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b4rbi3l4nd · 6 months

Text

W E A K

pairing: satoru gojo x reader

• part 1

genre: undefined

tags/tw: angst, unfaithful!gojo??, homewrecker!reader??, cheating, implied smut, mature themes

word count: 3k+

I fantasize about it all the time if you were mine; I'd give this pussy to you 9-5, 5-9.

Shopping always made you feel better. After falling out of a 5 year relationship 3 weeks ago with your boyfriend you were heartbroken. You still remember the scene fresh in your head.

————————————————

You giggled at your friends jokes as you hopped out of her car and closed the door. You had just gotten back from a 1 week vacation with your friends and you were ready to get home to your boyfriend. You had seen an engagement ring in his office desk before your trip and you figured it was for you.

After all, who else would it be for?

You got off the elevator in your apartment building and opened the door quietly, throwing your bags on the floor and kicking your shoes off. Before you could check his home office, you heard movement in your bedroom.

“That must be him.” You thought.

Quietly creeping, you stopped dead in your tracks, hearing the sound of clapping and moans that sounded nothing like yours or your boyfriend. Your blood ran cold. It took his broken whimpers and the praises that dripped from his lips to snap you back to reality.

Those same whimpers and praises be claimed were only for you.

That whiny voice he swore belonged only for your ears.

It angered you. Clenching your fists, you swung the door open, the sight worse than you could ever imagined. Your heart broke more than you thought it would. Her legs wrapped around his waist as she laid below him, her fingernails clawing at his back, the hickeys that littered her neck.

A quiet sob left your lips as your boyfriend turned around, immediately going soft at the sight of you. You didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Babe—“

You didn’t let him finish, storming out. You paused at the front door and waited. He didn’t chase after you, he didn’t even attempt to. Your heart broke as you heard him apologizing to the woman in your bed and telling her “I love you.”

————————————————

“Listen, from the time a man says ‘I do’ till the day he die is a long time. At some point in time he will be presented with an opportunity and he’s going to take it.” Your friend, Shera, advised, placing a hand on your shoulder as your fingers absentmindedly pushed hangers on the clothing racks aside.

“Weed out the bad, it’s better he cheated now than when you guys were married, settled down with children.” She swore she was trying to cheer you up, making you look on the brighter side of things. Now you were single and had a toxic man out of your life.

Your eyes trailed up from the clothes on the rack after zoning out. Something catching your eye. You tilted your head to the side to get a better look.

Spotting the most beautiful man you’d ever seen in your life, you felt like all the broken pieces of your heart were suddenly repaired and ready for loving.

“___? ___..” Shera called out to you. Her eyes followed your line of sight, noticing what you were looking at.

“Damn…” both of you whispered at the same time, your eyes sparkling.

He had shades on but they rested on the bridge of his nose allowing you a peek of the most beautiful blue eyes you’d ever seen. You felt like you could get lost in that ocean. His white hair perfectly fell into place as he ran his fingers through his hair. He stuffed his hands in his jacket as he waited out of the victoria’s secret in the mall.

“___!” Your friend yelled out your name, finally snapping you out of your trance.

“Yea?” You whispered, turning your head to her, your eyes still on the man before you finally faced her.

She knew that look on your face. That’s the exact look you had when you first saw your ex boyfriend.

“Don’t.” She warned before you could even get a word in. “You just broke up with Derrick, you should heal before thrusting yourself into another relationship.” She said before turning around and looking at some of the panties on display. “Plus if he’s outside a victoria’s secret, he’s probably waiting for his girl or something.”

“What if he’s waiting for his sister,” You said in denial, your eyes trailing over to him again.

“No brother goes with their sister to Victoria’s Secret.” Shera snapped you out of your delusions, making you look away.

“But he’s so fine..” You whine, already fantasizing about him. It wasn’t even lustful like when you first met Derrick. You wondered how he smelled. He probably smelled good. He looked expensive, probably had money. You but your lip at the thought of him, a small smile creeping on your face.

“Look.” Shera turned you around, breaking your heart once more.

A woman ran up to him, her arms clinging around his shoulders as he held her bag, holding her waist and kissing her cheek.

She was beautiful, skunk stripe hair falling down to her waist, a small rosy blush dusting her cheeks as she held onto him. Her body proportions were crazy, her waist was basically invisible and she had the flattest stomach you’d ever seen.

You subconsciously clutched your waist, your eyes trailing down her body. You’ve probably seen her in a magazine or something, she was fitting to be a model.

“She’s not even that pretty…” You bitterly spat as Shera shook her head.

“Dont say that.” She said, bringing you back to your senses. “Dont be bitter and jealous ___”

“You’re right..” It wasn’t like you to bring down girls. You loved women. Anyone who met you would call you a girls girl so it wasn’t like you to bring down other women like that— especially the ones you didn’t know.

But to see her clinging onto him like that.

You shook your head, turning around and continued your shopping. Your eyes landed on on a red lingerie piece that came with matching knee high socks and satin gloves. You tilted your head to the side, deciding to buy it.

————————————————

A few weeks later, you hadn’t forgotten about him— even as much as you tried. You were mentally, physically weak for a man you never met. Just the memory of him brought you to your climax when you were lonely in your apartment.

And you knew it was wrong. He had a girlfriend. You were on a grocery run, absentmindedly walking through the aisles when you spotted a familiar head of white hair.

This was getting out of hand, now you were hallucinating. But when you saw him check his phone and grab some eggs from the fridge you knew he had to be real.

It must be destiny bringing you together. Yes. Fate.

You quietly observed from the ice cream aisle, pretending to be checking out the new flavors. Your knees went weak at the sight of him, you swore you were already wet.

How could he look even better than the last time you saw him?

He was wearing a compression shirt with gray sweatpants. You licked your lips as you watched him run his hands through his hair again.

Then the thought of his girlfriend crossed your mind and you sighed.

“Some people are just so lucky…” You mumbled to yourself, looking down at the floor. It wasn’t just you, other women in the store paused at the sight of him, staring him down like he was some celebrity.

You walked to the frozen foods section to grab some frozen pizza, just to buy something to keep your mind off him. You looked down, noticing only one box of meat lovers was left. You reached down to grab it, looking away from a split second and grabbing a hand instead.

“Huh—“ You looked down noticing someone else had been reaching for the pizza as well. Your eyes slowly traced up the arm as you slowly turned around and looked up to see the man who effortlessly invaded your thoughts every night.

He was so much more taller up close. He looked down at you with a small smile as he moved his hand away.

“I’m sorry, you can have it.” He politely said as you blinked at him, your heart felt like it was beating so fast.

He smelled so good, you wanted to trap the scent in a jar and use it as your supply of oxygen. He tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow at you.

Realizing you were staring, you quickly backed off, shaking you head. “I’m so sorry, I zoned out there..” You awkwardly chuckled as he shook his head, responding with a ‘no problem.’

His voice was so sultry, so deep, so seductive. He grabbed his cart, starting to leave when suddenly you called out to him.

“Wait—!” He paused and turned around to face you as you held up the frozen pizza. “You can have it, I’m not really a fan of pizza like that anyway.”

You were lying, you just wanted a reason to continue talking to him.

“You aren’t a fan of pizza?” He said in confusion, taking the frozen pizza out of your hands with a deep chuckle.

Your stomach did flip flops as you watched his adam’s apple bob up and down, his fingers brushing yours lightly.

You had butterflies in your stomach and vagina.

“I mean well I am but…uh you can just have it.“ You quietly said as he nodded, turning around again to leave.

You watched him disappear, not knowing what to say, you decided not to push it. He had a girlfriend, back off.

Plus you were still healing from your previous relationship.

But damn his voice did things to you.

You closed your legs shut, having to cut your grocery trip short as your panties were officially ruined.

————————————————

Another week later, you were at your friends birthday dinner.

“Happy birthday!” All your friends said in unison as Mya blew out her candles on her cake, you paused the video, giggling with your friends.

“___ I’m honestly so happy you were able to make it tonight,” Mya said, putting her hands over yours on the table.

You knew why.

The week after you ended things with Derrick you felt depressed. It was horrible, crying everyday. You were mad that you got cheated on. You were even more mad that you let yourself get cheated on and now you were crying over a man.

But you couldn’t help it. Derrick was your first love. He made you feel invincible, like you were the only woman in the world that mattered. Everything reminded you of him. He was great to you. You always thought he’d be your husband father of your kids forever.

You thought you were finally getting your happily ever after. You finally found your prince, you were finally going to experience that disney love. Unconditional. What you craved more than in the world.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

“I would never miss your special night Mya, and I’m seriously getting over him like I haven’t thought of him in weeks!” You said, ignoring that the reason was because another man was occupying your thoughts.

“I’m so glad you’re finally single,” Your friend Cash said. She had also gotten out of a relationship a few weeks before you. “We got our feelings hurt. We don’t have to pretend anymore.” A villainous smile littered her lips. “EVIL BITCHES!” She raised her glass up. “RISE UP!”

You all chuckled, some girls in the restaurant cheering her on as she downed her glass, all the women clapping and whooping, even the ones with their partners.

You chuckled and clapped at the sight.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry Mya. We’re so late.”

You heard a voice as you turned around, your heart dropping.

“It’s no worries Kaysia, seriously,” Mya said.

It was her. His girlfriend. Shera looked at you from across the table as she saw her.

She was even more gorgeous now that she had dressed up with her makeup done and everything. She had a little smudge on the side of her lip and you immediately knew why when a familiar face came into view.

He wiped the side of his lip with his finger as he smiled at Mya wishing her a happy birthday.

All the girls chuckled, realizing exactly why Kaysia had come late.

“Shi, I’d come late too..” Your friend Marie whispered to Cash as she chuckled.

The man spotted you next to Mya, tilting his head as if trying to remember your face before a small smile crept up in his face. It was a friendly one but to you— it felt like everything.

You shyly looked away as the two took a seat at the table.

“Guys, this is Kaysia and her boyfriend Satoru, I met her when she came in to my shop to get her nails done like a few weeks ago and we really hit it off.” Mya said, taking the gift Kaysia slid her on the table.

“Hi everyone,” Kaysia shyly said as Satoru reassuringly squeezed her shoulder, looking at her with so much love in his eyes.

Your friend group greeted her back as you looked down at your phone, not wanting to see their love displayed in your face.

God you were so delusional, your heart was already breaking.

A man you presumed to be your waiter came by again as Cash ordered another margarita. He looked at you, a small blush appearing on his face which did not go unnoticed by your friends.

You looked up from your phone as the waiter nervously looked away and stammered.

“W-would you ladies like anything else?” He said as your friends giggled and looked over at you.

He was good looking, no doubt and he looked wealthy. You cocked your head to the side.

“Are you the waiter?” Shera asked as he shook his head.

“Oh no, I’m the owner. I’m Suguru. I normally check in on groups who order private rooms for occasions like birthdays.” The man said as your friends looked around amused.

“You like her?” Cash said abruptly, pointing to you as the girls giggled. She was definitely the most forward out of all of you.

Suguru looked away, rubbing the back of his neck nervously as amused shrills leave the mouths of your friends.

Satoru sat quiet, turning to face you as you pretended not to see.

“Dont get all shy now mr. owner, I saw how you were looking at her.” Cash jokingly said as Suguru chuckled nervously.

“Would you ladies… and gentleman..like anything else?” Suguru said, looking at you with a small smile. “The next round of orders is on the house.”

All your friends giddily ordered the most expensive items, treating themselves as Suguru left.

“We can always count you to get us free stuff that’s for damn sure.” Marie said jokingly.

Notifications flooded your phone. Men dming you on instagram, twitter and more but you always turned them down.

Boys blowing up my phone but it just ain’t you.

Your eyes darted to Satoru who took a sip of his drink, ordering with his girlfriend.

That night, he was all you could think of. You couldn’t even properly celebrate your friend and you felt horrible for it.

As you stepped out of the restaurant, you felt an arm grab your hand.

“Hey can I get your number?”

You turned around only to be met face to face with Kaysia. You put a friendly smile on your face as you nodded.

“Sure of course,” You said, taking out of your phone.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to get to know everyone.” She awkwardly chuckled as she saved you in her phone. “You’re super pretty,” She complimented as you made your smile wider.

“Ah thank you, so are you.” You chuckled as she smiled. Satoru’s hands snaked around her waist as he dug his face into her neck.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked, glancing up at you for a split second before looking back at his girlfriend.

“Yea,” She said, giggling as he kissed her neck and led her to his car, leaving you to watch.

Tried to behave but I’m feeling some typa way— that just ain’t me.

————————————————

You had actually gotten close to Kaysia in the few months you spent together, getting to know Satoru a bit too whenever you hung out at her place.

You tried to ignore how you subconsciously dressed up whenever you knew he’d be somewhere. How his name was the one you screamed and moaned at night as you succumbed to your fingers or vibrators. How your whole day seemed to shine brighter whenever you noticed his gaze lingering on you a few seconds too long.

You felt like Cassie off euphoria, desperately trying to please and impress a man that wasn’t yours.

And you felt horrible for it.

Because Kaysia was just too sweet and nice but you couldn’t help but feel attracted her boyfriend.

————————————————

One night, you were cleaning up in your apartment when you heard your phone ringing. Walking over to the living room, you picked it up, unexpectedly met with sobs.

“…Kaysia..?” You asked through the phone as she sniffed.

“We got into an argument,” She said through her cries, her voice hoarse and heartbroken. “And he left, he said he wanted to take a break,” She sobbed, breaking down.

“Kaysia I..I’m so sorry..” You sympathized through the phone. You knew the feeling. Hearing her sobs reminded you of how you were when you ended things with Derrick.

But worst of all you hated yourself in that very moment.

You hated how your heart fluttered at the good news. How a small smile appeared on your lips that you tried to suppress.

“Can I come over..?” Kaysia asked, sniffing. “I really don’t want to be alone right now…” She whimpered.

“Kaysia I..” You started.

“Actually nevermind..I don’t want to impose, I’m already venting to you right now.” She stifled her sobs. “I’ll go over to Mya’s tonight but can I come over tomorrow?”

“Of course, come whenever you want Kaysia.” You say as you hang up the call.

You bit your lip, holding back the growing smile.

“Fuck.”

You cursed as you found yourself opening up his contact on your phone.

The only reason you had it was because Kaysias phone had died one night when a drunk driver hit Satoru’s car.

You were the first one she called with his phone so you could pick them up. You were so glad they were unharmed that night.

He didn’t text you, why would he? You were just his girlfriends friend. You guys didn’t even talk enough for you to text him.

I could never do anything like that.

You tried to talk yourself out of sending the text but failed miserably. “It’s just…a simple text, not like Im hitting on him or anything…” You justified your actions as you pressed send.

You: You okay?

You thought you’d die staring at your phone intently, waiting for a text back. It felt like forever when you saw those 3 bubbles pop up.

Satoru 💕: Huh?

Satoru 💕: You’re Kaysia’s friend right?

You tried to ignore the fact that you probably weren’t saved in his phone and he only knew you as Kaysia’s friend.

You: Uh yeah, ____

You: I was just checking if you were okay, I heard abt you and Kaysia

You: I know how bad breakups can be

Satoru 💕: We’re not broken up

Satoru 💕: Just on a break

‘This was hopeless’ You thought before checking yourself even more clearly.

Why was I even doing this?

‘Was I a horrible person for this? Trying to hit on my friends boyfriend?’ You thought to yourself as you threw your phone on your couch and groaned.

You heard your phone vibrate and waited a few minutes before picking it up tiredly and looking at the notification.

Satoru 💕: I’m coming over

You shot up at the text, confused but also excited as a smile found a way on your lips.

You: What?

Satoru 💕: Kaysia sent me your address a few days ago

Satoru 💕: I’m coming over to pick up my hoodies she left at your place.

You had no recollection of this. I mean, you know Kaysia left some of her clothes her but it never occurred to that some could be Satoru’s.

If you knew, God if you knew, you would’ve definitely found yourself smelling them while you humped your vibrator at night.

You: Yea sure

You tried to hide the excitement as you threw your phone on the couch, rushing up to your bedroom to get ready, all common sense leaving your head as you drowned in your fantasies of him.

Your friend’s boyfriend.

You put on your satin pajamas. The shorts were so short it basically showed the bottom part of your ass. You unbuttoned the top buttons, pushing them apart to reveal some cleavage. You moisturized your lips, sprayed some perfume and stuck some gum underneath your tongue.

You were checking yourself out in the mirror, making sure you looked good when suddenly the doorbell to your apartment rang.

You rushed downstairs, slowly down as you dimmed the lights in your living room, quietly approaching the door and opening it.

In front of you stood the man your 2 lips called out for every night. The man didnt even need to be present to bring you to your climax faster than your ex ever could. The main that constantly gave you wet dreams.

He looked so good standing in front of your door, hands in his sweatpants as he looked at you. He had the gray sweats, black compression shirt combo on again as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Can I come in?”

Those words you’ve been dying to hear from those same sultry lips for months now.

“Yea of course,” You stepped aside and he quietly walked in, closing the door behind him.

“I didn’t know Kaysia brought your stuff over so I didn’t exactly know what to look for,” You chuckled nervously as you led him to the living room.

“That’s alright,” He said, shrugging. “You’ve got a nice apartment,” He said, looking up at the high ceilings.”

“Thanks,” You turned around to face him as he looked down at you, the dim lights looking so good with his features.

You two stared at each other, subconsciously inching closer.

Satoru didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was because his break with Kaysia was too abrupt for him to process properly. Maybe it was how their argument left him feeling touch starved. Maybe it was just the fact that he found you incredibly attractive this entire time.

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter in this moment as he found his hand snaking around your waist and his finger bringing your chin up to his face.

Your eyes closed as you leaned him and he pressed his lips on yours, his hands moving down to grope your rear.

“Damn…”

taglist: @atalentedwriter

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk #jjk x reader #romance

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bisexualalienblast · 3 years

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lover, oh my lover

i know i'm not easy to understand

for @lambourngb

#malex #Michael guerin #Alex manes #roswell new mexico #roswellnmedit #malexedit #michaelguerinedit #alexmanesedit #mygifs #malexgifs #songedits #tvgifs #lgbtgif #long post #I had a theme for this and it fell apart but w/e #this song changed my life #passenger #sandstorm

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spideybb · 2 years

Note

Could I request an Adam Cole x male reader Christmas hc where Adam tries to get the male reader under the mistletoe

what it would be like if adam cole had a crush on you (holiday edition)

absolutely! thank you so much for the request! i hope you enjoy it <3 i did take sort of creative liberty with this one so i hope this is what you’re looking for!

masterlist

okokok for this headcanon? roommate!adam cole

adam loves christmas

he loves it so much

you like it too, just not as much as he does

when he finds out you don’t share the same love for christmas as he does, he becomes 100% determined to change your mind

he decorates the whole apartment

the w h o l e apartment

you come home from work one day and BAM! it’s a winter wonderland

he also hung up mistletoes in every every doorway

he thinks you wouldn’t notice

you 100% notice

adam hasn’t exactly been discreet about his crush on you

but that’s okay because you feel the same

he’s a god who wouldn’t oh my god

he tries SO hard to get you under the mistletoes he hung up too

it’s almost comical

you decided to have a little fun with him

you avoided EVERY doorway

eventually adam stops trying

it makes you sad, maybe you should’ve kissed the poor boy

adam started to think you noticed the mistletoes and that you just didn’t feel the same way he did

maybe he doesn’t swing that way, he had thought to himself after he caught you avoiding walking under the doorway immediately after him

you start dropping small hints that you do, in fact, “swing” that way after you noticed he stopped trying to catch you under the mistletoe

“he’s so attractive,” you said one night while the two of you were watching a movie

adam perked up next to you

that one comment somehow managed to give him his confidence back

it’s not like people have man crushes but it’s okay just roll with it we love adam

the next time adam lured you into the doorway, you decided to give in

you had done enough teasing

“hey y/n, can you come here a sec? this garland fell. need some help getting it back up,” adam called

you walked out of the kitchen to see him holding the garland that he had hung over the door to his bedroom

you grabbed one side of it as adam grabbed the other and helped him hang it back up

adam smiled, his hands dropping to his sides once the two of you had rehung it up

“y/n,” adam said, grabbing your wrist as you started to walk away

“hm?” you replied and adam pointed to the mistle toe that was hanging above the two of you

“huh. guess we gotta kiss,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders

adam seemed caught off guard by your bluntness

you shrugged again, cupping his face in one hand and pulling him in for a swift kiss

when the two of you pulled away from each other, adam was speechless

you smiled

“you’ve been trying to do that for weeks, haven’t you?”

