#harry has a one track mind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelisverba · 1 year

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achilles heel

in which y/n gets herself into another precarious situation and wants her dealer to help her, and harry can’t help but feel conflicted about how much he wants her

read part one here

word count: 14k

pairing: plug!h and y/n

warning: bad trip! peer pressure, drug coercion, drugs, mentions of bullying, sexual content!

author’s note: there aren’t any facts to back up the use of any kind of sexual enhancers, so much of this experience is improvised and not actually something that would happen irl in terms of science. love you!

Two slow, torturously long weeks pass- one in which he was out of business entirely trying to stock his inventory up again- before he hears from her again. In the middle of the night, it’s beginning to become a pattern for them. He only hopes that this time, it’s not for an asshole group of people.

His bohemian dream of a room is upturned, messy, as he’s been a grump about not seeing her. There’s shirts strewn everywhere, his bed is a rumpled mess and he wishes that it were because he had sex in it instead of restlessly sleeping. He’s coming out of the shower with a white towel low on his hips. There are clouds of thick steam coming out from his open bathroom door and while a majority is from the hot water he hoped would soothe his tense body, there's a bit of thicker, headier smoke from the skinny spliff he hotboxed while in the tub.

And it hadn’t worked for shit. Because he was still cranky, still restless. His fingers were itching to do something, and if he hadn’t just smoked weed, he would be in his garage, throwing around weights like a madman to try and get himself tired. Sadly, he wasn’t even fucking horny, so jerking off wasn’t an option.

Sidestepping his sweatpants by the edge of his bed, Harry grips the thick of the fabric at his crotch and reaches for a pair of clean underwear from a drawer at his bedside table, furrows his eyebrows at the box of condoms stashed in there, and pull on white boxers. He throws the towel at the end of his bed and lays back with his arms splayed wide, sighing dramatically. He felt deeply sorry for himself.

Y/n was probably never going to talk to him again because the last few times they had seen each other, Harry was a complete dick to her, acting every bit like the asshole drug dealer that had a criminal reputation. God, the girl was probably scared of him. He fucked his all-

Ping!

This phone went off with a notification. The same tone he had assigned her, and Harry’s body lurched off the bed. His arms swept the expanse of his bed, ruffling his duvet in search of the device.

Ping!

It went off again, and the urgency in which he was searching increased. Where the fuck was his-

He found it when it thunked onto the floor, and with shaking hands, he unlocked it.

Y/n: Hi, Harry!

Are you available for delivery at the moment?

Of course he is. Always, for her. But he didn’t type that back, obviously. He had to be cool.

Harry: I am. What can I get you?

The gray dots appear instantly, and he gets another text shortly after.

Y/n: Do you have any brownies?

He had been to a frat party earlier in the day in which a group of senior guys had taken some pot brownies off his hands. Before confirming with her, he double-checks his inventory on the notes app folder he has just to keep track of stock.

Harry: I have half a dozen left tonight

Should he have added a smiley face? No, that would have been creepy right?....

Y/n: Perfect :D ! I’ll take five, please!

Harry: No problem. Can I have the address, please?

She sends it not even a minute later. All concerns regarding driving a vehicle while high unethically fly out of his mind because honestly, he wasn’t even high anymore. Not even feeling it. She was only twenty minutes away, ten if he didn’t pay attention to laws.

Harry: I’m On my way!

Y/n: See you soon!

Yeah, fuck the laws.

***

He makes it in 8 minutes.

And something about this house doesn’t feel right.

He didn’t realize it until the houses started looking nice and the parked cars on the side of the street started getting more expensive than the address she had provided him with was one on the wealthier side of town. He knew of a guy that lived here who everyone talked about because his method of acquiring money was sketchier than Harry’s, and well… that said a lot given that Harry sold drugs for a living.

The end of the driveway that he parks on is wide enough to be a two-way street. One of the lights flickered on by the motion sensor as Harry took his helmet out and shook his hair back. In his rush to get here, he hadn’t put on a shirt, and with his leather jacket left unzipped, his tattoos were on full display. The moonlight gleamed on the ridges of his abdomen, casting shadows across the markings on his skin. He was warm despite the chill in the air, and the cool drift of the night wind on his muscles was a welcome feeling.

Harry just didn’t realize how… devilish he looked. He appeared every bit the bad boy ready to sweep you off your feet in the summer, and the serious expression on his face added to the mystery. Wondering if this time she was able to hear his motorcycle from deep inside wherever she was in that mansion of the house, Harry kicked his stand down, hung his helmet on the handlebar, and took his phone out to let her know he was here.

Harry: I’m outside

Grey bubbles pop-up, squiggling like a little wave. And then…

Y/n: Be right there!

All of the breath in his lungs vacates his chest, and he gets warmer than he already was. Pacing the short lengths of his motorcycle, he wonders how he may get more nervous to see her every time he sees her. He never used to be this way, not even with a girl he wanted to talk up at a bar. There was a confidence within him, this shine that sprouted from knowing that he knew he was the shit, and he was going to use that to his advantage, to make a girl blush and stutter. Instead, she was the one to turn him inside out. He forgot all about basic manners around her. He forgot how to smile without questioning if his smile was wonky. He thought-

“Hi, Harry!”

He thought she looked so fucking sexy tonight.

Coming from the front door, y/n is a wispy, gauzy mirage. Her feet are wobbly, and there’s a glass tumbler in her hand with a toothpick-skewered olive. She’s smiling so brightly at him, and this unrestricted happiness at his appearance alarms him. Where is the timid girl who speaks to him with a voice barely above a whisper? She must be drunk he thinks.

An itchy feeling he can’t shake off overcomes him because the girl is wearing a lacy slip dress that is so sheer, he can see her pink undergarments underneath. A white cardigan slides off her shoulders and hangs on to her elbow like a satin bow slipping loosely from a gift. He can’t decide if he wants to tie her back up or unravel her.

She runs the last few steps to him, and either she miscalculates her stop, or trips on a pebble because suddenly, she’s in his arms and he’s holding her upright. And he’s also breathing heavily because a rush of blood has made its way down to his cock and he knows she can see it pressing through his jeans and against her belly if the way her eyes go round is any indication.

Her drink slips from her hand, and shatters at their feet. The loud scattering of glass makes her jump, and an apology is clumsily stumbling from her mouth while she tries to pull herself from his embrace. Harry, however, tightens his hold. His fingers squeeze at her waist, and through the lace of her dress, he can feel the overlapping fabric of her panties. Without saying anything, he lifts her and takes a few steps to the side before setting her down away from the hazard.

“What-” her brows furrow, and her head tilts to the side. She isn’t rushing out of his arms now.

Interrupting her, Harry explains, “y’were about to step on the glass.”

“Oh,” y/n is back to whispering as her eyes travel all over his face, “thank you.”

With her in his arms, Harry has forgotten how to act. His mind is blank as a sheet of paper, and his lungs are expanding and contracting but oxygen isn’t really reaching him because he smells something sweet combined with alcohol on her warm breath. He sees how y/n’s facial expressions resemble that of a guppy fish, and he realizes that maybe he should let her go but he can’t because… because her fingers are shifting around his arms and she’s kind of shifting her weight and writhing and Harry still has a fucking boner so this is all-

He steps back, observing her shiver, and clears his throat. “Of course. Are you…are you cold?”

“Cold?” she asks. Her voice is silvery like the incantation of a church bell and he wants to fall to his knees are revere her, to beg for forgiveness, for her to cleanse him of all his sins. The night air has turned him into some kind of animal, he decides. The moon has transformed him into the hungry, howling wolf who will only be silenced by knowing her in the most carnal way. Meeting under the blanket of darkness has decided their fate.

“You’re shivering,” he states, voices unwavering and factual. That confidence he was missing before has somehow found its way back. Like tectonic plates, the tension has shifted in his favor. Harry gathers the courage to fix the cardigan on her shoulders.

His hands graze the cool skin of her biceps, and he doesn’t miss the way she textures with evidence of her intimidation. The way her breath stops altogether and he mumbles under his breath, “Just fixing y’up, darling. Y’can breathe, m’not gonna bite,” and she drops her arms at her side to let him help her, and then…

He feels the thin, sharp glide of her fingernails at his sternum. How can a single touch be so erotic? His jeans are too tight over his bulge, and fighting a groan, he exhales deeply, looking up at her to find her eyes droopy, staring at his butterfly tattoo. Her mouth moves around the shape of pretty before her eyes flicker up at him. They both freeze. Prey and predator, caught before the deadly pounce.

But y/n breaks their eye contact.

Harry drags the fabric up so it sits properly on her shoulders, and slides his fingers down to the front, so he can begin with the first button. His fingers drag unnecessarily like syrup on the skin right above her slip, and her audible gulp along with her choked, thank you check him back into his manners. She might have toyed with him, albeit unknowingly, but he welcomed it. He doubted that she was 100% sure if she wanted that reciprocated, so he stopped. As much as it hurt him to do so, he stopped.

At the last button, he reluctantly steps back, “All done, don’t want to get sick now, do you?”

And he manages a smile. It’s small, with just a bit of a cocky gap between his lips to white teeth. His hands slip into his front pockets, pulling his jeans forward subtly to give his dick some breathing room. He feels branded where she touched him, that sliver of skin hot with burning desire. Visions of them together flash behind his eyes like bits of a dream he’s trying hard to remember.

“You’re right,” she mumbles, “thank you.” Y/n wraps her arm around herself and can't seem to make eye contact with him.

The rational side of him that’s drowning in his tunnel vision reminds him that he’s there to do something (deliver drugs), so he moves around to the compartment and pulls out the paper bag. This time, it’s decorated in a field of smiling, dancing daisies sprouting from the bottom of the bag. “Here are your brownies,” giving her the bag, he laments that he’s going to have to leave her soon.

“How much do I owe you?” Y/n blinks up at him like she’s just barely waking up. Like she’s trying hard to stay focused, just like him. But that would be silly, Harry thinks, because there’s no way they share the same feelings. She only touched him because she’s drunk, or tipsy, and he’s just a drug dealer, and no matter how much of a boner he has for her, his dreams of rutting over her like a dog in heat aren’t going to come true. She’s too delicate for him.

He feels shitty taking money from her, but that is his livelihood, and chances were the douchebags buying from her probably threw more money at her than necessary given how rich they were. So, he tells her the total, and he hands him- just like he expected- crisp bills.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the money from her and shoving it into his compartment. His legs make no move to straddle his bike, even though that’s what his brain tells them to do. They’re not really listening to him though. And y/n stands them holding the bag, staring at the shattered glass and worrying her lip between her teeth. She’s not in any rush to get back inside, so Harry asks her a question- something that’s been on his mind ever since he left her the last time- to keep her out a little longer, “h-how was it? Last time, I mean. Smoking with those people?”

The girl straightens at the memory, suddenly energized. “Oh! I didn’t actually do it. They tried to get me to, but I didn’t in the end.”

Jerking his chin towards the bag in her hand, “Do y’plan on eating some of these?”

Y/n shakes her head, “Not really, I have work tomorrow. So does everyone else but,” she shrugs, pursing her lips a little and looks over her shoulder at the house. The relatively quiet house. “I already drank a little more than I should have.”

“I see.” Nodding, he’s left with no other choice but to reach for his helmet to put it back on. It’s time to leave. For the life of him, he can’t seem to figure out why such a sweet girl would continue to choose to hang out with people like this. Who drink and do drugs recklessly. He was concerned for her safety, and he made a mental note to ask Mitch about it. He wasn’t anyone to tell her what to do.

He wishes he were, but he wasn’t.

“Well, be safe, okay? Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Harry. I’ll see you,” and she waves at him with a small, shy smile. The cardigan is already slipping off her shoulder even though it was buttoned up, and she turns around to walk back into the house.

Harry’s finally gotten to dozing off when his phone rings.

Blindly, he slaps his hand around and curses whoever is on the other end of the line for interrupting his maladaptive dreaming about y/n. He got home grumpy, slamming doors behind him and stomping around his own home. Feeling sorry for himself, he had turned on his Sade playlist and allowed her smoky voice to lull him to sleep. Creases had decorated the space between his thick brows, his pink lips literally turned upside down and occasionally he mumbled curse words at himself. In effort to relieve his own stress, he turned on a lavender candle, and it burned dimly on his bedside.

“Yeah?” He rasps sleepily into the phone, annoyance dripping from his voice.

There’s a couple of sniffles on the other end. This gets his attention, his eyes snapping open as his ears strain to listen, and then, “H-Harry?”

Was he still dreaming? Harry bolted upright from his bed, dragging a hand over his face. Was that actually y/n’s weepy, crying voice leaking through his speaker? He recognized the normally sweet voice, but instead of shy and timid, it was shaky and sad… maybe even a little panicked.

“Y/n?” Harry asked, spiking up in volume as a million-and-one scenario of her in danger played out in his mind. “What’s wrong?”

She hiccuped, “I-I was- Everyone was- They gave me a piece and said I should- But I didn’t want to and they- I don’t-” The poor girl was making no sense, and couldn’t seem to keep track of her thoughts, whether it be because she was too frazzled, or her irregular sobs stole the rest of her sentences and she would start new. The fact that he has just woken up, remnants of sleep leaving him more and more by the second, didn’t help either. He had to get her to calm down somehow.

“Sweetheart,” He interjected, repeating the endearment twice before she stopped talking long enough for him to get his word in. “ Listen to me… Take a deep breath, listen to my voice.”

Y/n made a long, keening noise, and something stirred his gut like the whirls of dark waters in turbulent seas. This wasn’t normal. She wasn’t herself, which only left one thing, “I’m trying but my skin feels weird and-”

She was having a bad trip.

Those fuckers have coerced her into taking something, whether it be the brownies he sold her, or some other drugs they had in the house. Y/n had taken drugs against her will, and she was stuck in a place where she didn’t feel entirely comfortable with anyone there because these were the same people that bullied her at her workplace. The situation she was in, and the simple fact that they did not respect when she said no made his blood boil. He felt like a caged cat, pacing back and forth, tail swiping low on the ground.

But his next thought cowed him.

If the drugs she had consumed were his brownies, did that mean he was partially to blame? He was responsible for there being something to press on her, to begin with, wasn’t he? He delivered them into her hands, which she then transferred to her party, and they turned it around on her. Harry was at the start of all of this.

He sat up, and ran his hand through his hair, swallowing back the sour taste that started at the back of his mouth and twisted his chest. Pushing all of it aside, he focused on her, “I know darling, I know. Close y’eyes. S’gonna be okay, y/n. Close your eyes.”

Rough, uneven breaths reverberated through his speaker, and he realized she was trying to calm herself. Harry wanted to scream and punch something. This is his fault. She was having a bad trip because of him. There were times when he was feeling generous and upped the milligram ingredient in his pastries, and he can’t remember if he did that this time but regardless, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt he’s ever felt this guilty. He could have said no, when she texted him. Or not respond at all. But he was selfish and wanted to see her. This is where his selfishness got him.

“M’kay.” She responds a little more sure, but it isn’t enough for him. He started this mess, now he has to fix it. He gets out of bed again, in such a rush that his duvet ends up strewn on the floor, and he reaches to tug his recklessly discarded jeans over his long legs. He yanks a burgundy knit sweater that he finds- also on the floor- but he’s not cold. He’s sweating with anxiety, and the sweater was just for her benefit. What if y/n is cold again? Harry has to be better not, he can’t fuck up with her anymore like this. He was going to take it off again as soon as he saw her and be shirtless again with his leather jacket.

With the device pressed between his shoulder and ear, he buttoned up his pants and shoves his feet into the first pair of shoes he found, “Y’got your eyes closed f’me?”

“Yes, Harry,” she whimpers again, sounding so unsure, so small, and fuck, the crack down the middle of his heart grows. Closing your eyes while high was scary, especially if you were having a bad trip, Harry knows that having a handful of negative experiences himself, but it was the one thing he could think of right now. To get her to focus on his voice rather than anything going on around her. Wherever she was.

“Good girl. Now just listen to me, okay,” walking out of his room, he swiped his keys off his kitchen counter, and snagged his leather jacket from -surprise, surprise- off the floor right before entering the garage, “Where are you right now?”

“I’m… I think I’m in a bathroom,” y/n peeps a response.

“Alright, good. Good, sweetheart. Now how much did you take?” Putting the jacket on, Harry turns the key in the ignition and straddles his bike. He presses the button he keeps on his keys for the garage door, and walks his bike out. The street lamps in his neighborhood are on, illuminating patches of the concrete like polka dots.

There’s some noise in the background. It sounds like knocking and the call of her name. “M’not sure… maybe… maybe half? They’re knocking on the door, Harry.”

She’s so scared. For the first time, he realizes that she doesn’t trust anyone there. That’s why she was calling him. If there was, she would be resting her head in their lap, and talking things out with them. That’s what you do when you’re high. And this was her first fucking time doing any kind of drug? They made her take more than what she was supposed to.

“All at once? Don’t listen to them, sweetheart, focus on me.” This time, the timbre of his voice is livid. He didn’t take kindly to these kinds of things, and he was going to find some way to get back at all of them.

“Yeah, I took a bite only but Alana said I would be a party pooper if I didn’t eat more, so I did because everyone was watching.” There’s more noise, yelling. The knocking gets louder.

“Fuck!” Slapping his hand against his helmet, Harry tilts his head back and wills himself to calm down. He couldn’t drive like this.

She gasps, startled, “Did I do something wrong? Oh my God, am I going to die? Harry, am I-”

“Shh, no. No, y/n. Everything is going to be fine. I’m on my way, okay. Everything is going to be fine. Can you set a timer for eight minutes on your phone, and walk outside when it rings?” He nears the end of his driveway, shaking his head at his lack of restraint. He had to hold it together for her.

“Yeah,” she responds.

“Perfect, I’ll be right there. I’m coming to get you, okay?” He’s firm in his delivery, so she doesn’t have any reason to doubt him.

“Okay…” her single-word answer drags out, and he waits for her to say more. “Do you have to hang up?”

“I do, darling. My motorcycle helmet doesn’t have a Bluetooth mouthpiece, so I won’t be able to hear you. It’s only eight minutes, I promise.” He decides not to pay attention to how easily the endearment terms are rolling off his tongue, and to the sure-ness in his sternum that was missing at the start of their meetings.

“Alright. Bye, Harry.”

He doesn’t say bye, because it isn’t one. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

***

On his five (FIVE!!!) minute drive to y/n, full of felonies and annoyed car horns, Harry decides two things. One, owning a motorcycle is probably the best decision he’s ever made because it allows him to do things like this, and two, he’s come to the conclusion that he no longer cares for social formalities, and he’s going to… honor his cravings as long as y/n lets him. He knows that the moment he gets there, he’s going to want to coddle her, tug her to his side, and hide her inside his jacket as much as he could, like a bear with food in the winter. Besides, it wouldn’t be so bad to provide the feeling of safety if she needed it. In fact, he was eager to. He decides that just for today, it’s okay.

Because he gets there three minutes earlier than the time he told her, so even though he doesn’t have to, he rushes to park his bike, swinging off of it before it’s even rolled to a complete stop and jogging up the long driveway to wait by some bushes near the window. He was partially obscured from the front door, and he wanted to stay that way in case Y/n wasn’t the first person to walk out.

Sweat coated the back of his neck while the rest of him was ice cold. Looking each and every way, he took off his jacket and slipped off the knit sweater to slip it over her head as soon as he could. Harry listened intently, the ragged sound of his own breathing filling his ears as he tried to pick up on any noise that might indicate trouble, but all he heard was faint chattering and the occasional bout of loud, loopy chortles.

Momentarily after, those voices get louder, some of them aggressive, and there are sounds of movement. The heavy pattern of feet moving quickly, the scratch of furniture on the floor. Someone- a female- is asking where someone is going, and Harry knows it’s y/n. Running to the door, he makes it just as it swings open, and a very red-eyed y/n stands there, one hand on the door with her eyes on the floor. She’s mumbling, something over and over, and he thinks one of those words is his name.

He’s reaching out to encase her in his arms when she blinks a few times, slowly, like she's just waking up, and her eyes are dragging up her body to register his face.

Tilting her head to the side confusedly, she steps out, closes the door behind her, and mumbles, “Harry’s waiting for me.”

His heart melts and he feels the bursting of a thousand suns in his chest. Smiling down at her invertebrate state, with his eyes softening and a gentle caramel-like baritone streaming through the rough in his voice, “I’m here, darling. Come with me.”

Poor thing is so out of it, her eyes start to water, her chin trembling and her shoulders beginning to shake with the rattles of oncoming sobs. Had he spooked her? Her eyes were puffy and hooded, but he knows that doesn’t mean she can’t see him. Y/n is probably just overwhelmed, he thinks. She’s out in the dark and cold, high, and he’s a tall, scary figure looming over her. Voices inside are getting closer, their sentences running over each other so that he can’t really understand what they’re saying, only that they sound upset.

Ignoring the rumble that is bound to get to them, Harry kneels down to her level and takes hold of her cold trembling hands in his large ones, bringing them to his chest to get her to focus on him, “lovie, s’me,” he pleads for her to recognize him, “I’m Harry, I came f’you like I said I would, y/n.”

“Y/n!” A man inside, short and skinny but snooty looking with a sharp, shark-like face stalks towards them. His parade of three- two blonde girls and a dark-haired guy- follow behind him. They all have glasses in their hands. One of them had a cigarette. “What are you doing?”

At the sound of her name, y/n’s eyes shut tightly, and her chest rises quickly with sharp breaths that escape her mouth. Dropping her head, a long whine seeps away from her like a sticky substance, and Harry wants to wipe it all away. He’s not sure why he’s reacting this way, or what he should do to help her, because he’s had bad trips but they’ve all been hallucinogen-based.

“Baby-”

“Y/n” the asshole with the dark hair calls her name so arrogantly, Harry can’t help but wonder what they’re like sober, “who is that? Will you come back inside? We’re about to start playing pass-blow.”

They’ve interrupted him twice now, and with every second that passes, he gets huffier. Frustrated. Angry. Because he’s just trying to talk to this angel and they’re overwhelming her. Y/n is whimpering now, her hands moist in his, and she’s sniffling every few seconds.

“Y/n,” he tries again to get her to look at him, to say something. He doesn’t want to act inappropriately, and with her consent already being disregarded once tonight, he’s doing everything in his power to get her to speak what she wants.

With glassy eyes, y/n dazedly stared at him for a moment. Her expression was stuck between confusion and sadness, her lips downturned and her brows furrowed, “Wanna leave, H.”

Harry nodded at her, “Okay, we can leave.” Then he stood up and grabbed the sweater over his shoulder, “Put this on first, lovie. It’s cold.” Slipping it over her head and helping her stick her arms through, he tugged it all the way down, near to her knees, all the while ignoring the group that started and whispered behind her. When he was done, he pulled her under his arm and walked in the direction of his bike.

All of two seconds passed before an agitating, grating voice interrupted them, “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

Harry can’t take it anymore. Placing his hand at the back of her head to cup her to his chest while he turns around to spit out a response at this douchebag, he takes deep breaths and tries to focus on her comfort. He tries to focus on the warmth of her breath against his chest and the way one hand is wrapped around his wrist, her fingers drawing loose circles on the tender skin, and the other is clutching his shirt tightly. But he feels that he has to say something, in some weird ‘marking my territory’ kind of way.

“Fuck off, asshole! You’re not getting shit from me anymore,” Y/n jumps in his arms at the tone and volume of his voice, and the wimp shrinks back, too. He mumbles something about it ‘not being fair’ like a whiny child and turns around. Harry gently removes her hand from his wrist so he can wrap it around her shoulders, and starts walking down the pathway back to his motorcycle, whispering, “C’mon baby, walk with me. Do you want me to take you somewhere? I can call an Uber? Sarah’s house? We can go back to my place, too. Y’name it, love, I’ll do it for you.”

“Okay.” If she’s surprised at his sudden softening, she doesn’t show it. Hell, she’s probably too out of it to do anything but appreciate anyone that is considerate to her current state, given that she was hanging around assholes who were making fun of her while she was having a bad trip.

They reach his bike, and Harry guides her by her shoulders to sit with her butt on the side of his seat. He crouches down in front of her, and wraps his hand on the back of her shins, grasping firmly to give her some kind of sensation to ground herself on. The loopy look in her eye that was there when he first arrived has drifted away like mist in a breeze, and she’s looking at him a bit more clearly.

“You still doing okay?” He asks, trying to catch her eyes but y/n is fiddling with her fingers and looks a little… frustrated? “Y/n? Can you tell me what you want to do, love?”

“M’sorry,” Her lower lip wobbles and there’s a small tremble in her chin. Her eyes, when she finally finds his, are watery, and it makes Harry’s heart pinch. He wants to hold her until she’s okay. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but can we... go back to your place?”

He rises then and cups her face in his hands to ensure that she’s looking at him. A little voice in his head is telling him that he’s being too touchy and needs to tone it down, but y/n can’t seem to keep her hands off him. His elbows are warmed through his jacket by her nimble fingers.

Cooing at her almost, “Hey, s’kay. Y/n okay. No crying, alright? I’m happy that I could be here to help you, okay? Of course, we can go back to my place, as long as you’re cool with it. Are you comfortable riding on my motorcycle right now? I can order an uber if you aren’t.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” Nodding, she sniffles and looks into his eyes finally. They sparkle underneath the light, like stars are trapped in her pupils, and the sight takes his breath away. She’s still whispering, but it’s no longer as panicked and short. It might just be the brownies wearing off, or her high calming down.

“Right, then.” Before letting go of her sweet face, he swipes his thumbs along the apples of her cheeks in a soothing motion. He walks around to the back of his bike and unlocks the compartment to take out a spare helmet. Holding it up, he gestures for her to tilt her head towards him, “safety first.”

“Your eyes are pretty. Like that thing that makes Superman weak.”

“Kryptonite, baby?” He secures the helmet on her head and makes sure it fits by tilting her head this way and that to check for wiggle room. When he’s satisfied, he raises the glass panel and murmurs, “and yours are prettier than mine.”

“Mhm,” she blinks blearily up at him, and his heart expands three times its size in his chest. “And you really think so?”

“I know so.” They share a small smile, and Harry’s nose is pink from the cold and the warmth of her gaze. He swings a leg over to straddle his bike, and scoots forward to make space for her, and pats the seat behind him. “Come sit behind me, love.”

Y/n grabs the hand that he holds out for her, and clumsily takes the seat.

“Now hold on to me. Hands around my waist,” There’s a strange pitch in his voice, and he has to clear his throat before speaking. Y/n listens to every word he says and places her hands on his waist so lightly, they might as well not even be there. The touch, as innocent as it might be, makes him squirm, and to hide it, he grabs them, and brings them around so she can splash her own fingers at his belly button. “Tighter, sweetheart. I don’t want you to slip off. If you don’t want to see, you can press your face into my neck, okay.”

“Okay,” she peeps. Harry pats her hands and turns his key in the ignition.

“Ready?” With his ankle, he kicks the stand up, and looks over his shoulder to check in on her. The muscles in his stomach are doing a strange tightening and flexing because they don’t know how to act normally under her touch.

“Yes.”

She squeezes her arms tightly around his waist, and she can feel her face pressing into his back as he starts his engine to take her home.

***

“Who were those people?”

It seemed as though removing her from the situation (Harry hates even thinking about the word because it wasn’t a situation, it was a fucking catastrophe that the poor little thing had to go through what she did) had been the best thing to do. From the looks of it, y/n was having a pretty normal high now, asking him if he had anything to snack on that was sweet and tart because she was hungry and her mouth was dry.

He kept himself well stocked on berries and fruit for this exact reason, so while he stood at the aisle in the middle of his kitchen cutting strawberries into nifty little hearts and tossing them into a bowl with freshly rinsed raspberries and blueberries, y/n sat on the barstool, watching him and humming a little tune. She was much different from the way she had been fifteen minutes ago, when they had just walked into his house, blubbering about how she was so sorry that he was losing sleep because of her, and how she still didn’t feel right. It took ten minutes of holding her in his lap on the couch (he still felt overly warm at having her so close to him), shushing and cooing at her, letting her know that everything was alright while stroking her hair, and another three before she stopped crying, and let him know he had a nice voice that tickled her spine and that she had the munchies.

Not that she called them that, of course. Harry doesn’t think she had ever heard the term, given how she knows fuck all about drugs and being high, just said “I’m hungry, h. Do you have anything tart and sweet? It feels like there’s a dragon in my belly.”

So he chucked, rubbed her back as he slipped her onto the spot next to him, and let her know that he had just the thing, and that he would be right back. But that didn’t stop her from trailing behind him like a duckling imprinted on her new human, pitter-pattering all over his tiled floor.

He hopes that she doesn’t feel like he’s prying, because while he was curious to know what compelled her to keep that kind of company, he wanted to know anything about her. This just seemed like a good segway into her.

Y/n is bobbing her head side to side to keep time with the cat clock he has up on the wall. She’s matching pace with its swinging tail, and clicking her tongue every second, pausing only briefly to say, “my co-workers,” in a chipper tone.

Casually, he hums, “The ones that bully you?”

“Yeah!” She’s quick to respond, and quick to realize what she confirmed. Meaning she also realized Harry knew something she had never told him about, and this confuses her. Snapping her head away from the clock, he watches as her shoulders droop and she takes in what he said. The gears were turning clearly on her face, when finally, she spits out her question warily, “Hey… how’d you know that?”

Harry froze mid-strawberry heart. He couldn’t exactly say that he had been asking Mitch about her, and that had told her about her relationship with everyone at work because then that would make him seem more like a creep and less like a love-struck infatuated fool, but he also didn’t want to lie to her completely. He had to stick with a little white lie, “umm, Sarah mentioned something about observing shitty things happening at work, and she mentioned your name.”

“Oh,” y/n’s lips form a little pout, “Are you mad?” When those words come out of her mouth, the possibility of him seemingly being mad at her starts overwhelming her senses, and she starts sputtering again, “I’m sorry- I’m just- I feel off, I-I shouldn’t have eaten that brownie. I’m sorry. You probably think I’m a wimp.”

With sympathetically pursed lips, Harry shakes his head and gently soothes her worries, “I’m not mad. Y’just having a bad trip, sweetheart. It happens sometimes, even to me. When you’re not in a comfortable environment, it happens.” He finishes with the final strawberry slice, and slides the bowl across the way for her, “this is for you, should help with the munchies. Want some water?”

“Please and thank you,” she mumbles around a bite of pink fruit. Sliding a glass across the table, Harry stands across the island to watch her. Y/n hand one hand wrapped around the small bowl, and the other holds fruit to her pouty red lips, swollen by the assault of her teeth. A trail of juice glistens down the side of her finger, and he watches, transfixed, as a pink tongue flicks out to lap up the mess in one, two, or three, tiny licks. A thick glob of saliva collects at the back of his throat because she's moaning, too. Little satisfied hums of pleasure and barely audible sounds of suction don’t escape him.

Blood rushes to the center of him, tenting his pants and he has to go somewhere because fuck she might see it if he has to get close to her.

Clearing his throat, Harry averts his eyes and tries to find somewhere else to set his eyes. Anywhere else because it’s so easy to picture his the ruddy mushroomed head of his cock pressed against her mouth like the tip of the strawberry heart, glistening with the moisture of precum and strings of her saliva as she wipes away his mess with her tongue like an eager little puppy.

What was wrong with him? She needed his help, and had turned to him when she needed him. She had already had people pouncing on her, she didn’t need someone else chasing her skirts.

“S’good, Harry,” y/n gulped down the last few pieces, and Harry blinked. Hard. “Can I have some more?”

There was a wide, lazy feline smile on her mouth. She looked… hazy. A bit sweaty. Disheveled. Y/n looked freshly fucked, and stray drops of fruit around her mouth were making it so incredible hard for him to breathe, “no more lovie,” he managed to say, “or you’ll get a stomachache.”

“Okay, H,” y/n yawned, unfazed by his rejection. Unaware of how crazy Harry was about her right now. His composure was fraying by the second. His mind played visions of them together like little prophecies, his tongue licking a stripe across the side of her face as he pounded her from behind so hard her eyes teared up. Her nails left little marks on his back from where she tried to grab leverage to bounce faster in his lap. Her skin dipping where Harry pawed at her to bring back against his dick. Fuck, he had to go into the restroom and tuck his boner into his pants.

“Sleepy?” He rasped, voice trembling, eyes glued to her glassy doe eyes, “come, I’ll show you to your bed.” It was easier to be quiet and gentle with her. A calm version of him meant a restrained version of him. Clean as opposed to filthy. Good instead of bad.

Her bed was really his bed. In his hurry to angle himself in such a way that she won’t see his raging erection, she forgets the state of disarray his bedroom is in. He walks slowly so he can hear the pitter-patter of her feet trailing after him, and stops at his door. Opening it, he inwardly cringes at everything inside. Blankets strewn all over the expanse of his mattress. Untucked and unaligned. One of his pillows on the floor instead of on the bed, and a rolling tray with crumbles of weed and baked mango bits on his bedside table.

Harry rushed to that first, not wanting her to see anything else related to drugs. So much for a first impression. What a way to enforce the bum-drug dealer stereotype.

“Promise m’not this messy,” he grumbles, picking up loose t-shirts and sweaters off the floor as he goes to turn on the lamp (swipe the tray away before she has a chance to see it), “it was a rough night. Was having a hard time sleeping.”

Y/n squeaks behind him and he turns. She’s still standing by the doorway, “t-this is your bed?”

Oh, God, she hates it. Harry starts swiping blankets off the bed to remake it for her. What was thinking, giving the sweet girl a messy bed?.“Yeah. I know it’s a little messy but I promise the mattress is comfortable. I bought it last year because I was having back problems a-”

“Where will you sleep?”

He starts tucking cover on the edges of his mattress, trying to be quick about it so she can see it’ll be neat for her. “On the couch, lovie.”

“B-but… this is your bed?” y/n poses it like a question, but Harry can hear the guilt in her voice because she would be taking his bed.

“I know that,” smiling softly at her, he shakes out and fluffs the pillows. “But I want you to sleep here instead. It’s much better than the couch.”

“Are you sure?” Her fingers tangle at her navel.m

He nods and tucks the used blanket under his arm to take to the couch with him. “More than, sweetheart,” Looking at her attire, he pulls open his drawer and grabs some items for him and a few for her, “want to change into something else or is that okay for you? Can give you a sweater or a t-shirt.”

Eyes lighting up at the large black shirt, y/n reaches out and points to it, “Can I have a shirt, please?”

“When you ask so nicely, how can I say no?” Harry doesn’t mean for it to come out the way it does. But it happens, low and gravelly like the drag of a big cat’s tail on a cave floor. He sees the way her cheeks burn with his effect, and his cock throbs in his pants. He needs to get out of the room. “There’s a restroom down the hall if you have to go, and an extra toothbrush in the cabinet. I’m gonna sleep right outside, so let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Y/n nods, “Okay.”

The moment he closes the door slightly behind him, his hand clutches his ground, shifting it sideways so he’s not pressing up against the zipper.

It was going to be a long night.

***

Harry wakes up to the sound of mewling.

Which is strange because he doesn’t own a cat, and high-pitched whimpering sounds are coming from… his bedroom? They’re muffled because his door is half closed. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes- if you can even call it that, he was tossing and turning because he couldn’t focus on sleeping knowing the object of his main thoughts is only a few strides away- Harry swings his feet off the side of the couch and pushes off with his knuckles. The sweatpants he had on dragged down low on his hips, the slant of his Adonis belt, and the thin skin right above the base of his cock visible. Sleepily, he tugged them higher and pressed the door open to check in on y/n.

And he felt his heart stop in his chest at what he saw.

Y/n was writhing in his bed, the sheet tangled between her legs and she was naked. Her face was flushed with tears, her chest choked up with sobs she was trying to keep down by biting on his pillow. Her hair was wild from her erratic movements caused by… well Harry didn’t know what.

He rushed to her side, “Y/n! Y/n, baby.”

A gasp wrenched itself from her chest, eyes were blown wide so that he could see how red they were, swollen at the waterline. She yelped like just his touch hurt him, and after removing his hands to ease her pain, Harry frantically ran his gaze all over her body, looking for anywhere she might be hurt. To see if maybe she had had some kind of reaction to the drugs she had taken.

“What is it, love? Talk to me,” he whispers, not wanting to scare her even more. His thick brows are furrowed heavily, eyes heavy with concern and a touch of sleep. He had never felt so helpless before, at a loss for what to do. He wanted to cradle her close to his chest and rock her sweetly until her crying stopped.

Y/n keened, whiny and long, “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“Why are you sorry, lovie? Tell me what’s wrong so I can make it all okay,” he rubs a hand across her head, featherlight but enough to brush the hair away so he could see her clearly. She turned to him, following his touch with her nose like an animal searching for the warmth of touch, and then curled deeper into herself, hands clutching at her navel, “do we have to go to the hospital, y/n?”

“I was hungry, H,” y/n shuts her eyes tightly and gulps a breath of air, “but you said no more.. and there were brownies in the drawer.”

Harry rubs her back, transfixed by y/n’s bizarre actions as she moans at his touch. Cocking his head to the side, he mumbles what she said, “brownies in the…”

Realization dawned on in.

No, no, no, no. Looking at the bedside table that previously housed his rolling tray, it now was covered with two, blood-red pieces of crumpled foil crumbs of chocolate dotted around the trash. The words Kitty-kat Brat in a sensual, curly font stamped on the side. A script of warning on the side said that each partner should only consume a fourth of the brownie every hour as desired and that after consumption, the effect would only be sated by the exhaustion of endorphins. And at the top, in a glitter color: aphrodisiac.

Y/n had consumed two aphrodisiacs that Harry kept for himself on the occasion that a partner might want to experiment with them. The poor girl was hurting because she was… so fucking horny.

“Oh, lovie,” Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. What the fuck was he going to do? Leave her? No, he couldn’t do that when… when her pussy was weeping for attention. Call someone else to help? When help meant she would get fucked so hard she’d be cock-dumb? Absolutely not. But also, Harry didn’t feel right touching her when she was clearly under another influence. And if he didn’t feel right doing it himself, why the fuck would he let someone else do it? With a curled knuckle, he hooks her chin and forces her to look at him, “can you tell me exactly what it is you’re feeling? S’okay, don’t be embarrassed.”

Y/n shuts her eyes and tries to yank her chin away, but Harry tightens his grip, pinching the sides of her mouth so she can’t move, “can’t do that, H.”

It’s laughable really, he thinks. How whiny she’s being when her actions are the reason she was in this position. He had told her no more, and did she listen to him? No. In fact, she went looking through his drawers and ate his brownies, which he did not give permission for her to do.

If there was one thing that got him riled up, it was girls who didn’t listen and then cried at the consequences of their own actions.

He chuckled at her, even though he was surprised at the change in his feelings about the situation, but he couldn’t find it in him to care anymore. Here he was, thinking she was this innocent little thing. And she eats his fucking sex brownies. Shaking his head, he taps her cheek with his finger to get her to pay attention to him, “I need to know what’s happening so I can find some way to help. Aren’t you hurting, baby?”

Keening, back arching off the bed, she cries, “So badly, Harry. My… pussy hurts. I’ve already cum so many times but nothing I do is working!” Blood rushes to his dick at the lewd confession. How long she has been in here with her fingers rubbing her cunt with him just outside the door. Muffling her moans so he doesn’t hear them. The thought makes him groan internally. “It doesn’t feel right.”

His voice is low and gravelly, filled with a hunger that was kindling in his loins in preparation to spread like wildfire. “What doesn’t feel right?” He asked.

