth and Sir Luka’s daughter, for Saint’s sake-!”

Halting in her tracks upon hearing that, Taiyin only turned her head to give a… rather puzzled look, “Sir… Luka? Um, sorry but... no one’s ever been registered in our ranks with that name…”

Rightfully confused as ever by that response, Prym had taken the moment to shove off the guards restraining her as she offendedly exclaimed, “Wait… w-what?? Oh, now this has to be a damn joke… Luka was once one of your top members back in the day! Closest friend to Ivor and my mother Meradyth, what do you mean by ‘never been registered’??”

“-Look, I’ve been here in the Elite for a good number of years, kid... and I think I would know if I was aware of anyone named Luka,” Taiyin furrowed her gaze to Prym in a frustratedly tired way, almost reminding her of one of the strict & overworked teachers back at St. Ravilda’s, “I don’t know what else to tell ya on that front, but we’ll be the ones handling the questions here, thank you very much...”

The younger mage could feel her fists clenching in a rising anger towards this woman’s insensitivity… yet didn’t have time to make another retort as a pair of familiar faces joined to greet them from behind Taiyin.

There stood the imposing General himself, alongside the stoic Alastair who gave a quiet look of disapproval towards his comrade’s harshness to Prym. In the meantime, Ivor’s face seemed to twist with many mixed feelings upon seeing his daughter’s friend. Shock, disappointment, confusion… and perhaps even a bit of fear?

“Prym… what in the Saints’ good names are you doing out here??” Ivor shakily demanded to know, the stern fatherly side of his kicking into high gear as if she were his own child caught in the act, “I told you specifically to stay back at home where it’s safe! Don’t you know what kind of danger you’re putting yourself in, especially at this hour of night within these woods??”

“I… w-well,” Prym struggled at first to find the words, not wanting to risk giving away that Tula and the others were very much out there in the woods too… so, after taking a second to think and compose herself, she retorted back to him with an unamused tone of her own, “Hmpf… I suppose I should be more asking you the same question, Ivor. Don’t think I didn’t hear His Majesty giving you orders to collect this insidious-sounding ‘white plague’ for him… whatever the hell that means for his standards…”

“-Hey, what did I say about watching your tone, kid-!” Taiyin attempted to scold her… only for Alastair to hold up his hand to let the young girl speak her mind. Not exactly expecting Prym to have spun the question onto him now, Ivor gave a conflicted moment of silence… but eventually, an approving look from Alastair encouraged the hulking General the resolve to just admit what’s up, not seeing much else to lose now that she’s already here...

“The… white plague we were speaking of earlier, Prym… is a code name for this strand of white fungal root that had suddenly taken bloom within Graystone. These plants… they’re about the most devastating plant species our country’s faced in these past few decades… once was the stuff of legends within our oldest history books, but then… somehow some twisted, sick individuals decided to recreate these plants and spread them loose to cause countless amounts of destruction among the lands…”

Hearing of these plants made Prym’s eyes widen a bit in recognition… taking a moment to think on it, “Hold on, I… think I might’ve heard of such plants back in this one story Professor Blanchard once told us; an old crone who was jealous of the younger beauties in her town made up a mash of brew from these weird, white twigs so she could poison the girls, and absorb their own beauty to become a ‘goddess’. The plan backfired when it simply made the other men exposed to her inner flaws despite all her good looks, so she was cast off in a ritual fire to pay for her sins. Could… those perhaps be the white plague plants you were mentioning?”

One by one, Ivor and the others had given a nod of yes as Alastair floated up a steel box to open in display… revealing within a sealed-jar the shriveled up remains of a ghastly, half-rotted root… curled into a position like that of a crooked hand. Nauseating as the contents were to look at, the fact that this root was seemingly swimming in a sickeningly thick black liquid near the bottom didn’t help either…

“Indeed, Prym… this is the white plague we’ve been tasked by King Grayle to retrieve,” Ivor continued on to explain, “In our years of tracking them down, they’ve been linked to many terrible cases of people becoming infected when they didn’t expect it. Whether it’d be from injesting the root itself or the snow-like spores spread out into the air… its almost impossible to fully recover from it before its too late...”