“you noticed?”

you nodded and laughed

after the first mistletoe kiss, you made sure you gave adam a kiss every time the two of you found yourself in a doorway in your apartment

adam also plans lots of cute holiday themed dates

ice skating, hot chocolate and movies, christmas cookies, etc

once the holidays end, you feel a bit bummed

“sooo...you like the holidays now?”

you nodded your head

you couldn’t wait for next year if every christmas with adam was gonna be like this year’s

join my taglist to be tagged in all my new posts!

#spideybb's requests #anon #adam cole #adam cole nxt #adam cole wwe #adam cole aew #adam cole imagine #adam cole headcanon #adam cole fluff #adam cole angst #adam cole smut #adam cole x reader #wwe imagines #nxt imagines #aew imagines #adam cole fic

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eroslove88 · 3 years

Text

Lord Give Me Strength

✧Pairing: Yandere!Shigaraki x Fem!Reader

✧Warnings: non-con, gagging (just one part), fisting, mentioned death (not major though), threatening, humiliation, mentions of stalking, public-ish, hinted kidnapping, and yandere themes

✧Note: Random ass thought I had on Wednesday so I decided to write it down hope y'all enjoy!

Another Sunday morning, like most Sundays you spent an hour at church. There were different masses but you always attended the one from 12 pm - 1 pm. This one wasn't far from your apartment but it wasn't close either, well from what Shigaraki could tell you only attended because of 'family'.

Like always the church started with a simple, "Good Morning" then you'd all say it back. You'd hate to admit the mass was boring, but family comes first. About 15 minutes in one of the confession room lights turned on. Even well into being an adult your dad still had to nudge you to get your attention to the red light.

With a sigh you walked over to the door with a silver plate at the top that read, "Father Gonzalez". Since you were the only one there you went in closing the door behind you and covering the window in the confession room for privacy. This confession room wasn't like normal confession boxes, it had a wall with a small curtain covering the window where the priest was on the other side, a cushion to kneel on, a table with holy water and a rosary on it behind where the priest sat and a chair right in between the small wall separating you two.

Kneeling you made a cross with your thumb and index finger and began to persinarte (cross one's self, felt weird to say it in English) , "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was last week" you said quietly bowing your head to the closed curtain. Silently you waited for the priest to say something from Holy Scripture but, "Father Gonzalez?" you asked looking up at the curtain.

"What's your name?" a scratchy voice asked from behind the red curtain. This wasn't Father Gonzalez's voice, but even though this should've been alarming you wrote it off as a cold.

"Y/N, Y/N L/N" you said quietly. He's never asked for your name. Nor was he supposed to but here you were just telling this man anyways. Besides you've known him for ever, he's worked here for years. Maybe he was getting Alzheimer's, he was pretty old.

You were about to say something when a dry pale-ish hand with long nails came out from behind the curtain and grabbed a fistful of your hair with his middle finger up pulling you into a deep one sided kiss. The kiss muffled your screams and protests as you tried to push away. But when you opened your eyes you didn't see black ones staring back, but ruby red ones along with light blue hair. He let go and you threw yourself back disconnecting the string of saliva connecting both of your lips.

Scrambling to get up but a hand got the collar of your dress shirt and pulled you back dragging you backwards and pushing you hard onto the baidge wall. You let out a scream only for two long skinny fingers to stop it making you gag on them as they reached your throat, "Don't you dare throw up on them you slutty bitch" he threatened. Now the voice sounded familiar, it was The League of Villain's leader, Shigaraki. "Scream and I'll kill you" he threatened whispering into your ear as he slowly started pulling out his fingers.

Everything was going to fast before you knew it your body was bent over the table knocking over what ever was on there. Shigaraki had one hand gripping your hair and the other hand decaying your skirt, "Stop i-it please" you whispered begging and praying that he didn't drop his last finger. Of course you weren't going to scream especially since one of Japan's most wanted criminals had you in the palm of his hand.

You were only human so you couldn't stop a choked sob from escaping as you felt a skinny wet finger enter your slightly wet pussy. It had caught you off guard so you began gripping the wooden table- but thats when you noticed the pile of dust in the corner, "You want to end up like that priest?" he asked yanking you by your hair so you could face him. Furiously you shook your head but couldn't help but let out a broken moan feeling another finger enter you. Hearing some mumbles of concern from outside made your face turned a darker shade of read and you couldn't stop crying. "Aww is my baby embarrassed?" he asked before licking your salty tears off your red face.

Of course you were but you didn't say anything just whimpered as he added a 3rd finger.

"I said" he paused with a chuckle, "IS MY LITTLE BITCH EMBARRASSED ABOUT ME FISTING HER CUNT!" did he just? He had yelled it out and now you heard the talking getting louder and more concerned voices.

"Y-yes" you whispered as more tears ran down your face making you see a blurry wall.

"I wouldn't have to be this cruel if you had just been obedient the first time" he muttered as he set and eager pace pulling them in and out repeatedly. Slowly you closed your eyes trying to distract yourself from here but this didn't go unnoticed of course, "Eye's open! Nothing's getting you out of this" Shigaraki said pulling your hair your you were facing him.

"Oh god" you said threw gritted teeth feeling another finger enter, "S-stop you'll kill me"

"I'll try not to slip but that all depends of you" his tone had no pity he was serious about this. Your arms and legs were shaking you didn't know how long you could hold yourself before you collapsed. The four fingers went in until the knuckles were out of sight and left one finger out which he bent into his palm and went in with the other four easily.

"S-stop ngh- pleas-" you begged but stopped with a loud moan forgetting there was a mass going on outside when he curled his fingers and hit a certain spot.

"Why would I do that when you seem to be enjoying this" you knew he was referring to dripping core. "Besides I'm guessing I've already hit your sweet spot" he wasn't wrong but you couldn't enjoy this, right? This was definitely wrong.

Pulling you by your hair closer he kissed your tears with chuckle as you whimpered at his now fast pace. It was only getting faster though, the sound of your juices being heard loudly throughout the quiet room. The prayers from outside are what made you remembered where you were, "Pray for me" he demanded still going in and out.

"Ha~ Hail, Holy Queen" you started while sweat was dripping down your red face, "M-Mother of m-m-mercy, our life, our sw-sweetness and our hope" his sweet sadistic grin on his chapped lips only growing with each sentence, "To thee who we cry, p-poor banished children of E-E-Eve" you were getting closer to your climax and just wanted this to end and go home. "T-to thee- ngh, fuck fuck fuck don't stop"

"Finish your prayer" he demanded slowing down to your displeasure.

"Do we s-send u-u-p our our sighs" god you were desperate now even stuttering and repeating words just to cum on his dirty hand, "M-mourning and w-weeping valley of TEARS" you exclaimed when he went in deeper that evem his wrist was gone. "Turn then most gracious A-ahh~ Advocate, th-thine eyes of mer-mercy toward us, and and after this our exile," you were almost done with this nightmare. Just that thought alone made you cry happy tears, "sh-sh-show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus fuck!" one mote sentence then home free, "O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary!" you said quickly then sighed out a quiet, "amen"

With a loud cry of his name you came on his hand. Finally when he removed his hand licking it clean you fell onto your knees laying your head calmly on the brown table feeling tired and worn out.

You looked over with last energy to a blurry Shigaraki while he took out his what looked like his phone and called someone and all you could make out was, "Kurogiri" the address and then, you saw black.

#tw yandere #bnha yandere #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #bnha smut #mha smut #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #tomura shiragaki #tw kidnapping #yandere mha #yandere shigaraki #shigaraki x y/n #yandere tomura

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luvksj · 3 years

Text

yandere!btob: finding you months later after you escaped

author’s pov: heyyo it’s me again! just wanted to let you know that i don’t plan on stopping the yandere!btob spam any time soon and expect a lot more stories with a similar theme. maybe i’ll do another group like super junior or clc that don’t have any stories with these types of themes... idk.

what do you guys want to see? please don’t be afraid to tell me. anyways enjoy the story, thank you for always supporting me. ps: let’s think of this story as the successful version to ‘trying to escape’!

WARNING: strong use of violence, cursing ahead. if you feel uncomfortable with themes of stalkers/stalking, violence, obsession, yandere aus, manipulation, torture etc or mentions of blood, killing, death, torture, kidnapping or anything similar please DO NOT read this story!

plot: you succeeded in escaping them but that doesn’t mean it’ll last long.

e u n k w a n g

- you were trapped in a toxic relationship for nearly your whole with a someone who could be the definition of a psychopathic demon

- he was manipulative, possessive and controlling

- at first he was one of the sweetest, goofiest, kindest, caring and loving person which you fell for but he did a full 180 and showed his true colors

- you couldn’t do anything without his permission otherwise he’d beat you until you were on the verge of death

- no matter how many times you tried to escape, he’d somehow find you and forcefully bring you back ‘home’ where he would mercilessly punish you

- but this time, you had carefully calculated each and every step, you were determined to escape this time

- you built up his trust and he decided to foolishly trust you to stay home alone for two days while he dealt with an issue at work

- that’s when you escaped, vanished without a trace and you couldn’t help but scream in utter delight when you realized that you had succeeded for once

- tears of pure joy and happiness cascaded down your cheeks as you were finally free of him

- six months had passed and you had settled down comfortably with your new life

- you had got a good paying job and everything in your life was finally right for once

- however this ‘fantasy dream’ was destroyed one day

- walking home from work, you reached your apartment and noticed that the door was unlocked, knowing fully well that you always lock the door before you leave for work every day

- a bad feeling pools in your stomach and you contemplate whether or not to open the door

- unfortunately a voice interrupts your mental debate, “jagiya! i know you’re there!”

- everything suddenly stopped, you couldn’t believe it, he had found you and you were now in danger

- slowly backing away, you try to run but a hand grabs your wrist and throws you harshly against the wall

- it was him, you were hoping this was all a nightmare but it wasn’t

- eunkwang had spent every second of the past six months searching for you and he finally got news that you were hiding out in jeju

- he immediately went there and using his charm, he found your apartment and waited there for you

- he had vowed to himself that he’ll never let you out of his sights again

“I finally found you after so long... why did you leave me?! Nevermind, I found you and now I’ll never let you out of my sight ever again.”

m i n h y u k

- let’s be honest for a moment, it was a real miracle you managed to even to get out of the house, let alone escape his clutches

- minhyuk had caged you like an animal inside his big mansion which was hidden in depths of forest so you couldn’t escape

- plus he had hired 24/7 security so there was really no hope in you even being able to leave without being noticed

- however, you needed to try because you couldn’t live like this anymore and let him control you like you belonged to him

- you were not a possession he could own and so you started planning your escape

- minhyuk was possessive and aggressive

- he’d get angry at anyone even talking or touching you thinking you were cheating on him so he’d punish both you and the person

- everyone knew you belonged to him because he’d always say it, “she’s mine! hands off her!”

- by some god blessed miracle, you managed to escape this prison while he was away for the day

- after kissing him up, he decided to let his guard down for once and trusted you home alone

- as soon as he left, you escaped by finding his little notebook containing all the passcodes to every single door and gate

- packing a bag and caught a bus to anywhere far away from that torture chamber

- you couldn’t believed you had actually escaped him and silently celebrated as you arrived at the new place you would call home

- four months later, you had settled down and found yourself a job, working in a cafe near the apartment you had brought

- right now, everything was going well in your life

- one day, you were working when you spotted a horrifying sight and nearly screamed as it came closer to you

- minhyuk destroyed everything in his path when he realized you had succeeded in escaping him despite doing everything to keep you caged up with him

- he was angry and nearly killed the entire security team he hired for being incompetent at their jobs

- everyday he’d search for you, leaving corner unturned, he didn’t care how long it would take, he will find you

- his persistence and determination finally paid off when he had just finished making rounds when he spotted a familiar figure inside a cafe

- he stormed inside and he tried to grab your wrist but you managed to evade him

- running off, he continued chasing you and once he caught you, you will never be able to leave his side again

“Stop playing these games right now, jagi! You will always belong to me no matter what!”

c h a n g s u b

- changsub was someone you met while at school, he was in most of your classes

- both of you got on really well but you failed to notice all the warning signs people gave you about him and accepted his confession

- that’s when your life became hell

- he was manipulative, possessive and clingy

- you couldn’t do anything without his permission and most of the time he’d say no to you

- if you dared disobey him, he’d punish you until you cried for him to stop or you just passed out

- he wasn’t the changsub you grew to like, the changsub you knew was the complete opposite of this one

- the changsub you knew was kind, sweet, funny, bubbly, outgoing, caring and everything you could ask for in a boyfriend but this one... he made your life a living hell

- one day, you couldn’t take it anymore and after gaining his trust, you fled when he went away for a week for work purposes

- he trusted you home alone but you took that opportunity to escape this demon’s grasp

- you even left korea and moved to [choose a country] where you could rebuild the disaster that is your life

- nine months had passed and you were confident he wouldn’t find you

- you had settled down nicely in the country and found yourself a job which kept a roof over your head, food in your body and paid your bills

- however, that luck unfortunately ran thin one day because by coincidence changsub had a meeting in [your chosen country]

- when changsub came home and found out you had succeeded in escaping him, he was livid

- how dare you leave him? he didn’t give you permission to do that

- changsub searched all over korea for you but you were no where in sight and he was getting frustrated because you were really testing his patience

- nine months had passed and he had a meeting in [your chosen country], he had hoped you would be there so he could bring you back

- after his meeting, he decided to drive around and by fate he saw you walking from work

- “oooh baby!” he sang out and you froze, you hoped it was a hallucination but when a pair of familiar tattooed arms wrapped tightly around you... it was him

- while hugging you tightly, he whispered some words into your ear and silently promised himself that he would never let this happen again

“Baby I was so worried! Let’s go home now where I’ll make sure you never act so foolishly ever again...”

h y u n s i k

- you vanished without a trace one night while you both were out celebrating his current achievement at work

- he latched firmly by your side and informed you not to walk off without him

- however little did he know you had something else planned... for a while now and tonight would be the only chance to execute it

- again, when you guys met he was a different person, the person you fell in love with not this monster

- that hyunsik was shy, reserved, full of adorable charm and the sweetest person you probably ever met within your existence

- once you guys began dating, he suddenly changed into this possessive, clingy and controlling monster who believed he had total control over you

- he decides what you can or cannot do, what you can or cannot wear, you’re his little muse and he loves showing you off to any and every one he meets

- you have had enough with this behavior and wanted to free yourself but you knew that wasn’t going to be easy

- luckily, you had been a good girl and gained his trust enough for him to take you to this celebration, honoring him for all his hard work

- he didn’t let you attend such events because he didn’t like people staring at you because you were a lovely piece of candy in a pack of hungry wolves

- while everyone was mingling, you excused yourself saying you needed to go to the bathroom and he thankfully let you since he was talking with some important people

- that’s when you disappeared and ran to your awaiting ride, you disappeared to a small village completely off the grid

- three months later and you had completely settled down, working as a farmer for an elderly couple, tending to their luscious garden full of vegetables

- you were confident he’d never find you here but hyunsik isn’t the one to give up so easily

- once hyunsik realized you hadn’t returned from the bathroom, he got a bad feeling and stormed inside the girls bathroom ignoring people’s screams

- you were nowhere to be seen despite his security team triple checking the venue, he realized you had run off and was incredibly pissed that he let something like this happen

- the happiest moment in his life turned out to be the worst moment because his babygirl had betrayed him

- everyday he would look for you and unfortunately you were nowhere to be seen despite sending out search teams

- one day, one of his security guards notified him of someone resembling you who was living in a quiet village and he immediately drove there

- returning home from work, you immediately sensed something wrong and turned around to see a figure following you

- a bad feeling settled in your stomach and you quickened your pace but this person was faster

- they immediately pin you against a wall in an alleyway, taking off their disguise to reveal the one person you didn’t want to see again

- hyunsik maliciously grinned, trailing a finger against your cheek and you tried pushing him off but this angered him even more

- tightening his grip, he dragged you back to his car and threw you inside before driving off

“You’re really something else, huh? When did my babygirl become so naughty and disobey me huh? When we get home, I’ll show you what happens to naughty little girls who disobey their master.”

p e n i e l

- peniel, oh sweet peniel, this two-faced bastard was the reason you hated life and your motivation to escape this wicked world known as your relationship.

- on the outside, he was sweet, kind-hearted, down-to-earth, laid-back, caring... everything you could possibly want in a boyfriend. this gained him tons of contacts all over the world.

- that’s how you guys also met, you came to korea for an exchange program and he was assigned to look after you.

- he looked after you, attended to your every needs and this blinded you to see his real side, believing he was just a precious little puppy but oh boy did he prove you wrong.

- while spending time with you, he developed a fondness which turned drastically into an obsession. he didn’t want you to leave, you were his and no-one elses so he kidnapped you.

- that started the worst three-years of your life.

- you were kept tightly sealed in a room and you weren’t allowed to even open the door otherwise he’d think you were trying to leave him.

- you craved freedom from this clingy, possessive, two-faced bastard so you kissed him up while pushing your pride to the side and interacted with him when he came for his daily chats.

- peniel trusted you to roam freely around the house, thinking you would never escape because he had contacts everywhere from korea to antartica. but you were a determined little girl.

- so once he left you to your devices, you vanished without a trace by meticulously planning this escape everyday until it was perfect.

- fast forward two months later and your luck ran thin.

- when peniel came home and noticed you were nowhere to be seen, he panicked then literally tore the house down out of anger, anxiety, frustration and guilt.

- how dare you leave him, you were his to begin with and spent every day searching for you and used every single contact he had but came back with negative results.

- but he finally found you after a contact spotted you and raced there, determined to catch you before you could flee again.

- you had sought shelter in new zealand because you believed no-one would find you here.

- settling down, you stayed at a hotel while working as a cleaner at a nearby school and even though it barely covered your expenses, you continued working hard cleaning.

- oh but you were wrong because two months later, you had finished cleaning and got changed into normal clothes, waving goodbye to your colleagues and caught a bus home to your hotel.

- when your stop came, you exited off the bus and didn’t even bother to pay attention to the person dressed in all black, watching you with hawk-eyes.

- that person immediately grabbed you and pinned you harshly against the side of the bus station, you tried screaming for help but once the person revealed himself, you went quiet.

- how did he find you, you were sure that you were well-hidden but fate had other plans for you.

- peniel sweetly smiled at you but you could see his true intentions behind that facade, besides you were in a public place after all and he didn’t want to ruin his public image.

- once you guys were inside his car, he’d drop his facade and his true demeanor would show, silently promising himself that he’d never let this happen again.

- “Baby! I was so worried about you! Why did you do that?! Don’t do that again... otherwise you’ll reap even harsher consequences...”

i l h o o n

- it wasn’t hard to see that ilhoon was different from the rest.

- he didn’t hide behind a ‘fake persona’, he showed you and everyone who he was immediately by claiming you as his.

- everyday, he would remind people what belongs to him and what will happen if someone dares to even touch you, he didn’t mind demonstrating the consequences to everyone.

- you hated how he dictated your life like some video game character. he choose what you could do and if you dared to disobey him, your punishment was severe because ‘bad girls deserve to be punished.’

- there was no chance in you escaping because he was attached to your hip 24/7, 365. he wasn’t taking any chances of you trying something so foolish because you belonged to him. end of story.

- however, you decided to take a chance and escape him while he decided to trust you by yourself while he was being pulled into a ‘last-minute’ meeting.

- there was security guards and cameras everywhere so ilhoon believed you wouldn’t get far but he didn’t know that you had been carefully looking for every blind spot of every security camera while waiting for him to finish his first meeting.

- once those doors closed, you took off and evaded both his security cameras and guards by making up some sort of stupid but believable excuse.

- you cheered loudly as the taxi took off and his taunting black car wasn’t following you, knowing you had successfully escaped the clutches of a psychopathic beast.