“Me doing it myself,” she swallows wetly, and her hand comes up to grip his wrist, Her thighs are chafed from how urgently she keeps rubbing them together, and through the lace of her bralette he can see how hard her nipples are. The glassy look in her eyes isn’t just from tears, it’s a reflection of how deep her need goes. “I-I… I want someone else to do it. I want you to do it.”

Little crescents of broken skin are left in her wake, and he lets her. The sting of pain is keeping him centered at the moment. The sound of her harsh breathing, rustling of the mattress springs from all her movement, and the bursts of circling motion at her hips are testing him. He wants to squeeze the tip of his dick to alleviate some of the aches that are settling there. “You want me to do what, sweet thing?”

“I want you to help me, H. Please?” Blinking at him blearily, y/n pouts. She was begging him.

Crooning to her with a condescending pout of his own, Harry cups the side of her face and runs a thumb under her eyes were tears have started falling once more, “help you what? Use your words.”

Y/n huffs and sobs, her heels sliding against the mattress, “help me cum! Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Look at me, y/n. I said look at me,” he shakes her by the grip he has on her face gently to get her to snap out of the whining and whimpering. Needing her eyes on him so that he could read her, he asks “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, yes. I am. Please do something.”

“Ask nicely.”

The girl is back to mewling, taking the hand on her face and moving it down to her legs so that Harry would get the hint, “please touch me, H.”

Y/n pulls him down onto the bed by his hand, and Harry lets her tug at him until he’s sitting down next to her before he pulls out of her grip and grabs both of her hands in one. Placing them above her head, he looks at her pointedly, eyes dark, so she doesn’t move her hands from where he leaves them. Big hands splayed wide across her trailed down the sides of her waist and stopped at her hips, rubbing gentle circles, “Open y’legs, don’t be shy now. M’just gonna help, and I need to see what I’m working with.”

Briefly, she mumbles some kind of complaint, the remnants of any modesty making themselves known, but Harry wasn’t having any of it. He waited, glaring at her almost, until she allowed her thighs to fall open freely, and he hummed low at the back of his throat. Sliding his palms up the inside of her thigh, he began to talk to her in a tone that many didn’t get to hear, “want my fingers, lovie? Or my mouth? Don’t think you deserve my cock for being naughty and touching something that wasn’t yours. Only good girls get my cock.”

“Everything, H. I’m sorry, won’t do it again. Give me anything you want,” y/n weeps, her hands in a fist above her head digging into the pillow that is halfway out of its case from all her moving around.

“Think I’ll pet y’weepy cunt first, hmm? How does that sound?” Harry bites back a moan and feels the tip of his dick rubbing against the inside of his sweatpants. Reaching down to adjust himself doesn’t seem like a priority when his girl is beneath him with her legs wide open and pleas are falling from her lips for him to touch her. The inside of her thighs are irritated, the black gusset of her thin underwear stained white with the cream of her pussy. He wants to press his nose against her and lick her clean. His mouth is watering for him to do something of the sort but instead, he hooks her underwear aside and…

And his own hips buck forward against his will. She’s so slick, it's running down the seam of her ass and onto his bedsheets. Drops of her creamy cut sit on the edge of her hole, accumulated from her previous orgasms. Y/n twists uncomfortably and pants. Harry, wanting to hear her cries again, smears her cum with two fingers around her entrance, and slides them into her pussy.

“Perfe- oh, God.” She clenches around him, and he can feel that spongy place brush against the tip of his finger the second before she starts twitching from an orgasm. Her mouth drops open in a silent scream and her head tilts back into the mattress. Harry smirks as she cums from one touch, and his own jaw drops at the amount of moisture that comes out of her, dripping onto his knuckles.

Guiding her through it, Harry continues moving his fingers at a steady pace, bringing his thumb up to the hood of her mound to press against her clit, “Oh, y’poor thing. Just a touch and y’already gushing on m’hand? Thought I was gonna have to try for it. Y’cum this easy for everyone, lovie, or jus’ me?” He leans over her with a hand braced beside her head and whispers into her ear, “how ‘bout I work f’the next one?”

Ripples of need were running down his spine and to his groin but he focused all of his energy into paying attention to what made her react the most. Listening for the hitch in her breath. He dragged his fingers out slowly, curling them on the inside of her wall as he did so where was persistent pressure leading up to her g-spot, and y/n made an animalistic noise mixed between a whine and cry. His tongue lolled against the side of her ear, the skin hot and flushed from the heat of her body. Harry nipped the tender flesh of her neck and waited to hear her yelp to soothe the sting with his tongue. Kissing his way down to her throat, he presses his fingers into her as far as they go and runs circles around her clit while keeping steady pressure on the bundle of nerves inside of her. He’s rubbing her inside and outside, slowly, slowly, and then starts picking up the pace.

Y/n is mewling, her tits in the air as her back lifts up in a hold. Her moans are becoming louder, her pussy tightening around his fingers and he knows she’s going to orgasm again. He’s mumbling how good she is being for him against the side of her breast, his nose holding back the flimsy lace as he leaves the plush skin and fights the urge to cant his hips into the bed like a dog in heat. He feels hot everywhere, like the heat turned on by itself in his room, and when y/n’s fingers curl into his hair and pull as she cums again and screams his name he can’t find it in him to reprimand her. Harry just talks her through it.

“Good girl, y/n. Y’being so good for me. Think you can give me another, lovie? Because I want one more. Y’gonna give me one more, okay?” Cooing at the way she digs her head back into the pillows and shakes her head, Harry increases his rhythm so that the muscles in his bicep flex with every move. She’s still spasming around him from the orgasm she’s riding, but he doesn’t let it end, “ah, you’re so cute, saying no but this little cunt is weeping yes. Who am I to deny her, hmm?”

She’s adamantly shaking her head no, eyes lulling shut and her mouth slacks with a cry, “too much… too much, h. Sensitive, please-”

“Weren’t you begging for it earlier, y/n? M’only giving you what you asked for,” Harry thinks he could cum just from watching her body tense with unyielding pleasure. Her eyes are rolling into the back of her head and Harry is back to fucking her fast and hard with his fingers while licking and sucking on her nipple, “that’s it. That’s it right there isn’t it, baby? Abusing y’special spot so it’s too much for you, hmm?”

He’s muffled against her skin and the sound of her wet pussy being penetrated by his fingers is so filthy, his own eyes roll into the back of his head. He takes a deep breath and smells the sex on her, the tanginess of her juices zinging his tastebuds, and god he has to taste her.

“Yes, yes, please, Harry,” y/n is anguished, heels set firmly so she can meet his hand halfway, and she's so erratic he can’t focus on anything else but the furious pace she’s set.

“Gonna cum, baby?” Harry groans, moving one of his legs so one of hers is in between his, and the movement of her shin against his crotch makes him pant. Every muscle is tense with a restraint that is slowly melting away. With every rub of her against him- she’s doing it unknowingly, and he’s rutting against her- he’s closer to spurting in his sweatpants.

“Mhm,” her affirmation drags out into breathless gasps as the weak squeeze unclenches and clenches all over again as another orgasm rolls through her.

He can’t take it anymore. He removes his hand to give her a chance to recover, takes the hand covered in her cum, and sticks it down his pants. Hissing at the relief he gets from squeezing himself from base to tip has him seeing white.

“Good girl, baby,” stroking himself, he nuzzles against her chin. He wants to kiss her but he wants to talk them both up into a frenzy. “Took it so well, let me treat y’little pussy right. Does she still want more?” y/n nods, sniffling and scrunching her nose, “you do? Want my mouth or my fingers next, lovie?”

“I want more than that. It’s not… not enough,” she whimpers.

Harry cocks his head to the side and thrusts into his hand once more before going to touch her again. He’s painfully hard, and the catch of his tip against the terrycloth fabric inside is overstimulating him. “Not enough? I made you come three times and it wasn’t enough?”

“Give me more, Harry, please I-I need it,” y/n angles her hips in his direction again. A thin film of sweat coats her skin, and the baby hairs at her temple are sticking to the skin. Her eyes are red, but she’s not crying anymore, and a line of clear snot trails into her upper lip that she keeps sniffling. She looks thoroughly fucked now before Harry’s even stuck his cock in her. He cleans her face with the edge of a blanket and kisses her under each eye. Before he can right himself again, she pulls him back down by his hair and presses her mouth against his. Little pecks at first, and then she’s licking at the seam of his mouth, all the while Harry just smirks. He doesn’t kiss her back at first, and when she starts to cry about it, he leans in and devours her mouth.

He’s brutal in his kiss, sticking his tongue in his mouth and knocking his teeth against hers. She tastes sweet, like chocolate and strawberries and weed. Y/n melts against him, opening up her lips to him and licking back like a cat. When they separate, a string of saliva connects their mouths.

“What do you need? Hmm? Want my mouth and my fingers, too? No?” He hums low, pretending to think of naughty ways to get her off, when in reality, he’s already thought of a million and one, “want to ride one off on my thigh? Rub that wet thing between y’legs all over mine and leave a sticky mess behind? Y’might give y’self a burn, but that’s what you get for poking into something y’should have.”

“No. I’m sorry, H, just please- help me-” she pleads meekly.

“I want to help y’lovie, but y’gotta tell me because I’m running out of ideas here,” before he can finish her sentence, she makes a frustrated huff and buries her head into his neck. Y/n wraps her leg around his, trying to pull him on her but all she manages is to lift herself up and grind her molten core on the hard ridges of his abs. An absurdly loud moan resonates throughout the room, and Harry groans at the way she ruts into the air, a pull in his abdomen demanding his dick makes contact with something. Her hands find purchase on his shoulders, and Harry has to remain tense while she uses him as leverage to push her hips up so her clit drags against the ridge just below his belly button. He’s being mean, watching her struggle and pant, sweat gathering at her temples and between her tits, but he can’t help but watch her use him. She’s so focused on trying to get herself off, it’s almost like he’s not even there as long as he isn’t moving.

The way he watches her is so nonchalant, it’s almost as if he’s not a few touches away from cumming himself. He merely smiles lazily at her efforts, mumbling lame encouragement and telling her she was so cute while she puffed and struggled to get herself off. She couldn’t keep herself touching his abdomen for long enough to pick up a pace. When she starts to tire out, her pants turn into frustrated huffs, and her thighs quake from exertion.

Harry chuckles, “y’need help, baby? Y’were doing just fine before. Didn’t seem to need me then.”

She sulked, and the expression on her face was only missing the stomping of feet to resemble a tantrum, “You’re being mean!”

“Oh, darling,” he soothed, licking the salty drop of moisture that fell from the side of her eye in frustration. He wanted to keep toying with her until the only word she knew was his name in different volumes and tones, but if his own dick was hurting this badly without an added stimulant, he can’t imagine what she was feeling. He gently kissed her lips and pulled away before her eager tongue made an earnest effort to deepen their connection. “don’t cry.”

“It hurts,” y/n turned her head to the side, into the pillow to cover her face, and mindlessly ran her hands across his shoulders. A smattering of gooseflesh covered her, and for some reason, it softened him.

“Here, why don’t we try this,” he moves them so swiftly, so she’s on top, her legs on either side of him, her center sitting atop his belly button. Harry decides that he’s going to let her have her fun for a while before taking control. “Better, lovie? Like this?” Her jaw is slack from the contact of the muscular ridges, her clit grazing against the indent of his abs as guided by his hands on her hips, dragging her back and force to set a rhythm. Hurried ah-ah-ah’s are choked out from her, and y/n tries to go faster, her thigh muscles straining against Harry’s grip. And he lets her go.

With his elbows planted on the bed to support himself, he flexed his core and smirked in satisfaction when she mewled and humped him erratically, muttering that it felt so good, how she was so close. There had never been a time like this before, in which he practiced such restraint, but just gazing at her was enough. He began to pant with a savage abandon, entranced by the bouncing of her tits, the little huffs of breath that interrupted her cries. Precum leaked out of his dick and made a dark sport on the gray fabric of his pants at the feeling of her wet pussy rubbing against him. Using him to get off. This sweet angel who had been scared to look him in the eye at one point, who didn’t know shit about drugs, who had captivated him before he knew her name, was using him to get off. He had never felt so lucky.

“Go on then, use me,” Harry canted his hips up to press against her as she came down on him, and groaned when the tip of his dick touched her ass. “Give this pussy what it needs, baby. Whatever she wants,” grabbing her thigh, he stroked her, swiping up and down and skating his thumb on the tender skin that wasn’t touching.“Can I rub you right here? She wants me to touch her, will y’let me?”

Nodding fervently, so eager, “Yes, please. Anything you want Harry, need to going to-”

“Cum all over my belly?” Harry suggested, his palm stopping where her thigh meets her hip so that his thumb could reach her clit and swipe against it as she moved. Her hole fluttered against him, and then he felt her start to clench, grasping around nothing as the beginnings of another burst build inside her. His thumb flicked her bundle of nerves faster, rolling longer in bursts of two or three, and then she stilled, her thighs spasming from an orgasm announced by the shout of his name. “Look at you, y’shaking,” he whispered in awe, his hips stuttering when she feebly tried to rock against him while still cumming, “and you still fucking want more.”

“Make it go way, H,” y/n pleaded, her shoulders twitching from the continuation of the orgasm she had previously. The dim lighting in the room makes it hard to see but he doesn’t miss the way she arches her back and pushes her tits out. His mouth waters at the thought of sucking them again, but he wants her to be filthy. As filthy as his thoughts were getting.

“No.” He says, taking his hand away and watching her pussy shudder against him as he cuts her orgasm short.

Y/n whines low in her throat and lets her body fall forward. She rests on top of him now, her head by his ear. Her mouth is hot against his ear when she mutters wetly, “please.”

“You’re gonna do what I just did again, and again until it stops,” Harry rubs a hand up her back, through her shoulderblades and up the nape of her neck until his fingers are deep in her hair, and tightens his grip to keep her still from licking his jaw. He yanks her back so her face is a hair away from him, their noses a centimeter from touching, “or until you tell me exactly what you want”

Gulping, her head bobs up and down and her tone becomes pitiful, “Kay. Please.. can you… unbutton your jeans, please?”

“I said y’ have to tell me, not take what you want, y/n.” He feels try to slowly inch forward to kiss him.

“I know! I know!” Shutting her eyes tightly and whimpering when Harry pulls her back to stop her movements again, her high-pitched tone of voice sounds like music to his ears, “m’gonna go again, I promise, but your buttons are hurting my… butt.”

There's a beat of silence, and then he kisses her nose. Let's go of her hair, and tucks his hands behind his head like he's kicking back for a fucking vacation and not like if she accidentally touched his cock one more time he would cum. “Y’cute, lovie, go ahead, then. M’only watching this time.”

“S’not fair!” Y/n complained but reluctantly started moving over her own lubrication. Harry was so wet with her arousal that the filthiest suction noises were coming from where their skin touched. The insides of her thighs were hot against him, and he imagined it was from the irritation. Later, he would have to apply the cream to them. But he wasn’t going to touch her then. Not when she was being so bratty after he made her cum several times.

Cocking an eyebrow, Harry growled “what’s not fair is you ate my sex brownie, y/n, but I’m not complaining, am I? What if I wanted to fuck someone else senseless, eat out their sopping cunt, and have them beg me ‘more, h, s’not enough’? Have them mark me with their cum like you’re doing right now, and play with their clit till they can’t talk properly?” She didn’t like what he had to say“Oh, I see, y’don’t like that, do you, baby? I’m doin’ these things with you, s’not enough?”

“No!” A warmth spread in Harry’s chest at her disapproval of him doing things to someone else, at the thought that they shared the same possessiveness.

“What more do you-” she lifts her hip and inches back, and then she pulled his sweatpants down and come down in such a way that her folds were fit snugly against the angry red tip of his cock. He hissed and stilled, “Y/n, what-”

“Want this, h,” y/n whispered and rolled her hips against him. That was all it took. One touch of her pussy on him and hot, thick white ropes of his cum were spurting between them. A long animalistic groan thrummed in his chest, the tightness in his core snapped and so did he. He grabbed her with a curse and held her still as he fucked out his orgasm, his dick sliding between her folds furiously as the orgasm continued like it would never end. Moaning as he watches her bite down on her lip, climbing up on another climax as moisture burst on the length of his cock. She was quivering, grinding against him as much as she could so prettily. His blood was boiling at it felt like he was going to have heatstroke from how warm he was everywhere, but the pleasure was lighting up each of his nerves and he could care less if he died right after.

“My cock?” He snarled, his lips pulled back so he looked like the animal he was being. Puffs of air were sifting through his nostrils harshly, but he kept dirty talking her. “Y’naughty little thing, lookin’ like a fucking wreck with me sliding in between you like this, fuck, sucking me right in.”

“Feels so good,” y/n panted, her hands on his wrists at her hips. Her touch was featherlight on him, and Harry knew she was getting to the end of the brownies.

“Does it, baby?”

“Yeah, you’re so warm, it-it feels really really good,” bits of her words disappeared with gasps that took her oxygen away. She was so flushed, her skin damp with sweat.

“Is that all you know how to say?” He slows his movements, and instead of moving her over him, Harry thrusts. His member setting a harsh, punishing pace that would have him reaching her g-spot repeatedly if he was inside her.“Or are you just not thinking right because you want me to fuck you so badly?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Say it,” snarling, he pistoned up into her, the familiar sensation of a coiling rope building in him once more. The tip of his cock between them was leaking precum, y/n’s pussy dripping creamy slick on him so there was a sopping mess between them.

“I want you to fuck me, h,” on his name, y/n starts shaking uncontrollably, another orgasm running through her and this one renders her into a sobbing mess. Harry… well he’s moaning without reserve, eyes shut as pleasure overtakes him again. This time he savors it, slowing their bodies down so their sensual touches drag out longer. Low sobs shakes her, and she collapses beside him and starts to curl in on herself from the overwhelming sensations. Harry follows, climbing over her and turning her so she’s facing him and looking her right in the eyes.

“I’m not gonna fuck you dumb, tonight, sweetheart. Not when you’re already stupid horny from a brownie y’took without permission. Remember what I said? Only good girls get me between their legs. And you were so, so, naughty.” He was pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses below her breasts, peppering them both and tweaking her nipples when they weren’t in his mouth.

Y/n begins to cry, tears immediately falling at his rejection. Her beginning is desperate, “No. No, h. Please, I’ll do anything. Please, I want-”

“I know you want to cum. So that’s what I’ll give you. But not with my dick. Gonna eat up all the honey that comes out of this puffy little hole and I don’t care if y’cum so much y’crying because your slit is numb. I’m gonna stop when I want to, understand? Nod if you understand.” She does as he asks, and sniffles. “Good. Now lay down and let me eat.”

Her back has barely touched the mattress before his mouth is on her, devouring her like it's both the first and last meal he’s ever had. His tongue is hot on her already creamy pussy, and the taste of her has him rutting into the mattress like a fucking animal, fucking down on it like it’s her. He laps at her desperately, ears keenly aware of every moan, squeak, whimper that comes out of her. He fucks into her hole with his tongue, licking her cream before it's even fully out of her, and spitting it back out on her clit. The action makes y/n freeze, and he looks up, momentarily confused thinking that he’s crossed a boundary but…

But y/n’s head is thrown so far back he can count the veins in her neck, and her body is trembling, a restrained garble of words incoherently coming out of her in pants and Harry knows she’s coming. He blows on her clit, allowing his spit and her cum to drip before going back down to slurp at it. He focuses on that little button, suckling at it and flicking it with his tongue. Soon enough, y/n is yelping, her hands in his hair as she tried to wretch him away. It’s finally become too much.

“Don’t you fucking pull me off, I’m not finished yet,” he momentarily takes his hands off of her thighs and wraps them around her wrist, pressing down on the tendon at the center to wiggle her fingers off his head. He tucks them under her back, and places his mouth on her once more, dark eyes threatening her as he mouths his words on cunt, “Lay down and don’t pull again or I’ll tie y’up.”

Holding her down firmly, Harry splayed his tongue flat on her and sucks, surprised and pleased by the shriek that escaped her. Y/n is crying, saying she can’t take it, that it was enough, but Harry isn’t listening. He’s so lost in his own pleasure, the arousal he gets from her taste, the sounds she makes because of him, that he’s chasing after his own orgasm by rubbing his cock against the bed. He’s getting frustrated because he wants to get there as soon as she does, and he knows it's gonna be soon with the way she’s throbbing against his lips.

So he reaches down and squeezes himself in a tight fist, lubrication not necessary because of how slippery he was already. The moment he does, his vision goes white, and there's a spurt of heat below his belly button, and moisture drenching the lower half of his face.

They lay there heaving briefly, and he becomes aware that she’s no longer awake. Her breathing is stinted with hiccups from leftover sobs, but she’s asleep. The tip of her nose is red, her eyes red-rimmed. He knows she’s going to wake up tired and with a headache tomorrow, but he’ll be there with her. With the corner of a blanket, he cleans them up as much as he can and tosses that soiled sheet away, grabbing a much more clean one and throwing it over them.

“Night, baby.” He kissed her forehead and tucked his Achilles heel close to his chest, the girl sleeping like a rock in his arms.

#harry styles blurbs #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction

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avatar-anna · 1 year

Text

Before the Show

Young dad! Harry x Young mom! Reader

Harry rushed through the halls of Wembley Stadium, barely keeping track of the crew members he narrowly missed bumping into or the people who greeted him as he rushed by. It was a little less than an hour before the show, and though he should've been going through his pre-show routine of brushing his teeth and getting into his stage outfit and hanging out with the band, he was running around Wembley like a madman.

When he finally reached the right door, Harry skidded to a stop, breathing a huge sigh of relief before opening it.

"I got it!" he said, voice hushed as he tossed the stuffed animal.

Y/n caught it out of the air and rested it next to the sleeping figure on the couch. "You're an angel, Harry."

Harry waved his hand nonchalantly. "No problem. I'm just glad I made it back before she woke up."

They looked down at where Maeve was sleeping soundly on the couch of the dressing room, a separate one from Harry's, for no other reason than for him and Y/n to watch the kids in peace and have as little eyes on them as possible. Everyone on the Love on Tour crew was under strict NDAs, but Y/n did appreciate a little privacy when she had to change a diaper or put someone down for a nap. Harry's dressing room was right next door, but both of them found that an extra room for diaper bags, toys, and whatever else they needed that day came in handy.

"Where is everyone?" Harry asked, noticing the lack of children in what was basically Love on Tour's playroom.

"Simone, Collette, and Jules are with the band, and your mother is getting in some one on one time with the babies," Y/n said. "And now I'm debating staying in here with Maeve or just leaving the baby monitor on."

"Oh. Might not have to," Harry said, nodding toward the couch where their daughter's eyes were beginning to flutter.

Maeve rubbed her eyes sluggishly, looking around and trying to get her bearings. When her eyes landed on Harry, she stretched her arms out. He picked her up with ease, holding her close before standing up.

"Where's Pauli?" she mumbled.

Y/n quickly handed Harry the stuffed animal to give to Maeve. "Right here, peanut. Was with you the whole time," he said, giving Y/n a conspiratorial wink, which she rolled her eyes at.

Maeve took the stuffed unicorn and held it close before settling against Harry's chest again, her free hand reaching up to play with the hair curling around his ear.

"Pauli" was Maeve's stuffed animal, named after the person who gave it to her. When Harry brought it home one night, Harry told Maeve it was "from Pauli," but she thought Harry was telling her the unicorn's name, and so that's what everyone called it. Maeve never went anywhere without Pauli, which meant that anytime he got left at home or in a car seat, there was massive panic between Harry and Y/n.

"Why don't you let Mommy hold you, Maevie. Daddy has to get dressed for his big show," Y/n said, but even as she did, Harry could feel his daughter's little legs tighten around his waist. He knew he had to get ready for the show, but he secretly loved that Maeve didn't want to let go of him too.

"It's alright," he said to his wife. "Let's go find everyone, shall we, peanut?"

The three of them left the dressing room and went a couple doors down to where the band was supposed to be getting ready. Harry could hear a low hum coming from the closed door, which told him everything he needed to know. When Y/n pushed the door open, the noise got louder, causing Maeve to lift her head from Harry's shoulder to see what was going on.

"Hey, look who it is!"

The commotion didn't stop entirely, but it did lessen as the focus shifted to Harry, Maeve, and Y/n. Pauli—the person, not the unicorn—came over to where the three had remained by the dressing room door. Geneva was on his hip, who seemed to be marveling at Pauli's hair and touching it idly, but Pauli didn't seem to mind. He handed GiGi over to Y/n, who was making grabby hands at her now that she was in arm's reach. Y/n took her and kissed her cheek, quietly thanking Pauli for looking after Geneva.

"I thought my mum had Gi and Natalia?" Harry said to no one in particular.

"She went with Gem and the baby for a walk. Trying to get her down for a nap," Mitch said. "Took ours too."

"She does that," Harry nodded. He was plenty used to his mother taking any of his babies off his or Y/n's hands.

"It's fine. Sarah and I are used to it by now," he said. "And there's plenty of little ones to occupy us before the show."

Surveying the rest of the room, Harry saw all the rest of his children entertaining his band. Simone was sitting on a couch with Elin's bass in her lap while Elin told her where to put her fingers on the fretboard; Collette seemed to be in an intense battle of rock paper scissors with Julian while the members of the trumpet section watched and cheered. A small smile tugged at Harry's lips at the sight. It was such a different environment than when he was first starting out, and he couldn't have been happier.

"You need to go get ready. Unless you're planning on going out like that," Y/n said to him.

Harry looked down at his t-shirt and workout shorts, the beat up shoes he was wearing, then looked at Y/n. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Nothing's wrong with what you're wearing, baby. In fact, I'm sure your fans would love to see you perform in your day clothes," she said, leaning over to kiss his shoulder. "But you might as well put on what Lambert picked out for you."

Harry finally relented, knowing the clock was ticking and he would soon be out of time. Carefully, he set Maeve down on the floor, telling her to show Uncle Pauli her unicorn, and since she was more awake, she was more receptive to the idea of letting Harry go.

He watched Maeve skip over to Pauli and Sarah and present her unicorn. Even though he knew about it because Harry told him, Pauli acted surprised and showed interest in the stuffed animal named after him.

"Go, Daddy. We'll come see you off before the show," Y/n said. She tilted his head to face her so she could kiss him.

"Promise?"

Y/n smiled at Harry, partly amused. With a slight roll of her eyes, she said, "Yes. I promise."

With one last kiss, Harry left. He didn't like being away from his family when they were so close, but in moments like these, moments before a show, he appreciated a little quiet to calm his nerves. And there were a lot for this show.

Harry's hands shook ever so slightly as he got dressed, his mind wandered to the thousands of people that were already filling the stadium. Eighty-five thousand people. All of them waiting for him to perform his heart out, to give them a show they would never forget. Harry usually forgot about that pressure when he stepped onstage, but beforehand, he was all nerves.

"I hold you, Daddy?" GiGi said, reaching for him. That had become her favorite phrase recently. Instead of asking to be held, Geneva asked if she could hold them. Harry's heart melted every time he heard it.

Grinning, Harry reached down to where his second youngest child managed to toddle in by herself. "How did you get in here, eh? You're too cute to be out of anyone's sight."

"Mommy," GiGi said, smiling when Harry smiled at her.

"Oh, Mummy let you in here? Mummy?" Harry asked, determined to have at least one of his kids share his accent.

"Mu—mmy," she said.

"That's my girl. Now give your daddy a kiss, hm? Right here."

Geneva kissed Harry's cheeks right where he'd pointed. Just moments before, he'd been stressing about his show, but as he held his daughter, and took Y/n's hand, who was waiting just outside the dressing room for the pair to come out, he felt like he could take on the world.

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young mom! reader #young dadrry #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot

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alonetimelover · 10 months

Text

pairing: Harry Styles x physicist!reader

summary: NYC is welcoming one of the most famous physicist and things seem to look great. More physics in pop terms and more of the sweet couple. For some time.

a/n: part 2 of physicist! reader. im so excited for you guys to read it! again i am sorry if i butchered physics in here - i hope my notes were correct...

@celesteblack08

masterlist

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harryupdates

liked by scienceandharstyles, hArrysbtch and 34 302 others

harryupdates HARRY spotted in NYC today!

view all 3 492 comments

hArrysbtch he didn't listen to Europe's prays, he can't leave America

harrysmoustache oh ive missed my husband SO MUCH

harrysmylife harries come on, what is his lockscreen?

⤷ hArrysbtch it looks like a building or something

⤷ harrysfan44 i think it's some old building, i posted the screenshot

⤷ scienceandharstyles it's one of the buildings on the Oxfords campus! Dr ysn has her lectures there

⤷ hArrysbtch so im assuming he has dr yn in front of that building, you can see a head on that lockscreen 😭

scienceandharstyles he can be there with Dr ysn! she said she had some open lectures in US!

⤷ harrysfan87 yes! imattending her lecture at NYU tomorrow! i can't wait

⤷ harrysfan33 and in three days she has a lecture with physics students at Colombia University!

meetcutesnyc 👀👀

⤷ hArrysbtch ohhhh, you know something

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harrynyc

liked by harryupdates, harrysmoustache and 22 301 others

harrynyc I SAW HARRY AND YN TALKING WITH THE METTCUTESNYC GUY TODAY! and then dr yn snapped this photo for me 🫠

view all 3 202 comments

harryupdates oh im following that account immediately!!!

hArrysbtch harry answering questions about his relationship??? it can't be...

⤷ harrysmoustache maybe he finally feels comfortable

⤷ user48 I hope she isn't forcing him to

⤷ hArrysbtch he's a grown-up man, ha can make his own decisions

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TikTok

The video started with a grey pavement and part of the road visible on the screen and two pairs of sneakers approaching the cameraman. Hard-core fans of Harry would recognise those pairs of shoes plus legs wherever they would see them, they couldn’t be mistaken. The colours of them were unmistakable, taking away the need to be rather invisible. Sneakers pacing right next to Harry were just as funky as his, but in more pastel shades. They were slightly unfamiliar to the fans, but considering the account posting the video could mean the only one person - Dr YN YSN.

“Excuse me, sorry to bother you,” started the voice behind the camera. “Are you a couple?”

Now, the camera was showing both of the faces. Harry’s partially covered by the navy hat and big sunglasses, and YN’s with a huge smile on her face. They both were wearing cosy outfits. A pair of Pleasing hoodies, shorts and high, white socks.

They both were interrupted mid-laughing. Harry slightly but seemingly tensed at the abrupt question thrown at him on the street of NYC, but immediately calmed down at YN’s hand squeezing his lovingly. He wanted to politely move forward, saying something like ‘yes, we are, but sorry we are expected somewhere near soon.’ But YN, his sweet YN, loved meeting and talking with new people. And he loved her for that.

“Hi! Yes, yes we are,” she answered with a smile, but just like Harry - didn’t stop walking towards their destination.

“Would you mind telling me a story of how you guys first met?”

“Oh, I know you guys!” YN exclaimed. “You’re the ‘meet cutes’ account on Instagram, right?”

YN stopped in her tracks, making Harry take a step back to join her.

“Yes, we are!”

“I love those videos. They are so sweet. Remember the one I showed you with that elderly couple?” With the last sentence YN turned to her boyfriend, a big smile on her face.

Harry nodded his head, mimicking her smile. There was no day when he could look at her without breaking a smile. She was such a ray of sunshine that shone over him and to him from the moment he first saw her.

“Go ahead,” Harry whispered to YN. “If you want to answer some of the questions, I’m okay with it. I know how much you love those videos.” He encouraged her.

YN looked at Harry longingly and with love spelled in her gaze. It wasn’t like he said that only for her happiness. They did talk about their public appearances, PDA, articles, her career, his career, fans, students, colleagues, professors. They talked about everything and came to the conclusion that those were their lives. Nobody should have decided for what they should and shouldn’t. It was their decision.

That was how they decided that they would talk with YN’s dean and ask for permission for Harry to be on campus. Of course, it was granted - YN being one of the best researchers and the best lecturer at Oxford, and Harry being dean’s daughter's idol since his One Direction days. It just worked in their favour and as long as he wasn’t distracting students AND staff (including YN) it was very much okay for him to be there. Then they talked with Jeff (after YN insisted on it, ‘he is managing your career, Harry. Of course we should talk with him,’ she said one day). He obviously was happy for Harry, teasing him for the duration of their meeting, asking to be the best man at their wedding ‘after all I am the one who planted a seed of curiosity in that imbecile’s head’.

“How did we first meet? Well, in person it was at our mutual friend's party, he introduced us to each other and the rest would be history.” She smiled at the end, gazing for a moment at Harry then back at the man, who asked the question.

“In person? Was there any other occasion?”

YN laughed and bumped her hip at Harry’s. “For me, the party was the very first time meeting him. I mean, my students talked about this lovely man all the time. I heard about him, I listened to his music. But the first time was at that party.”

“Have you met your partner earlier?” The question was directed to Harry.

“Not met, no. But my friend actually sent me a link to a video where she called me a God particle. I couldn’t let that slide and looked for her wherever I went,” Harry answered, face turned towards the interviewer but his eyes were on YN, looking at her beautiful smile.

“What were your first thoughts after meeting or seeing each other for the first time?”

YN sighed, “you go first. You’re better with words.”

“Uhm, after seeing that video I thought ‘how did she make physics seem so easy?’ and then ‘I’d love to see more of her.’ Just the way her passion for science beamed through the screen made me infatuated,” Harry longed. “Even though I'm very bad at understanding science.”

“But you’re learning!” YN interrupted him. “You now understand aspects that I teach, it’s very impressive.”

“Thank you, love. Uhm, but when I first saw her in real life I thought that ‘I need to talk to her. I need to ask about that God particle and how much of a responsibility of being one is upon my shoulders’.”

YN laughed, throwing her head back slightly. She loved when he was talking about that night.

“What about you?”

“When our friend introduced us I greeted Harry with the thing that I firstly thought, ‘I've never thought I’d meet the God particle.’ And thankfully he laughed and it seemed to work for us.” YN explained with a smirk.

“Now, could you tell me what is your favourite thing about each other?”

“Her passion," Harry answered immediately, not giving YN a chance to do it first. "Or either wanting to learn and understand more and to teach others about what she loves. Watching her take time to help her students, staying after hours and grading all those papers, being the inspiration to others, to me - to be better and share my passion and knowledge with others. Yeah, that’s my favourite thing.”

For his whole speech, YN was looking at her lover’s eyes trying to find that gleam that usually made her feel present and conscious in this fast paced world.

“You’re gonna make my cry! No!”

She hugged him, hiding her face in his hoodie. Harry embraced her body tightly, kissing the side of her head, murmuring ‘I’m sorry” and ‘I love you’.

After a few moments for YN to calm down, she stood straight next to him (one arm around his waist, wanting to be close to him), taking a few breaths in.

“My favourite thing about Harry is how deeply he cares and loves people close to him. It’s one thing being loved by him and a very much different thing seeing how his love is absorbed by his family. The way he showers them in so many different aspects of love is astonishing. It’s from mundane things like doing groceries to him driving to your house at night because you needed someone to talk to. I just love how he loves people in a poetic but human way.”

While watching that video people could tell how much those two loved and cared for each other. The way they looked lovingly at the other while they were talking said much more than a thousand words could describe.

“Final question, what do you look for in the future?”

“Woah, hard question,” YN started, placing her finger under her chin in a deep thought. “I think I look forward to spending more time with this guy. You know, just sitting at home and being around each other, sipping tea, holding cats and just being close.”

“Seeing her happy with who she is makes me the happiest. So I’d love to see that for as long as it lasts,” said Harry squeezing YN closer to him.

“Thank you guys, so much. What are your names?”

After Harry pointed at YN to tell it first, she introduced Harry and then herself with a little smile present on her sun kissed face.

“It was very nice talking to you. You really made my day. Thank you!” She said and went to squeeze the interviewer's hand.

“My pleasure. My sister became science obsessed because of the videos of you teaching. She’s 10 but started reading books about Physics for highschoolers,” said the man.

YN pouted, clasping her hands together in front of her chest.

“No way! That is so sweet! I’ve read some of the books about physics for younger kids. I’ll look over my library and just DM it to this account? Would that be okay? I’m sorry but I just love hearing about younger people being excited about science,” YN stumbled a little over her words, getting too eager about the subject.

“Yes. She would love it.”

“Fantastic. Have a good day!”

“Nice talking to you, mate,” Harry said, shaking the guy's hand.

While the camera was filming the couple walking away hand in hand, the voice could be heard from behind it, “that was the most nerve wracking interview I've ever done. But they were so cool.”

meetcutesnyc Physics connects people

my parents!!!!!!!

i can't believe that you bumped into them

'at our friend's party' is a nice way of saying that CHRISTOPHER NOLAN introduced you to each other

passion? being the inspiration? dr yn ysn is the IT girl

'i love how he loves people' 🫠🫠🫠

just the way he looks at her... he may think we do not see his eyes behind those glasses but i did... I did and there was a BIG NEON SIGN SAYING I LOVE YOU

you can see how much they love each other

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nyuniversity

liked by yourinstagram and 3 402 others

nyunicersity Because of the interest of Dr YN YSN open lecture, we are moving it to our main lecture room! There might still be some space for you! Come and learn with the infamous Dr YN YSN.

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yourinstagram Everyone is welcome!

harrystyles ❤️❤️

harrynyc Can't wait to attend it!

harrysfan44 finally the lecture I am wiling to attend!

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harrysfan44

liked by harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 25 302 others

harrysfan44 Dr YN YSN at the beginning of the lecture. Later she did not stand behind the pulpit. She was walking around asking people if they understood everything, she answered questions. That was the best lecture I've ever attended. Now I understand the hype!

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harryupdates she is the best!

hArrysbtch I just love the person streaming this after dr yn ysn said it was okay to film her because she knows that a lot of people weren't let in the room

⤷ harrysfan44 yes! she even argued with our Dean to let people in if they were okay with sitting on additional chairs and the floor. she just wanted everyone to be included!

user34 was there any topic explained in pop terms??

⤷ hArrysbtch yes! she explained the moment of inertia using music idols and dispersion was based on One Direction breaking up

⤷ user34 what?! really?

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TikTok

“Okay, so anyone knows anything about dispersion?” Dr YN YSN asked the full to the brim lecture hall.

“Yeah, it’s a rainbow?” Answered one of the students.

“Well, not exactly. Dispersion is the dependence of the refractive index of the centre of the frequency of the light wave in the centre. One of the effects of the dispersion is the fact that the light of different wavelengths so different taint, dropping on the line of two centres at the angle different than zero, refracts at different angles. You can observe that when the white light is being refracted on prisms giving you the beautiful rainbow. All in all, what is the most important. Rainbow is not dispersion. Rainbow is the effect of dispersion,” YN explained quickly the topic, drawing on the blackboard the prisms and various colours. “Do you understand?”

The lecture room was silent. Strangely silent which made Dr YSN turn around quickly and take a look all over the room.

“Okay. What is not clear. Dispersion or prisms?”

“Prisms,” was said by most of the people.

“Yeah, they’ve just had a test on dispersion and failed on explaining the effects of it,” commented in rather rude tone one of the professors, causing Dr YN YSN to raise her eyebrows.

“Okay. Ehm, another chance to make you understand. Give me a band I can work with right now to explain it. Don’t be shy, you can scream it to me, don’t hold your hand up. I want to hear the answer.”

After a moment of whispers bouncing off the walls, one brave student spoke up, “what about One Direction?”

Dr YN YSN smiled and blushed slightly, looking momentarily at her left, right where Harry was sitting.

“I see what you guys are doing. I’ll work with the thing you gave me. Alright. Uhm, connections. White light is the band. One Direction, right? Right.” Dr YSN started with drawing the prism and one simple white line almost touching the border of the triangle. “Here we have their path together, right? No obstacles, they shine together. But then boom!” She aggressively drew the line towards the border, touching it. “2015 happened. They met the obstacle, the 18 month hiatus, isn’t that right?”