“Yes… these roots were the ultimate cause of many terrible tragedies our country will never forget…” Alastair finally spoke up as cleared his throat, his tone serious yet solemn as ever, “Queen Elianne’s death, the double-crossed Wraith Night survivors, the village residents of Yulong…”

‘...Aevri’s hometown…’, Prym thought as she felt the tears prick to her eyes, remembering when her friend was given the grave news of her parents passing away of illness a few years back in school... so sudden and out of nowhere during a seemingly peaceful period of time. Long as it was since the last she saw Mr. and Mrs. Ren, Prym could still plainly recall them both being such kind, healthy-bodied people who wouldn’t hurt a fly… so hearing of them being the unsuspecting victims of such a ghastly plant this whole time was beyond tragic… “...even among our own ranks we’re all too familiar with white plague being inflicted right under us… ” Ivor admitted with a saddened tone, his gaze to Prym signifying she’d know who he’d talk about next, “The night Lady Meradyth had fled, the arrow blades recovered from the crime scene were found to be traced with this blackened poison linked back to the plague root… which, in connection to those other past incidents could only mean one thing..”

Not having to say another word, Alastair let his magic do the talking for him as he enchanted his glowing aura to shapeshift a group of silhouetted figures gathered together, each holding the white plague roots within their hands in an ominous, unified fashion. With that, signifying that whoever was perpetrating these white plague attacks… were all working together in a single, spread-out group.

Hearing all this was already pretty heavy for Prym to bear… breaking her more into confusion as she noticed Taiyin and Alastair turning to leave along with some other guards, “w-wait, where are you going?”

“Continuing the rest of the mission, kid.” Taiyin informed her, thankfully not as harshly as before but still firm enough to try and hold the young dark mage back.

“Yes, if our sensors are correct then its only a matter of time before these plague roots bloom upon the first morning hour. We must give haste at once.” Alastair joined with Taiyin as he packed some quick essentials nearby, looking over to his superior, “General, please inform us if anything stirs around this area while we’re gone, and we shall do the same in return.”

“Noted.” Ivor simply nodded as he gave some silent orders for the two to continue heading out. As much as a part of Prym wanted to say more in perhaps suggesting to go with them or however… her mind was still much too focused on the growing anger she had towards all these suspicions and secrets being kept from her. Not even letting Ivor reach to touch her shoulder in comfort, she had resigned to simply stomp towards the tent to cool off… the shining light of the moon following behind her.

——-

On another section of the sprawled forest, making their way through the thickets was Prince Elas and Tula… seeming to make good headway on the path they were on. Further back they had found some tracks being quite imposing enough to belong to no one else but Tula’s father,

“Okay, looks like it won’t be long to find Papa!” Tula had deducted, feeling some more confidence at finding another cluster of footprints up ahead, “my guess is that he might’ve set up camp just a few trees away, by this rate.”

“Indeed, I can’t say I can find much to disagree with that notion.” Elas gave an approving nod, analyzing some of the tracks for himself, “Seems to me he might’ve had some party members of his own crossing though here, so whatever he may be up to then he’s bound to not be alone…”

Looking on ahead in the direction they were headed to, something inside Tula was feeling… odd, and kind of confused as to how everything was going so smoothly at the moment. Perhaps… a bit too smoothly, as the forest seemed eerily still at this point in time.

“...Elas, does something seem ‘off’ to you?” the young Strength mage pondered, her gaze glancing around for any signs of possible life within the trees or bushes. At first, the prince didn’t seem to detect anything out of place as he stepped ahead… until his foot caught sight of something that made him jump back in shock.

“Oh good Saints, w-what in the world was...?” gathering himself to calm down, Elas took a closer look to find that his shoe had stepped into what looked like a puddle of thick, ghastly-white goo… the contents sizzling a bit under the glow of the moonlight above. Tula had curiously peaked over his shoulder to see what was up… only for them both to jolt back again once the puddle started to bubble and release a hissing, acidic green stench.

“-What is that stuff?? I-I’ve never seen anything like that in these woods!” Tula exclaimed with a clear worry in her tone, “Do you think any of the girls or Kain found-”

Halted in her thoughts was the ear-piercing shriek of something very much inhumane ringing throughout the trees, rattling both her and Elas from standing upright. Careful to at least not fall back in the goop behind them, the two helped pick the other up as within these shrieks, they heard the loud crashing and glowing of magic clashing near the distance ahead.

“-Kain!” Elas deducted, upon recognizing the reddish-orange glow from where he was standing, “He and Aevri must’ve found something dangerous up there, come on!” he encouraged to Tula while instinctively firing up some blue fire in his hands.