- seven months later, you resided in an unknown part of korea and decided to go by a fake name to keep your identity a secret, you got a boring office job that paid your bills.

- on the other hand, ilhoon was livid when he returned to his office, hoping for his precious babygirl to be waiting for him since the meeting went terribly and craved for your embrace but you were nowhere in sight.

- he wasn’t gone for that long?! how did you manage to escape him in such a short amount of time?!

- ilhoon destroyed his office in anger and then continued his path of destruction on his lousy security team that bowed their heads low while ilhoon continued going off at them for failing to do their jobs.

- everyday he searched for you, he didn’t give two damns about his health, you were more important and he’d be damned if something so little prevented him from looking for you.

- by this point, ilhoon looked awful. he had nearly died from malnourishment if his private doctor didn’t physically force food down his throat and he spent that time thinking about how he could be searching for you than eating food.

- one day, his tactics finally paid off when one of his security guards announced that he had found you after spending all afternoon looking for you and found you walking home after work.

- ilhoon immediately raced to your location and grinned sinisterly, knowing once he reached you, he would never let you out of his sight again.

- you were oblivious that your crazy boyfriend had found you until you were walking home one day and spotted an oh-so-familiar black lamborghini following.

- you tried sprinting in the opposite direction but ilhoon pulled his window down and grabbed your arm tightly, digging his nails into your wrist.

- struggling, he looks at you beneath his sunglasses and you noticed his new appearance. ilhoon stepped out of the car, briefly letting go of your wrist but he just as quickly pinned you against his car.

- caressing your face, he smiled at your terrified expression and once you both got home, he’d punish you to remind you who you fucking belong too.

“Boo! I found you jagi! I’ve been searching for you every single day and now that this stupid game of hide and seek is finished, I’ll make sure you know what happens to things that belong to me disappearing.”

s u n g j a e

- from the first time sungjae laid eyes on you, he knew that he wanted you all for himself and once he set his mind to something... no-one could stop him.

- sungjae manipulated his way into your life by spreading fake rumors about those around you and acted like any best friend should by comforting you,

- then once everyone was out of the way, he revealed his true colors and kept you locked up inside his house while manically smiling because he had once again succeeded in getting what he wanted.

- you hated yourself for blindly believing him but how could you not, he was charming, sweet, kind, innocent, adorable and it wasn’t hard to not believe what he was say.

- he liked coming home from work everyday and just cuddling with you but you refused this act of love so many times that it set him off so he decided to punish you for disobeying him.

- once he realized that you weren’t budging, he started manipulating you by playing victim and making you feel guilty... which worked for sometime until you started realizing the game he was playing.

- it disgusted you how your best friend was actually this manipulative, clingy monster underneath that facade that everyone fell for and you were determined in escaping his clutches.

- however, it would be challenging since he knew where you were every second of the day and kept tabs on you. however you were also incredibly stubborn and determined so you crafted a perfect plan and got to work.

- pushing your dignity and pride aside for once, you started gaining his trust and made him believe you were finally ready to be a ‘good girl’ and sungjae fell for it.

- one day, he trusted you alone for a day as his work needed him to handle something important.

- as soon as he disappeared, you smirked before grabbing your belongings and ditched the place, laughing as you had just played him at his own game, mentally applauding yourself.

- five months later and you had hidden yourself in daegu, working at a secluded cafe as a barista.

- you were happy that you escaped the devil’s clutches but sungjae on the other hand was angry, livid... all other synonyms to those words.

- he came home so happy that the important thing at work went so well and he wanted to come home to you waiting for him then spend the entire night cuddling.

- but imagine his surprise when you’re no where to be seen and he realized that you had just played him at his own game, making him incredibly mad that he fell for it.

- the next months were spent hunting you down but even his most trusted resources couldn’t find you making him even more agitated and angry that you were really testing his patience.

- sungjae made it real clear that you belonged to him and even got rid of everyone who posed as a threat to him, so why did you leave him?

- one day, his work sent him to daegu and he was walking alone in the streets when he coincidentally looked across the street into a cafe.

- he instantly recognized your figure and made a bee line for the cafe, happy he finally found you and order his special drink, stating clearly that he wanted you to deliver it to him.

- you found this request unusual but as you made the drink, you got a bad feeling about this person who ordered this drink and your suspicions were confirmed when you delivered it.

- placing down the drink, the person looks up and sungjae smiles mockingly, his usual charming smile would make butterflies appear but in your case, your anxiety just went haywire.

- was it a coincidence? you had taken extra measures to ensure he’d never find you. so why did fate just decide to rain on your parade.

- sungjae grabbed your wrist, pulling you down to his height and leaned closer to whisper something in your ear, making your blood freeze.

- “I see you like playing games and I must applaud you for playing me with my own game. But now, I will be taking you home where I’ll show you whose boss here.”

b t o b

- i’ll be honest for a moment, you should really applaud yourself because you managed to escape despite having seven possessive, manipulative, clingy, aggressive yandere boyfriends.

- at first, you were a back-up dancer for them and they took an immediate liking towards you which turned into an obsession because you were everything they wanted in a girlfriend.

- when they confessed, you tried declining stating you weren’t interested in pursuing a relationship right now but that went in one ear and out the other.

- this started the downfall of your life and you were miserable because you had been trapped in something that you couldn’t escape. btob had done a real 180 from the idols MELODYs loved to something so horrific that it made you cry.

- people around you started noticing the sudden shift in your mood and despite trying to put up a ‘happy’ front, some could see through the cracks.

- btob on the outside were those loveable beagle idols that everyone loved: cheeky, sweet, kind-hearted, quirky, funny and outging. but when they were with you (alone), they turned into cold, manipulative, possessive, clingy people.

- you already knew no-one would believe you if you told them about what btob is really like and they’d say you were making things up. so you had to take matters into your own hands.

- for months, you sucked up your pride and acted like that ‘perfect little girl’ they loved and gained each member’s trust slowly but surely.

- eventually, they trusted you to stay home alone while they went on tour. they were certain you wouldn’t try anything because there were security cameras operating in the dorm 24/7.

- waving goodbye, you grinned as you put your plan into motion and fled after a couple of days of waiting it out since they would be constantly checking the cameras.

- disabling all security cameras, you brought a plane ticket and took your small stash of belongings and left korea altogether.

- one year later, you were happily settled down in canada and were confident that they wouldn’t find you because you had gone extra measures to ensure this.

- as you lived your happy life, btob were not happy. they realized something was wrong after looking at the cameras only for them to not be turned on and returned back to realize you had escaped.

- btob were livid, frustrated, angry, disappointed and slightly impressed that you escaped. they turned korea upside down trying to find you but failed because you weren’t even in the country.

- you were really testing their patience. you belonged to them so what gave you the right to leave them? and how dare you betray them like this!

- one day, btob found you by a mircale since a MELODY posted a blurry picture of you in canada and they immediately flew over.

- however, you were spending your free day from work exploring canada when you received a phone call from a phone number you immediately recognized.

- panicking, you decline it and look around you but you couldn’t see them. however another recognizable number called, you again ignore it knowing you’re testing their patience.

- they don’t relent and eventually you answer it, whimpering slightly at the sudden harsh voice emitted, “jagiya... stop playing these games and come home right now.” changsub demanded.

- you tried running off but sungjae’s chuckle made you stop, “don’t try running jagi. we already have you cornered.” looking up, there stood your 4 of your boyfriends at the end of the street, disguised wearing coats, hats and masks.

- frozen on your spot, you turn around only to see the other three blocking off the other exit, leaving you trapped.

- approaching your trembling figure, minhyuk and ilhoon grabbed your wrists tightly which prevented you from escaping. eunkwang crouched in front of you smiling mockingly.

- behind those disguises, you knew that sinister intentions awaited you and there was no way they would ever trust you again.

- “Thank god we found you! We really have to thank MELODYs for helping us find you otherwise you’d still be running loose. Now, let’s go home where we’ll never let you go again...”

I’m sorry for not posting in a while, been having a road block of ideas. Anyway here you go, sorry if it’s shit.

#btob scenarios #btob imagines #btob reactions #btobyandere #btob #btob4u #btobblue #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #kpop imagines #kpop yandere #kpop #yandereau

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t-o-m-hollands · 3 years

Text

T H E

P A R I S

C H R O N I C L E S

Warnings: Smoking, drinking and smut in the other chapters. This is set in Nice in the 1950’s, I have never been to the French riviera and I wasn’t alive in the 50’s, so probably a very inaccurate description of the place (also at times simply just made up).

Summary: Newly divorced you decide to travel to the Riviera and spend the summer in the house you and Timothée have inherited. After a very successful art exhibition he comes down to join you. Things should be easy, but they aren't.

Themes: Artist!Timmy, period piece (1950's).

R E A D

P A R T

O N E

A N D

T W O

H E R E

***

Menton - July, 1953

Menton, the most easterly town of the Côte d'Azur, belonging to the Arrondissement of Nice. It is located practically on the French-Italian border, the influences of both countries clear in multi-coloured houses, the decorated windows and in the sixteenth century bell tower.

The beaches are rocky but wide, and in the summer season packed with vacationists looking for an escape from the city; to lay their bodies down and soak up some sun, breath in some fresh air and occasionally to dip their bodies into the ocean in an attempt to escape the heat and cool down.

There’s a village square, in the middle of which a fountain; made in a century in which people still believed in dragons. From Bentwood chairs you can sit back and enjoy a meal, or a simple cappuccino, al fresco; as you watch the occasional hopeful tourist throw a coin into the fountain, making wishes with sanguine smiles. Or perhaps play a game of chess with a stranger.

On a cobbled-stone street nearby a market is set up each morning in a belle-epoque building, inside of which cheese, fish and meat are sold, and outside vendors are selling fruits and vegetables on wooden tables covered by green cloths.

Away from the pastell-coloured village and the expensive resorts and hotels by the beach there are steep hills, where most of the Menton locals reside. Some houses small and quaint; others almost obscene in their obvious wealth.

One of these houses is called Villa Marguerite

***

From the villa you can see the ocean spread out in front of you, almost recklessly big and bold and blue. Behind the house; acres upon acres of lemon trees, the bright yellow and green hues creating sharp contrasts to all the surrounding blue. There’s a garden too, emerald green grass and cedar trees that with rain will spread its heady scent all over the property; some mornings it is the first thing you smell.

The morning sun shines upon the terrace and you lean back in your wicker chair and sip on your morning coffee. Music is coming from the kitchen radio, only a few meters away.

The day lay planned and untraveled in front of you with all its horrifying possibilities. In a few hours Timothée’s train will arrive at the station and the upcoming reunion fills you with equal parts anticipation and terror. You had offered to meet him there, as his train arrives. You can picture it in front of you, standing on the dusty station under the scorching sun, eyes on the railroad track before you, awaiting the first sign of the train. You’d wear something nice for him, a white sundress perhaps; to show him that you are still the young sweet girl he fell for in Paris – that the colossal weight of a wedding ring on your left ring finger has not left you changed. You can picture what he’ll show up in, paint-stained jeans and white t-shirt. It will be awkward at first, it must be after all these months apart. But you’d conquer your fear and you’d hug him, pull him tight against you and breath him in; the familiar scent of him, the irresistible and unplaceable mixture of turpentine and smokey whiskey and of Paris.

There have been nights you’ve woken up gasping for air, where your hands have searched in vain around you in bed, panic-stricken, looking for the familiar frame of a lost lover. Every time, upon realizing that he’s not there, you would fall back against the mattress, and with deep breaths force your lungs to accept air. You’d close your eyes tightly shut and perhaps it was a trick your brain played on you, some devilish scheme – but in those moments, when you needed him the most you could almost concoct his scent out of thin air, could almost smell him, almost feel him lay beside you. There were times you would have sworn on anything holy you could feel the warmth of his body beside yours.

You had suggested to meet him at the station, but he had turned your offer down so firmly it had bordered on rudeness.

In the passing months since his department from London you had shared two brief, silence-filled phone calls.

One of them early one morning in May, just as the lilac bush burst out in bloom outside your window, the scent of them heady and intoxicating, and the missing weight of a diamond ring on your left hand still a strange sensation. Still you lift the phone; asking the operator for a number in France. You had called up his studio to inform him that you had moved out of your soon-to-be former husband’s house and were now taking house in Mayfair, in case he needed to reach you. Timothée´s voice had been tense and hoarse, as if he had just woken up and was not happy about it. In the background a woman had laughed.

The second time he had called you, in the late hours of the evening mid-June, just as the magnolias had set in bloom. You had informed him that you were planning to go down to Menton the following week, to start with the process of going through your aunt’s possessions. He in turn had informed you that his exhibition was to finish up on the 15th of July, after which he planned to travel to Nice by train and thus arrive the following morning. You had then offered to meet him at the station, to show him the way to the house at his arrival, which he had turned down. The tone of had been curt and the conversation short.

And that had been your only contact since that day in London. Before coming to Menton you had gone to Paris, to sign some papers and go through a few objects in your aunts’ apartment. You had not informed Timothée of this nor had you visited him.

Now here you are, weeks later, awaiting his arrival; foot tapping nervously against the floor, eyes fixed without seeing, mind recklessly wandering. Soon he’ll arrive at the station and you try not to connect that fact with the terrible sense of doom that’s been growing stronger in your stomach these last few days. But it seems undeniably connected.

Doom, like things have already been set in motion, the faiths decided; beyond your control or demand.

You feel ungrounded, restless and unbound; like the light morning breeze can sweep you away at sea. Trying to get a hold of yourself you focus your eyes only to see the endless blue sky above you or endless blue sea in front.

The sense of temporariness, of insignificance, of irrelevance in the grand scale of things washes over you and nausea settles in the pit of your stomach. Sitting up straight in your chair, force your foot to stop stomping the ground, you close your eyes and inhale slowly.

From the open window kitchen, you can still hear Louise, your aunt's maid, playing the radio. The French pop tune playing is unknown to you plays but she signs along over the sound of cluttering plates and running water. Upon your aunt’s death had ended up unemployed and in search of a job. She had written to you in London, asking for a position, and you had taken her on.

A sea gull screams somewhere above and from your neighbour’s house you hear children playing.

The sun is warm on your skin; the stone floor warm beneath your feet.

Feeling calmer, you open your eyes.

but still all you see is blue.

***

Timothée travels to Nice by train with a third-class ticket.

The compartment is unbearably hot. He tries to lay as still as possible on the hard bunk bed, afraid that any movement will make him warmer. Trying to ignore the sweat forming on his brow he focuses on the rhythmic pace of the train moving underneath him, wishing it would lull him to sleep but all it does is leave him with a vague feeling of nausea. His fellow passenger in the bunk bed below is in the bathroom next door, violently vomiting and the retching sound is coming through the thin walls . The light above his bed keeps flicking, every other second leaving the already dim room, with its dark oak panels, in complete darkness.

And dying for a cigarette.

He’s hot and sweaty and he thanks his lucky star he turned down your offer to meet him at the station. The thought of seeing you again after all these months, no doubt radiant in the sunlight, like an angel in waiting for him; and then him, wearing sweat-soaked rags that’ll no doubt smell of bile and dust and liquor.

He’s glad he turned your offer down; wants to make a good impression on you, to show you that he has changed, that he’s no longer the penniless painter; that he has made a success out of himself. The exhibition had been an incomparable success, Le Monde had put him on the front page and Le Journal du Dimanche had written an entire feature on his use of the colour blue – which they had been dubbed “as revolutionary as Picasso’s blue period, making the viewer see the colour in a new light, almost as if for the first time. Never before have I’ve seen blue look so isolated and lonely”.

He wondered if you had seen it. He wants you to have seen it, to be proud of it; of him. To know, because you had to know, that it was all for you.

But lately fear had crept up on him. Like mold it had grown from a single thought; slowly and steadily until it covered everything, until it was a certainty he knew as well as his own name; a fact poisoning his every breath.

What if you didn’t love him anymore? What if, after all this time and suffering you found out that, actually, without all the hinders standing in your way you didn’t actually find him all that interesting.

He would be forced to go on his way, certain in the knowledge that you no longer loved him; instead of the current status quo of endless possibilities of the untraveled road, where anything can still happen. Where there is still hope. It had crossed his mind, the thought of just not going. To stay in Paris and paint and dream; safe in the knowledge that at one point the most beautiful woman in the world had loved him. Never having the possibility of that changing.

But it would be a cowardly thing to do, and whatever else he was he was no coward. But he also knew that there was no use pretending, he was not the same as he was when he met you. How could he be? He had been a planet, knocked out of its orbit, forced to find a gravity anew. And he had, it had taken time and pain and more self-discipline than he knew he had in him. He had dusted himself of and gone on with life. But when you left Paris the first time had felt safe in the knowledge that you loved him.

If you were to reject him now, it would only be because you found him lacking; disappointing.

The stranger retches in the bathroom again and behind closed eyelids Timothée can still see the flicking light. He pretends it’s a blinking star.

Lately he’s been reading less Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Dostoevsky; switched them for Nietzsche, Sartre and Aristotle. This new world of science and philosophy opening up a whole new world for him. It had set his mind to ponder about love and religion and of the whole galaxy too; about his place and role in all of these things.

Every day, several times over, he had wanted to call you. To tell you about his discoveries, read you abstracts from his books and ask your thoughts on it. He wanted to know what you made out of all these subjects, to hear where your opinions differed from his. He wanted to argue with you about them.

Yet every time he picked up the phone to call you, he had put it down again. He had felt silly, calling you about such mundane things. Didn’t want to bother you in your grief. He knew, had bought each new glossy copy of the Tatler with a shameful face, that you were going through a difficult divorce.

He didn’t want to complicate your life any further.

The stranger comes into the compartment again, groans loudly and shuts the door with a bang behind him before throwing himself down on the lower bunkbed.

“Fucking hate trains” he states.

“You don’t say” Timothée answers dryly. It’s stifling hot in the compartment and the other man has brought in the strong scent of bile back with him to mix with the stench of sweat.

The train takes a sudden turn and the man below groans loudly again. Timothée hears how he fiddles with something and then the click of a lighter. He asks the man for a cigarette and the he kind-heartedly hands him his entire package of Lucky Strikes. Perhaps as an apology for the smell.

The rest of journey is spent chain-smoking cigarettes until the late hour, the compartment a fog of smoke, until he finally falls into slumber somewhere after Lyon.

The next morning his travel companion, looking rather worse for wear but relieved that the train has stopped at last, helps him with his luggage as they depart the train.

A strange feeling of having been reborn settles over him as he blinks up at the sun, his eyes adjusted from the previous dark dimness of his coupé. The station is dusty and oven-hot but he strives forward through it, bag with his belongings slung over his shoulder. Just as he expected he’s arrived sweaty, with ruffled dirty clothes and a stench of bile and sweat lingers on him. It had most definitely been the right decision to turn down your offer to meet him at the station. And so, instead of looking for a taxi to take him to the great big house on the hills he makes his way down the cobbled streets in quite the other direction.

There’s nothing like the ocean to wash away the sense of filth. With a gasp he breaks through the water surface and forces large gulps of fresh air down his throat. The water is cyan in shade and the surface glitter under the sun. He wades his way through the water and back to the beach, sending a silent prayer that the posh hotel he’s snuck into won’t notice that he is in fact not a guest paying hundreds of Francs a night for the luxury of a private beach, complete with white sunbeds and linen-clad waiters ready to service your every whim, but in fact just a common free-loader.

The small rocks are scalding hot and under his bare feet but he makes his way through the white parasols and sunbeds, careful as to not disturb the suntanning guests, his shabby bag slung over his shoulder.

“I’ll be damned!” An American voice roars out and Timothée stops dead in his tracks, heart beating painfully in his chest; as if he was an animal, knowing he was about to be caught in the hunt. “If it isn’t my favorite painter!”

Slowly he turns around.

Underneath a white parasol, sprawled out on a sunchair; broad-shouldered, blond and suntanned, lay William.

Fuck.

William stands up and moves closer to him. “It is you! Man, what a surprise!” he bursts out in his thick American accent and claps him on his shoulder. Timothée just stands there, still with the feeling of being caught; trapped. William just smiles at him. “I was just going to grab an early lunch, care to join me?”