She turned around with a smile, making a room laugh and sneaking a glance at Harry who was putting his head in his hands.

“Okay. So when they met that 2015 it was their line of two borders, border one saying ‘stay together’ and border two saying ‘it’s time to move on’." She touched the spaces on the board to visualize what was being said.

"As white light reacts, it cannot have the same opinion which in our case is the angle of the way the light is dropping. So, it bounces off in different directions, becoming different colours. All in all. They were all one name, yes? White light equals one direction. After meeting the obstacle - 2015, so line of two centres - they are given different names - now blue, red, yellow, green, purple and so on. Do we understand it better now?”

DR YSN once more turned towards the room, leaving the drawing of the prisms behind her.

“We do.”

“Yeah, but that connection was uncalled for,” someone commented, making people laugh.

“Well, you were the one asking for One Direction. I gave you what you wanted,” YN laughed. “Alright, any more questions?”

she is the moment

i love that woman with my whole heart

she is beautiful, she is successful, she is smart, she bagged one of the sexiest man alive ICON

she is the icon, the legend, and she is the moment

another time I understand physics only because of Dr yn ysn and not my professors - but really covering the hiatus was uncalled for

thank you, Dr ysn!!!!

the way she smirked at Harry when commenting on the 2015 fiasco? Icon behaviour right there!

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drynysn

liked by harrystyles, scienceandharstyles and 201 201 others

drynysn Thank you to everyone who attended the lecture at NYU! It was amazing to see you all there! I cannot stress enough how unfortunate it was that some of you were not let into the room. I spoke up with the Dean, and we agreed on one more open lecture being held in two days. So if you still want to hear some cool facts about physics, cosmos, and more, come! I will be waiting and fighting for you to be let in!

ps. isn't it the coolest library?

ps2. This is the new account I will be using to post some little videos explaining some of the concepts in physics!

view all 17 301 comments

harrystyles There is a beautiful woman covering some of the bookshelves. I am too mesmerised.

⤷ yourinstagram you cheeky 🫠

scienceandharstyles this is the best way to get into young people's hearts!

harryupdates I loved the stream! I understand so much and learn even more. Amazing as always!

hArrysbtch the way she was fighting the old man to let people in??? iconic behaviour!

harrysmoustache the impact this woman has! this account already has more than 500k followers!!!

⤷ yourinstagram it's craaaazzzy

�� drynysn wrong account... but it is crazy

⤷ hArrysbtch I LOVE HER

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harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, harryupdates and 5 302 391 others

harrystyles NYC 2023

view all 453 291 comments

yourinstagram Your support is all I need ❤️

harryupdates I lived to the day that Harry Styles posted a photo with his girlfriend

hArrysbtch yeah yeah yeah, you are in love (I am crying)

harrymylove NYC is looking god on you guys

annetwist Congratualtions you guys!

⤷ yourinstagram Annie! Thank you, xx

⤷ hArrysbtch what did harry do?

⤷ annetwist He's my son.

⤷harrystyles Thank you, mum ☺️

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drynysn

liked by harrystyles, annetwist and 1 029 291 others

drynysn Hello! Here are even more physics answers to questions you might have had throughout your whole life. Hope you enjoy it because I loved answering those!

view all 283 492 comments

harrystyles Still no god particle, disappointing

⤷ drynysn Criticism accepted.

⤷ harrystyles Will there be a part 3?

⤷ drynysn Maybe. But still no Higgs boson.

hArrysbtch this is what I needed just before my classes

harrysmoustache she's doing her makeup and explaining quantum physics... she really is amazing

scienceandharstyles I will miss those lectures after graduating 😭

wired Oh, this is one of our best videos!

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 34 291 others

harryupdates HARRY AND DR YN YSN spotted in Oxford today!

view all 1 930 comments

hArrysbtch they are back!!!!!

harrysmoustache dr ysn has tattoos???

⤷ scienceandharstyles yes! she has multiple!

⤷ harrysmoustache she is even cooler, oh god

harrylondonboy it's a nice time of the year to take a trip to Oxford and bump into them

harrysfan39 the holding hands, the outfits, the camera???

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celebrityupdates

liked by user34, hater37 and 684 302 others

celebrityupdates Is this the kind of pictures that the professor of one of the most prestigious universities in the world should pose for? This and more pictures of Harry Styles and Dr YN YSN are on our website, link in bio.

view all 492 201 comments

harryupdates this is so sick and twisted, you should find some good lawyers

hArrysbtch you little bitches, this is invasion of privacy

harrysmoustache I remember the case similar to this, and the couple went to court and won. so prepare some money

harrysmylife fuck you, disgusting pigs

user47 absolutely not kind of pictures I'd think this good of a professor is part of!

user93 I don't like the picture (considering the role she has in young people's lives), and I don't like invasion of privacy.

harrysfan192 will that mean she'll get fired?

⤷ hArrysbtch they would be crazy if they even thought about it!

⤷ user92 there are different laws in different universities but I think they could do it

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a/n: do we live it as a mystery or should i start preparing part 3?

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles instagram #harry styles fake ig #scientist!reader #physicist!reader

801 notes · View notes

weasleyreidstyles · 6 months

Text

Serendipity

chapter two

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): slight mind manipulation?

series masterlist; previous part; next part

At some point during the feast, you managed to sneak your way onto the Gryffindor table, sliding into the seat beside Ginny, who was sat with Dean Thomas to her other side, who shifted uncomfortably everytime Ron glared at the hand that was grazing his sister's.

"Nice face, Harold." you say sarcastically. "Who healed the break? It looks rushed."

"Thanks Meadow." he snarks before deflating further in his seat as your eyes tracked him for more injuries. "Tonks walked me from the train."

You hummed in acknowledgment before you went over the unhealed scabs and dried patches of blood with wordless spells which always left your friends marvelling at your skill.

"There. Now your face is pretty as ever." you say smirking, patting Harry's cheek which he swats away. "Can't have the 'Chosen One' at his worst now, can we?"

"Piss off." he grumbled but it was only banter between two friends.

"How are you, really, Harry? Where'd you disappear to on the train." you wanted to hear him say it, even if you did trust Theo's word.

"I was right about Malfoy-" he starts before you interrupt him.

"So I've heard. You've taken up stalking as a hobby now, Potter? That's low." you chuckle, which turns into a full on laugh as he glares at you, annoyed.

"He's a Death Eater." he lowers his voice, but his admission sucks the happiness right out of the air. "He was talking about some task that Voldemort has for him."

He pauses as if his mind is trying to catch up with the words tumbling from his mouth, before he looks directly at you, as if he's staring through you.

"You've seen Nott today right? And Parkinson?" you nodded. "What did they talk about? Did Nott talk about his father being caught at the Ministry? Or did-"

You raised a singular brow at your friend as if to say 'are you finished?'.

"Yes I saw them today, in the Prefects' carriage. We just caught up with small talk and some gossip about some Hufflepuff couple. Nothing more." the lie was quickly thought out and also not too far fetched – Pansy had mentioned something about a new couple in passing before you'd parted ways on the train.

"Nothing about tasks or creepy shops?" Ron asked as he shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth. You watched him, discust painting your features.

"Nothing about tasks, and certainly nothing about creepy shops. Please chew with your mouth closed, Ronald. Seriously Harry? Stalking?"

He only shrugged at you before turning to his plate of food. He was clearly put out about something and you would bet all your galleons that it had to do with the couple next to you, who were being nauseating, to put it lightly.

You and Hermione giggled as Ron muttered about his sister and her boyfriend showing any ounce of affection in front of him, sharing a glance as Harry continued to glance at them before looking away, visibly annoyed.

When Dumbledore began to stand in front of the House tables, you slipped back into your seat beside Luna; in the corner of your eye you watched as Theo gave you the subtlest of nods.

"The very best of evenings to you!" Dumbledore announced, smiling broadly, his arms outstretched wide as if he were embracing the whole room. That's when you, and the rest of the Hogwarts student body, noticed that his right hand appeared to have started decaying at a rapid rate.

You made eye contact with Pansy who looked as horrified as everyone else.

What the fuck? She practically screamed into your mind as the sound of people whispering swept through the hall.

Dumbledore merely smiled before he shook the sleeve of his purple and gold cloak over his hand.

"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now...to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you..."

You drowned out the rest of his speech, like you do every year, instead conversing with Pansy in your head.

It looks like his hand has physically died. You say to her. It's got to be dark magic of some sort.

But what business does Dumbledore have messing with that sort of evil? She sounded as nauseated as you felt just thinking about it.

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn-" Dumbledore said, prompting the man that you had yet to meet to stand up. "-is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

You swivelled in your seat to find Hermione in the crowds and mouthed 'potions?' to her with confusion written all over your face.

The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they had heard right.

"But if he's the Potions Professor, then who will be teaching Defence?" Cho spoke from across the table.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Well that answered that question.

"No!" you giggled quietly with Luna as everyone's heads swivelled back and forth between Harry, who had shouted so loudly but didn't seem to care, Snape and Dumbledore.

And suddenly Defence is my least favourite subject. Theo spoke, making you choke on your drink as you laugh.

As if oblivious to the uproar his announcement just caused, Dumbledore waited only a few moments before the hall descended into silence once more, before continuing his long winded speech.

"Now as everyone in this Hall is aware," he pointedly looked anywhere but in the direction of the Slytherin table, "Lord Voldemort and his followers once again walk among us and gain strength and numbers everyday."

Suddenly the heads that were staring in Harry's direction turned pointedly to where Mattheo Riddle and his friends were sitting. Instead of shying away from their gazes, like Pansy and Daphne Greengrass and few others did, he continued to stare ahead at Dumbledore, seemingly unbothered by the attention he was garnering.

The silence seemed to strain painfully as Dumbledore spoke. But you seemed to zone out of what he was saying. Something about the castle's protection wards being fortified and strengthened; extra security; stricter curfew at night, etc. You took in none of it, instead focusing on your friends at the Slytherin table, who grew paler by the second. You'd watch out for them this year, especially Theo. None of them deserved to be put into the position they no doubt would all be in, come Christmas time.

Dumbledore's blue twinkling eyes swept over the students once more. "But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"

Your lessons tomorrow.

You wished it was as simple as school work, but you knew it would be anything but.

~∞~

You woke up early the next morning, the anticipation for what the day may bring making your anxiety skyrocket as you got ready to leave for the Great Hall, in which the ceiling sported a brilliantly blue sky, only a few clouds dotting the illusion. You met the Golden trio there, who were busy discussing Harry's theory about Malfoy.

"Well obviously Riddle's already inducted." Ron muttered as you sat down, a speck of blue, in a sea of red. "He is his father's son, after all."

"Still going on your Malfoy-is-a-death eater spiel? The day has hardly begun." you said as you piled scrambled eggs onto a plate, ignoring the pointed look that Professor Mcgonagall gave you as she handed out her House's timetables.

Ron seemed to be getting more agitated by the second as another group of third years on the table beside your's pointed between the four of you and whispered, not so discreetly, about what happened in June.

"It's rude to point." he snapped, sending a glare their way, causing them to turn around, cheeks painted with embarrassment.

"So sixth year looks very bare in comparison to last year, doesn't it." you say, steering Ron's glare from the backs of their heads while you looked over his timetable.

"I love being a sixth year already." Ron said, his mood brightening visibly thanks to your interference. "And we're going to be getting free time this year. Whole periods when we can just sit up in the common room and relax."

"We're going to need that time for studying, Ron!" Hermione berated as you laughed.

"Yeah, but not today," said Ron, "today's going to be a real doss, I reckon."

"I wouldn't speak too soon, Ronald." you say with a smirk as Professor Mcgonagall makes her way over to the four of you. You'd already gotten your timetable the from Professor Flitwick that morning and found out that you were in the same classes as Hermione. You both finished off your plates and left Harry and Ron in favour of getting to Ancient Runes, where Theo and Riddle were waiting for you.

Reaching the classroom, you spotted Theo immediately and went to snag the seat beside him, but Pansy beat you to it with a playful smirk.

"Come and sit by me, Princess." you glared at your two friends as you turned around to find Riddle with his arm stretched over the back of the spare seat of his desk. "I don't bite."

"Somehow I highly doubt that." you mumbled as you searched for Hermione, who had chosen to sit near the front of the room, the seat beside her already taken. Traitor. She only looked at you apologetically before turning around.

You slumped into the seat, pointedly ignoring him as you took out your things. You could hear Theo and Pansy laughing at your expense so you sent a small stinging jinx wandlessly their way, smirking when they yelped in surprise.

"Smart girl." Riddle mumbled to himself, probably not intending for you to hear, but your cheeks flushed all the same.

"So was Theo lying about your disastrous ability to desipher runes, or was that just a way to get me to agree for your...help?" you ask, still choosing to igore him.

"Oh I assure you I'm quite terrible, Princess. Awful. In fact I'm not sure how I got back into this class, if I'm being entirely honest." he said it with a shrug before he smirked at you again. "I'm sure you can help me. You are top of the class, after all."

"Actually Mione was top of the class at the end of last year. Why not ask her?" you ask, glancing at him through the corner of your eye. He had turned to look directly at you, but his hand was still on the back of your chair.

You try, and fail, to push it off, sneering at the muscular appendage in offence. Damn him and his strong, quidditch arms.

"Theodore doesn't trust Granger, he trusts you. Therefore, I'm putting my trust into your...abilities to help me out."

Lovely. His words carried a double meaning. You were really considering hexing Theo and Pansy again for putting you in this situation.

His huff of laughter along with the burning pinch at the base of your skull were the only indications that he'd heard your thoughts.

After Defence, wait for me so that we can discuss the nature of your lessons and my apparent tutlage.

You ignored him for the rest of the lesson, but wordlessly agreed, nonetheless.

~∞~

You were complaining to Hermione the whole walk to the Defence classroom, and while she was amused, there was underlying worry in her responses.

"So he wants you to tutor him?" she asks curiously.

"Not a clue why." you say flipantly. "If I was him I'd much rather you taught me."

"Well I am a muggleborn, for starters." she says self-depricatingly and continues speaking, not allowing you to rebute her statement. "And you're still at the top of the class. Christ, you can do most spells non-verbally and wandlessly, far better than I can. I think I'd rather you than me, too. No offence."

You only smiled sarcastically at her. "I don't think anyone would willingly tutor him. Perhaps I should bargain a favour with him instead."

You left out the part where he was already fulfilling a kind of favour, for Theodore and Pansy, no less.

"One class in and my shoulders already ache." you whine as you rolled your shoulder to ease the pain that your heavy bag was causing. Harry and Ron met you outside the classroom a moment later, staring, horrified, at Hermione's armful of heavy books.

"We've gotten so much homework for Runes already." she said anxiously. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations and we've got to read these by Wednesday!"

"Now I see why we have so many frees this year." you grumble.

"Shame," Ron said with a yawn, before smirking at the two of you.

"Just you wait," she said resentfully. "I bet Snape gives us loads."

The classroom door opened as she spoke and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.

"Inside," he said.

The Defence classroom was gloomier than ever, but thankfully it was no longer sickeningly pink and filled to the brim with plates of cat photos. The dark curtains were drawn across the windows and the only light came from the numerous candles that dotted the room, insighting a headache when you tried to read the blackboard. Snape's personality appeared to shine all over the room, from the odd portraits to the weird contraptions that littered the space.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. "I wish to speak to you and I require your fullest attention. You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe."

His dark, beady eyes scanned the room.

"Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be much more advanced." he set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a low voice that you desperately wanted to drown out. But the burning sensation at the back of your skill prohibited you from doing just that.

No. Pay attention. Riddle was becoming a thorn in your side, and its only the first day.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster. Each time a neck is severed, it sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

Someone read up on their Greek mythology this summer. You say to Theo, who smirks behind his hand.

"Your defences," Snape continued, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the Arts you seek to undo. These pictures," he indicated a few of them as he swept past, "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse-" he waved a hand towards a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony; "-feel the Dementor's Kiss-" a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed slumped against a wall; "-or provoke the aggression of the Inferius." a bloody mass upon the ground.

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" Parvati Patil asked in a high-pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Snape, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..."

You really did drown him out this time. Thinking about his wording. To your knowledge, only his followed gave him the name 'the Dark Lord', so why was Snape using that name? You filed away the information as he paced across the classroom.

"....you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells. What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else, pointledly looking in your direction where your hands stayed glued to your sides, making sure he had no choice, before saying curtly, "Very well – Miss Granger?"

"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," she stated, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6," said Snape dismissively. "But correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some," his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry, "lack."

The Professor's beady eyes landed on you once more, a challenge present in them.

"Miss Meadow, come up to the front." everyone's eyes were on you as he beckoned you forward, so you obeyed. "I want you to demonstrate this skill. On me." He motioned for you to stand on one side of the room, while he stayed at the other.

You shook off your limps and, using your wand rather than just doing it wandlessly, you shot out a disarming spell, which Snape blocked.

"Good. Now try again." he said as he shot his own disarming spell at you, which you wordlessly blocked with a flick of your wand.

This back and forth continued for five or so more minutes before Snape managed to catch you off guard and disarm you with a minute flick of his wrist.

"Very good. Now following that example, you will divide into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."

People paired off, you choosing to partner with Mione who looked determined to perfect this new skill. Everyone who was part of the DA in the previous year were practically experts at casting spells, but none of them, bar you, could perform the Charms wordlessly. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued; many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud, including Ron, which only made you laugh as you watched as Harry blocked his every attack.

Of course, Hermione had gotten the hang of it within ten minutes of practice, as did Theo and Zabini and Riddle. Harry and Ron were still struggling, along with Pansy and Lorenzo.

To say you were bored was an understatement. Snape had already known that you were skilled with wordless and apparently wandless magic too, which meant that he could clearly see into your mind – yet another reason why Riddle needed to teach you control. The only other interesting thing to happen was Harry blatently sassing your Professor, which left you and Hermione gaping and Ron, Dean and Seamus grinning at him.

Once the lesson had ended, Snape in a more abysmal mood than usual after Harry made a fool out of him, you lingered in the corridor, waiting for Riddle to leave so that you could get the interaction over with.

"Hey Meadow! You coming?" Ron asked loudly from the end of the hallway. He looked at you with an odd expression on his face which morphed into unwilling understanding when you felt Theo's presence beside you.

"I'll be there in a bit. I'll meet you in the courtyard." you shout back as you turn towards Theo and his friends.

"Some lesson that was, right tesoro?" Theo asks you as he wraps a strong arm around your shoulder, steering you in the direction of the rest of his group, who were looking between you, Theo and Mattheo with matching expressions on their faces.

"What the hell is she doing here, Nott?" Malfoy asks, looking at you with distain. You glared back at him, about to respond when his familiar deep voice answers instead.

"She's here for me." Riddle says. "Go on ahead. I won't be a moment."

Its Zabini who steers Malfoy away from his glaring contest with you, and Theo who wordlessly wishes you luck with a pat to the top of your head.

"So you're going to teach me control?" you ask as you lean against the nearest wall. He rolls his eyes and wraps a giant hand around your wrist.

"Yes." he hissed. "But not here. How stupid are you? Talking about it out in the open, by a classroom, nonetheless."

Your eyes only widened in mild surprise as he began dragging you down the corridor in the direction that his friends went, but he turned into an empty broom cupboard instead.

"Salazar, if you wanted to get me alone like this there were far better ways of asking Riddle." you say sarcastically, but your eyes show a teasing challenge as you stare up at him.

"Was that an offer, Princess?" he asks with that wicked smirk of his.

"Read the room, Riddle. I'd rather sleep with a troll." you snark.

"Suit yourself." he chuckles before his face sets into that serious look he seems to have mastered in his years at Hogwarts. "The first step to learning full control is learning how to ground yourself."

You look at him expectantly which made him roll is eyes.

"You have to find a happy medium in your head that allows you to keep control of what you don't want people to see, and who you let into your head." he explains motioning to his own head as he speaks.

"So that horrible burning feeling in the back of my skull whenever you get in my head-" you begin.

"Is only there because it lets you know that someone unwanted is using Occlimency on you. The fact that you can't block me out is what we need to work on. Does the same happen with Theodore and Pansy when you communicate with them?"

"No. They're presence is wanted. Yours," you trail your eyes up and down what you can see of his tall frame in the dark, "is not."

"Well until you do accept me in your subconscious, it'll continue to hurt and it'll hurt more when you're trying to block it out." he says and to demonstrate he begins rifling through your thoughts and feelings with little to no effort, that burning sensation appearing like a pinch once again. You cradle you head in your hands, a cry escaping your lips.

Walking to the Great Hall for breakfast that morning, anxiety knawing at your insides.

Harry's Malfoy-is-a-death-eater spiel.

Your mini-dual with Snape.

How you want Riddle to rip your clothes right off your body and have him take you-

That wasn't right. You managed to mentally push him right out of your mind with more effort than you reckon it would take for you to haul a quaffle into the goal. It made your head ache.

"What the fuck was that?!" you snap, hitting his arm.

"You're a fast learner. Well done. It takes most people multiple sessions to do what you just did." he looks...proud. It stirs something strange in your gut.

"What did I just do?" you asked, intrigued, scared, confused.

"You just succeeded in blocking me out of your head." he smirked lightly, almost showing a ghost of a smile.

We're going to have lots of fun, Princess.

He was still in your head. His deep voice filling every corner of your mind, but that burning sensation was no longer present. It no longer stung and he was no longer able to rifle through your thoughts. Only converse with you, like you could with Theo and Pansy.

"We'll do this twice a week, until you can block me out without thinking about it." he said as he walked towards the door, leaving you standing motionlessly in the dark.

~∞~

icl the whole plot of this is heavily inspired by my beloved xaden and violet's bond with all their mind talking and arguing🤭🤭 (minus the dragons, etc)

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #professor snape #ravenclaw x slytherin #serendipity series

678 notes · View notes

seeingivy · 6 months

Text

fine line

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content warning: mentions of SA, addiction, bad workplace environments, shitty adults - protect your peace my babies

an: one I saved sparks for the next chapter so I don't like give someone a heart attack. and brace yourself pookies. this ended up at 16k. also, lmk if the format is confusing. but any memory that's embedded between dialogue is basically being shown in the video - it just makes more sense for me to write it as a visual

songs mentioned: ever since new york by harry styles, clean by taylor swift, all of the girls you loved before by taylor swift, and fine line by harry styles

previous part linked here

Tell me something, tell me something You don't know nothing, just pretend you do I need something, so tell me something new Choose your words 'cause there's no antidote For this curse Oh, what's it waiting for? Must this hurt you just before you go?

Eren lets the video play for a whole minute before he abruptly reaches for the remote from your hand and stops the film from playing. The song is burning in his ears - the clip of him blowing out the candles at his tenth birthday party searing his eyes - and the increasing, immense pressure that’s been building, ever since you came back to set, comes to a head in that second.

So much so, that he has to stop the video. Like fully, take the remote from your hands and pause the video. And when he realizes what he’s done, looking over to his side and finding your wide eyes staring at him, and he swallows the lump of shame that’s in his throat and makes his best attempts to back track.

He’s already messing this up. Royally.

“Right. I’m sorry, Y/N. Here.” he murmurs, placing the remote back in the space between the two of you, as he nervously interlocks his own fingers within each other.

Eren’s mind is in a hundred places right now. Granted, he’s always been one to be stuck where he shouldn’t be, but the regret is scorching deep through him now.

Maybe he should just tell you straight out. Or take you to Seattle now so that you could all talk about it in person. Or he could have asked Connie to stay, just so that he had some type of moral support instead of your big doe eyes waiting for answers, but-

“Are you okay, Eren?” you ask.

Eren looks over, mustering his best peachy smile, as he shakes his head.

“No. I’m fine! I just…had a muscle spasm…. You can play it, it’s just-”

You squint your eyes in response to his shitty defense, which Eren was expecting, because you were always acutely aware of how Eren was feeling. He was almost convinced that you could read his mind at times, that maybe some part of how he grew up left that part of him underdeveloped, that made him so soulless and unaware when it came to other people.

Or that really, some part of you still understood him in the way you always seemed to be able to. In a way that no one else really had. Because few could bear close to you - Lana and Connie, even Sukuna to some extent - but there was just something about you specifically that saw him exactly how he was.

That you always knew his intentions, that he almost never had to say them to you. He never had to explain that big mess that was going on in his head because you were always filling the gap and settling it down before he could even get it out. Like there was some secret language being spoken between the two of you every time you made eye contact.

He’d figure that this part of the two of you - he had all but demolished it the second he opened his mouth back in Seattle. But it remains whole and intact and is extremely bad for that flaring hopeful feeling that he gets when he’s around you again.

That the two of you could return back to what you were before, in some shape or form.

Eren sighs.

“I’m sorry. I just…got overwhelmed for a second. You can play the video. I-I promise I won’t pause it this time.”

Your eyes soften - and Eren’s heart twinges - as he musters a smile for you.

“Are you okay to be watching this with me? I can always watch it alone, Eren.”

“Yeah, I-”

“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable…granted, I’m not sure exactly what it is that I’m watching, but if this…makes you anxious than I don’t want to force you to stomach it just for me.”

Eren’s heart twinges. That you’re still the same as he left you, so loving that it’s flowing out of you.

“It’s not just for you. Not that I’d be opposed to doing it but-”

Eren swallows hard.

“I should be here, Y/N.” he murmurs.

“Okay. Well-”

“And you’re watching a movie. A documentary feels like…the wrong word for it? But I guess that’s what it is?” Eren murmurs.

“A documentary?”

Eren swallows hard.

“Do you remember that interview you did? When you became a triple threat?” Eren asks.

You nod.

“This is like if I did the interview. Like songs, album, the whole thing. And if other people were involved. And-”

“Album? You made an album, Eren?” you ask, suddenly excited at the prospect of it.

Eren was never one to push too hard into music, since he felt that his talents clearly resided in acting. The few times that he had written something was because certain things, mainly you, had left him so inspired and your little rambligns and notes had rubbed off on him.

And when he missed you terribly, it seemed that the only thing that seemed to remedy it in some sense was writing songs about it. Granted, Lana almost kicked him out of her house for the sad piano he always seemed to be playing, which she claims wasn’t a good influence, but it made a good backtrack for the movie.

“Yeah, well. You’re quite the inspiration.” Eren respond.

You roll your eyes, lightly reaching over to shove his shoulder. Except he grabs your hand right before you can, his eyes fixed on his hand all but engulfing yours.

“I’m being serious. You-you’re the only reason that I wanted to do this. That I was able to.” Eren whispers.

You tilt your head to the side.

“You’ve always been like this. So…adamant on the side of talking about things. About not holding it in. I remember when you did the whole “The Man” thing with Historia you literally had me scared shitless. That people were going to put your head on a stick and start coming for you.”

“I remember. But they didn’t and-”

“And then you did the same thing with Lana. About Ricky - and you don’t even know the half of it when it comes to that guy. You’ve proven it to me time and time again. That maybe…talking things out is the best way to do it. And granted, I’ve taken so long to get to that point but I-”

“It’s okay. I just-”

“It’s not okay. I want you to know that I don’t think what I did was right in any way. I literally made the wrong decision at every turn, and hurt you because of it, and I’m so sorry that I did because you have to know that you mean-”

Eren freezes, as you wrestle your hand out of his, and place both of your hands firmly on his shoulders.

“Eren. Just…stop panic explaining. Let me listen first.” you murmur.

“I know. Sorry, you’re right, I just-”

“Don’t apologize. I’m sure this is nerve wracking in ways that I can’t understand.” you respond.

“You’ve always understood me.” Eren murmurs, immediately regretting it the second it leaves his mouth.

Eren watches as you smile at him, soft and all the way up to your eyes, as you let go and reach for the remote. You give him a nod as you unpause the video again to a clip of Eren.

At his tenth birthday, blowing out the candles, while he sings in the background.

Oh, tell me something I don't already know Oh, tell me something I don't already know Oh, tell me something I don't already know Oh, tell me something I don't already know

The video starts the last place you expect it. With Zeke sitting in front of the camera, hand knotted together in the same way you’ve seen Eren’s a hundred times, as he retells the story of the day his grandmother passed away when Eren was eleven and Zeke was seventeen.

After forty-five minutes, Eren has definitively decided that he hates hospital. The anti-septic smell seems to bite at his nose, the receptionist keeps eyeing them awkwardly over the top of her desk trying to pinpoint where it is that she knows him from, and his parents and Zeke are uncharacteristically silent.

Eren reaches for Zeke’s wrist, which Zeke welcomes with a smile, as they both nervously eye their parents at their side. Eren’s not entirely sure why - since to his understanding, his grandmother is still alive for right now - but his mom has been crying for a better half of the past day, while his dad holds down the fort and does his best efforts to keep it together. Eren appreciates the small smiles that he spares for the two of them every now and then, as they all sit quietly in the waiting room.

Zeke taps Eren on the shoulder, gesturing for him to follow him for a walk, which Eren is all but happy to oblige in, as the two of them quietly make their way down the ward.

“Where are we going?”

“Cookies. They have them out for New Year’s Day, Eren.” Zeke responds, looking down to give him a smile.

Eren frowns, forgetting that the start of the new year was so close, as they walk into the little aisle. The room is decorated with hanging lights, left over from Christmas, as the two of them sit on the chairs and split the hard, crumbly cookies between the two of them.

“Is grandma going to die or something?” Eren asks, swinging his legs off the tops of the tall chair as he leans back.

“I don’t know, Eren. Maybe.” Zeke responds, swallowing hard.

“Oh.”

“There’s no need to be sad about it before it happens. But Dad told me earlier, it would probably be today or tomorrow so…you should be aware of that.” Zeke states.

Eren frowns. And Zeke recoils, at his rather blunt way of telling Eren the harsh news.

“He didn’t tell me that.” Eren states.

“Well, you’re younger, Eren.” Zeke responds.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t deserve to know.”

Zeke brings his hand down on Eren’s hair, ruffling with it as he looks out the window.

“That’s why I told you, kid.”

Eren sighs.

“Thanks.”

Zeke shakes his head, as he gestures for Eren to join him at looking outside. The hospital workers are taking down the tree outside, as the two of them rest their windows against the sill and watch the snow fall down.

“Can we have hot chocolate when we go home?” Eren asks.

“You’re old enough to make your own hot chocolate, Eren.” Zeke deadpans.

“But you just make it so much better. Plus, don’t you want to be a good older brother?” Eren asks, giving him his best peachy smile.

“I am a good older brother.”

“You know what would make you even better?”

Zeke rolls his eyes.

“Hot chocolate?”

Eren fakes a gasp.

“It’s like you’re reading my mind! That’s a great idea, Zeke.” Eren responds.

Zeke shoves Eren as the two of them laugh, reaching for another one of the hardened cookies on the platter. And that’s when they’re met with the flash of the camera and three paparazzi standing right behind them. Zeke turns around, entirely confused, as they shove the microphone into his face.

“Zeke. Are do you have any comments on the rumors that you’re a drug dealer?”

“The rumors that I’m what?” Zeke asks.

Eren looks up at Zeke, entirely floored by the question, as the bright lights shine in his face a few more times. Zeke’s standing in front of him, basically obscuring his line of vision, as he watches the confusion spread on Zeke’s face and the way his jaw is tightly held against his skull.

“A drug dealer. Through the funds in your back accounts?”

“That’s not what I used them for. I used them for-”

Eren watches Zeke’s face pale, as he grabs Eren’s hand tightly by the wrist and runs back into the waiting room where their parents are sitting. Except when they reach that spot, the doctor they’d seen hours prior is standing there with them, uttering the last words that Zeke could possibly want to hear at this moment.

“We’re so sorry for your loss but-”

And he’s cut off abruptly, by the paparazzi, who continue to flash more pictures as the Eren takes in the words, his parents crying demeanor, and understands in full that his grandmother is gone. And looks up at Zeke, unable to recognize his older brother for the first time. So meek, so awkward unlike he’s ever seen him.

The video cuts off of the pictures of the four of them - of their pink faces and teary eyes in that waiting room - and back to Zeke, as he continues to explain.

“That was the first time that the rumor had come to the surface, reached me in full. I later found out that there had been multiple reports of it for three days prior, that people had been speculating for days and days, and chose to finally ask me what I had thought when I was in the most headline worthy position. A few feet away from my dead grandmother. And my beloved little brother.” Zeke adds.

You feel Eren shift next you as the video switches, this time to Sukuna. You smile, not having seen him or heard of him in so long, sparing a good thought from the writhing in your chest at the previous story. The mere presence of him, of his voice, makes your chest rumble.

“My name is Ryomen Sukuna. And I met Scott Clarkson for the first time when I was fifteen.”

Sukuna tries his best to not be jealous of his brother. He’s always hated that sick, rotting feeling in his stomach, and he despises that it comes up so unexpectedly, something so negative towards someone who is so unwholly undeserving of it.

Sukuna always thought it was quite ironic that the two of them were siblings. They were such polar opposites - Yuuji being the picture-perfect, kind, intelligent person that he was. Being those things, so good, it just came so naturally to him that he made it look effortless.

Meanwhile, Sukuna wasn’t quite sure why he acted the way he did sometimes. Sukuna knew that he wasn’t a malicious or evil person, that deep down his intentions were always well meaning, but there was a small part of him that had always struggled with that part. He knew that he wasn’t a visicous dog, but he wasn’t sure why he bit.

It was just so hard for Sukuna. Being kind. Effortlessly kind, compassionate, and warm. He’d always say too much, be too loud, or too rude or impolite that it made it made him feel like some part of him was defective. That unbeknownst to other people, who just assumed that Sukuna was just like this, that he was hateful at heart, there was always a withstanding weight of guilt that he held with him wherever he went.

Until he saw an opening. At one of those god awful, stupid networking events that he was always forced to go to.

“Are you Ryomen Sukuna?”

He looks up to find an adult, mid-forties, looking down at him. He’s wearing a nice, pressed down suit as he joins Sukuna on the floor, where he’s been demolisihing the cookie he was given into a crumbled up, chocolate mess.

“Yes. Who are you?”

“My name is Scott Clarkson. I’m a producer for Stone Studios. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

Sukuna falls into silence, as he tries his best to awkwardly shuffle his mess to the side and be as professional as he could.

“You have a brother, correct?” Scott asks.

Sukuna sighs, knowing all too well what’s coming next.

“Yes, that’s right. He’s over there, standing with the tall, black-haired kid. Kinda sea urchin-y if you ask me.” Sukuna responds, pointing over to the two of them standing by the lemonade.

Scott shrugs, crossing his hands together in his lap.

“Tell me about his work ethic.” Scott asks.

“Well, he’s great. He’s basically the best person to be around - I mean he’s intelligent, smart, and talented. There’s a reason that he’s in almost every movie that you see. And on top of that, he’s extremely patient and kind too. You’d be lucky to work with him, if that’s what you’re considering.”

Scott looks over at him, eyes narrowed.

“That’s your mistake, kid.” Scott states, the look in his eyes cold.

“What do you mean?”

“You should be marketing yourself. Not your brother.” Scott asks.

Sukuna turns his head to the side, confused.

“What? But you asked?”

“That’s the thing. Even if someone asks about him, you should always divert the attention. To yourself. Granted, this is the reason that he’s the one who just starred in a movie while you’re waiting during the Jujutsu Kaisen hiatus.”

Sukuna frowns, an acidic feeling crawling down the length of his throat.

“Well-”

“I’m just saying, kid. You should learn to advocate for yourself. There’s nothing wrong with pushing a few people around, because that’s kind of what this industry requires. You’ve got guts and talent, more than you’re wish washy brother I’m sure of it. I mean, the whole good boy bad boy thing has worked well for you so far, but if you want any chops at a real career, with people like I’ve worked with, you’ll have to solidify on these types of things.” Scott states.

Sukuna looks straight across at the movie poster splayed on the wall. With “Institute Award Winning” and “Scott Clarkson” inscribed in it at the bottom.

“Granted, you’re just a kid. You need someone to give you this kind of advice, an adult who knows their way around the industry. If you ever need my help, you know who to call. I could give you any type of role. Even one as the lead, as the hero, if you ever wanted it.” Scott states, sliding a silver business card into his hands and shuffling off the floor to walk away.

The video cuts back to Sukuna, cracking his fingers as he talks - something you know well is a nervous tick of his.

“The conversation seems quite ironic in hindsight. Scott Clarkson was the first adult in my life, one of many, that didn’t have my best interests at mind. And is most surely the last person you should take advice from.” Sukuna states.

The video switches to Lana - and your heart clenches again, maybe even more than it did for Sukuna - at her long, brown hair and warm, pink cheeks smiling into the camera. You notice that she has a tattoo inscribed on her forearm now, a tiny little teddy bear just above the crease of her elbow, where you and Eren have your fish tattoos.

“I’ve dreamt about being in love since I was a little kid. There was a part of me, that yearned so hard, wanted it so bad, that I would do anything for it. Even convince myself it was real.”

Lana was convinced, for a fact, that because she had seen the worst of the worst, that she could only be subjected to the best of the best.

That she had been so acutely aware, known from such a young age, all the signs of a terrible marriage, a loveless relationship. That you should always thank each other for the small actions, make time to see each other at least once a day, and that a true, earnest relationship takes honest work. Real effort.

And she wasn’t exactly religious per say. But after the night had settled down, the screaming behind her door ceasing in full, she’d lift her head to the sky and whisper it into the air. Because if she put it out there, every night, and wanted it really badly, that it would happen. That manifestation or some higher power or some law of attraction - that saw that she had been through the bad so she deserved the good - would hear her out.

And when she was nineteen years old staring at the two little lines on the pregnancy stick, she realized that no such thing existed. That manifestation was made up, that the higher powers didn’t exist or they hated her, or that maybe she had done something really horrible, so malicious, that she had to be tortured in this life for what she had done in the previous.

Because, of course, she’s pregnant with the last person she’d ever want her kid to have as a father.

There’s an incessant pounding on the door, as she wipes the tears off of her face, and hides the stick in the bowl of the toilet.

“What the fuck is taking you so long, Lana?”

“Nothing, Ricky. I think I might have a stomach bug or something.” she responds, swinging the door open to his unamused face.

He looks up at her, almost sneering, before glancing at her up and down. He returns to aimlessly scrolling on his phone, before talking again.

“Well, you’re still well enough to go out tonight, right? Because I don’t want to go to the bar alone.”

Lana swallows hard, debating her options.

“Um, well-”

“Because I could easily take someone else.” Ricky states.

“No! I’ll come, it’s just that-”

“Perfect! You’re the best.” Ricky states, pressing a kiss to her cheek before padding out of the room.

The video switches again, this time to Connie, slightly blurry through the tears in your eyes. You only realize you were crying because Eren’s hands are quick to swipe the tears away and hold a tissue out for you at your side.. You’re not sure what caused it exactly - the thought of Ricky or of Lana so scared alone in that bathroom by herself - but Eren keeps his hand on your shoulder, grounding you into the moment to focus on what Connie was saying.

“When I was a kid, my mom used to kind of parrot the same stories about me as a kid to every person that she knew. I always used to make fun of her for it, claim that she harped on those four or five stories so hard because she couldn’t remember anything else substantial from my childhood, which was why she felt the need to always tell those embarrassing stories about me.”

Connie breaks a smile, it reaching all the way to the crinkles in his eyes, as he continues.

“But there’s one story that she told, that always used to make me a little bit happy. My heart a little warm, if you will. My mom always proudly recounted, with her hand placed over her heart, that I was the happiest baby. That my doctor had mentioned to her that it was very rare for him to see babies who smiled, so quick in their first day of life, but I had done it when he walked into the room. And since then, my mom has always lovingly called me her smiley boy.” Connie states.

