#the lyrics in this one were silly it reminded me of a small little story idea i came up with earlier | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lowkeyerror · 5 months

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Warmth

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Notes: Slightly sad but overall happy and super fluffy, Christmas themed, happy holidays everyone!

Summary: You miss your family during the Christmas season, making you feel isolated. However Wanda reminds you that there are still people who care about you here.

Masterlist

Christmas was hard for you. It reminded you of all of your losses. Your parents, your sister, and your team. Watching the snow fall together only reminded you of those that fell with you during the war. You were always a little more zoned out during the season. Focusing was harder than it ever would be.

You had a new team that was not dissimilar to your military family, the Avengers. This wasn’t your first Christmas with them, but it was the first time you couldn’t pretend to be filled with the Christmas spirit.

They didn’t really know what was going on with you, but they could guess based on your past. Earth’s mightiest heroes were string warriors on the field, but they weren’t savvy when it came to emotional turmoil. So, they let you sulk to an extent. They would drag you out of the house, but they let you sit out any activities.

That’s how you ended up sitting alone in a nearly emptying ice rink Tony had rented out. You watched as members of the team skate on the ice with their friends and family members. Clint had brought Laura and the kids, Tony brought Morgan, Bruce brought his cousin Jen, Thor had brought Valkyrie along with Loki. Even Natasha brought Yelena out for the day.

You hold a sad smile on your face seeing them enjoy each other.

“You aren’t going to skate?” Wanda sits next to you adjusting her skates.

You shake your head, “I think I’m good just watching.”

Wanda sighs at your words, “Where’ve you been these past couple of days?”

Your brow furrows, “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

Wanda jabs a finger against your forehead, “We both know you haven’t been present up there. What’s bothering you?”

You want to close off and you are prepared to do so, until you catch Wanda’s eyes. They’re filled with genuine care and worry. As much as you hate to admit it to yourself, you don’t want to push her away.

“I miss my family. My parents, my sister, my friends, they’re all gone. It’s hard to not think about them around this time of year. The past couple of years I’ve been good at keeping it inside, but it’s too much this year.”

Wanda understands, probably better than anyone else in the building. She finds herself reaching for your hand, “Tell me about them.”

Your eyes grow wide for a second, but nonetheless you search for a memory to share, “For Christmas my mom would always make this pie. It wasn’t really a pie, more like a cheesecake. She called it a banana split pie. My sister and I would always have some silly competition for the last slice. One year we did a performance for my mom and dad and the winner was supposed to get the last slice of the pie. So, picture me 13 years old, scrawny as can be, determination on my face, as I belt out the lyrics to Last Christmas by Wham. It’s just as over the top as you’re imagining it.”

Wanda laughs a bit, which only widens the small smile playing on your lips.

“Now my sister wasn’t going down that easy, she did a dance routine to All I Want For Christmas is You. My parents were split, they couldn’t pick a winner. So, while my sister and I were arguing about who was better, my dad ate the last slice of pie,” you can’t help but roll your eyes.

Wanda cackles openly this time, “All that hard work for nothing?”

“Exactly! I poured my heart out, I could almost taste the pie.”

The two of sat with the warmth of your story. The woman had succeeded in lifting your mood. It almost made you want to go out and skate with the others, but there was a lingering sadness after you realized that you’d never share a moment like that again.

“I miss my family too. Pietro loved Christmas. I never really knew if he preferred getting gifts or giving gifts. I think he was just happy to have everyone together” Wanda speaks up.

“Do you have a favorite gift from him?”

Wanda smiles while looking at the ring that adorns her finger,” He gave me so much more than just physical items. For a long time, it was just us, my parents died when we were young. Piet gave me comfort, more than anyone probably ever will. This ring belonged to my mother; it was a gift to her from my Papa. I thought it had been lost in the bombing that destroyed our home. Years later, after our parents were long gone, he gifted me this ring. I don’t know how he got it, but he did. I don’t think I ever hugged him that hard. I cried against him, and he held me. I was only a teen, still a child really, but I cried like I was a 4-year-old. This ring, it’s like my entire family on my finger. My mama, my papa, and Piet.”

You have tears brimming your eyes as they shift from Wanda to the ring, “It’s beautiful, Wanda.”

She nods her head, holding back her own tears. She takes a large breath and holds out her hand, “Skate with me.”

It’s not a question, but even if it was, you doubt you’d say no to her. Reluctantly you lace the skates and follow her on to the ice. The red head nearly falls after her first step onto the ice. You were quick to place your hand on her waist.

You chuckle from behind her,” Have you done this before?”

You don’t see the rosy hints of her teeth, “Yes, I’ve just never been particularly good at it.”

Once you’re sure that she’s steady, you move to face her. This time you hold out your hand and she looks at it skeptically, “And you’re good at this?”

You scoff and tell her to watch you. Skating around the rink is simple enough, you show off a bit with a simple figure 8. Then you skate back up to her, “I think I’m pretty ok, what did you think?”

She gives you a side eye, “I get it you’re a professional skater.”

You shake your head and extend your hand again, “Let’s do a lap together.”

Wanda hesitates.

You reassure her once again, “We’ll stay close to the wall, I promise to not let you fall.”

She places her hand in yours, “If I fall, I'm taking you with me.”

“Fine by me.”

The two of you begin to skate laps in the rink hand in hand. Wanda refuses to let go of the rail for the first few laps, until she’s content with just holding on to you. True to your word, the woman doesn’t fall. You revel in the happiness that radiates off of her as you move on the ice.

“Teach me how to do the 8.”

“I can’t promise you won't fall if we're going to do the 8,” you warn her.

She shrugs a bit, “Just promise you’ll catch me, and we should be fine. “

Now it is you that has the tint on your cheeks. You nod and slowly show her how you do the figure 8. You can feel her eyes intensely watching every little detail of your movement.

She tries a few times on her own, coming really close but not being able to complete the 8. The frustration that’s building within her shows on the outside. It reminds you of a child having a tantrum. It’s quite adorable. She’s nearly ready to give up and you can tell.

“Hold on to my hips, we’ll do it together.”

Wanda lets out a huff of defeat before carefully skating behind you. Her hands rest respectfully on your hips. You begin to make the figure 8 and she follows holding you tightly, scared she might fall. Once you’re down you hear a small applause erupting for the two of you.

“Double infinity, nice,” Tony says slow clapping.

“I think the real miracle is Y/n keeping Wanda from falling on the ice,” Natasha chimes in.

“Careful Nat, before my powers accidentally trip you,” Wanda playfully taunts the spy.

Nat holds her hands up in defense, “It was just a joke, Wands.”

This moment feels warm, like the memory of you singing your heart out in front of your family on Christmas day. It’s partially the playful banter from the Avengers, but the other part is the woman standing besides you with her arm steady around your waist.

Her kindness, her comfort, it was like a heater in a cold room.

The attention naturally shifts from you and Wanda when the kids call for attention. You take this as your moment to head back to the benches and sit for a bit. Wanda trails behind you, a little more skilled than when she first stepped on the ice.

“I needed that, thank you” you say to Wanda, eyes shining up at her.

“It was nothing, Y/n. Besides I feel like the one who won the exchange, now I can skate without falling on my ass.”

The humor does little to cut through the sincerity of your voice, “I mean it Wanda. Thank you for skating with me.”

She matches your sincerity, “I know it’s a hard time for you, but it’s nothing that you have to face alone."

“Wanda, Y/n! You lot done for the night already?” Thor screams from across the ice.

Wanda looks like she wants to skate some more, but she can tell that you want to rest.

You beat her to it, “Go, I’ll join back in a bit.”

She eyes you tenderly, sticking out her pinky finger “Promise?”

You nearly snort at the childish antics, but still find yourself locking your pinky with hers, “I promise, now go."

She gets back on the ice, and you watch gleefully as she skates around with much more confidence. Fearful of breaking your promise, you find yourself back on the ice not long after Wanda. You skate with her and the others until it’s time for the rink to close. You almost don’t want the day to end, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t exhausted from the activity.

As soon as you’re back at the compound you quickly shower and then prepare for bed. For the first time this month the minute your head hits the pillow you’re out like a light. No intrusive thoughts, no unwanted feelings, just sleep. It feels good when you wake up a full 8 hours later.

You get ready for the day in your room. As you open the door to exit, you’re met with your skating partner from the day before.

“Good morning,” she says cheerfully.

You send her a grin, “Morning, what can I do for you?”

She extends her hand, and you grab it, letting her lead you through the compound.

“Where are we going?”

“The kitchen,” she says as if it is a full answer.

You continue to allow her to pull you around, “What’s in the kitchen?"

She shrugs, “You’ll see in a second.”

Once you’re finally in the kitchen, Wanda stops walking right in front of the refrigerator. “Okay, close your eyes.”

You give her a look as if to say ‘really’ the look in her eyes directly challenges yours and with a huff of annoyance you shut your eyes. You hear Wanda going into the fridge but resist the urge to open your eyes. It seems like an eternity before you hear the fridge close. You fidget in your spot a little as your anticipation builds.

“How long until I get to open my eyes?”

“Open them now.”

When you open your eyes, they immediately widen. Tears build at the edges of your eyes. Your eyes move from the counter to Wanda.

“Is this- did you make my mom’s pie?”

Wanda smiles softly, “I don’t know if it’s exactly like your mom’s, but after hearing your story, I Googled a recipe. You didn’t really describe it in great detail, but I wanted to do this for you.”

Without any hesitation, you wrap your arms around the redhead. You hug her tightly, unable to properly express the immense amount of emotions you are feeling right now. She hugs you back just as tight, rubbing your back soothingly.

“I know it’s morning, but do you want a slice?” Wanda’s tone is delicate as she speaks to you, knowing how vulnerable you are at the moment.

You pull away from the hug and wipe at your eyes a bit, “I would love a slice.”

Wanda cuts you a slice and watches nervously as you lift a fork full to put in your mouth. As soon as the dessert hits your tongue, your mind is flooded with memories of your family Christmas parties. It was just like your mom’s. This time the tears spilled over as you put the fork down.

Your glossy eyes meet Wanda’s, “It’s just like hers.”

There’s so much more you want to say to Wanda, but you can’t. The tears are flowing too fast. The magic user attempts to wipe them away, but they’re coming faster than she can manage.

“I really hope there are some happy tears in there or else I’ll just feel like an asshole for making you cry,” she continues wiping away your tears.

Her statement makes you laugh, “They’re all happy tears, I promise. I’m just- this is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Just think of it as a thank you for the skating lessons,” Wanda says nonchalantly.

“Why did you make this?”

Her eyes don’t meet yours as she gazes at the floor. You can see the bright pigment dusting her cheeks as she plays with the ring on her finger.

“It just seemed like the right thing to do. I wanted to do something nice for you for the holidays.”

You want her to look at you. In fact, you need her to look at you. You place one of your hands on the small of her back pulling her closer to you. Once she is as close as can be, she has no choice but to meet your eyes.

“I want to thank you,” you say, eyes boring into hers.

She nods ever so slightly, “Thank me then.”

Your lips press against hers gently. The first thought that slips into your mind is the softness of her lips. What follows is the feeling of warmth spreading across your body as the two of you kiss. You wonder for a moment if your lips taste like bananas (they do). Wanda doesn’t mind, your lips against hers fills her heart. The same warmth you feel courses through her. The kiss doesn’t end until you hear someone clearing their throat in the kitchen, but even then, you don’t jump apart, you just pull away from each other.

“I hate to interrupt, but uh I was wondering if I could get a piece of that pie,” Clint says eyeing your pie.

A protest was about to leave your lips, but instead a smirk played on them instead, “Sure Clint, you can have a piece.”

The man reaches for the pie, but you pull it out of his reach, “If you can beat me in a talent show.”

Clint looks from you to the pie a few times before rubbing the bridge of his nose, “Fuck it, I accept.”

You smile at the archer, “5pm sharp, hope you can impress the team or else no pie for you.”

He leaves the kitchen grumbling, but the smile never leaves your face.

“Old habits die hard I see,” Wanda says teasing you.

“It’s the pie, it makes me do it,” you laugh, and she laughs with you. You peck her lips again, “Thank you, Wanda. This means everything to me.”

“I’ll make it over and over again if it keeps you kissing me like that,” she says like a joke, but you hear a slight seriousness to her tone.

“I still have to kiss you a thousand times, just to thank you for this one. So, expect plenty more kisses in the future. I think kissing you might just be better than the pie.”

The two of you laugh again, warmth filling the kitchen of the Avengers compound. It floods into your system as you revel in this moment with Wanda. She feels it too, as she tries to memorize every detail of this moment. It was more than just a first kiss; this was the moment that you knew Wanda was the warmth you needed to get through the winter.

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #tony stark #clint barton #the avengers

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staticscreenwriting · 3 years

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Love like the movies // Bucky Barnes // 5

Five - Dirty Dancing

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

Bucky wakes up to music. It's playing from outside the room, echoing through the halls and filling the apartment with sound.

It reminds him of when he was a kid and his mom would make them all breakfast as the radio would softly play in the background. She'd always have a smile on her face and twirl around the kitchen and sometimes, when they were still little enough, she'd pick up him or one of his sisters and slowly sway along with them in her arms.

It's a hazy memory, he's barely able to grasp it, but it's there nonetheless and that makes all the difference.

Rays of sun flood the apartment, coloring it in hues of orange and gold. Bucky steps out of (Y/N)’s room and into the hallway from which he can see straight into the kitchen. (Y/N)’s standing by the stove, a frilly pink apron wrapped around her waist and spatula in hand. Her hips shake slightly to the beat of the song and her lips move along with the lyrics.

Bucky wonders if he’ll ever get that. This feeling of pure comfort in his own home. To find who he really is and allow himself to be that person, no inhibitions, no holding back. Just be himself and be confident in who that might be.

“ You can keep standing there like a creep or you can come over here and help me, grumpy”

At the sound of her voice, he jumps a little, too lost in could-bes and what-ifs to realize she’s long noticed him leaning against the doorway. Her hair is a mess and there’s still eyeliner and glitter from last night stuck to her skin. But Bucky thinks she’s never looked better. It’s an intimate moment, to watch her in all her imperfect ways, move around her own home, being the most comfortable and at ease she’s ever been. There’s something about the way she looks at him then, showered in golden sunlight, a bright smile on her face. Bucky knows what it is he feels, deep down inside of him, flickering up like a light in the dark. He knows what it is. It’s not a feeling you forget once you’ve felt it.

He’s not gonna say it though, not gonna admit it to himself or anyone. All that can come from it is misery and heartbreak and while his heart is of very little value to him, hers means everything. So he’ll ignore it, shove it to the deepest darkest corner of himself and try not to acknowledge it in hopes it’ll go away.

“ You’re cooking? “ he asks as he steps up next to her, eyebrows raised in uncertainty.

“I’m making pancakes, and don’t look at me like that!” (Y/N) replies, swatting him with a dish towel, “ I know my cookies weren’t the best and I am well aware that my coffee sucks. But if there’s one thing I can make, it’s pancakes. Trust me. “

He does trust her. It’s something that he only fully realizes at that moment. Such an insignificant little moment. He trusts her, which is terrifying but also liberating at the same time. Maybe his life is on the right path. Maybe things can get better. Step by tiny step.

“ Hey, I ate your cookies, didn’t I? “

She looks up at him, a small smile playing on her lips, eyes shining with — something he can’t quite place. Maybe, he thinks, maybe he doesn’t need to know what it means. It means something and that's all that counts in the grand scheme of things.

“Yeah, yeah you did.”

For a moment it’s just them and the music and the bliss of a morning spent with a friend.

“ Okay, hand me the batter please?” (Y/N) says and points towards a big blue bowl standing by on the counter to his right. As he hands it to her though, (Y/N) doesn’t immediately start pouring the batter, instead, she dips her finger into it and holds it out to Bucky.

“ Try it, tell me if it’s too sweet. “

He’s hesitant for a moment. You don’t just go around licking your friends’ fingers. Surely social cues haven’t changed that much. But when she moves her hand closer once again and adds a determined “taste it before it drips onto the floor”, he wraps his lips around her finger, tasting the sweet pancake batter. It’s not too sweet, not at all, it’s perfect. He can’t really voice that thought though, not when his mind is somewhere else entirely. Somewhere it really shouldn’t be.

At that moment Bucky feels something he hasn’t felt in forever — arousal.

“ Good? “ she questions him as she pours the batter into the pan, a sizzling sound filling the kitchen.

Buck nods, completely at a loss for words. This is entirely silly and inappropriate. You’re not supposed to feel those things for your friends. Wasn’t this exactly what they talked about in the Harry and Sally movie? Sex ruining friendships. He can’t and won’t let that happen. Not with (Y/N). Not when he’s just starting to trust her. He needs this friendship more than he cares to admit.

“Grumpy? “

“ Hmm? Oh uh — yeah it’s good. “

And it is good, too good to give up. Too good to jeopardize it for some fleeting sense of passion. Too good to ever let go.

It’s ridiculous of him to put any sensual notions to such a silly little gesture. These things can be friendly. Innocent. People probably do it all the time with no ulterior motives. Maybe he needs to go with the times, let go of antiquated morals. Yeah, surely that’s what he’s gotta do.

They’re sitting by the kitchen counter, (Y/N)’s plate licked clean while Bucky is struggling to finish his pile of pancakes.

“ Do you want the rest of mine? “

“ Did you not like them? “

“ No, I did! I ate an entire pile already. But I can see the way you’re lusting after them. Come on. Open up. “

He cuts off a piece, lathers it in the syrup pooling on his plate, and holds it out towards her. Nothing sexual about it, just two friends sharing food. Absolutely nothing sensual about the way her lips wrap around the fork, they’re still tinted red from last night. Absolutely no dirty thoughts as the syrup drips down her chin. Or when she uses her thumb to wipe it away then licks the sticky liquid off of her fingers. All innocent. All —

“ Have you ever seen 9 ½ weeks? “ she asks him, looking up at him through her thick lashes.

“ No. What’s it about? “

“ Um — “ she starts then laughs to herself as if she’s sharing a funny inside joke with herself “ nevermind. “

“ Noooo, you can’t just start something and then not give me an explanation” he declares as the two of them get up and put the dishes into the dishwasher.

“ You know, Grumpy. There are a few things you better figure out on your own, trust me.”

“ Now you’re just being mean. “

“ No, I’m not I — “ her eyes grow wide as the song changes again and a big bright smile overtakes her entire face. Messy hair, makeup smudged, a smile on her face. God, he wishes they could stay in this little bubble forever. Hurt doesn’t exist here. Only them. Only happy things.

“ I forgot Dirty Dancing.”

“ What? “

“ You don’t know Dirty Dancing. “

“ I know plenty of dancing, thank you very much.”

“ No, Bucky. It’s a movie. It’s one of the most famous romantic movies and I forgot about it. I made a list of all the movies I wanna watch with you but didn’t think of Dirty fucking dancing. Sorry for swearing.”

“ You made a list? “

“ Yes, Grumpy. I made a list because I take this very seriously and I intend to make you watch them all with me because — because it’s fun and I like spending time with you. “

People, Bucky thinks, often take the smallest things for granted. The smallest things that make the most impact. That you will remember forever and cherish with all your heart. Like this one. People also don’t tell each other enough how much their friendships actually mean to them. People should. It feels wonderful.

“ I like spending time with you too.”

She grants him another sunshine smile before grabbing his hands and dancing along to the song. It’s faster than their late-night sway on the balcony, way less coordinated and there’s more jumping on her part and more shaking of — pretty much every body part.

This is so her. Chaotic and a little messy but so unapologetic. So fun. So happy.

“ Because IIIIII've haaaaaad the time of myyyyyy lifeeeee. No I neeeeeever felt this way before. Yes I swear it's the truuuuuuuuth. And I ooooowe it all to youuuuuu.”

“ That’s a catchy song,” Bucky says as a smile finds a way onto his lips. Sometimes it feels nice to surround yourself with people who make you smile. It’s one of the little pleasures in life one should allow themself to indulge in.

Bucky wishes he could bottle up this moment and never let go of it. Keep it for himself forever. That’s the thing about losing your memories, it makes you realize how precious every moment is and it makes you want to hold on tightly to each and every one as they happen.

“Right? I can guarantee you’ll be humming this song all day.”

(Y/N) twirls herself under his arm, away from him, then back before her eyes fall onto his glove-covered hands.

“ You don’t have to wear them for me, you know that, right? “

Sometimes he doesn’t even remember he’S wearing them, it’s become such a regular thing to him now. They are a part of him like the arm itself. They’re a shield really. From looks and judgment. And maybe, if he’s being entirely true to himself, they’re also to keep his eyes from focusing too much on the shiny silver of his hand. Of the fact that he will never be whole again. That he will never be able to feel a loving touch there ever again.

“ I know. It’s not you I’m worried about. “

“ Is it you? “

Bucky scrunches his nose up in discomfort. Talking about feelings wasn’t really a thing back when he was younger, especially for men. Sure there had been late-night talks with Steve about god and the world. About their hopes and fears and about the future. But those were few and far between and really opening himself up was never one of Bucky’s strong points. Talking about your feelings makes you vulnerable and being vulnerable was the last thing Bucky was ever allowed to be back then.

But as he said before, maybe it’s time to give up on antiquated ways.

So he nods “ Yeah. It’s — I still have a complicated relationship with the arm. I know it’s part of me and I’m glad it was given to me but it’s a huge reminder of all that I’ve lost and of a version of me that I can never go back to. A man I can never be again.”

“ Bucky,” (Y/N) starts and takes his face in between her hands. It’s a touch so soft, he can’t remember ever being handled this gently. Like a baby bird. Like a piece of porcelain. Like a treasure too precious to break. “I will never be able to fully understand how you’re feeling and I know that some of those things you have to go through alone and do the work yourself. But let me tell you something. Whoever you used to be might be gone but there’s a long-ass future waiting and it lets you be whoever you want to be. Maybe it’s time to let go of the man you were and start being the man you are because that one’s pretty great. And your arm is as much a part of that greatness as your smile or your constant grumpy mood. It’s what makes you you and you are really cool, honestly. “

His heart beats faster and stops entirely all at the same time. When he was younger he used to relish in the compliments thrown his way. He gracefully accepted them all with a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Nowadays it’s hard to believe them. Hell, it was so hard to have faith in Steve’s words. To believe that he was really worth all the effort and trouble Steve and the others went through, for him of all people. It’s so hard believing you are worth something when all you can see are your wrongdoings and shortcomings.

He wants to believe her words though. If only for a moment. If only for right now, safe and sound in their little bubble as the sun filters through the windows and the tastes of syrup still lingers in his tongue.

A few days later...

“They’re screening Dirty Dancing at the cinema around the block from me! Starts at 8pm. Come meet me, I won’t take no for an answer! xx “

He reads the message and tries to remember the way he felt that morning a few days ago when they danced around her kitchen. When she told him he was worth something. When she made him believe he wasn’t the actual worst person walking this earth. A disgrace. A mistake. A killer.

But every time he tries to go back to the bubble, a different pair of eyes show up in his mind. Eyes filled with sadness, with unimaginable suffering, with grief. All of which he put there.

He ran into Yori last night on his way home. The old man looked more fail than usual, sadder, more tired. Bucky found out why a few minutes later when he asked Yori about the cake in his grocery bag. The one with the white and green frosting.

“ It would be my son’s birthday today. I know he’s not here anymore but he was crazy about these cakes ever since he was a kid. Felt like remembering him. Would you like to join me for a piece? “

Bucky made up some half-assed excuse why he couldn’t, rushed to his apartment, and had a full-on breakdown. The kind that you don’t realize is happening until you’re all the way in the center of the hurricane.

There are shards of glass on his floor from when he threw a bottle against the wall. It’s a shame when you can’t even drown your sorrows in alcohol. His cheeks, he’s sure, are stained with tears that he had kept inside for so long.

How could he ever spend another second with (Y/N) when this is the kind of person he is. Brainwashing or not. The blood of Yori’s son is on his hands. Yori’s pain is his doing. All this grief and this hurt. It’s his fault and his alone. And Yori is just one of so many.

(Y/N) deserves a friend that doesn’t have a body count. Someone who doesn’t know what it feels when someone loses their life at his hands. Someone who doesn’t go to sleep seeing the eyes of those he’s killed. Someone who isn’t him.

His phone rings and he expects it to be (Y/N). She’s one of those people that text you then immediately call you right after. She likes to talk. In-person or over the phone. He doesn’t know if he wants to answer. Doesn’t know what to say. Would it be easier to just tell her not to contact him again? To rip off the bandaid quickly and then deal with the pain afterward?

Before he can come up with an answer to any of those questions, his eyes register the name on the caller display.

“ What?” he grumbles and leans his head against the wall.

“ Well, aren't you a happy chappy today. “

“ Sam, now’s not a good time. “

Sam hesitates for a moment then his voice sounds out from the speakers again.

“ Hey, Bucky. Are you okay? “

For a second, Bucky thinks about saying yes. He wants to keep on pretending the way he did so many times before. Wants to deal with this all by himself and not have anyone else get caught in his mess.

But he can’t. He’s tearing at the seams. He’s barely holding himself together, cracking open more and more with each passing second. So he takes a deep breath and tells the truth.

“ No. No, I’m not. “

30 minutes. No actually 34 minutes. He’s 34 minutes late. In fact, he hasn’t even answered her god damn text. He’s read it. Hasn’t answered though. And while that’s not entirely unlike Bucky, it still annoys her. Especially since when she tried to call him, the line was busy. So surely he’s on his phone. Is it too much to ask for a little reply?

If he doesn’t want to come, that's no big deal, (Y/N) tells herself, but a quick text would be the bare minimum he could give her.

Pout on her face and mood soured, (Y/N) enters the cinema and slumps down onto one of the plush red velvet seats. Not even in the mood for popcorn anymore, thanks Bucky.

There are hardly any people in there with her. Probably because by now almost every person on this planet has seen Dirty Dancing before and the weather is actually quite nice out tonight so most would rather enjoy the last rays of sun before winter will fall upon them than be stuck in a dark stuffy cinema watching a decade-old movie.

Not her though.

And if Bucky thinks she’s gonna miss out on watching this classic masterpiece because he can’t be bothered to show up, well he’s gravely mistaken. And yeah, maybe she’s being a bit dramatic, there might be a perfectly valid explanation for his no-show. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

What happens if he actually goes on to date Leah? He’ll have less time for her that’s for sure. Movie dates won’t be happening then. Maybe it’s good she’s getting used to this now before she grows too close to him and breaks her own heart in the process of mending his.

She hates herself a little for those thoughts. Bucky deserves to be happy and if that means their friendship will be put on the backburner, then she should be okay with that, right? That’s what friends do, they want you happy no matter what it means for themself.

The Ronettes’ Be My Baby starts echoing through the room as the lights dim and (Y/N) sinks deeper into her seat, embracing the dark. The screen lights up with a black and white montage of people dancing and a swirly pink font spells out the actors' names. (Y/N) can’t wait to get lost in this picture-perfect version of real-life where things might seem bad but turn out right in the end. They always turn our right for these people. If only real life was this easy.