The hotel restaurant is situated on a terrace, making the most of the ocean view, azure blue sea glittering under the sun. The beach is full to the brim with suntanned bodies, sipping drinks under big white parasols. They’ve both changed out of their swimming trunks, William into a nice white day suit, freshly pressed of course. Walking behind him onto the terrace Timothée feels especially shabby in his worn linen trousers, albeit he’s currently wearing his only items of clothing not covered in paint splatters.

They are seated by the railings, a small white clothed table. They order margarita pizzas and beers. They small talk, filling up the blanks since they last saw each other.

Timothée tells him of his work, the successful exhibition, his newfound love of Nietzsche. About his reason for coming to Nice. William in turn tells him of how he changed his mind about returning to America, how he’s fallen in love with the Mediterranean, how life here has inspired him so much he’s taken up writing. In fact, he has already written most of his first book, and it is set to publish at the end of summer. He is now looking for a house, some permanency for the first time in his life. He will settle down here, he tells Timothée in a solemn tone.

Timothée well recognizes the signs of a man trying to escape from himself. He doubts very much if William is the type to ever settle, has no doubts in fact that next time they’ll speak William will have taken up an instrument set to join a band, or learn a new language ready to move country yet again. Timothée knows a drifter when he sees one.

But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to warn the other man about the uselessness of attempting to outrun oneself, doesn’t advise him to instead make peace with the past and himself; knows that there is no use, that he'll find this out for himself soon enough. So instead he smiles, lights the last of his Lucky Strike´s and orders them some more beers.

They drink and talk, dream really, far into the afternoon as the sky changes from bright blue to nuances of powder pink and lavender. They dream up scenarios for William’s future; a summer spent in sunny Nice soaking up the sun, before setting to Capri in the autumn to work on a new book. They decide he should take a break in the winter to go skiing in Saint Moritz before returning to Nice in the spring, to finish up his book.

More beers are ordered, and subjects discussed, but when a longer silence takes place William leans back in his chair, a shy look on his face that makes him look more boy than man.

“So” he begins, and Timothée’s interests are piqued. The terrace is full of people by now, taking a late lunch or simply enjoying an afternoon drink, waiting for the sun to set and the real party to begin.

“So?” he offers, pressing the other man to continue.

William clears his throat, cheeks flushed, and not purely from the day spent in the sun. “So, you’re going to see her now?”

Timothée is not surprised by his question, had expected it since he told him why he was here, had expected the subject of you to arise. It felt inevitable. The subject of you too big to ignore.

“Yes” he says, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray. They’d bought new ones from the waiter many beers ago, the crystal cut ashtray between them filled to the brim with stumped out cigarettes.

“Yeah should get going soon really, she was expecting me this morning.”

Silence for a heartbeat, as the sky turns red, the sun almost setting.

“And it is true, what they’ve written in the society pages? She’s getting divorced?”

Timothée, not knowing what to do with his hands, lights yet another cigarette; even though his throat feels too dry; too tight. “Yeah” he manages to get out.

Silence again. William is keeping his eyes on the setting sun, seemingly lost in thought.

“Mind if I tag back with you to the house?” he says eventually. The words come out almost superiorly. Yet Timothée senses the fragile vulnerability under the arrogance. “I’d just like to say hi to her” he then adds in a softer tone. “Our last goodbye…” he trails off for a second and something like regret flashes in his clear blue eyes, “Look, I treated her abhorrently and I’d like to put things right, it’s the least I can do”.

And who is Timothée to deny either one of you that?

The ground is slightly unsteady under his feet as they stand outside the hotel, waiting for the taxi the porter had ordered. He had, perhaps, had one too many to drink. He sways from one foot to the other. It is just past midnight and he should have gone home hours ago.

And maybe he shouldn’t arrive at your first meeting in months, the first meeting post-divorce, absolutely wasted. A knot ties somewhere in his stomach.

And, he thinks as he slides into the backseat of the taxi, maybe he oughtn't to bring your ex-fiancé with him to said meeting. An ex-fiancé who had broken up your engagement days before the wedding, left you pretty much at the altar to marry someone else instead. Your first love.

The knot tightens harder.

He watches the city, now dark and full of people, pass by outside the window. As the taxi goes up the hills he tries to focus on the ocean outside; now the darkest shade of blue. The moon is yet to make an appearance to light up the evening. They drive up a final curve and finally Timothée can see it. The white house atop the hill is large and neo-classical in style, with painted mint-green shutters, currently open wide to let in some evening air, and up the white walls magenta colored bougainvillea climbs.

The lights are on and Timothée feels light-headed. He blames it on the drinks. He blames it on the day spent under the beaming sun. He blames it on the long journey there and the fact he slept so badly on the train.

He blames it on anything other than the fact that he’s starting to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t have come here tonight. If perhaps he should have stayed at the hotel, sobered up and after a good night sleep come here; bunches of casa blanca lilies in hand and a forged reason for his lateness on his lips.

And he definitely shouldn’t bring William with him.

Something twists painfully inside him and he feels a bit sick. Because he knows William is your first love; but what if he’s your greatest one as well. What if the two of you after reuniting again, found that there were still love there. You both had divorces in your past now, you both had money, and freedom. What if William wasn’t just your first love, but your greatest one?

He definitely shouldn’t have brought him here.

He watches with regret settled deep in his bones as the taxi drives away, and William is walking up the pebbled path to the front door. So Timothée takes a deep breath, throws his duffel bag over his shoulder, and forces his feet forward.

They ring the door and surprise hits him for the second time that day, when the door opens and Aunt Marguerite’s maid Louise stands there, wearing the usual look of disapproval as she takes in the state of him.

She sniffs with disgust. “You are late” she tells him with a stern tone, before stepping aside to let him enter. “Madam is on the terrace”. He drops his bag on the floor as she leads the way through the house, William at his heel. His feet feel like cement, but he keeps forcing them forward.

The first thing he sees as he steps out onto the terrace is the moon, now high in the sky, casting its reflection on the water below. Then, on a sunbed with your face towards the ancient blue spreading out in front of you; not directed to him. He sees you in the moonlight, curled up underneath a blanket, a glass of red wine beside you. The only light on the terrace the moon and candles, lit up around you.

Without turning to look at him you say, in a voice painfully familiar, “was beginning to give up on you. Thought you’d missed the train”.

“Sorry” he says, and it surprises him how calm he sounds; because he’s pretty sure something is exploding inside his chest. “Got a bit distracted.”

You turn to him then, a half-smile on your face that freezes immediately upon seeing who is standing behind him. Painful silence falls between you, heavy like a wet blanket, while the ocean roars beneath, its waves crashing against the rocks.

“Wills?” Your voice sounds so vulnerable it makes him want to weep, to go hide; to ask something holy for forgiveness.

“Hi baby” William answers and Timothée nearly whimpers, wants to look away but can’t seem to turn his eyes from the scene in front of him.

Your eyes are big and glossy in the moonlight as William moves closer. Nausea rises in Timothée’s stomach as he watches William sit down on the sunbed beside you; hands clasped before him like a schoolboy in church.

“I’m sorry” he begins, “this must come as a surprise to you but…”

“Excuse me” you interrupt him, voice cold but your vulnerability clear as it. “I think I will retire to bed. You can stay over if you wish, Louise will prepare you a room. We’ll lunch tomorrow.”

And all either Timothée can do is watch as you stand up, spine all straight and head held high as you walk past him, not casting him a single look as he hangs his head in shame.

Timothée blinks slowly into the bright light; confused as to where he is for a moment. He blinks a few more times, his lasting impression; white. White sheets, white walls, white lilies on his bedside table, white wooden floors and white curtains moving in the breeze from the open balcony door; outside of which azure blue sky. Then,

Menton.

You.

He groans, burying his face in the pillow. The pain in your eyes as you walked past him the night before; eyes brimming with carefully held back tears. Why, why, why on earth had he brought William with him? Why hadn’t he just told him no? Surely it wouldn’t have been unreasonable to turn down his request to force his way back into his ex-fiancé’s life?

But he wanted you back. And Timothée had handed you to him.

“Fuck” he groans.

Despite his protesting, heavy limbs and sore head he stands up and moves through the room, to the gilded mirror by the antique dresser. Slowly he blinks back to his miserable reflection. A skinny man, with unruly, dark curls and anxious, wide eyes, dark circles like bruises underneath them. He thinks of William; tall and golden and broad shouldered enough to carry the weight of the world on them. And rich enough to own it.

He wants to hurl.

Instead, with the determination of the already damned, he moves through the room, knowing there is nothing left to do but face the day; and the consequences of last night. Finding a pair of clean linen trousers and white shirt he pulls them on with fumbling hands. Rooming through the pockets of the trousers he wore last night, carelessly thrown over a wicker chair, he finds the package of Gauloises he bought at the hotel the previous night. He puts them in his pocket, he is going to need them. Feeling like a man walking up to the gallows he steps out of his room.

Louise, who’s in the kitchen preparing breakfast, huffs in displeasure when she sees him.

“Yeah, yeah” he mutters, “I know”.

She pulls up her blonde hair and ties it in a knot in her back, seemingly doing her utmost to ignore him, but he’s pretty sure she’s just doing it for the opportunity to sneakily give him the finger.

Out on the terrace you sit by the table, reading. Wearing a white silky thing, your hair wet from a bath, pearls of water falling to the ground as you move to flip a page in your book. You are bathing in the morning light, covered by it; and maybe it’s just to Timothée’s eyes but everything else seems to fall into shadow.

Walking more assuredly than he feels, somewhat comforted in the fact that William is not yet up, he takes a seat beside you at the table. You flip a page in your book, and you don’t look at him. A seagull screeches in the sky, but otherwise the world remains quiet.

“What are you reading?” he asks, though feeling it is a trivial question in the midst of everything. He feels foolish, trying to ease into conversation with you, when all he really want to do is apologise; to take your hands and tell you that he’s sorry.

“The Odyssey”

“You like it?”

Your eyes don’t move over the page, but you don’t look at him either; instead fixated on the page in front of you.

“Yes” you say eventually. “But I find the prose hard to get used to”.

“Well” he says fishing in his pockets for his Gauloises, “personally I prefer The Iliad. There’s a feeling of doom in it that stays with you, like their fates are already set out for them and they can’t escape it. They’re left to just live their stories out”. He brings a cigarette to his lips but soon discovers he’s forgotten a lighter. He swears under his breath, the cigarette hanging from his mouth. Then something silver reflects in the sun, right before his eyes. You’re reaching out your hand to him, and in the palm of your hand lay a cigarette lighter. Gratefully he takes it and lights up.

“Thanks” he says, trying to hand it back to you, but you shake your head.

“No, it’s yours. Apparently, my aunt had it ordered for you before she passed. I was going to give it to you yesterday.”

Timothée feels as if he’s been punched in the stomach. He lays down the cigarette and looks down at the silver lighter. It’s beautifully crafted, old fashioned in a good way and thoroughly stylish. Marguerite through and through. He turns it in his hand and sunlight reflects from its perfect surface. Only then does he notice the engraved text, in cursive writing; “Fuck Picasso”.

He breaks out in laughter but feels a simultaneous need to cry. To lay down on the floor and weep. He misses her, would do anything to hear her scold him for his behavior again. To have her tell him that he is being defeatist and to keep trying; keep fighting for what he wants.

He looks at you, and he can see the same conflicting feelings reflected in your glossy eyes.

“Le petit dejeuner, madam” Louise says, putting down the tray with coffee, bread, brie and fresh fruit on the table between you. She sends Timothée a scorching look as she does so.

Once you’re both sipping on cups of coffee you clear your throat. “She did leave you the Picasso painting as well, you know”.

Timothée nearly drops his cup of scorching hot coffee in his lap. “Sorry?”

Reluctantly the corners of your mouth twist into a smile. “You never read the full version of the will, did you? She gave the Picasso to you. Said you were the only one who could possibly appreciate it”.

He snorts with laughter again, and again it comes with a sting of grief.

“You sure you don’t want it?” he asks, because a Picasso is no ordinary gift and he feels as if he’s stealing it from you; you who actually were related to the woman.

But you just shake your head, a small but sincere smile on your lips. “I got the Monet”.

“Bloody landscape artist” Timothée teases and you laugh. This is an old joke, an inside joke, one that has made you laugh before. Your laughter feels familiar and warm and he wants to pull you closer to him, feel your skin; warm from the sun, against his.

“You are just jealous” you tease back, and your eyes; the same colour as your aunts, sparkle in the sunshine. “You have never been able to paint a landscape”.

“No” he says, reaching for a stem or green grapes, “I’ve never found a landscape more interesting than a face” he adds, pulling the sweet fruit from its stem and placing it between his teeth; slowly biting down, relishing the taste.

He wants to say, ‘there’s nothing I’d rather paint than your face’, but swallows the words along with the fruit. He watches your face as you look at the sea; hair still wet against your now slightly rosy cheeks.

“Good morning” says a cheerful, though somewhat raspy, American accent.

Timothée turns and sees William walking towards you. He’s all tousled blonde hair, white dress shirt unbuttoned at the top; showing seamlessly endless amounts of suntanned golden skin. Styled with a Rolex watch and bare feet he’s all Hamptons; all American.

Timothée looks at him and thinks Paul Newman would be proud.

He picks up and finally lights his cigarette, using his new treasure.

William sits down by the table, leans back and sighs. “Gonna be a beautiful day” he announces to them, as if the weather was his to rule. Timothée watches him in the morning light, all golden and decisive. He thinks of Zeus, of power and of glory.

You gesture for Timothée’s cigarette package and he picks one out and hands it to you. Leaning closer, closer and closer still; your face so near that he can count each of your eyelashes if he so wishes, your arms nearly touching his. He lights you up. All the time he can feel William’s watchful eyes as he observes the two of you.

Louise comes out with another cup of coffee and places it in front of William before heading back to the kitchen. In the silence between them they can hear how she puts on the record player, the tunes of Chopin floating out on the terrace. Timothée meets your eyes and you both smile.

Flashes of memories from another life, you and him in Paris in his old studio. Dancing in the evening, hips pressed together as you’d swayed gently from side to side, your chest pressed to his, feeling so close it was as if you were sharing breaths. Or you posing on the carpet, naked in the afternoon light as he attempts the impossible; trying to recreate the loveliness and complexities of you. A Herculean task. All the while Chopin played in the background.

“So what are we all doing today?” inquires William and Timothée breaks eye contact with you. Maybe he is imagining it, but he thinks there’s a harshness behind Williams' forceful cheerfulness.

You enter into conversation with William, all small talk and politeness, as Timothée smokes his cigarette and looks the other way.

“Can I talk with you?” William asks, his hand around your wrist, holding you in place. “Alone, I mean.”

Your plates have been cleared, the coffee cups stand empty and William has reached over the table to take a hold of you. Timothée, who’d spent most of the breakfast in silence, his face towards the sea, playing with silver lighter in his lap, now stands up. “I’m off to explore the village” he says with a tone of indifference. But there is something strained about the way he’s holding himself, a tenseness in his shoulder, a frozen look on his face. It is in the way he refuses to look at either you or William as he walks away.

You watch him leave before gently pulling your hand away from William’s. “I must say, it is a surprise to see you here, Wills”.

William doesn’t hang his head in shame or embarrassment but keeps his clear blue eyes on yours.

“I didn’t know that you were here in Menton, that’s not why I came here. But I did go looking for you, in Paris”. His voice never shakes, neither does his hands. He is as steadfast as you remember him from school. Ha had been taller than everybody else, towering over them all. He could easily have been awkward, already standing out with his American accent. But he wasn’t. William had been born with a sense of self-assurance most could only dream of. Dubbed arrogant by some you had felt admiration.

Your school had been set up in two buildings, one for the boys and one for the girls, and separated by a field. Most classes were taken separately, the only times the genders had mixed was during meals and announcements, or on special sports days.

You can still remember it so clearly, when you fourteenth year old set your eyes on sixteen year old William for the first time. It had been on the football pitch during a friendly start of the term game. He was new to the school, a head taller than the other boys and no one seemed to be able to take their eyes off him. It was clear that he was unused to the game, having grown up mostly playing American football, but he soon got his head around the rules. You see it so clearly in front of you, how he had made his way through the defence, his long legs carrying him through in quick strides, before scoring his first goal; the whole crowd going wild. He was a natural talent, as soon you would learn, he was in most things. He took on the world with a natural ease, assured in his belief that everything would go his way.

At the end of the match he had stood there, arm slung around the shoulders of his fellow comrades, all grinning from ear to ear. They were the victors of the game; the heroes of the school. William in the middle, head slung back in laughter, almost radiant in the late September sun. He was and always had been golden, had always seemed more than human to you, almost godlike in being. The other boys had certainly found him so, the only exception being Freddie Fairfax and his friends, who never had a kind word to say about their fellow student. However the rest of the boys had soon made William their unelected leader. The king of god on mount Olympus. His eyes had met yours in the crowd of admirers and just like that - you were done for.

When he had asked you to the school dance, mouthed crooked in a smile and hands unstirred; so unlike the nervously trembling boys, you had said yes. The other girls had envied you and when you walked into the great hall with him he had taken your arm in his and kissed you on your forehead; told you he thought you were the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. You had felt chosen; blessed even.

And when he had asked you to marry him, down on one knee like a gentleman and with a hand that didn’t shake with nerves, you had said yes. Had thought that had settled everything. That you would marry the man you loved in front of all your friends and family, securing a financially stable future for your parents. You’d go on a honeymoon, a world tour perhaps, and later; children. After having found the perfect family home in Kensington, among all your friends.

Alas, that was not to be. No wedding, nor children or home had come along. Instead, heartbreak.

And you had fled, humiliated, to Paris.

“Yes” you say, feeling unable to look away from his blue gaze. “Yes, Timothée mentioned that. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to meet you, I had already left for London by then”.

“Yeah” he says, corners of his lips turned up in a smile, but his eyes filled with something more like pity. “To marry Freddie Farifax”. And then he’s on his feet, moving around the table and before you know it, in Timothée’s chair. He leans forward and grasps your hands in his. They feel warm and steady, whereas yours are cold and shaking.

“Babe” his voice is like a gentle breeze. “Babe, look at me”.

You look up from your clasped hands and back into his blue eyes, at the moment more serious than you’ve ever seen them.

“I should never have left you” he continues, voice sweet and tender and barely louder than the breeze. “I was bewitched. I know, I know it sounds stupid but I just lost my head about Linda. I was a fool, a goddamn fool. I realized as soon as we left for New York that who I really wanted was you. It was like waking up from a dream. She was just such a lovely thing, so carefree and - no please, listen” You had tried to remove your hands from his but he kept a firm grip around them. Slowly he moves one of his hands from yours, up to your face to cup your cheek. It’s tender, and it feels like it had always felt when Wiliam touched you - the same feeling you got when you lay sunbathing; kissed by the sun. A mild breeze through the trees and the scent of him, citrus and cedar, hits you like an embrace from the past.

At fifteen, a few months after you first set eyes on him, he kissed you. Calmly, with a hand cupping your face; just like now, he had kissed you until you felt tender and starry eyed. It had been in the library, in the row furthest down, a copy of Anna Karenina sticking into your back as he pressed you against the bookcase.

He had smelled the same then, as you stood on your tip-toes to reach him his arms surrounded you.

He had smelled the same in baronessa Digby’s guestroom during her annual ball. After hours spent dancing, pressed up against one another he had snuck you both in there and on the bed showed all there was to know about love in its physical form. Flashes of memories come back to you of his body above yours, muscles defined and body almost golden in the candlelight, pressing you down onto crisp white sheets. The scent of lemon and cedar everywhere.

He had been gentle and patient, moving in and out of you with steady, slow thrusts at first, deliberate and calm in all his movements. His hands were steady the whole way through but you were shaking all over.

“I should never have left you” he repeats, and you can feel the shame coming off him in waves, see the regret in his eyes and in the furrow of his brow. “You never should have had to marry fucking Freddie, the piece of shit”. Something thunders in his blue eyes.

“I’m not angry with you William. I felt hurt and humiliated when you left but it’s all in the past now, so if it is my forgiveness you’ve come here for you can have it”.

