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lavender-at-heart · 1 year

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Tears of Rain-Ch.I

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x fem!oc

Chapter Summary: meet the birthday girl

Series masterlist:

Warnings: talks of depression.

Notes: this whole series will be inspired by The Virgin Suicides, Im not ok with this, Coraline and Twilight. Sort of melancholic good old fashioned novella. Also this is a oc story but she won't be described a lot especially in these early chapters so u can sorta read it as x reader if you'd prefer it.

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Today is my birthday.

The saddest and happiest day of every girl's year. I dont really want to think about that right now though. I can hear a crow cawing from outside my window as my mind stirs awake. Staring back at my yellowing ceiling I breathe silently for a few minutes before pushing up and put of bed. The old oak floors creak with life as I pad my way to the bathroom. I wash my face with ice cold water and rub my eyes of sleep. The reflection that stares back at me is dusty and dull. I don't really recognize it as myself, I know it's me but it seems to be faded, blurred.

I can hear my sister shuffling around downstairs clammering pots and pans together. I brush out my hair and don't do much else to my appearance, I doubt I'd have enough energy to do anything more.

I take the extremely short trip from my loft, down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Oh close your eyes!" She shouts and covers the plate she prepared with her hands; she guards it as if it's the lost city of Atlantis. I press my hand to my eyes and I hear more shuffling and the the click of a lighter. She then pushes me into the bar stool at the small kitchen island. "OK, open."

In front of me was a stack of five huge pancakes. There were small flowers on the top that had been messily made with butter,whipped cream and frosting. In the centre was a bright pink candle and beside the plate was a tall glass of milk.

"Oh... you shouldn't have. Thank you." I smile as much as I can and give her a hug. We then gorge on our pancakes.

"I hope you know I didn't just make you pancakes, I got you something else but you'll just have to wait!" She tells me with the kind of happiness one can only get from being an older sister. "Also I hate to say It but I have to go into town today, but we can hang out later. Promise."

"Sure"

She kisses me on the forehead and just like that I hear the door click and I am alone. I go upstairs and change into a simple white dress, it's smooth and could also double as a nightgown if you were a fancy old lady. As I sit at my vanity I can't help but melt into a puddle of tears. I should be happy today. I want to be happy today. A million different movie scenes of girls blowing out candles with their friends and eating cake play like a slow projection in my brain. I lift my head from where it laid in my arms and look at the photos that I had tapped to the mirror. One of my mother on her honeymoon, she looks ethereal. Another of me, my sister, and my father, it is from two birthdays ago. I have gotten used to not having a mother for my birthdays but this is only the seccond one without a father. I decide that today I will try, try and be happy.

After a downpour of sobs I remember that it is not the weekend and I have work to do. So I wipe my tears and slowly meander out the door and onto the little path that leads from our cottage to the main property. Before heading out I grabbed my gardening tools and a basket. It takes an forty-five minutes to even get into town so I know I have a healthy amount of time to work before my sister gets back. I don't mind the work, it distracts me. I trim the weeds in the garden, clean dirt off the statues, water the plants and forage some mushrooms to take home.

Usually I would stay away from the house unless I had work to do inside but missus Foster, the previous owner, died a few months ago and now it lies empty. It's up for sale and so it's up to me and Sally to get it looking nicer than ever. Today I find myself pushing one of the side doors open and begin my wander through the mansion.

I love the house, most people find it creepy what with all the old furniture and long history. I find it comforting, it feels alive. I just hope that whoever buys it doesn't immediately bulldoze the property and send me and Sally packing. After everything we've lost, this house is the only thing that has stayed perfectly still. I climb the long carpeted stairs that stand elegantly in the foyer. I walk through long corridors while humming a sad sort of tune. I don't know what song it is, but it suddenly popped in my head. I stop at a dark red door and turn the metal handle. Inside is Mrs.Foster and Mr.Foster's old bedroom. In it is a grand four poster bed with burgundy duvets and a shiny gold chandelier hangs above. I gravitate towards the old trunk, in it lies what I'm looking for. I open the brass clasps and shield my face away from the smell of dust that exudes from the chest. I dig my hands through tissue paper, clothing, boxes and bags. I dig to the very bottom and strain my fingers to grasp something smooth and rounded. I pull out a old jewlery tin, it's made of blue velvet and sprinkled on it are metal and diamond stars, with one large star on the top. I open it and am met with more blue velvet and a old silver locket. It's small but bigger and heavier than most lockets and the chain is delicate but long. I slowly lift the cold metal up and carefully observe it. It is oval and has a swirled pattern around it with a old looking cross in the centre; the colouration is not as shinny as it once was, after all it is over 200 years old. The clasp takes some force to open and I try my best to be careful. Inside on one of the two pannels is a painted portrait of an eye.

☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•

"Mrs.foster what's this?" My tiny hands grasp the tin and bobble over to missus Foster at her desk.

"Oh that? Now come here missy and I'll tell you" her soft aged hands lift me up and place me on her lap. She opens the tin and takes out the locket, opens the the locket. I "ooo" at the sight: a single emerald eye encompassed by pale skin and a raven eyebrow. "This is the first Mrs.Foster, her name was Amelia and she's the one the built this house." She spoke as if she was a mythical legend, and I was surprised to find that the late Mr.Foster looked exactly like (at least their eyes) the old Mrs.Foster.

"But why her eye only?" It was a bizarre idea to me, to only paint ones eye and not the whole face. "Its a lovers eye dear. Couples would have a painting made of eachothers eyes and wear them as brooches to signify that their were in a relationship."

"Oh how romantic! I want one when I fall in love. And Mrs.Foster has such a pretty eye, I wish mine was like that."

Mrs.Foster chuckles and smoothes a hand over my hair. "Tell you what, when your older you can have this locket and Amelia's eye. Only When your older."

"How much older?" I ask with a pout.

"Not much older" she reassured

To me, not much older meant a few weeks and definitely not years.

I gleefully jump and excitedly dream of the day she would give it to me.

☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•☆•

Looking now at the eye, it hasn't changed one bit. At this point I have completely given up on the idea of ever finding someone to have a Lovers Eye with but I'm contempt enough with having Mr.Foster's. Her eye will guide me, like a compass I think. I clasp the chain around my neck and let it dangle on my chest. I close the locket as to not damage the painting.

I hum my way back home and begin making a soup from the mushrooms I picked. Don't worry- I know their not poisonous; when I was little my favorite things were mushrooms. My father bought me a whole encyclopedia on them. After making the soup I eat it in silence, wash up and make sure there are leftovers for Sally. I climb the steps to my room, and plumet onto my mattress. I sink into it and pull the covers over my eye. I lie there and lie there and lie there. It must have been at least an hour.

"Hey! I'm home!" The door shuts and I wince at the thought of having to get up.

"I got strawberries, bread, candles and soap...oh and socks and lip balm!" She shouts. After not hearing a reply she bounds up the stairs and comes to kneel beside me.

"Oh honey, are you not feeling well?" She asks and I'm not quite sure if she means physically or mentally.

"I'm fine" I hush out. She then climbs into bed and gives me a hug.

"I know birthdays are hard, they are for me too, let's not spend yours moping about." She clings to me tight and I don't react.

"Besidessssss, I got your favorite dinner." That makes me smile a little.

"OK fine. But only becuase your so nice."

Before she can jump her way back downstairs she stops.

"Hey! Is that the locket?"

"Sure is." I touch my fingers to it and hold it up so she can have a look.

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

I'm not as happy as I should be but my gloom seems to have dissipated slightly. As if the downcast of grief has stopped to a drizzle. We sit on the brown leather couch downstairs next to the old wood burning furnace and eat our dinner. Beautifully handmade kaiserschmarrn, the way my grandmother made. It's warm and comforting and acts as a dinner and desert. On the TV plays our favorite movie: the 1954 classic Sabrina starring Audrey Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart. That film always made me feel special. I always felt a kinship to Sabrina, like her and I were on the outside sitting up in our tree watching the rest of the world be lovley. Sally sits right next to me: pigtails tie her shoulder length hair back and her feet are propped up on the coffee table. She yawns and leans her head in the crook my neck. At one point she gets up to put the dishes away and comes back with a small lavender colored bag.