Answering back only with a firm nod, Tula didn’t take long to summon up her Strength gauntlets as the two of them hurried on to try and help the other mages. If only they had looked back behind them, they would’ve noticed how that white goo from earlier was beginning to fade away as a figure summoned it back into the darkness…

—-

The normally firm General was in quite an awkward spot having Prym stumbling upon such top secret info as she did… having hoped that tonight could’ve been just a simple detour mission without having to drag any of the kids along. And he knew that hearing the truth about the dangers of white plague had truly shaken her up… so, he knew that he couldn’t have any room to blame her for not being willing to talk to him at the moment while they were alone at the campsite.

A few more minutes would pass before he’d finally make the move to head inside the tent as well… looking to find Prym with her back turned from him, clearly lost in thought and conflicted.

“...Prym, I know what you may be thinking,” Ivor steadily began, trying to keep his tone as delicate as possible, “-But you must understand that this situation was... much too dire and dark for me to just confess it freely among you and the others back home. I simply wished to protect you all-“

“-Protect us from what, Ivor?” Prym finally spoke up, not so much defensively as much as she sounded… tired, “If you haven’t already noticed, me and the girls are not little kids anymore… if you truly meant to be on an important mission regarding these plague plants, then we could’ve understood if you simply told us. Otherwise I thought… well, with the King’s orders and that one lady’s coldness to me, I…”

“...I know. And for that as well, I deeply apologize...” the General lowered his head as he sighed, “Taiyin is quite a strong soldier, noble-hearted as well… but we’ve been meaning to correct her more about not letting her loyalty to the Elite get the better of her towards outsiders. I’ll be sure to have a talk with her when she gets back, I promise.”

Assuring as that thought was, as well as relieved at his genuine apologies… something in Prym’s mind was nagging at her to not let it go. Something regarding one, particular detail that wouldn’t leave her thoughts…

“...Ivor, earlier Lady Taiyin had given me this… really strange response to me mentioning my father Luka. Basically saying he… apparently never existed within the ranks.” Prym had turned to further face the general, looking up with a look of questioning, “You didn’t even directly say that he died within those other plague casualties, simply that there was poison found at that scene where Mother ran away. Is… there something you’re not telling me, Ivor...?”

“...Prym, n-now is not the time to-“ he looked quite shaken by her sudden accusation, but Prym continued to stand her ground further with a firm anger in her tone.

“-No. Now is more than the perfect time to explain- Why is it that all my life, I’ve been told my father was this grand, loving hero of the King’s Elite alongside my mother, giving his life to protect countless innocents… and yet now I learn that’s all apparently been one big lie?? Ivor, please what is the real truth here?? W-Was my father a true soldier, or not?? Was he working for some other party, dealing with some unsavory types?? Please, j-just tell me already, Ivor!”

Steadily her voice began to shake more to a near-sobbing tone, lip quivering as her mind was drifting to all sorts of possibilities… and one more question stuck out the most as she pitifully looked up to the older general,

“Ivor… is my father even alive…?”

Silence quickly fell upon the tent… as Ivor looked conflicted as to how exactly he should answer such a question, let alone in a situation like this. As the seconds were passing into a minute between them, Prym was afraid that… perhaps he wouldn’t give her an answer, that maybe it was a mistake to ask at all after she had already stepped out of line as is… until at last, the still air broke when Ivor delivered a simple, one word answer that changed everything…

“...yes…”

——-

On their end of the forests away from everyone else, things had… really picked up much more chaotically for Kain and Aevri, the two of them now lost in a battle between an eerie group of monsters clamoring around them. Resembling that of tall, ragdoll-like humanoids made of white tree bark… their gaping mouths and hollow eyes dripping with white goo could’ve easily shackled their two foes in complete fear, if they both weren’t so stuck in fighter mode right now.

“-Eat this, bitch!” Kain had exclaimed with some kicks and punches of his crystal magic blasts, encasing the tree-like creatures in red shards that pinned them all to the ground. Aevri in the meantime did her best to defend them both, having summoned her shields to ward off and slice away closing-in enemies.

“Ughhh, will you freaks get the damn hint already?? Piss off!” the Healer mage grunted, swiftly throwing her summoned-shield to knock back some of the foes before it flew back into her arms. Try as they might through their defenses, however… Aevri and Kain could only watch as the monsters had simply risen up more from the ground up, not even seeming phased by their earlier attacks.