“It’s not,” William says, almost before you’ve finished speaking. “I mean, I’ll gladly take it but what I want is you.” All you can do in response is stare at him and he laughs, almost bitterly, before continuing “to think, that had I not made such a massive ass of myself we would have been married now. We would be happy. I can still make you happy, baby”. He makes the last word sound like a prayer. He strokes your cheek.

“Make me carefree?” you ask, and you swear, you can feel the ocean move in protest in your lungs.

“Yes, just give me a chance and I’ll make you the happiest being on earth”.

You look into his pleading eyes. Part of you wants to say yes, because part of you still loves him. Part of you is still that fourteen year old girl, enamoured by the school hero. But you know now, have come to realize with time, that William never has, and never will understand you. Not you as you as you really are How could he understand someone so different from himself? A godlike creature whose hands never tremble, who has thunder in his eyes and whose love burns bright; but also quick. Would you choose a life with him there would be other Linda’s. Other infatuations, there was bound to be, even if he would always make his way back to you.

But though Wiliiam’s hands never tremble they know nothing of steady.

“William” you say, finally untangling your hands from his, “Will I’m sorry but it’s too late. I have already moved on”.

William leans back in his chair, a deep sigh escaping him. “Yes, yes I was afraid of that. The painter boy seems to have stolen your heart quite thoroughly, hasn’t he?” You don’t answer and William digs in his pockets for cigarettes.

“I see” he mouths out round a cigarette, brows furrowed in concentration. He brings his own silver lighter to his mouth to light up and it reflects in the sun, like bolts of lightning. “Still” he adds with a voice smooth as honey, leaned back in his chair; breathing out smoke between you, “well, he might get to keep the real you but I won the painting. Quite the consultation prize”.

***

When Timothée steps back into the house, several hours later the clouds are dark and heavy with unshed rain. The world feels charged with energy, as is the way right before thunder. Louise greets him with her usual disapproval at the door before simply nodding upward, uttering the single instruction, “upstairs”.

He makes his way through the house, dark and quiet in the late hour, up the stairs and drawing room. It is a large room, with wallpapers of navy dyed silk on which several paintings in the modern style are set up. Heavy oak furniture outlines the room, decanters of whiskey and cognac and any other liquor that could be wished for on one of the tables and in the middle of the room two elegant white sofas facing each other.

On one of them you sit, a martini at the table in front of you, next to an enormous vase of casa blanca lilies. The whole room smells of them.

Not knowing what to say, where to start he walks past you, across the room, to make himself a drink. Pouring himself a generous measure of Laphroaig, which he drowns immediately, before pouring himself a new one. Dutch courage.

“William gone then?” he asks, staring down at the amber liquid in his glas, hating how casual he sounds.

“Yes, he went back to his hotel”

So the supposed love of your life was only temporarily missing then. Timothée squeezes his eyes shut, clutching his hands around the table, as if to stop himself from whimpering. He feels pathetic and weak. Opening his eyes again, the room dark around him he walks to the sofa and sits down opposite of you.

Outside he hears the first few drops of rain.

“So you two patched things up then?” There’s a forged cheeriness to his voice and he hates how disingenuous he sounds.

For a few long seconds he is met by a silence so intense it makes the hair on his arms stand up. Then it really starts to fall outside, the sky opening up with rain, the clapping sound of it as it hits the roof like thunderous applause.

“I’ve decided to let the past be the past”. You’re so calm and collected; so cool and unfaced. Yet he can sense that you are holding onto yourself with an iron grip, not letting go an inch of your own feelings or reactions. It reminds him of the way children clutch their hands around objects they know they shouldn’t possess, determined not to show what they are hiding.

He takes a sip from the whiskey, the smokey smell of it mixing with the heady scent of lilies. So this was it then. He had ruined his own chance of happiness by bringing William back to you. Timothée had not been to compete with Freddie Fairfax and his money and title, but he had always known that you had not married that man out of love, and that had made the blow on his feelings less hard than if you had simply preferred Freddie; chosen him. But with William it was a different matter. You did not need to be with him out of any necessity. If you had chosen him; then it was because you loved him.

“Well, good on you” he says, drowning the rest of his glas. “Sweet of you to forgive him, you know, after basically leaving you at the altar and humiliating you infront of everyone you know. Really, it’s big of you”.

“Yes, me and William had a lovely chat this morning” your voice is cold as ice. You’re on the sofa, spine straight and shoulders tense, taking a large sip from your martini. “He told me about a poker game the two of you had in Paris. How you paid your debts with a nude portrait of me".

Lightning strikes outside and for a brief second the whole world goes white, like the flash of a camera, before once again leaving you both in shadow.

Timothée is dumbstruck; can’t get out a single word. He wants to protest, to deny it, but there’s no use. He’s never been a liar.

“How fucking could you?” The venom in your voice feels lethal, as if he’s injected it like poison and it’s making its way through his system.

And here comes the thunder.

“I trusted you with that painting and you let him fucking have it! My ex-fiance has a naked portrait of me because of you. I knew I couldn’t trust you, I knew it! It was all too good to be true. You just wanted me because you knew you couldn’t have me, because you knew it wouldn’t last. I was just a conquest you would get a few nice paintings out of!” You’re shouting now; unbound and full of rage. Unable to stand still you’ve gotten up, pacing the room.

“You knew it wouldn’t last?” he answers with a sarcastic laugh, anger shouting through him as well now. “You made sure it you mean? You used me as some sort of escape fantasy because you felt lost and trapped! The princess and the penniless painter. Those were just roles we played. You just wanted to feel desired again and no one has ever desired you as much as i have, but as soon as Freddie fucking Fairfax came along you dropped me, and guess what? I could have lived with that. I understood it even. But you made your way back into me, gave me hope, and now you’re fucking leaving again with fucking William!" He’s on his feet as well now, standing just feet from you. "So yeah, I’m sorry I gambled away the painting, that was wrong of me but don’t make out as if I’m the reason this can’t last when you have always been the first to leave. You have always been the first to leave!”

Lightning like a flash, capturing the hurt look on your face, burning it onto his retinas forever.

“You can say that all you want but you've had one foot out the door for a while, haven’t you? You never called or wrote after you left London. And when I called you early that morning there was some girl fucking giggling in the background! I had to go back to Paris this spring to sort out some of aunt's things and I didn’t go to visit you because I knew there was gonna be someone else there!”

And here comes the thunder again, louder than before.

“Oh that’s it sweetheart, jealous are we?” his tone is low and mocking and your eyes are burning into his. They seem to sparkle in the dark and though adrenaline is shooting through his body he can’t help but he can’t help thinking; that this is the most beautiful he’s ever seen you; unbound and unleashed. Despite his anger he’d like nothing more than to lean in and kiss you.

But he is angry, and so he continues in the same, low tone, “and you accuse me of having one foot out the door? Ye get jealous of some model coming in to have a painting done - who I’ve never even touched - but I have to watch your husband parade you on his arm at the opera? And be a spectator as you and fucking Wills reunite?”

“You’re the one who brought him here!”

“I know!” he shouts. Both your chests are heaving with anger, the air loaded with thunder. He takes a step back from you, runs a hand through his hair in frustration and sighs. “I know” he repeats, defeated now. Walking away from you he crosses the room and throws himself down on the sofa, his head in his hands.

Outside it keeps raining.

You sit down on your old spot on the sofa again, hands in your lap, cool and collected once more. “I have not gotten back together with William. I’m sorry I made you believe that. I’ve simply decided to forgive him and let the past be the past. That’s all”.

Timothée lifts his head up, something like hope blooming in his chest among all the despair. “Yeah? Well I’m sorry about the painting, I really am. In my defence, I didn’t know he was your William until after”.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now. I asked him to get rid of it”.

“Nevertheless, I am sorry” he looks you straight in the eye as he says this, wanting you to know the sincerity in his apology. “Do you want me to leave? I can go back to Paris tomorrow”.

Silence, then thunder once again, though this time further away.

“No” you say in the end, still in that cold voice, but you sound genuine when you continue, “no please stay. It is your house just as much as mine. Stay as long as you want”.

“Please, let me paint you again?”

Rain in July is a rare thing in Menton. Nevertheless, a storm had raged the night before. You had often heard the expression the calm before the storm, however you had always found the aftermath of storms all the more fascinating.

“No” you answer him, flipping the page in your book; Anna Karenina this morning.

Timothée is standing by the barristrade under the golden mimosa tree, trying to capture the landscape beneath him. He wears a frustrated, nearly pained look on his face as he stares at the canvas. You can hear his groans of ill contempt.

“Fucking hate landscapes”.

“That is your vanity speaking. You know you aren’t very good at it and so you hate it. Like all men you hate the things that make you look less than average". On the page in front of you Vronsky has decided to pursue Anna, despite knowing that she is a married woman.

“I’m not vain” Timothée mutters, like a petulant child. “I don’t like landscapes because they are ever-changing, just when you’ve managed to get the precise shade of the sky it has already changed into something else entirely.”

“But faces change all the time too. I’d say there’s as much variety in a face as it is in a landscape” you argue. Looking up from your book you observe Timothée. The mimosa branches hanging down, it’s golden flowers framing his head like a halo, the impression strengthened by the morning sun shining through.

The sweet, succulent scent from the tree, reinforced a thousand times with last night's heavy rain, hangs around them like an invisible cloud.

“You’re just defending landscapes because your precious Monet couldn’t have enough of them”.

“He painted people too”.

“Yeah, but he wasn't as good at is. Maybe he too was vain”.

”Monet never used black, did you know that?” You say, apropo of nothing. “And for a while Picasso only used blue. Do you think this is how they’ll define you one day? In a textbook, a picture of a portrait of me - and underneath it written in black on white: Portrait of a girl unknown. For this period in the artist's life he refused yellow. Is that how they will define you?”

“I don’t refuse yellow anymore.” He’s stopped painting now, but faces away from you, looking out at the ocean. You see his fingers twitch for a cigarette.

“Maybe not, but you don’t see blue in the same way. Neither does anyone else if Le Journal du Dimanche, I saw what they wrote about your exhibition, congratulations by the way.” His back is very still and you keep going. “What was it they wrote? ‘As revolutionary as Picasso’s blue period, making the viewer see the colour in a new light, almost as if for the first time. Never before have I’ve seen blue look so isolated and lonely’?”

You can’t explain even to yourself why you are doing it, why you are antagonising him. It is petty and it should be beneath you but like a child you try to goad a reaction out of him.

“You made me look at all colours in a different light.” It is a quiet confession, sincere in its simplicity. His hands are clasped around the brim of his chair, like he’s trying to hold himself very still. “You made me listen differently as well, I could never hear the beauty of Chopin until you played it for me. And the scent of lilies will always remind me of you. You made me feel different too, different from anybody else. Like I had been reborn into a new body, with new feelings. A new purpose. Even the air in my lungs felt different; cleaner somehow.”

You don’t know how to respond to that; feeling as though all malice has been sucked out of you like poison from a snake. Perhaps there’s nothing to say.

“Let me paint you one more time”

“No. Why don’t you just hire a model instead?”

“I don’t want another model, I just want to paint you”

“Well William’s still at the hotel if you’re planning to gamble it away after”.

Maybe all bitterness hasn’t escaped her yet. Timothée takes up his brush and goes back to his canvas. For a few long moments everything is silent.

Then, in a quiet voice he speaks. “Why didn’t you go back to William? I saw how much you loved him, when you first came to Paris. I remember. But if you’ve decided to forgive him, and if there’s still feelings there, then why not?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I want you to be happy”.

You throw the book on the table, close your eyes and lean back in your chair. “I’ve always figured that the world can be split into two; that people are either like birds, or like trees.”

You can hear Timothée dropping his paintbrush again and had you had your eyes open you would see his curious eyes as he watches you with open adoration.

“You see,” you continue “some people are drifters, and other settlers. Some people grow roots where they stand, trying to reach as far down into the earth as possible in order to feel secure. They are steady and they grow but they never change and they never change their outlook on things. And when they have to move, they have to be ripped out by the roots and it hurts. Others, well others are like birds. They fly from branch to branch and sure, sometimes they build nests but they never stay for long. They need air beneath their wings, they need freedom.”

“And William is a bird?”

“Yes, William is a bird. A drifter. He will always move from branch to branch. In his lifetime he will have a thousand infatuations and sure, if we were to marry I think he would always come back to me but I cannot live like that. I would be a tree, trying to force my roots through concrete”.

“And that is the reason you don’t choose him?” His voice breaks slightly at the end and you can’t help but love his fragility, his vulnerability in this moment.

“That yes” you say, opening your eyes and feeling blinded by the sun. “That and the fact that I’m not actually in love with him anymore”.

Silence again, because maybe there is nothing more to say now. Timothée picks up his brush and you take up your book and continue to read your book; ‘There can be no peace for us, only misery, and the greatest happiness.’

An hour or so later Timothée swears under his breath and abandons the landscape by walking out. Further away you hear the heavy front door close and you know he’s left for the village. You stand up and walk over to the painting, inspecting his work. He has painted the scenery in front of him, but despite the golden mimosa tree there is no yellow to be seen on the canvas; only various nuances of blue.

****

August, 1953

A routine settles at Villa Marguerite.

Each morning Timothée wakes before you and makes enough coffee for two. He takes his cup and his brushes out to the terrace and he tries to paint the ocean. Some time later the radio in the kitchen is turned on as Louise begins to prepare breakfast. Later still he hears your footsteps as you come out to join him on the terrace, wearing the same white dressing-gown each morning.

“There’s coffee if you want some”.

These words are his timid confession, his quiet ‘I think of you each morning as I wake’. A kind of ceasefire has settled between you. You don’t argue with each other but then again, you hardly speak.

When you come back out on the terrace, coffee cup in hand, you sit down under the golden mimosa tree and Timothée wants to sigh but he doesn’t. He wants to sigh, because you are beautiful. Because in the morning light, dressed in a white dressing-gown, you look more angel than person; the golden mimosa flowers like a halo atop your head.

Each morning he wants to capture the moment, just like you this, on his canvas. Not because of the etherealness of the setting; but the domesticity of it. You, morning hair and a cup of coffee that he has brewed for you; bare feet and nightgown.

You’re both silent as you drink. It is peaceful. In the village church bells ring. He feels no need for church. Heaven, he thinks, are mornings with you. Anything else can wait.

The rest of his days are spent painting, trying to catch the colours and moods of the ever-changing ocean and sky in front of him. By lunchtime he’s grown tired of trying, and so he walks down to the village where he strikes up a conversation with whomever is available. Nice is in high season and the streets are full of tourists. During midday however, when the sun is high in the sky, most people are hiding in whatever cool space they can find or lay their bodies on the beach. But Timothée finds he doesn’t mind the heat,

He’s made some friends during his time in Nice, foremost a fellow Parisian his age named Nathaniel, and an elderly French-speaking Italian named Marco. If Marco, who owns a bistro in the square, is available they play chess and argue about politics. Marco always wins. When Nathaniel, who works down by the docks, goes on his lunch break he comes to join them, and they eat together, whatever Marco’s bistro has to offer for the day. They share glasses of wine and discuss jazz, the two younger men unsuccessfully trying to convince Marco to arrange a jazz night at his bistro.

When the other men go back to their work Timothée strolls. Sometimes he walks down to the beach, where sometimes he runs into William. They chat, and it’s not exactly comfortable but neither is it awkward. They both get through it.

Some days he spends strolling the village, watching the pastel-coloured houses, dreaming about the inhabitants' lives. Other days he goes to the ancient little library in town, where he spends his afternoon strolling through the book shelves. He picks up books, reads a few chapters of them; though never starting at the beginning, before putting them down. Like this he goes from book to book, never being able to commit to a single story.

In the end he re-reads The Odyssey - the first page to the last. He doesn’t know what to think about it; except maybe that if The Iliad left him with a distinct feeling of doom, the feeling that sticks with him after The Odyssey is a distinct sense of homesickness. Of nostalgia.

He returns the book at the desk, asking the librarian for more books on Greek mythology. She hands him one and with the book safely pressed against his side he strolls down to the docks and there, on a bench overlooking the ocean, he reads. He reads until the heat fades and seagulls stop screeching and the sky turns pink and until all the fishing boats return to the docks.

He walks back to the village, pays for a box of pralines and a bottle of fine red wine to share with you on the terrace after dinner, and moves his feet towards home. All the time he thinks of Helen of Troy, of Persephone, of Aphrodite.

You eat dinner together and talk. You discuss The Odyssey at length. Debate about what is worse, to feel homesickness to a place you cannot return, or doom for the future. You tell him of a new play you’ve gotten your hands on, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. You talk about the play in a way that has him enamored. He asks to borrow it from you and you lend it to him.

You share the wine and the pralines as the sky grows darker and the sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks louder. You drink and eat and talk until your eyelids grow heavy and it’s time for bed and Timothée thinks to himself that even if you are not his to kiss good night he can still have this. He counts it as a blessing.

Your bedrooms are located right next to each other and as he lay in bed reading your copy of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof in the dim night lamp light he can’t help but feel close to you, knowing that just on the other side of the room you lay sleeping. Like in all your books the pages are full of underlined lines scribbles, the corners of the pages dog eared and the spine cracked.

He turns the page and sees that you have underlined a sentence. ‘I’m not living with you, we occupy the same cage’.

He continues reading until the sun starts to rise outside, then he goes back in the story and underlines a sentence of his own. ‘One thing I don’t have is the charm of the defeated’.

Notes:

The last part will up up sunday/monday

also, please, if you've managed to get through this beast of a story please leave some feedback. I've been working on this for a very long time and I'd love to hear your thoughts.

So this was like… a year in the making? Honestly never thought it would be this difficult but here we are. Also, I don’t hate Picasso as much as it seems I do. Also, is the quote “There can be no peace for us, only misery, and the greatest happiness” in the book? Or is it just in the Joe Wright movie? My ex kept my copy of Anna Karenina and I can’t remember

Inspirations: Jenny Slate’s tweet about wanting someone to love her on purpose, my own quite frankly disastrous relationships, Johnny Cash saying paradise is “this morning, with her, having coffee”, Anna Karenina (I will defend the Joe Wright adaptation until death even though I know it’s no good, alright?), Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (OBSESSED with https://www.ntathome.com/packages/cat-on-a-hot-tin-roof/videos/cat-on-a-hot-tin-roof-full-play version, highly recommend renting it), Greek mythology, The Blue Train adaptation by ITV Poirot (season 10 episode 1, watch it, every episode is individually based on one of her books so no need to see it chronologically) that has been playing on repeat and also the fact that for the last month I’ve been thinking of nothing else than traveling to Italy, France and Greece again.

#timothee chamalet #timothee x reader #timothee x y/n #timothée chalamet #timothee fanfic

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make-me-imagine · 3 years

Text

Prompts: ‘Stuck in a snowstorm’, ‘Christmas baking together’ & ‘Christmas morning’

Requested by: @spuffyfan394

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Gen!Neutral Reader

Leverage Taglist: @groovyfluxie & @aaannabbanana

Triggers: None Words: 1,051

You stared out the window of Eliot’s apartment, watching the snow fall from the sky as you sipped on your hot drink. “I think the snow is getting thicker” you spoke to Eliot, who was in the kitchen.

A moment later, he came to stand next to you “I think the weather report had something about a snow storm coming through” as he spoke, a gust of wind smacked against the glass, the thick white snow covering any view their had previously been.

“I guess we can’t go out now” the disappointment of not being able to go to the nearby Christmas market showed on your expression.

Eliot smiled a little as he reached out and pulled you to his side “That’s alright, it’s cozier in here anyways” he pressed a kiss to your temple. He thought to himself for a few moments “Well, since we are stuck here, how about we bake something.”

Looked at him you rose your brow “Cookies?”

He chuckled, pulling away and heading for the kitchen “Cookies it is” he suggested as you eagerly followed him, excited for having something to do.

About twenty minutes later you put your freshly made cookie dough, now cut into various Christmas themed shapes into the oven, as Eliot prepared some icing behind you. Looking through the cabinets you found various cake decorations, along with some almost hidden cookie sprinkles.

Smiling as you pulled them out you turned to Eliot “How often to you bake cookies and not tell me?” you asked, shaking the sprinkles.