"Happy birthday!" She says as she skips over to me and rejoins me on the couch. I take it from her, pull away the small blotch of tissue paper and take out the present. It's a cardboard rectangle and attached and six gorgeous hair clips. They are made of metal and are the kind that I've seen in antique shops. On each of them is a beautiful sparkly metal butterfly and on some of them were thin strings of crystals fastened to the point where the butterfly meets the clip. There were two of each colour: lavender purple, sunset orange and sage green.

"Thank you. Really, they're beautiful. I love them." I awed and pressed my palm to my heart.

"I saw them in the market and thought of you. I know it isn't much though."

"Its more than enough. I'll wear them every day."

We kept talking for a little longer but I started to feel the haziness seep back into my psyche. We say our goodnights and I make my way upstairs. I change from my nightgown-like dress and into my real nightgown, it's cotton and somehow even less detailed than the previous dress. I put the locket back in the tin, which I have placed on my bedside table. In the bathroom ajacent to my bed, I wash my face and brush out my hair with my boar bristle brush. I stare back at my tooth brush and contemplat whether or not I have the will to brush my teeth. I decide to, becuase it is my birthday after all. With that thought I grab the metal tin of Nivea cream from under the sink and aply it to my skin liberally. I sigh and turn on the turn table on the desk next to the bathroom door. The record playing is Al Bowly's Greatest Hits, it comforts me in the night. Crawling into bed I flick on the stained glass lamp that hangs directly above my bed. I shut my eyes but my thoughts are too rampant to rest. Tomorrow it won't be my birthday and life will stay the same. I wish I could have had a party, but how would I? The two close friends I do have are studying abroad, I write them letters from time to time. And I haven't been close to my extended family for a couple of years- since the funeral. Eventually the mix of crickets and the gentle hum of "Midnight the Stars and You" lull me to rest and I dream of nothing but white doves and sparkly butterflies.

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

Thank you for reading! I really do appreciate it. I was thinking of making a tag list for this series but I'm not sure if anyone would want to be on it so comment or dm if you would want to be on it.

Take care of yourself!

Love, Cece

#fanfiction #oc #josh kiszka #josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka x oc #greta van fleet #the virgin suicides #twilight #oc story #romance #cottagecore

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saveemefromeviil · 2 years

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Im tired of this constant emptiness that i feel everyday from the moment i wake up to the time i go to bed . And i dont want any sympathy from anyone im just here to let out my feelings. I live everyday the same. I go to work mon-fri, 6am-2pm with people who are just so internally ugly . I get home just to find myself with no motivation but to play my video game, smoke some weed and get sucked in as the hours pass… 2hr 3hrs to 5hrs or more, till i get hungry and decide not to make dinner but order food bcs i have little money to always spend on groceries or i dont feel like cooking. Eating distracts me from my bad thoughts for a bit i guess it gives me a euphoric feeling when the food is good. I think about all the things i could be doing but i dont do them, mainly bcs i dont enjoy the area (city) i live . It’s not safe i cant dress the way i want to without getting harassed or feeling like im dressed inappropriate or not normal . Theres not much to do when you dont drive or have a car of your own, but ig thats my fault for not studying for my permit. Everything in walking distance is just grocery stores or parks for kids and nature thats all. I dont have any friends at all and i mean really… I cant remember the last time i had someone to hangout with , to laugh and talk about whatever i want with . Now. I have my boyfriend of 3 yrs we live together and he great and i love him and he loves all of me but i can see in his face that he knows im unhappy, it upsets him. Ik i let him down little by little everyday . Everythings been killing me slowly, all these feelings and thoughts of, guilt, anger, sadness, dissatisfaction, disappointment, and worthlessnesses. Its gotten to the point where i dont look forward to waking up anymore or just waiting for the day to be over. If im gonna live the same day over and over whats my purpose if im not doing any good for the future my future .. his future.

My mom wasnt very successful in life so she never taught me how to be strong a go for what i want and my dad wasnt in the picture very much to support me in those ways. I have so much anxiety and no ones ever told me how to go on in the real life after high school. Ive been trying to get by with what i can. Its so hard i dont understand why i cant motivate myself to be better, healthier. Im 23 and i almost hate myself, but i don’t want to. I know all the things i could do to feel better but im not motivated anymore. I have moods that flip flop day to day, one whole week ill feel on top of the world and the next is like a downpour of anger and sadness thats makes me feel sooo heavy. Ill be wanting to be nice to everyone one week and the next i dont even want anyone talking to me or looking at me. I dont understand why i have those episodes. I wish I could.

-lena

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littleroaes · 7 months

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Enchanted ( to meet you ), l.jy

‘ Y/n practices to confess to her friend she has crossed path with once again the day before the match. But she finds him teared at the edges in the downpour. Will she mend their heavy hearts? ’

PAIRING ⏵ ( 3rd pov, she/ her ) lee juyeon x fem!reader

GENRE ⏵ fluff, friends to lovers, one sided pining (in context of 2k words), sappy / soft angst, happy ending, college!au, (american) football player!juyeon, hurt/ comfort ( literally ), treating juyeon's wounds, juyeon needs a hug

WARNINGS ⏵ none major, juyeon has small bruises, they kiss, im not american or know anything about the highs and lows of highschool football american football more than people look good in the uniform, proofread once

WORD COUNT ⏵ 2.8 k

a short one-shot I worked on back when I wrote on boys in cats clothing part 1! I've been working on my hyunjae fic, but since its a longer project, I decided to finish this one! It's a shorter one since I will be working on my sunwoo fic for december! ( also feels like a crime to not write at least one fic about christmassy juyeon as the juyeon enthusiast I am )

like and reblog are highly encouraged if you enjoyed!

HER REFLECTION IN THE RECTANGULAR MIRROR AT THE CENTER OF THE SUN VISOR.

Y/n force it up once the last streak of color line itself beneath her eyes. As she opens the car door to step out over the concrete with rain in between the cracks, a wind from west forces the last centimeters of the door open and her navy shirt in nylon lets every part of the cold weather collide with her skin. Y/n quickly locks the door behind her and opens the backseat. At the center of the two seats lies a cardboard sign with letters. She takes it out and holds it close to her chest so as to not let the weather grasp it from her.

Away from the parking lot, cornered in white lines, stands a barricade seven times taller than herself. And when she comes to the side of it, where the stairs lead the way up to the highest rows, she sees the green field and yellow constructions. How the color of the red running track encapsulates the green mit contrasts the heavy sky and its dull complexion.

Another wind dares to take the sign with it and her hair tied in ribbons flies before her eyes. Y/n lowers the sign to her hip and walks with eyes barely open to the bleachers. Well up on the second row, Y/n spends the next forty minutes pacing up and down the seven rows. The wind threatens to bend the sides of her board as she angles it over the field. At last, at the highest seat on the bleachers where one stands over the field and its entirety without detail, Y/n sits down for a last time. Her arms are weak from having them in the air, and her makeup has started to smudge at its sides and her hair beautifully wrapped in silk ribbon, has fallen onto her back and shoulder.

As the highest row is covered by an extended edge, she watches how the rain washes away fallen leaves across the concrete. And she thinks of her worries in that way as she falls all the deeper into the plastic seat.

Her handwritten words on the cardboard sign has been on her mind. Between the seasons and years, she has been whispering the words under the moonlight and hoping that they will cause an effect on the real world, outside her dreams. Juyeon has been a present part of her life since the day in middle school, where they got to be seatmates for a single autumn. They played word games together and drew the appearances of characters they’ve just read in books. But on a Wednesday morning when a new name stod written on her desk, they hardly ever exchanged words again. But even then, his name would cross her mind when life wasn’t about time, and one can stand before the window without worries for tomorrow. But as she has navigated the beginning of her young adult life, they have once again crossed paths.

Y/n sees two leaves follow the tides of the stream down the drain, and how the two meet as the water falls down. At the city cinema, they work the same shifts. Spend time talking when no one’s at the register and fall asleep in the break room. It all decorates her home ceiling above her bed in cosmic constellations.

Tomorrow, in less than twenty four hours, the empty rain soaked seats will be filled with people from the city as they watch the same grass field she’s before. Y/n plays the video film from her mind over the scenery. As if the action of imagining it will somehow affect real life and control its events.