She’s so ready to just forget about all her troubles for the next 90 minutes.

And then a figure steps in front of the screen, nothing but a silhouette. A black shadow in front of the moving pictures. A shape she immediately recognizes.

“ Come on, dude. What the hell!” some guy in front of her yells out to Bucky, immediately following the words with a fistful of popcorn being thrown his way.

He’s here. He’s here and he’s obviously looking for her. She can’t make out his face but he’s shielding his eyes with his hands and letting his gaze wander over the crowd.

There’s a flutter in her stomach, one she knows oh too well. One she wants to bundle up and stuff to the very back of her being. A flutter that shouldn’t be there. That’s not what this is. Butterflies and goosebumps. This is eating spaghetti on the floor, dancing in the kitchen, and crying tears of laughter in IKEA. That’s what it is and what it should be. Right? But that doesn’t mean they can’t be affectionate. Right? That doesn’t mean they have to be cold and stoic and distant.

Right?

As (Y/N) reaches up her arms and waves, Bucky hurries down the platform and lets himself plop down in the seat next to her.

“ I’m sorry I was — “

“ It’s okay. You’re here now. “

That’s what matters. Being there. Just being there.

“ You deserve to have a friend, Bucky.” Sam said “ and she deserves to make her own decisions. If she decides you’re worth it, who are you to question that choice?”

Sam is right. Of course, he is. Despite how much Bucky hates to admit it, Sam is one of the smartest people he knows. Not in the way Tony or Bruce or Shuri are. Smart in a way that lets you know he gets you, he understands the chaos inside you, empathizes with it. He’s got this sense of incredible emotional awareness and a calm that exudes from him. Bucky will obviously never let him know this but talking to Sam feels more soothing and helpful than talking to his therapist.

He still doesn’t feel like he deserves her friendship, her affection, and her care. But really it would be foolish to think it’s his right to dictate who she can and can't care about.

Sitting beside her now, in the dark, with a movie playing on the big screen, makes things a bit easier. His thoughts aren’t so loud anymore and his heart, though still heavy, feels a little bit lighter. It’s easy to get lost in a story that’s not his and forget about the rest.

He almost forgets about his emotional turmoil by the time the two main characters dance around on a log, when he feels something against his left hand. First, it’s but a whisper of a touch, then more deliberate and then he feels the glove being slid off of his fingers. He doesn’t dare look over at her, eyes focused straight ahead. He doesn’t pull away though. There’s never been a touch quite so gentle against the cold vibranium metal. He doesn’t pull away, instead, he locks his fingers with hers and softly closes his fist.

If there’s moments worth holding onto, this is surely one of them.

“ I’m glad you came.” (Y/N) murmurs as she places her head against his shoulder. The one made of vibranium. The one that’s a part of him like his smile and his eyes and — his grumpy personality.

“ Yeah, me too.”

As Johnny and Baby give their all during the end of the season dance, Bucky can’t help but let himself relish in this moment.

There are two things on his mind.

One is the idea that maybe this is what friendship can be. Showing affection through soft touches and loving words. Maybe he doesn’t have to assign any deeper meaning to it. No matter how much it makes his heart beat faster or how the flutters in his stomach won't seem to settle down.

The other thing is the fact that this song is so damn catchy and while he hates himself a little for it, his feet tap along to the rhythm and he catches himself mouthing along to the lyrics.

And damn if it ain’t fitting because he has never felt this way before either.

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #winter solider x reader #buck barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #sebasian stan imagine #sebastian stan imagines #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #james barnes x reader #james barnes x f!reader

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sunjaesol · 3 years

Text

we’re dancing under the rain

canon compliant juke | fluff! | inspiration: rain // ben platt

Julie wondered if one day, she could stop loving. Because damn - it hurt. It hurt to love so much and continuously have her heart be broken. Love and heartache cycled through her life like a never ending train and the girl was in a constant battle of wanting to shut down or give it another chance.

She always chose the latter, obviously, but that hurt too. The price she needed to pay to have such meaningful friendships. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have become a family with a trio of ghosts and an adjacent skater ghost. The problem of caring so much was when the heart got involved, when that heart beat a second too fast, too willingly, too adoringly.

It made her vulnerable, her heart jumping out of her chest to sync with the other person and then getting crushed instead. This time, it cut her particulary deep.

Nick broke up with her.

A puffy-eyed Julie sat huddled in the studio under a blanket. He did it during lunch. All of a sudden, he pulled her aside into the hallway, told her they didn’t quite fit together and that it was better if they broke up. He pretended like she had a say in it, though it was clear he already made up his mind. Which was even worse, Julie found. Nick had thought about it before, probably more than once. His words made her feel like a fool. There she was, thinking their relationship was going smooth, getting squashed a minute after that: no, actually, it’s not going smoothly and you’re probably in denial so let’s end it now.

Later, she’d probably thank him for ripping the band-aid. She was now allowed to be heartbroken.

Outside, rain was slamming against the pavement. That was the only good thing about the situation; the weather deciding to match her mood and mourn with her.

Luke poofed in with his signature grin, lips shaping to blurt out a story and then crashing into a frown when he saw the state she was in.

“Jules?”

Wordlessly, she covered her tear-stained cheeks with the blanket. She hated it when people - especially Luke - caught her at her lowest. The boys were dead, she couldn't really complain about minor inconveniences when the only reason they were breathing was out of habit.

The couch dipped at her feet. A careful hand patted her calf. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

“Yes, cause that’s what I do when nothing’s wrong.” His voice was light, though a keen ear like hers could sense the hint of concern. “I cry.”

Julie huffed, pulling the blanket back to scowl at him. “Nick broke up with me. But it’s whatever because it clearly wasn’t as big of a deal to him as it was to me, so-” Shrugging, she sat upright and wiped her runny nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “It is nothing.”

Her fingers combed through her hair, trying to relieve the heat bugging her skin. God, she just wanted this day to be over with. She didn’t want to rehearse and do homework and eat dinner and pretend everything was dandy. She just wanted to cry and sleep and not have Luke’s stupidly green eyes drown in pity.

“That sucks though,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Her lips rolled inwards, a smile forming despite her mood. “Not your fault.” Their gazes met. It felt new, somehow. “My heart is just… too open, I guess.”

Luke tapped her calf again, mirth lilting his tone. “Still not a bad thing. It was cool in the 90s and it’s cool now. He’s an idiot for not going crazy over it.”

“My open heart?”, she chuckled.

“Yeah.” A beat. His eyes haven’t wavered. “Or you. In general.”

The smile bloomed to a full grin, a sliver of levity easing the ache in her chest. Why did he always know what to say? Granted, he used to be horrible at cheering her up, when she was fifteen and sadness lingered in her every move, but he got the hang of it after two years. A reassuring kiss on her temple before a stressful gig, a particularly uplifting speech during band circle, a new tune he came up with when he knew she didn’t feel like talking. Her teenage girl melodrama unfazed him.

Luke met her halfway for a tight hug. It was the most comfortable place to be; her cheek on his shoulder and his arms holding her so securely and how, after all they’ve been through, his 90s cologne smelled like home.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. “Some ghost girl is going to be so happy you’ve had practise dealing with me.”

He snorted. “Ah, yes. My harem of ghost girls. The, uh, market is really big for me.”

It wasn’t something they often discussed. It became clear that the boys weren’t going to cross over any time soon (if crossing over was even a thing, or the thing they thought it would be) and had time to settle into a long afterlife. Willie had been wandering around since the seventies and only now found Alex, so who knew how long Luke and Reggie would have to wait until they met their ghost-mate. It was a sad thought, but at least they had each other and music and the band.

There was also the minor problem that Luke sometimes had this look on his face, usually fixed on her, that left little to the interpretation. It hasn’t happened in a while, but every so often…

It kind of made her breathless. Whatever. It was dumb. Those feelings have long been buried. The point was that he should look at ghost girls like that - not her.

(A month after The Orpheum, they sat side by side behind the grand piano as they belted out a new song they’ve been working on, her fingers expertly gliding across the keys and slamming on those that needed that extra power. Julie was fully entranced, head thrown back and smiling through the lyrics as their voices reached a beautiful harmony no one could compete with. The last note drifted across the studio. When she turned to look at him, she expected to see the same grin. Instead, Luke gave her such a tender look, close, and let his doe eyes wander past her nose. Had Reggie not poofed in, she didn’t know if she would’ve had the restraint to not give in. To not be selfish. It was years ago, but she thought about it each time he joined her at the piano. It was the price for friendship, Julie often reminded herself. For an eternal bond.)

Rain kept drumming into the ground. It sounded like a million ping pong balls fell onto the roof at an incredible speed.

Luke pulled away and shot a look outside. “Damn.”

“Yeah,” Julie nodded. “I made a deal with God today. If I cry, the world does too.”

He rolled his eyes. “Dramatic.”

The smile stuck to her cheeks. Luke only needed a few minutes to lift her spirits. Tears didn’t even well up anymore. Was that bad? That one the same day, just in the afternoon, she already felt a bit better? She decided to not mull on the why.

“Wanna dance in the rain?”

She blinked. “What?”

He matched her smile, throwing his thumb at the doors. “Do you wanna dance in the rain?”

It was as if her brain wasn’t processing his words. “What? Why?”

“Why not?”, he shrugged. “You feel like shit, it never rains in LA and it’s fun.”

Quiet excitement coursed through her veins, the thrill pushing energy back in her bloodstream. Why not? The expectant twinkle in his eye brought colour to her face, jumping off the couch pulling him up with her. His whooping got her to laugh. It almost surprised her; she hasn’t properly laughed at all today.

They each pulled one sliding door open, their ears instantly bombarded with noise. It was the hardest downpour of the year!

“No running for cover!”, he yelled above the loud rushing of rain.

She stuck her pinky out. “Only if you won’t!”

And then they stepped in the rain. They were drenched straight away, a squeal erupting from her lips as the coldness crept between her clothes. He laughed, raking his hair back and leaping into a puddle. Water splashed around him.

His voice bellowed through the sound. “C’mon!”

It spurred her into action, his laugh replaying in her head over and over again, as her head lolled back and began to twirl in circles. Faster and faster, giggles tumbling out as felt herself becoming one with the rain. This was exactly what she needed. A moment of silliness and unconditional joy!

Luke was dancing like a maniac next to her, feet kicking and arms outstretched. She found herself staring at his profile, how bliss broke the lines in his face and caused a crescendo of glee to overcome him. It was mesmerising. Julie found herself slowing down, taken aback by the hope rising in her chest at the mere sight of him.

What she hoped for, she didn’t know. (She did. She just couldn’t admit it just yet.)

As if sensing her thoughts, Luke caught her eye with and yanked her into the dance without a second of hesitation. They spun around, hands intertwined and arms outstretched, daring to see how long they could keep going before one dropped from dizziness. Julie wasn’t afraid though. Luke would never let her fall.

They let go just as they were losing balance, snickering like fools and trying to find footing again. Julie jumped onto his back, him instantly jostling her around until she got chucked off like a sack of potatoes. Each grin and laugh and crack of thunder mended her heart, slipping the pieces back together and allowing it to bloom once more. Keep on breaking, keep on loving, keep on hoping, keep on hoping for-

Luke locked his hands around the small of her back. “Ready?!”

He didn’t have to ask twice, their steps speeding up as she threw her arms beside her and then, at their fastest, pulled one leg up to swing in his hold. How she didn’t slip on the soaking wet ground was a miracle.

Julie’s smile rivalled his, grabbing onto the lapels of his shacket to get him closer. He had something else in mind, hands slipping to her waist and launching her in the sky in one fluid motion. It took her breath away, quickly grabbing onto his shoulders and yelling her lungs out. It was just like in her dreams. Was it selfish of her to have yearned for this?

(She felt it. The way her heart washed away all the troubles, how the numbing cold shrivelled to make place for someone else.)

They shouted exclaims and curses into the rain. About Nick, about music, about each other, about how fucking unfair life could be, but damn - moments like these were worth the pain.

Her drenched curls tickled his face, causing him to sputter and attract her focus. Julie looked down at him and didn’t stop the heartstopping smile growing on her face. Oh.

Her fingers swiped against the planes of his cheeks, his grin beaming up at her and letting the dormant wildfire (snug between her ribs, among the flowers and the lyrics) come alive again. For so long, she hasn’t allowed herself to feel it. But how could she not when Luke propelled her into the storm itself, unify them like the whirlwind of passion they authentically were?

They were the thunder and the lightning, the silver lining and the punch line - the dancers in the rain.

He gently set her down, feet splashing. She didn’t let him pull away, instantly wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face into his wet shirt. They smelled like wet dogs and it was better than any perfume she’s ever had.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

His head settled on top of hers, cool breath fanning her skin. “I can’t have you down in the gutter, Jules. Ever.”

I love you. “Ever?”

She felt him move, her eyes tilting to meet his. That expression she cherished deeply returned tenfold. His tender smile, the green hooded by shy eyes, an incredulous hitch of the breath.

Luke nodded, flitting gaze as if he didn’t quite know what to focus on, and carefully brushed a droplet from her cheek. “Ever.”

(Julie got a cold the next day. It didn’t matter - she had the boy of her dreams to keep her company.)

Breathe deep, let it wash over you We're slowly becoming lovers I promise you we won't be like the others We won't go running for cover

@blush-and-books @bluefirewrites @willexx @unsaid-emily @ourstarscollided @sophiphi @unsaidjulie

#juke #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #otp: i think we make each other better #nick takes the L

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harryhandstan · 4 years

Text

wonderful and warm

gif credit

I’m so excited to share this piece with y’all for @tbslenthusiast‘s dad-a-thon!! I’ve been debating whether or not to expand more on I Want Your Belly for a while now, so I’m considering this part two to that, though you don’t really have to read it first to understand this one. Hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

thank you @peachybloomss and @tbslenthusiast for beta reading for me! love y’all both!!

word count: 2.6k

You had been adamant about not telling anybody for at least the first two months.

Your mom’s complications with each of her pregnancies prompted a fear in you that you might share in that gene she carried, so you just wanted to be sure. Make it to your first ultrasound at least to confirm the baby was happy and healthy. Harry, of course, had agreed to whatever it was you felt was best. He wanted you to be comfortable and truth is, all the complications or things that could go wrong, terrified him too.

But the second you put this man in front of a crowd, all his previous filters go out the window and it was slipping from his lips easily, telling the world that you were having his baby. You were angry at first, spending half of the show trying to calm your shaky hands. Honestly, most of it was just nervous energy at the idea of so many people knowing. It was out, and you had no control over the reactions of the millions of people that shared in loving your Harry. He was quick to remind you that you were the one he loved, no one else’s opinion mattered to him and it shouldn’t to you either.

Making such a public announcement meant the news reached your families ears a lot faster than you’d planned too, and you just didn’t want any of them to be hurt that they weren’t told first.

Anne is the first one to contact Harry from his side, promptly inviting you to dinner the following weekend with a small group of Harry’s family. But the closer you get to the day, the more anxious you are and he once again reminds you how much his family adores you already, would now love you even more.

“Even more than they love me now, probably,” He chuckles, taking your hand on the drive to his mother’s house, “Gonna be just like any Sunday dinner at Mum’s, innit? We just have something a little extra special t’celebrate now, lovie.”

Gemma answers the door to let the two of you in and she tugs you in for a hug, pulling you into the house without so much as a glance to her younger brother.

“Nice to see you too, Gem.” He follows the two of you inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Ignore him..someone’s just jealous they won’t be Mum’s favorite anymore.” She giggles, rolling her eyes as she leads you into the kitchen where Anne mimics her daughter’s greeting, scolding Harry playfully that he spoiled the surprise so soon.

By the end of the night, the two of them are already making predictions about what the baby will be, giving family name suggestions, and planning a baby shower for you.

Calling your family was a whole new level of anxiety you hadn’t experienced yet on this journey, and you paced back and forth in front of the desk where your iPad was already set up to FaceTime them. Harry sits on the foot of the bed, waiting for your nerves to settle enough to contact them.

“D’you want me to join you?” He doesn’t look at you, just continues to fiddle with one of the buttons on his shirt.

Your head pops up to where he sits, “Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugs, “S’just..sometimes I think you might still be a bit mad at me. For letting it slip earlier than we wanted. Thought you might wanna talk to them alone first..in case they’re upset with me too.”

“I was never really mad. And I don’t think they’ll be upset..just may take them a little longer to accept that I didn’t tell them before you told everyone. They may not have even seen it yet.”

That was a lie. Your sister had texted you last night saying that she was thrilled to soon have a niece or nephew, but your mom had cried for a two whole days after they saw a clip from the show and your dad refused to even talk about it. Your brother was normally so far out of the loop that you truly didn’t know if he had heard the news, so you make a mental note to call him later too.

You wouldn’t tell Harry any of that though, not now anyway. Maybe later, when everything didn’t feel so tense. You knew your family wouldn’t be upset forever, they loved Harry almost as much as you did. The joy of having a new baby added to the family would soon override any hurt they were feeling now.

“Harry, whatever they say..this is still happening. I’m still having your baby. I can’t even begin to tell you how happy that makes me.”

The smile he gives you makes your heart flutter, drawing you closer to sit next to him.

“Say that again.”

“What? How happy I am..”

“No, the part before that.”

A giggle works its way up through your chest, a deep blush flushing your cheeks, “I’m having your baby,” You can’t resist, the tune now stuck in your head, changing the lyric slightly to fit, “It’s none of their business.”

“What? S’your family, of course it’s their..oh, right.” He shares in your laughter, melting away any tension that had settled in the room, restoring your confidence that everything would be alright.

As many changes as your body had gone through during pregnancy, one thing that hadn’t changed was Harry’s love for your belly. His obsession had grown with each month, constantly finding reasons to be close to you throughout your days spent together. Usually it was a hand nudged gently against the side of your bump, trying to coax the baby to kick or move for him.

Your child already adored the sound of their dad’s voice, would normally start to wiggle around the second Harry would start talking or singing anywhere around you. The first time it happened, the two of you were attending a birthday party for a friend and Harry was halfway across the room, animatedly telling a story to a group of your mutual friends. It was one of the many reasons you had fallen for him so quickly, his ability to have a room full of people so captivated by a tale you were sure they had heard at least 5 times before.

But he doesn’t seem to care about anyone else’s reactions, his eyes continuously flicking back to gauge your feedback, knowing which parts make you laugh the hardest no matter how many times you’d listened to him tell it. When your mouth falls open with a soft gasp and a hand clutching the side of your belly, he hurries through the ending to weave his way back through the party to you.

“You okay, love? Somethin’ wrong?” The tears falling on your dress don’t match the glowing smile radiating across your face and he’s turning his head amusingly from where he hovers over you.

“Everything’s great, H. Think someone just loves the sound of daddy’s voice.” You take the drink he still holds in his hand and set it on the table in front of you, turning your body to face him and tugging his wrist down to where you had felt the kick moments before, “Say something else now that you’re closer. See if she moves for you.”

“She? You find out somethin’ you wanna tell me, darlin’?”

“No, just a feeling. Haven’t you thought about which you would rather us have?”

He shakes his head no, his eyes bright with a pride you’ve never seen burn so intensely, “As long as you and they end up happy and healthy in the end, s’all that matters to me.”

He scoots his body to sit on the bench next to you, bending his head to speak softly, “Hello, little one. S’daddy. Mummy’s here too. Wanna move around a bit more f’us?”

He rests his head there for a moment, a hand rubbing along the side of your stomach, not caring who at the party may see the two of you or how silly he may look. He looks like a child who’s just been granted his one and only wish when your baby responds, a foot landing against where his cheek is pressed.

“There you are, baby. You kickin’ at me? Cheeky little thing y’are already..just like mummy, huh?” He turns to kiss the spot where the foot had been, ”We’re g’nna have so much fun when you get here, angel.”

Harry watches your feet a lot more closely these days.

You didn't notice it at first. But today as you're coming down the stairs, you catch his eyes watching carefully as he waits for you. One of your hands cradles your bump that seems to be growing daily now, while the other glides along the railing to keep yourself steady.

"Am I wearing mismatched shoes or something?" You lean forward in an attempt to look at your feet over your belly, nearly toppling down the last few stairs. The look on Harry's face would have been comical if it wasn't laced with so much fear as he lunged forward to meet you and help you the rest of the way down.

"Careful!" Even with you settled safely now against his side, his voice is full of worry, "Nothing's wrong with your shoes, honey. Just wanted to make sure you made it down safely, know how clumsy y'are."

"You worry too much, Harry. I would've made it down fine if you hadn't been staring at my feet."

"My girl's carrying my baby..m’allowed to worry about you both. Y'sure I can't convince you to stay home and let me do the grocery shopping this week?"

"No, I wanna go. Last time you forgot the bagels."

"Are you ever gonna forgive me for that?" You're glad to see the fear has fallen away from his face as you both reach the bottom of the stairs together.

"Maybe." You shrug, "Might take a few more kisses though."

"Deal." One of his hands comes to rest warmly on the underside of your belly, the other one still supporting the small of your back as he bends down to place kisses across your face.

A kick from within your stomach has both of you giggling and looking down to where it's pressed between the two of you.

"Are you mad at daddy too, hmm? Already two against one around here, I see. Alright then, baby gets kisses too."

“Harry will you please get up? We only have an hour to get ready and make it to the appointment. I don’t wanna be late!”

He rolls over, intending to pull you closer to him for a morning kiss, an important part of his usual routine. He frowns when he finds you’re already out of bed, digging through drawers of your dresser to find what you need to get ready for the day.

You haven’t noticed he’s awake yet so you keep encouraging him, “C’mon, made you breakfast. It’s an important day!”

“You’re not allowed to do that, y’know.”

“Do what?” You’re only half paying attention, tugging a dress over your head and scowling at your reflection in the full length mirror when it doesn’t fit over your belly. You quickly pull it back off and toss it in the pile you’ve already tried (and failed) to stretch over your growing bump.

“Daddy’s s’posed to make breakfast for mummy while she sleeps in, not the other way ‘round.”

“Well, mommy was too nervous to sleep in so she’s up getting ready, as daddy should be!” You tug one of your maternity shirts from a hanger in your closet and throw it over your head, declaring to yourself that it’ll just have to do. Thankfully it pairs well with the black leggings you’ve already struggled through pulling on. You plop on the edge of the bed, a deep sigh falling from your lips as you look around at the mess you’ve made of your shared bedroom.

“Mummy needs to relax. She looks beautiful in whatever she wears, no matter what day it is.” He rubs a hand along your back, up to soothe over the pinch between your shoulder blades.

“Nothing fits anymore, swear this belly gets bigger by the day. If I find out today you put a set of twins in me, Styles, you are gonna be in so much trouble.”

He throws his head back, a deep rumbling laugh erupting from his chest, “Aww c’mon, lovie. Twins would be so fun! Think we’d get lucky and have one of each? A boy and a girl?” He kisses your shoulder.

He’s pulling you in to rest against his chest now, the fabric of his well worn t-shirt cool and soft on your cheek. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, pressing a kiss firmly to the top of your head.

“Just lay with me a minute, hmm? Did you get any sleep last night? Felt you tossing and turning for half of it.”

“Maybe a couple of hours. I was too nervous.”

“You should’ve woken me. Hate the idea of you being awake and nervous alone, honey.” One hand trails up to cup your chin, a thumb smoothing over the tension set in your jaw.

“I honestly don’t know how you got any sleep. I wasn’t alone though, I think I kept the baby up half the night too.” You shift to face him, resting your chin on his chest, seeking the comfort of his face, “Are you okay? You’re not nervous at all?”

“M’fine. What’s to be nervous about? We get to see our baby today, find out what it is. I couldn’t be happier about that.” He brushes a strand of hair softly away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“Maybe it’s more excitement than nerves. I just felt..restless. Maybe it’s silly, but I just wanted to look nice today too and none of my good clothes fit me anymore.”

“You’ve always been beautiful to me, baby. But now? I’ve never seen anyone look as gorgeous as you look now. S’important to me that you know and believe that as much as I do. I’ll remind you everyday if y’need me to.”

“You really mean that, Harry?”

“‘Course I do. I know this has been new and scary for both of us, and I’m so proud of you. You’ve fallen into this with such ease and grace, already started gettin’ our home ready for our little one. I can’t wait to see you with them when they’re born.”

“You’re gonna be the most amazing dad. Teaching our child kindness and love, reminding them it’s okay to be whatever they choose to be. It’s important to me that you know how much I adore you and seeing you become the dad you were meant to be? It’s gonna be incredible. I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.”

“Me either. Think I’d be miserable if it were anyone else.”

“Nah you’d get used to them eventually. Especially if they were having your baby.”

He laughs again, pulling you closer to smush his lips against your temple.

“Alright, up we get,” He scoots away to push himself up and off the bed, offering you his hands to help pull yourself up, “Let’s go see if our little bub got blessed with your nose or cursed with mine.”

You’re over the moon every time you see Harry’s beaming smile when he passes the black and white sonogram photo now proudly displayed on the refrigerator; your son’s nose a perfect mixture of yours and Harry’s.

#dadathon #harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing #dad!harry

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ampleappleamble · 3 years

Text

The Elf and the Orlan's Wedding

—

"Hey. You'll marry me, won't you?"

Aloth had spent the last five years of his life honing his skills and reflexes in his mission to hunt down and destroy one of the most dangerous cults on the face of Eora, but somehow he still couldn't help but be utterly bested by just a few little words. Axa had a way of doing that– cutting past all his pretense and politesse, punching through all his meticulously constructed defenses with just a few simple words, striking at the very heart of him. It was part of why he loved her, and no small part, either.

He pulled her closer as he attempted to sit up in her spacious sleeping berth, struggling to scrape enough of his brain back together from the one-two punch of vigorous, passionate lovemaking followed up by that question to formulate an answer for her. But despite his best efforts, he found that the best he could manage was a feeble, "I beg your pardon?"

She laughed and nuzzled her face into his chest, his bare skin warm against her brow. She'd known the question would shock him, but she also knew that no matter how carefully she phrased it, there really was no way to ask a man like Aloth a question like that without shocking him. "Sorry to surprise you. But it's something I've been thinking about for a while now," she continued. "After we've arrived back in the Dyrwood and settled a few matters, gotten Caed Nua's reconstruction properly underway, taken some time to recover from all this– there'd really be nothing stopping us." She snuggled closer. "And I know the challenges we'll be facing in this new, uncertain world would feel a lot less daunting with you by my side. So... why not get married?"

Axa paused, then, tensed up in Aloth's arms. "That is, if you'd like to." She lifted her head to look at him, her violet eyes soft and glittering in the lamplight. "Would you like to?"

He studied her face, rosy and gorgeous and full of hope. Her proposal wasn't entirely unexpected– after all, it was only natural that she should want to take their relationship further, especially after all they'd been through together in the Deadfire– but it was still a bit overwhelming, actually experiencing such a thing himself instead of merely reading about it in a novel or watching strangers act it out in a stageplay. His head was swimming, his heart was hammering in his chest, his stomach was fluttering madly– but all the same, he couldn't help but smile at her.