“Oh for fuck’s sake… what the hell is keeping these things alive??” Kain cursed while powering up another set of crystal attacks, “Even a wyvern would’ve fallen down by now, shit!”

Before Aevri could’ve answered back with a possibly-snarky retort, their thoughts were halted as they saw a flurry of blue flames burning back the horde of monsters that tried to make a grab at the two… the sender revealing none other than Elas and Tula who had hurried on to join the battle.

“...Greeaaat, perfect timing, bro.” the younger Graystone prince flatly remarked with a roll of his eyes, his brother simply scoffing in response with a flick of his hair, “-Save the backtalk til after we’re safe, Kain.” Letting his companion Tula take the next step in pummeling down some of the creatures with her firsts, she at least gave a more grateful and relieved look to her healer friend at seeing her standing strong in the fight, “-Aevri! Thank the Saints you’re alright! I-I hope these things didn’t hurt you too much…”

“Pff, hey... what would it be a fight without a few scrapes?” Aevri joked a bit to lighten the mood, bringing a small smile to Tula’s face before the both of them turned to ward off the next wave of monsters. It almost seemed concerning just how much these things were reanimating up again despite the waves of attacks… only seeming to keep going and going within the next few minutes to pass.

All… until each of the tree dolls suddenly halted in their place like statues, the melting white goop re-materializing into their eye sockets properly as each of them stood up straight. Confusing the hell out of the mages that were fighting them, the four watched as these dolls started to assemble into some upright positions… almost like an army awaiting their leader approaching. And with a rustle of movement coming from the bushes from behind, that… actually seemed quite closer to the truth as a pair of footsteps came walking out from the dark.

“-Hey! Who’s there??” Aevri turned in the direction of the steps as did the rest of her party, all rearing for another big battle… but then pausing as they finally saw who it was. Turning out to be a pair of hooded, ominous figures greeting them in plain view… their features hidden from where they were standing a lil far back. All until they stepped further into the moonlight was it shown that they were both women, one of them covering their face with a featureless white doll mask… and the other simply smiling back in a rather calm, calculating way.

“Aww… whats wrong, little ones~?” the hooded figure with a mask tilted its head, giggling in a tone that sounded much too saccharine sweet, “Sister and I simply wanted to have a lil playtime with my babies here… don’t be so mean~”

Naturally, this quite frankly creeped out the young mages who were now all the more confused seeing the masked lady stepping over to gently caress one of the tree dolls, as if it were her most prized possession. Compared to everyone else ain was at least trying to mask his unnervedness by standing back more boldly,

“H-Hey, these things of yours attacked us first, lady… what the actual fuck are you on about-??”

“...Hmmmm, temper temper...” came the much more dignified voice of the other woman, shaking her head in Kain’s direction though that smile of hers still remained clear as day, “Is that any way to speak to your family… Kain?”

The once-fierce gaze in Kain’s eyes had… very much evaporated into a look of disbelief upon hearing that voice… the crystal auras in his hands disappearing as they dropped to his sides in shock, “...w-what…?”

Alarmed by his brother’s sudden distress, Elas had turned to try and step up in Kain’s defense as he demanded, “-What in the Saints’ good name are you on about?? Kain is my brother, and I do not recall either of you being anywhere near ‘family’!”

“-Shhhh, manners… young man~” whispered the masked-figure, holding a finger to her lips as all stilled around her… summoning an eerie aura that surrounded the other mages into freezing in place, much like the tree dolls. Unable to do anything but move their heads and faces, Tula, Elas and Aevri all looked on as only Kain was allowed to move on his own… yet all he could do was just shakily stand in place as the unmasked figure slowly approached him… again still smiling that damn smile of hers…

“-No, n-no no you can’t… you can’t be her…!” muttered the now-shaky voice of the usually-haughty prince… trembling as the figure was now up face-to-face with him. Even without being freeze-spelled like the others were, Kain could do nothing but stare as the figure reached up a hand to his face… gently caressing his cheek as her free hand moved to pull back her hood.

Now… there was really no doubt who exactly she was. The striking red hair, the ruby red lips, the amber eyes all too similar to Kain’s… save for the subtle signs of aging, he could never forget a face like that....

“Yes… it is me, my son~”

———

Millions of thoughts were running through Prym’s mind as she recalled what Ivor just confessed to her. Her father… her own father Luka… was alive all this time?? As much as she wanted to celebrate such news, another dark side of her was just reeling at the implications…

Where was her father, all this time she and her mother were in hiding? Why didn’t he come back for them? Was someone keeping him hostage, forcing him in place? What if… what if he willingly chose to abandon her? Not even sparing her a second thought, wherever he’s at now…?