Connie drops his smile, before swallowing hard.

“Which is how I know that I wholeheartedly broke her heart when she came to see me in rehab.”

At the one month mark of being there, Connie was slowly but surely acclimating to the life in the rehab ward. The set routine of the place, the small activities that they did in groups, were quickly starting to grow on Connie and the physical effects of his body fighting against him lessening more every day.

Today was a big achievement for him. He had finally made it through his first night of soundless sleep. And he was looking forward to today, which was Friday, meaning that Eren and possibly Lana would be visiting him. And they’d be so excited, so happy that it was working for him, that he wanted to tell him the second that he got there.

So when the clock hit two o’clock, he excitedly walked in the visiting room to find Eren sitting there, with his steaming bowl of ramen that Eren had promised he would bring him next time. Connie finally understood why you fell in love with him all of those years ago. He’d marry Eren too if it meant he would cook for him all the time.

“Hey Connie.” Eren states, sliding the bowl over to him.

“Eren Bear-en. Where’s Lana?” he asks.

“Right. She’s here. In the waiting room.” Eren states.

“What the hell is she doing out there? Laying eggs?” Connie asks, splitting the chopsticks in his hand as he opens up the bowl.

“Yes, actually. The kitchen came by and told her they were short.”

“Don’t even joke about that because those bitches are crazy. I asked for an extra Jello and from the looks they gave me you’d think I was asking to be their…sperm donor or something.”

Eren snickers, before getting an intense look from the guards on the wall for disrupting the silence, and looking back at Connie.

“No. No, she’s actually keeping your mom some company.”

Connie pales.

“My mom is here?” he states, his voice grating in his throat.

“Yeah, Connie. She doesn’t want to push and-and- she’s more than willing to go home if you’re not ready to see her yet, man. She just really insisted and she means so well that we just brought her along.” Eren states.

“Have you been talking to her?” Connie asks.

“Oh, yeah. She called us almost two days after you got here. We let her know what was happening and she comes by the house a lot. She asks about you the second we get back.” Eren responds.

“Really?” Connie asks, warm tears filling his eyes. Of agonizing, burning regret.

“Really. She’s been waiting till you seemed better, that you were ready to see her. And you don’t have to worry that she’s judging you or upset with you, man. She feels the same as Lana and I do, you- she shouldn’t be a reason for your stress. Or guilt.” Eren adds, emphasizing it as hard as he can so as to convince Connie to at least let her through.

Connie pauses, the thoughts swimming to his mind. The overwhelming regret, that his mom has suffered all the way to meet him here, that she was ready to be at his side, the same way Eren and Lana had. He’s almost grateful that she hadn’t seen him at the worst of it - that he hadn’t shouted choice words at her like he had at Eren and Lana and you - but the embarrassment of having to recount all of that to her was daunting.

But the thought of seeing her again, hearing that she was out there waiting with that heathen Lana, warmed that deep seated love for her in his stomach. That was yearning to see her, to tell her what had happened to him too.

The latter feeling beat out the former one. Which is why he let Eren bring her in with Lana, as she took a cautious seat at his side and Lana slid into the one next to Eren.

“Hi Connie Bear!” Lana states, reaching over to squeeze his hands.

“Hi Lana Bear.” he respond, lifting his hand to do his little hand shake with Lana, which always earns him an eye roll from Eren.

“Bear?” Connie’s mom asks, tilting her head to the side.

“Ah. It’s just a little joke that we have. Eren Bear-en started it.” Connie states, giving him mom a smirk.

His mom smiles, looping her arm through Connie’s, as she lightly laughs into the quiet air.

“Funny. So what would I be?”

“Mama Bear. Obviously.” Connie states.

She pauses, pressing her hand to Connie’s shoulder.

“How are you, Connie? Really?”

Connie smiles, leaning forward on the table and nervously fidgeting with his fingers.

“I have some good news actually. For all of you.” Connie responds.

“What’s that?” Eren asks.

“I know that it doesn’t seem like a big deal and all and that people do it all the time but…today was the first night that I slept all the way through without waking up in the past month. In the past year actually.”

Lana and Eren’s eyes immediately light up, which has Connie smiling, as the two of them run over to the side of his table and wrap his arms around him. His mom’s looped into his side, the three of them crushing him in the warmest, softest hug known to man.

“Connie! We’re- fuck. I’m literally crying. I’m so happy for you, kid.” Lana states, reaching forward to pinch the softness on his cheek.

“Okay, you sap. It’s not all that.” Connie responds.

“No but it literally is, Connie. This is huge.” Eren responds, squeezing his shoulder hard.

Connie turns to his mom noticing that she’s been trying her best efforts to quiet her sobs. Connie places a hand on her shoulder, burning with regret, at her downtrodden face.

“Mom?”

“Oh, Connie. My sweet, smiley boy. I’m so happy for you.”

It’s enough to break his resolve, one that he’s been keeping together since he realized that he had all but gone through Jean and Mikasa’s engagement high. And cries straight into her arms, with Lana and Eren across from him, lightly tapping his feet under the table in support.

The video switches, this time to Eren, as you prepare yourself for whatever you’re about to hear next. Because if the previous four were gut punches, you know for a fact that whatever Eren is about to say is going to ruin you.

“Being in love is a privilege.”

You take a sharp inhale.

“There’s something so strange about it, when you think about it. That there can be two people, who share those feelings at the same time. That they overcame something, deeper than rejection or fear, because the feelings were so big, they were so great, that they just had to. And that the person, they really and truly reciprocated it.”

Eren smiles, so wide that his dimples are showing.

“It’s a privilege to be in love. But it’s an even bigger one to be in love, to be loved, by someone like Y/N L/N.”

Eren and Jean, with their ears all but pressed to the door, hear the three knocks and wrestle over each other to open the door. You’re standing there, sheepish and meek as you look down the hall, and Eren reaches for your bag on the floor. Jean gives the two of you a salute, which you laugh at, and which consequently has Eren smacking his hand over your mouth for, as the two of you quickly switch spots.

WIth Jean in your room and you in his. Eren quickly shuts the door, setting your stuff down, as you two give each other excited smiles.

“That was super sneaky, Eren. Like Bond level.”

Eren rolls his eyes.

“Right. The two feet in between our doors was so treacherous.”

You smack his shoulder.

“Okay, bitch. You know nothing of my perilous travels. The floorboard creaked. I could hear Levi rustling in his sheets, I swear to god.”

Eren drags your stuff into the room, as he places your bag on the bed.

“What do you have in here? Your entire closet? Why is this so heavy?”

“Well, I had to bring my night time skincare. And my morning skincare. And sometimes I get snacky at night…and my blanket obviously. And my shampoos. Those are non-negoitable.” you respond.

“Well we can’t have you getting split ends now!” Eren responds, sarcastically.

“Don’t even sass me right now because I could go bald without that shampoo.”

“And I have a blanket.”

You scoff.

“I don’t want your cooties, stinky.”

“I don’t have cooties. And mind you, you have to kiss me in a few weeks. My cooties are going to be all up in your face, Y/N.” Eren responds.

“That sounds gross, Eren. Like you’re purposely infecting me with your disease.”

“I’m not infecting you with anything! I don’t even have cooties, you idiot!”

You feign hurt, frowning at him, as you fight the urge to laugh and muster the most important performance of your life yet.

“Eren?” you whisper.

“What?” he asks, confused.

“Do you really think I’m an idiot?” you murmur.

You watch Eren’s eyes go wide, almost frazzled, as he reaches forward and cups the side of your cheek, the look in his eyes so painful that you immediately feel bad.

“Y/N. Of course, I don’t think you’re an idiot. You’re like…the smartest person I know. Really.”

“Eren-”

“I’m so sorry I said that. I was just kidding, but that was a really stupid joke to make. I haven’t and won’t ever think that about you. Or say it again. You’re so-”

“Eren.”

“And I swear, I’m not going to say anything like that ever again. I know how shitty it can be, especially coming from a guy, and you’re working so hard to be here, more than anyone else, even though your basically the best one and-”

“Eren, oh my gosh, you’re so sweet. I was just kidding, I didn’t mean to make you so upset.” you respond, frowning at him as he looks at you, shoulders relaxing under his touch.

His cheeks are dusted a warm pink, the color trickling down the length of his neck.

“Oh. Wait, really?”

“I was just trying to see what you would say. I wasn’t expecting that and now I feel really, really bad. I’m sorry, Eren.”

Eren sighs, laughing as he reaches forward to pinch your cheek.

“You’re evil, you know that?”

“I didn’t mean it!” you whine, covering your eyes in embarrassment.

“You put that stupid little cute frown on your face and make those sad eyes at me and just expect me to keep fighting with you?”

“Well, yeah! Jean and Connie would fight with me for the rest of their life if they could.”

Eren reaches forward, pinching your cheek once more.

“That’s your mistake.”

“What is?”

“Thinking that you and I are the same as you and Connie. Or you and Jean.”

You feel your cheeks burn, as you nod, reaching for your bag and heading straight into the bathroom to arrange everything on the counter. You start your nightly routine, braiding your hair and placing the little foam headband in your hair as you start to massage all the cleansers and serums into your skin.

Eren pads in after a few minutes, reaching for his toothbrush, as the two of you move around each other in silence. Eren can’t help but watch you in the mirror - with all your little bottles and sweet smelling lotions, so focused as you go about it - that he can’t help but think that he could watch you forever.

“Eren?”

Eren immediately breaks out of his almost trance, spitting into the sink.

“Yeah?”

“You should wear this while you brush your teeth. It’ll keep your hair out of the way.” you respond, handing him a little blue foam headband just like your pink one.

“Huh?”

“Well, your hairs getting kind of long. And Levi told me that he actually wants it even longer for next season a few months ago, so I ordered you one too when I got mine. I keep forgetting to give it to you.” you respond, placing it front of him.

Eren lifts it in his hands, utterly touched at the fact that you had thought of him.

“You- you got this for me?”

“Well, yeah. I kept getting my bangs wet whenever I washed my face. And you basically look like a shaggy dog with that hair so I knew for a fact that you’d need one too. I’m basically the best friend ever if you think about it.” you respond, giving him a peachy smiile.

“You are.”

The video cuts back to Eren, a soft smile on his face as he talks.

“People will take advantage of anything, in the name of business. It’s an easy way in once you find out how to manipulate someone, to make them do things that they would never do normally, to get the exact image that you want. The one that makes headlines, stirs up controversy, to get you trending.”

“You find out that things function very specifically when you work at Stone Studios. And that Scott Clarkson, and his associates, make money from every aspect of the production. He makes money from the movies that he produces and more importantly, from the tabloid company that he owns.” Sukuna starts.

Sukuna sighs, as the pictures flash on the screen.

“Certain things are…manufactured or at least the people doing them are coerced into doing things that are lucrative. Like doctoring drama around certain movies, so that by the time the movie comes out, the drama surrounding it will drive everyone to watch it. Around relationships - because rumors regarding ex-boyfriends and problems between friends create headlines that everyone will click.”

Sukuna’s furious. And when Hyla walks in the room - the three weeks he’s been holding onto his anger - come to a head.

“Who did you tell?” Sukuna asks.

She looks up at him, eyes wide in confusion, as she slouches straight into the bed and continues to scroll on her phone. He joins at her side, reaching for her phone and putting it to the side.

“I’m being serious. Who did you tell?” he asks.

She looks up at him, her expression bordering between bored and oblivious.

“Who did I tell about what?”

Sukuna sighs. Because deep down, that deep rot of feeling betrayed has been gnawing at his stomach for the past few hours. And he wants everything in him, every part of him to believe that the conversation that he had a few days ago - the first real one he’d had in a while - wasn’t just spread all over every magazine he walked past on the way home.

“The conversation we had. About…”

She rolls her eyes, sitting up as she crossed her legs.

“About what? We talk about a lot of things.” she murmurs.

“Yuuji…” he responds.

“Oh! About how you hate him?” she asks.

Sukuan sighs, frustrationg growing up at the premise. At the callousness in her statement. Because not only did she put up a front in the conversation they had - about how guilty Sukuna felt about harboring some negative feelings towards Yuuji since they were always in constant competition - but she was surely the one who must have whispered the story to someone who had given it to a tabloid.

“I don’t hate him, Hyla.”

“No, no I get it. You’re like jealous of him and stuff because he gets all these versatile roles and you basically keep getting the same asshole role. But that’s not your fault, it’s just how it goes.” she responds, shrugging.

He clenches his jaw.

“I get that. I just don’t get why you had to tell someone else.”

“Well, I just told my dad. And you know how he is. If there’s something that’s going to be good for the business, he’s always been the kind of guy to go for it and do what needs to be done.”

“What the hell is so lucrative about my relationship with my brother? We’re filming a fucking movie.”

She sighs, cracking her knucles before she turns to him.

“Okay, fine. I’ll tell you a secret, but only if you promise to stop being mad at me.”

“Well, I’m not just going to stop being mad at you. I’ve never told anyone that. Let alone my own brother, whose probably finding out about it from a fucking tabloid right now. I’ve never been one - nor am I ever going to be - someone who steps on their own family members to make it in this fucking business.” he states.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Family is everything to you and I get that.”

He sighs, sliding open his phone to the five unread messages from Yuuji on his screen. There a set of pictures of him in front of the headlines at the store and he’s quite literally laughing at the fact that someone could even come up with something so stupid about him.

Because despite it all, Yuuji is exactly what Sukuna says he is. He is the better brother - by tenfold - because he sees the rumors and doesn’t even believe them the second he reads them. Even through they’re true.

“See. He’s such a good guy, he’s not even mad! No harm done!” Hyla states, smiling to herself.

Sukuna leans back against the headboard, fully bothered, so much so that it makes his skin itch, by Yuuji’s texts as he halfheartedly murmurs.

“What were you going to say? Earlier?”

“Oh. Well don’t tell anyone. Especially not the girls okay, because they’d basically kill me. But you know WBS? The tabloid company?” she asks.

“Yeah…”

“My dad owns it. That was actually his original venture. He started it with these two music producers - Danny and Sareen - they work with that Y/N girl from Attack on Titan actually. And sometimes they just kind of….fabricate stuff for news. Whatever sells right?”

Sukuna swallows that bitter, acidic feeling in his throat. That his feelings about his brother, that he shared in confidence, were good enough for the headline.

Good enough to be sold out.

The camera switches back to Sukuna, sitting in the chair.

“I feel kind of stupid in hindsight. For actually liking her, I guess. For believing that any of them were real, earnest people. I’m embarrassed that I stayed for so long, on the premise that I was fighting for something real.” Sukuan states.

“What made you leave?” the producer asks.

“The last shred of self-preservationist instinct I had. I was put into a situation, multiple times, where I felt unsafe. And when it went too far, I decided that I had enough. And that I was going to go out with a bang if I had to. If they want a headline, I’ll damn well give them one.” Sukuna states, smirking.

“You felt unsafe?” the producer clarifies.

“Look. I don’t need to rehash the details out of what happened. I’m sure that you could even find videos of it if you wanted to. But Scott Clarkson, he’s very quick to forget the fact that he’s working with children. I may play adults in my films, but I was very much still a child.”

You pale, the implication entirely clear. You look over at Eren, whose eyes are fixed towards the floor, as you wipe the tears from your eyes, as the video switches back to Eren and Lana who are seated at the table.

“When Levi and Hange ventured out on their own and decided to produce their own show, they ruffled lots of feathers. That’s something I overheard on set quite often before Eren ever started on the show. They were mad, essentially, that they had circumvented the whole producing aspect of it, choosing to be in control of every aspect of the production. And honestly, that they were successful with it.”

“Levi and Hange basically set a standard, especially for other people who were at their class the SWHA cohort. Jujutsu Kaisen basically followed suit short after - with almost all of the people in our class being funneled into either of those two shows. Which was aggravating, because it basically means that people who own the companies, like Scott Clarkson, don’t get their upcoming crop of stars to handpick form.” Eren states.

“Unfortunately for us, that didn’t really quite stop them. It started out with a simple fact - that Scott Clarkson knew for a fact that Eren would refuse to work with him.” Lana states.

“The first time I met Scott Clarkson he had rubbed me the wrong way. Because he refused to acknowledge that Y/N was standing right at my side.” Eren responds.

Eren was painfully aware of the fact of how uncomfortable you were. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was - maybe the fact that you had never been here before or that you didn’t quite know anyone like he did from growing up with them - but he figured that it would be a better idea for the two of you to go outside.

But before he could, a man stops him, tapping him on the shoulder to talk to him. You both stop in your tracks, half turning around, to look at him. He’s extremely tall, looming over the two of you, and Eren can feel you shrink at his side. He looks at Eren, a self-assured smile pressed on his face as he introduces himself.

“Scott Clarkson. I’m a producer for Stone Studios.”

“I’m Eren Jaeger. This is-”

“I know who you are, Eren. I was invited to see one of the first cuts of the latest movie you just filmed and-”

Before he can even understand what’s happening, he has his hand on Eren’s shoulder and they’re walking down the length of the hall, the end of their conversation lost to you. Eren looks back and you give him a halfhearted smile as he tries to turn back, before getting stuck in a larger group of people.

“Do you have any projects lined up for your Attack on Titan hiatus?” Scott asks.

“Yeah. Sukuna and I are filming the next Conjuring movie. Though if you’re looking for someone, my friend Y/N-”

“No need. We’re here to talk about you.”

Eren rolls his eyes.

“I already have a roll. And she doesn’t. And you know how big she’s going to be - she can even sing!” Eren states.

Scott sighs.

“There’s a reason that I’m standing here talking to you. I’m well seasoned in these type of things - just like your parents. I promise you, with a breakout show like that, only one person can come out as the star. Don’t you want to make sure that it’s going to be you?”

“Levi and Hange made it out together. I don’t know why we couldn’t do the same.” Eren responds.

Luckily enough for him, his parents had arrived just at that moment and given him his much needed chance to run away.

“I wasn’t going to sell out that fast. Especially for someone who was so quick to bad mouth my best friend, who was basically the only person that I got to consistently talk to and be with at the time, I….”

“Eren’s very loyal. Let’s just leave it at that. And it’s precisely just because of that loyalty, especially to Hange and Levi who had thrown a wrench in every one of his profits, that they wanted Eren specifically. He has every makings of one of his stars. He has famous parents, an estranged brother, and a girl that can be thrown at the end of every headline.” Lana adds.

Eren sighs.

“The Attack on Titan hiatus was the perfect chance for them to get what they wanted. On one side, Danny and Sareen were building Y/N up. They were pushing her into making albums, way faster than she should have been by the way, adding more and more accolades to her name. And on the other side, they were dragging me into the mud. Purposely switching my movies at the last minute to make sure I was on the shitty one, making award show annoucers make crappy jokes about me so I’d feel like shit.” Eren responds.

The video switches to the last award show that you and Eren had technically attended together. The one where you announced that you were coming out with your second studio album and where you had won Actress in a Lead Role. Except, the video isn’t how you remembered it. Or that this time, you’re actually aware of what had been going on in Eren’s head.

“Here we have an international pop-star, Y/N L/N. Originally a small town girl from Canada, her soft spoken love songs, phenomenal acting, and insane dance act have left no heart untouched.” the announcer states.

Eren looks over at you in the video, his eyes so warm and his smile so wide, as he looks at you proudly.

“And you. What’s your name again? It’s sweet they let fans sit with stars now.” the headliner asks him, eliciting a large amount of laughter from the crowd as he walks on.

That’s when you see it. That Eren’s face immediately dropped and was washed over in shame. And that he got up and walked away.

And more importantly, that you hadn’t followed.

“I later found out that joke was very deliberate. That announcer was told to make that joke about me because they were almost positive that I would leave. And when Y/N won the award - and I was moping in one of the lounges about how much of a failure I was, how she was going to leave me for someone better - Scott Clarkson approached me. In the same way that he had approached Sukuna. Promising me that he could make me a star. That I could meet Y/N where she was and be next to her too.” Eren states.

“It was pretty easy to guess how the rest went. Y/N and Eren being in a relationship wasn’t exactly headline worthy, when they had been basically attached at the hip for years. But you know what was? The two of them breaking up.”

“I obviously can’t speak for Y/N. I don’t know what was going through her head at that point. But from what she made it seem like….Danny and Sareen had asked her to do it. I know that they had asked her to write songs like London Boy and most of the songs on her album for that precise reason, it….doesn’t seem far off.” Eren states.

“It seems stupid in hindsight. To take someone’s advice at the surface level like that and so blindly believe in them. But when you think of the examples that Eren and Y/N really had, people like Levi and Hange who wanted nothing but the best for them, who basically loved them like they were a second set of parents, it’s hard to believe that everyone around you doesn’t really have your best interest in mind. That and the fact that they were fucking nineteen.” Lana adds.

“And that’s when we get to the Girlfriend incident. And more importantly, the day that Lana and I became friends.” Eren states, looking over to smile at her.

Eren had locked the door, and pushed everyone out of the room the second they had stopped watching that stupid music video hours ago. And after the fact, he’s watched it three more times - you and Ricky dancing through the street and smiling at each other - while all he can do is drown in his despair.

That is until he hears a soft sniffling in the hallway behind him and a hushed voice talking on the phone in the doorway. He presses his ear the door, the voice loud, as he catches the ends of the conversation, recognizing that it was Lana.

“Can you just stay with him for a few more hours, please? I don’t think that I can leave.”

“Please. I want to come home really badly too, but they’re already so upset with me after what I said last night that I just-”

“Thank you so much. I really love you, you know that?”

The phone call ends abruptly and Eren, letting his curiosity get the best of them, opens the door to find Lana sitting flat against the wall, with her head in her hands. He can tell that she must have been crying for a better part of the last hour, her hair all unruly and tangled in a way that he had never really seen it before.

Eren shuffles into the spot next to her, against the wall, as he wipes his own red eyes.

“Are you okay?” Eren asks.

“Why? Trying to rub it in my face?” Lana asks, rather miserably.

“No. I just…heard you on the phone.” Eren asks.

Her eyes go wide, as she looks over at him rather frantically.

“What did you hear?” she asks.

“I mean, basically nothing.” Eren murmurs.

The two of them sit there awkwardly, unsure of what to say to the other. That’s until Lana turns to him, a determined look on her face as she talks.

“Are you trying to make me feel shitty because I did it to you?” Lana asks.

“No. I’m not you, Lana.” Eren deadpans.

“I didn’t mean-

“Didn’t mean what? To make me look like a dumbass on stage? Just tell me what the hell is wrong if you’re going to talk so loudly outside of my door.” Eren mutters, irritated.

“Okay. We’re going to play a game, alright? Let’s pretend we’re different people.” Lana states.

“What?”

“I want to talk about something and I’m sure you do too, but it’s weird to do it like this. So we’ll pretend. I’m going to be La-La and you’re going to be Po.” she states.

“Like the Telletubbies….?”

“Yeah. Does that work? You can’t say anything to anyone, because….well that would just be fucking rude.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, Po. The thing is, I feel really bad. I did this really shitty thing to this guy who seems really nice and all. Except, I was standing on stage and they kind of asked me to do it right then and there so I kind of just went with it.”

Oh. Eren gets it. This is her weird way of apologizing.

“Well, why did she do it in the first place?”

She scoffs.

“You’re so nosy, bitch.”

Eren laughs, which has her relaxing her shoulders, before she talks again.

“Eren. Please don’t tell anyone, okay? This is really serious.”

Eren breaks, the seriousness in her demeanour stoppign him.

“I promise. What is it?”

She sighs, holding out a picture to him on her phone. It’s a picture of her and a little boy, with short, curly brown hair.

“This is my son. His name is Theodore, but…I call him Teddy. Like…Teddy Bear? And I feel so shitty, Eren but…they kind of hold him against me sometimes when it comes to things like this. So when they ask me to do things, I just do them.” Lana states.

“They hold you against him?”

“I mean….I try really hard to protect his privacy, Eren. He’s just a kid. I mean, he’s barely even two years old right now. And I know your parents, I’m sure you know that growing up in the spotlight isn’t the best place to be.”

Eren frowns, looking down at the picture. He’s never really quite thought it before, but he thinks that Lana is really pretty. Or more appropriately, that Lana looks very pretty when she smiles. And that he’s never seen her smile like this before.

“I get that. So what do they do? Threaten to tell?” Eren asks.

“I mean, they usually find out where I’m keeping him. I tend to keep him moving from different houses, with security in all that, to make sure that he’s safe from that type of thing. And-”

“Does he stay with his dad?” Eren asks.

Lana sighs, resting her chin against her knees.

“Eren. Ricky isn’t good news. And your little girlfriend or friend or whatever…she’s in really risky territory right now.” she states.

“What do you mean?” Eren asks.

She almost flinches, withholding of what it is exactly that’s on the tip of her tongue.

“Eren. He’s just not a good guy. You should make sure that someone is with her, that she’s not ever alone with him. Just take my word for it. There’s a reason my son doesn’t get to see him, why I avoid him like the plague.” she states.

Eren can see the tears filling in her eyes - and makes a mental note to drop the topic and relay the information to Connie or Jean later.

“I’m not going to tell anyone, Lana.”

“I know. That’s why I feel even worse. I’m really sorry for what I did, Eren.”

“That’s okay. Let’s just make a deal.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll help and you’ll help me. Pacts between Tellytubbies are really sacred.” Eren states, feigning seriousness.

“You’re stupid.”

“And you’re annoying.” he responds.

Lana laughs, teary eyed, as she reaches forward and shakes on it.

“I only became really aware of the problem after Lana had pointed it out to me. And became even more frustrated with them, with all of them, when I had realized what they had been saying to her. Making comments about her body to her, despite the fact that she had literally given birth, and incessantly teasing her about her son, who is basically my favorite person in the world, by the way. That they would purposely put alcohol in her drinks, when she couldn’t drink at the time.”

The clips cut, this time to Eren and Lana, in a different mix of videos of playing with Teddy. You recongize him straight on, as the kid that you had met with Eren before the two of you had talked on the beach, and feel your heart burn at the fact that you had met Lana’s son and not known it. That Lana and Eren had to fight to make sure that he was safe, that she was doing anything for him.

“Eren and I basically had an arrangement. We both had houses off of set in Seattle, that we should shuffle him between, along with my brother Landon. There was someone with Teddy at all times, and at that age, he wasn’t really old enough to question the fact. His mom was always there to put him to bed at night, and sometimes his best friend Eren was there to do it too, so it didn’t mean too much to him.”

Eren sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It all started going downhill the week that I got hurt. Because, of course, that’s when Connie arrived on set.”

Lana wasn’t really paying attention when it had happened. Her nose was stuck in her own script, headphones over her ears, as she practiced the next scene she was going to be in.

When she looked up, three minutes after the fact, that’s when she saw it. That Eren was tangled with the cords that were suspending him in the air and that he was hanging unconscious upside down.

“What the hell are you doing? Take him down from there.” Lana states, incessantly shaking at Scott’s shoulder as he watched Eren in the viewfinder.

“What the hell are you talking about, Price?”

“He’s not fucking breathing. What the hell are you talking about?”

“He’s acting. Did you not read your script before you got here?” he asks, annoyed as he gestures for the crew around him to continue.

Lana looks up, every gut feeling of hers screaming in her stomach, as she runs on to the set, climbing on to the makeshift ladder and reaching for Eren stuck between the strings.

“Eren. Eren, wake up.”

Except he doesn’t budge in his arms, instead swinging back and forth from the way he’s precariously hanging on the strings. She presses her fingers to his neck, his pulse slightly weak under her fingers, as she can feel the tears burning in her eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you guys? Why can’t you just give him a break? He’s been going at it for like four hours.”

“Price. You’re ruining the shot.” Scott states, rather irritated.

“Take him down. Now.”

Scott rolls his eyes, walking over to the switchbox at his side. He reaches for the lever, placing his hand on the stick, as he all but glares at Lana.

“You want it that bad? Here.”

And he pushes the lever all the way down, sending Eren straight to the ground on his head. Lana can feel the panic rushing through her as she basically tumbles down, turning Eren’s head over in her hands, and being met with red, warm blood on her hands. She gives a weary eye to the crew, who phone the ambulance, as she follows in her own car.

“I think that was the first time that I realize that really, truly - these people don’t care about anything but getting the shot. I get that Eren was supposed to look like he was dead in that scene, but tiring him out to get the perfect shot was far from what he needed to do.”

“I sustained a concussion that left me in the hospital for a week. And I had three long lacerations down the length of my back from the harnesses that we were using, that basically sliced it on impact. That I still have scars from by the way.” Eren states.

You reach for Eren’s hand, squeezing hard on his wrist, as the video continues.

“When we finally made it back to set, Connie was there. And it’s not that I don’t love Connie, that I wouldn’t have loved to see him there, but I already knew that it wasn’t going to go well.” Eren states.

Eren sighs.

“I know, logically, that you can’t really blame these things on people. That Connie wasn’t my responsibility and that addiction is a real, physical disease that he had to battle against. But I just can’t help but feel like I could have stopped him if I was there.” Eren states.

“When I got to set, everyone around me hyped me up over the same basic thing. That Eren was out of commission, for reasons that they wouldn’t exactly tell me, and that I should take his spot as the lead. It was only a few days into shooting and that it would be an easy switch if I had just asked Scott if I could take his role.” Connie states.

Connie sighs.

“It was a simple thing that they were telling me. That Eren - he had gotten to be the lead role, hundreds of times over. That Levi had picked Eren out of everyone as the best, that he was extra hard on him because he knew that he could make a star. And that really, I had never gotten the same kind of exposure that Eren had, the type that comes from being a lead.” Connie states.

The video cuts - to videos of Connie and Eren filming on the set of Attack on Titan - the two of them playing pranks on Erwin and Hange together, running around each other between scenes, and laughing at Historia and Ymir walking past.

“Eren is one of my best friends. I would never want to side swipe him like that, so I decided that I was going to ask Eren for the role. And I was really self-assured that Eren would give it to me. Because he’s always been giving in that sense, he always had been with Armin and Y/N, and he would for me too.” Connie states.

“Just to clarify, the reason that I didn’t let Connie take the role at that point was because I had quite literally sustained a concussion from doing it. I was never going to let him step into that - no matter how hard he begged me to.” Eren responds.

“And so I got really hurt by it. And then everyone around me, they kept whispering it in my ear. That Eren couldn’t handle anyone but him being the star. That Eren thought I had no business being there, that I wasn’t made to be in a lead role. And for some reason, I don’t know fucking why, I thought that they were being honest with me. That they were being earnest. They kept bringing up the Girlfriend incident, that Eren was so quick to drag Y/N down the first chance he got, and that he would do the same to me too. I had so much trust in these people that I would do anything to stay friends with them. Because they were real. And unfortunately for me, I did. And one of the shittiest things I ever did was fight with Eren because of it.” Connie stated.

Eren found out, three months after the fact, that Connie had been doing drugs. He had his suspicions, since Connie had been spending so much time around Myka, and acting so weird and skittish around him that something had to be up.

So after he dropped Teddy off to Landon’s and head back to set with Lana, the two of them were prepared to talk to him about whatever it was, to clear the air. Except when they got there and knocked on Connie’s door, they found him lying face down on the desk, fast asleep with a small mound of white powder and a small trickle of blood down his nose.

“Connie. Connie, wake up.” Eren states, rigidly shaking his entire frame.

“Oh my gosh. Oh my god, Eren what do we do?” Lana states, her hands on his shoulder as he hears her sniffling in his ear.

“Connie. Dude, you have to wake up now. Come on.” Eren states.

Connie lightly shuffles in his sleep, as Eren backs up out of the way, with Lana behind him. Connie wakes up, half there, as his eyes focus in on Eren and he pales. That Connie’s giving him the most agitated, mean look that he’s ever gotten in his life. That he’s ever seen Connie sport in his life.

“Connie. Hey, you-”

“What do you want, Eren?” he asks.

“We were just worried about you, dude. We haven’t talked in so long, and that’s our fault, but-”

“I’m not good enough for you, right? You’re too big of a star to be friends with someone as low on the food chain as me right?” Connie responds, seething.

Eren frowns.

“Connie, hey man. What are you talking about? We’ve been like family since we were little. Why would I-”

“Why didn’t you give me the lead role? Why the fuck are you and Lana always sneaking around behind my fucking back? Don’t play the family card in my face when you’re the one who fucking abandoned me, Eren.”

“Connie. I’m really sorry that I-”

That’s when Connie lifts his hand, jolting it straight across Eren’s face. He can feel the immediate, immense pressure on his nose, the bright red shooting out of his nostrils as he looks back up at Connie.

“Connie. We can’t-”

“We can’t what? You won’t fight me?”

“No, Connie. I’m not going to fight you.” Eren states.

“Why not? You’re still too good for me, aren’t you? You’re too good for Y/N, too good for me, too good for anyone who fucking got you there.” Connie states, swinging again.

Connie’s movements are loose, uncoordinated, which is when Eren reaches for his arm, just to pin him to the ground underheath him. There’s a sweltering guilt when he does it, holds Connie down, and it only increases in magnitude when Connie cries underneath him, cursing his name.

“Two weeks after my fight with Connie, my worst possible outcome occurred. That I have friends, who love me more than anything, and wanted to surprise me for my birthday. Y/N and Armin came to Seattle. And Y/N….she wanted to tell me that she still loved me.” Eren states.

“That was the worst possible time that they could have shown up. Because they were this close to leaking my secret, basically telling me that it was any day now that it was going to happen, after finding out that Eren and I were planning on breaking our contracts, just to be out of the situation for good. We had even reached out to Levi and Hange about it, which they had found out about very fast.” Lana states.

“I saw Y/N for the first time at my birthday dinner and was immediately floored at the fact that she was there. And Armin had quickly told me, when I had scurried away to the bathroom to check on her, so I knew what I had to do. I left my birthday dinner, with Hyla, to break up with her then and there. When I knew that I had a chance at getting Y/N back.” Eren states.

“Do you want to get out of here? Just you and me?”

Hyla gives him a giddy smile as she nods, putting her hand in his, as he drags her out, with his arm secured around his waist. And the second that he can drive them slightly out of earshot, back to the house where he can talk to her in private, there’s a weight that’s lifted off of his chest when he gets to say it.

“I’m breaking up with you.” Eren states.

Hyla frowns, squinting her eyes at him.

“Okay but like…technically, we aren’t even dating. It’s just a publicity thing.” Hyla states.

“Whatever this is. I want out. I-I’m not doing it anymore.” Eren states.

Hyla laughs, sitting criss crossed on the couch, as she looks up at him.

“My dad is going to be super pissed at you, Eren.”

Eren smiles, lighter than he had been feeling in the four years that he had been stuck in this godforsaken house. Because truly, the reason that had brought him here, didn’t matter anymore.

Levi and Hange were on his side - and they were going to help him out of this - and more importantly, you were back. The two of you were going to be together again, despite wherever the hell the two of you were going to be stuck.

“I don’t care. My contrat is almost up anyways. And I can imagine that the same headlines get boring over time, Hyla. I think it’s time to call it quits.”

Eren looks down at her, busily typing away on her phone, as she looks up at him.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Eren?” Hyla states.

“Yeah. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“Fine. You can meet with my dad tomorrow to talk about it. He’s been thinking about bringing Ricky James on for a while anyways.” Eren states.

“Be my guest. You guys would fucking love him.” Eren states, running off.

“I was still on Cloud Nine that night. And it was making my skin itch, knowing that Y/N was like four feet away from me and we were going to be together again. So I woke her up in the middle of the night and took her to the beach outside of one of the houses that Lana and I owned. And-”

Eren tears up in the video, as you fight away the warm tears that are welling in your own eyes.

“During that entire night, I-I was so fucking happy again. All of the things that seemed so consequential to me when I was seventeen, that I needed to be at the same level as Y/N to be with her - which would basically be impossible, because she was always going to be better than me - seemed so ridiculous. The two of us, we just got to be real people in the second. The way that we always got to be when we were together.” Eren states.

“The following morning, Scott had shockingly agreed to let Eren and I be dismissed from our contracts, given that we finished off the press deals that we had going on. Which included the interview that we were going to do on the Life in Love podcast. Which should have ben our first, glaring red flag. That of course, we were never going to be let off that easy.” Lana states.

“It was simple. I guess-I guess I was so fucking happy that I got to talk about me and Y/N, what the two of us coming back together meant to me, that I put it all out there. And the WBS paid off Life in Love and edited the version of the podcast that was released.” Eren states.

“Granted, the part that’s always floored us that people never questioned it once. That the podcast clip that was released was barely ten minutes, when the episodes are usually an hour. That the podcaster has to ask questions to provoke the answers and that they weren’t even in the fucking video. And most of all - the fact that I didn’t even fucking talk thoughout the entirety of the interview.” Lana adds.

“I would have told Y/N. I would have told her the full truth then and there and I know that she would have believed me. Except, the person that I least expected, came to me beforehand and stopped me from doing it.” Eren states.

Eren’s met with an incessant pounding at his door, as he shoves all of his last belongings into his bag, ready to take off with you and Armin - and making your best efforts to drag Connie with you.

Eren opens the door to find Myka at his door, out of breath and panting.

“What?” Eren asks.

“Eren. You can’t leave.”

“Oh what the fuck do you want now? I’m taking Connie with me and that’s the fucking last of it.” Eren states.

“No, Eren. Really. You can’t go right now.” she states, pushing into his room and fervently sliding through her phone.

She hands him over the phone, with the email chain, as he anxiously reads through it and feels his heart drop.

“There’s no way. They can’t do that right?”

The email chain has the headlines - printed out and ready for distribution. Of them displaying every one of the last secrets that he wants out there front and center. About Connie being a drug addict, about Lana and Teddy, and of him and Y/N being homewreckers on the beach.

“It’s just a headline. We’ll be fine.”

“Eren. I read the article. They wrote about her brother’s in the article. About Lana and Ricky too - in detail.”

“What do you mean in detail?”

“They know everything, Eren. About every last detail of what he did to her, Eren. They’re going to put it all out there tomorrow, the second that you leave. And Y/N’s brothers…haven’t they literally been attacked before? This will be tenfold to that, Eren.”

Eren sighs, shaking the thought from this head.

“We’ll send them a security detail. And Lana, Connie, they’ll be-”

“Eren. You know for a fact that Lana doesn’t want anyone to know that he even exists. And Connie’s career. He’s never going to recover from this. And it’s- Y/N won’t be happy, Eren.” She states.

“So what the hell do you want me to do? Just stay here? Because there’s no way in hell that I’m letting Y/N stay here with me. And I know her - she’s not going to leave here without me.”

“They have Falco and Colt’s addresses, Eren. And-and don’t tell anyone but fucking Danny and Sareen? Her producers? They’re in on it. Sareen is literally Scott’s cousin, Eren. They’re planning on taking Y/N’s music away from her, so that they can make money off if it without giving her a cut.”

Eren pales.

“They’re going to do that if she stays here. And you know for a fact that you can’t leave because Connie won’t go and Teddy and- Eren you have to stay. She has to leave.”

“I can’t even fucking trust you. I don’t know what shitty game you’re trying to play here but it’s not funny.”

“I care about you guys.”

“Yeah right.”

“Okay, maybe not about you. But Lana….I care about Lana. This is the last thing she would want, she literally works so hard to make sure that no one will know about him for good reason. It would kill her to see it all get leaked.”

“Who the fuck is Lana to you? You don’t even-”

Eren understands it all too quickly. The pained flash that overtakes her eyes, the eway she’s so incessantly pleading on Lana’s behalf.

It’s because she’s in love with Lana.