And as she sits with her cardboard sign and navy shirt darker than before, she sees a single silhouette walk towards the green field. Walking in from the entrance at the other diagonal from where Y/n was, she sees him in sports uniform and a ball in the other hand. And despite the distance, she just needs him to step one foot over the grass to recognize him. His distinct steps and contrasting silhouette takes her out of her own world. Y/n looks around the rows of plastic seats around her. And as Juyeon near the middle of the field, Y/n bends down behind the sixth row, let the backrest cover her hair and force the sign to the ground. While at eye length with the concrete, she sees how the rainwater soaks and spreads through the end corners of her sign.

When her socks have become wet and turn cold against her skin, Y/n dares to peak over the red plastic. The edges cover corners of the playing field, and Juyeon disappears behind them as time passes.

Minutes pass them by, and the gray clouds won’t seem to take drift. Instead, she sees how the wind catches the edges of Juyeon’s shirt even stronger than before. At this point, he stands clearly in her sight. At the very center of her vision, he aligns between the two plastic seats before her. Juyeon stands in one spot with his hands on his thighs. The strands of his fringe fall forward as his head faces the ground and the rain continues pouring down on him. The sight is rather bleak. He stands in perfect emotion towards the weather above them, she thinks. Then, Juyeon slowly falls down. Sitting down with his arms resting on his knees. Juyeon’s face is hidden in the empty space created by his arms.

Somehow, his presence in this form falls heavier on her than the downpour. As the sight seeps into the creaks in her heart, Y/n stands up from her row. She holds the sign in her left hand, yellow letters smudged from the very center out to the sharp edges, similar to the paint on her cheeks.

Y/n slowly walks down the bleachers, so as to not fall. Her shoes shatter the puddles as she tread down until the very last platform. As Y/n takes her first step onto the grass field, she feels the water in the high grass seep into the thin fabric of her sneakers. She comes all the closer to him on the field, all for the bleachers to see.

Juyeon stares at the grass beneath him, arms covering whatever scenery before him. His hands have gone numb from the cold and the clothes tight against his skin makes it red and itchy. Though, as he feels the cold rain seep through the open clothing, it suddenly stops. As if to see where the clouds have gone. Juyeon takes his head up from his embrace and sees a dark colored board much closer than the sky. As the hand holding the sign leads his eyes to another silhouette. Juyeon holds his head high as Y/n holds the sign over his essence. The rain continues to pour down on her as she lets it wash away every last bit of color off her board.

“Are you okay?” Y/n asks when Juyeon silently watches her.

The moment words wash over the quiet space between them, Juyeon takes his eyes off her and lets his chin fall back down onto his arms, “Yeah, it’s okay. I’m just resting.”

“Why are you here, even?” His words come out muffled.

Another wind passes the sportsfield, locks itself into her hair strands. Y/n doesn’t say anything for a while before she sits down, “I was just practicing for something.”

The place beside Juyeon is colder than the weather above them. She leaves a distance between the two where the rain is free to fall. When in all truth, Y/n would’ve closed it. Her arms start to hurt as she continues to hold the sign over their heads.

“I’m nervous.” Y/n admits suddenly, in which Juyeon answers;

“Me too.”

Once again, silence.

“For tomorrow?” She looks at him. His chin still lies on his arms as he nods.

Y/n bites her lip as she can’t seem to lift the heavy weight off their hearts. She wants to say something so that the sun would reveal itself and dry its tears, but another cloud comes to flood the parts of the world who haven’t felt it. When she looks at him again, a point underneath her collarbone turns with ache, her fingers grip the cardboard all the tighter, so it withers at the edges. Y/n licks her lips and it feels cold. Suddenly, she’s afraid that it will soon taste of salt.

“You’re really cold, Juyeon.” He looks at her to see her eyes examine his features below his own.

“Your lips are blue.” She continues. Juyeon doesn’t give any answer back, instead sits in the same position as when she first came to find him. As another wind passes through the gaps between the grass, Y/n sits up. He looks up towards her figure as the gray sky with its textures works as a background. Though, Y/n stays in that place, before the weather and looks down on him. The cardboard is over them both as she holds it and before any words leave his mouth, Y/n reaches her hand down towards him.

“I have my car." "You're cold.”

The entire world is in motion as the wind forces between each space. But the two of them, in the center of the world, stand in complete serenity. When Juyeon looks up at her with eyes without glisten and hair strands wet of rain, she desperately spreads her fingers a bit wider as if to reach him.

“Please, Juyeon.” The words can only be heard under the rectangular space where rain doesn’t reach. And finally, Juyeon extends out his hand. Y/n feels a cold sensation grow from where he touches her, before spreading out over her lower arm. His hand is slightly red and his knuckles an even deeper shade as it falls down to his nails and mixes with rain water.

When their fingers intertwine, Juyeon lays his other hand onto the grass behind him. One from above forces the other up, and he pushes his weight off the ground. As they stand before one another, Juyeon once again is about to reach the ground. His knees bend when Y/n grabs onto his upper arms and forces him closer to her.

“Are you okay?” Y/n asks his arm comes over her shoulder and Y/n’s under his own. He only hisses as his left feet touch the grass to bear off some weight again.

“Let’s go to the car.” She says worriedly.

And when they cross the field, out of the center, the weather refuses to let down. Y/n has given up on the board and lets it hang by her side as she forces Juyeon up. When they finally reach her car, Juyeon’s voice is low and his breath warms her left side. Y/n desperately fiddles with the car handle before the backseat stands open, and Juyeon sits down. His head rests against the black leather and his hair leaves off a darker spot when he tilts it to the other side.

Y/n closes the door before running forward to the driverseat where she turns the car on and drives heat up to the highest. To look behind her seat, she sees his sunken silhouette once again. Covered in exhaustion as he has his eyes closed.

A part of heart feels colder than her hands out in the rain. It becomes stronger as she sees him breathe heavily in her backseat. Juyeon can only listen as Y/n walks out of the car once again and opens the tailgate. At the point where he takes some power to open his own eyes, Y/n comes through the opposite side of him. In her hands is a navy blanket with white patterns, a green box with rounded edges.

“I need to treat your bruises.” She stops at the seat and closes the door behind her, “I’m gonna have to touch you.”

She somehow feels impatient as she looks at his figure in the corner of her car. She catches how the blood has formed patterns over his fingers and he finally nods.

“It’s okay.”

Y/n sits without motion for a second, before she comes closer to his side. Their legs touch as she lies the blanket in between the car seat and herself and opens the kit in her lap. Her hand reaches for his own and Juyeon looks down where their bodies intertwine. A green sealed package Y/n rips open, reveals a wet white fabric that she folds out. Carefully she brings the piece to his hands and starts gently rubbing the spots between his knuckles. He hisses slightly.

After wrapping his hands in bandages, she moves down to his leg. Y/n force the white fabric up. As she has taken off his shoes, she wraps it in thicker fabric. When she comes up, they’re at eye length again. Y/n observes his face, her expression with no clear emotion. Juyeon senses the distance she takes from him, even when the warmth of her leg spreads to his own.

As she looks at his features, she sees the details come back to paint his face. His eyes glisten slightly and the slight lilac tint on his lips has faded, as if it was never there. Her heart that was cold and tired of running, slows down in beats and feels a sort of relief reach her outer corners.

At last, Y/n reaches forward, to close the little distance left between them. The blanket in her hands as she lets the fabric fall over his shoulders. Her arms come to close around his neck as she secure the blanket around him. As she slowly lets go off the corners of the navy fabric, she feels his cold hands on her waist. Y/n already sits with a higher posture, as to reach over his figure, therefore, the humid sensation of his close breath around her neck becomes all the clearer.

“Don’t let go.” He says weakly.

A sensation in her chest makes her even wearier of the rain that plummets towards her windows and he fully rests his head on her shoulder.

“Okay.” Y/n says quietly and lets her arms slowly fall in a rigid manner.

After some seconds, the water of his shirt has spread across the blanket. And Y/n slowly lifts her hands off her side to return to the point behind his neck. As Juyeon only pulls her closer and further down the seat, her arms close around him fully and they let the other’s breath enclose, to melt the cold over their frozen fragments.

Though, the thoughts change like tidal waves in her mind and Y/n slowly moves up, “Juyeon, the blanket will become even wetter.”