"Of course. Of course I would," he murmured at last, brushing a lock of hair from her brow. "I can think of no greater pleasure."

The tears finally came, welled in her eyes as she beamed up at him. "Oh, Aloth," she whispered, pressing her face into his shoulder and squeezing him tight. "You have no idea how happy you've just made me."

"How happy I've made you?" He laughed, surprised to find himself blinking away tears as well. "I'm to be the consort of the Lady of Caed Nua! The brave, kind, beautiful heroine who uncovered the cause of the Hollowborn Crisis and saved the Dyrwood, the indomitable spirit who defies death and deities alike– and of all people, you want to be mine, to be my– my–"

My bride. Axa. My bride, my love, my wife. The reality of it suddenly struck him with its full gravitas, and an indescribable emotion washed over him. "I love you, Axa. Truly."

Giggles mingled with her sobs, and she scrubbed at her wet eyes with a fuzzy fist. "And I love you," she replied softly. She looked up at him again, grinning. "You'll plan everything, right? I was never very good at that sort of thing."

Aloth sighed, slumping back down against the pillows as Axa cackled. "I should have known," he groaned, shaking his head good- naturedly at his newly-betrothed.

"Yes, you should have," she agreed, spreading out on top of him, making herself comfortable. "Planning a fancy formal event– such as, say, the wedding of a landed thaynu who is returning triumphantly from a world-shaking, death-defying mission in the Deadfire– plays much more to your strengths than to mine. Of course, I'll help as much as I'm able. How about I find us an officiant?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Xoti, then? Or were you thinking of asking Vatnir?"

She paused for a moment, her brow furrowed in consternation. "Gods, are those two the only priests I know?" she muttered, resting her chin again Aloth's sternum, and she sighed. "Typical of me, I suppose, to shun all clergy but the most death-obsessed misfits. Even my resident cleric at Caed Nua was a morose Berathian."

Was. Axa's smile faltered, and she abruptly went quiet, unfixing her gaze, lowering her eyelids.

"Well, given what we know of the gods, is it any surprise our priestly acquaintances gravitate toward the morbid?" Aloth tucked a lock of her burgundy hair behind her ear, let his hand linger on her cheek. He'd noticed the sudden chill in her demeanor– reminded of Caed Nua, no doubt, of her myriad responsibilities back at home, the dead waiting to be buried– and had hoped he could warm her back up a bit, but it appeared that even his wry musings weren't enough to soothe her melancholia.

"We're going to be alright, aren't we?" Axa's voice was soft and serious, and she reflexively curled in on herself, clinging to her lover as she contemplated the future ahead of them. "Kith, I mean."

He wrapped her in his arms, warm and steady, and let out a shaky sigh. "I don't know. With the Wheel destroyed and the cycle of reincarnation stalled indefinitely, we'll certainly have our work cut out for us. But if there's one thing in common between all peoples and cultures on Eora, I would posit that it is our stubbornness." Aloth smiled, ran a hand through her thick, soft hair. "With people like you working to guide and support us, kith may yet learn to band together and channel that indefatigable will of ours into finding an equitable solution for all this mess. In any case, I can't really see us all just... giving up. Especially not after all we've seen, all we've been through."

The two lay together in silence for a while, his hand in her hair, her ear pressed to his heart. It had always fascinated her, how elf hearts beat so much more slowly than orlans'.

"The Elf and the Orlan's Wedding," she murmured.

"I... do hope you're not intending to have me write that on the invitations." He allowed himself a small smile. When she hadn't responded, he was sure he'd failed to cheer her, but maybe he'd conceded too soon?

"It's a children's song," she laughed, propping herself up a bit, "that I was just now reminded of. It's about an elf and an orlan at their wedding, and everyone in attendance is bemoaning the foolishness of such a union. 'She'll outlive you by two centuries, it's a waste of time for you both'... That sort of sentiment."

"Charming," Aloth deadpanned.

"Oh, yes," she chuckled, "very much so. Of course, by the end, the lyrics reveal that the titular elf and orlan are well aware of the vast disparity in their lifespans, but they've decided they love each other too much to let something like that get in the way of enjoying their time together."

He smiled knowingly. "Sounds familiar."

She smiled back. "The moral of the story, of course, is that one cannot waste one's life worrying about what others think, about the 'proper' ways of going about this or that, and that it's better to live in the moment and enjoy what you have while you have it."

"Sounds very familiar," Aloth sighed. "But if kith spend too much energy on enjoying the present, we won't be able to prepare for the troubles of the future until they're upon us."

"Ah, but that's just another reason the title characters chose to marry," Axa grinned. "It's easy to miss the significance when you're a child, but there are a few lines in the song regarding the orlan's horrible estranged family complaining about how the orlan's assets will now be bequeathed to his elf wife upon his death, thus keeping it out of their greedy paws for at least 200 more years, if not forever."

He cocked an eyebrow. "That's not your reason for proposing, is it?"

"No!" She laughed, lightly swatting at his chest with the back of one hand. "Although it'll be damned funny, I have to admit, sticking it to all the little Dyrwoodan lordlings with their eyes on my land who were just planning on waiting for me to die in a few decades." A wicked grin spread across her little face, and Aloth couldn't help but laugh.

"Pray tell, then," he smiled, running a hand up and down her back, ruffling her fur and smoothing it back down, "what exactly is the point you're trying to make by bringing up this song, my dear?"

Axa toyed with a lock of his hair, biting her lip and staring at nothing in particular, before finally admitting: "You know, I'm not sure. I definitely lost the plot somewhere along the line, there. I suppose I was trying to draw some sort of parallel between The Elf and the Orlan's Wedding, and our wedding, and... and the challenges ahead of us all in regards to repairing the cycle of reincarnation... something about planning for the future while still making sure to enjoy the present..." She scoffed at herself, resting her chin on Aloth's breast again. "Maybe I was simply randomly reminded of a silly song from my youth and I'm trying too hard to stretch it to link it to current events. Or I'm just tired and rambling and not making any sense at all."

"No," Aloth assured her, "you definitely had a reason for bringing it up, even if you can't quite articulate why." He stroked the back of her ear, staring pensively at the ceiling. "I think, perhaps, you wanted to reassure yourself that even if some new version of the Wheel ends up never getting built, even if it turns out that the days of kith are truly numbered and our end is inevitable... that doesn't mean you need to mourn every day yet to come as if it's already been lived in vain. As a Chanter, and given the subject we'd been discussing, it's only natural the realization would come to you in the form of a song about marriage."

She snuggled close to him, sighing contentedly. "You see why I want you to plan the wedding?" she murmured. "You make everything make sense."

"I learned it from you, you know," he replied, nuzzling the top of her head. "Funny how that works, isn't it? Like a two-piece puzzle. We complete each other."

"Thought that advice sounded familiar," Axa giggled. "Should listen to myself– and you– more often."

"That's a given." Aloth went to kiss her forehead, and she surprised him yet again by scooting forward and craning her neck to press her lips to his instead.

"What about Engrim?" she whispered sweetly, her smile still brushing his. "He's a priest of Magran. If we kept the booze away from him until after the ceremony–"

"Absolutely not, my love." His breath tickled her nose. "No wedding of mine will utilize a Magranite ceremony, and certainly not one conducted by a lush."

The little woman laughed, pressing her face to his neck. "Come on, I'm running out of priests!"

"You truly can't think of any others?" He kissed her temple, sighing with a mix of contendedness and exasperation at his little bride.

"Well, I do know a certain Glamfellen who's a priest of Wael, but we're not exactly on speaking terms." She tried a wry grin, but it morphed into a grimace halfway through. "Ugh. Not as funny as I thought it'd be. Sorry."

Aloth chuckled. "It's decided, then. We'll have a secular wedding."

"Sounds good to me, actually," Axa replied. "Never had much need of the gods anyway."

—

#pillars of eternity #watcher axa #aloth #short fic #oneshot #that bitch really called me out in the middle of my own story for losing the plot #...it does kinda meander though doesn't it lmao #not sure what i was really going for in the last third there #anyway it's out of my head now and that's what matters #thanks for reading ♡

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elphiej · 4 years

Text

Be My Light: Chapter 1 Shadows from Our Past

*Pairing: Yoonig X Reader

*Genre: Mafia, angst, eventual smut, slow burn

*Warnings: Language, violence, gun fight, mentions of abuse, mention for drugs.

Author’s note: Hi everyone, here is chapter one. My editor and I had some conversations about the length; they wanted to shorten it and I wanted to leave it in tact for the sake of the flow. Let me know if the length is too long or not. Also, there are a bunch of easter eggs (bangtan lyrics, iconic outfits, ect. as we continue) let me know what you find. And, of course, thank you for reading and let me know what you liked.

Tag list: @lalalalaloo-blog, @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng, @barbikatherine, @mrsfortune1306

The sun had just begun to fill the windows of the Lotus Apartment when you stepped out of your unit, coffee tumbler in one hand and bag slung over one shoulder , ready for a gruelingly long shift at Central Mercy Hospital. You let your eyes scan the corridor for any signs of life; no one else in their right mind would be up this early, yet anxiety had you checking the halls before you felt secure enough to fully exit your apartment. Taking out your keys, you pull your door shut and lock the two deadbolts that had become necessary in your mind.

And not just because of the active gang activity in this part of the city.

It had been close to three months since you had come to Central. And over four since you had left your miserable excuse of a ‘boyfriend’; The lying, abusive snake that was Daniel. Just thinking about him made your stomach churn. Your time in Central, alone in your apartment, helped you reflect on your relationship and how toxic it had been. At first, it was nice. He had been your friend. He had been supportive and kind. Then, he was your roommate, taking care of you and being your security in uncertain times. Then, he became your boyfriend. It was nice and normal, something you thought you’d never have. He was protective, at least that’s how you saw it at the time. Looking back now, it was controlling and manipulative. He would say things that you thought were sweet, but now you understood they were horrible things. He said he wanted an obedient, good girl; he’d tower over you and make you feel so small. And for some reason, you believed him. You stayed like that for too long. After you had taken a job, trying to help support the two of you, his behavior got worse. He started to drink, and his abuse became more physical. Afterwards, he’d always say how sorry he was, how much he cared about you, or how he only drank because he was worried about you. Somehow it was always your fault. He wanted you to quit your job at a small medical clinic near his secluded home, but it was your only escape. To make it worse, you found out he had been sleeping with another woman. And still, you stayed with him, because he had fucked your head up so bad that you thought you needed him. The final straw that snapped some sense into you was when you confronted him about the other woman. He had come home from drinking with her and went crazy when you said you were leaving. He screamed, threw you around the apartment, hit you. Then he trapped you against a wall and started choking you. Had you not been able to grab hold of a bottle he had left on an end table and hit him just right, you may not have made it this far.

You left that night with just your backpack full of clothes and the few personal belongings that you had with you, your cellphone, and the money in Daniel’s wallet. And you ran all through the night. You didn’t have a plan or destination but you just had to get as far away from him as you could. A small voice under all the doubt and fear that he had piled on you, cheered and drove you to keep going. You didn’t stop moving until you found a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. The driver had told you it was headed to Central, and something in that name seemed familiar to you. It drew you there like a siren’s call. Central was so large, it felt like it could have classified as a country. It was the perfect place to disappear. As the bus pulled into its terminal, that familiar feeling came back in as you gazed about the large buildings. But you chalked that up to remembering that you and your father moved around a lot.

It was one of the few memories you had like that.

Over the last few months, you had questioned why Daniel had changed so much. He had been the first face you remember seeing after the accident. And he had been the one to break the news to you. There had been a terrible accident, a horrendous car crash. You had been in the passenger seat when the car had broadsided by a drunk driver, sending the car rolling into a ditch. You had survived but your injuries were so severe that you had to be placed in a medical coma, and the trauma had affected your memory. When you woke up, you could remember very little of your past; You remembered that you had studied to be a nurse and recently graduated, that your father had been your only family, and that he had been a high ranking police officer. Daniel’s face was something that you sort of remembered as well, and you figured that was why you clung to him like an anchor. But everything else was wrapped in a dense fog, shattered like pieces of glass that couldn’t be put together. Daniel had, also, broken the news to you that your father hadn’t survived the accident. He stayed close to you for over a year, helping you through therapies, reminding you to take your anxiety medications, and wiping away the tears. He was perfect. But then, it changed. And any time you tried to talk to him about it, he would brush you off or say that he was stressed out, but that he loved you and just let him do what he needed.

What was funny was that in the months since leaving him, a piece of a memory had resurfaced. It was of your father and how he didn’t seem to like Daniel all that much. You could only think of what your father would have said when he saw what his daughter had become. You did remember how he had taught you to be strong and tough, to stand up against the bullies. He would be disappointed now. You rubbed your neck where he had choked you, smelling his alcohol pungent breath as he said so many nasty things to you.

But you got out and for that, anyone should be proud.

Shaking your head from the bad memories, you shoved your keys back into your bag and down the dimly lit hall towards the elevator. You felt a tad silly looking over your shoulder, thinking one day he was gonna show up at your door and drag you back to that unsafe mind set, but you had learned from the support group you had been to that it was normal. Thankfully, you were about to have a long shift to distract you from all those feelings. The intensive care unit had been short staffed, and with the increase in gang activity, everyone was working extra hard. Central Mercy was the most active hospital in all of Central; the others were less willing to help gang members or those targeted for fear of retaliation. But once they came through the ER doors, it didn’t matter what they were. If they needed help, you would help. Even villains need help, and maybe your help can change them, your father’s voice had echoed from somewhere in the foggy parts of your mind. Also, Central Mercy was the main hospital dealing with the current outbreaks of drug overdoses due to a strange street drug known as U4-1A, a highly addictive and deadly substance that had been making its way through the city. Mercy was more equipped for trying to save the overdoses that kept popping up. You had only seen a few of those cases, but the doctors who had been on the front of those, had described it as a mix of “ecstasy, meth, and cocaine all rolled into one deadly substance”. You shook your head. You didn’t understand why people would do that to themselves. But, then again, who would stay with a person who abused you for so long? As you stepped into the small elevator, you really needed a distraction from all these bad thoughts and your best friend, Amber, should be on her way into work by now. You decided to try and text her.

Bless that girl, she had been a big part in getting you back into a functioning human being. When you had stepped off the bus in Central, you were overwhelmed by everything. You were scared, tired, and had nowhere to go. You had felt so lonely. You ended up falling asleep on a bench just outside the station. That is where Amber had found you. She felt sorry for you and took you to get some food. Once she had heard your story, though, she brought you back to her loft to help you. She had said she was in your position once, but never explained what she had gone through, and wanted to help turn you around. She had got you into therapy, got you to open up, helped you find a job in her department at Mercy, and found the woman you were sure you had been on track to be before the accident had set you back.

You hit the lobby button on the elevator, then reached in your work bag for your phone as the door shut. You felt your umbrella, wallet, extra shirt, and even your lunch, but not the phone. You prayed that you didn’t leave your phone in the apartment in your sleep deprived haze. It wouldn’t be the first time this week that it had happened. Your anti-anxiety medicine had finally run out, even after you spaced them out over the last few weeks. And your mind had refused to shut off and you had been plagued by nightmares all night. Finally, your fingers had brushed against the plastic case of your phone. You let out a sigh of relief. However, when you pulled it out of your bag, you wished you hadn’t. It had been the phone that Daniel had given you, and the one that Amber had been trying to get you to throw away for months. You remembered having a panic attack when she had taken it from you. It had been one of the only things you could call yours. She had returned it to you after messing with the setting. Amber didn’t want to take any chances of him tracking the phone, not that you thought he could think of that, and told you not to respond to him. He had sent a few messages in the first few days; he said he was sorry and how much he loved you, but you did as Amber had asked. There was a small part of you that wanted to reach out, in secret. Thankfully, the logical part of your brain kept you silent. Amber wanted to block his number for good, but you left it as it was. She had given you a new phone not long after so you wouldn’t be tempted. And you hadn’t turned the old phone on since then. It had been stuffed in a bottom drawer, only reappearing now when you had rushed to grab an extra thick undershirt and stuffed it into the bag without realizing it.

The elevator came to a halt and opened to the empty lobby. You knew there wasn’t much time to decide what to do. You needed a phone- a curse of modern society to not be able to go a day without it. If you decided to go back up to retrieve your real phone, you still had to find it from where it had fallen in the chaos of this morning. And by then, you would miss your bus and be late to work. Technically, this was a working phone. You hit the power button; if it turned on, you would just get on with your day. That was your decision. It sprung to life, still with a good amount of power despite how long it had been in that drawer. The home screen had a picture of you and Daniel. It made you cringe at the sight of those smiling faces. But it worked and that would have to work. Amber may not be too happy to see it, but you’d rather deal with her then your supervisor. Plus, you really had no desire to talk or see Daniel.

Though, that small, needy part in the back of your mind was still wondering if he had still reached out to contact you.

You got your answer as you stepped out onto the chilly, lamp lit sidewalk. Your inbox was full of text messages and voicemails. He must have sent two or three a day since you had run away. You couldn’t bring yourself to hear his voice. But, as you head down the sidewalk to your bus stop, you decided to read through a few of them.

-Y/N, I’m sorry. Please call me.

-I know you’re mad. You have every right to. I’m weak and dumb.

-Please, just let me know you’re ok.

-Honey, I love you. I’ll never drink again. I never meant to hurt you.

-Please let me know you see these.

-You mean so much to me. I’ll do better. I need you.

-Honey, that girl meant nothing. I can’t live with what I did to you.

-Please call me. Yell at me, hit me. Do anything you want, just come back.

His last message came only two days ago.

-Honey, you must be out of your medicine. Please, just let me give that to you. I won’t bother you anymore. We don’t need to get back together. Whatever you want to do, we can do it. Just let me bring it to you. You need it and I care about you. Please, Y/N, I’m sorry. Please, let’s just talk.

Wow, you thought, he seems really upset. That small part surged forward again, pushing you to respond since he seemed so sincere. But you shook your head. Amber had brought you to a counseling center she volunteered at where a survivors of domestic violence group met. And based on what they had talked about, and his history, you knew it was best to move on. Though, you were basically out of medicine. You didn’t know the name of it, nor had the prescription for it. Daniel had always taken care of it. There was a doctor at Mercy whom you were close with, Henry Na, who had offered to investigate it for you. So, you had given him the last generic, round, white pill. He had offered to prescribe you a basic anxiety medication to help you while he did some research. He had been a big help, just like Amber to getting you to the state of normalcy you had achieved. Hopefully, he had found something for you. You would wait to see what he had to say before making that decision. Or you could talk to Amber and she would slam the stamp of “HELL NO” on that whole thought.

Not wanting to continue this train of thought, you sent a quick text to your friend to say you were on your way to the bus, then locked your phone and stuck it in the pocket of your scrubs. You were determined to make the most out of this day. Even after a terrible night, you were going to be with your best friend, seeing some of your favorite patients, and being away from your troubles. You just needed to get to the bus stop and out of the chill of the early morning. You pulled your jacket close to your body and quickened your pace. Living at the far end of town, while cheap, had its disadvantages. There was much gang activity in the outskirts, the bus stops were sparse, and all the main shops were a long way away. At least, for the moment. Ahead, you could see the outline of the new shopping center the government had decided to build in hopes to revitalize this part of the city. And while you were excited that you wouldn’t have to go far to get essentials, you hoped it wouldn’t raise your rent anymore. Your bus stop was just beyond the construction. You hoped that today would prove to be just as exciting as the prospects of the new shopping center.

Little did you know, in the dim light of the dawn, just how exciting your life was about to become.

~*****************~

If the outside wasn’t foreboding enough, the inside made up for it. It was dark with only a few work lights scattered around the large, open space. There were tall, arching pillars and small openings along the sides that were meant for food stalls, and a large, empty fountain in the center of the concrete floor. Loose wires hung from the unfinished light fixtures, while high scaffoldings and boxed materials were randomly spaced about. A cold breeze swept through the open doorways, sending dust and debris swirling about Bangtan’s feet as they took echoing steps towards the elevator at the end of the floor. Above them, there were large cut outs in the floor so patrons would peer down at those below, all in interesting and modern designs. Once it was finished, it would be very fancy and high-end, the complete juxtaposition to the traditional and family owned buildings around it. It didn’t belong there.

Just like we don’t belong here, Suga thought as his eyes wondered about the dim area. Jimin was beside him, the sparse lights glittering off the studded shoulders of his leather bomber jacket. His face was sharp and serious, his eyes constantly moving behind his rose-colored glasses. And Jungkook was trailing behind, dragging the poorly trained spy with him. The bound and blindfolded kid had fought against the maknae’s grip as soon as they entered the construction zone, screaming unintelligently against the gag. It took a good smack on the back of the head and a threat of “knock it off before I knock you out” before he stilled and allowed Jungkook to lead him around. He, even, made an annoyed promise that he would not let him stumble or fall until they turned him over to his team.

V’s voice rang through the earpiece Suga wore, telling him where to go. The elevator would take them to the top floor, opening to a reception area. And beyond that was the event hall where Choi and his group of assholes were waiting for them. V didn’t see anyone on any other floors, which meant that their passage should be safe. Just as a normal drop should be. But Suga knew that it wasn’t going to be normal. With each step, the uneasy feeling grew. With the confirmation of the General’s presence, old feelings from the past made Suga even more on edge. But he hid it from his younger members. He figured this was a trap; he and RM had talked every conclusion out. They just needed to get in and out as fast as possible. V had set some helpful distractions up if they needed a quick getaway. But all Suga was focused on was dealing with Choi and keeping his dongsaengs safe. He took out his cell and texted a quick update to the leader.

“This place is huge! I didn’t realize it when V and I came here before. Let’s make sure we come back when it’s finished. Something this fancy looking is bound to have a Gucci store,” Jimin said, trying to ease the mood a bit. He brushed a bit of dust from his white Gucci shirt to highlight his point.

“I feel between the two of you, you have enough Gucci in your closets to open your own store,” Jungkook replied, though he had his own collection of name brands to rival theirs.

Suga gave little response as they reached the elevator. RM had texted him back, saying what they already knew; Get in, get out, and be safe. The leader had added ‘try not to antagonize him too much, hyung’. Suga had a gift of speech, known to the others as his ‘Tongue Technology’. He could talk circles arounds even the most versed debaters, and knew exactly what to say to break someone down. If he had ever decided to pursue a career in music, all of Bangtan was sure he’d be a master at diss tracks. When Jin had captured the spy, Suga barely warmed up before the kid broke from fear. And while he knew he should do as his leader asked, Yoongi knew that if Choi opened his mouth, he’d find it extremely hard not to challenge him. As all four crowded into the elevator, he slipped his phone back into the pocket of his red coat and hit the top floor button. Jimin had started cracking his fingers and stretching out his limbs just in case he needed to be ready. Jungkook seemed to be bouncing on his heels with anticipation. A black face mask was resting under his chin. Suga reached over and pulled it up over the young maknae’s nose. He reached up, after, and fixed his black hat to hide most of his face. Jungkook was the only one of their members who Choi hadn’t seen face to face, making him the safest when he walked around barefaced. The boy had been quite young when he had joined them, and each meeting before the Generals had disappeared, Jungkook’s identity had been hidden. And Suga meant to keep it that way. Jungkook smiled at the action and nodded a ‘thanks’ to his hyung.

“Just stay behind us until the trade is made. Block the door. And keep your face hidden. We don’t need Choi knowing who you are, got it?”

Jungkook nodded again, tucking some of his hair behind his ear.

The elevator came to a halt as it reached the seventh floor and the doors slid open. It opened to a finished reception hall with an ornate, marble desk at the end near the large, double doors. Compared to the rest of the building, this was practically finished. The floor had a mirror finish, there was a small chandelier above the desk, and the walls were painted with a dark contrast to the white marbled floors. As they stepped off the elevator, a strange crackle sounded through the piece in Suga’s ear. With each step, it got louder. He could see the small red light from the CC camera that V had placed under the edge of the desk. He knew V had been monitoring them, as well as the Royals, and he tapped the earpiece to signal V something was off. He could hear the young man under the roar of the static typing away at his keyboard, letting out a few curses. The roar got louder and louder the closer they got to the doors.

“Hyung-…. Sug-…. Can you…” static “Wait they…. With them! Plea-…” static “Get-,” then a piercing noise overtook everything, and Suga ripped the earpiece from his ear. From what little he heard from V, and the tone he was using, whatever he was trying to say wasn’t good. Jimin and Jungkook looked at him, questioningly. It was clear that something wrong was just beyond those doors. But they were already too far to turn around. The Royals must have heard the elevator’s chime and their footsteps as they came up to the door. If they fled now, it would only be worse later. Suga gave a reassuring nod to his dongsaengs and turned towards the door. Jimin took his position beside him, a hand on his hip to give off the air of sass that his gang persona was known for. Jungkook pulled the spy close to him as he positioned himself behind them, eyes glowing with strength and determination.

And then, Suga kicked the double doors wide open.

The solid oak doors slammed against the inner walls of the large room with a big bang. Just as the lobby, it was practically finished, save for the large crates of fancy décor, some unfinished lights, some high work platforms, and a good polishing. The floor was the same marble and dark finished wall combination as the lobby, with large Roman pillars that gave the room a grand and expensive feel. There were high windows that lined one side of the room, showcasing a large section of downtown as it was bathed in the warm light of the dawn. Further into the space, two high metal scaffoldings had been constructed, high enough for someone to walk under and for painters to reach the vaulted ceiling in order to finish the commissioned watercolor piece; one was just beyond the double doors while the other was against the opposite wall at the far end of the room near the emergency exit. In the center of the room, surrounded by work lights, appeared to be a diamond shaped dance floor. There was a worktable there.

And sitting at the table was Choi. He stood out against the sea of black suited goons with his silver fur coat. Choi always had an air of intensity about him, especially when he caught you in a stare down. He was like a cobra; smooth, unpredictable, and ready to strike without warning. When Suga had first met the General, he had overseen the breaking in of the new “recruits”. And the look he gave was enough to warn the kids to beware his wrath. Choi leaned forward on his elbows; his tented, gloved fingers pressed against his lips. His crazed eyes tracked Bangtan as they sauntered into the room, stopping just before the first scaffolding so to keep some distance between the two rivals. The one holding his spy stopped behind the other two. He tsked in disappointment.

“Nice of you boys to show up,” he greeted in his deep, gravel voice. “I appreciate that you agreed to come to our location. Times have been tough for my troops, and this makes them feel more at ease.”

“Safe it, Choi,” Suga said, his tone even but methodical, “I don’t need you to put on this little act of yours. You’re not doing this for your guys. At least own up to the fact that you don’t want to follow the Accords.”

Choi made an amused noise. “Ah, Agust, I have missed that lip of yours.”