Eren sighs, pinching his eyes shut.

“Do you have the article? I have to read it before I decide.” Eren states.

She nods, as she opens up the next email chain andhands him the phone. And when he reads through it, each consecutive sentence makes his stomach hurt, making it glaringly obvious what he has to decide.

Because the all but declare a smear chain against you and your brothers, slut shame you for what happened on he beach, drag Hange and Levi’s name to the blood, and leave no detail of Lana’s relationship with Ricky out. Things that no person should have aired out and Connie’s section nearly career ruining.

“Fuck. So what do I do? I mean-”

Eren can feel the tears burning in his eyes, as the leave warm, hot streaks down his skin.

“You have to make sure she leaves, Eren. You can’t have Y/N stay here. It’ll put things back to normal.” Myka states, downtrodden.

“She’s not going to leave. If I tell her, she’s going to want to stay with me. To be in my side during this and-”

“Say what you have to. To make her leave.”

“Think of the worst possible thing you could say, Eren.”

“I did what she asked. I-I made sure that she would leave. And in hindsight, the entire situation seems so stupid that me. That there were ten other things that I could have done, but…in that moment, I did what I thought was right.”

“It was idiotic in hindsight. Because it stopped them from running their smear campaigns on Lana and Connie, but Y/N was the one who got side sweeped in the middle of it.” Connie states.

“That’s where I came in. Danny and Sareen had reached out to me about everything that had happened with Y/N and Eren. Told me that I needed to amke sure that she came out of this on the other side, that she couldn’t let a guy take her career away from her. And anyone who knows the half of it about me knows for a fact that it was the right thing that they needed me to say, to get her to do it. And really, they had purposely picked everyone who went to see Y/N. Jean, not Mikasa, because he had a personal interest in seeing Eren hurt, because he was hurt too. And Sukuna, who would never advise her head on, but support what she wanted to do in full.” Historia says.

You groan, hanging your head in your knees as you know exactly what’s coming next.

That Danny and Sareen had given Scott and his stupid tabloid company exactly what he wanted. That they were the one pushing you to sing all three songs, that each consecutive piece of information made you more irritated, more mad as you went on to perform. And worse than that - Danny and Sareen made it a point to talk to Eren before the show, just to taunt him to his face.

“I had reached out to Levi and Hange for their help two weeks before the award show happened. And luckily enough for me, they helped us out of the situation, fast. Connie, Lana, Sukuna, and I sued Scott Clarkson for defamation of character, mistreatment of employees, and a dangerous workplace. We got to end our contracts early. And then moved forward.” Eren states.

The video changes to different clips, each one striking deep in your heart. Of Connie blowing out the candles on his one year anniversary of being sober as Teddy blows out his birthday candles, of Eren and Zeke getting along, and of the four of them all together, laughing at stupid videos of each other. And Eren signing along with Lana, brings the tears pouring down your eyes.

There was nothing left to do (Oh-oh, oh-oh) When the butterflies turned to dust that covered my whole room So I punched a hole in the roof (Oh-oh, oh-oh) Let the flood carry away all my pictures of you Rain came pouring down When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe And by morning Gone was any trace of you, I think I am finally clean (Oh, oh, oh, oh)

“Make no mistake. There was so much that was taken out of us, in the years that we spent working there at Stone Studios. In being part of an environment that was so shitty, so damaging to who we were and the mental state that we were living in, in the name of making a good movie. But there was good that came out of it too.”

The clips switch, this time shocking you so deeply in your core that it makes your heart burn. Because the clips are of Sukuna and Lana, together. Swinging their hands together on the beach, cooking together in the kitchen, and kissing each other on the cheek.

“I know for a fact now, that the tiny little wishes that I made against my bedroom door have come true. Because I’ve been lucky enough to be blessed with the warmest, most compassionate partner that I could have ever wanted.”

Which is when you notice it. That in the video, Sukuna has the same little teddy bear tattoo as Lana on his forearm. And that they both have the tattoo for their son.

Your past and mine are parallel lines Stars all aligned and they intertwined And taught you The way you call me, "Baby" Treat me like a lady All that I can say is All of the girls you loved before (ooh) Made you the one I've fallen for Every dead-end street Led you straight to me Now you're all I need I'm so thankful for All of the girls you loved before But I love you more

“Lana is the love of my life. I’m glad that every shitty thing in my life was just…preparation for me to get to her. Because every shitty betrayal, every crappy headline, every deep rooted hard feeling in my chest, she’s the person who was made to handle it. She’s gentle, she’s warm, and she’s everything I’ve ever wanted. And I’d go down this path a hundred times more if Teddy and Lana were always the ones waiting for me at the end.” Sukuna states.

“It was a horrible situation. But it’s taught us to appreciate the very best. For me, I finally got to reconcile with my older brother, who go to tell me the real story of what happened to him as a kid. And now, I’ve gotten to rectify one of the most important relationships in my life.” Eren states.

“I feel really shitty for how things went down, Eren.” Zeke states.

Eren nods, hiking his knees to his chest, as he rests his chin against his legs. Hange and Levi had invited Zeke over in his little retreat in the house, as they prepared for the case at the end of the week, just to talk things out. Hange and Levi had all but forced Eren to be polite and at least hear him out.

“I’m sure you’re too young to remember. But, that day at the hospital. They had started the rumors that I was funding drug dealers through money that I had in my back accounts.” Zeke states.

“Well, what did you actually do with that money? Because I know for a fact that Mom and Dad had actually found money being shoveled out of your savings, Zeke.”

He frowns.

“You know my Mom, Eren?”

“What kind of dumbass question is that? We have the same mom, idiot.”

“No, Eren. My biological mother.”

“Oh, sorry. Dina, right?”

“She’s not a good person. And I know that. But, she had reached out to me. Asking for money. She said that she needed the money for hospital bills and all that and that Dad wouldn’t return her calls. And that she feels horrible asking of this, because she knows I’m her son and she should have taken care of me, butcher really, reallyneeded it.” Zeke states.

“And she…spent it on drugs.” Eren states.

“Yeah. And Mom and Dad knew that, they believed me when I told them.”

“They did?”

“Yeah. But it was my decision to distance myself away from you guys. I wasn’t planning on doing it but…Mom lost a magazine cover, Dad lost a role, and…I knew that this was your dream. That you wanted to make it big and you couldn’t really make it big with me attached to your name.”

“Zeke. That’s so stupid. I wouldn’t have cared about that. And I don’t care because-”

“Eren. You don’t care now. There comes a point where everyone reaches this kind of stage. Where thje politics and the shitty tabliods, they make you realize that all of these things are really inconsequential. But at that age, this was all that you wanted. And I’d hate foryou to secretly resent me, resent my shitty decisions, becuase they were the ones that were holding you back.”

“Zeke…”

“I’m just glad to have you back as my brother now. I know my actions don’t really make it seem that way, but you kind of meant the world to me, man.”

The camera cuts, to a black screen with text on it, as the movie closes out.

Eren Jaeger, Lana Price, Connie Springer, and Ryomen Sukuna sued Scott Clarkson and Stone Studios on November 6th. The four of them reached a settlement with the studio, each recieiving twenty-five millions dollars each from the Clarkson Conglomerate.

Lana Price and Ryomen Sukuna have decided to split their settlement money two ways. Both are dedicating a half to ensure that they can continue to fund and upkeep security costs for their son, Theodore Price. And together, the two of them are donating the other half of their money to sexual assault victims, in hopes to support those who have similar experiences to the two of them.

Connie Springer has decided to donate all of his settlement money in order to support the establishment of rehab centers in various cities throughout the country. He hopes to create an advocacy network for those who have struggled and hopes to shine a light on the problems that exist in the current, underfunded programs.

Eren Jaeger, along with his settlement money, has asked Stone Studios for two additional items. First, he has asked for a copy of the original interview that he did for Life in Love, which he plans to return to Y/N L/N, who he claims was the only person who deserved to hear those words in the first place, the first chance he gets.

Second, Eren Jaeger negotiated with the conglomerate for weeks for the masters to Y/N L/N’s album, The Lucky One. The negotiation was short-lived, but the Scott Conglomerate has promised to return the rights of the music to Y/N L/N.

And third. Eren Jaeger has decided to donate his settlement money to fund arts programs throughout the Candian Provinces. Eren Jaegers album, Valedictorian, will donate all of the money produced in it’s first calendar year to the same cause.

“Y/N has dreamed about being a triple threat since she was a kid. But the first time that she ever felt that the dream was real was when, according to her, a group of hippie dippies in her hometown had raised money and petitioned to fund the arts program at her school. Which in turn, helped her realize that this was something that she loved. More so than just something that she wanted to do as a career, but something that was so in tune with who she was as a person, that she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from doing it even if she wanted to. And I’d hate for people to look at me, or at her, and be dissuaded from coming into this industry, no matter how shitty it is. There’s really depth to her art and her work that can’t and wont’ ever be diminished by any of this. Which was the point of all of this anyway.”

The video switches, this time to different clips of you and Eren. Of the two of you at awards shows togethers, sitting in interviews together laughing, and the nearly thousands of clips that Connie has made of you two together throughout the years.

Of the two of you in love.

I still remember the look on your face Lit through the darkness at 1:58 The words that you whispered for just us to know You told me you loved me So why did you go away?

“Make no mistake. Y/N L/N is the love of my life. She’s everything you want in the person you want to spend the rest of your life with and more. She’s compassionate, sensitive, and always been so understanding of me. There’s never been, and going to be, someone in my life that has such a pull on me the way she does. She’s the moon, she’s the only reason that I even push and pull in the way that I do. I wouldn’t be sitting here, in this chair today, telling my truth if she hadn’t been so brave, so truthful as to do it first. And I wouldn’t be sitting here, still wholeheartedly believing in love, even though I lost it, because I know for a fact that it would be a disservice to what we shared to turn myself away from it.”

I never thought we'd have a last kiss I never imagined we'd end like this Your name, forever the name on my lips So I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe And I'll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are Hope it's nice where you are

“It’s always that dumb question that people ask. Would you rather love and lose it or not love at all?”

And I hope the sun shines and it's a beautiful day And something reminds you, you wish you had stayed You can plan for a change in the weather and time But I never planned on you changing your mind

“The correct answer is always to chose love. And it’s an easy question when the person you’re loving is love personified.” Eren finishes.

You turn over to Eren, teary eyed and the gaping, the burning feeling in your chest so immense that you can’t even fathom the words to say to him. So overwhelmed, so overstimulate from everything that you’ve heard - everything that you’ve felt - that you can barely keep your head on straight. The last song starts playing, which you can tell is entitled Fine Line from the credits line, as the words make the sobs wrack through you fully.

We'll be a fine line We'll be a fine line We'll be alright We'll be alright We'll be a fine line We'll be a fine line We'll be alright (alright, alright, alright)

You turn to him, his hands on your shoulders, as he reaches up to brush the tears off of your face. You can still feel yourself hiccuping in his touch, the look in his eyes so pained as he looks into your eyes.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry.” Eren whispers.

“Eren. You- you fucking idiot. I’m going to kill you.” you whisper back, mustering your best glare as you frown at him.

“That frown never stops being cute, you know? You have the horror appeal of a stuffed animal.”

You shove him, in response, glaring at him as the burning in your chest slightly subsides.

“Stop trying to lighten the mood. I’m ten different levels of mad at you right now.”

“Okay. I’m going to say something crazy to you, but it’s just an idea, okay? We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to?”

“What the fuck could be crazier than…oh, I told you that I didn’t care about you because I wanted to protect you? Or, oh, I sued a person who took everything away from me and instead of trying to get more money, I tried to get back the rights to your music. Or oh, THAT STUPID INTERVIEW I DID WAS FUCKING EDITED?”

“Okay. Maybe it’s a little less crazy than that. But just hear me out okay?”

“I can basically never hear that phrase the same from you again. The last time I didn’t hear you out, you were sitting on a butt load of fucking information. Like the fact that you took the fall for me when someone threatened my fucking family? Or oh, I was struggling for years on end but never once reached out to you or-”

“Sweetheart. Just listen to me. Please.”

You frown, crossing your arms as you look at him.

“Everyone else is going to be on the press tour for another four days. And there are some people who want to see us….in Seattle.”

“Seattle? Don’t tell me in some weird twisted way that you're friends with Hyla or something?”

“Ew, no. Not Hyla. But your wife wistfully looks at the window everyday, wondering when you’re going to come home from war. And no I’m not being dramatic she makes that joke almost every day. And Sukuna said he has some choice words prepared for you that he’s been sitting on for a few years now. And, it’s also Teddy’s sixth birthday. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I’m kind of his favorite. And I know that he would like you too.”

“You-”

“It would just be for two days. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but the two of them. They really love you. They want to see you and…you have a lot to talk about. With both of them.”

“Yeah. I-I want to see Lana. And Sukuna, they…. fuck, Eren. they went through so much. You- you went through so much. I’d like to see them and- Eren, I don’t know what to say but-” you respond, the tears warm as they spread down your eyes.

“Don’t say anything yet. Sit on it for a little. I’ll pack our things, yeah?” he states, voice warm as he smiles at you.

“Okay.”

“One last thing, Y/N.”

“Eren. You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

He rolls his eyes, as he fishes through his pocket, and places a USB in your hand. You twist it over in your fingers as you look at it and give him a confused look.

“The interview. Unedited. I-I meant what I said. You-you should be able to hear it. Those words are meant for you and you only.

You turn it over in your hands, preshing it flesh against your hand, as you and Eren step out of the townhouse into the snow and head towards the car for the airport.

Hand in hand.

next part linked here

an: GUYS U CANT SIMP OVER SUKUNA ANYMORE HES A FATHER. LEAVE HIM ALONE I SWEAR TO GOD. that being said sukuna and lana appearances next chapter RAAAA. and as always, someone send me an ask for the valedictorian tracklist I HAVE IT LOCKED AND LOADED

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @mrksnctzen @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv

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ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey · 4 months

Text

Conclusions

Ginny's run out of her good parchment and has been reduced to using something she dug out of the bottom of her trunk, hating the way her quill scratches over the rough surface. As though it isn’t punishment enough to be writing about History of Magic, she’s got to do it on this piece of rubbish.

“Bloody, buggering fu–” she swears as the point of her quill pierces a hole straight through her conclusion. Apt, probably - it had been flimsy at best. There’s a metaphor here, somewhere.

“Revision going well, then?”

The wry voice startles her so much that she nearly upends her bottle of ink all over her weak – in more ways than one – essay. “Fuck, Harry, I’d no idea you were there.”

She blinks up at him in surprise and finds him smirking, standing at the table she’s claimed in a corner of the library, looking adorably entertained by her plight. His bookbag is slung carelessly over his shoulder, his hair mussed, his stupid face made more handsome by the teasing lilt of his smile. Her heart flutters a bit, because that’s just what it always does with him. She ignores it valiantly, and hates him for it, a little.

“Sorry,” he says, though he sounds more amused than anything. “Mind if I sit?”

“Course,” she says, gesturing to the seat opposite. “Can’t guarantee there won’t be more swearing, though.”

He eyes her holey essay as he sits, jerking his head questioningly toward the parchment. “What’re you working on?”

“Something for Binns.”

“Ah, I’d be swearing, too.”

“Fucking hell, eh?”

They share a smile, and Ginny reckons she’d be better off writing an essay about that - the way she knows exactly when he’ll find something funny; the way jokes fall a bit flat when the punchline isn’t his eyes seeking her out, green and piercing and flickering with amusement. She’d fill the parchment with ease.

It’s easy to write about something you can’t stop reading into.

Just like she’s madly reading into the way he’s shown up here - no Ron, no Hermione - and sought her out, like it’s normal, like they’ve been doing this for years even though they haven’t. It feels like they have, though. That’s the worst part of it.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks, like he might just come right out and say it - to see you.

He doesn’t. She pretends that she can’t be disappointed by what she expects.

“Transfiguration,” he says darkly.

“Where’re Ron and Hermione, then?” she prods, picking at it like a scab, like a masochist. I wanted to get you alone, she urges him to say. I’ve been trying to all week and I haven’t even been subtle about it.

“Dunno,” he shrugs. Scabs bleed when you pick them, incidentally. “I can survive an evening without them, you know.”

“Can you? I don’t reckon your track record is all that spectacular on that front, if I’m honest.”

“Hey, I haven’t died even once.”

“Right,” she jokes. “Angling for a new nickname? ‘The Boy Who Hasn’t Died, Even Once’?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Rolls right off the tongue, that.”

“I��ll owl Rita for you. We can workshop something”

They smile.

She wants to shake him until he admits to it, confesses, like this thing brewing between them is a crime. She wants to lay all the evidence out in front of him, the aspiring Auror, and see what he makes of it. He can’t quip his way around the smiles and the banter and the looks he gives her. See, she’ll say, don’t you see?

He’s got shit vision.

They sit together for far longer than she’d planned to stay. At some point he adjusts in his seat, and his foot winds up touching hers, and he doesn’t even have the decency to move it. She fancies she can feel his warmth through their trainers, but no - it must be her own traitorous heart, frantically pumping warm blood to her foot like it’s the only part of her body that needs it, like the parts of her that aren’t touching him have ceased to matter because maybe they have.

Maybe she’s been distilled to the edge of her foot.

They talk about strategies for the Quidditch final, and OWLs, and argue playfully about which of her mum’s mince pies is the best. Ginny’s always fancied herself good at impressions, but she surprises even herself with her impression of easy nonchalance. All the while it’s building - each look, each smile, each easy joke they set each other up for feels like a firework she’s adding to the heap in her chest, ready to explode with the slightest spark.

You’ve got me alone, she tells him. Do something about it.

It’s nearly curfew. They start gathering their things, and still he hasn’t done anything. If he were any other boy, Ginny would cut through the bullshit herself, but something holds her back. She can’t fully articulate, unravel, why, but she needs him to be the one to admit it. She needs him to decide she’s worth the risk. He’s meant to be brave, isn’t he?

As she’s packing it away, Ginny remembers her abandoned essay, still punctured pathetically. She sighs, holds it up for Harry’s evaluation. “Think Binns’ll even notice?”

“Give it here,” he says, and she hands it over. He pulls his wand from his robes and waves it wordlessly, the gaping tear sewing itself together so it might never have been there. Ginny doesn’t know why she hadn’t thought to do that herself.

“Thanks. Only now, I’ve actually got to write a damn conclusion.”

He laughs and holds it back out to her. “You’re on your own.”

“Aren’t you meant to have a hero complex?” she quips, pushing the parchment back toward him. “Some useful saving-people thing? Have a go.”

To her immense surprise, he shoots her a wry smirk that sends a tingle through her stomach. “Alright.” He pulls out the quill he’d only just packed away, scrawls something at the bottom of her parchment, shielding it from view.

She’s gone utterly daft. Her heart is hammering in her chest, beating a tattoo on her ribcage; she wonders if her fingers are trembling as they reach across to take her essay back, fully convinced she’ll find the words Go out with me scribbled there.

In conclusion, he’d written, this essay is over.

She snorts, mostly at herself. She’s officially deluded. Cracked. What is wrong with her?

“Wow. Thanks for that,” she says drily. “How would Binns have known otherwise?”

He grins. “Anytime.”

“Totally unrelated, but do you offer refunds? Perhaps a voucher for another Harry Potter rescue at a later date?”

“Non-refundable. Sorry.”

“I’m going to be honest,” she lies. “I expected a better rescue than that.”

He shrugs. “You expect too much from The Boy Who Hasn’t Died, Even Once.”

She can’t help herself; she laughs. His eyes seek hers out - green, so green, twinkling with amusement and something that looks so fond. She’s going to set fire to the heap of fireworks in her chest, just to get it over with. She’ll explode in color, driven to madness by the boy who hadn’t died even once but who’d killed her, slowly, with smiles.

In conclusion, she thinks, I’m utterly fucked.

#hinny #canon compliant #hbp missing moment #it's still valentine's day somewhere #not here #but somewhere

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sk3erkrou · 1 year

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My Thoughts on Hogwarts Legacy

This is something that has been on my mind recently as more discourse about the topic is coming to the forefrunt of the internet. Hogwarts Legacy and, honestly, the Harry Potter franchise as a whole.

As I see things, there are 5 groups of people when it comes to "THAT wizard game."

"Hey, I don't want to play it because of my own personal reasons. But if you want to play it, I hope you have fun."

"Hey, I do want to play this game because of my own, personal reasons, but I understand that you're not interested. That's cool."

"This game gives money to a transphobe?! Awesome! I just bought two copies."

"You want to play this game for your own reasons? You're a transphobe piece of shit. I won't stop until you know you're a piece of shit."

"Harry Potter? Hogwarts Legacy? I haven't played video games since I lost 2 weeks of my life to Banjo Kazooie in 1998."

If you fall into either category 1, 2, or 5, then right on. You're doing the right thing. Keep it up.

However, if you fall into either category 3 or 4, you are a fucking problem and you need to cut the shit and grow up.

Personally, I fall into category 1. I feel I have made my views on the game and franchise fairly clear. But also, I have a good friend who learned to read because of Harry Potter. I grew up with the franchise and it was a huge part of my childhood, and recognizing that I no longer want to engage in the franchise felt like a huge loss to me, and took some time to reconcile with myself. But, again, I have made that decision based on the larger franchise and not simply this one game. And, also again, these are my OWN PERSONAL REASONS. If you're interested, I will gladly share my thoughts in a civil manner, and only ask that you understand my thinking, not that you agree with me, or try to convince me to change my mind.

Now, to address category 3. Deep breath, here.

If you are doing anything at all because you know it will make the lives of people worse, then fuck you right to hell. Yes, this group of people also generally goes hand in hand with a specific red hat and an orange demagogue. If you find yourself in this category, get help. Go to therapy and ask about this concept called "empathy."

Category 4.

I will repeat: if you are doing anything at all because you know it will make the lives of people worse, then fuck you right to hell. Setting up websites to track Twitch streamers to see who is playing Hogwarts Legacy? Going to channels and harrassing the streamers for wanting to play the game? I would argue that people in this category or worse than those in category 3 because while those in 3 as assholes, they are blowing money on something they don't actually care about to try triggering someone while people in this group are going out and actively attacking people for engaging something that they want to experience for, and repeat after me, THEIR OWN PERSONAL REASONS. I saw in one chat that someone mentioned they wished executions were legal because people were doing something they didn't like. Sounds an awful lot like some people who built some gallows outside of a notable large building in the US back in the beginning of January 2021, doesn't it?

Here's where things really boil down on Hogwarts Legacy. The game is made. It's done. Rowling has been paid or will be getting paid. You attacking people for enjoying the game isn't going to stop that. But there's a lot more people than just her in the mix, here. Think about all the hundreds of people who have spent YEARS working on making this game, and trying to make it the best game possible. They have also been paid and are continuing to get paid. Controversy has surrounded Hogwarts Legacy pretty much since it was announced. And it wasn't cancelled.

Here's where I see things going with the game: it is the outrage of the day. Somewhat surprisingly, the outrage of Hogwarts Legacy's release is overshadowing the much more recent information about Justin Roiland. People will continue to be upset by this game for a while, and eventually that will fade, as all outrage does.

But you know what won't pass? The hurt caused by people to other people over this game. Your friend, who you disagree with about the game, sitting in their home, playing the game, is not going to hurt you. Streamer playing the game and you don't want to watch it? THEN FUCKING DON'T. Full stop. For fuck's sake, people were buying subs to a twitch stream just so they could continue harrassing the streamers after they made the chat sub-only. Fuck you. Grow up. And like I told the people in group 3, get therapy.

Actually, everyone should go to therapy, but that isn't the point of this.

Here's what my point of view boils down to: let people enjoy what they enjoy and stop shitting on things just because people enjoy them. Yes, the situation here is more complex and nuanced than that, but every situation is. And if any part of this rambling has made you angry or upset for any reason, I'd like you to think about why that is. I am not advocating for people to play the game or not play the game. Honestly, I just couldn't give a fuck what you want to play in the privacy of your own home. I just want people to be better. Treat people better. Be better people. Recognize that everyone on this planet is, at the very least, deserving of being treated like a person and deserving of love. And if you can't understand that fact, did you really understand Harry Potter at all?

#hogwarts legacy #harry potter #video games

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gurugirl · 9 months

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A Good Boy | The Morning After

Summary: What happens the morning after Harry and Y/n wake up together. Did Leo hear them? Has their secret been exposed?

A/n: This is the first little check-in to give you guys something to hold on to until I get into some more substantial ones. This is a glimpse of what happens the morning after they've made a commitment to one another while they're still on vacation in Greece. ALSO - This is stepmon!reader x stepson!harry - both are adults in this story but don't read if you don't like it.

Word Count: 2360 (she's short but relevant)

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, cheating, lying, smut, age gap (-7 years)

A Good Boy Masterlist

The morning after Tyler had caught them Y/n snuck out of the room first, leaving Harry with a soft kiss and blazing hot cheeks after what they’d just done.

“Where were you?” Leo’s voice suddenly caught her off guard as she gripped the coffee carafe so it didn’t fall from her already shaky hand. Shaky because she had no idea what she was going to be facing once she saw Leo. Had he heard her and Harry?

“I slept in one of the guest rooms. Didn’t want to disturb you when I went to bed because seemed like you really needed to sleep,” she half lied. She was definitely in one of the guest rooms. But she was most certainly not sleeping alone.

“I called for you and everything. Was downstairs looking for you too,” he scratched the back of his head and chuckled, “but I guess I was pretty sloshed. Barely remember much else.”

She gulped down the sand in her throat and licked her lips. So he didn’t hear them. Or if he did he couldn’t remember it. Either way. This bought her time to get her affairs in order and figure out the best way to break to him the news.

They had been careless the night before but part of her thought that if he did hear them, that would get the ball rolling. Surely that would be one way of delivering the news to Leo. But she preferred to tell him on her own time when they were both ready, prepared. The truth was going to come out. She was in love, and playing around with his son in secret needed to come to an end as soon as possible. Because it was no longer play. They were serious about one another. It was insane but they were going to make it work. However, best after vacation, she figured.

“He didn’t overhear us.” She closed the door to the room Harry was in and stepped toward him.

He let out a breath in relief, “Thank fuck. But now what? What’s the plan for the rest of our time here? And then after?”

Y/n stood to her toes and draped her arms over his shoulder as he grabbed her by her waist, “We’ll tell him after vacation. Once we figure out a plan. I’m not going to be sleeping with him or next to him again. I do need to at least make that clear to him soon.”

“You could bring up Parker to him? Tell him you heard him talking to her.”

Grinning she nodded, “Actually, that’s a great idea. Tell him I know he’s started to get feelings for her. That can be the excuse.”

Leo did try to initiate sex, as was expected, but she’d already made up her mind that she was with Harry. She wouldn’t be sleeping with Leo again. Ever again. And Harry’s idea about using Parker as an excuse was perfect.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asked after she nudged him away from her. He’d tried hugging her and kissing her neck but she moved out of his arms and said no.

“I just…” she had to really put on her best act. Even though she didn’t care one bit about Parker she needed to state what she was about to say in such a way that it would put the kibosh on his advances again, “overheard you on the phone. With Parker. And… you’re allowed to do what you wan–“

“What? How?” He stopped in his tracks, a surprised expression, eyes wide.

“I was in the bathroom the other morning and you were on the balcony and I heard everything you said clearly because the window was open.”

Leo let his eyes wander to the edge of the bedroom in thought as he began to nod.

“And anyway… you can sleep with whom you want. We agreed to that but, Leo,” she paused until he finally looked back at her, “it sounds like… I don’t know… kind of like it’s more than just sex with her. And if that’s true then that crosses a boundary I’m not comfortable with.”

Leo was quiet for a bit as he paced back and forth. Y/n could see he was figuring out how to respond. He finally stopped and turned to look at her, “What exactly did you hear?”

She sighed for dramatic effect, “That you missed her, called her honey, said something about how many more days it would be, and that you wished it was her that was here with you.”

Blinking his eyes and looking down at his feet he nodded to himself, “Wow. I…” he looked back at his wife and ran a hand through his hair, “Y/n I’m sorry you heard that. It wasn’t… I don’t know what to say. Maybe we can talk about this when we get back home,” he took her hands in his, “Let’s not let this ruin our vacation. Okay?”

It was a sweet gesture, she felt. He wasn’t normally so gentle about things and she could tell he felt bad. Perhaps this could work in her favor. In their favor.

It was also the perfect excuse to not sleep in bed with him. She moved her clothes to the guest bedroom and Leo didn’t question it once.

And Harry was relieved his dad hadn’t overheard them. Having a little more time to figure out everything would be ideal for them both. He was set to graduate at the end of Fall that year, which meant he’d have his degree and he could get a good job. He imagined both he and Y/n renting a small apartment, whatever they could afford because he was sure his dad would cut him off once he did find out the truth.

Everyone, including Tyler, noticed the sudden change in Leo. He withdrew slightly but was polite and kind. Y/n felt a little guilty about it but it was better than Leo knowing about her and Harry and trying to finish off the vacation with that hanging over them.

But both Y/n and Harry couldn’t have been happier deep down. They maintained a healthy distance from one another during the day or anytime Leo was around. Which turned out to be a bit harder than they realized. Because once they’d both admitted their feelings they just wanted to indulge in the newness. It didn’t stop the lingering glances or quick whispers with promises, a cheeky hidden pinch, or hot stolen kisses.

And once the lights were off and everyone was in their rooms, Harry would join Y/n in her room, or she in his with the door closed and locked.

Keeping quiet was no fun but being able to imbibe in one another every night and every morning before they parted was worth covered mouths and muted moans.

Harry woke up feeling warm with Y/n’s back against his chest. She was sighing and slowly fidgeting under the sheets as she was just beginning to rouse from her own slumber.

He grinned to himself as he inhaled her scent and brought a hand up over her bare arm, “Morning.”

Her eyes were still closed when she heard his raspy tired voice in her ear, “Morning.”

Waking up early was not something either of them enjoyed, but it had been worth it to savor one another before the day began. Before anyone else woke up.

Harry’s warm hand traveled down her hip and over her thigh with purpose as she felt his mouth sponge wet kisses on her neck. Reaching behind her to pull his arm to her front she brought his hand up to her bare breasts.

They didn’t even need to say a word to know what would come next. Y/n reached down to lazily rub her clit when she felt Harry’s cock digging into her bum.

She barely even needed to touch herself to get worked up. Harry’s lips on her neck and his hand manipulating and pinching her nipples were quite enough.

Angling her hips and pressing herself back onto Harry he felt her wetness and groaned softly as he lifted her thigh and placed his cock to her wet hole, pushing through the tight muscle as he continued kissing the sensitive skin on her neck.

Stunted thrusts into her pussy were met with her own hips pushing herself down over him. Harry began to whine at the way his tip was being fucked and how tight she felt on him. It was hard to get in long deep strokes in that position but for Harry, it was sending him over the edge too fast, “Gonna come… fuck!” He spoke his words in a frantic whisper.

Y/n’s mouth dropped open when she felt him suddenly throbbing and pumping into her as he stilled his hips and tightened his grip on her thigh. He gasped and pasted his lips over her neck to keep himself quiet as he came inside of her embarrassingly fast.

When he lifted his face from her neck he groaned, “Sorry, Y/n. I didn’t mean to come so fast. Felt so good…”

Grinning she turned her head and moved herself so she was on her back and Harry was next to her, “It’s okay. You’ve been so good.” She spread her legs as a hint for him to finish her off.

Harry breathed out a shallow laugh as he watched her lift her hips and lick her lips, “I try to be good for you. I can still make you come,” he grabbed her thigh, positioning himself in between her legs, pushing them apart to watch his orgasm slowly drip out of her pussy. Pressing his fingers into the warm come he pressed it back into her, watching the filthy act as his fingers disappeared into her.

She moaned as he began to curl his fingers and stroke her insides slowly. He looked from her eyes to where he was fingering her, his digits coated in her arousal and his creamy come. A bit of sperm dripped down her ass he plunged his fingers in and pulled out.

“Fuck, baby. You like fucking your come back into me with your fingers?” She whispered her words.

“It’s so pretty,” he moaned his words and then lowered his face to suck on her clit and lick over her in wide, flat strokes with his hot tongue.

The moment his head was in between her thighs she pushed her hand into his hair and gripped a hold tight, “Good boy… right there. Don’t let your come go to waste, baby.”

She loved watching him eat her out. But he was good at it too, now that he’d learned exactly what she liked the most, “Yes… Lick it like that. Uughh… fuck…” She didn’t dare throw her head back like her body wanted. Instead, she kept her eyes locked on Harry’s lewd act. His mouth sucking and licking her (and consequently himself) up, his fingers pumping into her.

Harry pressed his shoulders into the back of her thighs and began digging in as deep and hard as he could like she liked. Her soft pants and gasps in the room, and the slick, sticky sound of her pussy being eaten were surely quiet enough for the early morning stillness of the house.

And when she came she covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes closed, dropping her head back into the pillow against her will. She had wanted to keep her eyes on her pretty boy but he had her coming so hard her body shook and the will to keep her eyes open wasn’t strong enough to overcome her body’s natural inclination.

Harry softly licked over her as he watched her heave and tremble under him. He loved gently tonguing at her clit until she pushed him away when she couldn’t handle it anymore.

She softly giggled and bucked her hips up, sliding away from his mouth with droopy lids and a lopsided smile as Harry sat up, “How was it?”

Rolling her eyes she pulled him over her body to glue their mouths together as an answer. It was good. It was always good. She and Harry had an intrinsic connection. Something that couldn’t be forced or imagined. It was real and natural. This was her lover, her man, her soulmate.

Ending their vacation in Greece was bittersweet. Of course, it was time to get back to reality.

“I’m gonna be sad when I can’t have you in my bed every night,” Harry spoke as he sat on her bed next to the suitcase she was stuffing with her clothes. They had another hour before the driver was to pick them up and bring them to the airport for their long day of travel back to California.

“I know, baby. Me too. I think Leo isn’t going to question me being gone more often, though. Knowing what I know about how he feels about Parker. So I was thinking maybe every couple of days I could go to your dorm? Stay with you?”

That would have to do. Until they could figure out how to tell Leo.

“And how long do we do that until we finally tell him?” Harry watched her put her shoes into a shoe bag before placing it on top of the pile of clothes.

“I don’t know. Maybe Tuesday night I can come over and you and I can really discuss our plan. With you graduating soon, that might be something to factor in, you know?”

He nodded, “Yeah. We could rent an apartment together. I’ll get a job.”

“And me too. I’m gonna start looking for work,” she looked at the young man and stopped what she was doing, placing herself in between his legs and sticking her fingers into his curls, “This won’t be easy but it’s gonna be worth it. I love you.”

Harry tilted his head back and closed his eyes to bask in the feel of her fingers on his scalp. He smiled and hummed before opening his eyes to look back at her, “I know it’ll be worth it. I love you too.”

Feedback/Thoughts | Support Me! | Main Masterlist

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unseededtoast · 9 months

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We'll Be Alright | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: In which you discover that the line between love and hate is quite fine. Your actions are done out of love, but they only make you hate yourself more and more. Inspired by "Fine Line" by Harry Styles

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

WC: 9.1k

Warnings: Angst, a lot of angst, pining, mention of Ed Gein, mention of blood, use of guns, that sorta thing

a/n: Back at it again with another Spencer Reid oneshot. I hope you all like it, I think this is one of my favorites so far.

"I could live with you hating me, but I couldn't live in a world without you."

With a smile on your face you listen to Spencer ramble on about how he put the pieces together to find the unsub while you two ride to the scene together. He speaks with such passion and you don't think you'll ever get tired of listening to him, his mind is a brilliant thing and you make sure to remind him every chance you get. You can tell that sometimes when he gets fired up about something he starts becoming insecure, fearing that the others will make some snide comment or dismiss his thoughts. But not you, you listen intently every time, hanging onto every word.

Spencer has played a very vital role in developing you into the analyst you are today. Where the others were satisfied with letting you learn on your own, and showing you pointers here and there, Spencer took the time to explain nuanced ideas to you. He showed genuine interest and care, and you gave him your undivided attention. This dynamic created a tight bond with the two of you, allowing you to work together seamlessly and at times, it's like you read each other's thoughts.

"I knew you could do it." You tell him as you pull onto the scene. He utters a thanks as the two of you get out of the car and join the rest of the team.

The unsub is nearby and the team is just waiting for him to show up; Garcia had been able to track his phone and his movement aligned with the area you and Spencer had narrowed down as the next area of interest. Hotch, Morgan, and Emily give you both a nod of acknowledgement and the five of you begin scouting out the area to look for any signs of the unsub, he should be here by now.

This particular unsub sent a chill down your spine, and not much gets to you anymore. His modus operandi was always to kill his victims, skin them, and use their flesh for various purposes. It's like he was trying to be Gein's prodigy, except he never dug up a grave, he preferred to kill them all himself. The team had found his workshop early in the investigation, but the unsub was nowhere to be found, until now. Seeing household objects made of flesh isn't going to soon leave your memory, you're sure of it.

"There he is!" Morgan yells and points to a man crossing the street with a paper bag in his hand. Everyone takes off in a sprint towards him and you pull your firearm from the holster strapped to your thigh. The unsub takes off, trying to evade you all.

Emily and Hotch split up from the rest of the team to try and cut him off up ahead, leaving you, Spencer, and Morgan trailing him. The little man is fast, you'll give him that much. Eventually, he ducks down an alleyway, unaware it's a dead end, and turns back to look at you all with wide, stunned eyes. You see the panic in his eyes and as Morgan shouts instructions at him, you see him reach inside of his jacket.

The unsub pulls a gun of his own and aims it right at Spencer. Your heartbeat echoes in your ears. Spencer puts his hands up in surrender while you and Morgan keep your sights trained on him.

"Put the guns down or I'll shoot him, I swear I'll do it, just like the others!" The unsub declares while switching the safety off of his gun. Your hands begin to shake with adrenaline, but you don't put your gun down. Faintly, you can hear Morgan informing Hotch and Emily of the situation via radio but it's like you have tunnel vision on the man in front of you.

"Do it now!" He screams erratically and you see his finger dance on the trigger, just about to pull it.

An internal battle wages itself inside your mind, trying to quickly assess the pros and cons of listening to the man. Just as you go to lower your gun, you see the man grin sickeningly at Spencer with an evil glint shining in his eye; you've seen that look before. Without thinking, you turn and knock Spencer out of the way just as you hear the shot go off. Spencer slams into the brick wall beside him, chest heaving with panicked breaths. Behind you, you can hear Morgan yelling something but his voice sounds miles away.

All you feel is a blinding, white-hot pain.

Blinking rapidly, you look down and see that your shirt is quickly becoming stained a deep scarlet red. Your heart is pumping at an alarming pace, you can feel your pulse in your neck. The red stain keeps growing but your mind can't comprehend what's going on. Large hands obscure the stain from your view, and you finally look up to see Spencer's hazel eyes, wide and afraid.

He gently brings your body to the ground, leaning you against the brick wall you had shoved him into. His hands apply pressure to the wound, sending a shockwave of pain through your entire body. It feels like you can't catch your breath, you fight for oxygen every few seconds and even that makes your body feel like you've just been set ablaze. The edges of your vision start going black, and you can't really see anything clearly anymore. Your mind is a jumble of incoherent thoughts that just sounds like static.

"Hey, hey look at me. Come on now. Stay with me. Please." You feel a tap on your cheek and your blurry vision can make out Spencer's form, his fingers coated in red. A wave of nausea and pain racks through your system, and you try to reach out for Spencer, but your arms are just too heavy, and words take too much effort. It's easier to just close your eyes.