“I don’t care.” His voice is wrapped in silk and he looks up from his spot in the backseat with eyes moon made, “I just want us.”

And how the world tilted on its axis stops once again. How the cold sensations of the weather fades from her mind as her heart pulsates in a tight space.

And when he looks at her so softly, as to picture every detail to recreate, Y/n smiles just slightly. As she nods her head, to tell him she's received his every word. Juyeon smiles and it feels as if it’s the first time. Only the rain dares to make itself heard when they sit in the car. She destroys and deconstructs the sentence in her head and opens her mouth to speak. But nothing utters when Juyeon takes his hand up to her face. His hands are still cold and contrast to the warmth of her cheek. The sun might as well have gone down to the end line of the earth, when he asks her;

“Can I kiss you?”

She grabs his shoulder a little tighter before answering, “Yes, yes you can.”

Finally, he forces her back a centimeter further down to let his lips touch hers. The sensation of cold clothes and water dripping from the ends of their hair fade from their minds. Instead, it replaces lovely stars connected in white lining. The last letter on her sign, falls its last yellow streak as one tilts their head to whisper in between the kiss.

“I love you.”

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cold-rain-on-hot-pavement · 9 months

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do you remember playing in the rain as a kid?

it was always my favorite and to this day the smell of wet pavement is my favorite

when i turned 18 it rained. it was a warm rain like this one. i ran out and let myself get soaked to the bone, refusing the umbrellas and coverage i was offered

i got dressed in fresh warm clothing and put on the pearl necklace my mother was going to give away

now im 20. and alone at school. its almost 1 am and ive been trying to sleep since 11. it started down pouring and i desperately wanted to run out and be surrounded by it. im too scared. scared someone will see me. scared ill do something bad.

but ive found that if i place my face agaist my screen, like i used to when i was waiting for dad to get home, i can feel the mist.

i want to go out there, but then id have to leave my bed. id have to put shoes on. id have to leave the rain at some point.

and the love of my life left me last week. last time it downpoured here we ran out into it and danced and kissed surrounded by warm rain

but now she wont talk to me. im not sure why. she wont tell me why she broke my heart. but shes still greiving us, and im stuck here unable to sleep without her love, still taking my meds to make her proud, scared and unable to surround myslef with the rain because i know ill end up crying wishing it was her.

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harry-writings · 3 years

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The Happy Years

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

Part 1

Masterlist

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

Three years later.

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

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

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

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

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

He decided to get the mail.

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

Another terrible decision he’s made.

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

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

Dartmouth House. Mayfair, London.

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

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

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

Y/n is getting married.

Y/n is happy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s barely surviving as it is.

And he just needs to see her again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her head snaps back up to him.

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

Why would she?

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

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

“Then who did?” He whispers.

There’s only one possible answer.

Seven months ago.

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

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

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

She wished that she did the moment it happened.

The clock was ticking.

“Five!”

Alfie reached for Y/n’s hand.

“Four!”

Y/n noticed something shift in the air.

“Three!”

Alfie reached his other hand into his pocket.

“Two!”

Y/n knew what was coming.

“One!”

Alfie dropped to one knee.

“Happy new year!”

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

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

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

It all felt so wrong.

She began to cry.

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

Harry would have known.

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

Harry.

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

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

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

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

But she couldn’t say yes, either.

She settled for a nod of her head.

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

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

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

That same day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then her fiancè did this.

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

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

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

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

Her hands turn to fists.

“Are you kidding me?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It feels like all she will ever be is used.

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

“Isn’t that what this is for you?”

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

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

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

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

It was the only thing she ever truly wanted.

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

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

“I told you from day one that —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

None of this means anything to her.

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

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

Two weeks later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry is the first one to find her.

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

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

He doesn’t care for her.

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

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

Finally, she has a friend.

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

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

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

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

She’s absolutely miserable.

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

“Me and Alfie aren’t doing so well.”

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

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

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

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

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

Harry’s lips fall.

“Marry you?”

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

She looks appreciative beneath it all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll make sure of it.”

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

It couldn’t have been any more obvious.

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

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

She sulks herself deeper into her knees.

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

Never thought about it?

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

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

“Yeah, but never to him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Too.

Like he said it first.

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

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

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

And how ridiculous it’s gotten.

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

And it’s all so true.

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

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

She melts into herself at his confession.

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

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

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

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

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

All of this is her heartbreak.

His fingertips rub softly at her leg.

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

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

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

She’s forever going to be his hardest loss.

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

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

“I’ll miss you everyday.”

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

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

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

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

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

And how could Harry ever say no to her?

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

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

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

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

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

If only they knew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s all so clear to him now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is all him.

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

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

Another deafening silence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

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

So she does.

“I’m in love with him, Alfie.”

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

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

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

So she doesn’t.

The morning after.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I ended it with Alfie.

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

Please wake up.

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

She ended it with Alfie.

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

She needs him.

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

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

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

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

That person died along with her.

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

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

“Y/n —”

“Did you mean it?”

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

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

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

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

This is his last chance.

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

So he gives her more than she demands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it was.

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

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

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

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

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bratkook · 3 years

Text

eleven months. (m) myg. one.

masterlist.

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

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

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

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

What a waste.

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

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

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

Well, that’s life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow, your customer service voice is phenomenal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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uwumessenger · 4 years

Text

random headcanons i have for each om! character teehee

hi it's been a while since ive posted some hcs bc uni has been kicking my a$$! luckily i only have a few papers to tidy up and im done. here r some hcs for each obey me character that ive accumulated over the past few months wink wonk

most are random but some constants you'll find are what i think they smell like, languages they can speak (other than their native (demon/angel) and eng/jp), and music tastes !

lucifer

i have a strong feeling that he showers twice a day: in the morning after waking up and at night before going to bed

his cologne is probably the type that will last in an elevator for like a week after he uses it once. i dont think this mf ever smells like anything other than his cologne

has a secret folder on his phone of semi-nudes and other scandalous pics from when he felt sexy at the time omg

aside from demon language/eng/jp he can speak french and knows latin

listens to classical stuff yea but he also listens to diavolos mixtapes (re: diavolo's section)

not a fan of sweets but will eat sweet things when craving

really bland sense of humor...borderline cringey 😭✋🏻

mammon

has gone to google images and searched for "inspirational quotes tumblr" "gold aesthetic tumblr" & "relatable crush post tumblr" then reposts it onto his socials or just taps thru them and giggles bc he relates

his cologne doesnt last as long as lucifers and probably smells common. he has to reapply a lot but it's a people pleasing smell. it's cheaper hence the constant reapplying

he probably does have an expensive bottle but is the type to totally overspray...eek

he is canonically a car guy 🥲 and probably tells the one in his room good morning & good night + kisses the hood every once in a while. has tons of car magazines

he doesnt really speak other languages but has attempted to learn spanish before

listens to whatever is on the radio. doesnt rly stan anyone but he eventually will listen to mc's playlist and mc's playlist ONLY

levi

lurks on mc's socials ALL THE TIMEEEE like he will rewatch ur stories and scroll thru ur feed and overanalyze ur tweets/rts or blog posts. if ur mc isnt the type to use sns much he still googles ur name all the damn time just to find any sites u might be on fjdjdjdjskks

probably streams on whatever youtube or twitch devildom site equivalent there is, but only has like 40 or so followers. which he is okay with!

until he sees someone else who gets more attention than him. then the envy starts kicking in bad. especially if they suck 🧍🏻‍♀️

classic gamer boy smell. you know, sweat, tears, must, and (sometimes) axe deodorant. lucifer has to do a scent check before he goes out to any event & lets him use his cologne. how sweet!

kpop stan!! more girl groups than anything and his ults are probably GIRLS GENERATION, wonder girls, twice, loona, & red velvet

cried when ioi disbanded and refused to leave his room. the only thing u could hear was downpour on loop at full blast

can also speak korean & communicate in echolocation like dolphins 😏

satan

listens to country music you cant change my mind

smells like whatever environment he is in. he doesnt really have a designated smell just throws some deodorant on and goes about his day.

he's sooooo bad at driving...gets road rage way too often so his license has been REVOKED

but hes totally a backseat driver. needs to be sedated on long trips

do not let him watch finding nemo when luke asks to watch it. it's not worth it. he will cause mass destruction.