Sensing the growing conflict growing within Prym, Ivor did his best to try and diffuse the situation as he reached to comfort her, “Prym, I… p-please try to understand-“

“-What IS there to understand, Ivor?? Nothing is making sense anymore!” the dark mage exclaimed as she threw up her hands, feeling her tears growing hot as she began to pace back and forth, “You say my father’s apparently alive all this time, but where in Terra IS he?? Obviously he’s not within the Elite ranks now, Mother hasn’t heard from him in ages, and none of the current Elite seem to know who he is! All I want now is the truth, and I want it now!”

“...” Ivor had grown quiet for the moment, heavily sighing as he gestured for Prym to follow him near one of the seats, “I… know this is very much against protocol, but… i-it’s about time you knew, Prym…”

As much as she would’ve liked to argue and stay pouting… the ever-curious side of Prym decided to relent in at least hearing his side of the story out, wiping away her tears with a still-determined look in her eyes. All she could do was watch on as Ivor went and grabbed an old wooden chest to carry over to her, opening the contents to pull out a sealed document folder hidden under some other papers and trinkets inside.

“Prym… your father was a man that had many burdens over him at his age,” the General began to explain, handing Prym the folder as he sat down next to her, “As much as he tried his best to fulfill his duties as a leader… others still feared and hated him for feeling like he took away what wasnt ‘rightfully’ his, on top of the already-detested dark magic he carried. And well… being his oldest friend, I knew that it wouldn’t be healthy for him to linger on all this bad press… so, it was my suggestion that he would involve himself more with our growing Elite forces, to help him lighten up from the stress of it all...”

Within her grasp, Prym flipped open the folder to see the first page contained a picture of Luka’s face on it, with the royal insignia of the Elite stamped below it. With a silent nod from Ivor, she flipped under it to see that inside held some various papers and photos from the old days of Luka’s younger years… from sparring with his troops, to happily posing with some grateful-looking civilians, to joining together with his team to stand vicariously together all at once.

“Overtime, your father grew to fit in well within the Elite for letting him express himself for who he was… beyond all the titles and dark magical stigmas, but as a loyal comrade who’d do anything for the good of Graystone. And since the local civilians didn’t seem to recognize him as a simple soldier like the rest of us, he had even felt comfortable enough to try and help out these communities through his own acts of vigilantism…” Ivor chuckled, unable to resist a small blissful smile at the memory, “Not too surprising that he and your mother grew to get along a lot well in that department, denying as they were at first...”

Pausing for a moment from browsing through the folder, Prym looked over to Ivor with a look of puzzlement, “...So, if you say my Father did all these great things for the people… why would they turn on him because he performed some darker magic spells than normal? I know Mother had mentioned that he enraged some uptight army for his necromancy, but…”

“...W-Well, truth be told, that... wasn't exactly the ‘full’ reason for his eventual attack, Prym...” Ivor admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, “Luka, well-meaning as he was… at the same time was always rather stubborn and reckless when it came to what he thought was the right thing to do, regardless of the possible consequences ahead. There was no better example for when he had stepped out of protocol in one of our missions against a local crime-lord of the downtown New Grayle district… Boss Byzantine.”

“Byzantine…?” Prym blinked, steadily recognizing that surname after a bit of thought, “-One of Kaz’s bully friends shared that name back in school… Cable Byzantine.”

“Ahh, yes… the Boss would’ve been Cable’s father, from what I recall of that man.” Ivor gave a nod of acknowledgement, “Often kept to himself apart from the few public appearances with his family… most wouldn’t even know much else of him aside from that automobile company of his. But well… we as the Elite were having our growing suspicions after examining more of how poorly the downtown area was, and interviewing the locals terrorized from his gang’s past attacks. And thanks to one of our undercover operatives, Sgt. Kodiak, we had not only started to put any and all accomplices in jail, but had planned in the near future to soon put Byzantine to justice too. Luka, however… well, turns out he had decided to take fate into his own hands by cornering the Boss one day in his office with his dark magic… giving into temptation with his soul-ripping spells to really show the crooked man who he was messing with…”

The air seemed to grow heavier as Ivor quickly grew quiet again, his gaze going back to the chest’s contents as he pulled out something else from under all the papers… a locket with a purple moon gem symbol on the front, “...In the end, thanks to some nearby guards catching wind of his actions, Luka wasn’t fully able to be rid of Byzantine as he hoped… but that would soon seal his fate as the Boss had subtly planned a “vengeance” of his own. And so, a few years later Luka and Meradyth had made plans to head into the Downtown area for a quick errand, picking up this upcoming birthday present for you...” explaining as he gently placed the pendant within the girl’s hands, eyes closing as he painfully recalled further...