-----

A constant beeping sound stirs you awake. You don't even remember falling asleep. Trying to open your eyes feels like an impossible task, like they've been bonded shut with super glue. Your throat feels like a desert, and you start to panic, not remembering where you are. Mental images of the unsub's flesh creations flash through your mind and you start panicking, thinking that somehow he got you.

The panic is enough to make your eyes open, and you're greeted with bright lights. Flinching, you squint your eyes and look around. This isn't the unsub's workshop, no, this looks like a hospital. Your eyes travel down your body, seeing lines embedded in your arms, a plastic piece clamped over your finger, and a large white bandage wrapped around your stomach. As if on cue, your stomach starts to burn like hot coals had just been placed there. An image of Spencer's hand covered in bright red flashes behind your eyelids.

A nurse walks through the doors and smiles when she catches your eye. She comes to your bedside and sets down an IV bag full of clear liquid.

"Glad to see you're finally awake. How do you feel?" She asks and you go to answer her, but your throat is too dry, so you just end up coughing. The nurse crosses your room and returns moments later with a plastic cup half full of water. Greedily, you take it from her and drink the water, a lone stream wandering down your chin. Once the cup is empty, you decide to finally answer her.

"Not great." You admit, trying to reposition but unable to do so because of the pain. The nurse nods as she hangs the new IV bag from the metal rack beside your bed.

"I imagine so. I'll give you something to dull the pain." She tells you, resting a gentle hand on your upper arm. Your eyes are glued to her hand and you nod, anticipating the relief of pain medication.

"What exactly happened?" You ask, only able to remember tiny bits and pieces. The image of Spencer's hand refuses to leave your mind but you just can't remember what happened before, or after, that moment. The nurse looks down to the bandage covering your torso.

"An ambulance brought you in last night. You got shot through the abdomen and had to be rushed into surgery. There was sustained damage to your liver and other intestines, but nothing life-threatening. You gave your coworkers quite the scare though, they didn't want to leave but we had to send them home." Her voice is soothing despite the words leaving her mouth, like she was used to delivering this sort of news. Which she probably is. You stare down at the bandage on your stomach, trying to remember anything else, but being unsuccessful.

"So when can I leave?" You ask, knowing that there's an incident report or two waiting for you on your desk. Truthfully, you'd rather do anything but those reports right now, seeing as how you can't even remember a major event, but you know the job doesn't allow for much downtime.

"Probably tomorrow or the next day depending on how well you're doing." She reassures you, and you can live with that. If the team wants the paperwork done that badly, they can bring it to you. Otherwise, you're perfectly content to stay here for a little while. The nurse exits the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

From what you can remember, Spencer was definitely there when you got shot. His hands were covered in your blood, that part you can vividly remember. Your heart sinks as you are able to recall the look in his eyes, how scared he was. You hope he doesn't blame himself for what happened, you know it isn't his fault even if you can't quite remember how it all went down. If the roles were reversed you can't even imagine the wreck you would be; the thought alone makes you sick.

-----

The next day your doctor clears you for discharge, and you call Hotch to come pick you up. You have no family to call to get you or take care of you, Hotch and the team are the closest thing you have. You had almost called Spencer, but decided against it because you're not sure if you're ready to see him just yet. Hotch's car pulls up to the curb and he hops out to help you in the car but you wave him off.

"I got shot I'm not immobile." You try to tease as you grimace, pulling yourself into the passenger seat. Hotch closes the door once you're in and quickly returns to the driver's seat. His hands grip the wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. He starts the route back to your home without a word, but you can tell something is bothering him.

"What's up?" You break the silence, the curiosity of what he's thinking becoming too much. Hotch glances at you from the corner of his eye before training his eyes back on the road.

"You're off of field duty for the next few months. Technically, you should be on a leave of absence for a while but I know you won't abide by it. But, you have to promise me you won't overwork yourself. You got shot, you need to take care of yourself." His words come out slow and even, which contradicts his body language. There's something else going on, but you know him well enough to know he's not going to tell you.

"No field work, got it." You agree, knowing it's the best deal you're going to get. When another agent was shot on the job about a year ago, they made her stay out of the office for four months. You'd go crazy under those restrictions.

The two of you ride in silence until he pulls up outside of your quaint home. The lights are all off and the mail has gone unchecked. Dark clouds in the sky start emitting light sprinkles, likely to turn into a storm. With a sigh, you look to Hotch, whose eyes are already on you and you smile weakly at him, trying to mask the pain shooting up your spine.

"Thank you, Hotch." You say and open the door despite your body's protests.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call." He tells you with a father-like authority. You nod your head, knowing he means it.

"I will." You confirm and close the door. Hotch drives off and you check your overflowing mailbox before heading up the short stone walkway to your home. You're thankful for the stair railings as you have to pull yourself up each step to reach your front door. From what should be a simple, few-second task, it feels like you've run a marathon. The keys fumble around in your hands but you're able to unlock the door after a few attempts.

Your home is unusually dark and cold inside. The mail finds itself scattered across the dining room table and you go around turning on a lamp or two to bring some life back into the space. Clutching the back of your couch, you catch your breath and look down at your torso. With careful hands, you lift your shirt and look at the bandage. Thankfully it doesn't look like the stitches have broken, it's just a lot of pain. The doctor had given you two prescriptions to fill, but you probably won't go pick them up, you can't imagine how painful it would be to drive a car right now; moving your arms and legs, straining your abdomen. It's just not worth it in your mind. And you're surely not going to inconvenience anyone to pick it up for you, they probably couldn't anyways seeing as how one of them is a narcotic.

Instead of doing anything else, you go around and lay down on your couch, propping your head on a throw pillow and pulling the blanket draped over the back overtop of you. Thunder sounds off overhead, and you know the rain will put you to sleep if the pain doesn't do it first.

The plush material of the blanket soothes you somewhat, it definitely feels better than the hospital blankets. Thick raindrops start pelting the window situated on the wall perpendicular to the couch, giving you the perfect view through your sheer curtains. Your eyes droop as you watch the droplets race each other to the bottom but you don't want to sleep, it's pretty much all you've done the past two days.

While your eyes concentrate on the raindrops pelting the window your mind races with all the thoughts you've slept away in the hospital. Since first waking up, you've been able to recall most of what happened, the doctors told you it was a normal thing to experience, but it freaked you out as you just kept remembering what happened. You can hear Spencer's voice begging you to stay awake and you remember shoving him out of the way so he wouldn't be shot.

While the pain of being shot is like nothing you've experienced before, you know you'd do it all over again to save Spencer. And that terrifies you. It's for that reason you haven't contacted him yet, but you see the messages he's left on your phone, asking if you're okay and if he can do anything for you. If it had been him that got shot, and he didn't pull through, you know you'd crumble, you'd absolutely lose yourself. And that shakes you to your core. You knew you and Spencer were close, but you never realized just how deep your love for him runs.

Being shot made you understand that in this line of work it's not smart to form these personal ties, for reasons such as this. If the roles were reversed and he did die, you know you wouldn't be able to continue doing your job. It's been made abundantly obvious to you during your time on the BAU that these deep connections could pose a threat to your safety, and that's never been more clear to you than it is right now. It's precisely the reason you don't answer Spencer at all. You feel guilty, but you know it's better like this in the long run. You can't stomach the thought of him taking a bullet for you, so you have to distance yourself, for his safety.

-----

Five days later you decide to return to the office. You're feeling slightly better, the pain is still strikingly difficult to deal with, but you can't stand another day being cooped up in your house. Plus, you know there's at least one incident report waiting for you.

You leave early to give yourself enough time to get there, and you find out that you were right about driving, it definitely does not feel good. You reach the office later than you usually do, but you don't really care. The team isn't even expecting you for another two days, so there's no punctuality expectation. After you get out of your car and make your way across the parking lot you find that a pit of dread has taken residence in your stomach, right next to the aching pain; and you're nervous to walk through the doors that have become so familiar. But the elevator ride is too short for your comfort and you find yourself staring at those very doors before you're truly prepared.

With one hand lightly resting on your abdomen, you force yourself into the office, where everyone is busy with their daily duties. Maybe you can just slip in here without anyone noticing you. Your steps are drastically slower than normal, and you make it halfway to your desk before you hear someone calling out your name.

"What are you doing here? Thought you weren't supposed to be back until Monday." Morgan asks, tossing a file on top of his keyboard. You clear your throat and try your best to smile.

"Just couldn't stay away I guess." You say and finish the journey to your desk, feeling your legs start going weak. Within the days you've spent at home, you couldn't bring yourself to exert much energy getting food, you mainly just spent time wrapped up in a blanket on your couch. Your body is weaker than it ever has been, from both malnutrition and the gunshot, but nobody needs to know that, then they'd start to hover. You'd much rather just suffer in silence and take care of yourself. Morgan follows you over to your desk and you're hypervigilant to keep up a good appearance.

"We've been worried about you. Nobody's heard from you since Hotch picked you up." He says and you glance over to Hotch's office, seeing the door closed.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I've just been trying to rest and heal up." It's not a total lie, just not the entire truth either. You meet Morgan's eyes as if to seal the deal, and thankfully he doesn't push you further on the matter, he just puts a hand on your shoulder.

"Well it's good to have you back." He says before departing back to his own desk.

You open the cover of the file that's sitting on your desk, seeing blank pages waiting for you to fill them out. Grabbing your favorite pen, you start jotting down your notes of the incident report up until you get to the part where you were shot. The pen hovers over the page for minutes, and you can't seem to find the right words. The opening of Hotch's door distracts you and you see him and Spencer walk out. Spencer's eyes lock with yours immediately and he wastes no time abandoning his conversation with Hotch to come over to you. You knew this time would come, you were just hoping to avoid it for a while longer.

"How are you? Are you okay? You weren't supposed to be back until Monday." A flurry of questions gets thrown at you while Spencer looks you over as if he's expecting to see another bleeding wound on you.

"I'm fine, thanks." You keep your answer short, too short for his liking and you know it. Guilt sits heavily in your heart, but you remind yourself that this is for his benefit and wellbeing. You can deal with a broken heart, you can't deal with Spencer dying and that's why this is necessary. His eyebrows scrunch together, confused about why you're acting so strangely.

"I tried to text you." He says, lowering his voice, eyes tender and full of worry. If only you could reach out to him, to feel his soft skin under your fingertips and tell him about the hell you've been going through. Instead, you lick your lips and nod shortly,

"I saw. I just, I wanted some time alone." You lie straight to his face and watch as he buys it so easily. Disappointment paints itself all over his face, but he nods anyways and shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Right. Sorry, well, um, you know where I'll be." He says in a hushed voice before turning and walking to his own desk. Your eyes clamp themselves shut and your fists clench, leaving crescent-shaped indents in your palms as you take a deep breath and fight away the tears that threaten to spill.

Once you've regained control of yourself, you pick your pen back up and focus on nothing else but getting this report done. You force yourself to write robotically, stating only the concise facts of what happened and not a detail more. You're sure the other agents' reports will make up for yours, you just need to get this done and filed so you can leave. The air in the office space is suffocating.

After what feels like a short eternity, you've finally completed the report and you shut the front cover of the file and push yourself out of your chair, gritting your teeth the entire time.

"Need help?" You hear Morgan's voice behind you, and you're quick to shake your head.

"No, I'm fine, thank you." You say as you stand as straight as you can, grabbing the file off your desk with one hand, the other rests over your wound, which feel unusually warm. Fearing the worst, you make your way to Hotch's office, biting your cheek the entire way there.

When you enter his office he looks at you with uncharacteristically soft eyes. He waits for you to make the first move and you put the folder on his desk, letting out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. He opens the folder and reads over your work before tossing it on top of a pile of other folders.

"What's going on with you?" He asks and stands to shut his door. Hotch closes the blinds on the office windows as well, so that the other agents can't see into the room and you're thankful. Your bottom lip quivers as a sharp hot pain radiates from your wound and you feel your throat constrict. Grasping the back of a chair situated in front of his desk you lean your weight on it to try and alleviate the pain, but it isn't working.

"Let me see." Hotch stands from his desk and stands beside you. Once you feel you can stand on your own you lift the edge of your shirt up, exposing the bandage wrapped around you. From your vantage point you can see the warm red skin peeking out from the bandage.

"That's not good, that looks like it's becoming infected." Hotch's voice is thick with worry and he delicately peels back the bandage to examine the wound and you bite down on your hand to keep from crying out. The air coming into contact with it feels like he just pushed a fire poker right through the stitches.

"We're leaving right now, that's definitely infected." Hotch secures the bandage back and you shake your head.

"I'll be fine, it's just part of the healing process." You try to downplay the situation. In reality, you know that it's not good for your wound to be that red or warm, but if the two of you leave right now the others are going to know something's up. And that will inevitably lead to them hovering over you.

"No, it's not. You're going to come with me or I'll call the squad." Hotch threatens and you see no trace of a lie in his eyes or in his tone. Relenting, you agree to go with him. He leads you out of the office and you keep your head down, compelling yourself to not look at Spencer, who's undoubtedly tracking your every move.

Once you reach the parking lot Hotch begins questioning you. He helps you into his car and you let him, not having the energy to fight him.

"Have you not been taking the medicine prescribed to you? I know they gave you an antibiotic." He scolds, knowing the answer. If you had been taking them, you wouldn't be showing up to the office with an angry gunshot wound.

"Hurt too much to drive and get them." You keep your answer short and he huffs in annoyance, but starts driving somewhere to get you the medical attention you need. Deep down you're thankful Hotch cares this much, he's the closest thing to real family you have.

Last Thanksgiving the team found out that you have no family to spend the holidays with. You had never meant to tell them, but holiday plans came up in conversation and yours were painfully dull and lonely compared to theirs. But Hotch invited you to his family's Thanksgiving dinner. At first, you had declined, not wanting to intrude on his family time away from work, but he wasn't taking no for an answer. Now you're glad that he persisted and you went. His wife, Haley, took you under her wing and everything just fell into place; you're practically their surrogate daughter at this point.

After Hotch makes sure that you get looked at by a doctor, and that you actually have your intended prescriptions, he drops you off at your home and makes you promise that you'll send him a video of you taking your medicine on schedule. Knowing that if you don't, he will most definitely drive over here and count the pills, you agree. And as a punishment for not taking the medicine in the first place, he makes you agree to stay out of the office for another week.

-----

The week passes too quickly for your liking. Each day Spencer had texted you, asking if you're okay, that he's worried about you, and that he misses you. It broke your heart to not reply to him, every fiber of your being yearned to text him back, to let him know that you're okay. The temptation to abandon your decision of distancing yourself from him grew stronger each day. It became so tempting that you forced yourself to let your phone battery die and then you buried it underneath the clothes in your dresser so that it would stay out of sight.

But now, as you stare up at the office building from the parking lot, you know that you won't be able to avoid him today and you know that you're going to have to not give into temptation. Every time you want to slip, you're going to have to remind yourself that this is for his safety. You remember that you can deal with the heartbreak, the possibility of him hating you, but you'll never be able to go on if he dies. So you have to do everything in your power to make sure he will never have a reason to make a decision to take a bullet for you, like you did him.

Eventually, you walk into the office, admittedly in a lot less pain than last time. Who knew that taking your prescribed antibiotics would make your life easier? As soon as your foot crosses the threshold of the door, you feel like everyone's eyes are upon you. Instead of looking around to confirm your suspicions, you make a straight route right to your desk. But, of course that doesn't stop people from coming over.

"Back again. You look better this time." Morgan smiles and slides to sit on the edge of your desk. You smile back at him, feeling refreshed and healthier than last time.

"Feel better too. Any new cases?" You ask, hoping to establish some normalcy back into your routine. Typically, you and Spencer carpool to work together and his missing presence from your morning routine didn't go unmissed. Morgan licks his lips and nods,

"Yeah we just got back from one out in Colorado. I think there's another briefing at ten." He tells you, taking a sip of his coffee. You know you won't be let into the field yet, but you at least want to sit in on the briefing. More than likely you'll be paired with Garcia, and you're fine with that.

Morgan slides off your desk and as he moves you see Spencer staring straight at you. His eyes look bloodshot, there are dark circles under his eyes. He looks like he hasn't had a decent night of sleep for a month and his hair is a mess. His lips fall open as you two make eye contact, but you're quick to look away before you go over to comfort him. The inside of your cheeks burn from how hard you're biting them.

Once ten rolls around the team files into the conference room, and you're careful to stand in the back instead of taking your usual seat. Prentiss gives you an odd look but she doesn't say anything. It's glaringly obvious to everyone that something is off, but you assure them you should stand to help your blood circulation. As Hotch starts going over the next case you feel a familiar pair of eyes lingering on your face, but you stare right at Hotch.

Soon enough, the rest of the team is off to work a local case, and you stay in the office to help Garcia. She pulls up a chair for you to sit on, and the two of you get to work without saying a word. It's weird for there to be a silence so thick between the two of you, you two always work so well together and you love Penelope. As she waits for something to load, she taps a pen on her desk and takes a deep breath.

"What's wrong?" You ask, not being able to take it any longer. The tapping pen stills and she looks over to you with an uncertain look on her face.

"What's wrong with me? Nothing, I'm perfect as a peach." She tries to lie, but you can read her too well. Your eyebrows raise, and you push her further.

"Come on, Pen. I know you better than that. Tell me." You implore and she bites her lower lip, conflicted with herself as if she should say anything or not. But eventually your staring gets to her and she breaks.

"Fine. Fine, but you didn't hear this from me. Spencer thinks that you blame him for getting shot and that's why you've been dodging him." You've never heard such ridiculous words come out of Penelope's mouth, and you've heard her say a lot over the years. Taken aback, your mouth falls open and you blink, trying to come up with something to say.

"No. Of course it's not his fault. I pushed him out of the way, he didn't pull me into the bullet's path." You say, wanting to set the record straight. Your heart aches at the thought of Spencer beating himself up, thinking that you blame him for your own actions. You know you won't tell him this directly, but you're certain Garcia will relay the message. And that will have to be good enough.

"What's going on with you two then?" Her voice is uncharacteristically soft. You know you can't tell her what you're really doing because you know she'll fight you on it and try to dissuade you. So you choose to dodge the question altogether.

"There. The victim's information loaded." You point at her screen and she scowls at you, but turns in her chair and resumes her job anyways. While she does her research you busy yourself with putting pins on a map, trying to figure out where the unsub is going to strike next.

Later, the team returns to the office before going home for the day. You're at your desk, shutting down your computer and making sure your file drawer is locked, and when you grab the jacket off the back of your chair, you see Spencer talking to Morgan at his desk. He catches you out of the corner of his eye, and you brush past the two of them before either one of them can say something to you. Your heart shatters a little with each step, but you remind yourself why you're doing this. If you didn't, you're convinced you would have turned back and never let Spencer go.

-----

Three days later, the case is solved. The unsub basically handed the team a map right to himself and chose not to lawyer up when Hotch questioned him. It's almost like he wanted to be caught. You don't dwell on the thought too much, you're just glad another murderer is off the street. While everyone else cheers about the victory as they fill out their reports, you keep to yourself at your desk. Unlike the last report you filled out, you make sure this one is extensively detailed.

"What does everyone say? Celebration drinks tonight?" You hear Morgan's voice, eager and happy. The man loves to celebrate sometimes. The rest of the team agrees, and you finish your sentence, hoping they keep you out of it. If you stay quiet enough, you're sure they'll forget you're even here.

"Oh did someone say drinks?" Penelope walks into the bullpen to give Hotch something. Morgan fills her in on the details and of course she agrees.

"I'm assuming you're coming too, right?" You hear her voice but choose not to look up, hoping that she's talking to someone else. Unfortunately, she was not talking to someone else, and taps on your shoulder to make you look up. You see Spencer standing in the background with everyone else, but you keep your eyes trained on Penelope like he doesn't even exist.

"Oh, I don't know. I was thinking of calling it an early night." You admit, knowing full well that you had planned to sit on your couch all weekend binging some trashy reality show to distract yourself from your reality. Penelope frowns,

"Come on, you've never turned us down before. It'll be good for you." She says, and you can tell by the tone of her voice that she's not going to take no for an answer.

"Fine, I'll be there." You relent, with a tight smile on your face. She cheers and goes back to talking with Morgan, and you swivel around in your chair to finish the report. While you scribble words, you're already forming your escape plan for the night.

You'll stay for about an hour, after everyone has already had a few and then you'll excuse yourself. If you have to, you'll use your gunshot wound as an excuse; and yeah it's a cheap cop out, but if that's what it takes you'll do it. And then once you're out the doors you're free. It's a simple, yet effective, plan.

Hours later the team huddles around a table in a crowded bar. Usually you're all over celebratory drinks, you use it as an excuse to remind your coworkers of just how brilliant they are. But tonight, while the rest of them are chatting away happily, you sit on the edge, nursing your drink and looking out of the bar's front window. Spencer is seated across the table from you and you keep accidentally meeting his eyes, which makes the alcohol in your system warm your skin even more.

Spencer sure does make it hard for you to ignore him. After all, his puppy-dog eyes practically plead with you, silently begging for you to say something to him. You can see how hard he's being on himself, still probably convinced that you blame him for your wound. Even if Garcia told him otherwise, you know he will have a hard time buying it considering your actions completely contradict what you had said. While the others might not notice how miserable he is, you can tell. He hasn't gone on a random knowledge tangent since you've been back and he's been reusing the same coffee cup without washing it for the past few days.

You hate how hard Spencer makes it to actually dislike him, you hate how he's such a kindhearted person because it makes all of this ten times more difficult. If he had at least one dislikable trait then this would be easier, then you might have a chance of convincing yourself that you can't stand him, that you never liked him to begin with. Though you're not sure you could ever convince yourself of that, truly. As you take your last drink, you come to one reasonable conclusion: You hate that you love him.

Suddenly feeling like the room is closing in on you, you stand from your seat and make your way to the bartender to close your tab out for the night. Maybe you can just sneak out of here and nobody will notice. The bartender hands your card back to you, and you start heading towards the door. But of course a team of FBI agents noticed that you had left, and are now heading towards the door. Morgan is the first one to confront you.

"Going home already? It's not even nine yet!" He teases and you give him your best smile.

"Just starting to hurt a little." You ghost your fingers over your healing wound for extra measure, knowing they won't chastise you about that. It seems you've taken the low road after all.

"Want someone to take you home?" Penelope asks, and you're quick to decline, knowing exactly what kind of plan she has in store.

"No, thanks. That's alright, I don't live far. Have a good night everyone." You smile at Morgan, Penelope, and Prentiss before you leave. As you walk to your car you notice that everytime you turn away and leave Spencer, your heart fragments more and more. But you remember what's at stake, and you pick yourself up, the best you can, and keep moving forward. You know that the pain and turmoil you're feeling now will amount to nothing if something ever happens to Spencer.

-----

Months later your gunshot wound is practically completely healed. There's a scar that's going to be left behind, but you don't mind it. You're one week out from being cleared to go back into the field, and you're undergoing your evaluation now. You thought that you'd be happy and eager to get back out there, but instead you find yourself hesitant and nervous about it. Working with Garcia had made you feel safe and secure. So now, as you sit in Hotch's office, you try to find the words you're looking for. He's staring at you expectantly.

"I just. Hotch I don't know if I can go back out there." Your voice is shaky, and you're afraid this admission will get you dismissed from the team. He leans forward, elbows resting on his desk.

"You're saying you don't want to return to the field?" He tries to clarify. You take in a deep breath,

"I want to return to the field, I just don't know if I want to do it right now. I mean, I still get nightmares about being shot and it feels so real. What I'm trying to say is that I don't know how well I'd react in stressful situations right now." You tell him, hoping that this makes more sense. In a way, you're figuring out what exactly it is you want. His eyes narrow, trying to get a read on you. Hotch writes some words on the paper in front of him and sighs.

"I can give you another month. And I want you to start seeing a therapist." He says and you scoff immediately. Hotch holds his hand up to stop your protests before they even start.

"Listen. I don't know what's going on inside your mind since this all happened. But you haven't been yourself. And you haven't spoken to Spencer once. You two used to be the best of friends. It's none of my business to know, but you need to tell someone about it. Being shot like that is not something that someone gets over easily and without ramifications." He explains, and deep down you know he's right. You just don't want to confide to anyone about your issues.

"Sure." You agree, knowing that he's going to force you to see a therapist one way or another. If you tell him no now, you're sure someone will show up in the office next week to conduct some sort of "random psych evaluation". Hotch dismisses you from his office, and you make your way to the break room for some much needed caffeine.

The coffee in the pot is hot, like it's been freshly brewed. You pick a mug at random and fill it, then you sprinkle in a modest amount of sugar before tasting it. It's warm and comforting, like a hug from the inside. You close your eyes to help yourself destress from what happened in Hotch's office, but when you open them you see Spencer standing in the doorway. His hair is still wildly curly, there are still circles under his eyes from sleep deprivation. Even his clothes are wrinkled now, it looks like he doesn't take the time to iron them out anymore.

You two stare at each other with so much left unsaid, and you make a move to leave the room before you fold under the pressure. Your shoulder brushes his on the way out, and you hear him speak.

"Please. I'm sorry." You hear him plead with you and your steps falter, wanting so badly to just stop and turn around. To hold him close to you and apologize, to tell him you miss him so bad it makes your chest hurt and how life is dull without him. But instead, you take a scalding sip of coffee and keep moving forward like you never heard him. Each day that passes you find yourself hating how deeply you love him more and more, it's almost a constant burn in your veins.

You spend the rest of the day tucked away in Penelope's office, nose buried in a screen, doing the most menial research as if the fate of the world depends on it. Penelope doesn't say anything. She just sighs and helps you with the research.

-----

A few more weeks pass, and fall is now in full swing. There's a crisp chill to the air, the leaves are all turning colors and falling to the ground. And with fall comes your birthday. You have no real plans to celebrate, Hotch had given you your gift in the parking lot before work this morning, knowing that you don't like a lot attention being drawn to you, but it is nice to get a simple "happy birthday" from your friends.

The team packs up for the day, and your heart sinks with disappointment. It seems that nobody but Hotch had remembered your birthday. You convince yourself that this is a stupid reason to get sad, that they all have busy lives to keep up with. Plus, it's not like it's a milestone birthday anyways. Grabbing your jacket, you leave the office for the day with a heavy sadness taking residence in your chest.

When you arrive home, you turn some lamps on and toss your jacket over the back of the couch. You put Hotch's gift on the table, and go to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine. You don't bother pouring it into a glass, straight from the bottle will suffice just fine. Taking the bottle with you, you go to your room and change out of your work clothes. As you rummage through the drawers, you find your phone still sitting in the bottom of one of them.

You had never found the courage to charge it back up, afraid to see what words had been left for you. But tonight, you figure it's about time you confront your own feelings. You plug the phone in and set it on your nightstand, taking another swig of the wine and waiting for it to charge.

After what feels like hours, the phone finally turns back on. And within minutes, the notifications start pouring in. Text after text after text rolls in and the missed calls start to pile up. With another drink, you take your phone in your hand and read over the messages. There are exactly fifty seven messages from Spencer and thirty missed calls.

Your eyes scan the texts he sent you, his words sinking into the fibers of your very being, and you're saddled with an intense sorrow. Tears fall from your cheeks onto the phone's screen and you stop reading, not being able to take it anymore. All of his texts were him apologizing to you, begging you to please talk to him. You listen to the voicemails he left, hearing his voice crack and listening to him sniffle as he pleads for you to please just say something, anything. You can almost visualize him in your mind, wiping his tears as he tells you how sorry he is and how he misses you more than anything. He's begging and apologizing as if he's the one who has done anything wrong here. You hate yourself more than anything for letting him suffer like this.

You leave your phone on your nightstand and grab the wine, returning to your kitchen table, where Hotch's gift sits perfectly wrapped. Taking it in your hands, you unwrap it and look inside the box, heart stilling as you see what's inside. With trembling fingers, you grab the frame and hold it in front of your face. Hotch had given you a framed photo of the team, a picture in which Spencer is holding you tightly against his side, and you're looking up at him with stars in your eyes. The frame slips through your fingers and clatters onto the table.

You support yourself on the back of a chair, and you finally let yourself feel everything you had suppressed over the last few months. Sobs shake your body and the tears fall onto the photo. Your hands clutch the back of the chair until your knuckles turn white, afraid that if you let go you'll collapse to the ground.

A knock at the door catches you off guard and you try to level out your breathing, using the back of your hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks. You aren't expecting anyone, and you almost consider just leaving it be, but your curiosity gets the best of you. Knowing that you probably look deranged and pathetic, you open the door anyways.

Spencer stands in the doorway, a small box in his hands along with a bouquet of your favorite fresh-cut flowers.

Your mouth falls open, and you think your heart might actually jump out of your chest. He looks you over, an obvious concern coming over his face. You should shut the door on him, tell him to go away, but your resolve has crumbled, like dust in the wind.

"Can I come in?" He whispers, and you nod, letting him inside your home, where he's been so many times but now it feels like the first time all over again. Your house is in a state of disarray, and if you hadn't just been sobbing over a photo of him, you might care more. You wipe more tears from your eyes and you clear your throat, not exactly sure what to say or do. But thankfully, he speaks up again.

"Happy birthday." His voice is soft, and he gives you a small smile, but the sadness is evident in his eyes.

"You didn't have to get me anything." You say, looking at the beautiful flowers and carefully wrapped box, topped with a ribbon of your favorite color. He takes a step towards you, and hands you the flowers first. As you take them, your fingers brush his and it feels like the air has been kicked out of your lungs.

"I know, but I wanted to." He says, meeting your eyes. You catch the scent of the flowers, appreciating their freshness and the life they bring to your otherwise sad home. Making your way into your kitchen, you find a vase to put the flowers in and then you set them on the table. Spencer's eye catches the photo, and you know he can see the wetness that still adorns the frame. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to put the pieces together.

"Thank you, Spencer." You say after you position the flowers just right. Willingly, you catch his eye and you know you can never go back to ignoring him after this. He glances from you, to the photo, then back to you before he hands you the box. Lifting the top off, you see a beautiful gold chain inside that has a beautiful gemstone pendant hanging from it.

"I picked the stone because it reminded me of your eyes." He sheepishly admits, and you look up at him through your lashes with the purest and deepest love flowing through you. But through that love, the guilt eats you alive.

"Spencer, this is too much. I've been horrible to you lately, I don't deserve this. And I definitely don't deserve your kindness." You say, looking into his gorgeous, kind eyes. The tension is noticeable between you, and you wish it would melt away and that you two could go back to how things used to be.

"I've missed you so much." Is all he says, voice cracking and you see tears gather in his eyes. Unable to help yourself, you set the necklace on the table and close the gap between the two of you, resting your hand on his cheek. Your bottom lip trembles,

"I'm so sorry Spencer. I'm so sorry." You say, tears once again flowing down your face. He sniffles as a tear runs down his cheek onto your thumb.

"Why?" Is all he asks but you know exactly what he means. You decide to come clean to him, there's no use of lying now.

"When I got shot, I realized that if you had been the one who got hit, and you didn't make it, that I wouldn't be able to live. The thought of living in a world without you is too much. So I had to make sure that I didn't give you a reason to make the same choice I did. I could live with you hating me, but I couldn't live in a world without you. I wanted you to hate me so that you wouldn't risk your life for me." Your thumb gently brushes his cheekbone, trembling with your words. He closes his eyes as tears keep falling down his cheeks. One of his hands comes up and grabs yours that's on his face, and he grips it tight.

"When I realized you had taken the bullet for me, I knew that nothing would be the same between us. I thought I was going to lose you. Your blood was on my hands, and it's the only thing I have nightmares about anymore. And this made me realize that I can never stop loving you, no matter what happens." He admits, causing you to cry harder. The remorse you feel for putting him through so much torment feels like it's eating you from the inside. You should have been there for him.

"I'm so sorry." Is all you can say, it's all you can express to him right now. He needs to know that you didn't mean any of it. Spencer pulls you in for a hug and holds you tight against him. One of his hands cradles the back of your head, the other is secure around your waist. Your tears stain his sweater, and the two of you let out everything.

When you finally pull back from the hug you grab his face with gentle hands, making him look at you.

"Spencer, I love you so much. I need you to know that I did what I did because I love you too much to lose you." You admit to him and he smiles. A genuine smile that you haven't seen in months. Through the tears and emotions, you two smile widely at one another.

Spencer closes the gap between the two of you, and tilts your chin up. Your lips connect with his ever so softly, and you pull him closer to you, your hands trailing down his torso, collecting fistfuls of his sweater. One of his hands rests on your cheek, brushing your cheekbone and the other keeps you close to him.

Everything that has gone unsaid is spoken loud and clear as you kiss one another. When your lungs start burning, begging for air, you break away and lean your forehead on his chest. He brushes your hair with his fingers and you feel him press a tender kiss to the top of your head. You stay entangled with each other in a comfortable silence before you look up at him,

"We'll be alright." You tell him, knowing that the two of you will be able to mend each other in time. And things may never be like they were, and that's okay.

"We'll be alright." He confirms, kissing your forehead.

Eventually, you two move to the couch and you ask him to clasp the necklace around your neck. In the soft, warm glow of the lamps you look into his eyes and can see all of the love he holds for you. You take one of his hands in yours and he positions himself so that you can lay back against him. He's warm, and being held by him feels like home.

Laying in his arms, you decide you don't want to return to the field. After all, if you're not in the field he won't ever be faced with the decision to take a bullet for you or not. As long as he's in your life, and you're in his, things will be okay. Before you drift off to sleep, you lean up and press a kiss to his temple.

You have everything you need right here in your arms.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort #hurt/comfort #hotch #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #derek morgan #penelope garcia #spencer reid fluff #harry styles #Spotify

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vivisviolets · 2 months

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˖◛⁺⑅♡⑅~you received a lost package~⑅♡⑅⁺◛˖

🎁⁀➴ ✉ Energy check-in

📦⁀➴ ✉ Affirmations

📮⁀➴ ✉ Quotes

*cw* post longer than my temu package's tracking history 💀

˖◛⁺⑅♡⑅ -pick the package image you feel most drawn to- whatever caught your eye first upon seeing this post is most likely *your* pile!!!! but oh ofc you can also ease yourself, close your eyes, focus on your current state of mind/your life, and then ask yourself/spirit/God what pile has what you most need to hear rn! and pls pick more than one pile if you feel interested to do so!!! you may get messages you needed to hear across all piles yakno:))- okkkk byeeee-˖◛⁺⑅♡⑅

✉ pile 1

✉ ✉ ✉

✉ Page of Pentacles, King of Wands, Nine of Pentacles ✉

✉ Earth placements, Virgo/Capricorn/Taurus, fire placements, Aries/Sagittarius/Leo, divine masculine, divine femininity, heavy heart, earthy, warm/hot, -songs Only Angel - Harry Styles, Hate Me Harder - Kesha

✉ Woo- Look at youuu-!!! Look at you go more like- like, holy ish you should have seen me tapping into your energy and pulling out the cards one after the other with such genuine eassseee the heck... -but anyways pile 1s- you are REALLY setting your heart ablaze, it's like you're purifying your heart space after a period of purging energetically... In fact for quite a while, it was a consistent purging of- a lot for you. a total rebirth through a dark forest- you are literally an adventurer traversing through a fantasy land, following the pounding of your royal blood through your heart- knowing it will lead you to your glory- I'D SO READ THAT BAHAH- anyway though, you're really filling your heart with this fire. things and opportunities that fill you with joy and make you feel so warm inside 🎇🔥. I'm hearing a lot of self focus so projects around your passions or moving yourself up towards your goals! mmhm, I'm hearing a lot of different things for the collective- I'm seeing starting up a business, independent artists of various kinds, makeup or personal care focused products, you could be selling prints, monetized pages/videos, building a website- I'm seeing Jan Levinson with her candle side business😭😭... obviously you guys definitely don't house the shadow aspects of her character in your energy (tf am I saying 💀)- what I mean to say is after a lot of melting yourself down, you are now completely reforming into something that is completely personal and your own... like scented candle making 😭👍!!!!!!!!! okkkk I'm so freaking proud of you~ and if you've felt any heaviness just from you refilling your heart with so many opportunities- please don't let that cause you ANY doubts about your endeavors because OH👏- MYGOD👏 it's all going to go so well for you. no matter any circumstances or external worries. keep goingggggggg.

🔥🌱🌳

✉ Nothing can stop me from reaching my goals

✉ Regardless, my goals always become bigger and better

✉ I always reach my goals

✉ Regardless of anything external I am fully capable of achieving all of my goals

✉ Regardless of my mindset, I am fully capable of achieving ALL of my goals

✉ My goals become better and better

✉ I find fulfillment in my goals

✉ My goals always bring me so much joy

✉ My goals always bring me so much abundance

✉ I love building up my goals to infinity and beyond

✉ I am so good at doing what brings me joy and energy

✉ My goals orbit me

✉ My dream life is already waiting for me

✉ My dream life wants me

✉ Earning my dream life is as easy as breathing

✉ I am made of my dreams and desires

✉ My dreams and desires always become mine

✉ My dreams and desires are already mine

✉ Joy and abundance fuel my dreams and desires

✉ Joy and abundance fuel my goals

✉ Every single step I take brings me closer to my goals

✉ Achieving my goals is easier then ever before

✉ My goals have been deemed to be mine

✉Achieving my goals is so easy for me because they are already mine

✉ My goals love me

✉ My goals work for me

✉ My goals work towards me

✉ I am so happy for all I have accomplished

✉ My goals reward me daily

✉ I am rewarded daily because my goals are extensions of me

✉ I am so abundant

I have always been so abundant

Everything is an extension of me, and everything rewards me

✉ Everything is an extension of me, and everything flows me to where I desire to be

✉ My work is my creativity

✉ Creativity flows through me

✉ Creativity has always been my birthright

✉ I am made of creativity

✉ I am creativity

✉ I care for myself easily

✉ My goals allow me to relax

✉ My goals love when I care for myself

✉ The more I relax the more my goals flow to me

✉ I fully trust my goals

✉ I am fully deserving of my goals

✉ I fully deserve my goals

✉ I fully deserve and allow my goals to orbit towards me

✉ I align myself fully with my goals

✉ I am aligned to my goals

✉ I align myself fully with my desires

✉ I am aligned to my desires

✉ I align myself fully with my dream life

✉ I am fully aligned to my dream life

✉ My goals are mine.

✉ ✉ ✉

✉ pile 2

✉ ✉ ✉

✉ Eight of Wands (reversed), Seven of Pentacles (reversed), The Lovers

✉ Air placements, Gemini/Libra/Aquarius, earth placements, Taurus/Virgo/Capricorn, numbers 8, 7, 6, 1111, stops and starts, "air headed"/emotional/flightly described personality, healing unresolved wounds/fears, -song Love Is An Open Door - Frozen (2013)

✉ Oh my pile 2s :'), I'm pretty quick to ask how are you? seeing the certain reversals I got- one of them (Eight of Swords reversed) is definitely way more positive and a really good step in the right direction for you, it feels like a breath of fresh air!!- but it has a heaviness to it, it's a step in recovery from some baggage... and then the next one to come out felt like a real wammy- (Seven of Pentacles in reverse)... I got interrupted after a moment of being engrossed in your energy pile 2s, I feel you had a period where you felt this sense of freedom after a long while of realizing a lot of mental limitations you had that did not serve you- and so you jumped into trying and doing the opposite of those imitations!... but something might have happened that caused all that newfound sense of freedom to deflate in you- and you feel like you've gone right back to square one of how you used to feel- is that right? I find myself asking questions instead of being sure in what I am telling you, maybe that's the state that you're in currently of having all these why this? and why is that? with no feeling of hope in finding any answers, that right? <-- SEE?? there I go putting the questions back onto you instead of giving you answers:')- I'm so sorry. I'm hearing it might not have even been a big thing to have offset you as much as it did, just some sort of small trigger- it might have even just been your own pent up discouragement rearing its head at not seeing enough movement o headway in a certain aspect of your life, even with all the personal changes you were trying to create... I'm using the word trying a lot- omg this is so saddening😭... Ok, I'm going to pull myself out of this dark and dreary pity party (I don't say it in any mean way love ❤️) and take you up with me- because this place sucks and because I have got to offer you some help and some love- it's what you freaking deserve!!