if he was a human or lived long term in the human world he totally has the ability to be a doctor

is studying as many languages as possible, but he mostly knows latin & french & german etc etc. wants to learn all the dead languages out of curiousity

asmo

dont think this mf has ever held down a relationship. ever

he doesnt compromise much & is not willing to change his lifestyle to fit an s/o into it. you keep up with how he lives or it just isnt meant to be (but dont worry! he'll eventually learn...maybe,,,,)

has the hardest time out of everyone when it comes to breaking bad habits

his smell varies bc he uses a variety of perfumes (whatever is the most popular at the time) but he probably sticks to floral and fresh scents. he never uses generic people pleaser scents like mammon

listens to electropop, mainstream pop, & some alternative rock

as for languages he too knows french, spanish, italian, etc. in general, if it's a romance language he knows it!

opposite of lucifer in the sense where he loves sweets and will refrain from eating too many bitter things

i think we all know that asmo is the biggest rockstar of the group! he's probably been in a boy band at least once, but now he makes his own music

has tried to teach mammon how to sing once. ended up in a broken piano and bleeding ears...

beel

i feel like he is SO SHY

like unless ur close to him he will not start conversations or anything

i think he listens to r&b a lot ! and jazz 😎 maybe rock as well

smells like ur typical athlete with undertones of wet wipes. he carries them around bc he likes to clean his hands before he eats & is prepared for when theres no sink nearby

he can drive and he drives really well. no rough turns, parallel parks perfectly, and never has problems with merging

driving with beel is probably really soothing. left hand is steering the other is gripping ur thigh 😫

dont think hes really fluent in any other language but hes probably semi fluent in korean because levi wanted beel to help him out

definitely know how to order food in practically every language tho HAHAHA

belphie

he reminds me of randall from monsters inc

smells kinda musty IM SORRY but not the way levi does hes more like the kind of musty u feel or smell when it's a shitty morning

but that's only because hes so lazy, when he cleans up hes like satan

has definitely murdered multiple people before. mc is not the first 😐✋🏻

with that being said belphie has been put into prison at least twice when visiting the human world, the mf had such a strong hatred for humans theres no way he never got into trouble before

lucifer probably broke him out and they used the pen thingies from men in black to erase everyones memory of that 🙄

dont think he listens to anything other than music that'll put him to sleep. really likes lazy song by bruno mars but thinks that bruno mars put too much effort into the song. should have been one acapella verse and then finish

similar to beel hes only semi fluent in one language, probably french bc of lucifer. doesnt remember much but knows a couple of lullabies and bedtime stories

the sandman used to be his bff until they drifted. they do, however, like and comment on each other's sns posts.

diavolo

once he found out who nicki minaj was he became her #1 stan

def an ariana grande stan too 😌

choreographs dances when hes stressed...idk just seems like a diavolo thing to do

also makes rly bad soundcloud rap music sometimes. turns to poetry when hes feeling emo but only lucifer knows this. barbatos is suspicious of him but doesnt have enough evidence to confirm.

his dad is like hudson abadeer from adventure time aka marceline's dad? something must have influenced him to want to unite the 3 realms + he would need the approval to do so, so his dad must be more chill than all the others before him 🧍🏻‍♀️ IDK ok anyway

currently going through his hamilton phase bc of mc. whether mc's intent was to get him hooked onto it or just to explain it bc of something he saw online, he tells everyone that he found out abt it bc of mc!

this man cannot drive his skills are only second to jumin han

not too fond of many languages but knows the widely spoken ones like spanish, mandarin, etc. if it's taught in high school he knows it

smells like a las vegas casino. not sure why but i feel like he does. but there's also an interesting & nice smell to him if he embraces you. it's a smell you cant quite identify. but it smells nostalgic, it's mysterious, and it's tempting.

barbatos

very calm demeanor but underneath hes WILD hes probably done everything at least once oof

he just has a lot of control and stability over himself (must be nice!)

on a more angsty note i feel like he might have had his heartbroken sO BAD IDK he is hurting and maybe that's why hes so willing to obey diavolo and not abuse his time lord power thingies bc he learned his lesson the hard way

mans is so smart he knows every language you could switch languages mid conversation with him and he wouldnt be thrown off. he'd probably start speaking it too.

BUT HE SPEAKS VIET P E R F E C T L Y

listens to the same stuff as lucifer but also likes eminem. likes the movie 8 mile but criticized it heavily

have you ever been to a chinese herb shop? naturally, he smells like that. his room probably smells like it too. he doesnt really have a significant smell like some of the others

when he bakes he smells like whatever hes baking tho

one of the few out of everyone listed to have been able to travel to literally everywhere

solomon

was probably on kitchen nightmares once, but only to get feedback from chef gordon ramsay. then he used his magic to prevent the episode from airing...

was in an orchestra, one of the best times of his life. played the violin. asmo watched him in the audience once, but didnt approach him until well after that performance.

he CANNOT sing. he can, however, rap.

doesnt listen to music. he listens to podcasts! but every now and then he turns on background music, but prefers it to be instrumental stuff

never wears sunglasses. also does not have a driver's license. cannot drive a regular car. could maybe fly an airplane.

due to his immortality he has learned almost every language to exist, but finds himself speaking mandarin the most. knows most dialects too

similar smell to barbatos but u can also smell some sunscreen on him too. like, generic beach day suncreen

he has a lot of pact marks, so he once had the idea to match foundation to his skin. it took him two weeks but he eventually perfected a combination. yes he will help u find ur perfect shade if u ask him to

simeon

another country music man. has also made a tiktok or two to that one song that goes "he cant even bait a hook." they are private tho

angel country music exists and simeon invented it

if he visits the human world and wears more causal clothing he probably tucks his shirt into his pants

wears a speedo at the beach i tell u, speedo at the beach

he can speak german...i can feel it

uses his pointer finger to type and holds the phone like 2 inches away from his face so sometimes his nose will push a key hence all his typos

has no signature smell. he simply smells like your favorite scent all the time. if multiple people are around him at once, everyone smells a different smell. it's pretty rad

"what does he smell like to himself?" u may be asking. hmm...a church? 💀

luke

his first pet was a goldfish and a few months before the exchange program happened, he was given a koi pond!

secretly likes hanging out with levi sometimes just to play with henry. makes him miss his pet fish back home

so his favorite movie is probably finding nemo and he threw a fit when nemo touched the butt

luke is probably learning german bc of simeon, though he'd like to learn more of the dead languages just for fun

i dont think he listens to music often or has any preferences, he just listens to whatever is playing on the radio

but he finds himself listening to the music mc listens to

smells like freshly baked goods all the time. or fresh laundry. but like, not combined. just depends on the day

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uhhhhyandere · 4 years

Text

i...

i have no comment. i have sinned. you watch one tik tok and ALL OF A SUDDEN this shit hits.

im so h*rny for light. that’s all.

also??? i got like an influx of followers so idk who put me on their resume but here is your welcome fic ;)

tw: sexy times baby, always sucking him off, the usual y’all.

you can also find it on Ao3!!

You knew you were in for it. Dread loomed over you like a cloud, a downpour upon you wherever you may go. Chains anchored your heart to your stomach and constricted it. Every moment it felt as though they can pull too tight and pop the organ like a balloon. Tears were constantly brimming, ready to penetrate their damn and spill, but you managed to keep them hot at bay in the water lines of your eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. Put on a mask and go. That’s what he always told you to do because should that mask even crack, it would be the last mistake you’ll ever make.

And that mask was shattered.

You splashed water onto your face in the bathroom. Nothing but the embodiment of fatigue, of worry, of lies, stared back. God, what have you allowed him to do to you? But, god, you’d do it all again if you had a reset button. Your heart hurt, ached for his approval, his acceptance, even as you gave up on the premise of love. Even as you had to hide in fear that Misa would end your life before he did if she discovered the truth, you would hold true. Why? Because… well… that’s because -

“Y/N! Hey! Excited to get the weekend started?” Your paralegal smiled, either choosing to ignore your disheveled state or not noticing it at all. “My mom texted me saying she’s hosting a barbeque. Finally excited not to cook my own meals or get take out. How about you?” Your fist tightened. Mask on.