He smirked “I would never do that, I bought those a couple weeks ago, thinking I might end up making some soon”

“Good thought” you smiled at him as you moved to help him finish the icing.

After pulling the first batch of cookies out, you began setting them on the cooling rack before putting the second batch in the oven. Grabbing one of the cookies, you broke in in half before hissing a little as the cookie burned your finger.

“Hey now” Eliot came over checking your finger “Be a little more patient” he chuckled as you pouted.

“But I want to try it”

He shook his head as he smiled, amused “Just don’t burn your tongue, or you wont be able to taste it.”

Smiling, you picked up half of the cookie before blowing on it to cool it down. Taking a bite you closed your eyes as the warm soft cookie almost seemed to melt in your mouth.

After waiting impatiently, you finally had all of the cookies out of the oven and ready to decorate. You and Eliot sat at the counter as you began to decorate them. Occasionally setting one aside to snack on.

About an hour passed before you had finished, and had laid them all out on the table for the icing to rest. You smiled at the colorful arrangement as Eliot hugged you from behind “We should do this more often” you commented.

Eliot hummed in your ear “We already cook together.”

“Not often enough” you smiled.

He squeezed you as he kissed your cheek “Noted”

You yawned as you cuddled up to Eliot on the couch, who had his arms wrapped tightly around you. The sky had darkened as the snow still continued to fall heavily outside. The Christmas movie on the tv was playing as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

Eliot, looking down, noticed your fluttering eyelids. Smiling, he moved his hand to start caressing your head, relaxing you even further as you gradually fell into a deep and comfortable sleep.

Noticing this, Eliot carefully moved the both of you, picking you up in his arms before caring you to the bedroom and lying you in the bed. Making sure to cover you with the blankets before he left the room again.

It almost seemed like no time passed when your eyes began to flutter open as Eliot stroked your face, waking you. When your eyes met his he smiled at you “Merry Christmas Sweetheart.”

A tired smile crossed your face as you stretched out your body “Merry Christmas”, noticing the coffee in his hand you reached out for it as you sat up.

After taking a long sip, you smiled at him before noticing a lingering smell “Mmm, whats that?” you asked after sniffing the air.

“I’m making breakfast, come get some” he patted your leg before standing and leaving the room. After a few minutes, you walked sleepily out of the bedroom before sitting at the kitchen counter, gratefully accepting the food he had plated for you.

After eating, and now with a full stomach, you turned to go look out the window, smiling at the snow covered city around you. “A white Christmas” you smiled. Turning around a moment later, your eyes landed on the Christmas tree, which now had more presents under it than before.

“Hey” you said, catching Eliot’s attention, who followed your gaze to the tree.

He walked over and stood next to you as he sipped his coffee “You didn’t think I only got you three present did you?” he smiled, referring to the previous number of presents.

You glared playfully at him before you turned and walked over to your bag “I’ll be right back!” you yelled as you ran to the front door, slipping on his slippers. Eliot watched you with a confused stare.

Coming back a short time later, he chuckled, while shaking his head as you came in with a large box, clearly full of presents. You had a grin on your face as you staggered into the room, plopping the box down on the couch “You didn’t think I only got YOU three presents did you?”

Walking over to you he opened his arms up, to which you responded by easily leaning against him, placing your head against his chest and wrapping your own arms around him.

“Just don’t tell Hardison I got you so many presents, I only got him two” Eliot said, making you laugh.

After a moment, you broke apart before you eagerly went over to the tree “Okay, let’s start!”

Eliot smiled fondly at you as he approached you, his heart warming with the love he felt for you, and the growing fondness for the holiday he didn’t really care about before you.

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

I hope you like it! Sorry to but it off, but I never know how to end stories easily.

If you liked it, please consider reblogging, as reblogs are the best way to help spread creators works past their followers. Likes and comments are highly appreciated as well!

If you’d like to be added to a taglist for any character or fandom, let me know!

#eliot spencer #leverage #eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer oneshot #eliot spener one shot #oneshot #one shot #leverage x reader #leverage oneshot #leverage one shot #christmas oneshot #christmas one shot #christmas #eliot spencer reader insert #leverage christmas oneshot #leverage christmas one shot

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catracorner962 · 3 years

Text

Beautiful Children Ch 1

It's been five years since Horde Prime was defeated. Two years since Catra and Adora got married. Magic has been brought to Etheria, but all is not well. On a mission to destroy the last of The Brotherhood of Prime Catra finds an orphan magicat among the ruin. Now she and Adora must decide if they are ready for another adventure all together. Adora is ecstatic, Catra...less so. Through their decision, both must revisit childhood memories, some more pleasant than others.

*Warning: Violence, childbirth, themes of childhood abuse and trauma.*

She came into the world a flaming comment, blazing with shining light in an otherwise darkened world. A world becoming undone.

“Good! Good mistress! Just a little longer, I can see her head. Push now! Push!” The room shook violently, bed shaking, debris falling from the ceiling. The woman heaved for breath, pushing, her face pinched with pain.

“Aaaahhh can’t! W...e...we have to….g...go!”

She pushed harder, straining. Fists gripping at blue sheets.

“Almost there darling, you just have to…watch out!” The man all but threw himself across his partner, grunting as debris hit his back.

“Honey?!”

“I...I’m fine!” He smiled grimly, touching, squeezing her arm, “just keep pushing. They’ll be here soon. So soon. You’re doing great!” The woman starred at him, eyes filled with dread, another seismic shake from the earth beneath them sent the room into a spinning tumble. Windows clattered with the terrifying wind, outside muffled screams were lost to the tempest.

“I...I c...can’t!”

“You can mistress, just one more push...that’s it!” The midwife assured her, gripping the bed posts for balance. Blood and viscera leaked from the woman, but so too did a smattering of golden hair.

“Go love, that’s it! That’s…” A crack, metal from the roof above them bent and broke, falling around the small bedchamber. He screamed; shards of splitting iron cascading down. He bent close to his partner, shielding her head.

“What’s happening?! We...we’re not going to make it! I c...can...aaahh!” The woman’s body buckled, arching with a final desperate push., whole form tensed.

“Waaah! Hwaaah, hwaah!”

The man turned, squinting over his shoulder towards the sound, heart hammering. His vision tumbled, another series of tremors. Glass shattered, bursting out into the storm around them. The wicked gusts tugging at the sheets of the bed.

“I...is it….?”

“S...she’s alright!” The nursemaid clutched the baby close to her chest, it’s little cries deaf to the destruction around it. “She’s healthy...a..and w...well!”

The laboring woman’s face collapsed with relief. Sighing and smiling, despite it all.

“You did it! You did it my love she’s here! Did you hear that?! We have a daughter! We have,” he kissed her, lips slicked with tears and sweat and all. Even as reality fell down among them. Trees outside screeched, bark splitting and tearing. Rocks and boulders spun through the air.

“She...sh...aaaaarggg!”

The room trembled once more, bed rocking.

“Th...there’s another!” The nurse maid cried, falling forward against the exhausted woman, threatening to collapse on top of her. She caught herself with one arm, the swaddled baby held fast in the other.

“A...Another?” The man breathed, face tightening. His eyes scanned the destruction surrounding them. The walls shook, tearing apart.

“I….c...can’t!” The woman sobbed, her blonde hair falling from it’s ponytail. He swiped a lock of hair backward.

“I..it’s okay, it’ll be alright, we...we can,” the ground undulated, pitching the bed to the left violently. The pair, their nursemaid and the infant screaming as they fell to the floor.

A red light piercing through the dark clouds. Sounds of cannon fire.

The blonde woman rolled, groaning, hauling herself upward to squat among the wreck of their home, the walls now crumbling.

“Here, take her,” the nursemaid thrust the tiny babe to her father. He took her, into his shaking, bloody arms. Her little from squirming, gummy mouth still emoting pitiful cries.

“There, there, it’s alright,” he soothed, kissing her little head. The red light blasted around them, people screaming, crying, begging for mercy. The little baby only gurgled, oblivious to the destruction around it.

“Love, you alright?”

He turned towards his partner, who screamed, enough to rival the gales.

“Th...that’s it!” The nursemaid crouched before her, hands outstretched ready to catch the second babe.

With a final cry, the woman broke down in a sob with the second series of little wails.

“A boy! Also h...healthy.”

The man tried to step forward, towards the two women. He coughed, smoke filling the wreck of the room, of their home. He pulled shaking arms around them, another cracking beam fell through, crashing around them. Both babes wailed.

“Sh….sh...it’s alright. You did it,” he cried, tears streaming down his face as he looked at the little ones.

“Adam,” his partner sighed beside him, holding the boy in her arms. She kissed his forehead, determined to make a moment of love and peace amid destruction.

“And the girl?” The father asked.

“What about…”

“Aaaahhh!”

The nursemaid screamed, then crumpled to the ground, limp. A bot stormed through the harrowing storm. It’s cold lights blinking, lazer revving up.

“What have we here?”

The man and woman starred in horror, at their nursemaid’s body holding the infants tight against them. The wind tugged at the figures cape. His pale form illuminated by fire, red eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“H….Horde Prime…” the man whispered, pulling his arms tighter around both his partner and newborn. The pale figure only smiled, revealing pointed fangs.

“No, fool. I am not Horde Prime. You are not worthy to behold him. I am but his brother.” He stepped forward, metal claws poised.

“You have something I desire. Now give it here.”

“No!” The woman screamed, she seized a shard of plated metal and rose to her feet shaking. Adam tucked tight against her.

“Love! No!”

She strode forward, fast as her condition would allow. Determined, she raised the shard to strike at the Hordesman’s neck. Claws warped tightly around her wrist, snapping it.

“Aaah! N...no!” He grinned cruelly, eyes flicking to the baby in her arms.

“Let them go!” The father shouted, trembling.

“Fools. You are as arrogant as all your kind. First Ones, ha! You will be nothing but a shadow. A memory. Your people are arrogant, selfish, wretches. A plague upon the galaxies.”

The Hordesman smirked, the bot beside him turned towards the woman and her child.

“No! Don’t!”

BAM!

The woman screamed, laser fire blasting through her chest in one fell blow. She too collapsed to the shattered earth. Body charred, and smoking, Tiny Adam wailing in her arms.

“N...no….no!” The father whimpered, his legs frozen. In his arms the tiny girl squalled, Little arms reaching out from her thin blanket The Hordesman stalked forward, bending down to the dead woman. He reached for the bundle in her arms, lifting it and huffed.

“D...don’t hurt h….him...p….please!”

“He’s not the one I want.”

The villain stalked forward, the bot turning towards the father. It’s laser cannon glowed ready for another blast. He gulped, mouth dry. Sweat beading on his temples. The small life in his arms cried. Red eyes bore into him.

“Hand it over,” the Hordesman reached for the girl in his arms.

“No!” He turned away, twisting to keep his child as far as he could from the reach of the Horde. The bot’s laser shot a beam, just past his head. He screamed, folding to the ground over the child at the Hordesman’s feet. The last of the bedroom wall now blasted to a smoldering pile. All around them the wind whipped, burnt flesh and charring metal filled his lungs, eyes streaming with tears sorrow and discomfort in equal measure.

“I will not ask again,” the imposing Hordesman hissed. “Give it to me.”

“Not a chance!” He snarled, hunkering down over the baby.

“Very well, you have chosen your fate.”

The father let out a small whimper, the Hordesman’s metal claws clamping around his neck. He clutched the baby closer still. Even as his feet levitated off the ground, kicking feebly. The baby continued to wail, Her blue eyes creased with confusion and fright. Too little, she was too little to know such emotions. To comprehend such chaos. She should not have to, not at only a few moments old. Already experiencing the horror of the world.

“Give it to me,” the Hordesman commanded. The father’s arms held her tight even as the creature grabbed for the infant, wrenching her away with an impossible strength.

“A...Adora! No! P...p...please!”

The Hordesman tucked the screaming baby into the crook of his other arm.

“Adora,” he mused. The baby’s blue grey eyes squinted, little tears ebbing at the edges of her eyes. He turned back to the father, his grip tightening.

“This child will be instrumental to Horde Prime’s victory. She will be an asset to our conquest. You may take comfort in that, before you die.”

Adora’s father clawed at the Hordesman’s arm, mouth sucking for air, his eyes wild and wide. Lipless, the Hordesman smiled, fingers tightening against the pulsing viens, the soft flesh. His smile only grew, the man’s windpipe crushed with ease. His body flailed and twitched, falling to the floor with a dull thud.

He smirked, turning from the wreckage. The baby had quieted, large eyes only blinking and confused.

“Adora,” he whispered, one claw caressing her little cheek.

“You will be of great use to us.”

The Hordesman, known as Hordak tucked the child against him, through the swirling dark portal. Leaving the wreckage of Eternia lost to the anals of history.

---

“Adora! Look out!”

Glimmer shouted, flinging one hand out to send a beam of magic forward, it flew past Adora’s shoulder, directly behind her. She turned, only to see one of Prime’s clones fall to the ground.

“Thanks your magest...ugh!” She swung out with the sword, catching yet another clone with the broadside of the blade, shoving him backward and wrestling him to the ground. He swung out lamely, fists beating against her armor. She bit back a grin, squaring him straight in the face.

“Shera, on your right!” Bow shouted, an arrow swinging by, hitting another clone in the shoulder.

“Got it!” Adora, as Shera ran forward ducking another three other clones. She spun, dashing and slashed them across the back of the neck. Their chips sparking with electric shocks. They groaned, crashing to the ground.

“BOOM!”

She turned, heart sinking at another explosion, this one in the village center. Debris shot through the air, crashing down into the narrow streets.

“All the people...they...they made it out right?!”

“We got everyone we could!” Netossa answered, shortly. She swung another volley of nets capturing the clone closest to Spinnerella.

That’s not reassuring...where’s…?

“Aaaaarrrggghh!” Adora turned towards the sound on instinct but smiled, she knew that sound.

Catra, but not her cry of pain or distress. It was a giddy cry of satisfaction. She took another swipe at an oncoming clone, hitting him with the butt of her sword before flinging him over her back, smashing him to the ground and looking up at where Catra leapt from a nearby tree branch. She all but glided through the air, leaping at two clones, her claws tearing through their makeshift robes with ease. She vaulted off them as they feel, landing, as always, on her feet.

“What is it princess? See something you like?” the end of her tail flicked back and forth in a tease.

“I….”

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The sky over Tellinville flashed with orange red light, buildings crumbled, the ground shook. Catra’s ears flicked back in irritation.

“There really better not be any left,” Adora whispered, heart clenching. The heat of the fires stinging her face.

“How many more of them are there?!” Spinnerella took out four more clones with a strong gust.

“According to Perfuma and Frosta not many!” Netossa kicked at a clone who had pinned her to the ground. A net clamped over it, throwing it aside.

“You alright?” Bow gasped, Netossa nodded, gaining her footing and rushed forward once more.

“We will be victorious brothers! In the name of Horde Prime we will….”

“Shut it!” Catra snarled, jumping onto it’s back and dragging her claws across it’s thin throat. Green blood spurted from it’s neck before it coughed and fell forward, still.

Adora fought the blush rising in her cheeks.

“Will,” Glimmer shot another beam of magic towards an oncoming clone, “you,” she ducked, kicking out nailing another in it’s hip, “two” it recovered but not before she darted forward, jabbing at a pressure point in its neck, “get a,” it fell incapacitated and Glimmer saw her opening, swinging her staff to take it out with a bash to the head, “room!” She finished, glaring at the pair of them.

“Sorry Glimmer!” Adora shouted, punching yet another clone in the stomach. She cut through it easily like paper. All that training paid off.

“Awe what’s the matter Sparkles, jealous?” Catra cocked a hip out in her stance. “Argh!” She turned, whip out instantly, cracking over the face of a clone.

“I...I think that’s the last of them!” Bow panted, slinging his bow to his back. He spared a moment to kiss Glimmer on the cheek as she wiped a sweaty hand across her brow. Adora sheathed her sword.

“The Brotherhood of Prime really managed to occupy this town for awhile huh?” Netossa looked towards the decimated village.

I failed….no...we failed...no... Adora stopped herself. Even as Shera, the thoughts swarmed through her mind. The tempestuous anxiety filling her gut. Remember Perfuma’s lessons. You aren’t a failure. It’s not your fault. We only just found out about the Brotherhood of Prime.

A warm hand on her arm coaxed Adora from her thoughts. Catra offered her a tiny smile, fingers squeezing. Her eyes met Adora’s briefly as Glimmer went over further strategy. It was a small glance, seemingly nothing really. But Adora recognized it well. After all, she and Catra had spoken with silent looks for most of their lives. A glance here and here in training exercises. A mischievous squint during drills. A sympathetic eye after one of them emerged from Shadow Weaver’s chambers. It was a secret language they knew well.

Are you alright?

Yeah.

“Sound good?” Glimmer finished. Bow nodded, taking off with Spinnerella, “Oh will you two pay attention for five damn minutes?!” The queen of Brightmoon all but screeched.

“What? Sorry!” Adora wrung her hands, unsure what to do with them now that they weren’t holding a weapon.

“We’re scouting Tellinville for survivors. Think you the Horde Scum can keep your hands off each other long enough to do that?”

“Depends,” Catra quipped, wrapping her arms around Adora’s thick bicep, “how many dark corners and little alleys does Tellinville have?” Glimmer only rolled her eyes.

“Fine! We’ll look for survivors! Not that there can be many after Prime’s remaining brother’s destroyed everything.”

“We’ll meet back here. If you find anyone, signal for me.” Adora nodded, making her way towards the village with Catra in tow.

---

Buildings lay in smoldering rubble. Smashed dishes, an overturned bed.

“Do you hear anything? See anyone?”

Catra shook her head, sniffing for any sign of life. Only melted metal, the residue of that viscous green liquid.

Come into the light little sister, yes….yes...let your pain melt away.

No!

He’s not here, you're safe. It’s been five years. You’re alright.

Catra scratched at the back of her neck, stepping over a fallen pillar.

“We’ll cover more ground if we split up,” Adora walked ahead, eyes endlessly shifting for any sign of life. “I’ll go around the outskirts of the perimeter in case Bow and Spinnerella missed anything. Perfuma and Frosta are covering the town center. If you can cover the south side that’ll help. Netossa and Glimmer have the rest.

“A’right, call if you need anything princess,” Catra answered, trying to hide the lack of enthusiasm.

Adora leaned forward pecking a kiss to her temple. As Shera her lips radiated warmth and magic of their own that sent a thrumming through Catra. She suppressed a purr before Adora gave her a final salute and strode off, through the heaps of wood and stone, green liquid sloshing under her boots.

“Hello? Hellooo? Anyone! Anyone there? Hello? Answer me dammit!” Catra called, her ears flicking this was and that. Ducking through alleys and under a collapsed entry way to what had been a home.

“Helllloooo?”

Catra sniffed,

Smoke...iron...blood...urine...more blood...tears….burning fur...smoldering flesh…

Burning fur…?

She sniffed once more, dropping to all fours,

There’s something here…

Catra picked among the broken shards of glass, tracing the scent from the demolished home. Going brick by brick.

“Ehh, ehh, aah!”

She sniffed again, tail high. Going through the wreck, she dug through the rock. It used to be a ceiling or a wall no doubt, destroyed by one of the bombs that the Brotherhood of Prime set off when they saw the princesses coming.

“Hello? Say something! We’re here to help you!”

“Ehhh, ehh ehh!”

Sounds like a child….

Catra flung through the bricks and dust frantically, white dust clouding and puffing up. She coughed through the hazy cloud, squinting to make out any sign of….

An eye, shut against the white dust that covered half a face. She dug faster, hacking through the plumes of soot. Catra lifted another brick with one hand, bracing the others so they didn’t come tumbling down with the other.

“There...there it’s...it’s okay,” she muttered and stopped. The ear of the little thing flopped, triangular, black and velvet.

What….?

“AAAhh! Ahhh!”

It cried, white specs falling into its mouth. It coughed feebly. Catra reached forward, sliding her hands under its small body. She held her breath, lifting the little thing from its entrapment, gathering it in her arms.

Sh licked her hand, wiping at it’s face.