-You have to address your feelings. you have to feel these emotions that are connected to all the limiting thoughts you have. you might be the type to be very flighty when it comes to your emotions- and there is a bright side to that trait that is beautiful and free and I don't think you should get ride of that!! but you're relying and using the shadow aspect of that trait by continuing to fly away to the externals first as to fix the limiting beliefs when really, the way to fix the external- is through the internal. do it for yourself, do it out of love for yourself. give yourself the space, time, patience and love that you deserve. heal your discouragement by allowing it to just be a feeling, and allow it to past like all feelings do. once you start healing and spending time and love on yourself- literally EVERYTHING in your life is going to blossom- love and freedom will be blossoming!!!! and you will be soaring stronger then ever before. oh my gosh-goodness I've gone on, but again- you deserve patience, love, and a space for healing- and I hope I was able to be that my pile 2s~ 🕊

youtube

(*reading your energy I know you may be cynical to these affirmations- again please address your limiting thoughts babe because they ain't getting you no where no how, and allow yourself just a little bit of trust. you don't have to even believe the affirmations, just read them/speak them. allow them <3.~*)

🕊🌅☁️

✉ I allow myself to heal

✉ I am patient with myself

✉ I allow my internal healing to play out

✉ I have full trust in my healing journey

✉ The more I allow myself to heal the more free I become

✉ The more I allow myself to heal the more I receive what I desire

✉ The more I allow myself to heal the more I accomplish

✉ The more I allow myself to heal the better and better life gets for me

✉ I align myself to love

✉ I align myself to joy

✉ I align myself to abundance

✉ I align myself to peace

✉ I align myself to my self love

✉ I align myself to my inner joy

✉ I align myself to my inner abundance

✉ I align myself to my self peace

✉ I am in alignment with myself

✉ I am capable of receiving all that I dream of and desire

✉ I am capable of giving and receiving love

✉ I am capable of self love and self care

✉ I am always capable because I am enough

✉ I am deserving of healing

✉ I am deserving of what I will accomplish

✉ I am deserving of love, healing, freedom, and to know myself better

✉ I deserve to be healed

✉ I deserve to be limitless

✉ I deserve to love myself

✉ I deserve love

✉ When I change, my reality follows

✉ I make the choice to heal myself

✉ I make the choice to love myself unconditionally

✉ I make the choice to allow self growth

✉ Regardless of anything external, I allow myself full self love

✉ Regardless of anything external, I allow myself to fully heal

✉ I release what no longer serves me

✉ I release what does not serve me and reclaim my energy

✉ I call all of my energy back to me

✉ My path ahead is full of healing, love, beauty, abundance, joy and freedom

✉ I trust my path

✉ I will be successful

✉ I trust that my path is full of abundant success that expands

✉ I am already successful

✉ Success is already mine

✉ I trust that success will flow into my life

✉ My success will build and expand

✉ I know that my success will be full of all my desires

✉ I am deserving of my success

✉ I desire to be successful

✉ I allow my success to flow into my life

✉ I trust my success

✉ I trust that success always finds me and I always find success

✉ Everything I desire will find me

✉ Everything I desire will flow into my life

✉ ✉ ✉

(*idk why but extra quotes for you~ ur favored fr~*)

✉ pile 3

✉ ✉ ✉

✉ Three of Swords (reversed), Ace of Wands (reversed), Nine of Swords (reversed)

✉ Air placements, Libra/Aquarius/Gemini, water placements, Cancer/Pisces/Scorpio, numbers 2, 222, 2222, 1212, 2424, 444, old connections, not needed, present-day path, planting seeds, blunt/honest/levelheaded/practical/mature/grown described personality, "he said- she said-", divided energies, feminine intensity, masculine intensity, commonly used emojis 💗, 🔥, 💀, -song Bloodline - Ariana Grande, Stray Kids (?), Enough - Jess Glynne

✉ For the first time in maybe over 3 years, my brain began to play Bloodline by Ariana Grande as soon as I tapped into your energy- I'm getting you may definitely have prominent air or water placements, more so Cancer, and Libra- other air and water placements too and oh gosh I'm realizing that those are Ariana's signs in her big 3- I do not think I'm connecting wrongly though,- I'm seeing that there are some of you that are either listeners/relate to Ariana, and the other camp is completely indifferent/are not in that fan base at all in which case I'm probably turning you off of this reading 😭😭- yea I'm totally seeing 2 separate camps in this pile rn, this divide of either very fem/fem baddies (that whole Thank U, Next album was very much in that whole aesthetic)- or very masc aesthetic/personality (not gender specific btw- this is fully afab/amab safe)... I randomly typed a fire emoji and heard the word "lit" immediately- so for my masc group you guys are described like that and or aim for that aesthetic- but my fems here are seen as that too 🔥 I'm hearing, like that description isn't gender-expression exclusive 💗🔥. again now there's more music coming through- for my mascs it's K-pop, K-indie, K-rock, K-Metel.. This is so weird to hear because i know nothing about that scene (someone here likes jazz tf- okkkk😭)... two very different and... stubborn- towards each other?- energies rn.

Ok, I'm going to actually get into what's going on as best I can for the collective- I'll be honest, this energy is all over the place, and I'm having a hard time reading or relating specifically to just one group of people rn like- 💀💀💀... I'm hearing the phrase "he said- she said-" so honestly I could be describing two people who are in/were in a relationship of some kind, a feminine and a masculine- (again, afab/amab safe!! and take what resonates) so you could be the feminine reading this and this is about a masculine who's heavy on your heart, or you could be the masculine in this and this is concerning your feminine whom you're really messed up over. and for both of these situations, it's really mutual that you two cut each other deep in the heart space 💀- like fr there is history that has occurred between you two and something happened that really made the mark that you guys left on each other's hearts- open up and start bleeding... and I'm literally just standing here watching the intensity of you two gazing at each other-... I'm seeing this scene of the feminine wanting to close her door but just continuing to stare at the masculine who could have stormed off but instead is still standing on the welcome mat, staring back into the eyes of the feminine- AND I'M STANDING IN THE HALLWAY OF THIS APARTMENT COMPLEX LIKE... I'm just trying to pass through to go feed my cats 💀...

I fr don't know what to say,- and that is so not like me at all. I'm just so heavily in this energy and there are literally two energies coming in and are weirdly connected to each other- AND they are both stubborn as hell. YOU TWO ARE BOTH stubborn as hell 😭. in fact, you two are so similar that when you have a problem with each other- no one can get a foot in the door to help. because you two are literally so on the same level mentally, that you can literally continue your intense stare-down with your friends trying to get in the middle to put the situation on ice- but you both continue to set each other's souls ablaze... you two need a retreat away from each other BAHAH 💀. God, again I do not know what to say because not only are you stubborn and intimidating asf, you are also very mature (referring to a singular person again whew), and you have the (emotional) receipts to back up how intense you can be- (I cannot figure out where to put this but it keeps weighing heavy that some of you are even parents/have young kids you have to be thinking about constantly)- you know bullshit like the back of your hand and I know you'll def be eying my words rn like a hawk... wasn't I suppose to give you affirmations 😭????? *nervous laughter fr* jokes aside- I'm going to stand my ground to you,- I can feel it and see it in the eyes I'm being shown- you've been through a lot. you have a past that is heavy and it's weighed on you since you were just a little girl/little boy/little child. you had to mature fast in the way you did out of your own survival. and that has done what it has done- but what about now? yes, you can do and act however you want to. you've earned your living! as you believed you needed to, had to, and would do- but for someone so confrontational about other's behavior- why can you not do the same for your own? you're usually right with the conclusions you come to about situations and other people with all the shit you've seen- so why not face yourself with that same focus? just as you question other people's behavior, already knowing the truth about them- you can do that very thing to yourself.

question yourself- why does this person trigger you the way that they do? when this person triggers you, what are you reminded of? are you reminded of another person or situation? are you reminded of your family growing up? are you reminded of your father? or mother? or relatives?- does this person who triggers you- remind you of yourself?... do the heavy walls you built when they were required to survive, serve you now? because I think it's what's inside the walls that needs stabilizing.

WOOO I just gave tougher love then I have ever done before- but I freaking had to get through to you love!! I really hope I did, whatever vulnerable emotion you are feeling right now if you've read this far of what I've channeled for you- please know that you have people you can go to with these emotions. this isn't like when you were growing up, you are safe. you are safe to be fully you, every piece of you that you had to lock away or armor up is safe now- thanks to the life you are building for yourself. I'm hearing a saying about how when you cut a tomato, you get a bunch of seeds- and you can plant those seeds, and with your work and patience, you get more tomatoes!! and that's what you've done- taken the small seeds and grew things up for yourself. so please enjoy all your hard work, PLEASE- show all those parts of you love. plant those seeds that you had to lock away and allow them to blossom and finally see the sunlight you created. again, I really am seeing that you do have safe options to turn to for support, definitely personal support- friends I'm mostly seeing- people outside of your old family/upbringing...

if you're in an intense relationship of some kind (said person could even be someone you've known since childhood/earlier years) like what I was channeling earlier, then I'm seeing that could be a perfect opportunity to turn to people for support- and oh my gosh honey you're going to be so loved. you already are, people love you and want you to open up more to them- I'm just seeing you opening up more as being both healing and strengthening for you, but also for your relationships 💗. this is so sweet, you have some sweet people around you that you fully deserve (for those with kids I see you taking so much more healthy joy in being a parent and you connecting with your little ones so beautifully- I'm seeing dancing in the kitchen especially 😭💗). but just to be inclusive to everyone here, you of course don't have to open up to others- I see seeking some professional guidance of some kind would also be incredibly beneficial (also spiritual guidance if you have an interest in that), and also you of course always have yourself. so go inward and see how you can show up for yourself better!!!

alright whew I know that reading might not have been for everyone but it was strong so I know that this reading is for someone💗🔥 so it was a pleasure. anddd my apologizes for the full read yikezies 💀-

💗🔥💀

✉ I am safe

✉ I create a safe space for myself

✉ I have created a safe space for myself

✉ I am in a safe place

✉ I am safe to express and feel my emotions

✉ My emotions are mine and I am free and safe to express them

✉ My environment is safe and fully mine

✉ I choose to feel safe

✉ I allow myself to be vulnerable

✉ I allow myself to feel what as hurt me

✉ I allow myself to be bitter

✉ I allow myself to cry

✉ I allow myself to be angry

✉ I allow myself to grieve

✉ I allow parts of me that do not serve my highest good to pass

✉ I allow what does not serve me any longer to leave my body and exit out of my life

✉ I allow the most vulnerable parts of me to be healed

✉ I allow the most vulnerable parts of me to exist

✉ I respect my vulnerability to be as it is

✉ I love my vulnerability

✉ I allow myself to be patient towards my life

✉ I am patient with myself

✉ I allow myself to release control in my life and surrender to my healing journey

✉ I have released control and am now in a state of healing

✉ I allow myself to prioritize my needs fully

✉ I am my first priority

✉ I allow myself to feel taken care of

✉ I am taken care of

✉ I allow myself self love and self growth

✉ I am focused on giving myself the love I deserve

✉ I allow myself to be emotionally open

✉ I am emotionally open towards myself

✉ I show up for myself

✉ I allow myself to connect to my heart and give love to those I trust

✉ I am open to people I trust

✉ I am shown who I can trust and I allow my heart to open

✉ I am protected and surrounded by people who I trust

✉ I am protected and surrounded by love and those who I can love safely

✉ I am protected and surrounded by abundance and success regardless of any externals

✉ I deserve to be trusted and I am worthy to share my trust

✉ I deserve to be loved and I am worthy to share my love

✉ I deserve abundance and I am worthy to share my abundance

✉ I deserve success and I am worthy to share my success

✉ Trust is my birthright

✉ Love is my birthright

✉ Abundance is my birthright

✉ Success is my birthright

✉ Stability and loyalty is my birthright

✉ Regardless of others actions- I am deserving of trust, love, abundance, success, stability, and loyalty

✉ I accept the truth that it is my birthright, and that I am inherently deserving of trust, love, abundance, success, stability, and loyalty

✉ I allow myself to live my life knowing those truths

✉ I allow myself to breathe through my whole body and begin to shed all that no longer serves me

✉ I trust myself and I trust my journey

✉ I allow myself to be healed

✉ I am capable of being healed

✉ I am healing

✉ I am healed

✉ I allow myself to view my life as my own

✉ My life is my own, and I live by my love, joy, and peace

✉ I allow myself to see life as enjoyable

✉ I am capable of viewing life as enjoyable and all that can bring me joy

✉ I enjoy viewing my life as fun and full of joy and peace

✉ I allow myself to have fun with myself and those I love

✉ I am capable of having fun with myself and those I love

✉ I love having fun in my life and sharing that with those I love

✉ I fall in love with myself, and find someone to share it with

✉ ✉ ✉

✉

✉ oh praise be we're done~ byeeeee till next time

✉ ✉ ✉ love, vi~♡

#୨୧┈♡ vi post #୨୧┈♡ vi pac #pac #tarot #pick an image #pick a picture #pick a pile #pick a card #pick a card reading #affirmations #self concept affirmations #self concept #affirm and persist #omg this was so so fun thooo affirmation pacs!!!! i cant wait to make another one soonnn♡#....thats shorter lolll

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watchmegetobsessed · 11 months

Text

PUPPY LOVE

A/N: this fic practically wrote itself, it's all fluff and sweetness, perfect for sunday evening!

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

SUMMARY: Harry has been on his well deserved break, but has run out of activities faster than he expected. Killing time he's been going to the same café and park for a walk pretty often, but it might have something to do with the pretty woman with the cute dog he's been seeing on these walks.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

For the past couple of months Harry has been nonstop thinking about what he will do once tour is over and he’ll have free time finally, when he won’t have to be anywhere, no meetings, no work, just him and his freedom.

Of course, he knew he would visit his family. Though he saw his mum and sister when he was performing at Wembley, he wanted to spend some more quality time with them for sure.

He’s been collecting book titles in his phone’s notes for a long time and he planned to devour all of them, enjoying the warm late summer weather.

Meeting friends.

Buying new art for his home.

Cooking.

Doing lots of pilates.

Dinner parties.

Pool days.

He thought of these all while being on the road.

Now he is 7 weeks into his break and he has done all of these. He envisioned it would take a lot longer to cross everything off his imaginary list, but he’s been using his time so efficiently that something he never thought would be possible happened.

He got bored.

It’s another day of his break when he has absolutely no plans. It starts off as usual, very early in the morning. He goes for a run, he picks up breakfast on his way back home, he showers, he eats his breakfast, he busies himself with whatever he came up with randomly, but he runs out of activities before the afternoon starts, so he opts for the only thing he’s been religiously doing.

Going for a walk to get coffee.

With a baseball cap covering his curls and shades hiding his sparkling green eyes he heads out to the same café he has visited a million times since he has moved into his current home. He loves it because it’s secluded, the people that go there always mind their own business and even if he gets recognized, the encounters have been quite respectful and quiet, no one has posted the location so fans are yet to figure out he’s been a regular around here.

He orders his usual and the barista hands the paper cup over to him with a bright smile before he walks out and heads to the small park nearby. The familiarity of this route brings him an odd sense of peace. He feels a bit old when he thinks about how obsessively he sticks to this same track every time he goes for a walk, but it’s not bothering him enough to switch it up yet.

And maybe, just maybe, he is justifying his repetitive itinerary because this is what has made him cross paths with her.

The woman with the Hungarian vizsla puppy.

He would be lying if he said he hasn’t been counting the times he saw her. The first time was way back when he was still touring, but returned home for just a handful of days. She was wandering through the greenery of the park that’s squeezed between the lines of townhouses, the puppy jumping and trotting wildly everywhere, clearly too young to be tamed just yet, but absolutely adorable. Harry fought the urge to run over and ask if he could pet the dog, but changed his mind upon seeing her.

It’s like he developed a high school crush in an instant, he could feel his heart pitter-patter in his chest even just at the thought of talking to her. Usually he didn’t struggle with a bit of flirt, chatting up someone he just met, but for some reason, this felt different.

Now that he’s been back home, as obsessive as it sounds, he has mapped out the times when it’s most likely he’d run into her and he’s been planning his days accordingly.

These past few weeks it seems like the woman has trained the puppy and it’s been getting more and more obedient lately, she’s been letting it roam around freely for some time whenever they are out.

That’s how Harry had the chance to make friends with the dog whose name is Rubik, according to the nametag dangling from around his neck. The woman was on the phone the first time Rubik ran up to him and so he didn’t have the chance to start up a conversation. Instead, made sure to make a good first impression on her four legged friend.

Rubik hasn’t failed to greet Harry every time he sees him since then, but somehow Harry hasn’t had the chance to talk to his owner just yet, but they acknowledge each other in a friendly, but distant way whenever the dog runs up to Harry for his usual scratches.

They smile at each other and she calls out to Rubik who whines, but obeys and returns to her side, sniffling through the grass as if he was searching for treasures.

Today, as Harry walks down the graveled path of the park he spots the duo pretty fast. She is perched up on a bench with a book while Rubik is running around from one tree to the other, rolling around in the grass, having a blast. He spots Harry soon and jolts over to him, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he pants from all the running.

“Hey buddy,” Harry greets him as he leans down and pats him on the head. The dog barks at him as an answer and Harry can’t help but laugh.

Glancing up Harry looks at the woman, but she’s too engaged in the book she’s reading to notice him. He’s been wondering if she has recognized him, or she thinks of him as just a friendly stranger from the park.

Rubik seems to be extremely high on energy today, he jumps around Harry, nudging his feet as if he was trying to get him to go somewhere.

“Woah, okay, alright. Did you miss me?” Harry chuckles, walking further along the path as the dog bounces at his feet. Rubik barks and that’s what gets his owner’s attention.

“Rubik! Stop!”

Harry sees her stand from the bench, looking worried that her dog might be causing trouble, but Harry waves at her with a smile.

“It’s fine! He’s just playing!”

She stands there for a moment, watching her dog go crazy around Harry, but when he jumps up at him, almost whipping his coffee out of his hand she decides to put an end to it. And as she is approaching with fast steps, Harry wonders if today will be the day he finally gets to meet her and go beyond than just a friendly nod.

“Rubik, behave! You know not everyone likes it when you jump on them!” she scolds the dog and grabbing his collar she gently tugs him away. The dog seems ashamed just for a split second, then he sees a butterfly and runs after it, forgetting about Harry and his owner.

“I’m sorry, he is still learning what personal boundaries are,” she apologizes profoundly.

“It’s okay, I’m taking it as a sign that he likes me,” Harry chuckles.

“Oh, he surely does,” she agrees with a laugh. “It’s not showing now, but he can be very skeptical about new people, he has this look where he tilts his head to the side and it’s like as if he was arching an eyebrow, I swear!”

“Must be very intimidating,” Harry smiles.

There’s a pause where she is looking at her dog while Harry is looking at her. It’s the first time he is seeing her up this close and she looks even more beautiful. He knows this is his chance. He needs to introduce himself and strike up a conversation so next time they would meet as acquaintances rather than strangers. He is already opening his mouth, the words “I’m Harry, by the way,” are about to roll off his tongue when her phone goes off in her pocket.

“Oh shit, I didn’t realize it was this late,” she hisses as she checks the screen. “Rubik! Come on!”

Harry watches as the dog runs back to her and she puts his leash back on before heading the way Harry came from. A few steps into their way she turns back around for one last time.

“Sorry again! Have a nice day!” She waves in a hurry and they disappear out of Harry’s sight before he could get a word out.

Three days after their almost introduction, a mean storm hits the city. It rains cats and dogs for hours, drenching the streets after the heat they’ve been enduring the past weeks. It’s like a reset Mother Nature sent, washing away the heat of summer even if it’s just for a day. By late afternoon it finally stops, but everything is wet and cold, so people stay sheltered for the rest of the day.

Well, not Harry though.

He couldn’t put some errands off, so once the rain has quieted down a bit he left the house in a hurry before the threatening looking dark clouds could open up again and drench him. Once he got everything done he decided to grab some pastries from the café, so he made one last stop before heading home, hoping he could snatch up some croissants before the place closed.

Just as he is walking over to the entrance from his car he spots a familiar figure running towards him. Rubik barks happily upon seeing Harry and as he gets closer he realizes that the poor dog is soaking wet.

“Hey buddy, did you go swimming?” he chuckles, still scratching his favorite spot. Harry looks up, expecting to see her somewhere close, but he is surprised to see an empty street. “Where did you leave her?” he asks the dog, but he just replies with another bark. Then slowly, he realizes that he is not wet because he went swimming, but because he’s been probably out in the rain, which means he’s been on the streets for hours.

Without her.

“Did you run off?” Harry squats down, one hand scratching behind Rubik’s ear, the other one looking for the tag on his collar to check if there’s any information about his owner. Luckily, as he turns the tag he is met with an address and a phone number. Harry is already reaching for his phone when he decides against calling, he forgets about his plans to get croissants and returns to his car with Rubik by his side. He opens the passenger side for the dog and he climbs in as if he has done it a million times before.

“Well, buddy, she won’t be happy you ran off, but at least I’ll get to talk to her. So I guess thanks for being naughty,” he chuckles, glancing over at the dog as he starts the car. Rubik just barks and Harry translates it as you’re welcome.

He is not surprised to find the address near the park. The white townhouse is about a two minutes ride from the café, so at worst it’s a ten minute walk. Harry parks down in front of the stairs leading up to the front door and lets Rubik out before the two of them climb the stairs. He rings the bell and Rubik barks at the sound, his tail happily waggling as he is excitedly waits for his owner to answer the door.

The lock rattles and a moment later the door flies open, revealing the woman, but her features are soaked with stress at first sight. Her eyes land on Harry first, then the dog next to him and her features soften from relief.

“Oh my God, Rubik! You had me worried to death!” She kneels down and lets the dog jump at her, lick her face and neck as she rubs his sides. “Where did you find him?” she asks, looking up at Harry who feels lucky to be witnessing their reunion.

“Ran into him at the café by the park.”

“Of course that’s where you end up! You little rascal! Now go inside and don’t you dare scare me like this again!” She stands up and pushes the dog inside, Rubik trots down the hallway as if he just got home from his usual walk, disappearing down the corner. “Thank you so much for bringing him back!” The woman holds the door open and gestures for Harry to go inside. He hesitates for a moment, but his feet move before his mind could decide against it. “He was going crazy because of the storm and my brother was over here, he was leaving when it was still like a tropical thunderstorm outside and when he opened the door to run to his car, Rubik just bolted right past him and out into the storm,” she explains, walking down the hallway and Harry follows her, ending up in her kitchen. Rubik is there, nose deep in his bowl full of food, probably hungry after his little solo adventure.

“We ran after him of course, but this dog could probably outrun an Olympic runner, so we lost track of him. I’ve been calling shelters these past hours and I was just about to go out to search for him, but thank God you found him!”

“Well, actually he found me, I guess I was just at the right time and place,” Harry chuckles, watching her start the kettle, already grabbing two cups. “Um, I’m Harry, by the way. The other day I couldn’t introduce myself.”

He holds out a hand and she takes it with a shy smile.

“I know that. I recognized you a while ago, just didn’t think you wanted to be bothered,” she admits. “I’m Y/N.”

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while.”

“Oh!” Her eyebrows arch at his confession and suddenly, the butterflies in Harry’s stomach are going crazy.

“Uh, I-I just think your dog is cute, that’s why and I’ve been seeing you at the park all the time… I mean… yeah.”

Good job, Styles. You fucking creep.

She looks startled by his answer and Harry wishes he thought through his words before talking, because it looks like he is blowing his chances at her pretty fast.

The kettle’s whistling breaks the awkward silence and he quickly turns around, pouring the water into the cups, letting the teabags soak in them.

“So, how can I thank you for returning Rubik to me?” she asks, clearing her throat.

“No need to thank me,” he shrugs.

“But I think I really should. You spared me quite some time, returning him before I hit the streets, screaming his name,” she chuckles, handing one of the cups over to Harry.

“It was pure luck that we ran into each other and I would have never left him wandering off alone.”

Come on, Harry. This is your chance. She might think that you’re a creep, but if you don’t ask her out now, you probably won’t have another chance.

“Still, if there was anything I could do…” she pushes one more time.

“Well, there’s one thing, if you really insist.” He sees her eyes light up.

“Yes! Whatever it is, the answer is yes.”

“I haven’t even said what it is,” he chuckles.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs with a smile. “I owe you, big time.”

“Alright. But I’ll need you to confirm the answer even after hearing the request.”

“Okay,” she nods. Harry swallows, takes a deep breath and then just blurts it out before he could change his mind.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

He feels like he is fourteen again, asking a girl out to the school dance. He probably sounded like that too, but there’s nothing he can do about it, the words are out there. Holding his breath, he waits for her answer, that doesn’t come straight away, which sets some panic in his guts at first.

She puts her cup down and Harry finally catches a smile tugging on her lips.

“You didn’t have to rescue my dog and be the hero of the day to ask me out.”

Harry fears she could hear his heart pounding in his chest as her words sink in.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, just to make sure, but he can’t hold back his growing smirk.

“Of course.”

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#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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strangersmunsons · 4 months

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Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 8 Prompt: Rom-Coms 🎟️ ~ 2,400 words Watching a romantic comedy on TV brings back some memories for Eddie. (angst, w/ a hopeful ending)

Eddie taps the lit end of his cigarette into an ashtray, staring at the television screen with tired eyes. The bluish light casts an eerie glow about the room; it feels cold, sterile.

This has been his ritual for far too long now: go to work, come home, and watch some mind-numbing program alone until he falls asleep. Wash, rinse, repeat.

He yawns, and rubs his stubbly face with one hand. He should get in bed before he passes out on the couch — save his back the trouble — but instead he picks up the remote again, flicking through channels, waiting in vain for something stimulating.

Coca-Cola ad. Late night talk show interview. Some black and white picture from MGM. Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal. Sitcom rerun.

He pauses, thumb hovering over the button.

Eddie switches back to When Harry Met Sally. He rented it from Family Video once upon a time, but he hasn’t watched it in years. It feels like an eternity has passed since then and yet, he remembers it like it was yesterday.

That’s what every memory with you feels like to him; it’s both an old scar and a fresh wound. He doesn’t know what feels worse — the hot, gut-wrenching ache of longing that pains him now, or the knowledge that those memories, no matter how agonizing they may be, might start to fade one day.

But it seems an impossibility; he can recall every detail. He wets his lips, remembering how you had pleaded with him in line to rent this particular film, even though he’d been hoping to see the new Indiana Jones movie.

“Rob Reiner doesn’t make bad movies, Eddie. He did The Princess Bride, remember? Besides, it’s Valentine’s Day!”

He relented, as he always did. Who was he to deny you anything?

But oh, how things change.

Pipe dreams turned to reality. Demo tapes turned to albums. Dive bar gigs turned to international tours. You, bravely avowing that he had to grab hold of every opportunity he could — you told him that no matter where in the world he went, you would always be here, loving him. All the while, secretly, the small pit of fear planted in your stomach was sprouting and unfurling as the distance between you two grew further, and the silences louder.

He should have tried harder. Came home more. Picked up the Goddamn phone. He’d always had to call you; it was too difficult to get a hold of him yourself, to keep track of where he might be, when he was traveling constantly.

And then that awful night, when he’d lost everything. Everything that mattered, anyway.

It was the last time he ever saw or spoke to you. Hours of arguing, pleading, crying; it was the death rattle of the most important relationship of his life. You finally told him what you were afraid of, what you had been afraid of, and that it had come true.

“I’m just a girl from back home, Eddie.”

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. You were never just a girl to Eddie. Not then, not now. Not ever. But what difference had it made? When the time had come for him to make a choice, he had still walked out the door.

The world was being presented to Eddie Munson on a silver platter. He was young, up-and-coming, successful. A talented musician — gifted, even. He had the right look and the attitude.

Being his partner wasn’t easy. Your support was unwavering, but your lives were going in different directions, it seemed. You both loved each other enough to want the other person to have what they wanted, which were…no longer the same things.

But it was still horrible.

He spent the next few weeks in a near-fugue state, numb and inconsolable. His bandmates whispered to each other in the studio, casting furtive glances over at their supposedly-invincible leader, while the rest of their team offered him pseudo-smiles tinged with impatience, and suggested that he focus on channeling the pain towards his music.

After that, when he had the time, he’d leave LA and come back to the city he’d initially dragged you out to after graduation. He had no idea if you still lived there, but it didn’t matter. It was the last place he knew you to be and so he wandered those familiar streets, looking for you in every person he passed, as though it were likely that he might bump into you at a bus stop, outside the grocery, sitting on a park bench.

It was a luxury he could afford until Corroded Coffin started to fall apart. Disputes between band members, both personal and professional. Declining album sales. Bad management. Once sold-out venues were a struggle to fill. The once-steady flow of cash turned into a trickle, and then the boys were unceremoniously dropped from label, the execs deciding that keeping them around wasn’t worth the expense.

He supposes he could have stayed in the industry if he really wanted to. Formed a new band or begged to join another that was in need of a guitarist, but Corroded Coffin was his baby. The idea of starting all over again or leeching off of another group’s success left a bad taste in his mouth. And the producing gigs and session work somehow felt even worse; he dreaded having to watch others succeed at what he had ended up failing.

Fame had chewed him up, decided it didn’t like the flavor, and promptly spit him back out. His music career felt like a fever dream now. His life before that, with you, was the realest thing he’d ever had.

As he watches Harry and Sally dine together at Katz’s Deli, his mind wanders to the slip of paper stowed carefully away like a sacred jewel, all alone in a drawer of his bedside table.

No, he won’t.

Harry and Sally fall apart.

He won’t dare.

Harry runs through Manhattan to find his girl.

Not after everything he’s done, after all this time.

Harry tells her all the reasons that he loves her…

Eddie abruptly switches the TV off, unable to hear anymore. He sits in the darkness for a moment, aching with bone-weary sadness. What had Dustin told him, as he passed the paper to him across the table over lunch one day?

“It couldn’t hurt to try.”

But Dustin was wrong about that. It could hurt him very, very much.

Eddie stands, and pads through the apartment to his bedroom. He sits on the side of the bed, and pulls open the drawer that holds his very last tie to you — a scrap of old receipt bearing your name and phone number. He picks it up with trembling fingers, then lowers it again, terrified that his clammy hands with smudge the ink. The phone seems to taunt him from where it sits atop the nightstand. As though he’s having an out of body experience, Eddie’s arm reaches out beyond his control and picks it up, the dial tone emitting a low buzz in his ear. He stares down at the number in the drawer, as though he didn’t memorize it the second he got it. He doesn’t even know how Dustin found you; but the geeky little shit has his ways.

He punches in the number, heart racing faster with each digit he puts in.

It rings…and rings…and rings…

“Hello?”

Eddie’s mouth falls open in a low gasp. Your sweet voice is the same, only slightly marred by the bewilderment you must feel at receiving a call this late in the evening. Embarrassingly, his eyes sting with tears; he can’t speak.

“Hello? Anyone there?”

Eddie slams the phone back into the receiver, white as a sheet. He gets up, paces a lap around the room, chugs a glass of water, and finally takes his seat again, trying not to hyperventilate.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he picks up the phone again, and re-dials.

His heart is in his throat now, swollen and beating so violently it threatens to choke him.

Your voice again, slightly more annoyed, though you still sound like an angel. “Hello?”

“H-Hi,” Eddie says hoarsely, and tries to swallow his fear.

There’s a brief silence on the other end. “...who is this?”

“It’s me. It’s…it’s Eddie. Munson,” he tacks his surname on at the end, as though he needs to specify.

Muffled noise through the speaker. The seconds tick by, and Eddie waits with dread for you to hang up.

Finally, you whisper, “Eddie?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“H-How did you get this number?”

He has the phone in a vice grip. “Dustin gave it to me.”

“Why…why are you calling?” He wishes he could see your expression. You sound terrified, like he’s going to bite you through the phone.

How can he answer that? What is there to say, after so much time, after so much pain? I miss you. I love you. None of it was worth it, even when I was on top. Losing you was like being cut in half.

“I wanted to see how you were. How you are, I mean.”

“I’m okay.” The response is quick, automatic. But you don’t elaborate any further than that, and awkward silence prevails again.

Eddie deserves that, he supposes. Sweat trickles down his back, under his arms, breaks out on his forehead. He pushes his damp bangs back out of his eyes. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it, sweetheart,” the term of endearment slipping out as though a day hasn’t gone by where you haven’t been his sweetheart.

“Don’t call me that,” you tell him tersely, sounding pained.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, ashamed. He had no right to do this to you. Drudge up old memories that you probably wanted to forget, or had so already.

“What is this about?” you ask him again, voice shaking.

“I told you,” he mumbles, “I want to know how you are. And I guess…I want to apologize.”

“You want to apologize,” you repeat skeptically, with an incredulous huff. “Now? Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes glazed and wet. A dry sob rattles his chest. “I don’t what I was thinking. I shouldn’t have called, I shouldn’t be…I’m sure you hate me and I don’t blame you, because I do too.” He wets his lips and presses on. “But if I can take this time to say one thing to you it’s that I’m sorry. For everything. I am so fucking sorry. For leaving, for hurting you, for every stupid little thing I did. That’s why I really called. To tell you that.”

“Oh God,” you say, almost to yourself, voice suddenly small. “I — I’m not ready for this.”

“You don’t have to say anything back,” he whispers, voice breaking, closing his eyes, letting the tears slip over his lashes.

“Are you crying?”

He wipes furiously at his nose. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

Eddie can’t lie to you, certainly not now. “Yes. I’m sorry, I can’t help it. Your voice…”

“That — that came out sharper than I meant it to —”

“No, I mean it’s beautiful. I missed it.”

“Eddie…”

“Yeah?”

You start to speak and then falter, struggling to articulate what it is that you’re feeling. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what to say.”

Eddie laughs brokenly. “Funny, because there’s a million things I want to say to you. I just don’t know if I should or not.”

You swallow with an audible click. “I don’t know if you should, either.”

Another silence. Eddie thinks he could pick out the sound of your breathing from a mile away, he’s still so in tune with it. After hundreds of nights spent laying next to you in bed, no other sound could send him to dreaming so quickly or peacefully.

“But why call now? After all this time?”

“I miss you.” The words escape before he has a chance to stop them; he bites his tongue against the rest of them. He considers his next words carefully before continuing.

“I never reached out before, because I made my bed and now I have to lie in it. I didn’t deserve to ask you for another chance, and I don’t think I do now, either, but…I was thinking of you tonight. Even more so than usual.”

Your voice shakes. “Does…does that happen often?”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “All the time.” The floodgates open; all his woe and regret from the past spills forward. “I am always, always thinking of you. Even when you thought I wasn’t. I know I was a shitty partner, but that didn’t mean — that I didn’t love you more than anything.”

“Eddie —”

But he can’t stop now. “I’ve missed you like hell since that very last night. I loved you so much, a-and I threw it away! How could I bring myself to speak to you after that? Especially after I lost it all? I would — God — I would hate for you to think that I was only coming back to you because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I couldn’t do that. I didn’t wanna hurt you again, baby, and I know it would’ve.”

There’s a quiet sniffle on the other line. “It broke me when you left. And now this hurts, too.”

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes. “I wish I could make it better. I would do anything to make you not hurt anymore. I won’t ask you for a second chance, but just know,” Eddie takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and seals his fate. “I’ve loved you for more than half my life,” he whispers. “I’ll love you until I die.”

And with that, the line goes dead.

Eddie stares at nothing, doesn’t move. He doesn’t know how long he sits there for; eventually, his body moving on autopilot, he hangs up the phone and crawls under the covers. He’s done sobbing, but tears drip down his temples as he lays back in bed, dampening his hair.

Time doesn’t exist anymore, but he hopes he’ll fall asleep soon anyway.

Breathing, quiet and even. Eyelids slightly heavier. He thinks maybe it’s finally within reach.

He’s almost there.

The phone rings.

Eddie blindly feels with one arm, and picks it up from the receiver for the third time tonight.

“Hello?” he asks hoarsely, not daring to believe it.

An angel answers.

“E-Eddie? It’s me again…”

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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harryistheonlyoneforme · 9 months

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just a little taste* (2)

warnings: smut, oral, angst, mentions of cheating

pairing: masseuse harry x reader

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harry’s breath is caught in his throat as he registers what’s going on, blinking a couple times to make sure this is real life. after a few moments of baited silence, he’s come to the conclusion that this is, in fact, not a dream. “darling, wha-,” he clears his throat, the words coming out a bit shaky. “what are y’doing?” he finally forces out.

her tongue swipes out to wet her bottom lip before she’s pulling away as if she’s been burnt. “oh! ‘m sorry, i shouldn’t have assumed. i just thought i’d return the favor since you were just so good to me,” she rambles, going to step away, albeit mortified, but she’s stopped dead in her tracks when she feels two hands cradle her face gingerly before his lips are pressed to hers once more.

he presses his body as close to hers as he possibly can, his tongue now fighting to explore her mouth. he’s a bit confused, though, when she places her hands on his chest to push him away a bit. “no,” she states with a firm shake of her head, causing him to furrow his eyebrows in confusion. “if you want it, you’re going to have to tell me you want it, i’d rather have your spoken consent,” she explains, and he’s practically melting in relief that he hasn’t fucked up what he’s sure is the best thing to ever happen to him.

she has a small smile on her face when he nods eagerly, his chest heaving just a bit. “yeah, y-yes. i’d love for you to return the favor, darling. just the sweetest little thing,” he rushes, a dimpled grin on his face as well.

now that she has full consent, though, she’s going to go all in. she steps away from him, just a hair, to drop herself onto her knees, the plush carpet beneath her giving her some comfort. her mouth is nearly watering as she reaches up to free his hard cock from where it resides, and she has to stop her jaw from dropping when he’s fully out and in front of her.

he’s so pretty, so long and thick and wet. he’s literally leaking for her, his cock twitching in front of her as he watches her eye him up. he reaches up with his right hand and runs his thumb over her bottom lip to grab her attention. “‘s it pretty, darling?” he teases, causing her to let out a whine and nod enthusiastically. “y’so sweet, baby, but ‘m gonna explode in a bit if y’just keep staring,” he chuckles. “do y’wanna maybe put it in y’mou- fuck, angel,” he’s cut off with a moan as she reaches up to grasp him and place her mouth on him all in one go, her tongue licking all around the width of him as she goes deeper.

once his cock is lubricated enough with her spit, she begins to bob her head to give him some more pleasure, a shocked moan of pleasure leaving his lips when she takes him so deep that her nose grazes the bottom of his tummy. “angel, fuck, i- y’doing so well,” he’s gasping as he reaches for her head but pulls away as he doesn’t know if she’s okay with that.

she notices his struggle and pulls away for just a moment, still stroking him quickly as she does. “s’okay, you can touch my head. i don’t mind it,” she ensures, not even sparing another glance as she goes right back to work on his cock, needing to taste more than just his precum on her tongue.

and harry just swears to himself that he’s landed an angel, she was such a sweet, innocent thing when he’d first entered, but now he knows who she really is, what she really needs. she needs someone to make her feel good, to put her in her place, to make it hurt. she needs some reprieve from her everyday life. and that’s what he’s going to give her.

he can’t give it much more thought, though, when he sees her reach up, and before he can register what’s going on, she’s got his balls in her hand, playing with them as she still uses her mouth and other hand diligently. the overwhelming feeling cause a choked gasp to leave his lips, his hips involuntarily bucking forward and hitting the back of her throat.

she gags just a bit and so he starts to pull away but she just follows him, managing to get even sloppier. the sounds that are coming from them are so vulgar, so lewd that harry has to grip onto the cart behind him to keep himself upright. how he’s reduced her to a filthy, slutty mess the neither of them know, but they also don’t want it to end.

harry feels his cock start to twitch and his balls start to draw up almost painfully as his orgasm approaches out of nowhere trying to give her a warning but he can’t even form a single coherent thought. “angel, angel, fuck, please. please, i’m-,” she swallows around him then, cutting his sentence short as he plummets into bliss, his thighs quaking and a noise that resembles a guttural groan falling from his mouth.

shortly after, yn feels the warmth of his cum coating the back of her throat with short spurts, and she swallows every drop eagerly. she hasn’t stopped the movements of her hands or her mouth, and she doesn’t until she feels harry pull away from her with a whine of overstimulation. resting her weight down on her heels, she looks up at him with the most innocent smile as if she didn’t just drain him for everything he had.

the smile he returns is lazy but genuine, exhaustion quickly seeping into his bones as he attempts to catch his breath. when he finally feels like he can move without falling to the floor, he takes one last breath before helping yn up, pressing his lips to hers once again. they have a silent conversation as she steps away, grabbing her clothes. he fixes is own and helps her put hers on to the best of his ability, his moments a bit sluggish.

they share a couple more quick kisses that threaten to turn into something more again, but they stop them just before they go that far, knowing they’ll end up passed out on the floor or the massage table, and that’s not a great look for anyone that comes in. she gathers all of her belongings before asking him if he needed any help, to which he declined of course, but he had one last request.