“Just a regular weekend for me. Just taking a break from most of the work piled on my desk. Well, maybe I’ll actually take some of it home, then I’ll play sudoku.” You shared a laugh with them before they entered the stall, and let your face immediately fall. You were jealous of their life. Of being ignorant of how quick and easy it was to end it, of the texts they must receive on the daily. Your mind raced back to the one that pushed you into this state.

Irihaba Hotel. 21:00. Room 2011. We need to talk.

Hotel meetings were for Takada while his own apartment was Misa’s territory. You were just whatever. Perks of being involved in his circle for far too long. Held on a leash long enough to run, but not far. Hardly a weapon, you stand in your place unknowing as to why you were kept alive for so long. Useless things are disposed of. Light’s said it himself. Any moment whatever reason he kept you alive could change. The ice you walk on was already flooding with water. You dare not even step.

The hotel was as classy and upscale as they come. Of course. Light’s income as L was handsome. Affording the life he believed he deserved was just a side benefit to every other power that inflated his ego. You tugged your blazer closer to your figure, the badge of any lawyer in Japan who passed their Bar pinned tightly to the collar. Maybe I can stab myself with it and go to the hospital to avoid this.

Seeing Light was not always an event laden with fear and dread. It was awe-inspiring. Like meeting with your college advisor who always was there to point you in the right direction should you get lost, and leaving you with purpose, meaning. That was the power Light inspires in you and every other who follows.

And he was beautiful. That may be the scariest part of all. Should he be alight and raging in anger or dim and cold in cruel and calculating thought, Light was breathtaking. Seeing him grow from high school through college and into the man - god - he is now, your heart ached once more. It hurt. God, it hurt, but it hurt so deliciously. You had to come back for more.

The elevator opened. Against the marble floor, only your soft steps echoed in the hall. Grand pictures and gold trimming lined the walls. Your reflection slowly breezing past until you reached your standing reflection at room 2011’s door. The gates to hell - heaven - neither? - itself. Your hand shook every millimeter it rose.

One knock.

Two knock.

Three.

Brown eyes shined through the crack of the door. A jolt of electricity shot down to your core. You were well and thoroughly fucked. Light didn’t even bother to wear his mask, slowly opening the door and allowing you into the silent room. The bang of the door sealed your fate. There you stood near the hotel table, purse set down, hands folded behind your back on top of its wood. You watched him click the lock before turning around.

He wore a slick black suit and a simple white shirt underneath. His tie lied forgotten on the seat of the chair nearby. The first few buttons of his undershirt remained opened, gifting you with a small peek at his chest. The pants adorned him just as well, giving you a well-defined look at the length of his legs. You quickly averted your gaze upwards. You knew better than to so openly gawk.

“Sloppy, Y/N.” Light said, hands deep in his pockets.”I would have expected it to be L or even Mochi, but Matsuda? Of all people…” He chuckled. “What did he do to make you crack, Y/N? Did he threaten you? I doubt that. Nothing should scare you more than I do, so… what could it have been? Did he appeal to your guilty side? The side of you that begs yourself to believe them in the name of everything you’ve learned in school?” He began to step closer, closer, until you were backed far into the table. “Or… perhaps, he offered you something far more… primal.” He breathed out the word gently, so his breath ticked your nose.

“W-what? No!” He smiled.

“Come now, Y/N! Don’t act so shocked at the notion. You think you hide it well, but you’re itching to satiate the frustrations within you. I see it every time we’ve met for years. I’m surprised your patience has held out this long.” He leaned in to place his hand on the table, trapping you from the left side. “Every time you hope and you pray that it’ll be me that makes your pussy drip, that it’s me who sinks his cock deep inside you, and fucks you just until you just begin to feel that edge of release, but then… nothing. The tease, the chase to get that high back. It’s all you think about.” If you weren’t so terrified, you would say it sounded like it’s what he thought about too.

“T-that’s not true.” Light threw his head back and laughed before pushing off the table with his hand and approaching the hotel desk on the other wall.

“Sure. Tell yourself whatever lies you need. I know the truth, and I know you’d do anything for that, won’t you?” He pulled the computer chair from under the desk and took a seat. With a single digit, he motioned you closer and closer until your thighs touched his own. It was only a single moment of you standing above him before he roughly spun you and wretched you onto his lap by your hips. Your eyes flew open, heart palpitating. “You’re so intelligent, Y/N, but you allow such carnal desires to distract you.” Light ever so slightly rolled his hips upwards, grinding slowly against your backside. You bit your lip.”See? And you don’t even notice what’s right in front of you.”

The Death Note lied flat, illuminated by the desk lamp. You should feel the accumulation of terror, but Light’s hand tight on your hip and fingers drumming against your thigh kept you from it. His soft laugh blew right against your ear while he laid his head on your shoulder. “Go ahead, open it.”

“But you said never to-,”

“Listen. To. Me.” You nodded, opening just the front cover. “That’s it, keep going,” he urged softly. Every so often, Light would grind his hips once more, slow and sensual, so you can feel his body drag up every inch of your own. Your breath shuttered. Page after page was filled margin to margin. Light watched the horror etch onto your features in delight. “Just find an open spot. We just need one. ”

“Please, no. Please d-don’t… I promise I’ll never mess up again. N-never. Just…” You winced, and your clenched eyes forced out the tears you’ve been holding back. “Please, I’m begging you.”

“I know. It really is music to my ears. Now, take the pen.” You glanced at the part of his face you can see over your shoulder. “I won’t ask again. I’ve already been plenty patient with you.” Still, the very blood that flows through you was frozen. “One. Two.” Your hand shot out, breaking the mold. “Ah, good girl. Now,” the hand that was on your hip reached to encapture your own, “write.” A sob. You sobbed.

“Please, Light. Please, no. I don’t… I don’t want to die. I promise I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll isolate myself ever. Leave Japan. Never see the light of day outside, but please… I don’t want to die yet-ah!” You jumped at the pressure on your backside. Something was there that was not there before.

“Ah, come on, Y/N. If you’ll do anything I ask, then you’ll do this, won’t you? For me?” He groaned as his hips lifted once more. The friction eliciting mutual groans. Though his hand held your own, he made no move to force it into motion . “One. Two. Three. Ah, there we go. No breaks, now. Don’t stop writing.” Your name seemed so short now. Even in your slowest handwriting, fingers entrapped by his own, it was seconds until you were on the last letter. “That’s my good girl,” he purred, taking a moment to rub the back of your hand with his thumb in affection.

Abruptly, he threw you off of his lap and onto the ground. He stood above, beautiful face illuminated by the same light that lit up your death, one hand holding the notebook, the other slowly palming his erection. “See what you’ve done now? Isn’t this what you wanted?” His smile, sinister and malicious, was wide as you curled in on yourself on the floor. “Awh. Aren’t you going to keep begging me? Or have you given up already? Your pathetic whines were…” he licked the top row of his teeth, “kinda hot.” He glanced at his watch. “Halfway there, now.” You frantically crawled towards your bag. Light made no move to stop you. He simply watches with sadistic interest. “Making a run for your phone? Who will you call in your last ten seconds, hm? Matsuda?” He chuckled.

“No, please!”

“Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

…

Light’s laugh erupted behind you. Despite the tons of relief shed off your shoulders, you were still unnerved. Light held out the notebook and flipped it so you can see your name written with two deep slashes across it. Shutting it, he placed it back on the table. “You should see your face.”

“You’re cruel.”

“But you love it.” He roughly reached down and yanked you onto your feet, “but we have other business to attend to.” The shove down onto the bed was far rougher than how he picked you up from the ground. Helplessly on your back, you picked yourself up with your elbows. “Strip.” Light dragged the computer chair over and sat down. He brought his leg to cross over the other and laid his arms to the side. Light’s chin rose and his eyes lowered as they trained on you. “How many times must I treat you like a child? You’re a certified lawyer, Y/N. Have some dignity.”

You rose, slowly discarding your blazer and following it with your top. Lifting your hips, you shimmied out of your pants. “You’re not done. I can see your panties soaked from all the way over here. Did your brush with death really turn you on so much? How deprived are you? Disgusting.” You glanced out the window. “Eyes on me.” You clenched your teeth so hard you thought they’d break as you removed the last bit of clothing.