Two floppy little ears, and the stubbiest of tails curled around it’s bottom. Catra gingerly shook out its hair, white powder sloughing off to reveal thin wisps of blonde hair. She adjusted her grip on the little thing, carefully giving it’s mouth a swipe with her finger to clear any remaining dust.

“Mrrp, grrl,” it squeaked, opening its mouth to cry once more.

Fangs?

It’s whole body shook, it’s belly, still retaining a thin velvet coating of birth hair, huffed in and out in an attempt to take in more air.

Catra starred, heart hammering.

The arms around the infant grew heavy, riddled with goose bumps. Every hair on her body stood on end.

A...magicat kitten….

---

She came into the world the treasure of a dying people. A relic, a hope. But it was not to be.

“I can do this, just...just…” the magicat held out his hand, crouched between the humongous roots of an old one tree.

His husband grabbed his hand tightly. Keeping his worry to himself. The kitten was coming too late, it had been due to arrive moons ago. A birth this far past it’s time could only end one of two ways. A death, or severe complications leading to death not long after.

“You can, you can do this,” even as he said it, he looked around, ears on alert for any sign of movement, any sound of bots or First One’s bugs Either were equally possible in this part of Etheria. Neither the Fright Zone, or the Whispering Woods, or any of the princess’s kingdoms.

“AAAAARRRGGGHHH!!!” he cried, body tensing. “Aaaarrgghhh.”

“That’s it, that’s it,” The other soothed, going around to crouch before his husband. “And...try not to...be so loud? We only just lost the bots. I’d hate to have you running in your condition.”

“Not be so loud?! I’m delivering your child!”

“Right, sorry. You’re doing great.”

Still anxiety ate at him. Bots could linger anywhere, Horde soldiers, it was a miracle they survived this long, with one of them pregnant no less.

“Okay, okay almost there….almost….” a rush of liquid, a little mewling cry. The magicat took the tiny thing into his arms, cutting the cord with one claw.

“Is….is it…”

“A girl,” he whispered, smoothing over her sticky mat of dark hair. She cried until he put her to his husbands chest. Tears and quick breaths of relief all around.

“She’s so small…” the other magicat reached up, cradling the kitten to his breast with one hand splaying across her entire back. Her stub of a tail barely switched. Her little eyes remained shut, but her ears were perfect velvet and her nose sniffed.

“She’s perfect.”

Silence, and for one brief moment the three of them were safe. Safe and together, a sanctuary between the trees. The magicat stroked her face lovelingly.

“I’m sorry love, I’m so sorry...I wish I could feed you properly,” his heart cracked, seeing her little mouth trying to suckle. Nothing would come. He was too thin, too starving. Barely well enough to carry her himself.

“Don’t feel bad my darling,” his husband kissed the little kitten between her velvet black ears. “It’s not your fault.”

“We...we can’t keep her,” he choked out, wiping his tears with a free hand. His husband nodded.

“They’ll catch us eventually. Even if she doesn’t starve.”

They held their child close, clutching her close against the breeze of the wood.

“What do we do?” He looked up at his husband, holding their child tight. She mewled for any food, her tiny body fragile.

“I have an idea, but...you won’t like it. I don’t like it either but it’s better… better than anything we can give her.”

It took four moons to get to the outskirts of the Fright Zone. Lightening cracked over the dark sky, they huddled close, keeping the kitten under a bundle of clothing scraps.

“...We...we can’t leave her,” the magicat pleaded, looking down at the flimsy box he held in his shaking hands.

“If she stays with us...she’ll die. We’ve been over this my darling we...we can’t. Better to give her a future, any future then sentence her to a slow death. That chance, a chance for a life is the only thing we can give her now.”

He looked down at the kitten in his arms, her yellow and blue eyes blinked up at them, curious. Her tiny claws poked through the folds of the clothing.

“I...I’m so sorry my love,” her father whispered through tears, pressing his nose to the crown of her head. Breathing her in, her scent, still fresh and clean. The kitten only whimpered, her tiny stomach gurgling. Her father kissed her between the brows for one desperate longing moment. She reached out, little hands padding against his damp cheeks.

“Come here,” he handed the little kitten off to her father who held her to his chest, kissing her, running his hands through her matted hair and caressing the tiny velvet ears.

“We love you kitten, so, so much,” shaking, he placed her down in the box, making sure to double check her blankets.

He placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder, squeezing it.

“I...i just want to hold her...just a little longer…” he reached down, scooping her up once more against his frail frame. The other magicat spoke into the small recording device they had scavenged.

“Please...please take care of her,” he begged. “Tell her we love her. When she’s old enough, show her this, so she knows how much we cherished her.”

He reached forward,

“It’s time my darling.”

“No,” the other magicat cried, shielding the kitten from the torrent of rain and flash of lightning.

“No….no...no...no...stars please no!” The little kitten, oblivious, drifted in and out of sleep in her father’s arms. One fist wrapped around her tail. Even through her birth fur, her ribs stuck outward.

He relented only when his husband pried her from his grasp gently, leaning down to put her in the box once more.

“She’ll have a bed, and food, and somewhere to live.”

“Is living with the Horde much of a life?”

“Darling….”

“I know,” he cried, ‘I know...I just….” he looked down at the sleeping kitten. “We never got to name her.”

His husband nodded, reaching down and giving the kitten a final kiss on the nose. He looked at her with adoration and misery. He could only ndd, despondent. They made the mistake of naming their first kitten. One that died shortly after being born. A heartbreak almost as bad as this one.

“We love you kitten, we love you with all our hearts.”

---

“Shera! Shera you saved us!”

Adora let out a nervous giggle, giving the woman a pat on the back.

“Well it was a team effort,” she admitted, escorting the woman to join the other survivors. Glimmer and Bow helped the last few stragglers into the spaceship.

Perfuma and Frosta handed out blankets as people got comfortable.

“Is that all of them?” Adora asked, gazing up the ramp of the ship. Glimmer nodded,

“According to Netossa and Spinnerella yes. They’re doing a final sweep just to be sure.”

Adora nodded,

Where’s Catra? She should be back by now?

Adora, calm down. It’s fine she’s probably doing a final check.

“I’ll do one last check,” she turned towards the village again.

“Adora, wait you don’t have to…”

She strode off before Glimmer could finish.

I have to do this. There are seventy five people in that ship who could’ve been killed. We...we weren’t able to get everyone out before the bombs….

Her heart sank, wandering through the quiet streets, looking for any sign of life.

Where is Catra….Catra?

“Adora?”

She turned instantly,

Now that was a cry of concern.

“Catra?! Don’t touch her! I…”

She stopped short as Catra came into view, wide eyed but in one piece, and holding something. She scurried up to Adora, something small in her arms.

“Catra your alright! We got the rest of the survivors on the….”

Adora looked down at the bundle Catra held. It was small, curled on its side into the crook of Catra’s arm.

“What….what is it?” She spluttered, dumbfounded. Catra looked from her to the thing in her arms, its little ears pressed against its head, tail curled against itself.

“It’s...it’s a baby,” Catra spoke as if realizing for the first time. She placed an instinctive protective hand atop its head. “I found a baby.”

Adora blinked throat suddenly dry. She took in the little creature by degrees. It’s tufts of hair, its scrunched face, the way Catra held it to her so tenderly. The way it seemed to sniff her out and curl closer to her. Something swelled in her chest, making her heart flutter.

“Where….where is its parents?”

#my writing #catra #adora #shera #spop #finn #catradora family #catradora kid #catradora parenting #glimmer #bow #shadow weaver #shadow weaver a+ parenting #spop season 5 #she-ra princess of power #SheRa and the Princesses of Power

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soobiniebaby · 3 years

Text

Angels & Devils Part XVI : Time’s Up

Tomorrow x Together Fanfiction

~ p a r t s : main post || prologue || part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6 || part 7 || part 8 || part 9 || part 10 || part 11 || part 12 || part 13 || part 14 || part 15 || part 16 || part 17 ~ p a i r i n g : love triangle involving choi soobin and choi yeonjun ~ g e n r e : high school au | some social media au | some fluff & angst | childhood friends | love triangle ~ l a n g u a g e : English ~ w a r n i n g : contains swearing, alcohol, kissing (?) and may contain mature themes (angst, etc.) ~ a / n : This will be my first fanfic (go easy on me pls) and i’m just writing this as I go along, so bear with me juseyo The setting (place/country) of the story is up to the reader’s interpretation ~ s u m m a r y : What should she choose? Han Baby: the new girl with a troubled past MO Academy: her new high school Choi Soobin: student council president, member of the Ecosave club, volunteer at the Humane Treatment of Animals, member of the Honor Society, a vocalist in the Jazzed club, the school’s all around golden boy Choi Yeonjun: leader of the Dance club, star of the Jazzed club, the school’s it boy with a bad rep 5 best friends, 1 new girl, 1 childhood friendship, 1 epic love triangle? What will this school year bring?

Yeonjun’s night wasn’t going so well.

All he wanted was to take his girlfriend to one of the biggest school dances of the year, to pick her up from apartment and have his breath taken away but how undoubtedly gorgeous she’d look, to hold her hand in the backseat of his car and maybe toast with a glass of white wine as his driver takes them to the dance, to take silly and sweet photographs as they enter the venue, to watch every guy’s drop as he walks in with her drop-dead gorgeous self into the hall, to hold her close and whisper sweet nothings in her ear while they slow dance under the twinkling lights and fall petals floating down, and to make it a night they’ll never forget as they make their way back to her place after the dance for their own private “afterparty.”

Yet, he found himself in a throng of kids around his age who he knew would be able to live as lavishly and extravagantly as they wanted to without having to work a single day in their lives, striving to make dull conversations about who threw the latest reckless parties and who hooked up with who and who did this that and so on and so forth. For a “business” party, and it was less on networking and more on gossiping and hooking up for these kids. When his father sprung his mandatory attendance at this event, Yeonjun had initially thought of asking B to come with him so that they’d at least be able to spend the evening together, whether it be at the Fall Ball or not, and he knew that her presence would make it so much more bearable. But as soon as he heard who was hosting the event, he knew inviting B would be a bad idea. Because the event was being hosted by none other than Kim Jisoo, successor to the biggest Technology Firm in the country.

And Yeonjun was quick to learn that wherever Kim Jisoo went, Park Rose was sure to follow.

And right on cue, he spots her.

Her long red hair fell down her shoulders like a velvet curtain, her figure flaunted by the blue slip dress that hung off her body elegantly. She spots him at the same time and gives him a wave. Again, he feels as if he were transported 2 years back to the past, feeling tongue-tied and breathless in her presence. He shakes it off before waving back to her, and she makes his way towards him.

“Hey babe, I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.” Rose says, instinctively leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“It’s a party hosted by Kim Jisoo, so my father forced me to come tonight. And I’m not your babe.” he says, though he makes no move to avoid her kiss on his cheek.

“Sorry, I guess it feels a bit weird seeing you again after we’ve broken up. It’s a habit, I guess.” she says, giggling. “Did you come here alone tonight? No friends? Where’s your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, my friends and girlfriend are actually at MO Academy for the Fall Ball. I’m actually gonna ditch this party as soon as I can then head on over to the school dance, but don’t tell Jisoo cause she might not let me go so easily.” he says, taking a sip out of the champagne in his glass.

“Ah, the Fall Ball. I remember how beautiful the last one was. Remember, they covered the whole dance floor with autumn leaves? Then I sprained my ankle when that song by Twice came on and I couldn’t help but dance along.” Rose laughs, fondly remembering the evening. “A swollen ankle wasn’t enough to spoil our little afterparty at The Eastwood though.” she says, referring to the hotel they had booked that night and the hours they spent tangled in the sheets.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be even better this year since the guys and I are the student council leaders now.” Yeonjun says, brushing off her comments about the past.

Rose pouts. “Come on, lighten up Junnie! No need to pretend that you and I are strangers. We’re friends, right?”

Yeonjun raises a brow. “Yeah, sure, friends.” It was something he never thought of Rose as, but given their situation, it felt like an appropriate label. “As a friend, do you want to go around and do that thing we used to do at lame parties like these?” he says, another memory of them popping up.

Rose giggles, remembering how they used to go around the party, pick a couple or group to watch, and make up dialogue for them. It was a fun and entertaining way to get it through a night like this, surrounded by shallow and stuck up trust fund kids. “Ah, now that’s what a friend at a party like this is for.” she says, her eyes quickly scanning the room before landing on a group of people. “Okay, look over there, let’s call the man Mr. Bass, and let’s say he’s got his arm wrapped around his girlfriend yet he’s so obviously flirting with their companion Mr. Archibald…”

The rest of Yeonjun’s time at the party was spent that way, with him and Rose going around the room, people-watching, dialogue-making, story-telling, sipping on Chardonnay and laughing together just like the good old days. The best dialogue they made up was one between Rose’s own friend group, Jisoo, Jennie and Lisa, wherein the pair of them made up a story about how Jisoo and Lisa were trying to outshine each other for Jennie’s affection.

“Wow, Rose, I have to admit that when I stepped foot into this place, I never would have thought I’d actually have fun tonight.” Yeonjun says after they sneak away in a fit of giggles. “Our dialogues tonight weren’t the best, but I’ve gotta say, the one with Lisa, Jennie and Jisoo was genius. Is there any truth to it, or is it purely fiction?”

“Well I made up the scenario, but honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if a bit of it ended up being true.” Rose says, nursing the wine glass in her hand. “I have to say, I thought tonight would be just another night of me glued to the same 3 girls I’ve been stuck with the past year, so thank you. I had fun with you tonight.”

Yeonjun smiles at her. “Speaking of Jisoo, do you think it would be safe for me to leave now? The dance will be ending in about an hour, and I’d really like to catch at least a bit of it before the night ends.”

“Oh, you can’t just slip out cause that might get you on her bad side. You have to come and say goodbye to her, but don’t worry, I’ve got a fullproof plan to ensure that she’ll let you go.” Rose says, giving him a smile before taking a sip of wine.

“Follow my lead.” Rose whispers to Yeonjun, linking their arms together before approaching Jisoo, Jennie and Lisa.

“Hey girls, where have you been all night? I feel like I haven’t seen you around.” Rose says, greeting the 3.

“We could say the same about you. I was starting to worry about you, I feel like I haven’t seen you all night!” Jisoo exclaims, before her eyes settle on the man Rose had on her arm. “But I guess I had no reason to worry after all, looks like you found yourself some company.” she says, smiling knowingly at the pair. “Hello Yeonjun, I’m glad to see you were able to make it to my party tonight.”

“It’s my pleasure, Jisoo.” Yeonjun says politely. “I really had fun.”

“Yes, tonight was fun, but I hope you don’t mind if I leave and take Junnie here with me?” Rose says, giving a pout. “I think I’ve had a little too much to drink and I’m not feeling well. Yeonjun has offered to drive me home.”

Yeonjun subtly raises a brow at her, but she throws him a quick wink.

“Oh no, are you okay? You look like you should lie down.” Lisa says, her brows furrowed with concern.

“Don’t worry about her, ladies. I’d be glad to give her a ride home and make sure she’s okay.” Yeonjun says, quickly catching on to Rose’s plan.

“Oh, Yeonjun dear, thank you so much!” Jisoo squeals, quickly leaning forward and giving him a peck on the cheek. “You’re such a darling. Thank you for looking out for our dear Rose.”

“No problem at all.” Yeonjun says. “We’ll be on our way now, I think Rose really needs to lie down.” he says to Rose, who dramatically puts a hand over her forehead.

“Yes, I think I really do. Thanks again, Yeonjun. Girls, I’ll see you all soon. And Jisoo, I’m sorry I have to leave early, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” she says, batting her eyelashes at the girls.

Jisoo waves a hand in the air. “Nonsense, your presence here tonight was more than enough. You too, Yeonjun! Thank you for coming tonight.”

The pair waves at the 3 girls one more time before they walk away, snickering and giggling.

“Wow, that was genius. Thanks, Rose.” Yeonjun says. “I guess I’m free to go now. Do you, uh, do you really feel sick? Do you want me to give you a ride home?”

Rose laughs. “Am I that good of an actress? No, I feel perfectly fine, that was just an excuse so Jisoo would let us go. But I wouldn’t mind a ride home, thanks.” she says, smiling at him sweetly. “I mean, you owe me now so it’s only fair that I get a free ride home.”

Yeonjun shakes his head, smiling as he pulls out his phone and texts his driver to pick him up at the front entrance. “Alright, let’s go then.”

Yeonjun had to admit that his evening wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. He was worried that he wouldn’t be able to escape from the party, but here he was in his car with his driver driving away from it. He was dreading having to see his ex again, but he was pleasantly surprised by how her company had made the night tolerable, or fun even. The ride to her house wasn’t a very long one seeing as she lived in the same neighborhood as Jisoo did, but the whole time was spent with the 2 of them laughing and reminiscing, just like the good old days.

“Ah, here we are.” Rose says as the car stops in front of her house. “Junnie, I just wanted to say thank you for tonight.”

Yeonjun smiles at her as his driver gets out of the car and opens the door open for her. “No problem, Rose. I had fun too, thanks to you.”

Rose gives him a smile back, and before he knew it, she was leaning in and he was closing his eyes as her lips met his, melding together like 2 pieces of a puzzle. She tries to deepen the kiss by tangling her hands in his hair, but he pulls away, drawn back to the present-day reality.

“Rose, sorry, I can’t do this. I’m in love with someone else.” he says, his lips stinging as the guilt starts to hit him. “And I’m leaving to go meet up with her right now. Look, I had fun tonight, but like you said, we’re friends. Nothing more.”

Rose sighs, retracting her hands from his shoulders. She sits up, straightening out her dress before she says “Friends. Right, thanks again for tonight Junnie.”

As she stands up and exits the car, she takes one look back at him. “Whoever you love now, I hope they know how lucky they are. But I also hope you know that I don’t think you and I will ever be just friends, and tonight was proof of that. I’ll always love you, Junnie.” she says, giving him a small wave before she walks away, slamming the car door shut behind her.

Yeonjun watches her walk up to the front door, wanting to make sure that she’d make it into her house safely. Once she was out of his sight, he lets out a deep breath, one he didn’t realize he was holding in his chest. He leans back against the car seat, running a hand through his hair. His night wasn’t going the way he thought it would, but hopefully meeting B at the Fall Ball would set things back on track.

Or so he thought.

•°•

He wasn’t expecting the pang of jealousy that hit him when he finally saw B at the Fall Ball.

She was right when she said that his jaw would drop when he saw her dress. She looked breathtaking, and he smiled to himself when he noticed that her blue dress matched his blue hair perfectly. But when he noticed that she was on the dance floor with her face buried in some other guy’s chest and this guy’s hands around her waist, he felt his blood boil.

How dare someone else hold his girlfriend like that.

But as they sway to the music and they shift their positions, Yeonjun finds himself surprised when he finally gets a look at the guy’s face.

It was Soobin. Yeonjun should’ve known by the way he towered over B, and because of the fact that he had asked Soobin to step in for him until he could make it to the dance, but the feeling of seeing him hold B that way shocked Yeonjun.

He felt betrayed.

He trusted Soobin enough to know that he would never make a move on his girlfriend behind his back, but he couldn’t deny the sparks he saw whenever Soobin and B were together. All the way back from the first day of school when Soobin caught her from falling down the front steps of MO Academy, to Hueningkai’s birthday party when Yeonjun was people-watching and he noticed how Soobin had his eyes fixed on B the whole night, to the night of his birthday party when he noticed how flustered Soobin got when he had to kiss B, to tonight when he saw how intimate Soobin and B looked locked in each other arms on the dance floor.

He knew he wasn’t the best boyfriend, especially given the fact that he had kissed his ex girlfriend a total of 2 times now behind his current girlfriend’s back, but he couldn’t help the jealousy that was starting to pound into his ears. He knew that B got jealous too, and maybe she had good reason to given his history with Rose, but those were both mistakes. Those kisses weren’t his fault, and it was only normal for him to feel a little jealous too, seeing her with another guy.

Before he knew what he was doing, his feet were guiding him towards the pair on the dance floor and he finds himself tapping Soobin on the shoulder.

He sees a flash of something in Soobin’s face when he turns and sees Yeonjun standing there, but he ignores it. Instead, he smiles and says “Excuse me, but may I interrupt?”