Out of the corner of Jimin’s eyes, he watched as Suga slid into Agust, a second persona Yoongi had developed in the early years before Bangtan. Suga was cold and intimidating, methodical and quiet. Agust was the opposite. He was more aggressive, ready to set the world ablaze; where Suga was the bulletproof vest, Agust was the machine gun and ready to pop off at whoever provoked him. While Suga liked to take his time, his second persona didn’t want to. The shift was subtle, but Jimin had seen the wicked smile appear across his lips as he cocked his head to the side, spilling his platinum blond hair across his eyes. Agust seemed to vibrate with mischievous energy. Jimin hadn’t seen this side of his hyung in an exceptionally long time; only people from Bangtan’s past knew of Agust or he hadn’t been pushed that far to bring out the wildcard. However, he knew Choi had a way of bringing the worst out in them. This would be interesting.

“Oh, I missed you too, Choi. But don’t worry, my aim is much better now. Can we just do this shit? I have better things to do and you are not one of them.”

The amused look on Choi’s face slipped. “Such disrespect for your sunbaenim. This is why I requested your leader. He seems to have taken my lessons better than you.”

“Sorry,” Agust pouted, bringing up his hands in a mocked apology, “but my leader has better things to do than play with a flea infested bitch like you. Wait, that was an insult to dogs.”

Jungkook was happy he had a mask on to hide his grin; he always enjoyed when Yoongi-hyung fell into Agust; it didn’t happen much these days unless he was extremely angry or overly stressed. So, this was a treat to see Agust tearing into Choi like he knew his hyung had always wanted to do when he was younger.

Agust continued, his eyes glowing with annoyance. “Seriously, can we move this along? We have your little spy here, all safe and sound. We even fed him, which is more than you could do. Let’s do this exchange before I get more annoyed. It’s past my Maknae’s bedtime and he’s gonna be cranky later.”

Jimin couldn’t hold back his laugh at that point. That drew Choi’s attention. A gleam appeared in Choi’s eyes that, even from that distance, Jimin didn’t like.

“Now I wasn’t expecting to see you, Sweet One. It’s been a while since we last met. How have you been doing? Had your fix recently?”

Jimin only glared behind his glasses, his hands clenched in a fist. He took a deep breath and tried to block him out.

Choi stood up and moved to the front of the table. “What, nothing to say? I missed that voice of yours. So sweet and addictive. You know, sometimes I can still hear your sweet moans and gasps echoing through my memories. Begging and pleading, so needy and desperate. Makes me wish I had taken a chance with you when I had the opportunity. I can see you’re shaking from here. I have what you need, baby. I can help you feel all better. You just need to come over and ask for it. I can take good care of that itch of yours. I’d love to hear how loud your moans can get now.”

Jimin felt something in him snap. He went to rush him, fist cocked back, ready to shut the bastard up. Suga threw out an arm in front of him before he could take a step. The look he gave Jimin told him to let him handle Choi. RM had asked Suga not to cause too much trouble. And since Agust had already made an appearance, he couldn’t risk Jimin starting something. Even if Choi deserved whatever Jimin had planned to do for bringing up such a dark part of their past. Suga’s reassuring hand gave Jimin a slight push behind him, which the younger man begrudgingly allowed.

“Seems like you’ve become the responsible one, Agust. Perhaps you’ve gone soft on me, despite the bite. Fine, we should get down to business. But first thing is first; lets make sure that you followed the rules I sent to your leader. No weapons were to be brought with you. Chen, Yao,” he called over his shoulder, “search them.”

The two suits stepped away from the pack and crossed over to Bangtan. Suga nodded to Jimin, who made his way to stand next to Jungkook in order to keep the spy between them as they were searched. The guards started with Jungkook, then Jimin. They searched Suga last. Both guards ran their hands through clothes, dipping into each pocket. So, of course, they found the small pocketknife Yoongi had slipped into the inner pocket of his red coat. Chen fixed the smaller male with a look, which was received with a nonchalant shrug. Chen was not amused by the gesture and grabbed him by his blond hair, yanking his head back. Agust grabbed hold of Chen’s wrist, twisting it as hard as he could before spitting in the thug’s face. Yao rose his fist to punch him, only to be stopped by Jimin, who had appeared next to him. Agust was intimidating on his own, but the look that Jimin transfixed on them was enough to send a message. Both suits backed away from the two before things got any worse.

“Agust,” Choi remarked as his guards returned to their space, “how disappointing. Do you see, boys? They have no respect for us. They bring a weapon to a tradeoff. And when scolded for breaking the rules, he acts like a wild animal. They don’t even have the decency to dress professionally. Instead of business attire, we are presented with ripped jeans, flashy and cheap clothes-,”

“Hey, I wore designer labels to this,” Jimin interrupted.

“And the one in the back,” Choi continued, “look at how they teach their Maknae. Black cargo pants, hoodie, and wearing a mask and hat. Like he’s going to a club instead of meeting with his betters. Take that off and let me get a better look at you, boy! The least you can do is give me a proper greeting.”

“Leave my Maknae alone.” Agust took a few steps forward, stepping into the primary focus. “He’s protecting himself from all the bullshit you keep spitting. You don’t need to see him for us to do this. Stop stalling. Where’s your goods? We took good care of your little rat. Now put up or shut up.”

“You keep demonstrating how low you can be, Agust. Do you think you’ll become as successful as us acting like a classless thug?”

Agust shrugged, tapping his long finger against his cheek. “I’m not sure about the secret to success. But I think I know the secret to failure and being an idiot. And that is to keep babbling like you. I’m really starting to lose my patients with you. Show me the fucking trade, else I’m leaving with your spy and I’ll do whatever I want to with him.”

Choi nodded to one of his suits. They pulled out a suitcase and opened it. It was full of cash and ammunition boxes. “Satisfied with that, Agust? It’s way more than his life is worth. But recruitment has been slow recently. However, before we trade, I need an apology.”

“For what, your appearance? You need to take that up with your parents,” Agust sneered, causing Jimin and Jungkook to start chuckle.

Choi slammed the case shut. “I’m over your bad attitude! You have disrespected me enough today. You show me respect, or I will demonstrate how I used to deal with you.” Choi reached around and brandished his ornate cane, smacking it against his hand. “You remember what I used to do to you. Now, apologize to me!”

“Alright, I’m sorry. Don’t get angry. Your mom will be upset if you lose your only asset- your health,” Agust mocked with a small bow, causing Jimin and Jungkook to laugh. The shocked expression from some of the suits added fuel to the fire.

Choi’s face took on a red shade. “Enough,” he screamed, his voice shattering against the empty walls, “You may appear brave and bold, but I know what you hide behind that smile, son!”

Agust took another step forward, unafraid by his little outburst. “If I’m the sun,” he said, pointing out the windows at the rising light, “then you are the moon; as I rise, you go down. Though, I’m sure I’m going to be more disappointed in your tongue technology than your cohorts are with mine.” The roar of laughter from behind him only increased and sent Choi further into a rage. He lunged at Agust and swung his cane.

Suga’s hands were almost as fast as his tongue; he grabbed hold of the cane before it could strike him. He pulled his face close to the General’s, his eyes cold and serious.

“I am not that scared little boy you locked in the dark. I will show you that I’m the king here. I’m the boss. And you will end up just like your vile, worthless Maknae.”

“You’ve gotten strong in my absence,” the taller man remarked as he tried to pull away from Suga’s grip. The younger held tight for a second before giving him a hard shove back towards his team. Choi took a grounding breath and ran a gloved hand through his frosted hair. “Remember Agust, our Maknae acted on his own. Against his boss’s plan. And you got your revenge on him for that. He damned himself, not his hyungs. Don’t keep using that to fuel your hate.”

“I have plenty without that.” Suga turned and walked back to his team. “I’m done playing with you. Slide that case over here. We’ll leave your man here as we exit out the door. And we will call this done.”

Choi shot a dark glare at the blond’s back, before waving a dismissive hand at him, accepting that he wasn’t going to get anything he wanted from the younger man. He gave a nod to the suit holding the case, who slid the case across the floor. Jimin stopped it with his foot before picking it up. He thought it felt lighter than he expected it to, but the want to leave outweighed his curiosity; he was still pissed about what Choi had said to him. He turned his back to the room and made after Yoongi.

Suddenly, Choi’s soft laughter filled the room. Yoongi remembered that laughter; the General had used it when he knew something they did not. Bangtan’s Second in command looked over his shoulder to see that Choi had a small remote in his hand. With a press, the double doors swung shut automatically. Panic rose within Bangtan. They were trapped! Jimin opened the case in his hands and discovered it was full of fake bills and empty ammunition boxes. Everything was a set up. Choi must have figured that they would have a surveillance too, and made it so he couldn’t communicate with V once they got to the meeting spot. Yoongi hoped that he hadn’t thought about a camera hidden within the room. Since V had been trying to tell him something before their communication was severed, he must have eyes in the room, at least enough to know he needed to get to them fast. Jungkook tightened his hold upon the spy, as if it was their only protection. He shot Suga a look. The elder shifted his eyes between both of his comrades, deep, stormy eyes narrowed in defensive thought. He had thought of this; he had many plans unraveling in his mind. Now, it was all a matter of finding the best one in order to get them out of there. The only unknown factor was Choi. Suga motioned for the two to keep calm as he turned back to the General.

“Honestly, Agust, did you really believe it would be that simple? That I would let you come in, disrespect me and my troops, and walk out of here like you’re the one in charge? After all that you and your little boy scout brigade has done. I was hoping to send a little message when I scratched up that smiling fool of yours. And yet, your leader couldn’t grasp that and sent you right into my hands. It should had been obvious that you weren’t going to get out without a struggle. There is no Hallowed ground here. You are in my territory with a member of mine that, for what anyone would see, you have kidnapped. Therefore, I can have my fun without any fear from the Accords and their rules.”

Jimin growled, “Since when do you care about the Accords? You already drew us here under false pretenses.”

“They’re not entirely false. As I said, you have my recruit,” Choi remarked, his voice in a mocked tone of concern. “He was given such an easy task. And he couldn’t even do that correctly. It would see that some more training is in order.”

Jungkook felt the kid in his grasp cringe and bury himself deeper into his hold. It was painfully clear that the kid had no choice in this life, much like most of members in the room. And from the stories he had heard from his hyungs, Jungkook was sure this kid had been treated much better in their care than anything in the Royals clutches. It wasn’t up to the Maknae, but he wondered if it was too late to try and take the kid with them.

“As you know,” Choi continued, “recruitment has been difficult on me. And all the rookies have little to no talent when it comes to the finer arts of the trade. They would benefit from some more one on one training. How do you think we can achieve this?”

“Well, when Ji just up and leaves like the coward he is and leaves his most useless General in charge, seems like a daunting task for you. Might as well just give up and disband,” Suga said in his methodical tone, causing Choi and the Suits to actively flinch at the mention of their leader’s real name said so offhandedly.

“Don’t you dare say his name! I will make you regret that. And you’ll be the example for my new recruits. Like I said, my boys don’t do well with their basic training back at the compound. They need some ‘on the job’ training, some action in the field. And what better place then here. Since we are not on Hallowed Ground, we can let them play a little rough. What a splendid opportunity for all of us; they get to have a real experience and you get a few broken bones to send a message to anyone who thinks that they are above the Royals in the food chain. Do me a favor, Bangtan, and don’t give up to fast.”

With that last smirk, Choi settled himself back against the table and snapped his fingers. Four of the Suits smirked and started to cross the room towards Bangtan. Jimin looked over at Suga. The steely member gave a sharp nod and Jimin pushed some of his honey locks out of his hair with a dark glint in his eyes. He heard Suga tell the youngest to ‘stay put’ as he set off at the advancing Suits. Out of Bangtan, Jimin was known as one of their best fighters. He had studied many different styles and always perfected his craft; from judo and taekwondo to kendo and target shooting, he was regarded amongst most gangs in Central as the most skilled. Jimin was, also, a well-versed dancer, having studied since he was a child. And that control and flexibility of his body only aided him when he decided to show off just why he was well known. As he was still seething with anger from Choi’s words, he decided to take out that frustration on whoever came near him. Jimin took off like a bullet and launched himself up to grab a high bar on the bottom side of the scaffolding. Using his momentum, he swung himself up towards the closest Suit, catching the young man off guard as Jimin wrapped his toned legs around the taller man’s neck. Before the Suit could recover from the surprise, Jimin let go of the bar and arched back into a backbend. Using his lower body strength, he pulled the victim over and down the ground with a loud thud. The shock knocked the air from the Suit and Jimin sent a sharp punch to the throat, to keep him down.

A yell from another Suit brought Jimin’s eyes up. He got up and tackled the second. The new opponent was sturdier on his feet than the first, easily keeping himself upright and throwing Jimin back. Jimin recovered quickly; he ran to one of the supportive, vertical legs of the scaffolding, grasping hold and using it to spin himself back to the Suit, his heels colliding with the goon’s chest. The Suit stumbled back, chest heaving. Jimin didn’t give him much chance to recover; he was instantly back in his range, throwing punches and sweeping kicks towards the taller man. Being as flexible as he was, Jimin had no issues dodging and sliding under the Suit’s attempt at a comeback. While the bastard was strong and aggressive, he lacked speed and foresight. And Jimin had much of that. They had been backed further along the scaffolding towards it’s beginning, moving rhythmically around the bars and legs. The Suit had managed to grab Jimin by the collar of his studded jacket as he tried to get behind him and threw him face first into the ladder that lead to the top of the scaffolding. He clung to bar for a moment, feeling his lip start to bleed and his head ringing from the sudden impact. He could hear the asshole let out a laugh before charging at him. Just as the Suit was able to connect his jab to the back of Jimin’s head, the smaller blond side stepped him, and let the Suit’s hand make a cracking impact with the metal bars. Jimin got behind him and wrapped his arm around the man’s neck, squeezing as hard as he could. The other man thrashed against his grip, but his windpipe was being crushed. The Suit slipped onto his knees as his vision started to dot. And Jimin took the opportunity to release the Suit’s throat and use his knee to hit him in the nose. Blood spattered over the dark denim as the Suit screamed in pain. He was silenced when Jimin elbowed him in the back of the head. After the man fell unconscious, Jimin ran his hands through his hair and adjusted the rose-colored glasses that had managed to stay on his face.

While Suga wasn’t as graceful as Jimin when it came to fighting, he was able to hold his own with the rest of them. He was scrappier, more calculative in his actions. The remaining two Suits had come at him at the same time. And just like Jimin, he used his height to his advantage, easily dodging under the sweeping arms of the two. The closest Suit had backed Suga up against one of the Roman pillars with his advancing punches, his back flushed against the cold stone. The bastard set an upper cut, which Suga caught and turned back upon its owner. He looked over the goon’s shoulder to see the second had a picked up a crowbar. Oh, fantastic. The second Suit raised the bar and brought it down in a hard motion, only to hit his own comrade when Suga grabbed the first one and used him as a shield. The goon swung again and Yoongi moved behind the pillar just as it made contact, sending dust flying into the air. When he came back around, he caught hold of the bar with both hands and struggled to push back against the brute’s strength. The first one had recovered from the hit and caught him from behind, locking his arms around the thin gang member’s body. Suga threw his head back and knocked against the Suit but his grip only tightened. He struggled hard as the second guy advanced on him again. Thinking fast, he brought his legs up and kicked the second Suit hard in the chest, sending him to the ground. He thrashed harder against the taller man behind him. He was swung around until Suga saw the white pillar in front of him. He ran up high enough on the pillar and kicked back with all his strength, sending him and the Suit to the marble floor. The arms around his chest loosened enough to slip one out of the hold and use a reverse elbow strike to the goon’s face, hard enough to send him to the very edge of consciousness. Suga scrambled up to his feet as the second Suit barreled at him; he moved just enough to grab ahold of the Suit’s jacket and propel him into the pillar. Suga grabbed hold of the Suit’s shaved head and slammed it as hard as he could into the pillar as many times as it took until the guy slumped down, blood decorating the white stone. Taking a deep breath, he turned back towards the General, smirked before giving the Suit at his feet a good kick to the stomach.

“That all you got, you son of a bitch?” Agust was out of breath, but still had enough snark in his voice to fill the room. “You couldn’t teach them how to fight their way out of a paper bag. I didn’t even need to bring out my tank over there,” he pointed at Jungkook, who smiled behind his mask and gave a little wave. “What were they supposed to do again? Teach me a lesson? Make me into the example to what happens when your fragile self-worth is questioned. If that’s how you teach your boys to fight, you should change your profession because your ability to make yourself look like an idiot is extraordinary. Your title should be ‘Moron Extraordinaire’ instead of ‘Washed-up Mafia Kingpin’. What you want to throw at me, now? Clearly, we can take you. And when I get out of here, you can guarantee that it’s going to be open season on you. I don’t care if your punk ass leader decides to show his fucking face. I’ll gladly spit in it and let him know how this little ‘bapsae’ took his place.”

Choi looked down at the Suits, most of whom were still unconscious at Bangtan’s feet. His eyes flicked up to meet Suga’s cold stare. He gave a deep sigh and shrugged the fur coat from his shoulders.

“Oh Agust, I really do wish one of my men had the foresight to break your jaw. That way I wouldn’t have to hear you anymore. I’m growing tired of this game. I would have hoped you would’ve gone down easier. It would have boosted the moral of the boys instead of their medical bill. Guess we are going to have to do this the old fashion way.”

Choi reached behind his suit jacket and brandished a chrome revolver. Behind him, the rest of his guys pulled out theirs and pointed them at Bangtan. Jungkook’s doe eyes seemed to get bigger as he took in the site before him. Jimin looked concerned as well, but tried to keep it internalized so not to feed their egos; his eyes were darting across the room, looking for places to shield himself should shoots be fired. Suga refused to break eye contact with Choi. The older General gave at laugh at the fronted courage. He cocked the gun and raised it eye level.

“I have wanted to do this for a long time. When I was away, I had dreams of shooting you right between those cold eyes and wiping that fucking smile off that face. I remember when my brothers and I brought you under our wing; we had high hopes for you if we could break you. But you are just as stubborn as the rest of your ragtag crew. I hope your efforts were worth it in your mind.”

Choi’s finger moved towards the trigger. And Suga didn’t move, just stared him down. Before Choi could pull it, a loud gun shot rang out in the space! And a bullet hit Choi’s weapon and sent it ricocheting across the marble floor. Choi spun around, looking for the source of the shot. Suga let out a breath he didn’t realize he had held. Jimin rushed to his side, eyes searching for an explanation, as if Yoongi had some how done something. But the second-in-command was just as shocked; his eyes darted about the room, just as the Royals were making a commotion looking for the phantom gun.

A deep chuckle filled the space, bouncing off the shadowed walls that made it seem like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “Stop going on about ‘effort’ and more ‘effort’,” the deep voice commanded. “It’s makes my skin crawl when you say things like that.”

Drawn by the voice, Suga finally caught a glimpse of a black leather jacket and red pants perched atop the second scaffolding behind the Royals on the opposite wall. V was squatted on top of the platforms, gazing down upon the scene like a gargoyle, one elbow resting against his knee. The other arm was stretched out with his emerald green gun held tight in his grasp. Suga was half impressed that V had hit his intended target; the other half was annoyed he had taken that chance.

“About time you decided to show your face,” Suga remarked. “What, did you take the scenic route?”

“Sorry Suga-hyung,” V responded, his voice like black velvet. “They scrambled my signal so I couldn’t contact you. Not even on your phone. And, of course, I had the guys at the cars to deal with. By the way,” he moved his steely eyes to Choi, “your henchmen weren’t a fan of my ‘Vante’ mark on your tacky car. So I left them giftwrapped in the trunk. They didn’t play nice so they’re a bit bruised. Hope that’s ok.”

V brought his hand up to flash his signature ‘V’ sign and winked at Choi. The General just stared back at him, his gaze disbelieving and furious. Then, he turned to his Suits.

“Unbelievable,” he said, the hand V had shot the gun out of balling into a shaky fist, “the empire I helped create is being spit upon. And its members are just letting this bunch of misfits walk all over them. This isn’t even all of them! You are supposed to be the most feared, strong, aggressive men of the Mafia families. But you let a pretty boy, a shadow, a whore, and a foul-mouthed baepsae fuck you over time and time again?! I should just shoot you all myself for being so useless! Do you know what’s going to happen if you continue to let the Royal’s name drag in the filth of these fuckers?! I will make sure every single one of you begs for death before I’m finished! Is that what you want? Or are you going to do something about it?!”

“Whoa, watch that temper, Big Boss,” V said, while smacking on a piece of gum. “Your face is turning a bright shade of red. It’s clashing with your suit. Not a good look for someone of your age.”

Choi had had enough; he gave a sharp order to Chen who whipped out his revolver from a hidden hoister. He raised it at rapid speed and took aim at V. But while Chen was fast, someone was faster. A loud shot sounded from behind them, and the bullet cut across the captain’s arm. His arm spasmed at the contact and dropped his gun before he could even move to the trigger. Choi whirled around, eyes wild and enraged. Behind Suga and Jimin, both of whom were wearing a smug smile, was the shadow who Choi had dismissed, still holding their hostage in front of him. Jungkook had his arm balanced against the hostage’s shoulder, with his metallic purple handgun on full display. Even with his face hidden behind a mask, all could tell he had a triumphant grin spread across his lips.

Choi grabbed his captain by the arms, uncaring of the bleeding wound his hands covered. “I told you to search them for weapons! Can you not do one thing I ask?!

“I did, Boss! I swear,” Chen cried as Choi fingers dug further into his gunshot wound.

It was Suga’s turn to let out a bemused noise, letting his head loll to one side. His hands came to rest on his hips, and he clicked his tongue in a disappointed fashion. “Oh Choi, you think you’re the smartest person in the room. You think you’re the only one with secrets. See, we’re not as naïve as you like to believe. We have the genius leader after all. We planned for every eventuality you could think of. You’re not as slick as you boost yourself up to be. But we played our part well to make you believe that, didn’t we? Since your boys lack the brains to think of creative methods beyond your orders, I’ll let you in on my little secret. Your boys did search us – they didn’t check your little rat.”

As quick as he brandished his own piece, Jungkook pulled Jimin’s and Suga’s weapon from under the rat’s oversized sweatshirt and tossed it to them. Jimin’s was a polished gold, while Suga’s was a studded black gun. Both caught their respective piece as if they had rehearsed the moment. Now, they had four barrels pointed at the Royals. Bangtan was outgunned, but they were widely known for their accuracy and body count. That reputation alone was enough to worry the newer Suits. Suga’s cold stare drilled into the General as he held is gun steady.

“Even after all your shit, Choi, I’ll let you decide how we do this; either let us walk out like nothing happened or we start shooting. You’re already down a few men,” Suga said, motioning to the four men still on the ground from their earlier rumble, either still unconscious or too scared to sit up. “Do you really want to risk losing more? After all this, I can’t guarantee that we won’t hit anything vital like with Chen there. So what’s it gonna be, Jackass?”

Choi stared at the younger man; his face was blank and unreadable. Suga wondered if he was going to have to repeat himself, or if they could use that silence to back away before anything happened. But then, a crazed look appeared in the General’s eyes and a wicked smirk cracked his face. He gave a shrug of his broad shoulders before taking a step back behind his Suits.

Then, he snapped his fingers.

�� The Royals opened fire with an onslaught of bullets. Bangtan scattered behind whatever cover was closest. Jungkook pulled his hostage behind a large crate and shoved him to the ground, ordering the kid to ‘stay down and don’t move if you want to live to see adulthood’; he had protected the kid so far, he wasn’t gonna let him get shot for a stupid reason. The poor kid was too scared to do anything but shake and do as he was ordered. Jungkook leaned around the box and fired a few shots to try and cover for V. The gray-haired boy was running across the scaffolding, yelling out ‘one shot- two shots’ as he fired down into the Suits. He vaulted from edge of the platform and scampered behind one of the pillars where Jimin had shielded himself with. The smaller Bangtan member was an impressive shot and was managing to keep the Suits from advancing upon him. Suga was across from them, behind another pillar. From his position, it was difficult to get a clear shot at anyone and he was pinned down behind it. There was a crate a few feet from him that would give him a better vantage point to lay out the Royals. It would be a bonus if he would break down the human shield Choi had surrounded himself with, and stain that blue suit of his. Running away from the pillar into the sea of smoke and ammunition, he rapid-fired at the Suits, hearing at least one of the Suits call that he had been hit. Jimin and V were moving to a new cover, alternating cover shots over each other’s shoulders. Suga knew they needed to get out of there; no matter how good of a shot they were, they would run of bullets before the Royals would. He needed a plan, and fast. He looked behind him at the door Choi had rigged; there was a red light from the mechanical device that had shot and locked the door. The lobby had some decorative things that they could use to bar the door once he could destroy the mechanism. There were the emergency stairs just behind the Royals that they could use if they could keep their distance. Or both to split up the group.

Behind him, Jungkook had slid a new round of ammunition into his gun that V had slid to him. He had moved from the very back of the room closer to the rest of his team. One of the Suits came running at him from along the side of the room. He easily showed him why they referred to him as Bangtan’s tank; he blocked the Suit’s punch before pistol whipping him, sending two strong jabs at his gut, and a final uppercut that sent the suit falling backward and his gun flying from his hand. Jungkook easily caught it in his empty hand and sent double the shots at the rest of the Royals. He ducked behind another set of boxes and looked to Suga.

Three more Suits had been hit and were scrambling for cover. Those still shooting had changed weapons and released a new spray of bullets that pinned Bangtan where they were. Choi stood in the middle of it, almost as if he were a statue, with a confident grin still on his lips. He gave an order for the Suits to advance. Suga knew they needed to get out now. He rose up and fired, hitting two Suits and bringing them down. He gave a signal to Jungkook to come to him. The Maknae rushed over, both guns firing and keeping the Royals ducking for cover. Suga looked over his shoulder at the other two and called out. He gave a pointed look to the door and V followed his gaze. They had all worked together long enough to not need much to understand what the other needed to say. V looked back and nodded, knowing Suga meant for them to leave that way on his signal. Jungkook laid down some cover as the blond turned from the battle and fired four shots at the mechanism, destroying it. He turned back to see Choi look stunned at his actions, before ordering his men on.

Suga grabbed Jungkook and leaned close. “Get to the back stairs. I’ll cover you and be right behind you.” He looked behind and called out to Jimin and V, “Get to the car! If we’re not there, just drive. We’ll meet up at the safe zone!”

V and Jimin nodded and took off towards the double doors, Jimin kicking them wide open before V turned and slammed them shut behind them. Choi yelled out for a few men to follow them. Three of the men who had lost in their hand-to-hand battle with Bangtan, jumped up from their positions on the floor and ran towards the closed doors. They pushed against it but it was wedged closed. The blond smiled, knowing V had thought of the same things he had about securing the door to help give them time to get away. It held just long enough for the two to escape the lobby. Suga gave Jungkook a shove and the young man took off around the outskirts of the room towards the emergency door in the back of the room. Shots continued to whiz by him as he ducked and weaved between pillars and boxes, having a few close calls as he neared the back end of the room. Suga trailed behind him, pausing at each cover to fire back at the Royals. He managed to bring down two more of the Royals before he ran out of bullets. Jungkook finished the clip in the stolen gun and threw it, hard, at an advancing Suit, nailing him in the side of the head. Chen, still bleeding from his arm but determined to win favor from Choi again, had seen where Jungkook and Suga were heading and stood in front of the door. Jungkook ran at the captain and got locked in a hand-to-hand fight. Chen was one of the few present to offer a challenge to the Maknae, even injured. Chen grabbed one of Jungkook’s fists, as he went in for a cross jab, and twisted the young man’s arm behind him. Jungkook twisted, trying to get his arm free, but Chen held tight. So, he shoved them both backwards until the captain’s back slammed against the wall, throwing his head back to crack against the taller man. Chen let go, and the two were back to exchanging punches, jabs, and dodges.