Slowly, he rose from his seat and approached the table once more. From the chair, he grabbed his red tie, the fabric gleaming under the light. He turned back and approached. “Hands behind your back, Y/N.” You obeyed. “Good girl.” He knelt behind you, tying the fabric right around your wrists, hands knuckle to knuckle.

He returned to standing in front of you, and in a rush of movement, Light lurched forward, fingers locking around your throat and pushing you onto your back. His lips chased after, consuming your own, biting, licking, scouring, devouring. His tongue invaded your maw, dominating, overwhelming, suffocating. His fingers squeezed your jugular once more, stealing your already strangled breath. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to think. He ripped his head back, a dirty string of saliva keeping you connected as he gasped in a breath.

“Look at you. Just look at you. A woman of the law, of justice, completely and utterly at my mercy. You really have no shame, Y/N. Under all those suits and blazers, you are just like every other whore out there. Hungry, desperate for a cock to fill that pussy of yours and - oh, is it begging to be filled.” From his other hand, a lean digit traced the outline of your lower lips, skimming over and briefly flicking your clit. For someone he said was shameless, shame blanketed your existence at the moment, but fuck.

Fuck.

The finger sunk itself in you, knuckle deep. Light whistled. “Fuck, you’re dripping, Y/N. Is this all for me? Tell me.” He abruptly stuck a second digit inside. “ Tell me how long you’ve craved this. Tell me how many nights you’ve gone since we graduated that you yearned for my cock. Tell me how many lonely times you spent touching this pretty little pussy dreaming it was me.” His fingers curled, scissored, twisted, pushed, and pulled. They seemed to control your entire essence, pulling your very soul in and out with every thrust.

“Every night!” You yelled, arching your back, pulling your body down so you can feel more. “Please more. Give me more. Please.” Still, there was no hurry to his ministrations. At the languid pace, he remained steady. “ God.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, taking back his hand from your throat, “like the sound of that. Tell your god, then, just how much you want to cum, Prove to him why you think you deserve it for almost fucking everything up today.” He emphasized his words by curling his fingers inside you.

“I’ll never - ah - let you down again. You… you’re the best thing the world has ever - hm! - had. You are justice a-and peace and power embodied. A-anyone would die to be where I-I am, in your hands to do a-ah-as you will. Please, I need your cock.” You pulled against your restraints, tensing your muscles to forge wiggle room, but they would not budge. His fingers tapped your chin upwards to meet his eyes.

“You would die for me.” You nodded vigorously. “You would spend every waking moment thinking of me, in fear, in admiration, in lust.” You nodded once more. Light giggled like a boy who just received a toy. “So, you know your place. Far beneath me. Far under me. That this is a gift from me, your satiation. Your salvation.” All the while, he had nudged the third finger inside. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re still so tight; it’s sucking me in. I don’t think you can even take my cock like this.”

“I-I can!” He smirked, adding the fourth finger and watching you wince.

“You think you can handle it?” You nodded. He ripped his fingers away. Throwing his jacket behind him, he unbuttoned his shirt all the way and discarded his pants and underwear, leaving him only in his blown open button-down shirt. His length bounced intimidatingly in front of you. You gripped the sheets, watching it. Your mouth might as well have begun to water.

“Please,” you piped out.

“Hm? Can’t hear you, Y/N.” He pumped his cock.

“Please let me suck your cock.” His eyes glowed menacingly and he leaned back, giving you the opportunity to fall forward.

“Don’t think about teasing. It will not end well for you.” Light’s breath stuttered as you took into your mouth what you could. “That’s it. Keep going, Y/N. Service your god. Fuck. You really were made for this, weren’t you? How does it feel to know that your true self isn’t in a courtroom? It’s here, on your knees, choking on my cock. How can they respect such a depraved whore? A whore who’s only use is to suck me off.” His hand came down into your hair, gripping the locks tightly. “ Oh yeah. Keep fucking going. ” He threw his head back and his other hand came to join the other on your head. A second stabilizer.

Light moved his hips to meet your face. Mouth slack open, you focused on avoiding all contact with your teeth and relaxing your throat as he bottomed out in your throat. “ This is all you are, Y/N. This is all you were made for. Me, my wants, my needs. From the day you stepped foot on earth, this is your fate. A fucktoy for me.” He forced your head back and you inhaled greedily. “On the bed. All fours. Ass. up.” You did as he asked, feeling the dip in the bed near your feet.

Slap. You cried out. Another slap followed quit, ringing out in the room. “Don’t make me gag you, too. You like it. Being used, controlled. Don’t even try to lie to me.” You peeked over your shoulder to watch him slip the condom down his length. He shoved his four fingers back into you, stretching the last of you out before placing the head of his cock at your entrance. You dug your forehead into the bed. He teased the entrance, slipping just the tip in and out.

“Please, fuck me! Please…” Coming forward, he retook your hair in his hand and yanked. At the very same time, he sunk his cock into you.

“Oh fuck…” Relentlessly he pounded, pulling your hair back to expose your neck and biting into the skin. Pistoning, his hips met yours as you began to push back to meet his thrusts. “That’s right. Oh… that’s right. ”His forehead pushed into your shoulder blade. “You’re all mine, Y/N. You know that, right? Mine to keep alive, mine to kill, mine to control. Your entire world is in my palm. Never forget who scares you the most.” He picked up his pace. “Shit! That’s it, that’s it. You going to cum, Y/N?”

“Yes!”

“Well, don’t. You don’t get to come a second before I-I do.” He stuttered as your walls began to clench around him. “You take me so well. Heh. Why haven’t we done this earlier, Y/N?” Grabbing the back of your head, he pushed it into the mattress so he can angle himself better to do deeper, harder. “Hold it, Y/N. If you cum, you may as well forget this ever happened.” You clenched, holding back your climax as best you could. “Ah… ready?” Moments after, his seed began to spill. Light arched his back, chasing his high with faster and faster thrusts and choked groans of pleasure. You followed soon after, his name shaping itself into your scream. You fell limp and felt his softening cock slip out of you. The movement continued behind you, but you stayed put, watching the city lights out the window in your daze even as he untied your bonds.

“Check out is at eleven.” You jolted to see Light dressed behind you, a smile dancing on his lips. He looked as though nothing happened. “Goodbye, Y/N. Let’s do this again sometime.”

#light yagami x reader #yandere light yagami #Light Yagami #yandere light yagami x reader #death note fic #yandere death note #Death Note #im back on my shit #what's NEW HAHA #reader insert #yandere reader insert #light yagami x you #tw: yandere #tw yandere #tw: degradation #tw degradation

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chunhua-s · 3 years

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congrats on your milestone event!!! id like to request for kita soulmate!au with angst to fluff genre 👉👈 yknow sumn rejection shit bcs im hopeless like that wehee once again congrats! and i love your writing style :3

anon you’re gonna make me cry 🥺 seriously i’m happy you enjoy my writing and that you think my style’s okay! most of the time i go off of what kind of feelings i get when i’m writing or the imagery that comes up in my head and i’m never sure that it translates well enough for you guys to feel or see the same thing. hopefully as i keep writing then i’ll be able to show you guys what’s on my mind better when i’m writing! thank you again for requesting — seriously, it means a lot! and like always, you guys, don’t be afraid to come and talk to me on and off anon! your interactions mean a lot, especially for content creators! we love hearing what you all think, what you like/dislike about our work, what you think of certain characters — absolutely anything! come and talk with us more whenever you can 💕

writing for kita feels calming somehow. normally the things that come up in my chest or my mind when i write gets nearly overwhelming if that makes sense? like i’ll have to pause and remind myself to breathe because it takes up so much of my attention that i kinda get lost, but with kita, it feels more flowey to me. it’s not demanding but more like a gentle coaxing kind of thing or like looking at the surface of a calm river. i was initially scared to write for him because i was worried i wouldn’t get him right, but i feel satisfied with how this turned out, i think. i hope you guys will find it as calming as i found it too! it might not be exactly what you wanted, but because i had already written the rejection of a person for atsumu’s soulmate oneshot, i wanted to play around with kita’s character and make it instead the rejection of a concept/idea? which would indirectly lead to him... you know, rejecting his soulmate initially, but— ahhhhhh it might make sense to just read it!! these rambles keep getting longer and longer :v i’m sorry for that!! please go ahead and read and tell me what you think in the end! 💕