B’s head snaps out of Soobin’s chest then, her eyes meeting his now, wide with surprise.

“Yeonjun! Y—you’re here.” she exclaims, jumping out of Soobin’s arms and towards Yeonjun.

He smiles at her endearingly. “Hey, Baby. I made it right on time.”

He watches as her eyes shift between him and Soobin before she smiles and gives Yeonjun a hug. He engulfs her in his arms, kissing the top of her head, his nose scrunching up when he realizes that her smell was tainted with hints of baby powder and vanilla. Soobin’s scent.

Soobin gives him a pat on the back then. “Glad you could make it. Cleaned up pretty nicely, too.” Yeonjun smirks. Of course he made sure to look his best. He had an extra shirt, tie and coat tucked away in his car and he changed on the way to MO Academy.

“Are you flirting with me?” he says jokingly. “Thanks for taking care of my Baby for tonight, Soob.” he says, purposely wrapping an arm around B’s shoulders and pulling her to his side.

“Don’t mention it. You 2 enjoy the rest of the night now, I’ll see you back at the table.” Soobin says, flashing a warm smile before he retreats, turning his back to them.

Yeonjun nods at him and watches as he walks away, but before he can get very far, B suddenly takes a step forward and reaches for his arm.

“Soobin, wait.” she says, causing both of the boys to freeze. Yeonjun stares at her hand clutched onto the ends of Soobin’s sleeve as Soobin looks back at her.

“Yes, B?” he asks tentatively. Cautiously.

B’s silent for a moment, and although her back was turned to Yeonjun, he could tell that she was struggling to say whatever it was she wanted to.

“I just wanted to say, um, thank you. For tonight.” she finally says, and Yeonjun feels a pang of guilt in his chest as he recalls how Rose had sad the exact same thing to him earlier that night before they shared a kiss.

“No problem, B. The pleasure was all mine.” Soobin says, smiling warmly at B and giving Yeonjun a small nod before turns and disappears into the crowd.

As Soobin walks away, Yeonjun wraps his arms around B’s waist, resting his chin on her shoulder, mildly disturbed to once again catch a whiff of baby powder and vanilla. He leans in close, close enough so that his lips would brush against her ear as he whispers “You wanna dance, Baby?”

She turns to face him, a bright smile on her face. “I’d love to.” she says.

Yeonjun grins, subtly rubbing his face in the crook of her neck, hoping that some of his scent would rub off on her skin to get rid of Soobin’s smell, before he grabs her hand and spins her around on the dance floor, causing her to squeal and giggle.

Back at table 21, Soobin watches as B lays her head on Yeonjun’s chest, her hands laid on his shoulders as his arms circled around his waist, and he tries to put himself in Yeonjun’s place, which he was in up until a few moments ago. He watches as the 2 of them slowly move to the rhythm of the mellow music, and he watches as Yeonjun plants a gentle kiss on B’s forehead as the song ends, until a new one starts and they start dancing again.

And again.

He watches until Taehyun finally announces that the Jazzed club had already performed their final song for the night, and that the DJ will be accepting song requests.

He watches until Taehyun, Beomgyu and Kai finally get off stage and join him at their table, Yuna eventually joining them too, taking her place beside Kai.

“Soobin?” Taehyun asks, noticing how spaced out Soobin looked.

“Hm?” he responds, his eyes still absentmindedly watching the couples still dancing in the ballroom, or at least, on one couple in particular.

“Are you okay?” Taehyun asks, nudging him until Soobin’s eyes meet his.

Soobin forces a smile. “I’m good, yeah.” he says, leaving Taehyun unconvinced.

Taehyun takes a quick look around their table, making sure that Kai and Yuna wouldn’t hear him, before he leans in a bit closer and says “I saw you dancing with B earlier, and it looked like things were going well. What happened? Where is she?”

Soobin hesitates, chewing on his bottom lip before he tries to subtly tilt his head in the direction of the dance floor. Taehyun follows the direction, confused at first, until he spots a familiar head of blue hair in the crowd and the girl he had his arms around.

“Ah.” Taehyun quietly says, looking back at Soobin with a regretful look in his eyes. He gently pats his hand over his on the table. “So he came.”

Soobin smiles at him again, a little more genuine this time. “Yes, and I’m glad he did. Look how happy she is now that he’s here.”

“Mm-hm, I mean she looked pretty happy when I spotted you 2 on the dance floor earlier, but if it means anything, at least Yeonjun kept his promise. I was worried he wouldn’t make it, knowing how strict his dad is when it comes to business endeavors.” Taehyun says. “When did he get here?”

“Um, about 30 minutes ago?” Soobin says, trying to count the number of times he watched Yeonjun kiss the top of B’s head with every song that ended. “They’ve been dancing since he got here.”

Taehyun raises a brow. “Well, we all know how much Yeonjun loves to dance. I’m sure they’ll stop by the table to rest for a bit though. Are you sure you wanna be sitting here for the rest of the night? You could ask someone to dance with you, or go for some refreshments.” Taehyun offers. “Gyu and I will just resting for a bit before we hit the dance floor.”

“Yeah, my date’s been too busy dealing with last minute crisises all evening, we haven’t danced to a single song.” Beomgyu suddenly butts in, whining.

“It’s crises, not crisises.” Taehyun corrects him, grimacing yet inwardly wondering how he ended up falling for someone who could make such an adorably simple grammatical error. “And I promise we’ll dance soon. I’m just checking on Soobin.”

“Oh no, please, go ahead and dance. You guys should enjoy your evening.” Soobin says, feeling embarrassed now. “You don’t have to worry about me, I’m perfectly fine. I’ll be heading out and making rounds in a bit to check if everything is going smoothly anyway.”

“You heard him, c’mon Tyun, Soobin’s a big boy who can handle himself perfectly fine.” Beomgyu says, tugging on his date’s arm.

Taehyun looks around the table, noticing that Kai and Yuna had already left and were probably somewhere on the dance floor. He gives Soobin one last look before he sighs. “Alright, whatever you say. But if you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me know, okay? I’m here for you.” he says, gently squeezing Soobin’s shoulder before letting himself be dragged away by a very persistent Beomgyu.

Soobin watches as Beomgyu drags him right to the middle of the dance floor, the crowd magically parting to let them through. All eyes seem to be following them as Beomgyu flamboyantly wave an arm in the air before holding his hand out to Taehyun, who rolls eyes before taking his hand, letting out a squeal in surprise as Beomgyu suddenly twirls him around before pulling him towards him, the 2 boys chest to chest with Beomgyu’s hands on Taehyun’s waist as they start to sway to the music.

“Wow, look at that. Who knew Gyu and Tyun would be so freaking adorable together?” B says, watching in awe as all eyes lock on the 2 boys in the middle of the dance floor.

“I have to admit, they are pretty cute together.” Yeonjun says, leaning down to whisper in B’s ear. “But I think we’re cuter.”

She giggles as his breath tickles her neck. “Oh, hush. Look at them! They look amazing together.” she says, and right on cue she sees Beomgyu say something in Taehyun’s ear and the younger boy rolls his eyes but then suddenly smiles at the former, unable to stop himself. “They’re definitely cuter than us.”

“Stop saying that, we’re adorable!” Yeonjun huffs. “I even ducked out of that stupid business party and rushed over here just so I could see you tonight.” he pouts playfully. “If that’s not adorable, then I don’t know what that is.”

“Sweet, that’s what it is.” B says, reaching up to cup his face in her hand. “The sweetest, actually. Thanks for being here, Junnie. It means a lot to me.”

He smiles easily, his cheeks warming up as she looks up at him. “It’s my pleasure. Anything for you, Baby.” he says, pulling her closer. “Because I love you.”

Now it was her turn to have her cheeks heat up. She lets out an awkward laugh, flustered. “Thanks again.” she says, not sure if she was ready to tell him she loved him back yet. “How was your evening, by the way? Was the party boring? Are you tired?” she asks, wanting to change the topic.

He laughs, knowing she was shy. “Ah, it wasn’t much of a party. It was more like a gathering of boring rich people trying to out-talk each other about who’s richer and who’s business is doing better and whatnot. It was physically and mentally draining to be there, but I feel so much better now that I’m here with you.” he says, as smooth as ever.

B raises a brow. “You always know what to say, don’t you?” she says. “My feet are starting to kill me in these heels. Do you think we can take a little break and sit at the table?”

Yeonjun nods, easily accepting her suggestion. “Whatever you want, Baby.” he says, leading her away from the dance floor and back to table 21, surprised to see that it was empty.

“Wow, I guess all the guys are busy with their dates.” Yeonjun says, sitting down after pulling a chair for B. “I wonder if Soobin has found someone to keep him company tonight, too.”

B’s eyes search the crowd, spotting their friends one by one, save for the said boy. “Ah, if Soobin’s not at the table he’s either getting some refreshments or dealing with behind the scenes stuff to check if things are running smoothly.”

“How are you so sure he’s not dancing with anyone?” Yeonjun asks, raising a brow.

“I’ve been trying to convince him to ask a girl to dance all night, but I guess he’s just taking his duty as Student Council President too seriously to relax and enjoy himself.” B says, shaking her head.

“That sounds like Soobin.” Yeonjun says, taking a quick peek at his phone before setting it down on the table. “Speaking of refreshments, want anything? I could get you a drink or maybe some snacks?” he offers.

B nods. “Oh, yes please! I mean, I knew you love to dance, but I don’t think I can keep up. I need to rehydrate before I step foot on the dance floor again.”

Yeonjun laughs. “My body’s used to it from all the hours I’ve spent training and practicing.” he says. “Okay, you sit tight and I’ll be right back with a couple of drinks, alright?” he says, planting a quick peck on her forehead before making his way to the refreshments table on the other side of the event hall.

B takes the time alone to marvel at the evening, from the beauty of the event hall to the performances by the Jazzed club to Yeonjun appearing right on time. She crosses her legs under the table, absentmindedly tapping her foot to the beat of the music, counting the number of couples dancing past their table, until she feels a buzz on the table and hears the ring of a message alert tone.

Her eyes instinctively move towards the direction of the sound, moving down leading towards Yeonjun’s phone on the table.

Upon seeing what the notification was for, she wishes that she didn’t follow her instincts.

She feels her entire body go cold, her eyes repeatedly reading the message until the screen goes black, the words etched in her mind. Surely, there must have been some mistake. Maybe she just was just seeing things. Before she can convince herself that her eyes must’ve been playing tricks on her, Yeonjun’s phone rings, the screen lighting up with a new message, the messages displayed on his lock screen clear as day.

Before she could fully stomach what she was seeing, Yeonjun returns to the table with 2 wine glasses in hand, taking his seat next to her. He was saying something about how he spotted a few couples getting a little too intimate on the dance floor, but his voice just sounded garbled to her. All she could do at the moment was try to absorb and make sense of what she saw and figure what she would do about it.

Yeonjun grabs her hand on the table then, snapping her out of her thoughts as he notices that she hadn’t been paying attention to a word he was saying. He turns her palm face up and lightly traces along the lines and creases, knowing how much she liked it when he did that.

“Baby? You okay?” he asks, concern plastered on his face.

She wanted to say ‘Yeah, it’s nothing’ or maybe something like ‘No, but let’s talk about it later.’ But before she could collect her thoughts and compose herself, her mouth spoke out the words without her consent.

“Were you with Rose tonight?”

Yeonjun freezes, his hand going still over hers, and her heart sinks as she realizes that it was true.

“Why would you think that, Baby?” he asks carefully, and her heart sinks further, lurching somewhere in the pit of her stomach.

“Yeonjun. Were you with her tonight, and did you give her a ride home?” she asks, and when he doesn’t respond, she continues. “You left your phone face up on the table when you left to get drinks. And while you were away, the screen lit up with a text message from her. I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything, I never had any reason to doubt you or feel the need to worry about you hiding anything from me. Until now, that is. All I did was look down and I saw it without even meaning to, so if you were gonna hide it from me, you should have tried harder. Heck, it’s like you didn’t even try to hide it at all.”

“Baby, no—” he begins, but B’s eyes widen as another thought comes into her mind and she interrupts him, the words pouring out of her mouth as the thoughts enter her mind.

“Oh god, you didn’t even try, did you? You were with her and you didn’t even try to hide it. Is it cause you wanted me to find out? Is this your way of saying that you don’t wanna be with me anymore? Is this your messed up way of letting me know that you’ve been seeing her and maybe you didn’t know how to tell me so you leave your phone here on purpose so I’ll see it and get the hint?”

“It’s not like that.” Yeonjun says, his eyes trying hard to relay what he was feeling.

“I get it. You wanted to be with her tonight so you go to that stupid business party but then come here to break things off with me? Or heck, maybe you wanted to get lucky with me tonight before breaking things off with me to be with her, is that it? That’s what Choi Yeonjun does, love ‘em and leave ‘em, right?” she says, her tone becoming less shocked and confused and more frantic and spiteful.

Yeonjun looks at her, the hurt in his eyes apparent in his face. She was spiraling, the thoughts swirling around in her head growing more twisted and mixed up the more she thought about it, but she couldn’t help it. Her thoughts were coming out unbidden, as if her mind was flooded and her mouth was a stream just letting it all out

“Baby, Baby please, listen to me. Let’s go outside, someplace quiet.” Yeonjun says, standing up and begging her with his eyes to follow him. “Baby please, come on.” he pleads, lightly tugging on her hand.

She takes a deep breath and nods almost mechanically, standing up and following his lead. As he guides her through the crowded event hall and out into the hallway, he keeps looking back at her to see if she was still following, but whenever his eyes met hers, it felt like she wasn’t even there. They pass by Soobin on their way out, speaking to the security team at the entrance about the guest list and the tickets. When Soobin catches sight of Yeonjun looking tense and B following behind him, he’s confused. When his eyes meet Yeonjun’s, they’re full of nothing but concern, but Yeonjun just shakes his head at him without stopping.

He only stops when they reach the parking lot, the sound of music playing from the event hall almost inaudible outside in the chill of the night. As a gust of cold wind blows between them, he attempts to offer her his coat to keep her warm, but she holds her hand up, unbothered by the cold.

“Yeonjun. I need you to tell me what’s going on right now, because I swear, I’m going out of my mind trying to comprehend what I saw.” B says, her voice oddly calm and detached.

Yeonjun takes a deep breath before he begins, saying a little prayer that things would go well. “Okay, yes, I was with Rose tonight. The business party I attended was hosted by Kim Jisoo, and if my birthday party was any indication, where Kim Jisoo is, Rose naturally would be there too.” Yeonjun admits. “I wanted to invite you to come to the party with me, but I knew how excited you were for the Fall Ball and I didn’t want to ruin your night by forcing you to come to this stupid party with my ex present, so I thought it would be better if I simply stopped by the party for a bit and then spend the rest of my night here with you.”

“So is that supposed to make me feel better? And what makes you so sure I would’ve preferred going to the dance without you over going to some stupid party with you?” B asks, her frustration growing. “Why did you make that decision for me? And if you felt so forced to attend this stupid party, why did you have to spend the evening with her? Why did she feel the need to text you then? Were you hanging out with her the whole time? Did you even try to keep your distance from her after I’ve told you how uncomfortable I feel about you with her?”

“Baby, that’s not fair, I was just—”

“You know what’s not fair? You attending a party knowing fully well that your ex would be there. No, wait, I know your attendance at the party and the attendance of your ex at the party is something beyond your control, but Yeonjun, you could’ve at least told me about it! You could’ve given me a heads up, you could’ve simply let me know instead of doing it behind my back.”

“Baby, the only reason I didn’t tell you is because I didn’t want to ruin your night and I didn’t want you to feel bad. I was just trying to protect you!” Yeonjun says, his voice raising slightly when hers did.

B looks at him incredulously. “Wow, protect me? By lying to me? Yeonjun, I’d rather live with the hard cold shitty truth than live in blissful ignorance with a lie. And can you honestly say that the only reason you hid this from me was to protect me? There’s no other reason why you didn’t tell me?”

Yeonjun hesitates, only for a moment, but seeing it made B flinch. Over the course of their relationship, there were a few things that she had taken notice of about Choi Yeonjun. When he was excited about something, his voice would go a few octaves higher. When he was nervous about something, he would bounce on the balls of his feet nonstop. And when he was lying about something? He would take a deep breath and his eyes would fall to the ground, which is exactly what he did just now.

Upon seeing her flinch, Yeonjun starts to panic, feeling a sense of alarm, as if he could either make or break the situation depending on how the next few moments play out, as if there were a ticking time bomb and he only had a few minutes to defuse it before it exploded.

“Baby, look, Rose means nothing to me. Seeing her tonight was just a chore, and I only hung around her cause my father wants me to stay on Kim Jisoo’s good side, and you know she and Rose are close friends—” he reaches for her, hoping that his touch would break down her walls, but she steps away from him.

“Okay, let’s just cut the crap. I am willing to let this go, to forget all about this and merrily move on and dance the night away with you if you honestly tell me one thing.” B says.

Yeonjun looks at her hopefully, nodding eagerly. “Yes, yes, alright, what is it?”

B takes a deep breath. “Has anything ever happened between you and Rose since we started dating?”

She watches as the hopeful light in Yeonjun’s eyes dies, his face dropping and his shoulders sagging, and she feels her heart break into a million pieces.

“Thanks. That’s all I needed to know.” she says, her voice cracking as her hands start to shake.

“I’m sorry. Baby, I’m sorry, but I promise, it wasn’t that bad, it was barely even—” he begins again, but she couldn’t handle it anymore. All she could feel was her heart being torn out of her chest and bleeding out on the pavement. She squeezes her eyes shut.

“Yeonjun.”

B could feel the heat behind her eyes, knowing that tears were threatening to fall. She could feel heart pounding out of her chest, her hands shaking as she bunches them into fists at her side, clenching them together to stop herself from falling apart right then and there. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” she continues, knowing that it was true.

“Baby, please, wait.” Yeonjun pleads, taking a step forward and reaching a hand out towards her. She closes her eyes and takes a small step back, keeping the distance between them. He visibly flinches, hurt by her aversion, but he continues to speak. “Please, take 3 deep breaths and try to calm down. Hear me out. Please.”

B keeps her eyes shut, shaking her head. “Yeonjun, no. I can’t do this. I don’t know how I can possibly get past this. I don’t think I could ever let this go.” How did her night go so horribly wrong? She was wearing the most beautiful dress she had ever laid her eyes on, she was having a blast at the Fall Ball, dancing her heart out letting go of all the worries she had, and she had been surrounded by people who she knew loved and cared for her.

So how the hell did she get here?

Yeonjun feels his heart drop. “So what do you want to happen now? What do you want me to do? Tell me anything, and I’ll do it. Baby, I’ll do anything for you. Just please tell me how I can make this right.” he starts, pleading helplessly as he feels her pulling away.

“You want to know what I want to happen?” B asks, gathering up the strength to look him right in his eyes, tears falling down from her own as she says, “I want this to stop. This, us, this evening, this pain, this nightmare, I just want this all to stop. I think the best thing you could do for me now is just let me go, don’t make this hurt any more than it already does. Just let me go.” she says, now pleading as well, tears now spilling uncontrollably down her face. “Yeonjun, please, just let me go.”

“Baby, please, don’t.” Yeonjun says, his voice cracking as what she was saying hits him, knocking the air out of his lungs as his breaths start to come out in sharp gasps, his eyes damp with tears that threatened to fall.

B shakes her head, taking a shaky breath and biting her lip to stop it from quivering. She takes one last look at him looking painfully beautiful with is blue hair blowing in the wind, his soft eyes looking at her like a lost child, his plump lips shaking as he tries not to cry. She takes one last moment to look at the boy she loved before she says

“This is goodbye, Yeonjun. I’m breaking up with you.” •°• Author’s note: Thank you so much for your patience!! The past few weeks have been very hectic. The typhoon that hit my country a few days ago and the 2 days I spent without electricity definitely didn’t help, but alas, here’s chapter 16!! Please let me know what you think, don’t be afraid to leave a message, anonymous or not, cause my asks are open!! I’m still trying to figure out how to make my Tumblr more easy to navigate, but don’t be afraid to reach out to me!! Don’t forget to stream We Lost The Summer MV!!

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