Suga was almost to Jungkook when, from the corner of his eyes, he saw Choi moving towards one of his new recruits, one who was a terrible shot. The General snatched his gun from the Suit’s hand and rose it. And it was aimed at Jungkook in a fatal angle. The Maknae was trapped with Chen and couldn’t see what Choi had planned. Suga cursed and ran. Everything happened too fast.

Jungkook had landed a sharp punch to Chen’s face, causing the captain to stumble back stunned.

Choi fired the weapon with a clear target.

Jungkook noticed Choi, as Suga shoved him out of the way.

#bts fic #bts imagines #bts mafia au #bts mafia fic #yoongi x reader #bangta boys #ot7 x reader #min yoongi #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bangtan fanfic

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notanacousticsetcal · 4 years

Text

begin again - calum hood

summary - based off of the song “begin again” by taylor swift. because i adore her and her songs are basically perfectly condensed little stories. so here’s what i think of when i hear that song.

mood board

warnings - hints at prior emotional and physical abuse, some emotional abuse flashbacks. toxic relationship.

word count - 1.9k

a/n - i’m not sure how I feel about it. I think I like it. please enjoy!! i love doing these song-based stories though I think they’re so fun to write so ill probably do more if you guys like it? highly highly recommend listening to the song first. or after if you want but definitely listen to it, its so good.

Took a deep breath in the mirror. He didn't like it when I wore high heels, but I do. Turned the lock and put my headphones on. He always said he didn't get this song but I do, I do.

You straightened your dress in the mirror, sucking in an anxious breath, and applied a thin layer of lip gloss. You glanced down at your heels pushing away his voice in your head. The voice that controlled you for so long. You checked the time, 6:14pm. With that, you grabbed your bag and pulled out your keys, locking the apartment door behind you. A foreign feeling washed over you as you walked down the hall. One that felt a little bit like confidence. You hadn’t felt that in a long time. It was quickly replaced by nerves at the prospect of what would be happening in 15 minutes, but you did your best to suppress them, the constant feeling of not being good enough entering your mind once again.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was still shining though it was getting nearer to the horizon, there wasn’t a cloud in sight. It was a warm 80 degrees.

He would say it's too hot. He would ask to stay inside. You, however, wanted to enjoy it. And that’s what matters, you reminded yourself.

You put your headphones on as you walked along the cement sidewalk and shuffled your playlist. A song you used to love started playing softly into your ear and your finger itched to change it. You almost pressed skip, but stopped yourself. What was it he always said?

“I don’t get this song. The lyrics are kind of silly, don’t you think?” He grabs your hand and gives you that little smile he always did. The empty one that made you feel small.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll change it.” You reach up and change the station, falling back into the passenger seat and resting your head against the window, not knowing exactly why you felt so sad.

He knew how much you loved that song.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and tucked your phone away, letting the old song play out. It sparked some of those old feelings in you. The ones you had before you met him. Those feelings of contentment and comfort. Happiness.

“I get this song,” you whispered softly to yourself.

Walked in expecting you'd be late, but you got here early and you stand and wave. I walk to you. You pull my chair out and help me in and you don't know how nice that is, but I do.

You stumbled into the small cafe and began to scan the room for an available small table. You were shocked to see the brunette already occupying a table near the window. Your favorite spot. He had a book out, but you couldn’t read the cover.

Not wanting to disturb him, you walked up hesitantly, prepared to wait awkwardly until he happened to glance upwards, but he noticed you right away, closing his book and shoving it in his bag.

“Hey,” he said as he stood up. A smile quickly took over his adorable features.

“Hi.” You glanced down shyly, and his smile only grew. Before you could move, he reached around behind you and tugged your chair out from its position under the table and gestured for you to take a seat. You stared at him, embarrassingly dumbfounded, before quickly taking the seat and muttering a quick, “thank you.”

A small, unfamiliar feeling began to grow in your stomach, replacing the pesky nerves from earlier.

You didn’t know what it meant, but you knew you liked it.

And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid. I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did. I've been spending the last eight months thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end.

“And so I ran out of the room, completely covered from head to toe in flour and practically broke down my mom’s door begging for help. She forbade me from baking ever again and I can’t say I blame her.” You smiled proudly as you watched Calum throw his head back and let out the cutest chuckle at your stupid childhood story.

“That’s fucking hilarious. You’re really funny, you know that?” He looked at you in admiration, the most genuine of smiles on his face. Not a hint of the emotion you used to see in his face when he looked at you. One of apparent disdain and resentment. For what, you didn’t know.

You blushed a deep shade of red.

“You really think so?” Your intonation says the questions rhetorical, but you genuinely wondered.

“We hid behind a shower curtain at Kohl’s and won the entire game.” You finish the story up and the entire table erupts in laughter.

“Max, you never said your girlfriend was such a blast, you should bring her around more often,” one of his friends says from across the table. Max laughs a hollow laugh but you don’t think anyone else picks up on it but you. You’ve gotten pretty good at reading him.

“She’s great, isn’t she?” He grabs your hand. It's a compliment so why does it sound like a threat?

The table continues with their conversation and Max’s jaw sets, his grip on your hand tightening,

“Are you trying to make me look bad?” He whispers.

You lean back in your chair, dumbfounded at his ridiculous comment. “What are you talking about, Max?”

“Stop trying to show me up, these are my fucking friends,” he spits. He looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him, his face tinted red. You glance around the table to see if anyone else is noticing this. They aren’t.

“I’m not trying to show you up. I’m sorry.” You feel so small.

“Just shut up, alright? I just want to spend time with my friends without you ruining everything for me.” With that, he turns away, leaving you to hold back your tears.

You didn’t know it, but from that moment on, you would find it hard to talk in group settings. Or to anyone at all. Because whatever he said, you believed.

And you didn’t want to ruin everything.

“Hey, you alright?” Calum asked, reaching out his hand gingerly to touch your shoulder.

You jumped slightly, partially because you were daydreaming and partially because of the jolt of electricity his touch sent up your arm. “I’m sorry, did I scare you, love?” He laughed and you blushed at the pet name.

“Sorry, sorry, I have no idea why I do that sometimes. I’m so sorry.” You repeatedly apologized, growing increasingly flustered. You shook your head in an attempt to brush away the unpleasant memories that plagued your mind.

“Hey, hey,” he reached out and grazed his fingers against your arm again in reassurance and butterflies practically exploded in your stomach, that gut feeling you couldn't identify earlier growing stronger with every passing moment. “You don’t have to apologize. I was just wondering where you went, is all. I’m curious to know what goes on in that pretty head of yours.” Here comes the millionth blush, you thought as you ducked your head down, a cheesy grin on your face.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

But on a Wednesday in a café I watched it begin again.

You said you never met one girl who had as many James Taylor records as you, but I do. We tell stories and you don't know why I'm coming off a little shy, but I do.

“Do you like music?” He asked, resting his chin in his palm, all his attention on you. Something you weren’t used to. It made a pink flush wash over your cheeks.

You weren’t aware at the time, but Calum found it incredibly endearing.

“I love music.”

“What kind of stuff do you listen to?”

“Honestly, I mean it when I say I’ll listen to anything, but I think I most enjoy alternative. All the different sub categories. Indie, Folk, Punk, Rock, you name it, I’ve probably tried it. I think I like how all-encompassing it is. What about you?” Talking that much made you clam up a little bit, worried you’d seem annoying. He didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered, though, as his fingers began to drum softly on the wood of the cafe table, his other hand stroking his chin in thought.

“I think I’m the same way. I think all genres have some creative element to offer and what I love most about music is the fact that there are so many different kinds.”

You smiled to yourself, running your finger around the rim of your coffee cup.

“What’re you smiling about?” He teased.

“I just like your passion. That's all.” His expression turned bashful and he gently kicked at your feet under the table.

Calum wondered about you. About how you would freeze up or disregard compliments. About how you remained hesitant to share your interests. About your unwillingness to really let him in. About your passive nature. He wondered about how you flinched at his touch. That hurt his heart. He felt the urge to make sure you felt safe with him.

Most importantly, he wondered who would’ve ever tried to hurt someone as gentle as you.

And we walk down the block to my car and I almost brought him up but you start to talk about the movies that your family watches every single Christmas and I would talk about that and for the first time what's past is past.

“You told him you were from France?” Calum struggled to get the sentence out as he was laughing hysterically.

“Yes,” your hands went to cover your face in embarrassment as you let out a pained groan. “I even faked a French accent and everything but ended up getting a detention anyway.”

Calum continued to cry laughing at your story from your formative years. “You were a little rule breaker back then, huh?”

You laughed and kicked a few pebbles on the sidewalk. The breeze had picked up slightly as a storm threatened the skyline. Involuntarily, a shiver traveled up your spine. “I guess I was. No idea how I turned out like the grandma I am.”

He glanced over at you running your hands up and down your arms to ease the goosebumps and immediately started pulling off his leather jacket. You, of course, protested but he insisted and draped the heavy piece of clothing softly over your shoulders, rubbing them affectionately.

“Thank you,” you said, softly, kicking a few more pebbles on the sidewalk as you made your way to the parking garage.

The jacket smelled expensive and woodsy and you felt yourself cuddling into it, the scent feeling so welcoming already.

Calum felt giddy at the sight. You were blissfully unaware.

A comfortable silence filled the evening air and you felt yourself wanting to talk about him. To tell Calum why you don’t let people in. Why he broke you. Calum chuckled to himself and your train of thought dissipated immediately. His laugh practically made you forget your name.

“Have you ever seen A Christmas Story?”

You smiled warmly. “Of course. I love that movie.” And you felt in that moment, a piece of you slipped away. A piece of you that was never really yours… rather, who you were told to be. That happiness sucking, all consuming, toxic piece of you that left you exhausted and resentful. You decided you didn’t want it anymore. You didn’t need him anymore. You never did, you just didn’t know it.

You were you. And that was enough. More than enough. And it felt so fucking good to start to realize it.

That cool evening on that quiet sidewalk next to that cozy cafe with that smiley brown eyed boy was the night you watched it begin again.

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unabashegirl · 4 years

Text

#1 “Kings of Leon” HS

Author’s Note: First Harry Styles imagine! Hope you like it! Request are open!

He leans against the frame of the entrance of the living room. He was locked away in the office for a few hours, trying to write something down in his journal for the day. It was until he heard the faint sound of music playing that he decided to leave the room and investigate the source of the ruckus.

It was her. The music sounds too familiar to him as he walks down the hallway. Kings of Leon play loudly throughout the entire house. He had discovered that it was her favorite band after the first few dates. That day after lunch, they had decided to go for a walk. They ran into a small music store where Y/N bought a Kings of Leon vinyl. She then proceeded to invite Harry to her small apartment for some coffee and to listen to the record together.

Her appearance captivates him. She dances around the living room without a single care in the world. She only wears a simple t-shirt over her bikini. Her hair is down and still wet from her previous dip in the ocean. She is attempting to air-dry it. She also holds tightly to a tall glass of Pina colada and tries her best not to spill it on the hardwood floor of the house, but she is still not holding anything back. He can see the small bruise forming on the side of her thigh. Last night Y/N had turned off the lights before getting in bed and had walked into the corner of their bed. Harry had to turn the lights back on with the switch beside the bed to go tend her.

It is only their second day in the Caribbean, but they have both already managed to burn. Jamaica will always hold a very special place in Harry’s heart. He has enjoyed showing Y/N the best places to eat and loved her reaction after they had gone snorkeling. After being in Japan for so long, he had only desired to spend sometime under the sun and away from the real world especially with her. It also didn’t take much convincing to get Y/N on the plane.

In one of her twirls her eyes land on Harry, who is only staring at her while enjoying the view of her careless self.

“What are you doing?” She breathlessly asks as she stops moving while Pyro plays in the background. It was one of her favorites songs. Y/N pushes her hair away from her face, her cheeks are blushed which only entices him to approach and kiss each of them.

“Just heard the music” He honestly just wants her to go back to dancing. He relishes watching her when she isn’t looking. It is mesmerizing for him. He had even sneaked into her office once for a few hours before lunch just to watch her work. He would just tell her that he needed to finish some lyrics for a song and pretend to write in his journal. He loves seeing how she knits her eyebrows when she reads over her emails or how she fiddles with her pen as she tries to remember what she was about to write on a post-it.

“I am sorry if I interrupted you” She kinda feels bad and flustered. She knows how important writing time it’s for him. It wasn’t her intention to disturb him in his sacred time. It is his alone time and it helps him to put all his thoughts in one place whether they are bad or good. While Harry walks over to the small bar and pours himself a glass of whiskey, she turns down the music with her phone. When he chooses his drink, he heads back and sits on his usual seat. She just stands around.

“No need to apologize, kitten” Y/N has the habit of apologizing for things that aren’t her actual fault especially when she is around him. She is just terrified to piss him off and for him to send her off. After all, there is nothing binding them together. They have no commitment to one another. They weren’t even formally dating per se. Even though Harry whispers that she is his every time he makes love to her.

“Did you get to write anything tho?” She pulls on the back of her shirt, trying to cover some skin. He knows how nervous he makes her feel and he can only blame himself for it. They had met in a time when Harry was fragile due to his past relationship. It was a few weeks before his departure to Japan. He had already bought the tickets and his team had already organized everything for him. In the following weeks, they had multiple dates. She invited him to her hot yoga and spinning classes in the morning. They would usually go out for breakfast or lunch after. He grew accustomed to having her around. He asked her to accompany him to Japan three days before his departure.

“This is something you need to do on your own,” She said that day to him while she held him tightly. That was the day, Harry knew that she was so different from all the girls that he had even gone out with him. It wasn’t only because she wasn’t a model and she was just like any other person, but because she truly cared for his mental health. “You need to recover and I think this will do you good” Y/N said a few hours before his departure. He had stopped at her apartment before leaving. He wanted to tell her how much he liked her and to wait for him.

It wasn’t easy for Y/N. After all, he was leaving the country to write about his ex, who he was still in love with. She took a step back after his departure and let him do his own things. If it was meant to be, it would happen without her having anything to do with it. It certainly was because the first place that Harry went to when he arrived was her apartment.

“I did” He smiles as he reached out for her hand. It had been mostly about her and their long passionates nights on the island. “Are you hiding from me?” Harry asks as he pulls her on his lap. She nervously shakes her head as she settles each of legs on either side of him. “How was the water?” He runs his fingers over her skin noticing the little specks of salt on her brand new tan skin. Harry had stayed in for their usual sunset dip. He had fallen asleep after making love to her and devouring a giant bowl of fruit with her in bed.

“Warm and kinda lonely” She pouts, wrapping her free hand around his neck then leans over and places her drink on a table.

“We can’t have that can’t we?” Y/N smiles and shakes her head at him as she gently pulls on the curls at the back of his head. The skin of his cheekbones is slightly burned making him more irresistible. She had tried to apply sunscreen on his face, but he kept making faces. It only distracted her and she ended just laughing at him “I guess I won’t ever leave yeh again” Harry leans in and kisses her jawline gently. He can still smell the faint aroma of her carrot tanning lotion on her skin.

She enjoys the coolness of his rings pressed against her bare lower back. She runs her hands on his chest noticing the soft material of the shirt that he has on. The living room slide doors are opened allowing the sound of the waves crashing soothe them along with the faint sound of her favorite band.

“I need to tell yeh something” he mumbles against her the salty skin of her neck. She immediately tenses up and goes cold. A million thoughts run through her head. Harry pulls away wanting to see her reaction. He takes a sip out of his drink and leans back on his seat. He still grips her hip in place wanting to keep some kind of content with her.

“What is it?” She gulps, silently playing that he wasn’t dumping her or sending her away.

“I first have to confess something. I told you I liked you before I left for Japan, do yeh remember?” Y/N nods along too scared to say something. She also feels like she was about to be sick. It might have to do something about the amount of rum that it’s running through her veins. “I was actually not sure if I did. I was hesitant. We had just met and I was leaving for a long time. I didn’t want to lose you. I lied”

“Why are you tell me all of this now?” She frowns not comprehending where he is going with this or what he is trying to tell her.

“For us to have a healthy relationship. I have to be honest with yeh from starters. We can’t build a relationship based on lies” He explains hoping she would get what he is trying to say and catch up.

“In that case, I actually didn’t lose your sweater” she confesses, “It's actually in my closet at home. It just reminds me of you” Harry laughs lightly showing her his pearly whites.

“I know babe” A few days ago he had seen it in her closet. “I think that you are absolutely beautiful inside out. I love how much you worry about little things, how you sing in the shower, how much you take care of your plants and even how your lips still taste like pineapple when I kiss them” he jokes at the end. He tries to keep it short even though there are still a million things he can mention about her. “I guess I am trying t’ say is that you are worth having my heart broken a thousand times more if that means that I get to be around yeh” He watches as a wide smile appears across her face. She presses her lips against his.

“Would you be my girlfriend?” She doesn’t say much but just repeatedly pecks her lips. Y/N was starting to grow impatient. She was starting to believe that their relationship would never move forward and she would remain to be just a friend who he occasionally has sex with until he found a girlfriend.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, silly” she giggles then proceeds to peck the tip of his nose. “I thought you were going to send me home for a minute” Y/N admits as she presses a hand against her chest.

“No. You’re stuck with me now” He is so infatuated with her that it wouldn’t surprise him if he tells her he loves her before the trip ends, but that is another story.

#harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry x you #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harrystyles

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merakiui · 4 years

Note

Wow! An imagines blog for afterlife! First one as far as I can see... I wish you lots of fun with this! I wonder what your favourite characters from the game are? For me it's going to be Sian and Quincy (I first think I was going to hate this little devil brat but here I am XD). If you don't mind you can do relationship hc's with them and characters of your choice if you don't mind. I don't really have anything specific in mind, just something fluffy, sorry for that! Welcome and have a nice day!

(Is it really the first? Whoa! My favorites so far would have to be Ell and Verine! There’s something refreshing about Ell’s optimistic energy, and Verine seems so soft uwu But Sian and Quincy are also growing on me too. Either way, you’ve got good taste~ Please enjoy these hcs and thank you for being the first request, anon! :D)

Relationship HCs (Sian, Quincy, Ell, and Verine)

🎤 Sian 🎤

He refuses to admit to his feelings in the beginning. Why, you may ask? Simple: It’s embarrassing.

So he does what any normal tsundere would do in that sort of situation. He pushes you away by feigning his disinterest.

Naturally, his behavior comes off as rude and abrupt, but you’re able to see past that cold exterior.

Whenever you send a smile his way or compliment him for his good work, he’s quick to deny it. Though the bright blush on his cheeks always contradicts whatever he might say.

Sometimes he thinks you just enjoy messing with him, if only to see him turn red. It’s quite cute, and you can’t help but giggle when he starts to yell.

“It’s not adorable, so stop laughing! And don’t call me cute either!”

Once you’re together, Sian drops his rude act and becomes very affectionate. He still gets shy over small aspects of your relationship, such as holding hands in public or even mustering the courage to kiss you whenever he feels like it.

Kati will definitely tease Sian whenever he talks about his wonderful, loving manager, and Cyrille will provide him with all sorts of scientific facts about the prospect of being in love, how long it exactly lasts, and why relationships are so important in terms of social interaction.

Sian does his best to ignore them, but he always finds himself getting embarrassed. “Stay out of my personal life! I don’t need your help!” Yes, he’s also blushing while he says this.

Underneath that tsundere behavior is a sweet boy who does his best to give you a perfect relationship.

He’ll take you to his favorite places to eat, claiming that you have to try some of the foods he normally gets. In return, you’ll open his horizons to the things you enjoy eating.

Definitely goes to karaoke with you! The two of you sing to your hearts’ content, sharing a few laughs at the impossible-to-hit high notes. Sian manages to surprise you the first time you hear him sing, and when you make a comment he gets extremely flustered.

On days where the weather isn’t the best, the two of you might stay inside to play card games, making small bets every now and then. Most of these bets are about the number of kisses or hugs the other will receive, and when that’s on the line Sian plays exceptionally better.

He’s written songs before, and now that the two of you are in a relationship some of these are about you. You wouldn’t have known about this had you not found a journal detailing different lyrics and song titles.

Waiting for a Sian x [insert utaite name here] collaboration.

When you confronted Sian about it, he became a mess.

Sian’s never let anyone see any of his creative work before, so this was enough to bring him close to tearing up out of pure embarrassment. He feels as though he could just die on the spot.

You understand his reaction, so you’re quick to close the journal, assuring him that you won’t pry further unless he willingly tells you more.

It takes a bit before he’s confident to actually show you and explain his thought process behind certain lyrics, but he trusts you enough and he knows you won’t laugh at him.

You’re his biggest muse when it comes to songwriting. (You’re also his biggest supporter.)

You’ll catch him humming under his breath to certain songs, and he’ll even start to mumble lyrics he’s made up on the spot. You’ll chime in with your own input, and he’ll be quick to write it down if it strikes a chord in his inspiration.

Unfortunately, his memory isn’t the best, so he often forgets things like anniversaries and special dates. He’ll always apologize with his head bowed whenever this happens, but you never seem too bothered. How can you be upset with someone as affectionate and caring as him?

In times of need, he’ll be there to assist you, as he doesn’t want you to stress yourself out. After all, it isn’t fair for his precious lover to carry overwhelming burdens all on their own.

You’ll always find yourself waking up beside the best boyfriend in the world, who will do absolutely anything for you. At the start of the relationship, he tried to do so many things to impress you. He cooked, cleaned, and made sure to always message you when you’re apart. Eventually, you had to tell him to just be himself and to stop taking advice from relationship blogs.

Please give this boy all the love in the world, and he’ll return it tenfold—albeit with a flustered stutter and pink cheeks.

🔥 Quincy 🔥

As the future Lord of the Underworld, Quincy’s quick to let others know of his position as a devil. Bow before him because it’s either his way or the highway.

He has high hopes for you and even higher hopes for himself.

Quincy will be especially impressed if you’re forward and confident in the relationship, but if you’re not that’s fine. It just means he’ll have to take the lead, which is obviously the best course of action, right? His judgement is flawless!

Just know that if anyone messes with his beloved manager, he’ll have no problem putting a curse on the unfortunate soul who decided to bother you. It’s all in good fun, so don’t worry about those silly humans who are now suffering under the weight of a heavy enchantment.

“Looks like my finger slipped. Guess you’ll have to use your puny brain to figure a way out of that. Hmph!” (Based on that cocky smirk, you’d say he’s quite satisfied with his work.)

He may even teach you a few things about the different types of magic, as he wants you to be as good as he is. Oh, but not too good! Quincy prides himself on his skills far too much to let anyone surpass him.

Every now and then, he’ll tease you about anything and everything—no matter how insignificant it is. Maybe you were late to clock in and Nyang Lead Manager scolded you, or perhaps you accidentally forget your lunch. Either way, he’s going to poke fun at those mishaps.

“Ehh? How could you forget when I reminded you earlier? Well, I suppose you can have some of my lunch. ...If you can handle it, that is.”

Spicy food is his life. He probably participates in those challenges at restaurants just to prove that he can absolutely own the competition.

Petition to get Quincy on Hot Ones.

If you’re also a fan of spicy things, it’ll be a contest to see who can handle the most spice. He ends up winning most of the time, but that’s mainly just because he’s a devil who’s used to scorching heat.

If you aren’t, he’ll be pleased to hold the title as someone who can handle extreme foods really well.

Quincy doesn’t like wasting his time on anything small, so there will always be a purpose behind what he does.

Your dates are quite the colorful variety, ranging from spending the day mixing up new elixirs to sharing stories about the Underworld. One day he’d like to show you around if you’re up for it, but the scenery might take some getting used to.

He’ll ensure that you’re never bored by dragging you around to do whatever the two of you deem exciting. When you get to relax from purifying vengeful spirits, you might find yourselves in the human world disguised under the deceptive properties of Humanizer to visit amusement parks, food vendors, and even occult shops.

The relationship is upbeat, and it keeps you on your toes. You’re never going to feel bored again with Quincy around.

Despite his teasing remarks and overflowing pride, Quincy values you a lot, and when it’s just the two of you he’ll be very endearing. It tends to catch you off guard; one minute he’s laughing about messing with Sian and the next he’s moving in to steal a quick kiss.

You’ll have to deal with any reptiles or insects that happen to cross his path, as he can’t stand them. But if you can’t handle them either, then you’ll seek out Jamie. At least he can keep them safe from Kirr and Aitachi. And from your spooked boyfriend, who wants those critters out of his sight.

Quincy will remind you to come to him if you’re ever worried over something. His advice may not be the most ground-breaking, but it’s the thought that counts. He’s willing to spend hours giving you a friendly pep-talk, and you’re bound to come out of your gloom with a fresh perspective.

☀️ Ell ☀️

He’s a ball of energetic sunshine, so be ready for a very fun, joyful relationship!

Ell always puts you first, ensuring your happiness and well-being.

Honesty is key in this relationship, and that’s mainly because he can’t lie due to his constant sneezing.

And that’s okay because he has nothing to lie about anyways! He doesn’t want to hide anything from you; he’d rather you know than try to keep it a secret.

Imagine all of the cute dates! The both of you could go to bakeries and and sweet shops to try all sorts of delicious treats. Ell would be fond of anything sugary, insisting on playfully feeding you while you’re out in public. Or the two of you could visit craft stores so he can get more supplies for his needle felting.

He’s very big on PDA. Expect lots of hand-holding, random hugs, and kisses on the cheek—even around others when you least expect it. He’ll always smile at you, commenting on how charming you look when you blush at his sudden displays of affection.

Though he’ll try his best to tone it down if Nyang Lead Manager says something about it during work hours. He’ll quietly whine and protest as he tries to explain that it’s hard to resist. He just loves you so much! His complaints tend to get cut off once he starts to sneeze, though.

Along with gifting you his needle felting creations, he’ll also play the lyre for you. He’d be so excited to show you all of the beautiful music it can make. Sometimes he’ll play a few soothing melodies if you have trouble falling asleep.

Speaking of sleep, he adores cuddling. You’ll probably wake up each morning with him clinging to you, the blanket cast aside.

If you’re fond of taking photos, he’ll let you use the light from his halo to brighten the pictures. It makes for a perfect ring light, and he doesn’t mind others wanting to use it. After all, Licht and Kati like to use it for their SNS, so you should too.