“...and, just as they were heading back home… they were ambushed. A mix of Byzantine’s own men and a few hired hands from the army Luka has disgraced, together overwhelmed the couple in more ways than one. Within all the smoke, blades, and spells being thrown around it was practically impossible for either of them to evade it all on their own…”

“So, how exactly did my father manage to survive from it all...?” Prym turned her gaze to ask, a hand gently resting onto Ivor’s as he felt himself getting shaken by the recollecting… only pressing on further for Prym’s sake, “-Through having to spend a good chunk of his aura energy on teleporting Meradyth away from safety, and the last of it to unleash one, devastating blast to ward off the remaining foes, they were defeated and got taken into custody… but at a grave cost to Luka, himself. Our troops, try as we did to bring him back to heal him up, just weren’t able to stop the plague-induced infections from slipping him into a deep sleep. Hours had turned to days, and days turned to weeks… and throughout it we were beginning to lose hope. Finally, at last he was able to wake up and face us again, b-but…”

It was here that Ivor had turned to look back at Prym, placing a hand to her shoulder as he delivered the news that had shattered the shred of hope she had earlier...

“Prym… h-he didn’t recognize us anymore, and… neither could he remember either you or your mother when we tried to tell him after waking up…”

“...W… What? No… n-no that can’t be right..!” the dark mage bitterly broke into a sobbing mess, shaking her head in near-denial, “-What kind of father would just up and forget his own loved ones, his own family?? P-Please tell me this isn’t true, Ivor! Please…!”

“...I-I’m sorry, Prym...” a guilt-ridden Ivor muttered, instinctively pulling Prym in for a tight hug despite her protesting sobs, “We tried all we could, believe me we did… but this plague proved to be the most resilient curse on our fellow comrade, even with the best medicinal help. Showing him pictures, records, and home videos did little to jog his memory… after awhile, he started refusing our help all together despite our protests…”

Soon, even as toughened as he usually was… even Ivor has begun to shed some tears as he held Prym close,

“He’s changed so much as time further passed, Prym.. not even going by his name anymore whether he’s off duty or not these days. To the point where eventually we just decided to never bring up the subject of Luka anymore, with the very few remaining soldiers from our old ranks swearing to silence never to speak of him either. As much as we wanted to reunite him with you both in the coming years, we just… w-we didn’t want to task the risk if anything were to… well, go wrong…”

To say that this did anything to soothe Prym’s heartbroken state would be a lie… as in the minutes that passed her furious sobs had silenced into mere whimpers, whilst Ivor continued to do his best to hold and comfort her as if she were his own child. In some ways, this news had devastated her even more than her initial thoughts of her father being deceased. To even imagine having to go through as much as he did, miraculously surviving but erased of his own memories like that… it was beyond crushing of a thought...

...Yet, the more she had paused to think on this info, the more she began to realize the implications of what exactly Ivor meant by Luka not going by his name anymore. Thinking back to the folder left next to her, she couldn’t help herself in pulling away from Ivor… desperately flipping through until her eyes caught sight of the last page. Her father’s medical file.

And this time, even Ivor didn’t move to stop her as he defeatedly looked away, accepting that she had to know this sooner than later...

...our current patient has been confirmed to have been inflicted with trauma-induced memory loss, and by royal order we have been requested to withhold further treatment by his end. Our staff has grown worried with his own past history of ongoing PTSD and Chronic Depression, but well… as our fellow staff had put it, an order’s an order.

With a heavy heart, this concludes our progress into looking after our patient of the past year and a half... Luka Grayle.

#the three mages #main storyline #my art #my fics #(at long last I finally returned to this oml-)#(again *mega* apologies in advance for the delay on this for anyone who's originally followed it more closely)#(as much fun as I had with developing lore and side casts I knew it was about time to get more back on the main story)#(soooo enjoy~)#(and stay tuned for the some upcoming chapters ahead cause BOI this was fun to get back into dljfkjk x33)

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