“same time next week?” he questions, dimpled grin on full display as he rubs a warm hand along her hip.

“same time next week,” she reiterates. they quickly exchange numbers and when they’re done she leans up to press one last kiss to his lips before she’s heading out and closing the door behind her, walking toward the entrance. when she passes the front desk with a wave, though, she doesn’t miss the way jessica’s eyes don’t quite find hers, and how her ears are bright red, an indication that she’d definitely heard what just went down.

yn gets in her car without another glance to the building, a new feeling of relaxation and confidence radiating throughout her as she drives home. the ride home is quick and peaceful, and she stops to get her favorite sushi on the way. she hops onto her couch and turns on a random movie when she arrives, digging into her sushi.

as soon as she pops the first piece in her mouth, though, her phone that had been sitting on the coffee table in front of her lights up along with the sound of her ring tone, an indicator that she’s received a call. reaching forward, she can’t stop the smile that quickly forms on her face as she realizes it’s harry making sure she’s made it home safely.

after answering and ensuring him that she’s safe and comfy as she watches a movie with her sushi, the two somehow find themselves in a conversation about their favorite things to eat. he tells her that he knows a great place for pad thai and that piques her interest, never having tried that before.

he clears his throat on the other line. “well, how about after our session next friday, we can pop by there so you can try it out?” he questions, his heart nearly in his throat as he awaits her response.

“i’d love to,” he can hear the smile in her voice. “it’s a date, then,” she chuckles, testing the waters.

“it’s a date,” he whispers on the other end. they fall into a comfortable silence for a moment, just listening to the other’s breaths until she starts laughing. he’s laughing along too, despite the fact that he doesn’t even know what’s going through her head. her laugh is just so contagious. “what’s so funny?” he questions, his smile bright on the other end.

“it’s just,” she starts, stopping to laugh a bit more. “it’s just that an hour ago i was on my knees in front of you with your cock in my mouth and now you’re asking me on a date. ‘s just a bit backwards, is all,” she teases, and he laughs along with her once more.

“you’re so right, it is. but now we’re all in, no going back now, hm?” she agrees and they fall into silence again before they decide to end the call, promising to see each other next week.

so then it becomes a weekly thing after that. every friday after yn gets off work, she heads straight to the parlor for a massage and her happy ending, the two stopping by a restaurant when they leave, talking about everything under the sun. every single friday night ends in a sweet kiss as they part ways, the both of their hearts warm and full as they head to their homes. they’ve got a nice little routine going, and it’s fun and it’s easy, until it’s not.

the next week when yn comes in for her session, the door is closed. a frown forms on her face when she realizes, and she has to check her watch to make sure she hasn’t gotten the wrong time. she hasn’t, and so she’s even more confused as she heads back to the waiting area once more.

stopping at the front desk, she leans her upper body against it as she waits for jessica to finish speaking to a client. they've gotten fairly close over the past few weeks, so she trusts that she'll tell her what's going on. she looks over to her with a smile as soon as she's finished speaking, a bit confused since she's usually in the back by now.

"hey, jess, do you know where harry is? i just went in the back and the door was closed, didn't seem like he was in there," she explains, watching as the furrow in her friend's eyebrow only deepens.

"he should be in there, have you tried knocking yet? i haven't seen him come back out," she responds. yn has an odd sinking feeling in her stomach but she brushes it off, thinking that maybe he’s just lost track of time or something. turning on her heel, she goes back to the door and knocks firmly.

there’s no answer on the other side, but she knows he’s in there because the light is on. now she’s worried something’s happened to him, so she hurriedly turns the knob and opens the door. her eyes trail around the room until they land on harry. who is…perfectly fine.

she’s even more confused now, but then a small smile forms on her face when, upon fully taking him in, she sees that he has his airpods in, his back to her as he prepares the oils. he just couldn’t hear her. so she steps further into the room to tap him for his attention when he speaks up.

“no, allison. i won’t be home for dinner tonight,” a frown forms on her face as there’s a beat of silence.

who could he be talking to? as far as she knew, he lived alone. her questions are answered pretty quickly when he speaks up again. “it’s the same conversation every night!,” he exclaims, sounding exasperated. “i will not be home for dinner, and i expect the mess you made in our bed last night to be cleaned,” he sighs.

our bed? a lump forms in her throat. who is allison, and what sort of mess did she make in their bed? yn’s heart is full on thumping inside her chest as all of the possible scenarios play out for her. she’d begun to subconsciously step backward as her mind reels, stabilizing herself at the doorway when she makes it back there.

“allison, please. and for the love of god, could you please stop calling me when i’m at work? i’ll call you when i’m on the way home,” another beat of silence as the woman on the other end gets louder. “so now you’re monitoring my purchases? what i do in my free time doesn’t involve you, it doesn’t matter if you’re an account holder, stop trying to keep me on a leash,” he practically spits, and that’s all it takes for yn to take that final step out the door and close the door behind her, the slam startling harry even with his noise cancelling headphones.

the dull thud causes harry to jump, taking out one of his headphones as he takes a look at the time. his heart drops as he realizes yn would’ve been here at this time, and he has a strong feeling that the noise he heard was the sound of her leaving.

“no, no, no, fuck,” he spits, hanging up the phone and tossing it carelessly to the side as he hops up from the chair. he makes a run for the door, but he’s met with an empty hallway, and so he hurries to the front. the lobby is completely empty save for jessica, who looks at him with a confused expression, wondering why yn left so abruptly. she doesn’t dare ask, though, because the way harry is bright red with a heaving chest is off putting enough.

she wouldn’t have had time to, either, because as soon as he notices that yn’s car is gone from the parking lot he turns back to the hallway and goes into his room to retrieve his phone. his hands are shaking as he rushes to find her number, pressing the call button and putting the phone to his ear. straight to voicemail.

“fuck!” he bellows, hanging up to try again. voicemail once again. he stands in the middle of the room for a moment as he contemplates what to do. he doesn’t know where she lives or works, he only has her number and this time on fridays. he can only hope that she’ll come back next week, but he’s got a feeling that he’s really fucked up this time.

harry calms himself down for a few minutes as he cleans up his station that he’d prepped, gathering his belongings to head home for the night. he hurries past jessica without a word or a glance, hopping into his car and throwing his stuff in the backseat before peeling out of the lot.

it’s no surprise when monday he comes in with red puffy eyes and a bottom lip bright red from all the biting he’s done, but he’s surprised that jess is scowling at him and ignoring him, passing him the schedule for the day without a word. so yn told her about what she’d heard.

the week drags on so slowly he’s unsure he’ll make it, and when friday finally rolls around again he has just an inkling of hope that she’ll show. even just to talk, maybe yell at him. but after he finishes the clients and her normal time approaches, he waits and waits until the parlor closes, thinking that maybe she’s just running late.

he heaves out a sigh as he closes up the parlor, hopping into the car and resting his head against the wheel. after a few minutes of thought, he decides it’d be best to try and push her into the back of his mind, even though he’s definitely run away the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

one month later

“h, really? it’s been a whole month and you’re still mooing around. it’s not like you guys were even together or anything,” mitch grumbles, fed up with his friend’s dull behavior. “so get in the shower and get some clothes on. i’ll be there in an hour or so, around 9…..and shave too, please,” he requests, hanging up the facetime call without waiting for a response.

harry just sighs in defeat as he realizes his best friend is entirely correct, but decides to wallow for a couple minutes more before he finally pushes himself off the couch and heads toward the bathroom.

he’s honestly quite relieved that he feels just a tad better when he makes himself presentable again, but the cleaning up does not take away the pain entirely. he finds some clothes and puts them on just as his phone begins ringing once more, mitch’s name appearing on the screen. he gives him a small smile when he answers. “ah, there he is! i bet you feel a lot better,” he teases, but it’s all in good nature as he’s really glad his best friend is making an effort. “i won’t say i told you so….” is the last thing harry beers before the call ends once more.

grabbing some shoes, he puts them on and grabs his keys before he heads out to where mitch is waiting, a forced smile on his face as he hops in the passenger seat.

walking into tap and slide, the most popular bar in upper manhattan, harry expects to feel something new. something, anything other than the dull ache that’s seemingly permanently nestled deep in his tummy. it seems as if the harder he tries to push yn from his mind, the more she appears. he takes a glance around the crowded bar and sighs deeply when he realizes that this scene will do nothing to help him.

his friends are already scattering to different parts of the building, seeing people they know or that they’re attracted to. so he’s left standing there near the entrance with a slump in his shoulders, and when he feels a body brush against him particularly hard, he forces his feet to move forward toward the bar. when it’s his turn, he orders himself a whiskey sour and heads off to find a booth to reside in until his friends feel like leaving.

and so he nurses the whiskey for as long as he sits there, eyes flitting around the room for anything that catches his attention. he’s sat there for about an hour, beginning to get too deep into his head when he sees her. he hadn’t looked toward the entrance the entire night, but for some reason he felt compelled to look that way at that exact moment.

when his eyes land on her, in the cutest black dress and small kitten heels that her perfect for a night out, his heart speeds up substantially. he nearly drops his half empty glass on the table, his hand shaky as he manages to set it down. his eyes don’t leave her frame as she moves deeper into the building, not until someone is tapping her shoulder and causing her to turn to them.

a frown forms on his lips when he realizes that it’s jess with her, and that she’s pointing at him as she speaks to yn. a scowl is set on her face and she rolls her eyes every couple words as she very obviously warns yn of his presence. then yn is speaking, still not turning his way as she gets closer to jess. whatever she says causes jess to place a hand on her arm with a sympathetic frown, moving the two of them toward a booth on the other side.

jess double checks that yn is okay before moving to the bar to grab them some drinks to sip on for the night, and he knows it’s so wrong, but harry takes that as a chance to make his move. sliding from the booth, harry pushes through the couple of bodies that block his path and makes his way to yn, who is now typing on her phone.

then he slides into the booth across from her, watching as she looks up with a smile that’s quickly replaced with a hardened look of anger, a face he’s never seen before. he swallows quickly and his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before he speaks. “i know i don’t exactly deserve this for not being honest with you, but do you think i could just get a few minutes? i’d really like to explain myself,” he chooses his words carefully, not really giving away any details, which frustrates her.

she’s huffing out a sigh of annoyance and cuts her eyes to jess, who is fully immersed in a conversation with mitch before she looks back to the man in front of her. “whatever. you have five minutes, and i expect the truth,” she spits, leaning back against the back of the booth and crossing her arms against her chest.

she really should’ve stayed home tonight.

"im married," he finally admits to her, watching the way her breath hitches before a scoff leaves her lips. “i’m married, and i have been for the past five years.”

cliffhangaaaaaa kinda?????😩😩😩

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celticcrossanon · 24 days

Text

BRF Reading - 15th of May, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 15th of May, 2024

Question: Are Meghan and Harry actively trying to kill The King?

As I was shuffling the cards for this reading, two cards flew out. I was going to draw one card for Meghan, one for Harry, and one for them as a couple, plus the underlying energy, but those two cards told me everything I needed to know.

This is a two card reading

Warning: This reading contains some of the ugliest energy I have ever encountered in all my years of tarot reading. Please prepare yourself before you read it and do not read it if you are feeling at all upset/despondent/shaky/insecure etc. You need to be protected by God/Jesus/the angels/the universe/whomever you call upon to protect you before you read this reading.

Answer: Yes

Card One: The Three of Swords

This is the card that flew out of my deck as I was shuffling. One look and I had my answer.

The Three of Swords is a card of grief, heartbreak, despair. It shows King Agamemnon being killed in his bath by his wife Clytemnestra and her lover.

Clytemnestra brooded over past injuries done to her by the King until she decided to kill him. In this card she represents Harry, with his belief that the BRF has ''victimised' him (e.g. by taking away his military honours).

Her lover, Aegisthus, believed his family has been betrayed by the father of Agamemnon and had been conceived to take revenge on the family. He represents Meghan, with her belief that the BRF has hurt her (eg no one asked me if I was Ok, no one cared about my mental health, they are racist and all her other lies) and her desire for vengeance on them.

The picture shows the death of the rightful King by Clytemnestra and her lover. I am taking this as the death of The King at the hands of Harry and Meghan, in answer to my question. Harry and Meghan want to kill The King. They want to inflict the grief and heartbreak and despair of his death on the BRF.

Card Two: The Eight of Swords in reverse

The energy of this card is of stress. The reverse position has intensified the upright energy (as it sometimes does) instead of reversing the meaning of it. It also adds a delayed time element to the energy.

Harry and Meghan want to use stress to kill The King. They wants him to feel trapped, hemmed in, unable to move or escape, especially mentally. This card can represent someone who is trapped/paralysed by their thoughts and who feels helpless, and that is the energy of the card - what Meghan and Harry want to invoke in The King.

There is a very strong relentless energy to this card - Meghan and Harry will not give up until The King either a) abdicates in their favour (yes, I know that is not possible, but we are dealing with two delusional people here) or b) drops dead from stress - stroke, heart attack, cancer, they do not care.

There is a vicious energy to this card that lashes out repeatedly until the desired object is achieved - an energy I can only describe as stabbing, over and over again, until the person is dead. There is a chant going through my mind of 'stab stab stab kill kill kill' as I type this. The 'stabs' are emotional and stress wounds.

These two cards tell me that Meghan and Harry have planned to kill The King and they will not stop until it is accomplished - and then they will turn their attention to Prince William.

This is truly ugly energy - vicious, self-centred, and laser focused on their desires with no thought of anyone else.

Because it is so ugly I asked for a third card as confirmation, just to make sure I am on the right track about this, as it is a horrible thing to say about anyone.

Confirmation Card: King of Cups in reverse

The King of Cups is the card for Scorpio, and as such it represents King Charles, who is a sun sign Scorpio. In the reverse, it shows King Charles in decline, weakened, not strong and happy (that would be the card upright). The card represents King Charles in his role as a person, father/husband/uncle etc, and not in his role as King. To have it in reverse as a confirmation card is a definite yes. Harry and Meghan want The King to die and they are actively trying to bring this about.

Just in case there is any doubt, the card after this was The Seven of Swords.

The Seven of Swords - deceit, trickery, lies, scheming - with the pictures showing Orestes creeping into the city/palace to kill his mother for murdering his father. The card showing a son in the act of murdering a parent and the meaning of the card - thief, lies, deceit, scheming - confirm the message above and add to it - Harry and Meghan are trying to kill The King so they can steal what is his for themselves.

Notice that all the suit cards I am pulling are Swords - the suit of thoughts, plans, and strategies. Another confirmation. There is no emotion involved here (that would be Cups) - just a cold and merciless desire to remove someone who stands in the way of their plans.

This is revolting energy and I am going to stop now.

A note of hope - just because Harry and Meghan are actively trying to do this, there is no guarantee that they will succeed, especially if we pray for The King and for Prince William and his family and/or we send them protective energy. St Michael the Archangel is a good angel to ask to protect them if anyone is so inclined.

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shuahoonie · 1 year

Text

late night talking | boo seungkwan

pairing: non-idol!seungkwan (svt) x female!reader

notes: reader doesn’t like birthdays, fluff, swearing, childhood friends (implied) to lovers, reader is !! oblivious !! loosely based on the song late night talking by harry styles

word count: 4.7k

summary: something shifted in the universe when you and seungkwan started talking on the phone every day. this is big for someone who has their phone on do not disturb for almost the entire day. oh and going on a trip with your bff, practically acting like a couple is normal right? right???

part of the to x, with love mini series

shuahoonie's masterlist | to x, with love masterlist

if there's one thing people should know about you— it's that to never call you if there's an emergency. you’ve always gotten shit on for having your phone on do not disturb.

“what if you got stabbed?!” seungkwan dramatically yelled behind you, making you roll your eyes.

“well, did i?” you asked stopping dead in your tracks to face him, crossing your arms.

“no,” seungkwan answered “but what if you were?!” oh this is never going to end.

“i already told you i was going out for air.” you replied, turning your back against him and kept on walking. somehow, the walk back to your accommodation seemed like it went on forever. “if you knew me better, you should know to never call me.”

“i tried texting and you still didn’t answer!”seungkwan was getting frustrated. “seriously, what’s the point of having a phone if no one can contact you!”

“seungkwan, this conversation is going nowhere.”

“it’s because you’re too stubborn!” seungkwan pointed out. “see? you’re not even listening to me!”

“my ears are starting to bleed, seungkwan,” now you were getting annoyed. it’s always like this with you two— you and seungkwan bicker like there’s no tomorrow, driving each other mad. yet, you two can’t keep away from each other.

you quickened your pace, not in the mood to argue. you knew you were at fault.

“you know i was worried, love.” fuck. of course, seungkwan would drop that pet name. he knew how to get you— annoying and cheesy as it may sound— and it was enough to make you stop walking. “i didn’t mean to upset you.”

“i’m sorry,” you sighed. “i was being a brat—”

“yeah, you were.” seungkwan agreed, not even let you finish. you let out an appalled huff, crossing your arms.

seungkwan laughed, reaching out to uncross your arms and pulling you closer to him. “you know you’re lucky you’re cute or else this behaviour will never work on me.”

“whatever,” you mumbled. “it’s because you love me.” you were practically chewing your words. it was times like these when you often question if you two are destined for something more. two childhood friends on a weekend vacation— alone. doing couple activities. acting like one. it really makes you wonder.

“yeah,” seungkwan hummed softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “i know.”

seungkwan went off on a long rant about wanting to spend the weekend with you out of town. mind you, he proposed this plan over the phone at 1 am on a random tuesday. he even scolded you for not picking up sooner.

“why didn’t you pick up the first time?”

“kwannie, you better be dying if you dared to call me at 1 am.” you grumbled.

“i love you, but i’m calling anyone but you if i were dying.” he said on the other line.

“okay, well it’s good to know you’re still alive. i’m hanging up.” you said with your eyes closed, ready to fall back to sleep.

“do you have plans next weekend?”

it was your birthday next weekend. not that it was a big deal, but you didn’t really like celebrating your birthday. seungkwan knew that— at least you hoped he did. “no,” you said quietly.

“do you want to go out of town?”

you agreed, not thinking much about it as it’s been a while since you went on a trip— let alone, with seungkwan. plus, it’ll be nice to actually have fun.

it raised some eyebrows, for sure, especially from mingyu.

“you’re actually going?” mingyu asked while he was busy chopping up some onions. he was preparing dinner for jun and wonu— who crashed his dorm. you and chan found out and decided to crash there as well.

“and why not?” you raised an eyebrow at mingyu, crossing your arms. it’s not like this is the first you and seungkwan have gone on a trip by yourselves.

“because,” mingyu avoided your gaze. he knew something and since it’s you we’re talking about, he would rather be eaten alive than admit whatever he’s thinking to you. “it’s weird.”

“why would it be weird?” you asked with furrowed brows. “it’s seungkwannie.”

“exactly.” mingyu exclaimed, proceeding to turn around and look for something in the cupboards.

“yah!” something clicked in your head. “do you know something that i don’t?”

“i’m not going to tell you until you admit it yourse— yah ynnie!” mingyu yelped from where he was standing after you pinched his ear. “fine, fine!”

“well, i’m waiting kim mingyu.” you crossed your arms in anticipation.

mingyu muttered a long string of curses— some of them about you being worse than his girlfriend, which only prompted you to pinch his arm. you liked his girlfriend.

“it’s just—“ mingyu was racking his brain for the right words to say. “does it ever bother you that kwan is doing all of this just for you?”

“what do you mean?” now, you’re genuinely confused. gyu’s never the type to instigate things like these. “he’s always been like that, gyu.”

gyu hummed— pursing his lips into a thin line. “you know what? you’re right, ynnie.” mingyu proceeded to cook dinner for all of you, choosing to move on from the topic. “let’s drop it.”

this only piqued your curiosity. there’s no way kim mingyu can just drop it. “no, you have to tell me, gyu.”

“tell you what?” chan pranced inside the kitchen, carrying the empty glasses and putting them in the sink.

“i don’t even know, ichan.” you sighed. “because mingyu won’t tell me.”

“i’m probably assuming things,” mingyu said dismissively, not eager to expand on the topic any further.

chan stared at you two with furrowed brows. obviously, this is confusing for him as there’s not even enough context to build up on. “uhh?”

“mingyu’s being weird,” you sighed “he’s suspicious of kwan’s actions, as if kwan has been nothing but sweet our entire lives.”

“seungkwan? sweet?” ichan laughed at your, what he assumed, incredulous take.

“see?!” mingyu pointed out animatedly, making you scoff at him.

“ynnie, i think what mingyu’s trying to say is that—“ chan paused, looking for the right words to break his thoughts in.

mingyu, loosing a mental battle between speaking about it or not, chooses to interrupt chan’s thoughts. “he likes you, yn.”

“uh—“ you felt frozen in your place. you were waiting for them to explain further, anything that can clear this up. “like as friends right?”

mingyu let out an obnoxious laugh that prompted you to throw a piece of crumpled up kitchen towel at him.

“why are you being so loud?” jun asks as he and wonwoo prances inside the kitchen, both confused by mingyu’s outburst.

“hyung,” chan turns to jun “what do you think about yn and kwan?”

jun furrowed his brows, confused. “what do you mean?”

“like about yn and seungkwan being—“ mingyu tried to explain but wonu cut him off.

“together?” wonu continued, his tone unsure. mingyu and chan nodded. “are you not?” wonu then turns to you, confused.

“what do you mean?!” you could feel your cheeks burning at wonwoo’s implication. “of course not! what led you guys to that idea?”

“oh you want to do this now?” mingyu asks tauntingly. “because i will do it.”

“shut up, mingyu,” you grumbled, obviously flustered.

“you have to excuse mingyu,” jun walks closer to you, giving you a side-hug. “he had a tiny fight with his girlfriend earlier that’s why he’s being an asshole.”

“eh, don’t care about him,” you said loud enough for mingyu to hear and yell ‘hey!’ with a pout. “what about you junnie?”

“personally?” you nodded “i think some people say that they’re friends to justify the actions that prove they’re more than just that.”

you were about to reply when your phone buzzed from the kitchen counter. eyes automatically wandered to your phone, with seungkwan’s contact name filling the phone.

“he calls you love?” chan asks as he read the text that seungkwan sent you, fondness in chan’s tone. no one was really surprised that it has gotten to the point that seungkwan calls you adorable pet names but for some reason this one did. “how have i never heard him call you that, yn?”

“oh, uh,” you let out a strained, embarrassed laugh “he only calls me that when we’re alone.”

“cute,” wonu smiles, making you even more flustered.

you attempted to dodge the situation by texting seungkwan back, saying that he can crash gyu’s dorm too. “can you save him a plate, gyu? seungkwan’s dropping by in a bit.” you said in a small voice. as soon as the words left your mouth, you realized that whatever you just said will not help your situation at all.

“this is why people assume there’s something more going on with you two,” jun laughs.

“if you believe it, sure,” seungkwan says on the other line. he texted you asking if you were awake a couple of days before your supposed trip. you always had your phone on do not disturb as soon as the clock strikes midnight.

seungkwan, the loving menace that he is, kept pressing the notify anyway button on your thread. hence, the random video call at midnight.

this has been a frequent occurrence in your life. seungkwan has been clingier lately. although he’s always been close to you, kwan’s demeanour around you has changed.

“mhm,” all you could do was hum in response. at this point, you forgot what you were even arguing about. it was probably something petty like not knowing a pop culture reference.

“mhm?! ynnie are you sleeping already?” seungkwan asks on the other end of the call, looking over at your dark screen. he could barely see you in the frame— in fact, he’s firm that you’re not even in the screen at all. all he could see was the bedroom window from your dorm— bright lights from the neighbouring building illuminating the screen.

“hmm?” your eyes were getting droopy. you don’t even remember what happened the rest of the call, assuming that you probably fell asleep while mumbling sweet nothings to kwan.

seungkwan chuckled when the line went quiet and he heard your soft snores. it has always been like this. he would call you before bed and you would often fall asleep during your calls. if anybody asked him, it was his favourite part of his day.

“good night, my love.” he says softly, about to end the call.

“love you,” you mumbled in your sleep, surprising seungkwan. he wasn’t sure if you saying that deep in your sleep means something but that didn’t stop him from having a huge smile on his face.

“love you too, my ynnie.” he whispers, ending the call.

you, jun, and seokmin met up at heaven’s cloud coffee roasters one thursday evening. “ynnie?”

“hm?”

“i texted you last night, you didn’t see?” seokmin asked with a pout.

you shook your head, ashamed. you probably opened the text when you were half-awake and forgot about it completely.

“oh, you know how she would always have her phone on do not disturb,” jun vouched for you, in which you offered him an apologetic smile. “she probably opened it and forgot about it.”

you checked your inbox to see seokmin’s message. you checked the time stamp and saw that he texted you while you were on a call with seungkwan— you two were hosting a netflix party, watching the glory together. “i’m sorry, seok,” you pouted.

“ah, it’s alright.” seokmin smiles at you, pinching your cheeks. he was asking if you had plans this weekend— which is your birthday weekend and your weekend trip with seungkwan. “so, do you have plans this weekend?”

“oh, um, seungkwan and i are going out—“

“you and seungkwan are dating?!” seokmin yells, almost making you spit out your drink.

“seokmin, no!” you practically pleaded, a look of embarrassment present on your face. “what i meant was seungkwan and i made plans this weekend— we’re going on a trip.”

“oh— oh,” there’s a knowing glint in seok’s face, a teasing smirk that already painted a thousand scenarios running through his head. “okay, okay. no worries.”

jun was holding back a laugh. he could sense the frustration emitting off you but he could also see where seokmin’s conclusions were drawn from.

“seok, it’s not what you think—“ you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

and as if the universe is playing a cruel joke on you, seungkwan arrives at the café with a huge smile on his face upon seeing you three. as soon as kwan’s eyes met yours, his smile softens a bit more. this didn’t go unnoticed by seokmin.

“it’s okay, ynnie,” seokmin smiles at you genuinely. “what you and kwan have is the purest form of love.”

“you’ve been awfully quiet, yn,” seungkwan comments as he glances at you from the driver’s seat.

“just couldn’t sleep last night, kwannie,” you mumbled, looking out the window to avoid eye contact.

“you can take a nap, we’re still an hour away from our destination,” he said looking at the estimated arrival time from the navigation system.

“it’s fine,” you said quietly “don’t worry about me.”

seungkwan hummed, unconvinced but chose to drop it. it was a 3-day weekend and seungkwan cannot afford to spend the entire trip full of arguments.

the truth is, ever since seokmin unleashed that line about you, kwan, and love— you began to overthink it.

it’s not like the whole thing is foreign to you, but since other people are pointing it out so blatantly— it did stir up questions that you were beginning to be confused with. hence, sleepless nights.

“yn,” seungkwan calls your name, one hand in the steering wheel while the other hand reaches for yours, intertwining his fingers against yours. “are you sure you’re okay?”

this did not help your situation at all. seungkwan would do this all the time, but now, it’s like your insides are causing a stir.

“mhm,” was all you’ve managed to say. you felt your heart practically leaping out of your chest.

he was determined to hold back with picking petty fights with you this weekend. and seungkwan knew not to pry, so he rubbed small motions on the back your hand— hoping to ease out whatever’s bugging you.

you tried to hide the deep breath you took when seungkwan used his endearing charm to ease your nerves. with your free hand, you sent a quick text to seokmin, something along the lines of feeling overwhelmed and yet warm and but also intoxicated and boo seungkwan.

will you ever survive this trip?

the answer was no, you can’t survive this trip. upon arriving to your accommodation, you went straight to your room— making up some lame excuse that you’re tired.

seungkwan has been exceptionally patient about the whole thing, which surprised you. not that it was news, but he has already gone out of his way to be exceptionally understanding even if you think that you’re being rude most of the time.

so here you were, cooped up in one of the rooms of your air bnb, acting like a 13 year-old hiding from their middle-school crush.

“this is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself as you stared at the empty ceiling.

you were lying on your bed, listening to soft tunes with your eyes closed, when you heard a soft knock on your door. “ynnie, i’m coming in,” you heard seungkwan say on the other side of the door.

he found you lying down on your back, completely straight. you didn’t even look at him nor bothered to open your eyes. your position was so rigid, it made seungkwan burst out of laughter.

you heard a shutter click before opening your eyes and turning to look at him, kwan was smiling so wide with his phone out.

“ya,” you glared at his smiling figure “what are you doing?”

“you look like vernon,” seungkwan laughed and sat beside you to show the picture he just took. your sleeping position was… questionable. you look dead.

“seungkwannie,” you whined as you sat up straight and tried to snatch seungkwan’s phone to delete the photo. seungkwan’s reflexes, however, were unmatched compared to yours. he was quick to shove the phone far from you.

“what?” seungkwan was laughing at your childish antics.

pouting, you placed your chin on his shoulder. “delete it.”

seungkwan turned his head to face you, his face mere inches away from yours. his eyes briefly flickered to your lips, almost taunting him.

you caught a glimpse of seungkwan’s gaze— you knew he looked at your lips, which only confused you even more.

snapping back to reality, you cleared your throat and moved far from seungkwan. he was briefly startled but regained his composure once he saw you stand up.

“are you feeling okay now?” he asked. you nodded timidly. you were not.

seungkwan’s patience was testing its new bounds. he has never been this patient around anyone.

time seemed to be passing by quickly. day 1 of your 3 day weekend was almost coming to an end. you and seungkwan spent the day walking around the town, basically doing whatever you want— café hopping, book shopping, eating, and pottery painting.

name it, seungkwan made it happen— which only made you overthink even more. what’s the real deal between you and kwan?

that’s why when day 2 rolled around, you were now actively avoiding him and this didn’t go by unnoticed by kwan.

by the time it got dark and you weren’t back from your walk, not answering his texts and calls, his patience had come to an end.

you had your phone on do not disturb the entire time you went for fresh air alone. this only made seungkwan worry even more. you were walking around an unfamiliar town, alone.

so now here we are, seungkwan telling you off for not replying to his texts and not answering his calls.

"what if you got stabbed?!" seungkwan dramatically yelled behind you, making you roll your eyes.

"well, did i?" you asked stopping dead in your tracks to face him, crossing your arms. this is you, trying to act like seungkwan's unwavering care for you did not affect you and totally cleared things off for you.

"no," seungkwan answered "but what if you were?!"

"i already told you i was going out for air" you replied, turning your back against him and kept on walking. somehow, the walk back to your accommodation seemed like it went on forever. "if you knew me better, you should know to never call me."

"i tried texting and you still didn't answer!" seungkwan was getting frustrated. his patience for you could only last for so long. it didn't also help the fact that you were avoiding him all day. "seriously, what's the point of having a phone if no one can contact you!"

"seungkwan, this conversation is going nowhere."

"it's because you're too stubborn!" seungkwan pointed out. "see? you're not even listening to me!"

"my ears are starting to bleed, seungkwan," now you were getting annoyed. now this, this is what's relatively normal in your relationship. it's always like this with you two - you and seungkwan bicker like there's no tomorrow, driving each other mad.

you quickened your pace, not in the mood to argue. you knew you were at fault.

“i’m sorry,” you sighed. “i was being a brat—”

“yeah, you were.” seungkwan agreed, not even let you finish. you let out an appalled huff, crossing your arms.

seungkwan laughed, reaching out to uncross your arms and pulling you closer to him. “you know you’re lucky you’re cute or else this behaviour will never work on me.”

“yeah, i know” seungkwan hummed softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “now, c'mon. i've got a surprise waiting for you back in our place.”

“i’m sorry, ynnie,” chan said while giving you an apologetic smile, wiping the tears falling down your face “we know you don’t like making a big fuss about your birthdays.”

“but we can’t help it!” seok whined giving you the tightest hug, making you laugh in between tears “how are we not supposed to celebrate your special day?”

turns out, the surprise that seungkwan was talking about was the rest of the guys— who travelled all the way here to surprise you for your birthday.

“oh our sweet, little yn” jun coos as he gives you his present and a hug. they were having a field day with the amount of presents that they kept giving you. apparently, it was hard to choose one specific gift so they got you everything you ever wanted.

it’s taking every bit of you to stop yourself from saying that you’ve already had everything you can only dream of.

once the guys found themselves having their own little world— eating takeout and drinking — seungkwan pulls you aside, asking for you two to have a bit of an alone time with each other.

you both sat on the front porch steps, no space between each other, taking in the quietness of this town with the blanket of stars hovered above you.

“how are you doing, love?” seungkwan asks as he takes your hand, interlacing his fingers against yours.

if this was any other day, you would be overwhelmed by how touchy seungkwan was being. however, given the surprise intimate party that was thrown, you were more than relieved to hold his hand since you’ve always found comfort in seungkwan anyway.

“bit overwhelmed,” you laughed “ but thankful. knowing that you all made an effort to do this means a lot.”

your birthdays have always been a sensitive subject. not that there was trauma associated with it, but your family had never made it a big deal. hence, you carried that ever since.

“i know you don’t like celebrating your birthdays,” seungkwan said “but i don’t think i can just let the day pass knowing that you, being here and coming in to my life, had been the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“kwan—“

“and please don’t get mad at them, i just wanted to make today extra special.” seungkwan practically pleads.

“i’m not mad, kwan” you said softly, squeezing his hand slightly to let him know that you’re serious. seungkwan sighs in relief.

silence fell as you two sat there underneath the stars, fingers intertwined. you took this moment to pursue the question that’s been bothering you the past few days. granted, it might make things a bit awkward but birthdays are about milestones, right? maybe being courageous is something that you want to embody as you celebrate being a year older.

“kwan?”

“yes, love?”

“why did you do all of this?” you asked.

“because it’s your birthday,” seungkwan laughs softly, as if you thought that all his efforts stems from something else. “and because you deserve everything good in this world, yn.”

“okay,” you hummed, not entirely convinced by his answer. so you’ve decided to step it up a notch. “do you like me, seungkwan?”

seungkwan was caught off-guard. who wouldn’t be?! the words slipped off your tongue so easily that he stared at you for a minute, looking for any tells that may indicate that you’re fucking around. but you weren’t. seungkwan saw that you were genuinely curious.

“of course, i like you, yn,” seungkwan answers “i mean i know i tease you a lot but that’s why we’re friends, right?”

friends, of course. “ah, right.” you replied, trying your best to show that you’re not forcing a smile. maybe you really were just overthinking things— boo seungkwan does not like you in that way.

seungkwan, however, noticed the change in your demeanour. he also noticed how you were trying to loosen your hand against his. “you don’t seem satisfied,” seungkwan points out lowly.

“hm?”

“were you expecting a different answer, yn?” he asks.

“nope.” you replied, staring directly at the empty streets and avoiding eye contact.

“are you sure?”

“yep.”

“then look at me, yn,” seungkwan says, prompting you to look at him.

he was fighting back a smile which annoyed you for some reason. “what is it, seungkwan?”

“do you like me, yn?” he asks, eyes sparkling as if to tease you even more.

the thing is, seungkwan already likes you. yes, more than a friend. yes, in that kind of way. however, he knew your stance on that whole friends to lovers trope.

you were wondering about mingyu and his girlfriend— how he knew that she was more than a friend. mingyu once answered, “i always knew.”

his answer didn’t help you, only made things confusing for you actually.

you once run by it through kwan, he was caught off-guard, of course. “i don’t know actually,” he tells you.

“right?!” you were surprisingly giddy. seungkwan has never seen this look on you when it came to this topic.

“i believe it’s all happenstance. i think people come into your life to serve a purpose. they can be your ray of your sunshine that easily brightens up your life…” you rambled off “or they can be your hope, you know, something that can easily be your driving force to tackle life or teach you have hope.”

“or they can just simply come into your life to teach you love and how to love.” seungkwan tells you.

you smile at his answer. when you two are not playfully bickering, he can be the sweetest person that you know. “so which is it?”

“i’ll let you know if ever find out,” seungkwan replies with a smile. he already knew the answer, he’s just waiting for you to figure out the answer yourself.

birthdays are about milestones right? courage. this year you’re going to learn about courage.

taking a deep breath, you answered “yes.”

“i’m sorry, what?” kwan practically chokes on his spit.

“boo seungkwan, i like you.”

“really?” he grins. “so which is it?” this time he leans in, his face inches away from you.

“what do you mean?” you asked quietly, the proximity of your faces was starting to drive you nuts.

“did you finally figure out how you knew i meant more as a friend to you?” closer. he kept leaning in closer.

as soon as he asked the question, he pursed his lips together, prompting you to look at it.

“mhm.” you hummed. when did his lips get so red? has it always been this red?

“and?” he smiles, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“phone calls,” you whispered, your lips mere inches away from his. “i don’t mind answering your phone despite putting it on do not disturb.”

“i knew it,” seungkwan whispers back, lips touching lightly touching against yours. “because i’ve liked you before then.”

you pulled back a bit, “i thought you only liked me as a friend?”

“when did i say that?”

“uh, minutes ago?” you replied with a raised brow “are you trying to gaslight me?”

“no,” seungkwan laughed “but i was trying to wait and see if you were ever going to profess your undying love for me.”

you scoffed at his answer, making him laugh even more. he then cups your face gently, leaning in closely. you were back to where you two used to be— lips slightly touching each other.

“kwan?”

“hm?”

“are you going to kiss me?”

“i’ve always wanted to,” kwan says before pressing his lips against yours. “and now i don’t think i can stop myself from doing so,” he says as he pulls away briefly, but kisses you back again.

everything felt so light when it happened. his lips were soft, the way he cupped your face— gentle. it’s as if everything clicked, everything felt right.

boo seungkwan felt right.

BONUS: can't get you off my mind | seungkwan

hiya friends! it's missing boo seungkwan hour ! ☹️ also, thank u so much for all the love that i've received from my other works! i read all the comments and all the tags— just know it fills me with so much love!

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