If you’re ever having a bad day, Ell will be there to make it better. He’ll do all sorts of things for you, hearing you out when you vent to him about what’s bothering you and even attempting to make a few tiny miracles happen. Anything for his favorite person in the world!

There are times when he feels down as well, but it’s not for long. You’ll always be there to cheer him up. He’s fortunate that you have the patience to help him put his negative emotions into words, and you’ll even sit through all of the times he sneezes. For that, he’s very grateful.

His heart beats faster and he gets bashful when you praise him, but he’ll always fire back with plenty of genuine compliments so you won’t feel left out. There’s lots of love to go around.

Overall, the relationship is so sweet and enjoyable. Ell makes sure there’s never a dull moment when you’re with him, and he truly believes that the two of you will be together for a long time.

He loves you with all of his angelic heart.

“I wish we could spend more time together, but Nyang Lead Manager is giving us so much work. It’s really not—achoo!”

💊 Verine 💊

At first, Verine wonders if the reason you chose to be near him is because of the desire to protect such a sickly Soul Reaper. It bothers him to no end, as he does his best to stay strong despite always having to take different medicines and vitamins.

Once he realizes that you’re not there to pester him about his health, he’s pleasantly surprised. He’s used to others giving him looks of pity, so when you offer your support he can’t help but feel warm inside.

It actually takes him quite a while to confess; the stress of it all was like attempting to find the correct medicine for a specific ailment.

Still, he manages to push his self-consciousness aside in favor of his heart’s wishes, and it succeeds! Luckily for him, since Verine believed his chances were very slim.

While Mori considers him to be a paper doll, you think the opposite. Your boyfriend may be physically weak, but he’s got a strong will and is incredibly gentle with you.

Even if he acts like the presences of others disturbs him, he’s actually quite happy to be near the Soul Reapers. He’s always interacting with the Reapers in Diluculo, but he finds that your company is by far the best.

Most of your dates consist of staying indoors, since Verine doesn’t like the overwhelming temperatures of the outside world. (Occasionally, he’ll sacrifice his comfort so that you can enjoy the outdoors every now and then.)

However, the two of you still find plenty of things to do while inside. From watching your favorite films to assisting Verine with his medicinal herb garden, a lot of these cozy dates are quite serene.

He loves it when you cook his favorite foods. Any meal prepared by your loving hands is a gift he treasures—so much so that he thoroughly believes it’ll heal his aches and pains. Sometimes he doesn’t know how to return the gesture, so you’ll have to reassure him that you don’t need anything. Just his love is enough, and that makes him smile a bit.

Verine is touch-starved since most of his living life was spent in a hospital bed and the only contact he ever received was from doctors checking his vitals. So he’s always eager to let you hug and kiss him.

He might not be into cuddling at first only because he’s afraid his constant coughing will disrupt the calm atmosphere, but once you explain that that doesn’t bother you he’s willing to give it a try. He ends up liking it more than he thought he would, which results in lazy days where the two of you just nap in each other’s arms.

He’ll always be there for you no matter what, and he checks to make sure you’re healthy. Your physical and mental health is very important to him.

If the the two of you ever get into a disagreement, he may bottle up his true feelings for the sake of pacifying you. In the end, both of you talk through it, and this allows Verine to slowly but surely open up about how he really feels.

Verine might keep a lot of his emotions to himself when around the others, but with you he doesn’t have to.

“Ah, I must’ve fainted again. I really am useless.”

When he gets like that, just tell this sweetheart he’s in no way useless. He’s perfect in your eyes, even with his coughing and eternal illnesses, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#afterl!fe #after l!fe #afterl!fe sian #afterl!fe quincy #afterl!fe ell #afterl!fe verine #relationship headcanons #afterl!fe x reader #afterl!fe headcanons #afterl!fe hcs #afterl!fe the sacred kaleidoscope #sian #quincy #ell #verine #afterl!fe sian x reader #afterl!fe quincy x reader #afterl!fe verine x reader #afterl!fe ell x reader

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 3 years

Photo

There was a prompt by @frances-the-red:

Oh no! Geralt lost his engagement ring! 😱 What happened and how is the godling Hansi involved? (Just a silly little prompt if you ever become bored. Love your writing! 🧡)

I changed the engagement ring to wedding ring because there has never actually been an engagement, let’s just say that’s not a Nilfgaard custom ;) Also, I changed Hansi to the more common Johnny. I think nobody will understand the joke anyway and English-speaking gamers just know him by this name. Hansi is his name in the german dubbing (which is the same as Johnny) and that happens to be the name of my favorite Heavy Metal singer, too. And I love that you prompted me with it :)

One last thing: I had to alter the outcome of a specific Witcher 3 quest for this. Usually, Sarah only meets Johnny if you throw her out of the house where Corinne meets her. So for this story, let’s just assume it went a bit different.

Enough babbling! This one is called “A seeker enthralled by a flame” (Avantasia lyrics this time), read under the cut or on AO3. 5330 words, rated G.

The second of waking up, Geralt realized something was fundamentally wrong.

This had nothing to do with the fact that dull rays of the sun shining through the curtains indicated morning was already advanced. Nothing to do with him waking up in a foreign bed. Or that half of his body was hanging out, as if it missed the habit of a much larger bed. All of this was not unusual. So what was it? When his eyes opened, Geralt immediately knew where he was (in Novigrad), what he had been doing the night before (getting drunk with Dandelion and Zoltan out of pure reunion), and why he was here (a contract, of course, and this was a stopover on the way back).

Nothing of all this was wrong. What he could see of the room without moving his head (possibly one too many beers) was normal. A guest room at the Chameleon, furnished with Dandelion's somewhat exuberant taste and clearly refined by Priscilla's hand; fresh flowers and fruit on a sideboard. The fingertips of Geralt's right hand brushed wood. It took him a moment to realize that his arm was hanging out of the bed, touching the floor. The floor felt normal, as did his body, which was slowly waking up and painfully reminding him that he needed to pee.

But he was not ready yet. His mind was still trying to trace this feeling, even if it might well have been only a vague thought from a dream. Lost in thought, he involuntarily began tapping a kind of rhythm on the floor, an odd imitation of what Emhyr did when he became impatient. And then he understood. An ice-cold feeling ran through his abdomen, and the natural need was gone.

The ring was missing.

Hastily Geralt raised his hand, straightening in the bed, bringing his fingers close to his face, staring. His ring finger had a small, light-colored indentation, an imprint that made it even more evident that something was missing. His wedding ring was gone. Against better judgment, Geralt jumped out of bed and carefully examined the floor; he even crawled under the bed, checked every crack, combed the whole room.

It was simply easier to assume that the ring had slipped off his finger (it sat perfectly, he never took it off, not even when he put on gloves and went into battle) than to believe someone had dared to steal it from him. That was ridiculous. Stealing from a witcher? In one of the hottest establishments in town (a fucking wicked, disgusting town full of disgusting subjects, well). Even drunk as he had been last night, that was not possible. Who would dare to enter his room without him noticing (impossible) and pull a ring off his finger?

It was undoubtedly a valuable piece, but the silver... Geralt's eyes immediately darted to the wall next to the bed, although he had long known what he would see. The swords were still there, leaning neatly against the wall in their scabbards.

That didn't make any sense. Who would steal a ring when there were two swords whose common material value was significantly higher? Indeed, the blades were almost unsaleable – no merchant in his right mind would buy witchers' swords, especially those whose engraved runes were more than clearly traceable to the owner. Nevertheless, Geralt hurriedly began to check the rest of his equipment. The armor, the saddlebags... everything was there; nothing was missing.

Geralt sat down on the bed, resting his slightly aching skull on his hands. Had he perhaps lost the ring during the evening? Or – even worse – had he, in a frenzy, agreed to use the piece as a prize in a game of Gwent? He was notorious (well, in the eyes of a certain man at least) for occasionally doing idiotic things, but Geralt thought something like that was out of the question.

Besides, he didn't want to imagine that possibility because it would have meant that, in a few days, he would have had to confront his husband to tell him he had lost the ring. The symbol of their love come true, the flame that he always carried with him like the one in his heart....

"Silly. And you're hyperventilating."

There wasn't really a voice in his head, but he could imagine it very well (and that was very close to what Emhyr would actually say before he found out the ring was gone). Besides, the voice was right. Geralt took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. If the idea of being robbed seemed absurd, at least there was a way to find out if it was valid. All he had to do was focus on possible clues in the room. However, that was easier said than done; after all, he was in Novigrad, in a much-frequented house – supposedly the most popular in the whole city. Looking for traces in this room was like telling a dog to search through a massive pile of shit to find out if his best friend had been there.

The same was true for the smell. However, chance aided him – this room didn't seem to be used quite as often. Perhaps Dandelion indeed did keep it only for friends at all times, or maybe he exaggerated his establishment's popularity. In any case, most of the traces and smells that Geralt's senses picked up were older and not of concern. Quite clearly, his own smell still hung in the room, an almost visible cloud of alcohol, leather, horse.... well, he had arrived only a few hours before. But there was something else. More like a hunch that someone else had actually been here – a kind of whiff, an indefinable but strangely familiar smell, as if he had sensed it once before, and a tiny trail of footsteps, as delicate as if that had been just a ghost. But a ghost would have left no visible traces at all.

Even these were almost impossible to see, smell or feel. It was strange, but at least a better explanation than that he had simply lost the ring. Still, what creature would have managed to pull the thing off his finger and disappear with it completely without a sound and almost without a trace? There was only one way to find out, and, if possible, before anyone saw him without the ring. Now it didn't seem like such a good idea that he had presented it so openly (because he was damn proud of it).

Geralt left the Chameleon like a suitor who had fallen asleep over his secret lover – very quietly. No one was awake yet anyway. He disappeared without a message, which was not that unusual, and sneaked out through the back exit. It was challenging to follow the delicate breeze on the streets and impossible to make out the tracks anymore. Almost as if the thief had fled across the rooftops – a not so unlikely possibility. Besides, the city itself stank of all the shit that places like these stink of: too many people and their numerous vices.

His motivation was high (if not desperate), so his focus was tremendous. The sight of a witcher trudging through Novigrad with a grim expression on his face, looking neither left nor right, was not common even here. As so often, his reputation preceded him, and if he had bothered to look into the eyes of the people who hurriedly avoided him, he probably could have guessed which of the numerous things said about him they were most likely to believe. He didn't care anyway. Geralt followed the fleeting trail of a breeze mixed with so many smells that it became almost impossible to keep track of it.

Twice he lost it, once he almost lost his nerve, and yet he held on convulsively to that one delicate scent. It led him out of the city, which was good; it would be easier to track now. Only briefly did he give up following the scent because, outside the city gate, he was sure to find it again. The trail led directly away from the main road, which didn't surprise him. The brazen thief surely had not been interested in encountering any guards. So he unhitched his horse from the capable businessman who had recently started running a livery stable near the entrance.

*//////{<>==================-

It went cross-country, over meadows and fields, which Geralt had to ride around as a precaution if he did not want to incur the farmers' wrath, and he lost valuable time, but never the trail. Whoever had taken the ring had been nimble, and they were several hours ahead of him. But he wondered where this would lead. The ring had hardly been stolen by a magpie that had flown into its nest with it. So why through the countryside and into the forest? Maybe the thief just wanted to hide and wait because there was no direct way to the next town from here, and Geralt still considered it doubtful that it would be possible to sell the ring, just like the swords. However, some crazy collectors paid a fortune for witcher's memorabilia. Maybe there was a black market for his wedding ring. This was such a monstrous thought that he already imagined what he would do to the thief if….

Geralt stopped as if rooted to the spot. The scent ceased here, in a small clearing of beech trees, in the middle of a meadow, sprinkled with daisies and wild herbs. He had been leading Roach on the reins for quite a while because the forest had become too dense. Now he let go, patted her briefly, and whispered to her to be good and stay put, which earned him a snort that sounded almost contemptuous.

The trail might end here, but that didn't mean he had lost it. He perceived a presence that was trying to hide, but... Geralt looked up.

"Johnny," he said. "You can come down now."

Up there, perched in a treetop, sat the reason why the smell had appeared familiar to him from the very beginning. He had just not been able to assign it to the little godling immediately. In fact, Geralt had not expected to see him again at all.

"I don't want to," resounded a pitched voice from above.

"I can imagine, but I'd rather you come down. My neck hurts from staring up."

"That's old age."

"I'm sure you know something about that," Geralt replied patiently. "Come down now. I want to ask you something."

Johnny grumbled, and he played coy for a few more seconds, but he seemed to realize that he would not escape the witcher just by hiding in the tree. So he climbed down the bark as nimbly as a squirrel, but when he reached the ground, he still kept some distance.

"Long time no see, witcher," he chirped, though also with a certain mistrust – which, in Geralt's opinion, he had good reason to feel.

"Johnny, you know it's dangerous for you to show yourself outside," Geralt began carefully.

The little one grimaced.

"I'm careful. Besides, sometimes it's pretty boring to just sit inside all the time."

"You promised to watch Corinne – and Sarah, didn't you?"

"And I do! Really!"

Now a genuine smile covered the godling's face, who outwardly and also in many traits almost resembled a child. The smile might have as much to do with his conspecific Sarah as with the sorceress who had taken them in. They could have lived a pleasant life in the wilderness, where they would not have had to hide all the time. But the godling's natural kindness had driven Sarah to return to Novigrad as if she felt a connection with the oneiromancer, and Johnny had gone along. It was certainly not a forever bond, but it seemed to work.

"I'm sure you do," Geralt replied, "But listen.... is it possible you paid me a visit last night?"

Johnny's big eyes had an innocent look.

"Maybe?"

"And did you maybe take something that doesn't belong to you?"

Johnny scratched his head.

"Well, that would depend on how you define property, I guess."

Geralt sighed.

"My ring, Johnny. Why did you steal my ring? And don't even try to deny it. I know you have it in your little pouch."

Involuntarily, the godling's gaze went to the slim bag he carried over his shoulder. There could hardly be a more apparent admission of guilt, and he noticed his mistake immediately.

"Oh, unfair," he complained. "You tricked me. That'll teach me to play with witchers again."

"This isn't a game, Johnny," Geralt said, now noticeably more severe. "Give the ring back."

"Oh, but I can't."

"Why not?"

"I need it."

"For what?" sighed Geralt.

"That's a secret," the godling quickly replied.

"Johnny..."

"No, no, I won't be fooled again!"

"I'm sure Corinne doesn't know anything about it. Right? Would she approve?"

"You're not going to rat me out, are you? That's not proper between friends."

Johnny was visibly indignant now.

"It's not proper between friends to steal from each other, either."

The godling sighed.

"Oh, fine. Suppose you don't rat me out! Promise!"

Geralt counted very slowly inwardly to ten before answering, albeit through clenched teeth.

"I promise. So?"

"Well, if you can give anything on a witcher's word of honor.... I'll try to summon Liuba."

Geralt stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Liuba, the goddess of love?"

Johnny nodded eagerly. Geralt narrowed his eyes.

"Listen, I have no idea how this works among you godlings, but if Sarah isn't interested in you in that way, summoning a tricky goddess certainly isn't the best approach..."

"Dumbass. It's not for me," Johnny interrupted him. "It's about Corinne. She's been pretty lonely since she started taking care of us. She doesn't go out much, and even though we've offered to leave, she says she doesn't want us to. As far as we know, there are hardly any mages left in town. It is reasonably safe, but most are suspicious. And Corinne believes that no one who doesn't understand her powers can love her."

"Did she say that?"

Johnny sighed theatrically.

"We're magical beings, witcher. She doesn't have to say anything."

"All right, but... Johnny, you and Sarah are already very rare. Gods are – well, in many cases, just myths. Things made up by humans who found winter too cold and dark. And even if Liuba does exist, she may not be the best choice. According to her legend, she more or less killed a woman who asked her for help. Which technically fulfilled the deal to reunite her with her beloved, who happened to die on the battlefield at the same time."

"Hogwash," the godling replied contemptuously. "I do believe that gods exist. And that they are nothing other than magical beings, just like us. You should understand that, even if your magic is a flyspeck compared to what I can do. That they are myths, yes, that is a merit of the humans, and that's good because otherwise, they would have probably wiped them all out. This way, they've just forgotten many of them."

Annoyed, Geralt blew a strand of hair out of his face.

"All right, let's not argue about the existence of gods. Why does my ring have to be the pledge to call her?"

"It must be a symbol of true love," Johnny said seriously.

"Surely there will be enough love to be found in Novigrad..."

"You don't understand! What do you think I have tried already? Garters, lockets with drawings in them, love letters.... None of it worked. This may be a big city, but true love is rarely found."

"You stole all that?"

The godling shrugged.

"And a lot of wedding rings," he admitted. "But yours is special. There's much stronger magic in that."

"There's no magic in it at all," Geralt objected.

Johnny chuckled.

"You have no idea. There is destiny in true love, and the two combined are a rarity. Your ring radiates that. No wonder you don't realize it. You can't do anything but light fires and make people look elsewhere when you don't like them."

"That's not quite what..."

"That's some magic you don't know a thing about," Johnny continued. "Why you, of all people, have a ring like that is beyond me. There are far more beautiful wedding rings; believe me, I've had enough in my hand. But I haven't seen one that had an engraving like that. Even the metal was chosen with care. Almost all the wedding rings I saw were gold; yours is not."

"But what makes you think you can conjure Liuba here in the wilderness, of all places?"

"Ha, my dear, research!"

Johnny tapped his nose, a strangely touching gesture, even if it was meant to express superiority.

"Corinne had picked up some books so we wouldn't be bored. I honestly believe, secretly, that she genuinely thinks we're like children because of our shape. Well, anyway, one of the books was about local legends in the area. It was not difficult to get to the right place. The book said that some lovers claimed to have seen Liuba there."

"Did the book also say that it was dangerous?" Geralt asked dryly.

"It said that only true love could summon her," the godling replied unaffected. "Otherwise, Liuba would punish the callers. That's why I need your ring, you see."

"Well, let's say I believe all that; what happens if you succeed in calling the goddess with this pledge?" asked Geralt.

"She will accept the gift and fulfill my wish: that Corinne meets the love of her life. You know, she wouldn't have to take care of us. We can do it quite well on our own. But Sarah thinks we make sure her powers don't turn against her. I guess all this dream magic isn't that much fun."

"I can't let that happen," Geralt said seriously.

"What, you don't begrudge Corinne finding someone she loves?" asked Johnny indignantly.

"This isn't about Corinne. You can't give my ring to some goddess. This is my wedding ring, Johnny. It's very important to me."

"Weren't you listening? That's also one reason why it'll be so valuable to Liuba."

"I get it," Geralt replied grimly. "But it's my ring, and you can't have it. You'll have to find something else."

"I told you, I've already tried."

"All right... I'll try. I'll get you a pledge of true love that's just as good."

Johnny grimaced.

"I don't think that's possible."

"You do believe that you can summon a goddess, and I don't think that will work, either with my ring or if we sacrifice a virgin."

"That's barbaric," Johnny said indignantly.

"That's why we're not doing it," Geralt returned irritably. "Listen, you know I could just take that ring off you. But I don't want to hurt you or your, well, religious feelings. So I'm going to help you and get you another love symbol. I'm convinced it doesn't even have to be magical."

"But..."

"You don't even know her legend," Geralt continued. "The woman who summoned Liuba paid with jewelry. Among them was possibly a love pledge, a gift, but that's only part of the ritual, isn't it?"

Johnny nodded slowly.

"Well, there are a few other things required as well, I've already obtained them all, wasn't exactly easy either."

"You mean you stole those too."

"How could I have bought them?" the godling replied innocently. "So, what's your plan?“

*//////{<>==================-

Geralt didn't believe for a second that Johnny would succeed in summoning a goddess - let alone that she was anything more than a legend. What he did believe, however, was that maybe something was there. The fact that the information in Johnny's book pointed explicitly to a particular location was hardly a coincidence. Also that the ritual was described in detail – although the special ingredient, namely the love pledge, was mentioned rather vaguely in the book, as he had gotten out of Johnny after some more inquiring. Geralt thought it possible that perhaps something really could be summoned at this point, but certainly not a goddess. A specter, perhaps, or a cursed being, a corgowrath, a Shishiga… whatever it was, he believed it to be rare and old, probably dangerous.

He asked the godling not to try to start the ritual without him but to prepare it so that they could start right away when Geralt returned. Meanwhile, he rode back to Novigrad, spending an outrageous amount of money on a small silver box decorated with tacky rose petals made of tiny, inexpensive gems. Then he spent considerable time unobtrusively looking around for a mage or sorceress. He could by no means go to Corinne with his request without betraying Johnny – which he didn't want to do because it was clear to him that the godling meant well. But as a being exceedingly connected with nature, he lacked the sense for many human characteristics, and he did not grasp the danger that could hide in such magical incantation. Furthermore, Geralt was aware that he would only get his ring back safely if he played at least partially by Johnny's rules. And in the end, it was always about playing with these creatures.

He found a mage who, even if they officially no longer had to hide, made a somewhat nervous impression. Geralt had the box covered with a spell that he had thought about for a while and was reasonably sure that Johnny wouldn't recognize what was actually behind it. This took a while, and the mage relaxed a bit, even admitting at the end that he still slept poorly, albeit the city was safe for his kind again. However, prejudices did not disappear from people's minds so quickly. Emhyr held back on the presence of soldiers in the city; it was still a sensitive topic in negotiations. Of the northern kingdoms, no one felt responsible either, which is why crime still flourished in Novigrad. Before leaving, Geralt recommended that the mage visit Corinne – just for safety. Briefly, the thought crossed his mind that he was traveling in the matter of love, after all. That was ridiculous, and besides, it was none of his business.

When he returned, Johnny had prepared the ritual. He had set up a circle in the clearing, made of half-burned candles and at least one unused one. In the middle of it, he had placed a pile of gifts, mainly jewelry and love letters, all stolen like the candles – like Geralt's ring, but it was not among the other stuff. The godling noticed Geralt's look and defended himself by saying that all of this was only for security, to strengthen the spell.

"I really don't think that's going to work," Geralt said, "not even with this."

He held up the silver box.

"For someone who possesses such a mighty token of love, you're surprisingly doubtful of its power," Johnny remarked pointedly.

"Maybe, but I'm a reformed skeptic when it comes to love."

Johnny shook his head.

"So, what did you bring?"

"In this box," Geralt claimed dramatically, "I had one of my memories magically locked away."

"What?"

"A memory of a loving moment."

"Memories are powerful," Johnny mused. "I just hope it's nothing objectionable?"

Geralt shrugged.

"Love has many facets. Ultimately, it's up to your goddess to decide, isn't it?"

The godling still looked a little indecisive, but finally, he nodded.

"All right, I'll tell you how we do it," Geralt continued.

"But I've read the book, I know..."

"Well, you can do it as the book says. But as soon as the time comes when the box is needed, you give me back the ring. At that exact moment, you hear?"

Johnny tilted his head.

"That's not stupid," he said appreciatively. "You think if your little box isn't strong enough, after all, Liuba will be attracted to the power of the ring. In the end, the memory in your little box might still be enough for her. Clever."

"Exactly," Geralt lied without batting an eye.

"That way, you can keep the ring, and I can still talk to her.... it's just a little bit of cheating. I like it," Johnny said. "Let's get started."

So they began. Geralt lit the candles in the order Johnny solemnly told him to. He had even stolen a flint, which Geralt thought was almost more dangerous than anything else he had done. Then began a litany of mumbled words, a strange mixture of elder speech and some gibberish. Maybe some swear words, who could tell for sure.

At some point, the godling reached into his little bag, and at last, Geralt saw his ring again. The sight of it stung him a little. Perhaps it was indeed strange how attached he was to this object. Still, he did not regard the ring as a mere object.

"It's time," Johnny whispered, his face a single mask of concentration, his big eyes half-closed.

Geralt held out his hand with the box. The atmosphere was strange. Evening had fallen on the small clearing; the light had given way to a pale gray, at the edge of which still hung the last pink of the setting sun. The birds' singing from the forest had stopped; not even the woodpecker, which had been hammering on some trees almost all day, could still be heard. Actually, all sounds had fallen silent, even that of small animals in the undergrowth. Although a gentle breeze was blowing, not even a rustle could be heard.

That was strange, but even stranger was that the air, which had been pure and clear all day, seemed to condense. Johnny had insisted that Geralt put down the swords, but he had placed them on the floor not too far from him and was now glancing at them. If any specter was indeed going to show itself, he had to be quick. The silver sword was prepared in case, but since he didn't know what he was up against, he had to decide on a possible potion at the last second. And he had to get Johnny to safety somehow.

"Now," Geralt hissed as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

Promptly, he held out the box to Johnny. The latter’s eyes seemed even bigger than usual, and a delighted smile now appeared on his face. He took the box and gave the ring to Geralt, who immediately put it on his finger. At the same moment, a strange glow seemed to fill the air. Geralt stood waiting at the edge of the candle circle, his knees slightly bent, ready to make a daring leap towards the swords. It seemed to grow darker around them, while a bright spot of light remained in the center of the circle. The air crackled. Suddenly Johnny chuckled and lowered his eyes in a shy gesture. Geralt stared over at him, frowning.

"What's going on?"

The godling did not answer. He seemed not to perceive Geralt at all. Then he nodded and began to speak incoherently.

"That's right," he said, and "What mage?"

He chuckled again. Then he pointed to Geralt.

"No, he has no idea," he said.

The witcher wondered if Johnny had gone mad. Nothing was there. It seemed as if an apparition was about to materialize, but at the same time, as if something prevented it from doing so. Johnny spoke to the air. Geralt thought carefully. What creature could manage to make itself entirely invisible for a witcher, not even causing the medallion to vibrate? It was also strange that the changed atmosphere had nothing dangerous about it at all. Nevertheless, he thought it impossible that Johnny was talking to a love goddess right now – or that she would show herself to the godling, of all people, who had nothing to offer but a handful of jewelry and a small box covered with a strong but rather silly spell. This only confirmed his suspicion that it was not about a love pledge at all. Geralt took a quick look at his ring. The engraved flame on it seemed to glow red. He ran the index finger of his left hand over it. It was all in his imagination; there was nothing at all.

Just at that moment, the strange sensation hovering over the surroundings disappeared, and suddenly, the birds began to sing again. The light was back as before. Everything was exactly as before, just as if nothing had ever happened – only the candles had all gone out.

"What was that just now?" Geralt addressed the godling.

Johnny looked at him innocently, the box still in his hand.

"Look, she didn't take it at all. Nor any of the other stuff. She said she'd do it for free for me. You got all worked up over your ring for nothing!"

"Better safe than sorry," Geralt grumbled, "What did she say, your goddess?"

He sounded so skeptical that Johnny burst out laughing.

"You don't believe it even now, do you? I suppose you didn't see anything? Well, these gods play by their own rules, my dear. She said Corinne's already been taken care of. I don't know what that means, but I think Sarah and I won't have to worry about her anytime soon."