NOTNING MORE THAN HUMAN ➽ KITA SHINSUKE x READER

genre: angst to fluff

au: soulmate

warnings: none

shinsuke kita is human.

and of course, that much is obvious. he isn’t a machine that’s incapable of feelings and emotions, whose heart is unfamiliar with melodies of an overwhelming joy, or the quiet hymns of deep rooted sadness. his skin still burns under righteous fury and anger, his tongue still weighs heavy under hesitance and silent worries. at the end of every long day, he’s still human.

it’s because he’s human that the words on his collarbone feel so heavy, as if they might cave into the bone and destroy him under their weight. it’s because he’s human that the sight of black markings in the mirror clouds his mind with a new kind of fear and worry. shinsuke kita is human, but he’s long since taught himself how to abandon anxiety and nervousness. he surrounds himself in familiar routines that calm the turbulent voices of doubt, he builds habits that ground him to the earth lest he should be swept away by the current. shinsuke has taught himself not to be afraid for the things that will happen everyday, but meeting his soulmate isn’t one of those things he can prepare for.

it’s a strange concept, he considers to himself. shinsuke doesn’t believe in words like fate or destiny, doesn’t care for the higher powers that should judge his actions. as far as he’s concerned, his own will is what dictates where his life goes — he’s in control, and that’s how it’s always been for him. let the gods watch, if they must, but he’s already decided that he’ll live by what is right, and he wouldn’t dare falter in the face of it. and yet — and it’s such a strange thing for him to do so — he pauses under the notion of a soulmate, of a destined partner who’s supposedly bound to him for as long as he should live. at first, he hadn’t given the idea much thought; it wouldn’t serve any purpose to worry about something that would happen whether or not he wants it, he decided. the truth of it is inevitable, just as the leaves must fall in autumn and the earth should be buried under clouds of white in winter. shinsuke is human — what more can he do but to accept it?

the black words that spread across his skin like droplets of ink became the bitter seeds of doubt that he hadn’t felt in a long time. it’s raining a lot today, isn’t it? the sentence by itself is so bland, like something maybe aran or anyone else might say to him in passing, and at first, it didn’t shake him too much, until he was caught one day under a sudden summer storm. seventeen year old kita somehow found himself stranded beneath a small shelter, where the wooden covering could protect him more than his umbrella until the rain passed. it was nearly unconscious, but he somehow found himself on edge, his breath faltered with the harsh pitter patter of rainfall that tumbled from green leaves and tore ripples from the surface of the lake. shinsuke kita found himself with a stomach full of butterflies and a thundering heartbeat that stole him away from solace and calm, cast the peace that he would so often carry with him away and left him stranded among chopping waves. every trembling breath he took stung on cold air and left him with a burning feeling on his lungs. it’s unfamiliar in its presence and shakes him to his core, but shinsuke kita is reminded of his own humanity when he realizes that what he feels, is anticipation and nervousness.

and it’s an odd thing. as he becomes aware of it, he finds himself twisting his fingers together during spring time; he worries his bottom lip between his teeth during unexpected showers. he feels like a child who stands in line to ride a roller coaster for the first time in his life — wide-eyed and drowning in the millions of feelings that race throughout his body. the feeling itself is nothing new, though it’s unfamiliar and intense in its ferocity and demand, seizes his heart and squeezes so tightly that whenever it rains, he’s left breathless.

it’s almost enough to drive him mad.

his very foundation seems to fall apart with the thunder that rolls across grey skies. for every drop of rain that hits the pavement, he finds himself a jittery mess as his heartbeat tears through his chest. the man who taught himself to abandon his fears reverts into the young boy who watched out for god, for the higher beings who watched his every move. and the thought that comes with every brilliant bolt of lightning burns him just as hotly, invasive and demanding when it flashes through his mind on a single, low whisper:

will you be happy?

shinsuke kita is human. he learns as he sees and lives as he’s learned, and what he saw growing up was that soulmates were bounded together till death do them part. a connection that’s set deep in stone, never to be erased by unforgiving weather and to persevere during the cruelest of storms. it’s an inevitable reality that the gods designed, so that mortals like himself should dance on stage and tell them a story. but shinsuke knows that not all these stories have a happy ending.

there are plays that end in tragedy and loss, those that only knew memories of pain and sang with death’s violin. man becomes the actor to a play that he has no choice in and dances on the puppet master’s strings, he surrenders control and gives himself up to the music, and he has no way of knowing the end of it until the curtains should fall. shinsuke has never been one to lay down his will, and yet, as winter melts once more into gray rain clouds and scattered showers, he’s reminded of his mortality, of the fate that’s been sealed away in the falling of rain. shinsuke kita is human, and so he must, like all men do, bend to fate’s will and never utter a word against her.

and for a long time, the sentiment caused him to completely reject the idea of a soulmate.

that feeling of helplessness that would wash over him with the rain turned into a bitterness that crushed his lungs between tightened fist. the acceptance of an inevitable waltz — whether it be to eternal happiness or to a cruel melody — turned into rebellious loathing that spat in the face of destiny. it’s entirely childish in its tale, like a toddler throwing a tantrum because he doesn’t want to give up his precious toy. that toy is his control, the power he had to live his life by his truth, not by that of a higher being. he’s human, after all, and humans are selfish and resentful by nature.

he finds himself with a heavy chest today, as well, as he waits for the pouring rain to subside. the small shelter in the middle of the garden park is familiar, and carries with it the memories of his epiphany, the one that created thunder storms in his once tranquil heart, and for that, he hates this place. the sound of the rain hitting the roof is like nails scratching against the chalkboard; the sound of droplets hitting the lake like an annoying whining that he can’t get out of his head. shinsuke curses this little pocket away from the world with all the childish anger in the world — let it be damned that doing so wouldn’t change anything. for once, he let himself go on a petty grudge against the universe, and against that looming stage and its heavy curtains.

it’s nearly faint, but he picks up on the patter-patter of footfalls that quickly approach him, and he turns bronze coloured eyes to find your rain-drenched figure running for shelter under the little gazebo. you’re out of breath by the time you make it underneath, letting out an exhausted and frustrated sigh as you press your hands to your knees, and shinsuke finds himself sympathizing with the way you bitterly push your hair from your face. you’re an ordinary office worker, from what he can see; you’ve hidden what looks to be a messenger back beneath your coat, leaving you to tremble in a thin button-up. this day’s downpour had been sudden, unexpected as spring would soon surrender to the approaching summer, and he imagines that he would have been in a similar position as yourself had he not packed his umbrella beforehand.

a silence settles over the both of you that’s only broken by the heavy rain, but the presence of it is so soothing that shinsuke finds himself breathing on a lighter air. suddenly the smell of petrichor turns sweeter, the melody of raindrops melting into a distant lullaby, and for the first time, shinsuke feels his heart melt under an indescribable sense of warmth despite the weather. and when your eyes turn to find his, a helpless grin on your lips, he feels that warmth explode under summer fireworks and coarse throhgh his veins like liquid lightning.

“it’s raining a lot today, isn’t it?”

for the second time in his life, shinsuke has an epiphany under the shelter in the garden.

he feels every bit of resentment vanish on a sudden gust of wind, one that sends raindrops splashing against his skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice. not when grey clouds suddenly reveal to him pillars of sunlight that embrace your figure and makes you glow against a background of green leaves. the rain turns into something sweet and enticing, and it suddenly gives shinsuke this unexplainable urge to grab your hand and dance with you underneath the pouring showers, where he can hear your voice ring out on chimes of laughter and innocent bliss. in mere seconds, he manages to let go of the dark clouds that he’d unintentionally harboured on his chest, he let them burst with the weight of anger and childish fury so that they would hit the earth on giant droplets of rain.

shinsuke kita is human — he’s imperfect, mortal. he feels and he thinks and he speaks what’s on his mind. he can hate, and he can love: he can make that decision on whether or not to hold useless grudges and to curse a destiny he can’t change, or to welcome that inevitability with the willingness to learn and grow.

today, as he stands beneath a wooden shelter, hiding from the heavy rains, he decides to stretch his hand out and let the water hit his skin.

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