"I see," Geralt replied. He couldn't think of any other answer. He made a mental note to ask Dandelion to check on Corinne occasionally. While he didn't actually believe Johnny had been talking to a goddess, as long as he didn't know what he was dealing with, he preferred to play it safe. If there was some spectral being around, someone would have to take care of it sooner or later.

*//////{<>==================-

"You're late."

Emhyr, engrossed in papers in his study as usual at this hour, did not precisely toss aside his quill at the sight of Geralt, but he leaned back, regarding his spouse intently.

"Late?" asked Geralt, after closing the door and making sure they were indeed alone (occasionally, there were minions in the alcoves, scurrying out at a hint). Only then did he casually stroll around the table to pick up the kiss he thought he richly deserved. He got it, and it felt like he had actually been gone too long. The fact that he then sat down on the desk, however, earned him a disapproving look.

"You're crumpling important documents. All I’m saying is that, according to my information, you had already arrived in Novigrad about a week ago. Usually, you stay a day or two, then you head back."

"You sent your spies after me?"

"Certainly not."

"So you have spies in Novigrad?"

"Don't act surprised," Emhyr returned. "With your penchant for dubious adventures, you can't blame me for occasionally liking to know where you hang out."

"Dubious... pah."

Geralt grinned cockily.

"Then why didn't your spies tell you where I was if you think I should have been back by now?"

Emhyr didn't bat an eye, but at least he had to admit, "I'm afraid they... lost sight of you at some point."

"Well, maybe I just don't let myself be watched on my dubious adventures," Geralt countered. "I'll tell you about it sometime; however, right now, I want to get rid of the dust from the journey. Just this much: I was traveling in matters of love."

Emhyr folded his arms, raising his brows.

"Is this going to be some weird attempt to make me jealous?"

"Oh, would that work?"

"Sure, though it would be high treason."

"High treason?"

"Of course," Emhyr replied calmly, "betraying the Emperor is high treason."

"In that case," Geralt said, "it's a good thing your spies didn't get me."

He wiped away Emhyr's now slightly confused expression with another kiss. Before closing his eyes, he took one last look at his ring.

This story was probably better left a secret after all.

#writing #fanfiction #Emhyr/Geralt #Emralt #Witcher 3

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thirsty-x1 · 4 years

Text

midnight meal | Han Seungwoo

Request:

Maybe you can write about Seungwoo being reunited with his gf after a world tour🥺 and that it will be pure fluff because sometimes you need a Uwu instead of a sin - ⚛️ anon

↬ Pairing: Seungwoo x gn!reader.

↬ Genre: Fluff.

↬ Warnings: none.

↬ Word Count: 2.4k

↬ Song Recommendation: "midnight meal" by Crucial Star. Please check it out! All of his songs are extremely wonderful and the lyrics are top tier uwu.

It had grown to be a usual thing you both did now. You knew you were going to see him later on, but the anxiety would tickle the tip of your fingers each time he came back, and this time it wasn’t for less: Seungwoo had gone on a worldwide tour, being away from you for months that ended up becoming much longer than just one eternity.

The airport was filled with quite a lot of people, the fans aiming their cameras at the seven boys entering the doors. The group had gained a lot of attention in the past year, and even if you were happy about it, there was no use in denying that you miss him like crazy each time he is away or that he is busy preparing for promotions.

One particular scream of his name suddenly caught your attention and brought you back to reality, noticing a tall boy smiling sweetly at the fans, his eyes focusing on you just for a second before continuing to greet the rest of the people there and you wondered if he had recognized you despite the mask covering your face. The flashes were almost blinding, making it hard for them to see clearly, but even then you could notice that your boyfriend would try to steal glances to you, your heart warming up as you took the subtle gesture as his way to say “yes, I see you”.

Although you didn’t want to, you decided to start walking towards the exit, knowing that it would be too messy to go later and it might lift suspicion if you left at the same time as they did. You drove the car, your eyes constantly checking the mirrors as if to confirm that no one had noticed anything weird with you and as usual, there was nothing to be seen other than the lights of other cars.

Almost an hour later, you were curled up in front of the TV, not paying any attention to the movie playing as you scrolled down your phone’s screen, liking the pictures of the recent event where you had gone, appreciating the previews where you could see Seungwoo’s crescent-like eyes whenever he smiled kindly at the fans. It was genuine, you knew, and in order to be able to see that smile more often, you began your usual late night labor: clearing the searches. Even if many loved the group, there was quite another bunch that didn’t and another that didn’t particularly like your boyfriend, and did they work hard in making it noticeable. Somehow, it became a routine: every night before you fell asleep, you would use the fake fan account you had created to read the rumors, rarely ever replying and instead reporting the accounts that spread them.

The message popping up at the top of the screen distracted you and calmed you down, easing the knot in your throat while tightening it at the same time. You got up, fixing your hair and your outfit a bit before listening to the small knock on your door, almost running to it and opening it a bit to see the familiar figure. Seungwoo was there, although his eyes were fixed on the sides of the corridor to make sure that no one was around, but as soon as you poked his chest, his attention was on you again.

“Can I come in?” His head tilted to a side, hair covering his eyes but could sense his smile behind the mask covering half his face.

You opened the door a bit more, sighing and tapping your chin with one finger in thought. “Hmm, I’m not sure… my boyfriend always says to not let strangers in.”

He snorted a bit, lowering his mask only to wrap his arms around your waist and picking you up in a swift movement while closing the door behind him as he pressed his lips against you. It was a sweet, brief second, but enough to have you completely melted. When he was about to pull away, you held him tighter, and now it was Seungwoo’s turn to feel the way his cheeks blushed at the simple action.

Of course he was grateful to have the opportunity to take his music to an international level, but being right there between your arms brought him the same feeling of satisfaction and happiness as performing on the stage. It made him feel good to know that you had missed him just as much as he had missed you, there was no need for him to hear that from your mouth, he simply knew: the way your breath felt shaky as he hugged you, how you buried your face on his chest, the tiny sob you let out when he stroked your head, it all showed just how much you loved him.

The magical moment was broken by Seungwoo’s stomach grumbling, the unexpected sound making both of you laugh and interrupt the tears that threatened to fall down your faces.

“Should we order some food?”

You nodded at his proposal, quickly dialing the number and five minutes later, Seungwoo was telling you all about the tour while waiting for the delivery to get there, cuddling with you on the sofa. From the experience in the hotels to how the boys behaved and he had to take care of each single thing, to the day that they were reprimanded because of the screaming (caused by him) or about how he had managed to write a song in just one day, or the sleepless nights he spent working without a break, or how he almost fell during a performance or how insecure he felt when his voice cracked during a practice. He wasn’t really the type to speak a lot, he himself had acknowledged it multiple times in the past, but when it came to you… it seemed as if he felt the need to vent out about every single detail, and you loved it. Seungwoo noticed when he spoke too much, some kind of inner switch advising him to shut up once and for all, but each time he searched for any sign of you being tired or uncomfortable on your face, he didn’t find any. Maybe that was the reason; he never felt like you didn’t want to listen to him, your eyes always fixed on his, reacting to each of his stories accordingly and encouraging him to keep telling you. It made him feel comfortable, and since he was used to being the lending ear, it was soothing for him to be able to do the same with someone else, especially if that someone was his partner.

Right as he was approaching to the end of the narration, you received a message notifying that the food had arrived. Seungwoo offered to go and pick it up by instinct, and it was necessary that you reminded him he couldn’t be seen now, his ears blushing a bit when he realized his silly mistake making him adorable as you leaned in and kissed his cheek. When you got back with the food, he had already brought everything that was necessary to the coffee table, the gesture making it feel as if he had never left.

While you two eat on the snacks after finishing dinner, you choose a movie, Seungwoo saying he’s incredibly full and thinking to his insides of how much he will have to work out in order to lose all that, but he couldn’t really give much thought about it. His attention switched to you, to the slightly noticeable bags under your eyes despite your efforts to cover them, to the way your face looked slimmer and how you felt a bit thinner between his arms, a small sense of worry starting to form in his heart. All of his suspicions were cleared when he saw the screen of your phone showing the searches while you were trying to show him some of the pictures his fan sites had taken earlier.

Seungwoo tried to not say anything about it, preferring to just try and work harder so that you would not have to worry about that kind of things. It wasn’t something he had never heard off, actually; almost on a daily basis he would scroll past news and comments with his name, and although it did hurt him and annoyed him to some extent, seeing his fans defending him and doing their best in order for him to not suffer gave him an infinite source of strength. However, as much as he appreciated, he couldn’t bare seeing you in this state and imagining that it must be the same one as his fans…

“You shouldn’t do that.” The clueless look you gave him was enough for him to understand he should elaborate a bit more. “You haven’t been resting enough reading at that kind of things...”

A nervous laugh was all you let out. “It’s not that big of a deal, I still take care of myself.”

“There is no need to protect me like this.” It was abrupt, cutting you off all of a sudden. “I mean, I know you are doing it for me but… we shouldn’t pay attention to them at all.”

The knot in your throat came back seeing the change in your boyfriend’s attitude. “Yes… yes, you’re right… they do have very shitty arguments, anyway.”

His throaty laugh vibrated against your back and you proceeded to discuss some of the silly things you two had read out there, making fun of them and trying to turn a negative situation into a more positive one. While staring at the pictures, a comment you read recently came to your mind.

“Why are you always covering your face during lives? Fans have been a little bit sad about it…”

Seungwoo scratched the back of his neck. “I’m still not super confident without make up on… my skin…”

Sighing, you got up, ignoring his questions as you went to search some creams and filled a bowl with warm water. Once everything was settled up, you sat on the floor, patting on your crossed legs and he smiled slightly, resting his head on top of them as you started to clean his face. He wasn’t too fond of taking care of his skin, so you had done this for him a few times before, massaging his skin while also falling in love with his facial gestures.

“You are beautiful.” His eyes looked up and met with yours, blushing a bit when he processed your words. “Everything about you is beautiful, and fans think the same way, so you shouldn’t worry about that. With or without make up, you are still my gorgeous Han Seungwoo.”

It was obvious he was trying hard not to cringe while also squirming at your words, but it was necessary and even if he acted like that now, he would later remember those words and get all fuzzy. Seungwoo knew it as well, maybe that was the reason why he tried to avoid you complimenting him so much, because he would smile like a dummy out of nowhere and the members would tease him about it forever.

You continued with the routine not without placing a small kiss on the top of his nose, but Seungwoo couldn’t manage to not look at you, the angle resulting funny to him but also feeling tingly on the inside that someone took so much care of him. Moments like these were the ones he missed the most; simple, daily things were what he reminded the most when he was alone or when he couldn’t see you, and it was more than enough for him to be filled with happiness. In a certain way, he hoped you felt the same way in his presence, although you would text him pretty often about the times when you suddenly thought of him.

Last time you had checked your phone, not much had happened, but now it seemed like four hours had flew by without any of you noticing. It was pretty late, and you knew he would have to go soon, otherwise his manger would end up locking him outside the dorms… but if that meant he could stay with you for the night, then it might be worth it, at least for you.

Seungwoo was starting to get ready, quickly grabbing his coat and getting ready when you held his hand tightly.

“Do you really have to go?” He gave you a sad look, but before he replied, you added: “It has been a very, very long time since you stayed… I will personally call your manager and ask for permission, can I?”

How could he say no when he wanted the same thing? And he was aware that his schedule didn’t have anything important the next day or at least, not happening early, and his manager wouldn’t be able to resist your cuteness. It was a technique that had worked in the past, and it had been quite long since the last time you had tried it, so…

It worked. Of course it would work, and now Seungwoo was giggling next to you, struggling to get the blanket to cover his feet as you two snuggled in the almost small bed. His body was curled up right next to yours, holding you close while muttering a few “thank you”s in your ear, and even if you had put all of your effort into it, you couldn’t help but to feel drowsy at his warmth surrounding you. It was the first time in months where you didn’t have to worry about maintaining yourself awake waiting for his good night message, and feeling safe and sound.

“You can sleep, love… I’m quite tired too, so don’t worry about it…” A yawn interrupted his comforting and you smiled.

“I don’t think I can without a lullaby.”

He laughed tiredly, proceeding to sing, but after a few minutes his voice dropped to a slight murmur before you could hear a soft snore. You were getting sleepy too, a wave of calm washing over you as you could felt Seungwoo hugging you tightly while burying his face on the crook of your neck, placing a small kiss that sent shivers down your spine before going back to sleep, dragging you along with him into it.

yes, my shots always finish with everyone sleeping because that’s what true love looks like and also this is super messy and didn’t know how to finish it but I hope it doesn’t suck too much

~Nani

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theotherackerman · 3 years

Text

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

NOTES: January 3rd, Sunday

song credit:exile- taylor swift featuring bon iver,

chapter seven: you were my crown

Hange knew Levi when they were both in high school together. He had a reputation of being a bit of a badass and someone you didn’t get onto the wrong side of. Hange wasn’t afraid of him though. They would often sit next to him in class. Others would just stare at Hange but they paid no mind.

Hange lost track of Levi after high school.

Hange had gone off to college to pursue their one true love of science. They had heard that Levi had been arrested again and then a little while later, that Levi was going into the service. Mutual friends seemed to be proud of Levi, so Hange was proud too.

For Christmas one year, the group got together and made a care package for Levi. Hange included a few small, silly books they had picked up and some tea they had found.

Hange found a letter in the mailbox one day.

Hange,

Thanks.

How’s whatever you're studying? Quantum physics or whatever? Let me know if you discover the answers to the universe.

-Levi

PS : Send more tea.

That’s how it began. They wrote letters back and forth, Hange sending Levi tea and whatever little, stupid things that reminded them of him.

Then the incident happened.

Levi came back different.

He seemed colder, withdrawn.

Hange didn’t know how to react.

So instead they acted like Levi was the same person that they had been writing all this time.

Instead of sending condolences or gift baskets, Hange just regularly delivered tea to Levi.

They would just show up, say hello, hand Levi loose leaf tea in a pretty box, and leave.

“Tell her to bring me some bourbon next time!” Kenny had yelled from inside the house.

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose, “Kenny, please shut up. Do you want to come in?”

“Sure,” Hange smiled.

It was the beginning of their weekly tea meetings.

Then Mikasa came along.

Their weekly tea meetings continued but it sometimes was joined by a nine year and her toys.

Levi had grumbled and pretended to hate it but Hange knew the truth.

It had been no surprise to Hange how Levi had pretended to hate the fact he had all of the kids moving back in. They were all still kids to both Hange and Levi.

Hange knew Levi was happy to have everyone back. They had seen how sad he had been when Mikasa had left. The silence that had overtaken the house. That had been the point of the dogs, to liven up an otherwise quiet house.

Hange had found Sawney and Bean at an animal shelter. They had a sad story attached to them about how they had just been left in a box. Hange couldn’t bear to separate them, so two dogs came home with Hange to be Levi’s late Christmas gift.

Now Sawney and Bean sat in chairs at the kitchen table on both sides of Levi who was feeding them bacon and eggs.

Sasha had been the one to prepare breakfast as she always woke up first.

A groggy Ymir had appeared next who immediately went straight to the coffee machine.

Historia and Mikasa followed a few moments later.

“You’re going to make it too strong again and no one but you will drink it,” Historia said as she t ried to push Ymir out of the way.

“You and Mika make it too weak!” Ymir countered standing her ground in front of the coffee machine.

Levi sighed before he got up, “move.”

And Ymir and Historia did.

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

“Did you ever text him back?” Ymir asked long after Jean and Connie had left.

“Not yet,” Mikasa answered before she shuffled her music around.

They were back in the sunroom to continue work on their music, even without a record deal.

“Do it quick like a Band-Aid! Just be like ‘Eren, you’re an ass but I like your ass. Thanks for complimenting my writing abilities. You are correct, you will never be able to live up to my creative genius,” Sasha laughed.

“That is the worst response I’ve ever heard. Do text Niccolo shit like that?” Ymir asked Sasha as she plugged in her bass to the amp.

“Nah, it was more like ‘Hey, I hear you can bang the drums pretty well do you think you can bang me like those drums?’”

“I take it back. That’s actually the worst. Is he even your boyfriend yet?”

“No, I haven’t even kissed him. He’s more like….I dunno. This guy I text and then when I see him, I turn into a potato.”

Historia was the first to notice Mikasa being uncomfortable. It was another reminder that Mikasa was alone. So Historia plopped down next to her on the piano bench in front of the keyboard.

“You know I would like to work on this song Mikasa and I have been working on instead of hearing about Sasha sexting Niccolo, “ Historia said as she pulled out her own music.

“I second that,” Annie said as she sat on the other side of Mikasa with her guitar.

“I third it!” Armin yelled from the living room.

There were barks from Sawney and Bean.

“Ya’ll suck but fine,” Sasha said before going over to her drum set.

“So it’s a duet, right? You said that when you sent the lyrics over,” Historia asked.

Mikasa nodded, “Yeah. I already worked with Ymir on the first part. So it’s Annie’s vocalization here. Then it goes to you, Historia. Do you just want to take it from the vocalizations?”

“I can do that,” Annie said as Mikasa began to play the piano. “ Hoo, hoo-ooh. Hoo, hoo-ooh. Hoo,hoo-ooh ,” Annie sang before Historia took over.

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright]”

Ymir was staring at Historia, their past was clearly on display here. Ymir had jealousy issues, something that she would never deny. How many fights had she purposely picked against Reiner to prove she was the better choice?

“ And then this chorus is just you,” Mikasa pointed out before playing the next part of the song.

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],”

Historia had been the one to move out for a very brief few days when they had broken up. Even though it was her father’s house, she had let Ymir stay.

“And then it goes back to Ymir, then it’s like a call and response. Do you want to just try it or you want me to show you?”

Ymir moved so she could look over Mikasa’s shoulder.

“Let’s just try it,” Ymir answered. Mikasa nodded before she began to play again. “[lyrics redacted due to copyright]”

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],” ” Historia sang.

For some reason, that made Ymir feel like she was being attacked by Historia. She did hear her out.

It was Historia not hearing Ymir out that was the problem.

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],”

Historia never gave Ymir a warning sign? Well, Ymir clearly hadn’t been paying attention. How many times she made it clear that she had feelings for Ymir and the other girl had just brushed it off as a joke? How many more signs did Ymir need?

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],”

“And this is together,” Mikasa called out.

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],” Ymir and Historia harmonized.

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],” Historia sang by herself.

“And the next chorus together!” Mikasa called out again.

“[lyrics redacted due to copyright],” Historia and Ymir sang in harmony.

Mikasa stopped playing, pulling both Historia and Ymir from their own thoughts. Mikasa was crying as were Annie and Sasha.

“Stop fighting with each other,” Mikasa finally spoke. “Please. Let the past be buried. You both fucked up. Now let it go. Don’t end up like me, please.”

Ymir swallowed, when had she started crying? Damn Mikasa and her mind reading abilities.

How had Mikasa been able to put what exactly Historia and her had been feeling this whole time?

“The rest of the song is just back to things we’ve already covered,” Mikasa said quietly.

“Okay,” Historia answered.

“I don’t think I don’t think I should sing on it. I think that needs to be Ymir,” Annie suggested.

“I agree, I don’t think I should add percussion to it. I think it just needs to be Ymir, Historia, and you, Mika. Just two vocalists and the piano,” Sasha added.

“I agree. It already gives me goosebumps this way. This is the way it should stay.”

“I mean if you really think that and it’s okay with Ymir and Historia…..” Mikasa looked to the other two girls for answers.

“Whatever you think is best,” Historia said before standing up. “We’re all a part of this band equally.”

“Okay, that settles it. Whenever we can record, this is Ymir and Historia on vocals and Mikasa on piano. Mikasa, put your hands on the piano like you’re playing. I’ll post it on No Name’s Instagram. I’m going to beat this algorithm if it is the last thing I do,” Annie said as she stood up to take the picture.

“If anyone can beat an algorithm, it is math genius Annie!” Sasha called out as she stood up from the drums.

Ymir and Historia seem to wander together.

“You want to grab coffee one day this week? I don’t have much money so I can’t take you to dinner but we could talk. Just the two of us?” Ymir asked.

Historia just stared up at Ymir for a moment before nodding. “I’d like that.”

“Cool,” Ymir said as her face went red. She was so bad at this but at least this was a start.

“I need a puppy break, that song was depressing,” Sasha said as she exited the sun room.

The rest of the band followed.

“That was great,” Armin said as the girls entered the living room.

“You’ve come a long way. I’m very proud of you,” Hange beamed.

Levi had a book covering his face but they could see him nodding before Hange snatched the book out of in front of his face. There were tears clearly there.

“Are you crying, Levi?” Ymir asked, absolutely dumbstruck.

“No, I got dog hair in my eye.”

No one dared argue with that.

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

Eren didn’t know what was worse some days.

The crippling depression that made it hard to do absolutely anything or the mania that made him feel like he could do anything.

With a combination of therapy and medication, he was starting to stabilize. He found that his writing had actually got better now. He didn’t feel less creative as he had feared. His therapist was proud of him, he was proud of himself.

Being back in the old house had brought back many feelings. The pictures of him, Mikasa, and Armin still lined the walls in his bedroom. He hadn’t packed his old bedroom up.

Zeke had patients to see today so Eren was alone. It didn’t mean that he was truly alone though.

His phone would go off with texts from Zeke, Floch, and Niccolo. Eren had decided to write a new song as a response to Mikasa’s.

PING!

Zeke Jaeger:

Stop focusing on the song and eat something. Balance.

Eren Jaeger:

You sound like my shrink.

Zeke Jaeger:

Maybe it is because I'm a psychologist. Eat something and drink some water.

Eren Jaeger:

Fine. You sound like my mom.

Zeke Jaeger:

Someone has to.

So Eren ate lunch.

He didn’t dare think about the fact Mikasa hadn’t texted him back.

Well that was a lie.

He had thought about it a couple times. Okay, more than a couple times, if he was being honest. He knew he shouldn’t expect her to respond. She owed him nothing. He was the one who had lashed out, allowing his fears to take control of him. He worried far too much on events that had yet to come without realizing what he was trying to avoid, he caused. He had brought pain to Mikasa and Armin.

Yet even after that, here was Mikasa giving him another chance to talk. She wanted him to tell her everything.

He told himself that he had done the right thing, that she was better off without him when it first happened. Yet there was a part of him that wanted to be selfish, even back then.

PING!

Mikasa Ackerman:

Thanks. Are you free tomorrow? I think we should talk if you are.

Eren stared at his phone for a moment.

She wanted to talk.

Tomorrow.

Many of his drunken antics had included crying over Mikasa and what he had put her through.

As Zeke had reminded him many times, Eren had spent one drunken night crying over the fact that Eren had given her sunflowers on her birthday. It had been mostly about how he should have given her flowers more.

Zeke being Zeke just let Eren sit on the floor and cry.

There was no reasoning with drunk Eren.

It took a lot to get Eren drunk but when he did, it was bad.

But he had stopped drinking.

He looked at his phone again.

What should he say?

He needed advice but Zeke had patients.

Niccolo would tell him just to say yes already.

Floch….Floch would say some stupid response which wouldn’t be useful.

Reiner would listen to Eren but he was at work.

Bertolt would have picked up but he would have told Eren he had no idea what to do.

Porco would pretend he didn’t know who Eren was while Marcel would give Eren some sappy crap.

Pieck would….he actually wasn’t sure what Pieck would do.

But the problem was outside of Reiner and Bertolt, none of them were truly Eren’s friends.

Well, Niccolo was his friend. He’d made that much clear.

And Floch was more like...well...he was Floch. He wasn’t someone Eren talked to about his personal life.

But the others, they only talked to him because he was Zeke’s little brother or that’s at least what Eren felt. He wasn’t sure if that was true or not.

Eren hadn’t talked to his friends in almost a year.

He hadn’t kept in contact with them.

He had figured most of them would have taken Mikasa and Armin’s side anyway.

He missed them though, especially right now.

He had fucked up.

In more than one way.

His phone rang.

Zeke.

“Did you burn the house down?” Zeke asked on the other line.

“No, why?”

“Because you need to eat. That requires cooking, if you were unaware.”

“Don’t you have a patient?”

“Well, I did until he got food poisoning. “

“Are you allowed to tell me that?”

“He threw up outside of the building. He was in public. Besides, I did not tell you who he was.”

“Mikasa wants to meet again to talk tomorrow.”

“And?”

“And what? I just told you.”

“What are you going to do not to fuck things up this time?”

“Do you realize I have no friends, right? It’s just you and yours.”

“And who is to blame for that?”

“Me,” Eren sighed.

“Exactly. Now, the love of your life is giving you a second chance, I suggest you take it.”

“You and Armin….always so logical.”

“Someone has to be. You are not. You make things much harder on yourself than they need to be.”

“What would you do?”

“About what?”

“If you had someone like Mikasa.”

“I would have not made the same mistake you did to start but I think I would do anything to have that person back. Grovel, beg, cry. Whatever it took, I would do it. A love like that is rare, you know.”

“Did you feel that way about Yelena?”

Zeke started laughing very loudly. “Fuck, no, I did not. Never. I have seen it several times but I have yet to experience it myself. But I am happy right now. I have you, I have Pieck. Romantic love is not something I need right now. You, on the other hand, think you just have me which is completely wrong. You do not have to like yourself to let others love you, Eren. I hate that stupid fucking saying of someone else cannot love you unless you love yourself. That is complete bullshit. I have seen more people who hate themselves while their partner loves them more than anything. Fucking internet self help books.”

“You had me and then you lost me.”

Zeke sighed, “you are a fucking idiot but you still have friends who love you. You still have a girl who would take on the world for you. So stop being a fucking idiot and talk to her. Get your friends back. Get your life back. Do something.”

Eren sighed.

He knew Zeke was right.

“And have you eaten something?” Zeke asked.

“Yes, I had lunch.”

“And you did not burn the house down? I am proud of you.”

“Don’t you have patients?”

“Food poisoning, remember?”

“All of them?”

“No, I already had my morning appointments. I only had one this afternoon.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Be there in an hour.”

“Fine….”

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

Mikasa watched as Hange tried the training exercises for Sawney and Bean.

PING!

Eren Jaeger:

Yeah, we should meet up. Zeke is going to move some stuff tomorrow. 4:00 pm sound good?

Mikasa Ackerman:

Okay. I’ll see you then.

Eren Jaeger:

I’ll be here.

#mmtylif #my writing

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phantasmalduelist · 3 years

Photo

☄️ LISTEN HERE☄️

A playlist for my outer space group of characters that have arrived in Tyria!!! I hope you enjoy <3! Below is a little story and the direct links.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

THE FIRST HYMN: XVI THE TOWER º XI JUSTICE

1. Adyta (The Neverending Embrace) by Epica

T'was an eternity ago that terrible deeds were said and done.

Underneath her feet blood soaked her shadow.

The corpses piled up, her sharp gaze set on a goal shrouded by blinding light.

A trail of red followed her serpentine whispers relentlessly.

In distant galaxies, civilizations were eradicated, and fear withered the brightest of stars.

Quite the twisted fate in a starlit forest of a long lost goddess.

Silver branches turned dark, a cult of midnight’s touch.

People believed it impossible to stop such a malady in the making.

Until they rose, one by the name of Zaturnu, alongside the Archangel Val Ima Astre.

A hex so divine was conjured by the hands of the Seraphim.

Never lose sight, their lyrical voices sung.

A hunt so bloody was imprinted by the hands of the Astrals.

Dare to hope, their cosmic voices howled.

She would kill every single one of her kin.

Pay for every soul taken.

No matter how close the sun could be, the thoughts would still creep in.

Silent, between the cracks of doubt and sin.

Memories held together by regret and tragedy, pulled outside by the lullaby of the darkest twilight.

Redemption or death.

There was no respite for her at the beginning of this story.

Because in space it was always dark.

How she hated the night.

Seeker Camélia Nightingale, the Terror of Xhersgla, the Consumer of Galaxies, Blighted Nightingale, Serpent of Taleia'Mar, daughter of the last Void Blessed Empress.

On her knees.

“How I hate the night.”

2. How I Hate the Night by Ignea

Now the world has gone to bed Darkness won’t engulf my head I can see by infrared How I hate the night

3. The Watcher by Xandria

For centuries I’ve wandered here Across the ashes of mankind The blood been spilled, the hopes deceived There is no water turned to wine A golden age, a woven maze Of stolen strings and fake bliss

4. The Hex by Dark Sarah

Until the night, until the night Until the night we wait and hide Within our hearts the hex is justified

5. Chrysalis - The Last Breath by Delain

How do you feel? I don’t How do you know You won’t To let go of you I will fight Until my last breath

6. Chemical Redemption by Delain

It is physical This redemption of mine It is chemical It it it, it is physical

⭐️⭐️⭐️

THE SECOND HYMN: XIII DEATH º XXI THE WORLD

7. A Place in the Stars by David Chappell

“I think…” Camélia swallowed hard. “I think I still loved them. Despite all the terrible things they had done. That I had done with them.”

“That makes sense. They were close to you,” Althea said.

“How does it!? It just means nothing changed.” Camélia began pacing around. Her nerves growing ever on the edge.

“You wouldn’t say that if you hadn’t changed. Don’t be silly,” Yassa’Luza said.

“It’s still selfish.” She gritted her fangs. A pain so furious. Droplets of blood appeared at the corners of her mouth.

“It’s ok to be a little selfish,” the Starlight Queen gently whispered. “Just this one time. Just this once.”

Soft hands on her back, reminding her of a home she never had.

“Be free. I am already dead.” A voice she had forgotten echoed in her mind.

“Mother.”

The lonely serpent no longer slumbered, mesmerized by the past.

No hex could contain a soul that would not cooperate.

All but a turning point, a moment in time.

She finally opened her eyes to see where she had arrived:

Yassa’Luza. Althea Alma. The Starlight Queen. Zaturnu. Val Ima Astre.

From the fog of destruction a storm grew, electric and charged, wishing to finally live.

“You are not alone anymore,” said Zaturnu.

A tempest’s gaze into the far horizon

“Till death do us apart,” said Val Ima Astre.

And so the lights dimmed down. Died in the vastness of space.

Oh, creature of the night, how could you hate your own reflection.

Dusk runs in your veins.

8. Bury You by Seven Spires

I will bury you among the stars That litter the skies of my heart Next to the moon that you placed in its folds So lovingly, so long ago

9. Creatures by Delain

You fall, You fight My creature of the night You try, You stall You’re forced to give it all But when it’s your back against the wall, Who’s going to catch you when you fall?

10. Nights Are Cold by Anna Mirani

Feelin’ so small and the nights were cold Our time has come So I want to let it go Just go!

11. Turn the Lights Out by Delain

And I will turn the lights out Turn the lights out Turn the lights out And lock this wicked world behind me

12. We Bring You the Stars by Metalite

We bring you the stars, we bring you the light We’ll take you for a never ending ride We’ll show you a place you’ve never seen For everyone to be We bring you the stars We’re going there together, side by side As the darkness surrounds us tonight It’s time to reunite

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #playlist #my writing #tempest's gaze

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padfootagain · 4 years

Text

Girl Crush (XVIII)

Chapter 18: Under The Mistletoe

Here we go for another chapter!!! Lots of fluff!! Lots and lots of mutual pinning and both of them being oblivious idiots… Cute chapter all in all.

A little disclaimer, as I've used some of Harry's lyrics in the dialogue, to include his songs more in the story and how he got these lyrics. So these are not my words, obviously. I'm sure you'll spot them easily.

I hope you like this chapter!! And I'l see you in 48 hours for the next one :)

Word Count : 5059

"LAST CHRISTMAS I GAVE YOU MY HEART!"

"BUT THE VERY NEXT DAY!"

"YOU GAVE IT AWAY!"

"THIIIIIIS YEEEEEEAAARR!"

"TO SAVE ME FROM TEAAAAAAARS!!!"

"I'LL GIVE IT TO SOMEOOOOOOONE SPECIAAAAAL!!!"

You were singing at the top of your lungs in Harry's car, during the drive from London to Holmes Chapel where you would spend New Year's Eve.

It was a little strange to you to go to stay at Harry's mum for the holidays, but it was apparently not that surprising, and happened quite often with his friends. You heard that Sarah and Mitch would be around too, and you knew a few of Harry's friends who lived in the area and had come to L.A before, so you didn't feel like you were intruding in a world you didn't know. Besides, Harry had laughed at your worry about meeting his mum and sister, and had finished to convince you the second he had started to describe Anne's legendary cookies.

You had about thirty minutes left to reach Harry's childhood town, and if your legs were starting to feel stiff and you would welcome the chance to walk around, you were a little sad that it was the end of your road trip too. After all, Harry's playlist was amazing. He had made it especially for this long drive, and had claimed that, as he was driving, he was the one in charge of the music. When you had argued that you could drive too, he had replied with a cheeky 'come on now, it's not the same side of the road, we both know we won't make it out alive if you're behind the wheel, love'. And you really could have replied something well thought-of if only he hadn't called you love and made your heart skip a beat in the process.

You didn't really have any regret though, Harry's playlists always were amazing. And the way that your throat was sore after singing so much was one more proof of that.

You and Harry had been shouting the lyrics of all the songs on this playlist so far. You were also dancing in your seat, and Harry occasionally joined you, whenever it was safe for him to do so while driving. And you loved it. It felt… pretty much perfect, really.

There had been more snow in Harry's hometown than in London, and the English countryside you were now crossing was covered with a thick blanket of frozen snow. The bare trees wore clothes made out of snowflakes to cover their branches, a less colourful replacement to their vivid summer foliage. Despite the snow, the roads had been cleared, and you had encountered no trouble to drive to Harry's hometown.

"Y/N, I'm hungry. Could you hand me a biscuit, please?" Harry interrupted your singing.

You looked at him, dramatically answering with a Do you recognize me? before you reached for the box of biscuits in your bag, using the cardboard box as a microphone as you went on, making Harry laugh.

I wrapped it up and sent it

With a note saying, "I love you," I meant it

Now, I know what a fool I've been

But if you kissed me now

I know you'd fool me again

You finally reached for a biscuit while Harry wiped the tears of laughter from the corner of his eyes.

"Hands on the wheel, please," you admonished.

"Your fault! You're the one making me laugh!"

"You're a terrible driver. I should have hired a professional," you teased, making him wrinkle his nose.

"Very funny! Especially considering your own driving skills, which are non-existent."

"I'm an excellent driver!" you protested, deciding that this last remark meant that he didn't deserve the first biscuit, and so you ate it yourself instead. "I've never had any accidents or anything!"

"Me neither."

"You clearly don't remember that day when you failed to notice that there was a giant rock behind the car as you parked…"

"I could not see it in the rear window, how many times do I have to tell you that!?"

"Harry, we were parking… on the grass… to go to the beach. There were these big, gigantic rocks all along to delineate the parking lot. And yet, you still managed to bump into the one behind us when you parked the car."

"I couldn't see it!"

"You're an idiot. That's why you are a bad driver also."

"Hey! I'm not! I'm a dream!"

"More like a nightmare…"

"Oi!"

But you couldn't refrain your laugh any longer.

"Alright, alright, stop pouting, I'll give you your snack."

He opened his mouth wide, and you humoured him, placing the biscuit in his mouth so he would keep his hands on the steering wheel.

"'ank yo'," he mumbled with his mouth full.

He opened his mouth a second time, giving you a side-glance, to silently ask for another biscuit, and you could only chuckle at the sight and comply once again.

Despite the merry songs Harry had put on this playlist, and your and your friend's bright mood, you couldn't help but feel nervous at the idea of meeting Harry's mum. And now that you knew that you were so close to their home, your nervousness only increased.

"Are you sure it won't bother your mum if I stay over? I could have gone to a hotel…"

"Nonsense! Your saving for your shop!" Harry cut you off, shaking his head. "I'm sure, stop worrying. She offered to let you stay."

"What if she doesn't like me?"

"Why would she not like you?" he asked with a frown and small shake of his head.

"I dunno," you shrugged. "She could just… not like me."

"Even if she doesn't like you, which is not going to happen because you're amazing, what would it do?"

"I'm amazing?" you grinned, making him roll his eyes, but you didn't miss the blush that erupted across his cheeks.

"Oh, shut up…"

You chuckled, but grew more serious again, as the last chorus of Last Christmas played in the car.

"She's your mum, and you're my best friend. You're… you're important to me, and that makes me want for people who are important to you to like me."

He smiled a tender smile.

"Everything will be fine. She's gonna adore you."

"You think so?"

"My mum is the kindest person on this earth. And you're probably a close second. There's no way you two won't get along. I absolutely forbid you to ask for any humiliating details about my childhood though."

You snorted.

"Harry, Harry, Harry… how naïve you are sometimes… As soon as I feel comfortable around your mum, I will ask her to see all your baby pictures."

"NOOOO!!"

"Oh, yes! All of them!"

He smacked his forehead, his palm making a loud sound across the car as Joni Mitchell's voice filled the vehicle.

"I knew it was a bad idea," he complained, holding the wheel with both hands once more.

"It was very silly of you to think that you could get out of there alive indeed."

He heaved a sigh and reached for a third biscuit, but you gently smacked his hand away.

"Hands. On. The. Wheel."

You pressed the biscuit against his lips until he opened his mouth again with a giggle.

"Yo' impo'ible, yo' know?"

"Maybe, but you chose me as your best friend, so you're not allowed to complain about it."

The thought that followed surprised him, and the pain it caused was only sharpened by how unexpected it was. Because he was happy with you, in his car, on his way to see his family for the second time during the Christmas break, eating cinnamon biscuits and listening to amazing songs and laughing with you…

And yet at your words, the first thought that formed in his mind was enough to break his heart.

If I could, I'd choose for you to be more than that to me.

He was glad that the next song distracted you enough for him to avoid answering to your remark. He wasn't sure he would have had the strength to keep his voice steady then.

But your favourite song now playing in the car was a good enough reason for him to stay silent.

As the first note of Girl Crush filled the car, you looked at the radio, and then to Harry again with a touched smile on your lips.

"Still your favourite?" he asked with a lopsided smile.

"Yeah… it is," you nodded. "Thanks."

He started to sing along and you did too, your voices softer than before, a calm atmosphere settling in the car as you breathed out words that reminded you so much of him.

That night in Jamaica, you had heard him sing for real for the first time. You had danced together for the first time. That conversation against the salty midnight wind. You had realized a lot of things that night, many truths that you had since then hidden in the deepest parts of your heart to not see any of them face to face again…

He had sung it again for your birthday when he couldn’t be there to celebrate with you. To him it was your song.

He sang it every time he missed you a little too much too, but you didn't know that.

He wanted to reach across the few inches separating the two of you. Move his hand from the steering wheel to yours, or to your thigh, or to your knee… Touch your jeans and imagine how your skin would feel like under them. Feel your warmth flood through his palm. He didn't mean it in a sexual way at all, he just longed for being close to you, domestic even. A loving gesture that only couples could do. If he could rest his hand on your thigh now, tracing circles with his thumb along your blue jeans, it would mean that you were his. It would mean that you felt for him the same way that he felt for you.

But he couldn't. He was still your best friend, and this form of tender intimacy, he couldn't have that with you, no matter how much he wanted to.

So instead, he merely sang along with you, figuring that if he couldn't intertwine his fingers with yours, at least his voice and yours could be one for a little while. That would have to be enough.

Harry had been right, and now you felt silly for ever doubting his word.

His mother and you got along amazingly well.

Anne was a sweetheart, and by the time you had settled in the guest room, talked around some tea and had moved to the kitchen to help her prepare dinner, you were in a deep conversation about aromatic plants and some of Harry's most humiliating moments as a child.

"Don't tell her that," Harry whined by your side while cutting carrots. "I'm begging you don't tell her that…"

"Why not? You were so cute in that Elvis costume."

"Oh, dear God…"

"Elvis, huh? I see where you got your love for the dramatics…"

He whined, burying his face in his palms.

"Mum, I'm begging you, she will never leave me alone…"

"You're right about that!" you chimed.

"Wait until Gemma gets here tomorrow…" Anne added, and Harry stared at her with terror, before turning to you.

"That was such a bad idea, I should have never agreed to bring you here," he stated, making you frown.

"You're the one who invited me! A terrible mistake... But you're the only one you can blame for that."

The evening went by in a merry mood. Harry was laughing more than usual, Anne noticed. A brighter, more joyful laugh than the one she was used to hear. The kind of laughter that made his eyes fill up with tears and hold his painful belly and struggle for air.

And you were always the cause behind these laughs.

She noticed the way he looked at you. The way he tried to hide this underlaid tenderness that lingered in his gaze whenever you were looking at him. How he had a tendency to stand close to you at first, before moving back to leave a little more space between you. How he looked at your hands as if he wanted to reach for them, but clenched his own fists instead.

She remembered this conversation she had had with him months before. And she had been right all along.

He was in love with you.

But were you in love with him? She didn't know you enough to know that, she reckoned.

A conversation with her son would be more than needed, but for now the two of you were getting ready to go to bed, and it was late indeed. The next day, she decided. It could wait for a few more hours.

Meanwhile you and Harry were still teasing each other and laughing. You had stopped before the stairs, in an attempt to steal a few more minutes together before going to bed. You hadn't noticed the mistletoe that was hung above you for now.

"See, I told you it would be fine," Harry whispered so Anne wouldn't hear him.

"You were right on that one, I must give it to you, Elvis."

"Don't…" he closed his eyes, wincing. "I'm begging you…"

"Elvis, Elvis, Elvis…"

"Stop it!" he admonished, but the laugh in his throat made his voice shake and sound quite unconvincing.

"Elvis, Elvis, El…"

He pressed his palm against your mouth, making you giggle.

"I said stop. Now up you go! Go to bed!"

You rolled your eyes, and that's when you spotted it.

The little branch of mistletoe…

Your eyes remained glued to it, while your heart started to beat faster and faster, a little too fast really…

Harry followed your gaze, and froze.

Oh…

You looked at each other in sync. You looked uncomfortable, all of a sudden. He hated seeing you that way around him. Did it mean that you were so turned off by him? His heart clenched at the thought.

But then, how could he have guessed that you were just scared of his next move, because maybe you wanted him to kiss you, and the thought of Gareth made you feel so guilty for even considering kissing Harry.

Your friend let out a breathy laugh.

"It's tradition. Can't escape it."

You frowned, and he let his hand fall back to his side, before turning his cheek to you.

"Come on," he insisted, pointing at his cheek, and making you laugh and visibly relax.

You leaned to give his cheekbone a quick kiss, before doing the same as he did.

You pointed at your own cheek, making him laugh.

"Hey! That wouldn't be fair otherwise!" you protested, and he had to agree.

You hadn't expected him to cup your face though, guiding you closer to him. And he hadn't planned on leaving his lips linger against your skin for so long, but he couldn't find the strength to pull away for a moment.

Your cheek was so warm and soft, and he could smell your perfume so vividly…

When he finally pulled away, he let his fingertips drift down the side of your face while he captured your gaze with his.

There was a quiet, motionless moment, staring at each other, both of you a little out of breath, as if time had stopped.

Until Harry forced his lips to form a smile.

"Good night, Y/N."

"Good night, Harry," you whispered, unable to summon a stronger voice.

And the next second you were disappearing up the stairs.

He moved to lean against the closest wall, his back needing the support of something stronger than he was.

What the hell was he doing?

New Year's Eve was a great party.

You knew a few people who had been invited, and mostly stayed with them through the night, but you didn't mind at all. You were spending a lovely night.

It was 23:30 and you were severely drunk already. Nothing unsafe, but there was enough alcohol in your veins to make your head spin and your thoughts get messy inside your brain.

You had made your way to the garden, despite the cold. Liquor had made you forget to take your coat, but you needed some fresh air too much to go back inside.

You let out a sigh, your breath hiding the stars for a moment.

It was a clear night, with a bright moon and lots of stars. You weren't sure if it were the alcohol or simply the night sky being particularly visible, but you were almost certain that there were more stars than usual shining up there in the heavens.

You heard the door to the kitchen open behind you, and were not surprised when you felt your best friend's hands gently wrap a coat around your shivering frame.

"Are you mad? It's freezing here!" he admonished.

"I needed some air."

"There's plenty of air inside."

"Some fresh air, I mean," you giggled.

"It's fresh enough, alright," he complained, moving around to keep himself warm, holding his warm coat closer to him.

Your head started to spin faster again, and as you spotted the table and chairs set in the middle of the garden, you reckoned they would be life-saving.

"I need to sit down," you mumbled, walking over the closest chair, your footsteps a little unsteady although you reached your destination without needing Harry's help.

He was less intoxicated than you – even if he was tipsy himself, for sure – which made the spectacle of seeing you drunk only funnier to him.

He joined you, sitting by your side around the table.

"Are you alright?" he asked, in a soft voice, warm and low and deep, that made your heart swell with warmth.

Hell, Gareth's voice never had that effect on you…

You guessed it was alcohol making you create comparisons between Harry and your boyfriend, but it didn't mean that the thought was less true.

"Yeah, I'm just tipsy," you answered, your voice a little higher than usual, and Harry found it absolutely adorable.

"I would say that by now, you're fully drunk though, love. Not just tipsy."

He was expecting a witty reply or a teasing remark, but those never came. Instead, you stared at him intensely. Your eyes were a little clouded by the alcohol, yet they seemed to shine under the moon, and Harry found himself incapable of looking away.

"I like it when you call me like that," you admitted in a whisper.

Something seemed to shift in the air between you. Harry noticed it at once, and he was more careful when he replied.

"Really? It's just a regular pet name."

"Gareth calls me baby," you blurted out, and you couldn't miss the way Harry flinched at Gareth's mention. You chose to not acknowledge it though. "I don't like it when he calls me love, or darling. Cause you call me that sometimes. Which is stupid… because… I'm not even the only one you call like that, it ain't a nickname or anything."

He wasn't sure to know what to answer to that, so he remained silent instead. But he didn't need to reply, you resumed your babbling on your own.

"It's silly, isn't it? It's… very silly. I don't know why I don't like it. I wonder if he misses me now. But then, I know he does. I'm sure he'll text me for the new year precisely when we turn to tomorrow here, he's that kind of guy. I wish I missed him that much too."

You heaved a sigh, folding your arm on the table and using it as a pillow, your head resting on your forearm.

"You don't have a nickname for me either," Harry reminded you.

"I have tons!" you protested, but he shook his head.

"Calling me 'little spoon' just to tease me doesn't count. I have many of those, though. H, Haz, Har… thanks to James, I get Harold too now. But you've never used any of those."

You shrugged.

"I like Harry better."

"Really?"

You nodded, reaching for Harry's hand that rested on the table next to you, and your fingers traced the little cross inked into his skin next to the base of his thumb. His heart skipped more than one beat, and he couldn't avoid letting out a shaky exhale at the contact. Your fingertips were as cold as his hand, but your touch was gentle, barely a caress. And it was driving him absolutely insane…

"I don't know… you've always been just Harry to me. Like… I don't know… when it's just us, you feel like Harry. Not that your different with your other friends, but… I don't know how to explain it. We met under such strange circumstances, and by the time I met your friends and learnt this other part of you, I was already friends with Harry. Do you see what I mean? I already liked the kind guy who took me to the hospital and stayed with me because I was scared. Who came back to the flower shop and offered me a carnation. Who bought me my coffee that afternoon, and who stayed to chat with me until it was so late, the café was closing. And then we went for a walk, do you remember that? We talked for hours and hours. When I met people calling you all these names a few weeks later, I was already too used to seeing you as Harry, I couldn't call you any different. Does that make sense?"

He nodded, touched by your words, even though he wasn't sure why. Somehow, he got it. What you meant, even if your words were a little clumsy, he understood it.

"I like that tattoo," you said out of the blue, your fingers still tracing the cross on his hand.

"Yeah?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes, I like it a lot. It's hot."

He chuckled. You were always rather blunt when you were drunk, and he loved it. You were too talkative for your own good then.

"Thanks."

"I like this one too," you went on, your fingers moving up his hand to trace the lines of the anchor on his wrist instead.

His breath got stuck in his throat under your touch, but he hid it well enough.

"Is it hot too?" he asked with a cheeky smile, teasing you, but you weren't laughing when you replied.

"Yeah… I like your tattoos. They give you character."

"Thanks…? So I wouldn't have character without them?"

This time though, you chuckled.

"You're the cheekiest man I've ever met, you've got character alright."

"Hey! Quit insulting me!"

"I like this one too," you went on, ignoring him, moving to his mermaid.

"Yeah?" he asked in a shaky breath, all teasing gone from his voice under your gentle touch.

"I like her. She's got character too."

He offered you a tender smile.

"More than me?"

But you didn't answer once again.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Y/N?"

"Have you ever thought of how our lives would be if we hadn't met that day? If you hadn't bumped into me?"

"No," Harry answered earnestly. "No, I don't think of that. I don't want to picture my life without you anymore."

You looked up at him, your fingers stilling upon his arm, but still resting on his skin.

"I think about it sometimes," you admitted. "I wouldn't have travelled to Jamaica or here. My life would be so much simpler too."

"Do I really cause so much trouble?"

"Not in general. Just to me."

He frowned.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No… no, not at all. But sometimes, I wonder too much about things about us."

"About us? What do you mean?"

But you didn't answer, your fingers moving back to the cross on his hand.

"I'm happy to be here. I'm happy we've met. I'm happy you took me to the hospital that day. I still have a scar, you know? Look!"

You showed him your palm, crossed by a discoloured line.

"See?"

"Yeah, I see. I'm sorry for that."

"Not your fault. I'm glad it happened. You're worth all of it."

He wanted to ask you what you meant by all of it, but you yawned, and he could feel that you struggled to keep your eyes open. He checked the time.

"Come on, only 15 minutes left till the new year, you can't fall asleep now, huh? Let's go back inside, come on!"

He helped you up and tried to guide you towards the kitchen door again, but you held him in a tight hug instead, and he could never refuse a hug coming from you. So he wrapped you in a warm embrace instead, your face buried in his shoulder.

You took a deep breath, his familiar scent blurring your thoughts even more than the liquor in your system.

"You smell nice," you mumbled against his coat, making him smile.

"Thanks. You smell nice too."

"God… I hate you sometimes."

He looked down at you, tightening his hold on you.

"You're my best friend, and you can trust me. And I trust you. And you've got me, like… my trust and loyalty and devotion, but man, I can hate you sometimes."

He gently held the back of your head in his large hand.

"Why would you hate me, love?"

"Because you're too important to me. You know me too well. You make me too fragile. You know how you've got to make someone vulnerable to really know them? How you've got to… spread them open? That's the only way of knowing someone. And I hate it when you do it. I hate that it's so easy for you to do that to me. I hate that I want you to do it. I hate it. I hate that I want you to know everything about me, and I want to know everything about you. God, I hate you sometimes…"

You heaved a sigh.

"You're not going to leave me, right? You're not going to leave me behind?"

He dropped a chaste kiss to your hair.

"No, I'm not. I'm not going to leave you, ever. I'm just lucky you wanted to be my friend in the first place."

"I'm glad to be here with you now, you know?"

"So… you don't hate me right now?"

"Even when I hate you, I don't really hate you."

He smiled, not really knowing what to think of your rambling. Should he consider it like some drunken nonsense? It didn't feel like it though…

"Come on, let's go back inside, darling."

This time, you let him guide you back into the house, and you settled on the sofa with Sarah while Harry was looking for some snacks in the kitchen.

He was alone in the room until Anne joined him, putting a few dirty glasses into the sink.

"I saw you in the garden. Aren't you cold?" she asked, touching his cheek. "It's freezing outside."

"It's alright."

"I like her," Anne said in a low voice, as if she didn't want to be heard. "Y/N, I like her."

"She's amazing."

"She told me about this Gareth… she's seeing…"

"Yeah, they've been together for a while."

"And… does that bother you?"

Harry stopped his search in the cupboard at her tone.

"Why would it?" he cautiously asked back.

But Anne shook her head.

"Now, you're my baby boy. I know you. Don't try to get away with this. I know you love her."

Harry heaved a sigh, turning to her fully at last. There was no need to argue with his mother, he knew she would win anyway.

"It is that obvious?"

"It's only written all over you. How you act around her, how you laugh differently… I won't dig into how enamoured you look when she's around, God, your heart-eyes…"

"Okay, okay, I get it."

"For how long has this been going on?"

He crossed his arms before his chest, closing his tall frame upon itself, as if to protect himself, and he leaned against the counter behind him.

"I realized a couple of months ago. I… I've been feeling like this for much longer though, I reckon. Probably… probably after Jessica. Maybe before that. I don't know. I'm not sure."

"Have you told her?"

"I can't, she's with Gareth."

"I told you to talk to her, all these months ago, don't you remember?"

"I do remember. I wanted to do just that. But then I went to see her, and she was snogging him."

"Oh…"

"Yeah, oh. And it's serious between them, and I'm her best friend. I can't do this to her. She… she needs me. Not as a boyfriend, but she still needs me in her life, and I need her to. And if I can't be with her romantically, then I'll just… remain her friend, and that's all."

"You should tell her. Maybe she'd change her mind."

"I can't take the risk. I'd rather have her as a friend than not have her in my life at all."

"You're not going to be happy like that, Harry."

He clenched his jaw, shrugging.

"I have to be. I don't have a choice."

The cry of twenty seconds till new year interrupted them, and Harry was quite relieved to have a good reason to go back to the living room to find you.

You were clearly looking for him too, as you rushed to him with two champagne glasses in your hands as you spotted him, a grin on your lips.

"Thanks," he greeted you with a bright smile, and behind him, Anne was worried but remained quiet.

And the countdown began.

"Ten!" you both shouted while Harry grabbed a pair of silly glasses in the shape of 2018 and he put them on.

"Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

You hugged him so tight, kissing his cheek and hugging him some more, with a stupid and intoxicated smile on your lips, and he wished he could have kissed you properly, see if you tasted like champagne…

But you were in his arms now, and that would have to be enough.

************************************************

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